Northrop Collegiate School - Tatler Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

Text from Pages 1 - 108 of the 1934 volume:

Tlie TATLER 1934 PUBLISHED ANNUALLY BY THE STUDENTS OF Northrop Collegiate School MINNEAPOLIS To Miss Spurr whose friendly and helpful spirit has made her first year at Northrop one of happiness for the students and achievement for the school, this book is affectionately dedicated. 4 The 1934 Tatler Tatler Board Editor..................... Assistant Editors Business Manager -Assistant Business Manager -Art Editor .................Betty Carey Sally Cowin, Harriot Carpenter Nancy Humphrey .............Betty Vogtel • - • Shakir Karacheusiax Representatives Form XII - -- -- -- -- -- Joan Dorsey Form XI ...............................Louise Thompson Form X -.........................Betty Silverthorne Form IX - ..............Margery Michelson Form VIII...................................Frances Mapes Form VII -.................................Marcella Phelps Art Representatives Form XII.................................Mary Malcolm son Form XI ...........................Shirley Atwood Form X..............................................Jane Creamer Faculty Advisers Literary........Miss Caroline Mercer Art ----------- Miss Jean Duncan The Senior Class 6 The 1934 Tatlf.r MARTHABAGLEY Medieval appetite . . . has an unprecedented passion for Aztecs ... is Miss Sadley’s own little problem for the year . . . diets every so (not very) often . . . has been a large help on The Taller . . . thanks . . . very often and aptly puts us in our proper places . . . we suspect she enjoys this . . . stutters if given occasion . . . indispensable when class spirit is needed . . . only girl ever to receive letter from unknown admirer struck by her beauty. KATHARINE BOYNTON Dramatically head of Artistic Interests . . . Class-President-Runner-Upper . . . Unofficial Tatlcr-Boarder (we deeply appreciate this) . . . grandmother in Everybody's Husband . . . slitclly ckxsentrik spcler ... this technique increases annually in charming quaintness . . . Flipper (a canine) ... we learn about life from Kay . . . compositions with a flavor all their own . . . one of the more efficient play producers . . . started out well ahead in size, ended up leading the procession into chapel . . . well, good things come in small packages, you know. The 1934 Tatler 7 CAROLINE BROOKS Noise . . . she went to Dobbs!! . . . astounding ability to argue on obscure points in English . . . very masterful Head of Athletics ... a colossal Katisha . . . wants to be a lawyer or perhaps a politician . . . her hand waving an asset in either ease . . . studies so ardently . . . great up holder of Oakes in bolstering up class spirit. . . . more noise. BETTY CAREY Horses, horses, horses . . . microbe-hunter . . . this little epic, we marvel, she edits . . . Rupert Brooke, she says, has a poetic soul . . . that big blue car alx ut town, obligingly giving rides home . . . can be counted on for consistently good writing . . . The Christmas Play: nobly the King; The Birthday of the Infanta: nobly the Duchess . . . has won, we marvel (that makes twice) carloads of dowers at Commencement time. 8 The 1 934 Tatler HARRIOT OLIVIA CARPENTER That hair . . . more Dobbs . . . The Highwayman (you know, “came riding ) . . . writes dramas showing her complete understanding of the younger generation . . . ambition to be exotic . . . will undoubtedly major in French at the Sorbonne ... on Sunday night scrambles a neat egg . . . marked prowess in athletics, especially tennis . . . Stardust . . . rates Nobel Prize for skipping assignments. m DOLLY MARGARET CONARY Our grape-nut girl . . . shoots . . . has a red-checked gingham horse . . . we all enjoyed having Dolly's tonsils out . . . big car for a little girl ... drives no faster than 70 m.p.h., while talking with gestures ... unanswered question: will she turn out to Ik a violinist, an actress, or a doctor? The 1934 Tatler 9 SALLY COWIN Y’ery distinctively a brown-eyed blonde . . . those intriguing self-designed hats . . . absolutely indispensable member of the Taller board . . . indispensable member of anti-noise committee ... a demon skier . . . that brother, so cute, like Sally . . . can now drive her big, beautiful, blue Oldsmobilc . . . produces the better variety of cleverly amusing themes . . . ironically hilarious remarks ... as Sally’s stainless soul floats to Heaven, it will be heard saying, “Won’t you please bring your class dues? PATRICIA DALRYMPLE “This is Mother’s dress” . .. hair . . . arguments with Olivia . . . laziness . . . pop-overs . . . desserts in general . . . exercises . . . “If Albert’s home. I'll give you a ride” . . . most lavish entertainment . . . Why are there mice in her bedroom . .. squints . . . struggles with French . . . writes nice poems . . . sleeps all weekend . . . authority on Thomas Hardy . . . stupendous number of formals. 10 The 1934 Tatler JOAN DORSEY The five-A girl . . . we must let Merle Potter meet her some day . . . squclchcr-in-chicf of our romantic ideals ... a realist to the core . . . “I want to go back to California” . . . quite a change in eyebrows for one season . . . Headed for RadclifTe or Stanford just for something to do . . . no career she insists . . . That Dorsey sense of humor; it works at all times and places . . . “Why? Why? Why not? MARY FOSTER Owns twelve Fords and drives none . . . How could she? . . . those unforgettable breaks in English class . . . Those unforgettable semiannual class parties . . . lucky girl lives all year at the lake, holding perpetual open-house . . . has unsurpassed stock of excuses for not attending school . . . quite an addition to class teams .. . proud possessor of the squeakier of victrolas in Senior Room . . . our only fancy skater. The 1934 Tatler 11 MARY HAMMEREL “Hammy” . . . plays bridge profitably . . . consistently wins all prizes . . . one of our swcllcr athletic girls . . . shines in all sports . . . makes all teams, to wit: hockey, baseball, track and tennis . . . amuses herself by telling us our faults . . . does not enjoy shocking her classmates, so maintains a perpetual conservatism . . . History the bane of her existence . . . commutes on a grand scale . . . she uses the streetcar. HELEN LOUISE HAYDEN Helen, thy beauty is to me . . . and thy big black Buick . . . and thy hound Peter, with his antics . . . thy careful attention to detail that brings the Honors at Commencement time . . . and keeps the November budget from having a 74 cent deficit ... thy sculptured locks ... the Directorship of the Welfare Committee . . . thy Vice-Presidency of the League and thy records of scholastic achievement make thee the most human Greek goddess we know. 12 The 1934 Tatler SHAKIE KARAGHEUSIAN She goes in for art in a big way—water colors anti such tic luxe . . . that famous green Hup . . . and equally renowned Ford . . . The Lowry’s steadiest patroness . . . eyelashes a yard long . . . almost unique style of conversation . . . underneath that hard-boiled exterior there beats a heart of gold. If need be. avoids the rolls . . . dry humor. . . . DOROTHY LUNDELL Bleat (Diane to you) . . . Papa is one of the better accordion players . . . class representative . . . most malicious habit—tossing books in the pound . . . redemption one cent per btx)k . . . drives cautiously . . . hat with a knob on the top . . . teaches Sunday school . . . that trip to Chicago. The 1934 Tatler 13 MARY MALCOLMSON “Malcy” . . . joined class in our earliest days . . . useful member ever since . . . ever-improving art work—a blessing to the third-floor studio now . . . good charcoal sketches ... too tenderhearted for the Anatomy Building . . . one of the better members of the Glee Club . . . ask about the song sung to Summit, her work . . . Mikado part well done . . . will carry on for us at Minnesota. . . . BETTY OAKES Oaksic . . . the authority on bridge ... the little woman with the iron will . . . Bounccr-in-Chicf of the Senior Room . . . that Oakes hospitality dc luxe . . . the class bus . . . only red (pink to us) head in the class . . . Pep-talks to Seniors . . . “This dress is original; it’s a St. Paul model” . . . our own F.R., smile and all . . . strength of mind enough to stay on a diet for more than two days . . . sees her duty and docs it well. I A 14 The 1934 Tatler MARY KATHERINE PRICE Clothes . . . car . . . Head of Entertainment . . . gardenia bushes . . . shines at golf . . . vacations in Alexandria . . . perfectly groomed even at sch x l . . . Senior representative in society columns . . . bridge . . . gracious . . . trip to New York and Washington to visit the Senate or something. H A R R1ET SH EPH ERI SON Another prodigal . . . left in the Eighth Form but returned to her Alma Mater to graduate . . . avid believer in the motto “When better cars are built, Buick will build them.” . . . reason: one stunning maroon coupe . . . possessor of an ermine (Genuine Ermine) coat . . . envied not only for the latter but also for the fact that she takes only three subjects . . . Cicero included. The 1934 Tatler 15 FRANCES WARD President, first, last, and always . . . good work as Head of the League . . . mathematics expert . . . “Elmer.” famous for dance of the woolly worm . . . docs not fancy self as an actress; not bad. think we . . . most vigorous member of famous anti-noise committee . . . legions of prize-winning dogs . . . She went to California . . . breaks records, throws balls, swings hockey sticks, and generally dismays the other side . . . How nice . . . we like it—and her! SUSAN WHEELOCK Baby Face . . . summers in Litchfield . . . Willy . . . dancing . . . aversion to slowing down to a gallop . . . talks in superlatives . . . her laugh and finger-nails . . . “Why did you let me cat that doughnut? . . . ability to wear down resistance when shopping . . . Peep-Bo . . . knows the words to all popular songs . . . coming painter of younger generation ... “Well, I thought you could bid a three-card suit. 16 The 1934 Tatler MARTHA WRIGHT Peppermint ice cream . . . modeling . . . profile, particularly nose . . . Pitti-Sing . . . lists . . . all-time record for braid-wearing . . . “Don’t be afraid; Baron’s really harmless.” . ..fastest walker (barring Sue) . . . that methodical mind . . . perennial passion, History . . . that red hat. Senior Class Officers President...............................................Betty Oakes Secretary anil Treasurer -..............................Sally Cowin First Semester Second Semester Representatives Joan Dorsey Dorothy Lundell Shakie Karagheusian Martha Wright School Activities 1934 Tatler Forms IX, X, and XI 18 The 1934 Tatler A is for Atwood, fft Florida brown. In a special-made Auburn She travels around. B is for Belcher; It's really most sad. She fools with her hair Till it 'most drives us mad. G is for Gillis We guess it is fate; In cleaning up lab. She always is late. is for Holmbcrg, But ’tis surely a sin We all call her “Toots But she never horns in. C is for Curls, And Dickie's enthrall. Arranged to perfection. They're the envy of all. I is for invalid. Whimsical Gicky. Her op’ration scar Is certainly tricky. I) is for Dinsmorc. Ask her some dates. Her great love is History, Sally Ross states. is for Jinny. Some say she is coy. We claim she resembles Miss Myrna Loy. K is for E, So fatal a letter. It's the banc of existence When we wish we'd done better. K is for Kal, Hair ever in place With adorable clothes. Not to speak of the face. F is for Ford, That green one of Char’s She seems to think Is the cutest of cars. L is for Lucker Our giggling mate. Wc once gave her icc cream, And oh! how she ate. M is for Mackall. A priceless cartoonist. She can make “Alice” Appear in her “Goonest.” The 1934 Tatler 19 A HA CT N is for Nancy, T is for Tommy That pleasant half-wit. An actress of note. All wc can say is, If you pay fifty cents Quick Henry, the Flit! You can watch her emote. O is for O’Brien, U is for unfinished. Whose hands and whose feet But the alibi’s known Are graceful and tiny;— As: “I’m sorry, Miss Mercer, In French that’s petite. I left it at home.” P is for Pickett, V is for Vogtcl Our cute Lily Pons. Whose almighty brain She’s one who knows Has saved many a parent All her pro’s and con’s. Report-card pain. Q s lor good qualities. — vv is lor Williams, This poem’s for Penny. LM Whose English accent We’ve not time to list them: A A Appears only in French She has so many. Though ’tis never so meant. R is for rackets. X has been mentioned They’re Susan’s again. As marking the spot. For we have found out Thcrc're so many in study-hall They’re tennis and men. It won’t help a lot. S is for Smith, Y is for the yearning Our Chemistry whiz, In fourth period we feel, But Miss Lane wonders That inevitable yearning If she really is. For the oncoming meal. V. is for zest. And in spite of reports. Wc some of us lack it In reference to sports. Tenth Form Puzzle DOWN 1. The heroine of Mary Anna’s Mcllcrdramers. 3. What Miss Sadley makes us into scrubwomen over. 5. The source of Edna's popularity. 6. Initials of our sensitive little (?) Mozart. (First name initials.) 7. We don’t know how this word got into the crossword puzzle because it’s un known to the Sophomores. 12. Where we usually complete our homework and day’s gossip. 13. The Soph’s George Gershwin. (Initials.) The 1934 Tatler 21 16. Functional Relationship. (Quoting Miss Sadley.) 20. Abbrev. of what the Sophomores’ brains arc. (Pun.) 31. Main hang-out for Northrop on Saturdays. 32. If you’re thinking this doesn't have any connection, try to make a crossword puzzle. It means—The month of Abib—named by the Jews. 34. Every week-end we go on one of these. 41. What divides us from our old pal Betty Backus. 43. One of our methods of contact in the study hall. 51. Conversation in our Friday Math, class. 55. Who pays our league dues. ACROSS 1. What we wish Jane ('reamer would learn to play well. 7. A famous expression of Mr. Krollman. 10. Another word without connection — this lime it is the abbreviation of an airway company. 13. What brought all the Northrop girls into existence. 19. A world-famous tennis player whom all the local stars arc attempting to follow. (Initials.) 21. The first syllable of what Mile, (irenier thinks we all arc. (Hint: synonym of this word is nincompoop.) 23. The first letter the kindergarteners learn. 24. The most outstanding day at Northrop. (Abbrev.) 27. What all the teachers naturally do to us on Saturday mornings. 34. The pass word (pun) of the usual bridge game. 37. What climbing little leaf makes the seniors cry. 4.3. Our lunch detectors. 48. A French article. 50. The usual short cut for though.” 53. What dogs do when they get inside our school. 57. What Mary Leslie did until she tried to get that girlish figure back again. 59. A Latin adverb we don’t know either. 