Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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16 SAMARA THE spirit that guards me day and night weeps, I am sure, continually. He must consider himself the unhappiest of guardian angels. According to the Bible, I am a sinner of the first water. For I cannot help being almost complacent abo ut the age in which I live. Nay, I go even farther. Con- tinually I thank God that our age is not like others, but the best age in human history. These years in which I have grown and during which I have studied the peoples before my birth, have been nicknamed, The Mechanical Age or The Age of Science . A more fitting title would be, The Age of Reason. The sanest man ever to live on earth was Jesus. He preached and illustrated, by his reactions to his enviorment, the ideal human life. He championed ideas of peace, bro- therly love and human dignity. Human beings before Him, had never considered these things in the light that He taught them. But the human beings after Him did. Because of Him, people have visualized and fought, for a perpetually better and more democratic world. History records the physical and mental eruptions of human progress. The yea rs 1776 and 1789 still warm the mind as if they were bright jewels. It was then that two great nations suffered the birth-pains of democracy. Gradually other poeple, seeing the fruits of government of the people, by the people, and for the people began to work for greater individual liberty. The finger of history records multiple failures. But it also verifies true progress. Our age to-day is the living proof of that progress. Democracies have struggled and advanced. They have given to their people the freer individuality they promised. They have fostered eguality. They have em- ployed science, up to 1939, in bettering man physically and mentally. They have encouraged arts and culture, not only for the leisure class but for the man and woman who labour by their hands. They have, as nations or as individuals, realized, more than ever before, their obligations towards all human beings, whatever their color or customs. They have, and are, taking specific steps towards deeper understanding and fellow-ship between nations all over the world. What is important, these things they have done and are doing, not through force but through the appeal to rationalism and something rather new — the understanding and sympathy with other people ' s problems. These things, meaning nothing less than the nearest approach yet, to Jesus ' example, make our age, 1 think, the greatest in the history of the world. True, there is still passionate greed, hate, and injustice. Human nature has within itself the seeds that degrade its dignity. They are evidence of the animal within us. They will remain with us untill we are all in paradise. But the spirit in which we are fighting for victory is concrete proof of our advance, of our greatness, of our sanity. Lette McGreer, VI Upper. Fry. THE RIVER River, O River from whence do you come With your smooth -flowing back and your wild dancing foam? Onward and onward you flow brave and free, Till you merge with the tempests and tides of the sea. My home is on high, the River replied, In the cool crystal springs on the wild mountain side. My course is tempestuous, rapid and free, As I merrily, merrily roll to the sea. River, O River, what sights you have seen! The discovers ' pathway and trail you have been. On you Indians and coureurs de bois wander- ed free Past the hills and the fields to the cliffs of the sea. Man and his works only last for a day, Roared the River, But endless my sway. I have seen what has been and shall see much to be. As forever I roll to the depths of the sea. Mary Osier, From VI, Upper.

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SAMARA 15 tKfje Sfop J of Camping HERE we are on a beautiful lake where we may travel miles away from all civi- lization. First we must get a canoe, (invar- iably a canoe for a camping trip!) preferably an old leaky one as it adds suspense, making us wonder whether we can make the next island without sinking or not. Next the sleeping bags. Someone has told us that it is very cold sleeping outdoors at night on this particular lake, so we must take along plenty of extra blankets. As there are just two of us, four extra ones ought to suffice. There! Now, let ' s see what comes — Oh yes! Cooking utensils. We have been able to get a nice iron kettle, a frying pan and a large pot to take along — a bit on the heavy side, but just the things for a camping trip! Next, our provisions, then the tent and a whole list of necessary articles — flashlights, matches, a knapsack full of clothing (just in case we fall in) bathing suits, comb, tooth-brush, fishing rods — what did I hear you say? A gun? Whatever for? You ' re not afraid of the poor, dumb animals of the woods, are you? Well, is that all we need? We ' d better load them into the canoe. No, wait a minute, we forgot that the canoe leaks so we must put a tarpaulin in the bottom first. I hope we ' ll be able to get in after all our eguipment is stowed! Now we should be on our way as we have to travel at least two miles before lunch. You get in first. Careful, don ' t tip it. Canoes aren ' t very steady things, are they? At last, we ' re off! What was the name of that poem someone wrote? Oh yes, ' The Song My Paddle Sings . I can think of guite a few songs I like better — Hot work, this paddling, isn ' t it? Let ' s knock o ff for a bit of lunch. There ' s a pretty little island over there with a beach where we can land. Where did you put those sandwiches? Oh, here they are, slightly squashed but still eatable! Let ' s go over there in the shade and eat them. Here ' s an old log