Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Text from Pages 1 - 110 of the 1930 volume:

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It should be soft, lustrous and carefully arranged. Palmers did your mother ' s and your grandmother ' s hair too — they have always the cleverest hair ' dressers who have been brought specially from abroad. Waterwaving — -Marcel waving — Rainwater sham- poo — Manicuring — Individual powder blending for your own type of beauty — these and other arts cleverly performed. L,el us arrange your hair for your first big parly. Telephone MArquette 9263-4 SON LIMITED 1198 ST. CATHERINE STREET, 2nd BLOCK WEST OF PEEL Quality ' Products ♦ MILK CREAM BUTTER ICE CREAM LIMITF-E FINE , oriental ' HOWAPDH PATCH PEES. Qt BURNS SS)E GROWTH [N sixty years of growth, from a single office in Halifax to a position of international importance, there has always been a sincere spirit of helpfulness between this Bank and its customers. That was the spirit of the pioneers who founded this institution — that spirit guides our work tO ' day. YOU WILL LIKE BANKING AT THE ROYAL Th© Royal Bank of Canada Over 50 Branches in Montreal and District TCLKPHONE UPTOWN 1446 You are cordially invited to Millinery ' Fur Salons Suite 5 14 2 Sherbrooke St., West Montreal Hatter and Furrier to the particular trade Your Kind Partonage Solicited Charge Accounts Invited Tel. Y(Jrk 2101 With Complimenls of The James Shearer Co. Limited GENERAL CONTRACTORS and LUMBER DEALERS 225 St. Patrick Street MONTREAL COMPLETE STOCK REEVES ' WATER COLORS BRUSHES AND PASTEL ARTIST MATERIAL FOR THE ARTIST C. R. CROWLEY LIMITED 138s SM CATHERINE STREET WEST JUNE 1930 VOLUME IV €cf)OES! MAGAZINE STAFF Editor Alice E. Johannsen Suh ' Editor Pauline B. Scott Secretary ' Treasurer Janet Cameron EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE Advertising Managers Art Representative ,,,,,,, Athletic Representative House Representative - ' ' ' - Fifth Form Representative ------ Adviser to Magazine Staff ------ JCynthia Bazin ' Alma Howard Sallie Ward Barbara Tooke Helen McLaggan Editha Wood Miss Bryan MAGAZINE REPRESENTATIVES Form Lower VI. Form Upper V. Form Lower V. Form IVa. Form IVb. Form IIIa. Form IIIb. Form Upper II. Form II. JocELYN Bruce Editha Wood Barbara Haydon Jean McGoun Katharine Grier Edith Angus MiMi Languedoc Lorraine Driver Mercy Walker- HERE we are at the end of another school year — and a jolly good year it has been, too; full of work and play and friendship! Very soon now, some of us will be leaving Trafalgar forever, going out to take our places in the work of the world, and sharing more fully in this great adventure called Life; and so, before we come to the parting of ways, let us look over briefly the events of i929 ' 5o. First of all, we must congratulate Marion Wilson of last year ' s Sixth, who, with an average of 8i% in the Matriculation Examinations last June, won first place on the Honour List of the Province of Quebec. This is a fine record, and we are proud to add a second name to the list of first places begun in 1920 by Carol Robertson. This year has seen the fulfilment of a school dream — a dream which resulted from the work of the Sixth of 1927-28 — The Library. Now that we have it, we realize what it means: a reading and reference room, a cosy place to work, a source of enjoyment for everyone; and we wish to thank all those who have contributed towards it in any way, especially the girls who gave the necessary stimulus to its commencement. And since we are counting our blessings, have we not good reason to be proud of our Basket Ball teams, which, out of a total of eighteen games played, have won seventeen, and have again brought back to Trafalgar the League Cup? Hockey, which was bequeathed to us by last year ' s Sixth, proved quite popular this winter, but owing to unfortunate weather conditions, no inter ' school matches were played. On May 31 last year, a History Pageant, which illustrated by scenes and tableaux many of the phases of European history from the days of Rome to the Battle of Trafalgar, was presented by the II, Upper II, III, and IV Forms, under the direction of Miss Swales and Miss Collyer, assisted by Miss Rae and Miss Bed ford ' Jones. The scenery, costumes and much of the dialogue, which were the work of the directors and of the girls themselves, made the. Pageant a great success, both for the audience and for those who took part. In March last year, we were all sorry to hear that Miss Hicks, owing to her illness, would not be able to return to us for some time. Miss Riley, who was on leave of absence from her school in Australia, came to take her place. Miss Riley was kind enough to remain with us until she was called back at the end of the Christmas term as Vice-Principal to her old school in Adelaide. As Miss Hicks was still unable to return, Miss Hood joined the staff in January, and is now in charge of the Science work. Outstanding among the achievements of the Old Girls is the honour which has been con ' ferred on one of our graduates, Cairine Mackay, now Mrs. Norman Wilson, who left Trafalgar in 1902. Untiring in her spirit of public service, Mrs. Wilson was made Senator in the January of this year, and has the distinction of being the first woman to become a member of the Canadian Upper House. Her success is certainly a great inspiration to all of us at Trafalgar today, who have so many hopes and dreams for the years which lie before us, and we are very proud to claim her as an Old Girl. Mrs. Wilson has kindly given us permission to print her photograph in the Magazine. As for the school itself, when we consider that we have an enrollment of three hundred girls, with a certain number graduating every year, we realize that the ranks of our Trafalgar Sisterhood are growing, and will continue to grow long after the very youngest of us here today has gone into the great world to take care of herself. And with this increase in growth will come added achievement, more girls who will carry the spirit of Trafalgar into the paths of life, and who will be looked up to by the Trafites ' to ' come, just as we look up to the Old Girls who have left Trafalgar every year since eighteen hundred and eightyseven. I 1 ' i I To THE Girls of Trafalgar — My three years at Trafalgar I shall always recall with pleasure and I feel confident that they have been of very great assistance to me. For our Principal, Miss Grace Fairley, M.A., I have always had a real admiration and affection, and the principles she upheld I shall not easily forget. One was that it was much better to sacrifice all in defence of country or ideals, although one new at the outset there was no hope for a successful outcome. I am delighted that the School continues to grow and flourish and maintain such a high standard. J aturally I cannot but be gratified that the girls of the present should interest themselves in a graduate of IQ02. We, of the past, cannot fail to envy you the wonderful field which lies before you. It is utterly impossible for the girls of to-day to realize the circumscribed lives which women were for the ■most part compelled to lead only half a century ago. With added opportunities come responsibilities, but the graduates of Trafalgar will, I feel confident, be well prepared to play their part. Before very long I hope that I may have the privilege of visiting the old school and of meeting the staff and pupils. With every good wish to all, believe me. Most sincerely yours, CAIRIHE R. WILSOK Ottawa, Monday, Twelfth May, J meteen Hundred and Thirty. [17] SCHOOL OFFICERS PREFECTS Alma Howard Pauline Scott Helen McLaggan Alice Johannsen Barbara Tooke Betty Miner Sallie Ward FORM OFFICERS Form President Vice ' President T T X 7T Upper VI. Alice Johannsen Alma Howard Lower VI. Barbara Tooke Pauline Scott Upper V. Sheilagh Sullivan Norma Roy Lower V. Barbara Griffin Laurel Soper IVa. Patrica Mitchell Mary Pae IVb. Joan Henry Peggy MacKay IVb SpeciaL Beatrice Climo Megan Owen IIIa. Audrey Grafton Margaret Cannell IIIb. Anna Thompson Jean Morton Upper II. Nancy Murray Ruth Oliver II. Griselda Archibald Patricia Plant Upper I. Helen Eraser Janet Porteous Remove. Lois Malcolm Jane Seely I. Marjorie Robinson Renee Moncel The Naval Conference ON A VERY foggy day, typical of London, the Naval Conference of 1930 was formally opened by the address of King George. That day, January twentyfirst, marks the most important step yet taken toward world peace. The King ' s speech was broadcasted over all the earth; and an account of the conference written in every newspaper. Statesmen from England and her Empire, France, the United States, Italy and Japan, assembled in the House of Lords, and heard the King ' s welcome and hope for their success expressed from a golden throne, which was later carried from the room. The delegates from the five nations were seated about an horseshoe-table, on purple chairs ornamented in gold. Upon the walls, strangely enough, were two huge canvases depicting two great battles. Nelson at Trafalgar, and Wellington on the field of Waterloo, a strange setting for the discussion of world peace. Ramsay MacDonald, Premier of England, opened the discussion of naval armament, in which speakers from every nation took part. The keynote of the addresses was hope of success in the suggested limitation and reduction of naval powers, and each delegate expressed the wish that with successive conferences the plans would become more com- plete and more conducive to world peace. This opening conference did not accomplish or even discuss any plans, but was merely a good-will opening to the future sessions. Later conferences were held in St. James ' s Palace. Progress was slow due to natural disagree ' ments between the nations, but certain plans were formed in May that promise well for the future. A three-party Anglo-American-Japanese pact has arranged the scrapping of several of these countries ' battleships. A second five-power treaty has defined certain classes of ships subject to limitation; and has taken steps toward humanizing submarine warfare, among other agreements which probably will be expanded. Possibly the verdict of history will be that the London Con- ference set in motion a gradual process, which, continuing from year to year and generation to generation as the circumstances of the times permitted, finally produced a substantially disarmed world. Janet Cameron, Form Upper VI. [IS] An unexamined life is not worth living. — Plato. AUNT JANE was dead. Jenifer lay in the grass, her hands resting under her head, thinking about it. That very morning Aunt Jane had walked in the garden, scolded Hodges, the gardener for being a lazy, useless, dreaming fellow, and played tennis with the Hiltons. Then she had gone indoors, tried on the four new frocks that had come from the city that morning, and hurried away to a luncheon at the club. That afternoon she had brought back the Renfrews, the Carews and the Martins for garden tea. And now — she was dead. Jenifer shuddered slightly. Strange how suddenly death came. Aunt Jane sitting in the garden talking brightly, her slim white fingers moving restlessly about the stem of her lemonade glass, the sun shining upon her hair, shadow upon her neck — sunlight, shadow, laughter — then suddenly — all shadow! Aunt Jane fallen forward, her hands hanging limply by her sides, her face twisted and strange. That was death. Jenifer pressed her cheek against the softness of the grass. One could never think of Aunt Jane quiet, alone, thinking. Always she was running about, here, there, always with a crowd about her, always talking, never silent, and now — sorrow swept over Jenifer, great waves of it, a sorrow that was not grief exactly. More, it was a poignant regret. Jenifer could not understand it quite, this overwhelming feeling of pity for Aunt Jane ' s life, a life that had been all movement, all glitter. It was that she felt Aunt Jane had missed so much. Aunt Jane, who had never thought about life, about death; who had never paused and looked into the innermost, fundamental fibres of her own being. Why, thought Jenifer, Aunt Jane scarcely knew herself. She saw her again as she had seen her so many times, her mouth a discontented line, a little frown across her forehead, her long slim hands moving restlessly. She had called Jenifer a quaint youngster; such a difficult child. She could not understand her, she frankly admitted, this girl who liked above everything to creep off by herself. Strange child ! The wind swept through the birches, a cold, sobbing, little wind. Jenifer got up. She ran across the lawn to the house. She crept upstairs. Aunt Jane ' s door was closed. Jenifer softly pushed it open. The room was a place of shadows, grey blurs and wavering half lights. She could just see Aunt Jane ' s outline on the bed. She moved forward until she could see her face. Strange how it had changed ! Now it was a colourless, discontented, empty mask. It was hideous, dread ' ful. Jenifer shivered violently. Could it be that after death the face was the story of what the life had been? A little night wind crept in through the window, rustled through a pile of papers on Aunt Jane ' s table. One fluttered, fell to the floor. It lay just by Jenifer ' s foot. Idly her eyes rested on it. It was either a page from a diary or a letter Aunt Jane had been writing. Oh, I ' m so bored. I don ' t know quite what it is I want. Ronald thinks it ' s a rest I need. I never did enjoy sitting down with folded hands. I should loathe it now. Besides I ' m always frightfully busy. Somehow though I never get anywhere. Nothing seems worthwhile. The sentences stood out, vivid, arresting, pathetic, unhappy little wraithes. [19] Jenifer left the room softly. She went out into the fragrant unreality of the slow ' coming night. She climbed up into the elm at the end of the garden. She leaned her body against its rough brown bark. There was so much in life, so very much. There was so much in oneself, so many strange, little unexpected things if one only took the time to think about them. So many things that needed changing! Jenifer watched thin lines of blue smoke curl from the broad chim ' neys of Aunt Jane ' s house against the pearl ' grey mauve of the sky and lose itself in space. Poor Aunt Jane ! How futile her life had been ! How useless ! Just one long gasping run from beginning to end — and now — what? Rest? One small star burned above the slim lone poplar on the hill. Away, away off a dog barked. A motor car purred past. Jenifer bowed her head and wept silently, painfully, not because Aunt Jane had gone, but because she had gone without sensing her own life, without knowing herself. Velma F. O ' Neill, Form Upper V. cr o c KO (T+o The Scottish National War Memorial ON THE highest point in the city of Edinburgh, on the summit of the Castle Rock, stands the Scottish War Memorial. It is a monument, a shrine, sacred to the memory of Scotland ' s sons who died for her; the symbol of a nation ' s grief. The intangible beauty of the building cannot be adequately expressed in words. In plan it is a sanctuary, facing north with an east and west transept. The entrance looks south on the historic Crown Square of Edinburgh Castle. Upon entering, one ' s voice and thoughts are instantly hushed. There is no light except day light filtering through pale stained glass windows on to the gleaming marble. Looking around, one sees a dim vista of arches. Each arched panel of the north wall is dedicated to a Scottish regiment, twelve in all, and has at the top of the panel the crest of the regiment, while hanging at the side are the regimental colours. Carved in the centre of the panel is the regiment ' s record of achieve ments during 1914 1918, and on the table in front is the Regimental Roll of Honour. The south wall is composed of a series of stained glass windows painting the picture of the war. At the west end of the Hall of Honour is a memorial window to the Flying Corps, while the window at [ 20] the east end is dedicated to the Royal Navy. The west bay is a memorial to the Women ' s Corps and to the Argyll and Sutherland and the Cameron Highlanders; while the east is a memorial to the Royal Artillery and the Royal Engineers. Opening off the Hall of Honour, opposite to the entrance, is the shrine, a miracle in stone. The fan-vaulting of the roof sweeps upward, and hanging from the centre of the vault, carved in oak, is the figure of St. Michael triumphing over the Spirit of Evil. Around the shrine runs a bronzie figure on which every type of Scotsman and Scotswoman, who took part in the war, has a place in the long procession. Beneath the central window the Castle Rock seems to have thrust its way through the floor, to support an altar, carved exquisitely from green Italian marble. On the altar rests a beautifully wrought steel casket, presented by Their Majesties King George and Queen Mary, in which are recorded the names of all those who gave their lives for Scotland. No one part of the Scottish War Shrine is more beautiful than another. The whole is perfect in harmony, grace and splendour. It is the crystallization of a glorious lament; it haunts one ' s imagination; it speaks to one ' s soul in the words of Rupert Brooke — There ' s none of these so lonely and poor of old, But dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy; and that unhoped serene. That men call age; and those who would have been. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Cynthia Bazin, Form Upper VI. |[Editor ' s Note — The following fragment, written by one of the House girls after a visit to the Battlefields, suggests a memorial of a different type, the simplicity of which means as much in its own way as the thought embodied in the great monument to Scotland ' s heroes|. A marble cross! A small marble cross contoured against the blue, blue skyl Not one cross but hundreds and thousands marking the place of the young and old men who died for their country. Great men all, but men with no epitaph but their name; no fame but that of thousands of others. As I looked up and down the columns, the word Unknown magnified itself before my eyes. Somehow as I stood there I shuddered and yet I thrilled. It was a tragic but yet a glorious sight. They sought the glory of their country. They see the glory of their God. Patricia Mitchell, Form IVa. [21] Storm A low protesting murmur fills the air, As on the wind there comes the breath of storm. How fitfully the whispVing trees are swayed! How powerless they watch with growing dread The shapeless, changing clouds that send and whirl In maddened haste across the frowning sky , Like broken regiments who flee before The dark, relentless fury of the foe! The trembling aspens stagger in the gusts That shake the very oaks from crest to root. • — And now, for one still moment there is calm; A hushed, foreboding silence — then a roar. And with a mighty rush the storm descends: The rain beats down in frenzy unrestrained. The proud and haughty pines which once have stood. Accepting due obeisance from the trees Of lesser rank about them, now must bend In meek submission to their conqueror. And bowing, stooping, bending, they in turn Must pay their homage to a greater reign. The winds about them howl and mock their plight. Compelling all to kneel again before The victor, as he charges madly on To further conquests, and unrivaled power. Thither he departs, but in his wake Are heard the sighs and moans of conquered kings. Slowly then the sounds of tumult cease, And leave the vanquished, humble and subdued, To weep their grief in silent, glistening tears, And wait, disconsolate, the peace of night. Alice E. Johannsen, Form Upper VI. Enter Nineteen-Thirty WITH the drastic change in fashions this year, the manners also underwent a revolution. Just as a 1929 dress differs from a 1930 dress, so do 1929 manners differ from those of 1930. Last year skirts and hair were short and the boyish mode was fashionable. Now skirts and hair are long, and femininity is popular. Dresses today are fashioned on graceful, flowing lines, influenced by the Greek, mediaeval. Empire, Directoire, and even the much-ridiculed Victorian periods. And the frocks capture something from the charm of the past, although they adopt only the best features of these eras. All the dresses are longer and knees have disappeared. Sports dresses come just below the knee — let us hope they will never be longer — street clothes come about twelve inches from the ground, formal afternoon dresses just reveal the ankles, and evening gowns trail on the ground, some even boasting trains. Greek influence is shown in a gown of satin cut on classic lines, Empire in the high waist line and flowing lines of a soft chiffon dress, and a ruffled tulle frock with a huge bow at the back reminds one of the bustle of Victoria ' s day. [22] This season, long gloves for evening wear are fashionable, some in pastel colours to match the gowns, others white, and with a black frock rather short black gloves are smart. Hair is long, or longer, and softly waved. No more boyish bobs! Hats have brims again, although brimless ones are still worn. Jewelry is not so much modernistic as antique. Altogether the mode of 1930 is a graceful one, feminine in every way. And so, with longer skirts come different manners. A Frenchman said the other day, With long skirts, women will not think of discussing the same things as they did when their skirts were short. Dancing is slower, as one can ' t jazz in trailing skirts. And dance music is softer, not so blaring. Hence the popularity of Rudy Vallee. Books written long ago, in a sentimental age, are being read again. There was a revival of Charlotte Bronte ' s books in London this winter. We who have grown up after the war have never known a period of formality. So we enjoy the novelty of long skirts. But we hope that this romantic revival will not bring us back to the days of blushes and chaperones. And we rejoice in the freedom of our sports clothes, for skirts swishing around the feet get a little tiresome at times. Betty Stewart, Form Upper VI. o s Northern Lights Across