Distinct Styles of


For Boys Who Care





The St. Andrew's College


EASTER, \ 908.







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Issued by the Edrtorial Comniittee EVERY CHRISTMAS, EASTER and MIDSUMMER

St Hnbrew's College IReview

Editor-in-Chief : Cameron Wilson, B.A.

Editors : Housser, Beatv, Ramsay, Davison.

Business Manager : Ebef^ts. Assistant Managers : CRAwpoRn, Grass.

Exchange Editor: 'Bikns.

EASTE-ia. 190S


^LREADY are we looking forward to the pleasures of the ap- proaching summer-term. While less strenuous than other seasorLs of the school year, it is none the lass attractive. There is a charm in the out-of-door freedom, in the life of campus and corri- dor, in the long, bright days, that other terms do not possess.

The new Tuck will add greatly to our enjoyment this term. Its wide verandah, cheerful sitting-room, and estimable buffet, will contribute largely to the attractiveness of the cricket season.

Even in so short a time the Tuck has proved an unbounded suc- cess. It is practically a school club, and in after years will be looked back upon as one of the chief centres of social and collegiate life. The kind consideration of ]\Irs. Williams and her assistant have done much towards promoting the success of what is already recognized as a true college institution.

fHERE are in most schools a few boys who never indulge in the luxury of reading a few rare spirits of restlessness and dis- content, who prefer to spend their time in idleness, looking for trouble, that usually comes their way. Only a few days ago we heard of a youth whose name adorns the roll of S. A. C. and who has never in his life read a story book of any kind not even a penny dreadful. He spoke in high disdain of the benighted crea- tures who spend their spare moments on rainy days and at inter- vals in sports in following the adventures of some hero worthy of


all honor and love. For his own pait he prefers to sit on a wash- room window, squirtinj? water over those who are better employed, and keenly alive to the (exquisite joys of a scrap that usually results from such friendly overtures.

Poor chap! He doesn't know what he misses, but some day he will. The mind that busies itself only in gathering the flotsam and jetsam of aimless days and petty interests must some day realize how futile is that search. The rainy day will find it un- settled and morbid; long, winter nights will be but durance vile instead of charmingly complete; middle age may be bearable, but the declining years of its earthly pilgrimage will be absolutely void and dreary.

Every normal man and boy loves a hero ; we are a race of hero- worshippers, and which one of us except the noted exception cited above has not grown to know and love with a personal, lasting affection the charactei-s that some gifted pen has drawn between the covers of a book!

There are times in our life when we must be alone when the companionship of man or woman cannot be had times when such companionship may be distasteful. In that day of loneliness may Heaven help the man or boy who cannot lose himself in the pages of a book. We must all grow old, but we can all escape the barren, useless senility that has not even the solace of a cherished volume to brighten the grayness of life's twilight hour.


"The books are left— consider it. The day that sees a friendship flit

Lake butterfly to bloonis more bright;

Or care, the gray moth, wings by night Where lamps of joy are never lit.

" Though love goes by with grace and wit, Unwooed, unheld by man 's poor might, Not comfortless shall be my plight— For Ixwks are left.

'.'Though in the inn of life I sdt. Last of my friends mine ho«t to quit, Not all of loneliness shall blight; I may not be deserted quite While still, oh, comrades exquisite. My books are left! "


IN one or two former issues our pages have been marred by edi- T torial complainings at the lack of support given the Review. Up to the present time, the preparation of each number of the college paper has been a nightmare for weeks before the time of going to press. Nearly every article had to be dragged by sheer force from the author's lair or coaxed forth by delicate strategy. An unsolicited manuscript was an unknown quantity; solicited ones were landed after many trials upon the editorial patience if such a thing exists!

This year, however things have been vastly different. Our re- quest for stories or articles was met with the glad hand and a ready response that warmed the cockles of our heart. Several contributions were offered! On the first of these auspicious oc- casions the Editor nearly fainted upon the neatly written manu- script, but on a repetition of the favor was able to look as if such courtesies were the regular thing. They certainly bid fair to become so.

