Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 27 text:

енер VIEWS OF THE COLLEGE ABOV E.—SHERBROOKE STREET, LOOKING EAST FROM TOWER; LEFT:—REFECTORY BUILDING; RIGHT.—JUNIOR BUILDING AND STADIUM; BELOW:—REAR VIEW OF BUILDINGS FROM CAMPUS.

Page 29 text:

LOYOLA COLLEGE. REVIEW = m —ə+——əaV,—Əəə ə— N%—-— —ə.-—ƏƏ—— — n Əə svss.ə-À v—c—- —,oəs$ss,+n-+. o.1OÑ, .-.. There were no farewells. The captain of a tramp schooner bound for Oslo agreed to take them that far, whence they could embark for America. Slowly they moved from the wharf under a quickening breeze, gliding almost di- rectly towards the golden west. They stood near the stern of the boat, and for the last time watched the glimmering lights of their homes i 2 into the night. Then a great loneliness pos- sessed them. A few minutes later, when Kap Aark was rounded and Fra Krakeroi was seen no more, Hans barely stifled a sigh that rose from his heavy heart. He looked no more to the east, but turned and gazed with renewed hope to the boundless west, magnificent, re- splendent in the twilight glory of the midnight sun. ж ж EJ The god of industry was pleased with Bilingstown. Here indeed was the consummation, the ze plus ultra of the wer of capital! Three hundred mill- ions of dollars to be expended for the he зодии of an ordinary staple pro- uct! To the visitor all was endless noise and confusion. Huge excavators gouged into the earth and the spoil was whisked away in train loads by the ‘‘dinkies.”’ Great steel crossbeams hung in midair waiting to be swung into place by intrepid hands. Rivetters maintained a steady bombardment throughout the day, while in the rock pits the blasting was continuous. Construction! This was the magic cause of it all! Houses sprang up over- night; mere piles of bricks were meta- morphosed into factories; but behind it all, men were no longer men but mere machines, of less account than the iron monsters they operated. Toiling, toil- ing ever, they came to disregard all else, in the moil for a meagre existence, save their daily bread, “Бе Company, and their respect for the giant whistle which called them to work in the morn- ing and set them free at night. Deep-in a ditch a man was cursing. So were the others with him, but not so intensely as he. The work was not too hard, for the man swung the heavy blue Quebec clay out of the pit as though it were weightless. Rather it was the attitude of a man who has been betrayed and bears the hardened stamp of his sorrow on a callous exterior. Such a man was Hans Bergen. He had trusted, yes, but never again. Vangel, his “friend,” had robbed him that night in Oslo and escaped. Somehow Hans managed to get to Canada and, like many others, found work at Bill- ingstown through the employment agencies. He did not make much money but he saved. Not one cent was spent from that two dollars he sullenly re- ceived above his board each day, except for the few articles of clothing he oc- casionally bought. Yes, one day he would go back and find Vangel. Yes, ... and choke him! In time this grim reflection became an obsession, for the work was hard and the food none too wholesome, all of which you will admit is very fine fuel for revenge. God au changes things strangely. In two years Hans became a foreman and was earning daily what it would take him a month to make in Fra Krake- roi. He had a thousand dollars in the Bank of Commerce and his life was in- sured for three thousand more. The desire to save was still strong within him. Strange enough, he suddenly came to forget Vangel. Even stranger, he was ready to forgive him. Nothing like that happens, however, without a reason, nor could Hans forego a vengeance so deep-seated for an trifling motive. Accordingly I will tell you about it, for often, even the strangest actions are identical with our own under the same circumstances. Hans needed a pair of overalls. One Saturdaynight he walked down through 477