60. Something we all need to get the drift of. (Pun.) 64. This is another of the hundreds of Latin pronouns Jane Scybold doesn’t know. Ninth Form Statistics 22 The 1934 Tatler Name Nickname Hangout Favorite Expression Pastime Burton Whittcy Deephaven oh— Borrowing combs Carpenter Carp. tennis court tsk, tsk ginger cookies Conary Beany music teacher’s Golly radishes dc Laittre • Rozzie Shrews- berry’s oh, is zet so! hiccoughing in Latin and Math. Flannery Dolly the Noonans’ house But don’t you think . . . listening to Earl Burnett Fulton Fulton Kenwood Drug Store pish tush singing in class (Buck Corky her car I’m griped driving Haglin Ginnie Art Room my eye drawing in class Holladay Sal skating rink My cow arguing Ireys Marge basement with the puppies Honestly, Miss Brewer shopping King Bet dentist’s Gosh, I feel silly picture snatching Michclson Marge the Noonans’ H’ya Kid? telephoning Rutherford Put the west you moron giggling Sager Weeza the farm my conscience hair twisting Thrall Kinny Ashville Well, 1 like that! tea Woodrich Pais tennis court Heavens driving The 1934 Tatler 24 The 1934 Tatler What’s in a Name? Twenty years from now we predict these Eighth Form names will: Van Cam pen come over the radio as a substitute for Joe Pcnncr’s. Lucker flash in lights over the entrance of a New York theatre. J. Gluek adorn the cover of best-seller. Mapbs and Wiedemann appear in The Stage as those of best French maids on the American stage. Beckwith be printed in the lower right-hand corner of a picture. Raines stretch across the sports page as that of leading American tennis player. Harper greet us as Guest Artist on a concert program. Hill be signed to articles in the society column. Mills appear over the door of a stable as that of its owner. Schubert and Fleer figure in the society columns, Margaret as constantly traveling hither and yon, May as being the valuable member of committees on this and that. Townsend .be included in the list of inhabitants of California. Atkinson .follow the word President in lists of officers of many organizations. M. J. Gluek and Sandy bring fame to numerous book review magazines by being signed to competent articles. The 1934 Tatler 25 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. Seventh Form Guess Who - - - Tennis is their game................and In sports we always look toward Artistic? Why that’s............... Tiny, but so intelligent ............. Full of the dickens We’ve many good riders that’s very true; but is the best, of course you knew. Florida is all they think of and ......... She’s our class president Harlow has nothing on us for we have two blondes who will compete with her any day and Who is the little brunette we can't keep calm? Who is this pretty young brunette artist? She’s also good at sports (forms our period) Dark, tiny, but not exceedingly quiet The friend of everyone . ... Tiny, sweet, and as an actress she’s superb Another little blonde who can’t lie kept quiet Who is the brunette that will at any time strike up a popular tune on the piano? . She's always the head of everything; yes even when it comes to lisping no one is her equal Do You Give Up? 26 The 1934 Tatler School Calendar, 1933-1934 Thursday, September 14—We all tr x pcd hack to the fold. We were pleasantly welcomed by Miss Spurr. Friday, September 2 —Old Chris' Party for the New. Friday, October 6—Certain of us show off our equestrian ability at the Northrop Horse Show. Thursday, October 12—Columbus Day and a play by members of the Seventh Form. Friday, October 20—To Summit to watch our tennis champions play against theirs. Monday, October 2$—Mary Ellen Chase, author and English teacher at Smith, talked to us. Tuesday, November 2—Mrs. Jean Wittich gave a talk on Women’s Opportunities in Politics, the first of a scries of lectures on vocations for women initiated by Miss Spurr. Thursday, November { —Miss Helen C. Peek told us about Nursing as a Vocation for Women. Friday, November 10—Armistice Day Program. A beautiful Litany, a beautiful reading of two war poems, and a speech, Let Us Have No More War. Wednesday, November 15—B x k Week Program of tableaux of our favorite classics. Thursday, November 16—Miss Perric Jones talked on Library Work as a Profession for Women. Friday, November 17—Miniature School in the afternoon with the parents as pupils. Thursday, November 2$—Dr. Bryn-Jones, who does it better than anyone else, discussed current topics. Friday, November 24—A League Dance so grand we make no comment here hut refer you to the write-up. Wednesday, November —Thanksgiving Program. Monday, December 3—We all returned from our Thanksgiving Holidays some several pounds heavier. Thursday, December 7—Sir Frederick Whyte, the perfect Englishman, discussed England's relations with her colonies. Friday, December 15—Amid carols, stars, and miracles the Christmas Play was given, and we departed for vacation. Wednesday, January 3—We returned to begin the New Year. Friday, January 12—Summit-Northrop volleyball game. Wednesday, January 17— Henry’s Courtship of the Princess Katharine. charmingly adapted from Shakespeare by the Seventh Form. Friday, January 26 - Wednesday, January 31—That b.b.w. E X A M S. Thursday, February 1—Mrs. Bess Wilson spoke on Journalism,—a newspaper woman’s fate being Woman’s Organizations and Society. Thursday, February S—Dr. Bryn-Jones again discussed Current Topics. Monday, February 12—Holiday in honor of Lincoln. The 1934 Tatler 27 Wednesday, February 14—A gala celebration of St. Valentine's Day for the Seventh and Eighth Forms. Thursday, February 15—Two members of the Twin City Opera Association sang a scene from “Martha —“Last Rose of Summer, ct al. Thursday, February 22—Washington's Birthday. Seniors of the History Department “unfroze that great man, anti the Fourth Form, in colonial costume, danced a charming minuet. Friday, March 2—Dr. Robert Leigh told us of Bennington College. Thursday, March S—Dr. Olga Hanson discussed Medicine as a Career for Women. Saturday, March 10—The magnificent and long-awaited performance of The Mikado by the Northrop and Blake Glee Clubs. Wednesday, March 14—A Chemistry Program by the Eleventh Form Chemistry Class (oxygen by courtesy of the Senior Chemistry Class); with an honcst-to-goodness explosion. Thursday, March 15—Mrs. Hazel Lotze Whittaker spoke on Dramatics as a Career for Women. Friday, March 16—Dr. Henry Noble MacCrackcn, president of Vassar College, told us of the Pageant of Learning. The second League Dance, eclipsing the first in stupendousness. Wednesday, March 21—A delightful operetta The Nifty Shoppe, by the entire Eighth Form. Thursday, March 22—Mrs. A. E. Bryngelson spoke on Women’s Chances in Law. Friday, March 2$ - Tuesday, April .3—Easter Vacation. Thursday, April 5—Dr. Raines addressed the School. Friday, April 13—All of us to Summit for two Varsity Basketball games, tea, and a dance (which boasted a Man). Friday, April 19—Dr. Bryn-Joncs on Current Topics. Wednesday, April 25—Two very amusing plays by the Seventh Form, The Three Wishes and The Royal Guest, the latter by Rosemary Campbell. Thursday, April 26—Dr. Raines spoke. Saturday, April 2K—The Dramatic Club plays. Tuesday, May 1—Beautiful Chapel Paneling finished. A Northrop League tribute to Miss Carsc. Wednesday, May 2—We were highly amused by the Latin Classes’ presentation of “Pyramus and Thisbe.” May 17—Field Day. No ice cream cones because of strike. Friday, May 25 - Thursday, May 31st—E X A M S. June 1—The other high spot of a senior’s life—the Junior-Senior. June -1—Senior Chapel and everyone very beautiful in white. The ivy is planted. June 5—Commencement: diplomas, the Seniors in white caps and gowns. 28 The 1934 Tatler The Northrop League Officers Frances Ward -....................President Helen Louise Hayden........ Vice-President Ellen Jane Carleton...............Treasurer Leila Gillis ----------- - Secretary Katherine Dain ------- - Assistant Treasurer Heads of Departments Caroline Brooks................................Head of Athletics Katharine Boynton.......................Head of Artistic Interests Mary Katherine Price.......................Head of Entertainment Betty Carey................................Head of Publications Helen Louise Hayden............................Head of Welfare Artistic Interests THIS year, with the help of Miss Spurr and Mrs. Foulstone, the Northrop Dramatic Club was organized and for the first time, Dramatics took their place as an organized school activity. The club is made up of high-school members, the girls primarily interested in acting, and also those who wish to help with the scenery and costume designing, or who are interested in staging and producing the plays. The interest shown was great (we already have twenty-five members), and we feel sure from its accomplishments so far, that the Northrop Dramatic Club will do great things in the future. This year’s officers included Katharine Boynton, President; Susan Snyder, Secretary and Treasurer, and Barbara O’Brien, Business Manager. Dramatic Club Plays AS its first major accomplishment the Northrop Dramatic Club staged and pro-• duced three one-act plays on the night of April twenty eighth. The first play. Opera Matinee, was a clever sketch depicting various types of women at an afternoon opera, and ending with the mutual recognition of two long-lost sisters, one of whom proved to be a countess. The Birthday of the Infanta, given second, showed how difficult it must have been for a little girl to live up to the task of being the Infanta of Spain, and how she did not understand the broken heart of the little boy who came to dance for her on her birthday. The last play, Everybody’s Husband, was a fantasy in which a girl, on the night before she was to Ik married, dreamed that her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother came to her and told her of the lives they had lived. 30 The 1934 Tatler The Mikado Left to ri ht: George Doi.rr, Susan Wiii i lock, Arthur Smith. Warren Palm, Caroline Brooks. Martha Wright. War rfn Wood rich. Seated: Josirn Clifford. The 1934 Tatler 31 The Mikado WITH all due deference to the genius of Mr. W. S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan, it is, nevertheless, necessary to note here that the most applause given to The Mikado was occasioned by the ad libbing of Joe Clifford. The Mikado was enthusiastically received by all not only for the excellence of the production, but also because we ourselves knew the actors. Caroline Brooks as Ka-tisha gave a masterly performance and was certainly made up to be effectively ugly. Mary Lou Pickett and Schuyler Woodhull, as the lovers, after agreeably putting off the inevitable ending by much enjoyable singing, once more proved that love conquers all. Warren Woodrich, the holder of about fifteen offices (and. incidentally, the beneficiary of as many salaries), and George Doerr, added immeasurably to the success of our play. Susan Whcelock and Martha Wright, the other two-thirds of the three little maids, sang and giggled in a quite professional manner. Arthur Smith as the Mikado was sufficiently majestic to satisfy anyone, and also we commend Warren Palm for his performance as the slave. The combined choruses of Blake and Northrop were quite awe-inspiring, not only in their singing, but also in their appearance. And, last but not least, our thanks to those teachers who, though they do not go in for trailing clouds of glory, really put over our show. All in all it was an excellent | crformance and one of which we arc duly proud. The cast was as follows: Nan (i-Poo. a wandering minstrel Pish-Tush, a noble lord Pooh-Hah. Lord High Everything Else Ko-Ko. Lord High Executioner of Titipu Schuyler Woodhull George Dof.rr Warren Woodrich Joseph Clifford Yum-Yunt, Pitti-Sing, Peep Ho. Three Sisters Wards of Ko-Ko Mary Lou Pickett, Martha Wright, Susan Wheelock Katisha, an elderly lady Caroline Brooks The Mikado ................... Arthur Smith Nehan. an attendant. Warren Palm Chorus of school girls, nobles and guards 32 The 1934 Tatler The 1934 Tatler 33 The Christmas Play BELIEVING no more fitting performance for the Christmas season can be found than the age-old story of the first Christmas Eve, the senior class presented, this year, the beautiful traditional nativity play. The mood of simple reverence is set in the prologue delivered by a cowled monk. Then against a lovely backdrop of the hills of Bethlehem the Angel Gabriel appears first to the wondering shepherds, next to the gorgeously robed kings. He tells of the wondrous thing that has come to pass in the city of David, and urges them all to visit the scene of their Lord's birth. Music sung by the school sustains the mood between the acts. To the soft strains of Holy Night the curtain opens again for the second act, showing the manger where Mary and the Babe are peacefully resting. The shepherds and then the kings enter and in deepest reverence present their gifts to this, their King. Mary rises and gives them her beautiful benediction, and as the curtain closes, naught but the spirit of love remains, for at the command of Angel Gabriel, the (light into Egypt has already begun. We wish to thank Miss Cotton for arranging and aiding with the music, and Mrs. Foulstone for her tireless clTorts to make us somewhat worthy to present this beautiful play. THE CAST Prologue and Epilogue Mary Joseph Abel . Gabriel Katharine Boynton Martha Bagley Frances Wari� Harriot Carpenter Betty Oakes Three Kings— Betty Carey, Mary Katherine Price, Helen Louise Hayden Shepherds— Susan Wheelock, Martha Wright, Mary Malcomson, Caroline Brooks, Sally Cowin, Dolly Conary, Patricia Dal-rymple 34 The 1934 Tatler Welfare THE welfare work of this year’s committee began in November with the Community Fund Drive. To this fund the girls and teachers pledged $262.65. This was followed by our Thanksgiving program, a ceremony in which the whole school took part. Led by the Second Form in Puritan costume, the students moved in procession through the Chapel and placed upon tables on the stage their contributions of fruits, vegetables, and many kinds of canned goods. These gifts were divided among the Northeast Neighborhood House, the Children's Protective Society, and a family in whom the sch(x l is interested. Throughout the year the committee has filled various needs—contributing shoes to one needy family, and clothes and bedding to another whose possessions had been destroyed when their house burned. At Christmas time the Welfare Fund gave money to the Northeast Neighborhood House and to the Family Welfare Toy Shops. Toys brought by all classes were wrapped in gaily colored Christmas wrappings by the Seventh Form, and then sent to the different settlement houses of the city. We of the Welfare Committee have enjoyed our work, and only wish that we could have done more. THE CO MM1TTEE Helen Louise Hayden.........................Chairman Dolly Margaret Con ary Marilyn Gluek Nancy Lou Mackall Josephine Harper Sara Lee Fletcher Adelaide Ward Miss Pease...........................Faculty Adviser High School Sports THE opening event in the athletic season was, as usual, the horseshow, judged this year by Miss Dalton, who has since entered Northrop in the capacity of gym instructor, Mr. Charles Guyer, and Mrs. Simmons. The program, including classes for even the youngest girls, went olT in a cloud of dust, while proud parents and teachers watched the contests, and the girls ran wildly about, patting poor, patient horses. The winner in the lower school equestrienne class was Mary Davis; in the junior equestrienne class, Phyllis Beckwith; in the beginners class, Mary Jane Hcffclfingcr; in the thrcc-gaitcd class, Ann Pcr-Lce; in the senior equestrienne class, again Ann Per-Lee; in the bare-back class, Betty Carey; and in the pair class, Elizabeth Holmbcrg and Betty Carey. Following the show, tea was served at the school. Although the competition was so intense in the hockey season that a new system for determining the championship had to be established, the Seniors emerged, after a struggle, victorious. The various scores tell the story concisely; Seniors vs. Freshmen, .5-0; Seniors vs. Sophomores, 3-1; Juniors vs. Freshmen, 3-2; Juniors vs. Sophomores, 2-2; Freshmen vs. Sophomores, 4-2; Seniors vs. Juniors, 0-0. Our first competition with Summit was in the form of tennis doubles. Judy Corning and Bonnie F � bes, Junior defendants from Summit, were placed against Susan Snyder and Caroline Brooks, our finalists. The match was played off practically point for point and game for game, with a final score of 3-6, 6-4, 6-4, in favor of Northrop. We repeated the victory (or rather our demon Freshmen repeated it for us) the next time we met Summit, in a volleyball game this time. Both the first and second teams of the two schools played three games. The results were: for the first teams, 19-5, 33-15, 27-8, all in favor of Northrop; for the second teams 33-15, Northrop’s game, 15-13 Summit’s game, and 15-15, a tic. We give special thanks to the Freshmen. We were not so lucky at basketball, in which the Summit girls beat our first team and lost to our second. In the school competition the Seniors were triumphant, the Sophomores in second place. Now as I he I Jtier goes to press we arc I x king forward to a private track meet, a tennis singles game with Summit, and a great variety of after-school sports. On the whole, a gtxxl year, with the new innovation of intcrschtxd games, has been provided for us by Caroline Brooks, her board. Miss Erikson. and Miss Dalton. The 1934 Tatler 37 School Parties THIi first party of the year was the Old Girls’ Party for the New. This year dinner was served at the school, and a great success it was. It opened with a delightful speech by Miss Spurr over Station N. C. S. and ended with impromptu singing. After dinner and an interval of dancing we were given stunts in the auditorium. First came the Freshman contribution to the N. C. S. radio program,—a clever musical arrangement of the “Big Bad Wolf, followed by an episode in the lives of the popular Tim and Tina. The Sophomores gave us the inside story of a Time broadcast, complete with musical interludes and sound effects. In the Faculty broadcast. Miss Duncan, as Kate Smith, sang Moon Song and became the hit of the evening. Then the Faculty gave us, again with sound effects, the touching drama of Nelly the Nitwit of Northrop and Billy the Beau of Blake. The Junior stunt was broadcasted l chind a white screen, giving us the silhouettes of the players. Aimec Semple McPherson, the Mills Brothers, Garbo, Burns and Allen, were among the stars. In the Senior stunt we learned how one girl's life was made happy by Kissproof lipstick, heard the Boswell sisters sing and giggle Under a Blanket of Bine, and were amused by another George Burns and Gracie Allen. On her departure each girl was presented with a lolly pop, through the courtesy of the station. In conclusion the Entertainment Committee wishes to thank Miss Pease and Miss Wilson for the music, and Miss Spurr and the Faculty for helping to make this a most enjoyable evening. The League Dances THE two League dances this year have been unusually g x d—even allowing for the natural prejudice of the guests. The first was held in November. As an innovation this year, the Freshmen were invited. The Spring Dance, in March, was decorated in a green and white motif. Even the blizzard which appeared on that evening did not interfere with the spring-like effect of our new chiffons and prints. As a surprise we were entertained with a floor show, consisting of some very clever tap-dancing. 