It is the right spirit, boys ! Keep it up ! If for one of many reasons your article or story is not quite suited to our needs, write another! So many questions enter into the consideration of a manuscript, that its rejection by one particular publication is no reflection upon its merits. Your new interest in the Review— which, after all, is your paper ^is greatly appreciated by those who have charge of it. Again, thanks.


Contributed Articles.


HE scorching rays of a July suu streamed down upon one of those innumerable ponds of the Gull River system one of 'J' those ponds of that deep, dark water which takes a cleverer pen than mine to describe or only an eye which has seen it to understand. The pond, of course, indicated a dam ; the dam a mill, and the mill a village. With the exception of a narrow strip along the near side, the pond was covered with logs. There they lay, some thirty thousand, like a big flock of sheep, and as a shepherd would drive the sheep, one by one, to the slaughter-house, so the lumbermen drove the logs, one by one, into a small inlet otf the pond, where they were hauled into their slaughter-house the mill.

In about the middle of the logs lay the sorting-jack, which indi- cated that nearly half the logs were sorted. As in the old proverb, "All roads lead to Rome," so, in that maze of logs, all booms led to the sorting-jack, at least one big one to it, through which all logs passed, and several smaller ones from it, into which the dif- ferent classes of logs were passed after they were sorted.

Two lumbermen were listlessly driving the logs down to the jack, while two more on the jack sorted them and piked them into the various booms. The boss was on the rear of the jack, passing the logs along to make room for the rest, and cursing the men at intervals for getting a cedar log mixed in with the basswood. The heat was unbearable. The sun's rays scorched down upon logs, water and men alike. But the men seemed to suffer worst, as the logs and water reflected l)ack the heat, as if there were a sun beneath them as well as above. Even the boss seemed to think the heat too much and was considerate with the men. They deliberately shirked before his eyes, but, either from lack of energy or on account of the heat, he cursed them no more than usual. The men kept up their pretence of work until a pointer emerged from the river and came down the pond towards the little gang.

"Who's in that pointer. Bill?" asked one of the men. It was a chance to stop, and all eyes were turned towards the pointer.


"Someone from Macdunna's drive, up above. Wonder what they want down here ? ' ' answered Bill.

Two lumberjacks were pulling a couple of sweeps, while a third, evidently the boss, was seated in the stern of the pointer. They pulled up along the outer boom nearest the jack, and the man in the stern stood up and yelled over to the men :

' ' Where 's your boss 1 Where 's Petrie ? ' '

"Here," growled the boss on the jack. "What do you want?"

"We're bringing three cribs through this afternoon and we want you to give us room to get by."

"Can't do it," said Petrie. "You'll have to wait till the wind blows us on the further shore; there'll be lots of room then."

"It's a rush order and we're going through this afternoon; you've got to give us right-of-way. If those logs aren't moved when we come down, we'll know why. Understand?"

He sat down, and the two lumbermen soon had the pointer out of hearing.

' ' Who is that young pup, Bill ? ' ' asked Petrie.

' Some college guy they call Doc, out here for experience, or his health, I think."

"Wonder Macdunna would make a greenhorn like him boss," growled Petrie.

"He's a good hand and a great favorite Avith the men," con- eluded Bill.

"Well, he can wait," said Petrie. "I'll not move a blank log for him."

"You'd better," ventured one of the men. "Jack Gunn's on that drive, and he swore he'd snuff your candle next time you crossed him.

Petrie leered at the man with a fiendish look. "Do you want to get hurt?" he asked.

"No," said the lumberman; "and I don't reckon any of us is looking for a scrap neither. That Doe means what he says, and we ain't anxious to get mixed up with any of Macdunna's men."

Petrie leaned on his pike a minute, stroking his chin. Then he turned to one of the men and said: "You'd better get steam up in

the alligator ; it won 't be hard to shift that boom anyway.

* * * *

That afternoon some tourists on a canoe trip up the lakes struck the little burg. They were portaging over the da.m, w^hen a


native hailed them: "Not imieh use going up the river, strangers; there's some cribs coming down and you won't be able to pass 'em."

