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

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COLLEGIAN, 1937. Leonardo da Vinci, famous Italian painter who lived and died at Amboise in 1519. Part of the chateau proper is used as a home for des- cendants of the servants of the royal family who once lived here. In one of the upper storeys is that grim hall of death where many of the Huguenots were condemned to death, after which they were marched outside to the balcony and hanged from its iron railings, several hundred feet above the roofs of the buildings in the lower town. You may enter the moss-covered tower through a tiny door and follow the descending, spiral road to fin- ally arrive at one of the main streets of Am- boise. There are two such towers with interior winding roads. Then there is the famous Peace Palace, at Versailles, with its magnifi- cent fountains and beautiful parks. The long central hall is lined with life-size statues of the famous men and women of France as well as members of the royal family. Upstairs we saw rooms filled with huge oil-paintings, por- traying important military and naval battles. The personal suite of Louis XIV is truly grand. The walls are covered with finely worked tapestries or oil paintings, as are the chairs and stools. The bed in which this monarch slept is very large and has a huge silk-and-gold tapestry canopy and spread. The suite of Marie Antoinette, his ill-fated queen, is even more beautiful. The famous hall of mirrors is the most beautiful of the various ballrooms as its walls are in reality huge mirrors, divided into sections, which can be opened by releas- ing a hidden spring. The crystal chandeliers reflect the sunshine, producing a rainbow effect. This palace also houses the table on which the world-famous Peace Treaty was signed, at the close of the Great War. A trip to France would not be complete without a visit to Rouen, and the ancient site of Joan of Arc's tragic martyrdom. In the market square, where she was put to death, a white marble monument has been erected, showing her, a cross in her hands tied to the stake, with the flames curling up around her. One of the oldest Rouen cathedrals, begun in 1500, is named by its tower-the Butter Tower. It was so named because at that time butter was a luxury and could be purchased only from priests. The church tower was built from the proceeds of the sale of butter. Inside, this church contains the remains of seven English kings, one of them being Rich- ard, Coeur de Lion. Another magnificent church has, in its tower, a huge mellow bell called the Jeanne d'Arc. The front door of STRATFORD, ONT. this church, finished in 1785, is of solid oak carved with millions of tiny heads. During the strife with the Huguenots, they cut the noses off of all these statues, believing that they could thus inflict injury on the persons represented by the figures. It is an old established custom to joke about the tightness of the Scotch people, but certainly the average Frenchman exceeds the Scotch in thriftiness. A French farmer will produce as much on his tiny farm as a Cana- dian would produce on his acres of farm land. They never waste anything which can be used, and, in the former war area, many farmers have used old scraps of sheet metal salvaged from the ruins of billets and also barbed wire used on the battlefields. We found it difficult to follow the French method of telling the time as the clock goes from one to twenty-four o'clock. After twelve noon, the time, instead of being one o'clock, is thirteen o'clock, and so on. The stores are very modern, many of them having variously coloured sheets of cel- lophane inside of the glass window. The French monetary system is easily Lmderstood, but everything is quite expensive. In the large railway stations, in Paris, the incoming and outgoing trains are announced in both French and English, through a loud-speaker, a great aid to travellers. Many of the trains leaving Paris are highly stream-lined, much faster, and much cleaner than our trains. Evidence of general prosperity is apparent both in France and in England, and in spite of the rumors of war that we hear, the people seem to be happy and industrious. TWILIGHT By Doris Lane, CIA. When twilight passes slowly by, And little birds homeward fly, Children tucked in their cosy bed, Soon to them the world is dead. Silently o'er the sleeping earth The large moon crept Lighting the tiny berth Wherein two children slept. Guardian angels o'er them watch Until the morn draws nigh When the sun shall rise and take The moon's place in the sky. Page Thirty-one

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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

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COLLEGIAN, 1937. STRATFORD, ONT. Prize Sfmfiey OUT OF THE GLOOM Senior Prize Story By Jessie Holmes, l,A. Darkness was just beginning to fall through the small door of the chemist's shop. Mr. Chandler reached for the cord of the light. There, he murmured, that's better! and looking at his watch he said, Just about six but I guess I'd better stay for a few minutes. For fifteen years Mr. Chandler had owned a little drug store on St. James Street in Mont- real. He had bristling grey hair, deep, grey eyes, a broad face and a firm, wide mouth. He was not too short and not too tall, but just the right height to reach the third shelf, behind the counter. Mr. Chandler took a newspaper from under- neath the counter. Taking his glasses from his pocket, he perched himself on a high stool and began to read. The tiny bell, above the door, tinkled and a tall, young man walked in. He was wearing a shabby brown overcoat. Under his brown fedora and turned up collar, Mr. Chandler saw the fine features of a boy, not yet out of his twenties. Mr. Chandler dropped his paper and jumped up, knocking over the stool in his haste. Good day, sir, he said, and what can I do for you? It's lucky you came in just now, I was thinking of going home. The boy looked up and said, rather gruffly, I'd like two drams of vitriolf' Oh! yes, yes, said Mr. Chandler. He took down the big gallon jar and care- fully and slowly poured the liquid, through a funnel into a small blue bottle. He put a label on the bottle marked, Sulphuric Acid. All the while, he talked to the young man. Weather's not too good, is it? Those March winds certainly take the breath out of you. But if you keep bundled up and tie down your hat, you'll hold out. The young man said nothing. He just stood, staring into space. But, continued the druggist, I guess you young people never notice the weather in your rush. You've got so much on your minds. You're always on the go. Still the young man said nothing, but he did Page Thirty-two look at the man and try to show a little more interest. Say, said Mr. Chandler, I was just read- ing in to-night's paper, where a young man went home from work with a present for his wife's' birthday. When he got there, wasn't his wife dead! She had been electrocuted, when she touched a light plug with wet hands. Left three little children too. Seems a pity, but I guess things like that just have to be. By this time the young man was getting a little impatient. He said sharply, I wish you'd hurry. After all, I know what the weather is like and I do read the paper occasionally. Sorry, sir, said Mr. Chandler, I was just trying to be friendly, seeing that you're my last customer for the day. Here's the bottle. You'd better handle it pretty carefully. You have to sign for that sort of thing. Kind of dangerous, you know. Just put your name here, he said, indicating the line on a large book. The young man signed the book and paid him. He nodded and walked toward the door. Just a minute, said Mr. Chandler, I might as well walk down the street with you. Wait until I lock up! The young man, not wishing to appear im- polite again, waited patiently by the door, while the druggist put on his coat and hat and turned out the lights. Mr. Chandler locked the door and together, they walked down the windy street. It's just supper time. I'll bet you're near- ly starved, said the druggist. Come on down to Tony's, the little place on the corner, three blocks down. I go there every night alone, but I like company. The young man mumbled something about not being hungry, but he continued to Walk along, beside Mr. Chandler. He seemed to realize it was getting him no where, being un- friendly with this over friendly man. He began to talk a little, but only when he was asked a question. At last, the druggist said. with much dif- ficulty, Son, if I were you, I wouldn't do that. It's a coward's trick. You've still got a large portion of life ahead of you. Keep on living the life that has been given to you. The young man lowered his eyes' and said