38 The 1934 Tatler Forms 1, II, III, IV, and V The 1934 Tatler 39 In Defense of Gas Lighting THE fact that one has barely seventeen years over which to reminisce naturally limits the choice of experience. This same lack of longevity, however, serves to intensify the few but definite impressions you have of that no-so-distant period of your childhood. One instance that I can remember with an astonishing clarity is the nightly visit of the lamplighter, who used to come by with his long stick which served to transplant from lamp to lamp little tufts of yellow flame. I, with my doll for company, sat in the nursery window waiting for the return of our mutual friend. He was in my eyes a sort of hero, who dared the darkness and shadows to illuminate for later passers-by the really quite respectable neighborhood of Lake of the Isles. That this territory lacked any of the romantic and fearful dangers 1 had endowed it with never entered my head. I can remember wondering what this paragon of the manly virtues did all day; but this problem was displaced in my youthful brain by that still more pressing question of who put the lamps out. This was much more fun to imagine: one could tell oneself and one’s doll about a vague yet nevertheless terrifying creature who with a great, black velvety band snulTcd out each night when everyone was asleep all the beacons our friend the lamplighter had lighted for us. We, however, were rather grateful to this monster because if he had been non-existent, there would have been no reason for our friend to come around each evening. So, if for no other reason than my appreciation of the lamplighter, I am eligible for that grand and glorious society—the boosters of the good old days.” Sally Cowin, Form XII. Butterfly IF hat do you thinly about all day As you move about my garden— A bright bit of calico Or soft blue satin? Do you thinly of the high winds of the sea, The orange blossoms in Japan. Or just of my tiny garden As you drift from flower to flower? Patricia Dalrymple, Form XII. Alone ITS a spring night, and, though my conscience says I shouldn’t for there’s studying to be done, my legs arc stronger, and they lead me out into the sheltering darkness, where strange scents and sounds greet me, as they have done for many springs past. Soon 1 find myself on a hill, the hill where I slid all last winter; but it seems different now,—enchanted. It is remote, and I fling myself on its robe of grass, breathing in the fresh fragrance of the warm earth, and completely free in a world of my own, a sacred world,—my own. The sky is a soft, deep, blue, like joy and happiness. There are stars there, too, myriads of them, hard and cold and bright, but somehow the sky is always in the background. It’s comforting out here, and entrancing, like fairy-land. I can’t think, but I just feel. Feel the desire to write poetry, lots of poetry, about all the little things I’m seeing and hearing: the two tall trees like sentinels above me; the dark earth beneath; the twinkling, tempting stars; the little blades of grass, bowing at my slightest movement, like slaves to a queen; the chirping of the few early crickets; the hum of the other world in the distance. 1 feel as if I wanted to dance—to dance all the things I feel within me: rapture, joy, love, peace, and a thousand other emotions never adequately expressed by the use of mere words. But I can’t write poetry; I can’t dance. I just lie close to the welcoming breast of the earth,—feeling, forgetting, living,—alone. Louise Thompson-, Form XI. 1934 Scenery The banging rhythm. Syncopated rhyme. The city's melody— Played by time. Dirty streets and byways Garbage by broken stairs Smo (e clouds, cinder flurries, Moth-dimmed lights, opium lairs. Cool silver-dipped willows, Swaying wheat in the wind: Cows graze in the sweet clover. The racking tune is dimmed. Country lanes, untrespassed land. Blinking orbs, moonlit ponds, Wind swept lawns, fading blossoms. Beyond the city, way beyond. Corinne Thrai.l, Form IX. The 1934 Tatler 41 Roofs WHEN someone mentions a roof you immediately think of either a long sloping, shingled space covering a house or a pebbled, stony stretch on top of a building. To you this probably doesn’t suggest anything very enjoyable, but it brings to my mind the most peaceful and understanding place in the world. When I say understanding, you probably think I’m mad, but you’ll soon find it’s true. All pieces of furniture try to make you something you aren’t. A bet! tries to portray you as a lazy, good-for-nothing, who never docs anything but sleep; a couch tries to make you into a languid, self-conscious person; and a chair to make you appear curled up and kittenish. Even the floor wants to change you into a dirty, messy person. But a r x f never docs any of these things. It merely opens its arms and welcomes you in just as you are, without trying to make you over. No matter what mood you’re in, a roof is bound to help. When you’re in a sad, blue mood the roof seems to mock you as you appear with a long face, and if you have a smile on your face, it seems fairly to laugh with you. In winter, you take a rain-coat and three pillows, and trudge your way to the rcx)f. (You certainly must have, if you search long enough, a flat space on your roof, and if you haven’t, a slanted one will do just as well.) When you reach this spot, you spread out the raincoat, lay the pillows on it and then proceed to lie down. Of course you must remember to wear a heavy coat. When you arc settled, you can lay your head back on one of the pillows and think. The roof is the one place where you can be alone, with no people running around and no telephones ringing. Sometimes the snow will begin to fall lightly and blur your sight. You can then close your eyes and lie there feeling the soft fluff of the snowflakes as they fall icily on your face. Fulling your coat up close around your cars, you could easily go to sleep. In the summer it is quite a different thing. You don a bathing suit, take along a blanket, and again find your way to the roof. In summer it is warm and pleasant, and the chimney is so hot that it is fairly cracked into a smile. You spread out your blanket so that the sun-baked roof won’t burn your skin, and lie down. Again you arc alone, but this time under a blue, blue sky filled with white clouds and sun. As you gaze at the clouds you feel as though the roof were holding you out in its arms and presenting you, as its gift to Heaven. Wr.ip| cd in these surroundings you may go to sleep and wake up to the dull thud of rain. You lie still for a while, allowing yourself to become drenched, and then you go below, a cheerful, happy person, having once more been comforted. All through this theme 1 have been accenting the point of being alone, but this winter my experience has been different. On the roof at 510 Grovcland lives a bcdranglcd little Scottish terrier puppy. Although he was somewhat mean at first, we soon became great friends; and every time I went up on the roof this winter I was sure of two people’s friendship: the puppy’s, with his load of licks, and the roofs. Mary Ansa Nash, Form X. Fama TROJAN Aeneas, homeless wanderer after the capture of Troy by the Greeks, was destined by fate to found the city of Rome. Storm-swept from his course on his voyage to Italy, he has lingered during the winter in Carthage with Dido, the queen. The rumor spreads that Dido and Aeneas held by unworthy passion for each other are both forgetful of their kingdoms and appointed tasks. {Translated from The Aeneid, Boof( IV) Gossip now Hies through stately Nubian towns, Gossip than which no other evil flies More quickly on. Tis she who feeds and grows On progress swift and adds fresh strength by flight. At first quite small is she in her great fear; Then suddenly erect she rises in The air, until at length with feet upon The ground, so huge has she become, she rears Her head among the clouds. ’Tis said Earth is Her mother, who when much incensed with hot Resentment of the gods, did bear her last, The sister of a mighty giant race; A monster huge and horrible, most swift Of foot, with very agile wing, who has An eye ’neath every feather, an cvcr-Wakcful eye, most marvelous to relate. A many-tongued monster, too, is she, With many a bubbling mouth; and she doth prick Full many an car. At night she rustling flies Between high heaven and earth’s midspacc among The shadows there. Nor docs she deign her eyes To close in sweet repose by day, but rather She takes her stand as might a sentinel Upon some housetop or a turret’s height; And holding to her purpose, first she then Spreads terror throughout all the stately towns. With vain imaginings this Gossip cries Her false and gross perversions of the truth. Katharine Boynton, Form XII. Through the Eyes of a Child OF the many faces peering out at me as I turned the pages of our family album, there was none which made such a vivid impression upon me as the picture of one old man. “He's your great uncle,” Mother said. 1 shuddered to think that I could be a descendant of such an ugly old fellow as this; it was enough to make anyone worry. He ltKtked like a typical old-fashioned villain with his huge mustache, like a black streak extending from one side of his face to the other. Perhaps he was Simon Lcgrcc, who whipped Uncle Tom. He looked cruel, his eyes squinting at me from between narrowed lids. They frightened me; and for a moment 1 forgot that 1 was looking at a picture, and stood dumb with terror. His round heavy stomach, which bulged so that he was able to fasten only the top button of his coat, reminded me of a blown-up balloon. His side-burns were so thick that they gave the appearance of a boli, his ears peeping out from behind them. Several spectacular ornaments decorated his person. I was sure he must have stolen the enormous ring which nestled in the fat of his sausage-like finger, and that heavy gold watch chain stretched across his wide waist line. I also wondered if that was his own tooth which hung from the chain like a charm. Sometimes at night he would appear before my eyes, no matter how much I tried to forget him. He’s dead, I’d tell myself. He's been dead for years and years. You don't have to be afraid of him. But that didn’t do any good; it only made things worse, for I imagined him lifting up his heavy gray tombstone and coming from his cold damp grave into my room. Sometimes I felt that he was hiding under my bed. 1 knew that if 1 put my feet down on the flexir he would grab them. There on my bed I lay marooned, surrounded by a sea of imagination. Only yesterday 1 saw the album again. There was the same old great, great uncle. But he was not the same, although he had not lost any weight, (his coat would not come together), his side burns were just as thick and bristly, and his eyes as narrow. But he seemed different, for that remembered look of evil and cruelty was gone. 1 laughed as I looked at the picture. How could this meek man of the past have frightened me so much? He looked so shy, so timid, so uncomfortable in his Sunday clothes. Mary Gluek McDonald, Form XI. Return of a Native THERE comes a time in the life of every one when he must get away from it all. If one happens to be of an adventurous turn of mind, there's always the Foreign Legion (twenty million moving pictures can’t Ik wrong). That’s the hard way, though, and it leaves Hawaii, the easy way. According to the best authorities, one g � cs there on a boat, one has a wonderful shipboard romance, one wins first prize for the most original costume on the last night, and one docks in a blaze of glory, a blaze of natives, and other blazes common to the place. Immediately one is so covered with flowers that the simple art of breathing is next to impossible. This is known as “native hospitality. After eating one’s way for two hours through a solid mass of lei, poi, hoi-polloi, etc., one secs one’s first palm tree, in fact, one’s first row of palm trees. Under each tree reclines a very tanned, very strong-faced, very white-shirted young man, each being entertained by native maidens in grass skirts exactly twelve inches from the ground, with identical wreaths of flowers around their necks, all equipped with flashing, Ipana smiles. Such a musical race! They are all playing on guitars, Aloha”: Hello” or “Goodbye” depending on whether a f oat is landing or departing. This all goes on for hours, as do coral strands, native boys performing their time-honored tricks (i.c., diving for coins), and old men (all ancient Polynesian Chiefs, at least) with the well-publicized toothless grin common to the species. After weeks and weeks of this so-called tropical heaven, there comes another time in the life of the weary traveler when another change is necessary. This is known variously as back to (1) the old grind, (2) the land of the brave and the free, (3) the home of the hot dog. Have you ever noticed it? One always comes back! Joan Dorsey, Form XII. Thk 1934 Tatler 45 Problems AS almost everyone has discovered (If you arc still too young and haven't, don’t L let it worry you because you will learn all too soon anyway) there arc problems and problems, but there are none which can compare with those you come upon, or rather those which come u|M n you, in Mathematics and which require more than a Sherlock Holmes to solve. They arc probably the most baffling, impossible, and unforgettable of all types. Whether it's trying to factor an unfavorable expression such as 13 305 n -6,521 n y- y “ - z minus a few other unwieldy numbers, or trying to juggle fractions, you are bound to forget a rule or so which you were warned to remember not to forget. This throws you into a state of total confusion. Another problem which is famous for getting people down is the enigma that young mathematicians have been trying for centuries to solve,—that type which reads something like this: If A starts from “x” at almost anytime and “IV” starts from “y at almost any other time, when will they meet (where and why?)