"Will the cribs run that slide over there?" asked one of the campers.


"It would be a shame to miss a sight like that. Say we stay!" The rest of the campers agreed, and they drew up the canoes.

"Do you think Bob would be with those cribs, Herb?" shyly asked one of the young ladies, drawing a boy aside.

"I only wish he would, Edythe. I'd make him get over his darn grouch and come with us."

"I wish I hadn't been so disagreeable with him," continued the girl.

"Oh, Bob was crazy to think of such a thing. He's got another year before he can practice anyway. But do you know, Edythe, when he came the night we got our holidays and said he wasn't coming on this trip we'd planned all winter I thought he was cra2y. He wouldn't give me any satisfaction at first. Just said he was going to work instead. I thought he meant in a hospital, of course But when he said he was coming out in this forsaken country to work on a drive I didn't know whether the exams had been too much for him, or what. At last he told me what was the matter said he'd been crazy enough to ask you to marry him, and you had told him with great simplicity how foolish he was to think of it.

"I guess I did say too much," assented the girl. "But I've been sorry for it ever since."

' ' If we happen to see Bob and I get him to quit his old job and come with us, would you be the same as before with him?" asked Herb.

The girl kicked up a little sod with the toe of her shoe, then turned with a laugh and said: "No, I'd be just a little different." "All right," said Herb, "we'll try to find him. for the trip won't be anything without him."

* * *

The campers wearied away the rest of the afternoon. There was nothing to do around the town but keep in the shade. It was even too hot to fish. About six they went to the hotel and tried to eat a little of its so-called supper. Afterwards they engaged rooms and strolled out into the street. Some natives were sauntering towards the bridge, directly in front of the dam a few hundred


yards further down the river. Slight as was the commotion, it attracted the campers' attention.

"I believe the cribs are coming now," said one. "Let's go dow^n to the bridge.

Soon the campers were leaning over the wooden railing of the

bridge, with a few of the natives, eagerly waiting to see the cribs

run the slide.

* # * *

The men with the cribs were having some work getting them through the pond, as there was very little current there, but with the help of a couple of warping lines and a big scow^ they soon got them near the dam.

As there was no excitement yet, some of the natives on the bridge began to pass remarks in what they thought a very sarcastic way.

' ' I see Petrie gave 'em lots of room, ' ' remarked one.

"Scared o' Jack Gunn," sneered another. "Where be Jack? I don 't see him on either of those cribs. ' '

"He's back on the third with Doc half tight, too, I think. There 'd been some fun if Petrie hadn't moved the logs. I bet he goes to bed early, if they stay to-night, anyway."

' ' Oh, Jack won 't touch him ; he gave 'em lots of room this time."

While the natives had been discussing Petrie and Jack Gunn two lumberjacks had landed and walked out on the dam. They stuck a couple of cant hooks in the white windlasses over the stop- logs and raised the logs one by one until they had the water rushing down the slide like a cataract. One of the cribs was now towed nearer the dam, until it w^as caught by the current and carried towards the slide. Gradually it gained speed, then dipped, shot down, bounced a little on the white water below, and then was swept on, right under the bridge where the campers were standing, but slackened speed as the current became less swift in the river below.

"Don't I wish I was on one of those cribs," said a camper. "It's better than shooting the chutes."

The second crib went through the same operation, and soon was drifting down the river below^ the bridge. Then the third crib started, but by some mischance it struck the slide about two-thirds down, which threw it out of its course. But Doc, Jack Gunn and


Glen Miller were on it three men as good as Macdunna could wish to have on any crib.

"There's Bob! There's Bob!" yelled Edythe, catching sight of Doc, just before the crib struck. "But I feel he's going to be drowned, and oh ! it will be my fault. ' '

"By gosh! it's Bob all right," said Herb; "but he's not going to be drowned. Heavens! didn't that crib hit the slide a bang?"

The jolt of the crib hitting sent it swirling across the white water. It completely submerged for a minute, then ro.se entirely out of its course. It had shot right across the current and one end struck on a little island below the dam. The whole crib started to swing round and threatened to break up on the island.

