Burlington High School - Rarebits Yearbook (Burlington, Ontario Canada)

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RARE interesting book she ever did was the work of the Swedish writer, Selma Lagerlof, a Nobel prize winner. After the death of Mr. Page, Miss Mcllwraith although she had left the firm, was asked to aid Burton Hendrick in writing the Letters of Page. I was surprised to find that most of her books were written because she had been especially asked for them. Her last one, Kinsmen at War , had a rather tortuous climb to the press. A publisher had asked her to write it to celebrate the hundred years of peace between Canada and United States. She wrote it, but in the meantime the Great War broke out and the publisher was ruined. She sent it the rounds of the New York houses. It returned. Too British! they all protested. Later when a friend of hers was visiting the old country she sent Kinsmen along to the London publishers. Again the book returned but this time because it was too Americanul And so it lay, un- accepted, almost forgotten, until one day the author heard about a contest. She thought about the old manuscript and on a chance once more mailed it off. This time it was accepted and won the prize. Of all her books Miss Mcllwraith likes best her work on Sir Frederick BITS 25 Haldiman. Personally I have always been on the opposition, she said. In the 'Little Admiral' I tried to show how it felt to lose Quebec. Somehow to me there was something fine in that statement. There are few indeed who have the understanding and the gallantry to paint the other side. I asked her how her interest in the French Canadians had been so aroused. The answer was that she had spent years in school with girls from Quebec, that her sister had married a man from Quebec and had gone there to live and that she herself spent as much of her time as she possibly could in Quebec. She loves it allgthe picturesque old grandeur, the quaintness and simplicity of the habitants' lives but most of all the character of the habitants themselves. The French Canadians are our broth- ers now. They are a fascinating and lovable race. We should be proud to share with them our Canada. The writer's face was serious as she said 1t. Then- What if Quebec were inhabited by 'Reds'? The twinkle was back. Laughing, I took my leave of Doubleday Page's elderly maiden aunt. Swrnnh Elinrm lift. y By PAULINE TANCOCK The second form Lit has just begun The whole school's waiting for the fun, The programme's to be brief and sweet Here's the announcer short and neat. Everyone knows that its little Ioe Two senoritas, dark and fairl Spanish music fills the airl Over the crowd they cast a spell. Whol VVhy, Helen Daggett and Iean Bell Here is the big.event of the day! Read to tell us about the Show' Ioe is announcing the second form play. V By the smile upon his face, Second form Lit will set a pace. Ernie Berry and Elizabeth C. Sing two songs quite merrily. Next comes Alice to recite. She gives us a piece that's very bright. Now Second shows what they can do. And Fourth are pulled down a peg or two. Now we see Russell from Form IIA. He has the major part of the play. Here comes Fred, slick and trim, Everyone is delighted with him. Mary Burnet is deserted by Fred, And falls for Russell, heels over head. They act their parts without a pause, And the hall is filled with hearty applause.

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24 RAREBITS IHNIY HIE An llntvruiew with ileam fllirlllmraiih By RETA SWARTZ V. In a recent publication . of Upton Sinclair's there is a remark on his hope that Doubleday Page 81 Co. would publish a book by Theodore Driesler, but Doubleday Pagets elderly maiden aunt wouldn't stand for that. Double- day Page's elderly maiden aunt is now quartered in our midst-and is still en- gaged in editorial workl The other day I called on her. I went, intending to have a brief, business-like interview with the writer, but the person I found in the charming little cottage on Caroline Street was not the dread being of my imagination. My first impression as she came down the stairs to meet me was that of soldierly dignity-and soft, white hair. On further acquaintance the dignity yielded to graciousness, and I found that her large, rather humourous eyes had the lovely quality of looking directly at the one whom she was ad- dressing. VVe talked about her life as an author, about the nine and a half books and of her experiences in New York where she was reader for the publishing house of Doubleday Page. The young writers who handed in their manuscripts at her desk called her Aunt lean . As I paged through various of the tempting volumes on the book shelves beside which we were sit- ting I came upon this inscription in the frontispiece of Christopher Morley's I Know a Secret . To Iean Pic- Ilwraith in appreciation, by her nephew Christopher lWIorley. I looked up inquiringly. Aly hostess smiled as she explained that she had once advised Morley to get married. He had taken her advice and also a raise in salary for both of which he was extremely grateful. Miss McIlwraith wrote all her own books except Diana of Quebec before she went to New York to edit. The business of writing she said, some- times doesn't bring enough returns to keep one in golf-balls. Miss McIl- Wraith golfs. My unsophisticated idea of New York had been that it was a regular Mecca for writers. Another illusion gone smash! New York may be a Metropolis for literature of the day but the best sellers are not written there. Miss McIlwraith quoted several recent successes to illus- trate, and spoke of her own experience with a series of articles written on a lonely island in Georgian Bay. Our conversation veered around to the modern style of composition. When I was with Doubleday Page she told me, I used to return about twenty manuscripts a Week, and send up probably two or three for consideration of the publishers. To-day some of the stuff that comes off the press reads as though there were no readers , Besides reading or smelling manu- scripts, as she termed it, Miss Mcllwraith also edited, a process which, I learned, was the whacking of a manuscript into shape, pruning out the undesirable material and in general polishing up the highlights. Freckles, by Gene Strat- ton Porter was her first job. The most

