Ruperts Land Girls School - Eagle Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Page sxuxniuinxau'snliuLnlLnnLnsunLuslnLuinlL0L1- -A uxnsnsnxnsuxnxnxusu-Lu T H E E A G L E THE GRr:1sNwooD The Proctor family was sitting around the fireplace in the library, after dinner. The glow of the red flames was reflected on their faces, and played upon Mrs. Proctor's golden-brown hair, as she sat near the fire, quietly talking to her husband. The twins, Barbara and Malcolm were sitting on little foot- stools by their grandfather's knee, listening eagerly as he told them stories of the war. Patricia was engrossed in a popular magazine, and John was off in a corner, listening to orchestral music on the radio. It's a long time since we've all been together for an evening, remarked Colonel Proctor to his wife. Yes, dear, and I do enjoy it after the hectic days when Pat was making her debut, said Mrs. Proctor with a smiling glance at her family. Presently grandfather, after finishing his story, turned to his son. Hart, he said, I'm leaving for Scotland tomorrow. Colonel Proctor looked at him in amazement. Leaving tomorrow! echoed his wife blankly. Why, gran'pa, we won't let you go. Please don't go, chorused the youngsters. Do explain what you mean by that perfectly impossible statement, begged Mrs. Proctor, surely you can't mean t.o leave us? Yes, my dear, I'm afraid I must. You see, I have not found what I have been looking for, and I shall never rest until I do. When I find the spot, I shall settle down and spend the rest of my days there. But it is so futile! Think, argued Mrs. Proctor, all you have to go by are the words 'Bois Vert,' and an idea that it is somewhere in America-in Louisiana. It's a beautiful senti- ment, and 1 know how you must long to find what you are seeking, but it would take a lifetime. Mr. Proctor shook his head. 1 shall never give up looking, he said simply. I know I shall find it before I die. There was something of the spark of long-buried hope in the eyes of the man, something in the earnest manner in which he spoke, that silenced any further persuasion on the part of his children and grandchildren. We'll miss you, father, said Mrs. Proctor, her voice betraying the emotion she felt, ' ' but I think I'll miss you most. There were loud cries of dissent from various members of the family, but Mrs. Proctor ended it all by saying that no matter how much they would miss him, they would all look forward to his return. Grandad, said John suddenly, what is the meaning of 'Bois Vert'?' I don't mean the literal translation, but why are you looking for it? Is it something connected with your life, or what is it? It was an anxious moment for Colonel and Mrs. Proctor, for they both knew how near the subject lay to Mr. Proctor's heart, however, he only smiled and said, Would you like to hear a story? Oh yes, gran'pa, cried Barbara and Malcolm in unison. May we stay up, Mummy, just this once? Whatever grandfather says, children, she replied, with a glance at her father-in-law, who had been like a father to her ever since her own father passed away. Yes, I think so, he replied, -and are you and John interested, too, Patricia? he asked. Oh, of course, grandad, she replied, drawing her chair up closer, You haven't told me a story for a long time. After a moment's thought he began: It happened some fift.y years ago. I was the son of a wealthy Glasgow ship-builder, and I always used to go to the Highlands for my holidays. My father believed in hard work for boys, part of the time, no matter what station of life they were in, for a good number of lads used to waste their lives in cities, doing nothing. I used to go to a crofter's hut and work just as if I were his son. My father had rented land to him and knew him to be trustworthy, so he gave me entirely into his care. I liked the open-air life and the simple amusements. There were not many dissipated young lads and lassies among that lot-they were all too healthy and satisfied with their care-free life. After a day's work in the fields, and a hearty supper, with a pipe and a good fire to finish off with, all we felt like was bed. That is, every night but Saturday-that