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The Ubyssey Apr 7, 1921

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 Issued Weekly by the Publications Board of the University of British Columbia
Volume III.
A Students' Court
Next Session
If the Faculty approve of the plan submitted by the Students' Council, the
University will have a Students' Court
next session. According to the constitution of the court, as approved by the
Students' Council, its function shall be to
bring to trial any member of the student
body who is thought to have offended
against student laws. Not only will such
students be brought to trial, but power
will be given the court to punish the
The court shall be presided over by the
chief justice, who shall be a member of
the senior year of any undergraduate society, and who shall be chosen by election
from the list nominated by a committee
consisting of the presidents and vice-
presidents of the senior year of each
faculty. There will be four associate
judges, one for each undergraduate society, and these must be elected by their
undergraduate societies. They must be
members of the junior or the senior
years. The prosecuting attorney shall be
appointed by the Students' Council, and
the sheriff by the chief justice. The latter
shall also appoint the clerk of the court.
Sittings of the court shall be held at
the call of the chief justice, who is, of
course, responsible to the Students'
Council. The accused has the right to
retain as counsel for the defence any
member of the student body.
After the case has been tried, the
judges shall give their decisions, with reasons appended, and these shall be recorded by the clerk of the court. It shall
constitute an information when a written
statement of a charge is handed to the
clerk of the court.
This, of course, is an experiment. It
is obvious that, as at present constituted,
there are many by-laws which are- never
noticed after they have been framed and
passed by the Students' Council. Some
sort of provision of this sort for the enforcement of the by-laws has been a necessity for some time, although it is to
be hoped that the mere existence of a
court will have the desired effect of causing students  to observe all the by-laws.
Number 21
Hon. President—Dr. L. S. Klinck.
President—P. N. Whitley, Arts '22.
Secretary—Miss   Marjorie   Agnew,
Arts '22.
Treasurer—W. O. Banfield, Sc. '22.
President   Women's   Undergrad. —
Miss C. Urquhart, Arts '22.
President Arts Men's Undergrad.—
J. P. G. MacLeod, Arts '22.
President Agric. Undergrad—G. H.
Harris, Agric. '22.
President   Science  Undergrad. —• S.
R. Say, Science '23.
President Literary and Scientific
Department — A. E. Richards,
Agric. '23.
President Men's Athletics—Cliffe
Mathers, Sc. '23.
President Women's Athletics—Miss
Eveleigh, Arts '23.
Marshal—S. Anderson, Sc. '22.
Editor-in-Chief—A. H. Imlah, Arts
Owing to an oversight on the part of
one of our reporters, the presentation of
the trophies won under the Literary and
Scientific Department last Tuesday was
not mentioned in our write-up. The
Women's Lit. shield, won by Arts '23,
was presented to Miss Annie Anderson,
representing the Sophomores. The silver
medal for first place in the Men s Lit.
oratorical contest was presented to Mr.
H. W. Heaslip, who also received a silver
pin for debating.
The debating pins this year were made
in two styles, the first in silver for those
who won a place on the inter-collegiate
debating teams for the first time, and the
second in gold for those who have been
on the debating team at least twice. Mr.
Arnold Webster, Arts '21; Mr. Charlie
Traves, Ag. '21, and Mr. T. P. Peardon,
Arts '21, were the recipients of gold pins;
while silver pins were awarded to Mr. H.
M. Cassidy, Arts '23; Mr. W. E. Graham,
Science '23; Mr. J. L. Lawrence, Arts
'21; Mr. George Clark, Arts '22; Mr.
Chris. Sivertz, Science '23, and Mr. H.
W. Heaslip, Arts '22. Mr. Lome Morgan, Arts '24, will receive his pin when
he registers for the work of his Sophomore  year.
The Men's Lit. debating shield, won for
the  second  time  by  Agriculture,' was  to
(Continued on Page 7)
Seniors Plan
Closing Exercises
While final details have not yet been
settled, a fairly definite programme of
closing exercises has been adopted by
Arts '21. The activities are spread over
a period of nine days, commencing on
Tuesday, May 3rd. On that afternoon the
tree-planting ceremony will be held at
Point Grey, and in the evening the class
banquet at the Citizen's Club. The following day the men are holding a stag
party, and on Thursday afternoon will
have an opportunity to tell the women all
about it at a tea dance in the auditorium.
On the same evening comes the theatre
party at the Orpheum Theatre, followed
by supper for such as can still stand the
strain. Friday is set aside for recuperation, but on Saturday the giddy round
will be renewed. Mr. J. J. Banfield has
kindly offered the use of his grounds on
the North Arm for the use of all the
graduating classes. A special boat will be
chartered, and canoeing, sailing, bonfires
and wooded trails promise many attractions. On Sunday the Baccalaureate services will be held.
Tuesday, the 10th, is class day. The
exercises will be held, as usual, in the
auditorium, and will include the class
prophecies, class poem, and a musical
programme, as well as the valedictory
address, to be delivered by Mr. T. P.
Peardon. The women of Arts '24 have
generously offered to serve refreshments
to the graduates and their friends. At
this ceremony the valedictory gift of the
class to the University will be presented
by the president, Mr. J. C. Schell, and
accepted by the Chancellor, Dr. Mac-
Kechnie. The three-quarter length portrait of the late President Wesbrook,
which Mr. Victor A. Long has painted,
has been pronounced by those critics who
have seen it to be one of the best works
of the eminent Canadian artist. Dr. Wesbrook is depicted in his robes, standing,
and in the act of presenting a parchment
to a degree candidate. After the presentation the portrait will probably be placed
on exhibition in the city, and will then
hang in the Board Room until permanent
quarters have been secured.
April 7, 1921
Clothes with
a "Rep"
for Style
and Pep
There's a certain unusual Class
in Semi-ready clothing that appeals
to the young men who strive for an
ultra-smart appearance.
The Palm Garden
You don't have to go down town
now.     We   are   selling  them  here.
Cor.  Tenth  and Heather
Young Men's
Smart Shoes
Black and several shades of Brown
Calfskin, on the latest popular lasts
—perfect fitting—maximum service.
Price $10.00
Cluff Shoe Co.
Interviewed by the "Ubyssey' in regard to the criticism in our last issue of
Hazen's "Modern European History,"
now used as a first year text-book, Dr.
Mack Eastman made the following statement:
"The criticism is wholly unfair. Just
read the brief paragraph under discussion
on page 663. It contains two generalizations concerning the American effort, and
both are scrupulously fair and accurate:
'The Americans were beginning to count.'
Then comes an illustrative detail. Next
a particular statement: 'They helped to
check the Germans at Chateau Thierry.'
Note that they merely helped. That is
surely modest enough. The concluding
sentence sums up thus: 'These were details, but useful and auspicious.' Admirably just! Our young critic had no right
to omit this most essential sentence from
his quotation.
"The chapter as a whole deviates from
historical objectivity only because it is
ardently pro-Ally. The charge that it
contains insidious propaganda is pathetic.
"The reason I put on Hazen as an
alternative text-book was partly that
some super-patriots had discovered Robinson and Beard to be pro-German, and
I didn't want to offend against the conscience of any young student.
"It goes without saying that when
some English or Canadian historian
brings out as good a text-book covering
the same ground, I shall give it preference over any American publication. But
what encouragement is there for one of
our own scholars to undertake such an
arduous and thankless task when he
knows what fate befell Principal Grant's
excellent little history of Canada?
"Professor W. L. Grant is one of our
most trustworthy historians. He has done
much for  Canadian history.
"He happens, in addition, to be a Presbyterian and a British Imperialist. He
nearly lost his life in the Canadian infantry at the battle of the Somme. Yet last
year in this province he was denounced
as being ultramontane, Jesuitical and anti-
British. In the .end he was insulted
officially by the suppression of his book.
"The war has sorely disturbed the
minds of many non-combatants!"
