Havergal College - Magazine Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Havergal College Magazine Ah ! up the stair was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale which but an hour ago Were flushed and warm in slumber ' s rosiness. And there were sudden shriekings, such as press From lips hysteric, and the choking sighs Of those who need the cold sponge and the dress Unloosened, while ammonia salts the wise Provide, and sal volatile with feathers burnt advise. And there was robing in hot haste. The need So urgent, and the monster still afar, Vocal in class-rooms now, impel to speed. The chieftain fallen erst in ranks of war ; And up she springs to loosen bolt and bar, And drive Grimalkin forth from alien floor, By force or cunning ere the morning star, (Thirty below outside) she props the door And whispers with white lips: Shoo! shoo! now haste afar! But who shall sing the windings of pursuit Round desks and platforms, and the mortal fray, Back stairs, front stairs, kitchen and furnace smoke, Pursuer and pursued in devious way Joined by a third, in martial scarlet cloak, (Battle ' s magnificently stern array!) The air meanwhile with feline clamour rent — Till, baffled and dismayed, at break of day, Forth into outer gloom the foiled invader went. There sped the greatest, nor the worst of Cats Whose judgment, antithetically mixed, Suggested four a.m. in neighbouring flats For morning calls — the time and place not fixed — Extreme in all things ! hadst thou been betwixt, Thy call had ne ' er been heard, or never been, Thy challenge unreturned, thy presence missed, Thy footsteps unpursued, thy form unseen, This song had ne ' er been sung, thou Thunderer of the scene ! FAMILIAR PROVERBS. (Culled from the General Knowledge Papei Spare the good and spoil the bad. Spare the poor and spoil the rich. Spare the fault and spoil the child. Never too old to work. Never too old to live. A young ant gathers no moss. 40

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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

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Havergal College Magazine THE TELEPHONE FIEND. Picture I. Little you know, when you answer my cal You speak to a mighty king ' ; Little you know that the nations all Come forth at my powerful ring, That I can more than an empire sway As I sit on my puny throne — For many a million men obey The Fiend of the Telephone. f]