Walkerville Collegiate Institute - Blue and White Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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BLUE AND WHITE j page-boy fashion. There in the sombre shadows, I frankly confessed my love. In those short moments, we found that out love for each other was more than a passing fancy. It was so perfect that it seemed as though God and God Him- ( se lf must have created it. Suddenly Mai Ling turned around as sorrow pressed ( convulsively against her heart. “I’ve something to tell you and I must t tell you now,” she whispered, with her face as pale as death. ‘‘That man isn’t { your uncle. He’s nothing but a mad sci¬ entist.” “Every minut e you’re here, you are I i in danger. Do you know what he wants I. to do? He wants to take your heart out of your body and make it perpetual. He i- believes that if he can make your heart v beat as your ancient ancestors’ once a did, he can make your heart beat for- t- ever, and you will be his slave, always.” “Now, you can’t expect me to believe h that, can you?” I asked. “No, perhaps not. But come, I’ll prove it. That scientist isn’t home to-night, ai so we shall not be found,” she replied, r- Swiftly she led me down stairway af- v, ter stairway. As we passed a door mark- le ed “Danger”, I asked her what was in if side. “Dynamite”, was the answer, it At last we reached the experimenting is room and there on the shelves were hun¬ is dreds of bottles, each containing a grue- fl- some-looking heart. That was proof en¬ ough for me. 4 “Let’s get of here at once,” I suggest- v- ed, half panic-stricken, but she told me tr that was impossible. My would-be uncle 4 had secretly guarded the house, and if we did escape we should surely be soon in caught. She told me to trust her and I et should thus be safe. Love always finds a d- way. id All the next day I waited in my room In tike a condemned prisoner waiting to be it, electrocuted. As night came on, I heard •w a single knock and a note was slipped a under my door. Mai Ling wrote me to n. meet her where I had met her the prev- ie, ious night. ‘‘Go immediately as it is ur- ul gent,” the note said. I instantly obeyed, and in th e garden, pinned on a tree, I found another note containing details for my escape. In the end the note said, “By the time you read this, I will be far beyond human help. I know you’ll keep sacred our love, and you must forgive me for what I am ab¬ out to do, as it is the only solution to our problem.” At that instant a terrific explosion sharply rent the air and in a few seconds the stately mansion was nothing but a pile of bricks and broken timbers. What a supreme sacrifice it was! She had blown up the house, destroyed the mad scientist, to make possible my escape. As I did not have the courage to look for her mangled body under that heap, I turned my back to the fearful scene of that dreadful tragedy, and walked sil¬ ently down the road. JOE HONG, 12B. Attention, All Lovelorn! A Song Love Letter Oh Johnny, My Own: They say If I Didn’t Care would I Pour Out My Heart Into a Song. To¬ night’s the Night and I’m In the Mood because I Have a True Confession. Last night, All in Fun, I Was Care¬ less about All the Things You Are. I Will be Faithful Forever to My Reverie on the Isle of May. Remember the Angel Serenade we heard At the Chapel in the Moonlight? Day In, Day Out, I walk with Billy, but when I’m in a Melancholy Mood I dream of You. It’s My Turn Now because It Was Written in the Stars that I Must Have One More Kiss. Why is it All Over Town that we are parting? What Can I Say after I say I’m Sorry? I Promise you that I’ll Surrender, Dear. I’ll keep on loving you No Matter Where or When. Now you know but There’ll be Changes Made. Every Little Moment that you are with Rose Marie I’m Fit to be Tied. Does your heart beat for me? Darn That Dream of you, Scatterbrain. I’m In the Mood for Love in a Little Dutch Page Thirty-seven

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BLUE AND WHITE for after all, wasn’t he offering- me this lovely home in which to live? If I had looked astonished, he didn’t seem to not¬ ice it. “I am sorry I kept you waiting so long, but you see, I was speaking to your ancestors,” he continued. “Huh! I mean I beg your pardon, sir,” I said, quite bewildered. “I said I was conversing with your ancestors,” he repeated. “My ancestors! Why, I thought they were dead,” I uttered, puzzled. “Of course they are, silly, but perhaps you don’t understand. I was speaking with dead, your long-gone ancestors.” He led me to the room which he had just left and there I beheld an enorm¬ ous gilded figure of Buddha sitting cross-legged upon a lotus. A fabulous fortune of pearls, rubies and sapphires lay at his feet as an offering. “Just a few minutes ago,” my would- be uncle began, “I conversed here with your ancestors, the once mighty rulers of China, with the aid of divine Buddha. Perhaps you find it hard to believe. Your mind has become too practical and too westernized, but you must believe me when I say some of these old Oriental powers still exist.” I thought he was insane, and accord¬ ing to what little knowledge I had of psychology, I grinned to humour him. “I know you think I’m insane,” he said as though reading my thoughts again, “but in time you’ll understand what I am saying. Right now, I think it best that you retire. The journey must have been a fatiguing one. Your room is upstairs, the first one on the right.” I thanked him and slowly mounted the flight of stairs, when I heard Strauss’ “Tales of the Vienna Woods” burst forth and then the beautiful voice of a woman singing passionately. Never before had I heard a voice so full of warmth and quality. As the haunting, vibrating notes filled the house, the rich tones reverberated and I imagined my¬ self in the woods, listening to my fav¬ ourite waltz, sung