Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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Saltus. (—By W. Hallett.) S altus school no slackness knows A Iways keeps you on your toes: L ittle boys still play the fool T ill they reach the senior school U pper school boys don ' t deny, . S ay it ' s worth your while to try. Saltus on the Hike. By L. Vorley. The sun was sinking in the WEST like a BALL of fire as I wandered over the countryside, now tinged with the BROWNE leaves of autumn. Devonshire looked prettier than ever at this time of the year, as over the air the mellow tones of a far-off BELL was soon to FALL on my ears. I was approaching the picturesque town of LYNTON, high on the cliffs of the NORTH Devon coast. Over to the NORTH across the Bristol Channel v as the distant blur of the WELCH coast. A MILLER passed me in his van, going at a good TROTT. Seeing me trudging along on SHANKS MAYOR, he reined up sharply with the exclamation ' Good EVANS, YOUNG man, jump up, your feet must be AITKEN on this dusty road. ' I paused a moment — from my appearance the MILLER must have thought I did not possess a NICHOLL. I certainly was not thinking along the LINES of anything so PETTY as PROFIT. I was on holiday and felt I was KING of all I sur- veyed. Mine had been a roaming sort of holiday. I had taken in the SHERWOOD forest, where in days gone by the BOWMAN held sway. Then travelling south to the district around FOUNTAINE ' s Abbey, making on my way, a detour across to Manchester to visit some old friend living at ASHTON. Climbing alongside my new found friend, we jogged along happily. The MILLER was a well read man and I found he could converse on characters as varied as ADAMS SMITH and Old. MASTERS and even MARTIN Chuzzlewit. I found that he hailed from County KERRY and waxed eloquent upon encROACHment on Irish rights. He had spent a couple years in the cock PITT of Europe, when the entire country was one vast WARFIELD. . ' Here we are ' , he presently exclaimed as we pulled up at an Hotel on the outskirts of the town. ' Come along in for a TODDy. ' Giving a sidelong glance at a young lady nearby who was about to PARKER car, I slipped within and found the refresh- ment excellent.

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Two Sea Shanties. (The Poet, on being asked to write a piece of light, humor-ouH verse on a Bathe from the North Shore plunged us into a sea of Hexameter.) Woe unto me! What vast appalling mountains of water Surging towards the skies — even now about to engulf them — Seethe and rage about me: yet, when the waves subsiding Yawn to the very depths with chasms, awful, tremendous. Terror still grips my heart, as at Hell itself bursting asunder. Gaze where I will there is naught but battling sky and ocean, One with its threatening clouds just as dire as the other ' s wild billow Fierce in the space between, the struggling winds are in torment; Hard for the waves to know which to own and obey as master. Eurus from out of the East comes in all his violent fury, Yielding in force to the wild West wind ' s grim evening anger. Boreas too, with his chill icy blast sweeps down from the Northland, Even the gentle South wears an aspect angry and vengeful. All at a loss in the strife of the winds is the terrified helmsman Seeking in terror a way, or to guide, or escape from destruction; He not alone but his art, in the furious strife unavailing. Doomed are we to die, bereft of the hope of safety. Now, as I cry aloud the spume of the swallowing billows Beats in my face: the prayer that in vain I pray in my anguish Dies in my throat, too late, as the rising waters o ' erwhelm me. There once was a man named Charlie Gray, Who into a river fell, His wife came out with a rolling pin — The rest I hate to tell. Now Charley was trying to catch some fish, And kill them with great slaughter. But as he thought of this evil deed He only caught salt water. He suddenly felt a tug at his line, And then he committed a sin — He fell into the water, and that Framed him the rolling pin. And after this beating by his wife Poor Charlie felt so sore, That he vowed and vowed with all his might That he would fish no more. ANONYMOUS. By David Nicholl. 10

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Dialectics in the Kindergarten. Motion for debate: Assuming that a cat and dog life in the home is not worth the candle, which of these two best known of domestic pets have the most estimable qualities? Mr. Chester Butterfield, opening the debate, made the fol- lowing pertinent remarks: I have a dog. He is a very good dog. He can do no tricks but one. That one is that he can catch a piece of bread in his mouth. (At this point the president rang his bell, remarking that the time limit had been exceeded, and would Mr. Butterfield be so good as to sum up. Which he did in the ablest possible manner.) Mr. Butterfield, summing up: — He can run very fast. Mr. L. Barnard, opposing Mr. Butterfield, defended feline domesticity in the following words: I have a cat. She is good for catching mice. She comes up to my chair at dinner time and goes down with a bone. She goes all over the place and comes home and has her bone. (Laughter). No she never forgets that. The president, thanking the two first speakers, threw the debate open to the house. Upon which there was a confused noise in the back of the hall, and Mr. Collin Selley, mounted on a chair, heartily seconded the motion of Mr. Butterfield: Mr. President, Sir. Gentlemen. I have a little puppy. Its name is Pat. It likes to jump upon a chair and beg. Result: — Owing to the untimely intervention of the lunch hour it was found impossible to take the vote. The Bells. By H. Russell. The Somme was filled with craters, With craters made by shells, And the soldiers who were dreaming Were dreaming of the bells. 12