Havergal College - Magazine Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Havergal College Magazine her and gave her sardines, etc. ; she regretted not having taken a hamper herself, when she saw how comfortable we were. We pro- cured goats ' milk at various points, it being the only kind avail- able ; however, it proved very acceptable to us. Bloemfontein was one of the principal stations we passed, and Johannesburg the Golden was another. Our journey of three days and nights came to an end at last ; not that it had tired us : on the contrary, it had been most interest- ing — but we were anxious to reach Pretoria. Flora M. Steele, Form V. Upper. THE PLAINT OF THE PIANO. At last I was to be sold, lor somebody was saying, Yes, I will take this one. Please send it to Havergal College. I was indeed delighted to hear this, for it seemed to me that I had been standing in that store for months, and I was tired of having nothing to do. The next day I was hoisted up on a large wagon, and care- fully wrapped in sacks. After a great deal of bumping and noise, the wagon stopped in front of a large stone building, and I was carried — not very carefully, it seemed to me — up three flights of stairs, and at last put down in a small room with a glass door. Nobody came near me for a long time, and then in walked a tall, grown-up looking girl, with a large music-case under her arm. Her playing was nice and soft, and it made me feel happy again, as I thought that perhaps I would now have an easy life if the girls were all like her. But my hopes were soon dispelled, for a bell rang and in stamped a short, fat little girl, who sat down and banged as if she were pounding stone. Really! I thought, I cannot stand this much longer; and, fortunately for me, the bell rang again. Then in came another girl, with large, sad-looking eyes, and said, This is my piano. Well, I know, replied the other, and very glad I am to give it to you. The girl sat down and played a few scales, and then, putting herself down on me, sobbed as if her heart would break. I certainly did feel sorry for the poor girl, but then, you know 7 , it was not very comfortable to have her tears trickling down through my notes, and besides, I was beginning to feel rather wet. Soon a mistress came in and took her away. I was left alone till the next bell rang again, and I must conless that I was not looking forward with very ' much pleasure to the girl who was to come. In a few minutes I heard a voice saying, Well, you ' ll really have to take a bad mark, as you knew it was against the rules. 38

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Havergal College Magazine FROM CAPE TOWN TO PRETORIA AFTER THE WAR We left beautiful Cape Town, with its interesting mountain, its shining bay, its wonderful masses of flowers, on a clear spring- evening, to go up-country, where but a few months before had been the terrible fighting. We had engaged a compartment in the train, and each of us had the necessary permits to travel through the Orange River Colony and the Transvaal. As we knew it would be risky to rely on the station-served meals, we had a large hamper containing food for the journey. There was no bed-linen in the sleeping berths, so we slept par- tially clothed, and used blankets for greater warmth. The electric lights were in use for the evening of departure, but after that oil-lamps took their places, and very poor light they gave. One was fixed in the ceiling of our compartment, and oc- casionally it was almost extinguished and we poor creatures ate our evening meal in semi-darkness. The night passed quickly, and the morning sun showed us the characteristics of the country through which we were journeying — brown veldt, brown kopjes, and farm-houses dotted here and there in the midst of large tracts of land, on which stately ostriches could be frequently discerned. We remarked many refuge camps where numbers of women and children had been stationed during the war-time, for the sake of safety and comfort. The barb-wire fences had bully-beef tins fastened to them, so that if one of the enemy accidentally touched the wire the tins would rattle, and so the watchers were alarmed. Then again, blockhouses were a feature of the country — pen li- ed on the kopjes within easy distance of one another, communica- tion was kept, and a good view of the surrounding country was obtained. These blockhouses had been built during the time of the guerilla warfare, and were occupied by a non-commissioned officer with a few men. Many severe fights took place at the block- houses. White mounds were dotted over the veldt, each marking a place where a hero lay sleeping. Monuments were raised at a later date, and the graves are cared for, whilst on Decoration Day flow- ers and wreaths are laid on them by kind hands. The resting place of brave General Wauchope was pointed out to us, and we thought of his hard-fought battle at Magersfontein. We greatly appreciated having our hamper with us, as the meals to be had at the stations were far from palatable. A friend who accompanied us on our journey had taken no food with her, preferring to eat her meals at the stopping-places. It was either a wild rush or a dawdle at each place, and she frequently waited for dinner until eleven o ' clock at night. Of course we took pity on 37

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Havergal College Magazine In came an angry girl of about fourteen. She flung the window up, gave the piano-stool a twirl, sat down and struck a few chords, muttering angrily, Hateful thing! I really did not know if she meant me, but I hoped not. She then played a piece and pedalled so hard that I thought my poor pedals would soon be broken. Great was my relief when the bell rang, and I was left in peace for the rest of the day. Isabel M. Farmer. THE NIGHT ATTACK There was no sound of revelry by night, And Peace was brooding, like a mother hen, O ' er cubicle and corridor, and bright The moon shone o ' er the idle desk and pen ; Four dozen souls slept heavily, and when Some snore arose with a melodious swell, The drowsy heads would turn to rest again ; And all was snug and still, for all was well. But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising-bell ! Did ye not hear it? No, ' twas but the blind, Or the car rattling over Broadway Street. (It should be Ave. ; but rhymes are here confined, And Byron ' s Waterloo is hard to beat. Still, Broadway is an Av ' nue, I repeat.) But hark ! that raucous voice breaks in once more ! Suggesting calls through megaphone for meat ; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before Oh, dear! It is — it is — the Tom-cat ' s opening roar! And wild and high the caterwauling rose, The war-note of a champion on the hills, Or errant warrior challenging his foes. How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills — Savage, prolonged ! And as its echo shrills Thro ' staircase and thro ' passage in the ears Of those reluctant sleepers, and then fills Palace Apartments and the topmost tiers, Each head from pillow stirs, and sighs, and trembling, rears. Within a curtained niche of that high hall Slept Hav ' gal ' s fated chieftain; she did hear That sound the first amidst the caterwaul And caught its note with Duty ' s dauntless ear; x nd though she groaned because she deemed it near, Her heart too truly knew that peal too well Which more than once had filled the night with fear, And roused the Juniors none but she could qu ell She rushed adown the stairs, and, foremost fleeting, fell. 39