? And you may add what will they think? What will they say? What will they do? (If you are subject to headaches, for heaven’s sake don’t try to work this problem.) From the first moment when we delve into our Algebra books, the practical values of the subject are impressed on us. We may not agree, but think how disconcerting and how embarrassing it would be if someone should rush up to you on the street and ask you to solve such a problem. Peculiar situations often arise, and it is always best to be prepared. In fact, no day would be quite complete without the two or three matters for thought and consideration that arc doomed to arise. For instance, having a piece of work to be done, you hire two men and want to figure how many weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds of work you must pay them for. Let us for convenience call them Mr. Stout and Mr. Thin. (Don’t let this influence or confuse you in working the problem.) Mr. Stout can dig a ditch three feet long, three times as wide, and indefinitely deep, in a week. Mr. Thin can dig one in an hour if he has to. How long will it take them to put the dirt back into the hole if they work together? First you must set up an equation. It is advisable and safer to use one in two or more unknowns, but any kind will do, because ten times out of ten. you will be wrong anyway. Then you must solve and compare your answer with a classmate. (Preferably a smart one.) You will never know until you’ve tried, what great satisfaction follows the successful accomplishment of one of these brain teasers, not because you arc enlightened in the least or even realize what you have done, but rather because you too have had a whack at a problem which has been taught and discussed (and 1 might even add cussed) in schools throughout the world. Frances Ward, Form XII. Observer No. 319 [Thursday, November 2, 1933. Carey] ( With Apologies to Addison) I WAS day before yesterday engaged in the observation of a motion picture, which had as its main purpose the portrayal of fascinating womanhood, there being no particular plot. At this entertainment I made several wonderful discoveries on the subject, which, undoubtedly, I should not have been able to make bail it not been for {assessing a very open mind. The different opinions which this amusement aroused in me presented to my imagination many new ideas and gave birth to a wild extravagant dream, embodying all the knowledge of feminine allure which 1 have ever procured from the movies. Night before last, methought, I was awakened by a voice sobbing in broad Scan-dinavian-English, “I tank 1 go home now,” and upon silting up in bed I observed a tall, mysterious girl with her golden hair brushed back, her angular features emphasized by the iruxmlight, walking off the screen mumbling all the while with her obvious accent and bass voice. In her place sat, one leg sprawled over the arm of the chair, another inscrutable blond, dressed modishly in men’s clothes, who discreetly pronounced with German intonation, “It took more than one man to give me the name of ‘Shanghai Lily’.” Opposite her sat a cute young thing with black, bobbed hair who affectedly chortled in an acquired French accent, “The cute lcctlc theengs you do-do-do! as a perfectly appropriate answer to our friend Marlene; while another baby-doll lisped something about “Hot pepper’’ as a hint of the Spanish. Perhaps one of the most distinctive features of each of these prima donnas, besides her mystery, was the meaningless theme phrase with the accent. Presently a whole parade of girls approached, some with noses wiggling like rabbits to register emotion, some with eyes wide with terror or slyly askance with coyness, others grinning like Pepsodent advertisements, all dressed in bathing suits, backless formals, or in those dear, little, too-tightly-fittcd, street dresses. The next scene was a “talkie.” A representative from the parade c x� cd sweetly to her escort, Oh, let’s talk about us, lowered her lashes, and sprawled on a sofa. After a few moments she slipped childishly to the floor anti gazed adoringly at her admirer, who had taken a scat. Tiring of this, she went to the piano and leaned her back against it, protruding her chest with her head tilted back. This was too much of a nightmare. Happily, I guess, the next actress was on the screen. Here was something different. She came mincing on in a “Gay Ninety” dress from which she unfortunately bulged. She flung over her shoulder with strained effort in a hard guttcral voice. “Why doncha—com’—upnscemc—som’—tim’—?’’ At this point I awakened myself screaming. When I think how young girls arc influenced by the actions of their elders, I look upon them with pity. What improvements would be an apt girl make, who is so susceptible to what she secs, were she guided by such examples as have a tendency to enlighten rather than lower the understanding! This is a subject which demands consideration. Bf.tty Carey, Form XII. The 1934 Tatler 47 Keeping Up Appearances NO man could ever realize the endless torture a woman goes through to keep up her appearance. I for one, am not so particular as most girls my age. If my hair comes uncurled before the end of the week I just leave it, and hope 1 have a tolerant person sitting behind me in school. I think I am considered very shiftless, for most of my friends take it as a matter of course that since their sex is female, they can sleep only one night a week. For if any one has tried to sleep with twenty tin curlers sticking into her at every angle she will realize how impossible it is even to think of rest. The night these beauty seekers choose for peaceful repose depends entirely upon the day they have made their appointment with the hairdresser. Another major worry is eyelashes. Without long curly eyelashes it is impossible even to think of that thing called sex appeal. Unfortunately I have been forbidden to use mascara; therefore it is impossible for me to obtain the desired effect. One of the reasons a sad movie is so distasteful to the modern girl is the fact that if her eyelashes should get wet the long hours of toil would be wasted. Wearing shoes three sizes too small for me is one of the many things I find im-|X)ssible to do. The other day I was with one of my friends who was buying a pair of shoes. Knowing perfectly well she nx k a seven and a half, she said, Bring out a five, please.” The clerk suppressed a smile and came back with a six, saying he was sorry but he didn’t believe there were any fives in stock just then. Trying the six on, she hobbled painfully around for a while and then said, “I don’t like the looks of the shoe. I believe I will try some other place. These beauty seekers arc in a class of their own, and although they always look snappy to the last degree, I don’t believe they get the most out of life. Jane Seybold, Form X. 48 The 1934 Tatler My Journey to the Operating Room “ITT will be all over in just a little while, said the nurse as she slipped the hideous iwoolen nightgown over my head, and put the scratchy woolen stockings on my feet. They were preparing me for an appendix operation, and every time 1 thought about it I would turn first hot and then cold. “This won't hurt you any more than a pin prick,” was the nurse’s next remark, as she jabbed a long needle into my arm. Next they lifted me on a high, narrow cart covered with an ugly brown blanket, placing one like it over me, and off I went down the ball. I tried once to lift my head to see something of where 1 was going as they walked along, but I didn’t try again for fear I should fall off. I felt almost like a fly on the ceiling as I looked at the people around me in the elevator. I had an upside-down feeling. The next moment I was in a large, white room with many windows and bright lights. It seemed full of white-capped, aproned nurses with masks over their faces. They whisked me from the cart to a white padded table and strapped me down. 1 certainly felt small and helpless, more like a fly than ever, only this time caught on fly paper. “Now take a deep breath. said a voice behind me, as a big red cone was clamped down over my nose. The lights began to get dimmer, and the voices farther and farther away. The next moment, as far as I know, I was back in the room where I had started my journey. I seemed to be full of ether from head to toes, and it was days before I lost that feeling. Even now as I write this I imagine I can smell it. Pegcy Rutherford, Form IX. New York Smol eslarl ened s!{y Pierced by slender, stone needles— Light-brightened night, Drab Broadway glorified by electricity. Nancy Humphrey, Form XI. Hurry Honl(s— Clamor— Scraping of gears— Harsh cries of newsboys— Stop signs Now red, now green; Now stop, now go. Hurry! Hurry! Nancy Humphrey, Form XI. The Native’s Return The 1934 Tatler 49 IT was a rather chilly day for Jamaica, yet Lord Haggis descended from his ship without the overcoat or hat that usually attend such excursions. He swung along easily, choosing the less frequented paths and plainly enjoying his outing after so many days at sea. Objects completely overlooked by a more casual observer attracted and held his interest. With that careless disregard for time which so few seem to possess in the world of today, he wandered about town, totally ignorant of the fact that the ship had weighed anchor a scant two hours after it had entered the harbor. When Lord Haggis did return, you can imagine his surprise to find only a vast expanse of water that was slowly turning grey as the sun set behind the town. Lord Haggis regarded the desolate scene for a moment and then philosophically turned to make his way back toward town. Perhaps it was because he was short of funds, or it may be that he was simply of an eccentric nature, but he chose to spend the night out of doors, making no effort at all to find lodgings. The next morning he procured food at some unostentatious and out-of-the-way place. Afterwards he set out to walk to the next seaport, where, with any luck at all, the ship would dock in about a month. Sometimes walking by day, sometime by night, he proceeded on his way, always choosing the most direct route to his destination. And all the time that he walked, no person was so thoughtful as to offer him a ride. It probably would have surprised many to know that the dusty figure they saw trudging along bore the title of Lord. About twenty-eight days after Lord Haggis had last seen his ship, he limped wearily into his destination. He made his way to the dock and there sat down to rest. The seamen loitering about may have seen him come and sit down, but they ignored him completely; so p x r Lord Haggis watched and waited silently, a lonely, worn-out figure. No ship glided unobtrusively into sight that day or the next, and on the third day Lord Haggis became a bit uneasy. But sharp at noon, smoke appeared on the horizon, and in the afternoon the ship docked. It was his ship. With an actual leap Lord Haggis gained his feet and, as soon as the gang-plank was lowered, rushed to the ship’s deck. For a moment no one recognized him, for his apearance was most disgraceful, and in the month that had elapsed he had grown quite gaunt. Then they knew him, and with a shout he was welcomed back in a manner commensurate with his prodigous efforts to regain his ship. Later the following headline appeared in a New York paper: Deserted Cat Walks 29 Miles to Rejoin Ship, Sailors Declare Helen Louise Hayden, Form XII. Room — No Board 50 The 1934 Tatler YOUR friend knocks at the massive front door of the huge old mansion which now houses, on its first floor, the studio of a commercial photographer, as three or four large signs indicate to the passers-by. The photographer himself answers the knock. “Is Mr. Harris in? your friend asks. The photographer gestures for you both to step inside. Closing the door, he informs you that Mr. Harris is out but will be back shortly. In the meantime you may go up to his room and wait. Together you climb the wide, old stairway, open the door at the head of the stairs, and enter. But you pause at the threshold. “Now this is a strange room, you say to yourself. “And what a strange sort of man must Mr. Harris be. ’ The room itself is large—about thirty feet square, one would judge. But what immediately impresses you arc the books. Books, books arc everywhere. Big cases that tower to the high ceiling are packed full of books. Books piled in corners, cascading from chairs. The two of you close the door, walk into the middle of the room and stand there, staring about. The east wall is occupied by a well-proportioned fireplace, framed in marble, with a narrow teak mantle. Flanking the fireplace are the two largest bookcases, made of natural pine which has been rubbed with oil. The case on the left apparently contains fiction; that on the right has volumes of poetry on its upper shelves, volumes of essays below. Over the fireplace hangs a rare, faded piece of thin tapestry, depicting an old English landscape. Fastened to this tapestry, with its two sticks of feet resting on the mantle, is a queer little doll with quaintly painted face and paper dress. “A Mexican idol, your friend explains. The south wall is almost entirely taken up with four huge windows hung with heavy orange curtains, which arc pulled aside to permit the late afternoon sun to stream into the room. Before these windows stands a massive smooth pine table, and playing over the surface arc the inevitable books, this time scattered in among ten or so current magazines. You notice the green cover of the American Mercury, the yellow of Harpers, and a new magazine which you have not seen before, one called the New Masses, with a heavy stark cartoon in black and white on the front cover. One of the books on this table commands your attention. It is a large book, larger than you had imagined books were made; it measures two feet by fifteen inches, and has inlaid wooden covers. It is a Brcntano edition of Walt Whitman’s leaves of Grass. Idly you open it and turn the coarse creamy pages, seeking the poem, “When Lilacs Last in the I x ryard Bloomed. Also on the table are a half-dozen ash trays of orange Italian pottery and several curious cigarette boxes of metal and wood. Your friend opens one, takes up a cigarette, lights it, and together you continue the inspection. For the first time now, one notices that the walls arc paneled with tcakwood from floor to ceiling. Against this third wall, in fact almost covering it, is an immense desk, fashioned of smcx th pine which has yet to be stained or painted. Only half the fixtures are on, and these arc made of brass. The piece is obviously a made-to-order desk, and one that is not yet finished. At the back arc compartments and shelves, filled with papers, pamphlets, and—lxx ks. You make out a dictionary, a The 1934 Tatler 51 Thesaurus, and Mencken's The American Language. Before you on the desk is a rcd-cnamclcd portable typewriter, sitting in its open fabricoid case. A slip of paper is in the machine, half-typed. Stealing a glance at the contents, you make it out to be a book-review, a paper written on a novel called Yorna of which you have no knowledge. On the fourth wall—that is, to the north—there is a built-in wardrobe extending from the corner to the door through which you first entered. Through the open doors can be seen five mannish coats: a camel’s hair, a formal black overcoat, a heavy tweed ulster, a military-appearing raincoat, and a soft gray topcoat. On a shelf above these garments arc half a dozen hats and several caps. The tour of the room is completed. Looking at your watch, you cross to the middle of the room and sink down into a low davenport facing the fireplace. Now you notice some things that you have missed. There arc eight photographs scattered about, all of them signed, probably addressed to Mr. Harris. The faces in these photographs are those of interesting people, unusual men and women. There is not a common face among them. On a little table at your side, a table with a colored marble top, lies a cigarette box of copper, a tall lighter and a lxx k covered with some foreign-looking material. You pick it up and handle it. Against the Grain—Huysmans—bound with human skin,” your friend informs you. Hurriedly the volume is dropped. On the floor near you is a tall dark drum, primitively made. Across the tight face of the skin there rests a knobbed stick. Because there is nothing else to do, you reach over, lift the stick, and let it fall on the drumhead. A heavy dull boom results. Immediately the door is opened and a gcx d-looking uniformed Filipino boy bows in. “Pardon me, madam, I thought Mr. Harris—Your friend smiles and dismisses him. Suddenly you glance at your watch again, and rise. For some strange reason, you no longer have a desire to meet Mr. Harris—at least not just now. Curiously, you feel as though you knew the man intimately, just because you have seen his room. You feel that you would know him instantly, even though you have yet to lay eyes on him. You suggest to your friend that Mr. Harris will not come in, possibly for hours. Protestingly she follows you from the room. Together you descend the stairs. The photographer bows you out of the house. “It's a shame, Barbara, that we couldn’t stay,” says your friend. “I wanted you to know Mr. Harris. He is a sort of cousin of yours, you know, and I think you would find him most interesting.” Barbara