Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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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]

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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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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]