Kitchener Waterloo Collegiate and Vocational School - Grumbler Yearbook (Kitchener, Ontario Canada)

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THE GRUMBLER before us and the street lay far below. CSay, don't push like that IJ Across the way Mr. Bettke gave us a glimpse into a semi-circular hump, which holds the floating ceiling of the Assembly Hall. When asked it if wasn't rather dangerous to suspend a ceiling like that, Mr. Bettke calmly replied Yes . . . We're still worrying about it. The second attic, which can be reached by way of that curious ladder in the old wing corridor, is a large cold room with all sorts of nooks and crannies. It contains everything from an old voters' list, dated 1922, to an incubator, used by an agricultural class 'way back when - . Rugby equipment, dance decorations, chairs, desks, balloons, are all stored here for later use. Even Shakespeare reposes on a tall pillar overlooking the Books of Knowledge. A nostalgic atmos- phere pervaded the dim room, and a realization of the memories stored there, and indeed, stored in the whole school, swept over us. We were silent, and there, in the half-dusk, the intangible thing called school spirit became very real to us. I unt Quos Iuvat . . In There are some who are glad to have gathered the Olympic dust Pauline Brubacher, A XIII C If the word Latin conjures up for you pictures of unending noun conjugations and verb tenses, it is a purgatory to be avoided at all costs. For you this poem must be litting- Latin is a language Just as dead as it can be, It killed the ancient Romans And now it's killing me. There are two kinds of people who can really enjoy Latin-those who acquire knowledge for its own sake and those people possessed of an imagination. Latin is a door, and imagination is the key that opens that door to the Roman world. It is a magic carpet that transports one into antiquity. In that world Caesar comes to life as a man of power, decision, and action. He is as fascinating and bizarre as any hero in a 20th century movie. He is as real and awe-inspiring as Eisenhower, or Montgomery. The tense and dra- matic scenes that must have been enacted as the envoys and leaders of the Gallic tribes met in confer- ence with Caesar have been re- peated many times in modern novels andfactual warfare. The people who live today are basically the same as they were in Roman times, and through all the ages. There are still people like Divico, pompous and vain in their shabby glory, and obstinately blind to the truth of their own weakness. There are still people like Horace, who are happy, who are not striv- ing and straining in the agonizing climb to fame, fortune and power. Horace was as rare in his day as people like him are now, people with warmth of soul and friendship for all mankind, but not pagan- saving fanatics, people with intelli- gence, but not ponderous in their knowledlgeg people who are happy with limited means, but have not tContinued on page 1691 .jg

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24 THE GRUMBLER N uriosity Kiilect the Catn Tom K. Pequegnat. A XIII A OW I got here isn't very im- portant, but to know that I'll never get out alive .... It all started last night on my way home from work. William Jenkins, my employer, sent me over to Queen's Park to post a For Sale sign on an old abandoned house. I didn't mind at all, because in the first place, I lived out that way and then, well, - old houses have al- ways intrigued me. After turning in the sweeping drive. my suspicions should have been aroused by the fresh tire marks, but they weren't. Instead, I mounted the huge portico and set about the task of placing my sign on one of the massive white pillars. It was after this that I made my mistake. To appease my curiosity I decided to investigate the grounds rather than go straight home. That in itself was safe enough. but when I came upon an unlatched shutter and a slightly raised casement, my curiosity knew no bounds. Climb- ing cat-like along the railing and up the drainpipe, I managed to raise the window and pull myself through to the inside, where I found myself standing in a long dark corridor, - dark owing to the panelling of the walls. I thought, as I stood there wonder- ing which way to turn, that the silence was unusual. It held some- thing of that same oppression that an empty house does when the owners have just gone away. I opened a door at hazard, and found a room in total darkness. no chink of light coming through the closed shutters, while I could see dimly the outline of furniture swathed in white dust sheets. The room smelled close and stale. the smell of a room seldom if ever used. I shut the door softly, and went un- certainly along the corridor, flank- ed on either side by doorS, HH Of them closed. I turned the handle of another door and went inside. It was dark, of course, because of the shutters. I was standing in a little ante-room and at the end of this room was another door, open, leading to a much larger room. I went through to this room, and my first impression was one of shock because the room was fully furnished as though in use. I had expected to see chairs and tableS swathed in dust sheets. Nothing was covered up. There were flow- ers on the table beside the c0uCh and flowers, too, on the carved mantlepiece. I stood there aS though waiting for something to happen .... , I heard the door behind me open. and turning around I saw Her. VN e stared at one another for a moment without speaking. and then She went to the window and swung back the shutter. I could see her clearly now, and in her hand she held a small black automatic wlth a lustrous jade handle. She WQS slender, tall. and very beautiful . . she was an Oriental. I don't know whether I was too surprised to be frightened, or too frightened to be surprised. One thing I know. I had made a terrible mistake. She mo- tioned me to a chair, but I waS frozen in my tracks. My actions did not deter her plans in the least. for she coiled up snake-like on the couch and just watched me. Finally she spoke. Why have you come here. and who sent you '? Her slanting eyes tContinued on page 164-l