Collegiate School - Torch Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

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lllllmlllllllulliIIIIlllllllullIIlllilllllIIIIIlullllllllllllllltllllnllllIIIIllllllIIIIIlllllllIIIImlllllIIInlllllllllllmlllllllllulllIlIIIlllllllIIIIIlllllllIIlllnilllllllllllllllllllnllllllIIIIIlllllllllIllIlllllllIIIIImlllllllllllullllllllll I ll llm lnuuulllnl IIIIlunI1IIIIInullIIIIIIIInmllIIlllllllllllllllllllllmIliIIImnIIIIIIullltIIIIullIlllllllllllllllllllllIIIIIlllllllIIIlllulllIIIlllllllllIIIIInlllllllllllmllllllllllllIIIIIIllllllIIIIIlllllllIIIIIIImlllIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllluulllllllml lllllll I lllllllllllllllillllll On Being Small HERE would probably be much argument and disagreement aroused if I should say that being small has its advantages. On the other hand, I should be severely criticized if I made the statement that it had only drawbacks. Being small myself, and not at all attractive, I am rather torn between the two opinions. One often hears a girl described as being small and pretty, but have you ever heard anyone proclaiming the effects that being small has upon an unattractive person, with a face mostly nose, and hair of an absolutely nondescript color? Anyone belong- ing to this species, and I speak from experience, is always classified as a runt. Oh, how I yearn for dainty little person,', but all in vain, it always was, is, and will be runt. At least I have the consolation of knowing that I can make my pocket-money, and who ever had an adequate amount, go farther than any other girl of my ac- quaintance can make hers go. I feel highly elated and strongly triumphant when, in company with one of my classmates, I go downtown to a movie.', I remove my hat, rumple my hair to the last degree of disorder, ding my coat back, and march proudly up to the ticket-office, lay down a dime, however thin it may be, and say condescend- ingly, for the benefit of my companion, One-half, please! This triumph is in no way lessened by the f'You lucky doglu from the poor over twelve with me. But again, when I see a nice looking boy raise his hat and smile, I know it is not for me, because, Hrstly, he would never even look at me, for lim only a kid, and, sec- ondly, if he should look, he would merely mutter with disgust, Ugly little runtl Whoever it was that said, l'Admiration is the spice of a woman's life, certainly told the truth. It is even apparent in my tiny, two-year-old niece. Still, I give thanks togmy little body, not my big brains, for the admiring glances thrown at me when I proudly take my place in the Senior section. I am con- scious of this pride mingling with the honor of being a Senior, all during assembly. H Theri I am accosted outside by some Intermediate, z'Are you really a Senior? Oh, the great joy of giving a casual Oh, yesln although I am brimming over with con- ceit. The next question usually pricks my little balloon of hot-air, and I am forced to admit my age, which always causes the admiration of the inquisitive person to evaporate. However, the next would bring solace to any feminine heart, You don't look it. Again I am all smiles and condescension. Looks are deceiving, and you mustn't count on them, I advise quite sagely, notwithstanding the fact that it is only a borrowed piece of advice. Who can blame me for airing my position in school? I have to have some encouragement in my own necessary self-pride. Thus, you see a small person has her ups and downs as well as a normal-sized person. For instance, the feeling of responsibility and dignity given me by Miss Saunders from my Latin teacher is immediately counteracted by the frivolous, un- dignihed Little Eva from my gymnasium teacher. Nevertheless, I try to make the two sides balance, and to go through life merrily, passing lightly over the regrets caused by my height, and thereby gaining the title of 'fthat lazy, good-for-nothing runtf' EVA SAUNDERS, '24.

