Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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S A A I A R A 31 At two o ' clock, mounted outriders, clothed in full regalia, rode out to meet His Excellency and party. The Governor-General escorted by several Mounted Policemen and Head Chiefs, went into the Chief Shot-on-Both Sides ' teepee to be introduced to the Honorary Chiefs. They then came up on the platform, and seated themselves in a semi-circle. A fat old Indian performed the initiation; there were several speeches, both in Indian and English, then a beautiful head-dress was placed on the Governor ' s head. After that we all had to stand and put one hand on the shoulder of our neighbour, and the initiation was over. The name given to His Excellency was Chief Eagle Face. Then came an exciting part, for me anyway, since my Dad is an honorary chief also. A crowd of old Indian women were brought up onto the platform, and a dance started with the Governor-General and Mrs. Shot-on-Both Sides leading, then Commissioner Wood of the R.C.M.P. and other Honorary Chiefs that I don ' t know. When the dancing was over the whole party went into Mrs. Shot-on-Both Sides ' tee- pee for refreshments. They had pemmican, cake, tea and berries. While they were inside, the Indian dancers got to work. Some of them were dressed in nicer costumes than the others, but all were very beautiful; white buckskin jackets and trousers, with fringing and bead work of the very best. Their head-dresses were of eagle feathers, and some were trimmed with a band of bright coloured fluff. The women were dressed in lovely costumes too; beautiful silks, and again handsome bead-work and coloured porcupine quill-work. These Indians are mostly proud men, some of them with the Queen ' s medals that were handed down from their ancestors, when their country was taken over by the white people. When the Governor-General came out again, he stayed and watched the dancers for awhile, and then he departed. The beat of the tom-toms grew louder as he started to leave, and the Indians lined up to say a last farewell to him. I am sure as long as he lives he will remember that day. As we left, behind the Governor-General ' s car, I turned around, and in front of the camp stood the Indian chiefs, their head-dresses blowing softly in the breeze and the tom-toms getting softer and softer as we went on our way. Frances Wood, VC Nightingale On Writing Essays I am looking forward, at this point, to a long struggle with essays upon essays dealing with subjects of varying unimportance; I am also looking backwards at half of my loose- leaf book, covered with incoherent thoughts and rules for a good essay. What is an informal essay? Aside from being an instrument of torture, it is a rather unimpressive, pointless way of relieving one ' s mind of all it contains on a totally impractical subject, such as On Having Friendly Neigh- bours, wherein one either renounces them for bad qualities, or embraces them for good ones. An informal essay is a thesis with suitable elaborations. In it you explain your opinions and the reason for them. Oh! but it is not that easy. Hitting the nail on the head in one down-to-earth attempt is not in the rules. One gives small, ineffectual taps with smart digs and sly phrases, hedging gently, and suggesting hidden meanings until both oneself and the nail are all in. The book describes this as proceeding in the form of a circle ending up at the start. Now where is the point in that? Having exhausted the subject (and myself) as best I can and having completed a rather wobbly circuit, I shall stop. (This treatise, to be an essay must not be an argument, therefore it merely suggests a rather biased opinion.) Sheila McCormick, VB Keller

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30 SAMARA A New Boarder ' s First Letter Home (10 miles away) Dear A4ummy and Daddy, My, I wish you were here! It is so lonely here without you. Really the girls here are so mean to me and they are very disagreeable. Please come and take me home soon. I don ' t like the meals and the beds aren ' t like my dear little bed at home. All the girls roar around and leave me out of everything. You should see my roommate! I hardly ever see her and she is always doing bad things like sneaking out of the room at night, and she never leaves the room tidy. Even in classes they never pay any attention to me, and it is so awful. Some- times they even laugh at me because I do other things and not what they do . . . .! (etc., etc. — 4 pages later). Oh, I am so lonely. Please come and see me soon and write every day. Give my love to darling pussy. Your lonely little petunia, Elizabeth. Next Week ' s Letter Hi, This is just a short quick note, ' cause I am in an awful rush. The kids are swell. We are just about to put a mouse in one of the teachers ' desks! Ha, ha! Guess what we had for supper? Yum, Yum, tapioca pudding! Bye. Liz. P.S. Got a couple of bad marks for breaking bounds and going to the tuck! L. Sally Wright, VC Fry Iambic Pentameter It is the second of November, cold. The trees stand bare, denuded of their leaves. And sway like giant brooms upturned in air. The ground all cold and hard, awaits the snow Which like a never-ending blanket looks. And lets the earth retire in wanted rest. When winter slowly comes and covers earth. There stand the trees all cased in crystal glass. Sue DeWolf, VI Upper Keller The Governor-General Joins the Bloods As we bumped along the old dirt road, in the distance we could see the flickering of hundreds of camp fires. If we leaned out of the car window, we could hear the thump of the tom-toms in the distance. My family and I were going to see the Indian camp at Stand-OfT, near Macleod, Al- berta, where the next day the Governor- General would be made an honorary chief of the Blood Indians. When we came to a turn in the road, we started straight up the hills, right toward the camp fires. Several times we passed an old Indian cart, or some young Indians riding their ponies along the roadside. Finally we came up to the camp, and parked the car. The teepees were in a large circle, and around each of them were five or more dogs. Their howling frightened me so, I re- treated to the car where I knew they would not venture. From most of the teepees came the familiar sound of the tom-tom and from where I was I could see the shapes of the dancers inside. Every once in a while, a loud shrill yell would be heard from one of the happy people. After we had got a good look at the camp in the dark we decided we had better start back, as it was pitch black outside and it was hard to find the old dirt roads leading back to town. Next day after dinner, we went back to the camp. The white tents outlined against the brown of the hills and blue of the sky made a lovely picture as we started once more into the hills. We arrived early and had plenty of time to look around. Several of the larger teepees were painted with designs. If you gave the Indians a cigarette or some money, they would tell you what the designs meant. All of these teepees were made of skins, and were very skilfully painted. In the middle of the camp was a platform and at each corner was a Union Jack, and a Mountie standing underneath in his scarlet uniform.

