Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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vi g gg gg riuxirv coi.i,i-ma sciiooi. naoogan GREAT MEN AND THEIR WORK 'l'he editors want to run a series under this head- ing. bringing to your notice each week some interesting and important character. who does not come within the scope of your ol'tliI1al'y Work. CERVANTES. Miguelil de Cervantes holds in Spanish Literature the same commanding position that Shakespeare holds in our own. though his fame rests on his stories. not on his plays. He was born eighteen years before Shakes- peare 115-175 and died in the same year Ql616J. His father was a poor travelling doctor who took young Miguel about with him on his wanderings and left his education to chance. Luckily the boy was a great read- er and read everything he found lying about. lelis first wiitten work appeared in 1569, poems of no great merit. 'When he was twenty-three he became a soldier and served with distinction for five years, playing a brave part in the great sea battle of Lepanto, where the forces of Christendom, under the Spainard Don John of Austria, checked once and for all the alarming ad- vance of the Turks into Europe. In those days Spain was the professed champion of the Catholic faith, the backbone of the Church's arm- ies against the infidel Turks or the heretic English. It is impossible not to admire the single-hearted zeal with which she shed her best blood in the cause of faith. ev- en as sh'e shed the blood of others, without scruple and without mercy. Cervantes, in his youth, must have been full of this same zeal, and a large part of it remained with him through life-the best part, because his great genius and the ill-luck which followed so close upon him had taken away that brutal intolerance which too often went with zeal. The writer of Don Quixote, we feel, could never have wielded a thumbscrew or a red hot iron for the Inquisition, though he was so proud of his maimed left arm and the two bullets in his chest, marks of loyal service to his church and king. It is impossible to give a full account of his life. On leaving the army he was captured by Moorish pirates and was a slave in Algiers for five years before being ransomed, Nor was his return to Spain in all ways happy, for he started at once on a long search for employment, making a little money by writing plays and poems that were not suc- cessful. He held various posts for a short time. once as a collector of stores for the Grand Armada, later as a tax collector, and some mismanagement in which no dishonesty was involved, caused him to be twice in pris- on. He cannot have been a very competent person and at the age of fifty his outlook seemed hopeless, with no reputation as yet as a literary man and a reputation for incompetence in the public service. Actually he was on the threshold of immortality, for he turned now to literature as his last hope and set about writing the story of Don Quixote, which was to make his name and keep it alive. A good heart breaks bad fortune. He is con- stantly quoting this old proverb in his works and it might serve as his own epitaph. The calm. half-hum- ourous courage with which he set to work is reflected in the whole book. No self-pity, no bitte1'ness is ever allowed to cheapen its high quality. Literary men are only too apt to cry out and fish for pity when they think they deserve it. but there is no sign that Cervantes even thought he did deserve it. The first part of Don Quix- ote was published in 1605. It seems to have been plan- ned as a satire on books of knight-errantry, the trashy literature of that time. In such books knight- errants were made to do great and impossible things for the sake of their mistresses, who usually repaid them with disdain. The readers of such books, like the movie fans of to-day, imbibed from their reading ideas of life that were utterly false. such as that the love of a lady was the highest prize to which a male could as- pire. Cervantes chose for his hero an imaginary reader of such books, Senor Quixada, an elderly gentleman who had read so many books about knights and en- chanters that he had come to believe them true and re- solved to restore to life the ancient order of knights- errant. So he polished up an old suit of armour, took the name of Don Quixote HKE- HOT- AYJ and set out to seek adventures, redress wrongs and win the love of a half-imaginary beauty, Dulcinea del Toboso. He took as his squire a labourer of the same village, San I Panza, who followed him half out of love. half out of a simple faith in his promises, believing that Don Quix- ote would eventually become an emperor and bestow upon him the government of an island. It is not within the scope of this article to go into the story any more fully, but to give an idea of its na- ture and, if possible, to stimulate some boys to read it, either in the long or the shortened form fboth can be borrowed from the editorsj. The long form is to be recommended, because there are two sides to the story. There are the adventures into which Don Quix- ote ran, which are mostly very funny, in the sort of ro- bust and impossible way in which Dickens and P. G. VVodehouse are funny. Secondly there are the long discussions between master and squire, which bring out the contrast between the two characters, and here the humour is more subtle. Don Quixote is a man who lives in the clouds. His talk is wise and learned, but his vision of the practical world is completely distorted by his craze for knight-errantry. Sancho is a practical man who has at his fingers' ends all the wise proverbs which his simple, religius. practical Spanish ancestors have bequeathed to him. He cannot understand ideals, so only a very small part of his master's lecturing sticks in his mind. He is delightfully frank and never fails to comment favourably or otherwise on anything that Don Quixote does or says. The first part of Don Quixote was followed ten years later by a second, which carried on the story and was, if anything, better than the first. The first vol- ume had raised Cervantes to the front rank of acknow- ledged writers, not only in Spain but in Euiope, and the second was eagerrly awaited and received with ad- miration. Yet he died a poor man, and his grave is un- known, for in those days literature was only indirectly a paying profession, in that success in it usually assur- ed patronage by some rich nobleman. The sales of a best seller can never have been large. At any rate this true hero of literature saw the end of his difficulties before he died. and seems to have had some expecta- tion that his name would be immortal. He said so. once or twice, but it is hard to tell if he spoke in jest or earn- est.

