Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Every night I was smoked in this way. My whole appearance changed from yellow to black, and I began to grow aged. A year passed, and I was still smoked every night. My master, John Macdonald, no longer went to the law office, but to a huge building where there were many men. Of course, I could not see them for I was in my master ' s pocket. He stood up and talked in a loud, resonant voice, and I felt afraid. For a long time he spoke, and everybody was still. He once said, Really, George Brown, have you forgotten your very Liberal policy? He said it in such a tone that everybody laughed. He made more and more speeches every year, and became more and more important. More pipes came to live with him, but he still patronized me. His hair became grey but the ardent spirit remained, and helped him to keep up his work. One day the streets were decorated with flags and bunting, and John Macdonald made a speech. Women wept and men pondered. His speech was rousing; and dead silence reigned supreme. He thanked them for their help. Confederation had been accomplished, and owing to the devotion of Sir John Macdonald it had been completed with success. That night he puffed me for a long time, and then he clenched his hands and said, with a voice trembling with emotion, I have achieved my ambition; I am great. On his death-bed, I lay on the table by his bed-side. He took me in his trembling hands and broke me in half. He said, You have been as good a partner to me as George Brown has been a critical opponent. He chuckled, and I died happily. Sir John Macdonald died too, with a nation ' s love. He was one of Canada ' s greatest fathers, and his name will live as long as Canada does. Ruth Mallory, Form IVa. Abner Ben Adam (With Apologies to Leigh Hunt) Abner Ben Adam (may all mice decrease!) Came home one night with a feeling of peace, And saw, between the stairs and empty room, By the delightful light of a fitful moon, A cat who came walking on carpet gold; Adventure had made Ben Adam bold, And to the Persian in the hall he said, Why walkest thou? The cat he raised his head, And with a purr made all of sweet accord, Answered, For mice, like you, I love, my lord. And have you one? said Abner. Nay, not so, Replied the cat. Abner spoke more slow, But bravely still; and said, Oh save me then, And I will never tell my fellow-men. The cat agreed and left. The next night He came again with foot more light, And laid some mice before him in the hall. And lo! Ben Adam lay amongst them all. Jane Seely, Form IVn. As Others See Us (With apologies to Punch) Do you think we will? Yes, perhaps; on the other hand, we had one last time. But you never know when they will spring them on us. No, that ' s true. What are the dates of Napoleon — 1620? Yes, yes, I think so, but do you know those Acts; she ' s sure to ask us them. Remember when Betty said rice, instead of corn? Oh, do you really think we will have one? I don ' t; I hope if wc do, it won ' t be on foolscap; it scares me so. [23]

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The Heroes Of The Long Sault In the year of sixteen sixty, In the Town of Montreal, That the Iroquois were coming Was thought by one and all. The faces of the people As they walked about the street Were pale with anxious fear At the fate that they might meet. For the Indians had tortures That revolted all mankind, And a way to stop their coming Was what they had to find. The young commander, Dollard, With his band of sixteen strong, Told Maisonneuve he had a plan To stop the Indian throng. ' Twas on an April morning, When the skies were clear and blue, That the voyageurs departed For the rapids of Long Sault. They found an ancient stockade, Which they strengthened one and all, To stop the Indians ' passage To Quebec and Montreal. The attack was not long coming, And they charged upon the band, Thinking that against the Iroquoi . They could not make a stand. They faced the Indians ' cruel attack, Five days they held the fort; They had no drink to quench their thirst, Their food supply ran short. The savage hordes crept closer, They broke the stockade wall; A musket burst among the French And they began to fall. Brave Dollard died and all his men, Some tortured by the foe; But first they saved the colonies — Their story all should know. Betty Brodie, Form IVa. The Romance Of A Pipe WHEN I first was able to collect my scattered wits, and look around me, I discovered that I was enclosed in horrible white crinkly stuff, which irritated me and hurt my eyes. For many da.ys I lay in this glaring prison of white paper, wondering if this was the great busy world. One day I heard a voice say in a loud, rasping tone, Smithers, how many times do I have to tell you to unpack the new lot of pipes? Do you think anyone can see them in this part of the shop? I was then lifted from my prison and placed in a sunny shop