Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 31 Millions of tiny fireflies flitted around and rainbow-winged fairies danced merrily around the pony and tickled his ears. The driver was a grey squirrel, who had a bandana tied like a gypsy and played a mouth- organ, which, as they drew nearer, I noticed was made of a honeycomb. From this minute instrument gay music filled the air. Suddenly a firefly landed on the pony ' s nose. I was reminded of Rudolph the Red- Nosed Reindeer , and I laughed at the comical sight. The spell was broken! The little folk, un- aware of my presence, immediately disap- peared. The fireflies extinguished themselves. The caravan, flying down the road, left behind the haunting echo Naughty child! Naughty wicked child! ringing in my ears. I was so filled with remorse that I vowed never to go on the road at night again. JiNTY Knowling, 5B. It Never Rains But It Pours Gerry Austin was an unsuccessful author. He had written hundreds of short stores but they had not as yet, been accepted by any publisher. Gerry was philosophical about it and kept sending them to different publishers, saying some day they will wise up and know talent when they see it . Meanwhile he was living in a cheap, cold, uncomfortable rooming house. He existed on sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and supper. At the present he was working on his latest big novel. He was confident that it would be published and then he would be a great success. His sister came in every evening to type it for him and put it in a plastic binder for safe- keeping. One Tuesday morning, Gerry was sitting in the library working when he became con- scious of a man standing behind him. He recognized him as Victor S. Bennet, the famous and wealthy publisher. He said that he had read what Gerry had written and liked it so if the rest was just as good he would undertake to publish it. Only one month later the book was pub- lished and a week later it was a best seller. As soon as his novel made the headlines, publishers from all over demanded that they be allowed to publish his stories. He received eighty-seven letters in one week, and, as Gerry said happily it never rains but it pours . Anne Chaplin, 4A. I Read It When I Was Very Young I read it when I was very young. To be precise it was eleven years ago. It was given to me for my birthday by my uncle. It was quite a small book covered in red leather and the edges were ornamented with a design in gold. The pages, I remember, were quite thin, the writing of medium size. Now and again there was a sketch in black and white illustrat- ing a line in the story. I used to read a chapter a day. Some at school, some at home. At night, my mother read a paragraph or two to me before I went to sleep. I enjoyed every word written in the book. Every character came to life and I felt that each one was my friend. Since I was small I have read this book quite a number of times. Each time something is discovered which re- mained untouched before. Some underlying meaning becomes clear or one is able to read between the lines and discover the mind of the writer. Once this can be done all sorts of possibilities are opened up in the story. Motives are thought out and proved; each event in the story really means something now. This book gave much to me when I was small. It gave me a love of animals and their ways, and a love of the beauty of nature. It taught me to understand right from wrong and to show kindness and love to my enemies. The author was Kenneth Grahame, the book, ' The Wind in the Willows ' . I read it first when I was very young. Judith Carter, 5 A.

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30 SAMARA Another ghost, this time a twentieth cen- tury ghost, who would be interesting to run into on a dark, wild night, is Adolf Hitler. He was indirectly responsible for an unaccountable number of miUions of deaths through another whim, to rule the world. But credit must be given to Hitler for the way in which he rose from a poor farm boy to a man who overran about half of Europe in pursuit of his ambi- tions. But I would really like to meet a ghost who was filmy white and had bony hands, in a dark haunted house. The wind would be blow- ing, making a loose shutter bang back and forth creating a deathly echo. My dream ghost would float through a wall and with a blood curdling scream I would tear out of the house, never to return— just as they do in books. Caroline Nicholson, 5B. Making a Dime Go a Long Way One morning three years ago, I opened my eyes slowly, due to the strong sun streaming in my window. I remembered that today was the day I got my allowance. At this time I did not think ten cents was nearly enough money, but it did get me through the week once in a while. This week I decided to try and get more out of my dime than usual. Starting down the street I met my friend, Julie, with her new doll. Looking at the doll I suddenly fell in love with her, and I asked Julie if she would like my dime for her doll. At the time we did not know the value of money, and Julie said it would be all I ' ight if I took good care of the doll. 1 thanked her and taking the doll in my arms, walked down the street smiling happily. As I went past the Junkyard, I saw a small white kitten sitting on a clump of grass. I hoped that someone had left it there because he did not want it. An idea of making another exchange struck me. I kissed the doll, and sat her on a mattress. I