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Page 53 text:
The Abbot Circle 1926 profile, and yet others smile benignly and move unconscious lips. Some stand and gaze intently in one direction, and then, suddenly jerking the head, move as suddenly onward with an expression of intense relief. Here is where each indi- vidual is individual — during the matin salute to Miss Bailey in the dining room. Emily Gage W$t 3nbt£pen£able Who can imagine a recital at Abbot without Charles? Often he appears before the performers themselves do, to give the note for the tuning of the violins behind the scenes. Later he comes in to close the piano; then he reopens it. It seems frequently necessary to exchange the stool for a bench, or vice versa. If a group is to play he carefully brings in chairs and music-racks, and arranges them with absolute precision. The air of naturalness and perfect ease with which he goes through his part of the program is truly remarkable. His amused grin when we applaud him by mistake is most infectious, and makes the time between the numbers go much faster. Margaret Stirling ZEfje Jfrtenblp IXabtator Of all the friendly objects about Abbot, there is none quite so warm and delightful as the hall radiator. Its warmth after the bitter cold of outdoors is soothing; while its magnetic personality draws you to it, and its cosy and cheery heat makes you reluctant to leave its intimacy. What a popular meeting place the radiator is for all! It hears strange and conflicting gossip, but never starts trouble by breathing a thing it hears; and what a comforting glow it sends through you when you are waiting in fear and trembling to enter the office on a perilous errand. How strong and patient the radiator seems when you come to it in a frenzy over an examination. It is entirely passive, yet it quietly sends out its protective warmth to calm you. Changes of many sorts take place, but this warm, faithful friend, the radiator, remains the same throughout them all. Jane Ruth Hovey abbot S all You are very stately, my friend, with your slim grey columns, and cool stone steps; your dome from which we may watch the heavens at night is imposing, too. You are grave and impassive, but I know that you are full of knowledge, and often your chambers echo with sweet harmonies. Your ivy mantle is full of cool shad- ows in summer. As your square window-panes blink contentedly at the sun, what do the pigeons confide to you ; what tales have the sparrows under your eaves to tell? Fuki Wooyenaka 45
Page 52 text:
The Abbot Circle 19 2 6 Voice: Goodbye, old mailbox. Won ' t see you again until April seventh. No. 14: Old mail box! Did you hear that? Oh, well, thank goodness, she ' s going away. Now we can have some peace. Goodbye. No. 13: Goodbye. Hope you enjoy your rest. Adelaide Black HmttcaSesi, ftere anb W$txt As I sat in the station, waiting for a train, I observed suitcases — big ones, little ones, shiny black ones, and old straw ones. And how characteristic they all were of their owners! An Italian immigrant went by, tugging a dilapidated straw suitcase which bulged at the corners. It probably contained all the poor woman ' s wordly possessions, and, like her, needed repair. Next came Mr. NouveaU Riche with his suitcases plastered with foreign labels which he had bought at home. I glanced up. What prima donna could this be? There was a porter, struggling under the burden of hatboxes, suitcases, band-boxes and a tennis racquet! Fol- lowing, was a young lady clasping an exotic little Parisienne doll in one hand, and a bunch of roses in the other. Her fame was all to make, however! it was just an Abbot girl back from a long recess. Ruth C. Deadman ftatrptnsi There was a time when the hairpin played an important part in keeping milady ' s hair handsomely in place. It is untrue to say that it doesn ' t do so now, but certainly its use has decreased, even in the last ten years. I wonder what the hair- pin thinks about it. It must be quite distracting to lose one ' s place in society. Of cou rse it can be put to other uses besides holding up milady ' s hair. Indeed, the hairpin makes a fine buttonhook, when such is missing. But alas, that usage is dying out, because we haven ' t the button shoe as of old. Here at Abbot, we have a tree within the famous circle, which is called " The Hairpin Tree. " Off and on we have individual contests to see who can find the most hairpins to hang upon the tree. Today the tree is quite a curiosity. It contains hairpins of many varieties of size, shape and color. As long as our famous " Hairpin Tree " lasts, no young lady at Abbot will ever fail to know what a hairpin looked like. Helen Larson a W$ty $a£tf ut A grave procession of heads . . . some with long-drawn funereal expres- sions preceding others with saccharine curves of smiles. Some walk serenely and sedately; others hurry with short, quick steps, or some jauntily, yet with deliber- ation. Some have a wilful tossing of the head ; some barely turn a serious, pensive 44
Page 54 text:
The Abbot Circle 19 2 6 H ong of tf)E $loto Oh, who is so happy as I, as I? — And the lark ' s song, high overhead — I plunge through the moist brown earth That steams in the spring- warm sun, Leaving behind me a furrow smooth, A furrow straight, neat-turned and smooth — Who could be so happy as I, as I? — And the lark ' s song, high overhead — My master with his strong brown hands, His rough blue smock and cheery voice, Calls to the horses — his eyes are on me, But his mind dwells under a thatched roof, A moss-grown, green-hung thatched roof. It is only a week since he took to wife The fairest of rosy-cheeked maids. Oh master! We Have struck a stone — That ' s right — pull slow, Now lift, Now turn, We ' re free! Oh who is so happy as I, as I? — With the lark ' s song high overhead — Edith Bullen 46
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