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HIllllIIIIIIIlllllIIIIIHlllIIIIIIll!!!IIIIlllllllIIIIlllllllIIIIllllllllllllillllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIIllllllllIIIIIllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIllllllllllllllllll lllllllIIIIlllllllIIIIlllllllllllIIIIllllllllIIllIIlllllllllIIIIllllllllllIIIlllllllllilIIlllllllllIIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllll i Illllllllllllll lllllll IIllllllIIIllllllllIIIIIIIlllIIIIIIlllllllIIIlllllllIIIIIlllllllIIIIllllllIIIIllIII!llIIIIllllllIIIlllllllIlIIllllllllllllllllllllllll IllllllllIlIlllllllllIIIIIllllllllIlIIllllllllllIIIIIlllllllllIIIIIlllllllllIIIllllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII The Honor Cup-Our Grail VERYTHING fine and spirited has its goal, as well as its reward. During the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, there were many crusades of all nations to the Holy Land to try to conquer Palestine from the Turks. These crusades were very dangerous, and the crusaders suffered from disease and want, and travelling was very diflicult in those days. All the same, hordes of men were only too willing to leave peace and happiness, to fight for this worthy cause. Nlany of these crusades were failures, but there were some that succeeded. To suc- ceed, it was necessary that everyone have the right sort of spirit-the spirit of sacrifice and courage-and that he fight the best he could wherever he was placed, so that there could be unity and team-work, as we now say. There was a great deal of competitiong for many different countries played their part in rescuing the Holy Land from the Mohammedans. Those were the Crusades of yesterday, and today there are still many such endeavors, carried out with the same old spirit. ln Collegiate School, the four upper classes every year have their individual cru- sade to win the Honor Cup, which is awarded at commencement to the class that has done most during the year to develop a fine school spirit and promote the best interests of the school. The girls undertake this enterprise with zeal and enthusiasm, each remembering the part she must play in making her class crusade successful. Then let each winning class feel that they have won their Holy Grail. nmllll mllllll Reflections for the Girls in School Oh, if i5n't all studying and fwork HJ some of ur fwauld ihink it to lie. And it i.fn't alfwayx lei-.vom to .vhirkg Tho' Jonzetimes it team.: Jo to me. IZ'.v fun, and it'.v play, and it'.r fworle, all three, And friendrhip made and received. - Oh, it'.r pleasure: and -work, you mn easily .ree When all 0' the past if refuiefwed. You ran see fwhy fwe hate fo leafue it behind. Some day my fwordx you'll recall. And sooner or later you -will jind, I fwaJn't so fwrong after all. POLLY SPRINKEL, Upper IV.

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llllllllllllllll lllllllllllll I I III IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I III I I I III I IlIIIll IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII lllll I IllIIIllIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIllIIlllllllllIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll 48 T H E T O R C H Ole Marster's Chris'mus Gif' UTSIDE, night was fast approachingil The pale, wintry sun was slowly sink- ing behind the tall poplars at the back of the snow-covered garden. lVIammy, called a weak, impatient voice from the depths of a big arm- chair -by the Window, Mammy, how many more days are there now ? .Ies' three mo' now, honey, came the response. See, you can count lem, and the doctor is shol, now, that you'll be well time enough to git your own stocking, Christ- mus morningf, The small boy took the calendar held out to him, and, after counting the days that stood between him and liberty, he said, But I Want to see my Christmas presents, lVIammy. Three da 's seem so long n H I :D to wa1t. K'Come ,long here by de fire, honey, and I'l1 tell you about when I was a little girl, an' when I could skeercely wait for Christmus to come,'I and Mammy lowered the shades, shutting out the now-darkened World. The little boy came and sat at her feet on the rug by a blazing fire. HIS it a story, Mammy ? he asked. Well, you see it was this a way, she began, we lived on a big plantation near Doswell, an' yo, great uncle, John Harris, was my marster. Ole mistis was dead, so my ma she kep' house for Marse John, I uster wait on him. I would bring him his slippers at night, an' sleep in the hall at the Great I-Iousen so as I be ready to run errands or do anything he Wanted me to do. He called me Little IN-Iiss and liked me most of all de chillun on de plantation. A cabin in de 'quarters' was where ma lived with my brother an' two little sisters, but my father he was owned by Mr. Ambler over 'crost de river. He could come to see us nights, but we all wished mightily that he could Iifve with us. I never will disremember one night. It was jest' befo, Christmus. I ran over home to see my father, an' thai' was ma, on her knees befo, father an, he was aholdin' a long knife. 'No, Richardf she was beggin', 'I'd rather see you livin, somewhere else than dead here.' When he saw me he dropped the knife he'd been a hxin' to kill hisself with, an' took me in his arms. 'My darlin' chile,' he said, 'l've come to tell you good-bye. Tomorrow, deyls gonna sell me in Richmond' Dat night I cried all night long. I didn't like for NIa1'se John to see my red eyes in de mornin', but he did. I told him all my troubles, den, an' den I felt better. He said not to Worry, jes' to trus' in de Lord, an' I did. Dat day Marse -Iohn Went to de city. Christmus Eve he always Went to de city, an' at night come back loaded down with bundles. 8