Port Hope High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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codiles and large snakes. I turned back and ran in the direction from which I had already come, hoping the ugly monster had left. After walking for what seemed miles I saw an odd-looking object. On closer observation I discovered it to be a hut, obviously a place in which some sort of human must live. All too soon I found out, for out stepped a curly haired little fellow about three feet high with a bone in the top of his head. Evi¬ dently he had met with people like me before because he ushered me off until soon we were greeted by about thirty savages. They tied me securely and placed me in a sitting position so that I could watch them. It was quite a sight, to see a bunch of little men, running in all directions, chattering back and forth in their weird and unfamilar language. About five of the little men brushed past me carrying a large pot which looked a great deal like a stewing pot. Then a few more men would come and drop some small things iniit. After each trip to the pot they would look at me in a sly sort of way. I was able to smile back for a while, only later did I learn of their lack of food and that I was the victim of their next mean. ’THEY WERE CANNIBALS’. Suddenly there came forth a loud noise which to them was supposed to be music. This was the beginning of a great feast, which had been declared. The feast in itself was a joyous affair, yet I could not help but think of the future as far as I was concerned. All at once a little man pulled me to my feet and hauled me over to the stewing pot. This was it - the end, I thought. Simultaneous¬ ly the singing halted and the drums became silent. Slowly the chief approached me and turned me around with a jerk. Behind my back I could hear a whisper of low voices. Suddenly I felt a sharp knife at my wrist. Without realizing it at first, the strings which had bounded my wrists so tightly, were cut. I WAS FREE. When I turned around I saw a group of smiling faces who had spared my life . I didn’t bother to find out why of anything but joyfully proceeded to start home. Without notice I awoke and found myself still smiling and turned over ready to fall asleep and await another dream. Carol Thompson Grade 10 DIAMONDS Diamonds are what most women want and what most men cannot afford. Diamonds are the world ' s most valued precious stones. They are a very un¬ usual substance. While all other gems are composed of numerous elements, the diamond is composed only of carbon. It is the hardest substance known; therefore it is of great importance for industrial uses. The diamond can only be cut and polished by another diamond. It can however be split or chipped by a blow in the direction of the grain. Fine diamond gems are clear; most diamonds , however, are a grayish or yellowish, which is full of black carbon and other inclusions. These are set aside to use for industrial purposes only. The white diamond is most common. Those with bluish tinges are rare. There are many shades of yellow from straw yellow to deep orange. Blue, pink, red, and green diamonds are also found. Such stones are most rare. Rough diamonds look like pebbles of many shapes and sizes, but the characteristic shape is that of eight sides like two pyramids with their bases stuck together which is an octachedron. Diamonds are not beautiful until cut, but they have a higher index of refraction than any other gem; that is diamonds have a greater power to bend light rays. Literally a properly cut diamond is a light trap. The light is bent toward the centre of the diamond and reflects back through the top and the rays are broken into all colours of the rainbow. Since the diamond is the hardest substance in the world, it can be polished to such a luster that it reflects more light from the surface than any other gem. The combination of these qualities gives it a brilliant appearance. Jean Coupland 63

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Grade 12 BOTH SIDES CAN BE RIGHT But what good is your money doing you in the bank collecting dust? The prosperous looking speaker, loudly clad in a Miami tan and shorts, punctuated his words by sucking on a short cigar and guzzling from a beer can in his right hand. From the other side of the backyard fence a slight little man, dressed shabb¬ ily in gardening clothes, answered violently, n It ! s earning three and three quar¬ ters percent. As he spoke, he showed his vexation at having his financial wisdom questioned by waving the green trowel clenched in his fist. So it can sit and collect more interest instead of being used for your enjoy¬ ment, was the irate reply. Like you, I suppose , the little man snapped, eyeing the lounge chair where his plump friend had just been basking beside an expensive pool. And what ' s wrong with