Stratford Central Secondary School - Collegian Yearbook (Stratford, Ontario Canada)

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STRATFORD, ONT.COLLEGIAN, 1937. the little silvery pool in the valley,-the other mountains rearing their peaks skyward in the distance,-a breath-taking spectacle! After resting a few minutes I began the descent. Spying a tiny lake in a sort of pocket part way down the mountain, I headed off to the left. Descending was much easier than climbing and was enjoyable enough except that I wasn't certain now of my directions. I reached the lake and found a path, but accord- ing to my calculations, it led in the wrong direction. The surrounding woods, however, were thick and uninviting, and would soon be impassible in the growing dusk of the evening. Hesitatingly I took the path, and hurried along with pounding heart. A night in those woods would certainly be far from pleasant. And the people at the cottage-I hadn't seen any animals but I had been told-! With these thoughts racing through my mind I sudden- ly came upon a clearing. Hopefully climbing onto a stump I looked about. There down in the hollow just ahead was our lake! With a genuine sigh of relief I pressed on and soon found myself at the cottage. Oh well! It was all in an afternoon's fun! The fishing trips were hardly as exciting but they did provide a taste of adventure. Early one morning or, as it seemed to me, one night, we set out in the car, for the lake was some distance away, loaded with all the para- phernalia of the fishing art. I have been in a few roller coasters in my time, but cer- tainly no ride could compare to this one. The road had been literally hewn out of the moun- tain side only a few months before, and still followed minutely every hump and hollow, ravine and mound of the rocky land's contour. Despite its discomfort, the ride was a pic- turesque one. On each side of the road the thick underbrush had been untouched by the road-makers and from the car window one could see the same dense virgin forest which must have greeted the astonished eyes of the first explorers of the New World. Vivid orange tree fungi and bright red and blue flowers, peered through the closely set trunks of lofty trees, as if to reprimand our disturb- ing their wild solitude. We fished all day but, I confess, my interest lay with the wooded mountain slopes rather than the finny inhabitants of the lake bottom. My success reflected my interest, for nothing but agile little chub would seize my line. My companions fared better, however, and I had the pleasure of examining the anatomy of sev- eral large trout: my job was cleaning the catch before returning home. It was nevertheless pleasant to sit motionless in one of the tiny row-boats and dreamily watch the mist play about the rolling mountain sides in the dis- tance, or to hear the echoing cry of the birds in the woods, or, stirred into action by a mut- tered Ga'dez, from the other end of the boat, reel feverishly at a twitching line, only to land a tiny chub. On our fishing trips we sometimes came upon an old bewhiskered habitant and his wife, living off by themselves, beside some lonely lake, scraping a meagre subsistence from the soil, augmenting it by renting boats in the fishing season and trapping in the long, cold winter. It seemed a queer lonely life, yet maybe, after all, it was just as good as the vain, feverish rush of the city. Two weeks, fit seemed a monthj of this happy carefree life, and then back home. Two weeks to think and dream about for years. I had seen another bit of Canada: more than that, I had seen, and had come to know, some- thing of the vast country of the French Can- adians, which still preserves the sturdy rustic life of the real founders of Canada. CHASING BEAUTY By Annie Adamson, 3.4. Who may hold the stray sunbeam That casts a magic spell Of enchanting mystery In a flowered dell? Who may have the rivulet That glides by shadowed glade, Etched in beauty's mirror, clear As brightest crystal made ? Who may know the fleecy cloud That drifts across the blue, A little bit of heavenly light Reflected on the dew? Who may catch the southern wind That haunts the stirring flowers And softly blends their sweet perfume Throughout the passing hours? Page Twenty-nine