The regular meeting of the Historical
Society was held last week at the home
of Miss Nora Willis. Miss Agnew and
Mr. Herd read papers on "Canadian Immigration," which carefully traced its
course through twenty years of Canadian
The Society was fortunate in having
Mr. Trotter, of the F. L. P., present. Owing to Mr. Trotter's connection with the
immigration committee of the Trades
Congress, he was able to speak authoritatively on the subject, and by the presentation of some startling figures, showed
clearly the Oriental menace. His remarks
were corroborated and emphasized by the
Rev. M. Ward, at present engaged in an
endeavor to civilize and christianize the
celestial. '
Depot for
Phone,  Seymour 602
Try the
JDeln\oi\*co waf4
Seymour UUO&
Ask  for
Office:   725  Dunsmulr Street
Evans & Hastings
— of —
"The Ubyssey"
for  1920-1921
College Annuals
Ball Programmes
Etc., etc.
High-Grade Work and Quick
Service characterize our up-to-date
establishment. April 1, 1921
Elections, elections, elections! There
have been so many annual meetings of
societies and clubs these last few days
that it has become quite a task to remember them all. Following is a list of
officers-elect of various societies, as far
as they were completed by Tuesday
Women's Undergraduate Society—Hon.
president, Miss Mclnnes; president, Miss
C. Urquhart, Arts '22; vice-president,
Miss Beth McLennan, Arts '23; secretary-treasurer, Miss Gwen Robson, Arts
Arts Men's Undergraduate Society—
Hon. president; Prof. H. T. Logan; president, J. P. G. MacLeod, Arts '22; vice-
president, W. R. MacAffee, Arts '22;
treasurer, L. L. Bolton, Arts '22.
Literary and Scientific Department—
Hon. president, Dr. Boggs; president, A.
E. Richards, Ag. '23; vice-president, Miss
Annie Anderson, Arts '23; secretary-
treasurer, L. T. Morgan, Arts '24; debates manager, G. S. Clark, Arts '22.
Rugby Club—Hon. president, H. F. G.
Letson; president, A. Buchanan, Sc. '23;
vice-president, V. Gwyther, Sc. '24; secretary-treasurer, C. Jones, Sc. '24; captain, R. Hodson.
Grass Hockey—Hon. president, Mrs.
Boving; president, Gwen Robson, Arts
'22; secretary-treasurer, C. Fitch, Arts
'23; curator, Z. B. Smith, Arts '23.
Ladies' Swimming Club—Hon. president, Mrs. Boving; president, E. Monk-
man, Arts '22; vice-president, M. Mordy,
Arts '24; secretary-treasurer, G. MacKinnon,  Arts '22.
Ice Hockey—President, Jean Strauss,
Arts '23; vice-president, G. Smith, Arts
'23; secretary-treasurer, M. Lapsley, Arts
Players' Club—Hon. president, Prof.
F. G. C. Wood; president, G. W. B.
Fraser, Arts '22; vice-president, Miss D.
Gill, Arts '22; secretary, Miss K. M.
Portsmouth, Arts '23; treasurer, R.
Hunter, Arts '23. Executive Committee:
Miss N. Willis, Arts '22; Miss K. Leveson, Arts '23, and G. Livingston, Arts '24.
French Players' Club—President,  Miss
D. Dallas, Arts '23; vice-president, H. C.
Sing, Arts '23; secretary, Miss Beth McLennan, Arts '23; treasurer, Mr. J. R.
McKee, Arts '23.
Science Men's Undergraduate Society
—Hon. president, Dr. Davidson; president, S. R. Say, Science '23; vice-president, G. F. Fountain, Science '22; secretary, T. P. Guernsey, Science '23; treasurer, W. Ure,  Science '23;  reporter,  W.
E. Graham, Science '23; athletic representative, K. Carlisle, Science '24.
Science '23—Hon. president, Dr. Hebb;
president, R. Hodgson; vice-president,
W. E. Graham; secretary-treasurer, A.
McVittie; athletic representative, Doug.
The three remaining council positions
for next session have now been filled by
election. Miss Eve Eveleigh, Arts '23,
has been elected president of the Women's
Athletics, and Mr. Cliffe Mathers, Science
'23, has been chosen as head of the Men's
Athletics. Both are well known in the
athletics of the College, Miss Eveleigh
captaining the champion ladies' senior
squad, and Cliffe being a member of the
senior basketball team, as well as secretary-treasurer of the Track Club.
Mr. Sid Anderson was unanimously
elected to the position of marshal for next
session. Sid's experience on the council
this year will assist him in carrying out
the important tasks of this new position.
Phone, Seymour 7853
C. HERMANN, Proprietor
± >j^-
U.B.C. Students Should Patronize
The Complete Sporting Goods Store
618 HASTINGS STREET, WEST Phone, Seymour 152
The Engineers' Discussion Club has
elected as president Mr. R. Hodson,
Science '23, and as secretary Mr. T. P.
Guernsey, Science '23. The purpose of
the club is to encourage public speaking,
and to distribute the practical knowledge
gained by its members during their summer's work. Membership is at present
open to Science men and to those in Arts
who will be entering Science next year.
It requires a three-fourths majority vote
of the members for election to membership.
A general meeting of the club was held
on Monday at noon, when the following
executive was elected for next year:
Hon. President and Vice-President—
Dr. and Mrs. Eastman.
President-—Henry Johnson.
. Vice-President—Miss   McKechnie.
Marshall—"Johnny" Walker.
Archivist—Miss Verchere.
The club then discussed the question of
membership and organization. As a result of the discussion, a motion was passed
that the club be reorganized and a new
constitution drawn up. By another motion, the old and the new executives were
appointed as the committee to take charge
of this.
Arrangements have been completed for
the annual Alma Mater picnic to Wigwam
Inn, which will be held on Saturday, April
30th. The boat will leave the West Vancouver Ferry wharf at 10 a.m., arriving
at the Inn in time for lunch. The afternoon will be spent in playing games, and,
after dinner, there will be a dance at the
Tickets will be on sale at the Students'
Council room on Thursday and Friday,
at noon.
Have you had a box of Chocolates
yet from McDonald's new store?
Gee!  it's a lovely place 1
888 Granville Street
(One block south of old store, corner
Robson Street)
for the world of
by taking a short course In the
Sprott - Shaw School
of Commerce and Telegraphy
Day and Evening Classes
Phone, Seymour 1810
R.  J.  SPROTT,  B.A.,  Manager. THE   UBYSSEY
April 1, 1921
If anyone gives you a box of
Chocolates, wouldn't you really
prefer that it be Purdy's?
R. C. Purdy
Maker of Purdy's Chocolates
Easter Hosiery
Fine Grade Pure Silk Hose, well reinforced at heel and toe, and with
good garter top; in black, white, silver, mid and dark grey, brown, nigger,
navy and taupe.    Special ...$2.00
"Very fine Pure Silk Hose, with high
spliced heel and double toe; black,
white, navy, brown, grey or green;
finished with black or white
clox       $2.75
High-grade Pure Silk Hose, full fashioned and with neat fitting ankle, extra   wide   tops,   in   shades   of   black,
white, brown,  navy and
dove grey   $3.50
(Member Pacific Inter-Collegiate Press
Issued every Thursday by the Publications Board
of the University of British Columbia.
Extra  mural  subscriptions,  $2.00 per session.
For advertising rates, apply Advertising Manager.
Editor-in-Chief P.   N.   Whitley
Senior  Editor A.   A.   Webster
(A.  H. Imlah
Associate Editors { S. M. Scott
•IMiss R.  E.  Verchere
Chief Reporter A.   F.   Roberts
{Miss A.  Anderson
J. C. Clyne
Bert' Sweeting
Cliffe Mathers
Miss P. Stewart
Exchange  Editor Miss  P.   I.   Mackay
Literary Editors j &  L.  Stevenson
Business  Manager L.- T.   Fournier
Asst. Business  Manager..J.  E.   Matheson, Arts'23
Advertising  Manager H.   M.   Cassidy
( D. A.  Wallace
Assistants -7 H.   G.   Scott
I M. A.   Dyce
Circulation  Manager R.   C.   Palmer
Editor for the Week Miss R. E. Verchere
This issue of the "Ubyssey" brings to
a close the efforts of the Ubyssey staff,
for the season 1920-21. The Publications
Department closes its year's work next
week with the publication of the "Annual." The activities of the Student Body
have been almost unlimited, and most
certainly they have been very successful.
It would fill the paper if we were to go
into detail and point out these various
successes, but that is unnecessary, for the
Annual records all of this, and, besides, it
includes many features which will meet
the expectations of the students.
