Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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THE VERDICT THE JUDGE, with his wig sHghtly askew and his glasses on the edge of his nose, sat calm and silent, waiting. He had become accustomed long ago to this moment, before the jury gave its verdict. As for the rest of the court room, they sat with tense, anxious faces — particularly the accused, for to him the verdict meant life or death. The foreman began to speak, and a deadly silence fell over the room. He made it clear that this had been a difficult case to decide, but the jury had finally agreed that the defendant was guilty of murder in the third degree. The defendant slumped forward, his face ashen, his hands desperately clutching the arms of his chair. Suddenly his body went limp, and he was carried out of the court room to be revived. Immediately there was an excited buzz of voices, and the judge ' s hammering on his desk with the gavel went entirely unheeded. Clearly, this was not the decision the public had been expecting. A woman sat apart from the crowd, silently weeping. It was her son that had been found guilty, and now was going to pay his debt to society. Utter despair was written on her face, for there was no hope left, although she knew in her heart her son was innocent. The court room was in complete sympathy with the defendant, and most voiced their opinions loudly. Others sat shocked, too stunned to move. In the far corner, a group of friends gathered around the victim ' s wife, saying how lucky it was the guilty party had been brovight to justice. The attorney for the defence solaced himself and the defendant ' s mother by saying that there was a slight chance for another hearing, but he did not sound very reassuring. The court adjourned, and the people dispersed, still criticizing the verdict. Perhaps justice had been done, perhaps it had not. Whatever the case, the accused was in God ' s hands, to do with as He saw fit. Ann Manthorp, Form Vb, Fairley House. H O AND ROVER To ANIMAL lovers who own dogs I would like to dedicate this story. It ' s lovely to own your own dog, to be able to play with him, and to know that when you come home from school he ' ll be waiting for you. But owning a dog, or any pet, is not all fun, for the dog as well as for you. There comes a time when Rover must have a bath. After finding the tub and pouring warm water into it, you get the brush and soap. Then you walk into the living-room to look for Rover, who is usually lying on your mother ' s best chair, but to your surprise he is not there. It seems that Rover, on hearing [18]

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DANTE SITTING in the library, I have often wondered about the numerous happen- ings Dante has seen. As you all probably know, Dante is the large, white bust on the table in the library. He has attended all the Staff meetings, and heard each one of us being discussed. It is after these meetings that I really wish he could talk! He hears the plans and problems of the library representatives, hymn players and magazine committee. At recess on Thursday he sees and hears all the members of Barclay who come rushing in — some to be congratulated and some to be scolded, depending on the week ' s work. In the course of the school morning, Dante sees many of the sixth form come up to study; however, he usually ends by hearing of the previous night ' s activities. Then, too, he sees the girls checking in and out books, and looking up references. Quite often he notices Miss Harvie busily trying to tidy up the library. Dante has seen great excitement during his long life in Traf ' s library, especially at the times of the Gym Dem, Grad Dance, Carol Singing, and June Closing. At the Gym Dem time he sees the folk dancers g etting dressed in their brightly coloured clothes, just waiting to dance up into the gym. The library is used as a smoking room for the Grad Dance, so Dante sees everyone all dressed up, and overhears many exciting conversations. At the Carol Singing and June Closing, Dante sees the special choir all dressed in white, ready to put on a wonderful performance. Dante himself has gone through a lot of rough treatment. People are forever scribbling all over his face, therefore, every so often, he has to have a really good scrubbing. Lately, Dante has seen a new addition to the library — the new gold clock. Although many of you have never taken much notice of Dante, I ' m sure if he were to be removed from the library you would all miss him. Jane Torrey, Form Vb, Barclay House. WONDERING Did you ever stop to wonder If there were no flowers. What it would be like Colourful and gay. If there were no sun at day If there were no trees And no moon at night? To shade the sun away. If there were no stars To twinkle all night through, I think it would be miserable. Well, my friends, don ' t you? Barbara Schwartz, Form IIIb, Cumming House. [17]

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the water running into the tub, suddenly decided to take a long walk. Since calling him is no use, you try to think of a place he would hide. He ' s not under the stove, or in the coal bin, but maybe he ' s under your bed. Right you are. There he is, with the most innocent look on his face. Knowing it would be better to come out of his own accord than be pulled out, he obediently follows you to the cellar and his most hated moment. The easiest way to get him into the tub is to pick him up by the collar and throw him in, feet first. But this is easier said than done. As soon as Rover sees the detested water, he struggles and squirms like a mountain lion. Finally there is a splash, and the first part of your work is completed. Quickly you grab the soap and brush and begin to scrub, amidst a scramble of paws and fur, a shower of water, barks and yelps. It ' s a good idea to wear a pair of shorts or a bathing suit while you ' re at this job, because you ' re sure to end up as wet as poor Rover. The rinsing is a combination of throwing out the dirty, soapy water, and pouring fresh water back in with one hand, and holding a squirming, soapy dog with the other hand. When this is completed, back goes Rover for the last time. Then out he comes to be dried off, but as soon as he feels dry, solid ground again, he scampers away. Taking for granted he will dry himself, and thankful you don ' t have to do it, you set about cleaning up the mess. But if you ' re wise, you ' ll listen to the advice of an old hand at this job, and find out where Rover has gone, for, if I know that dog, you ' ll find him in the garden, rolling in sand and mud to his heart ' s content. Margaret Ann Adams, Form IIIa, Gumming House. A MOUNTAIN VILLAGE IT WAS a warm summer ' s day, and we decided to take lunch and go for a hike up the mountain-side. Shortly after noon we set off, and after a pleasant climb of about an hour, we stopped to eat. Our resting place was shaded and grassy, and jutted over the village we had left. I stretched out on the grass, and leaned over to survey the scene below me. I found, to my surprise, that we were not very high above the village; I could distinctly see the tiny houses huddling together, separated only by narrow, dirt paths. Peasants wound in and out between the houses; the milk-maid with her pail, the washer-woman with her wash-tub, an old shepherd with his crook, helped make up the scene. The sun shone brilliantly, and birds could be heard singing happily in the trees. The old shepherd started up the mountain-side with his goats before him and his crook in hand. The tinkling sound of a cow-bell and the occasional lowing of cattle were heard in the distance. The usual din of everyday movement was barely audible to me, but what I could hear only added to the pleasures of the scene. I rolled over, gazing int ently into the bright blue sky, and I felt suddenly happy. Ardis Cartwright, Form Vb, Ross House. [19]