The Soldiers’ Party – Christmas Term 1917

As we ran over for “Matches” on Saturday we saw a familiar Ambulance car outside the School gate with khaki coats and blue legs coming out of it, and there were more khaki overcoats and blue legs coming up Milford Hill too, some on crutches, some with their arms bound up. We knew why they were coming, for hadn’t we spent three desperate breaks and half-an-hour on Saturday morning practicing songs, and trying to make our umph, umph, umphs, and wee, wee, wees pig-like! By 1.45 we were gathered into two masses, one red one white at each goal on pitch 1, shooting, running, wriggling, and on looking round towards the bank we saw the soldiers, they were going to watch the match! Before long they had all decided what side to back, or rather what colour, for they dubbed us the ” Reds,” and the “Whites.” Yells came from the bank of “Go it the reds,” “That’s it, that’s it, pass it to the Picaninny, run Picaninny, run. Ah that big white one is too much for her.” And I heard the familiar burr of a Scottie, “Go it the forwards.” They watched eagerly the whole time, and I believe they enjoyed the match quite as much as we did, and that’s saying a lot. After the match was over they went into a much transformed Hall. There were flags everywhere, flags festooned from the gallery, flags from the windows, flags under the platform, and a huge laurel wreath in the midst. It was a gay sight, the flags in their brave colours, the men in their hospital uniform (the uniform we all love, respect and would do anything to serve). And gay smoke wreaths from their cigarettes. Then the concert began. Old Girls, mistresses and present girls and one of our wounded guests performed. We all enjoyed Mrs. Leys’ singing immensely. Miss Foley and Miss Baker gave us delightful violin solos. Miss Atkinson, Miss Foley and Miss Lavender played several beautiful trios. Last term’s Special Singing Class sang several Shakespeare songs, and some middle-sized people amused us with the quaint Alfred Scott Gatty songs of our nursery days, always ending with a moral! But the songs we enjoyed the most were sting by our guest. We ended the concert with hearty cheers for the King, Queen, and all the Royal Family; the Navy and the Army; the Tanks (a happy thought just after a great Tank vic­tory), and our Guests. After three verses of “God Save the King,” the men made their way to the dining-room and School House sitting-room and St. Margaret’s for their tea. We hung eagerly over the gallery to see them, and felt a thrill of pride for Britain.


The following is a letter written by one of the men from the Red Cross Hospital
Red X Hospital, Salisbury,
DEAR MADAM,                                                       26/11/17.

On behalf of the boys of this hospital, we wish to thank you for the splendid concert and tea which you gave to us last Saturday. The boys wished to be remembered to you and to thank all those who were concerned in enabling us to enjoy ourselves, thanking you once again,
I remain,
Yours truly,
For the boys of the hospital.

