Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Impressions of the Memorial Service (By a Present Girl) IT WAS on the twentythird of February, a beautiful clear, cold day, that the pupils of Trafalgar had the great privilege of attending the memorial service for Miss Grace Fairley, former Principal of the school. It was held in the Hall of the new Church of St. Andrew and St. Paul, and was a very short and simple service. The spotless new hall looked very pleasant with the bright winter sunshine streaming in through the large windows. Beautifully-arranged baskets of flowers stood at the edge of the platform, and their delicate colouring and fragrance seemed to foretell the coming of spring. There was a large attendance, and the hall was soon filled with friends and former pupils of Miss Fairley ' s, as well as with the teachers and pupils of Trafalgar. The service began with the singing of The Lord ' s My Shepherd. Then the prayers were led by Dr. Donald, minister of the church. Immediately following the prayers Miss Fairley ' s favourite hymn was sung by one of the members of the church choir. Dr. Donald then read letters received from Senator Cairine Wilson and Miss Brown, a former teacher of Trafalgar. By means of these letters the girls who had not known Miss Fairley personally learnt something about her. By the time Dr. Donald had finished reading the letter from Miss Fairley herself to Miss Gumming, the girls all felt that they really knew her. This letter was printed in our magazine of 1918. Miss Fairley was Principal of Trafalgar for twentysix years, and during that time she did much for the advancement of the school. She retired in 1913, and lived in Edinburgh until her death on the first day of February, 1932. But although she was so far away, her thoughts were ever with the school, and she was always eager to hear of its activities. S he seemed very near to us indeed when we heard the references in her letter to the familiar spots about the house and garden. We are told she was a great lover of nature, and believed that there are many more things to be learned than just what is printed in text books. She looked upon nature as a great teacher, from whom one might learn many valuable things if one only would. From the letters read we see that she was a real companion to her girls and took a great interest in all their activi ' ties. She was sympathetic, patient and gentle. They took all their little troubles to her, con- fident of receiving comfort and helpful advice. Briefly, she was their Guide, Teacher and Friend. As the girls filed out after the service was over, it is probable that each girl carried away with her in her heart her own little picture of Mis s Fairley. The very simplicity of the service served to heighten the feeling of respect and devotion for her, as perhaps a more elaborate service might not have done. The letters, too, made it almost seem as if she were present. And this should make us all realize what a wonderful thing our magazine is. For without it we might never have been able to hear Miss Fairley s letter, and thus never have enjoyed those few precious moments with a woman who had sacrificed everything for her life ' s work. Betty Forrest. [ 18]

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A Tribute to the Late Miss Grace Fairley, M.A. N FEBRUARY ist there passed away at her home in Edinburgh, after a short illness, one who was long and closely connected with the educational work of this city. Miss Grace Fairley was appointed Principal of the Trafalgar Institute in 1887. For family reasons she was unable to come to Montreal for the opening of school in September; her place was therefore supplied till the New Year, when she assumed her duties as Principal. The school began with a few pupils, but under her wise management it grew rapidly, and in igo2, a new day school was erected adjoining the original commodious building, which had served as residence and day school. When Miss Fairley retired in igi?, that building also was filled to overflowing. Her resignation was a matter of deep regret, not only to the Governors of the school but to the Staff and pupils as well. Her removal from Montreal to her home in Edinburgh was a great loss to the community, for her scholarship and sterling qualities were known and appreciated by all. The Rev. Dr. Barclay of St. Paul ' s Presbyterian Church, at whose request she accepted the position of Principal of the school, was her triend as well as her Minister, and he had a great admira ' tion for her wide knowledge and her administrative ability. She was a Presbyterian, the daughter of a Minister of the Church of Scotland, and was a member of St. Paul ' s Presbyterian Church for more than twenty-five years. Many will remember her, sitting with her group of girls, at the front of the Church, every Sunday morning and evening. When she retired, her old pupils were anxious to establish a memorial in her name, as she would not accept a personal gift, and collected money for what was to have been the Grace Fairley Scholarship. It was characteristic of her that she refused to allow her name to appear, so that the scholarship which should have borne her name was called the Trafiilgar Scholarship, and as such it is awarded annually to the pupil of Trafalgar who obtains the highest percentage in the McGill University Matriculation Examinations. Miss Fairley kept in close touch with her friends in Montreal, and when her old girls visited Edinburgh, they always made a point of seeing her, and counted it a great pleasure and privilege to meet her again. Her influence is still felt in the school, and many women of position and influence, in the city and elsewhere, look back with deep gratitude to the early training they received from her, and the high ideals she set before them, by precept and example. She was not only mindful of the girls but of all those who served her in any capacity. Many old servants of the school, could tell of help sent to them regularly all the years she has been away from Montreal; even last December when she was so very ill, an old pensioner ' s gift was not for ' gotten. The school was her life — other things took a secondary place. Her name will long be a household word in the homes of many of her old girls. In the words of Browning she was One who never turned her back, but marched breast forward. The Lord and Master of us all would surely say to her, Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. Martha L. Brown. [17]

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A Night of Rain PRIZE STORY THE doctor raised his eyes wearily from his supper at the discordant jangle ot the bell. Slowly he stood up and walked to the door. Another case, he supposed — and he ' d counted on a good sleep to-night. Six hours out ot forty-eight wasn ' t enough for any mortal. He was a small man with the appearance of one who taxed his strength to the utmost — a worn look like that of a silver coin which has lost its edge, and grown thin with much handling, there was a certain indelinable luminous quality of the large eyes which suggested genius — but surely wasted genius! The world might say, if it deigned to notice him in its busy turmoil, How foolish to hide his light under a bushel! but the doctor knew a place which is not of the world. For ten years he had gone to the succour of the needy in one of the poorest slum districts of the city. His fame was not of the world but in the hearts of those who trusted and needed him. That his life was a singularly lonely one showed in a secretive something in his face — and a fleeting loo k of pain behind those luminous eyes. He opened the door and looked out. A man stood there in the rain — a mere blot of shadow, ragged coat-collar up, hat brim down over his eyes. He gave an almost inaudible gasp when he saw the doctor. Then gruffly, quickly, he said: There ' s a child sick on the other side of Cork Street. Diphtheria. I don ' t know if there ' s a chance. Mechanically the doctor got a bag with some instruments and came out, struggling into hi? coat. He shut the door and followed the shadow that was a man through the dismal streets, in the steady drizzle of rain. He walked as one in a dream — too tired to notice where he was going. The street-lamps floated above him, faint blobs of light in the fog. The roar of the city, afar off, seemed deadened, and the only sound was the stumbling of his own feet in the mud and wet. As usual when he was very tired his thoughts, sad but never bitter, got the better of him. Memory took him back to a dreary night of rain, ten years ago — the night John went away. He remem- bered the terrible scene — the sudden outburst of long-pent-up thoughts from the boy. He ' d never realized till that minute that he wasn ' t happy. He ' d just been working to give John all the advan- tages he had longed for in vain — good education, fine home, friends. Ten years — a long time in a man ' s life, but a longer in a boy ' s. John must be twenty-eight now — grown-up! Impossible to realize he was not still a tall awkward boy, with a gruff voice and a wide curly mouth which grew sullen when his father spoke to him. Yet how he had loved that boy — bone of his bone, in very truth. Then that dreadful night it had all ended. The poison, long rankling, at last came out. [ 19]