O’Brien, Form XI. 52 The 1934 Tatler Sissies THEY told me all girls were “sissies,” but rightly they called me the “tom-boy of the neighborhood. I lirmly denounced the idea that there was any clement of feminity in me. Moreover, considering myself above the idea of running home with bruises and hurt feelings, I did not associate with girls, that is, with the exception of two. The first qualified because she wore socks all winter. The other was called “Fat. It probably was on account of her extreme size that she was able to keep up with us. We three and our preferred companions used to take precarious rides on icc wagons, play “follow-thc-lcadcr from one garage roof to another, and have daily baseball games in the street. Might I add that all this was usually done without any parental knowledge? One of my best-loved pleasures, that is, during the spring of the year when the icc was melting rapidly in the streets, was sailing boats down muddy gutters, which were to us swirling pools and rushing rapids of great water power. Our tiny ships would whirl to the hidden falls around the corner, where we would sadly lose them forever to the jaws of the unconqucrcd sewer. Wonderful boats, rivers, ships, and falls they were to me. I was just as excited in sailing my smooth little chip of wood as my great-great-grandfather was in sailing his flat-boat down the Mississippi. If I only had a little twig, I was the Eskimo of a foreign land sailing my kayak between the high, icy banks on great seas tormented by the devastating icc floes. We, too, had mighty races as g x d as any crew, although occasionally we found some prodding or disentangling necessary. Such arguments as arose about the fairness or the victor of the race were always settled in our “neighborly” fashion. Now I find that my pleasures at the age of seventeen arc not those of seven. I do enjoy playing with girls. I keep the hands clean that once used to make mud-pies and sail boats in gutters. But I am not sissy enough to scoff at my childhood enthusiasm and independence. Caroline Brooks, Form XII. The Rain FITTER, patter goes the rain, on my window-panes, as I lie in my bed. The wind howls around the chimney, and gushes with great force down the fireplace. It sounds somewhat like the howl of the cat that I read about in a murder story. The floor creaks because of the moisture, and the logs crackle in the coals and red embers. The thunder is like the rolling wheels of a train, as it becomes louder, but it sounds like the rumbling of a cannon far off, as it becomes softer. The sound of the waves on the shore reaches my cars, and I hear them swish around the boat and come rushing in. I also can hear the lashing of the trees, the rustling of the leaves that were dashed to the ground, and the breaking of the branches. The rain comes down hard on our slate roof, and it p The 1934 Tatler 53 makes a wearing beating. Suddenly I hear the pit, pat of rain on my dresser. This constant tinglings is so monotonous that it lulls me to sleep. 1 wake up again to the distant rumble of thunder and hear only the wind whispering through the trees. The storm is over, and the rain is satisfied, for it has quenched the thirst of all God’s plants and animals. Rose Raines, Form VIII. Approach of Storm A gray-green s{y, A sharp-etched pine, Above, one still, clear star, A dus (y silence over all, Then a rumble rolled from afar. A soft, faint breeze. In the sighing pine, A faint rush through the grass. Then silence once again Till another wind did pass. Deep clouds of blacl{ At the skyline's rim. An onslaught wild of wind, A jagged burning flash, And a crash of thunder dinned. Harriot Olivia Carpenter, Form XII. 54 The 1934 Tatler Walking Around the Lake JUST lately my family objected to the small amount of outdoor exercise 1 have been getting; so a few of my friends and I started out on a health campaign. (It lasted only a week because one of these companions has a sore throat and the other a cold.) In the afternoons not only did we have orange juice instead of malted milks at the drug store, but instead of sitting around inside, we walked around the lake. This is really a very entertaining way to spend the afternoon. We usually start out accompanied by our own dogs, but halfway around we have three or four more added to our troupe. By the time we get home, a herd of them is milling around us. There is one mountainous St. Bernard with hanging jowls and deep sorrowful eyes that is a regular companion. Then there is the little dog, supposedly white, that runs through a mud puddle in his haste to reach you and covers you with muddy embraces when he arrives. The people that we meet on the way are no less interesting than the dogs, although the dogs arc more friendly. Sometimes there is an elderly lady with a tiny dog on a leash, that keeps her up to a smart pace, or a group of girls in high heels all huddled up together engaged in deep conversation. There is always the portly gentleman with the cane who breathes the fresh air deeply (and feels like a young athlete), or the woman in tweeds with the long stride. There is never a walk without a continuous stream of small boys on bikes who pass you with wild yells and miss you by a fraction of an inch. To these small boys I am probably just one more obstacle on an otherwise beautifully free runway. And to my fellow walkers 1 am no doubt just a girl in blue serge jumper and French blue shirt, not the master observer deftly cataloguing them as types. Katherine Da in, form X. After Three-Twenty “1' 1TURRY up! The bell rang ages ago. We've got to catch a ride to the carlinc. J[ ]|‘‘Don't wait for me. Miss told me I’d have to stay after school ant finish a Latin translation. Well, I've got to go. Should l c at the Dentist's ollicc now! So long. Holding my hands over my ears I dutifully bent over my troublesome Latin book. Why was hostis in the ablative case when it was the subject of the clause? “Say, have you seen Jean?” No! 1 answered briefly and once more resumed my task. Hostis couldn’t be the ablative of means because—oh well, what was the use in trying to concentrate when people were running around, yelling at each other? After the last girl had grablied her coat and b x k hag and banged out the door, 1 heaved a sigh of relief. Peace—but only for a second. The schoolroom door was flung open. The 1934 Tatler 55 “There’s a note for you down in the office, and Miss said for you to stop and get a package too. “Thanks. Oh wait! In the third sentence, how do you translate hoslis?” But the girl had already disappeared. At last I was alone. Nevertheless the noise in the hall was too distracting for me even to think of studying. I think it’s a darn swindle. Cutting out our only study period for that nutty—” “Oh, well. You should kick. Our assignments take at least an hour each. Wait till you get in the ninth grade and you’ll know what hard work really is!’’ “Did she really ditch him? You wouldn’t think she would be the type to tell a boy where to get oft at. “Hey, Nancy! Wait! If you’re going up the back hill, I’ll walk with you. “Gosh, but that’s an adorable hat! Where in the world did you get it? I’ve looked all over for something really different, but ... “Has anyone seen my assignment book? Oh dear, I can’t think where I left it. “—and she told me to buck up and work harder, but what can she expect? With those awful assignments it’s a wonder the whole division doesn't flunk! “Oh, forget about school. Arc you going to the dance Friday night? I’ve got the best-looking new formal. It's wine-colored velvet with ... “Heavens! Look at the time! Those few words were a godsend to me, for instead of walking in chattering little groups, the girls started to run. Their voices faded away, and I was left alone with my Latin. Whitney Burton, Form IX. Roller Skating Gliding slowly Then foster, faster down the hill, Toes tingling. Your whole body Tingling to the rhythm of the wheels. Exhilaration. Nancy Lou Mackall, Form XI. Spin, Sister DURING the sophomore year the book Silas Marner is assigned to all students, and generally each recitation ends with the declaration that it is a character study and definitely shows that character may be the deciding factor in life. Being a sophomore, 1 without question accepted the teaching as a universal fact and in considering other novels used it as a standard for judgment, criticizing many because they did not let the characters completely form their destinies. However, literature was not the only field in which I found the idea valuable; in my own life I applied it and felt secure, knowing deep down inside of me that I was my own master and could shape my own life. Only last summer did 1 begin to doubt the omnipotence of character. Things were happening to me that were not the outgrowth of my own personality. To illustrate by an unimportant example: the fall of my horse caused a fractured clavicle. I could not connect this occurrence with my character, neither could I believe that it was some divine retribution for my sins. This was not the only inexplicable ease: other more vital misfortunes and pieces of “good luck,” as well, befell me. Slowly yet surely the base I was building on, the faith I held to, the safety I felt, were being undermined. And what did I have in their place? Questionings and doubt. A realization of the uncontrollable force of destiny. With this came the idea that perhaps after all I hadn’t done so much for myself as I’d taken credit for. To go to the very beginning: I have no remembrance of ever deciding to be born; the matter, it seems, was beyond my jurisdiction. Neither do I recall that during my childhood I had ever determined that I would be thus and so with a definite conception of character-forming. And with this thought, new, I am sure, at this time for me, came an understanding and an appreciation of Laurence Pratt’s poem, Clothos and Atropos: “Spin, sister, spin: White wheels turn; Birth of a child— The vague years yearn.” The poem goes on in a description of life at the age which I have now attained: “Spin quickly, sister: Wheels are gold: Love in a young heart... Passion is bold.” This is the stage that had aroused my questions, and at this age I cannot agree that fate is the only factor at work. I had partly proved to myself that my character was determining, to some extent, my life, perhaps only my inner life, but since that is so closely aligned with the external, it cannot be neglected. On the other hand, the conception might l c fallacious because it is said that character is formed by environment and heredity, and surely these are a matter of pure chance. This leads to a vicious and unexplainable circle. The 1934 Tatler 57 The last two stanzas of the poem arc beyond my range of experience. I include them only to make the story complete: Spin, spin, sister: Blue tv heels whirr; Life heats steadily . . . Far shadows blur. Sister, spin slowly: Gray wheels are dead; What is a mortal? Snap the thread.” Whether destiny is this strong or not, I cannot say. It is my opinion that, by the time I get to the “blue wheels, my character will be already so formed that it will control me without interfering much, or perhaps even blending with fate. And, too, I do not believe, unless some unfortunate contingency arises, that I should ever willfully end my own life. There must be a destiny, I know, and in knowing, I have lost my comfortable security. However, I’m going to go on trying to let my character help the sisters. Betty Carey, Form XII. The Golden Apple Tree As I gaze across the meadow And across the deep blue sea, I see at a distance standing, A golden apple tree. The leaves so long and dainty, The apples round enfold; It gives the tree a lovely lool( With the glamour of the gold. But now, the leaves loo{ short and heavy. The apples small and gold; For the sun has gone behind a cloud A nd the tree lool{S of rusty gold. I go to sleep on velvet grass; Dream of things I shall see, Then when I awa e I see something divine, The golden apple tree. Jean Frances Da in, Form VII. 58 The 1934 Tatler Sounds Some of the sounds The thunder from 1 love are these: Some far-off slffes. A wood-axe ringing And droning of Through the trees. Blue-bottle flies. Bluebirds singing 'The roaring of Prom the sl(y, 'The ocean waves The buzzing of a bee As they echo That’s passing by. In sea-caves. A “bossy’s’ low. But the peaceful Contented moo, Lapping on shore A freight-train’s Of La e Ida, Melancholy choo 1 love more. Hamby Rand, Form VII. The Desert Lif{e the bottom of the sea The desert lool(s to me. fust cactus and sand, A very strange land. Where the sun shines all day, And the little lizards play. Peggy Rutherford, Form IX. My Tapestry On the wall of my room the tapestry Has colors soft and old. Pan plays upon his little pipe, The notes come full and free, As though his heart was in the sound— A haunting melody. Rosemary Campbell, Form VII. The 1934 Tatler 59 The Country Post-Office THERE is perhaps nothing quite so picturesque as a country post office. The town where we spend the summer has a typical one, in an old, vacated church. The steps leading to the dtx r aren't really steps but just splintered planks across wooden blocks. The cracked and bubbled paint leaves in spots large uncovered pieces of board; other bare spots arc the result of the inscribing of initials. The bell, which probably once was shiny and new, is now covered with dust, rust, and cobwebs. The door creaks and seems to fall almost off its hinges as it is opened. All of this gives an old as well as neglected aspect to the place. As you enter, the first things which greet you arc rows and piles of pews covered with dust from the highway which passes in front. The series of them reminds you of sentinels, facing the d X)r, watching for the coming of the stage, so that some one will occupy them. As for the furniture, there arc only four pieces—a table, an altar, a safe, and a cupboard in which arc small cubby holes, used as postboxes. The altar attracts your attention; it is the only piece spread with a white cloth. There arc two windows: one is covered with cardboard; the other contains stained glass, the only thing which reminds you of a church except the pews and altar. The whole place is entirely silent. However, there arc two times during the day when this single room is utterly packed with people. When you see the group that assembles at these hours of the arrival of the stage coach, you wonder how there could be so many inhabitants in such a small town. There gather people of all descriptions. In one corner you may see an oltl farmer in blue overalls smoking a corn-cob pipe and talking from the side of his mouth, with some of his unshaven companions, dressed and acting like him. In another is an old Indian woman begging or selling her wares; she is waiting for a catalogue from the government with a pension check for one of her numerous children. One of them is strapped upon her back. Scattered about on different pews you sec dirty-faced ragged children, sucking their fingers, a piece of penny candy, or a filthy envelope. The mothers of these children can be found gossiping among themselves over nothing at all. Their dresses arc of cotton print, the only cloth available in this part of the country, and their hairdresscs arc almost identical—hair long and done in a pug. l hc young | coplc of seventeen to twenty-one years of age all gather about the table, hoping against hope that they’ll get a letter. Between the groups you stumble upon dogs lying down and crowding the people. The postman and his son are busy hurrying to sort the mail and answering the old Indians who come in asking if they have any mail. T he postman answers “No, for it is very seldom that the Indians receive anything of importance. When the mail has been separated and given out, the expressions that were anxious arc now contented, and some that were gay are now disillusioned. After the group has dispersed, the only living thing visible is the old Indian postmaster. He sits there reading the magazines of the week; they belong to a summer resident who will later receive his papers mauled and sticky. Except for the rustling of the pages the old church is again still until another stage comes in. Dolly Margaret Conary, Form XII. 60 The 1934 Tatler A Deserted Indian Graveyard Straggling, uneven rows Of squat little pine huts Rotting in the solitude of the forest, Crumbling to pieces in the silence. A once great tribe, Once great