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'I'RlNI'l'Y t'tll.I.I4lflI'l St'Iltltll, IlI'It'Ol2Il lp IN THE BOO lvSI IOP At any time it is unusual for the Radio listener to enjoy a broadcast without having his pleasure interfered with by the constant interruptions of the announcer in boosting the sponsors of the entertainment. Granted we owe.much to these beneficial advertisers for launching good broadcasts on the air, but one would think a little thought on their part over the ironical juxtaposition of excellent music and some insignificant cosmetic, hoot- polish, tooth-paste, etc., would convince them that they thus detract from the value of the concert. Not so, on it goes night after night. This is the Schubert Centennial period, and the air has been alive with that master's compositions. But,-there's always a but,-while silently applauding a splendid orchestral interpretation, I am advised to send my name and address to the station to which I am listening and I will receive a tube of Thin- gummy Toothpaste free, absolutely free. Now, think of that, just a stamp and two lines of writing and I save my gums from that dread pyorrhea. Schubert is forgotten and I whirl the dial in search of a concert free from interminable advertisement. But the annoying thing is that the best concert is always punctuated with the persistent advice to try Somebody's Shoes, Electric Cleaner or Holeproof Socks. Well, thatis always the wayg there's aye a fly in the ointment when you get something for nothing. However, at this time the gift shops are especially keen on Radio advertisement, and the listener is advised to try Bookman's Bookshop for his Christmas gifts. Avoid that last minute rush to secure your presentsg besides there's always a greater selection before they have been picked over. Well, I decided to pay something for the Bookman Broadcast, so I sought their head- quarters, where I would be sure to find the greatest selection of varied literature ever presented to the Canadian public. You have all had the same experience: up rushes the polite floor walker-no, not rushes, glides rapidly is better-5 Can I show you something, sir? 'No, thanks, not immediately, I reply sheepishly. I want to look around first. But, no sooner have I chosen a book for rapid inspection than he is on my heels with his helpful suggestions. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but, seeing an odd lot of Shakespeare in leather, I searched around till I had accumulated about ten of the set. all being the more uncommon of the plays. And the floor- walker is constantly with me, piling upon me three or four copies of 'Coriolanusf about half a dozen of 'Richard II.' and about the same of 'Timon of Athens' and 'A Winter's Tale.' Now among my choice fell one or other of the historical plays-I've forgotten which: anyway I wanted Part II. of that play, but no. I was to be denied. according to my attendant spirit. It was sold out, there having been a great demand on that play recently, in preference to the other. So I moved on with my ten little Shakespeares, but I had not escaped so easily. My unwilling ears were dinned with the good bookseller's usual oration: Had I seen the new edition of the Waverley novels? There's a choice for you, if you like, an ideal Christmas gift for yourself or your best friend. Nobody could fail to appreciate the beautiful calf binding, the clear emphatic print on the finest of paper, and above all 'the reading that maketh a full manf Here, let me tell you, he would go on. here is the finest example of romantic story-telling: nothing in modern days has he-'ii written to rival it. Scott, you know, wrote lcgm1,oo, Kenilworth, 'I'he Ili-art nl' Midlothian, Holi Roy and others too numerous to mention that give us a closer insight into Iflnglish history. No, I didn't know, I said. but found all his comments so edifying. lt was a pleasure to have a conductor so xx ell versed in literature. Enlivened to his task. he pulled me round with him -by now I was reconciled. Perhaps my taste was potry. Would I care to see a few volumes? lIere's Wordsworth in morocco, rice paper, gilt, in one volume, the great Englishman, you know, who-whether I did or not, on he enthused over that gentleman's virtues. He was the greatest of the Lake Poets. What lake hy the way '3 Oh, some lake in England where he and his friends wrote ponies that are now very famous. Would you ca1'e to see this? And he opened the hook at 'I'intern Abbey. This, you see, is the pote's lovely description of that famous abbey. As a matter of fact I knew it wasn't, as I had learned most of it by heart