Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 29 text:

Tlie next iniiuite Marv. his wifo, was in his room saying, Yes, what is it, (lear: 1 hope von are reatlv, beeause tlie Drakes are ealling for ns in five minutes. After poor Mr. eatherby had exphiined to his wife that the cause of it all must have been his signet ring, which had a wishing stone in it, she too was shocked when she saw his reflection. Just be fore he had first looked in tlie mirror, he had been wishing that he were a simple shepherd so that he would not have to go to troublesome things like parties. This was the result. But the thing that most puzzled both him and his wife was that he resembled a shepherd only in his reflection, and not when he looked down at himself. After nuK-h to-do, the Weatherbys finally started off for the party. Once there, Mr. Weatherby looked in the mirror to see if he was neat; he was terribly angry and embarrassed when others laughed at the strange reflection in the mirror. e er ilid Mr. eatlierby get rid of the figure of the shepherd when he looked in the mirror. Eve Gordon, Form II, Barclay House. TRAFALGAR ECHOES hen we enter Trafalgar ' s grounds We hear the echoes of many sounds: The front door ' s hinges creak and squeak As it opens and closes all the week; Talking is forbidden, but we fear Many hushed whispers reach the ear; The pitter-patter of running feet Seeking the classroom ' s safe retreat; Apparatus rumbles over the floor Or thumping skipping ropes add to the roar; And from the gymnasium comes the beat Of distant music and marching feet. As pupils vanish from the halls The hush of quiet evening falls. Judy Cliff, Form Upper II, Gumming House. COLLECTED COLLECTIVES A little girl is speaking to her mother as they look at a picture book together. Oh, Mummy, look at the litter of sheep. That ' s not a litter, darling: it ' s a flock. Mimimy. look at the flock of cows. But that ' s not a flock: it ' s a herd. Oh, Mummy, here ' s a herd of wolves. That ' s not a herd: it ' s a pack, darling. Look, there ' s a pack of ships. [27]

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White Ladies, White Ladies, oh, where do you roam, On your beautiful white-capped foam? Do you rush down the mountains and over the falls, And on, and on, to where Nature calls? Oh, I wish I could follow your white foamy path To where on the boulders you break into wrath. White Ladies, White Ladies, oh, take me with thee, To adventure, and treasure upon the vast sea. Susan Pitfield, Form Upper I, 11 years. APRIL April is the month for showers, New green leaves and budding flowers. When little children go out to play In rain and puddles all the day; When boys make dams and water chutes, And wet their stockings and their boots; The month when farmers go to tap The maple trees to get their sap. The sun breaks through, and then I see Two robins sitting in a tree; Then I know that Winter ' s past. That April ' s here. It ' s Spring at last. Joanna Leipoldt, Form Upper II, Fairley House. THE WISHING RING Great merciful heavens! exclaimed Mr. Weatherby, looking at himself in the mirror. He was just getting ready to go to a dinner party, and glanced at his reflection in order to straighten his bow-tie. Seeing himself, not in a smart dinner jacket, but in old rags and carrying a staff in one hand, he received the shock of his life. Oh, Ma - - a - - a - ry , called Mr. Weatherby in rather an unhappy tone, come here quickly. [26]

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Not a pack, but a fleet. Oh, Mummy, what a fleet of people! People make a crowd, darl.ng, not a fleet. Here ' s a crowd of lions. Mummy. That ' s not a crowd; it ' s a pride. See this pride of bees. Mummy? That ' s not called a pride, but a swarm. Oh, Mummy, what a swarm of fishes! Not a swarm, but a school. And here ' s a school of geese. Darling, that is not a school, but a gaggle. Oh, Mummy, look at this gaggle of robbers coming. No, darling, it ' s a band of robbers. Look at this band of plates. Mummy. That ' s not called a band, but a stack. There ' s a lovely stack of flowers. Mummy. That ' s not a stack; it ' s a bunch. Mummy, loo!i at this bunch of partridges. Not a bunch, dearest, but a covey. Then, Mummy, look at this lovely covey of pearl beads. That ' s not a covey; it ' s a string. Oh, Mummy, I don ' t know the diff ' erence between any of them. ' AFTERNOON TEA WITH A GOBLIN ONE fine day I was wandering in the woods looking for flowers of different kinds when I got lost. Suddenly I came to an oval door set in a rock. I knocked and the door opened. Two goblin soldiers came out, and, before I knew it, they had bound me with a thread-like cord which, try as I would, I could not break. They led me through a wide hall whose floor and walls were studded with jewels. At last we came to a room in which there was a magnificent throne made of pearls. Ann O ' Heir, Form Upper II, Gumming House. [28]