Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The suspense that followed could be felt. Then someone uttered a sigh of relief. It was echoed by the rest. With willing hands the ginger ale bottle was passed around. The midnight feast in the senior dorm had begun. Lynne Schofield, Form Va, Barclay House. EXAMS Study! Study! Study! My light burns brightly on To try to avoid that last minute rush Before my thoughts are gone. Write! Write! Write! With paper, pen, and ink. Trying to write page after page When I cannot even think. Exams! Exams! Exams! Hear me while I wail! My parents say, Do what you can . And grumble when I fail! Judy Brow, Arts VI, Barclay House. YOU ' RE TELLING US! Getting out this magazine is fun, but it ' s no picnic, If we print jokes, people say we are silly; If we don ' t, they say we are too silly. If we clip things from other papers, we are too lazy to write them ourselves; If we don ' t, we are too fond of our own stuff. If we don ' t print contributions, we don ' t appreciate genius; If we do, the paper ' s full of junk. If we change other people ' s work, we are too critical; If we don ' t, we are asleep. Now as likely as not somebody will say we swiped this from another paper. We did. No apologies to the Juggler, Ball State, and the Crimson Comet. (B.C.S. Magazine and Unity News, Sydney, Australia, L.C.C. Magazine) [28]

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This selling will continue to a very late hour. Then the baskets will he placed once again on the head, and the journey homewards will hegin. Market-day is over for another week. But there is a second side to the lives of these people — that which is reflected in their music, from the dirge-song of a road-mender as he swings his pick-axe, to the well-known calypso hands with the rhythmic beat of the drums, strumming of guitars and shaking of the maracas. As they play, they become a part of the music. It is in their eyes, their voices, and the swaying movements of their bodies. They have never had a lesson on an instrument, for they do not need it, surrounded as they are by the music of the sea, and the tropical flowers and animals. Yes, they live a unique life, untouched as yet, it seems, by the surging tide of civilization. Jeannette Steele, Arts VI, Fairley House. LIGHT AND SHADE THE SUN had sunk behind the hills, and all the earth was dark. One tree stood, charcoal-black against the purple veil of night. Its branches, drooping on the snowy ground, lifted as breezes blew them all about, calling, frantically calling to anyone to come and watch, in awe and wonder, the coming of the night. And then the moon came up and sat upon a pine-tree, crowning it with beauty, and rays of glistening moonbeams scattered to the ground, picking out the sparkling highlights of the mauve-coloured snow that blanketed the earth. Little lumps of downy snow, sliding on the slippery branches of the trees, shimmered in the night, and bathed each tree in splendour. Stars began to twinkle in the blue-black sky and seemed to form a shawl that slowly fell upon the glittering earth. The whole scene was brightly shining in the night, telling the world that Christmas time was near. Susan Hallett, Form Vb, Barclay House. MYSTERY AT MIDNIGHT THE LAST stroke of midnight boomed and slowly died away. All at once a low whistle sounded in an upper room of the grim, silent building. It was quickly answered by the shuffle of many moving feet. Swiftly the leader, who had whistled, was surrounded by a cluster of darkened forms. They all listened intently for a few minutes. With great care a large container was brought forward and rested noiselessly on the floor. Again they listened. The next operation was the most difficult and the most dangerous. A shudder ran round the group as they thought of the horrible possibilities if they were heard at this point. The leader, though realizing the heavy responsibility, cautiously bent to his task. Steadily but firmly, pressure was applied. Almost immediately the hiss of escaping gas could be heard. [27]

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DECEMBER December is the time of year When people are full of joy and cheer. The streets are full of happy people, And bells are ringing in the steeple. Beth Lennox, Lower I, Age 91 . THE STREAM The little stream sparkles Through the fields and forests. And bubbles on the pebbles. And shines like gold Under the flaming sun; And from the wide and sunny sky. Shines the silver moon by night. And turns the stream Into a silvery stretch; And when morning comes. It shines gold, and goes on forever. SiMONE Engelbert, Upper II, Gumming House. AUTUMN IN THE WOODS AUTUMN IN the wood just captures my heart with its stiff breeze. Last night we had a tang of frost, which makes the air fresh. The leaves make a crunching sound as I walk along. I hear the birds calling, as if saying their last farewells, and the honking of the geese overhead. As I look up I see the leaves falling down like little fairies in coloured dresses. Though I am enjoying myself here, I know that the brook must be pretty, so I go to see it. Through the woodland I go to a babbling brook. The foam with the leaves on it makes it look like a decorated cake. Here I rest, to think that in a few weeks it will have changed all its glory and splendor to a dark silent wood, asleep. Barbara Clarke, Form II, Ross House. MOONBEAMS At night o ' er all the sleeping earth. The moon sheds silvery beams, Down which angels slide to bring. To mortals, golden dreams. They shine suspended in the sky. Indeed they are a glorious sight. And if you look towards the moon. You may see them every night. Betty Shannon, Form II, Gumming House. [29]