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

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nn Y I :-TB' - --ZW -- E L- THE Etta ES .F J' 11 - 'L 'lf 1, grandfather, with gaiety of the hlarchioness and the boisterousness of Dick Swiveller, while the hideous Quilp supplies the malevolence. His masterpiece David Copper- field is largely a biography of the auth0r's life, with the inimitable iNIr. ltlicawber as Dickens' own father. A Tale of Two Citiesf' a story of the French Revolution, is also the scene of one of the most heroic deeds of fidelity and self-sacrifice known to fiction. lNIartin Chuzzlewitu describes Dickens' visit to America and makes a marked contrast between the cosy inns of England and the coarse rude inns of America. Dickens always had the greatest of sympathy for those who suffered at the hands of the mean, cruel. and insincere people: and he portrayed them in such a way that no one wants to be considered as resembling creatures like Pecksniff, Uriah Heep, Bill Sikes, Scrooge, Fagin and others. Here is one of the greatest literary tributes ever paid to the memory of the immortal author, Charles Dickens has not only pleased us, he has softened the hearts of a whole generation. He made charity fashionable. He wakened pity in the hearts of some sixty millions of people. He made a whole generation keep Christmas with acts of helpfulness to the poor. And every barefooted boy and girl in England and America to-day fares a little better. gets fewer cuHs and more pudding, because Charles Dickens wrote. Dickens is without exception the greatest character writer who ever lived. He was an uncanny genius in his ability to choose names for his characters, as those who read his novels have doubtless concluded. ' It is more than three score years and ten since the great author passed away, but his fame is increasing steadily. Those who read and enjoy Dickens' works are :in ever-increasing host in the English-speaking world. Bill Davidson, IB Academic. . Common Ebings The moonlight is a gentle thing, Vfhich through the windows gleams. lfpon the snowy pillow where The happy infant dreams. The sunlight is a glorious thing That comes alike to all, It lightens up the peasant's hut. ,Xnd the 11oble's painted hall. A robin on a pear-t.ree sings, Beside a cottage door, But when the winter comes along. There it will sing no more. A brook goes babbling by the door, With waters cool and sweet. The village children throng the shore, To wade with dainty feet. Dorothy Ferguson. QA. -4o- r

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WE BCH - ES Ghz Tream 'Grail I would like to sail down a dream trail, Thronged with fancy golden ships To where a friend would wait for me, With roses in her hair, and laughter on her lips. Down that magic trail of moonbeams, Where the silent dreams Hy free To where, amid the roses That friend would wait for me. By my side merry shapes are thronging, And their breath is on my cheekg And their merry voices whisper Thoughts of this friend for whom I seek. For her lips are like the rosebud's, On her cheeks their blushes blow, And her hair is clouded shadows W'here bright tints of twilight glow. So 1,111 coming down the dream trail, Where the silver moonlight drips To where my friend will wait for me, With blushing roses in her hair, and laughter on her lips. Adelia Sargent, III Commercial. Charles Ticlxens emo Tlfis Novels HARLES DICKENS was born in Portsmouth, England, in the year 1812. He was unfortunate in receiving little education because his father was lodged in debtors' prison. However this detriment did 11ot mar the quality of his books. On the contrary, it gave him a wonderful opportunity to develop his own style of proseg because had he been better educated he would have developed a style modelled after earlier authors, and this would have lessened the intriguing fascination of his novels. Dickens wrote many of his books in an effort to bring about much-needed social reforms in England. Oliver Twist was written to throw a light on the woes of orphans in the parish work-houses, and to reveal the haunts of crime in London. Nicholas Nickleby exposes tl1e dreadful mismanagement of Yorkshire private boarding-schools, in which the boys were mercilessly caned and treated little better than animals, by the depraved and malicious wretch, Wackford Squeers, in order to satisfy that villain's evil desire for pleasure. The Christmas Carol has done more than anything else in the whole world to bring happiness and pleasure into poverty- stricken homesat Christmas. Little Dorritv exposes the evils of imprisonment for debt. Dickens was also endowed with a marvellous and unrivalled sense of humom: as is portrayed in Pickwick Papers' and Sketches by Bozf' In his unparalleled romances Charles Dickens brings tears and laughter to his readers. Old Curiosity Shop blends the pathetic pictures of Little Nell and her ' -39- 2

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THEI 5394335 W Tllbantaste Here am I, Placed in a little inland town, To me, the smallest place on earth, For I long to get free from gray fields and brown, And play in the roaring surf. Truly I know How dearly I should love to yield To temptation, and run away to the seag But in this inland town I'm sealed, I never can play in the surf, and be free! The seashores! Oh! to sit at the window-sill Of a snug, little cottage that faces the sea! A cottage-built on the brow of a hill, Ivhere sea-winds blow, both strong and free! And the surf, I love the surf, so foamy and white: The waves-they seem to be softly lined Vlfith this foam, so buoyant,-so light- And tossed about by a keen sea-wind. But alas! alas! These pleasures never shall be mine: For destiny has written down Bly future,-in a single line- g I'hy duty lies in an inland town. By Illargaret Goodley, Commercial IIa. 1 my 711705 I have a dog, his name is Jeeves, 3 I-Ie's always trying hard to please, Of this occupation he never seems tired, To any other he's never aspirefl. YVhen he is bad he raises my wrath. But he'd do anything to get out of a bath: It seems that he tries my anger to raise, But he'fl do anything to win some praise. I-le's been with me for six long years, And I've grown accustomed to all his flairsg VVith all his faults he's still my dog,- In my wheel of life he's become a cog. Hes big, he's fat, he eats like a horse, I really think some .day I'll have to use force: And now that my little poem I've written. I will say this-he has never bitten. A llcm P11 rl.- -41-