Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The Spirit of Niagara Gitche Manito, the mighty, . . . .From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning O ' er the precipice plunging downward. — Hiawatha, Longfellow. FIVE HUNDRED years ago I stood there at my wigwam door, and watched — watched my people as they worked and played. I heard the war song and the rumbling of the waters, the cry of wild birds in the gorge below. I saw the day rise, full of hope and smiling; and smiling still I saw her pass away. I watched the night come, dark but not foreboding, lighting a thousand stars and that great, silver lamp, the moon. Into the gorge below the thundering waters fell, white through the darkness as the Milky Way upon the blackness of the Heavens. Then came the dawn again, again the busy day. I watched my people working as before. I watched the frail canoe of bark struggling with the white waters of the cataract; I saw my valiant braves go out to war, with painted bodies and with waving plumes. The harvesters were glean ' ing in the fields, and in my orchards black-haired maidens gathered the ripe fruits of red and gold. By the fire the old squaw dried her winter ' s corn J and a thin blue curl of smoke rose up before the — . wigwam. When the black night returned I heard the weird, wild cry of loons, the strange and mystic songs of maidens by the campfire and ever — as of yore — the thundering roar of great Niagara. To ' day I stood again beside the Falls, and watched. I saw a strange new race of men, pale of face and weak of limb and joyless. I heard no war-cry and no song. Where are the camp ' fire and the wigwam gone? Here in their place I found a city full of noise and hurry, of discord, dirtiness and greed. Who are these people, so unlike my children, who rush back and forth, who push and jostle, and have no time for quiet or for joy? I have sat here a thousand, thousand years and watched, and never tired of watching. Come! foolish white men, leave your town awhile, your busy factories and your clanging railways, and sit upon this cliff and watch the Falls. Watch in the stillness of the twilight while the great red sun, casts his last, manycoloured bow across the mist which rises from the plunging waters. Listen to Niagara ' s mighty roar and hear the screaming of wild birds upon the wind — you could not hear them ' mid your city ' s roar — and know how small you are, how transient and how weak. And then go back, back to your city by the rumbling falls. Strive not so hard nor push to gain some trivial prize; but pause, giveyour- selves time to love and to enjoy. Watch the warm beauty of the autumn day, the glistening whiteness of the winter, the waking spring and placid sunny summer, and listen to the music of the Falls, for it can teach you much. They do not listen as my children did. How my great world has changed, and those I loved are gone! They never will return, and I must stay forever and forever, all alone. Yet not alone! When I awoke a thousand, thousand years ago, I placed my foot upon this redstone rock and formed Niagara. This race of men shall pass as others have; but great Niagara shall forever roar through the resounding gorge. Each day it thunders past my rocky home and it shall thunder still when even I am gone. Marjory Doble, Form VIa. [24]

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Yesterday and To-day In grandmother ' s day The girls were dressed in such a way : Many flounces and one large bustle Made their dresses sway and rustle, While several petticoats and a train Swept dustily along the floor. To ' day the girls are clad Not at all like the long ago fad : They have in place a straight silhouette And their hair cut short or fixed in a net, And instead of wasting their time at teas They spend all their money in athletic fees. Carolyn Smith, Upper V. Sonnet (With many apologies) When I considered how my time was spent ' Ere half my term in this girls ' school, I sighed ; ' Gainst my ignorance which is death to hide In time of tests, although my soul ' s more bent To serve withal my teachers and present My passing mark lest they returning chide. ' ' Doth school exact hard labour, brains denied? I sadly asked, but Patience did resent That murmur and replied, ' ' School doth not need Girls who complain; she only wants the best Who work steadfastly early until late; Them should ' st thou imitate in word and deed ; Strive thou thy hardest, pause not long for rest. Thou wilt be needed, do thy best, and wait! DoREEN Harvey ' Jellie, Upper V. [23]

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Autumn O Autumn, thou art fairest of the fair! Yet there are souls thy beauty can pass by, When the trees in gorgeous majesty Dominate the hills, their glory wear Like kings, until the sportive winds lay bare Their royal robes, and their bright colours die. And breezes chill through the stark branches sigh. Heralding cold winter with its frosty air. The fresh sweet music of the month of May, The warm, still beauty of a summer day, The crisp white clearness of December, Cannot compare with thee, September ! Thy golden harvest, ripened fruit. And glorious colour, hold me mute! NoRAH Sullivan, Upper VI. A Vision ONE golden summer day I found myself wandering about the streets of a ruined city. Many years before a mighty earthquake had utterly wrecked it, and now the pavements gaped apart, grass grew in the crevices, the houses had fallen, and the whole place lay silent and deserted in the afternoon sun. As I strayed here and there, I came upon a garden, surrounded by a high wooden wall, and growing there I found a majestic tree which had escaped destruction, and was casting a grateful shadow on the green turf beneath. I entered and reclined at ease. At first my attention was held by the beauty of the flowers which grew down either side of the garden and across the top of a sloping lawn in glorious confusion. But soon it strayed to the house behind the upper flower ' bed. Though completely ruined now, one could see that it had been a hospitable ' looking house of white brick, with dormer windows, and a pleasant verandah. Beside it was a great pile of red brick walls, which by its size seemed to indicate that it had been a public building. ' ' Probably a school, I mused. ' 1 expect the children who once went there are rejoicing that at last they are free from the sound of gongs and the worry of lessons. ' ' Then, in a vague way, for the afternoon was decidedly warm, and I was becoming drowsy, I continued to pity the poor un ' fortunates who had through long years been made to attend schools in order to learn. Our own methods now ' a ' days are so much better and easier! Poor children, I thought, ' ' poor children . . . poor children . . . poor . . I was asleep. I have not the slightest idea for how long I slept. Suddenly I was awakened by the sound of a gong. I opened my eyes, and to my astonishment saw that the school at the top of the garden was no longer in ruins. Moreover, troops of smiling girls, carrying lunches in their hands and dressed for the most part in neat costumes of navy blue serge and white blouses, came down the steps onto the grass. They walked about, with arms entwined, chatting happily; or played at leapfrog and tag on the lawn. Then the vision faded, and another took its place. It suddenly seemed as if it were winter in the garden. The stars were shining, and white snow covered the ground. Below the tree under which I sat a sheet of new ' made ice glimmered and on it, laughing merrily, numerous girls were skating. Two gramophones were playing, one at each corner of the rink, and the music of these, combined with the shouts of the skaters, made the scene a very festive and joyous one. [25]