Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 24 text:

LEFT BEHIND DURING MY LIFE I have been lost several times. The first time was when I was a little girl of about five or six. We had gone to pick raspberries for supper. After picking my cupful of berries, I took them to the jeep and put them in a container on the seat. Going back to the spot where I had been picking, I saw my cousin, who was cramming berries into his mouth. I decided to follow his example. I stepped into a thicket of raspberry bushes and ate my fill. When I stepped out, the jeep (in reality a land-rover which could go over sand and snow because of a special four-wheel drive) was gone. I looked everywhere for it. I called, but it was not there. They had gone and left me. With tears streaming down my cheeks I started to follow the road home. I remembered Daddy talking of bear tracks which had been seen around where we ' d been picking berries. I also remembered the bulls that were out on the road farther on, which I had to pass. Then I saw a green car, and almost went to it for a drive home, but I had been warned never to get into a strange car with strange people. I walked miserably on, when suddenly I heard a honking. I looked up and saw our jeep speeding across the sand to me, and honking all the time. To me our battered jeep was the most beautiful thing on earth. Daddy dried my tears and explained that there were so many children that at first I hadn ' t been missed, and they were half-way home before they realized that I was not with them. As I got into the jeep I decided always to stay close to it and keep it in sight. Janet Beattie, Form IIIa, Gumming House. IN SUMMER YING ON THE silver-white sands of the Island of Eigg one hot sunny I afternoon in the middle of August, I watched nature ' s beauty spellbound. It was as though I had closed my eyes to this world and opened them seconds later in new and beautiful surroundings. The previous day had been wet and misty, and now the grass was a richer green than before, contrasting with the deep blue of the sea, which by now was glittering under the rays of the afternoon sun, her calm broken only by the occasional ripple slipping silently onto the hot sand. Beyond, I could see the majestic purple peaks of the Coolin hills silhouetted against the cloudless blue sky. The grey and black- backed gulls dipped and dived along the shore in search of food, calling loudly and clearly as if in distress. I sat up slowly, just in time to see the pointed bow of a little sailboat appearing round the headland, her sails, full-rigged and white, bending in the breeze. The scent of the wild flowers seemed stronger and the drone of the bees louder in the stillness. This tranquil picture veiled in beauty slowly faded, and I slept peacefully. Alice Craib, Arts VI, Ross House. [20]

Page 23 text:

the water running into the tub, suddenly decided to take a long walk. Since calling him is no use, you try to think of a place he would hide. He ' s not under the stove, or in the coal bin, but maybe he ' s under your bed. Right you are. There he is, with the most innocent look on his face. Knowing it would be better to come out of his own accord than be pulled out, he obediently follows you to the cellar and his most hated moment. The easiest way to get him into the tub is to pick him up by the collar and throw him in, feet first. But this is easier said than done. As soon as Rover sees the detested water, he struggles and squirms like a mountain lion. Finally there is a splash, and the first part of your work is completed. Quickly you grab the soap and brush and begin to scrub, amidst a scramble of paws and fur, a shower of water, barks and yelps. It ' s a good idea to wear a pair of shorts or a bathing suit while you ' re at this job, because you ' re sure to end up as wet as poor Rover. The rinsing is a combination of throwing out the dirty, soapy water, and pouring fresh water back in with one hand, and holding a squirming, soapy dog with the other hand. When this is completed, back goes Rover for the last time. Then out he comes to be dried off, but as soon as he feels dry, solid ground again, he scampers away. Taking for granted he will dry himself, and thankful you don ' t have to do it, you set about cleaning up the mess. But if you ' re wise, you ' ll listen to the advice of an old hand at this job, and find out where Rover has gone, for, if I know that dog, you ' ll find him in the garden, rolling in sand and mud to his heart ' s content. Margaret Ann Adams, Form IIIa, Gumming House. A MOUNTAIN VILLAGE IT WAS a warm summer ' s day, and we decided to take lunch and go for a hike up the mountain-side. Shortly after noon we set off, and after a pleasant climb of about an hour, we stopped to eat. Our resting place was shaded and grassy, and jutted over the village we had left. I stretched out on the grass, and leaned over to survey the scene below me. I found, to my surprise, that we were not very high above the village; I could distinctly see the tiny houses huddling together, separated only by narrow, dirt paths. Peasants wound in and out between the houses; the milk-maid with her pail, the washer-woman with her wash-tub, an old shepherd with his crook, helped make up the scene. The sun shone brilliantly, and birds could be heard singing happily in the trees. The old shepherd started up the mountain-side with his goats before him and his crook in hand. The tinkling sound of a cow-bell and the occasional lowing of cattle were heard in the distance. The usual din of everyday movement was barely audible to me, but what I could hear only added to the pleasures of the scene. I rolled over, gazing int ently into the bright blue sky, and I felt suddenly happy. Ardis Cartwright, Form Vb, Ross House. [19]

Page 25 text:

CORYEDERON Given : An elegy by Milton — ' Lycidas ' To prove: Anyone can write like Milton. Proof: Written for a friend who failed an Algebra test. 0 weep, ye nymphites of the road and hiW And bow your heads, ye flours of the mill. For Jeanitheep was laid full low today And rains are falling over Mandalay Like to the tears that greatest Helyon shed When Symalon, the keeper of the dead. Claimed Menidee, the loveliest of her daughters, And from his chariot, o ' er the churning waters Spread the dry bones of lovis, her son. That the will of Adahortus might be done So all shall be brought low. What boots it, say . To struggle in a race day after day? A man will win but one — must lose the rest. Why run, because all honour is but dust After the race is past. Life is but short And joy still shorter. Hark! the loud report Of Hickok ' s gun recalls now to my mind, Unfortimately, Jeanitheep. Like Lind 1 wandered far in memory 0 weep Ye members of the race, for Jeanitheep, Who used to gambol gaily in the gym And in the locker room made such a din, Is down and out. But this is of the past. Hope is the future — as the goddess Crasst May help her, let us bring her incense rare, Such as Diutius offered Lea fair When his strong son became at last a man And from our hopeful Boarders madly ran ' . Thus sang the bebop artist, then the coin Dropped down, and all was silent once again . Q.E.D. Anne Begor, Form Vb, Gumming House. NOTES 1 reference to rival schools 5 popular Greek(?) hero 2 reference lo Montreal 6 apology for digression 3 old Greek legend 7 old Greek legend 4 digression 8 epilogue [21]