REFLECTIONS

The School Birthday.

By SPECTATOR.

The usual interesting and exciting events marked the seventh School Birthday which we celebrated on October 1st. The morning was devoted to a review of the year's work by our esteemed Headmaster, Mr. F. O. Pinchbeck, B.A., and to speeches by Councillor Elderfield and Mr. A. J. Linford, B.Sc. (Director of Education for Tottenham). The morning's programme also included several songs charmingly rendered by girls of the Third and Fourth Years.

In the afternoon came the eagerly awaited Fourth Year concert, which has now become a welcome and established feature of the School Birthday celebrations. This year, the boys saw to it that the deficiencies of last year were remedied, and right well did they acquit themselves. Altogether, it was a most enjoyable concert, and at the end of the day everyone went home feeling happy but sorry it was over. Thanks are due to Miss Haas, who was responsible for the singing in the morning, and who worked hard with the Fourth Year students to make the concert so great a success.

The Shield and Banner Competitions have this year been very keen and, as may be seen from the following tables, only half a point separates the winner in each case from the runner-up. Such keen but friendly rivalry between the Houses is very healthy for the School, and we have much pleasure in congratulating Mandall (winners of the Shield) and Wilson (winners of the Banner).

The Days of Yore.

By E. WICKHAM (Fourth Year).

'Twas many, many years ago
That monsters roamed these lands
When grisly beasts did chase and slay
And mammoths roamed in bands.

Man had but little chance those days
To earn a goodly living,
But such a thing as "out of work"
Was then quite unexisting.

There was not such a thing as "law"
For man could kill and steal
And even eat his enemies
To make a goodly meal.

No child did ever run to school
Lest he should he there late:
But chased the many animals.
Or fled - at any rate.

Perhaps 'twas good, perhaps 'twas bad;
At best we cannot say;
And yet I'd rather work today
Than in those days to play.

The Snowflakes and the Stars.

By LORNA WELLS (Third Year).

From their home in leaden skies,
The whirling snowflakes fall
On high church spire and cottage roof,
On lane and garden wall.

A pall of pure white snow they lie
On forest, field and town,
At frosty night from deep blue sky
The twinkling stars peep down.

Below them spreads the wide, white world,
Lying without motion:
Whilst here and there, between the white,
Is seen the silver ocean.

The Senior Football Team.

By H. THOMAS (Fourth Year).

Some say that Seniors can't play games,
Or hit the mark they aim at;
But probably these do not know,
What we have won our fame at.
Yet I and lots of other boys
Can say with ample reason
The Seniors in their element are,
When Football is in season.

The hard-fought game which others funk
The Seniors hail with zest,
With boots, socks, shorts, and jerseys
In sporting rig we are dressed.
Each boy does do his uttermost;
Each swifter than the swallow;
We play the game with ne'er a slip,
And beat all others hollow.

How It's Done.

By HILDA WENDLAND (Second Year).

I don't know
It's such a fag
To make up poetry
For the Mag.

For hours I sit
And try to think
Till my head splits
And my eyes blink

I sit and sit -
At last I doze -
Then the words fit
Why? Who knows?