Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 11 LITERARY HOROSCOPE OF THE “BREEZES” STAFF Time—Spring of 1943. Place—A richly appointed dentist’s office. A business-like young woman stood irresolutely before a closed door, on the glass of which appeared in gilt lettering the name of one “Dr. Robert Paul—Painless Dentist.” Finally, screwing up all her courage, she turned the knob of the door, and stepped firmly into the room. At once a white-clad nurse came forward to greet her. “You have an appointment? Oh yes! Here it is—H. Phelps. The doctor will be finished in just a minute.” The nurse left the room, leaving Miss Phelps to glance around the office. In one corner sat a gentleman—a business man to judge from his appearance. He was seated in a chair which was much too large for him, but nevertheless, he seemed to be enjoying himself, for he was smoking a big, brown cigar. Miss Phelps, who was a reporter, wondered where she had seen him before. Why, of course ! It was James McKay, the president of the Toronto Broker’s Association. The young woman crossed the room. “I am Miss Hilda Phelps, reporter of the Toronto Star. Could you give me some pointers on how to be a success in busi¬ ness life?” The man was all flustered. “Yes, indeed, Miss Phelps, I shall be glad to tell you all I can.” Then followed his life story. He had lived in Winnipeg. He had no father or mother, and consequently had to work his way through school. But today he was the president of a large corporation. At this moment in the heart-breaking narrative. Miss Phelps was called into the inner room. She seated herself in the dentist’s chair, and all went well for a while. But soon she began to drift into unconsciousness. While under the ether, the young reporter seemed to think she was interviewing several prominent people. As some of these talks were especially interesting, we shall set them forth. It was the Globe Opera House in Toronto. The place was crowded with old and young, rich and poor. At last the curtain rose, and the announcer came forward, “Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we have with us the greatest baritone soloist in Canada. Let me introduce Mr. Wil¬ liam E. Kibblewhite.” The young man blushed modestly, and then began to sing. Such applause was never before given to any opera singer. Strange to say, the song that had the greatest appeal was one of his own composing en¬ titled, “Little Old Red School on Alverstone.” After the opera, Miss Phelps went to her office. There she glanced at a magazine. Among the list of contents was “Poems of Lloyd Ran¬ kin, Canada’s Greatest Poet.” After reading these the young woman looked at another paper. There to her amazement she read “Big New

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30 D. M. C. I. BREEZES SENIOR GLEE CLUB OFFICERS Back Row—L. Johns, W. Kibblewhite, B. Williamson, F. Lang, L. Bruce. Front row—L. Furney, Ruby Orris, M. Mann, C. Crawford, F. Fox. APRIL MAGIC Sunlight streaming through the window, Robin’s voice without, Oh, I am so very happy, I want to sing and shout! Sunlight streaming through the window, Oh, its magic bliss! It’s only in sweet springtime That its charm is just like this! Sunlight coming through the window In a golden stream, How pure is April sunshine And how I love its gleam! Sunshine streaming, robin singing, Cheery, eery, ee; Life seems like a living music, A bubbling melody. Sunlight streaming through the window, How I dance about! Robin, too; skies are blue, So, I must go out! —Anna Tempt.

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12 D. M. C. I. BREEZES Series of Comics by America’s Best Cartoonist—Leonard Hicks—Get Your Copy Now.” After a delightful (or rather amusing) hour of reading these comics, Miss Phelps went to court. There was to be a trial, and she hart been ordered to report the case. The courtroom was crowded to the doors. The prisoner, very downcast in appearance, was in the box. Then Canada’s greatest criminal lawyer, Marguerite Ross, K.C., rose. Miss Phelps gazed. Why that famous lawyer was one of her old school chums! After the trial the reporter went home. She had a hard day’s work to do on Monday. She must go to a lecture given by Llewellyn Johns, M.P. This was for the benefit of young orators, as Mr. Johns was himself a brilliant speaker. Then, too, she had to visit the Toronto Univers ity. One of the Professors of English, Miss Margaret Ashley, was running an article in the Toronto Star entitled, “The iStudent Mind.” She must make arrangements with Miss Ashley to continue the articles. Then our young reporter remembered that she had to interview a famous ediotr. Off she rushed without her supper. As she entered the editor’s office, she saw a young woman, who was evidently waiting for an interview. Miss Phelps recognized Miss Frances Fox, leader of the Women’s Conservative Party. The two women talked together for several minutes, until the door of the inner office opened, and out came the editor, Miss Cherry Crawford. After an hour’s talk with the noted editor, Miss Phelps went home to bed. The following day being Sunday, our heroine decided to go to church. She had never been to St. Luke’s Anglican Church, and so thought she would enjoy a change. Bishop Lloyd Bruce, M.Sc., M.A., Ph.D., D.D., gave a very inspiring sermon. He talked of the wayward¬ ness of the younger generation. As he concluded ' his sermon, the organ began to play. Miss Phelps came to with a start. Why, where was Bishop Bruce, where the organ, the courtroom, her office, the opera house? Then she saw the dentist’s face. Why, of course, it had all been a dream. A few minutes later, the young woman left the office, needless to say, much happier. —M. Ross, 22. —M. Ashley, 56. GRAND-PERE JOLI ' J ' HE little French village of Beaute nestled at the bend of a narrow river in southern France. The inhabitants were not numerous, but the same families had lived the simple, out-door life of the village for many years. Kindliness was their most outstanding characteristic; and people far and near began to honor and respect the peasants for this. Many journeying on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, went out of their way to spend the night in Beaute, where they were always sure of a welcome. The kindest of all the inhabitants was Grand-pere Joli. He lived