Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 20 text:

ROMAN RUINS Ancient ruins by dim twilight, Columns of crumbling stone, An era of splendour created their height To stand in beauty alone! Now but gravestones, last of the might Of once predominant Rome. The jewel of Italy; the grandest state, Ruled both far and near, Commanding the world, until, too late. She saw fame disappear Through profligate emperors, so her fate Was ruin; the end was clear. Now all that remains of that Empire high Which finally had to succumb Are these pillars, melting into the sky. Which say, and yet are dumb: That as they last, one ever shall see Sceptrum ad infinitum. Linda McDougall, Form Vb, Fairley House. THE DROUGHT THE EFFECTS of the drought were visible everywhere on the farm. Coarse, wilted hay drooped in the distant field, lifeless in the heat of the noon-day sun. A swallow winged its way through the cloudless, summer sky, over the parched orchard, whose dusty trees extended their branches towards the heavens, vainly seeking cool, refreshing rain. A dog lay panting in the shade of an apple tree, its body stretched on the dry mat of tangled grass. An apple, ripened before maturity, fell to the ground, and the dog sat up with a start, only to collapse again onto the grass, tired with the effort. In the cool of the barn, farmer and son lay back against the wagon-wheel, indifferent to t he protruding hub, aware only of the perspiration trickling down their backs, and the afternoon of work that stretched before them, endless in its proximity. Through the open door they viewed a tall, gaunt pine, casting its long, black shadow over the field, a vivid personification of the Drought. MoRVEN McIlquham, Form Vb, Ross House. DEMOLITION! MISS MURRAY stared in amazement at the large hole in the floor through which her desk had disappeared. She stepped back gingerly, thinking, Now if this is some trick of Peta ' s and Judy ' s . . But no, there they were sitting quietly at their desks, and looking just as astonished as she. [18]

Page 19 text:

to see the price tag, but it was facing inwards. She put her hand in her pocket to feel the five dollar bill again. She didn ' t want to spend it all at once . . . She pushed open the door, and the bell rang out to announce her, as she stood looking at the clutter of Georgian chairs and Jacobean bedsteads that seemed to surround her, and hid all but the head of the assistant who was talking to the fat woman. Marie watched them, hardly liking to make her way over to the box in case she knocked anything over. It was an ideal present. Even Aunt Jane would think so, and her mother would be delighted. She wondered where her mother was, now. Probably still in Italy: they weren ' t leaving there till Friday, she remembered. She might even spend the whole five dollars, if it cost that much. Why didn ' t the fat woman decide whether or not she wanted the repulsive china dog? The box could be wrapped in red paper: her mother liked red, and Aunt Jane had some of that — Can I help you? said a voice, and Marie turned round hastily, lost her balance, and almost knocked over a warming-pan. Er, yes please, she said, wondering why she hadn ' t thought of looking for a second assistant. There ' s a box in the window — a little black . . . Her voice faded away, and the assistant, producing a large blue one, said, Do you mean this? No, it ' s black, said Marie more loudly, turning rather red. The assistant emerged from between candlesticks and bookends with her box. How much is it, please? asked Marie, hoping three dollars, expecting four, and prepared for five. Nineteen ninety-five, said the assistant blithely. Extremel) good value for something of this kind. It dates from . . . Marie ' s expression was disbelieving, horrified, and miserable in rapid succession. Oh. Thank you, she said, and went out, leaving the assistant extolling the virtues of the box. The bell clanged behind her. The assistant shrugged his shoulders, and wormed his way between the bookends and the candlesticks. Marie walked off among the drifting crowds; her hair was untidy, her face was dirty, and she was almost crying. There was no point in looking for anything else before lunch; she might as well go home. She thought dimly that it was silly to mind so much, but it was such a lovely box, with its smooth black sides and the gold pattern on top. She felt there was nothing pleasant at all in her life. She was in a dull town, with a fussy aunt, without her parents, it was too hot, her legs were tired, the hill was steep — there were endless things to be miserable about. She walked heavily upwards. She had a stone in her shoe. Her parents would be in Rome now. She had never been so miserable in her life. She couldn ' t possibly be more miserable. She turned into the dusty drive, and saw Aunt Jane standing at the top. Aunt Jane would probably tell her to stop being so gloomy. She had every reason to be gloomy, she would never save twenty dollars. She looked up, frowning. And then she saw Aunt Jane ' s white face, and the telegram in her hand. Caryl Churchill, Form Vb, Cumming House. [17]

Page 21 text:

There was a grinding noise from below, and, taking a firm grip on the bottom of the blackboard. Miss Murray leaned forward cautiously to peer into the gap in the floor. She saw her desk poised precariously on top of one of the second form desks, and noticed with relief that the ink had not spilt. There was another crunching noise, and one of the marble slabs on the stairway upended itself slowly and rolled majestically down the stairs. In the art room, a large display sheet covered with Christmas tree ornaments floated off the wall and wrapped itself around Pam, while the desks started hopping and banging in a most frightening manner. Judy, muttering an excuse to Miss Capel, hurried out to consult Miss Box. This hadn ' t been mentioned to her in today ' s curriculum. Back in the laboratory. Miss Murray decided that it was impossible to teach against such a racket. She put down her chalk and stalked out to find Wilson and tell him about her desk. The sixth form Biology class was delighted, and immediately started to play noughts and crosses. As Miss Murray come out of the lab., she saw a tall, fair-haired girl covered with Christmas tree ornaments disappearing down the stairs. Miss Murray looked at her blankly for a moment, then bounded after her, still bent on finding Wilson and reporting the predicament of her desk. On the ground floor, a strange sight met Miss Murray ' s eyes. There was a large gap in one side of the fifth form classroom. A bull-dozer of cor- responding size was standing in the middle of the room, and on its nose sat Ann Kampouris and her desk. Ann was busy writing history notes, while Mrs. Galambos and the rest of the class looked at her with unfeigned interest. There was another crash, and the whole side of the building crumbled. People were at once running pell-mell all over the place, and Miss Murray sighted a diligent member of Gumming House poking about in the debris for souvenirs such as House pins and crests. Oh good heavens! What is going on? gasped Miss Murray, and she hurried off again in search of Wilson. Something must be done about her desk. Vicky Cumyn, Arts VI, Fairley House. THE TARTAN TARTAN IS a woven material of wool, with different coloured stripes which vary in width. The arrangement of the colours is the same in length and width, and when woven appears to be a number of squares crossed by stripes which intersect each other. By varying the width and number of stripes and changing the colours, different patterns are made. Tartan patterns are called setts . In earlier days the skill of the weaver and the availability of plants likely to supply dyes were the main factors in determining the sett of a tartan. The colours used would be restricted to the plant dyes found within the various districts. Thus it is likely that the people of the different districts were recognized by the colours in their tartans. [19]