was the gay night. The crofters from all around would gather in someone's big barn and have a dance. I can still see the lads swinging their lasses to a tune played on the fiddle and, if we were lucky, the bagpipes. It was there I met your grandmother, and a fine lassie she was. Here his voice took on a tender quality. She was pretty and sprightly, and had it all over the other girls for dancing. She and I took to one another right away, and it wasn't long before I found out that she was doing the same thing as I was- coming to the country from the city to stay with one of her father's crofters. When summer was over I took her back to Glasgow with me. Imagine my surprise when I learned she was Lady Alice McMurray, daughter of Sir Donald Kennedy McMurray, my father's best friend. Both our families were pleased with the match, and we lived very happily for four years. Then we got the idea of going to America, so to America we went. We lived in a big house on a large estate on which was a beautiful wood, she called it 'Bois Vert,' for she was learning the French tongue. One day, when she was out walking, it started to rain, she was too far from the house to run for shelter, so she stayed under a large tree which was not, however, much protection. She was drenched, and so cold and numb that her limbs would not obey her. She stayed for over an hour under the tree and then lost consciousness. Her maid found her and brought her home, put her to bed and did everything in her power to ward off that which was certain to come-pneumonia. Here he stopped and looked into the glowing embers of the fire, as if he saw pictures in their depths. He was entirely lost in his thoughts, but presently he looked up, and picked up the thread of the story from where he had left off. Well, it seemed as if she would get better, everyone felt encouraged, but one day she called me to her. 'Campbellf she said, 'I am not going to recover. I thought you had better knowf That was all she said, and I felt it to be true. I used to take her for long walks through 'Bois Vert? She was in a push chair, and I would push her. Once, as we came to a lovely spot, she said, pointing to a green glen, 'I want to be buried there under the trees, and on my cross, I wish to have engraved Bois Vert .l Then, one lovely spring day, she slipped away. We buried here there, and I immediately left for Scotland. Later I heard it was the wish of certain people to tear down our house, since it was nearly in ruins, in order to cultivate the land. I gave permission, as I never thought to go back there. Then came the World War, and my only son, Hart, and I went. It was on a German field, I think, that I met her father. He was dying, and his last wish was that I should go back to Louisiana and be with her all my life. I thought I knew the spot, but I have searched so much, I'm afraid to go any farther. I shall go to Scotland, settle my affairs there, and devote my life to finding the resting-place of my wife. Pat had risen from her chair, her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Grandfather, she cried, trying to steady her voice, this wood, our wood-why, only last week I heard the gardener saying how green it was, how it was often called the 'Greenwood' Could it be- But Mr. Proctor too had risen. I am going for a walk. I shall not be long. It is early yet. His voice was calm, but his face shone with a wonderful light. Some minutes passed. Presently John got up, took a flashlight from his pocket and said, I'm going out to find him. It's getting late for him to be out alone. His mother nodded in approval. As he ran down the steps he met the gardener. I'1l go too, Master John, them woods is dark at night. Not very dark tonight, Leonard-look at that beautiful moonlight on the water. How it shines! The moonlight bathed in silver the trees of the little glen, and a broad ribbon lay across the figure of a kneeling man. His head was bowed, it seemed in silent worship. The sight of the small stone cross with the words Bois Vertu upon it made the two men suddenly understand. It is not for us, said John solemnly. Slowly they turned and retraced their steps towards the house.

