Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 31 text:

The Branksome Slogan 29 Saturday Night at Clansdale Heights AFTER A WEEK-END AT THE FARM Where is the wind of yesterday ' s woods, Bracing and cool? When will I find again the trail, The frozen pool? Now sudden pain . . . Will ever I go again? Where is the song of yesterday ' s pines, Rustling and soft? Has the pale birch vanished for aye. And the snow-bound croft? Only a sigh . . . For clouds which drifted by. Where is the flame of yesterday ' s fire. Leaping and blue? Will the old road beckon anew To the vagrant shoe? Even a tear . . . Falls for that distant year. NANCY NABLO, Form IV.

Page 30 text:

28 The Branksome Slogan SCOTT HOUSE, FORMER HOME OF A CANADIAN AUTHORESS Passers-by know it as 125 Hunt- ley Street, Branksomites know it as Scott House, the building that houses the School Infirmary and the Arts and Crafts Studio. Those of you who are reasonably well-in- formed know that it was named in honour of Miss Margaret Scott, the founder of Branksome. Most of you can remember when the building contained classrooms; many of the Staff can remember when it was a school residence. But how many of you know that Scott House was once the home of Marshall Saun- ders, who wrote the classic animal story, Beautiful Joe ? Miss Saun- ders lived here when it was the residence of her father, the Rever- end Dr. Saunders, and after his death she continued to live in. the building which is now a part of Branksome. Her pet bird, ' ' Princess Scott House Suki , is buried in the garden near the tennis courts. At the Farm

Page 32 text:

30 The Branksome Slogan Activities . . . THE CAROL SERVICE On Sunday, the eleventh of December, the organ in Saint Andrew ' s Pl-esbyterian Church pealed out with a majestic sum- mons, calling forth all the faithful to come and sing at Christ ' s Nativity. A host of girl ' s voices was to bring songs of praise from many lands of Europe to the large congregation and the solemn sweet- ness of the Christmas pageant was to have its centuries-old re-enact- ment during the ceremony. Brank- some Hall was once more having its Carol Service, now become tra- ditional. From the darkened balcony, guests watched the quiet proces- sion of the choir approach and fill the chancel. After a moment of silence, the conductress gave the signal for the opening note and the music overflowed — sometimes in a sweetness that brought tears toi many eyes, sometimes in the ecstasy of a Polish hymn, some- times with the beautiful simplicity of a Dutch or Lapland carol. The very air was still as angels moved near in the darkened church. A single voice rose on high — 0, Zion ' s daughter — As Joseph watched with his shepherd ' s crook and Mary with her tender smile, the infant Jesus received the obeis- ance of wisemen and shepherds. No ' W tune your harps, celestial hosts. Fill heaven with music sweet. Thus the service ended, and the organ was silent once more, but the music is still ringing and re-ring- ing in many hearts, as it is in the heart of Branksome itself. Much credit is due to Mrs. Coutts for training and directing the choir, and to Mrs. Perry for once more presenting to us the Christmas Story in all its power and beauty. DINNER PARTIES The redolent fragrance of pine, the festive gaiety of British Col- umbia holly and the anxious, eager spirit of Christmas cast a magic spell over the dining hall on De- cember 11th, the night of the dinner party. By the flickering glimmer of eandlelight we sat down to our feast, and a feast of toasts and speeches followed the Christmas fare. Well-wishers toasted the School, its Principal, its teachers and its sports. Miss Bradshaw spoke to us on behalf of the Staff. She came with a well-prepared manuscript, but in her enthusiasm she soon discarded it. In a clever and amusing speech Miss Christie proposed a toast to the prefects and sub-prefects. (Thank you, Miss Christie.) Miss Read drew the warm tartan rug (a merry Christmas from us all) around her shoulders as she addressed the school, finally touch- ing upon her favourite topic (Let me see, what was .that place? . . . Ah, yes, Nova Scotia.) Penny— ' ' You haven ' t seen any- thing till you come outi West.