the sky chameleon trails of light. In trembling peaks that ever fall and rise. Enlighten with their beams the drowsy skies, Dispel the peaceful darkness of the night, Arouse the lurking shadows, and make bright The gaudy city skyline; the light dies. And shadows fall, but once again our eyes Behold the dim last glory of their might. Then truly all is darkness; gone the glow Of everlasting mystery from the heav ' n. As quickly as an autumn leaf, wind-blown. And o ' er the earth the shadows braver grow. And that unveiled praise which is God ' given Returned from whence it came, to man unknown. Janet Cameron, Form Upper VI. Sonnet— The Sea I never gaze upon the stormy sea And watch the waters, foaming, wild and gray. But that I think of one tempestuous day When fiercest waves came dashing, black and free. Onward, with white-capped crests that seemed to be — As they came racing on into the bay — • Wild white horses; and though formed of spray They seemed alive, and broke incessantly. The sunset flamed in the Western sky All brilliant orange red and colours bold. And now the gentle crescent moon rides high. And turns the tranquil ocean into gold; The sky has darker grown, and stars so bright The velvet darkness pierce with points of light. Vivian Stewart, Form IVa. [23] India ONCE upon a time there lived a good magician who wished to do something so great that it would be of lasting benefit to the world in times to come. After exploring for some time he came upon a bare slope of land and at once determined to make of this one of the most beautiful countries of the world. Accordingly he made great mountains of marvellous beauty across the north of this country, and to make them look even more perfect, he covered these peaks with snow so that when the sun shone down upon them before it set, it changed their snowy whiteness into the most glorious azure shades of an Eastern sunset, breath-taking wonders of orange and blood red, making the sky around look like a glowing, beautiful flame. He put great slow ' flowing rivers, dense jungles and barren deserts into this country too. Then he thought of filling the land with people. At first he put in white people like himself, but the sun burned them black, so he had to make all the other people black and light brown to match them. These people he taught how to make beautiful palaces, and wonderful gardens to live in; he showed them how to fashion brass and copper and silver into wonderful shapes, how to work beautiful embroideries and to paint on ivories. Then he left them to make a name for themselves and their country — India. Ann Sweeny, Form IVa. To the Sunset The dying sun glows, crimson, in the west; Another day is past, it seems to say: The tinged mountains rear their rugged crests And airy clouds bid their farewell to day. From far away the ocean can be heard. Its thund ' ring waves beating against the shore; And softly overhead, the twittering bird Is calling to his mate that work is o ' er. I, wondering, feel the breath of many forms, A rustling whisper, all about me, seems To call me to the dreamy realms where storms Mar not the beauty of the sun ' s last hours. Or blur the red sky ' s perfect azure glow Or dim the brightness of the Heavenly powers. Ann Sweeny, Form IVa. How Mortals Learned to Skate ONCE upon a time, in the land of eternal snow and winter, there lived three spirits, whose names were Fun, Energy and Health. At one time these spirits had been bubbling over with high spirits and laughter, but all at once everything had changed, and although they were still inseparable friends, they now wore an air of gloom and their merry voices were no longer heard in the land — no longer were they the ringleaders of every naughty prank or mischief. Everyone knew what was the matter, for they had never been gloomy before great King Winter had given out his cruel decree that no one who had not made themselves famous, at the same time rendering a lifelong service to the mortals who lived on the earth, could ever pass over the barrier of icicles and enter the beautiful palace, which stood surrounded by a misty grey haze I ' M I that took on all the colours of the passing day, lighting up the icy pinnacles of the dazzling white snowcastle, and turning them from soft azure shades to veritable colours of fire, and then again to shades of pale shell, and pearly, blucgrey shades of night. The poor little spirits thought and thought of a service that they could render, but all the things they thought of had been done before and they were nearly distracted. At last they decided to go down to Earth and look around there. The north wind blew them down in his chariot and they alighted on what had once been a large pool of water, but which the north wind ' s icy blast had transformed into a smooth shining sheet of ice, with the sunlight glinting on its transparent surface. All the way from the land of Eternal Snow and Winter, Energy, whose nervous hands could never keep still, had been moulding an icicle into two fairy swords; he had placed them at his feet and had turned to do something else, when suddenly, with a cry, he realized that the cold wind had frozen the swords to his feet and that he would have to continue his journey with them on, or else go back. Bravely he struggled out of the chariot and with a wry face stepped on to the ice and slid his foot forward. The others gazed in astonishment, for instead of falling, as they had expected him to, he had glided lightly across to the other side of the ice and back again to meet them. Soon he began to turn and pivot round and then to progress further and make beautiful figures. The other spirits grew very jealous and wanted to do as he was doing, so they returned to the land of Eternal Snow and Winter for more icicles. It was dusk and a pale moon was shining when they returned, but they gaily traversed the ice-sheet with joyous cries the meanwhile. Suddenly they all stopped dead and cried with one voice: The Mortals! We can teach this to them and become famous. It would be healthy, cried Health. And energetic, joined in Energy. And oh! what fun, cried Fun. This is why mortals are so fond of skating and think it such fine sport. They think they invented it, but we know better. Ann Sweeny, Form IVa. r-fo The Old and the New IT WAS in the autumn she came, this gentle cousin from over the sea; an autumn that was golden with the sheafed corn, ruddy with the glow of laden apple tress, glorious with a warmth of blended colour. She was fragile and tiny who now found herself among tall women — the pioneers of this strange Canada. They regarded her with impatience and a reluctant admiration. Drusilla! Her quaint, old-world name harmonized with her sweet voice and serene dignity — strange both to the new land to which she had come. Had she come to make them appear ungainly with her graceful movements? The good wives stood in judgment, their hands upon their hips. Drusilla might have hated the new land that was to be her home, but she did not. Her first sight of the autumn woke a yearning in her heart that was never again stilled. To be one with the blue-clad figures bending in the fields became her consuming desire, but the little cousin was unfitted for the intense climate. Her aunt was the mother of lusty sons who found Drusilla beyond their ken. At her approach their merry chatter faded into embarrassed silence and their hands became all thumbs and com- pletely beyond their control. The charmed circle was not for her, their kinship with the fields shut them in as her daintiness shut her out. Gradually it became her habit to wander upon the little plateau that in time bore her name — Druiilla ' s Walk. It was a high bit of ground to which the many Canterbury bells had given a [25] grave charm. There was a kinship between Drusilla and the bells — the same grace and dignity were found in both alike, but the bells were taken to the bosom of the new country and Drusilla was not. As autumn advanced sunset daily found her upon the plateau, gazing wistful ' eyed at the stubble plains as they lay rosy in the sinking rays. Her vigil never ended until she saw the strong cousins swinging homeward, untrammelled across the plains. Then she would turn slowly aside, the ache to belong weighing unbearably .... As the air assumed a sharper twang it carried its warning — the sun was turning miser, the time was coming when the house would claim her. One more glorious day was granted her. The sun relented, spilling his gold with prodigal unconcern upon the fields. With reckless grace a few distant trees flaunted their glowing burden in proud contrast to their spoiled neighbours. It was gold, gold, gold, splashed with the crimson of the leaves — it was autumn. Drusilla among her Canterbury bells watched each minute change with a pain that was exquisite and a joy that hurt. If she could only catch it — hold it! At the last instant when the sinking sun had performed his softening miracle, her strong cousins appeared swinging homewards and the air carried upwards a snatch of a French chanson to which the distance lent a heart ' breaking note — haunting. The next morning a thin layer of snow was upon the fields. It became evident as the winter advanced that the little cousin was too delicate for the harsh climate. Hers now was the first place at the fireplace, and the strong cousins had become oddly gentle. Her fading was peaceful, as a flower almost imperceptibly folds its petals, but one fire remained — the desire to see her cousins swing homeward in the autumn sunset. She lingered on. Drusilla will rally with the warm weather, her aunt predicted as she fashioned tallow dips, but it proved otherwise. The summer passed and there was no change. The wheat ripened as it drank in the rich sunshine and reproduced it in yellow tassels. Each minute change was jealously watched by Drusilla among the Canterbury bells. Many times she saw her cousins swing homeward, the faded blue of their shirts a contrast to the prevailing autumn gold; but a little furrow remained upon her brow. There was something lacking .... And then the missing note was supplied. The air carried up a faint snatch of a French chanson with a note of heart ' break — haunting. Drusilla smiled — golden fields kissed by the sun — the strong cousins swinging homeward — the far-off lilt of their voices. Oddly weary she allowed her face to rest among the Canterbury bells — the furrow was gone. Drusilla belongs now; she will always belong. When the autumn is golden with the sheafed corn, ruddy with the glow of laden apple trees and glorious with a warmth of blended colour, if you stray upon Drusilla ' s Walk you may catch a glimpse of her among the Canterbury bells as she listens for the snatch of a French chanson. Joyce McKee, Form Upper V. September Gehonne — So the Red Skins used to call This Moon of Flaming Leaves, this month, September, When the Trees are decked like warrior braves With all the brilliant paint of war Upon them, And the Chanting of the autumn wind Is like the ancient ritual Which warns of Fierce and Glorious battle yet to come. Around the painted War Pole dance The braves. Their feathers Swaying, leaping as they turn In wild yet measured rhythm, while The flames Of war fires Send their ruddy, dancing gleams To play and flicker on the throng Assembled. So the Flaming maples, with their plumes Of scarlet dipped in gold and brilliant Orange, Sway and Leap as in the chanting wind They beat the measured movement of Their war dance. On their Feet are matchless moccasins With patterns worked in berries, red As blood. And, swaying At his belt, each warrior wears The scarlet wampum of the Mountain ash. Alice E. Johannsen, Form Upper VI. The Quest of Beauty How different is the Quest of Beauty to-day from in the days of the Greek gods and goddesses and the time of Hercules ! In those days an ambitious Grecian lady might voyage to various famous fountains, such as Hippocrene, and come back endowed with startling beauty for the rest of her life, to say nothing of eternal youth. Gradually, however, the gods withdrew their magic powers from the earthly fruits and fountains and left us to our own devices. Men and women in the Middle Ages, and for two or three centuries after the Renaissance, have shown startling originality in beautifying themselves. Wigs were the simplest of these means, but then wigs were glorified until our handsome English ladies trod the streets of London with a frame-work resembling a Hindu lady ' s market basket, covered with hair and jewels, firmly planted on their worthy heads. It was no uncommon sight in these days to see a lady one week painted a deathly white, while the next, owing to a sudden change in the mode, she seemed about to die of apoplexy at any moment. And then came the patches! These little black spots could change a face, otherwise commonplace, into an authentic reproduction of the Big Dipper and the moon, and certain well-known ladies have been known to appear with a coach-and-four suddenly imprinted on their alabaster brows. When one thinks of the agonies women have gone through with their cramped toes, steel- laced waists, and voluminous skirts, one wonders — do those revered beings, men, appreciate all that has been done to please their eyes and their vanity? It is a debatable point. Many deep-thinking philosophers decided, after the war, that women had suddenly come to their senses, that is, as to the clothing of that part of the body above the knees and below the neck. But when they saw their feet, encased in ridiculously high-heeled pumps, they were inclined to reconsider their rash judgment. And the faces! Women were swiftly catalogued as going to [27] the dogs, and, truly, one might have thought so. It became impossible to discover whether the lady in the scarlet hat was a blonde or a brunette, a Negro or a Chinese, so covered was she with every colour from black mascara to ivorywhite powder. Then the skirts began to creep above the knees, women even omitted stockings, and the doom of woman was pronounced. We like to believe, however, that we have snatched ourselves from death at the precipice ' s edge. The skirts again trail around our ankles, and comfort is forgotten for the sake of beauty. Rouge and powder, once looked upon as unbearable among women of breeding, have become an art, and a very intricate one. Nowadays, if our eyes are not big enough, they can be slit at the corners, and, presto! we have great soulful orbs. If we dislike their colour, it can be changed. We may have new noses, smaller mouths, practically any change which madame considers would be an improvement. Now that science and surgery have entered the Quest, who knows what the next century ladies will consider beautiful? The hour ' glass figure has had its day, the stick ' like flapper is forgotten, and now we struggle vainly to attain perfect proportions and some semblance of a waist. What will be next? Perhaps the ladies of 2000 A.D. will affect a barreWike appearance, and shave off the locks which we now so laboriously grow. At any rate, I am sure that many of us feel relieved that we will not have to follow that Quest of Beauty in the shadowy years to come, for the originality of a clever woman, such as those women, and men too, who decide our destiny as regards apparel, may become even more pain ' ful and ridiculous than it has been in past years. Some day we may be so sadly disillusioned as to our beauty, when a Martian lady drops from the clouds encased in fishes ' scales, or a substantial covering of bread and ' hutter, that we will return to our original fig-leaf with only a sigh for our elaborate frills and furbelows. Phyllis Durant, Form Upper VI. Sault Ste. Marie WHEN travelling down Lake Superior to Lake Michigan, one comes to the Soo locks. They are the locks which separate these two great lakes. The reason for them is apparent; for Lake Superior is higher than Lake Michigan, and is separated from that lake by a long stretch of rapids. Therefore the engineers have built canals with locks, which enable the large boats to go from Duluth right to Chicago. There are many canals; six altogether, I think, and one broad, turbulent, noisy, shallow channel. The canals themselves are wide enough for the largest lake-boats to pass through them. For six years now, I have been going from Montreal to Minneapolis, via the Soo Line, and not once have I failed to go down to the edge of the canal nearest the station and watch the boats. It is a never-ending pleasure to me. In the early summer the canals are blue-green, and quiet, with buttercups growing in the long grass beside them, but in the fall they are gray, rough, and we are not allowed to go too close to the edge, for fear that we might be blown into the chill water by the strong winds that always blow down from Lake Superior. The locks themselves are awe-inspiring. Huge, massive structures of stone, concrete, and steel, they serve as a gateway between the rough, cold and windy Lake Superior, and the more calm and gentle Lake Michigan. The boat enters the canal, and when it gets to the lock, the water in the next lock is raised by that in the lock just traversed, which water is poured in through the floodways. Then the gate is opened and the boat passes through into the next lock. This pro- cedure is repeated until the boat passes into the wide expanse of Lake Michigan. These locks make it possible for an extensive trade with the other great lakes. The boats themselves are interesting to watch. Huge, gaunt skeletons, the freighters, bearing ore from Superior, Duluth and other similar towns, pass along silently, their low red hulks, ter- minated on each end by a sort of castle or fortress, just barely causing a ripple in the canals. Some- times a bright red and white passenger boat, with long jet-black funnels, slips through the water, though at a greater speed than the freighters. All along the sides are little red or brown wooden [28] house-boats and tugs. They sway to and from their mooring-ropes, clinging to the shore, as if they, like the Greek mariners, are loath to leave it. Meanwhile, during all this water-traffic, trains slip in and out of the station, each changing dining ' cars, and thus giving us a chance to see these huge, interesting promoters of trade, the locks. I am grateful to the Soo Line for establishing their switchyards so close to the locks, and for their changing the cars; for if it had not been for these things, I probably never would have seen the Soo locks. I remember that when I was a very small girl, and I lived in Duluth, I would often go down to the wharves and see the freighters edging their way out of the harbour, bound for I knew not where. I now understand their work, and know their destinations, but I wonder now, instead, at the size of the locks, and what it would be like to go through them some day. I suppose that by the time I have found this out, I shall have something new to wonder over. Just now I prefer the locks; there is something infinitely thrilling, mysterious, about the word locks. Doors, shutting us from fairyland, would not be too imaginative, for they are indeed doors. We shall always be grateful to the engineers who have given us these doorways to trade — mysterious doors, giving a lurking sensation of magic. Mary Wesbrook, Form Upper V. Moonlight The silver moon shines down from out the sky And makes a gleaming pathway o ' er the sea ; The little fishing boats at anchor lie, And ride the dancing wavelets merrily. Through tall dark firs the gentle night ' winds sigh. And sing a lullaby to all the trees That lift their feathVy branches to the sky. And sway, as if to music, in the breeze. Vivian Stewart, Form IVa. The Superstitious Jew AN OLD JEW called Ikie Zargovitsky had just made a lot of money by gambling. All he ever . thought of was his money, all he ever talked of was his money, all he ever took any interest in was his money, until people got so tired of hearing nothing but money, money, money, when they saw him, that they began to hate the old Jew. He was very superstitious, and one day he lost his temper with his servant and, picking up a boot that lay near, threw it at him. The servant dodged, the boot hit a mirror and broke it to atoms. For the rest of the day Ikie thought of the broken mirror and the seven years bad luck that he thought he would have to endure. That night when he went to bed he still had the broken mirror on his mind and he lay awake for hours thinking of it. Suddenly — creek — creek — somebody was coming up the stairs. I wonder vhat Sam vants, thought Ikie. But it was not Sam ' s voice that he heard nor was it Sam ' s footsteps. There were two voices. One sounded as if the owner had his mouth full of something and was trying to speak, the other sounded hollow and dead. As the steps neared his door the voices ceased and the handle was slowly turned. Poor Ikie lay on his bed turning hot and cold by turns, and, as the door opened, two figures stood there with the moonhght streaming in from a window, lighting up their faces and clothing. Ikie remembered the mirror and thought that his last hour had come, but he did not have enough strength left to scream. [29] The figure with the hollow voice addressed the other as Money and money addressed his companion as Bad Luck. Bad Luck looked like a leper dressed in black garments that hung down to the ground. His hands were white and bony with long skinny fingers, and in one hand he held a broken mirror. Money was fat and tall, his hair was red and his eyes glared, he breathed deeply as he held tightly a bag of money and on the whole he looked like a wild madman. They entered the room and Money spoke to Back Luck. You, you, you! he panted. It ' s you who has done the work of the devil! You want my money, eh? Well, you are not going to get it! he shouted, and madly tore at his red hair. Oh! I am not going to get it, eh? replied the hollow voice calmy enough. That shows how much you know about it. With that Bad Luck slipped his clammy hand around Money ' s throat and threatened to choke him if he did not give up his money. At last, as Money was almost