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

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One Night by BETTY HUGHES, lll C AC. The soft dark shades of night were fast falling, and here and there, on the black velvetness of the skv, tiny diamonds began to glimmer. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and shone brilliantly on the newly fallen snow. A gentle wind sighed eerily through the apparently lifeless trees, as if it mourned for the lost beauty of the earth. Down in the valley, in the little village, the houses nestled together cozily trying to keep one another warm. Bright patches of light fell on the snow from the unshaded windows of cheerily lit rooms. Inside the little cottages all were not wealthy, but so very happy in their poverty. High on a hill, at the far end of the village, stood a lone, gaunt house. It was a house which seemed to be pleading to be loved. It wanted young laugh- ter to ring through its echoing rooms, it wanted to be loved and to love in return. Long ago it had had such blessings but now for many years it had sheltered only a frail old crippled lady and two ser- vants. Since that day, Oh! so long ago, no laughter or words of love had sounded through its heeding walls. That night that frail old lady sat in a deep arm chair in front of a huge open flre place. The years had not left their mark on her beauty. Still her abundant silver hair, which was done in shining plaits around her head, told of the golden glory it had been formerly. Her skin was still soft and X ,..- 1 fs.- ?f1 High nn a hill, al llze-far end of the village, stood u lone, gazmt house. Il seemed Io be pleading In be loved. Page Twenty-Iwo delicate and on her cheeks was a faint pink tinge, as if ever-blooming roses grew there. But it was her eyes, her ever-alert, yet listless eyes, which drew one's attention. The deep blue of those eyes reflected her whole life, like a deep blue pool in the midst of a forest reflecting the surrounding beauty. In those eyes one read of love and hate, laughter and tears, joy and sorrow! As she sat there reading pictures in the fire, old memories flooded back upon her unwilling brain. If only she could forget! This must be her punish- ment for all the happiness she had ever known. All this aching loneliness from which she had so often prayed that death would release her. Now again these floods of memories came back on the tide of time. She saw herself as in a dream, young, lovely and happy on the day before her wedding, galloping madly over the meadows with Michael, faithful, beloved Michael at her side. She saw him again, in a moment of delicious pain, with the wind rullling through his golden hair, which he combed so savage- ly to keep down the persistent curls. She saw again that fateful fence at which her horse had shied and felt again that terrible piercing pain she had felt when she had fallen to the earth with a dull thud. She again lived through the endless months of agony when strange whispers had floated to her half- hearing ears. The whisper that Michael did not want to mariy an incurable cripple. Then she knew the truth. The horrible bitter, blinding, truth that she would never walk again and that Michael had left her to face the life of an invalid alone. Again she lived through the lonely unloved years, when her only friends had been books and memories. Slowly her head had drooped lower and lower. Then suddenly with a start it was held erect again. What was that noise? Surely no one was in the room with her and yet it had sounded like a soft step. She turned her head slowly and there in the full path of the moon's light stood- Michael! she uttered hoarsely. Margaret!,' he murmured brokenly and in a bound was on his knees before her with his head in her lap. 'tCan you ever forgive me? he whispered. All those empty years I have compelled you to live through, because I was a coward, because I hadn't the heart to see you suffer! I couldn't stand it any longer, Margaret, and so I came to beg you to for- give me. I'm not too late now. My two legs can be yours and together we can mend each other's broken dreams. VVhen the servant came in to put Miss Margaret to bed, she found them thus, side by side, and tip- toed softly out, knowing at last that her mistress's dream had come true. The old house creaked with the ever-increasing wind, happy, finally that love had come within its portals.

