Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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28 The: Branksome Slogan That Week-end in Muskoka A certain week-end of last February saw a dozen Branksomeites, ably con- ducted by Miss Bowlby and Miss Jones, invade the Muskoka wilds in all their winter glory, in quest of the thrills that only winter sports can give. Our rendezvous was the spacious downtown station, where we all met overburdened with baggage, and bristl- ing with skis, poles, and other para- phernalia, which caused our merry troupe to resemble a band of roving athletes. We wedged ourselves in, or at least tried to, in an overcrowded train, re- splendent with the usual consignment of babies, oranges and newspapers. Later on, a couple of Branksomeites heaved upon the scene a box of unbelievable dimensions, which yielded many forms of tempting eatables for appetites in a receptive mood. The supply of food seemed inexhaustible, even when a prey to that school girl appetite , which certainly found self-expression in this instance! Upon our arrival at the station we claimed our skis and baggage and clam- bered aboard the sleighs. We were soon driving away under the starlit sky, amid the tinkling of sleighbells and merry laughter. At last we were skirt- ing the tree-fringed shore of the lake, and across the bay we could see the lights of our destination twinkling through the trees. We drove in from the dim starlight into a lovely grove of tall maples where the lodge stood, nest- led down in amongst the trees, and creating a rustic effect which delighted us all. Needless to say, our happy days which were mostly spent in ski-ing on the fine hills which the neighbourhood offered, ended all too soon. If the pace became too strenuous, one could always enjoy sitting on the lodge ver- andah, watching skiiers sliding or tumbl- ing down the slope which supported the toboggan slide. This amusement never failed to arouse my sense of humour, provided of course that I was not skiing at the same time, so as to duplicate their antics in too quick succession. How- ever, as a spectator I found it extremely entertaining to note the general attitude of premonition with which a skiier starts off down a hill, mouth open, and knees wavering. Some seemed to see how near they could come to trees without actual contact, others took on the form of windmills in a high wind, and the remainder often managed to negotiate the slope successfully, only to succumb at the bottom, and plunge into a wait- ing snowbank, with only their northern or southern extremities, as the case might be, dangling in the wind. Skiing, snowshoeing, tobogganing, and riding constituted our chief activities. However, I feel that our memorable hockey match deserves special mention.

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The: Branksome; Slogan 27 Charlie re-entering — I ' m Just Wild About Animal Crackers — (he walks over to a girl) . Where Are You Going to My Pretty Maid? Gir — I ' m going to that Little White House on the Little Green Hill in Melody Lane. Charlie — May I take you home? (The girl nods her assent). Charlie walks up to Mrs. Melody- Jazz. Thank you, Mrs. Melody- Jazz, I ' ll be Paddlin ' Madeline Home. Mrs. Melody-Jazz — Goodnight, be sure to Button up your overcoat. Madeline to Charlie as they go out — Thanks for the Buggy-ride. Charlie smiles at her and turns to com- pany. Goodnight, ladies. Exit Charles and Madeline. Voice from Bridge table — Your Cheating on me! Another voice — Don ' t be Like That! Another, other guest — Well, Dear olct Pals of Mine, It ' s Three o ' clock in the Morning, and time to stop Makin ' Whoopee. Guest — Yes, we ' d better be speeding along the Sidewalks of New York — Oh Doris, where do you live? (turns to Doris). Doris — Down by the Vinegar works. Guest — All right, We ' re heading for the river — on a bicycle built for two. Doris — Yes, Let ' s do it — They bid their adieus, the guests all say good- night to Mrs. Melody-Jazz. Mrs. Melody Jazz — Where ' s your ball and chain? Last Lady Guest — He ' s at Home Sweet Home to-night — To-night his night with baby. Mrs. Melody-Jazz — You ' re all alone? Last Lady Guest — Yes — All by myself in the moonlight. (They bid adieu). Mrs. Melody-Jazz (yawning) What a deep night. I ' m like a Weary River — She picks up her Pekinese pup and puts it on the chesterfield — • Beloved — She pats it — Sleep Baby Sleep — Exit. (Curtain) BILLIE FERGUSON.

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The Branksome Si ogan 29 Nearly all the school team was pre- sent, and we were obliged to arm our- selves with the dilapidated hockey sticks picked up around th rink, and in some cases, don borrowed skates. The op- posing team was composed entirely of doctors. Being a lover of humanity, it is my fervent hope that they treat their patients more gently than they did us! The outcome of a furious melee of arms, legs, and sticks, was a 2-1 score in our favour. This neces- sitated an overtime. As the rink was built on a tennis court, it was not a very spacious affair for two teams in action, and also, it had a nice, undulat- ing surface. Low benches serving as goals made it very difficult to score. The referee, failing to unearth a bell, rigged up with the help of a tin funnel, a loud rattle, which, I am sure, did not fail to awake echoes of a forgotten day. The main feature of the game is sum- med up very well in the title of that popular song-hit, I faw down an ' go boom! It was with great misgiving that we packed our bags preparatory to the homeward voyage. As the poet Shelley so truly remarked: A joy once lost, is pain. Our joy, however, was not yet at an end, but it was considerably dim- inished when we returned to our banana belt Iback to a rain-soaked Toronto in answer to our noble calling! BABS GOULDING. V. Form.