picked up the kitten, and walked home. After that I thought that I ' d made a dime go a long way. VicKi Sainsbury, 4B. Doomsday It was seven o ' clock. She had only an hour. An hour until doomsday. She began pacing up and down nervously. Her stomach was not feeling its best as she had hardly a bite to eat all day. She realized she must get a hold of herself. Others had done it before her and had lived through it. It would only last a few hours and then she could return to her cozy bed which looked more inviting than ever at that moment. Seven-thirty— another half-hour. Her throat felt dry. Perhaps she was becoming sick and would not be able to go through with it. Then suddenly there was a ring at the door. She heard footsteps coming slowly up the stairs. Then a voice cried out— Susan, he ' s here. She took a deep breath and walked downstairs, feeling like a condemned prisoner going to execution. It was her first date! Margot Toller, 6M. The Road at Night I was told never to go near the road at night. Of course, when a child is told not to do a thing, she immediately has the desire to do it. I am a typical child. The night was warm as I started out on my explorations. A gentle breeze whispered to the trees, who shook their branches with laughter. Upon the dew-tipped grass the moon cast its image. Crickets chirped monotonously and an occasional grumph was heard from a disgruntled frog. Feeling the eeriness of the road as I walked along, I began to whistle rather tunelessly. My whistling, however, contrasted awkwardly with the silence of the road, so I stopped. At once I heard a small tinkling of a bell and the distant rumble of wheels. Quickly I darted behind a hedge. The scene before me was one of enchant- ment. A fairy caravan was being pulled by a little bay pony, who pranced gaily and shook his head as he pulled the caravan down the lane.

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32 SAMARA The Mysterious Woman I am twenty years old and my sister is seventeen. We are keeping house because our parents are in Toronto for a week. One par- ticular night my sister told me she was going to see some friends, and didn ' t say when she would be back. I went to bed early that night and locked the door because my sister had her own key. During the night I woke up because I thought I heard a noise of something trying to get in. It couldn ' t be my sister because she had her own key and she could ring the door- bell. I tried to convince myself it was just the wind. Later on that night I was awakened again by the same kind of a noise. I got out of bed, looked out of the window and saw someone run around the house. By now I was really scared. I wondered whether I should phone my sister. On the other hand she panics, so I decided not to bother. As I was getting my slippers on I heard the noise again. I was sure I heard someone trying to open a window. The first thing that came to my mind was Daddy ' s gun. I remembered cleaning out Daddy ' s desk drawer and seeing the gun in it. Coming down the stairs I heard the person at the door. I ran to the den, grabbed the gun from the drawer, and slowly started walking towards the door with the gun in my hand. My head was beating so fast I thought it would explode. Slowly I unlocked the door. There was someone standing in the dark near the door. Before thinking I pulled the trigger but fortunately the gun was empty. Then my sister walked in. I almost fainted. After a cup of coffee I asked her why she didn ' t ring the doorbell. She told me it had been broken for the last week or so. She also told me she had forgotten her key and had tried to wake me by making a great deal of noise. From now on my sister has her key when she goes out, and the doorbell is fixed. Kerry O ' Brien, 4B. Canada ' s Centenary in 1967 Canada ' s centenary,— will it be grand or grotesque? How do Canadians really feel about the centenary? What would they like to see done? It is these questions that I hope to answer. One editor from the ' Financial Post ' asked men and women from different walks of life how they felt about Canada ' s planned Cen- tenary in 1967. Some of their answers were as follows: The fact that Canada has survived as a nation for nearly 100 years is something to celebrate in itself, was the answer of a senior business executive. A4y feeling is that Canadians are rather apathetic and unimaginative about it all, said a correspondent who had made a survey of his own among businessmen and civic officials. My heart just wouldn ' t be in congratulat- ing ourselves. Canadians have been a sloppy people. For the last twenty years we have been living off the fat of the land with no competi- tion. and, We ' ve had a lot of centenary suggestions. There ' s one thing they add up to: dollar bills, were the replies of two young business men. The mayor of a city of 75,000 made the fol- lowing retort: Wait until I ' m re-elected . . . then we ' ll talk about it. Apathetic, slow, selfish, insignificant, in- decisive, cynical, short-sighted, dull, hesitant and unimaginative was the general train of thought, although current birthday ideas range from shooting off fireworks from a Banff mountain top to building a model city in the Maritimes. There are many provinces who have put forth very imaginative ideas. One Maritimer would like to see all statues and public buildings in Canada illuminated by flood-lights for one year beginning July 1, 1967. T here are ideas of deep social significance