Humberside Collegiate Institute - Hermes Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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4 1 Y 'buf , - Aw Z ygy r-if 5 it-1 5 ia M gf NNN A Halloween Adventure There is a lonely hill in Ireland covered with heather and green herhs. Under an old, stunted tree, half-way up the incline, lay a curly-haired shep- herd lad, Terence hy name. Behind him spread the dusky arc of the sky. lit here and there hy tiny specks which were the stars. He was an imagin- ative hoy, who had heard his grandmother tell many tales of the little folk. The villagers had told him there was no truth in her stories, and he was torn between belief and disbelief. Musing on these things he fell asleep hy the fire. He was awakened hy the restless movements and slight whines of his dog companion, Lad. He seemed to see all around him tiny folk, little men in tiny suits of green, accompanied by airy ladies in flowing dresses and borne on glistening wings of every colour of the rainbow. T Here is a mortal who does not know whether to believe in us or not, he heard them murmur to themselves. He is at least not so cruel as the other mem- bers of the village who, not waiting to learn anything about us, have denounced us, thus greatly lessening our nunibersf' He gathered that they had been summoned by a little elf who had found the sheep on their fairy ring, and, rather piqued, had come to find the cause of the disturbance. Dis- covering who the culprit was, they had changed their attitude from one of anger to one of pity. This bov evidently did not know what he was doing and wished to learn. 10 Astonished at their sudden appear- ance, Terence sat looking at them with wide-open mouth, while they under- took to tell him what and who they XYCY3. XYe are horn in the spring when each tiny flower shows its head. Vie take care of the hud till it grows large and portion out its henefits to insects. animals and men: nectar for the honey-hee: food for the silkwormg and beauty for man. lt is not fair of men to forget us, for there is a special fairy horn for every person, and if he will not have us. we die. explained a little gnome in a dignified manner, quite comical in one so grotesque. After the summer goes we fly south with the hirds, and our hrothers, the frost-fairies, coat all the wild fruit with a tiny film and paint the leaves with gaudy colours. Viihen you see ferns and trees pictured on the window-pane, or landscapes, it is the fairies' promise that Spring will come again. We do not always work, sometimes we play. That is why we are here today, but your sheep are on our fairy ring. Hastening to remove the offending sheep, Terence awoke with a start to find the fairies gone. All that was left to remind him of their coming was a ring of fiowers near his feet and the sun rising in all its splendour of rose and gold. Terence watched the colours gradu- ally fade, and, turning, strode down the hill, with a light heart and a happy belief in the little folk. -Jane flfonteiflz, U-xl. 2

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Uwe I-ierwefr N I've plan for many year. Wall, sir, I tak' de pistol from out ma poche, aim it to your head, an' I might tol' you if de Blackfeet hadn't made de beeg mess of dat coach w'en dey did, ba gosh, you'd be de dead man now for sure. Thereupon Bateese held forth the gun which jacques accepted, and, turn- ing quickly to the door, Hung it far out into the snow. Glory be to Godly' expostulated the landlord. Sure an, it does me heart good to see it so. In faith an' I wouldn't miss the endin' ev yer stories fur all the spirits in me casks, fur by St. Patrick its not ivery night tales the like o' these are in the tellin'. And so it happened that the land- lord kept his inn open well on into the early hours of the next morning. It also transpired that he consumed far more wood in the hearth than was his thrifty wont, but it did his jolly heart good and amply repaid the loss of fuel and spirits, to witness two brave Courier-de-Bois who had been separated for years by the Hipping of a coin in the Rockies, re-united by a glass of whisky blanc in a village inn of old Quebec. -lark Kelly, If-F. f L l 7 3,32 XY!! F f ..4 sq, .Q f -1 -4-gli - -ggi?-Z, K - 1 .K- 1?-, .',. , ' 1' , ,V V -:Q-ill - . 1, fx ,V f .f f S 31:-'iffiifl -- g ,N ' X s 2 - X V A xswiif Xxgqx - The Night Before Exams. 'Twas the night 'fore exams, and we shivered and shook, And dragged out t-he torn, forgotten old booksg The ones we'd discarded, so long, long ago, When we had been happy, not thinking, you know, Of exams and of failures, report cards, and oh- 'llhe clock slowly ticked the minutes awayg And right there we sat turning night into day, VVe tried- to pretend we were clever and bright And that our reports would turn out all right. But .strangely enough it just didn't go- For down in our hearts It just isn't so. VVhy is it exams come so quickly around? We hardly have time to get feet on the ground. Ilut cheer up, when it is all over I guess, We'll be happy to know that it's just one test less. 101 -Dorothy Hunter, Il--G.

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THE ri gram Eff' N A Fa!! Qf Forfzme Oh, Helen, isn't it simply glorious? The speaker was Sylvia Leighton, a slim girl of sixteen who was standing with her cousin, Helen Browne, at a window which over- looked one of the beautiful valleys found among the foothills of the Rockies. lsn't what glorious ?', asked Helen, with a smile. The mountains, the valley, every- thing, of course! The very fact that you have invited me to spend a month of my vacation herell' Well,, as you know, father had been reading of a hidden vein of gold somewhere in this locality and he at once decided to do a little prospecting by himself. What is the name of this district ? asked Sylvia. It is known as the 'Valley of Hope,' because gold had been found in the river-bed years ago. The story runs that a Frenchman came here and searched for this treasure but he was unsuccessful and finally in despair he threw himself off that rock. And Helen pointed to a large overhanging spur jutting out of the distant moun- tainside beneath which roared a turbulent torrent, frothing and leaping on its downward course. Sylvia shuddered. ls that true? she asked. I don't know for certain, replied her cousin. That is the story always told to visitors. But you look tired, Sylvia, I will show you to your room. The next morning in the grey uncer- tain light that precedes dawn, Sylvia awoke. She slipped quietly out of bed and dressed, then leaving the cottage where the other occupants still slept, made her way along a narrow mountain trail. At length she struck off from the regular route and came to a spot where she could command an expansive view of the surrounding countryside. A soft curtain of mist still hung over the valley, but across the rolling ground, which grew level as it stretched towards the eastward, day was beginning to break. A faint streak of colour appeared on the horizon. Gradually it deepened, and the dark blue sky grew flushed with rosy light. The fiery sun began its way across the clearing heavens, stretching out magic fingers which crusted jagged cliff and frowning precipice with gold, and caused the gossamer-like mists to flee into the distance. Steadily the sun climbed higher until all the little mountain Howers became visible as they nodded in the breeze. 'f0h, how magnificent! murmured Sylvia with eyes aglow, and then realizing that her cousin would be searching for her, she reluctantly returned to the cottage. The golden hours flew by all too swiftly, each day bringing forth some new delight. The girls sometimes fished in the stream which flowed through the valley, sometimes they packed a lunch and followed a new path along the mountain, and some- times they accompanied Mr. Browne in his quest for gold, although as yet his efforts had been unsuccessful. Un the day before their departure, a last trip had been arranged to visit a prospector's camp situated in the mountains some miles from the cottage. They started along the narrow trail , 103