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R U P E R T , S L AN D C O L L E G E -xusf-sus-nxn-s-axe--scAg--xuxnx.-snxnxuxnxnsuxnx.-xipx- Page THE PROCTORS SOME members of Grade X put their heads together over a joint piece of work. Marjorie Chisholm wrote a description of the members of the Proctor family, and Audrey Garnett illustrated them, Frances Hunt described their house, of which Jocelyn Richardson had drawn the plan, Stephanie Richards planned their estate, which Betty McDonald des- cribed, and Virginia Cameron wrote a story about the lives of this famous Proctor family. Not all of this work could be reproduced, but here is some of it: is a mirror in a gilt frame. The only pictures in the room are water-colours and etchings. The furniture consists of a grand piano,Ichairs and chesterfields upholstered in either rust or green. The dining-room furniture is mahogany, with mulberry-colored drapes and rugs, the pictures are sea-scapes done in oils. ln the library there is a large brick fireplace, the bookcases reach nearly to the ceiling, and on the tops of them are busts of the great musical composers. The inantel-piece is ornamented with cups and other trophies won by members of the family. Scarlet and ivory form the colour scheme in the kitchen, where there is every modern convenience to help the cook and maids. The bedroom of Colonel and Mrs. Proctor contains l l t :nfl l gg V' z 30 I I Z n 'HALI' A1 t. l I' j 119 snooei E cz I 3, Oi 3, wfinrmonr D 3D F 0- F I i I -C IRTHKYW 5-fm-my r'lmD's - r1AlD'5 Btbnoorl summon U1 1 FV :, 5 . n I- r1nio'S Bnnn 2 BEDRQQI-1 2 S, CUYUDHIDF ,,,...m,. :..i ..., j msg-Eiwg--ff-cg? D '-sgopdi' g:,....,':.-ga 5 Dv'-1 'C5-IQUQOU' - 3' CD-cu'7 'SD,f'v' C 31 garb Zffbv-siggbv-,UQ ID ev-'D ,22g'3.sQ:, 'j m gpg:-ng-4....m ...D -1. O :-'1 f p m QE-m5'IQQe+'pq4 i? 5' ::S.O'D-cvfs'-.. 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He is a healthy, robust man, with frank blue eyes which twinkle out of a ruddy countenance, and his greying hair and sandy moustache give him a very distinguished appearance. Mrs. Proctor is the kind, thoughtful and sym- pathetic mother of her affectionate children. She has golden brown hair, brown, laughing eyes and a lovely smile. Many a time her short, comforting figure is seen in poor wards in hospitals and homes, and someone will smile in a knowing way and say that Mrs. Proctor is doing her usual helpful work. Patricia is a tall, slim, popular young debutante, about eighteen years old. She has her mother's colouring and friendly smile, enjoys all sports, and although sometimes thoughtless, she adores her younger brother and sister. John is the eldest, about nineteen, with an infectious grin and teasing ways. Although active in all sports, his one ambition is to be a doctor, and he spends much of his time in studying medical books. Barbara and Malcolm are six year-old twins who spend most of their time playing pranks on the elder members of the family. Their heads are a mass of fair, curly hair, and their deep brown eyes radiate happiness. The house, which was primarily de- signed for comfort, is built of dull red '-'1-v-' there. Directly in front of the main door of the house there are stone steps leading down to a beautiful, green, creeping-bent lawn on which are clumps of lilac bushes, heavily laden with blossom in the spring, Beyond this is the half-moon-shaped sunken garden, a flag-stone terrace and a lily pond. The ground slopes down to the river on which stands a large dock, and stairs running up to the top of the boathouse where the gardeners sleep. Below, in the boathouse, there is a small Dodge boat, a Ditchburn, two canoes, a rowboat and an outboard engine. East of the boat- house lies a fair-sized vegetable gardeng to the west, beyond a clump of willows, a perennial Hower border runs along the edge of the garden, the whole of which is surrounded by a tall caragana hedge. There are many other features which there is no space here to describe: a fountain, a croquet lawn, a Hagstone walk, the garage in which the Proctors keep both their big and little cars, the tennis court and numerous clumps of trees