1940 Magnet Yearbook

JARVIS
COLLEGIATE
37
Footprints can be easily seen as on a
muddy road. Shadows and sunlight are the
same as on land, and all objects are clearly
visible as though in air, except that
they have a greenish glow. Fish and weeds
are familiar sights. I have seen tiny sunfish
gliding in and out between long green
blades of an aquatic weed that looks like
cut-grass. Baby bass, striped perch and.
schools of minnows have passed within
hand's reach. One day, I felt something
touch me when I was perfectly sti]]-it was
a tiny bass. T moved a bit and it darted
away about a foot. The sma]] fish seem
to be very curious.
We have brought up objects of the fisherman's
paraphernalia-white and red plugs
with rusty hooks, tangled lines, reels and
spinners with brilliantly coloured feathers,
and even rods. I brought up one black rod
with reel, line, hook and sinker still intact
on it. It was very rusty in spots, but after
a little cleaning it worked perfectly.
I hope I have been able to give you an
idea of amateur diving, and the enjoyment
it brings. It is not a]] amusement, for one
is bound to learn something of aquatic life
from it. But above all, it is full of fun and
adventure.
•
Those Good Old Days
JAMES JENKINS, 5B
"Willy," called l\1rs. \Vatson one cool
September morning in 1900, "get up! It's
time for school."
"Aw, maw, what time is it?"
"Why, it's all of seven o'clock and your
porridge is getting cold."
Half an hour later Willy was ready to
leave. "\\'hat have I for lunch, maw?" he
asked.
"It's cold pork sandwiches."
"Great!" and Wil1y set out on the fifteenblock
walk to school, along streets deserted
except for an occasional horse and buggy.
When school
was over, Willy returned
home and spent the time before supper
playing baseball with his friends in the
vacant lot. After a nourishing supper, the
family retired to the living-room.
"Did you hear how l\1r. Brown was
robbed on the way home?" asked Willy's
father.
"Yes, wasn't it terrible?" came the reply.
"Oh say, maw," interrupted Wi1Iy, looking
up from his homework, "will it be
all right if I go for a hike to Uncle Dick's
farm with the boys this week-end?"
"Yes, dear," replied his mother, "but
don't forget that we're looking forward to
going to the church m usical Saturday
night."
After fwishing his homework, as the
clock struck nine Wil1y packed up his
books and went to beeL
* * *
"l\1aster Roger," said the Smythe's maid,
tapping gently on his door one cool September
morning lt1 1939, "it's eight
o'clock."
"Okay," yawned Roger, making no move
to rise until another fifteen minutes or so
had passed.
After snatching a hasty breakfast, Roge:
picked up his books, not touched since
school had closed the day before, and reached
for his lunch.
"What is it today)" he asked.
Hardly waiting for the reply, "Lobstersalad
sandwiches," Roger hurried down the
stairs and into his father's waiting car.
Through heavy traffIC, 1\1r. Smythe drove
his son to the school, where the latter put
in a listless day.
Home once more, he went to his mother,
"Say, mater, can I have the old man's car
tonight? I want to go to the floodlight
baseball game."
After a light supper, Roger strol1ed into
the living-room where his father was reading
the evening paper, "Anything new?"
he asked.
"Only the usual murders and accidents.
By the way, are you going with us to the
symphonic concert Friday evening?"
"Impossible, I'm booked for a dance at
the Swing Club," Roger replied, as he
headed for the garage. "Don't wait up for
me tonight, I'll be home about one o'clock."
Those good old days.