strangled, he threw the bag at Bad Luck and Bad Luck gave Money the broken mirror. Then, as suddenly as they had come, they disappeared and vanished into the air. About two seconds later a blood curdling shriek rang through the house and Ikie sat up in bed looking wildly about him with the sun streaming into his room. He knew that he had at last found strength enough to scream, but he did not know how loud. What a nightmare! But Ikie took it as a warning and gave all his money (which he supposed would bring him bad luck) to the charities and the Children ' s Hospital. Now he is running a grocery store called Zargovitsky ' s Groceries. MiMi Languedoc, Form IIIb. Home Coming SILVIA was often lonely in the dim old house, but her magination helped a great deal — more than anyone would think who did not live all alone with Great Aunt Jerusha. When Sil ' via ' s mother died — now a faint memory of a comforting cuddly person who used to take Silvia into bed with her when a bad dream came — Silvia ' s father had gone away leaving the tiny in ' dividual with the mop of yellow curls to the tender mercies of his Aunt Jerusha, who was of the mid ' Victorian era of poker backs, and had firm ideas as to the bringing up of children. It was the day before Silvia ' s ninth birthday, and she was awakened at the usual and hate fully early hour of seven by Mrs. B riggs. Struggling into her clothes in the shivery half ' light, Silvia tried to see herself still peacefully slumbering in her lovely warm bed, but somehow to-day the idea merely irritated her, as it was so far from the truth. At breakfast, cold and cheerless, sitting straight and stiff opposite Aunt Jerusha, the meal of prunes, porridge and milk, was very unlike the fairy banquet she pretended it was. After breakfast came Miss Spencer, stern featured and business ' like, to take Silvia for her usual morning walk, nor was loitering to make friends with stray puppies or running ahead to see what lay around the next corner allowed. Miss Spencer ' s firm grip of Silvia ' s hand never relaxed for an instant. After the walk came lessons, also with Miss Spencer, at which Silvia did not distinguish herself. When she discovered old musty his- tories and geographies of another day she plunged feverishly into them and greedily devoured [ ;« I every word, but Miss Spencer ' s cut and dried method did not appeal to her imagination, and so failed. At lunch time Miss Spencer surrendered the reins of government to Aunt Jerusha. Spinach, cold mutton and boiled potatoes — ugh ! Silvia shuddered at the mere thought — followed by tapioca pudding, Silvia ' s pet aversion. Well, it was a good time to pretend she was a prisoner, in a damp dungeon, with prison fare! Immediately after dinner Silvia was conducted to her nap, where with blinds pulled down she lay wide-eyed , staring at the blank wall for an hour. Even her doll Verbena was not permitted to share this imprisonment, which Silvia pretended was on a torture wrack. Then began the first free time in the day, when she went to play in the garden, with strict orders not to go out into the street. To ' day the garden was bare and dull, a nd old Loos the gardener, who let her plant things once in a while, was not there, and Silvia had only Verbena, who was nearly as old as her- self, to talk to. Of course Verbena was a much ' cherished heirloom, but her cracked face had such a vacant stare at times as to be almost annoying. Besides, she could not talk. After a dreary time Aunt Jerusha said, Come in, child, from the window, so Silvia came. She had tea in the kitchen with Mrs. Briggs presiding, but here was no companionship, for Mrs. Briggs read missionary pamphlets in grim silence. At last, when bed ' time came, Silvia trudged wearily upstairs, having bidden Aunt Jerusha a subdued Good Night, and still no mention of her birthday. Surely Aunt Jerusha hadn ' t forgotten? She undressed slowly, with a rising lump in her throat, and jumped into bed, pulling the covers around her ears till her shadow looked like a distorted hunch ' backed gnome, leaving her clothes in a disorderly heap on the floor. Mrs. Briggs came in to switch off the light, and eyed Silvia disapprovingly. She picked up each article of clothing in grim silence, hung it over the back of a chair, and stalked out, shutting the door on a great black room, with a sobbing, heaving bit of humanity in the centre of a huge high bed. Silvia longed very much for someone to under ' stand her and love her, and thought wistfully of the happy days in the dim past, before she came to Aunt Jerusha. Aunt Jerusha did her plain duty by the child, as she expressed it, but that was not love — not by any means. In the middle of the night, a sudden sound awoke Silvia, and in a daze she jumped up, put on dressing-gown and slippers and pattered down the long dimly-lit hall. The sub-conscious part of Silvia had a set purpose. What was it? When she reached the front door, someone was just coming in, with a suit-case in one hand. With a cry of joy, half a sob, Silvia flew into the strong protecting arms of Daddy! She knew it was Daddy by the strange acrid smell of his rough coat as she rub bed her cheek against it — tobacco, strangely nice, and daddyish . ' ' The strong arms carried her into the library where a warm fire was burning. Just before she dropped asleep, she heard the words, Happy Birthday, Cherub, and knew that here at last was someone who understood. Suzanne Kohl, Form IVa. Easter Green are the buds on the lilac tree, fx hibernis suis ' bu22;es the bee. The robin courts his happy bride, It ' s Eastertide! Crocus buds are beginning to sprout, DafFydowndillies are coming out. Spring is coming along the line At Easter time. And everyone is happy and gay. And the birds sing all the livelong day. For they hear the promise of summer long In the Easter song. Mary Wesbrook, Form Upper V. [31] The Sky ' HE sky is a kingdom of ever ' changing moods; a kingdom as fascinating as the fairyland we 1 dream of in our childhood days. Its inhabitants, the clouds, are like the people of our own countries, of many different types. Sometimes they are brisk and cheerful, scudding gaily across the sky as if they had not a care in the world. Sometimes they are lazy, indolent little balls of white fluff, suspended motionless from the blue dome far above. At other times they are so close that they seem almost to touch the tree ' tops, as, black and sullen, they drag their weary way across the leaden sky. Sometimes one may see a prince, riding in state towards the lands beyond the blue, his chariot drawn by white horses with flying manes and tossing heads. And as we lie gazing up into the blue depths and watch the idle clouds, it is in the sky that we see our castles in the air. At sunset the sky is tinted a thousand different shades. Each cloud seems lined with fire, which runs in crinkHng tongues of flame around its edge, making the purple of the cloud seem yet more dense. The sun at last sinks to rest in a bed of crimson and yellow, reflected vividly in the water down below. And when the sun has vanished, the sky becomes a land of enchantment and mystery. Here reign ancient deities and kings and heroes of long ago. Myriads of tiny Ian ' terns wink and twinkle in a setting of velvety black. And over all the moon sheds her tranquil silver light, even more beautiful when she glimmers through the chinks of a cloud which has, for the moment, veiled her face. Without the radiance of the stars and the moon, the sky, on a cloudy night, seems to press down upon the earth and swallow the mountains and tree tops in its inky blackness. But perhaps the sky is most beautiful after the rain, when the sun bursts suddenly through the clouds and pours a golden flood upon the tree tops, while far, far up in the sky appears the rainbow, the fairies ' many-coloured bridge to earth. From the earliest days man has made a study of the sky. Many years ago it was believed that the heavens had a particular bearing upon the lives of men, and that certain stars were favourable to those born under their influence. Although this superstition has long been dead, man still studies the stars, for he has always something new to learn from this mysterious realm above him. Betty Hurry, Form Upper VI. On Beethoven ' s Moonlight Sonata O ' er the keys the player gently bends, Softly, softly drawing from the notes A wondrous tale, and to my soul there floats A dream . . . the pale moon from the deep sky sends Her limpid beams ... a Spirit now descends, It glides across the waters to the boats Which slumber gently on the quiet lake ' s breast — My aching heart lies peacefully at rest. Moonlight, thy magic spell is everywhere! It fills the heart of yon sweet nightingale: He sings with pathos to the whispering pines, I hear them crooning to the stars ... I dare Not breathe ... for God is smiling on the vale. My soul is still, it murmurs low, Peace reigns. Nancy Thacker, Form Upper VI. ' God ' s in His Heaven, All ' s Right with the World ! — Browning. VERY few people possess the optimistic view of life with which the writer of these two short lines was endowed. Many there are who cannot understand how all can be right with the world while there is so much sin, sorrow and sickness. But sorrow itself can be beautiful as long as we remember the thought behind the words of Van Dyke: There ' s something happy on the way and God sends love to you. The grief and pain, that every man must experience at some time in his life, are sent to us by God to test our strength and will to cope with them. We fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake. Our hardships play as necessary a part in our lives as do our pleasure;s. For the soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears. Perhaps much unnecessary sorrow can be caused by one ' s outlook on life. When one has optimistic viewpoints, the world cannot help seeming rosier and happier. After all, says James Russell Lowell, the kind of world one carries about within oneself is the important thing, and the world outside takes all its grace, colour and value from that. And one gets so much more out of life through being an optimist and taking the brightest view of things. These lines of Herrick ' s show what an optimist is like. Give me a man that is not dull When all the world with rifts is full; But unamazed does clearly sing Whereas the roof ' s a-tottering; And, though it falls, continues still Tickling the cittern with his quill. Besides a sanguine disposition, it very often takes moral courage and strength to be optimistic. Charles Lamb had these qualities, and he faced the world heroically despite the tragedy which sad- dened his life and made him give up all thoughts of married happiness for himself. From this letter of his to a friend we can see the joy he took in the sweet things of this world. One passage in your letter a little displeased me, he writes; the rest was nothing but kindness, which Robert ' s letters are always brimful of. You say that ' this world to you seems drained of all its sweets! ' At first I had hoped you only meant to intimate the high price of sugar, but I am afraid you meant more. O, Robert, I don ' t know what you call sweet. Honey and the honeycomb, roses and violets are yet in the earth. The sun and the moon yet reign in heaven, and the lesser lights keep up their pretty twinklings. Meats and drinks, sweet sights and sweet smells, a country walk, spring and autumn, follies and repentance, quarrels and reconcilements have all a sweetness by turns. Good humour and good nature, friends at home that love you, and friends abroad that miss you — you possess all these things and more innumerable, and these are all sweet things. You may extract honey from everything. — Charles Lamb. There is another extract containing the same thought that we find in Lamb ' s letter. It is taken from the writings of George Borrow. — Life is sweet, brother. — Do you think so? — Think so! There ' s night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon and stars, brother, all sweet things; there ' s likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die? — I would wish to die . . . — You talk like a gorgio, which is the same as talking like a fool. Wish to die, indeed! Romany chal would wish to live for ever! [33] — In sickness, Jasper? — There ' s the sun and the stars, brother. — In blindness, Jasper? — There ' s the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that I would gladly live for ever. And surely no one could help but agree with Borrow that the actual world is the best of all possible worlds when they see the illimitable beauty of the Nature which surrounds them. Greg gives us a glorious account of it all in words that are so wonderfully well-chosen and so full of suggestion and imagery that, were one altered, or some phrase left out for brevity ' s sake, the whole passage would undoubtedly be spoilt. Here it is in Greg ' s own words: Every sort of beauty has been lavished on our allotted home: beauties to enrapture every sense, beauties to satisfy every taste; forms the noblest and loveliest, colours the most gorgeous and the most delicate, odours the sweetest and subtlest, harmonies the most soothing and the most stirring; the sunny glories of the day; the pale Elysian grace of moonlight; the lake, the mountain, the primaeval forest, and the boundless ocean ; silent pinnacles of snow in one hemisphere, the marvels of tropical luxuriance in another; the serenity of sunsets; the sublimity of storms; everything is bestowed in boundless profusion on the scene of our existence; we can conceive or desire nothing more exquisite or perfect than what is round us every hour; and our perceptions are so framed as to be consciously alive to all. The provision made for our sensuous enjoyment is in overflowing abundance; so is that for the other elements of our complex nature. Who that has revelled in the opening ecstasies of a young imagination, or the rich marvels of the world of thought, does not confess that the intelligence has been dowered at least with as profuse a beneficence as the senses? Who that has truly tasted and fathomed human love in its dawning and crowning joys has not thanked God for a felicity which indeed passeth all understanding? If we had set our fancy to picture a creator occupied solely in devising delight for children whom He loved, we could not conceive one single element of bliss which is not here. Sallie Ward, Form Upper VI. The Florist ' s Shop THE joy of entering a florist ' s shop ! Mind thinks at once of the expense and halts, but Spirit slips gaily in and flutters among the flowers like a butterfly. An attendant approaches, and back comes Spirit. The cord was too short. Mind does not allow it to wander freely, for Mind is shy and very retiring, and feels large and uncomfortable among the delicate beauties. The attendant is kind and attentive, but still Mind refuses to be coaxed from his position of safety. After long cajoling he is enticed to come and examine, along with Spirit, this wonderful fairy land. The first confusion is over. Spirit and Mind are one. The chrysanthemums are smelt, fingered, then the price enquired; very reasonable, thinks Mind, a dozen will do very well. Spirit flutters and thinks how well they will look in that blue bowl, reflecting their splendours on the mahogany table. One dozen, if you please, and none of those withered ones. They will be quite dead by to-morrow. I am sorry, but everyone must take their share of withered ones, or how can this shop be maintained? With a cry Mind objects, and I am the silent watcher of one of the many internal struggles which go on frequently within me. I am helpless, for I am only the judge to keep order between the advocate and the defence. I am torn from one to the other. Mind often wins, but this time he has lost, and very badly he takes it. The chrysanthemums are bought, and are going to grace the blue bowl this evening. [34] After this bold step, Mind and Spirit become one. We are reckless; we are going to wander freely and at peace through the florist ' s shop. The attendant has passed to a darker portion of the shop, and is engaged in comforting the flowers for their last journey. Still under the spell of this mystic land, we sight the flowering plants. Clearer and clearer they grow upon the horizon; but what is their name? We must have one, no matter what, says Spirit, fondling the petals, and delightedly viewing it from near and afar. How the cat will love to sit by it and nibble the leaves, and refresh her soul from its exquisite perfume. I only hope she pricks her nose and dies of poison, growls Mind. What is the name of that plant? He gropes and gropes and thinks. Maybe he will make a bold move and ask for the plant without mentioning its name. Maybe the man won ' t notice, and label him a fool. Yes, he really will ask the man and get it over with. What does it matter, anyway? Never see the man again; plenty more shops to go to. The shop is left. Mind and Spirit are gone. I am myself once more, for only florist shops create that curious depression within me. Dorothy Austin, Form Upper VI. Evening The golden light is dying in the West, And tiny waves are breaking on the sands; Yonder where the grim grey mountain stands, A little star has wandered from the rest. And hangs alone, in the dark Eastern sky; Night is sweeping o ' er the sun-warmed sea; The homing cows are lowing on the lea; A cricket drones his sleepy song nearby. And all is peace. But in the lives of men The sunset marks just one more passing day, The strife and crime and smiles and tears go on. And lies are told and promises are made; New leaders rise and great men pass away While sunset yields to night — and night to dawn. Phyllis Durant, Form Upper VI. [35] JUNTOS The Moon-Fairies Have you ever seen the fairies where the pale white moonlight streams, All afrolicking and dancing in their pinks, and whites, and greens? The good old moon sends down his light on mountain ' sides and hills. That ' s where the fairies come to play in pretty frocks and frills. Yes, I have seen the fairies where the pale white moonlight streams, And they frolicked, pranced, and danced in their pinks, and whites, and greens; But the good old moon sent down his light on mountains, lands and seas. And the little fairies frisk among the meadows and the leas. Peggy Wesbrook, Form Upper II. A Day in the Life of a Lap Boy IT WAS a cold day in midwinter on the Tundra. Hurry up, my boy, Ole heard his father calling, I can ' t see the reindeer anywhere in sight. Ole jumped up quickly; there was no time to lose, and he knew it. They must follow the tracks as best they might. His father, Ole and three others went out to follow the tracks. Though Ole was only ten, he was a good hunter and tracker. After they had been roaming about for half a day without any success, the three men with them, as it was not their herd, gave up the search. It was getting darker and darker; it was hard to see, as the Northern Lights were not very bright. They struggled on and on. Suddenly Ole ' s father gave a glad cry, for there in the distance was the great herd. But their luck had not come yet, for, as they stood watching, Ole ' s father slipped, and sent a block of ice down the sloping bank. Ole turned to look, and to his horror saw a huge brown bear, its neck covered with blood where the ice had hit it. It was mad with rage and chased them round and round the bank, till at last it fell exhausted to the ground. They left it, so that they could catch the reindeer. They caught them easily, and brought them home to a well ' earned sleep. Jean Scrimger, Form Upper I. [36] The Shipwreck CLOUDS were gathering in the west and it was beginning to get dark. The rising wind whistl ed and screamed among the rigging of the ship Mary Ann, bound for Liverpool. Storm comin growled the skipper to his mate. Bad one, too. Higher and higher rose the waves, lashing about the ship, and making it roll and pitch dan- gerously. It was now as dark as night, though only afternoon. Whistling and screaming among the sails and spars the wind rose, and the waves with it. A jagged flash of lightning rent the sky, showing angry and foaming waters heaving about the ship. Bad, yelled the skipper, as they climbed a mountainous wave. Sure enough! as they slid into a deep valley. