Selwyn House School - Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR 1959-1960 29 WOODLAND SONG He sits upon a woodland bough, Singing merrily. Sweet are the sounds that from him flaw, Singing merrily. Through the frosted evening air He sings as if without a care. His echoing song in the listening night Enchants the snowflakes in their flight- Singing merrily. He stays until the stars come out, Singing merrily. From the shadowy branch where he sits throughout, Singing merrily. He charms the hovering hawk of night To hark to him in the fading light. He sings to the stars and the ebbing tide: He humbles the very mountainside- Singing merrily. David Walker, Form V THE DEAD HOUSE People say that areas of mountain and barren moor cannot support large populations. ln this, oddly enough, they are wrong, in tracts of land like the Scottish highlands great populations used to exist off the land and in spite of hardship managed to survive. The younger generation, however, seeking the social amenities of the outer world, have left the crafts of their forefathers. Life in the crafts was hard, but homely, only by co-operation was it worthwhile. The heart was willing, and the life was free from interference. These crofters lived off what they could obtain from the sail by hours of tail and patient labour. This was usually sparse fare, so they grazed sheep on the surrounding moors to help them live. Until about a hundred years ago, there was no outside source of food, but with the increase of transport a profitable trade in wool grew up round the crafts. Even so the people were poor, and in many cases the very walls of the crafts were built of turf, cut by hand, or else of local stone. Fish and fowl were in some cases a staple diet, though the moors were windswept and the burns and lochans supplied only a few trout. Goats were kept for their milk and cheese, also, these grazed with the sheep. The crafts are disappearing, leaving great tracts of habitable land uninhabited. The herbage, once cultivated, is going wild or being choked out. Soon, of over two hundred crafts, there may remain only two or three at most. The rest will not even leave a mark to show where they existed. Why are they being abandoned? They are dreadfully lonely, far from good roads, and the life is very hard. Loneliness in winter, particularly, is the main reason, for the crofter has few means to drive away the feeling of solitude by amusement, especially when he is snowed up with a bitter gale blowing round his croft. This makes

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28 SELWYN HOUSE SCHOOL MAGAZINE SONG OF THE TREASURE-SEEKER l've wandered over many a foreign land, Searching for that which Nature has in store. l've heard Niagara's foam-flecked waters roar: l've been from Abadan to Samarkand. I've seer the Yellow River and l've heard The kookaburra with his harsh voice call. I've seen a toad held in a python's thrall, A hindu tread on fire-coals undeterred. What have I found, though I have searched Tibet, Though I have trod the Asian iungles deep, And seen the dens where dragons used to sleep, And wandered westward till the sun has set? ln poverty oft, in trouble, fear and pain, Full three-score years in wanderings have l lost, But won a glorious hoard, worth all the cost- The memories that only wanderers gain. David Walker, Form V SKIING ADVICE You're zooming down the skiing slopes Your legs are hanging from the roof At near the speed of sound, Attached by hooks and string. And as you hear a shout behind, Your head is very, very sore, You chance to look around. Your arm is in a sling. ln front of you there is a tree, To all of you, who like to ski, You hit it going fast. And understand this verse, And as you wake in hospital, Try not to go as fast as sound, Around you is a cast. Or else you'Il need a hearse. Q P. Webster, Form IV THE SHIP From distant Araby came the ship, Laden with riches and spices for Royalty, Riding on giant waves came the ship, Driven onward by men of great loyalty. The Captain and crew all shared the same dream, As homeward they sailed with their cargo so rare, When from out of the south and on the port beam, Black storm clouds approached as the decks were made bare. With such fury and force the wind did it blow, That the masts were torn down and the sails washed away. The crew met their deaths in the depths down below As the ship disappeared in the mountainous spray. The moral is this: that dreams of great wealth Can bring ruin to men and to widows much sadness, For great riches can hardly compare with good health, And 'tis the simpler ioys often bring greatest gladness. J. Birks, Form V

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30 SELWYN HOUSE SCHOOL MAGAZINE them, above all things, a religious and friendly folk, but it also makes it a life hard to endure even if left for a day, occasionally, for the ioys of city life. Populations have always shifted, but each and every move leaves behind the Dead House, that testimony of an abandoned way of life. I know a heathery moor. There stands a lonely cottage by a wind-torn cart-track. Withered, scarred and ruined, it daunts the fiery tempest. Often have I paid my respects to this Sine Nomine, the wind shrieking and howling, whistling with a spectral voice among the hills, lashing the rain against my face in a thundering roar, or with a Scotch mist hover- ing. Even in bright sunlight the wind-scarred croft, its windows shattered, is an awe-inspiring sight. The onlooker is overwhelmed at the thought of the courage of those who lived there in the lonely heart of the highlands. A cold and misty sense of solitude surrounds it, even in summer, and in winter the overpowering hills, with swirling mists enwrapping them and the loud winds rushing round them, close in its isolation. No wonder people living under such conditions believed in bocain and ghosts, for the atmosphere is very ghostly. The cold and clammy craft, with the haunting mists enshrouding it, would not be the chosen place of refuge except for very hardy people. These crofts are truly dead. Nobody will return to them, and even the nettles of the hillside know it, for they stand like sentinels over the Grave, round the little plots that were once gardens. The mildewy scent, like a bitter frankincense, further encourages the thought of death, but the little buildings, built low as a protection against the tearing wind, have still some years to stand before they crumble, and meanwhile moss and grass take their places in the crevices of the storm-rent walls. Such is the ultimate doom of all such places. As human life moves away to the more fertile valleys and far-off cities, wild nature resumes its sway. David Walker Form V MODERN ADVERTISING l froze with terror as the ice pick found its mark in the victim's back. My eyes blurred with excitement as the hero lay there in desperate need of help. Before I could recover from the tense drama, I heard those familiar words and now a word from our sponsor. Making a speedy exit, I dashed to the refrigerator, grabbed a sandwich and a drink, and, rushing back, learned that Players cigarettes had a new shock-proof box. Tapping my fingers and toes impatiently and changing channels to compare commercials, I began to count and pace the room to help the long seconds pass quicker. Most likely the same instance has confronted you, at some time or another. We are all guilty of changing channels, looking into the ice-box instead of the idiot-box , or even turning off the television, during a commercial. The advertisers believe that too many viewers miss their advertisements, and so they have cunningly placed them at unsuspected moments throughout the program. Modern advertisers know that a commercial must appeal to the T.V. audience for the audience to bear with it till its end. Two such samples are: Bathing- beauties, which attracts the male audience and money flashed across the screen, which attracts almost everybody. Recently famous celebrities have been used to endorse certain products. With the coming of the VIII Olympic Winter Games, Lifebuoy was named the official soap of the U.S. Olympic team, Vaseline Lip-ice was the teams official protection from chapped lips, and The Renault Dauphine was the official car of the Olympics, lthough I cannot think what that exactly meansl. So don't be surprised if one evening the Prime Ministers face appears on your screen asking you if you suffer from tired blood , and tells you that Geritol is what you need. If you are one of the many millions who despise com- mercials, there is but one sure cure-go to sleep! M. Rawlings, Form V