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

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N Q! THE Hi?.rQM5f them. He whispered, 'fVVrite to my mother . . . Alberta . . . The doctor nodded. Tell her . . . tell her . . . that I was not afraid when I died. They sent his mother his messageg they told her what he never knew- that Martin had obtained valuable information and that he had been the means of saving many men's lives, and they sent h-er his medal. They sent her, too, the words of the chaplain at his funeral service. The chaplain had more intuition than most men, and had known and understood Barclay well. He paid him this tribute: This man conquered fear. -H. Clark Bahtzer, IV-A. Northern Lights Faintly they form, at first Pale streaks in a velvet sky, Stealthily creeping high Then slipping back as if cursed. Their bars from the void step forth, Columns of sudden light That sway in the awful night Then sink to their fathomless source. Their tongues kindle and flare As if poked from some furnace below, Then die,-smouldering low And casting a lambent glare. Like an emerald glacial stream That dives beneath Northern snows -They disappear in rows And emerge with a beryl gleam. The rays are pierced with shades Of pink and of palest blue, And a pencil of orange hue That darts about and fades. To the very zenith they mountg Each streamer scintillates, Each light-rocket palpitates Till the dome of heaven vibrates, -A-A shimmering fire-fount. Then slowly, their long wings furled, Like a tired bird reaching the nest, They silently sink to rest And darkness recowls the world. -Edward A. Walton, V-A. 65

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N THE I-ii-araivigfv R , , Crack! A ritie report, closely fol- lowed by two others, split the stillness of the night air. His heart beating like a pile driver, Barclay stood still. Was Martin dead? He wanted to look over the parapet, but did not dare. At last he did look. As he did so, a star-shell burst overhead, and he saw the figure of a kneeling man reel forward and fall. Martin! lnstantly, his fear forgotten, he dropped his rifie and scrambled over the parapet. He must get Martin! He crawled over the many obstruc- tions, making his tortuous way across No Man's Land, feverishly intent upon his search for his friend, till suddenly-his fear returned. Sup- posing a star-shell should burst? He would be seen . . . shot . . . perhaps killed . . . A shell burst. He froze and wait-ed for the inevitable. It did not come. He was surprised, then the burden of his fear fell away. He was free-afraid no longer! His groping hand felt something ahead of him. Martin? The some- thing moved, and groaned, then mutt-ered a few English words. He had found what he was looking forg now how was he to take Martin back? That would be much more difficult than the mere finding of him. His old fears crept back, but he cast them resolutely from him. He would do it, he reliected grimly, if it killed him. He managed to get Martin across his shoulders, and had gone a few paces on his knees, when he heard a sound behind him. He was being followed. One of the enemy in search of Martin? Gently he laid Martin down, and wait-ed. Waiting, it seemed to him that centuries passed while his old fears returned tenfold. T-he man might attack him from any side, drive a bayonet into him and take Martin, and he would never know. And Martin was probably dead, or soon would be. VVhy not insure his own safety, and return to his own trenches? He turned to retreat, ducked, and grappled with a crouching figure ready with upraised arm. They rolled about in the mud, now one, now the other having the advantage. Suddenly both figures disappeared. A few seconds later. Barclay emerged from the shell hole. one arm hanging limp, and returned to Martin. His fear was gone: the German was dead. He had hit his head on a stone . . . served him right. How his shoulder hurt! Now to get Martin back. h . . . . . . . . . Q . . On...andon...andon... would he never get there? Crawling . . . crawling . . . with that dead weight on his back and blood oozing from the wound in his shoulder . . . on...andon...andon... A star-shell burst. Shots rang out. A sharp searing pain. He fell, was raised, and knew no more . . . The doctor bent over him and shook his head. Barclay opened his eyes, saw the doctor, and whispered, Martin 7' He's all right, replied the doctor, thanks to you. Barclay tried to move. A look of pain crossed his face. Lie still, said the doctor. They got you just as you got back to our trenches. A look of understanding came into Barclay's eyes. Will I get better ? he asked simply. The doctor looked at him. No, he said, you won't. Barclay closed his eyes. A few minutes later he re-opened

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Hrne lfll-EVQWIEW' Aerial T mmpormtion Approximately twenty-five years ago man first flew a motored airplane. The duration of the flight was twelve seconds, and in that time the frail craft covered about two hundred feet. But this was just the beginning of a wonderful means of transportation that was destined to be of th-e greatest importance to the human race. XVhen, in 1919, Mr. Thomas, one of the leading British air pioneers. started the world's first daily airplane- express between London and Paris, he said we ought to regard it as the first short 250-mile section of a great airway, which, stage by stage, would stretch right through for 10,000 miles from England to the coast of Aus- tralia. That was but a few years ago, and today, in actual service, or in routes about to be opened, something like 8,000 miles of this great Empire Air- Line are already in existence. From London travellers can Hy any day they please as far as Hasle, Switzerland, and on certain days, continue on above Italy and across the Mediterranean to Cairo, there linking up with the Imperial Airways' 2,500- mile line which is operated across the desert and down the Persian Gulf to Karachi. Huge tri-motored Hercules air- planes, embodying all the experience gained in civil flying, are used on this Karachi service. Carrying fourteen passengers, their hulls are specially- designed to protect the occupants from heat or cold, and, they are big enough for meals to be served aboard them while in flight. A romance of airway engineering lies behind the building of this Cairo- Karachi route. Great gasoline storage tanks, to be sunk underground. had to be transported to points in the desert where the 'planes descend to refuel. Rest rooms had to be provided at remote places, where, before night- flying becomes regular, air-travellers will descend to spend the night. Wi1'eless telegraph and meteorological stations had to be installed also all along the entire route. On stages east of Calcutta, it is proposed to employ a new type of all- metal flying-boat. Such machines are fitted with cabins like sea-going ships, and with comfortable sleeping berths. The route that is to be used is from Calcutta to Rangoon and Singapore. This demonstrates clearly the speed and mobility of the perfected airplane. W'e shall have immense dirigibles spanning oceans and tlying thousands of miles without having to alight, even when carrying one hundred or more passengers. XYe shall see huge multi- motored leviathans of the air, and flying-boats carrying passengers over shorter land and coastal routesg and in addition there will be a host of small, swift craft engaged in carrying parties of passengers with mails and merchandise, to and fro on short trips, which will link up remote and outlying areas with large trans-oceanic and Continental routes. It used to be said that dirigibles and airplanes, as they grew more practical, would begin to compete seriously with each other. But such a statement is untrue. Each type has its own useful purpose. Supported in flight by huge gas-containers, the modern rigid air-