Serbian Exhibition – Christmas Term 1917

On December 1st we had the great opportunity of seeing and obtain­ing needlework done by the Serbian Refugees in Corsica.
Miss Radford, the organiser of the workrooms, gave a short lecture, in the course of which she gave us a picture of the life and character of the Serbian people, and very surely enlisted our sympathy for the gallant and suffering little country, that, after centuries of wars and foreign oppression and struggles for freedom, has during the war suffered more than ever in the course of her stormy history, and suffered as perhaps no nation has ever suffered in the world’s history.
She told us how in the autumn of 1915, when it was apparent that Serbia was to be overrun by the enemy, a good number of people from the towns and south and east parts of the country fled down to Salonika, and took with them what they could of their household and personal property. A refugee camp was improvised, for which a handful of English people made themselves responsible. As Salonika, from strategic reasons, was obviously unfit for a permanent encampment of refugees, it was arranged by agreement with the French, English, and Serbian governments, to ship them all to Corsica, there to be housed and cared for partly by the French authorities, and partly by an Eng­lish relief milt belonging to the Serbian Relief Fund. Three large trans­ports brought the refugees to Corsica from Salonika, and a month later a fourth arrived bringing those who had escaped from the north and west across the mountains of Albania or Montenegrin coast. These came empty handed, many ill and worn-out with exposure and priva­tion. Most were peasants, the majority of them women. Among them were also 200 to 300 boys, rescued from Schools and brought away by the army in its retreat. (Many of these are now in England being educated in various schools and cared for by local Committees under the S.R.F.)
Thus was formed a colony of several thousand Serbs in Corsica. Gradually the men have been called back to the army or to Government service behind the army, or in Salonika or Corfu, till now some 2500 are left, women, children, and some men (mostly old), and boys. The attempt was to make real Serbian colonies with their own life. The houses were decorated with the carpets and woven cloths the refugees brought with them. There were French Schools and Serbian kinder­garten for children, and a Church in each centre.
Their festivals were kept, especially the anniversary of the battle of ‘Kossovo, a day of national mourning, kept since the 14th century, but celebrated with songs and national dances.
Workrooms were established at first to supply necessary clothes. Then came the gradual development of their handicrafts. Embroidery designs taken from old carpets and national costumes, cotton weaving, native material as used for dresses, shirts, and household linen, wool weaving, rugs, carpets. The wool was bought raw in Corsica and the cleaning, spinning and primitive dyeing was all done in the workrooms. Carpenters made furniture, and also the looms, spindles, &c., used in the workrooms. Cobblers mended the shoes and made the native sandals.
In their decorative art a great many of the designs are purely Ser­bian, others are influenced by Turkish and, indirectly, Persian designs.
The Serbs are a primitive people with a real culture and civilisation. Their historic sense is very strong. They sing at their work, are poetic, and in speech epigrammatic, and are fond of proverbs. They are grave, sad, courteous-mannered, affectionate, humorous, and demo­cratic. There is no’ class feeling, which is especially noticeable in a workroom of 150 women of every class. They make use of “brother,” “sister,” as a form of address.
After this very interesting lecture we saw their handiwork-woven wool rugs, woven cotton embroidery from old national designs, cos­tumes, peasant socks and shoes, &c.
The Exhibition represented the effort of English friends of Serbia to keep alive the courage and national spirit of these exiles till the day when they shall return to their own country.
Miss E. Radford played a national dance, and Miss M. Radford sang one of their folk songs.
The sale was very brisk and with the silver collection at the door realised £52 for the Fund.
We were most grateful to Miss Radford for making the whole picture so vivid and understandable. We were glad of the opportunity to possess some of the beautiful work, and in that way help the refugees.


The Harvest Moon, 1917 – Christmas Term 1917

Oft when we dream the summer days are past
And autumn’s golden tints spread o’er the land,
Thro’ morning mists the hot sun breaks anew
And fills with glad surprise the hearts of men.
E’en so the harvest moon looks down serene,
And glittering star, stud the blue vault of heaven,
Telling of calm and peace through days of strife;
And in the darkened streets men pause to gaze
Up in the quiet skies: and some recall
The song of reapers, glee of little ones
Who rode atop the wain of gathered sheaves,
And visions rise of a sweet country home.
How strange that days of war should let us see
In city ways the glories of the stars,
The Great Bear and the Pleiades, whose glow
Was hidden by our earthly, garish lamps,
And few looked up and thanked for
Harvest Moon, And planet, and the calm pure light of heaven,
But sudden flash! and all the peace is gone!
Thunder of guns falls on the silent night,
The scream of warning syren searchlight blaze,
Cries of the little children hurrying steps,
Seeking for shelter from the falling bombs
War in the heart of the great Motherland!
Yet far above the din sails the calm moon,
Governing still the hours of the night,
Lovely, serene and shining, undismayed
Since God is in His Heaven, and His Peace,
Past human understanding, doth remain.
And filled they are with that enduring Peace,
Those women with firm voice and steadfast look
Who pray and sing and hold with quieting hand
Their weaker sisters, till they too are strong,
And feel that Christ is here, e’en as of old
Amidst the storm on Lake of Galilee;
And whether it be life or death. He still
Has placed beneath – His Everlasting Arms.

L.J. D.