of different kinds. brick which is partly covered with vines, the White door with a fan-light above it gives it a Georgian appearance. Broad, shallow brick steps lead into a vestibule tiled in black and white marble, up two more steps is a long hall carpeted in green broad loom. A door at the end of in it reflects a the hall with a mirror mahogany console table with two small antique chairs on either side of it, and a mirror over it. The living-room is carpeted in pale green broad loom, in front of the fireplace is a huge polar-bear skin. The French windows have drapes of white monk's cloth, and all the woodwork is - If - - - Jw f ee DROOV1 25 3 .1 T 8 41 S5 ' :J F' rn 'J' P3 4 s f J l enrimom-ig in WLNC, . H mo N i J BATNROOYS u J BEDROOM 5 -. LIVING Room I 'L e H QU-. ' l L4 . l J, ctosu'-I J 2 BEDROOM CHIWFFEDR 5 SHMK 3 E-.cnecovi U G BEDPQON if DQv.sswc Room BHTHROOH Q ,-1 q-i i i 4 1 ' white. Over the white marble mantel-piece

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R U P E I S L A N D C O L L E G E ususuxum-as-nsnfgnsnsuxusnssnxuxnsuxux-nxn-sus--sux: A FIRE IN THE NIGHT GEIIIFHE wheat had been threshed that day, and the huge pile of golden straw was slowly burning away. It had already been burning for hours, and was still blazing. The moon and stars were obscured by low clouds. In the sky the dull red glow of the fire was visible for miles. The night was chilly and damp, the fire looked cheerful, but when you came near it, the heat was too intense. The acrid smell of smoke was everywhere, it choked you, made your mouth and throat feel dry, and your eyes sting. The stack burned with a faint hissing sound, and the cracking of thc flames sounded faintly ominous in the still prairie night. I watched the flames for a while, and as the fire showed no signs of dying I went, for long after I could see the crimson glow reflected on the clouds. -Frances H unt, Grade X. came UNDER THE MICROSCOPE A GROUP of girls were gathered in Grade X classroom. The subject of their interests was an old-fashioned microscope which had been given to one of the girls as a Christmas present. When you've finished looking at the insides of that silk worm, I would like to see this leaf under the lens. Are those black bumps the lymphatic nodes Miss Ll was telling us about in Physiology? Here, look at your leaf. Why, it is made up of cells. The darkness is breaking at last! That, my dear, is what Miss S1 has been trying to pound into that block sitting on your shoulders for the last month. This leaf is awfully interestingf! Ah,,my energetic botanist, think what you would have missed if Leeuwenhoek tthat's my Biologyj had not been clever enough to invent such a miraculous instrument. It would be interesting to put peoples characters under the microscope. Would not Fls lack of punctuality show up nicely? But I suppose we must remember the proverb Better late than never,' and she certainly makes up the time she misses if it happens to be out of school hours. V--'s knowledge of words would certainly appear, so would S--'s ability to work. I wonder if things like B-'s whistle, Sh-'s temper and M-'s neatness would be seen. I know a few Order Marks would show up. That's all very well, but I would not like to put my French exercise under the microscope. Miss B--'s comments are large enough as it is, and I am sure some of my Spelling mistakes would break the lens. live been thinking that if Mathematics is an exact Science, is Science an exact Mathematics? That, my dear, is a very muddled converse, and a converse is Geometry and Geometry is not ordinary Science. Whether it is Geometry or not, it does not matter. I think on the whole the Microscope is very interesting. -Sheila Blackie, Grade X. C-L66 -I gp!-I-1 . X '4fa's+2?' 9? 0 l 4? I , U- M A 2.4-'-fn ' at as ..