London Central Secondary School - Golden Glimpses Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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Affair Gfad'-'Worn What . , The-jipeclial ,One-Year, lnitensive Vocational Courses at the . , lfligh School are open to students ' ' ' 'we.'1A.TY':ij'5, A' ' A is 11:17 A L - ' three, -greats- High School standing. Special ' ' -:.T' 11'1T ?f A ', - ' Twyooyibalfffourses are provided for students who have come . A V ' lr ' 4 x ' .VL-, id -, ,I .g.,..,iMA,. an 15353--E My ,' ls? ,. ' b year High School course. . 4 6i.i,Et,E'.- h J- I Q 6 A,-J ,Q 1 .C pp Qlfommercial Courses fi,r.,' - vp: ., IQ' X . 1 E fi' A A Accountancy Bookkeeping ,S ' 5' Business and Secretarial Stenography Typewriting Special Technical Courses Automotive Mechanics Building Construction Cabinet Making Carpentry Commercial Art and Industrial Design i Cooking Draughting Dressmaking and Costume Design Electrical Construction ' Machine Shop Practice Nurses and Dietitians' Preparatory Printing Tool and Die Making I I ll Thereiis Nosulastitute for Vocational Training The school maintains a well-organized Placement Department to assist its students in securing employment. The most desirable positions in London and vicinity are open to the graduates of the Technical and Commercial High School. Fees: There are no fees charged to residents of London attending these courses. Fees for the residents of the counties of Middlesex, Huron, Perth, Oxford, Elgin, Lambton and Kent are paid by the counties in accordance with the regulations of thc Department of Education. . London Technical 8a Commercial l ligl1 School The School That Aids Its Students in Securing Suitable Employment?

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TI-IE REVIEW 53 -l-l'1Z fXfl6dClOVV E had always thought it the most picturesque of all the Basque villages-the few rows of clean little houses, prim gardens, and some of the finest and oldest beech trees in France, towering giants, dwarfing even the stately Hrs, and the pride of every villager. Was it not under these same trees, old even then, that their forefathers had gathered, twelve centuries past, to divide the spoils from Ronscevalles' battle and quarrel for the trumpet of Roland? They were objects of veneration to all alike, the villager and the peasants from the surrounding mountains, who flocked in, on fete days, in their red breeches and black velvet jackets to the little shrine of the Virgin, Notre Dame d'Escualdaritz pied-de-pre. But the most outstanding feature of the place, to Maclean, was its location, nestling, as it did, in a pretty green valley among the foothills, at the base of a great precipice. Immediately overhead, a wedge between two pink walls of granite, was the meadow, le beau pre, the most exquisite expanse of loveliness in all the beautiful Pyrenees. Such had it been and as such had Neil Maclean remembered it, this little Basque village, Escual- daritz pied-de-pre. From above he came down upon it, to paint, one spring morning, past the meadow, so bright with fresh spring bloom, and down the cliff face to the valley. But now, all was different. A concrete pool marked the site of the spring in front of the shrine where once the village maids had scrubbed the family wash. A white-stone hotel reared high its modern head sur- rounded by an ugly brood of tourist cabins. The few beeches suffered to remain had been trimmed and cut to hold look-out platforms in their branches. Coloured lights swung from tip to ground. The peasant houses were gone, the peasant dress, the peasants. No more white blouses and gaiters and big red berets. Instead modern ladies strolled along artificial promenades and leaned against metal railings on the roof of the casino. An American, son of one of those thousand Basque men, who had emigrated to South and North America for their fortunes, had returned to Escual- daritz to beautify his father's homeland, a la Buenos Aires, a city, beautiful it is true, but not equal to the Basque conception of beauty. Escualdaritz was no more. Eaux Belles was there in its place. ' john Henderson Neil Maclean put up at a shepherd's cot in the neighbourhood, and was told the story of Edmond Pireda, as he munched his sheep's milk cheese. Edmond had been a fine youth, a shepherd like mine host, strong of limb, pleasant of face, and with a rare turn at the Basque trumpet, with its long winding throat. He had married a pretty girl, Lucille, the daughter of the richest cattle owner in the district. It' was a good match for him, they had said, but though he adored her, he was not happy. She had travelled, been to Paris. But it was worse when the American came. He had money and ruined her husband. Pireda was jailed for assault and some theft. The American had married his divorced wife and now the shep- herd wandered in the hills. But today was the great fete and cattle mart at Hasparren, and every red bereted peasant in the village was there, except mine host. He had injured his ankle climbing up the path to le beau pre. Maclean decided to visit this meadow. It was the only thing left to paint. Seated on a rock, all day he painted. Screened by a clump of pine saplings and with his back against a slab of the fine, pink marble, exported since Caesar's day, he worked away, a splendid landscape growing upon his canvas. A large field of flowers set in a fold