Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

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16 VOX COLLEGl 1 became curious to learn something of this strange place so leaving my better half to smoke a languid and solitary pipe or so, I set out into the deepening twil ight. Presently, attracted by the flickering light of what later proved a bonfire, I came to the centre of the town — what in our country vould be termed the market- place — and beheld a strange and inter- esting spectacle. A huge bonfire flamed in the centre of a large open space. Na- tives huddled in various attitudes of re- spectful attention clo.se beside it, while standing in their midst a tall and impos- ing figure spoke rapidly in a high and powerful voice, accompanying its re- marks by vigorous and emphatic gesti- culations. I listened in awed silence for a few minutes, then suddenly realized an astounding fact. The speaker was em- ploying what sounded very niucli like my own native tongue! I drew nearer and looked inteiitly at the central figure of this strange group, and tliis is what I saw : — A tall, angular woman of perhaps fif- ty years of age dressed in severe high- necked long-sleeved l)laek, with iron-gray hair pullecl tightly back from an intel- lectual forehead. Steel-rimmed spec- tacles upon an haughty, high bridged nose, grey eyes which snapped and shoiie with a zealous bi-illiance which rivalled the. fire itself and an earnest, emphatic manner, which seemed to be holding the natives ' attention even against their wills. As I listened to the impassioned avcU- chosen flow of words it became apparent that the missionarv (for such she un- doubtedly Avas) was conducting a class in Bible Study with a zeal and capaliil- ity which bespoke long practice. Then as I gazed with ever increasing interest and respect the compelling voice ceased, the piercing eyes became fixed in a stare of utter astonishment and I realized all at once that I had imconsciously stepped into the firelight and now stood in full view. Before I could draw back into the shadows and retreat I heard my name called in a tone which suddenly awoke long-sleeping memories, the missionary came forth with outstretched hands and 1 fell into the arms of my old class-mate Fern Colbome. After the first rapturous greetings were over I asked Pern all the ' ' How ' s, whys and wherefore ' s and she told me in a few brief words. It seems that she had begun to feel that she had a special gift for teaching Bible Study while yet a student at 0. L. C, and had ofter held inspiring classes in her room on Lower Frances — to the veiy great benefit of lier school- mates. This faculty had increased aft(;r she graduated in 1920 and had finally caused her to leave home and friends lie- hind her in the interests of her high cal- ling and seek the wilds of Africa as h(. ' r field of endeavour. She had finally leaehed this little inland town had met, converted and married the Mayor and was now continuing her good work with rapidly gi ' owing success. Beatrice Gerrie. In 1930 while motoring through one of the large cities of Italy, my attention was aiTested by a woman sitting by the side of a hvirdy-gurdy. She was dressed in the native garb of the Italian and ad- orned from head to foot in bright col- oured beads. She was singing a lullaby to an infant who was screaming at the top of its lungs and it was impossible to tell which was making the more noise. But loud as the voice was it sounded strangelv familiar to me. At the other side of the hurdy-gurdy stood a big, black, formidable looking Italian who bellowed at the -girl to hurry and get the child quiet so that he could play the organ. When the first song failed to soothe the child the mother tried another which I recognized with amazement to be Mr. Atkinson ' s lullaby which I had not heard since leaving College. My curiosity was aroused even beyond fear of the terrible looking Italian and I determined to find out who this Italian woman Avas. This was not such a diffi- cult thing to do as I had expected, for as she raised her big black eyes to m-