Western Canada – Christmas Term 1917

On December 3rd the Rev. Doctor Lloyd gave a very interesting lantern lecture in the school hall about Western Canada, where he has worked for many years. He is now visiting England to make an appeal to us to ” Keep Canada British and Christian.” Our help is badly needed, because the population includes few Britishers, and vast numbers of foreigners-French Canadians, Americans, people from every State in the world, many of whom hold low ideals and no religion. It is our duty, now that they are under our flag, to raise these people to our standards and to teach them Christianity. They will very soon be a powerful nation, and we must see that they are a united people, Christian and thoroughly loyal to the Empire.
Our best means of doing this is to provide the schools which are rapidly springing up with the best teachers we can possibly find.
The British Canadians have done their full share of the work and are doing it still. Their young men and women from college spend the long vacation teaching in little country schools, Dr. Lloyd’s sons and his daughter have all done so, Sir Robert Borden also served Canada in this way when he was a young man. Dr. Lloyd calls upon us in Eng­land to help them. He suggests that every year England should send one hundred young men and four hundred women, for women are especially wanted, to teach in the schools. His League of the Maple Leaf is intended to provide the money for sending candidates. The Canadian Government pay a liberal salary, so the money could soon be returned and another candidate sent out.
Dr. Lloyd’s lantern slides showed the little one-roomed schools which are built wherever there are nine children together, they also showed some larger schools in the towns. The scenery photographed on Dr. Lloyd’s journey up a large river in a canoe was very beautiful, The Prairies looked flat and very lonely, but no doubt they have a beauty of their own when one knows them well. British Columbia must be a wonderful province, Dr. Lloyd described it as Switzerland on a larger scale. There is certainly every inducement to young British men and women to brave hardship and go out and work for such a land.


Mr. Tuckey’s Address – Christmas Term 1917

On Wednesday, December 5th, the Assistant Chaplain-General to the Forces gave us a most stirring address in our Hall. He spoke to us of the great part which women and girls have to play in the des­tinies of the nation, and of the enormous influence, which they have over men. Women have power to inspire men to be their very best and noblest, and power, if they will, to pull them down from the heights to which they might, with encouragement, have attained. In this war, women have been given an unprecedented opportunity to help humanity; they must see to it that they help, not hinder, the gallant men but for whom our country would be suffering the same fate as Flanders and parts of France are to-day.
Women and girls cannot have the influences for good that they ought to have, except through the power of prayer. If they cannot serve their country in any other way, they can do it by their prayers. A girl may have her faults and may fail time and again, but if she is a true Christian she will pray and start afresh, and never give up the struggle. Being a Christian does not mean going about with a long face. If she is gloomy there is sure to be something wrong. Cheerfulness and contentment are absolutely essential if she is to help at all. Look on the bright side of things:
“Two men looked out of their prison bars, The one saw mud, the other stars.”
A woman must be pure, prayerful, cheerful, temperate, and trans­parently sincere. She will then be all incalculable blessing, both to every man with whom she comes in contact, and to the generations yet to collie.


On A Wiltshire Road, 1917 – Christmas Term 1917

God’s earth do seem to me
Full of they parables
Such as the Lord did tell
There by the Lake in Galilee.

Our downs be made His way;
Wi’ their steep sides
An’ great long backs
They’m full of peace all day.

At school the children hears
How it did teake
More than ten thousand years
To rear’en up and round’en so;
And sure lie’s patient too wi’ men
Time, and agen.

Sometimes I’ve thought
We could learn all we need just watchen ’em
And thinken how the seed
Do grow to corn
And how each flower is Wrought.

But ’tis not true­
This earth would have no word for us
Without we knew His heart, as broke for love of us
And loves, whate’er we do.

And there a-teachen we
Stands that old spire
A-gleamin’ in the sun
A-pointin’ where our hearts should be
And our thoughts should be
Like fire;
We must lift up our face
To God above
If we would find ‘Un nigh
And close at home in love
When sorrow comes
And sons are called to die
For right and liberty.

‘Tis then they parables
And them great Downs
Lying in peace around our door
Will heal and cure.
He’ll never mock us:
Nay He said “Aly peace I leave”
And his word standeth sure.