At the opening of the fall term, we outlined our policy, and we have endeavored
to maintain it. The various student activities have been recorded, and from
time to time news items of interest to
the  students  have  been featured
Much has been done to foster college
spirit, and to this end attempts have b»en
made to arouse the interests of the gen-
cal public in  University affairs.
The Special Numbers, for the most
part, have been successful, and have
tended to encourage interest in Student
Publications. The retiring staff would
like to' see this feature repeated in the
coming session.
The Literary Supplements have made
it possible for many students to contribute articles which would have been out
of place in the regular issues. This, too,
might be repeated next year unless the
size of the Ubyssey be enlarged, then it
would be possible to devote a page, or
a portion of a page each week, to articles
of a literary nature.
Members of the Faculty have given
much valuable advice, for which we are
truly thankful, and the Registrar has assisted greatly in enabling us to publish
news of University activities. We also
tender our sincere thanks to those who
have contributed literary work and to
the members of the Undergraduate Societies who assisted in the publication of
the special numbers.    Last,' but nQt least,
our advertisers must be thanked for their
material support, and we hope that they
have been and will continue to be rewarded by the patronage of the students.
The credit for the success of our efforts is not due ourselves, but is due the
members of the Alma Mater Society,
who have realized the importance of our
University  motto,   "Tuum  Est."
Though there are now two hundred and
eighteen graduates of our University, yet
the Alumni Association numbers only
fifty (paid-up) members. We hope to see
this number increased next year by the
whole membership of the graduating
class of A[ts '21, Agriculture '21 and
Science '21. Here is a chance for you of
the graduating class to show what the
esprit de corps, the college spirit which
has been so striven after this year, means
to you. Here is your opportunity to make
the Alumni Association the vital force
which it ought to be in securing support
for the U.B.C. and establishing its influence.
Although the present Editorial Board
ceases to exist after the publication of
this issue, we feel confident that next
year's board will do all in its power to
assist you. Let us hear from you, and
of you, Alumni members, from time to
time. Tell us what you have done and
what you are doing. Besides keeping in
touch with each other and with your
Alma Mater, keep your Alma Mater in
touch with you.
The wise student will not wait until he
returns to college next fall to plan his
course of study for the following term.
Freshmen and Sophomores, especially, are
confronted with the task of deciding
where their efforts can be applied to the
best advantage. How often do we hear
Seniors lamenting the fact that they have
been unable to take all the lectures which
interested them, because in their earlier
years they had neglected to scan the calendar carefully and to plan their future
work with a reasonable degree of continuity. They have been guided by a sort
of careless, hit or miss policy, which may
be convenient, but is productive of many
regrets. Now is the time for lower classmen to avoid such an experience.
It may not be possible, or even wise, to
lay down a rigid scheme of procedure.
Allowance should, undoubtedly, be made
for charging interests, but this does not
alter the importance of having some general aim in conformity with which selections may be made. Though it is a matter which the student must finally decide
for himself, in many cases the advice or
information which professors can give is
exceedingly valuable. There may be
courses having a direct bearing upon the
profession which the student intends to
pursue, but of which he is ignorant. He
may not appreciate that certain lectures
are preparatory to advanced work in
which he is interested. These and many
other difficulties which arise can be
solved best by consultation with instructors over individual problems. The professors are always glad to be consulted
and keen to aid, in any way, those who
have  doubts as to the best arrangement SPRING, 1921
In presenting this second Literary Supplement, the editors wish to
acknowledge their indebtedness to
all those who have responded to the
appeal for contributions. Special
reference must be made to the kindness of Mr. Hugh Walpole, who,
despite his prominence }n English
literary circles, most graciously
complied with the audacious request
of the Literary Editors to "write
something for the Supplement."
He was the paying teller and a typical
bank-bug. Strangely enough, the only
notable thing about him—his walk—added
to this impression. He never really
walked; he ran, in a peculiar little heel
and toe scuttle that in some uncanny
fashion left his body motionless above the
hips, as the scurrying legs of a beetle
leave its shell unmoved. When he bobbed
hurriedly about the inside of his cage, he
seemed more insect-like than ever—rather
a pathetic human insect, with a small,
pale mustache and pale, thin hair, brushed
carefully to conceal the balder spots. His
little, spare frame was stooped from much
desk-work, and his short-sighted eyes
peered forth, queerly magnified, from behind heavy tortoise-shell spectacles. Yes,
he was really a pathetic little bug, but
how indignantly would he have refuted
the accusation! He was quite happily
contented with his obscure lot, and he
had but one ambition—to be made an accountant. It was only occasionally, in
his most wildly impossible dreams, that
he ever aspired to a managership—the
ultimate Utopia of even the youngest
bank-messenger boy—and this dream had
never actually crystallized into an ambition.
His name was Jones, Henry Jones. At
first sight, it seems to fit his case, but it
was rumoured that his mother, with
whom he lived in a tiny, dingy flat, called
herself Heming-Jones, and was an English gentle-woman who had "come down '
and who realized her son's deficiencies,
but adored him too much ever to reproach him with them. However that
may have been, his fellow-clerks knew
him as plain Jones, and despised ■his easy
contentment as they disdained his name.
They were bank-bugs themselves; but
they had no illusions, and Jones, poor
devil, was blinded with the greatest illusion of all—he was in love.
She was—and what a great blow this
must have been to his mother—the daughter of their janitor. In addition, she was
quite common and coarse, addicted to the
movies, sheer blouses, and heavy, greasy
(Continued on Page 3)
(Written especially for the Ubyssey   by
Mr. Hugh Walpole.)
It is, of course, impossible in the short
space of a thousand words to say anything that can pretend to any kind of
adequacy about modern English (here
quite definitely not American) fiction.
Even in the days of Scott and Jane Austen, there was plenty to say—but now!
How immense has the subject become,
how technical and tendencious and elaborate, indeed!
A friend of mine, asked the other day
what he thought of the Twentieth Century English Novel, answered curtly: "Altogether too damned clever and self-conscious." When did it begin to be self-
conscious? It certainly was naive and
unsuspecting enough in the mid-Victorian
days of monthly instalments and Trollo-
pian heroines. Perhaps sophistication
came in with George Eliot, that horse-
faced genius; perhaps twenty years later
with French influence and Mr. Vizetelly's
translations; perhaps with Mr. George
Moore and "The Mummer's Wife'' or Oscar Wilde and "The Yellow Book," or
with Arnold Bennett and H. G. Wells
. At least, there it is. It is so
easy now to write a clever novel; it is so
easy to be a clever young man—still easier to be a clever young woman. How
little Dickens and Trollope knew about
the art of the novel compared with Arnold Bennett and May Sinclair! But the
trouble with the English novel is that it
has always flourished best under the
hands of the amateur. That is a dangerous saying, perhaps, but Fielding, Scott,
Jane Austen, Emily Bronte and Anthony
Trollope go a long way toward the support of it. There is a great deal of the
amateur about Thomas Hardy, our finest
novelist alive; there is much of the amateur about the author of "Nostromo";
more than much in the author of that
most splendid farce, "Mr.  Polly."
The English novel, in contrast with the
novel of every other language, is at its
best when it is rambling, discursive, and
(Continued on Page 3)
There's music in the valley,
Broken with laughter and tears—
Lovable  human  music,
Shaken with fears.
He cannot go down to the valley
Where the linnet thrills,
He  wanders  enslaved   and   embittered
On the lonesome hills;
For he heard in a fairy moment,
When the moon had waned,
The cruelty of a music
Perfect and unattained.
D. H. W.
All suddenly, between our shining eyes,
A shadow falls.    Your face griws dull
and grey
And meaningless; the whisper°l things
we say
Are blended, infinite monotonies,
And all the white flames of our paradise
Ashes of dreams
To-morrow, we will go
Our   unremembering   ways,   and   only
One  shadow more has crept across   the
Life is an afterglow.    The shadow years
Are grey veils dropped between us and
the sun;
The  waning  splendors  waver,  one  by
And fade, and vanish in a mist of tears.
And   Greyness  grows     .     .     .     And
Darkness comes at last
With  ghostly  fingers,   pointing  to   the
—G.  B.
