Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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child-like, and interesting. A quotation from his farewell speech to the children of the British Isles exemplifies this: — Young people of this Kingdom, who have been so kind to me, before we go, do please remember that ' Beaver Lodge ' has an open door to all of you whose hearts are right. And if your heart isn ' t right, come anyway — we ' ll do something about it . . . And now, my wife. Silver Moon, and I, Grey Owl, two Indians, must leave you. Tomorrow we sail for the Land of the Setting Sun. Lots of luck to all of you. And don ' t forget the invitation. ' Beaver Lodge ' has an open door for every one of you. We ' ll be seein ' you! I am Grey Owl. I have spoken! His books, too, are interesting as well as instructive. In them he tells us in pretty story form all that happens to his friends, the Beavers, at his home, Beaver Lodge . There has been much controversy about the life and origin of Grey Owl. He himself claims to have been an Indian half-breed. He said that he was born in the State of Senora, Mexico, the son of a Scotchman, George Belaney, and a half-breed Apache Indian, Katherine Cochise. He received part of his education from an aunt, but was chiefly self-taught. He came to Canada where he joined the Montreal Regiment and served in the Great War until he was wounded in 1917. He later became a Quebec trapper. Then I realised, he said, what a crime we trappers were committing against nature. I dedicated my life at that moment to the conservation of game. His wife, Silver Moon, supported his own claim after he was dead, telling the same story of his life, differing only by saying that his father ' s name vas George MacNeil, and that it was his aunt ' s name that was Belaney. H. H. Lovat Dickson, a friend of Grey Owl ' s, also tells this story, but maintains that Hermosillo, Mexico, was his place of birth. A letter published recently in the News-Chronicle , however, contradicts this story entirely. It is supposed to have been written by the naturalist ' s own Mother, an English woman, from Devon, to her sister at Hastings. I write with regret the passing of my beloved son, the letter said. The Daily Express had an editorial which ran as follows: What does it matter if he never was an Indian but a paleface who persuaded the Indians that he was one of them? You can forgive him for the deception, for it hurt nobody. The Misses A. and C. Belaney of Wellington Road, Hastings, sent a statement to the press, affirming that Grey Owl was their nephew, and that he had lived with them between the ages of four and sixteen-and-a-half. He then went to Canada to study animal life, and later fought in the War with Canadian forces. These ladies also declared that they possessed a book written by Grey Owl dedicated to them, which verified their assertion. Mrs. Ross, widow of a Royal Canadian Mounted Police constable, vowed that Grey Owl had personally disclosed his identity to her, saying that he was English but had been forced to leave his native land and come to the United States where he let his hair grow and studied Indian life. Then he swore Mrs. Ross to secrecy, adding, They ' ll find out who I am after I ' m dead. Howard Seymore or Lone Eagle, an Indian guide, affirms that Grey Owl was his first cousin, and that he himself was called after the naturalist ' s father, Howard Seymore, a full-blooded Algonquin. He says that Grey Owl was born on a reserve in the North- West [31]

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THESE HAVE I LOVED (Apologies to Rupert Brooke) Where once the wind has raced through straining shroud, A quivering lake with setting sun, and cloud So still and sculptured and so full of light ! Colour ! Peace and dark, and then the night. And then the little things I have so loved: — The grace of startled hares as they have moved. Good rope, it feels so comforting and strong. And newly painted hills, and then a long Swift line of rushing, playful fluffy waves That comes toward the shore, but never lands or stays. Apples crisp and cold and juicy. Then The thrill of letters written by the pen Of one ' s best friend. Then back to bigger things: — The utter gracefulness of swallows ' wings. And paddling miles and miles in velvet dark. The gaiety and welcome of your own dog ' s bark. These things and many more, I love. Wind, trees and water quiet in the cove; Books, music, speech and graceful walk Are all far greater than an idle talk. And yet I love a quiet conversation. Lyn Berens, Form IVa, Riddell House. GREY OWL GREY OWL, the famous Canadian naturalist, died suddenly of pneumonia in a Prince Albert hospital on the thirteenth of April, leaving behind him his wife and six-year-old daughter. It is supposed that his recent lecturing in the Old Country and here in Canada had sorely taxed his strength, and when a severe cold came upon him, he had no physical resistance. He himself se emed to think so for he is reported to have said in Peterborough this year on the eleventh of March, Another month of this lectur- ing will kill me. How accurate his prediction has proved to be! His death is universally mourned; and justly so, for he was, without doubt, one of the greatest naturalists of his generation. He was a lover of children and animals, and did much to make the former understand the latter. Young boys no longer find the same pleasure in stoning frogs, shooting birds, and poaching rabbits as they once did. They seem to think it is poor sport , as Grey Owl calls it, and wish to prove themselves men by not indulging in it. It is easy to see how this naturalist appealed to the imaginations of the little folk, for his lectures were not highfaluting or heavy, full of scientific theories, but simple. [30]

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Territories; his mother had Indian blood but she was brought up by an English family of the Hudson Bay Company and, when Grey Owl ' s father died, his mother took him back to the English family, and later went over to England with them, where Grey Owl was educated. This then, according to Lone Eagle, is how the naturalist is now claimed to be a paleface. Whether it is ever found out or not with any surety exactly what Grey Owl ' s parentage and nationality was, it does not matter. The memory of his life ' s work still remains, unspoiled in its instructiveness and beauty. I now quote a passage from the London Times that seems to be a fitting conclusion: — Of every man, life and work exact some judgment of circumstances. Every man, consciously or unconsciously, must see himself on a stage acting the part which has been decreed he shall play, and if, in the pursuit of a strange and lonely path. Grey Owl thought well to adopt race and tradition that were not his own in fact — not in order to deceive his fellow men or abuse the children who loved him, but in order to feel himself in body and spirit the being he desired to be — he did it that the truth of him might be more true. Mary Pickup, Form IVb, Ross House. SUNSET AND BIRCHES Crisscrossed against the glowing sky, Radiant with the dying embers of the day, Are birches, long white fingers Raised to heaven as if scorning earth. Slender leaves forming patterns Of rarest symmetry; these etched blackly Form on the goldy rose canvas Of the sunset sky, Beauty indescribable. Heather Campbell, Form Va, Ross House. AFTER Why do you raise your head and look For that man who will never return? For the man who romped with you, petted you, played, For the man who called you the best dog made . For the man who went to his death unafraid? You still have war ' s lesson to learn. Remember that day when we walked on the moor [32]