University of Ottawa - Annuaire Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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'30 OTTAWA NORMAL SCHOOL YEAR BOOK FOR 1916-1917 SEEN IN THE MYSTIC SMOKE. By Margaret Toppings. 66 H! the mem-sahib is lonely. Helen Easten turned at the quietly spoken words, and the pensiveness faded from her face as she gave welcome to the faithful old friend before her. - Why, good-evening, Nahal. This is, indeed, a :pleasant surprise. You visit us so seldom now, that my pupils and I were beginning to fear you had forsaken us. The old man salaamed low, as he answered, The mem-sahib knows I shall never forget her. But, I repeat, you are sad. Your mind and heart are far across the sea in distant Canada. You are ever dreaming of its snow-clad hills and rolling plains. And in those dreams, yon mis- sion school is o'ershadowed by a little country school-house, far away. Perhaps, too, there are thoughts of dear ones there, of the merry class- mates of other days, of-Normal. The girl started. NormaI! What a mind reader you are, Nahal! But I'm really contented here. Your India is surely a beautiful land. Nahal, suddenly plunged in deep thought, did not seem to hear her. You would like to see this Normal again? Yes? Then he added in his usual suave manner, Will my young friend, and sahib, her brother, dine with me to-night? Nahal would be pleased and honoured. The tall, upright form had long since disap- peared down the white road, and now the mys- terious shadows of an Indian night were swiftly infolding the mission school. Helen Easten, still standing at the gate, was musing over the past, and dreaming of Canada, of home, of Normal. It was towards the end of the repast that the girl heard a voice whisper in Hindustani, Come, Murmuring a low apology, she left the table, and joined the messenger awaiting her. Through several long A passages they went, pausing at length before a dark curtained door. This her guide noiselessly opened, placed his fingers sig- nificantly over his lips, made a profound salaam, and 'as noiselessly withdrew. Not in vain had Helen Easten studied the customs of these strange, inscrutable people. She was surprised, but this was not apparent to the keen eyes which, seemingly gazing off into space, were, she knew, intently regarding her. Nahal, clothed in rich, flowing robes, was re- clining on a low divan. On the rug before him lay an inlaid brazen vessel of peculiar workman- ship. It obviously contained fuel of some sort, for wreaths of whitish smoke were slowly rising from it. Barely glancing at the man's motion- less form, the girl seated herself upon a cushion, and, in silence-waited. Nahal had some purpose in view when he sent for her. This, he would no doubt disclose as soon as his oriental love of suspense and mys- tery had been satisfied. In the meantime-and the girl gave a shrug of resignation-she could only wait and wonder. It was the strange be- haviour of the smoke coming from the curiously shaped vessel that finally attracted her atten- tion, and held her spell-bound. Spiral after spiral of dense, white fumes were slowly circling upwards. As higher and higher they crept the shadowy recesses of the room grew dim and blurred. Soon, the wall, the di- van, Nahal's rigid form,-everything--were en- veloped in those caressing folds. Nothing was visible but the cloud of writhing, climbing smoke. Singular and fantastic as were its movements, it was evident that all were directed and controlled by an unseen, unknown Power. Suddenly, the watching girl bent forward. Were her eyes deceiving her, or was something being really portrayed on that moving, living, screen? And that something-7 No wonder the blood rushed riotously through her veins, and her whole body fairly tingled with sup- pressed joyl Though the scene before her was vague and indistinct, she, like every true Nor- malite, would never fail to recognize it. For it was at Normal's grand old walls and imposing towers that Helen Easten gazed-Normal, so far away, conjured up on a magician's screen in India, that land of insolvable mysteries. Now it was one of the well-known class- rooms that was pictured upon the smoke cur- tain. Yet, the room seemed far too small for the jostling, excited crowd that was pushing its way past the creaking old door. Never before had Helen Easten understood just what the word mob could sometimes mean. These fren- zied, hysterical students had lost every trace of their traditional dignity. The sole aim of each and every one of them was to get into that room at all costs. It must be something out of the ordinary that could so transform what was once such a meek and mild organization. The girl in- stinctively looked toward the master's chair. It was desolate and empty. The old-time Normal staff had passed away forever. Now, from a lofty pedestal, the presiding genius of the place -an enormous phonograph-smiled benignly down upon the awe-stricken multitude who were eagerly drinking in the words of wisdom as they poured unceasingly from the strange machine.

