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

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EDITORIALS Winston Churchill When Winston Spenser Churchill was twenty- five he escaped from a Boer prison-camp to find himself after three hundred miles of desperate fiight a national hero. On his way home after that war he passed through our city, and old inhabitants today can remember the slim lisp- ing youth who retailed his experiences across the footlights of the old Grand Opera House. To-day thousands of homes boast a picture of Winston Churchill smiling his Victory Smileg and passing in to breakfast many thousand citizens of the Empire look up to him as their leader and bid him an affectionate good- morning. He is the warrior-poet of our day. He has fought all his life in the Empire's wars, often the only executive on whose head new facts made their impression. In 1914 as First Lord of the Admiralty he overrode Parliamentary veto on the eve of conflict to order his Heet to battle stations, so that on the fourth of August, five minutes after the command to begin hostilities, the fleet was ready. He foresaw the air-raids, feared the submarine, practically invented the tank. A man who lives the full and vigourous life needs a hobby to stay sane. Churchill has many. During the black months after the fiasco at Gallipoli he first Assaulted the canvas with a furious cavalry charge , and he has painted ever since. In his years of idleness in the nineteen-twenties he wrote a standard history of the conflict, and a biography of his great ancestor the Duke of Marlborough. With the royalties from his history he financed a country home, and himself laid the bricks in the long wall surrounding the estate. When the brick- layers' union objected he filled out a card and applied for membership. His house-guests worked too, under compulsion, despite damage to their clothes. He said it would do their souls good. By the power of the spoken word Winston Churchill has reunited England to meet the foe. His great phrases are on everyone's lips. All Englishmen hear Shakespeare's England calling to their hearts as one of the great symphonic speeches thunders up to a memorable close: Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty and so bear ourselves that if the British Com- monwealth and Empire last for a thousand years men will still say, 'This was their finest hour'! Churchill with the inevitable cigar whispers to himself as he writes or dictates. No sentence is put down until he has tried it several times this way and that. The rhythm of his own language sways him, instinctively he alliterates. Each word must have the right sound and flavour and proper balance in his mind. As the great ascending climaxes roll up, Churchill sitting impassioned at his desk becomes a child with a happy cupid's face: the mischievous child who dictated essays to his companions in re- turn for Latin translations. Churchill the Lisping Cicero is Britain's hero to-day: Churchill the phrasemaker. This is a war of strong personalities. It is a strange man whom we have seen at work, who directs the sailing of the British fleet and the disposition of British armies from his desk at Downing Street. The adversary is no less astonishing: the paperhanger who orders the march of armies and who has created a pas- sionate hysteria by the multiplication of shout- ed phrases. But there is nothing in the reper- tory of the little Viennese postcard-artist to equal the true Wagnerian sweep of words like these from the fine old Warrior-poet fighting to-day on behalf of all civilized nations for freedom: We cannot flag or fail. We shall go to the end . . . We shall defend this island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing-grounds, we shall fight in the fields and streets, and in the hills. We shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island, or even a part of it, is subjugated and starving, then our Empire across the seas, armed and guarded by the British fleet, will carry on the struggle until, in God's good time, the new world in all its strength and might sets forth to the rescue and liberation of the old. HUGH KENNER. Our Thank You Our sincere thanks this year go to the many students who entered literary contributions without the stimulus of prize-giving, and also to Mr. Hale, Miss Park, and Miss McBride, who boosted the competition in their classes and then spent hours judging the entries. We feel that their co-operation has justified our war- time decision to abolish prizes. We would also thank Mr. Toole, the eflicient business supervisor of The Echoes, Mr. Shearer and Miss Lees, who headed an enthusiastic advertising staffg Mr. Henry, who looked after Page Thirteen