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the storm was gone, as is the way with tropical storms, showing an island, with a white sloping beach, upon which the rays of the setting sun played among the rocks. It was a fair enough sight, but it meant death for the crew, for nobody could hope to live one day in the germ ' infested swamps farther in; and they could not go on, because the ship was a wreck. If you had gone to that island a year or two later, you would have found the hulk of a noble old ship, half covered with sand, and farther up about twenty skeletons in various horrible attitudes, that spoke of agony before death ; and a little apart, one which had fallen against a tree, with bony hands clasped in prayer. It was all that remained of the brave skipper and his crew. Griselda Archibald, Form II. The Daffodil The daifodondilly she ' s sometimes called, She ' s the sweetest flower I know. She is always so fresh, and she smells so sweet. And is the earliest to grow. She grows in the garden, the hothouse too. You ' ll find her most anywhere; There ' s one that grows in our garden now She ' s next to a maidenhair. The tulip, her other neighbour is, But she ' s very jealous and proud. When she sees the other wee flowers arise And round the daffodil crowd. And so the daffodil wins the choice Of many, in sunshine and rain. And many a sick room she has decked. Removing the thoughts of pain. Jessie Hill, Form Upper II. Our Lessons In ancient time of History When people Hved in caves. We find it such a mystery We are siich little knaves ! Barbara Peck, Form I. [37] I like to do Arithmetic, And add the sums together, For every time I have a tick It ' s sure to bring good weather! Janice Dumaresq, Form I. In Nature study we talk of flowers, And animals, and bees. And O, I love it when it showers. And whe n Tm climbing trees! Elizabeth Partridge, Form I. In Handwork time we do nice things, In patterns brown or pink, Of butterflies with lovely wings. And little stars that wink. Allana Reid, Form I. In Gym we go along the forms, We jump up high, and march. And then we swing and stretch our arms. And teacher says, Backs arch. Mary Dakin, Form I. Once upon a time there lived two little princes and they liked each other. One day the king had a competition about who would get most roses. So they went along the garden and the eldest one picked the most. He won a crown. His father was sorry because the little prince had only one less. So the king gave the little prince a crown too, and they were all happy for their lives. Estelle Hargreaves, Form I. Once upon a time their lived a king and queen and a little daughter. They lived in the city of London, and were very happy. But the little princess was not content with what she had, she wanted something magic. One day her father was going to the store to buy some things and he asked her what she wanted. To the great surprise of the king and queen, she answered, I want to go to the country. Her mother laughed, her father laughed, and her governess laughed; but the little princess had her wish. Janice Dumaresq, Form I. Dreaming I love to dream of a wonderful place, A place where I never have been ; It is not in the north nor yet in the south. But somewhere in between. A place where it ' s never too hot, nor too cold, A place where nature holds sway, A log cabin here, a creek running there. And a waterfall ' s music all day. The trees all around in nature ' s green garb, O, a valley with riches galore; In the distance I hear a woodpecker ' s knock As I walk up the path to my door. It is not of the riches of man that I dream, No, not of money or gold. But the riches of nature, these are the things That cannot be bought, lost or sold. O wonderful nature, more beautiful far Than words can ever express; O little dream, so precious to me. Of my future ' s happiness. Lola Byrd, Form Upper IIa. H.M.S. Victory THE Victory is now in dry-dock in Ports- mouth, England. For a number of years it floated in the harbour, but then money was col ' lected and a dry-dock built for it and now people may go on board and be shown around for a very smal l sum of money. Its anchor is on view on the South Parade in Southsea (which adjoins Portsmouth). It is on the top of a slab of stone and concrete, about four feet high, and it can be seen quite a long way off. When seeing the Victory perhaps what one notices most is the lowness of the ceilings. Everybody is told, Mind your head, please! when they go down the ladder-like stairways, and indeed it is necessary, for only very small people can pass without bending their heads. It must have been troublesome for Nelson ' s sailors, when hurrying up and down. Another striking point is how a ship could sail over the seas and survive battles with windows completely covering the square stern. The guns are also amusing, for they look just like toy cannons; and for ammunition they have iron balls about four or five inches in diameter and weighi ng about eighty pounds. One may see the room, and even the exact spot where Nelson died in the battle of Trafalgar. Nelson is not only honoured around Portsmouth, from where he set out for his great victory, but in London, in Trafalgar Square, there is a great stone column, with four crouching lions at the base and a statue of Nelson on the top. This is known as one of the great sights of that city. Nelson is honoured far and wide and it is nice to think that our school is called Trafalgar after his victory for England. Nancy Murray, Form Upper II. Molly ' s Adventure I ' m a little china dolly. My mistress calls me Molly, She is really very kind to me, But one day she left me under a tree. [39] It was cold and shivery in the middle of the night; When owls went past I trembled with fright. I heard the owls hooting, And saw the bats fly overhead, I was so scared and lonely, ■ I wished that I was dead. I saw the fairies dance around The tiny fairy ring. But a little cloud came creeping up And covered everything. Soon the moon began to fade. And the day dawned clear and bright; And I soon forgot my adventure Of that thrilling night. When my mistress came and found me, I wished I could tell her it all; But I couldn ' t say a word, ' Cause Tm only a little doll! Sylvia Martin, Form Upper I. Fairies All night long I sit and watch The fairies dancing on the grass. Pixies, fairies, gnomes and elves. See them all go tripping past. But when the moon puts out her light Their footsteps quickly fade away. The sun comes up behind the hills And so we start another day. My sister says Tm dreaming. My brother laughs at me, But I believe that fairies Are hiding in each tree. Barbara Ward, Form Upper I. The Plea of the Toy Dog I am just a toy dog Sitting on a shelf, And here I stay, day after day, Trying to amuse myself. Couldn ' t someone buy me? Tm not so very dear, I ' d like to have a mistress, Cause I ' m so lonely here. HO] A little girl is in the store, I thin}{ she ' s coming here! My heart is beating more and more, What shall I do? Oh dear! She says she ' s going to take me home (I hope it ' s not a lie I) I ' m all wrapped up in a parcel now, so I bid you all goodbye. Marguerite Reward, Form IIIa Country Life In the country, air is fresh. Food is but the red deer ' s flesh. Roam and scamper. Never hamper At any fun. Come join, come join, our merry pranks. Up and over and ' round the banks. And when weary, go to sleep. Until the first of dawn doth peep In the grey skies. Jean Scrimger, Form Upper I. The Excitement of Form II ' Twas the night of our Gym demonstration, After our part had been done, Down to our classroom we wandered For two or more hours of fun. After games and talking and laughing. Things soon became quite dull. Until one of the girls at the teacher ' s desk Gave such a scream and yell. Crash! bang! went the tadpoles. All squirming on the floor; [41] The bowl in a thousand pieces Made a tremendous uproar. It certainly caused some commotion, But the time passed quickly away. Then back to goc ckss we hurried To give our last display, The Gran ' n ' n-d March. DoROTHy Janet Brown, Form II. The Way Through Life The way through life is a long, long road; Those that travel there carry a load. Never turn to the fields at the side. Though you may be weary and hurt your pride ; Still stay on the straight and narrow way. For at the end there will be a day When your sorrows and troubles will cease — All that you know will be rest and peace. Nancy Murray, Form Upper II. The Battle of Trafalgar IN A LITTLE cottage on the Kentish coast. Jack Blunt was telling his brothers and sisters of his adventures. He had been a powder monkey in one of Nelson ' s ships. When the French and Spaniards ventured out to attack England, Nelson went to meet them, although our fleet was much smaller than theirs. One day at dawn our ships turned east, and although we could see nothing, we knew that we were pursuing the enemy. We sailed slowly along until about six bells, when we came up with them. At once the ships at the head of our column engaged in battle. The wind was so very light that I thought we would never get into the fight. Of course, I was sent below and passed powder until all was over. My friend, the gunner ' s mate, told me how things were going, however. At last we heard a great shouting and cheering and I scrambled up on deck. Most of the French and Spanish ships had lowered their flags and the Union Jack had been run up in their place. The fight was over. It was not until the next day that I learned that, though we had won the battle, it had cost us dear. Nelson had been killed. They said it was his own fault, for during the fight he stood on deck in his Admiral ' s coat with all his stars and medals as if he were a mark for their bullets. I learned, too, that the message he had flown was that ' England expects every man to do his duty ' . Margery Simpson, Age lo. Form Upper I. [42] The Storm The waves lashed high. The wind did roar, Black was the sky. And close the rocky shore. Every timber creaked As the ship mounted high; The wind among the rigging screamed, And hghtning rent the sky. But soon there came a change; The wind died away; Through the clouds the evening sun Shone in a quiet bay. The skipper paced the deck. As the ship gently rose and fell; The waves were not so high; All things now were well. Griselda Archibald, Form II. The Tale of the Tadpole of Form II (A True Story) I AM a tadpole, my name is Pete and I live in a bowl with my brothers in the Second Form classroom. We have a great time frisking about in our bowl and biting at the weed. There are a great many girls who have lessons in the classroom and we don ' t like it a bit when they come and stare at us. The other day I heard some girls talking about a Gym. Demon ' stration coming soon and they were very excited waiting for it to take place. At last the big event took place and every one was more excited than ever, when all of a sudden a clumsy girl sat on the desk and knocked our bowl on to the floor. I was so frightened when it crashed that I thought the end of the world was coming. After that we were picked up and put into tiny glasses which were so small that we could not move around comfortably. Then a few days later a new bowl was brought. We were all put in and played so much for joy that some of the water nearly splashed out. The next day, while we were having the water changed, all my brothers had been put back in the bowl. I began to feel giddy, gave a jump and landed in the next basin and as there was no plug in it, I slipped down the pipe. Down, down, down I went. My, but it was cold and such tight quarters! It seemed a long time when I was forced out of the pipe into a wide space of blue water. Oh! it was good to see the light again, but it was very cold and I wondered where I was. Then I spied a fish, he looked at me and sniffed. Who are you? he said. I am Pete, the tadpole. Where am I? I asked. Aren ' t you a silly tadpole, you don ' t even know where you are, ha! ha! Why, you are in the St. Lawrence River. You would make a very tasty dinner, I am sure, he answered. Please do not eat me, I implored. All right, I suppose you would not satisfy my hunger anyway. I must be going now, good ' bye, and he swam off. Good ' bye, said I, very hastily, as I was very glad at escaping such a horrible death, and I hope to have no more terrifyi ng experiences. Patricia Plant, Form II. [43] Our Library Book Plate A competition was held to get the best design for our Library Book ' plate. About thirtyeight girls entered, and the work was submitted to an outside Committee. The judges decided that the best designs had been sent in by the following girls: — Catherine Mullen, Betty Taylor, Dorothy Coristine, Brenda Fox and Phyllis Green. We reproduce Catherine ' s design above. Library News WE HAD always hoped for a library — some day — but only a few desultory attempts were made to secure it. At last the Sixth Form of 1928, who wished to leave some lasting remem ' brance behind them, decided to start a Library. Subscriptions were solicited; the school artists began to work on book-plates worthy to grace our books, and in the autumn of 1929, the Trafalgar Library came into existence. As soon as we arrived at school, we were asked if we had seen the library? And so we discovered that one of the class rooms — Room V in old days — had been made into a delightful room, with chairs, a sofa, and tables — and shelves of books, under the head ' ings of literature, poetry, history, biography, mythology, travel and religion. New girls, although they did not understand our pride in our new possession, nevertheless agreed that it was a library to be admired. Books are, of course, the main point of interest in a library. Bacon classified books under these headings: — Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. Our library contains books that fall in these divisions. There are fiction by Booth Tarkington and O. Henry, fairy tales by Andersen, volumes by Barrie and Shakespeare, and works of philosophy and sociology. Friends of Trafalgar must be thanked for their generous gifts of books. [45] The library is not only for pleasure, but it is a place to study. There are many reference books, from books of classical tales, books of foreign languages and volumes on the painting of the Old Masters and on architecture, to the Encyclopedia Britannica. There are books of history as well as historical biographies, such as Maurois ' Disraeli and Napoleon. Neither are the poets neglected. Every poet is represented, from Chaucer to Masefield, the new Poet ' Laureate, and the romanticists are seen in the volumes of Byron, Shelley, and Keats. Short biographies of many poets come under the heading of biography. On a table are the latest copies of the Sphere, V Illustration, the Atlantic Monthly, the N atumal Geographic, Music and Touth, and our old friend Punch! After dinner, those favouring literature take up the Atlantic Monthly, those who are inclined to French read Illustration, but the frivolous read the newest jokes ! After some years, we have our library, and our new books with the chosen book ' plate on the first page. We take much pride in our library, not only because we can read new and old books there but chiefly because it is ours. We feel that we have helped, be it ever so little, in achieving this dream. But thanks must go to the Sixth Form, who gave ns this gift. Surely a joy for ever . During the year we have received several contributions both in books and money for our library. We take this opportunity of thanking Mrs. A. Waldock, Miss Carolyn Field, Miss Alice Bisselt, Miss Editha Johnston, Dr. Fairie, Dr. Paterson Smyth, and Mr. Henry Neville Gladstone, Hawarden Castle. THE LIBRARY FUND Alma Howard Peggy McKay Betty DeBrisay Cynthia Bazin Alison Addie Norah McGinnis Helen Hyman Elizabeth Fraser Betty Miner Margaret Frazee Florence McMurtry Muriel Oakley Alice Johannsen Margaret Saunders Ruth Bouchard Dorothy Brown Catherine Stevenson Griselda Archibald Marjorie Latter Mercy Walker Nancy Murray Allana Reid Jeannette McKay Jean Scrimger Betty Forbes Doreen Dann Lois Fosbery Anna Stevenson Phyllis Durant Nora Miner Katharine Grier Nancy Thacker Jean Horton Phyllis Russell Margaret Anderson Beatrice Climo Megan Owen Katherine Littler Susan Breck Mary Cross Audrey Grafton Yolande Grafton Beatrice Stewart Betty Turner Joan Henry Helen McLaggan Margaret Saunders Morna O ' Neill Sheilagh Sullivan Betty Yeates Betty Trow Mary Kate MacNaughton Jean Symons Josette LaCaille Alison Carmichael Nora Cowper Patricia Mitchell Betty Brookfield Jocelyn Bruce Betty Hurry Ernestine Ross Patricia Plant Marjorie Evans Kathleen Kay Kitty Erskine Frances Jones Dorothy Brooks Frances Earle Phyllis Green Dorothy Austin Alison Reed Joan Bann Velma O ' Neill Pauline Scott Sallie Ward Lee Howard Constance Grier [40] nay 31 1919. Hisfo ' y PageanI June 5 Gym- CompeVilion. w Tune Closing. SepV.ir Ope Oc .7 -. LecWe Canon Goiuey-Rees Nov.! . House and Kool maLhJi .- Stkool Won Nov. House and. School maVcW.- e. Nov, 25- P,-efech. Pauline StcU Wrtia HowdVcl Dec. 4- . League HaVok ujiH Miss Eclgeir ' S- T7af.U)on . Dec. 21 ' Closing 7 r . ' Opening 3an .25 ' - League Mak-K ujihK Sl ' ocly .- Ii-af • Won. belr. 8 LeAgue HaVcK oj ' irtx (jJesVon- r af ujon. Tel. 11 . Lechuve ' As yKey cinfrtd on Hieir- paVV. There was silence rieep as dea Vi Tor a ViTTiG . DcmonsVrahon ' ■■t la..ck 2t- ' Out- s ill bea ' i r,gU, So FoudhK so followed . and so favrly won TKe universal soUjersWip V a5 sVat bed TKc Vicarl- of rr rtV ir. yV c dass Mavyi An uneximineJ lljt is noV uiotI i ,, , . , EacVi a We. Viead ' Levelled ViiS deadly aim-. VVior fahj K-wvi No second sVroXe mVcnd. TeUrua.ry ll -- ' ' , fts ' vjaves before a vessel unfler sail ,- ' So men obeyed. (?) ,l-.ebToarv ' Uki e tVie battle rigcs lood and long find Vhe sVormy winds do blow ■■-.Tetruary n ' ' . Cbaymed magic cisemenVs opening on W foan Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorr _ Tin. ' SbipAKoyl ' E)-rcedi Prom VVv ir Komes. a mclancVioly -Iram JiL. .Oecenilotr ll ' - JaniAiry JS- ' ' ° ' , , VJc ka-ve mel- Vbc enemy and VViay are Ours Rocl Wome- bqunci Vo-ncy runs bcr bj rt asbore BccemWr U ,. ' ' Pursue be b-iumph -and paTlakc }ie aW - ' He IS owrs ) ' rtdminivVtr , lo i ara, V ' adorn rt e slaVe ' Itvjnvembei ' s Nouember 1 ' ■ ' And be Sljin o{ battle flew ' Nove. lLer ■J3 ' - ' ' Then imihiVc iVie OtVion of bbe tiger 1 1 school in Hie sea- ' And ri ey t-augKV us D awlmg ' SVveVcKing, a -ici ra-intunb n coi s ' . tV ay 3 ' - ' Ihis  s Hic music wViitVi pWa5es me NELSONS CMAPT Junii M ' In o Harbour. I sVia ♦V £Veupor VaW «3V ei ' eT be gene Ooca rnoye On my advenVo ' e bydvic an i neiu Turnmg VHe accompAishmenr  V mBrvy (VoV OnceorVu.cein our ]n c, an boot - U f? ' li ' ' vou K island story . ' , ==5 - rWic pa Vv of JoVy was VV c way I ' Rounxiatout- VVie Cauldror f O Teb. P. ' efech. Alice Tokannsen . Helen H Uggan .and Bai ' tdi-aTooke. Teb. 22 Le oe nakk tJifVi Miss Edgac ' s. raf.uon rlaiycVi 5 UecVu e . Canon Goujc - Rees MavcK 8- League f VcK oull Vl SfudLj - Ifa .ijjorx [ Yd IS - ' . end 15 DemonsVi-aVion . Har-cK 2(, Leagoe nakK uiA Uesten- GJesbn Uon a iiosV Miss Wgdf S. Apvil Closing - April Opening Hay 5 — House o -h , fi ' ' Scl ool lYUVch- Stho won plisnmenr in- triBrvy ria-y lb- Play. in LUondevland . Given bij Tbi-m Jl, RemwJe ' SVlffen Vbe Sinews SummoTV Vbe hi Sally Ward, Form Upper VI. Alma Howard, Form Upper VI. 49 The Sixth of 1929-30 Tidens Animi Atque in Utrumque Paratus ALICE JOHANNSEN (1928-30) Her ways are ways of pleasantness. Alice came to Traf only last year but she soon took her place as a leader of the Form. She is now a Prefect, President of the Form and Editor of the Maga ' zine, and a good sport. ALMA HOWARD (1920-30) Whi e kright-eyed Science watches round. Alma has spent all her schooPcareer at Traf and has always held some office in the Form. This year she is a Prefect, Vice-President and one of the Advertising Managers of the Magazine. She is also a member of the Second Basketball Team and of the Form Team. The Sixth of 1929-30 CYNTHIA BAZIN (1922-30) Oh, he Sits high in all the people s hearts! Timmie has always been one of the Gym. officers of the Form and this year is Captain of Gym. and Games and Vice ' Captain of the school. She has also played for ' ward on the Basketball team for two years, and is one of the Advertising Managers of the Mag. JANET CAMERON (1923-30) AH times I have enjoyed greatlyS ' Jinty is Vice-Captain of the Form in Gym. and Games, and one of our best gymnasts. This year she has subbed for the Second Basketball team and has played on the Form team. She is also Secretary ' Treasurer of the Mag. BETTY HURRY (1924-30) A lively mind disclosed ' ' ' Betty is one of our brilliant members. She has been in school since Second Form and has always ranked at the top of the class. [51] The Sixth of 1929-30 BETTY MINER (1923-30) The beautiful eyes of my cash hox. Betty is Mission Representative and has held this position ever since Form III. She is also a School Pre feet. HELEN McLAGGAN (1928-30) We cultivate literature on a little oatmeal Helen is a very jolly member of the Form in spite of her famous worried look. She is a Prefect of the House and School and is House Representative of the Mag. SALLIE WARD (1926-30) To those who (nou; her not, no words can paint; And those who now her, M ow all words are faint. Sallie is our leading mathematician and one of the artists of the Form. She is also a Prefect and the Arts Representative of the Mag. [52 The Sixth of 1929-30 DOROTHY AUSTIN (1929-30) I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. ' Dorothy came to Traf only this year but it was lucky for the Basketball team. She is also one of our artists. PHYLLIS DURANT (1921-30) Who was everything hy starts and nothing long. ' ' Phyl came to Traf in First Form and has always been a lively classmate. [53] The Sixth of 1929-30 FRANCES JONES (1928-30) Where more is meant than meets the eary Frances came to Traf last year and is now recog ' nized as one of the artistic set. She ' s seemingly quiet, but a lot of fun ! MARGARET FRA2EE (1926-30) A merrier man within the limit of becoming mirth I never spent an hours tal}{ withaf Bunty came in Fourth Form. She is a member of the Second Basketball team and of the Form team. NORAH McGINNIS (1928-30) He is a talker and needs no questioning before he speaks. ' ' Norah is our youngest member though not by any means our smallest. She is a member of the Form Basket ' ball team and is a good tennis player. 