window together with pipe ' deaners and evil-smelling tobaccos. I remamed here for a long, long time letting the flies buzz around me in the drowsy summer sun. Some days the sunlight played upon my bowl and I felt handsome and proud; on dull days, I felt sad and restless. I felt that I wanted to spring through the window. About another month passed. I began to notice a young man looking at me with longing. Every day he came, just about noon, and stood outside the window. At last I became proud, and scorned the pipe-cleaners, and other pipes; but one day I was lifted out of the window, wrapped in paper, and carried away. I felt very miserable. That night 1 was freed from the paper, and found myself in the hand of my admirer. You can imagine my delight; why, I almost writhed in my joy. My admirer seemed pleased with me, for he said: Now, I ' m in the law office, I shall smoke my first pipe, and look a man. Someday, far, far from now, perhaps I ' ll be great and make speeches, and lead Canada to greatness. With these words the ardent young man stuffed me with rank tobai i o, lit a match and smoked me. I thought that I should die, for I felt nothing but the intoxi- cating fumes being drawn through me. In the distance I heard a voice say, Yes, perhaps John Macdonald will be great. [ 22 ]

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Yes. Oh, Dorothy, did you learn Prussia, ' cause I didn ' t. I thought she said Russia. ' No, Prussia. What if she gives us an essay? ' ' Well, I ' m lost. Say, if she did, would you begin on Frederick and then say something about the Corn Laws? Yes, something like that. But I really don ' t think we will have one; do you, Margie? What? Oh. a test. Well. I wouldn ' t be too sure. Shall I go and ask h er? No, you had better not; she might remember then. Yes, she might. Let me see. There ' s one date I never can remember — the year Peter came to the throne. Was it 1715, 1725 or 1735. I know it ends in a five. I think (Girl at the door.) Mrs. X, girls. (Hushed exclamations from room.) Mrs. X enters, with our essay books to be distributed and is met with a sign of relief, as we all know our numerous mistakes will take up the morning ' s lesson. Katharine Stevenson, Form Matric I. Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction IT was New Year ' s Eve and my Club, the Criterion, was having its monthly meeting. This, however, was a special occasion. At the end of each year one of the members told of some adventure he had had during his life. The story had to be true, with no exaggerations, which was very hard on the narrator. This year it was my turn and I was feeling slightly nervous, for if I failed to interest the members I was to have no supper. It happened during the War, I began. My battalion (I was a Captain at the time) was stationed at a small village in France called Terin. It was near the line, so when we arrived we had expected some lively skirmishes. For five days we had waited but not a solitary shell had disturbed the peace. The monotony was wearing on everyone ' s nerves. On the fifth night, exasperated by the inactivity, I determined to take a walk, although I knew it was risky, and escape from the eternal quarrelling of my men. I cut across the fields in the direction, as far I know, parallel to the enemy trenches. I walked for about a mile and a half, then, feeling a little tired, I sat down beneath a tree to rest. It was a lovely night. The stars and moon illuminated the fields, whose daytime bareness was softened until they appeared almost beautiful. After admiring the scenery for some time, I fell asleep; but it could not have been long before I was awakened by someone who was roughly shaking my arm. I grunted in protest but the shaking continued and a voice said softly, ' Ah, C3, so you got the message? ' There must be , ' I said, still dazed. ' S-sh, don ' t talk; you can ' t tell who may be about. Just follow me, ' the voice replied. My first impulse was to tell him he had made a mistake but then, as this promised a break in the tedious routine of the last few days, I decided I would see what it was all about. I followed my guide across the fields, until we came to an old crater. He clambered down into i t and with some misgivings, I confess, I did the same. At the bottom I looked around but there was no sign of the guide. Then he appeared at the other end, beckoning to me. I went over and saw how he had vanished. A passage had been made through the earth, large enough for a man to squeeze through. I went in after him. It was very uncomfortable, but soon we came to a widening of the passage, as broad as a small room, I got to my feet and stared with astonishment at what I saw. The place was lighted willi candles and seated around a table in the centre were six men. The one at the hi ad, who seemed to be (he chief, rose at my entrance and said, ' So you are C3; you have done splendid work. ' [ 24 ]