"Quick!" yelled Doc. "Don't let that other end strike or she'll go to pieces."

Pike in hand, he sprang off the crib and struck out for the island, about ten feet away, followed by the two men. The current swept them down a little, but a few strong strokes carried them into water up to their w^aists, and .soon the three lumbermen were putting all their strength into their pikes to keep the crib from swinging onto the island.

"Oh, he's drowning himself!" cried Edythe. as Doc jumped into the water. "He saw" me, he saw me, and hates me." Herb was too interested to reply to this outburst.

"Pretty piece of work," said one of the natives. "Quick head, that Doc. If he'd been a minute later she'd have swung up and gone to pieces and he'd been the rest of the summer picking logs up in Balsam."

Doc and the men gradually pushed the crib out into the cur- rent, jumped on, and were soon swept under the bridge and down with the other cribs.

"Oh, Bob, Bob!" yelled Edythe. as the crib swept by. "Oh, he's gone, and didn't see us."

"If it's any man on that crib you want to see. he'll be back all right," said one of the nativ(\s. "They'll be mighty diy after that little work."

The natives moved away and the campere with them. The scow now ran the slide, and the men put back the stop-logs, and soon the pond and river were as serene as ever.

* * * *

Up a side street of the little village came a sound of tramping


as if St. Croix's army was afoot. But it attracted no attention in that village, as it was only the lumbermen coming for a drink. Each man had his pike with him, and they filed up the street, stacked the pikes against the side of the hotel, and lined up against the .bar.

After the third round Doc called Jack Gunn aside.

"Jack," said he. "that's my limit. Don't make a hog of your- self, and try and keep the men straight. AVe'll stay here to-night. I'm going down to look after the cribs."

"All right. Doc," said Jack, already half -shot. "I'll do my best."

Doc walked out of the bar and down to the river, where the cribs were tied. By some mischance he missed Herb, who reached the bar just after he had left. Doe gave a few orders to the cook and put in half an hour's work making the cribs secure for the night.

He was strolling back up the street, when he remembered a lumberman, an old friend of his, who had been hurt in the shanties in the winter. He entered a little white cottage and talked the remainder of the evening with the sick man. About ten-thirty he started out to get the boys in, when he ran into Herb.

"Bob, you old skate," cried Herb, "have you been trying to miss us on purpose ? I 've been looking all night for you. Edythe's at the hotel, half crazy; thinks you're trying to skip us on her account. ' '

' ' Why, Herb, ' ' cried Bob, " I 'm glad to see you. But did you say Edythe's out here? and wants to see me?"

"Wants to see you. Bob? I should say she does; nearly had a fit when you jumped off that crib."

"Come on over to the hotel then," said Doc. "I should see about the men, but that'll do later. Come on!"

After Doc had left the bar Jack Gunn forgot everything the boss had told him and proceeded to get gloriously full. At half- past ten he bought a bottle of gin, and he and Glen Miller started for home. Both were natives of the village, but had been up at the Sault all spring and summer, and had been working their way back when they struck Macdunna's drive coming through.

They were crossing the bridge when they met some of the vil-


lage sports. Jack at once thought it necessary for a drink all around.

"Where's ya been all sunmu'r, Jack?" asked one.

"Me and Glen's been up north, up at the Sault. Ain't we. Glen?"

' ' Yeh, ' ' said ( J len. " That 's right. ' '

"We's been riding logs where there am swift water, too. This yer river's like a millpond to what we was through. Ain't it. Glen?"

"Yeh, that's right, Jack," said Glen, too drunk to say much more.

"It takes me and Glen to ride 'em in the white water, too. Many a log we 's rid where the white water flows. Eh, Glen ? ' '

"That's right. Jack," said Glen. "We have."

' ' I was powder-monkey on that drive, ' ' continued Jack. ' ' Pow- der-monkey, the man with the donamite. Four dollars a day. See! Takes old Jack to break the jams; takes me to find the key-log. Eh, Glen?"

