Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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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]

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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]

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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