of the hills, several tons of rock dotted with innumerable blossoms bloomed on that thin top-soil. To the left were the snow- capped peaks, 10,000 feet high, of the Spanish border. To the right, green earth gave way to bright blue sky. Eaux Belles, in all its grossness, seemed far away. A flower moved unduly-but was it a flower? A red beret, a peasant, was there, had been all day, as he worked, thought Maclean. All the rest were at Hasparren. Twilight fell. A thousand garish lights sprang up in the casino. The man started and knelt down, fingering something. The watcher leaned forward. Suddenly, there was smoke and a great explosion. The man recoiled on the edge of the cliff. The meadow moved. Swiftly Maclean reached out and tried to seize him while, with rumblings and crashing of rocks, the lights in the town below went out, wreathed with meadow flowers. Red beret followed, stark of face, down the deep and empty cleft. Luc1lle! TEACHING STAFF Back row-M. L Wntwistle, B.A. N. C. Anderson, B.A. C. K. Bluett, B.A. C. S. Buck, M.A. E. O. Hall, M.A. C. McCallum, B.A. J. B. West, M.A., W. E. Shales, M.A., B. Paed. C. W. Maddeford, M.A. W. E. XVebb, B.A. Third row-W. H. Adamson, M.A. Grace Armstrong, B.A. Ethel-UM. Rymill, Eleanor McCormick, B.A. Edith Edge, Mary Macpherson, B.A. Frances Wiancko, M.A. Marian Henderson, B.A. Catherine Mackmnon, M.A. Second row-Margaret Thomson, B.A. Antoinette Gilles, B.A. Frances Gibson, Audrey A. Webster, Katharine Morrison, B.A. Madaline Roddick, B.A. M. Louise Wyatt, B.A. Mat,-:ie McKee, B.A. Dorothy McCann, B.A., B. Paed. Jessie O'Neil, B.A. D. H. Carr, B.A. Front row-E. 0. Liebner, B.A. A. A. Affleck, B.A. W. C. Johnson, B.A. Principal E. A. Miller, M.A. J. P. S. Nethercott, M.A.. N. R. Gray. B.A. J. H. Cameron.

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54 THEREVIEW Qu Slang LANG is a language in itself. Contrary to the common belief, it is not a modern means of expression, but has been used for centuries. Who knows whether Columbus, when he saw the far off distant shores of America was not heard to remark, As I live, by golly-land! ? Shakespeare originated many slang phrases which we use today-for example, You egg! You do not mean to insinuate that the person addressed by this epithet in any way resembles an egg, but you are merely expressing in the modern way that he arouses in you contempt land derision. It would be interesting to notice how much slang enters into our everyday speech. There is hardly a sentence said which does not contain some colloquialisni or form of slang. It is prob- ably an idea which could not be as well expressed in any other words-for instance, it would sound absurd to hear a person say lVas that not a rugby game worthy of our most profound interest, when one can say with much more effect, VVow, wasn't that a pip of a rugby game! Slang forms so important a part in our daily lives that we do not realize we are using it. It is like another language. The two languages might fl Barbara 'ferment be put under the categories of Formal and Informal. The first is the proper, elegant, grammatically cor- rect use of English, the other is colloquial, informal, unceremonious. Each has its place in :the world, but should be kept as far apart as the North Pole from the South. While meeting the Prince of Wales, one would not slap him familiarly on the shoulder and exclaim, Hi-ya Prince! and next moment use a stilted speech like this, Will you cogis tate for an interval and render me your most valued opinion on the divisibility of the atom? Every language has its own slang. These slang words or phrases come in and go out of fashion on waves of popularity. Often a movie picture will contain a clever saying, and, before long, it is communicated to thousands of people and becomes a standard expression. It may last for a week, perhaps a year, but, sooner or later, it will cease to be used and will become anti- quated, hachneyed, and a bit rusty from hard usage. It is a lamentable fact that nowadays many people do not exercise much care in their mode of expression, but, if after you have given this article the once-over, and have decided it's all wet , just forget it and murmur, Bunk ! 6 9 0 Dyeamland z Bette Hueston Life as ll ls, so arrustomed to be I r A 'N Burdezzed with rare and strife, ',r,f' Vip' 12 !j - , , . V Y V. ll Q 'K Isa Z il somellzzng to be able to dream ,r I V, T .V Il. P .-1 ,, 0 llze a separate zfe. ,ty , p To dwell 'in a world free from all rare ,, I To ivatrh only a rising sun, ' 'y . ' ' To dame and dream in a heazrenly spot 5, l Wlzere peare and rohlevzlment and music are one? I N , I Dreamland-lh.e murmur 0 a lazv stream, iil'-mi. A fir - -WN i , , . . Szmdrevzclzed sands, a foresl green, imp , ,ni . .H . , M.: ,tj h 1.9 tlsyi,-,rgid i, .I The merry note of an azure jay, 3,5ii5,-.1f-rigid i4l Sf ' -H-H Clzfildreh in the woods at play. to 'L ' ' ' 1 I 1 ' 1 i - ll Into eoezzfivzg. . 1, N I X 15:33. !',,i,'-' 1,12 A l'! VW 'Ili-! A . Q -gli!! Dream-dream as you may- For soon the s-1ml1gl1lj1llers away Dreamland- The lflnkle of silzfer guitars, Jlloo-rzladen melody, a chorus of stars- Dream as you may, for long 'ere dawn The illusion 'is faded, the misled oeil drawn. And out ofthe Old a 'new day is born,- Walee-make Peace with the llfornl And though lhere's sorrow and things go awry . Remember lhere's Dreamland -bye and bye. 2nd PUR Poem-