Sir Henry Newbolt’s Speech at the Governors’ Meeting – Christmas Term 1917

At the Governors’ Meeting on December 7th, Sir Henry Newbolt made a never-to-be forgotten speech. At the outset he told it’s that he wished to consider only the future. The present, state of affairs would not do. We must have a new and entirely different world, and that difference would concern girls more than the rest. In the past, nations had differed as to the status of women, and England with her ally America had given a far higher place to women than that which they held in enemy countries. But the future would be far ahead of us.
The world had two compartments, and men, and women were different; the difference was largely that between prose and poetry or science and poetry. Woman’s place in the world was not in the arrangement of things according; to abstract scientific reasoning, this had already been sufficiently done. “Man delights in picking the world to pieces, finding out what it is made of and then making toys of it, such as guns and trains. This he thinks is fulfilling the whole object of existence.” It was for women to put man in his place, to show him that all this was of secondary importance. Her part lay in. the actual creation of those elements which were lasting, and had to do with the happiness of man. When a nation had made quantities of guns it had not changed man for the better nor added to the happiness and freedom of human life. Woman could create, a whole life for herself and for other people. “Everybody’s life is exactly what they make it by a conscious direction of their being – that is poetry.”
The most remarkable thing about poetry was that it created by an act of magic, it was saying, a thing in such a way that you could never forget it. There might be a very slight difference between prose and poetry, but it was all the difference. It was really the part of women to make that slightest difference felt. Though there are many men with all the gifts of a poetic mind, yet if men were left to themselves they would, be a set of crude, energetic and. highly prosaic people, and they would make an extraordinary and very uncomfortable world. It was for women to see that they did not think only of making and taking but also of giving.
The superiority of Englishmen was shown in their readiness to give and take. In Germany the highly abstract scientific view had the mastery, and men went to extremes which would be highly ridiculous if they were not so brutal. A poem had just been sent to him from Italy-the latest version of the Hymn of Hate for Italians. It was an appeal to Germans to raise the glory of Germany above all the world. “Kill your enemy” it exhorted the Germans, “but do not forget that it will be useless if you leave your son to fear his son; therefore kill all his women and children”! That was logic. Woman being herself a piece of poetry was always concrete. She would say that this reason­ing was absurd; she would rather say “You should never attack anyone if you do not wish his son to attack you.” If women had ruled the world the present war would never have come to pass. No woman would have tolerated the abstract scientific wickedness of this war.
“The future of the world,” Sir Henry Newbolt concluded, “lies in the hands of the women. Abstract, selfish principle in-List be merged in and overcome by the creative, poetical and truly human feelings, which we can only get through thee influence of women.”

Mr Schooling’s Address – Christmas Term 1917

Mr. Schooling spoke to the School on Finance. He began by explain­ing that the two great duties at the present time with regard to economy were, first saving our money so as to be able to lend it to the Govern­ment, and second going without things which take labour and so freeing that labour for Government work. The saddest loss to the country is, of course, in the lives given, and in the lives maimed by loss of sight or limbs, but yet another loss is in the wasted labour in the making of things we could do without if we would, and so losing the services of men who otherwise could be making things needed for their country. And this last loss we can help to prevent. He told us about the enormous cost of the war in money, 300 million a year, but much of this is paid to men in England and so is not lost to the country; the real loss is in lives and in loss of service for the good of the community.
We are fighting for our own honour, the honour of our country, and to make lives happier. Before the wax there were lives so poor and so crushed there seemed no meaning in the words “A Free Country.” We must see to it that after the war all this is changed, and that con­ditions are better for everybody. Mr. Schooling said “You would fight for your country, will you not serve, your country? Fight by your influence, fight by going without what is not needful for health and for efficiency. Von are called on to do great things, you are going to live through a far more momentous period than that which has gone. Whether we like it or no, there are going to be revolutions, tremendous changes. People are not going to bear it that other people should live without knowledge and without happiness. Life spent for other people is far the happiest. Leigh Hurt says ” Write me as one who loved his fellow men.”