54 The Sixth of 1929-30 LEE HOWARD (1925-30) ' 7 have no other hut a woman s reason, I thin him so because I thin him so. Lee, of the famed red hair, has been with us since Third Form and is one of the Form ' s ' ' social Hghts. ROSAMUND PERRY (1925-30) I have mar ed A thousand blushing apparitions To steal into her face. ' Rozie has been at Traf since Form Upper II and has always ranked well in class. She is also one of our social lights. The Sixth of 1929-30 NANCY TRACKER (1928-30) ' 7n him alone was natural to please. ' ' Nancy has been in the Form only since last year but we feel as if we had known her for a long time. She is a shooter on the Form Basketball team. NORA MINER (1923-30) As merry as the day is long. ' ' Nora has been at Traf since Upper I. She is always great fun and has always ranked well in the class. FLORENCE McMURTRY (1929-30) A }{ind and gentle heart she had. This is Florence ' s first year at Traf but she has made herself well-liked by everyone. r)() upper Sixth Form Prophecy It ' s not so many years ago There was a Sixth at Traf That broke the d esks and spilt the ink And always seemed to laugh. Where are they now? you ask in glee. One moment, girls, and you shall see. There is a spot in Baffin Land, Deep in the ice and snow. Where Alice and her little band Decided they would go. Alice spent her time, they say. At archaeology. While Sallie Ward cooked all the way, And did it righteously. But Alma — she pronounced their dooms, She served toadstools for mushrooms. Frances is an artist now Who lives in Paris gay, While Bunty nightly makes her bow, A dancer — good, they say. And Margie teaches Maths in school. She says they never break a rule! Betty M ' s an aviatrix. And paddles her own canoe; While sister Nora is a nurse — Perhaps she will nurse you ! Red-headed Lee ' s at Hatley now. Converting heathens there — and how ! The other No rah rides a horse In a circus ring. The horse is very white, of course, And Norah fresh as Spring. Fair Rosie ' s famed in archery; She holds her bow right we ' ll agree! Betty Hurry studied law. And won a high degree; Whenever she defends a man, We know he will go free; While Janet has an orphanage For little dogs — it ' s all the rage! Cynthia ' s living down at Birks, Designing pins and rings; Dorothy runs a tea-shop small. But, oh, the crowd it brings! Florence got to BafiBn Land And found it wasn ' t warm. So back she came to sunny climes — Alma did her no harm! And Nancy ' s helping Naomi To raise those little chicks we see. Betty Stewart ' s in New York, And acting is her sphere; While Helen houses homeless hens. And says it ' s a career. And Phyl — what can have gone amiss. That you should really come to this? Phyllis Durant, Form Upper VI. [57] Lower Sixth Form Quotations J. Bruce O. Cameron C. Duff E. Fairie M. Macintosh .C. Mackenzie ' L. Mackenzie L. MOWAT E. Renouf F. RORKE P. Scott R. Simpson L. Stanley N. Thacker P. Thomson B. Tooke B. Turner When the last reader reads no more. My salad days when I was green in judgment. Come and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe. All the world ' s a stage. Give me some music. I can live no longer by thinking. Thou art a woman and that is saying the best and worst of thee. A hit, a very palpable hit. You write with ease to show your good breeding. Words, however, are things. I never dare to write as funny as I can. Sweets to the sweet; farewell. I ' m growing fainter in my laugh. Patience is a plant That grows not in all gardens. Sport that wrinkled care derides, And laughter, holding both her sides. But at sixteen the conscience rarely grows. To lengthen to the last a sunny mood. Lower Sixth Form Prophecy Come, gather closer now, my dears. And gaze into the glass; And you shall see in future years what ' s sure to come to pass. Here ' s Jocelyn busy writing books. In long words she delights; For longer ones she never looks. For she has reached the heights. And who ' s this ' mid a thousand claps, A racquet in her hand? Look close ! and then we shall perhaps See Olive take her stand. And here is Catherine on a boat, For she is travelling far; Especially this, dear friends, all note, That she has seen the Czar. Who is this with her little girl A ' walking down the street? It ' s Florence, wife of some fine earl, Still looking smart and neat. And look! Pauline a stewardess On a big ocean boat. She ' s smiling still, but none the less. And on her work does gloat. Why gentle Ruth we see no more? ' She has foregone all fun, She ' s locked behind a convent door, In fact — become a nun. And here ' s Lenore parading gowns, Both morning, noon and night; She ' s smiling still, and never frowns. And works with all her might. Who is this dancing on a stage? It ' s none but Eloise; She ' s quite the best of all this age. She ' s sailed o ' er many seas. And never will ambition harm A certain girl called Thacker; She ' d like to start a chicken farm. If somebody would back her. 59 Here ' s Margaret, our great pianist, Still working o ' er the keys; Sometimes she is accompanist, And never fails to please. And who is this? None but our Claire, Still laughing all the day; She ' s still as tall, and short her hair. Which she wears the same way. And who is this with brush in hand A ' painting on a wall? It ' s Leila making homes look grand. The best in Montreal. And now Lorraine will make her bow, She ' s sure to be a ringer; For everyone knows of her now. The world ' s best crooning singer. Here ' s Ethel with her painting brush. So popular is she That she is always in a rush. And busy as a bee. And Phyllis Thomson still resides En ville de la Pointe Claire; The 5.15 she daily rides Back to the country air. Here ' s Betty in the smartest blues. Of course she ' s dressed just right; But here ' s one thing she ' ll never lose, And that ' s her appetite. And who is this just passing by? It ' s Betty Turner gay. Look ! She ' s still got a twinkling eye. And a most winning way. They all are mentioned but one Tooke, And we had best forget her; We ' d like to let you have a look, But we don ' t think we ' d better. And so the pageant passes by With all our memories dear. What is it glistens in your eye? It cannot be a tear. Barbara Tooke, Form Lower VI. The History Pageant IT WAS last year on the night of the thirtyfirst of May that I had a strange experience which has been attributed to my imagination, but about which I have my own opinion. We had just presented, we hoped successfully, a pageant of English History — certainly with the thought and work put on it by some of the mistresses it ought to have been successful. I had somehow lost a lace handkerchief, part of a costume, and had returned to the gym after everyone had gone to get it. It was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows and making weird patterns on the floor. The paper pennants which had been hung around the room rustled in the breeze. The old, familiar gym was scarcely recognizable and I paused for a moment to gaze at it before groping for the light. Was that a shout I had heard or was I dreaming? Sud ' denly the moonlight, the gym and the fluttering pennants seemed to fade away, and there before me was a crowd of Roman citizens. Soon an emperor appeared with his courtiers, victors and soldiers — surely this was Claudius — yes, and here the British Prince, Caractacus, led as a prisoner before the Emperor. He speaks — noble words. Claudius is moved and grants him liberty. A shout of Hail, Claudius ! greets this act : But the scene fades away; and there instead is St. Augus ' tine with his monks preaching the Gospel to King Ethelbert and Queen Bertha. Next appear the crusaders leaving to join Richard Coeur de Lion. Then appear a crowd of merrymakers on a holiday in a street of Mediaeval England. How they enjoy themselves dancing and singing! Then who are these Elizabethans? There is Raleigh, and there Shakespeare and Drake, and others — great men all! But here is the good Queen herself — what a noble sight to see young Raleigh lay down his cloak for her to step on! Now she is speaking words of fire to her troops before the Armada. They are followed by a hearty cheer. Next there appears a court ' house. Who are these men in sombre colours? Puritans surely; it is the trial of the martyr king. Charles is brought up between his guards, cool and collected, noble and handsome. The trial is over — he is condemned! Then Charles and his judges disappear to give place to a gay scene bright with the costumes of [ 00 ] ladies and gentlemen of rank. Mesdames et messieurs, His Royal Highness The Prince! There is the Bonnie Prince, smiling but dignified. They dance a Highland Fling and a sword dance for him, then he himself dances a stately minuet with his favourite partner. But this scene of festivity is soon replaced by one of a different nature. It is a ship — sailors dance a hornpipe. Who is this noble admiral whom they salute? It is no other than Nelson. Now he is lying supported by his officers, the death pallor on his face. One of England ' s bravest men is dead — a tragic but glorious end. This fades also — I hear the slow strains of Land of Hope and Glory. One by one all these great historical characters pass by in slow procession, with no sound of footsteps — only the rustle of a skirt or the clank of armour. They are gone! There on the floor the moonlight still makes strange pictures, the paper pennants rustle softly. In the corridor — nothing. I switched on the light, there was nothing changed, but there on the floor lay the lace hand ' kerchief. Had I been dreaming? Scarcely. A trick of the imagination? Perhaps. But might not those ghostly figures have been the real kings and queens of history come to life because we had been thinking about them so much of late? Was it not so in Maeterlinck ' s Bluebird ? And perhaps this handkerchief I was holding had been carried by the Bonnie Prince. Monica Lyman, Form Upper V. The Vision {With apologies to Leigh Hunt) A day girl at Traf (may her prudence increase !) Awoke one noon from a day dream of peace. And saw within the cloakroom doorway loom, Darkening the portal, and entering the room, A Monitress writing in a pound book old : Curiosity soon made that Trafite bold. And to the presence in the room she said, What writest thou? The vision raised its head. And answered with a frown that brooked no sport, The names of those whose talking I ' ll report! And is mine one? she questioned. Nay, not so, Was the reply. The Trafite spoke more low, But gaily still, and said, Write me among Those girls who never speak at ten past one! The Sixther wrote and vanished. The next noon She came again, and entering the room. She showed their names who misbehaved the best, And lo ! that Trafite ' s name led all the rest ! Alice E. Johannsen, Form Upper VI. The Magic of Words (A lecture given on February 12th, hy Edward Davison, one of the younger English poets) ON WEDNESDAY, February 12th, we of Trafalgar had the privilege of hearing an interesting and unusual lecture, given by Mr. Davison, a young English poet. In this lecture Mr. Davison explained to us that poetry is not only found in books but also in the rustling of leaves. [61] the singing of birds, and other such things which we see or hear every day. Especially he showed us how great is the magic of words and what different feelings they arouse in people. First of all, he took two single phrases, Pease porridge hot and Great Caesar fell, and pointed out the absolutely different thoughts that these two phrases of exactly the same length conjure up. The first only brings a picture of the nursery rhyme, while the second calls up vast visions of the Roman Empire and its power. Mr. Davison also showed the different ways in which the words Great Caesar fell would affect different people. To some they would bring the though of a bald man with a wreath of laurels on his brow, while to others they would open a vision of the greatness of Rome and her Empire. Mr. Davison also spoke of the different sensations that a sound or scent can call up. For instance, whenever he walks on crisp snow which crunches beneath his feet, Mr. Davison has a delightful feeling that he may suddenly go through the snow and disappear from the face of the earth. Again, when he feels that anyone is doing him an injustice, he can almost smell burnt plums. This is because once, when he was a small boy, while he was being punished by an adored aunt for something that he had not done, some plums which were cooking in the kitchen burned. Ever since, any injury to him has recalled that moment and he smells the plums burning. Another thing of which Mr. Davison spoke was the way in which words are misused. He said that there were many girls he knew, who if asked their opinion of Westminster Abbey would reply, It ' s cute ; if he asked the same girls what they thought of the game of basketball the reply would also be, It ' s cute. Mr. Davison said that in the same way the popular expression when he was at school was Isn ' t it priceless? But if anyone had used a word really describing the thing in question he would have been laughed at by the other boys. He thought that the only way in which one could acquire a vocabulary was by using new words, even if they were mispronounced. Mr. Davison told of an incident which once occurred to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the poet. Coleridge one day visited a great waterfall, and after seeing it, he remained in deep thought for about half an hour, trying to find a suitable epithet to describe it. Finally a clergyman came along with a party, and on seeing the fall, exclaimed Majestic! Coleridge turned to the minister and said, Sir, I have been trying for half an hour or more to find a suitable word to describe this water- fall, and you come along and immediately say the word. To this the clergyman replied, Yes, it is majestic, magnificent, beautiful, sublime, utterly spoiling his first exclamation by a number of wrong words. In the course of his lecture Mr. Davison showed how the simplest poetry often has the most magic spell over the readers. To illustrate this he mentioned Coleridge ' s poems, The Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan, Walter Delamare ' s The Listeners, as well as most of the old English folk songs. These are written in the simplest language, but their very simplicity makes them beautiful, just as the English Morris dances, although the steps are not at all intricate, are considered among the freshest and most beautiful. To show the beauty of this poetry, Mr. Davison sang for us several folk songs, among them the old favourite, Oh, no, John! When he sang these in his rich tenor voice, we all felt their beauty, so much the more because he seemed to have caught the very spirit of the folk song. No one seeing Mr. Davison would ever imagine that he was a poet, for he has none of the appearance of the traditional poet — long hair, a thin, white face and antiquated black clothes. Indeed, on the day when he visited Trafalgar, Mr. Davison looked rather like a sailor, or a man living in the open, than a poet, as the strode along the platform with his hands in the pockets of his rough tweed suit, which, as he proudly informed us, was the same one that he had worn when he visited us a year before. But when he began to speak, we instantly realized that it is not the outward appearance which makes a poet but the inner beauty of thought and mind. Jean Harvie, Form Upper ' V. [62] Canon Gower-Rees ' Visits ON DECEMBER 21st, the day on which school closed for the Christmas holidays, Canon Gower ' Rees came to speak to us. Those of us who were at Trafalgar last year remembered his former visit and were very glad that he had been kind enough to come and speak to us again. Canon Gower-Rees, while speaking of the star which guided the shepherds on the first Christmas morning, urged each one of us to find a star, some fixed ideal, to guide us in our daily life. And he asked us not to forget, amid the excitement of Christmas Day, that Christmas is, first of all, Christ ' s birthday. On Ash Wednesday, March 5th, we again had the pleasure of welcoming Canon Gower-Rees to Trafalgar. He spoke to us about the Lenten season which was then beginning. He asked us to set apart some time every day during Lent, to be spent quietly in thought. We all felt that Canon Gower-Rees had helped us to see more clearly the true meaning of Lent. We were very grateful to him for having come to speak to us at this time, and hope to have an opportunity of hearing him again soon. Betty Hurry, Form Upper VL Missionary Representatives Form Upper VL Betty Miner Form IIIa. Audrey Leach Lower VL Ethel Renouf IIIb Betty Ryan Upper V. Evelyn Bryant Upper IL Lola Byrd Lower V. Brenda Fox IL Phyllis Hamilton IVa. Joan Bann Remove. Evelyn Stevenson IVb. Peggy McKay Upper L Phyllis Morrissey Special IV. Megan Owen I. Renee Moncell MISSION BOX COLLECTION Federated Charities $ 50.00 The Grace Dart Home 40.00 Old Brewery Mission 50.00 The Relief of Destitute Homeless Men 50.00 Labrador Cot 60.00 Children ' s Hospital 140.00 $390.00 [63] IlllLililifl lMIB nous House Quotations Pauline Scott Helen McLaggan NORAH McGlNNIS Frances Jones Dorothy Austin Betty Turner Sheilagh Sullivan Marjorie Evans Phyllis Green Morna O ' Neill Mary K. McNaughton Velma O ' Neill Molly Stevenson House rU perform it to the last article. Short and sweet. I would do what I pleased, and doing what I pleased, I should have my will, and having my will, I should be contented. Still waters run deep. Lord, they ' d have taught me Latin in pure waste. Good health and good sense are two of life ' s greatest blessings. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose. She ' s little, but she ' s wise. He who has plenty of pepper will pepper his cabbage. The eager heart the kindlier hand. Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. I walk in silence in a cloud of thought. I hate nobody; I am in charity with the world. This life is most jolly. House Editorial EOKING back we feel that the House has made great progress during the year. This may be owing to the fact that many new features have been introduced. At the beginning of the year, the House gave a Hallowe ' en Masquerade for the School. There was a great display of costumes, the Assembly Hall being invaded by many weird and beau ' tiful figures. The first prize was awarded to Alma Howard, dressed as a most imposing Judge, and to Nora Miner, a charming Early Victorian Lady. ' Velma O ' Neill as the White Rabbit and Muriel Oakley as Alice in ' Wonderland won prizes for original costumes. During the winter months Mr. Shefler held a dancing class every Friday evening in the Assembly Hall. This class was greatly enjoyed by every one and proved to be a profitable as well as a pleasant way of spending our recreation hour. [65] Our House Choir was another innovation this year. Every Monday evening a practice was held under the direction of Miss Clough. Two concerts which were arranged and given by the girls themselves were greatly appreciated by all. Icc ' hockey has long been wished for and at last dreams have come true, and now we play hockey regularly. We were fortunate in being coached every Wednesday afternoon by Mrs. Amaron, and thus the rink affords us more pleasure than ever. Next year we hope that some matches will be arranged between House and School, which owing to unfavourable weather con ' ditions were impossible last term. We hope that the enthusiasm for this sport will be kept up, and that one day Trafalgar will have a hockey team which will equal our basket ball. Hares and Rabbits HARES and rabbits! The very suggestion of that mysterious rite, that quaint old Spanish custom, brings a thrill to the heart of every boarder. Visions of white ' robed figures grace ' fully ascending the stairs backwards, and the memory of the muttered incantation Hares, and the shout of triumph Rabbits, arise. This fearsome ordeal takes place on the last night of every month, for it holds a promise of Good Luck for the days to come, but only to those who faithfully follow the appointed ceremony. A certain poise is necessary to go upstairs backward, and this is to be done the last thing at night. But when the Devotion Bell goes most girls come flying up hanging on to a tooth brush, tooth paste, face cloth, glass, bath towel, and a saucer on which a slippery piece of soap is balancing. This is obviously not the time to pause and go up backward — especially as footsteps are heard in the distance. It is necessary to wait till after inspection. Then you stick your head around the curtain — no one in sight — tiptoe to the head of the stairs, descend — and suddenly Miss appears around the banister! A halting explanation follows. It is hard to be convincing, especi ' ally as snickers are heard from the dormitory. Miss has received the impression that you were sneaking down to finish brushing your teeth. But in the end right triumphs and you back up the stairs. It only remains to say Hares after lights out, and Rabbits in the morn ' ing, and your share of Good Luck is guaranteed for a month. Frances Jones, Upper Dorm. Escape! IT HAS a steady northern light; no sun reaches its cool interior. In fact it is the most pleasant room in the school. Shut off from the subdued murmur of classes in progress, it forms a retreat for many seeking enjoyment or a last minute study. To the House it means three quarters of an hour of pure repose each evening. The study bell clanks its welcome sound, and the dark halls are traversed until the Library doors loom in sight. The soft clear lights pour an inviting glow on the stout polished tables. Once within their radius the rest of the world fades into the night and the print springs gladly up before the eyes. Nine o ' clock is quietly struck by the neat little clock ; the door shuts upon the lingering echo, and a seeming peace of eternity descends. Dorothy Austin, Lower Dorm. Music Box ' Singin ' in the Bath Tub Alison Addie ' Moanin ' Low Lois Aird ' Gotta Feelin ' for You Margaret Anderson [ 06 1 Lady Divine Dorothy Austin Among My Souvenirs Beatrice Climo Laugh, Clown, Laugh Norah Cowper Sometimes I ' m Happy, Sometimes I ' m Blue Mary Cross You ' ve Got That Thing Kitty Erskine She ' s So Unusual Marjorie Evans I ' m Flying High Constance Grier Baby Face Katherine Grier Mistakes Phyllis Green My Sweeter than Sweet Frances Jones Horses, Horses Patricia Mitchell Louise Phyllis MussELL When the Red, Red Robin comes Bob, Bob, Bobin ' Along Norah McGinnis I ' m a Dreamer — Aren ' t We All? Helen McLaggan Wapomeo Mary Kate McNaughton Miss You Muriel Oakley The Old Hometown Morna O ' Neill I Wanna be Bad Velma O ' Neill Keep Your Sunny Side Up Molly Stevenson All I want is SociabiHty Anna Stevenson Ma Cherie Sheilagh Sullivan Satisfied Pauline Scott Sleepy Valley Betty Turner Susan Breck and Jean Morton, Forms III B. 6? A. Friday Evening Come and trip it as you go. On the light fantastic toe. ' ' — Milton. THUMP ! Bang ! What can they be doing now? asks Pauline of Helen, two long ' SufFering Sixths studying directly beneath the noise. They probably would have groaned louder if they could have seen what they heard — some of our most graceful dancers doing awkward exercises on the floor! It happened that we were trying to touch our knees with our head, or, waving our feet in the air, as the occasion required; and one of our stars. Miss Oakley, was having her neck practically broken; poor thing! Please