Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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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

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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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The bells were over in England, For it was Christmas Day, But many many people Did not hear the bells that day. These men that I am speaking of Were far, far away, For they had gone to a Better Land That fatal Christmas Day. Just a little over sixteen years ago the Russia which is now so prominently placed in the spot-light of the world, did not exist. In its place was a regime which, though tyranically su- preme, was entirely played out. Then came the crash. The overthrow of the monarchy was as complete as it was sudden, and only a madman would dream of attempting a Restoration in Russia. The people are mostly peasants, whose life is made up of ceaseless toil to wrest from the earth enough to live upon. As such they do not take much interest in governmental affairs, but are content to do as they are told, and just eat, sleep and work. It is this apathy that has made it possible for a minority of opinion to become supreme. Although the bulk of the people do not agree with the methods employed by their rulers, they are content to let things continue as they are, without any attempt to reform hem. Slowly but surely this government, though it may be as tyrannical and severe in dealing with the mob as the Royalists, is yet pulling Russia out of the quagmire into which she has fallen. If the Russian peasants as a whole continue to take as little interest in their own politics as they have done so far, this party may make her again one of the most powerful countries in Europe. But, in opposition, Adolf Hitler is more and more, coming into an important place in international politics. Not many years ago his name was unknown; yet now it is either feared, hated or reverenced by every person who takes an interest in anything more than eating or sleeping. With his semi-military army of brownshirts, his suppression of the freedom of the press, and his theories of a nation in arms, he is fast becoming a menace to Europe. And while this time-bomb is ticking away in their very midst, the politicians at Geneva patiently discuss disarmament . -0- Whither By D. L. C. R. Todd. 13