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vox col: private room, and I felt myself drawn away, following her imposing form as if it were a magnet. There was a large ex- panse of black satin gown of the style which made one wonder if it had been fashioned on Madame or if Madame had been poured into it in a liquid state and hardened there — on investigation I de- cided it must have been the former as even the most vivid imagination could not picture Madame melted. When within the fitting compartment I had a better chance to view my com- panion, as she bustled about bringing out one vision of beauty after another. I was very silent and observed her thoughtfully. Where had I seen that generous form and face before 1 The face I studied carefully, and through the dis- guise of a New York complexion I dis- cerned a resemblance to an old school- mate of mine. How well did I remem- ber that Senioi Party so many years ago — when my classmate, Jessie Buck- ingham, so capably fitted upon me a gomi of paper. My courage rose — Madame, I began — Did you ever attend Ontario Ladies ' College? She smiled slightly, in a blase manner — then probably realizing she might do damage to the carefully arranged coun- tenance, quickly resumed her former face. Indeed yes, she replied — It Avas in those days that I received the inspira- tion to establish the world-renouiied ' ' Snappy Dressers. But that must have been long after your time. Here she gave her marcelled straw-colored hair a complacent pat with be-ringed fingers and glanced coolly at my gray hairs. I felt them increase tenfold in that mom- ent. She resumed her business manner — I resumed my dazed, helpless feeling — it even increased as time went on imtil T found myself on the street in front of The Snappy Dressers minus $500 plus a new dress which I have since lack- ed courage to don. I heaved a sigh — Jassie never had such taking ways in her school days. Catherine Burwash. In 1930 while on a tour through Lon- don, Eng., my eyes caught sight of huge posters which appeared to be advertising a world-renowned circus. As we were all out just for a pleasure trip, we became quite interested in the bill, so slowed our ear in front of one of the advertisements to find out in more detail what it miglit be. It proved veiy thrilling so we pro- cured tickets at the nearest store and im- mediately proceeded to the circus grounds. Throngs of people were crowding the gateway and appeared to be making their way towards a tent at tlie other end of the grormds. On approaching we found it to be a throwing contest — 3 throws for 5c. On closer investigation the tall pereon — (I could see that she was tall by the sha.dow through the tent) — seemed very familiar to me. The balls were flying rapidly with only a second to spare but the face which was very thin and pointed, dodged just as quickly. Well, I watched for fully fifteen minutes and still could not discover where I had seen that face before, but all of a sudden a memory of O.L.C. came across my mind, and a story which one of the girls, Catherine Burwash, had told me in my college days, of how it was her greatest amlntion to have a position like this. She must have seen me and got excited, for the next ball that was thrown hit her square on the nose, so that she was un- able to continue for at least 30 minutes. I raced behind the tent and managed tO ' speak to her for a few minutes, and Avas so glad of the opportunity. We hope that Catherine will have every success in her chosen calling, and that some-day she may be leader of such a AA ' onderful band. Fern Colborne. In 1950 while touring the East on my third honeymoon I had occasion to spend the night in a small Central-African vil- lage; an extremely remote and uncivil- ized place, but interesting none the less. After having partaken of a meagre and not too appetizing evening meal I

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vox COLLEGll 17 T recognized my old friend Beatrice Ger- rie. Jeannette Higginbotham. June, 1935. Dear Bea: — Such a surprising thing happened to- day. I was motoring throu ' gh a wild, mountainous part of British Columbia and our car broke down so we made our way to the nearest farm house for shel- ter. The farm house was neat and modest looking. On the verandah was a baby in a carriage, and a little girl gently rocking it. We rap pod upon the door and a smiling faced little boy answered and politely bade us enter and be seated. The I ' oom seemed very homelike and the odor of Irish stew and Johnny cake pen- etrated our nostrils. Shortly the door was opened by a stout, matronly woman who was clad in a neat gingham house dress, covered with an allover kitchen apron. Our eyes met ; a glad smile of recognition lighted both our faces ; and Bea, who do. you think this husky farm- er ' s wife was! None other than our old friend Jeannette Higginbotham. Jean- nette has changed in many ways. The first thing I noticed was her hair; for in place of her beautiful marcel and puffs was a tight knob on the top of her head. But later, when she seiwed lunch, the old-fashioned stew and cake gave place to her girlhood fancies, such as lady fingei ' S, croquettes, almond wafers and charlotte russe. Jeanette has only six children, but they are hale and hearty little creatures. I was so pleased to find Jeannette so happy in her rural life, and she surely makes a good wife for her husband and a capable mother to her little brood. I knew you would be interested in Jean- nette and also surprised to hear of the extraordinary change in career and girl- ish desires. As Ever Your Friend, May. Margaret McIntyre. In 1940 Avhile motoring through St. Guilomme, Quebec, the ear suddenly stopped in front of a large convent. Finding that it would take some time to make repairs, I wandered over to a group of nuns in the convent garden. A low, sweet voice attracted my atten- tion and turning I saw the Mother Su- perior talking to one of the nuns. What was there about that tall, slender figure that seemed so familiar, I wondered. Surely that noble though slightly stern face was one not easily forgotten. Then as she advanced with a courteous ques- tion on her lips I remembered Margaret McIntyre, could it be possible? But as I heard her laugh at my incredulous look I knew for certain who it was. Af- ter talking for some time I gently hinted that I Avould like to hear her story. She hesitated — then said that she had tired of the worldly life she was leading. Men to her were as nothing, so she had sought peace in the convent. Are you con- tented? I asked. Perfectly, she re- plied, and with that I turned and walk- ed back to the car. Dorothy Morden. In 1932 as we were passing the Market Square on • York St., in Hamilton, I heard a familiar voice speaking in the midst of a large gathering. I sought out the vo ' ee and it seemed to be coming from a leader of the Salvation Army. A tall, dark, stern-looking woman, her hair was t ' ght back from her forehead and ears and she had her little finger ciirled up so much you would abnost think it was stationaiy. It was Dorothy Mor- den ! After the meeting I made my way to her, and she was delighted to see one of the ' ' old girls. ' ' She told me she had been leading the Salvation Army for four years and was very much interested in it. Lillian Mulholland. When I was in Philadelphia in 1940 I noticed a huge manulacturing plant on one of the main streets. Mulhol- land ' s Magnificent Sago was prtnted in flaming letters on all four sides. The name sounded very familiar so I inquir-