"That's right, Jack; you kin."

"Well, boys, we must be gettin' on. Have another drink?"

"No, thanks. Jack."

Jack was trying to impress on one of them that he needed a drink, when he accidentally stepped on the man's boot with his calks, which went through the leather like so many awls.

"Hold on," said Jack; "if I've spoilt your boot I'll pay. Old Jack 's got the money, too. Eh, Glen ? ' '

"That's right. Jack, you have," said Glen.

Jack was trying to find the holes in the man's boot when Doc and Herb came along on their way to the hotel, and Doc forgot Edythe for a minute.

"Come on, Jack," he said; "you'd better come home. You're going to sleep at home, aren't you?"

"Yeh, if the old woman don't kick me out. She ran me out with a broom last time. But I was drunk then."

"You'd better turn in too. Miller," said Doc. "Come on. Jack," and, taking him by the arm. Doc soon had him at his gate in spite of all protests, "Jack,'" said Doc, "you were with me when Macdunna gave me the orders about the cribs, weren 't you ? ' '


"Well, you're boss now, and you're to caiTv out those orders.


Understand? I'm going back up the lakes on a canoe trip, and I'll explain to Macdnnna. "

"I undei-stand, Doe, but " The intoxicated man let his hand fall heavily on Doc's shoulder, and his grasp closed con\Tilsively. "Doc," he began again, "don't do it. If you went back to Mae- dunna and said you'd quit he'd brain you with a peevey or kick your face off with his calks."

"That's all right. Jack; I'll take care of myself. All I'm afraid of is that you won 't get the cribs through. ' '

Gunn pushed Doc out to the end of his arm, still holding his shoulder. He gazed into his eyes like a child for a minute. "You're right, Doc; you're right," he said at last, his voice break- ing. "You're a greater man than Macdunna ever was or will be. He'd be yellar to touch you. I'll see the cribs go through all right." A. MoRPHY.


T N the soft mellow sunshine which glanced brightly on the T* golden sand by the side of a brawling mountain stream in y Kootenay lay a mother grizzly and her litter of cubs. The cubs were snarling and gnashing their teeth over a salmon, scooped from the stream by the quick paw and sharp claws of the mother. Finally one big fellow conquered and quietly departed with the greater part of the fish to eat it in peace when crack! a bullet from a 44 Winchester dropped him in his tracks.

Instantly the sleeping mother was aroused. An angry growl was emitted from her, her eyes turned to little red balls of fire, and she charged in the slow and ungainly manner of her kind upon the intruder. But again the muzzle of the rifle spat fire, and the mother, shot through the heart, fell far short of her intended vic- tim, crawled a step or two farther, and then rolled over, an inert mass, within a yard of the hunter.

The cubs now turned and endeavored to escape, but again and again the rifle echoed through the woods as the hunter pursued the cubs, and soon a deathlike stillness told the unseen tragedy which had been enacted.

But what is this? The cub with the salmon slowly arises and


staggers down to the stream, where he takes shelter behind the waterfall that shoots far over a ledge of rock, leaving just room enough for him to stay there without getting wet.

Here he stay(^d till the hunter had collected his game and gone off for help to carry it to the village. Then he came out and tried to wake his mother. His efforts proving futile, however, he seemed to gather, as if by instinct, that she was dead, and with a miserable little cry ran to the warm den underneath the roots of a gigantic Douglas fir, and. crouching in the innermost recesses, whimpered himself to sleej).

He was not hurt nuich, for the bullet had merely grazed the top of his head from his eyes back to his ears, and had only stunned him, but the scar it left was looked for on all grizzlies by hunters when he had matured and grown to notoriety.

Next morning he was very hungry and longed for his mother to come, perhaps with a .salmon or a partridge, or even a mouse would have tasted well then. Slowly he crept from the den and up to his favorite berry patch, wliere he succeeded in somewhat alleviating the gnawing pains of hunger. Then he went back to the hole under the tree, for he was sick and his wound bothered him.

