Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

Page 11 text:

HOW TIMMY BECAME GRAY A squirrel called Timmy lived in a very big oak tree near the woods. Timmy was very clever and did many things to help the farmers. The Winter was coming and Timmy had no home, so he went to live in a farmer ' s sap-house. He made himself a very comfortable home there. Spring was coming and the farmer began to tap the trees. When they brought the sap in to boil they saw Timmy and his little hole. When Timmy knew that they had seen him, he thought he would move. He found a nice little hole in a maple- tree near the sap-house. In the Summer the farmer thought he would paint the shed gray. One night Timmy went over to the shed and, not looking where he was going, jumped right into a pail full of gray paint. He was terribly upset because he had spoilt his beautiful red coat. He scrubbed and scrubbed but could not get it off. And that is how he has kept his gray coat. C. WILSON. HOW THE COAL CAME TO BE Long ago there lived a young girl whose name was Coleen. She had black hair and eyes, and she loved and was very kind to all people. She was a great friend of all wild animals and loved the forest. One year the Winter became very cold and wet, and she used to take wood and warm rugs and clothes to the poor people. One day Coleen became ill and when she died all the forest creatures came and brought nuts and many little forest flowers. A few years after a man was digging and he found some hard black substance at the foot of a tree. On this he built a fire. Finding that it burned he took it home, and remembering how Coleen had brought them wood he called it coal. It has been called this ever since. S. BOWMAN. 9

Page 10 text:

Sally waited till ten o ' clock and when Dickie did not come she threw a shawl about her and walked to the corner where Dickie had told her he would be. It seemed hours after she got there and was looking for him when an old man came up to her and asked what the trouble was, for she was crying. I c-can ' t find my b-brother, ' she sobbed. ' ' What was he like? said a man behind her. He was ten years old, and had a grey cape and sweater. Do you know where he is? she said. A negro happened to be passing and, on overhearing the conversation, said: Why, dat ' s de chile that I seen hit by a motor car and broke his leg. Now, you just come along with me, said the kind old man, and we ' ll soon find him. What did you say his name was? Dickie, she replied, and mine is Sally Gould. Where am I and where is Sally? Oh! and Dickie sank down among his pillows, for his leg hurt. Here I am, said a little voice behind him. Now you must go to sleep, because it is Christmas Eve, and nurse and I have a surprise for you all in the morning. In the next room was a beautiful Christmas Tree, with candles, sugar sticks, silver and gold bells, and, on top of the tree, was the most beautiful star you have ever seen, all ready to be moved into the large ward as soon as the children were asleep. On Christmas morning, in the middle of the ward, was the tree with all the presents round, and best of all was an old man with a long white beard who was dressed in red and standing by the tree. Santa Claus, cried all the children, and indeed it was. All the children got the most beautiful presents. There was a motor car for Dickie and a doll for Sally and many other things, but I think that Sally and Dickie enjoyed it most of all. Don ' t you? JOCELYN WHITE. 8

Page 12 text:

MORNING SCHOOL You don t say that we have Geometry! Oh, How to do those old Theorems, I ' m sure I don ' t know! Thus remark I at the start of the day, When I think I am free, and would so like to play. Another arrives and upstairs we tread. And I try to get twenty-one into my head: At last in despair, our poor text books are flung And we rush to the hall as the first bell is rung. We ' re s ' posed to be still yet I ' m sorry to say Both seniors and juniors are too fond of play. But at last it is stopped, as Miss Soame seals our doom — - All who spoke go and stand at the back of the room . Roll-call comes next, and then reading and prayers And Singing! Poor Mrs. Buck surely has cares! Miss Neal then deals out confiscations galore — Detentions and marks off! Each day more and more! And then what ' s called physical culture or drill . Physical torture more like it! It makes us quite ilL At the word of command, to the classrooms we race, And each girl (none too quietly) sits in her place. When no Mistress appears, we get boisterous and loud. In a gossipy group we then noisily crowd. With her favourite expression Miss King then arrives You can all write a page from your ' Plutarch ' s Lives ' . Not a word may be spoken till ' leven o ' clock. Work is impossible when you all talk. We all settle down then to problems and sums What sighs of relief when the time to stop comes! Then we rush out of doors with a ball and a bat. And tear around, regardless of blazer or hat. We stroll from the field when we hear the bell ga, And get into trouble for being so slow. And then for our Algebra class we are late. It is good we don ' t always keep on at this rate! The morning is over, so outdoors we file. And walk down the road in a long crocodile. We come back, and eat our potatoes and corn And this is the end of an imperfect morn! — M. BORDEN, 10