- - at , He thought he saw a Teapot lid Dancing in the Grate 5 He looked again and found it was A sausage on a Plate. If you're digestible, he said, I'm sure you know your fate. -M argaret Pilling. LA BELLE AU BOIS DORMANT L'annee derniere les cleves de Grade X ont joue la piece de I'La Belle au Bois Dormantf' en francais, le 26 Avril, 1935. Cette histoire de la jolie Princesse qui dormit pendant cent ans, a ete chcri des enfants cle plusieurs generations. Il parle de la naissance cl'une petite princesse et son bapteme, et de la mechante fee, qui ctait si fachce parceque l'on ne l' avait pas invitee at la ceremonie. Elle l'ensorcela disant que, quand la petite princesse aurait dix-huit ans, elle se piquerait le doigt avec un fuseau et tomherait morte. Mais une des trois bonnes fees enleva le charme, disant que la petite princesse ne tomberait pas morte, mais elle dormerait pendant cent ans. A ce temps le Prince Charmant la reveillerait avec un baiser. La fee: f'La princesse dormira cent ans Jusqua l'arrivee du Prince Charmantf' Comme l'histoire continue nous voyons la jeune Princesse, en filantg puis elle se pique le doigt, et elle s'endort. Le Roi et la Reine, et toutes les autres gens du chateau s'endorment aussi, comme a dit la bonne fee. Apres le passage des cent ans, nous voyons llentree du Prince Charmant. Il entre dans le chateau avec etonnement en disant- Est-ce-que je reve? Ou est-ce bien vraif' Comme son regarde tombait sur la jeune Princesse il ctait immediatement enchantc. La derniere scene montre le reveil de la princesse et tous les autres dormeurs. Ensuite la Princesse Aubepine se marie avec le Prince Charmant, et ils vivent joyeusement toujours. Parceque les histoires de fees sont pour les enfants-quoique les vieilles gens les trouvcnt bonnes aussi, c'est une bonne maniere pour les histoires de finir. Beaucoup d'histoires pour les enfants semblent avoir une morale, mais La Belle au Bois Dormant, ne semble pas en avoir. Peut-etre l'entree du Prince Charmant montre que:- Toutes choses viennent a celui qui attend. G. D A CONVERSATION Characters: Mrs. McTavish Mrs. Aronovitch fllrs. .!IIcTau'i.sl1.' And how would ye be feelin' this mornin', Missus Aronovitch'? Mrs. Arozwmiich: Vy Mrs. Mc-Tavish! It iss so goot off you to come, but I tink dis mornink maybe I get up. Der pain is almost all gone avayf' Mrs. McTavish: Well noo, that's just fine, Mrs. Arono- vitch, but I wouldn't be rushing things, yc ken. It isna' at all wise. No, indeed it isna'. Ye mind puir Missus O'Flannigan'? Well, her trouble began just exactly the same as yours. Then she seemed tae be over the wurst, but all of a sudden the pain cam back and inside of three days she passed away, puir thing. And such a fine woman as she was! Mrs. Aron.ozii!clz: 'fBut der doctor come to see me only chust yesterday, unt he told my Sammy dot I vas all better, unt could get up Ven I wanted. Mrs. flff-CTfl1!'I'Sfl.' Aye, nae doot he did that! I've no faith in doctors and the like. They come aroond prattlin' awa' aboot naethin', wi a lot o' grand words thrown in tae soond wise. Dinna ye ever fear, Missus Aronovitch, the longer he keeps ye in yer bed, the better is the lining o' his purse. Why, if I was in your place-now mind I dinna want tae say aenythin' agin the man-but I'd caertenly watch him mighty careful- like. Nfrs. Ar0n0z'itCl1.' VVell, mebbe y0u'1'e right, I don' know for sure, but my Sammy said dot if I didn't do vot der doctor say, I Clie soon, quick! Unt I no want to tie chust yet. Mrs. JIIcTamTsh: 'fNow mind, I'm no tryin tae scare ye, but that puts me in mind of a case Mrs. Cohen was speakin' of, only yesterday. It seems that Mrs. McCarty-ye ken, she had three fine wee bairns-well, she had what the doctor called 'flu, too, but she made the mistake o' listen'n tae him too well, and there's nae doot but that if she hadna she'd of been in this world noo. By the way, what's that ye're takin ? Mrs. .-lrononilc-h.' Der meticine vot der doctor giff me, uff course. He say it make me well in no time at all. Mrs. McTaz'fislz.' Oh, I see, medicine, eh? Well I cairtinly hope it helps ye. Ye dinna look a bit well, that ye dinna, but nae doot ye ken what ye're aboot. Good-bye Missus Arono- vitch, I hope ye're soon up and aroond wi' us all again! .Mrs. Aronomitch: Goot-bye Mrs. McTavish! Unt tank you aken for comink. . . . Oy, oy, I don! feel goot. Such a pain as I haff, ever since I don' took der medicine .... Oy, Sammy, come quick! I'm dyinkf'-Cynthia Bermest, Grade XI. Page 25