Patterson Collegiate Institute - Patrician Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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dug out a couple more and then carried llie wriggling bunch in her mouth to the centre of the garden, where she dropped them. Then she glided back to the place of concealment to wait. ’’After a long time, a group of sparrows spied the tempt¬ ing worms and swooped down on them; that was the cat s chance. She pounced upon them like lightning and nabbed one of the party at the first jump.” Cats, being nomadic creatures, possess a natural wander hist. A cat may seem perfectly contented and happy. But one day it may go away and never return. Numerous instances have occurred of domestic cats escaping to the woods and taking up a wild life there. So you never really own a cat. The author of the afore-mentioned hook in speaking of cats’ voices also says, “They set up their sweet voices.” Sweet! I certainly do not think that the Mood curdling cries of a c at in a fight sound “sweet.” Nor do 1 like the mournful howls which the chorus of cats on a back yard fence set up at night. In the latter case though. I Maine the cats’ masters or mistresses for letting the cats out to prowl at night. The neighbours of these night prowlers firmly believe that there should be a law forcing people to keep their cats on their own premises. Cats have a distorted sense of humour. To see a eat tor¬ ture a mouse for hours before killing it. makes my blood run cold. Cats will pick up their dying victims and shake them vigorously. Or they may paw and play with their quarry until they are finally dead. Many of these sadist carry their dead victims into the bouse and lay them before their master’s feet with great pride. Being creatures of habit, new people or new condition are not easily accepted by cats. When meeting a stranger, cats stand off and sniff. Then they will make friends, or no t t as their noses dictate. You may love a eat dearly but it will not pay the slightest attention to you if you do not S , 1R 1| good to it. New surroundings are not readily adapted by cats, either, livery room in (lie house is surveyed from attic to cellar. If a new piece of furniture or even a large book is placed in a room which a cat frequents, it walks around it, sniffs and surveys it carefully. Cats are both vain and proud. How they love to strut wearing huge hows around their neck. They especially like to play in front of a mirror and watch themselves. Thor¬ oughbred cats are particularly proud. They carry their heads high, and swish their tails a much as to say, “We are so superior to you insignificant human beings. My father’s cat used to parade in front of the windows so that the people passing hv the house could sec her to the best advantage. This following poem “The Tom Cat” by Don Marquis summarizes the characteristics of any cat. “At midnight in our allev A Tom-cat comes to wail. And he chants the hate of a million years As he swings his snaky tail. Malevolent, bony, brindled. Tiger and devil and bard. His eyes are coals from the middle ot He ' ll And his heart is black and hard. He twists ami crouches and capers. And bares his curved sharp claws. And he sings to the stars of the jungle nights Kre cities were, or laws. Beast from the world primeval. He and his leaping clan, When the blotched red moon leers over the roots. (»ive voice to their scorn id man. He will lie on a rug tomorrow And lick his silky tur. And veil the brute in his yellow eves And play lie’s tame and purr. But at midnight in the alley He will crouch again and wail. And heat the time of his demon ' s song With the swing of his demon’s tail. LOVE OF THE WILD By Kay MacVicar 1st Prize Junior Short Story There was no warmth in the rays oi the sun. and the dawn wind was cold on the mountainside that day last sum¬ mer when ' l ex. mounted on his faithful black mare. Bullet, topped a crest of the hill. As Tex gazed out over the vast expanse of wasteland, he saw. on a rise of land, a horse standing and staring hack in his direction. It was a horse such as Tex had never seen before: in fact, no man had. In the sun his glossy hide shone like burnished gold. As Tex gazed in delighted astonishment, he held his statm -like pose, the graceful neck thrust hack, every line of his body alive with wildness and intelligence. He seemed like an escaped ray of the sun, free to race and frolic where he pleased. There was an air of curiosity and expectation in the lift of his head, when seeming to sense the presence of an inferior person, lie turned, broke into a free springing trot, and vanished from sight. In this moment the carefree rider’s love of the wild was awakened and a wave of longing to tame this beautiful wild horse surged through him. Once planted in his mind the seed continued to grow until it haunted him incessantly, driving all other thoughts away. So much did it torment him. that he decided to lay plans to capture the creature. In a pocket in the foothills. Tex erected a corral, high enough to prevent a fear-crazed animal from leaping over it. With his plans laid thus far. he started about the task of tracking down the hoi sc. This was a long and tedious job, and no ordinary rider would