Toronto Teachers College - Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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0 lnX M5177 Zeb - . K 'ro P.oN'ro NQRMAL s cl-loql,-ylsggz Boo Sprilzg Literary Exefzzffife Front Row-j. Parkinson, G. Ferguson lYiCe-Presb, M. Willis CSGQJ. Mr. Whyte, IC. Sparling 1Prcf.l, Miss Young, .-X. Tziylor 4Trcuf.m D. McDuff. M. Cranston. Bark Row-A. M.. MacKinnon, H. Scott, E. Wren, B. Coker, F. Emmerson, H. Holmes. .-lbserzt-Mr. Kendrick. Puga Tizcclzffx'-'fi1'C

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Il A 511177 cz :l'i'FtON'l' 0 Non-MALS-c-I-pool YEAI3 B-0-0-K SPRING LITERARY SQCIETY Hlf Literary Society elected as chief of their Spring Executive, Ernest Sparling, a very worthy recipient of the honour thus con- ferred on him by his fellow students. As his co-workers, the follow- ing officers were chosen: Graham Ferguson as Yice-President, Anson Taylor as Treasurer and Mary Willis as Secretary. At the first meeting of the second term, Mr. Whyte presented the Literary Society trophy, emblematic of the best program of the previ- ous series and chosen by a popular vote of the student body, to the Kindergarten Primary students. Form YI received honorary mention. We were then entertained with selections by the Humbercrest Public School Orchestra under the leadership of Mr. Waite, who is a graduate of the Toronto Normal School, It was indeed a privilege for us to hear this fine school organization, as they gave excellent evidence of what can be accomplished by very young musicians under capable leadership. For this program, each form had been requested to contribute a number. Form l was represented by Bill Maffey and Ted Edwards, who rendered a brilliant piano duet. An entertaining dramatization of Russell Lowell's The C'11111'ti11' was enacted by members of Form YI. The Stlfctrv-l i1'.tt T1'ai11, an amusing skit for a junior Red Cross l'rogram, was Form Vs contribution. Miss Florence Nightingale, of the K.l s., whose charming soprano voice we were always glad to hear, sang an old favourite, clllllll' to flu' Fair. The concluding number was a humorous play by Form IY. Form Ill prepared the next program and what a splendid ex- hibition of their ambition and versatile talent it was! ln keeping with the approaching Festive Day, the first of their program consisted of Irish songs and an lrish jig done in appropriate costumes. An enjoyable Parody, The !llc1'fl11111l 111111 V1'1111s3 a paper of assorted con- tents read by Olive Bassett and a delightful Fantasy by Oliphant Brown, The ,llz1kc1' of D1'f'11111.s constituted the remainder of the pro- gram. We also appreciated their printed programs. Page T'iUL'llf'V-fllltl' On March the 19th we had one of the most memorable occasions of the year when Stratford Normal School were our guests at the annual Literary At Home . This event is described for you on an- other page of this book and need not be repeated here. Following the Easter Holidays, the first program was conducted by Mr. Patterson for the destribution of prizes in the bird-house building contest. We were certainly amazed at the degree of per- fection which this contest has inspired as we gazed at the results arrayed before us on the platform. Skill in Manual Training, cor- related with an accurate knowledge of natural history, seemed to be two essentials in the successful erection of bird-houses. Several prominent educational men who are interested in this nature project participated in the presentation of the prizes. Mr. Stuart Thompson of the Toronto Field Naturalists Club, was present to assist in this capacity. He also entertained us with some interesting information about some of our native birds and with his very realistic imitations of bird calls. There remain but a few fleeting weeks in which to complete our course of teacher-training within these walls. and it may be that, in those crowded days, we shall find time for the assembling of our- selves in the name of the Literary Society. From day to day I hear remarks that must have re-echoed time and again within these halls of learning at this season of the year: How soon will it all be over?l' How the year has down! The memories of these happy days will be enduring and not the least among these memories will be those of activities of the Literary Society. To Members of the Staff, who are ever ready to help and advise us, to the representatives of each form, whose services are so valuable, and to all who have worked to make the Literary Society a success, we wish to express our sincerest gratitude. JI. ll'il!i.v.