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32 SAMARA Waiting The fire crackled cheerily as I brought the little table and cards into the front library, and set them down beside my grandmother. Then she spoke, and, as she did, all the cosy cheerfulness and warm companionship van- ished as if frightened by her words. Sam! I said distinctly that I wanted the chess board and not those cards! Take them back right away and do as I say! My temper and patience can hold out for only so long, and then you will suffer. I picked up the table, and without a word carried it out of the room and set it down beside an open closet. Pulling my handker- chief out of my hip pocket, I carefully wiped my forehead. How long can a decent man keep up this sort of thing? Get my glasses, hurry and answer the doorbell, why didn ' t you bring me my medicine, you know well enough Vm a very sick person and need it badly! Imagine, me, Sam Wood, New York ' s biggest criminal, although the police could never prove it, playing nursemaid to an old, crabby relative, and all for a measly hundred thousand grand! Sam! Where are you? Come here immedi- ately! Sam, do you hear me? Yes, I hear you, Grandmother. I ' m com- ing. Hastily grabbing the chess board, and nearly tripping over a cane that lay in the shadows, I hurried into the library. My grandmother sat in the big easy chair close to the fire, and even though she was sufiiciently warm and comfortable, she had a black, crocheted shawl pulled close around her, and several of the biggest and softest pillows tucked in at the corners. As I entered the room she gave mc her worst scowl and burst forth with: Sam Wood! Never again will you go away and leave me for such a long time. Something might have happened, I could have had a stroke, for my heart isn ' t as strong as it used to be, and I am not paying you money so you can fool around and day- dream. Next time you do that sort of thing the whole business goes out the ' indow! I bit my lip, and with a great effort held my temper, though that hundred thousand was slowly, but surely, growing smaller. Yes, Grandmother, I was just getting your chess board. Where would you like it put? That was all it was, where would you like this? Can I get you anything? and getting for all my trouble nothing but nasty remarks and more requests. And this had been going on for one month now! I quickly did as she told me, and then casu- ally suggested that it was 10.30 and wasn ' t that her bed time? Getting only the usual answer, that if it was, it was none of my business, I resignedly settled myself in a chair and looked forward to about two to three hours of that wonderful game, chess. My grandmother was a poor player and she knew it, but she took pleasure in making me suffer all the same. Oh, well, in another three weeks she ' ll die and I ' ll claim that money as sole heir plus the thousand dollars she ' s paying me for looking after her. The doctors are sure her heart will give out in several weeks and she ' ll die, no sympathy from me! But then, three weeks is an awfully long time, especially when you wish they would fly. Oh, well, she ' ll die soon and all that money Susan Harris, IVA, Fry The Grim Sonnet {Apologies to Shakespeare) W ' hen in disgrace with teachers and girls ' eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state. And trouble deaf seniors with useless cries. And look upon myself, and curse my fate; Wishing me like to one more rich in freedom. Featured like her, like her with friends possest. Desiring this girl ' s stripe and that girl ' s brain. With what I most enjoy contented least; But in these thoughts myself almost despising. Haply I think of holidays — and then my state Is like to hardy boarder at break of day arising From sunken bed, to walk past A4rs. Graham ' s gate! For then I remember my life ' s best features. And scorn, indeed, to change my state with teachers! -ktt) r Janet Chapman, VB, Fry