Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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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]

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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

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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.