Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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SUSPENSE The clock ticked on witJi ominous sound; She heard outside a yowling hound; The end was drawing near. Her brow was wet; she held her breath; The room was quiet, quiet as death. Her hands were cold; her eyes did blur, She wished to move, but dared not stir. Then all at once, in a voice so thin. The dread call came, Please go right in; Your turn, the dentist ' s here . HE BALCONY of our house in Cairo was long — the whole length of seven rooms Jl of the apartment. On a cool morning in spring, I would stand on this balcony and look across at one famous historic place after another. To the north lies Heliopolis, the City of the Sun. This used to be an oasis in the desert, and was bought by a Belgian baron who built many beautiful houses, until today Heliopolis is a lovely city, with gardens, clubs, cinemas, and swimming pools. Forming a semi-circle around Cairo are the Mokkattam Hills which literally divide the desert from the sown . On one side is barren land with miles and miles of sand, and on the other, the River Nile. Sometimes the sand from the hills is blown into your house and gets into everything. A sandstorm is a dreadful thing. The Monastery, which I can see as well, is one of the little-known beauty spots of Cairo. To get to it you must go through the dirtiest and noisiest part of the city. Tram cars clang, little ragamuffins jump on your car, and old people get in your way and are nearly run over. There are donkey carts, with the drivers cursing and swearing, and games of football going on in the middle of the main street, while the klaxon of your own car is continually blowing. Then turning round a narrow corner, you see a garden hanging on the face of the Mokkattam Hills. You climb one hundred steps and come to a big wooden door. Your knock is answered almost immediately, because the monks have watched you coming up. Greetings, greetings, my ladies and gentlemen. The blessing of Allah be upon you. These are Albanian monks of the Moslem faith, but they are a celibate sect. This is unusual, as the Moslems do not believe in celibacy. Peace, unbelievable peace, reigns at this four hundred year old monastery. Everything is so quiet, you can hardly believe that you are near the noisiest part of Cairo. The monks speak Greek, Turkish, and Arabic. As they depend on charity for their living, we used always to take them a small hamper of provisions, as well as leaving a little gift on the old Bishop ' s table. The mosque of the monastery is very unusual. It is in a deep cave, which also serves as the burying place of the monks. One part of the monastery caves was used by Napoleon ' s army as a powder dump. Evidently an explosion look |)lace llien , forming a huge hole through which you get a most beautiful view of nearly all (]airo. [24]

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THOUGHTS DURING AN ALGEBRA EXAM. The bell rings loudly. No more talk! And, trembling with fear, to our desks we walk. Have you your pens, girls? I won ' t ask again! Well, I think I have everything, minus a brain. Papers are given, I read mine with fear. Everything I don ' t know seems to be here. Settling down quietly, all start to write. Doesn ' t X = Y, or was X is B, right? On to the next question — consternation! Whoever called this a simple equation! I ' d studied square root till the breaking of dawn. Now here there are factors ! My chances are gone. Question two is a horrible problem, I see. How do you do these things? Oh, dearie me! Can ' t say X is a sheep or Y is a cow. But try as I will I can ' t think how You word it correctly. An hour has passed! Still four more questions until the last. On to the next one! Does A have X dollars? Time out to envy intelligent scholars. Oh, well, I ' m sure to get one at least right. But I ' d like to murder Messrs. Hall and Knight. Three more questions partially finished, And my hopes of passing have slowly diminished. Glance at my watch again; five minutes more. Must try again to get number four — There goes the bell ! Oh, well, trust to fate. At least I can say I could do number eight. Stagger to recess, and feel there ' s a plain Natural space where there once was a brain. Jean Sinnamon, Form IVb, Ross House. [23]

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The Citadel, which is the mosque of Mohammed Aly, has two thin tall minarets which can be seen for miles, when they are lit up with a circle of lights at the big feast of Ramedan. The mosque is magnificent, and the whole floor is covered with one tremendous carpet. We, the infidels, cannot go into the mosque unless our shoes are covered in sheepskin slippers. Mohammed Aly the Great, the founder of the present dynasty, built his palaces at the top of the Mokkattam Hills, and the whole place is known as the Citadel. The British since they occupied Egypt have used the Citadel partly as a barracks and partly as a detention place for soldiers serving sentences for any crime. The actual living quarters, or palace, now serving only as show pieces for tourists, are very shabby and dilapidated, but the Mameluke ' s Leap is still the same as it was in 1811, when the Mamelukes tried to escape from their Turkish murderers. They jumped over the steep side of the cliflf, but they and their horses were killed. I can also see the Pyramids of Ghizeh, a truly wondrous sight, which has been described by better writers than I. The Sphinx with her battered nose cannot be seen properly, because since 1939 she has been covered with sand bags to protect her against air-raids. From my balcony I can see the sun shining on the broad, deep, grey water of the Nile as it flows down on its journey from Abyssinia. There are houseboats moored along the edges, and lovely houses along its banks, as well as the big Kasr el Aini Hospital gleaming white and red, the unpretentious British Embassy in Garden City, and the Semiramis Hotel, scene of bygone splendour (at present used as British Army Head- quarters, and smelling of disinfectant). Sacred ibis, flying to roost on the trees along the banks of this river, make the trees look white. What a view! What strange sight, sounds, and smells! I look back upon those days and think, What an education I got from you, my old balcony! Thank you! Ruth Woodman, Form IVb, Fairley House. DOW THE LANE Down the lane I wander; Bushes line the sides; Roses, and honeysuckle Nod in the breeze that glides Down from the heathered hills, Down from the mountains blue. Hiding amongst the sinking clouds, Then bursting out at you. Down the lane I wander; The sun shines on my head; I pick a strawberry sometimes. Rich, and ripe, and red. I see a lake below me, A white-sailed sailboat too; On the shore an aged fisherman. Sits with cap askew. Down the lane I wander. Above me a robin sings. Flitting around in the tree tops; And now a churchbell rings. But the sun is fast in setting. The sky burns red, then dark ; And all must home to bed and sleep — To hear the first note of the lark. Barbara Henshaw, Form Va, Gumming House. [25]