Thus he continued till winter arrived. Then he stayed in his hole and slept as only a bear can sleep, when suddenly he awoke to the fact that the snow was gone and the sun was warm and bright. He crawled outside and went to get a drink in the stream, when he was startled by seeing a big bear with a heavy scar on his head and looking thin and emaciated with hunger reflected in the limpid water of the pool below the falls. Starting back, he looked round, but was unable to see any other bear, until it finally dawned upon him tliat he was the bear, that he was almost full-grown, and also that he was the biggest bear he had ever seen.

He then took a drink and ambled over the brow of the hill in search of food. How strange was tliis journey. Animals that he had fiwl from in feai- tui-ned tail and lan when he approached. He became conscious nT a new-lxtin contitlenee. and. acting accordingly, he killed a coon wliii-h lie found in its den. His hunger was .some- what appeased by lliis, Init still he i-ambled on. At nightfall he made a bed in a thicket, slept there, and again set out next morning.

And so things went on. He became the scourge of the country by killing sliecp and cattle on his visits to the settlements. Man


after man hunted him; trap after trap was set foi- him, l)ut he was invulnerable to everything.

One day, as he was stalking- along, he met another l)ear, smallet- but older than himself. Instantly he rushed at it, expecting it to flee, but what was his surprise when he found himself knocked down as if by a battering ram, and before he could regain his feet he was being so furiously bitten and cut that he took to his heels and left the other bear to domineer over that part of the range.

He was so bruised and battered that for the next few days he remained in one of his lairs, where he vowed eternal vengeance against his conqueror. .

Winter came again, and he was again forced to hibernate, but the following spring found him inatured to his full strength and grown to immense proportions.

His first act was to meet the bear which had thrash(Hl him and to administer to it such a drubbing that his domination of the range was never again questioned. Then he proceeded to a ranch owned by a young man named Ridgway. Here a fine bull, majestic in its strength and power, charged at him. Scarface with one blow of his huge paw stretched it on the plain with a broken skull, and, having eaten his fill, returned to the woods.

Coming upon the carcass of the bull, Ridgway vowed vengeance against Scarface, for he knew no other could have broken the bull's skull as it had been broken. Taking his rifle and camp kit, he pro- ceeded to trail Scarface. For over a week the chase continued. The bear was elusive, the man determined. At last Ridgnvay got within range of him. Scarface paused, and as he did so his side and shoulder were plainly brought to view. Up went the rifle, but slowly it dropped down again. The cunning, wit, strength and nobleness of the animal overwhelmed him, and while he pondered Scarface disappeared. Shouldering his kit, Ridgway started home, calling himself a soft-hearted fool, but deep down in his heart he was glad that he had let Scarface go.

But he was not to regret this. Scarface seemed imbued with a sense of duty to Ridgway. No more were sheep and cattle ruth- lessly slaughtered. Only once in a while, when food was scarce, was a sheep or one of his herd killed, and then it was only Scarface who killed it. No more mountains lions were heard of, and the cattle were no longer in danger of attack. Scarface patrolled the


cattle, and if a hungry wildcat or a lynx killed a sheep he was immediately tracked down by Scarface and never heard of again. Scarface reigned supreme in his range for many years, until he at last succumbed to old age. "We may add that, though there are fears for men, if there is an animal heaven, we need have no fear for Scarface. D. R. C. Wright.


HERE is a structure whch every person is building, both young and old, everyone working for himself. This is called ^ character, and every act of life is a stone in helping on the structure. If day by day we are careful to build up our lives with pure, noble, upright deeds, at the last will stand a fair temple honored by God and man. But as one leak will sink a ship and one small flaw break a chain, so will one mean, dishonorable act or word leave its impress and work its influence on our character.

Truthfulness is the corner-stone of our building, and if it is not firmly laid in youth there will ever be a weak spot in the founda- tion. Here is a great building going up, point by point, story by story, though we are not conscious of it. It is a building of char- acter, something more to be proud of than a building of bricks or stone.

Our minds are given to us, but our characters we make for our- selves, and as a number of trees make up an orchard, so a number of acts and words make up a character.

