Marymount Secondary School - Hiamead Yearbook (Tarrytown, NY)

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A Christmas Carol T was Christmas Eve, and Mr. Crosspatch was dozing comfortably by his cheery fire, when suddenly the soft sweet voices of some children outside broke in upon his dreams. They were singing Christmas Carols. Growling fiercely, he called james the Butler, and ordered him to dispatch with all due haste the young nuisances from the neighborhood, lest they should further disturb his peace of mind. James went about his duty, and almost instantly the singing broke off abruptly. There was a sound of light footsteps crunching on the crisp snow outside, as the children slowly passed his window in frightened silence. He glanced in that direc- tion-and sat bolt upright, speechless. A little face had turned momentously towards the window pane, just long enough to be glimpsed by Mr. Crosspatch. It was the living image of his little son, who had been dead for fifteen long, weary years! Memories of that sweet childhood crowded in upon him-the only memories capable of touching his hardened old heart. All the anguish of the lonely years flooded his soul, and Mr. Crosspatch wept! Mr. Crosspatch wept until exhausted with weeping, he fell asleep, and as he slept he had a wondrous dream- It was the first Christmas Night. Mr. Crosspatch found himself in a lonely country district, just outside the walls of a small town. The inhabitants of the latter were evidently celebrating some festive occasion, for the noise of merrymakingre-echoed faintly out among the silent hills. Suddenly he heard a little cry nearby-'twas that of a new born Babe. He turned, and found himself standing at the entrance to a dimly lit cave, but he had not time to examine further therein, for over the snow-covered hills a glorious light burst forth. Angels appeared in the sky singing the first Christmas Carol. Glory be to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to men of good willf' Mr. Cross- patch peered heavenwards and stood still in amazement. A little cherub hovered up yonder among the other jubilant angels, a little cherub whose face was the exact replica of his long lost son's. Then Mr. Crosspatch understood. God had but lent him one of His cherubs for a purpose, to be revealed to him this Christmas night.- A loud and angry voice awoke Mr. Crosspatch. It was that of James the Butler. I told you once to be off, now go! Like a flash, Mr. Crosspatch sprang from his chair and out into the hall. Gazing past the burly .form of the butler, he saw the same sweet little face raised pleadingly to his own. Wait, James, he said, bring the boy in here! and he led the way back into his room. The wondering incredulous James obeyed, then departed, gasping with amazement. Now little one, what is your name, and what are you doing out in the streets this cold night? asked Mr. Crosspatch as he settled the shivering, ragged little figure on a comfortable chair. Gradually he elicited this story from the faltering, timid child. His name was Tommyg he could not remember his father, but some time ago fit seemed to him a very long time agoj he had seen his dear Mummy taken away in a big box and she had never come back to get him there two big tears glistened in his childish eyesj. He had been sent to a big house where there were other boys who had no fathers or mothers, but he was so unhappy that he ran away and now he had made a plan of his own. He had prayed the Little God of Christmas to show him some place where he could live, and he thought that if he went with some boys who were singing carols he might find it. V For! ji-four

