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

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Y Y V- tx 1 LO 7' XY Y Xxx, Y Xu ,, Y ix' Xi L7 if N' s -X X, lx jg VX A N -. M' v 'A A . L.. -'O NZ 1 1 ml. xx V . - 1 ' .5 K gh ,p g,x z , XX XX xc Xl A l :ZZ x I l Q FL Qyilmkk by Xt, L in x i ' - il Mlm ' , Q wil' 'QQQSW The Stuff OF Life by JIM LILLICO, VA AC. A cheerful smile, a hearty grip, A kind word in the face of strife, A helping hand, by friendship moved, These go to make the stuff of life! A lilting song, a dew-touched leaf, A mellow pipe with curling haze, A full-rigged ship on white-tipped swell, A good book: these fill all our days. A Heecy cloud, the pale new moon, The smell of lavender and lace, A sprightly dance, a ling'ring kiss, The sight of unforgotten face, The mute appeal in a dog's deep eyes, Gulls by JACK THOMPSON, XI C AC. Sea gulls floating on the breeze, Lazily drifting o'er the sea, Near the fishing-wharfs and quays, Search for bits of fish, dropped free. Sighting one, a gull banks steeply, Then drops down with quickened pace,- Other gulls observe this quickly, And with raucous cries. give chase. They swoop down at the would-be owner Who. with loud and angry cries, Quickly snatches at the morsel, And with hurried beats, then flies. But after him his fellows rush: He hears around him greedy calls, And while he dodges, swooping, turning, From his beak the morsel falls. Downward, ever downward, spinning, Falls the bit for which they fight, And the disappointed pirates Watch it vanish out of sight. , s F , . , ,J , , 4, eg A X lil' . , if' -rs. ,, E gr M ' pk X my x K fr ku? fl 5 R Q June Night by OLGA WESTBYE, SP. COM. Still, so still Summer is young to-night, The silver moon she wears Leaves her breathless with delight. Her dusky hair is caught with stars And misty scarves, all milky white. Soft, so soft Her eyes are dark and gay, Her lovely laughing face is there The child that spreads its arms in glee, Watching the moonbeams play. An old oak-tree: a thousand things, Had we but time to stop and see! Page Twenty Time for a moment stops to gaze- Then hastens on his way.