Some people have the idea that character means actions alone and what people think of us, but it also means thoughts and words just as nuich as acts.

It is the essence of being. It is nothing more or less than the self, the all of a person's life.

Deep down beneath graces and gifts back of all its measures, lies the make-up of the person, the character. Though the people of the whole world breathe in the same air and are subject to the same accidents, troubles and joys, yet there are not two pei*sons alike the character is different in each. The most imperial thing in the universe is the character, but it is a delicate organ, for the slightest touch leaves its impression. The inner self is undergoing a con-


stant change. Every book read, every deed performed, the thoughts we entertain, the habits indulged in, the accidents and surroundings of life, mingle with the being and become a part of self. Circumstance, station and opportunity may have much to do in shaping destiny, but our active self is the chief factor. Circum- stances only affect, t'hey never create character. ]\Iany believe that circumstances cause their failures and ill-luck, but this wrong idea should be cast aside.

These never accomplish much, for they live the life that they think they were made for. A man must not blame his failures to hard luck and unkind fate.

The influential citizens of any community are not the men of brains or wealth, but those of upright character.

The public knows that intellect may become trickery, wealth treachery, but character stands like Gibraltar. It has been defined as the joint product of nature. It determines rank, measures and influence ; it demands respect. Nature gives the raw material ; character is the carved statue.

Reputation and character are two different things, yet reputa- tion seems to count in some instances. Character is what we are; reputation is what is attributed to us. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without de- serving.

Let us all assist in building this great structure. We can never start too soon, as it is a noble enterprise, in which we should all take part.

Honor bears a close relation to character. In St. Andrew's College there is plenty of honor among the boys, hence plenty of character.

The Hon. Wm. Jennings Bryan painted a beautiful picture for us "evergreen." Many of us who are continually looking on the funny side of life take such expressions with great disgust. Mr. Bryan assured us however, that he was in no way hinting at the yellow fruit with which we are all so familiar. Again, too, he mentioned the buzzard and the bee, and all who heard his fine ad- dress on the 11th of February will, doubtless, not forget his com- parison.

Mr. R. A. Waite, International Secretary of the Y. M. C. A., in his address to us on the morning of the 13th of ]March, impressed


upon us the importance of good clean companions and the resist- ance of bad habits.

Dr. Maodonald always has new and original advice to offer us each Sunday evening, and in days to come when we look back on our "teens" we will never regret our early opportunities, but will always feel young enough to join in that good old college yell

Hoot, Hoot, Mon, Hoot!

Hoo, Raa, Ri !

Protai Aei S. A. C.


College! G. Bartlett Frost.


HE "was a cargo steamer of twenty-six hundred tons, perhaps two liiindred and forty feet over all. and had a beam of thirty-nine feet. Her engines were simple compounds, and she made her seventeen point five in fair Aveather.

Her nationality was Norwegian, but her house flag was never listed. She led a cheekei-ed and varied career, which often necessi- tated the services of a consul. Her name she changed when occasion demanded, her paint and rig still more often, but her crew signed on voyage after voyage with unwonted regularity.

At last her tradin«i's led her to gun-running, and the spring of a certain year saw4ier standing out from the Golden Gate bound for Vladivostoiv loaded to the hatch-covers with an assorted cargo, billed as farming implements and machinery.

For two weeks the '' Bona vista," as she was called, ploughed eastward through a gray-green sea bounded l)y a gray-green sky, while her tiremen threw spanners and nuts at refractory stokei*s, and her skipper cursed at the quality and quantity of her coal.

Then, crossing the line of traffic, she fled up the coast of Japan at her top speed, describing a neat half-circle around a fat gunboat which puffed despairingly in her wake, while the crew jeered and passed nneomplimentary remai-ks on tlie (|nality of Japanese gun- nery.

Now, a slii|) with clean papers does not as a rule flee from the


gunboat of a foreign power, so the wireless aboard the gunboat crackled and spit far into the night, and at daylight the "Bono- vista," driving north under a full head of steam, found herself in such a position that she could not mistake the meaning of a neat arrangement of signal flags a mile to seaward. She had her chance and she took it. Crossing the cruiser's bow, she drove up the coast of Japan minus her bridge.

