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Page 11 text:
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MIXD AND HAND. beyond the impenetrable darkness. Then he resumed his weary pacing, and the little boy closed his wandering eyes. On the lower deck was a group of men. Their faces were lit up by the yellow light of a lamp, and wreaths of blue smoke twined sinuously overhead. The clicking of dice and a low counting, with occa- sionally a loud laugh, were all the sounds to be heard. One of the men pulled a pack of worn cards from his pocket and com- menced dealing them rapidly out. What ' s that? he queried, suddenly. The men listened. ' • Somebody riding the waves, suggested one of the group, as an indis- tinct plash of oars was heard. A oices floated across the water. Them ' s for Jim, cried a childish voice, as a huge bunch of fragrant water lilies and pale gold lotus was thrown over the railing. My kid brother, said Jim, apologetically, as he picked up the dewy flowers. Half hidden by the larger blooms were gleams of vivid scarlet, graceful sprays of prairie- fire. The men sniffed eagerly at the freshness of the mysterious blossoms. We ' re not home yet? asked a re- cumbent figure hoarsely, as the boat com- menced its excruciating whistle. No, said another, gazing critically at the gov- ernment lights that shone wbitely on the indistinct shore; a bridge signal, I guess. A huge mass of darkness loomed up before them. Its irregular string of red and green points of light broke as part of the mass revolved slowly and heavily until the boat could pass through. Beyond the bridge the city lights were plainly seen, even to distinguishing be- tween the steely radiance of the arc light and the yellow tone of the gas. But a ten minutes ' ride, and then a bump and an im- mediate confusion as the steamer touched the wharves. Valentia Euan. PIPPA PASSES. In the village of Ascolo, Many, many years ago, When the old mill played the silkworm With a murmur soft and low; When a child-face at the window Watched a child-face work within, Then our Browning ' s little Pippa Learned to labor, sing and spin. Once, a day was given Pippa, Only one, but all her own ; And the eastern sun rose smiling Over meadows freshly mown ; Early woke our little Pippa, Sweet and happy, bright and fair, And her simple song of gladness Pose upon the morning air. And the dreamy pale-faced Poet Heard, and changed his mournful lav; Laid aside his worthless writing Thus, to hear what she might say. Down the dusty, winding roadway, Sinning as she went along, Pippa cheered all them that heard her, By her simple, happy song. And the lovers that to Pippa Seemed so happy in their love, Changed, and saw its deeper meaning As if by some power above; And the men of proudest nature, Rich and poor, both high and low, Saw a meaning in her singing Like a river ' s undertow. When the cowslip ' s turning yellow, And the birds are in the trees; AVhen the air is full of fragrance And the buzz of humming bees ; When the buds are full to bursting And the brook creeps soft along, It is then that little Pippa Cheers the whole world with her song. M. Ethel Burke, 11B, English. (2)
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Page 10 text:
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MIND AND HAND. sole the little boy who had boon separated from his fascinating fish. Bnt he had re- pelled all advances and kept gazing with , - ' ' a longing eyes towards the cabin door. The little girl slipped from the corner and looked admiringly at the growling gentle- man. Cautiously she followed him about, treading his impatient step, rubbing her dimpled hands, and frowning deeply after her model. She twisted her rosy mouth and shook her curls in perfect imitation. Suddenly the gentleman turned and caught her. Just as suddenly she observed the absorbing nature of the red plush on the cabin chairs. It may have been the reflec- tion that tinted her wild rose cheeks with a deeper shade. As the later night came on, the children disappeared to nestle in mother arms. But outside the cabin a tall, fair man in black paced to and fro, holding in his awk- ward arms a little, loving heap of baby boyhood. The little, close-shorn head, so like the father ' s, rested easily on the broad shoulder. The rounded cheek pressed as hard on the rough coat sleeve as it might have done on the softer texture of a woman ' s gown. The tall Swede had kept apart from the other passengers, and his miniature reproduction had kept close to his side. The blue eyes of the little Swede had followed the inquisitive youngster wonderingly, but he made no advances. And he blushed pink to the roots of his close-cropped curls when the little girl offered him a bite of some kind of sticky sweetness. Sometimes he lisped a few words of broken Swedish to his father ; but, for the most part, he was content to creep within the strong arm and, from that place of safety, view the wonderful people on the boat. Some uneasy thought caused him to stir and open his soft eyes. He smiled sleepily into the face above him. But the hoarse, shrieking whistle of the boat roused him from half-consciousuess into wide-awake life. The steamer puffed slowly, whistled again, and stopped. The lights and noises of a city surrounded them. The boat cleared itself of many people. The little Swede saw the inquisitive youngster star- ing surprisedly at the landing as he was carried down upon his father ' s shoulder. The vocalists left in a sleepy crowd, with the group of prett} girls and men with covered baskets stepping wearily behind them. When the boat started again, the decks were nearly deserted. The tall Swede carried the boy to the wheel of the steamer, and they watched the water in silence. From its dark, frowning depths rose a mysterious white- ness of showering spray, glistening faintly in the misty gray. Now and then it caught the light of the stars and sparkled coldly, spilling in liquid silver as it leaped from the wheel. The little Swede watched it with sleepy admiration. His father looked, unseeing, across the river and
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