Collegiate School - Torch Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

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IIIIIIllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllIIIIIIIIllIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Il II Il IIIIII III Il I III I I I I IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII T H E T O R C H 63 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I II Ill I IIII IIIIIII IIII I I I I I II llllllllllllllllll A Conversation Between Two Girls in 1945 Oh, Courtenay, look here, look what l've found. You know what it is? lt's the 192-I annual of Collegiate School, where our mothers went to school. You know l never dreamed that we should find anything interesting in this box of motherls school- girl collection. HOh, Kitty, stop soliloquizing and get a move on you and let's open up and see what's withinf' Look at this picture of the faculty, no wonder mother says she got higher marks than I do, look what kind-looking teachers she had. You know what, Courtenay, l be that one with the smile is Miss Moretield, the English teacher that mother says used to squelch her one minute and tell such a funny joke the next that she would forget how hard she had been sat on. And look, Kitty, the girls on the editorial staff don't all look like book-worms. Gosh, arenit there some gems in this picture gallery of Seniors? You know, Kitty, I think l'll have to go there just to have one nice thing said about mefl Courtenay, aren't these darling little rhymes? And look, here are pictures of each class. And isn't this an attractive art studio ? HKitty, pull up a chair and let,s read these stories, they look so interesting. Gee! here,s a romance, Kitty, didn't mother say, the other day, that when she was our age, she had never heard of a romance ?,' Heh, Courtenay, even the little children were smart at that school, for they had a department all to themselves called Primary. Oh, Courtenay, here is a picture of your mother on the basketball team. Wasn't she darling?', Oh, Catherine, look at the snappy-looking riding habits the members of the Riding Club wore, and aren't these darling-looking girls in the Dramatics Club play ? Ahem, look at these jokes, and then mother says it isn't nice to joke about your teachers. 'i'Well, Kitty, l am resolved on one thing, and that is, that when we move back to Richmond l am going to the Collegiate School and get my own copy of THE TORCH of 194-S. FRANCES LEIGH VVILLIAMS, '26,

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IIIIllllllIIIIIIllllIIIIIIlllllIIIllIHllIIIIlllllllIIIIIllllIIIIIllllllIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIlllllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllll Illlllllllllllll I IIIIllllllIIIIlllllllIlIIIIllIllllIIIIIllllllIIIIIIlllllIlIIIIIIlllllllIIIIIIlllllllIIIIIIIlllllIIIIIlllllllIIIIlllllllIIIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllll llIlIIIIllllIIIIIIllllIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIllllllIIIIlullIIIIIlllxlIIIIIllmllllllmlllllllllulllllllllllllllllln lllllllnlllll IIIllmllllllnlllllllllllll Illllll lumlIIIIIIlllllllllllllnmlIIIIIIIlullllIIIIIllnlIIIIIIIllllllIIIIIIllllllIIIIlllllllllllllllllIllllllllllll A Sailor's Log I We were a bunfh of hard old salts, Who sailed tho Spanish main. Our bos'n was a Spaniard holdj Our cnp'n was zz Dane, In II The Jolly Roger was our flagg Our -victims walked the plank. The booty and their jewels rare, We took before they sank. III i' The deck was often sfwabbed -with bloody Our curses rang afar. The rum and brandy that we drank Would make a parson swfar. IV Shifver my timbers! fried the mate, The wind is rising highj Climb up that mast, you poor old hulk, And gaze upon the sky! V I rlimbed the topsail, lashed the sparg The clouds were gatlfring fastj The sea heahved billows between the defks,' But -we armed the ship at last. VI Old Dafuy's locker longed for us, But we would only smile, And, when the sea falmed down, at last We'd reached the Treasure Isle. ' ' Byl JUDITH SAMPsoN, '27.

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IIllllllllIIIIlllllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllll Illlll Illlll llllllllllllll Illll I I Ill I IIllllllIIIIllllllllllllIllllllIIIIIIIlllllllIIIllllllllIIIllllllllIllllllllllllllllll 64 T H E T O R C H JIlllllllllIIllIlllllIIllIlllllIIIIIlllllIIIIIIllllIIIIIlllllllIlllllllllllllllllllI Illll Illl I I Il ll l IllIIIIIllllllIIIIIIIIlllllllIIIIllllllIIIIllllllllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllll The Prevailing Style lllllllllllnllllllll IMMY, aged six, sat in the barber shop, tears streaming down his iace, having a boyish bob. Now Jimmy was young, but when he hated anything he hated it with a vengeance. He had two antipathies, his long yellow curls and girls. No wonder his poor distracted mother was extremely surprised to see this display of grief. It had always been a joke with the neighbors that Jimmy was so afraid of girls. If he were out skating and some nice little girls came out to indulge in the same past-time, he would immediately stop. lf he were in a game of tag and some of the weaker sex began to play, he would back out, and, if a young lady would stop to speak to him, he was petrified. The barber went on with his work. Every clip of the scissors was accompanied by a heart-rending scream. The work complete Jimmy and his mother left the shop. Tell me, dearie, why were you crying so ? asked the mother. Jimmy sulked and sullenly murmured, That girl was having her hair cut like mine! MABEL STRAUS, '26, lllllll ll I I I My Attempts to Write Poetry My attempts to fwrite poetry are all in fvain, I'fve tried and I know I am going insane. I jump up and dofwn and Cry in despair, I fwalk the floor, I tear my hair. I can't make any of the old lines link, And theheartlesr teafherx my I d0n't think. My brain, I knofw, has iaken fwing, Oh dealh! oh death! fwhere is thy sting? JANE DISNEY, '27