have had either the pa¬ tience or nerve to stick to the horse’s path. But I ex was acclaimed by every cowpunchcr ami cattleman as the best rider on the range. It was many days before he again saw ' Golden Arrow. He hail chosen this name because the horse, when in flight, seemed like a golden shaft, racing swiftly over the land as it shot from a tightly stretched how. These were days which tested even Tex’s endurance; days in which the hope of ever seeing Golden Arrow was dimmed in Tex’s mind. When he finally did come upon him it was to find him drinking at a spring, the boisterous wind blowing his golden mane and forelock. The green grass about Arrow’s feet leaned, rippled and sprang erect again with an incessant murmuring sound. It was a picture that Tex would never forget. The horse standing there, in land he loved, free, wild and untamed, little knowing that soon he was to know his first encounter with a being who threatened his freedom. Tex ' s gaze swept over the valley and discerned that there was only one entrance, as the valley was enclosed in all directions by insurmountable cliffs, looming forbiddingly, l ex had never expected such good fortune and was quick to see his advantage. He had the Golden Arrow hemmed in with no other opening to offer an escape. Soon the horse finished drinking. Upon raising it ' head, he saw the rider astride the Mack horse and immediately took flight. He circled tin valley, first in one direction then in the other, screaming and clawing at the cliffs. Without abating any of his whirlwind speed, he followed a precise accurate calculation, turned as if on a dime, and investigated every possible way of escape. Seeing only one entrance, he headed south toward it where Tex, astride Bullet, his lasso coiled in his hand, sat in readiness, his nerves tense, every muscle perfectly atunc; every sense perfectly under control. As the horse neared him, the rope whistled through the air and fell over the Arrow’s head. The horse gave vent to a neigh of terror and bewilderment. He reared in the air, snapping and biting at the fearful thing encircling his neck, and when he saw his efforts were in vain, he took refuge in flight. Tex, however, was prepared for this, and putting spurs to the faithful Bullet, raced after him. The Bullet, however fast, could not equal the stnue ot me (.om¬ en Arrow, who although hampered l»y the rope round his neck soon tired the big. black horse. Because both showed signs of exhaustion Tex was obliged to check the Arrow ' s pace. The horse stood there, the proud head hanging low. the shiny coat flecked with foam and sweat, a beaten horse. There followed days of the gruelling task of training and taming the horse, acquainting him with the halter, bridle and saddle. However, the day dawned when Tex saw tile (Continued on Page 47) Page Fourteen

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Literary Highlights A STORM By Peggy Gow, IOC 1st Prize Junior Poetry The storm at last had broken. Released its pent-up, raging fury. ' The majesty it brought Had stopped our hurried bustling To shut out all the rain, lie watched, we waited, we listened, Intently, trying to see The fast-gathering rivulets glisten If hen the lightning flashed. The jagged streaks Looked sinister, stabbing the sky wide open. The thunder, rising up to peaks Crashed majestically, abated a while, went on. Once more, the lightning flashed, the thunder roared. Then alt was over. li e settled down to sleep once more. To dream about the splendour of the storm just ended. WILL THEY REMEMBER By Laurence LeCapelain 1st Prize Senior Short Story John Clegg sat quietly at the old oak desk that had been his for the last fifty years. He knew every tale behind each little scar that graced its well-worn surface. But now he was leaving them—leaving them behind him forever. His ageing veined hand that pressed deep red marks in his wrinkled forehead. He was thinking—thinking of the past, of a youth, full of vigor and ambition, who had taken up teaching in a small town, to earn the money to go to college. He was thinking of the youth who fell in love with a yellow-haired, dancing¬ eyed country girl; of their marriage, and their three chil¬ dren ; of their little house on Maple Street; and a pay cheque that never seemed to be enough. Once he had dreamed of a Professorship; of money; of fame —his name etched indelibly in the memories of men. Now be was too old for money and fame and all he wanted was to be remembered. But he felt he had failed even in this, and that soon he would die, leaving the world as he had come—just as if he had never lived. John Clegg ' s thoughts suddenly stopped —lie raised his head and stared out over the forty empty seats —the fort} seats that had kept him busy for fifty years. Kven the five years extra that he had stayed on because of the war were gone. Now he was being retired after fifty years. Fifty years!