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COLLEGIAN, 1937. STRA TFORD, ONT. A GLIMPSE OF FRENCH CANADA By Kenneth Ingham, 5A. French Canada! The picturesque land of the habitant!! Vague visions of calendar- pictured scenes flashed through my mind. I was to spend two whole weeks at a cottage in the heart of the Laurentides! It was a long journey to Montreal but each view of the great St. Lawrence dispelled any weariness, with its beauty and splendor. The great metropolis of Montreal resembles very much the other great cities of my acquaint- ance. Yet there was a difference. Perhaps it was the bi-lingual street signsg perhaps it was the French printing on familiar bill boards. Or was it the outside staircases? I remember how peculiar it seemed to see whole streets lined with rows of steps. Plain steps, fancy steps, bright steps and drab steps, all led up to small squarish buildings, each with an in- variable peak and ornament on its upper win- dow. But the greatest thrill of my stay in Montreal was seeing the fountain in La Fon- taine Park at night. Never have I seen such beauty of colour and form: myriad jets of water forming all sorts of fantastic and beau- tiful shapes, illuminated by concealed lights from below, radiated, with a curiously beauti- ful diffusion, blending and changing tones of crimson and orange, green and blue, while the surrounding pool reflected the soft transient colours like some scene in fairyland. Next morning we were off for the north. At first the country was fairly flat and the road like a narrow dust-coloured ribbon, Wound in and out among the little French villages with their silver roofed churches and white-washed houses. Then came the mountains. The road became winding and tortuous. Occasionally from a hill top we could catch the most gorg- eous views of tree-clothed mountains and tiny sparkling lakes nestling in the hollows between. Stopping for dinner at a little town along the way, we got a more intimate glimpse of the people. Hearty, talkative, gay, they wel- comed les Anglais warmly and not without curiosity. Is Stratford far from Ottawa? - Are there any Francais there '? They want- ed to know. Shyly we tried out our French, much to the amusement of our hosts. Dinner finished, we started off again and were soon at our destination-a small white- washed log cabin at the foot of one of the slop- ing mountains, right on the edge of a petit lac. For two weeks this was to be our home. Page Twenty-eight It was a fairly out-of-the-way place and I had my time much to myself. The tempera- mental flights of the weather, I greeted with unabated enthusiasm. Today the sun smiles down on the sparkling lake: I go exploring up the mountain, or swimming or rowing. To- morrow the mountains will be festooned with low hanging clouds and I shall go fishing. Each day has its novel experiencesg full to the brim with adventure. I remember particularly one exploring trip. I set out in the early afternoon along the nar- row winding road on my way to the large mountain behind the cottage. Before long I came to a little red and white building beside the road with a tiny belfry straddling its roof. This must be the French school-house! Look- ing through the front windows I saw a pleas- ant little room profusely adorned with wall maps and with Bienvenue in large letters printed rustically on the little square of black- board. There were several pictures of the Christ-child about the room. The desks, each for three children, were high and sloping and the front ones had strings of coloured beads on wires fastened to the desk tops: these were for the little ones, I surmised. It was all very interesting and I only wished that I could have seen the petits of the village sitting behind their desks and going about their school work. I continued along the road for a short dis- tance and then struck out across country to- ward the mountain. At first the rolling fields, with their rock piles and winding rail fences were easily enough traversed. But soon the going became harderg up, up, climbing over rocks in steep gullies, grasping trees and shrubs to get a purchase for the ever stiffen- ing climb, I struggled on. Occasionally the way led down through thickly wooded ravines along a crispcarpet of leaves, darkened by the dense foliage overhead. Then came the real climb. Looking up, I saw a high precipice of reddish moss-covered rock rising up steeply, without warning, from the very forest floor and jutting up over the tree- tops above. With the welcome aid of some small niches in the rock and scattered clumps of evergreen shrubs, I toiled cautiously to the top. There, a glorious' view greeted me. I sat spellbound! The Whole valley spread it- self before my gaze,-the great mountains with their green foothills spreading down to

