Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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20 The Branksome Slogan BELLE ISLE Belle Isle is a small island connected with Detroit by the Belle Isle bridge. In its earlier days it was privately owned. Being infested with snakes, a great number of hogs were released upon it, and for a time it was called Hog Island. Later, the city govern- ment bought the island and turned it into a public park, renaming it Belle Isle. One of the island ' s outstanding beauties during the winter months is aLn ice mount. This is made from a huge mound of straw, which is steadily sprayed from the top with water. As the winter continues, it freezes and forms a huge ice mound, which lasts through the early spring months. This ice mound, together with many other attractions, makes Belle Isle an outstanding feature of Detroit. SARAH-LEE MOXLEY, Form II B. There are some queer names in our clan — at least, with just a wee bit of jumbling they ' re queer. For instance, our noble chieftain, Henle Skranf, and her loyal sub., Ecjoy Duelclaw. A few of the faithful followers are Jona Nothinchus, Teylet Punalie, Tubny Bettrik and Nafreac Clampleb, while, nontheless worthy, are Great- ram Goriluk and Canny Tryller. It would be almost impossible to mention all the fascinating names of the mighty Clan Plabclem. LISBET . AMBITIONS I would like to be a cook, But that would come to nought. rd rather be a crook. But then I might get caught. I ' ve thought about an author. But they are cross and weird. I ' d rather be an artist. But I ' d hate to wear a beard. I might become a beggar, With no pennies in my hat. But I ' ll never be a poet, We are all quite sure of that! DOROTHY HOYLE, Form III A.

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El Mejico Long hours spent in lazy sleeping, scanty meals and occasional work comprises the usual day of most Mexicans. They rise very early before or with the sun so that they can do their work before the heat gets too intense. Most Mexicans have a few acres where they raise their own food and some to sell at the big market. They labour in these fields all morning until about eleven, when they go home to lunch. All their meals are very much alike and there is no discrimination between the type of food eaten morning, noon or evening. Hot tamales, chili, peppered omelets, pomegranates and any other highly seasoned foods are what they like. When the noon-day meal is over, everyone in the little adobe huts lies down for a siesta. Shops are closed and the whole city sleeps peacefully for a few hours. When the sun begins to go down about four o ' clock, the city market opens and all the nearby farmers bring in their vegetables, shawls, rugs, poultry, woven baskets, pottery or whatever they are going to sell, and set up their wares in little individual stalls. Barter is often used because very little money is in circulation among the poorer people, and what few pesos they do have, they hoard for taxes. When the market closes they pack what they haven ' t sold on their little grey burros and start for home. Mexicans live by the sun, and so it seems very natural that when the civilized nations first invaded Mexico, their chief god was a sun god. Mexico is not a very progressive country and never will be until the poorer people, who make up a large portion of the population, are educated. Until then, the Mexicans continue with their pleasant, monotonous life and refuse to be disturbed. BARBARA TEMPLETON, Form II B. 19

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The Branksome Slogan 21 The Story of a Short Life When little Percy was put in my arms for the first time, a warm, happy feeling surged through me. Here was the puppy I had longed for all my life. He was a mongrel with a tiny pink tongue and merry, laughing, brown eyes. Oh, how proud I was of this mischievous ball of black fur and how jealous my playmates were of me when I showed him off that day ! My sister and I were very much dejected on learning that Percy could not sleep with us that night, but we consoled ourselves with the fact that we could see him the following morning. At one o ' clock, I was awakened by the sound of pitiful howls issuing forth from the kitchen. What was the matter with Percy? I got up and pattered barefoot down the stairs. As I opened the door, I saw, sitting in the middle of the floor, the most forlorn- looking specimen. The two hours spent that night on a stool with Percy in my arms marked the beginning of a real and ever-increasing understanding between us. Percy was not altogether a joy at the beginning of his career. To come home from school and find a much-loved book wrenched from the book- case and torn and chewed, or a pair of new bedroom slippers completely ruined by a sharp set of teeth, was no great pleasure. Even then, the hardest thing to do was to punish him. With tightly-closed eyes I would spank him, scold him, and put him in his box. Full well did I know that if I dared look into his sorrowful, penitent eyes, all he would get for his naughtiness would be an affectionate hug and squeeze. I confided everything to Percy and, dog-like, he seemed to understand. When I was sick he would play ball with me or, if I preferred, just lie on my bed and let me gently rub his ear. When I told him some good news he would throw one ear back and his eyes would sparkle with excitement and anticipation. He had a keen sense of humour and would sit grinning at me with laughing eyes while he watched me discover some silly trick he had played. One day I took him for a walk in Forest Hill Village. I have since terribly regretted the fact that I did not take him on a leash, but he had never before needed one as he always walked or scampered at my heels. However, this time he darted across the road. I whistled for him but continued on my way. Suddenly, I heard a grinding of brakes, a sickening thud, an agonizing yelp. Horror-stricken, I turned. Percy was in the middle of the road yelping and writhing in agony. The driver of the car lifted him up and carried him to the side of the road. I knew it was not the driver ' s fault and told him so before kneeling down beside the now motionless Percy. As I knelt, I saw his eyes gradually turn purple and I knew that he had gone to the Puppy-dogs ' heaven . Sobbing, I closed his eyes and stroked his head. I was still hugging little Percy ' s body when the rough, but kindly voice of the Humane Society ambulance driver told me he must take my little playmate. With a sorrowful, aching heart I watched the ambulance drive away. DOROTHY HOYLE, Form in A.