"John," I said, "how do you buy gramophone records?"
"I suppose you mean where?" he answered.
"I don't. You buy so many that I
thought you must have mastered the art.
You seem to like doing it."
"It's not unpleasant."
"So I imagine.   Where do you go?"
"I generally go to Hoffman & Schmidt.
I like their service."
He smiled absently, for no reason at all.
. Down a carpeted vista of pianos came
the head assistant. He could have been
no less. He had watery eyes and a hushed
smile; his tie was refined and his manner
solicitous. He thought I wanted to buy
a piano—I saw it floating in his eye. The
thought, I mean, not the piano. I would
have given worlds at that instant not to
disappoint him. But I checked a sudden
impulse to say:
"I want to see the latest thing you have
in pianos."
Instead I said:
"I want a gramophone record."
He lost interest at once. I knew he
would. He was a creature far too bright
and good to condescend to mere records.
Surely I might have pretended I was
thinking of getting at least a gramophone.
"Mrs.  Brown, please."
His tone was colourless.
He bowed and retreated beautifully
down the vista.   His coat fitted perfectly.
A voice at my elbow recalled me.
(Continued on Page 2) LITERARY SUPPLEMENT
Spring, 1921
(A  Cowichan  Indian Legend)
Soon after the eleven fathers of the
Cowichan tribes had come down from
lieaven, the Sagalie Tyee sent another
man, whose name was Stut-zen. He
sought the camp of the others, on the
bank of the Cowichan, where the river
winds placidly after the turbulence of its
rapids and falls. But the first-comers
were not willing to receive Stut-zen into
their fellowship. He drew near with
peaceful gestures, and called them "brothers"; but the chief, Seahletsa, spoke coldly
to him. "The Sagalie Tyee made us first,"
he said, "so we are the lords of this valley, and thou art not of our rank. Begone! Do not defile our camp with thy
presence, and seek elsewhere brothers of
thine own kind."
So Stut-zen made his way down the
river a little way, and found a suitable
camping place at a spot called Hul-alt,
where ancient maples overshadowed a
patch of fertile ground. Here he gathered
cedar bark and built his hut. The oppressive silence of the forest closed about him
like a shroud, and the blaze of his camp-
fire seemed to be rendered dull and cheerless by the vast loneliness. His longing
for companionship grew day by day.
"Had I," he thought, "but the semblance
of a human figure to sit beside my fire,
I might feel that I was not quite alone."
Therefore, he found a piece of yew
wood that was rotten enough to be soft,
and with sharp stones he wrought upon
it. When he went hunting he laid it carefully away in a bed of leaves, and when
he came back he resumed his task. Thre^
moons had passed before the block was
shaped into the figure of a seated woman,
which Stut-zen placed beside his fire. In
her hands he put a rude spindle, enwound
with wool of a mountain goat.
Meanwhile the news had spread that
the Great Spirit had sent men to the
Cowichan valley. The tidings reached the
household of Chief Tee-com-it, at Sooke.
While he was discussing it with his wife,
their daughter came to them and said,
"My father, grant that I may go over the
mountains and find me a husband of
these sons of the Sagalie Tyee. I am
tired of the warriors of thy tribe, for I
have known them from my childhood,
and not one of them pleases me."
Her father answered angrily, "Thou art
no daughter of mine if thou dost entertain such thoughts. These are most likely devils, placed by the Kikalie Tyee upon
earth, and thou seekest them at thy
peril.' The maiden did not reply, but her
curiosity was keener than before. Gathering food for a journey, she summoned
the slave girl, who was her attendant,
and together they set out. With the ease
bred of long practise, they threaded the
pathless way across the mountain ridge,
and dropped down into the Cowichan valley. The first trace they found of the
men that they sought was the smouldering fire of Stut-zen's camp, whence he had
just started in pursuit of a sturdy buck.
With a cry of surprise, the damsel saw
the wooden figure crouching by the fire.
When she ventured closer, however, she
quickly understood what Stut-zen had
done. Laughing in high delight, she bade
her companion hide herself. Then she
cast the wooden figure into the fire,
seated herself in its place, and took up
the spindle.
As it smouldered the yew wood ga^e
out a moaning musical note, so loud that
it reached Stut-zen's ears. At once Inhumed back. He found the strange
woman sitting spinning; the matted wool
on the spindle had already begun to
change into a smooth web beneath her
hands. Stut-zen demanded, "Who art
thou?" Raising her eyes to gaze on him,
she replied, "I am that wooden woman
thou madest. While thou wcrt away, the
Great Spirit came down rind breathed
upon me, and gave me life.'
"That cannot be," replied Stut-zen.
"Thou art not like that woman which I
made with my hands. She was my companion and my friend."
"I am that same woman," declared the
"Nay, thou art some evil spirit, who
hast destroyed my lovely wife, that was
almost a human being, as myself."
"But I am a human being; and even if
I am not that ugly thing thou callest thy
wife, I am ready to take her place. Am
I not fairer than she?"
"Nothing can be so lovely to me as
that woman I wrought for myself," he
lamented. But when he looked at the
maiden again, his eyes met hers, and he
was silent for a space. Then he added,
"But she is gone, and thou art here; so
thou mayest be my wife in her stead."
When wooded ways are moist, and sweet
With breath of pines, and at my feet
Soft new leaves spring—
Then seek I in a glade I know
The mossy bank where twin-flowers grow
And fragrance fling.
Of rosy snow a lingering drift,
Where pine-tree shadows fall and shift,
The twin-flowers  stand.
Like tears two tiny blossoms cling
Upon each stem; so small a thing
God has it grow—
Unsought, unplucked by careless hand—
And  shyly blow.
—A. M. A.
Crouching beneath the rain
And bent with Age's load,
An old man delves a drain
Across the sodden road.
A rusty pick he wields
With motions weak and slow;
The muddy gravel yields
Before each painful blpw.
The strokes beat dull and thick
Upon the dreary mire—
And yet the labor'd pick
Flings  dancing sparks  of fire.
—A. L. S.
The  thousand  painful   steps   at  last  are
At last the temple's difficult door we
But perfect on his pedestal, the god
Freezes us hopeless when we enter in.
—Sir William Watson.
(Continued from Page 1)
"What can I get for you, madam?"
She seemed to have sprung from nowhere. She was slight and fair and she
had dimples.
"Morgenstimmung, first Peer Gynt
Suite,  Grieg,'  I  said  in  perfect   English.
"Ten-inch?" she said.
Heavens, I'd no idea they sold the
things by the inch. But I rallied instantly
and  said,  carelessly:
"Oh—er—yes. I think that will be
She smiled. She had the prettiest eyebrows. She invited me to sit down, and
went off to a corner to consult a catalogue.    Presently she came back.
"I'm sorry, but we haven't got it."
"Oh, surely you have," I said, kindly
but  firmly.    "Please  look again."
Another search.    Then:
"Is it in Greek?" she said, looking up.
I explained, admiring her eyes.
"Pardon me," she murmured, and dimpled adorably.
I did.
She turned again to the catalogue. I
was in no hurry, and I watched her lazily.
She had a delightful profile. If only she
would be content to let her hair show the
shape of her head	
"Oh, here it is. Would you like to
hear it?" H
I would. She did the appropriate things
and the record started. It was a wretched
rendering.    I begged her to stop it.
"Is that ten inches?" I said. "I think
it must be too light for the instrument,
or something. It sounded pained. Try
twenty inches."
She laughed. The sound was more
musical than the record.
"Twelve-inch is  the largest,"  she said.
"Haven't you an out-size?" I said, hoping to hear her laugh again.
But she didn't. She was running a
slender finger down the page.
She put on another record. I heard it
out. This time there was nothing to complain of; I paid for it and left.
I am no longer astonished at John's
piles of untouched records.
K.   M.  P.
Within the narrow convent ground, alone,
She  walks,  at  evenfall.    The   sleeping
Is not more placid; and the face of stone
Above her,—where the last rays, rosily,
Bathe the sweet Virgin's statue,—seems
to be
No   less   unearthly.    At   her   measured
The twilight echoes whisper, sleepily,
And peace is with her
Once, her shaven head
Was   glorious   to   see—those   pale,   calm
Were grey lakes in the moonlight; and
the rose
Envied her laughing lips—the vernal skies
Had not the witchery of her repose.
