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

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36 THE EcHoEs .linking Crown jK'ZI.f'E!5 for the fl-l0f'z'f.f FIRST PRIZE UP to fixe years ago the motion pictures used whatever jewelry the costumer could supply. Then the public arose and demanded accuracy in gems as well as in costume and customs, Simultaneously with this demand there appeared in Hollywood a slender Dane who had walked through all the capitals of Europe, studying the de- signing of jewelry, viewing the world's famous gems, and learning to make what we now know as period jewel- ry. His name is XYilly Peterson- Fagerstam, and he is descended from generations of jewelers in the Danish capital. From white and coloured glass he fashions gems of all kinds: from copper, pewter, German silver and brass, he works the platinum, gold and silver mountingsg and from glass, blown this as a sheet ot goldleaf, he forms pearls, covered with tishscale composition of all the shades of the sea treasures of Ceylon and the South Seas. He uses glass and glass only, to pro- duce replicas of the famous and com- mon jewels of the world. Virtually all of it, cast and ground with the proper faceting, comes from Czechoslo- vakia - Prague being the largest source. These countries produce a cast glass, uniform in colouring, with a very high factor of reflection such as can be had nowhere else in the world. This cast glass is used for diamonds texcept when wanted in large quanti- ties as for the cox ering of slippers, sandals and gowns, when rhinestones are called inl, for emerals, rubies, sapphires, topazes, amethysts, zircons - indeed for every solid stone. No paste or other composition stone is ever used. These casts are made in duplication of the originals from exact measurements and colour photographs. They mimic not only the size, shape, and colour, but reproduce every Haw possessed by the originals. Once cast, the imitation gems are ground by hand. There is no wholesale production of these stones. Almost as much atten- tion is given to each as the cutters of Amsterdam give to the genuine stones. Pearls for the motion pictures are blown in the thinnest of glass by the Workers of Central Europe. VVhen the pearl has cooled, it is covered with several coats of a varnish made from fishscales and coloured to the exact tint of the original. Laid side by side, except by weight, it would be extremely difficult to distinguish the original from the imitation. D. BARRINGER, IHF Ind. Art Gods Ilwafrlz The little brook ran down the hill To greet the river wide And the little fiowers along the bank Drooped their heads and sighed. And while the earth with beauty rare lYas sleeping in the dell, God Was Watching over all To see that all was well. JIM Saxos, IB Ind. Arts

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THE EcHoEs X. V' .9 MQ! 35 is Q74 QV 357 5 vi v Q, 0 -fhzgj' 7, E M, llwlqizniiiif -'IM I lt V 4 .1 Little Gif-fs Song to zz Sfar FIRST PRIZE Each night, before she falls asleep She wishes on a star - A little, whiteeclad iigure there, An upturned face, and curly hair, Against the curtains, gazing far. I wonder what she Wishes for! She says she dasn't tell. She has a special one - and bright - That shines so clearly every night, She sighs, VVhat if it fell? Ah, little one, so sweet and young, I had a star once, too, But long ago mine fellg I pray That yours may guide you every day To fairer things, and true. OLGA WESTBYE, IVA Academic Cowboyfv Ode to cz Star FIRST PRIZE Hey little star! Way up thar k lVhen I lie down to sleep at night, All in my sleepin' bag up tight, And when my firc'S burned quite low I like to watch yer shimmeyin' glow. I ponders And I wonders A lVhat makes yez all so golden bright Like pin sticks in the bloomin' night? I wonder if some guys like me Look down from thar, the earth to see. Yeah, I know it I ain't a poet! I think I'll snooze, I'm in too deep, Before I go - thanks, God-a heap, For leavin' them there things to keep Their watch on me when I'm asleep. OLGA XVESTBYE, IV A Acad.

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THE Ecnorss 37 The Cabin Fire FIRST PRIZE BEADS of perspiration were on the heads of my Cousin jack and me as we wearily climbed to the barn roof, from the infernal dust and heat that reigned within. We were dead tired from that still heat that had withered the pastures in the past month. For three weeks we had toiled by day at the harvest, and every evening we worked diligently, long hours after we should have been asleep, at that cabin on the lower slopes of that wooded valley, by Crooked Arrow Creek. The harvest was finished and for the next two weeks we would make our abode there. We climbed to the peak of the roof and glanced in the direction of the cabin, when the sight of smoke caused us to scamper from the roof, and to start at top speed for the cabin. Following the old beaten track, we topped a hillg the sun gleamed in our eyes, long shadows darkened the val- ley below: we emerged into denser forest. As we made a steep descent, we crossed a running brook with a bound, a quick turn, and in a small clearing stood the cabin. We had tried to imagine that smoke was something else, but no, the flames leaped from the window, every small crevice revealed one mass of fiameg smoke poured from every opening. I sprang to the door and flung it open, but was met by such a burning wave of heat and fiames that my quivering body was sent back - if I could only get the tool chest. I charged again, but had scarcely entered when a warning call from jack made me spring out in time to hear a deafen- ing roar. Although I clawed at my eyes to remove the stinging smoke and flames, I could see the roof as it crashed in- ward. We retreated farther, as the sparks flew into the air, and burning splints were hurled high. The walls quavered, an ear-splitting crackling was followed by a roar like thunder, the posts snapped off, andthe front wall fell outward. The angry flames leaped from it, the shower of sparks obscured our view as the other walls caved in and left a heap of burning debris. We returned home that night, with sunken hearts, every step jarred my body. The next day a neighbour told us of a man, an old man, unshaven, with cane in hand, who, the previous eve- ning, was headed in the direction of the cabin. For several days we cursed the wandering Vagabond, but when the ashes of the cabin had cooled, our curses were revoked when we discerned the skeleton of a human being. We came to the conclusion that this man of feeble frame met his death indomita- bly fighting the fierce blaze which overwhelmed him. A K. E. TURNBULL, IIF Ind. Arts