Marlborough High School - Marlborough High Yearbook (Marlborough, MA)

Page 33 text:

Following this are more familiar anecdotes, namely, Yoga Attempted, which tell3 of Corneliat 3 experiments with Yoga; Pear le Sport, which criticises English women’s sport clothes; It’s a Wise Parent,” which relates Cornelia’s amusing experiences with children’s parties; Floral Piece, a story which, I’m sure, all.will recognize to be sad, but true; Party on Olympus, ridi¬ culing the commercials heard on all radio programs; and many others equally entertaining. The way in which Cornelia Skinner rambles on, from one topic to another, all of whic h are familiar to the reader; the way in which she expresses herself in clear, simple, understandable language, will capture your interest in the beginning and hold it throughout the book. —Evelyn Bowles MY FRIEND FLICKA by Mary O’Hara My Friend Flicka” is a story about a boy named Ken, who wanted a horse of his own. His father would not give him one because the boy seemed too shiftless and irresponsible to own and care for one. Finally, due to his mother’s persuasion, Ken’s father gave him a week in which he could choose a horse. Kennie had his heart set on a yearling filly, who was a sorrel with cream mane and tail, but his choice discouraged and angered his father. The colt was nc ' good. She came from the worst line of horses he had. Ken would not change his mind, and wa3 again in disagreement with his father. The horse had to be caught and trained. Gus, the cowhand; Rob, the father; and Ken went out on the saddle-back range the following day to round up the band of horses with whom the filly was running. The first time they got her into the fenced-in corral, she made a graceful leap, but did not quite clear the barrier. There she hung, half over the fence until, with a triumphant neigh, she was over, and off to the hill again. The second time she was not so successful, and fell back, twisting and turning, all tangled up in the treacherous barb-wire that was on the top of the fence. The barb-wire wounds made Flicka’s legs swell up and Rob thought that she wasn’t going to live, Ken’s mother helped him fix poultices to put on the swellings. After this, it seemed as if Flicka wore going to get well again, but she didn’t. Even though she ate her oats, she began to waste away until she was nothing but skin and bones. Sickness had, at last, cowed the wild little filly. Rob told Gtas to shoot her some time when Ken wasn’t around. The boy learned of the proceedings, and, late that night, when everyone else was in bed, the lad dressed and ran down to the field, calling the horse as he went. . '