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OTTAWA NORMAL SCHOOL YEAR BOOK FOR 1916-1917 Z9 THE GHOST OF THE NORMAL SCHOOL. By R. Pearl Chamney and Myrtle H. Adams. 1 HAD often heard of the Ghost that haunts the Normal School, but being somewhat of a sceptic, doubted its existence. Several stu- dents have declared that a shadowy apparition has been seen by some of their number, Hitting in at the door at the back of the gallery room, gliding down the steps, and disappearing in a mysterious manner. Now, the time was when I myself would have laughed at these affirma- tions and I would in my innermost thoughts have considered the propounder of such as fit to rank with the common multitude and as having no place whaever in the cultured halls of the Normal School. But even we who pride our- selves on being proof against all superstition are likely to have our firmest ideas uprooted, and thereby to become susceptible to ghostly visions. I was busily engaged one evening after school in the laboratory on the Verification of the Law of Inverse Squares. Absorbed in my work I became utterly oblivious of the passing of time. When I had worked for what seemed to me a very short time I glanced casually at my watch and was startled to find by the pale glim- mer of the candle which I was usihg that it was already past eight o'clock. A feeling of dread crept over me at the thought of being alone in this great building. Although I tried to assure myself that I was not in the least frightened my heart beat a little more rapidly as I crept stealthily toward the door of the laboratory. Suddenly a. cold chill spread over me and I began to shiver. This indescrib- able feeling grew so intense that when I reached the door my teeth were chattering, my knees were shaking fas no Normal student's ever did when called upon to teachj, and my fingers were so numb that I had difficulty in forcing the door- knob to yield to their grasp. The story of the Ghost of the Normal flashed before my mind in its most dreadful aspects, but knowing that fear is an emotion unworthy of any Normal student, I attempted to drive it from me and vainly endeavoured to recall the Three Level Theory instead. I finally pulled the door open, and, horror of horrors! what A ghastly apparition stood facing me! My hair stood on end, my flesh began to creep, my knees knocked together and my teeth chattered. I realized now that the legend of the Normal ghost was only too true. The Awful Thing stood in the pale yellow glimmer of the moon- light that struggled in through the partly shaded window of the little laboratory. lt glared at me from the depths of its greenish eyes. It clasped in its claw-like fingers a number of books, which I recognized as similar to those used in our class-rooms. Who are you ? I asked, with all the decision I could muster. I am the ghost of one long gone before, was the reply in sepulchral tones. Once I was a happy Normal student like you, but ambition sealed my fate. I hoped to write text-books on Psychology, History of Education, Geography, Science, Music, Art, Hygiene and Grammar, and incidentally to discover scientific truths, write stories and travel in foreign lands, but, alas! my brain refused to sustain the pressure. l come ni-ghtly to haunt these rooms and continue my scientific researches. Take warning, favir student, Am-bition's debt is dearly paid. I was glad that I had not attempted to combat my ghostly visitor, for 'I am told that physical forces do n-ot avail in the presence of such supernatural beings, but that-it is more effective to appeal to their intellect. f Before the Awful Thing had ceased my tem- perature had dropped considerably' from ninety- eight and three-fifths degrees. Such an un- natural condition caused my wholel body to tremble. I was about to fall prostrate, when lo! the horrible apparition began slowly, 'slowly to fade away. U-nder the hypnotic spell of the late spectre my eyes remained .glued to the spot where it had stood, but in the pale moon-light all that I saw was that gruesome skeleton which we use in our hygiene class.

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OTTAWA NORMAL SCHOOL As if it, too, mourned for the old regime, a tremor passed over the smoke, and the scene faded away. But, something else was slowly emerging from its white depths. A picture of groups of students walking aimlessly about now met the watcher's gaze. It was, apparently, a period of recreation, but they did seem to be en- joying themselves. On every face there was a restless, hunted look. When they spoke, it was only in whispers and with fearful glances around them. Like Damocles of old, they seemed to be in constant dread of some frightful calamity befalling them. All at once they drew timidly back. A majestic figure walked past them and paused before a hitherto invisible door in the wall. This he unlocked, removed objects that looked like phonograph records, and then went unconcernedly away. Ah! no wonder those poor students had been discreet and care- ful. They might well refrain from saying trait- orous things about the old school. It would scarcely be good policy to make adverse state- ments regarding critic teachers in this super- modern building. For the old Normal fairly swarmed with dictographs which faithfully and relentlessly recorded every syllable that passed within its walls. Helen Easten began to wonder how much strain the average constitution could endure. It was, therefore, with a thankful sigh that she YE AR BOOK FOR 1916-1917 31 welcomed the next scene. Undoubtedly an ex- amination was in progress. It was a pleasant sight-when one was only a spectator. Some were writing feverishly, with occasional hurried glances at the clock. Others were seeking ins- piration from a minute inspection of the ceiling. Perhaps they were puzzling out the difference between state and specify or wondering just what that word discuss meant. Suddenly, a large open book was held up be- fore the girl's astonished eyes, and from its vaguely familiar look she thought it must be a Syllabus. Larger and larger it loomed until the words printed there could be read with ease: The Department of Education directs that from henceforth tests shall be held daily, instead of once a week, as formerly. A low moan ran through the room. The smoke quivered, dwindled, and faded away. Mem-sahib evidently forgot that absolute si- lence was required of her. But the icy tones were completely lost upon Helen Easten. The teacher in her was, forthe time being, smothered, and all the student's ab- horrence of examinations rose again with over- whelming strength and force. ' Daily tests! Tests every day of the week! Oh, how dreadful! And the voice trailed off into another heart-rending moan. -X . MILITARY ACTIVITIES IN CARTIER SQUARE.