Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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When running for the car one day, My instruments, they lost their way; Then two young men, they made a dash. But, woe is me, their heads did crash! They both walked off with loud lament — ■ Imagine my embarrassment! When reading psalms at prayers one day We all our verses three did say ; Miss Cumming ' s turn came next to read, I went on reading, paying no heed. Poor me, for I quite well had meant — Imagine my embarrassment ! When singing doh, rah, mi, fa, soh. Our voices up and up did go. And at the top came one loud squeak Which really was quite far from weak ; But I ! Quite off the note I went — Imagine my embarrassment ! Barbara Tooke, Form Lower V. Rumour ON THE 13th day of September, in the year of our Lord 1927, I was convicted of the crime of Ignorance, and was taken with escort to the castle of Intelligence, on the hill of Endeavour. There, in surprise, I found many in such trouble as myself. Some rebellious, some happy, and some simply indifferent. Here I remained for many weary weeks, working at tasks set by the warders. I was seated at a hard wooden bench, with a board in front. Our main occupation was what is called Picking oakum. We were really trying to achieve great knowledge in every direction: such as being able to know at sight a millimetre from a centipede, how to perceive sulphuretted hydrogen from a quadratic equation. How to make the square root of 9281461 into recurring decimals (see text book, page 228). To know that the answer of Avez-vous Tencre et les bonbons, pour faire des potages? is Nescio, num occidebatis dominum. After many hours of grammatical endeavour, we assemble in a large and gloomy room filled with instruments of torture for those who require grace and beauty. We stand in rows, and go through many contortions, trying to make ourselves look like wooden dolls instead of human beings. Here we get rewards for good deportment and activeness, which adorn the breasts of the successful. When I came to the castle, I was in company with a friend from the outside world who gave me much advice, in forms of warnings, threatenings, and prophecy. Of these I took no notice. But one day I was given something, which I received with joy : a bird, a love, a darling Little Rumour, who told me I was to join my comrades in the outside world, one month earlier than I thought. It chirped and comforted me daily, and made me so happy I became reckless, and when asked, Who was Julius Caesar? I answered eagerly, The first governor of this castle! Much to my sorrow this was not the answer required, and I was given a detention for my pains. But sorrow was not long with me, as I still held my rumour to my heart, and he whispered to me Freedom. Now though I seem small, and am thought of a retiring nature, underneath I am as brave as a lion and as hungry as a wolf. When we heard that the governor of the castle had arrived, all the others fell on their knees, but boldly I stood up and, in a voice of thunder, I asked when we were to go again into the outside world. The answer came The 14th, my expectations rose, full height, but tlu- next moment my hopes fell with a crash: the next word was June, not May! When I regained my consciousness, my bird, my love, my Little Rumour, was no more. Amy Archibald, Form IIIb.