braves, A once great chieftain Forgotten. Leafy patterns of sunshine Filter through the trees and Paint the little huts with a living gold. A single bird call seems only to enhance The quiet. Last tepees haunted by the ghosts of ghosts. Silence. Nancy Lou Mackall, Form XI. The River The madly rushing torrent of the seething water Rolls and tumbles over the barren, slippery rocl{S of the rugged bottom of the river; Throwing splashing-darting-shining silvery salmon On to their death. Moaning, groaning, trembling as if some Violent illness had befallen its greeny-bluish heart. It pounds, grinds, swirls off on its wild merry chase to the vast unspea ing sea. Mary Lou Pickett, Form XI. The 1934 Tatler 61 Autumn There are many unusual and lovely sounds that one hears, But the sounds of an autumn day are the most delightful to my ears. One is the leaves rustling on the damp ground trying to find a hiding place in some root of a tree or under shrubbery. The prancing of leaves on the pavement and then the fast speeding car stirring them up. The whirling of the leaves into the sewer near by being rushed down by a swift wind. It is good to hear the children swishing through them as they build higher and higher their imaginary castles of leaves. Even the dogs are fond of the sound when they go chasing some squirrel near by and barring their very loudest. The sound the leaves make when they are being burned is marvelous. Although leaves are very fascinating to listen to I love the sound of fast rushing streams. They are typical of autumn sounds because they have one all themselves. The babbling of a brook as it winds its way over pebbles or rocks that seem to be in its way— You can always tell when it turns a curve because it splashes against the earth at the sides. Perhaps a splash now and then will warn you that there is a frog near or hiding behind a stone. In the trees now and then you can hear the chattering of some friendly squirrels or the call of birds on their way south. Another sound is the whistle of a train across the lake as it approaches the town, or the fire siren hurrying to put out a fire of leaves. Margaret Schubert, Form VIII. Hopeless Hopes THE little hunchback entered the room, pressing the rose dramatically to his heart and making feeble attempts to be grand, haughty; for if he were to marry the princess of Spain, as he planned to do, how could she love him if he were not like her? He wished his left leg weren’t so much shorter than his right, and with difficulty he shifted from side to side, trying vainly to straighten his crooked little body. Poor foolish little thing, he had never seen himself and could therefore hardly realize how grotesque he was. How could he know he wasn’t handsome as the young princes were? How could he understand the princess’s feelings toward him? And so he tried to seem a man, noble, tall. Just as he thought he was succeeding, a flash of sunlight caught his eye, and, for the moment, he forgot himself. For there, standing in another room was another boy. He could not know that the other room was a mirror and that the other lx y was himself, and so he smiled, waved, and greeted his new friend. Then, quite impolitely, he broke into shouts of laughter at this silly little figure opposite him. He ridiculed his bony fingers, his large, out-of-proportion head, his bulging eyes, his rickety legs, and the hunch of his shoulders. He laughed till he cried at the antics of the beast, and then suddenly it dawned on him that he was being mocked. He became angry, insulted. What right had anyone to mock him. him to whom the lovely young princess had thrown a rose, which now was hidden under his coat, mock him who was going to carry the princess away with him. His anger rose till lie clenched his fists, weak as they were, then suddenly it changed to fear. Timidly he advanced toward the thing. He reached out his hand, but when he felt that other’s it was cold, not human. He recoiled as if bitten by a snake. He made a grimace to see if in that, as in everything, the other would mock him. It did. Furious, he lunged at it, beating it with his hands, but he hurt only himself. Finally he began to realize that this might be an image of himself, that here might be the echo of the eye as he had met the echo of the car in the forest. He retreated slowly, his eyes glued to those of the image. Quietly, he evolved a plan. Drawing from his coat the rose she had given him, he kissed it tenderly with his back turned to the mirror, then, as though he were forcing himself to do it, he wheeled about and slowly raised his eyes. He was tense all over; this decided for him if he were the ugly misshapen monster or not. When he saw the rose reproduced in the mirror, he would not believe it, he could not believe it. With persistent efforts he compared each and every petal, then finally making the decision, he dropped it and it fluttered faintly to the floor. In a sudden mad frenzy he dashed toward the thing, now himself, and raised his arm as though to strike it out of existence, but realizing the futility of his final and hopeless hopes, his arm fell. With his head down, a picture of unutterable misery, he staggered blindly to the steps; then clutching at his heart, fell. For a few moments he sobbed, thinking, most probably, of the great impossible things he had dreamed of doing, and then he lay still,—dead. Sara Lee Fletcher, Form X. Note: The author wrote this after studying her part in I he Birthday of the Infanta.” Romeo and Juliet” The 1934 Tatler 63 1HAVE never before seen Romeo and Juliet played; therefore 1 have nothing to compare it with and probably do not know where it was good or bad in respect to other productions. But to me, Katharine Cornell was perfect. When she first appeared, I could almost feel the audience gasp with admiration at the radiant young figure who talked and smiled so gracefully, with eyes sparkling. 1 felt as if I were l x)king at a different person from the quiet and pale Elizabeth Barrett. And as the play progressed she seemed to change underneath, fear taking the place of gayety as she advanced toward her tragic end. I think the settings and costuming of the play added more to it than anything else, excluding, of course, Miss Cornell's acting. The scenes were changed with marvelous rapidity, and there was only one intermission when the lights went on. The settings were simple, strangely modern in their simplicity. In each scene it seemed to me that there was one object—a bench, window, or |K rhaps a tapestried back drop—that served as a frame for the actor’s art. It was not gaudy or beautiful in itself, but each piece of furniture or drapery was there for just one purpose—that of accenting the person on the stage. In every scene the costumes blended perfectly with the setting. For instance, picture to yourself Katharine Cornell sitting in an ivory colored high-arched window with that blue, blue stage-sky behind it. Her rich red velvet gown has no ornament and her dark hair falls against the ivory easement. Her white hand rests against the red velvet and moves as she speaks. This and many other such perfect pictures were formed all during the play, seeming to happen so naturally that they added to the charm. And as I left the theatre I took with me in my mind a vision of swirling blue velvet capes over red and gold embroidery; a figure in a pea-green velvet gown swathed in dark purple folds, standing against hazy tapestry; but above all, Katharine Cornell’s white and tragic face and her moving hand adding to her throbbing voice the expression that mere words lack. Katherine Dain, Form X. At a Rehearsal SIX sticks in blue and red are placed in an almost straight line upon the stage; in monotone voices, with no emotion, they unfold a story, an old story, but one now listlessly told and older still. Stiffly, mechanically, and noticeably, one after another moves to the center of the stage for a speech accompanied by gestures of trained, stiff limbs like those of a toy soldier. But the training oil begins to take effect in the joints, and, having been wound up tightly again, the dolls become more human as they finish the rehearsal. Betty Oakes, Form XII. Dinner THE icc tinkles merrily in the glasses, and there is a gay bustle as the family enters and sits down. A silence; Father says grace in a low grufT voice. Then the chatter begins anew, accented by merry peals of laughter. The plates and silverware join in the fun, and clink, bump, and clatter whenever possible. The brittle bones snap, as sharp white teeth bite into them, and one hears plainly the crunching of celery stalks. The gravy plops over the meat and potatoes, and then silently drips off the spoon on the tablecloth. Mother reproves in a low tone, but no one heeds. There is a small shrill cry as a glass overturns, but it is forgotten in the good-natured laughter that follows. The water drips off the cloth onto the dog; he whines, rises, and moves to the other side. The children laugh and continue to cat. They finally finish, and with much scraping of chairs, leave the table. Jeanette Gluek, Form VII. Satire (A Modern Verse) Green meadows polka-dotted with Black sheep, rivulets running through Them like seams, bushes in clumps here and there Uke buttons,— Mother Nature in full dress. Louise Thompson, Form XI. The 1934 Tatler 65 The Deserted House The little old house that lies across the way Is silent as a graveyard since its owner went away. Weeds are growing in the neat tulip beds, And bugs have eaten all the green lettuce heads. When the cold wind blows around the country side, The shutters bang and rattle lil e a witch on her ride. And often you can hear the creating of her old rocking chair As if she still were sitting there. Patricia Dalrymple, Form XII. Things I Like The crisp, crunchy crackle of new-fallen snow, The fragrant dry smell of hay freshly mown— The soft deadly thud of a cat's midnight prowl. The lingering chill of a hoot owl's loud howl. The hum of the ocean deep in a shell. The soft rippling babble that comes from a well, The clicl{ of a key as ,f turns in lock. The loud tick before the alarm of a clock. The coo of a baby from up in its throat. The trill of a bird on its very top note. The whispering sound of the wind in trees, The rustling noise of dead leaves in the breeze. The unusual pop as a cork leaves its place. The liquidy feel of a painted glass vase. With the use of my senses I'll never forget God made me live, and I haven't died yet. Mary Anna Nash, Form X. 66 The 1934 Tatler Reflections FAR away across the river the gentle rolling hills arc hazy with a purplish mist. Overhead the sky is blue with little fluffs of cotton. The river Hows serenely on with the certainty that comes with eternal repetition; the sun shines on it, making splashes of yellow on its murky green depths. In contrast to this slow serenity, high above little business-like clouds hustle by, idiotically sure of their destination. On this bank of the river you can see the grass, yellow-green, with little purple asters happily l owing with the breeze. Trees lower their heads in unison as if saying amen to a prayer they alone can hear. A bird sings with sacrilegious exuberance. Then all is silent except for the rustling of the grass. A Ikc buzzes around you in contented activity. A cricket jumps on your hand; as you look at him you notice an unmistakable resemblance to the deacon who sits third from the left at church. You consider reincarnation and decide definitely you were never a Ikc. Such efficiency is not one of your major charms. Again all is silent with the quietness of cotton batting,—yet, you are not alone; for at your feet sits a little green toad. And then you have one of those rare moments when you know there is a purpose in life and also, a thing which makes you still happier, you arc aware that you haven’t the slightest idea what it is. And still the river flows on under the inverted blue saucer with the white design. Sally Cowin. Form XII. Hecuba and Medea “TV yjTEDEA and “The Trojan Women arc two of the most famous tragedies of the Greek dramatist Euripides. His treatment of them, however, is entirely different; for one deals with the jealous fury of a deserted wife, and the other concerns the unmerited sorrow and grief which come to a peace-loving woman. Primarily, the natures of these two .principal characters arc radically unlike. Medea’s greatest weakness lies in her unbalanced emotional reaction to the great crises of her life. The most disastrous one, the subject of this play, is her desertion at the hands of Jason for a younger and more beautiful woman. True, this separation is not the result of any ardent affection for the second woman, for Jason, by nature self-centered and desirous of worldly gains, seeks the match for his own material benefits. This humiliation would have been hard to endure for even a normally sensitive woman, but to a proud and emotionally high-strung nature like Medea’s, it is insupportable. Her first thought is for revenge, and habitually used to carrying out her own desires, she plans a horrible and ruthless murder. Whether her conscience will trouble her in later years does not concern the sorceress as long as this crime will cause Jason to suffer most keenly. In startling contrast to this tragic heroine is Queen Hecuba of I he I rojan The 1934 Tatler 67 Women. Her married life had been happy and peaceful until the day Paris brought Helen hack to Troy. In the following ten years Hecuba experiences the stunning misfortunes which finally leave her destitute and alone in the midst of her enemies. She mourns unconsolahly those Trojan princes killed in battle, and particularly grieves for the loss of Hector, her favorite son, and Priam, King of Troy. She is faced with the prospect of an unhappy existence in the home of the Greek Ulysses, who above all is most responsible for the downfall of her city. When she takes heart in the thought that Hector’s son, Astyanax, may become the founder of a new Troy, this hope is likewise destroyed by the baby’s death at the hands of the cowardly Greeks. Hut Hecuba’s reaction to her misfortune is in striking contrast to Medea’s vengeful ness; for Hecuba is blessed with a certain fatalism that makes her slavery more casiK endured. This seemingly passive acceptance of servitude is no reflection on Hecuba’s character, since she realizes the futility of any revolt. It is this wiser and calmer submission to misfortune which makes The Trojan Women such a strongly written play and because of its very restraint, superior to Medea. Martha Bagley, Form XII. Moonlight The moon, a flaming orb in the west. Rests on the broad, bright sea. And all the world seems fast at rest But the restless wares; and we Two stand in a magic world. Silver, mystic, and fay. When the stars and moon are all unfurled, The moon's gold wa e leads the way To a glorious, daring unknown land Where the dreams of the world come true. And we two sit on the soft, darl sand And plan our dream-world too. Olivia Carpenter, Form XII. 68 The 1934 Tati.er A Pup’s Opinion THE hot sun was beating down on the narrow, crowded streets of Bristol as my master and 1 walked toward the inn. We were staying there for three weeks while my master attended to some kind of business. I, for one, was extremely uncomfortable in the scorching heat of the afternoon with my heavy coat, which of course was not removable. The inn was quite a way out from the city and because of the heat and the distance my master (much to my approval) decided to take a coach. We got in one and started slowly to push our way through Bristol. We passed many different coaches going here and there, all with different kinds of people. Rows of docks reached out from the shore, and ships of all kinds and sizes were anchored by the docks or were sailing away far out on the blue horizon. Rough seamen were talking among themselves on the docks, scrubbing or cleaning the decks of vessels. There were some ladies dressed in the latest styles, and some of the poorer class of people trying to sell their goods at the market place. Along the main road there were many attractive inns. My master seemed to enjoy these sights, and I will admit that they were interesting. But before we arrived at our inn I was fast asleep with my head on my master’s lap and my tail curled around my ears to keep out the night air which had already begun to blow up from the sea. Sally Kendrick, Form VII. Cats Versus Kittens I