Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 28 text:

As soon as you get out of town, says fatlier to big HiHter, Drive as fast as you can, or we shall not reach Cincinnati before dark and this car has no lights. And we must not separate, for the engine may explode and leave me bigb and dry, miles from anywhere. Somewhere in Indiana, 2 p.m. A gas station — big bright pumps — red benches — a soft drinks stand — two or three loafers lolling in the shade. Good grief, says one. What ' s this coming in? A dusty grey car shudders up to the pumps, a cloud of steam rising from the top of the radiator where the cap should be. The service man steps forward. Is your engine hot, mister? he calls through the clouds of smoke. The driver disdains to answer, but he shouts a warning to the youth approaching with a watering-can. Easy there, don ' t fill her up till she cools off. You ' ll crack the engine. Anything wrong with the old bus? Ill say. It ' s like a sieve. You go ten miles and then it begins to pant as if it hadn ' t had a drink for a year. I call it Puffer. A big black car with a Quebec license rolls up to the station. Its passengers greet those with the Illinois license. How about keeping it down to forty? calls big sister. Buster ' s no racehorse. If I do, father objects, This thing begins to pant and puff and then stops. And you know what that means. You folks together? inquires one of the loafers. For the seventh or eighth time that day explanations are given, and a quiet Hoosier service station is given something to talk about in the afternoon heat. Cincinnati, Ohio, 10 a.m. A week later. Before the house stands Buster, sleek and strong. If he could lift his wheels, he would be proud to show that he has a brake attached to each one. But in order to attain this result. Puffer has been torn to pieces and demolished. Piled neatly in the cellar lie his remains, engine, fenders, and all sorts of parts. A great thing having all those parts right in the cellar, says father. When Buster needs anything replaced, we have it. And when all Puffer ' s parts are in Buster, shall we be driving Buster or Puffer, asks lillle sister. That is what the Athenians used to worry about, says father. And how! adds big sister. Let ' s go for a drive with the new brakes. Hester Williams, Form Matric I. [26J

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And then when hope had almost fled The imprisoned would survive, They finally broke through to find That two were still alive. A land that breeds such men as these, Needs nought of bloody feud To find its heroes, who deserve The nation ' s gratitude. Jane Harrison, Form IVa. A STUDY IN CANNIBALISM Josephine, Ohio, 10 p.m. A dark rainy night — a green light at the crossroads and a heavy car approaching. Grireen changes to red — the brakes slam down — Buster, the car, with a graceful swerve, slides across the road, turning, turning, until a sturdy telephone pole present itself, none too gently. Follows a little conversation. Trying to beat the light! says mother from the back seat. Nothing of the kind, retorts father. This car needs four-wheeled brakes, that ' s all. Two-wheeled brakes aren ' t enough for such a heavy car. Pity he isn ' t a year later, says big sister. They came on all the cars then. That gives me an idea, says father. I wonder — Chicago, Illinois, 5 a.m. Ten days later. Do look at that dilapidated old Lincoln in front of the hotel, says little sister. He looks like Buster ' s twin brother. No, a year younger, says father. And so it has four-wheeled brakes. But it won ' t have them long, for we are going to drive it to Cincinnati and have them put on Buster next week. Behind the newcomer stands Buster. The two cars are really the same size, but Buster in shiny black seems larger than his companion, in shabby grey. Buster seems to tower above him and to gloat over his intended victim. It looks decrepit, says mother. Will it run? What can you expect for $90? answers father, evading the question. It is soon answered, however. The starter wails dismally a few minutes, then silence. Finally a condescending push from Buster sets the engine beating like a steel mill and the dis- sipated looking thing moves off. [25]

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TO MY DINGHY O most beloved nymph of breezes light, Of fair boats thou art fairest of all fair. Thou floatest like a seagull in the air; Upon the azure lake thou shinest bright. Before the wind in triumph thou dost tear. Until there ' s little mainsheet left to spare. Urged on by thy sweet bosom-friend, the tide. For down the lake thou joyfully dost ride, ' Tis hard for other boats to keep apace With thee, when proudly thou dost sail so swift. The wind retireth, slumber for to trace. And dinghies to their moorings gently drift. The next day comes: and then in sheer delight Thou sailest forth again, vivacious sprite. Marian Francis, Form IV a. FLIGHT THE hot sun blazed down relentlessly on the already parched field of the airport at Buenos Aires. There was little sign of life visible to the eye, save, where a powerful triple-motored ' plane of silver hue was warming up, preparatory to her flight to Santiago. At length, cars began to arrive and some few passengers, seemingly wilted by the heat, boarded the plane, with what appeared to be much effort, even though the ' pl ane ' s steward, dressed in crisp white, stood by, lending a helping hand. When all were abroad the stool was removed, the door closed, and the signal for departure was given. The propellers, which had been idly revolving, now turned into whirling dynamos, and with a roar of mighty engines, the aeroplane moved, first slowly, then, with gathering speed down the field until she rose gracefully from the earth, winging her way on high, looking like a great silver bird, with the sun ' s rays beating on her. [27]