Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 24 text:

MONTREAL -1900 NEW YEAR ' S EVE THE train grinds to a stop, and the weary passengers alight, glad to be out of the cold, uncomfortable coaches. It is a long walk through the deep snow, and as they pass the wheezing engine with its oversized smokestack, the dim half light of the street lamps shows the entrance to Windsor Station. Almost stumbling, many of them hindered by luggage, the small, almost forlorn looking, group makes its way into the station, and reveals itself: the women wearing long, high waisted, full skirts, many of them having trains, and rather fussy hats, the men clad in formal costume — tails, very tight trousers and silk hats . They file through the station, practically empty except for the usual loafers, and out into the cold stormy night once more. The long line of horse- drawn sleighs presents a picturesque sight waiting in the falling snow, the patient horses flicking their tails, and the coachmen seated high upon the boxes in their fur rugs, sending clouds of breath up into the night. Beyond this, a new landmark, St. George ' s Church, and then nothing . . . but snow, and the lights of the Windsor Hotel twinkling in the distance. A cold biting wind sweeps across from deserted Dominion Square, a merciless wind ( Continued on page 27) [22]

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A JOURNEY TO ATHENS IT all began last Tuesday night when I was doing my history homework. That day in school Miss Harvie had been telling us about Alcibiades and the Sicilian Expedition. As I sat there, my head spun around and my eyes went blurry and I felt myself fading away . . . then all of a sudden everything was clear, but where was my history book, my bed, my desk? In place of all these things was a strange marble building and a man standing on the steps. He looked very familiar, not my cousin Joe, not Uncle Jack — who else but Alcibiades! I walked over to him and introduced myself. I ' m Mary Cliff from the twentieth century A.D., I said. He stared at me and then said he was Alcibiades, son of so-and-so (some name that I can ' t spell). Al, I said, it would please me very much if you would take me on a conducted tour through Athens. He replied, We shall just have time, because I am not due to deliver my speech for a while yet. We started off down the streets, heading for the Acropolis. I must admit that I was very much pleased at having such a handsome man leading me about the strange city of Athens. The people seemed to know him, and made way for him. I saw Pericles ' house which was very beautiful, and many others. As we approached the Acropolis, I could make out the Parthenon, which is the greatest building on the Acropolis. At last we arrived at the foot of the long stairway leading up to the top. After pufTing and panting, we reached the top, and I am sure that I have never been in a more beautifvil place in my life. The view of Athens was simply superb, and as I gazed up at the huge Parthenon my heart went pit-a-pat. We stepped inside the massive doorway into a gigantic room. In the centre of the room stood the beautiful statue of Athena, all made of gold and ivory. At her pedestal two people, a man and a woman, stood talking. As we drew nearer, I noticed that the man was Socrates, and the woman was none other than Miss Harvie. I was never more surprised in my life, but she was most likely as flabbergasted as I was. Miss Harvie, I want you to meet Alcibiades, I said. Mary, I would like you to meet Socrates, she replied. We all shook hands and chatted awhile, then Al and I continued on our tour, and let Miss Harvie and Socrates continue their conversation about philosophy. After going through the buildings on the Acropolis, Alcibiades took me to the beginning of the Long Walls and to the market places where the dicasteries met. As he was showing me these places, he told me his plans for an expedition to Sicily to try to end the wars between Sparta and Athens. They were wonderful plans and I told him that I hoped they would turn out successfully. It was nearly time for his speech, and as we had done so much walking, I was feeling very tired. I saw a stone bench that looked comfortable, so I walked toward it, but before I could reach it I slipped and fell with a thud and niy liead grazed the bench. I felt myself floating through the air with a k tni t before my eyes, then the mist started to clear up and I felt myself ittiiig on a liard cliair. Everything seemed familiar, my Myers ' General History, ni hid and my desk. I then realized that I must have fallen asleep. I really (l it I n lightened ahoiil Athens, but I was very glad to be home. Mary Cliff, Form IVb, Ross House. 121]

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MONTREAL - 2000 A.D. As the small jet plane touched the ground at Dorval, the family stepped down the gangway into the broiling Canadian sunshine. Behind them the pilot carried their bagg age — trunks, suit-cases and water-skis. It was New Year ' s Eve in Montreal, and they had left the biting cold of Florida for Canada ' s warm sun. All around, jet specials were carrying ski enthusiasts to the great championship races in the southern states. The family crossed the air-port to the new subway. Montreal ' s first, and its pride and joy, completed after five years of construction. They reached their destination and gazed from their hotel window at Sherbrooke Street, lined with palm trees. The next day included a tour of the city by helicopter. One of the relics on the outskirts of town was an old street-car that had finally been retired ten years before. On it was an inscription, The last of its race to resist the force of Gordie Moore ' s cartoons. The father had been in Montreal about sixty years before, and had many a tall tale of the city in the good old days — the days when the snow-blowers kept the [topiilatiori awake at night and people crammed like sardines into (Continued on page 2H)