Timmins High and Vocational School - Porcupine Quill Yearbook (Timmins, Ontario Canada)

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43 'ifli-i4 The PORCUPINE QUILL Preaching-and Practising Paddy Ryan opened his eyes and rolled over in his bunk. He was the foreman of a lum- ber gang which has recently began clearing the dense forest -along the west shore of the Mattagami River, about twenty miles from the town of Timmins. It really wasn't Paddy's duty to see that the men were roused early in the morning and given a substan- tial breakfast: but he did it as a mother goes about getting her children off to school. He wasn't one of those bosses who stand around beating their hands together and giving or- ders to the men. Paddy reached for the clock, and seeing that it was almost five o'c1ock, he jumped out of bed and kindled a roaring fire in the big on, ye lazy lads! he camp stove. Come shouted, out with all of He spoke with a marked Irish twang. but nobody liked him the less for it. One by one the men arose and donned their mackinaw outfits and high elk boots. Nobody tried to get the better of Paddy. For one reason they knew that it would not be well for them to try it, and for another they felt nothing but respect for the big Irishman. After a hearty breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup, bacon and eggs, coffee, and bread and butter the men set out for the work which they loved. They loved the clear,frosty mornings and -the bright, sunny afternoons. They loved to hear the ring of their fellow workers' axes as they cut into the -trees. The tracks of mink, weasel and rabbit across the snow were a familiar sight. The northern forest with its many hardships was home to them. Sure and it's a hard day ye'l1 be having ahead of yiz, Paddy remarked. Ye'll be watching yirsilves as thim big trees is dan- gerous to fell, my lads, he added. Only too well did the men know that sometimes it was hard to tell which way a tree would fall and that men were hurt and sometimes killed when a tree fell in a different di1'ection from that expected. All morning they sawed and chopped. And then, just as they were about to leave for dinner, they heard a cry of pain. The voice was unmistakably Paddy's! Saws and axes were dropped as if they were redhot coals and everyone ran to the rescue of the man whom they had learned to respect and to love. In a few moments they found him almost cov- ered with snow. his right leg pinned under a huge spruce tree. His face was distorted with pain. In a few minutes the men, working rapidly and carefully had removed the log. and were carrying him back to the cabin. There they breathed sighs of relief when they foimd that although Paddys leg was badly bruised and his ankle sprained no bones were broken. VVhen they had doctored him and laid him on the bed he managed to laugh, Sure and isn't that just like Paddy Ryan? Here I was tillin' you fellers to be careful, and 'twas myself as was the careless one. CATH.ER,INE O'NEILL ws'-, --'- A ' '- ' '- - .lem-v' ,W . s. .-1 -a S JK s 5 Y V ' - 1,53 '.f.4'.' I -gi., -..-Me... . vi - A ' -av.. ornv-'fr ' ' -Muwnda-,,,,-g,,vw --'N , , I mwqeq. A ,mal nav.. Nwqvvliwi .caan--'ht' wx ' i, The Mattaagami In Flo0d

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42 The PORCUPINE QUILL ' cold, cracked floor to wait for the blizzard to die down. ' In the humble village on the outskirts of the woods, the people remained in their cosy houses. Small children with eager, curious faces peeped out at the menace. It forced down wood piles, broke lines, played roughly with open doors and sent the smoke rolling about. At dawn everything was quiet. Piles and piles of snow were banked up on every struc- ture. Not a sound in the village broke the stillness. Everything was asleep. The rosy fingers of Dawn again tapped lightly on the barred window of a ruined shack. No stirr- ing inside was heard.. Again she tapped- this time more distinctly. But neither she nor anyone could break the sleep into which those two young trappers had gone. The blizzard had won again! OLIVE VIENOTTE Winter Evenings at Home When the sun rides high in the sky, and lets her skirts float over the earth, then distant places call me and I long to roam. But when the moon comes with her star-spangled skirts of black, then home is the place for me. I have always loved our evenings at home, but especially do I love our winter evenings. For the cold seems to drive us closer together, and the nre crackles a mighty welcome. We have a big family, four boys and two girls, and the sweetest little mother God could give a family. There is one big chair, immediately in front of the stove. It is my father's. Mother used to tell us that he had gone to a far happier place to live, and that we should not cry, but be happy. But often at night, I see her eyes turn to the one empty chair. But in spite of the ache which I now realize is always in mother's heart, I know that we have made her happy. My oldest brother, who is the eldest child, is only twenty-one, and so none of the brood has left mother yet. The old farm still rings to the laughter of young voices, and the little school-house down the way still harbours three of our children. Their futtue is the main topic of discus- sion in our evenings together. For two of them are in the last grade now, and both are going to town to school next term. And one, Wie don'-t know which, is going on to Univer- sity. i Sometimes as we sit around the huge iron stove, I see amidst the crackling flames, a fine old building, in a large city. Then I know that I am seeing part of that far-off Wonder they call University And sometimes a faint tinge of envy enters my heart. Then I must get up quickly and leave the happy group, lest they see it in my eyes and realize my futile dreams. But envy Iiees like the darkness before the rising sun, when I go to the window and gaze at the beauty without. For what city could hold such eerie splendour as the snow-covered barns glistening in the moonlight? And what university training could afford such healthy satisfaction as does the snow-clad scene before my eyes? And then with a peaceful spirit and unen- vious heart I can rejoin the happy family around the stove. Not for anything in the world would I exchange my winter evenings at home. JESSIE RAMSAY Smiles A smile is such a funny thing It wrinkles up your face, And when it's gone you cannot find Its secret hiding place. But far more wonderful it is To see what smiles can dog You smile at one, he smiles at you, And so one smile makes two. He smiles at someone since you smiled, And then that one smiles backg Then that one smiles, until in truth You have set a smiling track. So since a smile can do great good By lessening trouble and care, Let's smile and smile and not forget That smiles fit anywhere. ANASTASIA WOJCIECHOWSKI, G2

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