my standard of living ? The beer can slammed out an exclamation mark on the top of the fencepost. I have luxurie s and live well while you toil away making as much as I do but having nothing but ' money in the bank 1 and a struggling garden of some sort to weed. For your i nf o r m a t i o n , it ' s a rare species of Upper-Slobovian flowering Spear-cactus. As for what ' s wrong with your way of living - lack of security - that ! s what ' s wrong! Where would you be if a crisis suddenly arose? You ' d be done! Broke! Bankrupt! Hounded by creditors crying for their ' dollar a month ' on that swanky furniture of yours and everything else you own on the installment plan! By now, both men were almost at each other ' s throats and as the now beet faced fat fellow tried to reply, he swallowed half of his fifty-cent Havana in in¬ dignation. So what! he shouted, finishing the job on his cigar. So what if you ' re set for an emergency which will never occur. You could die tomorrow and never get a chance to use your dough. Nothing is going to happen to me so I ' m using my money ! A green trowel caught him neatly by the right ear and smeared the rest of its way across his face. He slashed out widly with his beer can but completely blinded by blood and gore, came only within a few inches of bashing his pal ' s skull down to his belt. However, trying to escape the blows, the frail gardener lost his bal¬ ance and fell back squarely on the spear of his precious Inner-Slobovian cactus, leaving his trowel deeply imbedded in his stumbling neighbour on the other side of the fence. A loud splash and shout brought help running as the extravagant spender tripped over his lounge and wandered into his own lavish swimming pool. It was as they both had said: the cactus grower never did enjoy his money unless he appreciated fancy funerals, and the sun-basker spent the rest of his life paying for the hospital bills and court defence. John Chislett Grade 11 DREAMS Dreams are fascinating things. They say they only last for a matter of min¬ utes, yet at the time they seem to last all night. For instance, just the other night I went to bed and quickly drifted into a deep slumber. Within a matter of minutes I was off to dreamland and saw before me an im¬ age of myself, in a desert. Why I was there I don ' t know, but anyway, as I looked around I saw a large animal staring directly at me, with large bulging eyes, and long horns. One look at this and I soon left, only to run into a swamp, full of cro- 62

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Grade 9 THE CANADIAN The annual carnage on our waterways is about to go into its lethal high gear. A certain number of live anglers will, during the ideal boating weather, become dead anglers. They will manage this transition with the horrible help of those persistent m u r d e r e r s , the careless boatmen. All anglers know these boatmen well. Some anglers must be counted in their ranks. They are the boating boobs who take the magnificent equipment, now available and turn them into deadly missiles. They do it by reckless speeding in congested areas. They do it by thoughtless manoeuvering around other boats and particularly around smaller ones. They do it by steadfastly refusing to learn or to obey the rules of our water¬ ways by which safety and orderliness may be maintained afloat. They do it by overloading their own craft and thus sacrificing their passengers to a carelessness that all too often ends fatally. I hope that just one of these water-borne wahoos will be shocked into sanity, and into learning something about sensible boating, before setting out this season. Here is a little story of how some of us, this season, could end our fishing and our lives. This story happened on one of our major inland waterways. To identify the location precisely would be simply to give some careless boatmen an excuse for saying, But it can ' t happen here . Be assured it can happen anywhere. A torn boat was towed ashore after a tragically familiar sequence. It was moving ex¬ tremely fast near other, slower traffic. Suddenly it went into a sickeningly sharp turn. As it careened about it struck another craft. Three bodies were picked up near the wreckage. A fourth body was found an hour later, floating in the path of other pleasure boats a half-mile down stream. Not a pretty picture is it? A shocking one, in fact. But, if remembered by the right people, it could lead to a far happier picture on our waterways in the tomorrows to come. Larry Moore POETRY Grade 10 WINTER WONDERLAND Icicles like swords, snow deep and white, Remind us all of a glorious night, A glorious night for frolic and folly, Making heart and soul feel jolly. Sledding, skiing, tobogganing too. O, what happiness it can bring to you! White fluffy snow, wondrous and grand, All in all making, a winter wonderland. Wendy Baskey 64