Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational School - Echoes Yearbook (Peterborough, Ontario Canada)

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THE it ECHQES Tube Trim Know ye not of the grey rock's hollow Where the tokens of kinship lie? Curling leaf of the rooted tree, Scent of winds and their memory And tl1e down of a nesting bird. Kin are they by the bonds of beauty, With the dust of the high-hung stars, Theirs are the laws of the ancient moon, Dusk and dark and the golden noon, And the fairy springs of youth. Know ye not of the nights of music IVhen the kin of earth are met?- Through lonely mist and the low-voiced rain The old kings call their own again To the rock of Eternity. Gladys H. Watson, IVB. TAlexan6er the Great NE day after school. I remembered with apprehension, that my presence was requested in the Physics lab, for reasons which any of the Physics class could have explained So I hurried up, Cat least I think I hurriedj It was there that I first met Alexander, As my eye lit upon him, he lifted his head and looked enquiringly. IYe were still surveying one another with interest when the teacher entered. After the not-so-pleasant preliminaries had been dismissed, the afore-mentioned gentleman tnot Alexanderj turned to me and said, Do you like hini?' HI should say I do. and I think it's mutual said I, looking at Alexander lhrough the glass of the Aquarium. IVould you like to have him? - I Certainly shouldf' I replied, delighted with the generous offer. And so. Alexander. who. hy-the-way, is a very small, but never- iheless important-looking turtle. was deposited in a cold cream jar Cwhich he liked very mucht and was carried home. As I walked I began thinking of names for him. I thought like Christopher Robin:- Perhaps I shall call him terrible Jim. Because I ani rather fond of himf, Turning other suggestions over in my mind I thought of Rupert, because it sounds important. and of Neptune because it sounds aquatic, but none of these quite suited me. Fortunately I did my Ancient History that night and on opening my book I saw 'KAleXander the Greati' in large letters. The very name ! thought I, and Alexander he has been ever since, f Alec when he's goody. -gg-

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THE' EQHQES twisted, turned and in a sequence of writhing agony vanished into the leaden sky. In a moment a puff of wind from above changed its direction. The smoke low- ered in a black pall, hiding its source. It darkly scowled and clutched with phantom fingers-when-with miraculous rapidity the vision vanished. Now, for a moment, it climbed straight upward, and one's mind wandered to incense smoke ascending to a pagan god, the throb of drums and the sweet sickening odour of incense and the foul stench of perspiring bodies. As we watched over the invalid's shoulder, the smoke flattened out. It billowed and rolled, tossed in a hazy spray, while wisps clung tenaciously to life and would not vanish, but floated and tossed once more. A ship could easily have been swamped between those wallowing waves, and no doubt one did, in the fantastic illusion pro- duced before the glistening eyes of the pale-faced boy. Day after day that smoke rolls on, painting an ever changing succession of romantic pictures in the mind of the watcher. What tales of heroic adventure, deeds of daring and pathetic tragedy pass before his eyes each day and fade into the devouring sky! ' It was only an ugly smokestack to the passer-by. but to that boy it was the joy in life- .lrflzur Stinson, 5A. Uieverie Reflectng once in sylvan shade That, encirled by a rippling brook. Held hidden in its secret glade The rural gods the world forsook- I dreamed I heard a dryad call Summoning her sisters to woodland hall. In the shadowy distance, arms entwined, Dianas, Pleiades danced around: And following them, her mantle lined YVith moonlight showers, on shoulder bound Her quiver. can1e+the pure and untouched Artemis Pursuing the hunt in silent bliss. The haunting strains from the pipes of Pan Now floated clown from bending hill, And drew forth all the woodland clan And Naiads from their mossy rill. All nature danced around me then: Oh, would that it might dance again! But that has passedg I woke once more To find my dream-land fancies fled. Old Triton's horn from distant shore No longer winds. He-all a1'e dead. Earth's earlier gods are false, it seems,' But let us recall them in cur dreams. Jean Lochhead Howson, Va.

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THE SCH. ES Now Alexander is a very persevering niud-turtle and an excellent example of what stick-to-itiveness can accomplish. His first. home was in a flattish dish. adorned with a lettuce leaf, Qfor shadel. Here I left him for about ten minutes and when I re- turned to look at him my heart sank, he was gone! From tl1e centre of a long table he had travelled away and was nowhere in sight! After some searching I noticed a dullish spot on the carpet. It was he, lying serenely on his back. He was restored to his dish and he looked so apologetic I was sure he wouldn't misbehave again. How- ever, the next time I returned he was making his way steadfastly towards the edge of the table. He certainly knows the meaning of try, try again. Next I borrowed a fragile-looking amber glass bowl, the colour of which I thought would blend nicely with my small turtle's complexion. I made a nice muddy bed for him and decorated it with shells to give it a more aquatic atmosphere. He has lived there ever since and has not had another attack of wanderlust.. One of the reasons for this is that hc has grown lackadaisical. I have discovered the reason. Soon after I got him he grew into a lazy habit of not moving even his eyelashes for whole days at a time, and everyone that looked at him exclaimed with horror, Oh, dear, he's deadly I would then painstakingly explain that he was hibernating. Once I was asked, - Does that mean that he's going to shed his shell? There are many advantages about l1avi11g a turtle for a pet. For example, they have never been known to bite the neighbours' children or to bark at visitors. They do not me-ow in a great many major and minor keys on the back fence at midnightg nor scratch the baby. Turtles do not make lady visitors scream, falthough some shudderl , as did some white mice my brother once had. Nor do they sing at the tops of their voices while grace is being said, as our two canaries are wont to do. and which was especially annoying when the curate came to tea. This story, as all good stories should. has a moral. You only have to know Alexander to learn it. He is going to live to be over a hundred years old. so experts say, and it's all because he doesn't let anything bother him. He just sleeps in winter and takes in all he can comprehend in summer. So the moral he suggests is thisv Take life quietly and philosophically, as Alexander does. and you shall probably live to be over a hundred years old. H ilda Thompson, IVb. H - . a ef' ' 2 - fire fe' is Z fy,-wafiili . ,. ,411 V W ' . If 4' Q-sis' . .ff MWWMW ft I tiff- 1 -151' i 'L -, . if f 1 .A .,.f ' 1.-.,,.-,-,,,c,gQ:-L,.1 sk 1 - ' 4- .- , , .A ,- e ' X ', .- A . V . g 44 - - 1- -gy-