Thus was she, ere Thy holy way she trod.
Ah,   teach  me   to  forget  that  time,   Oh,
—G. B. Spring, 1921
(Continued from Page 1)
a-sprawl. The situation at the moment is
precisely this, that foreign influence has
for the last thirty years been trying to
force the English novel into something
that it is not. It is to be trammelled with
foreign technique, French, Russian, Scandinavian, what you will. Our greatest
male living novelists have for the most
part resisted the impulse—Hardy, Conrad, Wells, Bennett. Kipling is not a
novelist, George Moore is not a novelist
(he is George Moore), Galsworthy has
swallowed Turgenieff's technique whole,
and it is throttling him. The four I have
named have ah written great novels in
the true English tradition—Hardy's "Far
from the Madding Crowd," Conrad's
"Nostromo," W e 11 s' "Tono-Bungay,"
Bennett's "Clayhanger," and its sequels.
These are all great books. Meanwhile, a
number of women are fighting that tradition. There has never been a period in
English fiction when so many clever
women have been at work. I say that
with a full consciousness of Anne Rad-
cliffe, Jane Austen and Miss Ferrier at one
period and the Brontes, George Elliot and
Mrs. Gaskell at another. The best half-
dozen women English' novelists alive are
May Sinclair, Ethel Sidgwick, Sheila
Kaye-Smith, Dorothy Richardson, Virginia Woolf and Clemence Dane. The
novels of all of them are alive with technique. Miss Richardson's "Miriam" sequence is a most remarkable work not yet
truly appreciated; Clemence Dane's "Legend" is a marvel of technique; May
Sinclair's "Mary Olivier" is so technical
that it is like a sum in Algebra. And they
are all realists. It is around this battle
of Realism and Romanticism that the
whole question of modern technique is being fought.
The Realist, pure and simple, (that he
is, as a rule, neither pure nor simple, is
little to the point here—we deal ho longer
in terms of morality, but always in terms
of psychology), must consider technique
and form. He is there to make a perfect
work of art, to reduce or expand life into
some form that will shine like a jewel
with its symmetry, grace and eloquence.
He discovers his subject, makes sure of
its truth to life, then moulds it into the
form that best suits it. The finest example of form in the English novel in the
last five years is Frank Swinnerton's
"Nocturne." That is a very short book,
but "The Old Wives' Tale" is a yet more
magnificent example of form, and that is
one of the longest novels in the English
language. But the Realist who is also a
Romantic will throw form altogether
aside, if by doing so he may capture more
securely his fragment of life. He lies
with his ear to the ground and reports
ecstatically what he hears. He must, of
course, have his subject, and that subject
makes of itself a kind of form. But he is
concerned neither with technique nor
form as an end in itself. He must go beyond.
It is toward this Romantic Realis n ih'it
the English novel is, I believe, under the
superb leadership of Joseph Conrad, tending. It would be monstrous to say that
the author of "The Secret Sharer," one of
the greatest short stories in English, and
of "The Secret Agent,' a superb example
of technique, does not concern himself
with form: but he will desert it at an instant   if   life   calls   him.    It will be, of
course, impossible for the English novel
ever to re-act to its old formlessness. No
modern novelist can neglect the experience of the past, but what the English
novel has to do is to recover its old creative energy. It must take less thought
to itself, be less self-conscious, put creation of life and character above the strictness of style, the thinning of detail, the
elaboration of method. To every man his
own form. Let us have May Sinclair and
Dorothy Richardson with their modern
method, William de Morgan with his romantic wanderings, the younger men like
Frank Swinnerton and J. D. Beresford
with their actual realism, or Brett Young
and Frederick Niven with their poetic
colour. More freedom, less literary talk,
fewer of those infernal little talking
cliques that restrict freedom with their
tiny catchwords and high-brow limitations.
The English novel must recover something that it has almost lost—it needs
fresh air and more happy carelessness.
Eons ago the Master Builder,
Leaning over the chart,
Sketched the rose window,
Planning with perfect art
Nave and transept and spire,
Buttress and arch—-
The Gothic Cathedral.
Worker of little vision,
Lacking a glimpse of the whole,
High on a lonely parapet
Carve  out your  soul
On the face of a gargoyle.
What does it matter?
In eons to come the end is sure,
However it seem,
The  Incarnation
Of the  Builder's dream.
—D. H. W.
(Continued from Page 1)
foods. But she could, at times, be nice
enough and, to do Jones justice, it must
be admitted that with him she was always on her best behaviour. Not that
behaviour would have counted for much.
Romance, in the form of Miss Mae Rid-
dleton, had thoroughly dazzled him. And
it was such a comely form! She was tall
—half a head taller than he—with a truly
beautiful figure. She had long, slim legs
and graceful, narrow hips, whose curving
lines swelled gently into a robustness of
bosom and roundness of neck and shoulder unusual above the lower slenderness.
Her hair was black and slightly curly,
and her eyes, with the traditional jet
frames, that beautiful Irish blue which
give depth where no depth is. Their
white lids drooped heavily, in a subtle invitation—drooped also to conceal a vicious vacancy. Her mouth, too, although
a flaming scarlet, was thin-lipped and so
cruel that  all who ran might read.
Jones, alas, had never tried to run, and
could not see to read. He worshipped her.
She was never out of his thoughts, but
hovered forever in their background and
colored them and warmed them like a
fire. In the night he would wake suddenly with her name on his lips and a
great longing in his heart. He adored
her. Night and day he dreamed of her.
He worked for her. He lived for her. He
was her!   And he really knew her not at
all. It was enough for him that she was
alive and beautiful. Of what she really
was, in her innermost self, he seldom
thought, and, if he did think, he made for
her a lovely mind to fit the lovely body.
It was  sufficient and he was  happy.
As for her, she cared for him not a jot;
in fact, she rather despised him, but her
shallow pride was flattered that she could
number a bank-clerk, who was also a gentleman, among her admirers. Hard, selfish and vain, she felt that he added to
her prestige; and she encouraged him
accordingly. He took her to "shows,"
where she sometimes allowed him to hold
her hand in the darkness, and Jones grew
almost delirious with happiness. They
walked in the park on fine Sunday afternoons and, occasionally, he would call
upon her in her mother's crowded little
parlour. These latter occasions were always rather strained—they had nothing
to talk about—although she never tired
of hearing him describe the bags of red
and shining gold it fell to his lot, as chief
teller, to count. She took an active and
almost physical delight in his tales, and
would flutter her fingers in the air, as
though the golden pieces themselves were
slipping through them, in a greedy, yet
graceful, little way that Jones considered
inexpressibly  lovely.
"Oh, Mr. Jones," she would say, "how
wonderful it must be to see all that
money. Don't you ever feel like running
off with it?"
"No, never," he would answer. "Why
should I? I have quite enough to live
comfortably on." And he would look at
her wistfully through his thick glasses.
He sometimes wondered if he could ever
possibly make her happy on his small
salary. She was so beautiful. She deserved so much. He would have done
anything for her, and he wanted to give
her everything in the world. Sometimes
he felt almost heroic, forgot his limitations, and even imagined rising to a managership. Not a very weighty one, of
course, but, given a branch in a nice quiet
little town, Jones felt he could do wonderful things and make Miss Mae Riddle-
ton almost as happy as she deserved
to be.
One evening, when he had described
to her as usual the bags of gold he had
handled that day, she became unwonted-
ly eloquent and, indeed, almost passionate
upon the subject. Something in her fervour hurt Jones intolerably and forced
him to cry a protest.
'But, Mae," he exclaimed, "money isn't
everything. As far as the real things go
it is nothing. You can't buy your happiness." With that word he gave a great
gulp and went on.
"Mae, darling," he said, "you must
know I love you. I think I have always
loved you, and I know I always will.
Won't you marry me, dear? We could
be so happy."
He looked at her in an anxious appeal.
At that moment Jones was pathetic, but
he was no bug. Sincerity gave him a sort
of greatness.
The girl was startled beyond caution,
and  she  laughed  shrilly.
"Marry you!" she cried. "Whadd'ye
think I am? Marry you, and live in that
flat with your mother on $150.00 per?
Not much!"
