Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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I never can touch anything but gold. I ' ll never feel the rain upon my face. No velvet, or deep fur, or rough barked tree, No sunwarmed grass, no man, no living, loving child . . . My life is changed to hunger, thirst, and torturing bright gold. Oh, give my life, my daughter, back to me! up the ski-tow to this height, and according to the rule, all things that go up must come down. So now my chief problem was how? I looked around, and found to my sheer delight an inviting sign saying: This pointed in the direction of a clump of trees. Well, this looked encouraging. The words BEGINNERS and EASY caught my eye, and with the help of a few deep breaths, I started toward the clump of trees, and looked beyond. Then, getting more venturesome, I started down. Whee, this is fun! Coming to a stop at the first turn, I looked back with great satisfaction. Well, that was easy enough, let ' s see what ' s next. My skis took me farther, on and on, past trees and around corners, until I was going at a terrific speed! The trees on either side of me whizzed by, making a pattern of green and brown streaks. Golly, how was I going to stop? A sharp turn was coming, and there was only one possible way for me to make it, and that was to fall, and walk around the corner. But it wasn ' t quite that easy. The falling part was all right, but oh, what a spot I chose! My skis had led me into deep snow, and there I just sat! My, what beautiful scenery! That was my attitude anyway, but the skiers whizzing by could see I hadn ' t stopped simply to admire the view! Now to get myself out of this predicament. I was so deep in the snow that every time I tried to get out I just went deeper. Finally I managed to wiggle myself onto the harder snow and stand up. The minute I stood up, my skis started on the rampage again, hardly giving me a chance to get my balance. Oh well, that ' s over. I hoped the rest would be a little easier. On I went to the next turn, which was even sharper and more slippery than the last. When I tried to stop, I found myself on an icy spot, and, being unable to stand, once more I sat! But my discouragement really wasn ' t necessary, as I came to find out. I had been there only a few minutes when a string of skiers came down, each one falling in the same spot where I had! I guess I ' m not the only one who skis sitting down! After gaining more courage, I ventured to stand, and once again my skis started sliding. It ' s amazing what difficulty two pieces of wood can get you into! What was that tricky bit of manoeuvring I had learned to turn oneself Caryl Churchill, Form Vb, Gumming House. T BEGINNERS ONLY TWO MILES OF EASY TRAIL [25]

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MIDAS Sunny morning . . . light on the wall like gold — Like gold! That man who came to me last night Said all I touched — the sheets turn stiff and bright! It works! Gold table and gold bed — I ' m rich! Gold pillow for my head, Golden curtains, golden wall. Shoes and cloak — all I wear — Golden brushes for my hair! Nothing cheap at all, at all — Golden buckle in my belt — Nothing silver, nothing felt! Out into the garden run. Richest! richest in the world! Water golden in the sun. Golden stones in the water hurled. Golden rose, golden tree. All I see golden grows. All for me! all for me! Back inside in ecstasy. Golden table, golden chair. Ring a newly golden bell — Touching fast as I am able. Seeing gold spring here and there. Maid, astonished, flies to tell Master ' s turned the room all yellow! That cook! The coffee looks too strong — Lower wages for the fellow! It tastes — he ' s tried to poison me! No. It ' s gold. Touch toast to trembling lips — Eggs! Ham! Butter! Jam! Let me eat them! Bated breath — Milk turns gold, defying sips . . . I ' ll never eat again. I ' ll starve to death. I ' ll starve to death. — My daughter, oh, my love. Come, comfort me! I ' ll tell you what I ' ve done. What deadly sin — my child! Your hand turns hard in mine. Your face is still. 0 gods, I didn ' t mean to ask for this — 1 didn ' t mean to kill the one I love . . . These fingers have the power To change warm flesh to metal shining cold. [24]

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around? Oh yes, bring one ski up on end, and put it down in the other direction. Then bring the other ski around, and you ' re turned. Who are they trying to kid ? ! But I tried it, and much to my amazement, it worked, so I was able to get my balance without sliding all over. Then we , all three of us, were off again. At one point I stopped, this time standing! The course ahead of me looked far too risky, so, using a bit more of my scant knowledge, I went down sideways. Yes, step by step, inch by inch, until I reached a spot where I could continue, going forward. The rest of the trail wasn ' t quite so mortifying: a few steep parts and more sharp corners. Then below me I could see the roof of the tow-hut. Civilization again! I felt so eager to get through this maze of trees and corners that I didn ' t care what came next, and let my skis follow the tracks already there. At last there was a wi de opening between the trees, and I flew right through it, and found myself going at a terrific speed down the last mighty hill of the trail. Of course every trail must have a happy ending, but with me it was more of a landing, and to top it all, beside the tow-hut. That was the last straw! Is that really the beginners ' trail? I asked the tow operator. Oh no. Miss, that ' s the trail for advanced skiers ! The sign must have been twisted by the wind last night. The beginners ' trail comes out over there, and he pointed to another opening in the trees. Someone get me a hot drink, I replied, I feel faint! Vivian Harland, Arts VI, Ross House. JAMAICA ON A MAP of the earth it ' s a dot — but to the natives of this island with the swaying coconut trees and sunny skies it is the beginning and end of the world. Their lives are centred around market-day. It is the event of the week. For days before, they come in from the country, some in buses, some on donkeys, and some even on foot, laden with baskets. At day-break on market-day, the singsong voices can be heard as they shout their wares: Water coconuts, fresh water coconuts or Some nice vegetables today, ma ' am? As the day gets hotter, the voices seem to rise, the crowds to thicken, the fruit and vegetable smells to increase, and the clinking of coins to become more frequent. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ends. As the afternoon comes, the crowds disperse. There is a lull in the voices. The barefoot children in their ragged clothes cease playing, and gather around their parents who are crouched beside their baskets in a deep sleep. Then, as if by magic, at night it begins all over again. If it was picturesque in the day, it is even more so at night. Now the kerosene lamps are lit, and with the moonlit sky for a roof the night marketing begins. Now, however, the voices are low, and the nervous movements of the donkeys can be heard. [26]