Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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SCHOOL DICTIONARY Teacher — One who works us hard and gives us no credit for our labours. Knowledge — A useful thing sadly lacking in some of us. Latin — One of the dead languages, unduly troublesome owing to the fact that it has not been buried. Report — A very terrifying document issued every term, and re- quiring much explanation at home. Joy — A sensation generally noted for its absence when reports arrive at home. Essays — Instruments of torture both to the writer and to the reader. Minute — A period of sixty seconds — just long enough to receive a bad mark in. Detention — Time spent on Wednesday afternoon instead of at- tending the matinee. Awe — That which juniors display (?) toward the Sixth Form. Athletics — That which requires us to rise early and take a cold bath. A.K.— VL ARMISTICE DAY This is the day when but two years ago The great glad news that war was at an end Flashed o ' er the Empire, fallen hopes to mend In lands of tropic heat and lands of snow: Again the church bells ring and whistles blow But with this joy there also seems to blend A thought more solemn; men to defend Their country died with faces to the foe. And yet to consecrate one day for praise Is not enough; by action, word and deed Keep fresh their untold deeds in many ways; Of statues built to honour them we read, But, better still, live nobly all our days; In years to come let service be our creed. M.Y.— VL 23

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SCHOOL ALPHABET A has left us we ' re sorry to say, B gives supplies on every Tuesday, C signs slips behind a closed door, D means an hour spent in room four, E makes us take our baths far too cold, F keeps track of our debts, so I ' m told, G spoils our drawings with infinite care, H only boarders and prefects go there, I causes stains to be scrubbed off on Friday, J must enjoy our tres bon frangais , K is what we came here to get, L is queen of the Fifth Form set, M daily tells us that x equals y, N K.B. we obey and ne ' er ask why? O all clothes with that name you must mark, P their bite ' s not as bad as their bark, 0 we can ' t answer and too often ask, R to explain it — a holiday task. S we actu ' Uy learn from a man, T give bad marks whenever they can. U blows the whistle in basket-ball games. V who wins it never complains. W be careful to hide during gym. X fills us all with joy to the brim, Y is our editor- — she ' ll never grow old, Z is the end and our story is told. R.D. — VL TRAFALGAR GARDEN The garden is large, encircled by a gravel walk; between it and the fence trees and flowers grow plentifully. In 1920 the crowning feature of the garden was the two noble trees, which stood like sentries at each upper corner of the lawn. One was a walnut, the other a chestnut. They are the central figures in many snap-shots taken of the garden, and are well remembered by the old girls who rested in their shade on warm spring days. The old apple tree on the lawn and the small elm near the school will, doubtless, be remembered. In March of 1921, the scene is. entirely different, the flower beds are hidden beneath a half-melted bank of snow and the lawn is a miniature frozen plain with patches of brown, soggy grass just beginning to show. However these changes are not the greatest, for the chestnut and the apple tree have been taken down. Fate has decreed that the lives of the walnut tree and the elm must end. In an ice storm during the winter, they were split and torn and eventually fell to the ground, and will probably come to an unromantic end as fire-wood. The loss of these trees is felt by all who have been in the school for any length of time and who knew and loved them. R.M.— IV.A. 22

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FIRE-DRILL IN THE HOUSE Deep silence reigns. Not a whisper — not a single stealthy footstep is heard throughout the house — nothing but quietness, still as the tomb. Each form lies, stretched on the bed — waiting — expectant — but wordless. Dressing-gowns are draped on the backs of chairs; slippers are placed in two exact geometrical planes by the bedside. Dainty boudoir caps lie beside them, while eiderdowns are rolled in con- venient, but uncomfortable bundles on the feet of each sleeper. Not a stir — not a word. Suddenly — hark! — the strained atmosphere is broken by a harsh clanging sound. But once it sounds; comes a hush; then pande- monium bursts forth. Flying forms leap from their couches, shoes are donned, usually on the wrong feet, so that much valuable time is lost — gowns follow, hanging on one arm and trailing behind, and lastly, with much accuracy and precision, comes the dainty cap. At last, all is ready. Each eager figure rushes to the corridor. Stop! w hat was that! Ah, yes! And all dive back once more to retrieve the forgotten eiderdown. Two orderly lines hurry down- stairs, each person impeded by the dangling gowns, and the ends of the eiderdowns, hung toga-like about the shoulders of those in front. The open air is reached. The fresh breeze of evening revives twenty-eight drooping souls — and twenty-eight weary sighs strike the tingling stars. In tense voices the rolls are called — none missing- — no casualties; all is well; all are safe. The figures having so bravely rescued them- selves, trudge ofi to each deserted cot. Fire-drill is over. M.H.S.— VL NIGHT I SEE thee coming, silent Night, Across the darkening sky, Silvery moonbeams for thy light. As twilight ' s shadows die. Thy dusky tresses poppy wreathed Entwined upon thy brow. The sleepy scent which twilight breathed, But who fast sleepeth now. The little flowers which thou madest sleep. Each one with golden dream. And drowsy world in slumber deep While thou, Night! reign supreme. F.W.— V. 24