She laughed again and tossed her head
without looking at him.
"Why," she went on, "you say money's
nothing—it's everything.   No matter how LITERARY SUPPLEMENT
Spring, 1921
much I loved a poor man, I'd never
marry him; but for money—I'd do anything—anything."
She half-closed her eyes and leaned forward to gaze at him in the manner she
had found so effective.
"With money think what you could do,'
she said. "New York—London—Paris—
the whole world. Happiness—you don't
know what it is!"
Jones lifted his head wearily. His habitual office pallor had bleached to a deadly
"Ah, yes, I do," he answered; "but you
do not. You won't marry me then—you
don't love me?"
"Of course, I am very fond of you,"
replied the girl, evasively, "but when I
marry, I must marry money. I could
never live without it."
She had lived so far, quite comfortably,
without it, but Jones forbore to remind
her of the fact. Bidding her good-night,
he rose and left the room. He was so
unhappy that he felt he must die.
He tossed miserably about all night in
a hot sleeplessness, and, gradually, a desperate resolve began to form itself in his
fevered imagination.
"She wants money," he told himself.
"Very well, she shall have it. It will be
easy enough. Anyone can do anything in
this world. All they need is the great
desire and, God knows, I have that."
He turned and tossed and his plan took
definite shape. Next morning he arose
and went to the bank as usual, counted
the clearing as usual, paid out the innumerable dirty bills, and ate his lunch, as
usual, off the large tin tray that the
bank's chef-janitor brought to his cage.
Everything was as usual. Jones thanked
God for the dispassionate daily round
that left him almost the usual unfeeling
machine. But he was no longer a machine. For a woman he would rise out
of the rut. For a woman he would become great, even though his greatness
were unhallowed. He would be a thief.
Not a petty thief, but a daring thief—a
great thief. The thought excited him
strangely. It gave him a wild sort of
pleasure. The time seemed to drag, and
he watched the clock feverishly.
At the end of the day, when he and a
messenger were tying in cotton the bundles of large bills that every night are
shipped under seal to various outside
branches, he managed to slip, unobserved,
a package of one hundred $1,000 bills into
the cash drawer. These he replaced with
one hundred $1 bills from his cash-box,
and quickly tied and sealed the bundle.
He could more easily have taken the
money from the box itself; but he reasoned that, on his non-appearance next
day, no vast suspicion would be aroused
by the $100 shortage, which was not an
uncommon occurrence. His absence
would be attributed to illness, and no
questions would be asked for a day or
two, at least. The $100,000 shortage in
the out-going parcel could not possibly
be discovered and reported by the up-
country branch for perhaps a week, and
Jones felt he would have a fair chance
for a successful get-away. He and the
messenger finished their tying and sealing, and Jones went downstairs for his
coat. He came up and, re-entering his
cage, easily and coolly slipped the bundle
of bills into his pocket. Then he took the
revolver that was always with him during
business hours, and slipped it also in his
pocket. He felt he might need it. Walking out, he bade the head-accountant his
usual good-night, as he passed the front
desk, and smiled grimly. Crime seemed
ludicrously easy. Even his conscience
slumbered. It was not until the big, iron-
banded door clanged to behind him that
he realized what he had done. Then he
grasped the ringed knob and shook it in
a sort of terror. But the door remained
fast, implacably fast. It seemed to tell
Jones that now, forever, he was on the
outside. It was too late for him to turn
back. The very caution that had prompted him to rob the cash parcel, rather than
his box, made reparation impossible for,
by this time, the parcel was on its northern way.
The little clerk shrugged his narrow
shoulders and, hurrying down the bank
steps, turned towards his home. He hurried his usual half-run, and the revolver
in his pocket bumped irritatingly against
his side with every step. To still the motion he slipped his hand in beside it and
grasped the end. The cold steel ient a
shiver down his spine. Perhaps crime
wasn't so ludicrously easy after all! Then
a warm glow replaced his momentary terror. Ah,' he told himself; "she is well
worth it. I would give my life for her."
And he scuttled harder than ever. His
one desire now was to reach the girl so
that they might make their arrangements
and get quickly away. New York—-London—Paris! She should see! He would
show her the world!
Again fortune made things easy for
him. As he came within sight of the
apartment he saw her turn in and, breaking into a real run, he caught up to her
just as she entered the narrow hall of
her father's flat.
"Mae," he gasped, breathlessly. "Mae,
you must hurry—you are coming away
with me! I have money—thousands—a
hundred thousand dollars! Come—you
are going with me!    You must hurry!"
The girl stared at him as though he
were mad. Then, understanding came to
her.    She drew away from him.
"You have robbed the bank—you have
stolen money?" she asked slowly.
"Yes, yes!" he answered. "I have stolen
it. Thousands—thousands, all for you!
We shall see the world! But, comfr—we
must hurry—hurry! There is no time to
Still the girl watched him. Her heavy
dark eyes were almost shut and her thin
lips  set.
"You are a thief," she said; "and you
expect me to run away with you. Oh, you
fool!" She gave an hysterical laugh.
"You  damned fool!"
Gradually Jones realized what she was
saying.    He gazed at her stupidly.
"You said you'd do anything for
money," he exclaimed, "and now I have
it. Don't you understand? I am rich—
rich! We will go away together and you
shall   have   everything  you   want."
The girl laughed again shrilly, in rising
"Me go away with you!" she cried.
"Why, you little rat, I wouldn't go round
the corner with you, money or no money!
I tell you, you're a damned fool!" She
turned away from him, but he stepped in
front of her. Small as he was, he suddenly seemed to tower above her.
"But you shall come with me," he said.
"Do you hear?    By God, you shall!'
She looked at him in a fury.
"Who d'ye think you're talkin' to?" she
cried. "You little pup! Take that—and
that!' And she struck him twice across
the face so that his glasses fell and shattered, with a tiny crash, between them.
Jones did not move. Slowly a red mark
rose in his cheek. Then he spoke in a
strangely choked voice.
"So I will take that, and that, will I?
Then, my lady, you will take this." He
drew his hand from his coat pocket where
it had lain, grasping the revolver, and
held the weapon against her side. She
was motionless, her lips still set in a
sneer. With his hand upon the trigger
he looked straight into her vicious, narrowed eyes and, as he looked, suddenly a
great light came to Him. He had been
blind, but now he saw. Laughing soft!y,
he drew back.
"No," he said, "I won't kill you. Killing's too good for you. And I—God help
me—I have ruined myself for you." With
a groan, he ran out of the hall and into
the street. Dimly, he knew what he must
do and, blindly, he did it.
They were really quite lenient with
him.    He got five years.
M. K.
Where are we bound,  Mariner?
Whither borne
In darkness and silence;
Steadily to an ocean wide
By undercurrents deep and strong,
Or with uncertain motion
Slipping with the tide?
The stars we look to
Give us no light,
The darkness is upon us
And the night,
And  through  the  stillness  of  the  bay
—The awful silence of neglect—
The cry of a sea bird
Far away. —D. H. W.
The lovely lost, with whom the Power on
Allowed for us too short a while to sail,
Are  hid   unless   by   chance   we  rend  the
Ah, could we mortals only rectify
Heart-aching   errors   heedless   done,   and
The lovely lost, with whom the Power on
Allowed for us too short a while to saill
We would this wasting world revivify,
Quench the devouring fire, and quell the
Disclose    the    half-learned    truths    that
But what does man's vain consciousness
The lovely lost, with whom the Power on
Allowed for us too short a while to sail,
Are   hid  unless   by  chance  we   rend  the
F. C.
"How weak are words—to carry thoughts
like mine!"
Saith each dull dangler round the much-
bored Nine.
Yet words sufficed for Shapespeare's suit,
when he
Woo d time, and won instead Eternity.
—Sir William Watson. April 1, 1921
of their course. We would urge everyone,
by the expenditure of a little time and
thought in outlining a plan for future sessions, to avoid the unfortunate experience
of being a dissatisfied graduate.