—-why they bad seemed like a day. He could remem¬ ber, as if it had been only yesterday, the first day he came to the school. His first pupils, as plainly as if on a movie screen, he could see them in his mind ' s eye, struggling over multiplication tables. They would be older now. probably chubby, maybe even bald, smoking cigars and discussing politics with married sons and daughters. W ith a smile lie could see them sitting in their seats again, smoking their cigars and reading the daily paper. Strange, how the years had passed—lie had never felt old before. Maybe it was the children that kept him busy and young—new life, like new blood, pouring constantly through those seats. He had to admit it now though—the years, inevitable in their passing had finally caught up with him. Barbara was gone now. ami his three children had all grown up, married, and left him. He was all alone in the little house on Maple Street, and now he was being retired. He felt somewhat like an old circus horse being sent to the farm to live out the rest of his days, without the smell of sawdust, bright lights, or the screeming and screeching of excited crowds. He would miss the smell of chalk dust and tlu cracked old blackboards. But most of all lie would miss the children and their happy laughter resounding through the school, giving life to desk and blackboards, pencils and paper. Yes, he would miss the old school and he would miss the children too. But he didn ' t mind that—not too much that is. He could always visit with his own children. Maybe he would go and see some of the places he had always longed to see—he didn ' t know. But lie did know that when he left here he would be forgotten and that was what hurt. John Clegg who had lost all chances to make reality out of his life-long dreams, and who had given fifty years of his life to new generations would be forgotten. Oh what is the use! he thought. “I ' ll go into the aud¬ itorium in a few minutes—make a little speech and then I ’ll leave, only to be forgotten. Suddenly John was roused from his lethargy by a sharp knock on the door. Come in! Come in! he responded hastily— What is it you want. Paul? Mr. Hodgekinson wants you to come to the auditorium replied the freckle-faced lad meekly. All right, Paul, you can run along. I’ll be there in a minute. John rose slowly—lie was a little tired, but lie steadied himself and then he picked up the notes lie had made for his speech. He walked to the door, turned and took a long last look at the room that lie remembered as being almost home. He couldn’t remember it this way —empty! It would always be swarming in bis memory—swarming with smiles, happy faces, laughter and life. He turned very slowly once more and made his way somewhat hesitantly down the hall. He drank in for the last time all the familiar details that he had learned to take for granted. Before lie realized it. he found himself just outside the door of the big auditorium. He paused a minute, took a deep breath, steadied himself once again ami stepped in. Phe auditorium was filled—filled with parents and their laughing screaming children. The whole community had turned out to bid him farewell. John looked up and his eyes were wet with tears. He saw the crowd and he could hear their cheers. But his eyes were not on them. They were fixed on the large portrait of himself that rested on the stage and lie could read the bronze plaque underneath. John Clegg “From Students. Alumni and Friends Yes, John thought, as lie walked slowly down the aisle towards the stage. “They will remember! FELIS DOMESTICA By Nancy McKee 1st Prize Senior Essay The Oxford Dictionary defines a cat as “a small domesti¬ cated carnivorous quadruped of the genus felis. often kept as a houstdiold pet.” This, of course, is correct, but I prefer my six year old brother s definition, because I abhor cats. He described a cat as an animal that scratches ami carries genus. Which description do you prefer? Because cats are closely related to tigers, lions, panthers and leopards, they are fierce and untamable. This fierceness appears even in young kittens. One minute a kitten can be frolicking with a ball of yarn, and the next minute claw¬ ing your nylons to shreds. The haughty thoroughbreds act especially fierce. They are a terror to human beings as well as to other animals. My father once had a prize cat that fought all dogs large or small. When meeting a hostile dog. she flew to its face swift as a flash with her sharp claws poised for the attack. Then he would tear the defenceless dog’s nose until the poor dog ran away yelping with pain. No one has ever succeeded in bossing a cat. When a cat makes up its mind to do something, it goes straight at it. If the first attempt fails, the cat will keep trying until it succeeds. The following story related in the book “Rabbits, Cats and Cavies” illustrates how crafty and vigilant cats are. “I have a cat that i a great bird hunter: a few days ago. I noticed her digging industriously in one corner of the garden. This was an unusual proceeding, so I kept my eyes on her to see what her object was ami 1 was surprised to see her drag out a nice juicy worm from the hole. S1 k Page Thirteen