at school. but I wasn't disposed to stop him. He was in his favorite vein. apparently, and he rambled on. Look at this, now: Intimations of Immortality. and by the vision splen- did, is on his way attended : there's fine rhyming for you. Shades of the prison-house begin to close about the growing boy. What a thought! What genius! You don't find anything like that written today. And I don't mean maybe. If more of us read more of that sort of stud, we would be a far better world. But maybe you don't care for potry 3 some of us are that way, I know, but make up for it by reading lots of prose. He was warming to his work, although he had only got five dollars out of me. The Collins Library next claimed his attention, and mine perforce. See these for a dollar, and leather binding, he said, picking out The Hoggarty Diamond. Let's see, Thackeray. oh yes, that's one of the finest mystery tales ever written: if you like exciting adventure, that's your book, Now, here's one in popular demand, and I can well understand why: Dickens' David Copperfield. All the schools in Ontario were reading it last year, as it is supposed to be really an autobiography: nine hundred pages of the finest Eng- lish. chock full of humor and adventure which appeals to us all, old or young. Just above there is Irving Cobb, one of Americas greatest, side by side with George Eliot. another renowned Englishman of the Thackeray type. Poor Mary Ann Evans! Would she now regret her choice of pen-name? I did not feel a bit snobbish in continuing to listen, as he was evidently enjoying the opportunity to inform the poor, unlettered shopper. On the contrary I thanked him for adding to my pleasure during this first visit to Bookman's, and assured him I had never had one like it. He believed me and bowed me out with the same superiority that had characterized his boosting of the books. A week later came the Bookman Broadcast again. and it did not fail to tell me between Drink to Me Only and O, Mary at Thy Window Be that the visitor to their bookshop would be accorded every attention, cour- tesy and expert advice on his or her choice from their stock. One last word, avoid the rush by coming early and get a wide selection before the best books have been picked over. -NIBLICK. THE GO-GETTER. - The go-getter goes till he gets what he goes for, The go-getter works till he reaps what he sows for. He fixes a goal and resolves when he sets it, The way to a goal is to go till he gets it.

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TRINITY COLLEGE SCIIOOI. Rl'X'UIilI 21 CHICKENS COME HUMIC TO H01 PST? By Spectator. We have a few chickens, Leghorns, and, consider- ing the amount of care they don't get tthe sum total of what they do receive is too neglible for mentionj they repay us in true Christian spirit--full measure, and running over. Running over, reminds me that is what I started to write about. Our chickens, tthough Heaven knows they should be content in a small rocky run-way of about fourteen feet squarel have taken to running over to the neighbors, whether to borrow, or merely to gossip, we haven't yet decided. The question of how they ever got out in the first place is one that occupied our minds for some little time. There are no breaks in the netting enclosing them, and the door leading to their abode, though unable to stand of itself, does nicely when propped by an ancient garden fork, unless, of course, the prop itself lies down on the job, and one would hesitate to accuse an old and tried friend of such ingratitude, when from selfish, or other motives, that is all that it has ever been asked to do! Personally, I blame my husband, and equally dit- to, he blames me! twe are an unique couplei. My argument is this. What more likely than, that when by some strange trick of memory he was mind- ed to feed the flock, before dashing off to his office fifteen minutes later than he had intended, that he should have forgotten to replace said fork? The idea seemed plausible, and I was even prepared to be mag- nanimous enough to overlook the delinquency, had he not'with fiendish cunning, tried to attach the blame to me. Oh no. my dear, he gloatingly replied to my a- foresaid accusation, It wasn't me, I, either, he a- mended hastily, as the light of conquest. and always enjoyable desire to correct, flared up in my accusing eye, I never forget that fork. I know the consequenc- es too well, after chasing the mothers of these chickens who used to get out two or three years ago. No, it was you I am sure, sometime when you have ordered eggs for lunch, and found there weren't any, and so made a rush out at