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

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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

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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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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 13 up to the name children called him, and not a finer friend could be found in all France. The rich and poor alike loved him, and a word of praise from his lips was valued more than the praise of a king. Grand-pere Joli’s life, however, was by no means free from trouble and worry. Except for one daughter, Olivine, he had no living relatives. They had lived happily together, even after Olivine married. Before many years had passed, her husband died, leaving Olivine with a little daughter Yvonne, to care for. Still another change came into their lives. One night Olivine flew into a fit of rage over some trivial matter, and taking Yvonne, set out on foot for the home of her mother-in-law. There she was badly received, but try as he might, for two long years, Grand-pere Joli could not locate the two he loved so well. One day a crusader brought news of the tragic death of Olivine, and the disappearance of Yvonne. The news crushed the old man. He shut himself up in his little home. No longer could people go to him for sympathy; no longer could the blind beggar, or the lame dog expect food or tender care. The man who had loved all, now hated the sound of a human voice, and the sight of a neighbor’s face. For several months the peace and joy of Beaute were marred. One day Grand-pere Joli set out in a round about way for the shore of his much loved river. He had gone only a short distance when he happened to glance over by the roadside. There, to his surprise, a small girl, clad in beggar’s clothes, lay sleeping peacefully, her head resting against a huge dog, who appeared to be keeping watch over her. Grand-pere Joli gasped in amazement. He had seen many beggars in his day, but never a child, who had obviously been travelling a long way, and whose sole companion was a dog. The old man tip-toed nearer. Then he gave a cry of joy. It was. Yvonne! Joy transfigured the face of Grand-pere Joli. Tenderly he lifted the child in his still strong arms, and bore her triumphantly home. The townspeople rejoiced. The story of how, on her death bed Olivine had told Yvonne the way to Beaute, was told and retold. Peace and joy once again made the people of the town as happy and kindly as before. —Evelyn Moir. MR. HARRY IRVINE ON SHAKESPEARE BOUT the middle of last March the National Council of E ducation brought to Winnipeg Mr. Harry Irvine, who, as our readers probably know, is one of the world’s foremost authorities on Shakespeare. Those who missed his wonderful lecture at St. Stephen’s Church, regardless of how much they have heard about it, can have only a very faint concep¬ tion of their loss. Mr. Irvine is extremely well qualified for this work, for, being a graduate of Oxford, we cannot imagine his being without a student’s knowledge of Shakespeare, and, being an ex-actor, he must also be acauainted with ' him from that angle. Obviously it would be difficult to find a man more capable in this line of work. He first told us that it was his principal desire, in ' his lecture that