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

Page 17 text:

D. M. C. I. BREEZ E S 15 going in fifteen different directions. However, after a painstaking search of the creek, ravines, hills and bear-traps, they were all rounded up and started off down the old wagon-trail, St. Matthews Avenue. Everyone stopped at the Minto Barracks and when all together, the crowd gave the school yell under the direction of Bob Bradshaw and Harrison Cassidy. We were nearing the school and the odors of well-scorched food¬ stuff tickled the nostrils and the unusual happened, the Juniors hurried. For some obscure and unkown reason the hoys arrived first at the lunch¬ room. Eric Johnston, the Junior President, is at the head of the line, insisting that he is there to keep order, but we suspect a deeper motive for his presence. As one went the rounds of the various refreshment rooms he would think he was in the Orpheum Theatre, judging by the juggling and balancing displayed. After refreshments, the dance commenced. Music was furnished by the Commanders Light Six Orchestra, who also officiated at the Seniors’ get-together. Alack and alas there are Juniors.who cannot dance ! Such a deplorable condition! We believed that it was only the Seniors who could not DAN ' CE. It has been said that “Time passeth with leaden feet,” but time has been modernized and passed by on airplane wings. Promptly at 12 p.m. the music ceased. The party broke up. Students with motor vehicles loaded them up and set out to make “whoopee” in other parts of the city. The halls of the Collegiate were silent again. So did the Junior Hike and Dance pass into history, leaving behind it pleasant anticipation for the next one. PRIMARY COUNCIL Back Row (left to right)—Gordon Smith, Alfonso Salvador, Ernest Hallet. Bottom Row—Winnie Comfort, Dorothy Young, Alice Anderson.

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u D. M. C. I. BREEZES already vivid scene. With such an inspiring back¬ ground did the Junior Collegians revel at their annual hike and dance. Ha, the time approacheth for yonder mob to sally forth into the region of twinkling snowflakes and gleaming shafts of moonlight and there to scale fences, railroad embankments, or to ford rivers, swim lakes, cross glaciers, yes, even to con¬ quer any obstruction which might seek to bar the path to success, of this evening’s party. But, stay a moment:—it seems yonder chappie, mounted on a soap-box, is beseeching the noisy children to give him silence while he spouts directions. As usual the lad hasn’t a chance when talking against members of the female sex. His faces strikes a chord of familiarity in my memory. I knew it. With his mouth closed he is a duplicate of one we all know well. He commands us follow yonder lad in disreputable attire, whom I also recognize—he is Robert Bradshaw, of Council fame. We are off. Our leader takes us down the cowpath of by-gone years, but now Sargent Avenue. The marching formation, though not military, was companionable. The laughter, chatter and cheers of this hearty band drifted backward to those unfortunates who remained in the school building. We arrived at the creek, when a number of students who are really explorers, but have had their talent suppressed, decided to explore lands unknown. Consequently, we had about fifteen different parties

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cast of “The Mikado,” the Gilbert and Sullivan light opera, produced by the Senior Choral Society of the Daniel McIntyre Collegiate, at the Isaac Brock School, last February.