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the engraving and the new-style photographyg Miss Thompson, the art supervisorg and finally Mr. C. S. Browne, who saw to the selling of the magazine. Although this year our staff was greatly re- duced, those who remained, by their hard and faithful work made it possible for us to produce this war-time ECHOGS. A special word of appreciation is due to Miss McGregor, our supervisor of printing, without whose interest and untiring assistance we would not be able to publish the magazine at all. HUGH KENNER Small Extravagances I have often noticed that almost everyone has his own small extravagance-some careless habit of wasting pennies-and ordinarily this does not call for too deep a frown. In fact a peculiar small extravagance often adds per- sonality to the individual. But does anyone need to be reminded that these are war days! Every extra penny is needed by the country- and there is also that bothersome theory in Economics that the value of the dollar is de- creased with the increase of money spent. Con- sequently small extravagances must be exam- ined under a more penetrating light. First a plea will be made to all soda fountain frequenters. After all, boys, perhaps that game of hockey at night would be snappier if that gooey, twenty-cent double hot fudge sundae was resisted after school. Girls, do I dare to mention that hundreds of calories are contained in such a concoction of ice cream, chocolate, nuts and whipped cream? An elderly lady of my acquaintance, for no good reason that I know, drinks a little tea with her sugar, and leaves, at the end of each meal, a not too small chunk of butter and a portion of buttered bread to keep the dirty dishes com- pany. After so many years of generosity, wouldn't this be the ideal time to deprive the tea cup of the saturated sugar in its base and the side plate of the slowly melting grease? Movie lovers insist that each coming attrac- tion is bound to be the best feature of the year. Don't waste time and money then - see the movie each December thirty-first to make cer- tain of complete value for your money! .lust what is the well-dressed lady wearing this year? With so many chic costumes on parade, that question is extremely difficult to answer. So please don't confuse the men fsecretly that is your excuse for such extravag- ancel with too many smart and still smarter outfits. How many of you can truthfully say that at least three nights in the week you don't drop Page Fourteen into your favorite lunch stand fjust to see how many of the gang are therej and Qjust for some- thing to dol order a coke and plug a nickel or two in the jute box to hear Tommy Dorsey or Glenn Miller in the latest tune? Let Grand- ma tell you that it would be greatly to your ad- vantage to turn on the radio and enjoy a cold glass of milk at home. Take it or leave it, but it would be a saving. Mothers no longer frown and say What is this younger generation coming to? when the lily comes down to breakfast obviously gilded. That is, if it is not too obviously gilded. Keep that frown from your mother's brow and that tiresome question from her lips by using those precious and expensive paints sparingly. I am not going to beg, or even suggest, that you human smoke-screens give up cigarettes, for you all have probably done so at one time or another and returned to them with renewed zest. However, I am told that to roll your own can become quite an art, and the cost of the annoying habit is cut almost four-fifths. Wouldn't that be a real saving? Day in, day out, we are reproved- Who left that basement light on? . . . Must the radio be on when no one is listening to it? . . . An- other run, no wonder-three thread chiffon! . . . What! More money for that expensive hobby of yours. . . . To the waste paper basket with that gum! Little heed have we paid to such trivial extravagances in the past. Have I convinced any of you-for I have my- self-that petty wastes, however pleasant, are really unnecessary? So, shall we say, - Till the Lights of London Shine Again begone, you small extravagances! MURIEL E. MCCARRELL. Purple Patches ulnceptis gravibus plerumque et magna professis purpureus late qui splendeat, 'anus et alter adsuitur panmwf' H 071106, De Arte Poetica. Often to weighty enterprises and such as profess great objects, one or two purple patches are sewn on to make a fine display in the distance. The Echoes is primarily a record for the future, in the quotation from Horace, our weighty enterprise . The Literary Section, not contributing anything to the record, is only a purple patch sewn on to make a line display . Although no prizes were given this year, the display is indeed fine. It was always thought that contributions should be made for the honour of seeing them in print. Now we know that prizes are not necessary. School spirit is enough' llflnnckmsr WESTBYE.