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Book Week Celebrations URING the month of November of last year, the New York Times Book Fair held in Rockefeller Center, was the first attempt made by American Book pub- lishers to show the processes involved in the writing, manufacture, and distribution of books to the general public from behind the publishing scene. This Fair was not intended to be merely a commercial exhibit in which individual concerns displayed their wares, but a show, sponsored by one of the world's leading newspapers, in which book pub- lishers were jointly participating for the purpose of interesting the public at large in books and reading. Its main purpose was to show the enormous part books play in our daily lives, and to expose the best of current literature. As students, we were more than interested in these celebrations which, besides being intellectually beneficial, were extremely enjoyable. To celebrate the unusual event, we Academicians held a Book Week, which ended on the eleventh of Novem- ber. On this day, Reverend Mother and the members of the Faculty were invited to the library there to be introduced by the courteous Alice in Bookland to many famous literary characters. Into the spotlight of old Father Time, beloved personages from Shakespeare, Dickens, Alcott, and other favourite authors stepped forward. The im- personations were admirably carried out by the members of the various classes. The welcome address was given by Miss Jane Burke. Speeches, proving the linguistic abilities of members of the Senior Class were read on Moliere and the French Drama- tists by Miss Antoinette Coifg on The Value of Books by Miss Sylvia Wheelerg on Modern Spanish Writers by Miss Anita de Zaldo, and on Dante by Miss Dina Miele. The evening proved to be very enjoyable and it was with deep sighs of regret that we left Bookland,,' and stepped out once more into the world of realities. MARION CLARKE, '38. Si Romae Antiquae Vivissem! I Romae antiquae vivissem, et si filia parentum divitium fuissem, vita mea laetissima fuisset. Mater mea domi nostrae se feliciter occupavisset et mihi sororibusque meis multa de rebus domesticis docuisset. Forsitan pater meus senator fuisset, et similis Caesaris et Ciceronis, ad summam rem publicam laboravisset. Illis studiis quae inventus Romana prosequi soleretur, magistri maximi fratres meos exercuissent, et puto me magno cum gaudio eos audivisse cum orationes eorum pararent. Nos multos famulos habuissemus, et complures ex servis nostris tam periti artis musicae fuissent ut nobis canere psallereque potuissent. Amavissem nimis vestes Rom- anas: togam civium gracilem, et robam feminarum Romanarum fluentem. Tamen, puto non ex corde me eoluisse deos deasque Romanorum-quam melior nostra Fidcs Sancta religione illa est! Etiam mihi non placet putare me ivisse ad visus crudeles in Colliseo, sin tempore Christianorum interfectionis vivissem, libenter ad majorem Dei gloriam ibi mortua essem. , JOAN GRACE, 38. Forty-flzrcr

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Well, did you find it yet, Tommy? asked Mr. Crosspatch. Tommy looked at him hesitatingly. Well, continued the old man, why did you dare to come back here after I was so cross with you and your companions? Please sir, the Little God seemed to say to me when we were singing out there, that this was the place, and I thought I had better come and tell you what He said. Tommy stayed! It was the happiest Christmas ever spent by his benefactor whom we cannot call Mr. Crosspatch any longer, for his heart was now Hlled with that peace promised so long ago o'er judean hills, to men of good will.', RUTH SYLv13sT1aR, '38, Ad Majorem Dei Gloriamn N our History of Art Course, we came across a little verse which told us of the glories of the Parthenon. We may easily apply this to our own beautiful building, and with apologies to the author, say: Westchester proudly wears Butler Hall, as the finest gem upon its zone. The building was completed last year and is a tribute of admiration and loyalty to our beloved Reverend Mother General, who has laboured so successfully in the field of Catholic education. For many long years she has been the guiding light and the kindly counsellor of hundreds of girls, who have had the happiness of spending their school days under her gentle direction. Butler Hall is built of Indiana limestone in the Renaissance style, and occupies the highest point in the county. Its mighty dome, embellished with gold leaf and sur- mounted by a golden cross, is like an index finger pointing the way to Catholic educa- tion. This symbol may be seen for many miles, especially when it is flood-lighted. Then this glorious dome is visible in all its radiant splendour like a magic lighthouse to boats, as they journey up and down the mighty Hudson. The interior of the building with its multi-coloured pillars and marble staircase is most majestic. The rotunda has a host of admirers. The reception rooms, which in the winter evenings glow with the warm light of crackling log fires, are exquisitely fur- nished, and command a magnificent view of the lordly Hudson. The dining room is spacious and bright-its crowning glory is the observation window framing the wooded hills of the Rockefeller estate and looking down upon the twin lakes. The beautiful panels of French chateaux, designed and executed in the Marymount Studio, adorn its walls. I No description of the building would be complete without a brief mention of the chapel, which is modelled after the old Spanish mission churches of the New World. Its beautiful marble altar is outstanding in its austere simplicity, and the shrine of the Little Flower is as artistic as it is devotional. It is a very simple chapel, but one feels there the peace and quiet which only the presence of our Eucharistic King can shed around. Though only Academicians, we feel very proud of our Butler Hall, and although the day will come when we shall feel lonely at the thought of leaving our dear homelike Academy building, we know that within the stately walls of Butler Hall a warm wel- come will await the children of Mother Marymount down the hill. JANE GRAY, '39, Forty-five