NEVER could understand why cats arc so different from kittens. Perhaps it is because a cat has lived longer, and is tired of the playful romping and everlasting mischief that a kitten indulges in. Cats never seem to hurry (except when after a mouse). The graceful, slow-moving creatures pad softly around in a dignified manner, and arc content to lie on the sofa all afternoon, purring in the sunshine. Kittens, on the other hand, arc always lively. They pounce on their ball and scamper and scamper after it. Teasing the maids is a favorite occupation,—and how they love to explore! I think The 1934 Tatler 69 the old saying ought to be changed to “Curiosity killed a kitten. For who ever heard of an inquisitive cat? As pets, I think kittens arc more fun. Of course cats arc affectionate and companionable, but too quiet to suit me. If a cat really did have nine lives I should think it would die of boredom every time. On the contrary, life is never dull or stupid with an amusing kitten to watch and play with. Whitney Burton, Form IX. The Kitten A little downy ball of fur, Fur that's pure jet blacky. It wriggles and begins to purr If you stroke the silky back- Its eyes are of a greenish hue. Starry, big and bright. And they roll and wink and twinkle At you, with a mad delight. For you're a man. and man means food. And food means time to sup On lovely creamy bubbly milk From a yellow china cup. He mews in a plaintive pleading tone. For he is very young. And he licks his little velvet chops With a hungry rough pink tongue. Then rhythmically, but slow. He laps up each last golden drop And carefully, with velvet paw Wipes every whisker, every chop. Then closer to the fire he moves. And. on the hearth, he scrapes his claws. They redden, glow, bright barbs of steel; Then dull, and turn to velvet paws. He curls up in a shapeless ball And with gleaming, half-closed eyes Moodily gazes in the fire And dreams of a cat paradise. Jeanette Gluek, Form VIII. 70 The 1934 Tatler Light and Dark ALTHOUGH Christmas is really a very happy time of the year, there is one part L of ii that is sad. And that is the tearing down of the Christmas tree. The gaily decorated tree that has brought so much joy during the Christmas season is about to be dismantled. With its many brightly wrapped packages of red and green and a few blue, it has been the center of all attraction. But like all good things it also has an end. So I'll go up into the icy cold attic and bring down the large box that once sheltered my best doll on a Christmas Eve so many years ago, and lay it by our tree. Every year we put our Christmas decorations in it and it is put again into the attic. We start with the little balls. Some are large and some arc small. Some are smooth and there arc a few rough ones, but I think the prettiest are the frosty-feeling ones with the small red berries wrapped carefully around them. They don’t reflect, but they look like a snowball hanging down. I find myself running my finger over the glossy balls of red and blue, for they feel almost like bright apples. There arc a few balls here and there that make a merry tinkle when removed from their hooking place. My careful handling of these fragile things does not always help, and 1 accidentally break one. It makes a crackly sound as it breaks on the floor, and my mother says in a very pleasant tone, “That is all right, dear. It is only the first one this year.” The next job is the taking off of the tinsel, and that is a job. It is a lot of fun to take it olf, but 1 never like the way the long narrow silver strings stick to the needles. Even now the balsam has a fragrant odor to it, and I feel as if 1 am up in the northern pines instead of in a nice warm home. It has an odor all of its own, a mossy, woody smell that makes you take a deep breath when near it. Once in a while I find a candy cane hidden by the long graceful boughs, but 1 finally rescue it and start on the peppermint or wintergrecn flavor. Because my hands arc sticky and dirty I wash them and resume my job of taking off the lights. That is my brother’s job all alone but I usually give a helping hand. The lights, being lit all morning, arc warm, but we disconnect them. Getting our g(x d old faithful kitchen chair and a stool we untangle them and hand them to my mother, who cautiously handles them because of their heat. After taking all of them off we wrap them up and put them in a box. At the very last we gather up the little red and green fence along with the mat that the tree is standing on, and we put it in the box, knowing that we won’t sec it for another year. The lid is put on the box and I again take it to the attic, where it will be forgotten for a long year. A lot will happen in the next year, but the little bells will be on a tree playing their part next Christmas. Margaret Sciubf.kt. Form VIII. I he 1934 Tatler 71 The he gong had sounded. The horses were off. They were rounding the corner. And then I saw foff. I off was my colt. And a fast colt was he Hut he was racing today With a very sore {nee. He was now placing third Hut for not very long. For I saw him flash by Snorting a song. Race He was now placing second With one mile to go. Hut did fofj give up? Proudly I can say no. He was now trying to pass That horse placing first. And finally he did it With one last burst. His legs were very tired And his face was worn. Hut his head was held high For he was glad he was born. Thus is the tale of fofj’s first race. Sally Holladay, Form IX. Tastes The tastes I li{e best are Grapefruit and peas. Peas that are fresh. And celery with leaves. I li{e roast chicken With lots of potato; Gravy and lamb. And fresh sliced tomato. Peaches and jelly, Hananas and jam. Oranges, pineapples, Cookies and ham. These are the things That taste best to me. Quite a variety— Don't you agree? Rosemary Campbell, Form VII. 72 The 1934 Tatler Advertising Fantasia or an Advertiser’s Dream of a Perfect Day AT the sound of the Westclox I throw back my North Star blanket, jump L onto the floor waxed by Johnson, slip into the bathroom with fixtures by Crane and rugs by Wilson. 1 wash with some Bing Crosby (Woodbury’s Facial) Soap and keep that everlasting smile with Amos and Andy (Pcpsodcnt Toothpaste). I put on my kickcrnicks, jump into my Vassarettc, tie on my Prince of Wales, and don my tweeds by Harris. I dash some Wayne King (Lady Esther Cosmetics) on my nose, give a twist to the Kurlash, whisk on some Winx, and then down to breakfast. After my daily cake of Rudy Vallec (Fleischman’s Yeast) I have orange juice by Sunkist, two cups of Eddie Cantor’s (Chase Sanborn) Coffee, some sausages by Brookfield, and waffles with syrup by Log Cabin. 1 jump into my Stoopnagle and Bud (Pontiac) or Fred Waring (Ford), light a Casa Loma (Camel) or a Ted Fiorita (Old Gold), turn on my Boakc Carter (Philco), and am on the way. Meet Jake and have a lunch at the Millcrcttc, which consists of a bottle of Ben Bernic (Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer) and a slice of Phil Baker (Armour Co.) between two pieces of Health Bread. After Jake lights up that inevitable Guy Lombardo (White Owl Cigar), buys a package of Myrt and Marge (Spearmint Gum) we’re off in his new B. A. Rolphe (Tcrraplanc). We stop to fill up with some Ed Wynn (Texaco Gas) and then home. Get an inspiration for my novel from Cab Calloway and pound away on my March of Time (Remington-Rand Typewriter Co.) for hours. Take a Linit bath and get into my Paris gown of satin by Skinner. Put on a drop of Evening in Paris and scurry off with my Nicholas coiffure and Sylvia figure, in Jim’s merry Oldsmobilc. Dance to the music of Eddie Duchin (Central Park Casino) and am terribly thankful that I wore my chic and comfortable new Enna Jetticks ($5.00 and $6.00). Nothing compares to them, not even Ground Grippers. Have a snack at the Pabst Blue Ribbon Casino with more Ben Bernie, and a bite or two of Paul Whiteman (American Cheese). Finally arrive home, slink into my new night-gown by Effa Blanche, put some Little Theatre Off Times Square (Campagna’s Italian Balm) on my hands, dive into my Land O’ Nod mattress, pull my silky Pequot sheets (which have been washed for seven years in Lux) over me and close my eyes to the strain of Good morning, everybody, Breakfast Club is on the air. Be sure to eat Wheaties!—Whcaties!” Margaret Hopwood, Form X. Tunnel Wheels clattering, The train's whistle echoing through every tunnel, Cold dampness creeping in through every opening. Tense blackness— How long will it last? Then daylight again. Charlotte Bulkley, Form XI. The 1934 Tatler 73 Athens Versus New York THE bus stopped in front of the Temple of Poseidon, and we all climbed out. So far our sight-seeing ride in Greece had been a success. As I walked up to this old building, a man approached me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Arc you Mr. Campbell, the famous American builder? I answered, “Yes,” a little surprised at the question and the person who asked it. He wore a long white robe, and on his feet were a pair of thin leather sandals. His hair was long, and a blue ribbon was worn to keep bis hair from falling in his face. He was middle-aged, and I found that his name was Phidias. Phidias opened the conversation by saying, I thought you were, for 1 saw a picture of you in the New Yor!{ Times this morning. How’s the new post office coming along? “Oh, fine, I answered him, this time a bit amused. “Say, old man, said Phidias, “that new recessive [dan is working pretty well. I’d like to have you come over and help me touch up a few things on our new radio station. Somehow we have got the number of pillars mixed up, and there arc seven on one side and ten on the other. “Well, 1 said, I’m not sure that 1 can help you, but I’m willing to try. We walked along farther, each boasting about the Athenian Acropolis or the Chrysler Building. “What do you think of modern architecture?” I asked him. “Oh, I think it’s wonderful, but 1 still think that we have you beaten in the beauty of buildings. Your New York skyscrapers arc wonderful to look at and take about half as much time to build as ours do, but they don’t last as long and will never be as well known as ours. I went to the fourteenth floor of the Empire State Building and had to come right down because I grew dizzy.” As wc neared the new radio station I saw lights flickering of! and on. I asked my unexpected friend what the matter was. “Wc have a short circuit somewhere, and 1 have the boys busy trying to locate it, he answered. In the distance a clang could be heard and 1 said, “What’s that? “That’s the chariot-car. Wc could have taken it but I didn’t have any tokens ready. But there’s the building. What do you think of it ? Luckily for me I never had to give an opinion—for just then my bus on the Athena line came along and 1 climbed aboard it, waving goodbye to my friend. Sally Holla day. Form IX. LOWER SCHOOL 74 The 1934 Tatler A Bedtime Story IT was spring. Mrs. Rabbit was cleaning house. My, bow the dust flew! “Mother, can I go out and play with Sally Cottontail?” yelled Sammy Rabbit. “Oh, yes, dear,” answered Mrs. Rabbit. “My, I'm glad both of the children arc out of the house. 1 can clean better now,” sighed Mrs. Rabbit, for she had a lot of work to do. “Oh, Mrs. Rabbit, called Billy Squirrel. Betty fell into the rain barrel.” Land sakes!” cried Mrs. Rabbit, “How did my baby gel there? “Sammy, Sally, Betty, and 1 were playing tag. Sammy crawled in the rain barrel and Betty followed. You see Betty was it. Sammy crawled out. Betty was inside. Suddenly a whole lot of water came down upon Betty and there she is now. But hurry, she must be drowned by now.” Mrs. Rabbit hurried over to the rain barrel and pulled Betty out just in time. “Sammy,” cried Mrs. Rabbit, “You’ll get a good spanking for this. “Why?” wailed Sammy, who didn’t like spankings at all. How many times do 1 have to tell you not to go into rain barrels, replied Mrs. Rabbit, who was quite disgusted with Sammy. “Oh! sighed Sammy. Ellen Ridf.r, Form V. My Pets have a little l{itty. She runs around the house. And searches every corner, To see if there’s a mouse. Then I ta!{e my little itty, My bunny and my goat. We wall{ down to the laf(e, And get into my boat. Barbara Bissell. Form VI. have a little bunny. He isn't such a dunce. When we call him in for dinner, He drinks his mi l( at once. I have a new-born goat. She cost me just two dimes. She runs around the field. An awful lot of times. The 1934 Tatler 75 Going to the Woolen Mill WE went to the North Star Woolen Mill. We saw men sorting the wool into piles. Some wool is finer than other wool. The wool was washed in big tanks of soapy water. Next it was fanned and dried by machinery. It was dyed many pretty colors. It was dyed pink, yellow, lavender, green, brown, and blue. Then it was carded or combed. The wool was now called roving. It was wound onto big wooden spools. The roving was twisted into yarn. That is called spinning. The yarn was woven into blankets on big looms. The blankets were cut and bound and put into boxes. Many people buy these beautiful blankets. We bought some doll blankets. It was fun to go to the Woolen Mill. Composite story written by the Second Form. WEAVING SPINNING Over, under, over, under. Weave the thread so strong and tight. Over, under, over, under, Then the cloth will come just right. Janet Hartwell, Form II. Buzz, buzz, buzz, Round goes the spinning wheel. Spins the thread to smooth white yarn. Round goes the spinning wheel. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Harriet Jaffray, Form 11. Slippery Hair Ribbon Rut hie has a hair ribbon, It comes off all the time. Naughty, naughty hair ribbon, I'd spanl( it if tt were mine. Yet it's very, very pretty, And oh! so very slippery! I don't tiling I would want it, If that hair ribbon were mine. Marilyn Eastman, Form III. The Spring of the Year The birds are singing everywhere, Flying swiftly through the air; Fussy willows, oh so dear; Merry, merry spring is here. In the spring the school lets out. And we can run and play about. All is happy,—not a tear, For merry, merry spring is here. For I get tired of winter clothes. And all the winds that freeze my nose; But I should worry! summer's near And merry, merry spring is here. Olivia Coax, Form III. 76 The Storm The 1934 Tatler Watch the sea roll! Hear the wind roar! Many ships are sinking, And will never find shore. Watch the lightning flash I Among the black, clouds. Filling every gash. With a ghastly light. Watch the blackness gather; Again they launch the boats; Seven men are going down. And still the wild sea gloats. Now the wind is dying down. Slowly the waves retreat, Now the clouds are turning white. Soon the waves will softly beat. Now the sea is soft and calm, The waves beat lightly to and fro. Softly now the wind doth blow. Soon all signs of storm will go. Only the drifts of wreck do show. And soon all those will softly go. People going home again. Others watching there in vain. Amy Camp, Form VI Dandelion Oh little dandelion standing in the grass, With your green leaves all about you in a mass, With your yellow bonnet oh so round. What are you doing there. Growing in the ground? Oh little maiden with your golden lock. Standing there above me in your pretty frock I, the Dandelion, stay here all the day, And garden while you run and play. Lois Belcher, Form VI. Circus my,” grumbled Sammy, “my nose is so tired of having that ball bouncing on it. It tickles my whiskers too, he added. “Yes, well, a fish went down my Sunday throat and I had to thump my back with my tail too, said Tommy, the seal. My, what a martyr you are, laughed a seal. My g x dncss, remonstrated the peacemaker seal, “can’t you stop arguing for a minute? “Of course,” said a seal haughtily, “we really like each other, but people just can’t get along without arguing in this world. Of course, you’re perfect. Oh dear, sighed the seal, who thought she was so misunderstood. One of the seals said, “Why don’t we take his advice and then see what happens? “Yes! they all cried at once. So they did, and it did seem good. Leslie Harrison, Form V. The Windmill’s Arms See the windmill’s arms go round and round, Pumping water from the ground. For the people in the town. See the arms go round and round. Patsy Clifford, Form II. The Night Before Hallowe’en OLD witch Cross Patch sat by the fire muttering to herself. Her black cat, Pumpkin, dozed by the fire. Suddenly Pumpkin raised up, opened one eye, and said in a very much disturbed voice: What on earth is the matter with you? I suppose it’s something I’ve done. Of course, cried the witch, “It’s always your fault. Then the witch went into a long discussion of all the cat’s faults. But Pumpkin, the cal, didn’t hear a word. He was fast asleep. Suddenly the witch jumped up. “I’d almost forgotten,” she said. “Tonight is Hallowe’en and I haven’t gotten my magic. Come along pussy,” she said. We’ll have to go and get it.” Joan Payne, Form IV. The 1934 Tatler 78 HUMOR Pageant of Learning (Notes on the conversation overheard in the Biology Room before class begins.) “IT IT ERE, take a stick and dig him up. ][ “Oh, Miss Lane, 1 think one of the turtles is dead. He seems so funny. Did you say, Miss Lane, that we have to know the parts of an eye?