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

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, 0 if - . ss . Cl 324-f ,J THE I-ngrawnzfn XXX Heights the shack with which we are all familiar. The story of its origin reveals the man more than any words of mine. L'Long years ago, before the Hum- ber had any buildings on it, there was one spot prettier than the rest, approached by a stiff incline, covered with dense foliage, at a bend in the river. On the top there was a little clearing at the edge of which stood a beautiful maple tree. ln the afternoon, Anne and I had been canoeing on the river. As dusk was falling, we grounded our canoe, went up the slope and sat under the tree. That night the june moon was in the south-west of the sky, and as it was shining down on us, round and full, I asked Anne to be my wife. I can see her still with her dark hair and her bonny blue eyes-when I lost her I built the cabin on the same spot. I went there to be alone that I might again experience some of the strange events that have swayed my life. Though they have never happened, yet it has been a very happy place- but I am boring you. After all, these are only the wanderings of an old mall, ell .IUTU I am very far from boredom, Mr. Pearce. But why shouldn't we have tendermemories? XVithout them I should think the world would be very commonplace. . That's it! that's it I he returned with a movement of his hand which indicated that he was pleased. You meet so many people in the world who blush to have tender feel- ings. I am bold about that. VVhy should I blush to own I love, Vflien it is love that rules the realms above? VVhy should I shrink to say to all That virtue holds my heart a thrall? NVhy should I seek the thickest shade l.est love's dear secrets be betrayed ? Or why the false brow deceitfully move VVhen I am languishing with love? lt was growing late, and we had talked all evening, yet there was still one side of his life which we had not discussed-his quaint the- ology. His conception of God is an especially happy Zlllll simple one. God is a spirit, not a judgeg His temple is in the face of day, the smiling morn, the sunset. He is the supreme, divine Being. India has her llhudda, China her Confucius and we have our God, the highest of all, for He said that which the others in their teachings never voiced: I came that ye might have life, and have it more abundantly. The jews, taking Him literally, were surprised and replied, Lord, we have lifef' llut he replied that His was a life glorified, that is, con- formity to the Christ life. Thus concluded an interview with one of Canadays greatest naturalists, one who believes everything: the poorest man of the noblest birth, the father of Controller Claude Pearce. If he is poor, he is rich in his pov-- erty. He has a mind mellowed by experience and has made a name for himself in the world. Among the many eminent men and women who have visited him at his cabin, john Burroughs, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, .lack Miner, Bliss Carman and Pauline johnson are only a few. In his old age, may he realize the satisfaction of his services and revel in the glory of what he has done for Canada. -form C. Urzrfmz, V-fl.

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Y Tn-:E l'IElQIVll2f XXN - oilzing to Say Sergeant Grump Fanshawe was sick of the war-dangerously so. He sat at his desk in the office of the prison camp, barking curt orders to the German prisoners who had just been brought in. His head was bent to one side, leaning on his upheld hand. VVhen interviewing prisoners, his eyes would peer upward as if to see over spectacles Qthought he wore nonei, but his head remained on its perch. He was tired of hearing his questions- Name F and VVhat regi- ment ? -answered in guttural German which he was supposed to understand. The answers were usually short and unwillingly given by white-faced. sunken-eyed frames of men who wrung their hands and twisted their mud-caked caps. Another prisoner was brought in. Name ? My name is Paul Brahmf' came the reply in perfectly intelligible English, from a tall, fair German. Grump's,' head moved. and a most remarkable pair of grey eyes met fearless German blue ones. Speak English, eh? I should like to speak with you later. A smart salute, a click of spurred heels, exit Brahm. Grump was very much impressed-just a kid, only about twenty-three or four-probably a newly-promoted officer who had been nabbed while out on his first raid. Paul Brahm had dinner with Ser- geant Grump Fanshawe. At first the German was morose and silent. He suspected 'Grump'. Probably he would be questioned about German lines, provisions, etc. Well, he determined to be no information bureau. He was surprised by Fan- shawe's first question. Educated at Oxford, you said ? Brahm was immediately on the alert. Even a 'dirty Roche' has the right to an education, hasn't he? The expression on 'Grump's' face never changed, but his feelings were hurt. This clean young chap had seemed as a heaven-sent interruption to his own tedious thoughts. 'Grump' had never been known to condescend to anyone, but he did his best to make the situation less uncomfortable, because something about the German had won his admiration and respect. Didn't mean anything' sarcastic, lfanshawe said, which was the nearest he had come to an apology in a long time, and it had cost him a lot to come out with it. For a few seconds there was a strained silence. In fact, he continued, I thought we might change that particular topic of con- versation and drop the war. Rrahm looked at him and saw that he was in earnest. He smiled, And that year Dighton was captain of the cricket eleven which downed every team in England. Does that suit you F 'Grump' laughed, for the first time in many months, and two gentlemen clasped hands firmly. Righto! They talked of England and Ger- many, the hustle and stuffiness of the big'cities, the quiet of the country lanes. They might have been two old schoolmat-es re-united to talk of old times after a lapse of many years, instead of an Englishman and a