For two days she fled on. never quite losing sight of the black trail of smoke astern, while her donkey engines rattled and roared and case after case of rifles plunged over the side.

The stokers remember those three days very dimly. They re- member the loose coal sliding and tumbling over the iron floor, as the steamer pitched and rolled, and that barrow after barrow was filled and trundled aft to the stokehold, where the wide-eyed trim- mers mechanically cursed them and asked for more. They remem- ber the chief engineer standing on an overturned barrow and wedg- ing the safety valve with a shovel, while the swaying trimmers passed the long shovels in and out of the furnace doors, where the white flame ran in and out over the surface of the coal. Once a man who had drunk too much water dropped his shovel and doubled up, shrieking, on the floor with stokers' cramp. Him they packed into the ash-hoist and ran him up to recover on deck. These and many more things will they tell you.

Yezo and the Gulf of Tartary had long been passed, and the morning of the third day found the "Bonavista" driving past Cape Lapatka and on into Bering Sea, still pursued by the trail of smoke.

Making 58 degrees North, she doubled around the Commander Islands, hoping to shake off' her pursuer, but by daybreak of the third day the smoke cloud had so increased in size that she was swung east again and made for the Kurile Islands.

It looked as if her luck had changed at last, her coal was gone, and she was burning her woodwork, and the bearings of the forward piston-rod cross-head were red hot and were eating their way into the piston-rod.

The cruiser had gained, and was now barely seven miles astern, just out of range. But the "Bonavista" had one more card to play. Staggering past Cape Lapatka again, riding high, and barely draw- ing twelve feet, she headed for the passage between two uncharted islands with unpronounceable names, and felt her way through the


channel, hurried on by a six-inch shell which arrived in the hold via the forward cargo hatch.

The commander of the cruiser, naturally supposing that where a loaded freighter could go, he could follow, took the channel at half speed.

What happened is worthy of consideration. The cruiser struck the bottom with a jar that lifted her a foot out of the water and

brought up all standing, the after boiler exploding from the shock.

* « * *

The afternoon sun blazed down on the uncharted island and sparkled on the dancing water, but there was no " Bonavista" only a battered cruiser, whose crew swore at a distant trail of smoke and waited for the flood tide. L. Bell.


QLL night long the guns had roared, and now as the gray morning dawned on the beleaguered city of Georgetown it showed the powder-blackened garrison still working their guns manfully.

Thrice througii the night had the united squadrons of France and Russia attacked the town, but had each time been repulsed with great loss to both sides; but now. far in the offing, the great fleet was preparing for a final assault, which, with the forts in their present dilapidated condition, could have but one sequel.

At the Marconi station on the citadel the Hertzian waves were bringing in a cipher message, which ran as follow's: "Will arrive by dusk. Hold out at all costs."

(Signed) "Xassa." When the commander had deciphered the message he touched a bell. Almost instantly a small, dark man appeared.

"Douglas," said the commander, "if you can by any means prevent that fleet attacking us before the Japs arrive by dusk, you will have that promotion for which you have so long been waiting. I will leave the matter entirely in your hands."

"I will do my best, sir," replied Douglas, and without more adieu set out for the dock, where a large submarine boat was anchored.

Having set a party of men to load the boat with torpedoes and


other necessary implements, he himself carefully overhauled the engines and torpedo tubes, his quick eye detecting a loose bearing or a flaw in the machinery. At last all was ready, and amid the cheers and well wishes of the garrison, the ''Viper" and her daring crew departed on their perilous enterprise.

After sailing along on the surface till they came within about a mile of the hostile fleet, the man-hole was closed and the "Viper" sank to a depth of twelve feet. Then, forging ahead till the peri- scope pointed out the huge French cruiser "Miquelon" not fifty yards distant, the engines were stopped and the crew stood by the two torpedo tubes, waiting for the order which would rid the seas of at least one of their opponents.

At last the order was given, and as Douglas watched for the result through