Malvern Collegiate Institute - Muse Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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THE MUSE the fallen animal. It lay stretched full length. and suddenly as he reeled toward it a sickening wave of nausea swept over him and he crashed face foremost into the snow. The dog struggled upright, and a red bullet furrow showed across its skull. Its tongue lolled over its gleaming teeth as it crawled painfully to its master and would-be murderer. It licked his face-once. Two days later Steven Harvey awoke in a cabin filled with bluish pine smoke. His body was pleasantly warm beneath a huge pile of blankets and his eyes wandered over a rough hewn log roof. They strayed down a wall and stopped lazily as they encountered the ruddy glow of a iire across the room. Logs crackled pleasantly in a crude stone grate. and the abundance of heat made his face tingle a little. His eyes wandered to a man seated by the fire looking at him with flashing dark eyes. Smoke curled from a black pipe between his lips. To the silent question in the sick man's eyes the other answered: Your dog, M'sieu, he come to my door. He lead me to you. Where, said Steve, is the dog? He die, M'sieu, from cut on head, said the Frenchman. THE CLOCKS AT MALVERN NE of the latest deveiopments of the clock industry is the per- fecting of the electric clock, Iirst invented by Alexander Bain in 1843. In one type electricity is used to wind the clock, but in another electrical vibrations cause the movement of the pendulum. The clock's errors may, they say, be corrected by a system of syn- chronization, by which a number of clocks are connected electrically to a master clock. Yet, despite all this scientific application and control of delicate mechanism, at Malvern disorder is rife. The master in the school ofiice seems to have no control whatsoever over his subjects in the various forms. They are running wild! On making a circuit of the rooms one would perceive that. in some, dawn should soon be in evidence, whereas ln others the shades of evening are stretching themselves out tor the night. During lunch period a few days ago I expounded to several of my chums the futility of scientific attempts to better the sun dial and the hour-glass. I was just beginning to pride myself on having aroused in them a realization of the absurdity of our supposed time-keeping system. when one of them declared himself a staunch defender of our electric clocks. Then he proceeded to credit the clocks with such marvelous accuracy that my convictions began to topple and I came to believe that the system is really very ingenious. First, he reminded us of that old question: If it is twelve o'clock noon at Greenwich, what time is it at-1'3 Then by playing on our school spirit he incited us to the grandness of our realm and of all that transpires in our own little world, Malvern. V121

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THE MUSE I C E A Short Short Story by ll'iIIianz A. Connor HE cold sun glittered on rolling hills of ice covered snow. Un- broken stretches of ice Hed into the dazzling horizon. A cutting wind whirled flakes of snow in eddies and save for its low whistle there was not a sound. When the wind lulled, the silence was heavy and oppressive: it seemed as though a great storm was coming rapidly. Now and then the ice cracked with a staccato report. Far over the ice two little dark smudges broke the endless sheet of white. They shifted. stood still for a moment, then moved slowly closer. In a short while the larger of the two grew into a man, and the smaller into a dog. The man was swathed heavily in furs and his ungainly figure moved erratically. He swayed and stumbled and occasionally his feet became so unmanageable that he was forced to stop. His face mirrored his bewilderment at such moments, and finally he would stagger on again. The dog trotted with dropping tail behind him. The man's face was covered with a heavy black beard, covered in turn with many fine icicles. Fine white particles made his black eyebrows seem silver, and a rifle trailed from his mittened hand. Steven Harvey was a trapper. For days the had long since lost count of timel. he and a companion had wandered aimlessly over the glaring ice. hopelessly lost. Caught in a blizzard. they had been driven far from their snug cabin. Steve's companion. wearied by the endless iight with starvation and cold, had finally ad- mitted defeat. He was dead. far back on the trail. Before his death he had pleaded with Steve to spare the dog. The dog was food, and the two men were starving. His companion had died to save the life of a dog. The dog belonged to Steve, but his companion had become greatly attached to it during the long winter months. It was a true dog of the north, gaunt and rangy beneath its thick gray hair. Its stamina had triumphed over that of the man. While the man tottered the dog was firm upon his feet: the man's mind was befuddled and foggy. while that of the dog was clear. The dog should have led the two, not the man. Nevertheless the dominance of man throughout the centuries kept the dog behind. Steve reeled drunkenly now and he began to mumble. The ice cracked beneath him. for Steve was a big man and the ice was thin. The dog looked questioningly up and Steve passed a huge furred hand over his face. Far over on the horizon a blue finger of smoke trickled up into the frozen blue sky. The dog p1'icked up his ears and his nose began to twitch: Steve stumbled blindly on. The dog whimpered softly but Steve took no notice. It whimpered again. and the man turned angrily and cursed it in a high cracked voice. Steve's brain whirled and a wave of hot unreasoning fury broke over him. He raised his gun to his shoulder and levelled its slim barrel at the dog. The dog. sensing something amiss. weaved quietly from side to side. The man was unable to keep the rifle barrel still and he cursed again. A deafening report and the dog rolled head over heels at the shock of the heavy calibre bullet. The man smiled a crooked grin of anticipation as he advanced toward l31l

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THE MUSE gzg g g The reason why you find a variation in the time throughout the school is, he disclosed, because of the extreme accuracy of the clocks. When it is twelve o'clock noon by the clock above the auditorium entrance in the main hall, the time east and west of that central posi- tion varies in direct proportion as the distance thence. Therefore, it is considerably earlier in the western extremity of our great domain than it is at the eastern boundf' But, I remonstrated. still not convinced, that is no reason why the clocks on the third fioor are so much in advance of those on the first floor during the morning and then lag behind so grievously in the afternoon. Yes! I was just coming to that, he contided in a superior air. Not only do our clocks allow for longitude, but they are also very sensitive to altitude. It is a well-known fact that the greater the alti- tude at which one is, the farther distant appears the horizon. Thus. the higher one is the sooner does the sun rise and so he is in advance of those persons on a lower level. But, in a similar manner does the sun set later for him than for the ones on the ground, and conse- quently he becomes behind time. What could be more precise than such a timing system as this: a system of clocks that even allows for longitude and altitude: the clocks at Malvern. Could he be correct? Had we such a marvelous system of clocks? After my vigorous denunciation of the clocks, I was loath to believe so, and yet. so it certainly seemed. That afternoon, while attempting to solve a geometrical conun- drum, I perceived that the clock had stopped. For the next week I made special observations of the clocks and came to realize that some- times they ran but often they did not. Could the system's champion explain that satisfactorily? I could think of no plausible excuse for such behaviour, unless it be owing to the fact that the horned moon has become caught upon the peak of the new Hagpole at the Canadian National Exhibition. But on further consideration I realized that not even this atrocious detention of a planet would explain their stopping, for the orbit of the moon has been deviated, not that of the sun. With rising hopes I conducted still further investigations which revealed the fact that as many of the clocks in the west wing were fast as were slow, and inversely in the eastern section. My spirits were fully revived. The champion's defences were proven invalid: and now I could renew my condemnation with added zest. Why. the clocks at Malvern are so uncertain that if Mr. Breslove were to find that the periods Hee all too quickly, let him point to the time-piece and his class will consequently be transported so far behind time as to make Ancient History their current events, or as to give him plenty of addi- tional time in which to point out the beauty of Caesar's tongue. When Miss Mc-Alpine becomes disgusted and scolds you in that way she has, so that you wish the moment would never pass, then flee to W34, where Mr. Day's eloquence of speech and gesture holds the clocks spellbound for hours. E331