Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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THE ORATORICAL CONTEST In the school the final contestants were selected from a large number of competitors. These were John Leishman, Katherine Queen, Helen Lowe, Fred Gilbert, Katherine Elliott, Gordon Brooks. The merits of these six were very equally balanced. The judges, Mrs. Mathers, Mr. H. Macintosh and Mr. W. A. Cuddy, decided upon Miss Helen Lowe, Room 61, Grade XII, to represent the school. Second and third places were given to Kay Queen and John Leishman. Briefly we may sum up the qualities found in each. Helen Lowe made a definite appeal to her audience. She had excellent poise, rhythm of speech and harmony of time. Her voice was pleasant, balanced, modulated, and infused with emotion. Katherine Queen was more of the argumentative and persuasive type. She was a strong speaker and showed wonderful control. John Leishman was quite colloquial, which made it easy to listen to him—a little explanatory. Gordon Brooks, may be called the poet of the group—his treatment was so imaginative; but numbers are hard things to remember! Katherine Elliott thrilled her audience with her beautiful soft voice, which was quite dramatic, especially at the close of her speech. Gilbert had a pleasant voice, and a strong personality. Nervousness probably accounts for his slightly forced attitude. With such orators in our midst we may feel justly proud and we expect to hear their names in the future. In the provincial finals, April 22, at the Walker Theatre, a splendid group of contestants was gathered. We may compliment our repre¬ sentative on her excellent performance. Simone Landry, the winner, has once again won high honor by obtaining second place in the Dom¬ inion finals. The first place was awarded to an Ontario boy—Fred Hotson. — D.G. IN MEMORIAM Marjory Waugh, of Room 12, passed on at seven o’clock, May 19th. Our sympathy and that of the school is extended to her family and friends. “Death sits on her like an untimely frost, The sweetest flower of all the field.” PIRATES OF PENZANCE “It’s comedy to some folks, but it’s tragedy to me.” This saying repeated itself over and over again during the performances of the “Pirates of Penzance” by the leading characters of the back-stage. Back-stage was a scene of much hustle and bustle. The lassies, for once, came into their own and donned the make up— assisted by the teachers, who proved to be masters of the art. As for the lads, Lon Chaney had better look to his laurels. Finally, on Thursday the curtain scrambled up; and lo! All the fearsome pirates were in their places—behind their moustaches. Will 6

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sometime, but when, he did not seem to know. My reply to this I cannot repeat. As you can imagine, I soon had had enough of this situation, and so I racked my brain to find a possible means of getting out of the difficulty. Suddenly a clever idea struck me—at least, I thought it was clever. My uncle had bought in Berlin a quantity of German cigarettes to take with him to Poland. To get these through the customs, we had to keep them on our persons, and therefore I had some with me. I well knew the Polish soldier’s fondness for “Papirus,” as cigarettes are called in Polish, and I determined to see whether or not I could bribe the worthy gentleman who was detaining me. This was a fine mistake on my part, for he took the cigarettes and declared, “Shut up, or you will be arrested for smuggling.” I decided that perhaps, if I were arrested, it would be warmer in jail than out in the cold; so I started to argue with him. Fortunately for me, my argument was closed by the timely return of my uncle. He soon arranged everything and once again we were on our way. In approximately another hour, we reached our destination, and all troubles were forgotten in the joyous reception given to us by our relatives. —George Poliak, Room 48, J.B. IF (With apologies to Rudyard Kipling) If you can do your work when all about you Are shirking theirs and copying it from you, If you can trust yourself when teachers doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too. If you can pass the girls you meet in hallways And keep upon the straight and narrow path. If you can keep your mind upon your business And not bring on your head the teacher’s wrath. If you can put aside the dances, parties, To write out compositions in your book, And spend two hours a night upon your English To satisfy exacting Mr. Cooke. If you can bear to hear the things you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, And smile upon the teacher that has done it, As he calls you varieties of mules. If you can talk to teachers with great patience, And take all their upbraiding with a grin. Your’s is the scholarship and all that’s with it, But you’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din. — Harvey Powell.

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miracles never cease? They all got through their parts splendidly however, but at a heavy cost—to the teachers. One at least lost fifty pounds in weight during the first act. Then came the spectacular entrance of the major-general’s daughters all of whom were beauties (?), and what, with the falling and clattering of compacts and combs, it sounded like the “Thundering Herd” in full stampede. But all good things come to an end, and amid the deafening applause of the cheering multitudes, the curtains descended—part way—but Thursday being their off night, they refused to budge, until a vast army of scene-shifters, prompters, electricians, stokers, and deckhands brought their mighty intellects to bear upon them. By Friday night some of the general’s daughters found the strain telling upon them, and, to reserve their fast-ebbing strength, leaned on the scenery and nearly crowned a few teachers with it. This catastrophe was averted by the masterful brain of Walter Burns and the Herculean strength of Miss Hickson, who grabbed the wavering wings and bore the forest and the sky upon their mighty shoulders. Instead of a comic opera, the play just escaped being converted into a tragedy. Through the neglect of the property man, the pirate king’s pistol was not loaded, and when, in his fits of uncontrollable laughter, he pointed the gun at Frederic and pulled the trigger, mighty reverberations like unto those of a pop gun could be heard. This dis¬ appointed the audience greatly; but, politely, they hid their feelings under a screen of hilarious laughter, and the property man was told not to neglect his duty again. However, a further disappointment was in store for us; for the king, overcome by nervousness, forgot to pull the trigger. The horrible tragedy of Saturday was the melting of P. C. Kenneth McLean’s moustache. It ran down his face until it resembled the Amazon river. However, the water buckets proved large enough to catch the overflow, and another tragedy was averted. Speaking of overflows, we should all be thankful for escaping an untimely death, for Frederic, escaping the clutches of Mabel, and leaping in his playful way from the window, took a generous handful of the ocean for a support, and leaned against the island on the other side. Thanks to the kind of ocean manufactured by Mr. Mountford, we eluded the confines of a watery grave. Somebody’s face must have been “perfect gallows.” After the last performance, cake was served to all, and the remainder of the evening was spent by the pupils “in agitating their legs with a cold fury which was distinctly unpleasant.” This is just an inkling of some of the things that go on—behind the scenes. —Saul Cohen, Room 19. A visitor at a country village went into the postoffice and, with the object of getting into conversation with the postmaster, asked him what were his views on vegetarianism. “Haven’t any views of that kind,” was the reply, “but I’ve got some fine postcards of the new viaduct, the church and library.” 7