Northrop Collegiate School - Tatler Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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games, and lively couples entertained the group. At last the wedding ended and the members of the party joined the festive crowd. A young girl who had been educated in a boarding school shocked the neighbors by dancing the polka, which she had officers in town. Her parents were about to disown her when what did she do but fall in a faint. While the parents blamed each other, Katinka arose, and so delighted they were to sec her well, they granted her permission to marry. The father and mother, as well as some townspeople attempted to master the new step, but with small success. The bridal company did a figure while a vivacious pair tried to keep the bride and her husband apart. As their dance ended, the dancers gradually left the scene of action, and dreamy Parasha came forward to sing of her former happiness and present hopes. As night fell on the little village the peasants once more joined in singing The Bells of Novgorod,” to the accompaniment of their own Russian church bells. Helen Wooijhull THE LAUGHING CAVALIER A flash of scarlet along the road, A waving plume, and some lace. As a cavalier galloped swiftly by. With laughter on his face. His silvery sword gleamed bright In the warming noonday sun. And his steed pressed on with might, Eor his venture just begun. And he was ever ready his sword to bring Gladly and without fear In loyal defense of his sovereign king— The Laughing Cavalier. THE ROUNDHEAD No waving locks, no plumes or lace. No horses or courts so gay. Only a solemn, unsmiling face. And homespun of drabbest gray. Not on a thoroughbred horse did he go But humbly on foot to fight the foe. And for a good cause his aid was lent To help and fight for Parliament. Nancy Lou Mackall Form VII Puxr Tunity

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The Russian Program THE Russian program, developed from the singing, rhythm, and dramatic interests in the school, was an unusually beautiful production. Russia has been so much discussed and pictured lately that our pageant was most appropriate at this time. The curtain-raiser, Pyramus and Thisbe,” from Midsummer Night's Dream,” deserves a great deal of credit, a good share of which goes to Miss Brown for the way in which she brought out the girls' ability. For although the majority of those who took part had never really had a chance to act before, they were so amusing and delightful that their names are now inscribed on the dramatic roster of the school. The well-known tale of the Athenian workmen who tried (and how artistic was their attempt!) to portray the tragic story of Pyramus and his beauteous” Thisbe thoroughly entertained Duke Theseus and his famous court. The aspiring laborers decked themselves out as the two lovers, a wall, moonshine, and a lion. With extraordinary efforts and passionate fervor they played their roles. Following the death of the fated pair the two performed a berga- mask for their patron and once more died, this time covered with imaginary rose petals which the remaining players strewed. The colorful beauty of the Russian scene was quite a contrast to the somewhat hilarious playlet. The curtains parted to show a peasant town on a holiday. The villagers presented a vivid picture with their vari-colored headdresses, skirts and blouses as they stood singing the lovely Russian song, The Bells of Novgorod. As the song ceased a dashing postilion arrived to display his attire and to dazzle all the girls. 1 le succeeded in doing both but only with sharp reprimands from his mother. A solemn wedding party appeared, the bride and groom handsomely arrayed, and disappeared into the church. Meanwhile the young people and children rmused themselves with familiar dances and Page Nineteen

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We Go to School, or Try To COME on, Lorraine. We can make it if we hurry. Oh, dear!” You mean if the car starts,” gasped Lorraine as we rushed out to the garage. If it starts,” she repeated with, a rather nasty voice that clearly indicated her doubt. Upon reaching the garage we both hurled ourselves against the sliding door, and after much grunting and suggestive mutterings on our part it finally gave way to us and admitted the pale morning sunshine to the dark interior. I seated myself at the wheel and spent the next few minutes in frantic action. The stubborn car refused to start in spite of my energetic use of the choke and the gas. Suddenly, without any warning it snorted rebelliously, and then with a weary gasp, trembled and became still. This was not the least bit encouraging, and the fact that the hands of my watch pointed to ten minutes after eight was not consoling. A dreary silence followed. Well?” demanded Lorraine, impatiently, standing by the door. I'm sorry, but I’m afraid it’s flooded,” I replied in a tired voice. Very flooded,” I added as a sad afterthought. Well, I wish you’d get that four-wheeled apparatus out of this place so I can shut the door. The air is not as balmy as it might be, and besides. I’m not enjoying—” I hope you don’t think I’m enjoying this,” I interrupted rudely. If you don’t want to wait for me, you can walk!” This, of course, was absurd, but I had broken two fingernails, my efforts to start the car had proved futile, and my patience was exhausted. At a quarter past eight, I again endeavored to battle with the engine. Oh, unlooked-for joy! The car was vibrating horribly, but it was running and two minutes later, Lorraine was shutting the door after my surprising exit. We finally escaped from the driveway into the street, a process accomplished by a sickening, jerky motion and the grating of fenders along the side stone wall when we came too near it. Two happy girls proceeded onward rejoicing. The next thing to worry about was the question of going by land or by lake. It was necessary to go the quickest way possible. Lorraine suddenly decided for me by jerking the steering wheel to the left, thus directing the car toward Lake Harriet, and also toward another car which had crept unseen around the corner. We escaped from this situation with only two badly dented fenders and a stony glare from the occupant of the other car. Want to drive, Lorraine?” I queried icily, eyeing a large mud puddle in the center of the road. Lorraine merely smiled at me, sweetly, one of those tactful smiles a person bestows at such a time. The winding road embracing Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun was passed without further incident. It looked as though we might really get to school after all. As we approached the semaphore at the southeast corner of Lake Calhoun, Lorraine implored me to put on the brakes. Keep still!” I hissed, not listening to her. I’m trying to memorize that sonnet.” At the same moment I slid by a very obvious stop sign. I realized my mistake too late, for a sharp whistle warned me to stop by the side of the road. A huge, red-headed policeman in a shiny blue coat strode toward us angrily. ”Sa-ay, where do you think you’re going? he demanded. Pane Tuenty-one