Concert in the Town – Christmas 1917

On Wednesday, November 14th, nearly the whole school went to the Palace Theatre to hear a concert which had. been arranged in aid of the Diocesan Refuge, Salisbury. That Lady Hulse had organised it was sufficient guarantee of its excellence, but we enjoyed it even more than we expected to. A full house received Miss Sibyl Eaton’s beautiful violin solos most enthusiastically; Mr. Boris Lensky’s songs were encored (we hummed “Margot” everywhere for days after, there is a faint echo of it still), and we hardly knew whether to be more delighted with the dances Miss Maude Valerie White had composed or with the way in which she played then). In fact, we thoroughly enjoyed every moment, and we were very glad to hear that a, large sum was realised for the Diocesan Refuge.


Garden Prize Poems – Christmas Term 1917


Down in a, still old-world garden of sunshine,
Shake the sweet petals from roses o’er blown;
Carry them out on the wide sheltered terrace,
Lay them down there on the smooth sun-warmed stone.
Past virgin lilies and blue larkspurs tall,
Gather sweet herbs by the old sunny wall
Simples familiar in old witches’ rhyme­
Rosemary, lavender, marjoram, thyme,
Mint, sweet verbena, and silver-leaved sage
Fleeting scent, fill the air
Treasure so rich and rare­;
Alchemy potent in every age,
Scatter them down ‘mongst the shrivelling rose petals,
Where on the terrace the proud peacocks pace,
Gather them only when sunbeams have mellowed them,
Lay them away in a cedar-wood case.

Bleak sunless mornings of greyness and cold,
When gardens lie dreary and dark and alone;
Choked with the rotting leaves, sodden and old,
Biting winds sobbing through trees leafless blown­
Memories waking,
Hearts that are aching,
Weary for colours and brightness long known.

Sweet perfumed fragments then carry then far away,
Back to an old walled garden of flowers.
Peace and contentedness shine through the livelong day
Flooding with sunshine the bee-murmuring bowers.
Dreamful the garden in brightness reposes,
Softly a little breeze sings by the roses
Music of Iong hidden fancies and rhyme
Rosemary, lavender, marjoram, thyme,
Mint, sweet verbena, and silver-leaved sage­
Bidding remember,
Charming December,
Magic long-learnt in a far golden age.




The mist lies blue upon the eastern hills,

And scarcely have the low stars slipped away

To win new radiance for the coming night.

A stillness deeply still enfold, the earth,

The dim, grey garden seems a land of ghosts,

So indistinct and colourless it lies.

The very birds are silent, though last night

Was full of voices caving, “This is Spring.”


But hark! a tiny murmur – “Yea. be, comes!”

Scarce audible, yet ah! the world has heard.

The dew-like snowdrops gemming dewy lawns

Shiver in pure delight, the hawthorn bud,

Must needs burst forth to look at him who comes,

The brown earth thrills, glad that her coronet

Of golden crocuses (in emerald set)

Is donned already, since she looks more fair

In his eyes, crowned thus – And now a note,

The newest whisper of a coming song,

A little chirp, another and yet more.

The spell is broken, and a flush of light.

The colour of a baby’s cheek, appears,

Carol and radiance grow from spark to fire,

Till whether this my garden is a song

Or else incarnate Glory – or the two

I cannot tell. For I am past all thought,

I see no living thing, yet he is here.

For one sweet moment he is song and day.

Then the sun dawns – And Pan has gone his way.



Sing to God ye children sing,

Worship ye the new born King;

Sing ye in Jerusalem

Jesu’s born in Bethlehem.


Sing to God ye children sing

Worship ye the new born King.


Go, ye hear your Mother say

­Worship Him my child, to-day.

Go, ye hear the church bells ringing;

And the choir so sweetly singing.


Sing to God, &c.


Mary was His mother good;

Joseph for his father stood.

He did in a manger lie

With some oxen standing by.


Sing to God, &e.


When the Shepherds came to bring

Praise and honour to their King;

They were quite surprised to see

The heavenly babe so frail and wee.
Sing to God, &c.