don ' t think we only have antics of that sort, for you should see us at our best, i.e., doing the tango ! Then we show our skill ; or gliding around the room like cats, then you wouldn ' t recognize the thumpers of a few moments before! But we aren ' t graceful for long, Mr. Shefler soon has us twirling in the air, which is rather hard on our numerous heavyweights. Miss Mitchell and Miss Austin excel in twirling and have us at our wits ' end trying to follow. Miss Breck is to b e complimented as an excellent tango-er and gives a very good solo. Now we settle down to a steady fox ' trot and are more or less subdued till we bow each other out at 8.45 p.m. Constance Grier, Upper West. Several Letters I AM several letters woven on a long piece of white tape about an inch long and a quarter of an inch wide. I belong to a very large and closely united family; we are joined together in one long line and wrapped tightly round something very hard. [67] Though in a way there are many like me, I am in one respect most unique and I perform a task in life that no one else could. Though my body is white and my cfjlouring red, like all the others, yet the red marks are different from those I saw lying about at the factory. I am all nice and fresh and clean and I can ' t help thinking that — even though I do say it myself — I look just a wee bit better than the rest. Ah — but I speak of yesterday! — of days gone by! Life has treated me badly. Fate has been unkind! My mistress came to claim me one day, after I had travelled a long way. She thrust me into the bottom of a bag where I could see nothing; and took me for a walk — threw me carelessly into a dirty basket — and there I lay for days. But one day as I peeped out between a piece of elastic and a spool of thread, I saw my mistress come rushing in, and make a grab for my bungalow. There was something in the air — I heard the spool of thread whisper to the needle that he felt that they were gomg to be dug up after all these years, and hitched together to perform some action. The lazy elastic shrivelled up and sunk back into the corner; but there was no cowardliness in me; I waited composedly till I heard these words, There is going to be an inspection tcnight — we must have everything marked. Ah! my mission in life was about to be performed — setting my shoulders back and blinking the tears away, I fondly bade farewell to my family. I did not shirk my work, in fact I was proud to be able to do it — but I knew not what cruel torture was coming. My mistress grabbed me out of my house and, with one cruel and careless blow of the scissors, cut me off from my home and family. Then the massacre began, with one large scoop of the hand after the other. She pierced my sides, my body, and so tied me down like a slave to the gallows. Out of the corner of my eye I cast a shuddering glance at the hateful black thread and the large uneven stitches that were being pierced into my clean white body. Well do I remember my despair and disgust at my mistress ' action, and at my seeming un ' popularity. But those days are gone. To ' day I am everything that an old person loves to be; safe from the stormy blasts among old and loVed associates and, what ' s more, being loved. I am now the proud possessor of a separate sheet of my mistress ' scrap book — with these words written below me in my mistress ' once not ' too-gentle hand— The name tape of my favourite dress at Traf. Patricia Mitchell, Upper Dorm. [G8] The Choir To the tune of Feed My Cow (With apologies to A. A. Milne) We filed in a nd took our places, Some sat here, Some sat there; When at last we began to sing ' Twas a quarter past eight Monday evening. We stood singing round the piano. Some sang high, Some sang low, We stood singing round the piano At half past eight Monday evening. We sang anthems, hymns and songs. Hymns and songs, Hymns and songs. We sang all in harmony (?) At a quarter to nine Ivlonday evening. One fair maiden asked the time. Asked the time. Asked the time. We had finished for the night. For ' twas nine o ' clock Monday evening. Marjorie Evans, Lower Dorm. Trees on the Mountain Trees dark against a night sky. Long slim trees with crooked branches. Trees that have been torn by the wind. That have wept in autumn nights; Old trees that are twisted and knotted, And here and there a slim straight birch Stands silver ' wet in the shadows. Beautiful slim birches swaying against The moon, a yellow moon that is Like a great pale crystal pumpkin Caught up there in the trectops. Down far away is the city, so far away It is only a blur of street lamps, But here are the trees against A night sky — the trees with the wind In their branches — O ecstacy ! O still, strange pain! Velma F. O ' Neill, Lower Dorm. [69] Shadowy Figures IT WAS a foggy night as I turned in at the school gates and I was surprised to see shadowy figures gliding across the rink. The moon was not bright enough to reveal their identity, and somehow I felt that they were not human beings but spirits. With a feeling of awe and fear I approached the rink, drawing nearer to those magnetic and gruesome figures. When about fifty feet from what seemed a moment ago our playground and which was now a phantom world, I stopped in utter amazement. Through a misty curtain I peered at the figures skating — or was it flying? — by. Where had I seen those features before? Another and another whizzed by and each one, though I could scarcely see them through the mist, seemed in some way familiar. Gone was my fear, my awe, but I was left with a deep curiosity — a feeling almost of panic overtook me and I felt that I must find out who these mystery creatures were. Vainly I searched my memory for some clues to help me solve this mystery. Vainly I tried to persuade myself that I had never met the spirits, never seen them before. The bell was calling me to the school. I must pull myself away from this enchanting vision and go. Drawn one way by duty and the other by curiosity I was slowly ascending the path, calling to the spirits that I would come tO ' morrow night, when some one shook my shoulder and told me to wake up and stop talking in my sleep. Sleep? Had I been sleeping — were those figures only dream spirits? Surely not, I could see them so plainly as they pass before my Oh! now I remember — they are the girls of fifty years ago; the ones in the picture in the Form room that I look at all the time near my desk. But, after all, maybe it is not a dream — maybe Traf ' s old pupils come together every night in the playground of their youth. To ' morrow night I shall keep my appointment with the spirits. Patricia Mitchell, Upper Dorm. Under My ' ' Cubie Window In the garden are many daffodils. Yellow, fluted, sun ' filled daffodils; And there are tulips and crocuses. Under my cubie window is a hyacinth, A little pale, green and purple hyacinth, A tiny, fragile, struggling, brave thing. There is sunlight on the daffodils, And there is a gay young wind among them. There is a splash of sunlight on the hyacinth, A golden flash of scorching sun ' flame. A mad wind comes through the lilac trees. The sunlight is gone — just shadow now — And the hyacinth lies upon its side, A little, broken, faded, wistful thing. In the garden are many daffodils. And there are tulips and crocuses. But under my cubie window is a hyacinth, A little, faded, broken, lonely hyacinth. And which shall I remember? Velma F. O ' Neill, Lower Dorm. [70 1 Fire Drill We ' re just in bed, then there ' s a noise, We quite forget our maiden poise As down we rush at reckless pace. What is it? Merely fire drill! The windows close, the lights go on, Blankets we grab, kimonas don, How could we be so minus grace ! But at it, yes, at fire drill? Somebody laughs, oh what a shame! And then a girl fiargets her name, She needs must hide her burning face Behind us all at fire drill. Then up the staircase do we go. Never too fast and not too slow. Climb into bed and hide our face. And that ' s the end of fire drill! Pauline B. Scott, Lower Dorm. Riding TATE again! Are you ever on time for anything? said one creature, known as girl, on a large I V brown animal, commonly known as horse. I didn ' t know the horses were here, and anyhow they ' re a minute early, replied the other creature, who seemed to be of the same genus as the first. Then this amiable being, with an innocent, engagingly wide-eyed expression on her face, dreamily asked if the horse which she was vainly striving to mount, or rather climb up on, was Raven or Going Up, the former, as a matter of fact, being a black horse and the latter brown. Now we ' re off, away we go in fine style. No alarming incidents until we reach Pine Avenue. Here, to create a little diversion, somebody ' s horse took his courage in his hands, and walked out of line, into the middle of the road! The girl looked appealingly at the horse and then wildly at the approaching car, coming right at her, head on. A moment of panic, and then the beast saved the day; he suddenly changed his mind and with one spurt regained his place on the beaten path, far from the dangers of unwary monsters known as motorists plus motors. Weak relief is expressed on the rider ' s countenance. Thus we continue, Mr. Hummel leading, then six sedate, demure maidens following. We approach the mountain; we ascend. The ride continues, all in perfect concord. Suddenly Bucky sees an alarming spectacle, a little yapping puppy, and flies from the terrifying sight (wild cries for Mr. Hummel in the meantime), finally stopping to kick up his heels in innocent delight at his speedy escape from that bitter enemy, the yapping peril, as it were. Rider presents somewhat ruffled appearance, but is still hanging bravely and cour ' ageously to her post. We traverse the usual bridle paths, we meet the usual people, we say the usual things, and then we take the usual way home; pardon, I mean back to school, with no more disturbing influences to make our hearts palpitate. After earnestly kicking my horse for some minutes at the top of the hill, in order to persuade him easily and gently to descend this revolting incline, we arrive at the gate. Gracefully and without overdue effort, energy or exertion we slide from our saddles, and with one charming Good afternoon, Mr. Hummel, we enter our domicile. NoRAH McGiNNis, Lower Dorm. Water— Water! IT WAS an ordinary, everyday morning, and, as I lay in bed and thought — ten minutes left — there ' s plenty of time. I heard a sound as of a mighty wind and in rushed Susan. Hair flying, arms wildly waving. There ' s no water! What will we do? How will we do it? And when? she gasped in one breath. Do what? I asked. She gave me a disgusted look, and with an air of the greatest condescension frigidly re ' marked Wash! Immediately the corridor of the dorm, was filled with clamoring females in various stages of attire. At once the poor bearer of the news was leaped upon to get more in ' formation. At last word came to us to go over to the school to wash ! A stampede ensued. On my onward charge — I was the first — and alone in my glory, so to say — and while thinking of the contrariness of m ain water pipes, I espied another fair denizen of our illustrious school endeavoring to balance a saucer, piled high with soap, tooth brush, tooth paste, washcloth, nail brush and what not (an almost impossible feat as far as the school) and, with a towel artistically draped over one arm, she was a sight to make surrounding countries stare. As I now cautiously proceeded on my way I saw a strange sight, namely, H. McLaggan darting behind doors, chairs, and everything on her onward course. I heard afterwards that she had needed a lot of persuasion to venture forth from the fastness of her cubicle. Of course, as soon as everyone had finished their ablutions and were again safely in the House, it was discovered that the water was on again. Great disappointment! Hopes had been flying high — word had gone around that the Lower House might be flooded. We would then have to go out for meals. Perhaps the water had already put the fire out and we would have no breakfast! And then to be brought to earth with a bump by two small words It ' s on. Oh, well, such is life! Katherine M. Grier, Lower Dorm. Night Thoughts The wind out there. The trees moving In an ecstasy of freedom, The long, crooked shadows. The pale yellow flicker of the street lights, The golden crystal blurs That mark the windows. In the house across the road, A wailing dog! The hard, deep breath of a motor climbing the hill, The hollow, lonely whistle of a train! Silence ! Darkness ! The quick, quiet sigh of a sleeping girl. A jumble — geometry problems, Latin a pain, Dull, throbbing — I want — I don ' t know — what do I want? Rest — is that it? Are school ' days the happiest? Strange Life .... Velma F. O ' Neill, Lower Dorm. House Entertainments THE boarders have had many opportunities this year to hear some of the best known musicians and see some very entertaining plays. Our first treat was to hear Cortot at the St. Denis. One of our company was so overwhelmed by the exquisite rendering of Chopin ' s immortal melodies that she was completely carried away, four blocks in fact, so the Trafalgar line had not only the pleasure of hearing Cortot, but also the excitement of looking for a wandering boarder. On November 4, the Traf boarders were to be seen again at the St. Denis, this time to hear Kreisler. Even the stage was packed. He appeared, waited for the applause to cease, then, bow poised, he began. Kreisler gave the impression of being tired that night and although he played perfectly there seemed to be something lacking, perhaps the people on the stage, so close, coughing and shuffling their feet, hindered him. But when the last piece. Caprice Viennois, a selection so familiar to all of us, was played so exquisitely and with so much feeling, we somehow forgot the former, only the beautiful well-known melody lingering on. Our last visit in the first term to the St. Denis was on November 29. Two long rows of whitC ' gowned girls, were to be seen sitting in the balcony, awaiting with eager faces the appearance of Cortot, this time in a com- bined recital with Thibaut. Many and varied were the selections they played, one instant violin rising above the soft treble of the piano, then, piano supreme as if its very sound echoed forth the ages, crowding it all into one supreme moment. So the concert continued to the end. There were few plays in Montreal during the first term but we were fortunate enough to be able to see Sir J. M. Barrie ' s play, Dear Brutus, based on Cassius ' words to Brutus in Shakespeare ' s Julius Caesar: [731 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. It was given by the McGill players at Moyse Hall and was greatly enjoyed by all of us. Our next term amusements began with Hugh Walpole ' s lecture on The Development of the Novel, which was given at the Windsor Hotel. Walpole gave as an illustration of how he began a novel a simple incident which had occurred that day; namely, a certain odour in the barber shop; from that he allowed his imagination to run and soon we were intent on a most interesting story made up on the spur of the moment. He stopped — yes, at the most exciting point. Well, he added, it is said that the beginning is the most difficult, so I ' ll leave you to finish the rest. Thus his lecture continued, full of interesting and amusing incidents, and sparkling with the author ' s great sense of humour. Our last visit to the St. Denis Theatre was on February lo to hear that great artist and com ' poser, Rachmaninoff. Many of us have learned some of his compositions and it was a joy to hear favorite selections played by the composer himself. He ended the concert with his Prelude, and the Trafites squeezing down the stairs, through the crammed entrance into the air, had still ringing in their ears the strains of those well ' known chords. Our next treat was to see the greatest of all war plays, Journey ' s End. This stirring drama of the trenches, so vividly depicting the awfulness of war, gave to all of us a strange thrill which perhaps none of us had experienced before. The last of this year ' s entertainments was Julius Caesar, given by Ashbury Ckjllege in Ottawa on the Ides of March on behalf of their Library Fund, and repeated here in Montreal on March 24. The performance, as a whole, was excellent, Brutus and Cassius showing themselves to be the two outstanding figures throughout the play. The plays and concerts which we have been able to see this year have given us much pleasure and as it is not quite the end of term we are still looking forward to another. Our hopes may be ' realised- — who knows? Pauline B. Scott, Lower Dorm. Mexico I STOOD on the top of a low hill in the valley of Mexico, and looked in the direction of Pope catepetl; which is a volcano in the centre of this untamed and beautiful country. It is 17,980 feet above sea ' level and can be seen from any part of the valley of Mexico. The country surrounding it consists of low hilly plains, dotted with forests of pine, of different green shades; with the sky overhead, a deep blue; and Popocatepetl raising his majestic head, over Ixtacihuatl, which looked like the form of a sleeping woman, in the background. On my left was a little straw hut, and standing at its narrow door ' way was a dark ' eyed and black ' haired little boy, wearing a little pair of white cotton trousers with a dark shawl or Sarape around his shoulders. Beside him, lay a Burro, or species of a mountain ' donkey; and they both eyed me curiously for a long time. On the right, there was a dark shady wood, smelling strongly of pines, and a glimmer of sunlight piercing the interior, across which a young deer bounded in complete freedom. Down the hillside were shrubs and numberless small clumps of cactus; while the ground appeared checkered with green grass and golden sand. Further away shone a belt of clear water; with pinks, mauves and occasionally greens, as the sun crept nearer and nearer its setting. Beyond and across this lay low rambling hills, and then Popocatepetl in all his glory beside his companion. The same colours of the water lay reflected on the snow which covered the base of this picturesque mountain; while out of the peak a thin column of smoke appeared, forming a wreath around the slowly appearing stars of the Southern Cross. After the setting of the sun, no twilight lingered, but immediately darkness settled over the country, and the stars shone with a brightness only known in tropical lands. P. Green, Form Upper V, [74] The Banquet THERE was an air of expectancy hovering around us, as we began to dress on June ijth, 1929, for that memorable event, The Banquet. We started, incidentally half an hour too early, but filled in that time by rushing around, in and out, giving flowers, admiring dresses and, in general, being thorough nuisances. We certainly got what we expected, and more, when we saw how beautifully the dining ' room was arranged. The tables were in a diamond shape and some of Tappenden ' s most cherished plants made an excellent centerpiece. That was very nice, but the food was yet to come, and we certainly did it justice ! After that was over the Sixth Form had their criticisms read, but for criticisms they were of the nicest type, and all the Sixth smiled their approval. Later, amid much shouting, singing, laughter and noise of all sorts, we trooped into the garden and after walking around it a dozen times, paraded in again to the drawing ' room and danced until ten-thirty, when we retired. I won ' t say to sleep, because it is a known fact that everyone was too excited to sleep on a night like that. Constance Grier, Upper West. ■ Trafalgar House Athletic Association 1929-1930 On Friday, September the twentieth, 1929, the Annual General Meeting of the House Athletic Association was held. The following officers were chosen for the coming year: Honorary President Miss Gumming Chairman Miss Nicholl Captain Pauline Scott Vicc ' Captain Helen McLaggan SecretaryTreasurer Frances Jones Conveners Betty Turner, Norah McGinnis Basketball On October the second the Upper and Lower Dormitories played a close basketball match, resulting in a victory for the Lower Dormitory. Score — 19-18. On November the seventh the House and School played a basketball match, in which the School was victorious. Score — 43-32. On November the twentythird another basketball match between the House and School was played, resulting in a draw. Score — 29 all. On March the third the House played the School, the result being a victory for the School. Score — 39-26. Tennis Tennis has been very popular this year. The courts were in excellent condition and the weather on the whole favourable. On October the eleventh the House and School Tennis Match was played. The School won and the scores were 6-3, 3-6, 6-3. The girls playing for the School were Betty DeBrisay and Peggy Chapman, and for the House, Patricia Mitchell and Pauline Scott. [75] A Tennis Tournament in which each Old Girl in the House took a new girl for a partner was played during the Autumn Term. The Finals were played on October the twentyninth when Pauline Scott and Dorothy Austin defeated Patricia Mitchell and Alison Addie. HOUSE On May the thirty ' first, 192,9, Merit Badges were awarded to the following girls: Pauline Scott, Theo Barclay and Barbara Mackay. On June 12th, 1929, Stripes were awarded to the seven girls whom the committee considered to have shown the best spirit in all games. They were as follows: Elizabeth Elliott, Norah McGinnis, Mary Cross, Betty Lane, Katharine Grier, Jean Morton, Dorothy Wood. On November the twentieth, 1929, Stripes were awarded to Pauline Scott, Norah McGinnis, Patricia Mitchell, Marjorie Evans, Frances Jones, Helen McLaggan. On March the eleventh, 1930, Stripes were awarded to Dorothy Austin, Phyllis Green, Kitty Erskine, Margaret Anderson. The Line is Busy I7(i I GIRL GUIDES The Trafalgar Guide Report THE Guides wish to extend a hearty welcome to their captain, Miss Helen Ogilvie, who has shown unfailing interest in our company and we