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26 RAREBITS nthing ew Huber the Sun By NINA L. EDWARDS ' We often hear the statement that there is nothing new under the sun. And conversely it is said by certain moral people that their fel- low-men have degraded and changed to an alarm- ing degree in not so very many years. Of the two opinions we are more willing to believe the first for an exhaustive review of history makes it apparent that human nature does not change even in the course of centuries. For instance, many people think that the Hracketeern is a product of this modern age and would be surprised to know that racketeering existed during the time of Caesar and Pompey. The name of the first recorded man with a racket was a wealthy Roman named Lucinius Crassus, who trained a host of slaves in the art of fire-fighting. Whenever a housecaught fire he would offer a small sum of money for the burning building. As soon as the owner said Sold, Crassus would shout for his trained slaves and they would put out the fire. If accidental fires were scarce this Roman Racketeer would start his own. They did not touch him because he was too rich and influential. After a while he commenced to dabble in politics and along with Ceasar and Pompey, became a member of the First Triumvierate. The ancient Roman world is very like the modern with regard to politics. Wealthy Romans would buy the votes of the poor citizens in order to be elected to office. The same prac- tice was carried on in the time of Disraeli and Gladstone when candidates for office counted as legitimate those expenses incurred in buying up the votes in their boroughs. To-day, although, this practice is not carried on so flagrantly, it is whispered, and not too stealthily, either, that politics are not as pure as they might be. Certain high-minded citizens deplore the fact that all their fellow-men care for to-day is amusement-and brutal amusement, at that, when one considers the number of people who attend boxing and wrestling matches, not to mention rugby games. Less than a century ago the prize-fights were on a much lower plane while there were, besides, dog-fights and cock-fights. Further back still there was bear-baiting and earlier even than that knights in Europe used to indulge in tourneys and tilts in which some of them might easily be killed. The most brutal sports of all, however, were the gladiatorial combats of ancient Rome-matches in which the spectators were glad to see the combatants killed. Our modern amusements seem tame in compari- son with these, but the fact remains that man has always had his amusement and probably always will. In the light of these facts it must seem that though time goes on human nature never changes. And is not this a fortunate thing for according to a famous English writer, There is nothing in the world' more noble than man and the soul of man. Siixtg-Einar Nnthing FRED MILLIGAN IIB. 'Tis the day before Thursday, CA Wednesday by rightj. The team is anxious And prepared for the fight. The day dawns quite clear We are glad to relate, For we have a game with Milton And it's Burlington's big date. Ken kicks the ball. Gee, watch it soarl The crowd is waiting, Who'll make the first score? Berry makes a touchdown! Hear the crowd cheer 5 I know that the game Will be ours this year. Nineteen to nothing, The score at half. Milton is silent, Burlington laugh. The whistle is blowing, What is the score? Sixty-four-nothing Let's do it some more! wk ik Pk Bisilluniun e I passed this way before, I know the place. And I recall the closing of a door, The sudden sea-wind in my face, And how the waves crept sobbing up the shore. Alonel The hills were silent. Only I Yvalked with my thoughts beneath a strange- starred sky. Those glitt'ring idols of the past Like broken shadows lie. And dreams, our dreams, like blurred things, move Along my line of sky. Perchance that I may pass this way again. But when the last star falls, ah then-what then?