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The Giggle Sheet Leonard Blumenfeld was acclaimed the “Joker” of Pat- terson CM. by Mr. Fraser. Mr. Mills and Laurence Le Cape- lain, acting as judges, and the class of 10A, acting as final arbitrators. They selected his entry above the seven run¬ ners-up by secret ballot. Our Joker says— I.ast night I held a lovely hand, I thought my heart would burst with joy A hand so soft and neat. So wildly did it beat. No other hand unto my heart. Could greater solace bring Than the dear hand I held last night— Four aces and a king. ♦ Other entries consisted of all jokes found throughout the magazine. + When asked what she thought of an athlete. Harry Wade’s mother replied. “An athlete is a dignified bunch of muscles entirely incapable of shovelling snow or carrying out ashes. ♦ Lady: “You poor man, does nobody offer you work? Our Alumnus: “Oh yes. lady! But ' generally speaking, I meet only with kindness.” A thirsty gentleman wandered into a corner saloon and ordered a dry Martini. After he had indulged ht Several such drinks lie proclaimed the genius of the bartender and presented him with a live lo’»ter with his compliments. The bartender somewhat taken aback replied dubiously. “Thanks, I suppose I ' d better take it home for dinner.” “No! No! objected the customer, “He’s already had din¬ ner. Take him to a movie!” A young man swung himself over the handrail of a pass¬ ing train and stood panting but triumphant. An older man already on the platform observed him with some scorn and finally said. “You young fellows don’t keep yourselves in condition. When l was your age I could carry a cup of coffee, run 1 alf a mile, catch the 8.15. and still be fresh as a daisy.” “You don ' t understand, pop. I missed this train at the last station.” ♦ Mr. Mencel on opening the door of the gym before a big basketball game was met with a sudden rush of water. “Whose foul play is this?” lie cried in alarm. Cocomazzi stepped forward saving. I’m sorry sir, but I thought you said you were going to put some subs in. Storey, a very shy hut romantic chap, said to his love life as he threw stones in the lake, “I’m just a pebble at your feet, dear!” She replied quietly, “Well Jim. I could be much happier if you would be a little boulder.” 4 ♦ Now Miss. asked the dentist of the movie usherette. “Which tooth is giving you the trouble?” “Second from the left in the balcony sir. ♦ Mr. Hayden came into class one Monday and said. “Over the weekend I drove to New York, travelling forty miles per hour. I got there in five hours. How old am l?” Bob Dowdell, a bright lad, replied. “Thirty-two sir. “That’s right and how did you figure it out?” “Easy,” he replied, “I have a brother who is half crazy and he’s’ sixteen. A tombstone in Quebec reads: “Here lies the father of twenty-nine. He would have had more, but he didn’t have time.” 4 4 4 Reporter: “I’ve got a perfect iu v torv Editor: “How come? Man bite dog? Reporter: “No, hut a hydrant sprinkled one.” When Joan Kalle went out on her first date her mother said, “Now Joan, Boh will probably want to put his arm around you and hold your hand. I don’t mind that, hut if he tries to kiss you. don’t let him or I’ll worry. ’ When Joan came home her mother asked how she liked it. “Just fine!” she replied, And he did just what you said. But when he wanted to kiss me I remembered what you said and so I kissed him and let his mother worry. 4 4 4 How long do you sleep on Sunday? Depends! Depends on what? Depends on how long the sermon is. 4 4 4 Atchison. Gall and Paterson, three husky fifth formers skipped merrily into a bar. “Sasparilla demanded Atchison. “Coca-cola,” ordered Gall. Make mine milk said Paterson. I ' m doing the driving.” 4 4 4 Mr. Fraser: “How much is seven and seven.” Jerry Jacobson: “Ten.” Mr. Fraser: “Well I’ll give you a pass seeing as you only missed it by one.” Ray: “Fishing?” Steve: “No, just drowning worms.” ♦ ♦ Mr. Culbert, explaining the difficulties of Science to Bob Bunker: “If you call an appendicitis operation an appendec¬ tomy and a tonsil operation a tonsillectomy, what is the removal of a growth from the head: What would be your answer, Bob?” “Growthectomy!” “No, a hair cut.” ♦ ♦ Mr. Dawson (in our health class): “One doctor told me that onions were the secret to good health.” Bychylo: “But I don’t see how onions could even be a secret.” 4 4 4 Danny Scott: “What happened when the girl swallowed the bullets from her father’s gun?” Hugh Fulford: “I don’t know? What did happen?” Danny: “Her hair came out in hangs.” Roses are red, Violets are blue. Rain off the roof Reminds me of you. Drip! Drip! Drip! Romeo Marcus: “What’s the date Mr. Fraser.” Mr. Fraser: “Never mind the date: finish the exam.” Romeo: “I just want to have something to write on my paper.” 4 4 4 A professor left his umbrella in his hotel room. When he went back he found the room rented to newlyweds. As he listened at the keyhole he heard: “Whose itsy bitsy bands are these:” Mine,” she said. Whose itsy bitsy ears are these?” “Mine,” she said. “Whose itsy bitsy shoulders are these?” “Mine,” she said. Finally the professor stuck his head in the door. “Listen here young man. when you get to the umbrella, it ' s mine. ♦ Ruth Nichol: “Have you an opening for me?” Office Manager: “Yes we have, hut don’t slam it on the wav out.” The teacher of a hillbilly school in U.S.A. sent a note to the mother of one of her pupils. It read: “Your Rastus smells! Give him a hath.” lhe following da the teaihci leecivcd .t icpl . “Ma Rastus ain’t no rose. Earn ' em, don’t smell ’em.” Page Fifteen