wish to thank her and Miss Evelyn Howard for their help throughout the year. Lately there have been many changes in our company. Last year the Guides were divided into the 14th and 64th companies owing to the great attendance. But as the numbers diminished we again formed one company, the 14th. During the winter the Guides gave an entertainment at the Protestant School for the Blind. They in turn showed us their many accomplishments and we were all very taken with a little girl of six who was a wonderful pianist and played much better than most children twice her age. She learned all her music by ear and could not even read Braille. On May 3rd the annual Guide Rally was held and we did Swedish Exercises with four other companies. We wish to thank Miss Benson for her kindness in coaching us, and all our success was due to her enthusiasm. Several of the Guides who left us last year have formed a Cadet company. Among these were — Alma Howard, Sallie Ward, Alice Johannsen, Betty Turner, Ruth Simpson and Phyllis Green. With Guides from other companies they have done a great deal of good work during the year. Some have helped at Brownie and Guide meetings and they all worked very hard to make the Rally a success. Shirley Stevenson, Kingfisher Patrol. The Rally As THE culmination of the year ' s work of the Montreal Girl Guides, the Tenth Annual Rally L was held in the Forum on May 3rd, for the purpose of bringing together all the members from the various city districts, and to give the public some idea of the true value of this world ' wide movement. The programme was presented not only as an incentive to those who took part but also with the intention of bringing to mind some of the most outstanding benefits of Guiding — - the friendliness and sportsmanship which result from working together. [77 ] Precision and promptness were needed for every item, especi;illy for the Swedish Drill which illustrated the necessity for strong, healthy, well ' trained bodies; the Fashion Parade required great originality in the making of recognizable costumes from newspapers held together with pins; a practical application of the knowledge gained as a Guide was given in a short demonstration of First Aid; and at various times during the evening, large bird puzzles painted on cloth were assembled on the floor as a means of teaching the audience something about Natu re here. Towards the end of the programme several companies gathered around a very realistic Camp Fire, and in a true spirit of comradeship sang their favorite Guide songs. The Rally closed with the presentation of the Honour Flag, the Local Association and the Wotherspoon Cups, the Fairie Shield and the St. John Ambulance Leonard Shield to the winning companies, while to everyone of the two thousand participants was given the inspiration to carry on the Guide pledge of helpfulness during the coming year, and to make next year ' s Rally as great a success as this one. Alice E. Johannsen, Form Upper VL When Mary Became a Guide Mary, Mary was contrary, Until she came to Guides. She was naughty and too airy. And other things besides. But now she ' s good and beautiful, And helps her mother, too; At First Aid she is wonderful — There ' s nothing she can ' t do. And if her poor, dear dog is sick, She need not get the vet. For ,she can cure him in a tick- Do all things for her pet. Mother says she does what she ' s told; In me she did confide — Mary has been as good as gold. Since she became a Guide. Nancy Murray, Form Upper IL The Brownies THE Brownies have had a very happy and industrious year. The Pack numbered seventeen at the beginning of the year, and all of these passed their Tenderfoot test. Then Muriel Pearson left us to go back to Scotland, but she told us that she would be a Brownie over there. Led by two very enthusiastic senior Brownies, Jean Scrimger and Janet Dobell, the Pack is very keen. Neither Janice Dumaresq nor Marjorie Robinson has missed a meeting this year. Jean Scrimger is now nearly a First Class Brownie, an unusual distinction; and Janet Dobell is ambitiously working for her Second and First Class Tests at the same time. We are all looking forward to the Picnic on the Mountain in June. [78] FRANCES TQXES Trafalgar Athletic Association Committee 1929-30 President Miss Gumming Vice-President Miss Bryan Honorary Advisor Miss Nicholl Captain Barbara Tooke Vice ' Captain Cynthia Bazin SecretaryTreasurer Pauline Scott Fifth Form Representative Editha Wood Gymnastic Officers Form Captain Lieutenant Up. VI. Cynthia Bazin Janet Cameron Low. VI. Barbara Tooke Pauline Scott Up. V. Norma Roy Sheilagh Sullivan Low V. Ann Porter Barbara Griffin IVa. Patricia Mitchell Mary Cross IVb. Peggy Chapman Barbara Tirbutt IIIa. Dorothy Haydon Helen Roy Ills. Anna Thompson MiMi Languedoc Up. II. Frances Brown Jacqueline Mills II. Griselda Archibald Patricia Plant Up. I. Janet Porteous Mary Grant Remove Jane Seeley Lois Malcolm I. Marjorie Robinson Games Officers Renee Moncel Form Captain Vice-Captain Up. VI. Cynthia Bazin Janet Cameron Low. VI. . Barbara Tooke Pauline Scott Up. V. Joyce McKee Betty DeBrisay [79] Low V. i jt j 1 n I y Ji io I I rsc R f ITH X A s iPV IVa 1 V . S n 1 1 1 pv Kxp PKr iriM IVr 1 V D. 1 , A T M P IM Kl P A I I f I P M I m ;t A Mf P I iijrPiJ TTTa Tll TJ MTH V II A Vr MXT P rMT W A KIC ■ I TQ IIIb. J. XiNJNrt A nUIvlrovJIN PhVT I IS X ITRSPf r Up. II. nRAMPF ! RrOW W Tpawwp T AwrTipnor 1 JN INZL JL_f JNvj Uc.l- ' J - ' II. ' Phyllis Hamilton Katherine Carvell T T« T Up. 1. Jean ocrimger Phyllis Morrissey Remove Valerie Ker Diana Ekers I. Alison Carmichael Mary Dakin Gymnastic Competition 1929 The annual Inter ' form Gymnastic Competition took place on June 3rd, 1929. Thanks to Miss Nicholl all the Forms were well trained and very evenly matched. The marks were very close and the Forms for 1929 to have their names on the shield were Upper VI in the senior school, and in the junior school Upper I. The best all-round captain Shield was won by Audrey Doble, captain of Form Upper VI. Tennis 1929-1930 After many very exciting matches in the Senior Tournament we were all very glad to see Elizabeth Kennedy and Nancy Stocking in the finals. The finals were very exciting and ended in Nancy ' s favour 6-2, 6-4, In the Junior Tournament there were also some very good games, and the finals which were won by Aubrey Leach from Phyllis Mussell the score being 6-4, 6-0. Our first outside tennis match was played with Miss Edgar ' s school. Each team consisted of four players. Ours were Nancy Stocking, Hope Laurie, Marjorie Lynch and Elizabeth Kennedy; and both teams were victorious. So the Cup presented by the Hon. Walter G. Mitchell started its life in our Gym. We hope it will stay there. The Inter-form Tennis Tournament was won by Lower V, represented by Theo Barclay and Pauline Scott. In the autumn a House and School tennis match was played. The House was represented by Pauline Scott and Patricia Mitchell, the score was 6-3, 3 , 6-3 in favour of the School which was represented by Peggy Chapman and Betty DeBrisay. We hope to be able to have another match before school closes. The Senior Tournament has been in progress and is advancing very well. Another match with Miss Edgar ' s school will be played and we hope we shall win again. Badminton The Badminton courts were not used very much by the Seniors, but the Juniors are very interested in it and a tournament for them is now in progress. [80] Hockey At hockey, too, we had our fling We all did make a try; At first we did not know a thin But we would do or die. We had a match arranged one day Towards the end of season; But luck was bad — the probs did say, Rain coming — for no reason. So gallantly we all went on To see what we could do, And after Mrs. Amaron Had told us how — we knew ! We practised hard three times each week. Our hockey sticks in hand; But even when we ' d reached our peak, We found it hard to stand. We skated up and down the ice. To try and get the puck, But after trying once or twice, We thought we ' d lost our luck. Undaunted though by these mishaps, We mean to try once more; When winter comes, next year perhaps There ' ll be more luck in store. If we did try too fast to go. We ' d sit down on the rink ; It is not quite as soft as snow, But harder than you ' d think. And so you girls who love to skate Should practise more than ever; Be sure you do not start too late. Then you ' ll be beaten — never. Barbara Tooke, Form Upper VI. 81 Basketball Team Criticisms 1929-30 Barbara Tooke — Captain — 2nd year on team, excellent shot and a quick and agile player. T.B.B. Cynthia Bazin — Vice-Captain — 2nd year on team, steady reliable player and an excellent shot. T.B.B. Peggy Chapman — Very quick and active, jumps and shoots well and is a valuable member of the team. T.B.B. Betty Brookfield — Has improved steadily during the year, and is now a useful centre guard. T.B.B. Pauline Scott — 2nd year on team, a very able player, guards her opponent well and is quick and accurate in her passing. T.B.B. Dorothy Austin — Has improved very much during the season and is a good guard. T.B.B. Basketball 1929-30 At the finish of this year, our Fourth year in the Private Schools ' Basketball League, we again see the Cup in our own gymnasium. This year there were many exciting matches played, especially our last with Miss Edgar ' s which might have been anybody ' s match as far as the play was concerned. Each school this year had a second team and our second team deserve great credit for having gone through the season without a loss. This year also a third and fourth team has been instituted and matches were played with Miss Edgar ' s; the results being a tie 16-16, for the third team, and a victory for our fourth team 38-4. Some very promising players are on these teams and we can see that Traf is well provided for, for future play. In the return matches Trafalgar won both games. Third team 28-24 and Fourth team 14-4. There were three House and School matches played this year. All were very exciting, especially the second one which ended in a tie 29-29. The House and School teams were both very evenly matched and all the games were very interesting to watch. The Inter-form basketball matches were played and in the Junior School final between Forms II and Upper II the latter were the victors, the score being 28-12. In the Senior School Upper VI defeated Upper V in the finals, the score was 42-22. We would very much like to thank Mrs. Darl:ng for her kindness in donating a lovely Cup, to be awarded to the best albround athlete, which was won by Nancy Stocking. Last year also, a beautiful Cup was presented by Mrs. Stocking, to be awarded each year to the Form showing the most improvement and the keenest spirit in athletics during the year. We would like to thank Mrs. Stocking for her kindness and I am sure we will not soon forget Nancy who played such a prominent part in school athletics. This Cup was won by Form IIIa who deserve much credit and who did very well in the competition. Summer Sports Among the girls who have brought honour to the school during the past year are: — Alice E. Johannsen who won the Cup which was awarded to the best-all-round ' senior ' camper at Ca mp Oureau last summer. Pauline Scott who, besides being active in other sports became a very prominent sailor. We hope that her Bobolink will be equally successful this summer. I H2] Trafalgar Basketball Team 1929-30 {First Team) Tcp Row, left to right — Cynthia Bazin, Dorothy Austin, Miss Nicholl (Coach), Betty Brookfield. Bottom Row — Peggy Chapman, Barbara Tooke (Captain), Pauline Scott. [83] Barbara Tirbutt has distinguished herself in winning the Junior Badmintrjn Championship of Quebec. Traf was well represented at this tournament, Euzabkth Kennkdy being the runner ' up. Barbara Tooke won the Province of Quebec Junior Golf Championship last summer. Results of Inter-School Matches pcf on VV OCwJJ Study Total Miss Edgar ' s Q 8 Weston o o 0 o o 2 2 The Study 0 2 o o • 2 o 4 Trafalgar 2 2 2 2 0 2 10 Behind the Scenes at the Gym. Dem. What ' s your number? whispered Sue, ' 1 am seven — what are you? Quiet! Girls, don ' t whisper so, Stand in line and don ' t be slow. Keep touch, and don ' t make such a noise, I sometimes think you ' re worse than boys. Careful! Don ' t break down that bracket, Girls, you ' re making such a racket ! Hush, Mamzelle is down the hall! Patsy, give me back my ball! Where ' s your gym shirt and your shoes? I did the scissors; see my bruise? The march is starting — hurry Lou, Betty, don ' t take off my shoe ! Over — oh, I ' m simply dead. Don ' t push so hard — you ' ve hit my head. Where is Mother? — I see Dad ! No mistakes made — aren ' t you glad? All these comments you will hear. Now it ' s over ' till next year. Mary Wesbrook, Form Upper V. [S4] Trafalgar Basketball Team i929 ' 3o (Second Team) Bac Row, left to right — Joyce McKee, Betty DeBrisay, Margaret Frazee. Front Row, left to right — -Patricia Mitchell, Alma Howard, Phyllis Green. Basketball Team Criticisms 1929-30 (2nd Team) Betty DeBrisay — Has improved and has done well as a shooter. Patricia Mitchell — A very promising player, quick and active and shooting has improved steadily. Joyce McKee — A hardworking centre player. Shooting is very accurate. Alma Howard — Play has improved steadily. Is now a useful centre guard. Margaret Frazee — A good guard. Has played very well, sometimes for the ist team. Phyllis Green — Has improved steadily — a promising guard. 85 OLDGIRLS ' NOTES McGILL NEWS Last June thirteen girls passed the McGill Matriculation. They were as follows: Marion Wilson, Betty Brice, Kathryn Wood, Helen Hendery, Nancy Archibald, Marjorie Lynch, Gretchen Tooke, Anne ' Byers, Greta Larminie, Beatrice Harvey, Audrey Doble, Lorraine Slessor, Mary Strachan. We congratulate Marion Wilson not only on winning the Trafalgar Scholarship but also on taking First Place in the Examination. First year — Marjorie Lynch, Marion Wilson, Gretchen Tooke, Kathryn Wood, Greta Lar ' minie, Anne Byers, Helen Hendery, Lorraine Slessor, Beatrice Harvey. Marjorie Lynch was elected President of the First Year. Second year — Margaret Dodds, Wenonah Beswick, Jean Taylor, Ellen Read, Annie Rowley, Eleanor McBride, Eleanor Langford, Margaret Murray, Margaret Cameron. Margaret Cameron is to be congratulated on winning the Sir William Dawson Scholarship at the close of her First Year. Third year — O. Mary Hill, Kathryn Stanfield, Hazel Howard, Celeste Belnap, Marion Brisbane. Fourth year — Heartiest congratulations to our graduating girls : Beatrice Howell, First Class Honours in English. Eileen Fosbery, Second Class Honours in French and German. Gertrude Nieghorn, Degree in Music. Elisabeth Tooke, Pass Degree. Phyllis Dobbin, Pass Degree. TEACHING Norah Sullivan is one of the Assistants in the English Department at McGill. Esther England is continuing her work in the same Department. Gwen Roberts is on the Staff at Whitby Ladies ' College, Ontario. She finds the work stren ' uous but interesting. Marion Ross and Alice Bissett are continuing their History teaching, the one at Miss Edgar ' s, the other at Miss Gascoigne ' s. Blair Tatley has succeeded Dorothy Russel as Gymnastic Mistress at the Connaught School. Freda Enright, and Doris Robinson are teaching in the city schools. Elizabeth Train has finished her kindergarten course, and is now teaching in Savannah, Ga. [86 1 Elizabeth Laughton has also trained as a kindergarten teacher and will begin her work in Toledo, Ohio, in the autumn. Joan Archibald is helping Miss Hood in her music teaching, and enjoys it very much. Margaret Archibald and Dorothy Ward are also teaching music. Muriel Bedford-Jones is teaching English and Latin at Trafalgar. Alice Roy, now Mrs. Amaron, coached the Trafalgar girls in ice hockey during the winter months. Needless to say, her work was much appreciated. The Art Department at Trafalgar continues to flourish under Nora Collyer ' s direction. The School is grateful to her for the valuable assistance she gave last year in painting the scenery for the History Pageant. NURSING Margaret Bain graduated this year from the Royal Victoria Hospital. Muriel Bazin is still at the Children ' s Hospital, Toronto. In spite of her serious illness this spring she hopes to graduate in September. Carol Ross is enjoying her work very much at the Ottawa Civic Hospital. GIRL GUIDES Helen Ogilvie and Evelyn Howard took charge of the Trafalgar Company (the 14th) during the past year. Eileen Ross takes charge of the Cadet Company, in which several senior Trafalgar girls are training. She also has a Company in the city. Margaret Sutherland is Divisional Secretary. Dorothy Acer (Mrs. McDougall) is Secretary of the Local Association. Margaret Young (Mrs. Hague) is Secretary of the Training Committee. Helen Drummond (Mrs. Henderson) is a Blue Diploma Guider. She had charge of the Honour Flag Competition. Evelyn Clouston has a Company in the city. Marjorie Spier (Mrs. Mitchell) is a District Commissioner in Quebec. Vivian Jenkins is a Tawny Owl and has a pack of Brownies. JUNIOR LEAGUE Many of the Old Girls have joined the Junior League. Among these are Jean Robertson (now Mrs. Edward Parker), Margaret Cameron, Lois Burpe, Barbara Frith, Eileen and Pauline Mitchell, Peggy Newman, Eileen and Jean Peters, Helen Ritchie, Elizabeth Stanway, Nancy Stocking, Elisabeth Tooke, Joan Walker. The following Old Girls are now on the Board of Managers of the League: Mrs. Louis Drum- mond (Margaret Robertson), Mrs. Fred. MacNeill (Phyllis Jamieson), Frances Walker, Jean Jamieson, Peggy Bruce, Carolyn Smith, Ann Foster. ABROAD Beatrice Carter is still in Japan acting as Secretary to Mrs. Marler of the Canadian Legation. Eunice Meekison has obtained a secretarial post at the League of Nations, Geneva. She has just sailed for Europe to take up her work there. Lois Birks spent Christmas in Japan. Jane Howard writes glowing accounts of her impressions of England. During the Oxford vacations she visited London, Edinburgh, Carlisle, Chester and Penzance. Marjory and Audrey Doble left Montreal about the middle of January, and took the Medi- terranean cruise landing in Italy. They had a delightful time there and then went on to France and England. Audrey will be home in June, but Marjory has gone to Africa where she will visit Mrs. Riordon (Ernestine Ellis) in Northern Rhodesia. Ruth Seeley and Marianne Hill are both at school in Lausanne, Switzerland. There are several Old Girls at School in Paris. Among them are Catherine Robinson, and the twins, Maida and Velma Truax. Frances Dockrill is in London, and was presented at Court in May. [87] GENERAL NOTES The news that the Hon. Senator Cairine Wilson, Canada ' s first woman Senator is an Old Trafalgar girl created excitement in school. As Cairine Mackay she graduated with a very high percentage from the Sixth Form in 1902, and when this was known there was soon an eager crowd round the class picture of that year trying to discover which she was. We are grateful to her not only for her autographed picture but also for her greeting to the present girls, printed in this num ' her of the Magazine. Winnifred Kydd is another Old Girl who is making herself felt in public life. She has been elected President of the Local Council of Women, and is at present abroad studying social con ' ditions in Europe. This year ' s President of the Canadian Club is also an Old Girl — Ivy Slater, now Mrs. Gavin Millroy. Several of the Old Girls are now studying in the United States. Katharine Seidensticker is in her first year at Wellesley College, and intends to take a medical course later. Harriet Colby a very interested in the dramatic work at the Bennet School near New York. Betty Butler is taking is secretarial course at a college near Philadelphia. Mary Train is a Prefect at St. Catherine ' s School, Richmond, Va. She graduates this June. Hope Laurie and Audrey Ellis are in the Physical Education Department at McGill. Hope is President of the First year, while Audrev was elected Vice-President. Margaret Allan is a secretary in the Canadian Industries. She finds her knowledge of Spanish very useful for correspondence with South America. Lorraine Ward has completed her course at the Motherhouse, and has now obtained a position in the Foreign Department of the Bank of Montreal. Theo Barclay has finished her course at the Motherhouse. Betty Vaughan has also been studying there. Katharine Tooke has a position in the Sun Life Assurance Co. Kathleen Anderson has graduated from the Bible House, Toronto. Isabel Elliot graduated this year from Queen ' s University, Kingston. She was abroad last summer and visited the School on her return from Europe in September. Jean Darling and Barbara Peck are both at Macdonald College, St. Anne ' s. Jean visited us at Easter and gave a very full account of the Homemakers ' Course she is taking there. Doris Allen, who left school a few years ago, is now one of the leading girls in the College. Another girl who has taken up Domestic Science is Helen Blaylock. She is at Macdonald College, Guelph, Ont., and is already a member of the Student Council. Eileen Whillans has been doing secretarial work in the Federated Charities for several years. She has now a position in the Medical Department of the Canadian National Railways. Marjorie Hulme is working in the Child Welfare Association. Connie Mussel and Helen Ritchie have been doing a good deal of work at Griffintown and other settlements. Lilias Shepherd has been studying painting at the Art Gallery. Betty Robertson is Secretary to the Nursery School, Department of Child Welfare, McGill. Laura Robertson is Secretary to Dr. Nicholson, the Registrar at McGill. Louise Morrison visited us last October. Since her graduation she has spent some time in England. She is now back in Vancouver where she is very interested in the Little Theatre move- ment. Another visitor was Editha Johnston. She has taken a Library Course at Columbia University, and is now in the Book-room of the T. Eaton Company, Toronto. Marguerite Benny, another of our Old Girls who have taken up library work has been elected President