Toronto Teachers College - Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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LITERARY CONTES-T - I A li T 'Q y. . l 'lfy 'i . XX ' -1 l l.tri5l'l . lk. i llli- ,iff Think hard my little child, For only you can remember When last you robbed the Nest ot her priceless iewels. Think hard my little child, For only you can remember That spot in Grandma's garden Where, with your baby feet, You trampled golden flowers, And did not give them Any hope of eternity. Think hard my cruel child, For in this chair of judgement You sit awaiting words from P'ower's High - And, yes, Uneasily you sit - You sense that death is Overtaking your weak and Child-like body - cruel child You can do nothing now .... .Lf J L. SILVER X It yi ,4 J i ig l lil ,fl i ...Ai 'Xxx M X .X rx KX 4 cz' ' Z7 lr l 2 l I Ax li ll Z x X XXX f' x X L M Il 'l I if f , , 5 .. - 47 if 1 Forgiveness A more than trifling pain you cost me, As I hung a moment on a thorn, While reaching to one ot life's roses, amid the clutching brambles. The pain, I do not say, was trifling, At another time it could have been. Yet in that moment you and no other plucked my arm Had another gripped me pushing, With Herculean force toward that bristling hedge, lt had been nothing. But your gentlest nudge, whose word was hope, Drove deep the troubling barb. The sore must now be closed For now the thorn has gone - time's tweezers have borne it away. And we shall once again reach out The full-stretched arm together To those roses deep among the briars. B. ROWE 29

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What Will Ye Then That I Shall J. BRADLEY BURT The Tension was electric. A heavy and uncomfortable silence lay across the courtroom. The heat, which had been only a minor annoyance during the day, was now oppressive and sticky as the afternoon waned. A few flies buzzed angrily against the windows, and the buzzing seemed unusually loud in the silent room. No one spoke, or even attempted to speak. The whole room seemed to be waiting for some great event to occur. And every eye in the room was focused on one man, as if he alone could break the spell. The man sat stone-still. He was staring at a piece of paper in front of him and appeared to be unaware of the great, yawning silence. He was perched on the edge of his seat, his shoulders hunched and pulled forward, his head sunk deep into his neck. His hands, tightly clasped together, twitched on the table in front of him. His sallow cheeks were drawn and gaunt, and his whole face had a grisly appearance, haggard and exhausted. He moved not a muscle, but sat in silence, alone. The heat became almost unbearable and the silence droned, so that the very vastness of the huge courtroom seemed to echo under the high domed ceiling. Then the man lifted his eyes to the judge, and every face in the room turned to follow his gaze. The judge returned the man's stare, somberly, impassively. The expectant faces swung hungrily back to the man. At last, with a sigh that was heard in every corner of the room, he pushed himself to his feet. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and terse and very, very sober. And he spoke three words. Guilty, as charged. The silence vanished. Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom, as people yelled and cheered, jumped up and down, and clapped their neighbours on the back. The man who had spoken turned to face his fellow-jurors, and their faces reflected the decision. He sat down in his place to wait for the judge to re- store order. But the judge was oblivious to the noise and confusion. He sat staring fixedly at the condemned man opposite him. And behind the judge's impassive face, his thoughts ran rampant. The esteemed judge was a short, patrician-looking man of fifty years of age. His black hair was streaked with gray above the ears. His eyes, set deeply into their sockets, were very dark, and his nose was hooked and sharply pointed. His lips were fine and cruel, and at the moment were compressed into a thin slash under his nose. He sat erect on his chair, his maroon robe covering his wiry body from neck to knees. And he 30 Do Unto Him? stared at the prisoner, who showed absolutely no emotion at the verdict of the jurors. The judge was frankly puzzled. The man's conduct throughout the entire trial had been most unusual. He had refused legal counsel, had refused to plead his own case, and had countered all the prosecutor's questions with questions of his own. He had sat through the relatively short trial with no trace of emotion, and now he sat, after hearing himself pronounced guilty, and said nothing. A stranger man the judge had never met. He had first seen the prisoner some hours earlier. Manacled to a burly guard, he had been led unpro- testingly to the docket and sworn in before the judge. He was a tall, well-built man, albeit a little stoop- shouldered. His light brown hair was long and un- combed, and it kept falling down over his eyes. The eyes themselves were soft and dark, except occasion- ally when he spoke. Then the softness yielded to a spark which flickered deep down in his eyes, and he spoke in a gentle, yet rich, voice. His clothes were of a poor quality and were rather worn and dirty. Alto- gether, he looked like a man who would be supporting some fanatic movement or lost cause. And he was. The man had been tried, and found guilty, on a charge of high treason and sedition. The judge's thoughts were interrupted as he became aware, finally, of the bedlam in the courtroom. The bailiffs were trying valiantly to restore order to the scene, but their efforts were marked by little success. The spectators were jubiliant over the decision of the jurors, and they were certainly showing it. The judge picked up his heavy gavel and began pounding it on the desk in front of him. Order, he shouted, over and over. l want order in this court. Bailiff! Make those people sit down. The noise diminished, as the crowd became aware of his voice above the din. He made a mental note to have more bailiffs in court next time. Stop this noise, he cried again. I'll clear the court if you don't come to order. Sit down and be quiet. The noise ceased slowly under the pounding of his gavel and the prodding of the bailiffs. As the crowd moved back to the seats, the judge stole a glance at the prisoner. The man still sat staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. The judge shook his head in bewilder- ment. Never had he seen anyone so icily calm as the man he soon would sentence. He looked again at the crowd and hesitated before speaking, until all noise had died.