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She was alone took- except for grandfather, Very soon, there They exch Prize Story E V E N I N G S T A R A. Strickland Rosemary stood playing in the dusk as she had every evening since she could remember. Under her skilled little hands, the violin wailed and sobbed. Grandfather would be asleep in a moment or two. He always fell asleep after an hour or so of Rosemarys playing. He was nodding now. There was one lock of white hair tumbling over his forehead. It might waken him. Rosemary trailed her music to a conclusion. She tip-toed across the roomg lifted that lock of hair gin- gerly and smoothed it back. Then she scampered madly over the rocks to the sea. Silhouetted against a sky of Chinese blue, towered one lone rock. .Xbove it. gleanied the evening star. Even when the sky was lit with thousands of tiny stars, like the sparks of a giant sky rocket, Rose- mary always knew the evening star. It was dull gold. The others were glittering silver. Rosemary perched on the rock with the waves dashing into spray at her feet. The evening star twinkled far up in the blue. Rosemary loved it best. She was sure it was lonely all by itself in the great blue sky. The others came out in twos and threes. it was always alone. wouldnt even be grandfather, for Rosemary was twelve now. She was In be sent away to High School. Every one in the village predicted that no good could come of it. But it could make little difference. for Rosemary had always been queer. She would sit by the hour on that rock, her chin cupped in her hands, her eyes staring far out to sea. She invented the wildest games and strangest stories for the village children. But as they grew older, the children became wary of her make-believe. To-day, with the sea roaring about her, the child felt that in all the world only she and the evening star had always been alone. Three weeks later, Rosemary sat in the Collegiate schoolroom, her chin cupped in her hands. The class was massacring Macbeth after the usual fashion of Literature classesvall except the girl who was Lady Macbeth. She had chestnut hair and slanted blue eyes, which even at thirteen displayed a good deal of the cynic. She whipped forth the lines Inform of purpose give me the dagger! The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. 'Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil. Page Twerziy-six The class listened with a shiver of genuine admiration. Rosemary thoughtg HI believe she'd do it too . Rosemary grew to idolize jane. She watched her till she could tell exactly how she would laugh, shrug or arch those wicked little eyebrows. Janes conversation scintillated. Her answers came like the crack of a whip. She was never without an answer. One evening, she and Rosemary walked home together. It was not the way that Rosemary should have gone home: but she went miles out of her way weekly to be with Jane. It was raining a fine silver spray: but, neither of them cared for that. When Jane left, Rosemary leaned against the little bridge at the top of the hill and watched her out of sight. It was thus Rosemary remembered her years afterwards- in her green tam and slicker, her chestnut curls flying in the wind and rain. Jane never looked back. Then, followed four years. For four years, they hiked together in Spring for May Bowers: they hung over the bridge by the brook and exchanged confidencesg they sat in the moonlight on the old porch with their hrst dates. And at the end of the four years they parted. anged books on the last day. Rosemary inscribed her gift sentimentally, 'fOnce a friend always a friend, or, what is life for? jane, thinking of Rosemarys worship laughed a little cynically as she scribbled ffAnd in me there dwells no greatness save perhaps it be that far-off touch of greatness to know well I am not great. Jane promised to write. Rosemary gazing at the evening star, knew she never would. She never did. 'lf Pk His bk They both became rather famous. Rosemary read of Janes stories and hunted out her old relics and snaps. After an hour or so of mem- ories she would sigh and put them away. Once again, Rosemary like the evening star was alone. jane used everyone for her own ends till they ceased to be of use. Then, she forgot them. She was alone, too, but she explained it half-bitterly- Down to Gehenna or up to the throne, he travels fastest who travels alone. One night, she read that Rosemary had become engaged to Peter L-. Jane laughed a little wryly for Peter was next on her list of necessary conquests. She need- ed him for background. Continued on page 88.