Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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THE ENEMY STRIKES I RLNG the last war 1 served in tlie army. Of course when you are among other men, vou soon make friends, and 1 was no exception. After receiving our basic training, we were shipped to some part of Asia seemingly entirelv desert. One of my friends and I were phiced on guard duty, which we tliouglil very tame and extremely stupid as the desert cannot run away. At first Paul and 1 were interested in our daily marching, for even a desert has its good points. However, after several weeks of this job, it began to get boring as no Japs or Nazis ever came our wav. There were three other enemies that we had beside these. The first was the sun. the second the cruel, golden sand, and the third, tiny golden snakes which blendetl witli the sand and popped up from nowhere and whose bite is fatal. These we were told to watch out for, and we did. One dav, orders came for us to increase our range of guarding. Instead of a few hun lred vards each, we had several miles, and consequently there were no little chats between patrols. In fact we lost sight of each other for several hours at a time. It was in one of these rambles, as I was doing my guard duty, that I felt in front of me what seemed to be an invisible wall. As I knew that 1 had to investigate, I started to feel the air with mv hands. Soon I came to an opening in this barrier which I could not see, and I pulled myself through. Something brushed pa. Jt me and turned to look at me: it had burning eyes and a greenish face. That was all that I could see except coloured balls of blue, green, purple, red, orange, pink, and yellow — the same colours that one sees when one stares at the sun for a long time. I reached out to touch one, and my hand went through it. hen 1 pulled my hand out, it was covered with a slip- pery mass of purple. This fell to the ground, shrivelled up and vanished before my eyes. I stooped to examine the place where I had seen the purple mass fall. I picked up a handful of sand and let it run slowly through my fingers, all to no avail. Then the balls took the shapes of figures which danced in a circle before me. They- seemed to speak, but to me they felt very far away, and I could not distinguish what they were saying. Suddenly one of them came up to me — the one with the burning eyes. He raised an arm to strike me and I recoiled. Then I hit the ball that represented the head, and as I did this, all the other balls started to close in on me. I could feel their breath and mine intermingle in the warm desert air, and then a choking sensation. I must have blacked out, as all I remember after this is being lifted and carried through a barrier. hen I came to. I found Paul leaning anxiously over me, and when I stirred he seemed to sigh with relief. I asked him if the spirits of coloured balls had been found. He said that everything was all right and that I had been attacked by one of our enemies, the sun. and had had sunstroke, and when he, Paul, tried to help me to get back to the camp, I had tried to kill him! That, I said, was hardly possible as there had been no other hiunan being besides myself. They put me to bed and had orders not to disturb me. Whenever I tried to warn them of what I had seen, they laughed or would look at me in a queer way as if I were crazy ! Reni Roberts, Form IVb, Fairley House. [19]

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purse at me with a smile, then gives her right-hand woman a tap on the shoulder, then lets her arm fall in an easy motion, carefully displaying the ornamentations of her purse to all spectators, and stands in readiness to receive the next word of command. The next motion is that of opening the purse . This is seldom learned under a month ' s practice, as there are many types of fasteners, knobs, loops, buckles, clasps, and zippers, all of which must be completely understood by the pupil. Upon my giving the word to search the purse, they make one general dive, and examine the many and various contents of the bags with a worried and urgent frown, or a smiling and sure expectancy. The closing the purse follows. There is the angry closing, the humorous closing, the confused closing, and the merry closing. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any motion of the mind which does not produce a suitable closing. All these graces may be learned in about one half-year. With more time, a lady may learn to fight her way through crowds to the meat counter, and through streetcars and buses. She may also discover how to use her purse to protect her hat and coiffure dur- ing a storm, as well as how to use it to discipline children with a tap on the head without breaking her compact. To conclude my letter, I must acquaint you that I have, from my own observa- tions, compiled a little treatise for the use of my scholars, entitled The Passions of the Purse , which 1 will communicate to you, if you think it may be of use to the public. I shall have a general review on Thursday next, to which you will be very welcome, if you will honour it with your presence. I am, honoured madam, your most humble servant. Dorothy Eadie, Form VI Arts, Fairley House. THE SENTINEL PINE Tall, slender, and smoke-blackened Against the wintry sky It stands, a lonely sentinel Of a forest long gone by. A charred and ruined monarch Against the grey-blue sky. Fire, dread enemy of forests. Raged long upon the hill. The monarch last of all succumbed. Its resined cones hung charred and still. A smouldering pillar of ruin Stood dead upon the hill. Once this pine stood, a king Among all lesser trees. Birds nested on its mighty limbs; Its resined cones swayed in the breeze; A great free lord of the mountain Among all other trees. Now this pine stands a sentinel Upon a snowy knoll Where once stood mighty pine trees. He, monarch of them all. Black now, this pine, and lifeless Upon the snowy knoll. Anne Pattis6n, Form IVa, Ross House. [18]

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DOGGONE DOGGEREL I shall ne ' er a poet be — I haven ' t the mentality, Rhymes will never come to me, (This is hopeless — as you see). Here I sit and think and think. And dip my pen into the ink. My brain I ' m sure is on the blink. ( Why don ' t I throw this down the sink ? ) Now this poem I must close. With it I shall end my woes. If you have suffered, please repose, (The stream of words no longer flows). Betty Mills, Form Vb, Barclay House. THE INTRUDER THE ship lay by the sea, half buried in the sand. It looked like the skeleton of a long-dead sea monster with its ribs worn smooth and grey by the wind and rain of many years. Not a living creature had touched this weather-beaten hull ever since it came to rest among these rocks — not a living creature except the tiny mice which lived and died in holes and crevices in the worn and rotting timbers. Then one dusk a great grey shadow, silhouetted against the sinking sun, winged its way over the few remaining yards of shingle and dropped exhausted on the deck. The great owl had flown miles over the sea battling a wind too strong even for its powerful wings. Now it slept while the mice scampered unconcernedly round its huddled form. Sleeping all through the next day, the owl woke at night hungry and with new life surging through its strong body under the armour of stone-grey feathers. Guided by small squeaking sounds made by the mice, the great grey stranger soon satisfied his hunger and ended forever the scampering of many small feet. Then, rested and fed, the owl rose into the night sky and winged his way swiftly inland over strange new forests. A rabbit, hopping warily over a meadow, saw a great shadow slip swiftly over the grass. Seconds later the grey stranger was bearing away his first kill in this new land. A feeling of new-found power rushed over the owl, and in the following months he became the terror of the forest — a swift and deadly intruder in a formerly peaceful place. Winter came and the land was covered with snow. Food became scarce and on many occasions the grey owl could not find even one of the poor, thin meadow mice which he had once scorned to touch. His great strong body grew thin and he despaired of surviving the winter when the streams again began to run, and mice and birds returned to an awakening forest. [20]