Galt Collegiate Institute and Vocational School - Specula Galtonia Yearbook (Galt, Ontario Canada)

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22 SPEGULA GALTONIA discussion, it was decided that on that mysterious trip Matilda must have met her lover and married him, only to be widowed by a wreck which befell the next fishing trip. Gradually the new kindness and esteem which the neighbours showed her, together with a few hints, made Matilda see the situation. Immediately she seemed to gain confidence in herself. Her head was held a little higher and her step became lighter. Although her guilty con- science urged the correction of this false impression, the mystery remained unsolved: for life was made interesting and worth while again by the fact that the villagers no longer saw her as an ordinary spinster-she was a widow! Kgs The Circle of Circumstance By ELLEN NORWOOD S he drew up his chair to the breakfast table that particular morning, every one of James Brown's Iive senses eagerly called for coffee. Mrs. Brown, however, had unthinkingly brewed tea. Thereupon, Brown saw red-picked up his offending cup and its contents, stepped to the back porch, and hurled them into the alley. Still furious, he next grabbed his hat and went out without looking back or saying good-bye. Meantime, Dr. Smith, a few doors down the street, was busy answer- ing the 'phone. Having swallowed a hurried bite, he climbed into his car, waved a hand and came swinging out of the alley turn-bang!-a punc- tured tire! The doctor swore fervently. From the tire he pulled a nasty piece of razor-sharp porcelain. Who ever left this broken cup here for people to drive over ? A good hour later a cool voice in a fashionable doorway said, Sorry, doctor, but we couldn t wait, we called in Doctor Gray. For the absent Dr. Gray came a long-distance call from his brokers in New York. Stocks were tumbling, should they sell or cover? But the minutes sped by, eleven o'clock came and, before a second call found him in, the doctor had lost S10.000. Whereupon a friend of his, to whom Dr. Gray had suggested his broker's name, learning of the incident, decided to invest his thousands elsewhere. Had that person's patronage fallen into their lap just then, the broker- age firm could have survived the bitter weather of the Street. Instead, client after client withdrew--and thirty days later their name was heard no more, save on the lips of reminiscing old-timers. By afternoon Brown had cooled under his collar considerably and was half-inclined to call his wife and thus pave the way to a peaceful supper. But he put this idea aside in favour of a reconciliation at the door, and in twenty-four hours the whole affair had been forgotten. However, some time later over his favourite beverage Know unfailing- ly brewed each morningl, he read the few words announcing the failure of the famous New York firm. He set his coffee down heavily, There goes our little old three hun- dred, Mary. He sat for a time silent. Well, he said, trying to smile, that's that. And presently from the door as he departed, he called back, Must have taken something pretty big to smash a firm as solid as they were. 'f

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SPECULA GALTONIA 21 Tobermory's Widow By HELEN FRY HE woman patiently sewing the maze of tucks in the stiff, brocaded material was as dull and drab as the dark, old-fashioned, over- furnished parlour in which she sat. The patient pucker of her thin lips, the dull, black, plain dress she wore, and the methodical way in which she inserted and pulled out the various pins, proclaimed her to be the village seamstress and, incidentally, the village spinster. Her eyes were raised for an instant as a young girl stood poised in the doorway. O Matilda! don't you think it will be lovely ? the latter cried, then added anxiously, I do hope to have all my things ready when Rory's boat comes in, so he can go out on the next fishing trip. Why, yes, Cecilia. And Matilda tucked the heavy material with a little quicker stitch. It was an established fact in the fishing village of Tobermory that no man had ever called on Matilda Marsh. For a number of years she had bitterly resented this, but now all the resentment was swallowed up in so hopeless a despair that she sewed on Cecilia Barnes' wedding dress without a twinge of envy. If any shade of resentment lurked in her heart it was because she shrank from being called the village spinster. A few of the villagers found her dull, staid habits a constant source of amusement, and often exchanged knowing glances when her back was turned 5 the majority, however, were friendly and sympathetic towards her. But for the small boys, who taunted her as she passed along the nar- row streets, she would have been contented, if not exactly happy. One small incident changed Matilda's whole outlook on life and, also, the neighbours' opinions. While tying her bonnet strings prior to leaving the Barnes's cottage, after a busy day of sewing, Matilda was disturbed out of her habitual apathy by an anxious shout, proclaiming the fact that a fishing schooner was aground on the rocky coast near the village. She finished her task and was calmly standing by the gate when one of the men from the schooner, who had been gravely injured in the ac- cident, was borne past in the arms of his fellow fishermen. At the sight of his ashen face and closed eyes, a spasm of illness passed through Matilda and she in turn went pale to the lips and sagged weakly against the gate-post. Almost as if by an act of Fate, three very gossipy widows passed and, seeing Matilda's distress, hurried to her with smelling salts and words of comfort. By the next night all the village tongues were wagging with the news that on the night of the wreck Matilda Marsh had fainted clean away. As gossips will, each tried to solve this strange happening. After many suggestions and much discussion, they recalled that one day, years before, Matilda had, for some unknown reason, gone to the next village and had returned looking more radiant than ever before. After much more

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sPEcULA GALTONIA as The Summer fTranslation from the Germanj By EDITH J. THOMSON The Summer, the Summer, Of all seasons the queen, Woodland flowers beckon us O'er meadows of green, Filling our hearts with happiness. The Summer, the Summer, Its joyfulness gratifies, As we chase and then run After gaily hued butterfliesg And gleefully laugh in our fun. The Summer, the Summer, With treasures bestowing, We seek the wild berries Under tall beeches growing 3 Their sweet succulence tarries. The Summer, the Summer, Spreading a merry radiance, As flower garlands we interlace And laugh, play and dance, In the eve's cool, fading rays. '69 Three Foreigners By HELEN FRY OR two days they followed us, beautiful, impressive, but almost sinis- ter in their persistence. On the flat prairie these three mountains seemed to huddle together like lonesome foreigners, but even this attitude held aloofness and pride. The highest peak was in the centre and seemed to shelter the two lesser ones in the purple cloak of mist which the distance created. Their great outlines were rugged, but the distance and light hid their sharp edges and a clear yet soft contour resulted. The dusty road wound over the plain and, as though curious of these foreigners, edged closer. These approaches showed that the lower parts of the mountains were wooded, the woods showing like green, velvet patches in contrast to the sharp, red, clay crevices. Still the air of aloofness prevailed and, as one drew nearer, it was more pronounced because of a veil of mist which shrouded the summits. Then the road, as though satisfied, continued its way over the plain and the mountains slowly became the remote strangers which the first glimpse had revealed.