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Evening by GOLDIE TULLY, Ii B COM. The red-gold sun Was sinking in the west, And the long drawn shadows, etched upon the snow, Slowly faded and gave place to limpid dusk, For the world of light is always loth to go. Softly and quietly, the waves of sooty black Roll o'er the earth till all is densely spun, And objects loom against the sky with edges dim- med, Then melt into the purple clouds as one. Storm at Guide Comp by MOIRA WHALON, IIB COM. The weather was very favourable at camp-ex- cept for one day. The blue tranquil water was churned to a black raging fury, and white caps, resembling huge dogs of whipped cream, tossed and battled with their powerful masters, the Waves. The old wooden wharf, rotted with age, creaked and groaned as the swell of the surf rushed over it. The pines, usually tall and stately, bent and waved their branches as the wind whistled through them. Our Union jack was a whirling mass of red, white and blue, as the ropes that held it twisted and turned-but trusty guide knots held. The little weather man, on an adjoining cottage whirled his arms round frantically, till finally, with a resigned air, he toppled to the ground. Two boats moored near-by, pulled and tugged at the rope that held them, and with loud splashes contributed still more to the noise about them. The entire scene was one of hustle and bustle as the mighty wind gave vent to his angered feelings. Towards nightfall, however, he repented, and the mighty roar died to a gentle moan, among whispering pines, as the moon looked down upon a scene of quiet restfulness. Hypothesis by HUGH KENNER, IIC AC. When the winter iirelight fiickers, to and fro upon the Wall Demons of the purple hazes dart about the duskv hall, ' Wild and dreadful, harsh and formless, ever shrink- ing from the light, Ever lurking in the darkness, fragments of the shadowy night, Ever dancing, slow advancing as the flickering fire dies, Ever staxting, backward darting as the fresh-fed sparkles rise. Skipping gaily through the fireplace, soft and gentle, clear and bright, Flash the merry-hearted flame-tongues, sources of primeval light, Dancing blithely o'er the hearthstone, playing briskly up the flue, Ever-changing, ever-constant, ever old and ever new, Ever shrinking and decoying all the darksome forms without, Ever flashing upward, putting these wild enemies to rout. Through the night the siege continues till the shadows flit away, 1 Restless fading and departing at the dawning of the day. Light and darkness, sun and shadow, world and water, good and ill, So the earth-bound atoms struggle, never ceasing, '1 never stil . S0 the windy, wat'ry forces wear the boulders into sand, So the mighty ocean thunders, ever wearing on the land, So the dawning thwarts the darkness and the dark- ness ends the day, So old Chaos and new Order War for Universal sway, Each impassioned force of Nature with its opposite must strive, All the Universe is conflict and the fittest shall survive. Autumn Leaves by ALAN BROWN, IV A Soft songs to sing, and loves in Spring Are happy things that linger, haunting, But loves in fall leave none at all Of bittersweet, or echoed call Of former lovers' distant taunting. The bare tree grieves not o'er lost leaves, But starkly stands content-with reason: With melting snows her beauty grows, Where old leaves lie she cares nor knows, But spreads a new array next season! Oh, autumn loves are easy loves- They come with joy, and go as brightly, For loves in fall are slim and tall, With feet to follow any call As soft as autumn leaves, and lightly! Page Twenty-one

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Behind the Printer's ink The Inside Story of a Headline by EDNA BGRLAND, VA The members of the budding university English Club were discussing the subject of the afternoons lecture on newspaper work. Laurie, the leader in all things intellectual, sat a little apart from the others, thoughtful, and with a bitter twist to his young mouth. Well! exclaimed Paul Hedron with raised eye' brows, Why so glum? Laurie looked up with a startg he seemed to have forgotten the others. Glum? he repeated, I-I was just thinking about a remark someone just made about headings-that there was nothing much to them, just a splash of the biggest words possible. Well, they're wrong! There's a great deal behind a news heading. He looked past the little group that turned as he spoke, past Paul who sat with his hat pushed back on his head, past red-headed Betty, the toast of the campus, past Rolley, the football halfback. He spoke as if to himself, staring into space, drawing the words from his innermost soul, each word fol- lowing the other like a tired runner whose sheer will forces him on. Unknown to the son whom he was going to meet at the station Mr. X. instantly killed last night when the car he was driving skidded and struck the train at the level-crossings. I remember seeing that, exclaimed jean of the tip-tilted nose. Well, what of it? cried Paul irritably. Lets do something! But Laurie interrupted him and Paul involuntar- ily shrank from the piercing gaze of steel-grey eyes. What of it? he cried, Do you want to know really what happened? What the story behind it involved? He sighed and leaned back, his face clouded momentarily and his eyes were haunted, un- certain and curiously wistful. 'iSixteen years ago a young woman died, leaving her husband and a three year old son. Previously the man had loved his son as a part of his beloved young wife. Now he transferred his entire affection to that little chap with all the fire and fierceness of a man deprived of the one he loved most in all the world. And it was returned by a love undivided be- tween two parents. The boy was too young to under- stand death or to realize his loss. For a week his demands were incessant but in a month he rarely mentioned his mother. The man had a great responsibility but his shoulders were broad enough for the task. He had loved his young wife too deeply to love any other and he preferred to risk being both father and mother to their son rather than abandon him to some stranger. He adored the boy and the little fellow idolized his Dad. ' CContinued on Page 851 Snow Storm by CATHARINE WHITE, n B com. ,'Tl1e old woman of the sky is pluvkiizg her while goose. How many times have I been told that, when, as a youngster, I stood at the window and watched the flakes drift down! Now I know the scientific facts about snow, but nothing in a text book des- cribes a snow storm as well as that old superstition. Of course it would have to be a very big goose, for the air is crowded with the jostling myriads of feathery particles. It gives a feeling of immensity to gaze up into the sky and see the apparently un- limited fall of the flakes. They descend slowly, gracefully, as if unwilling to reach the earthg and finally settle down to merge with their companions into a glistening blanket of snow. People say that there is no magic to-day. Did they ever stand and watch a bare and gaunt tree being turned into a fairyland of lacy tracery against a darkening sky? Or see an ugly, oppressive street take on the as- pects of a Christmas card under the softening in- fluence of a good snow storm? And when night falls, what is more comforting than the soft whisper of snow as it drifts across your window pane? To scientists, snow is just frozen water, but to me it is a magician, changing the world from an ugly and everyday place to something that is ethereal in its beauty. Reborn by oteft wesravs, v A To-day I think my soul was born again, A breath of spring, the weary winter done, And like a broken blossom after rain, I felt it growing in me with the sun. The music of fresh waters fillled the air, It winged my heart with love of life once more, Fast with the fading snow went doubt and care I stood re-armed, the shrouded year before. Page Twenty-three