Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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18 The Branksome Slogan It might be a good thing if we were forced to take as much interest in democracy as the youth of fascist and communist countries take in their respective governments; and were compelled to study how to improve and propagate our ideas of freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion and freedom of thought. If every boy and girl looked upon his vote as a privilege and obligation and exercised his franchise carefully and conscientiously, our next generation would, without doubt, have a stronger democratic government. PATRICIA GIBBONS (Clan McLean). The Visit of Lady Tweedsmuir On the afternoon of November the 22nd, Branksome Hall was honoured by a visit from Lady Tweedsmuir. Her Excellency, accompanied by her Lady-in- Waiting, Mrs. Pape, was met at the door by a guard of honour composed of the prefects, and conducted to the drawing-room, where she was received by Miss Read, Mrs. Irving C. Hall, President of the Alumnae Association, and Mrs. W. D. Ross, after which the prefects were presented to Her Excellency. From the drawing-room the guests were conducted to the p latform of the gymnasium, and Barbara Parker, the Head Girl of the school, made a brief address of welcome to Lady Tweedsmuir. A short gymnastic contest of clan relay-races then took place, at the close of which Lady Tweedsmuir presented a prize cake to the chieftain of the winning clan, and then a bouquet of roses tied with the school colours was presented to Her Excellency by Pamela Fulford. Then followed an exhibition of swimming, while the whole school formed a guard of honour, lining the halls leading from the swimming-pool to the library. At the conclusion of the programme, tea was served in the Common Room and the members of the staff and the class officers were presented to Her Excellency. BARBARA MARTIN (Clan Ross).

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THe-TR€€»lS KNOWN- By ITS ' FRtrjT- Little by little throughout the world people are submitting to rule by dictators. They are losing the freedom and responsible government that they fought for. They are losing them mostly through laziness. When a dictator controls the country it is at least possible to shove all problems and national headaches on to his shoulders. His laws may be resented, but he has to take all the responsibility. In countries that have gained democratic government with comparative ease, the people are also inclined to become lazy and to regard the government as some all-powerful, all wealthy machine which functions regularly without their attention and thought, if prodded now and then by letters of complaint to the newspapers. It is when a people becomes apathetic that they are in danger of losing their freedom. Among high school students throughout Canada, there is a great deal of political inertia ; a lack of knowledge and a lack of interest in the different political parties and their p latforms. It seems to be a rare adolescent who reads the newspaper editorials as attentively as the ' ' funnies or who will listen to a political speech when Rudy Vallee is on the air. Democracy does not advertise itself; it has no black or brown or red shirts, no banners nor marching, no frenzied shouting for the leader. It does not appeal through hero-worship or pageantry; but should it fail because of this lack? Canadian youth would be indignant if they were to lose the privilege of voting, but they do not seem to consider it as important even as the careful choice of their spring clothes. 17

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AN ENCOUNTER It happened one summer while I was staying by the sea. The night was dark and windy, but at intervals the clouds burst apart and the moon shone brightly. It was an ideal night for a walk and I expressed my wish to go out (to a group of visitors who were huddled around a bright cheery fire). They all stared at me in astonishment and quite frankly told me that I was crazy. Just then a low voice from the corner said, would like to accompany you as I, too, love a walk on such a night as this. Curiously, I turned to see an elderly man stand up. He was tall, and straight and came toward me with a quick, light step, a quiet smile playing on his lips. My sister whispered to me not to go but as I looked into the man ' s honest, keen, gray eyes I knew, somehow, that here was a kindred spirit. I ex- pressed my delight in having his company and the two of us walked out into the night dressed in warm sweaters and mackintoshes. A tall and silent tree — an only pine, With spreading limbs and stature lean and proud Beside the highway stood. A glar- ing sign Nailed to its trunk proclaims, Ten miles to Stroud! O what a shame — that once so proud and free The king of woodland realms in estimation. Now slave to modern times, this ancient tree Holds high her head in mute humiliation. JOYCE CAUDWELL, Form V. 19