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Page 30 text:
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30 TI-IE NORTI-ILAND ECI-IO The lines spread out. The large women who headed each of them ran directly to the tables where each seized as many articles as she could snatch from the others. Then each made oh' by herself to choose from her collection whatsoever she could wear. Usually there were not many garments that would lit these corpu- lent persons, but they fought valiantly among themselves for those that would. After choosing what they wished to keep, they threw the rest back onto the nearest table. Here the less experienced bargain-seekers look- ed over the discarded and often damaged gar- ments and secretly envied the veterans who obtained what they wanted by sheer force. Meanwhile the visitor stood bewildered by the rushing humanity around her. People bumped her time and time again but never stopped to apologize. The visitor, after wat- ching countless disputes over the articles for sale decided to get into the spirit of the thing and go in fighting if she wanted to buy any- thing. With her elbows she pushed aside some buyers at a counter and seized an arrnful of something soft. She ran off and set it down. It proved to be only straw packing from some china: and as she sheepishly brushed off her coat she saw some of the others laughing at her. This made her angry. Suddenly she hit upon a bold and daring plan. She barged to a counter with the pug- nacity of a football tackler. Then when no one was looking she poked the most heavily laden woman in the ribs. The woman squealed with forced laughter and dropped a few things from her arms. These things the visitor snatched up and made off with before anyone knew what had happened. Unfortunately none of the garments obtained fitted the Visitor. Disappointed, she looked for a new plan. Then, for the sake of curiosity she threw the articles that she had into the very thick of a group of women. Her luck turned. The women dropped their loads in order to clutch at the articles des- cending upon them from above. The Visitor, accompanied by four other luckless individuals began to grab up the garments dropped by the tugging, pulling, wrestling females behind her. She had found a sales girl and was having her purchases wrapped, watching meanwhile the angry, tricked women whom she had just out-witted. The sales girl said suddenly, Madam, youare very cleyer to out-smart those professionals over there. It's never been done before. The Visitor smiled self-consciously, Y'know, all's fair in love and war,-and bargain sales she replied. POETRY AND VERSE CHRISTMAS IN HIS MAJESTY'S CANADIAN NAVY BETTY ANN HORN IIA COLLEGIATE It was Christmas day, in the morning, And t.he sky was bright and clear, But the winds were blowing, and the sea was roaring, And a sailor shed a tear. For he missed the soft snow falling, And he missed his home, and wife, Though the navy was really ripping,'7 And he loved a sailor's life. But he longed for the warmth and comfort Of his little home, back there: And he longed for the rolling country, And Canada's bright, crisp air. And he thought of his little kiddies He'd had to leave behind, But he was building a future for them And others of their kind. A future strong and firm, dear, He said as he stood at the rail, F or our country's children and you, dear, For God's will cannot fail. And Hitler's army we'll crush, dear And t.he world will at last have peace, And there shall be no more fear, For all warring we shall cease. F or it was Christmas day, in the morning When Christ came to us And bells were ringing, and Angels, singing, Proclaimed that peace would come? ROAMING In summer, I delight to roam, Across the meadows far from home. The buttercups and daisies nod Their heads above the grassy sod. The song birds Hit among the trees: Their notes come faintly on the breeze. I follow close the winding brook Until I reach a shady nook. Silver trout in a rustic pool Glimmer amid the shadows cool. At last with dreams I fall asleep- A tryst among the fairies keep. MARGERY IRWIN.
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Page 29 text:
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THE NORTHLAND ECHO 29 QUEER NAMES BETTY MACINTYRE, FORM V Do you blush a deep scarlet and mutter mm-umph or some equally incoherent reply, when someone asks what your middle initial stands for? Well, perhaps the little tale I am going to relate will make you feel better about the whole matter. Last week, finding myself short of reading material, I turned in my hour of need to the city's best known book, the telephone directory. I had heard one can actually derive entertain- ment from its contents. With no definite plan in mind I struck out aimlessly, arriving first among the C's. In a short time my efforts were well rewarded, for I found names like the fol- lowing: Cann, Coones, Cork, Coo, Cow, Cottin and last but not least Cakebread. In compari- son with what I found later on, these few are exceedingly conservative. Listed under the Dis were two outstanding names, Death and shortly below it, Deadman. After that I didn't con- sider names like Dew, Dollar, Drinkwater and Dithers the least bit out of the ordinary. In fact I was almost prepared to accept even Pickles which leaped out at me when I skipped over to the P's. To make matters worse there were no fewer than eight people called Pickles. In the same pages I came across five called Pidgeon, four called Pusey, eight called Peeker and nine called Pye. The greatest enjoyment, however, was found among the T's. Here there were some excellent examples of queer names. On the first couple of pages were Tarbottle, Tax, Towell, Tunnah, Tufts, and Trump. In each case the number of people bearing these names exceeded six. At length I retraced my steps and stopped with interest under the His. Herd was the first I discovered then shortly after came Horseman and Hossies. Before I should end my peculiar trip I de- cided to pay a quick visit to the S's. With a swirl of paper I reached my destination and found that my effort was not a wasted one. Here was a veritable dumping ground for queer names since