about twelve-forty-five, so you could have them in an omelette at one o'clock sharp. I am sorry, my dear, but I am afraid you are the guilty one, this time. All this with an air of conscious virtue, to which I can never get accustomed, but which ever has the one effect-renders me so speechless with rage, that the dear creature is delivered of his outrageous ut- terances and away, before I can even trust myself to sputter! I think I have said enough to prove to the person of ordinary perspicacity that I am the innocent victim of untoward circumstance. But don't we all know that men are such child- ren that since Adam laid the blame at Eve's floor that-well a million other examples, if I could remem- ber. them, show what an infant the strongest man real- ly is. so we'Il leave the subject, and pretend that it was I who forgot to prop up the chicken-house door fthe idea is really too preposterousj the last time they went off on a holiday. Now, if we are a little Heimy in the amount of care bestowed upon our hens, our neighbors more than make up for it by the unceasing vigilance lavished on theirs. Their chicken-run is roomy, and well-kept, the house is comfortable-almost spacious-the nests are kept clean, straw changed regularly, and for encour- agement in the gentle art ol' lziying --elf-etrir lights burn brightly far into the night. Une would ii-'ver - ten suggest one of these female lleau lirurninels being af- flicted with anything so entirely unbeeozning lu their station as lice, and yet, when two ol' our lousl' bi llyllf wandered over fora peck and a gossip, the ladies we-i-e well received. Indeed it would almost seein that too inurli per- fection had begun to pall on the satiated appetites ui' the lutocrats, so cordial were they in their grei-tint 'll' Welcome to their lowly neighbors. The hen-party was in full glory and had spent a sociable and peaceful afternoon, without even a dog to mar the pleasure, when the owner of the clit-rislied ones drove home from an office which had taxed his pa- tience and ingenuity for the last six or seven hours. As he stepped from his motor, and out oi' the gar- age, he noticed the door of his chicken-house slightly ajar, and after a hasty glance round, discovering two fat hens outside, proceeded with a sigh, and an ill-con- cealed curse, to approach said delinquents, in order to drive them back where they belonged. The hens, who had ideas of their own as to where that place was. started to squawk and scatter in great alarm, follow- ed by the irate gentleman, who chased them wrathfully across the road into our garden, much to the surprise of the lady of the house tniyselfl who happened to be working on some flower-beds at the time. Muttering a hurried excuse for trespassing on our property, our energetic neighbor shouted to his wife and daughter, whom he espied sitting on their veran- dah, to come to his assistance, while I in turn made feeble suggestions that said hens might be ours--not his-but his only reply was a wave of the hand. and a hurried, No, our hen-house gate was open. and these are two of my very best. Qtill doubtful, but feeling myself an entirely in- adequate judge of poultry, I stopped protesting, re- turned to my gardening, and determined not to assist in the chase, for if our neighbors will be careless about leaving doors open, it is surely not my affair, or my duty to help restore the escaped prisoners! Joined by his women-folk ,the gentleman renewed his attack on the excited birds, who, more frightened than ever, now made desperate efforts to escape his frantic clutches. Up and down the garden they flew, through the berry-bushes, and into the corn, followed by their re- lentless pursuers. I, with feelings of intense relief, had quickly given up all claims of ownership, and now watched the con- test with delighted, if surreptitious interest. It was well worth while! All three of my poor friends were presently. what is vulgarly known as in a sweat Their breath came in short gasps, their clothes, and particularly their shoes, showed unmistakable signs of war-fare-and still those stupid hens eluded their grasp, and insisted on their right to remain on our property. At last, after an hour or more of running, dodging. cornering and swearing. both hens were run into the nice, warm, well-lighted house. I could retire, and laugh my fill, after ill-concealed explosions ot' merri- ment all through the chase. VVith gusty sighs of relief, and a most virtuous expression of a hard task well over, my neat neighbors withdrew into their domain, to change and brush clothes, bathe, and rest after their strenuous labour.