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Silent Night by BARRIE JACK v B Ac. The big car rolled silently down the cobbled street of Wutach and turned up the little ascent past the church which fronted on the village square. Wutach was quite dark at eleven o'clock in the evening, Anton nodded, and switching the lights off, turned the big car into the shadows of the lindens by the drive. Then stopping the engine, he stepped out, his rubber-soled overshoes noiseless on the gravel. quite dark, and anyone E Egg .if-V' lt would be a great could have accomplished coup for him, he thought, what four hlgh Austflall EF fiffgifiigfpi for none save he and secret service officials lk- those in the car knew were going to do that gl - it-ha i 3 bio ut it. He moved Wlntef flight.. I , fi qggg T? quickly across the drive The tires blt Softly IH 1, p?11 zf if 353435 , 3 and up through the thick the hard frost of the kj-vp xi f Q, 2 as -4ii12.Q'r,l shrubbery of the ter, Country road, and the f e , -- :W , X 5 if raced lawn. He buttoned twin beams glimmered J f ' e for an instant on the ' aff' 1 ' frightened, paralyzed form of a hare-before the big wheels of the car crushed the life out of it. It is doubtful if any one of the four men noticed it, or noticed the date on the calendar pad which swung from the instrument panel, for in war there is little time for frightened winter hares on frosty country roads, or for Christmas, or any other of the holidays so dear in times of peace. And so the big car breasted the rise of the hill above Wutach, and, for a moment, across the valley, clear and black against the twinkling stars in the frosty sky, rose the black bulk of the old Nordenwerk-and they noticed that, for, during the past months, since the defeat at Caporetto, more than one Italian prisoner had escaped, and had been passed through here on his way to Switzerland. They were quite silent as the car covered the last miles-silent and grim, these four men, all staring with hard bleak eyes at the bulk of the building steadily growing nearer. Some- where a cock crowed. Oneqof the men swore explosively, and for a time the tension relaxed. Only three o'clock, one said, in winter the cocks crow any time. You know these roads well, Anton? Quite well, excellenziaj' said the other in a rather bitter tone, quite well. Yes, he might well know these roads, this Anton von Essandorf, for in the old days he had often played here, when he was only Anton Bucher, when the people in the Nordenwerk had passed him by with a sneer, although he was a true-born German, and everyone knew the Nordenwerkers to be partly Italian, and with Italian sympathies. Anton, if you leave the car here, in the trees, said one, perhaps you could go on ahead and look things over. llc slzrank hucff unfl flrezl' his .si1f'm'wl lllflllscl' from his por-fret. - e his coat higher against T ' the cold, as he crept up by the fountains, now frozen hard, and noted th e weeds in the pools, and the dead grass between the paving blocks. Evidently Nordenwerk had not known such prosperous times of late. Then he was under the lighted windows of what he knew was the smaller dining room, and peering in through the frost on the glass. Within, there were four men sitting, one in Italian uniform, all with Italian features and all apparently quite happy, though their faces looked pinched and tired. In the corner was a Christmas tree, with candles and tinsel, and whom, beside it was Marquerite, Marguerite in the old days, he had known and-no, the Austrian official told himself sternly, loved. and his eyes left her to rest on no, not the old mother with Marguerite's child on her knees- with a Marguerite's and Otto's, he thought sudden pang. The thought drove the anger and hatred in him deeper and deeper into his soul, and he turned away from the window and back to the car. In the shrubbery he paused. His quick, trained ears had heard steps behind him on the frosty grass. He shrank back behind a low juniper, and drew his silenced Mauser from his pocket. Then his heart gave a great leap, and for a moment his revolver wobbled as he raised it to cover the figure of Marguerite on the grass. Come out of there at once, or I shall shoot, her voice said, clearly and sharply, and Anton watched her breath rising white against the night sky, and his heart pounded furiously on his ribs. Then his knuckles grew white on the revolver, and he grew strangely dizzy as a male figure rose from the shrubs a little wav to the left, a male figure in the uniform of an Austrian private soldier, with his arms raised above his head. But he was not quite prepared tConti1zuecl on Page S43 Page Ninratffmz

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Sea Song by BARRIE iAcK,v B Then they bore him down. The tall old king of a tall race of men, Down where the surf washed slowly on the sand Whispering of far-off seas and mighty fights: And they laid him on the deck upon his throne. Weak with his age he sat. white-lipped. eyes closed. And the gulls wheeled, screaming. in the cloudless sky, Screaming to see the tall ship leave the shore. Taking the foaming waters with a bound. Away, away, across the rolling sea, The sea of kings, and mighty ships and men. The cold blue northern sea of northern kings. The fiordis waters opened slowly out: The broad sea stretched away, before. behind: The gray shore rose. clothed with Norwegian pines, And fringed along the beach with whitened sand. The ship rose to the surges of the open sea. And now the land slid slowly out of sight Farther and farther, the distance hid from View His people, watching on the water's edge. Watching to see the sea-king ride away. Upon his own swift ship across the seag Across the sea, and from their ken of space: Across the sea, and far beyond the world, Beyond the sunset, and the surging waves Ne'er to return. His ship no more shall round The headland, home-returning from the sea. No more the fires shall burn for him, or wives prepare Feasting, beneath the snow-topped Norway trees. . N' . . ,. 5.-be-eg .J - H 2'v . pl A AK ll at ii , X ? ? And so the ship sailed on, on through the seas, NZ' And smoke rose slow, and thick along her length Above the benches and the long ash oars. And burning slowly, so the sea was quiet And all was silent, save the dying king Breathing laboriously. and the gulls above, Screaming and wheeling. To the dying king They seemed the cries and screams of winter gales, The wild Valkyrie riding on the storm .... All done. All that a king could do, was done Ev'n to his death. An old, old man, Huddl'd upon his throne. His dim eyes closed, Dreaming of olden fights and olden deeds, X Dreaming, the while his old eyes closed in death, And flames rushed higher o'er the sinking ship. Mounting above the mast. The gulls were gone, And there were none to see the dying king Rise to his feet, supported by his sword, As the ship slipped, smoking, 'neath the silent seas, Greeting the waves with a Wild hiss ..... -xxx-f'X9 The seas rolled on And only a while charred wood lay on the place To mark Valhalla's gate, the heav'n of kings. Page Twenty-one