Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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— 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]

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' 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]

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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]