Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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voii went even farther, you would suddenly come upon it and feast your eyes on as pleasant and wonderfid a sight as you could ever hope to see. The foliage overhead was not so thick here as in other parts of the forest, and the sunlight came through in dancing rays of light. The water came hubbling down the rocks like a miniature waterfall, and for coolness and taste I have never yet seen any hrook to equal it. Beside the miniature waterfall a great weeping willow stood and spread out her drooping branches, as if to protect it and add to the beauty of the place. On the other side of the brook, a doe was quietly lapping up the cool water. Suddenly I moved my foot, and a twig snapped. The doe looked up, alarmed. She regarded me for a moment with a look of frank curiosity, and tlien, swiftly turning around, she fled noiselessly into the forest. I felt guilty at having disturbed so lovely a scene, so I turned to go home. As I came out of the forest, I turned to have one last look at it. The sun was setting in the west, and the trees were bathed in the bright colours of sunset uhioli slowly darkened, as the night put the forest to rest. Janet Quinlan, Form IVa, Cumming House. RETROSPECT OF 195 0 A was for Albert, always alert. B was for Berry, somewhat of a flirt. C was for Carolee who lived in a whirl. D was for Davison who was our Head Girl. E for Emita, in games she was wise. F was for Fleming who had big blue eyes. G was for the gym where Miss Box held sway. H was for Heffernan, happy and gay. I was for me who now sits and wonders. J for the Judies who were with us in numbers. K was for Kenkel who was an old dear. L, Mrs. Leonard who struggled that year. M was for Magor who was quite a brain. N for the no-goods who laboured in vain. 0 for the others who made up our class. P was for Pippa who was quite a lass. Q was for Quinlan who was our school deb. R was for Rutli who studied in Feb. S was for Sylver who was lots of fun. T was for twins of which we had none. U was for us who hoped we ' d all pass. V for Virginia, the wag of our class. W for Wendy who had all the luck. X for the unknown at which we all stuck. Y was for Yale, I ' m sure you ' ve all met her. Z is an extra and unwanted letter. Ann McDougall, Form Arts VJ, Barclay House. [25]

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TRAFALGAR ' S LAST STAND OR ON THE SUDDEN EXTENSION OF McGREGOR STREET (with apologies to Kenneth Graham) The Road — came — through ! There was bedlam in the classrooms, and a howling on the stairs. There were caving, crumbling corridors, — and mice rushed out in pairs, When the Road — came — through! When the Road — came — through ! All the people scattered madly, through the doors (and windows, too!) There was clattering of cut ' .ery: of whole objects there were few When the Road — came — through ! As the Road — came — througli ! All the shifty, sneering workmen were hilarious with glee, Loudly chopping, madly blasting, and whistling joyously, When the Road — came — through! While the Road — came — through! There were rumblings and tumblings; a sonorous clanging soiuid, There were whistlings and squeakings; great chuggings all around, When the Road — came — through! Crash, go the walls! Former occupants are a-fluster, as renowned Trafalgar plaster Meets the ground, protesting loudly, while the workmen gaze so proudly At the Road — come — through! Jan Torrance, Form Vb, Fairley House. IN THE FOREST WHEN I first saw the forest, I could scarcely believe that such peace and tranquillity could exist on such a hot and humid day. The air was cool and clear, and had that fragrance which always marks abundant growth of living things. The foliage overhead was so thick that the burning sun which had so heated the rest of the world was denied entrance. Even at that the sun, stubborn- ly refusing to recognize nature ' s protection, broke through in places, as golden shafts of light. The trees were of a dark and pleasing green, unspoiled by the dust and smoke of the city. The ground was covered with an amazing variety of wild flowers, and the soil was of that rich brown which always speaks of fertility. If you took the trouble to advance farther into this forest, and indeed it would be hard not to, you would presently hear the bubbling of a brook. As [24]

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I WONDER IF THEY WERE THE SAME I wonder, fifty years ago, when Traf just got its name, If Grandma and the Gibson Girl weren ' t very much the same As we at school, in modern times, who often think, I fear. That all those school girls of the past were really very queer. Though in our social life, I think, we ' ve changed from Grandma ' s days, When formal speech, the stately waltz, and ' cycles were the craze. To now, when slang, the jitterhug and radio are stars, In school life at Trafalgar, their ways were much like ours. I ' m sure they felt that same old chill when Mam ' selle sprung a test, And no one knew her French at all, and yet they did their best. When Nepos and Pausanias pugnabant in hello , And Cimon, Vergil and the rest were not sure where to go, I wonder if they primly sat and wrote the best they could, Or if they worried, fussed and fumed, and said they were no good . When Henry, John and Edward III through history notes did pace, I think they also were confused as to who, and in what place. If X plus y, and angle a, could ever equal nought, I ' m sure they thought the same as we, There ' s something I forgot. In English Literature and Comp. I ' m sure they were quite bright, For many famous writers, about that time, did write. In Spanish, Physics and the rest they must have had their days, et, nowadays, we think their brains were never in our maze. On sunny, warm spring morns at school, I ' m sure they yearned to seize Their books, depart, and then be free to do the things they please. We think of them as girls of books, and not of sports and play, But in their lengthy hobble skirts, I ' m sure they had a way To somersavilt and run and ski, — do other sports as well. They may have quite outdone us all, that you can never tell. In singing classes, did they stand with earnest upward glance. Or did they pass the latest news about this boy, that dance? Now all these thoughts may be quite wrong, but how am I to mend My ways, when, reader, even you were hardly living then? Anne Cadman, Form Vb, Ross House. [26]