Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

Page 19 text:

A post grad was taking studies. In medicine as well! Other strains of music Were wafted to my ears, They came from a tiny studio Where beset by many fears Elsie Allin gave a lesson To a little boy of ten, Who knew nothing about music. Nor the how and why and when. Her studio so tiny Was above an A. P. store. Just why ril let you imagine, I dare not tell you more. Others in the realms of art Had also found a place, For all around I saw Posters in many a space. Posters done by the light touch Of one who knew art well, ' Twas Bessie Leitch ' s pencil Which made many a picture sell. In a gallery of portraits Where many a face looked down Faces famed and distinguished In some big city or town, I found a scrawl in the corner Of each painting large or small, D. Innis was the artist She had done them all. I found a familiar face As I wandered neath the sun Of burning Egypt old Where among the ruins one, Harriet Perry, did dig For hidden treasures of yore, Bones left by the ancients Who had once lived on that shore. Trotting along as a helper With her nose deep in a book Was our old friend Mary Sharp Who in that tome did look For philosophic words of wisdom With which to spur them on In this famous expedition Held by the Nile ' s green lawn. My vision bore me swiftly Back to a world I knew Where Georgie Golden was playing To a mere thousand or two. Who sat enthralled by the music Drawn from the violin ' s strings Her fame spread ever more widely Indeed she played before kings. Then on a great city paper I found a reporter star The name of Mary Harshaw Had spread both wide and far. All types of scoops she had captured More thrilling they grew each day, Indeeed her reporting instinct Grew in an amazing way. Another in a telephone office Sat daily saying ' ' Hello, She had once attended our College From a city beginning with O. Her name was Janet Aughe, And now her pleasant drawl Came singing over the wires Saying Time ' s Up to all. And then on a lonely prairie I found a wee home in the west, It was the minister ' s manse Which Betty Toone knew best. She had changed her rank and station. Had altered her own name too, Not the only one of our group. Who thought it the thing to do. So passes this glimpse of the future My vision fades and is gone Before me in person are sitting The Seniors in cap and gown. We begin a great adventure As we set forth from O.L.C. Our future lies open before us Seniors of ' 33.

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niar Ollaaa f rapijfrg Dorothy Small For I dipped into the future Far as human I could see, Saw the deeds of ' compHshed ladies, Senior grads of ' 33. A vision filled with wonders. Deeds not thought before We left the noble portals, To return, alas, no more. Fourteen forms passed on before me, All of well-known face and name, They had been my worthy classmates. Now they strove to win some fame In varied occupations They had planned in former years When they had been Senior students Beset by many fears. When examination marks Had not as yet been heard. And they stood in fear and trembhng To hear the cheering word. Now the years had gone by swiftly, All these sweet young things of yore Walked down life ' s rose coloured pathway On many a clime and shore. One petite wee maiden, In nurse ' s cap and gown, Was looking after children Whose skins were very brown. Some little Afric infants With tummies big and fat ( ' Twas caterpillar sauce Which made them grow hke that.) The dainty little nurse Who fed them castor oil Was our own Brenda Rich Who in the sun did toil. Working with her bravely In the strange and unknown land Was a lady in the kitchen. Around her head a band Signified her calling. She fed diets to all So no more did little children For caterpillars call. This maiden beaming brightly. Justly was named Miss Bird, For always o ' er the menus Her voice in song was heard. In another foreign country I found a third old friend. On a deep and learned commission A wealthy boss did send His private secretary, Whom we all had known as Ruth. She was fluent in foreign languages Which helped her much, in truth, To copy all orations. Made in words of weighty sound Heard at the League of Nations, When discussions were going around. Another miss abroad. Who for her daily bread. Copied words and words and words, Indeed anything he said. Was Kay Kinman with the swift hand Whose speed ' mazed large and small She copied words down quickly Some words not said at all! And then in old Vienna Where many things are found. In one place from a piano I heard a pretty sound. For under Kay Hadden ' s touch The keys seemed to be alive. Her recital was coming closer, For perfection she did strive. And also in Vienna, ' Though perhaps I should not tell.

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Halpiutorg, 1933 School days! What a lot those two words bring to mind! And when we reali2;e that those days have come all too quickly to an end, with what mixed feelings we look forward to the future! — happy, because we know that the time has come when we may be more active members of our generation, and also because we have all longed to taste life without the ties that bind us in school; sad, because we realize as we look back, the protection and privileges that have been ours, and will be ours no more. For some of us school days have been a part of our lives nearly as far back as we can remember. Whatever we go on to do in University, office, studio or hos ' pital, the training our Alma Mater has given us will always be a firm and sure founda- tion upon which we may build. We have lived here as one family and grown to respect one another through con- stant association and mutual love for our school. We have lived in this stately old building, and we have watched its beauties through the changing seasons. We have roamed freely in these halls, feeling that they belonged to us. Those of us who have experienced more than one year here, have found that each year brings its own gifts and responsibilities. The first year is the year of adjust ' ment, the year of changing old habits for new. In the second year we feel great pride in being Old Girls and know the added responsibilities that come with that title. Then each year brings us into closer relationships with O.L.C. and our school friends. We come to feel that the school festivities are ours. We have enjoyed each term with its own activities together, and now we have come to the end of the last term of the year which has such a special and significant meaning for the Seniors. All of these things have grown to be such a vital part of us that we know we shall never wholly leave them behind. We realize this year that the world is not waiting with open arms to welcome us into its activities. Although sheltered, our college life has taught us to hold responsi- bilities and to face disappointment. Thus we have learned that courage is the thing most needed in life. We have freely received; we must freely give. Our Alma Mater has done many things for us and now we would ask one thing more of her, and of you. Do not forget us! Juniors, next year when you fill our places and improve upon our ways, remember that they were our positions and that we were proud of them. Now in saying goodbye to our Alma Mater, we must also say goodbye to our friends and teachers with whom friendship and association has meant a great deal, especially Dr. Carscallen, our Principal; Miss Maxwell, our Honourary President; and Miss Beer, our class teacher. As we leave let us take with us Keats ' words: A thing of beauty is a joy forever, ' ' and remembering them we may feel assurance in the knowledge that our school days are past merely in the physical sense; spiritually, we will always be students here and our Senior year will not only be a thing of beauty in memory, but a joy forever, as a living inspiration throughout our days. — Mary Harshaw.