we can sit on. Why it ' s quite rotten; look how it crumbles when 1 kick it! What ' s that buzzing sound? Heavens! A hornet ' s nest! Run! Run! Ouch! It would be so romantic paddling into the red sunset, if only my arms didn ' t ache so! Oh, for an island to camp on, but the nearest one is at least a mile away. I sup- pose we ' ll reach it eventually. Here we are, and it ' s getting very dark so we will have to be quick in pitching our tent. This is a good spot. Now, let me see — Where ' s the other tent-pole? Not in the canoe and certainly not here. I suppose we have forgotten it! If we can ' t put up the tent, then we shall sleep under the open sky in true camping style! Hurry with those sausages! I ' m so hungry I could eat a bear — Oh no, I take that back! A bit frightening, isn ' t it, with the firelight flicking on those trees? What did you say? Would I care to hear the ghost story about the man who was out camping and — No, thank you! I think I ' ll turn in early. Nothing like a good sleep to refresh oneself! Why the canoes must have leaked more than we thought! The sleeping bags and blankets are quite damp. I suppose it won ' t kill us to sleep in them this once. I ' m so tired I could sleep on anything — well, almost anything — except this rock I ' m on right now! What w as that noise? It sounded like an animal crash — it couldn ' t have been! Good night! Are those eyes I see over there by that tree or just reflected firelight? Firelight, I hope, but I ' m not sure! I wish this sleep- ing bag wasn ' t so wet. Aren ' t the stars beautiful? My goodness, where are they? They were here a minute ago when I looked up! Is that a flash of lightning I see? and that couldn ' t be thunder! A drop of rain! Oh dear, What are we going to do? Let ' s go home! Joan Paterson, Form VI M, Nightingale.

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SAMARA 17 l fje ong of tije Winis PEGGY Wilson stood transfixed on a large dock in the harbor of old Boston. In front of her was an array of vessels, great and small, heavy and light, but in the middle of them all rode one great craft with her five high masts overshadowing the other boats and her majestic bow pointing sea- ward. Oh Aunt dear, she ' s beautiful, beautiful! She ' s like a great bird resting before taking off on her next great flight. Oh I could stand here and gaze at her all morning; and to think that in two days I shall be stand- ing on the deck. Oh Auntie, I ' m so ex- cited! cried the happy young lady as she stared at the great vessel. ' 1 believe you would stare at it all morning. Miss, knowing full well that there are trunks to be packed and a thousand and one other things to be attended to before we may indulge in such folly , replied her middle- aged aunt, who waited impatiently for her enraptured niece to cast her eyes once more homeward. Miss Margaret Wilson was about to make her first voyage, with her aunt, Mrs. Henry H. Wallace, who was at once amused and irritated by the childish joy her fifteen year old niece showed at the adventurous pros- pect, and she found herself looking forward to the journey to England not a little. Somehow the trunks all got packed at the Wallace home. Somehow the tedious two days passed and on the morning of the 28th day of June in the year 1851, the little party bid good-bye to the fair New World and Margaret and her aunt turned their faces toward the shores of Merry England. The great white sails of the Liberty (for such was the name of the boat) caught the breeze, and its sturdy bow cut into the waves of the treacherous Atlantic. Peggy stood watching the last glimpse of the shores of America vanish behind the far horizon, and she sighed a sigh of con- tentment as a teasing wind ruffled the tidy, little curls under her best straw bonnet. Oh Aunt , she cried, Look at the wind playing among the great white sails up there. Look at it. It ' s telling them stories. Stories of ships and pirates and gales — it knows so much Auntie; how I wish I knew what it was saying. Perhaps you will someday , answered her aunt. In the next week Peggy made the ac- guaintance of many of the passengers. She talked with the captain, who told her stories of the first mate. She admired Mrs. Spencer ' s baby and she exclaimed at the beauty of Madame Dupre. But most of all she loved to hear the endless tales of England that Lord Southey had to tell. She learnt of her heroes and her victories, of her defeats and her failures, and she looked every morning to the east in hopes of catching a glimpse of that magic land. But she never saw it. In a British port anxious relatives waited for the boat that was to bring Peggy and her aunt to them, but they waited weeks in vain. Some months after the Liberty was due, a ship came, with tidings of her. They had found her drifting many leagues off the coast of England, without crew or passengers. All was intact, the tables were set for a meal, the meat stood untouched on a platter. In the cabins were found garments laid out for the passengers; and in one they found a diary, open, in which was written in a very neat hand. To-day my aunt and I rose at the, seventh hour, and found it to be a bright and clear morning. Madame Dupre was not in the best of health, and we all missed her com- pany. Here the writing stopped, and the pen was laid down by the little writing desk. All that was missing from the craft was one small lifeboat. How the passengers left the great ship no man knows. Where they went we know not. Perhaps the wind tells the story to the great white sails of another ship, and perhaps Peggy can hear what it is saying now. For none but the wind that played through the ships great masts, and the waves that beat on her sturdy sides can tell. Ruth Osier, Form V A, Nightingale.