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and one which may disturb the good feeling existing between Canada and the United States. If Canada does this the United States will most certainly develop the Albany-Hudson waterway, because she must have an outlet to the sea. New York may then become Montreal ' s rival. This danger would also face her if she decided against the plan altogether or if she postponed it for any long period. Another factor in the case is the tremendous power that can be developed. Shall Canada develop this power? If she does, will there be a market for it? It is most likely that as soon as it is developed a market will be found for it as in the Queenston-Chippawa power development of the Ontario Hydro ' Electric. Another suggestion has been made that Canada should export her surplus power until such time as she has a market for it. The objection to this is that it would be hard to get it back when it was wanted. But apart from material considerations which would decide this question there is also the matter of sentiment. Canada has been in the habit of pointing with pride to the more than a century of peace which has existed between her and her neighbour to the south and the carrying out of this project in common would forge another link in the chain which binds them together. Greta Larminie, Form Upper VI. On Wild Birds Flying South A trailing streak, that twists amid the frown Of dark November ' s clouds, sends back a call That echoes through the leaves, which, like a pall Descending from the sky, come sifting down: Not long ago the trees in gold and brown And all the russet colours of the fall Reposed against the blue, till the first squall Of winter stretched their multi-coloured gown And left them useless, bare, with twisted arms. And now they stand, while past them slips the line Of wild birds, drifting to the South, to find The missing Summer, and the Sun that warms — Though they have passed, in fluttering file so fine, I still hear their farewell upon the wind. Margaret Hill, Form Upper V. Imagine My Embarrassment! By E. M. BARASS A candy sweet was given me. The other day when out at tea; I heard a snicker at my side, And then I very nearly died. Td given candy up for Lent — Imagine my embarrassment ! f 19 I

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Impressions of New York FAR above Broadway the Paramount building rears its head — modern, striking, unusual, ultra- American, symbolizing the fabulous wealth of the nation — but at its feet stand the unemployed. It is sad to think of those who have come eager and hopeful from lands across the sea to the City of the Golden Pavements, only to find those pavements quite as drab as the ones they have left behind, and perhaps a little harder, morally if not physically. However, one must not be a pessimist, and those who have got jobs may not be particularly happy either ! The streets of New York are a never-ending source of interest for those who like to study people. Here one may see old, young, rich, poor, handsome, haggard, well dressed, meanly dressed, all types, from every walk of life, crowding along side by side. Purposeful people hurry about their business, aimless people just follow the crowd, cynics watching the world go on to perdition, romantic people with the awful spell of the city upon them, and disillusioned people walk through these streets together. The most interesting street of all is Broadway. For here it seems that the very essence of the city ' s being is to be found. In the daytime Broadway is just a busy street, a little wider than most, running diagonally across the city. But at night! New York ' s life blood pulses up and down that mighty artery all night long — rushing, noise, lights, and people, people, people just going with this day ' s madness, the go fever, driving them madly on. Some of these people have a gift from the gods. They can live for the moment. Though they know that tomorrow lies ahead, and that life will be waiting for them, grim and inexorable, in the cold gray dawn of another day, yet for now they can forget, and be happy while they may. Life is a chance in New York, a game, which some may win but many lose. For some it is a glorious battle, for others a bitter struggle. There are people whose life is a reckless fight and they thrive on the very hazard. Some love this city with all the ardour of American patriotism. Others (shrewder) say that the city gives no man more than a thrill, and if you ' re not up and doing, you ' re down, and being done. With these, too, we find courage, faith, hope, and far down underneath even a little charity. Somehow, on Broadway, every night and all night long, these conflicting opinions are welded together into an indefinable something — the spell of the city perhaps. The Bronx Park was cool and still, under the setting sun. Far above a lonely crow cawed in the blue-gray smoke-flecked sky. A light wind ran across the ponds with a shivering sigh, and died in the calm of the coming night. Here the sleep time had come, and the end of another day, but beyond the walls the first restless throb of the hectic night had begun to fret, and the Voice of the City rose high above the peace of the garden. Here, as in an oasis of quietness, we listened to that wonderful roar of human activity. Some- times we tried to distinguish the individual sounds, sometimes to blend them all together into a single melody. The steady beat of pickaxes, wielded by swarthy representatives of half a dozen different nations, was the rhythm of that colossal song. We heard jarring steam whistles, starting the long night shift for men at drills and excavators, traffic whistles, screeching brakes, auto horns, taxi calls, the rumbling of elevators and street cars, all mingled together to form a very chaos of sound. We could not pick it out, but we knew that the deafening roar of the subway was helping to swell that mighty voice. A fire reel clanged by, but nobody noticed that more than the other sounds. Once the merry whistle of a boy, but he was very young and had not yet learned that Life and Death were gambling — for him. The Voice of the City is never still. It goes on and on with a strange wild song, weirdly fascinating to man, lifting, degrading, inspiring, but changing in some way or other, all who come under its magic spell — and the Spell of the City is contrast. Anne Byers, Form Upper VI.