We regret that our account of "Presentation Day," which appeared in the
last issue of the "Ubyssey," completely
ignored the presentation of medals and
pins and shields made by the Literary and
Scientific Department. As the president
of the Literary and Scientific Department
is doubtless aware, the last copy must
be sent to the printers from this office
on Tuesday, at noon. As the meeting
was not held until noon, we adopted the
time-honored custom of preparing as
much of the write-ups as possible beforehand. Thus the list of all those who were
to receive letters was at the printers'
long before the meeting. The "lead," or
the news story, was written in haste immediately after the meeting, and it is unfortunate that mention should not have
been made of the Literary and Scientific
Department's  share  in  presentation   day.
All In Favor  ?
Editor  Ubyssey.
Dear Sir,—Now that we 'are nearing the
end of the term, I think some thanks should
be given to our retiring Students' Council
and all who helped them. If we look at all
the reports of the organizations which the
Students' Council represent, we will find thai,
every one of these organizations has had a
marvellous  year.
If everyone this summer will look up suggestions for the- organization, or organizations that he or she is interested in. and
come back next year and give these suggestions to the organization, we will have another successful session next year. Also let
us all be sure that we interest ourselves in
one or more organizations.
It would do us all good to read an article
in the "Outlook" entitled "The World Owes
Us a Living." The article goes on to say
that the world may owe us a living, but we
owe the world a living, and in no world is
this so true as in our college world. The
college may owe us a great deal, but it
doesn't owe us one bit more than we put
into it. This is equally true of studies and
activities. Dick Phenyl, a man to whom our
college is deeply indebted for the work he
has done, said something in the play which
we should all remember: "Blame, blame,
frut praise,  O  dear,  no."
R.   R.
Phi Lambda Rho
Editor Ubyssey.
Dear Sir,—Although there have been no
direct charges made against Phi Lambda
Rho, the Fraternity recognizes the advisability of giving the college public an understanding as to its aims and principles. In
the first place, our primary policy is one of
loyalty to the Alma Mater. Every member
of the F. L. R. is expected to support and,
if possible, take an active interest in all
phases of student activity—to quote from
the preamble to our constitution, "a communion of kindred hearts add many incentives  to  honorable  action."
Secondly, the fraternity offers opportunities for forming and perpetuating friendships. As far as we know, there is no organization outside of the fraternity whic;
permits former college students, graduate"
or not, to keep in touch with undergraduate
With regards to membership qualifications, no man is invited to join who is not
believed to be of good character, fair ability,
ambitious purposes and congenial disposition. We make a plea for personal independence and recognize the principle that true
strength lies not in any narrow ideal of fra-
ternalism, but on a well-rounded and full
development   of  individual   character.
In conclusion, the fraternity would like to
add that at no meeting of the fraternity has
there been any discussion of college affairs
wherein the interests of the Alma Mater
have been in any way subordinated to those
of the fraternity.
On the contrary, all members have been
advised to work in complete harmony with
all fellow-students, and in such a manner as
to reflect credit both on the Alma Mater an,
the  fraternity.
Visitor to U. B. C.—And what is this
building just across the walk?
Student—Oh, that is the Isolation Hospital, where they treat diphtheria, scarlet
fever,  smallpox, etc.
Visitor (in horror)—But aren't they
afraid the germs will come over?
Student—Oh, no. There's a picket
The final meeting for the session of the
Junior Economics Discussion Club was
held in Chalmers Church on Tuesday
evening last, when Principal Vance delivered an interesting address on "Labor
Problems in Western Canada." After
the address a lively and animated discussion took place, followed by refreshments.
Follow the
and you follow
the Style
Success Business
College, Ltd.
The School of Certainties
Phone, Fairmont 207S
Week Commencing
Monday, April 11th, 1921
A Satire on the Revue' Epidemic
In Six Scenes, with
and a Cast of Capable Artists, including Holmes & Wells, Edwin Jerome,
Sam Bennett and Ann Lowenwirth
Book  by  George Jessel and Al  Lewis
Lyrics and Music by Louis Silvers
Dances  Directed   by   Allen   K.   Foster
Roy Turk and George Jessel
Entire Production Staged by Al Lewis
Direct  from  the   Canary  Islands
Two Strong Men
Selling their Stock in Trade
American Pianist of Distinction
British  Weekly Concert Orchestra
Students and Scholars
Our large stock of School Supplies
will enable you to fill every requirement.
Ring Books in genuine leather and
texhide bindings.
Let us figure on your next order
for Dance Programmes, etc.
OUarke Sc Stuart (Ha.
Wholesale and Commercial
Stationers, Printers and
Tel. Ex., Sey. 3       Vancouver, B.C. THE   UBYSSEY
April 7, 1921
Buy Your Notepaper
by the Pound
good quality linen finish note paper,
put up in.packets of 60 sheets (2A
quires),  at   30c
up in boxes of 60, for 30c
very good grade of medium weight
linen finished writing paper, put up
in 1-lb. packets containing about 120
sheets   (5   quires) 35c
boxes of 75, at, per box 35c
quality pad finish note paper, put up
in packets of 60 sheets,
at,  per packet  .40c
boxes of 60, at, per box 40c
high-grade linen finish writing p'aper
in  a  plaid   effect,   put   up   in   pound
packets of about 100 sheets,
at,   per  lb 75c
Per packet of 25  .20c
—Stationery Dept., Main Floor,
New Wing
David  Spencer
Phone,  Fairmont 722
Confectionery Tobacco and Cigars
Who Got
Three sweet young things from
the University came in to get
a four-pound box of Chocolates
to give to someone—they didn't
say who. It might be one of
the teachers.
Candy Maker
It is
a song of gardens where red roses
scent the air;
of puff and patches, courtiers brave
and ladies fair;
a   son   of   arbors   and   of   speeches
romance   must    dwell    in   gardens—
Cupid loves the shadows there.
a song of beaches, or of snowy
mountain  side,
of dim-lit ballrooms where entwined
the  waltzers  glide,
a song of moonshine and of star-
shine—they've  been  tried,
they all are most romantic—and effective—men decide.
a song of buildings very mean and
low and small,
of Universities that have no grounds
at all,
a songr of campus, of green walk and
stately hall,
remember,  we've  a  board-walk  and
our hearts it can enthrall.
a song of puddles, very muddy, very
of swift collisions and of bumps remembered yet.
a song of crowded ways—but still do
not forget
alwavs on the board-walk everyone
we know is met.
a song of maidens, and of lollipops—•
and looks,
of passim? students, lectures cut and
ignored  books,
a soncr of Spring's brew,   with   the
co-eds for t^e cooks,
the board-wa'k as a chaperon—who
needs romantic nooks!
—S.   M.
In  the  spring,  the  poet  sayeth
Things about the trees and sky,
And the pullet nroudly layeth
Ecrtrs we can't afford to hnv.
In the snrintr the e-entle miiden
Lonceth  for an  Easter  hat,
And the urchin, nehh'e-laden.
Searcheth'for the Thomas  cat.
Ts a relic
Of mediaeva'ism
Which prompts a man
To take the arm of a girl,
Who has beaten him at five sets of tennis
And two rounds of golf,
And escort her across
A perfectly clear street."—Ex.
Immured   in   sense,   with   fivefold   bonds
Rest we content if whispers from the
In waftings of the incalculable wind
Come blown at midnight through our
prison bars.
—Sir William Watson.
Students' Cafeteria
Do not forget when down town
to lunch at The Old Country Tea
641 Granville Street
Hall   to   rent   evenings,   accommodating 60  couples.
Banquets, dance suppers and refreshments of all kinds served anywhere in the city. Enquire the
A.   WALTER,   Prop.   Phone  Sey.   2045
For    Light    Refreshments
Ice Cream and Candles at
Phone,   Fair.  840
Cor. Broadway and Heather Street
We deliver anywhere, at any time.
Two Blocks from Vancouver Hotel
When you compare quality, service
and price, and consider the high
standard of the food we serve, you
will realize wherein it is to your advantage to come here.
A welcome awaits you.
Corner Granville and  Nelson
Phone, Seymour 2011
Operated by W. D. Wood Limited
MAURICE PERRIN,  Manager April 7, 1921
Rogers Bldg., 450 Granville  Street
Glad   to   show  trie   new   models.
They are entirely different.
34S Hastings Street, West
J. W. Fofter
Newspapers, Magazines, Catalogues
and  General Advertising  Purposes
Original and Distinctive
Head   Office,   Winnipeg,   Manitoba
Result of a 20-year endowment
which   matured  October   1st,   1920.
