Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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As the horses trotteil along, 1 listeneil ith joy to the sound ot their hoofs. When we reaehed the top of the mountain, the horses slowed into a walk. We stopped for a minute and looked far below us to the busy city. In the distance lav the St. Lawrence, parts of which were still frozen, and, where the sky seemed to touch the earth, we conld see the distant mountains. As it was a clear day, we were able to see for miles around. I pattetl n horse, ia e her a slight kick, and we were oil on the road that winds around the top of the mountain. I had walked along this road many times before, and I had always hoped that stune day I might ride along it. Now my dream was fulfilled. 1 pinched myself: it was almost too good to be true. Heels down , called the riding master. I had been so busy looking around that I had forgotten about my heels. Quickly I pressed them down. I smiled. I was happy; very, very happy. Bakbara Magor, Form IVb, Ross House. THE MOON OVER THE WOODS The yellow moon rose above the wood. And lighted a bank where a rabbit stood, A jay-bird screeched and flew away. Most noises ceased — ' twas no longer day. Creatures scurried here and there To find their homes, and in the air A hoot-owl silenth flew aroiuid, Searching for wood-mice on the ground. A fox padded swiftly into the night. Small animals ran with all their might To escape the revealing light of the moon. And to hide in the forest ' s shadowv gloom. For this was the time to hide away From the fox or the hawk who seek their prev. hen the moon is shining in the sky. Then these hunters go stealthily creeping by, But when the moon has gone away, And its place is taken by signs of day. The woodland creatures rise with glee, Knowing till sunset they ' ll be free To do as they wish, the whole day through As long as they ' re careful — and cautious too. The jay-birds screech and screech all day. And the chipmunks and rabbits come out to play. And all is well, till bye and by hen the moon is shining in the sky. ]ais Torrance, Form His, Fairley House. [19]

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LiTERAR TASSACAGLIA A GREY stone building loomed towards me out of the mist. It was a cathedral, sombre in its dignity and ageless as religion itself. I entered, not by walking through the door, but by drifting past the walls into the dim, candle-lit interior. There were throngs of people about me, some standing, some sitting, some kneeling, and I took my place among them. They were not people of any particular age or walk of life, but an assembly of all the men and women of the past, present and future. On the altar was a gleaming cross, reflecting the glow of myriads of candles; and reaching to the arched roof were stained-glass windows of the richest dyes, which blended into one another. As I knelt, awed by this great beauty, the sound of a trumpet was heard, not coming from any definite direction, but flowing in clear accents from all the corners and alcoves of the immense cathedral. At its call, the multitude knelt and faced the altar, and, as the music rose in volume from the lonely trumpet to all the instruments of the orchestra, the roof parted and angels were seen singing in praise to the Highest. The multitude were no longer individuals, but a body of the pure essence of worship, bowing to the Supreme Being. As the singing swelled, tlie angels parted, giving the multitude a dim view of a throne surrounded with the light of celestial glory, and, as the scene became clearer, the music rose to a final climax in a crescendo of majestic chords. A pause, and the announcer ' s voice broke in, You have just heard Bach ' s ' Passacaglia ' , played by . The picture faded, but I slept with visions of ... storied windows , richly dight, Casting a dim, religious light. Margo Cronyn, Form Arts VI, Gumming House. u A DREAM FULFILLED P - DOWN, up - down — I had learnt to post in rhythm with my horse, and it was a wonderful feeling. I looked around and saw a world that was waking up from the long winter. We were riding through a bridle path on the mountain, and the trees on either side were beginning to bud. Here and there pussy willows were growing. It was a heavenly spring day; the sun actually felt hot and there was not a cloud in the sky. [18]

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SWALLOW TAIL ROCK THE humidity of the dull day had disheartened me, and as I entered the massive doors of the Art Gallery, I seemed to he svirrounded hy throngs of people viewing with admiration various artistic masterpieces. I attempted to gain their enthusiasm, but the pictures were merely dabs of paint, until I was confronted by Cameron ' s Swallow Tail Rock . The scene contained therein struck a familiar note in my memory, and brought me pangs of homesickness. What a dear remembrance it brought to my mind! I could see it clearly: that rock at the entrance of the Bellamar Caves in Matanzas, Cuba; a place which has always attracted thousands of people, since it was discovered and the four-mile caves were explored. People continually admire the perfect and yet natural forms to which the waters of the Yumuri River have transformed after hundreds, perhaps millions of years, these rocks which rise up on the right side of Matanzas Bay. The painting reminded me of the entrance to this marvellous place, with its magnificent stalactites and stalagmites hanging down from the ceiling and rising up from the bottom of the caves. The picture was no longer still, dead — it was now full of life. I could hear the murmur of the waves peacefully advancing to touch the very low end of the rock. I could see the movement of the white crests, up and down again, con- trasting magnificently with the dark brown stone. I began to remember, then, the legend of the caves, beautiful and yet sad, but above all true, although strange. It was the story of a beauitifui girl, a princess, as it is believed, who bathed every night, in this secret concealed place, under the eternal supervision of the moon and the stars. One day, it seemed that a horrible Beelzebub ' discovered her sacred place, and, without being noticed, he watched the beautiful white girl every night. [20]