University of Western Ontario - Occidentalia Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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WESTERN U GAZKTTE OUR RIVER Silver in the gleam of sunshine Quivering at the wind ' s light touch, Willow-margined, little river, We who know thee love thee much. All the lovely glow of evening Sun-flecked clouds and golden rays; Rose tints fading into violet Violet merging into grays. Mirrored in thy placid stillness AVe have watched the glory fade ; Silent sat, and mused before thee, Mid the gathering evening shade. We have watched the storm clouds gather, Murky shadows o ' er thee cast. Angry, lurid, threatening tokens. Low above thy surface massed. We have seen thy winter stillness. Cloaked in gleaming mantle white. Fringed by naked willow saplings. Touched by purple shadows light. Mist-dimmed in the evening silence We have watched thee fade from view; Deep and azure seemed thy waters ' Neath their canopy of dew. Often will thy memory charm us. Borne far distant on life ' s swell- Willow-margined, little river, We who know thee, love thee well. — B. Taneock.

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WESTERN U GAZETTE Some Impressions of France Prol ' cssoi Meras former stiuUMits Avill lie interestod in tlie little tour in Prance he nunlc during the M ' inter holidays. Prom Toulouse, where he is attending the Uni- versity in preparation for the Ph.D., he wont to Bordeaux, Paris, Lyons, Geneva and South Pranee — a voyage circulaire whieh ended with his vacation, at his Starting point. He writes, in a letter to Dr. Shanks : Naturally I saw other places along my route ; I saw Angouleme and Poi- tiers, Tours arid Orleans, the chateaux along the Loire, the theatres of Paris, Dijon and Lyon with Notre Dame de la Pourviere on the height; the Alps and Lake Leman, Les Cevennes, the sunny valley of the Rhone, with Avignon and the handsome Palace of the Popes, Taraseon and its smiling Tartarins, Cette and the quiet, impressive blue of the Mare Nos- trum, Narbonne, Carcassonne and her mighty fortress C ' est aujourd ' hui le neuf et je n ' ai pas encore eu let temps de finir votre lettre. Ces jcurs-ci, on me fait travailler enormement, mais cctte annee j ' eprouve tant de plaisir a etudier oue c ' est bien loin d ' etre une punition. Je voudrais que Monsieur Auden fut ici poui ' me forcer a faire un peu plus de latin. Pour le latin il faut I ' avouer je suis tres paresseux. Ce n ' est pas que cette langue ne m ' interesse pas: tout au contraire Je voulais vous raconter up peu mon voy- age de Bordeaux a Paris. Je me suis leve a quartre heures pour prendre le train sur Bor- deaux; mais quand je arrive a ia gare a Tou- louse la bulletin annoncait un retard de trois heures a cause de la neige. Ici a Toulouse meme nous en avons eu a peu pres soixante centimetres. Enfin le train est venu, j ' y suis monte et nous sommes mis en route pour le grand port. Nous sommes arrives vers quar- torze heures (two p. m.) et j ' ai trouve que j ' avais manque le train pour Paris. Je me suis achete alors un petit plan de la ville, je suis alle me procurer une chambre, je m ' y suis in- stalle avec mes bagages et me voila pret a faire le tour de la ville. C ' etait d ' abord la Garonne et les ponts et les quais que j ' ai visites, ensuite j ' ai suivi le rive tout en ad- mirant les superbes hotels abimes plutot gates par les grandes enseignes de marchands de vin, qui montent tout le long de la riviere jursqu ' a la rade Tuesday aiul 1 haven ' t had time to finish this letter. As I said, I walked up along the banks of the river spying out the church steeples. Pirst I saw La Tour St. Michel, that interesting .spire }iigh above the city, then L ' Eglise Ste Croix with its stunted Romanesque facade, its (pieer equestrian statue so different in style from the crumbling women with their serpents over the doorway. I wan- dered through the crooked streets onward to the great cathedral, spreading its Gothis beauty over the Place Bernard. It is handsome within, it is handsome with- out, with its delivate buttresses and its- tall thin towers, with its pale, violet win- dows, designed in faint blues and burning- reds, with its finely carved chapels vague- ly lighted by the flickering gleams of con- secrated candles. I walked from there along the busy Rue Ste. Catherine, where endless autos wound in and out among the rushing Christmas crowds, and came out before la Comedie where the low-built opera house extends its pillared front. The queue had already started to form at six o ' clock, to see Rigoletto at eight- thirty. I tried to get seats, could not, and walked on a bit to the immense Place des Quinconces, to see the towering statue to the Girondins and the tine thin line of lighted lamps that led down to the har- bour, where shadowy ships swung lazily amid odd moving lanterns. It was a won- derful sight looking over the water from my place imder the radiance of the two -tall beacons that signalled out across the harbor. I stood there fully ten minutes mider the starry sky, on a Christmas eve as mild as a night in June. Then back to the hotel, where I regaled myself on a dish of Bouillabaisse and fell asleep to the strains of the nasal organs that accompany all Prench fairs. Por no matter where I go in Prance there is always a fair or cir- que, carrousels with wooden pigs instead of wooden horses, etc., etc. It is a happy country, Prance, with its smiliiig faces and its hearty laughter, but. behind this exterior there ' is a note of grim serious de- termination that makes her strength.

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