Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Again the vision changed, and again it was summer — early summer and the grass hardly green. The sudden sound of a bell continuously rung disturbed me as I dreamed. Then, in long and orderly ffles, scores of girls began to troop into the garden, lining up quickly and unconfusedly beneath the balcony. In a few moments these were sent back to their studies, and fircdrill was over. A fourth vision came to me that afternoon as I lay beneath the tree in that old school garden. I seemed to see countless lights burning in the great building, for again it was night. A feeling of excitement pervaded the air, but at first I could see no reason for it. Suddenly a number of cars drove up, and knots of people began to enter the school, talking and laughing. They passed up the stairs and soon the fitful sound of marches, of commands and of minuets came to my ears. Then the people began to come out again, and as they passed I heard them say, ' It was the best Demonstration I have seen yet. ' ' Perfectly splendid! The dances were so pretty! — and many more things of the same kind. Gradually the night became still, and I thought that that would be the last vision. But, no! One more dream came to me, the last and most revealing. I thought, as I lay looking up at the tender green leaves on the tree above me, that it must be June. The birds were singing, and there was a feeling of holidays in the air. I looked towards the school, half expecting someone to come out. In this I was not mistaken, for presently two girls, dressed completely in white, and carrying school magazines, appeared. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there weep our sad bosoms empty, quoted one. Please don ' t! said the other. It is bad enough to leave, without being reminded of that. Never mind, dear, we will always be ' old girls ' . Yes, I suppose so, but , and they faded from my sight. Slowly I woke from my dreams, and as I opened my eyes, the school fell once more into ruins. The sun was setting, and I arose, realidng more poignantly than ever before that the happiest years of life are those spent at school. Jane Howard, Upper VI. A Shopping Excursion : (Enter Miss Smith, large and comfortable4ooking, in outdoor attire. She approaches the shop in a calm and unhurried manner. It is a busy hour, but she has plenty of time. Her com ' panion follows meekly behind. As they enter the harassed-looking proprietor is seen emerging from his private office. Such good fortune!) Come, hurry, dear! There ' s Mr. Morlan himself. That ' s handy. We shall get better attention, and we may be able to get something in the way of a bargain. Good morning, Mr. Morlan. Nice day, isn ' t it? .... I want to see some pretty muslins — something dainty and uncommon. .... No, not an ordinary muslin, but something distinctive and pretty. ... . Oh, quite cheap. What is the price of that one? . . . . Oh dear! That is far too much! No, something much cheaper. What is the cheapest you have? Fifty ' five cents? Oh! (turning to friend) — we didn ' t want to give all that, did we, dear? Have you got a remnant cheaper? .... What length? Well now, let me see. How much should we want, dear? .... Yes, I think so. About three-quarters of a yard. That would do. . . . . Yes, cheaper than fifty-five. I ' m sure you must have something (playfully). I ' ll tell you what! I shall be passing again to-morrow, and will run in to see if you have found any thing. .... Thank you. Good morning. .... Seemed in a hurry, didn ' t he? But he ' s very obliging. That ' s the advantage of going straight to the head of the firm. Now, if we hadn ' t buttonholed him, one of those assistants would have come to serve us and wouldn ' t have taken any trouble. .... Pity to bother him? Not at all. That ' s what he ' s here for. Besides, he ' s a neigh ' hour of mine, and its more convenient to be friendly than unfriendly with your neighbours. I [26]

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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]

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only hope hell find something cheap and pretty. I don ' t want to have to tell Mrs. Morlan what Mrs. Brown said about her drawingToom curtains — she might not like it! And I don ' t want to have to complain about the noise the Morlan ' s dog makes at night. I like to be friendly. . . . . Now weVe here well just look around. Oh! handkerchiefs! I want some for cousin Toddy. It ' s her birthday on Thursday. . . . ' Yes, handkerchiefs, please. (To the assistant who has advanced). . . . . Oh, white, I think. No. I don ' t know. Perhaps I ' ll see the coloured ones. I don ' t know what colour. Show me what you have. . . . . Oh dear! What a lot of colours! Now let me think. What will suit her best? Those pink borders are pretty, but she has such an awful complexion, and when she uses a pink handkerchief she will only look worse. And blue is as bad. I wonder whether yellow — or whether — I don ' t know. Perhaps, if I had heliotrope. Which do you like best, dear? (to friend). .... No colour at all? Why didn ' t you say so before? .... Well, if I didn ' t, I expect you to tell me what you think without being asked. Let me see the white ones, please. .... Plain or fancy? I don ' t know. Show me what you have. . . . . Yes, these are pretty. Now, I wonder — Have you got them with initials on? .... Oh, S. No, perhaps K would be better. Well, now, I don ' t really know. You see (to friend) — her name is Selina Kate, and we call her Toddy for short. .... I ' ll see some S ' s. No, perhaps K ' s. No, I shouldn ' t wonder if T wouldn ' t be best after all. Now you ' ve muddled me up dreadfully, taking out all these handkerchiefs. It ' s a silly thing to do. I don ' t know what to take. .... I ' ll tell you what! I ' ll just go home and think it over, and when I ' ve decided which initial would be best I ' ll come back and have it. .... No, nothing more, thank you. That ' s all. (To friend) Huffy sort of girl, isn ' t she? They don ' t seem at all helpful at this shop. You would have thought she ' d have had some ideas, wouldn ' t you? But no! (Sighing heavily as they leave the shop). I do think shopping is so exhausting. And it is so seldom you can get exactly what you want. {Exeunt. Joan Chillas, Form Upper V. My Neighbour ' s Garden My neighbour has a garden green and fair. With velvet lawn and rose-entwined bower, With many a splashing brook and bright-hued flower. Soft mosses, and the graceful maidenhair. The gentle blossoms offer up a prayer, A blessing of pure incense, with the power Of filling weary hearts with wondrous dower And smoothing from hurt souls all trace of care. I have no garden and no shady trees But daily through my kitchen window-pane The colour of his flowers gleams; their scent Is wafted to me by each vagrant breeze. Therefore I have no reason to complain But rather to be full of sweet content. Jane Howard, Form Upper VI. [27]