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

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obj o Nothing to say, he repeated, half to himself. The next Sergeant Fanshawe faced the Bring squad. A soldier stepped forward with a black blindfold. Yes, I think I'll take it. All these movie heroes do look so foolish when they refuse it, don't they, old man? There is a letter on my bed which you might see on its way-of course, read it first-by all means. Now, let's go! morning, be fore sunrise, A young German housewife was puzzled a few weeks later over a note she received. It read: Dear Madam: Your husband is a very remarkable Tl'lE.I'1ElQlXAEf . , . IQ!! young fellow. Remind him thatI realized before I went that 'All's fair in love and war,' but ask him which of us was the fairer, will you? I haven't been able to figure it out. I wish you many years of happiness in the little cottage with your beloved Paul. When he fully explains, I think that I shall have earned a place in your memory, and it is rather nice. when one is leaving the old world, to think that a few people will remember him-Cperhaps with fond recollec- tions?l even when that person's name is such a one as H fflrumpy ' Fanshawef' -Margaret Ryerson, III-F. Dreaming I sit at my western window, As the sun is sinking low, And see the grey old city. Pmathed in a rosy glow. And as I sit there dreaming, I'm wafted far away On a craft, whose name is Seeming, I7 That only my fancies sway. The leagues of lake and wood-land, Become as nothing then, And I'm drifting o'er the prairies, On that sea of golden grain. The prairies slowly fade away, Into foot-hills grand and steep, XVhere the Little Red Deer River Sings to me, wild and sweet. And there my wandering fancies stay, No farther west I'll roam, But rest in that dear, dear country, That mountain valley home. -Caroline Reid, III-E. 50

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X. German who were supposedly at each other's throats. 'Grump' happened to mention the fact that he lived in a bachelor's club when in England. Then you must pay me and -a painful, happy blush suffused Brahm's face-Nmy wife a visit sometime. We should be glad to- You married! 'Grump' laughed heartily but Brahm, except for a momentary deepening of the blush, did not feel abashed. In fact, he knew now that 'Grump' was envious and was picturing in his English mind a cosy cottage with an aproned girl and flowers inside-and a drab bache1or's apartment in contrast. Hav-en't heard from her in a month, and I havenlt been able to get a letter through since we've been at the front lines. No chance of getting one through here, I suppose P Brahm asked. There might be, on a special occa- sionf' 'Grump' replied, eyeing the other intently. I inspect every letter that leaves here, though. You m-ean I might, sir, really?l' tGrump' had never seen such a happy dawning light on anyone's face as was on Brahm's. Then that face became suffused with a vivid red Hush. It would be-er-personal and all that- to one's wife, you know, to have a perfect stranger read it, but I never dreamt of ever getting one to her, at least till I was out of here P Well, you write it, and I'll see what I can do. Brahm wrote his letter, and stared into space. He realized it would be the biggest risk of his life, yet he would try it-to be shot as a spy might be a more agreeable form of death than to be blown up by a shell. 'Grump' came in then and Brahm handed him the lett-er, which was THE I-lgramgfn placed in an unsealed envelope. The German stood tense, his hand clenched. Fanshawe turned the letter ov-er, tapped it on his knuckles, and looked at Brahm. His lips found the glued part of the envelope, and it was sealed. It had not been read. Brahm could hardly realize his good luck on such a slim chance. He extended his hand and once more their hands clasped, only now they were enemy against enemy, but fGrump' did not realize it. A court-martial was being h-eld in a silent British post. A dignified old general rose and spoke, Lieutenant Fanshawe is arrested on a charge of deliberate treason. A letter got t-hrough to a German woman with full de-tails of the British position on the western front-from Fanshawe's camp. Much more was said, and when many old soldiers around a rickety table had spoken 'Grump' had decided on his course of action. As they would never believe his story or be made to understand, what was the use? A pathetic sort of smile parted his lips when he was asked what he had to say. He looked from one member of the gathering to the other, until he had observed each one, and answered, Nothing to say. But you realize the consequence of this?'l he was asked. He nodded. Better death than many a war hero has had, it won't take long, he reflected. Supposing he had told the truth-huh! How foolish it would sound! and his cheeks burned as he pictured a group of English oflicers reading a morning paper, and exclaim- ing, Imagine old Crump' growing sentimental over a rotten Boche's story of the little wife and everything. I wonder what the truth is ?

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' r 1 A Z3 TZ' l' ' , x 'X Tu ' fi , ' M V 71, wi 4 qt, X N fLm!ZilW 'x? KK 5752 Xllaka gd l ,ey ,f Q -v rm ,T T i, F an 23 A ie' ' T T , ' igx 'Qi 'fifvvfs v gf. A .gi ' : Z .fx if 'Q if-ff 'Z we if V ll, The Fairies' Refvels The moon is shedding silver light Down on the magic toad-stool ring, The sleepy blue-bells nod their heads, And violets peep from mossy beds Where fairies dance in madcap flight. With rose-leaf gowns and gossamer wings And slippers made of spun moonshineg Wfith dewdrops in the hair for pearls, And star-Hovvers in their nut-brown curls, And on their fingers magic rings, The elves amongst them caper, gay In caps long-tipped with white ovvl's feathers In suits the shade of autumn leaves And jerkins their Witch-mother weaves In cavern-mouth, at break of day. From dazzling throne of rainbow hues, Midst cushions made of morning mist, Guarded by dragon tlies, the queen With gracious smile surveys the scene, Her eyes as soft as evening dews. Beneath a fern, in sheltered vale, The orchestra of crickets playsg The lilting cadence soars and dies And from the darkened wood replies One silver-throated nightingale. -Nancy Smiflz, V-A. 51