Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Let ' s eat our lunch here, suggested Bob. Professor Thompson will never notice that we ' re missing until it ' s time to go back to the bus, and by that time we ' ll have sneaked back. All right, agreed Dick. So they opened their lunch boxes and set them down on a smooth rock. All of a sudden they heard a voice among the bushes. Hey! What are you younguns doin ' on my property? They turned around to see an old, gaunt hermit, with a hoary, unkempt beard, standing at the edge of the clearing. W-w-why we j-just c-c-came here f-for a picnic, sir, stammered Bob. Well you ain ' t bavin ' no picnic here, said the old man rudely. But we ' re just going to have our lunch and go home, said Dick, and anyway this is a pidilic forest, and you have no right to tell us to go away. But it ' s my property! returned the hermit. Well, how would you like it if you wanted to eat in another part of the forest and somebody chased you off? said Dick boldly. The old man looked up at the towering trees surrounding the clearing and seemed to ponder for a moment. Well, he said thoughtfully, I reckon you ' re right. A faint smile appeared on his cracked lips as he continued, C ' mon down to my hut near the lake and I ' ll show you all my pets. As they approached the hut. Bob and Dick were astonished to see a fawn, a squirrel and two rabbits come forward eagerly to meet the hermit. The hermit explained the different habits of his forest friends to the boys. This proved to be much more interesting than their science book. But their thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice — . . . so boys, you can see what a calamity it wotdd be if there were no lakes to . . . Remembering the reason that they had come to the woods, the boys hastily said goodbye to their friend, and, promising to return, ran off to join their classmates. And to this day they have no misgivings about sneaking away, except that they forgot their lunches. Nabiha Atallah, Upper II, Gumming House ADVENTURES OF A BAD MARK WHAT a boring day! Nine-thirty, and I haven ' t foimd a single victim. Ah, here comes someone now! Maybe I ' ll just stick to one person today. No, I guess not ; this person already has four of my cousins. Well, a quarter to ten, time to make my rounds. Preparatory seems relatively quiet today. Might as well try Lower I and Remove. Funny, they ' re quiet too. Now to try my luck on Form II. There isn ' t a sound! Not a peep! Oh, for the good old days when Form II was noisy. I can remember when I foimd four of my best friends six times. Ah! At last! The class I ' ve been saving all my strength for, UPPER II. I ' ll start in the front. There ' s somebody there I can usually count on . . . Good, here she is : the girl with her tunic up to her waist and the long red hair. Need I say more?? Elizabeth Rubensteen, Upper II, Ross House [26]

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HOUSE POINT MATHEMATICS Fifty points is what I need Then my House name all can read! So I swim for the school For twenty points — that ' s the rule. Two points for the art I drew. Now my total ' s twenty-two. But fifty points is what I need Then my House name all can read! Two bad marks reduce the score: This week I ' ve got minus four. Thursday ' s hymn gave me three, I set up the gyni, you see. Oh! Fifty points is what I need Then my House name all can read! Mid-term marks — hip hurray ! I got ten points for my A! Conduct mark! That is bad. j Now my House Head will be mad! Oh, well ! minus five — See the total take a dive. And fifty points is what I need So my House name all can read! Red Cross animals gave me ten — They were little rabbit men. Two squares knitted jvist the same — Another four points to my name. Yes, fifty points is what I need So my House name all can read ! My tall giraffe gave me eight. Soon I ' ll be there at this rate. Hurry, hurry — knit one square — Just two points and I ' ll be there. Yippee! Fifty points ivas my need. Now my House name all can read! Jane Eddison, Upper II, Ross House FORGOTTEN ' • ' •As you can see, each tree has an adequate amount of leaves to make food il. and . . . Gosh! this is boring, Dick Taylor exclaimed in a hoarse whisper to his buddy, Bob Kent. You ' re not kidding, replied Bob. Let ' s sneak away. The two boys were on a science trip with their class. Everyone thought that it was a good idea, at first, but it had proved very boring. When Dick finally agreed to Bob ' s suggestion, they picked up their limches and began to clamber up the huge rocks, leaving the other students to learn about how some animals are given a special colour of skin to be able to blend in with the background in order . . . After a few minutes they reached a clearing in the forest where a cool stream trickled down to the lake below. [25]

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NIGHT The night is dark, The traffic is heard miles around, Clouds passing over the moon, And shadows of a dark alley, A lamp post shines its light. An alarm clock whirring off at the wrong time, The sounds of the world are loud: Shuffling papers. Writing pens and pencils. People going to bed. The clicks of lamps inside, going off, A match striking as someone puffs away at a cigarette. People walking about. Horns honking. Me? I do nothing but watch night. But soon it turns to day. And yet again, night. Candy Jotcham, Upper II, Barclay House BY THE SEA TINY waves, grey and dull in the light of the early morning, threw their foamy crests and lapped against the stone docks and small craft. A gentle breeze blew quietly past, flapping the boat sails and playing among the piles of lobster traps. A seagull drifted aimlessly on its way, its mournful cry fading as it flew into the wild blue skies. The strong smell of fish, some rotting in the gutters, others fresh from the morning catch, mingled with the pleasant smell of tobacco and the salty odour of the sea. Then the hum of activity increased with the friendly bustle of the crowd; the brushing of the coarse skirts of the fishermen ' s wives and the damp, clinging breeches of the sailors as they hurried past. The crowded street by the tavern where the strong smell of liquor drifted from the open door was the favourite haunt of many an old seaman worn by wind and weather. There, on the oaken bench on the cobbled street, they sat, viewing the ships as they left and returned during the day, listening to the sound of the occasional horse ' s hooves on the rough cobble stones, or spinning yarns of the sea to any who would listen. The tangy taste of the sea and the smell of tar from the docked fishing boats draped with drying nets filled the morning air. Nearby, some of the owners sat mending other nets or traps, while all aroimd them the smells grew stronger and the crowds more numerous. Jessie Fiske, Form III a, Fairley House ODE TO MORTALITY Lying so quietly, darkness around. Mother Nature ' s life and the warm groimd. Once there was movement, red and warm glow; Nestled from sunshine, covered by snow, All in the deep oblivion lost. Minds not warped by life ' s hardest frost. Nature ' s old trees embed me in hope For a creature all cold found on a slope. Minerals, earth ' s majestic times past. Lean on my head, the pain is to last Wondering if age is the way it was told. For it ' s cold and dark and it ' s dark and cold. Ann Roberts, Form IIIb, Barclay House [27]