—the cornea, retina, and what? “And so, of course, I told them that my mother said twelve o'clock, and you know what that means! “I’m sure he's dead. His eyes arc so queer. Oh, don’t show it to me. I’ll get sick. • • • composed of red corpuscles and white, hut what is fibrinogen? It's only the way my hair is waved. New person—you know. “The snapping turtle is dead too.” Do you think one of the things should Ik- to get lights off of boats? No, I’d just be calm and firm, but say ‘No!’ The horsehairs haven’t started squirming yet, have they. Miss Lane? “Do we have to know how to draw a crawfish? What, swimmcrcts? “Gee, this exam’s going to Ik terrible. You ask me about flics. “Put them all in the wastebasket. Gullet, stomach, pancreas and intestine. I’d love to go, but 1 haven’t got my skates. “But, canines are also dogs. And then, he said—’’ Do you know what I heard about the Latin exam? Oh, he didn’t really!” No, just the first and second conjugations. “Do we have to know where the Eustachian tube is?” “And he saw the back of my book. Ask me, was I embarrassed? “But the fish I cut didn’t have any gill filaments. I didn’t send Christmas cards. Did you say Crustacea or arachnida?” “Do we have to know—? “Sh,— there goes the bell. Sit by me. will you? 1 know I’ll get asked about earthworms and I don’t know a darned thing. Kathleen Gliek, Form XI. The 1934 Tatler 79 HUMOR Faculty Favorites Miss Spurr: “Let’s have an anti-something campaign.” Mile. Bagicr: “The names of fruits are feminine, except the lemon and the prune. . . Miss Sadlcy (to group seated): “Sit down now, girls, all. Miss Brewer: “If it’s absolutely necessary. . . .” Miss French: “The knowledge of ignorance is the beginning of wisdom.” Miss Lane: “The bell has rung. Miss Mercer: “Go on; finish your idea. Miss Corthell: “That’s for you to decide.” Mrs. Foulstone: Oh. thunder! How jolly! Mile. Grenier: “Le moi est odieux. Miss Mori son (of character in a novel): “He’s a worldly man. Miss Duncan: “Go ahead and finish it. You started it. Miss Dalton: “Pay Cheek is so frisky. . . . Miss Anderson: “Try to get here on time next Monday. Miss Wilson: “You owe ten dollars on this book. When arc you going to pay it?” BEHIND THE SCENES WITH OUR YOUNGER WRITERS (As seen on examination scratch paper) I. Shylock—all he wanted was to kill Ant. hassard, hasard. Bassinio, Bassanio who rode bravely into the jaws of death under orders they knew were wrong but it was thiers but to do dice luxery luchery lux luxcrics Asseryn Asserian Asseryian Aseryian Aserryyan Asscruyan 1775 Beginning of story 5 1780 5 years later 3 1783 ? 3 1780 5 years later II. Poetry gives a pleasing pictures L’Allegro, Great Lover, Daffodils However overlapses after into an emotion experience The Great Lover Love—Shakespeare 80 The 1934 Tatlf.r The 1934 Tatler 81 Squeaky Makes Mischief SQUEAKY yawned and hopped out of his hole. It seemed to him there was an unusual rumpus, but of course he had no calendar, or he would have known that Christmas exercises were about to begin. His hole was in the kitchen (a most convenient place), and he discovered that the cooks were gone. He was happy because now he would not be disturbed at his morning meal of a graham cracker. After his breakfast he longed to see what was happening; so he went out through the large dining room into the hall on the other side. At this point he heard humming, and walking into the art studio, saw Miss Duncan humming away while she drew some beautiful handmade Christmas cards. A bell rang: Miss Duncan sighed, washed her hands, arranged her hair, and hurried out of the room. After Squeaky had messed up the paints to his satisfaction, he crawled out the window for some fresh air. He heard some one coming up the fire escape. It was two high school girls rushing at top sj eed. Squeaky hastened through the fast closing door, and before he realized what had happened the door slammed shut. Squeaky had never before been this far from home and was frightened but knew he must continue. He made his way cautiously down the steps and soon a First-Grader came scurrying through a door. Squeaky followed her. A door opened between them and out came Miss Morison, and nearly stepped on our small hero. Squeaky looked angrily at her, and muttered something about careless | eoplc. He then continued without further mishap until he reached the central part of the hall. Two Seventh-Grade girls were busily talking, one a very small girl with graceful, curling bangs, the other, a taller girl, very [dump, also with bangs. These two, one in front of the other, were chattering away, much to Miss Pease’s displeasure. Squeaky cowered when he thought of what would have happened if the plump girl had stepped on him. He traveled along the long hall until he reached another flight of stairs. He succeeded in falling all the way down these. When he reached the bottom he heard voices singing and decided to discover their source. Soon a Senior came rushing down the stairs and darted through a door. Squeaky billowing. He soon had misgivings, however, for the small room into which he had crept was so filled with jxroplc that he knew he would soon Ik discovered. A few stairs to his right s x n attracted him and he climbed them. At the top were several people gathered around an ojKning. Soon the music stopped and a voice began, while all but one of the people stepped through the opening. This person was a woman, who was dressed in blue and evidently was the director of whatever was going on in the opening. Squeaky recognized her as Mrs. Foulstonc. He then decided to have some fun; so he slightly nipped Mrs. Foulstonc’s heel. She let out a scream that was heard all over the building. Then followed a general uproar. Mrs. Foulstonc and Squeaky rushed out on the stage; the cast jumped to the main floor, and the audience stood terrified. Just then Squeaky felt a foot coming, coming, coming! He could not escape it. He screamed— A woman suddenly woke up. She looked around her spacious and lovely apartment at 510 Groveland. She laughed and said, “I know my girls won’t disappoint me even if Squeaky is there. But it was a bad dream! And with this she turned over and went back to sleep. It was Miss Spurr. Cynthia Dalrymple, Form VII. 82 The 1934 Tatler Our Own Boners R. li. (on vocabulary test): A parracide is a small animal. Extract from story: “A pair of disgusted eyes stood unnoticed in the doorway. From a paper: Shylock s daughter left him and eloped with Lorenzo around the middle of the play. Question: When was The Merchant of Venice written? Answer: Several years before Shakespeare was born. . D.: Herrick was a minister too. P. C.: Yes, his biography says he was a pastoral poet. Miss Mercer: What was the matter with Lady Macbeth? E. f. C.: Sleeping sickness! Miss French: What was the high-water mark of the Confederacy? Caroline: The Charge of the Light Brigade. From a test: Mr. Bumble was the parish beetle in Oliver Twist. Senior (rushing into the room): Has any one seen a Trojan Woman in here? Kay: But the United States has the highest infant morality rate in the world. Rozzie: The answer to question ten is Louis the Sixteenth. If I put Louis the Eighth do I get half credit? Peggy, hearing of Pross, alias Barsad: Is Alias his first name? Miss Mercer: Some one spelled paraffin parapheim. M. W.: I know! She must have been thinking of those creatures that fly around,— in hymns. K. D.: I’m so excited! 1 almost got Katharine Cornell to sign my report card! Prize Excuse for Leaving Lunch Early: V. Will you excuse me, please? 1 have to measure the school. Teacher: Why were you late this morning? Sophomore: 1 wore curlers to bed last night, and when I woke up at seven, I had to take them off and get some rest. Music Student: Betty wants to sing worse than ever. Patty: What is this book called Ibid? M. H., in History: Where is the Mississippi? ::..-..................................:: thousands cheer— The whole world applauds loveliness because it is only achieved through good tasie. Look more lovely by wearing our dresses - coats hats and furs for all occasions! It’s Very Smart if It Comes from 917 Nicollet Avenue I S!----............................. X ANN EMERY HALL . . . Dormitory of Distinction . . . for women attending the UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN Reservations Accepted Now for SUMMER SESSION and FALL TERM Illustrated Folders Mailed Upon Request 265 LANGDON ST. MADISON, WIS. X COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND X. Announcing A New SHOWING of SUMMER FASHIONS XX active sports spectacular sports STREET and DINNER CLOTHES Priced from £17.50 JACKSON-ORAVES 90 1 NIcoTW? Av -Mfnn 8Dofl« --------s! RING’S MARKET Edward R. Ring, Proprietor Specializing in QUALITY MEATS. FISH, AND POULTRY 2406 Hennepin Ave. Kenwood 2691 Minneapolis E. C. Erickson W. P. Hamlin Minneapolis Allied Grocers HENNEPIN AVE. GROCERY 2404 Hennepin Avenue Minneapolis, Minn. Free Delivery Service Telephone, Ke. 7982 ■ .................8 COMPLIMENTS of A FRIEND OMWO RH ...—.... - --- s: TUqnda Consultinq You’ll Like Us.... because we know what the smart young miss prefers. We can give you a hairdress that will interpret your gayest mood and the most glamorous occasion. For your next permanent wave, haircut or hairdress, call us. . . . MAIN 1475 THE MYNDALL CAIN SALON 808 La Salle Avenue Compliments of STARKE PATTESON COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND X To the Class ol 1934 ... Congratulations... You are about to graduate . . . about to take an important step in tbe building ot your career. Right now is the time to establish a banking connection with the Northwestern ISTational Bank and Trust Company of jMLinneapolis s: Affiliated with Nurlkwnt Bancorporation Donated by a NORTHROP FATHER — I COMPLIMENTS { of the COMPLIMENTS LIBERTY of a Cleaning and Dyeing Company FRIEND 2639 Nicollet Ave. Tel. Regent 7221 :: X5== ::______ :: be happy Happiness is a vital factor to your success. For who is not notice ably happy when their needs are properly filled. We invite you to join the thousands of purchasers who find R. G. Winter Company serv ice vital to their happiness. R. G. WINTER CO. 911 Nicollet Ave. Geneva 1848 KENNEDY’S 63 So. 10th St. Minneapolis A Phone: Atlantic 0421 BLUE RIBBON MEAT MARKET Choice Meats, Fish and Poultry Quality and Service Edward Sparrow ::................................... 411 East Hennepin MARIAN D. STRICKER Summer Frocks to wear for tennis, golf or dancing MEYER’S ARCADE 920 Nicollet Avenue FRANK V. GROFF Quality Grocer 111 East Twenty-Sixth Street We Deliver COMPLIMENTS of the HALLET AND CAREY COMPANY COMPLIMENTS of WELLS LAMONT SMITH COMPANY ■K K COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND •K WIRT WILSON COMPANY INSURANCE BUILDERS EXCHANGE BUILDING MINNEAPOLIS .:e COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND MINNEAPOLIS PARK RIDING ACADEMY EQUESTRIAN INSTRUCTION Private or Class Under the supervision of JOSEPH LACEY JUMPING A SPECIALTY Telephone Ke. 3215 28th and Dupont Ave. So. .............. I-- .'...... COMPLIMENTS of McKESSON-MINNEAPOLIS DRUG COMPANY Y ▼ ▼ FLOWERS for The Graduation Season QUALITY—SERVICE Jflorists Inc. Nicollet Ave. at Tenth St. Telephone Atlantic 0481 Walnut 3912 Boulevard Store—West Lake St. at Ewing Ave. ae■ ■ =--■-■--■--■■-■1- - -.......-■■■.....� gs� ae COMPLIMENTS of the YWCA I | ■=--- —m :: ....-........—---------------:: COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND : :: Compliments of a FRIEND x :r - 1 ▼ ▼▼ 5 — :: FREEDOM FARMS I COMPLIMENTS JERSEY MILK of a FRIEND CALL AAA : s GENEVA 2416 - ....jb 8 .'a— ■ GARTNER’S e 8 MARY JONES HAIRDRESSING SALON Town and Country Frocks with 1115 Nicollet Avenue COMPLIMENTS ! Summer Fashions $10.95 and Up HARTMAN’S B : — !_■« MILLINERY KENWOOD Always Ready to Meet Your Need PHARMACY 910 South Tenth St. : : ;—.... ........... 3 :: Boulder Bridge Farm PRODUCES Clean GUERNSEY MILK Pasteurized Nature's Own Balanced Diet (Outdoor Air—Sunshine—Pleasant Surroundings—Nature’s Diet) FROM—CHAMPION GUERNSEY COWS—HEALTHY Our milk is drawn from cows kept under clean conditions. It is cooled immediately, and after pasteurization is again cooled to 40 F. and kept under refrigeration until it is served to the customer. (Its bacteria count has been consistently under certified requirements) Ask for a bottle of Boulder Bridge Guernsey At all DAYTON CO. RESTAURANTS BOULDER BRIDGE FARM Excelsior, Minn. G. N. DAYTON. President L. V. WILSON, Supt. K.............. .TiTr...................................... y..M COMPLIMENTS X X OF A FRIEND COMPLIMENTS of the 1934 TATLER BUSINESS BOARD I X IVEY'S CHOCOLATES 92 5 NICOLLET AVENUE COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND Zintsmaster jP j o tographer 816 Nicollet Individual Portraits made in the home or studio at Reasonable Prices . . . . ‘A. ::---------------------: CAMMACK PIANO COMPANY KIMBALL DISTRIBUTOR 20 South 8th Street . . . IN SIZE AND PRICE isam.__________________________________ K 1V' V-lIll'llL1 Ji LL1. . I CAMP DANWORTHY A Camp for Girls JUNIOR INTERMEDIATE AND CONSULAR DEPARTMENTS Number Limited to Forty ALL LAND AND WATER SPORTS GOOD EQUIPMENT SKILLED LEADERS Director ELIZABETH FISH 3301 First Ave. So. Minneapolis ------------------ '9 Northwests Most Famous Shop for Youth — SUB-DEB SHOP —For Style Prominence: Fashion Is the Keyword Here! —For Style Leadership; Fashions Are Here BEFORE They’re a Vogue! -For Truly YOUTHFUL Smartness; This Is a Shop for Youth and Youth Only! Let a brilliant young designer appear on the horizon, and we snare her wares for our Sub-Deb Shop. Let a hint of a new fashion be whispered in the cinema studios, and we’re right on its trail. That’s what has made our Sub-Deb Shop the place where Youth comes first when looking for the smart, the new, the young, the piquant. Sports Clothes showing acquaintance with real sports. Afternoon Dresses with style but no fussy doodads. After-twilight Dresses with what it takes for romance. All in one Shop. And, in the Sub-Deb Hat Rack, the Sub-Deb Lingerie Shop nearby, are easily-found sources of other youthful satisfactions. SUB-DEB SHOP 3rd FLOOR Reg. Stale of Minn. .—............................ WEST HIGH PHARMACY Hennepin at Twenty-Eighth Kenwood 1584 All Prescriptions Filled By a Registered Pharmacist A Complete Line SCHOOL SUPPLIES We Serve CREST ICE CREAM e....-.............. ..■■■■■■■.■■rK I . BURCH PHARMACIES Quality Drug Store Service” 2200—Hennepin Ave.—1942 Ken. 1895 Ken. 2802 86.............. .... S. Jacobs 8C Company Jewelers CHINA — CRYSTAL, ART OBJECTS AND ANTIQUE SILVER 811 Nicollet Avenue 86........................... 86 .......................—ag;;; I I MILLER’S Your All-Minneapolis CAFETERIA Where a Distinctive Setting Cooled and Washed Air— and delicious food combine to make your meal a delightful experience. i 20 So. 7th St. I ae-- -—-—-—— ■■■■■■ ■ ■ ■■ : COMPLIMENTS of a FRIEND ------—---------------- at...........................—| HOOVER DRESS SHOP I 2541 Hennepin I I ..........................: ::......... :: {Dvna idcrid Sixth and Seventh Streets at Nicollet Avenue Minne apolis + ” Junior-teens —sizes 10 to 14 for grammar and junior high schoolers! Senior-teens —fully two inches longer for senior high schoolers! Donaldson’s 100% Camel’s Hair Coats Beautiful sloping shoulders and three grand curving pleats give this coat lines”! We have them for you if you arc over or under “five feet ; if you arc chubby or very slender! 100% soft “ncvcr-wrinklc” Camel’s Hair, with wide lapels, raglan sleeves, double breasted closing. Sizes 10 to 14 are $14.05. Sizes 12 to 16 (2 to 4 inches longer) arc $17.95. Off-thc-facc Felt Hat, $J.50 :: FIFTH FLOOR 0 s Jee� -€ Tt e r