of McGill Library School Graduates. Alice Archibald, now Mrs. J. Warren, brought her little girl to see us in the Autumn. She had been visiting in the East and w;:s on her way back to British Columbia. Several Old Girls are working in the Metabolism and Pathology Departments of the Montreal General Hospital. Among them are Frances Prissick, Peggy Bruce, Patricia Fisher, Eleanor Badn, Mary Beard and Christine Slessor. I ss] It was pleasant to see so many Old Girls at the afternoon performance of the Gymnastic Demonstration on March the twelfth. At tea afterwards there was an opportunity for talking with many whom we had not seen for some time. Among them were Esther England, Elizabeth Baile (Mrs. Flanagan), Mary Bishop (Mrs. Baillie), Eleanor Bishop (Mrs. Acer), Louisa Fair, Eleanor Bazin, Margaret Robertson (Mrs. Louis Drummond), Elizabeth Sise (Mrs. Paul Drummond), Phyllis Jamieson (Mrs. MacNeil). There has been a record number of Trafalgar weddings during the past year, and it looks as if next year ' s list would also be a large one judging by the number of engagements recently announced. We congratulate Marguerite Dorken, Mary Beard, Doris Crawford, Alice MacKinnon, Catherine Nicholl, Kathlyn Stanley, Helen Hoyt, Betty Duff and Adriance Kilgour. MARRIAGES HOPE-TURN BULL FLACK-ELLIS FENSOM-MACALISTER BELL ' IRVING-MARPOLE SCOBELL-DOODY TYNER-SCOBELL HENDERSON-DRUMMOND POINDEXTER-FULLER THOMPSON-SMALL CLARKSON-SUMNER ★ANDERSON-TROWER MONK-WARDWELL PARKER-ROBERTSON WRIGHT-SAMPSON RENOUF-HUNTER RANDALL-FULLER WILLIAMS-RUSSEL ROSS-SMITH WILKINS-LAMB WALKER-CLIFT On June 7th, 1929, Edith TurnbuU to George Mitchell Hope. On June 15th, 1929, Frances Ellis to Dr. Russel A. Flack. On July 9th, 1929, Jean Macalister to Kenneth Gorden Fensom. On July 24th, 1929, Monica P. Marpole to Aeneas BelMrving. On August 30th, 1929, Dorothy Doody to Clifford C. L. Scobell. On August 31st, 1929, Olive A. Scobell to Rowland W. Tyner. On September 3rd, 1929, Helen Elisabeth Drummond to Dr. Arthur T. Henderson. On September 27th, 1929, Elinor Fuller to Everton G. Poindexter. On September 28th, Gladys Small to Dr. Clifford S. Thompson. On October 5th, 1929, Dorothy F. Sumner to Robert Curzon Clarkson. On October 5th, 1929, Hilda Trower to Colin K. Anderson. On October 5th, 1929, Elizabeth Wardwell to Charles Wentworth Monk. On October loth, 1929, Jean Baldwin Robertson to Edward Parker. ■ On November 4th, 1929, Shirley Sampson to Claude Wright. On February 26th, 1930, Helen Hunter to Edward Renouf. On February 28th, 1930, Leslie Fuller to David Judson Randall. On April loth, 1930, Dorothy Yelverton Russel to A. Lyle Williams. On May 31st, 1930, Carolyn Smith to W. Gillies Ross. On June 4th, 1930, Doris Wakefield Lamb to Douglas R. Wilkins. On June 14th, 1930, Muriel Clift to Herman Wdker. IN MEMORIAM The School, like the rest of Montreal, was profoundly moved by the news of Hilda ' s tragic death on her wedding day. It is not many years since she, a gentle and beautiful girl in the Sixth Form, contributed to the pages of our Magazine. Those of us who knew her can appreciate in some measure the poignant grief of those to whom she was dearest. We extend to them our heart- felt sympathy. Address Directory Miss Gumming, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. STAFF Mlle Adam, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Bedford-Jones, aio Somerset St. W., Ottawa, Ont. Miss BooLEY, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Bryan, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Bunyan, 83 Belgrave Road, Corstorphine, Edinburgh. Miss Clough, Park Hall, Mapperley, North Derby, England. Miss Collyer, 4029 Dorchester St. W., Westmount. Miss Cousins 4924 Sherbrooke St. West, Westmount. Miss Dennis, Groveley, Iver, Bucks, England. Mlle Henry, 1483, Glosse St., Montreal. Miss Hood, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Hunt, Hilly Field, Maldon, Essex, England. Mlle Juge, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Mrs. Leonard, 260 Melrose Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Miss Lewis, 1508 St. Matthew St., Montreal. Miss McNeilly, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss NiCHOLL, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Rae, 1441 St. Mark Street. Montreal. Miss Randall, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Roughley, 4 Harlech Rd., Blundellsands, Liverpool, England. Miss Swales, Trafalgar Institute, Montreal. Miss Sym, 513 Claremont Ave., Westmount. Miss Wood, The Manse, Park Road, Gloucester, England. School Directory A Adams, Edna, 66 Sunnyside Ave., Westmount. Addie, Alison, 148 St. Cyrille Street, Quebec. AiRD, Helen, 125 Brock Ave. N., Montreal West. AiRDj Lois, 14 The Boulevard, Three Rivers, Que. Anderson, Margaret, 108 Ellice St., Beauharnois, Que. Angus, Edith, 465 Mount Stephen Ave., Westmount. Angus, Lois, 465 Mount Stephen Ave., Westmount. Archibald, Amy, 16 Parkside Place, Cote des Neiges Road. Archibald, Griselda, 3106 Westmount Blvd., Westmount. Archibald, Sheila, 4278 Dorchester St., Westmount. Austin, Dorothy, 847 Denman St., Vancouver, B.C. Ayer, Carol, 532 Clarke Ave., Westmount. B Bann, Joan, 346 Lansdowne Ave., Westmount. Barnard, Barbara, 4165 Dorchester St., Westmount. Bazin, Cynthia, 4064 Dorchester St., Westmount. Blackstock, Ruth, 115 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Bouchard, Ruth, 1472 Sherbrooke St. West. Boyd, Peggy, 1515 Chomedy St., Montreal. Breck, Susan, 21 Franklin Court, Garden City, Long Island, N.Y. Brookfield, Betty, 50 Chesterfield Ave., Westmount. Brooks, Dorothy, 145 Wolseley Ave., Montreal West. Broome, Yvonne, 98 Meridian Ave., Westmount. Brown, Dorothy, 533 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Brown, Frances, 1495 Crescent St., Montreal. Bruce, Jocelyn, 18 Aberdeen Ave., Westmount. Bryant, Evelyn, 475 Wiseman Ave., Outremont. Buchanan, Eleanor, 3515 Durocher St., Montreal. Byrd, Lola, 8 Gladstone Ave., Westmount. C Cameron, Betty, 745 Upper Belmont Ave., Westmount. Cameron, Elizabeth, 34 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Cameron, Janet, 25 Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Cameron, Katherine, 34 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Cameron, Olive, 34 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Cameron, Phyllis, 745 Upper Belmont Ave., Westmount. Campbell, Helen, 596 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Candlin, Dorothy, 92 Somerville Ave., Westmount. Cannell, Margaret, 117 Aberdeen Ave., Westmount. Capes, Margaret, 316 Cote St. Antoine Road, Westmount. Carmichael, Alison, 331 Elm Ave., Westmount. Carvell, Katherine, 14 Chelsea Place, Montreal. Chaplin, Hope, 341 Westhill Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Chapman, Peggy, 4412 St. Catherine Street, Westmount. Climo, Beatrice, 649 Dollard Blvd., Outremont. Coghill, Frances, 562 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Collins, Barbara, 526 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. [91] Collins, Frances, 526 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Cook, Margaret, 381 Prince Albert Ave., Westmount. CoRiSTiNE, Dorothy, 10 Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. CowpER, Nora, 173 West Main St., Welland, Ont. Cox, Jocelyn, 2022 Sherbrooke St. East, Montreal. Craig, Bereath, 820 Troie Ave., Cote des Neiges. Crombie, Mollie, 1515 Chomedy St., Montreal. Cronyn, Juanita, 390 Cote des Neiges. Cross, Mary, Three Rivers, Box 388, Que. D Dakin, Mary, 130 Cote des Neiges Road, Montreal. Dakin, Peggy, 130 Cote des Neiges Road, Montreal. Dalton, Jean, 750 Upper Landsdowne Ave., Westmount. Dann, Doreen, 61 Trafalgar Ave., Westmount. Dean, Barbara, 217 Ballantyne Ave., Montreal West. DeBrisay, Betty, 17 Grenville Ave., Westmount. DoBELL, Janet, 56 Redpath Crescent, Montreal. Driver, Lorraine, 1452 Queen Mary Road, Montreal. DuBois, Jacqueline, 488 Argyle Ave., Westmount. Duff, Catherine, 316 Kensington Ave., Westmount. Dumaresq, Janice, 1390 Sherbrooke St., Montreal. Durant, Phyllis, 1487 Chomedy St., Montreal. E Earle, Frances, 128 Marlowe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Ekers, Dawn, 1535 Bishop St., Montreal. Ekers, Diana, 46 Cote des Neiges Road, Montreal. Ekers, Marion, 1535 Bishop St., Montreal. Erskine, Kitty, care of Bank of Montreal, Knowlton, Que. Evans, Marjorie, Dolbeau, Que. F Fairie, Eloise, 1 165 Mountain St., Montreal. Flanagan, Doreen, 550 Marcil Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Fleming, Sheila, 519 Marcil Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Forbes, Elizabeth, 1535 Sherbrooke St., Montreal. Forrest, Betty, 343 Hingston Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Forsyth, Annabel, 4469 Sherbrooke St. West, Montreal. Fosbery, Lois, 84 Grand Blvd., Notre Dame de Grace. Fox, Brenda, 4384 Sherbrooke St., Westmount. Eraser, Elizabeth, 174 Edgehill Ave., Westmount. Eraser, Helen, 624 Carleton Ave., Westmount. Frazee, Joyce, 10 Bellevue Ave., Westmount. Frazee, Mar garet, 10 Bellevue Ave., Westmount. Freeman, Phoebe Anne, 1002 Cote des Neiges Rd., Montreal. G Gardner, Marion, 546 Lansdowne Ave., Westmount. Grafton, Audrey, 720 Upper Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Grafton, Yolande, 720 Upper Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Graham, Ann, 700 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. I.  2 I Grant, Mary, i6 Chelsea Place, Montreal. Green, Phyllis, 69 Notre Dame de Grace Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Grier, Constance, P. O. Box 53,6, Campbellton, N.B. Grier, Katherine, p. O. Box 536, Campbellton, N.B. Griffin, Barbara, 9 St. George ' s Place, Westmount. H Hale, Margaret, 426 Prince Albert Ave., Westmount. Hamilton, Leslie, 445 Mount Pleasant Ave., Westmount. Hamilton, Phyllis, 410 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Hampson, Barbara, 1 McGregor St., Montreal. Hankin, Nora, 648 Murray Hill, Westmount. Hargreaves, Estelle, 1487 Chomedy St., Montreal. Harrington, Janet, 447 Elm Ave., Westmount. Hart, Marion, 9 Hudson Ave., Westmount. Harvey, Shirley, 134 Vendome Ave ., Notre Dame de Grace. Harvie, Jean, 633 Cote St. Antoine Road, Westmount. Haydon, Barbara, 1197 Cote St. Antoine Road, Notre Dame de Grace. Haydon, Dorothy, 1197 Cote St. Antoine Road, Notre Dame de Grace. „ Hayman, Edith, 35 Royal Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Hayman, Margaret, 35 Royal Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Henry, Joan, 1508 Crescent St., Montreal. Heward, Marguerite, 40 Arlington Ave., Westmount. Hill, Jessie, 261 Clifton Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Hill, Joyce, 9 Lakeside Ave., Lakeside, Pointe Claire. Hill, Margaret, 261 Clifton Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Hill, Monica, 9 Lakeside Ave., Lakeside, Pointe Claire. Hodges, Gail, 332 Notre Dame de Grace Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Hodges, Patricia, 332 Notre Dame de Grace Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Horner, Gary, 317 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. How, Joan, 20 Selkirk Ave., Montreal. Howard, Alma, 655 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Howard, Lee, 257 Strathearn Ave., Montreal West. Hulme, Isobel, ioi Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Hurry, Betty, 4874 Westmount Ave., Westmount. Hyman, Helen, 421 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. I Ireland, Eileen, 15 Fenwick Ave., Montreal West. J Jennings, Helen, 398 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Johnson, Elaine, 137 Marlowe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Johnston, Gwendoline, 369 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Jones, Frances, care of Mr. Walter W. Jones, care of International Business Machine Co., Boulevard de Malesherbes, Paris. Jones, Olwen, 343 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. K Kaufmann, Peggy, 117 Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Kay, Kathleen, 606 Chateau St. Louis, Grande Allee, Que. Kennedy, Elizabeth, 4026 Tupper St., Westmount. Ker, Valerie, 279 Marlowe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Kohl, Suzanne, 4340 Montrose Ave., Westmount. [93] L LaCaille, Josette, Ritz Carlton Hotel, Sherbrooke St., Montreal. Lane, Eleanor, ii Parkside Place, Cote des Neiges. Languedoc, Jehanne, 4 McGregor St., Montreal. Languedoc, Mimi, 4 McGregor St., Montreal. Latter, Marjorie, 150 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Laurie, Louise, 653 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Leach, Aubrey, 424 Marcil Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Lindsay, Elizabeth, 48 Arlington Ave., Westmount. Littler, Katharine, 11 Windsor Ave., Westmount. Lyman, Monica, 83 Redpath Crescent, Montreal. M MacGowan, Emily, 610 St. Joseph St., Lachine, Que. MacIntosh, Margaret, 129 Wolseley Ave., Montreal West. Mackenzie, Catherine, 252 Westmount Blvd., Westmount. Mackenzie, Claire, 4223 Dorchester St., Montreal. Mackenzie, Isabel, 3491 McTavish St., Montreal. Mackenzie, Leila, 1260 Bernard Ave., Outremont. MacNaughton, Mary Kate, 342 Maderia Ave., New York City. Malcolm, Lois, 2 Parkside Place, Cote des Neiges. Malcolm, Mary, 2 Parkside Place, Cote des Neiges. Martin, Helen, 298 Harvard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Martin, Sylvia, 422 Mount Stephen Ave., Westmount. Massey, Ruth, 1418 Tower St., Montreal. Mattinson, Ruth, 554 Victoria Ave., Westmount. McBride, Alison, 638 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. McCaul, Katherine, 139 NorthclifFe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. McGiFFiN, Betty, 14 Grenville Ave., Westmount. McGiFFiN, Margaret, 14 Grenville Ave., Westmount. McGinnis, Norah, King St. West, Kingston, Ont. McGouN, Jean, 4 Burton Ave., Westmount. McKay, Peggy, 626 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. McKee, Joyce, 408 Metcalfe Ave., Westmount. McLaggan, Helen, 87 Terrace St., New Glasgow, N.S. McMuRTRY, Florence, 252 Wilson Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Miller, Betty, 863 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Mills, Jacqueline, Winchester Hotel, Boston, Mass. Mills, Kathleen, 517 Old Orchard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Miner, Betty, A40 The Chateau, Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal. Miner, Nora, A40 The Chateau, Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal. Mitchell, Patricia, 3448 Stanley St., Montreal. MoNCEL, Renee, 47 Rosemount Ave., Westmount. Montgomery, Agnes, 168 Vend ome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Montgomery, Margaret, 168 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Moore, Irene, 56 Thornhill Ave., Westmount. Morris, Helen, 1 Thurlow Road, Hampstead. MoRRiSEY, Janet, 4195 Avenue Road, Westmount. Morrisey, Phyllis, 4195 Avenue Road, Westmount. Morton, Jean, 328 Grande AUee, Quebec. Mowat, Lorraine, 646 Carleton Ave., Westmount. MuDGE, Helen, 29 Cote des Neiges Road, Montreal. Mullen, Catharine, 2055 Mansfield St., Montreal. MuNN, Adelaide, 231 Cedar Ave., Montreal. Murray, Nancy, The Linton, 1509 Sherbrooke St. West, Montreal. MussELL, Phyllis, 16 Trafalgar Ave., Montreal. [941 N Nesbitt, Margaret, i8 Thornhill Ave., Westmount. O Oakley, Muriel, i Wroxeter Ave., Toronto, Ont. Ogilvie, Betty, 6qo Old Orchard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Oliver, Peggy, Maxwelton Apartments, qoo Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal. Oliver, Ruth, 359 Westhill Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. O ' Neill, Morna, Box 64, Granby, Que. O ' Neill, Velma, 231 York St., Cornwall, Ont. Owen, Megan, 336 Oxford Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. P Pae, Mary, 485 Prince Albert Ave., Westmount. .Partridge, Elizabeth, 165 Edgehill Road,. Westmount. Partridge, Gloria, 165 Edgehill Road, Westmount. Paterson, Jessie, 3 Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Pawson, Shirley, 5 Willow Ave., Westmount. Peck, Barbara, 8 Seaforth Ave., Montreal. Penniman, Julia, 34 Redpath Place, Montreal. Perry, Rosamond, Chambly Canton, Que. Peterson, Peggy, 139 Edison Ave., St. Lambert, Que. Plant, Patricia, 7 Rockledge Court, 351 Cote des Neiges Road, Montreal. Porteous, Janet, 48 Holton Ave., Westmount. Porteous, Prudence, 11 14 Elgin Terrace, Peel St., Montreal. Porter, Ann, 4127 Western Ave., Westmount. Putnam, Kathleen, 270 Grey Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. R Rawlings, Frances, 191 Cedar Ave., Montreal. Rawlings, Patricia, 191 Cedar Ave., Montreal. Reid, Alison, 102 Vivian Ave., Mount Royal. Reid, Allana, 154 Hillcrest Ave., Montreal West. Renouf, Ethel, 524 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Ritchie, Betty, 219 Wolseley Ave., Montreal West. Ritchie, Marion, 219 Wolseley Ave., Montreal West. Robb, Betty, 659 Belmont Ave., Westmount. Robinson, Jean, 629 Murray Hill, Westmount. Robinson, Marjorie, 1459 Crescent St., Montreal. Rorke, Alice, 1018 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Rorke, Audrey, 1018 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. RoRKE, Florence, 1018 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Ross, Ernestine, 108 St. Louis Road, Quebec. Roy, Helen, 66 Forden Crescent, Westmount. Roy, Norma, 66 Forden Crescent, Westmount. Ryan, Betty, 1461 Mountain St., Hampton Court, Montreal. Ryan, Kathleen, 1461 Mountain St., Hampton Court, Montreal. S Sadler, Margaret, 37 Windsor Ave., Westmount. Sare, Helen, 158 Howard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. [ 95 ] Saunders, Margaret, 624 Dunlop Ave., Outremont. ScHNAUFER, JoYCE, 484 Stfathcona Ave., Westmount. Scott, Pauline, io Laporte St., Quebec. ScRiMGER, Jean, 85 Redpath Crescent, Montreal. Scully, Jacqueline, 1265 Comte St., Haddon Hall Apartments, Montreal. Seely, Jane, 14 Seaforth Ave., Montreal. Seybold, Meredith, 331 Lansdowne Ave., Westmount. Sharp, Elizabeth, 610 Carleton Ave., Westmount. Shaw, Audrey, 205 St. Catherine Road, Outremont. Shaw, Helen, 205 St. Catherine Road, Outremont. Shaw, Nancy, 638 Belmont Ave., Westmount. Shearer, Audrey, 636 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Simpson, Betty, 603 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Simpson, Margery, 313 Hampton Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Simpson, Ruth, Dankeld Apartments, 1456 St. Mark Street, Montreal. Smith ' Johannsen, Alice Elizabeth, 4458 Western Ave. Westmount. Soper, Laurel, 61 Windsor Ave., Westmount. Sprenger, Ruth, 456 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Stanley, Lenore, 392 Harvard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Stevenson, Anna, 150 East 52nd St., New York City. Stevenson, Evelyn, 150 East 52nd St., New York City. Stevenson, Katherine, 1545 Drummond St., Montreal. Stevenson, Mary, 150 East 52nd St., New York City. Stevenson, Shirley, 732 Roslyn Ave., Westmount. Stewart, Betty, 12 Vendome Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Stewart, Beatrice, 97 Drummond Apartments, 1469 Drummond St., Montreal. Stewart, Helen, 842 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Stewart, Margaret, 656 Murray Hill, Westmount. Stewart, Muriel, 657 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Stewart, Vivian, 97 Drummond Apartments, 1469 Drummond St., Montreal. Sullivan, Sheilagh, 1374 Sherbrooke St. West, Montreal. Sweeny, Ann, 357 Melville Ave., Westmount. Sweet, Margaret, Blue Mountain, Pictou County, N.S. Symons, Dora, 592 St. Joseph Street, Lachine. Symons, Jean, 592 St. Joseph Street, Lachine. T Taylor, Betty, 608 Grosvenor Ave., Westmount. Tracker, Nancy, 391 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Thacker, Naomi, 391 Beaconsfield Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Thompson, Aline, 1251 St. Mark Street, Montreal. Thompson, Anna, 1251 St. Mark Street, Montreal. Thompson, Helen, 627 Belmont Ave., Westmount. Thompson, Phyllis, 129 Pacific Ave., Pointe Claire. Thornton, Meredith, 344 Kensington Ave., Westmount. Tims, Barbara, 3843 Harvard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Tirbutt, Barbara, Maxwelton Apartments, 900 Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal. TooKE, Barbara, 4 Hudson Ave., Westmount. TooKE, Joan, 4 Hudson Ave., Westmount. TooKE, Marjorie, 4 Hudson Ave., Westmount. Trow, Elizabeth, 645 Belmont Ave., Westmount. TuRNBULL, Sheila, 783 Wilder Ave., Outremont. TuRNBULL, Vera, 783 Wilder Ave., Outremont. Turner, Betty, 107 Park Ave., Quebec. Tyre, Jean, 719 Upper Belmont Ave., Westmount. I !)« 1 u Usher, Phyllis, 481 Oxford Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. V Vaughan, Gloria, Acadia Apartments, Montreal. Vello, Millicent, 799 Upper Belmont Ave., Westmount. W Walker Dorothy, 8 Douglas Ave., Westmount. Walker, Mercy, 3 Belvedere Road, Westmount. Walsh, Joan, 129 Glencairn Road, Westmount. Ward, Barbara, 509 Howard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Ward, Sallie, 112 Arlington Ave., Westmount. Warden, Betty, 624 Murray Hill, Westmount. Washburn, Jean, 209 Cedar Ave., Montreal. Washburn, Priscilla, 209 Cedar Ave., Montreal. Watson, Diana, 4151 Dorchester St., Montreal. Webb, Ruth Louise, 678 Old Orchard Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Webb, Eleanor Ruth, 42 Curzon St., Montreal West. Weeks, Katharine, 808 Victoria Ave., Westmount. Weldon, Alison, 130 McGregor St., Montreal. Wesbrooke, Janet, 145 Northcliffe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Wesbrooke, Mary, 145 NorthclifFe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Wesbrooke, Peggy, 145 Northcliffe Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. White, Alice, 1933 Boyle St., Montreal. White, Ruth, 312 Brock Ave. N., Montreal West. Williams, Kathleen, 486 Lansdowne Ave., Westmount. Williamson, Elizabeth, 1610 Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal. Wood. Editha, 45 Royal Ave., Notre Dame de Grace. Wright, Althea, 151 Brock Ave. N., Montreal West. WuRTELE, Jean, 756 Upper Lansdowne Ave., Westmount. Van Wyck, Audrey, 621 Belmont Ave., Westmount. Y Yeates, Betty, 14 Willow Ave., Westmount. [97 J Mead Go. 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