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COLLEGIAN, 1937. STRATFORD, ONT. VIMY PILGRIMAGE By Josephine Pinner, 3B. This summer, an event of universal interest took place in Canadian history, when the Legion arranged for the transporting of thous- ands of pilgrims to the battlefields in northern France and Belgium where the Canadian sol- diers played such an important part during the Great War. On July 16, 1936, the Montcalm, the Montrose, the Antonia, and the Ascania sailed at fifteen minute intervals from the port of Montreal, followed by the Duchess of Bed- ford which sailed the next day. Various game tournaments, get together parties, and concerts were held during the voyage to sponsor good fellowship amongst the pilgrims. Disembarking at Le Havre, we boarded trains and went to Ypres, Belgium, in time for a lunch consisting of a cold meat course served with several salads, followed by hot meat and potatoes, with cheese for dessert. After this, we were taken on a bus-tour of various ceme- teries and villages in that area, then, to Arras where we were billeted. This part of the coun- try looks very prosperous and is densely popu- lated. The houses are substantial-looking with gabled, tiled roofs, they are decorated with the brightest shades of orange, green, and blue. Every dwelling, even the poorest farm-house, boasts the traditional hand-made lace curtains. Of course, the main objective of the trip was the unveiling of the monument to fallen Canadians, at Vimy. The monument itself, a huge, white marble structure on Hill 145, com- mands a view of Lens, Mt. St. Eloi, Cambrai, and the surrounding industrial district far across the Douai Plains. The ceremony was very impressive, such dignitaries as King Ed- ward VIII, Prince Arthur of Connaught, Hon. Ernest Lapointe, Hon. Philippe Roy, and the President of France being present. The bril- liant array of French soldiers in their horizon- blue uniforms, Scottish regiments, and the various regimental bands added colour, hun- dreds of French gendarmes preserved order among the pilgrims and the French spectators. King Edward proved again and again his ex- tensive popularity by the cheers which greeted him as he moved freely among the pilgrims. The next phase of the pilgrimage was a tour of France. The French people ' every- where received us cordially, and we were officially welcomed by the French president, Monsieur Lebrun, at a reception held in the Hotel de Ville, Paris. Another Paris banquet was at L'Hotel des Invalides, the home of Page Thirty some of the badly wounded French Great War veterans and their families, here our genial host was Marshal Petain. The tables were arranged in rows under the balconies, in the huge courtyard. Some of the French soldiers lowered ropes from their barracks windows, to which some Canadians securely fastened bottles of champagne, which were speedily drawn up and later the empty bottles were let down. There Was' always plenty of liqueurs served at these banquets because water is not generally pure enough to be used as a beverage in northern France. Vin rouge et vin blanc took the place of water with sauterne, cognac lwhich we put in our coffeeb and brandy served with the dessert course, and champagne for the various toasts. Similar banquets were held in Rouen, Blois and Amboise. However, if you are contemplating a trip to France, I would strongly advise you to take along your own cook. In our Paris hotel, for breakfast we had a large cup of strong black coffee and a six-inch long roll of bread. Butter, sugar, salt, and pepper are considered luxuries, and we were counted lucky at our hotel by fellow-travellers because we could get butter and sugar if we knew enough French to be able to ask for them. It was most amus- ing to hear some tea-grannies indignantly demand their tea, for tea is used as a medicinal tonic in France. After considerable prodding by my mother, I used to hesitatingly stammer the magic words du the s'il vous plait. The enlightened waitress would nod her head, Ah oui, madamoiselleu and then rush out to order some tea. For breakfast in Arras, we had half-cooked eggs and bacon, some rolls, and the usual cup of black coffee, which should be diluted with hot milk. France is a country of castles and churches. The castle which I remember best is the Chateau d'Amboise, ancient home of the Duc d'Orleans. Perched high on a hill, with the houses and the buildings of the town of Am- boise clustering around the base, at first sight it appears to be inaccessible. However, after walking over a mile up a winding, ever-rising road, you come to la chapelle Saint-Hubert, built by Charles VIII, during the XV century. This chapel was the place of worship of sev- eral members of the French royal family, not- ably Mary Queen of Scots and Charles V. The chateau gardens are very beautiful, and in its shady woods, ferns grow luxuriantly. A statue has been erected over the grave of