Swallows, Swails, Salads, Sequins, Sonnets, Sparks, Spoons, Shanks, and Specks were alphabetically arranged in the next two or three pages. This last encounter with queer names ended my trip. In closing the book I decided that we shouldnit feel so ill at ease over a peculiar middle name which can be cleverly concealed by an initial. We would really have just cause for complaint if we had to write down a sur- name, like some of these I have just mentioned, for the world in general to gaze at with merri- ment. VIEW FROM LOOKOUT ON THIBEAULT HILL BETTY BROWN GRADE XA Standing on the lookout at Thibeault Hill one can see in the far distance, both to the left and the right. From here there is a marvellous view of the city of North Bay, the surrounding country and the lakes and islands. Looking immediately in front of us we see the low, rolling hills and vales covered with the soft blanket of snow. As our vision turns to the left of this great expanse of land, we see the frozen waters of Trout Lake together with a few of the buildings making up the village. Next in view comes the Home of the Aged and the jail with the Scollard Hall appearing not far distant from them. The T. N. O. Railway shops can plainly be seen amidst the numerous houses and buildings. Even the wide stretching Trans Canada Highway is a marked line in this glorious view. The spire of the French Church towers decidedly higher than other places men- tioned. The aerials at C. F. C. H. radio station seem to gently wave to and fro in the breeze. Still turning our gaze from the left to the right, we can see the top of the Empire Hotel. The great spire of the Cathedral reaches far into the sky with the Collegiate appearing in sight slightly to the north. Then to extreme right are the great waters of Lake Nipissing with the Girls' College located on its shores. As we gaze over these ice bound waters, they seem never ending. BARGAIN DAY GWEN PRICE IIIA CoLL. The out-of-town visitor was about to take in her first bargain sale in the large city. She arrived at the store fully fifteen minutes before the time of the opening but she found that al- ready by all four doors were long lines of women. Nearest to every door was the inevit- able group of short stout women in dark cloth- ing, chattering in a foreign language or in broken English. The visitor crowded into one of the lines and soon the group closed in behind her. They crowded closer and closer so that soon it be- came difficult to breathe. For a moment she had horrible fears of being knocked down and trampled when the doors opened. Time drag- ged on very slowly. Suddenly she felt the crowd surging forward and she was carried helplessly along with it. She soon reached the door. On entering she found to her surprise that the lines did not spread out but headed straight for the nearest flight of stairs leading to the bargains in the basement. She was terrified lest someone should stumble on the stairs but miraculously no one did.
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Page 31 text:
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THE NORTHLAND ECHO 31 T0 A PUZZLE Bxsrriz DESJARDINS, IIIC jig-Saw puzzle, What right have you To hold my interest The way you do? VVhy do you lie On the table there And will me to sit In the opposite chair? Why do my fingers Toy with your parts Till my eyes grow weak And a headache starts? Why do I follow Your notches and curves Like a lover who hangs On his sweetheart's words? VVhy have you cast Your spell on me? Iill conquer you yet, Old Mystery! TINY TALL'S FATE ALICE MooN Once there lived a little man, Who was but eight feet tall, His blonde straight hair was curly black: His black eyes green as gall. When Tiny Tall, for t'was his name, Wanted or wished a thing And used his lungs to call aloud His weak voice made ear drums ring. One day our hero took a walk, While riding in a flying car, His beautiful hair blew round the wheels: Car's stopping jerk threw Tiny afar. He landed on a distant star. ,Way underneath the dry, dry sea, Where meeting a lovely mermaid fair, Married and lived, so happily. THE WORLD I LOVE I love this world when skies are blue, And when the birds sing all day through, Beside a brook I love to stand And watch the sparkling, golden sand. The waters rushing on for aye Are never still the livelong day. White clouds high in the sky above Look down on peace, and war, and love. In city homes or meadows green The joys of living may be seen. MIRIAM PRESTON. LONGlNG Sometimes I think when night does fall, Of distant woods where cuckoos- call. Of leafy coverts, where partridge hide, And from the tree-tops squirrels chide. In fancy wooded hills I pass, Where soft winds rustle in the grass. And oftimes long for some calm lake, Upon whose brink the aspens shake. THE NORTH ERN BLIZZARD Who can vent its fury more Than a blizzard, of the north? Who is it, who strikes with power of Thor When brave men journey forth? Who whistles round their frozen ears? Who buries them in the snow? Who adds to their evergrowing fears VVhile cruel winds blow? Those brave men that break the trail, Those men that never tire Are caught in a maelstrom of snow and hail, Ruled by a force that's higher. But dauntlessly they journey onward, The sons of the north are they, All these men press forward, forward, 'Tis a dangerous game they play. Some are frozen in banks of white Some are starved on the field of fame, But though They're dead, they've shed the light, On a venturous life-giving game. By E. M. MCDONALD STREET DRESS LORRAINE STEVENSON She primped before the mirror And smiled in self-conceit. Nothing pleased her dearer Than to have her hair look neat. She smoothed her fine silk hose And aligned its narrow seam: Then, pertly, she studied her nose For remnants of make-up cream. She glanced with a critical eye At the slender heels of her shoes. They had cost her a lot to buy, But what had she to lose? Proud she was of her long slim hands With their crimson pointed tipsg Her rings were slim gold bands, Their stones like tiny pips. When she descended the stairs, Her mother gazed in distress. Despite all her gay vain airs, She had forgotten to don her dress!
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