Name, Gilbert Inkster, Lady-
smith. Premium, $102.30. Amount,
In 20 years he paid $2,004.60.
The cash value of his policy was
$3,070, being the face of the policy
$2,000 and a dividend of $1,070.
Vancouver Branch Office
By carrying money around
in your pocket you will
never learn the habit of
. THRIFT. Deposit your
spare funds with this Bank
in a Savings account; interest will be paid, and you
can withdraw both principal and interest at any
We welcome small accounts.
The Canadian
Bank of Commerce
When you are buying School
Supplies of any description, see
that you find the Keystone with
S. D. & W. printed in it, for
this means you are using "Made
In B. C." goods, paying the
same prices, and getting better
Smith, Davidson & Wright
Manufacturers of School Supplies
As surely as there is a sun in the heavens, we can
satisfy any man or woman's Footwear desires in
"Hagar" Shoes.
, We  specialize  in   this  brand  and  stand  back  of
every pair.
we earnestly commend the "Hagar" line.
"Vancouver's Smartest Shoe Store"
The last meeting of the Letters' Club
for the session was held at the home of
Mr. Larsen, Burnaby Street. The paper
for the evening was given by Miss Lila
Coates, on "Hugh Walpole." The capable
manner in which she dealt with the author's life and work showed a thorough
study of the subject. The works of the
author were outlined from his first editions up to his more recent publications
on Russia. It was an extremely interesting paper and was one of the best of the
year. i.
The business of the meeting consisted
in the election of officers and new members. The following constitute the executive for next year:
Honorary President—Mr. T. Larsen.
President—Mr. L.  Stevenson.
Secretary-Treasurer—Mr.  Imlah.
Archivist—Miss I. McGuire.
The Men's Executive of Arts '24 were
the guests of Dr. and Mrs. Eastman at
an outing up the North Arm, last Sunday.
The party left the wharf at 10 a.m. and
arrived an hour later at Banfield's Landing. The weather being ideal, the day
was spent in hiking and canoeing. The
executive are deeply indebted to Dr. and
Mrs. Eastman for their delightful hospitality, and to Dr. and Mrs. Scott for their
extreme kindness in giving the party full-
run of their summer-home.
(Continued from Page 1)
have been presented, but delay at the
jewelers' caused its non-appearance. All
presentations were made by Prof. T.
Larsen, honorary president of the Literary and Scientific Department. Special-
mention was made of the service to the
Literary and Scientific Department of
Mr. A. E. Richards, Agric. '23, who acted
as debates secretary, and of Mr. Frank
Cunningham, Arts '23, who won a place
on the debating team, but was forced to
withdraw at the last minute on account
of eye trouble.
President Klinck presented, on behalf
of the LeRoi Memorial Drive Committee,
the flags won by Agriculture and by
Science '21, the first presented to the first
Faculty reaching its full quota, and the
second to the first class to reach its full
quota. They were received by Mr. C. P.
Leckie, Agric. '21, and Mr. P. D. I.
Honeyman, vice-president of Science '21.
Short-Story Writing
Write for particulars
Shaw Correspondence
1401  Standard   Bank   Building
April 1, 1921
From an editorial, entitled "Prejudice,"
in the McGill Daily:
"We call men fools because their
opinions are not our own. We forget
that there are two sides to eVery question. We cannot say too much evil of
our athletic opponents, our more brilliant
classmates, or of those whose manner of
life does not measure up to our standards. We call religion 'mediaeval' and
unscientific, because our own opinion of
■ religion is centuries behind the times;
because we do not know that religion has
developed fully as quickly as science, and
that the faith of thinking people in the
church to-day is in thorough accord with
science in its latest developments. We
forget that a man, to be a man, must be
perfected spiritually as well as mentally
and physically; because of our ignorance,
we call religion silly and 'all right for the
"We are afraid of ourselves; afraid to
examine these little dislikes of ours,
afraid to strip from our lives the shallow
and unnatural fears that distort our vision
and make us see evil where only good
exists. And so we hurt those with whom
we have no just quarrel. We want to
dislike those whom we cannot understand, because 'we prefer the fancied superiority of snobbery to the honesty of
admitting we are ignorant."
Football in Spain
An unexpected obstacle to the spread
of football and other field sports in Spain
has arisen in the shape of protests from
pedagogues and other language purists,
who are fulminating against the use of
English  words  imported  with  the  sport.
They assert that the constant shouting
during the game of such exclamations as
"Shoot!" "Goal!" "Pass!" and "Hurrah!"
in English is having the effect of spoiling
the pure Spanish of the rising generation.
They demand the substitution of Spanish terms for "footballista," as the player
usually designates himself, and for all
other hybrid words forced into the Spanish language by the followers of sport.
The third number of the "Goblin," the
first college comic in Canada, has just
reached us. It is the venture of the undergraduates of Toronto University, and
though there is a staff of twenty-two students, contributions are supplied by the
whole university. It is a bright, clever
magazine, containing, in the words of the
Toronto Globe, "poems, sketches and unorthodox contributions which spurn precedent and which are quick with.originality." The "Goblin' invites contributions
from the universities of Canada. "The
Merry Monarch offers monthly prizes for
stories, jokes, poems and drawings. All
his readers are eligible, in future, for these
But before we send original wit away,
we ought to make sure our own paper
gets some. You know the adage about
Reed College, Portland, is the unique
possessor of a Chess Club. Should a
student desire to join the club in its polite
exclusiveness, he must challenge and defeat a member. The initial challenge
costs him twenty-five cents, and, should
he lose, each succeeding challenge adds
substantially to the revenue of the  club.
* *      *
A million little oysters grow
Out in the ocean in a row
And it is often said
That every single night at six
Their oyster mamma comes to fix
Them in their oyster-bed.
—Sun Dodger.
* *      *
Get the Connection?
First Freshette (reading Lit. poster)—
What has electricity got to do with the
Literary  Society,  anyway? '
Second Freshette—It must be under
the Current Events department.
—Western U. Gazette.
* *      *
"Shall I brain the young fool?" the first
hazer said,
And quickly the victim's good courage it
"You can't, he is a freshman," the other
one said.
"You'd just  better  hit  him real  hard  on
the head."
—Yale   Record.
* *      * .
There was a man who fancied,
By driving good and fast,
He could get his car across the track
Before the train came past.
He would miss the engine by an inch,
And make the train crew sore.
There was a man who fancied this,
But—there isn't any more.
—Western U. Gazette.
Hen—Whence the black eye, old
Ree—Oh, I went to a dance last night
and was struck by the beauty of the
place.—Cornell Widow.
At its last meeting the Players' Club
endorsed the plan of presenting a prize
of $50.00 for the best original one-act
play to be written by any member of the
undergraduate body. The play must be
of such a nature that it may be presented
at the next Christmas performances of
the club. The judges of the competition
will be the Faculty members of the
Players' Club. The offer has been approved by the Faculty, and will be included in the list of prizes and scholarships  as   set  forth  in  the   new  calendar.
On Easter Monday night a jolly dance
was given in the Laurel Tennis Club by
the U.B.C. Musical Society. After studying or hiking all day, everyone felt in the
mood to enjoy themselves, and all agreed
that the dance was a splendid end to a
strenuous season's work. The evening
closed with cheers for the patronesses,
Mrs. Rogers, Mrs. Wilcox and Mrs. Pit-
tendrigh, and for Miss Edna Rogers, who
was in charge of arrangements.
Miss Madge Portsmouth, Arts '23, was
elected to the presidency of the Women's
Literary Society on Monday, when balloting for that office took place. Miss
MacKinnon, Arts '22, was the other
nominee, and the election was closely
contested. Miss Portsmouth was a member of the executive of the society this
year, and has taken an active interest in
the affairs of the Lit.
When Wanting Nice
Things to Eat
From the very finest Chocolates,
Home-made Candy, Ice Cream and
Soft Drinks, Pastries, and such like,
to the daintiest little Dinner and
Light Lunch you ever ate.
Make sure you go to Cuslck.
Cor. Heather and Broadway, West
Rough Blue
Norfolk Suits
jfafifrtfltt - (graft'
Thos. Fofter
& Co., Ltd.


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