as never sung before. When the last chords had faded maj- Page Thirty-six estically away, uncle broke the spell an p said, “Beautiful, wasn’t it? My secret- s ary sang it. Would you like to mee I her?” ' c “Yes, please,” I answered. a This time he led me to a wide, white- i walled room. A huge window filled the s whole of one side, thus spreading befor- I our feet a vast, never-ending view of the c countryside. In the corner, leaning or the grand piano, the slim form of a wo- t man shook in silent sobs. f “Mai Ling,” my uncle called a little j severely. t Immediately she regained her com¬ posure and as I looked into her eyes, 1 i thought I caught a glimpse of tragedy t To say that she was beautiful would be c unjust, for she was more than beauti- 1 ful. She was charming, ravishing, un- 1 ique. She was dressed exotically in a ( black velvet gown, which was form-fit- ting from the neck to the waist, sud¬ denly spreading to a full skirt which i folded richly about her delicate, sandal¬ led feet. j “I want you to meet my nephew, Mai i Ling,” uncle said. She politely acknow¬ ledged the introduction and in a low. t husky voice making an excuse of some » forgotten duty, left the room. During i those few fleeting moments, I believe! experienced the sweetest sensation in the world. I felt towards Mai Ling, a; Mark Anthony must have felt toward; i Cleopatra, as Alessandra towards Rom- i ona, and as Romeo towards Juliet. • Late that night I lay restlessly in bed. I was greatly disturbed by the day’s ev¬ ents, and there kept appearing forever before my eyes, the vision of the god¬ dess-like face of Mai Ling. I rose and decided to take a walk in the garden. The night air was so sweet and so inviting. Myriads of stars stud¬ ded the heavens around the almond moon, which beamed enchantingly. In the intangible sweetness of the night, under the thick shade tree in the mellow moonlight, I saw Mai Ling, wearing a billowy, white chiffon evening gown. She looked like a picture with her fine, silk-like hair brushed in a youthful

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BLUE AND WHITE Garden. Last Night, with you Running Through My Mind, I Didn’t Know What Time It Was. Would j’a Mind If I Didn’t Care? So Ain’t ’Cha Coming Out When They Begin the Beguine? I’ve Got to Get Some Shuteye., so Goodnight My Beautiful. I’ll See You in My Dreams. Three Sleepy People Helda Leucher, Pat Bordeaux, Muriel Binkly. 10A. A Heart-Breaker How 7 many of the students in Walk- erville Collegiate have ever felt really heart-broken? I do not expect to take a count, but I can guarantee there are at least twenty-four boys and three men in Walkerville Collegiate who have felt heart-broken. These twenty-four boys and three men are the Junior Rugby Team and the three coaches, Mr. Bunt, Mr. O’Brien and Mr. Allison. As a few of you may recall, last fall on a brisk, cool, November day, Walker¬ ville Collegiate Juniors played Kennedy Collegiate Juniors in the City Rugby Fi¬ nals. You, also, might remember that Walkerville was down two points at half time. The coaches were sore at the play¬ ers and the players were sore at them¬ selves for not doing btter. Then the sec¬ ond half started and before long Walk¬ erville had scored a touchdown. This made the score 5 - 2 in favour of Walk¬ erville. I am sure every member on that team had visions of a W.O.S.S.A, cham¬ pionship and all its glory. Every coach must have visioned the honour of coach¬ ing Walkerville to its first W.O.S.S.A. title in Rugby. But owing to a couple of bad breaks and a few ' errors on my part Walkerville lost the game. I shall not explain how it happened, for that does not matter. What does matter is the fact we lost and that twenty-seven hearts were broken. I know beyond a doubt that every sub, every player and every coach experienc¬ ed for a few ' minutes at least, genuine heart-break. There are some, myself in- Page Thirty-eight eluded, whose disappointment lasted longer. And that is why I say twenty, four boys and three men in Walkerville Collegiate have suffered real heart- break. A Downhearted Player. V w at ai ft si Ludwig Van Beethoven Ludwig Van Beethoven was born ii Bonn, a little German city on the Rhine river, in 1770. Beethoven’s father, who w ' as a professional singer, was a drunk¬ ard and often a very cruel man. Had it not been for his mother, who had a vert sweet disposition, Ludwig would have suffered greatly from his father’s harsh severity. His parents were very poor and his father’s sole interest w r as to make money out of him. He forced him to ! practise so hard that the boy soon hated practice, although he loved music. Beethoven could play when he was four and became a composer and a con¬ ductor w ' hen he was thirteen. A year later he earned his first money as assist¬ ant court organist to his teacher, Neefe, When he was seventeen he moved to Vi¬ enna where Mozart, after hearing him said, “He will make a noise in the w ' orld.” He w r as a very earnest student and formed the habit of keeping note-boob in which to jot dowm his ideas. With un¬ tiring patience he w ' orked over and over these notes, and it is said that this habit led to his greatness. Everything he play¬ ed he understood. This enabled him to give the right artistic expression to ev¬ ery measure of music he played. About 1800 Beethoven became totally deaf. His last years were also made mis¬ erable by the disgraceful life of his bro¬ ther’s son, of whom he was guardian. In spite of his deafness he continued to compose. He was a lover of nature and once said, “I love a tree more than a man.” Beethoven W ' rote only nine symphon¬ ies. His Heroic Symphony w r as written for Napoleon, but when he learned Napoleon had declared himself Emperor of France, he destroyed the dedication. His last or Choral Symphony took five l! ft it e S ' h c s u t § r t c i 1 i f i I I