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Two years have passed since we published the first issue of our Magazine, and the reception accorded the book, and the num ber of Past Pupils who have been brought back into contact with their Alma Mater through it, amaze the Sisters and Pupils who prepared the first publication. Those who pioneered the Magazine had a twofold purpose in their minds: firstly, to portray in the literary efforts of the Pupils, the pictures and photographs, the daily life of the school, and, secondly, by encouraging contributions from Past Pupils, and printing news of them, to keep them ever more closely united to their old school. The pages of the 1948 issue will show very clearly the fulfilment of the first of these aims. That the second aim, too, is being attained is evident in the generous response of our Past Pupils to our request for contributions, all of which show how loyal are these girls of other days to their Alma Mater. Besides these two aims the Magazine has a special message each year for its readers. Last year we sent greetings to all our Past Pupils, this year we wish to reiterate the Pope’s Call to Catholic Action. We urge all our Pupils, Past and Present, to pledge themselves to support the various Catholic Action Move ments in their Parishes. Much of what we hear is gratifying; but we know that many are deterred from helping by the thought that they have no talents to use. To them we say; No seiwice is too small to be of value. Be up and doing! A special word of thanks is due to all those who have helped and encouraged us: His Lordship, the Bishop, for his unfailing , interest and his inspiring contributions; the Priests of the Parish, for their kindness and helpfulness; the Sisters of Mercy, whose tireless efforts have made possible our achievements; and the Parents of Our Pupils and Past Pupils, who we know have the interest of our Magazine at heart.

As the year 1948 draws to a close, the Magazine goes forth to bring to all our friends our best wishes for the choicest blessings from the Christ Child during the Christmas Season and the coming year.

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A Past Pupil’s Impression of the Present Bishop Addressing Children in the

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Bishop’s House, Toowoomba, Q’ld. I am grateful for this opportunity to bless and welcome the Annual of 1948, which will delight the hearts and minds of past and present pupils as well as the innumerable other friends of the Sisters and the Schools. Remembering that 1948 marks three-quarters of a century since the Sisters iDegan teaching in the Parish School of old St. Patrick’s, we cannot but thank God for the marvellous stability and subsequent expansion of the work they undertook.

As Toowoomba has grown into a beautiful and important City, so the little parish school and tiny cottage-convent of 1873 have developed into magnificent blocks of brick buildings set amidst lovely terraced lawns and shady trees. Perhaps, from the educational point of view, the changes have not been so remarkable, but only because the scholastic founda tions were so firm and true that they have not failed to shape the educational lines to this day. From the beginning (as some of us remember with gratitude fifty years after) the Sisters of Mercy in Australia based our course of studies upon a clearly Christian estimate of the nature and purpose of human life, a viewpoint which did not fail to give a remarkable breadth and an essential unity to the curriculum. At the same time the teaching methods were traditionally sound. But undoubtedly the most important educational factor, as Pope Pius XI declared in his Encyclical on Education, is the example given by the lives of the teachers. The pupils gathered from the Sisters a glowing example of unflagging energy and zeal for the welfare of each child and of the whole environment, a joy in the cultiva tion of artistic feeling allied to genuine knowledge, and a constant exaltation of religious aims and activities as the very essence and colour of life. None would desire the removal or alteration of such splendid educational foundations. But a noble superstructure has been .erected thereon, for example: The complete secondary course of studies following the primary, domestic science, and commercial departments, visual-education mechanism, specialised infant train ing, modern methods of physical training, personal and group activity in religious knowledge and in missionary and charitable works, Play Clubs and Catholic Action Groups, the stage produc tion of classical drama, and last, but not least, the publication of this Annual to record and represent the work and ideals of the two Schools. For the most notable development has been the provision of a separate Secondary School within the precincts and bearing the honoured name of the Convent (St. Saviour’s), while the Primary School, both for day scholars and boarders,'is still the Parish (and, therefore, Cathedral) School. A happy- and united family, taught by the same community of Sisters of Mercy, these two Schools unite in bringing forth this Annual. As a last word, may I express my happiness in the emphasis being laid in these Schools (in full accordance with the advice of the present Holy Father) upon the doctrine of the Church as the Mystical Body of Christ, an emphasis most salutary in our time when the spirit of unselfish interest in the welfare (spiritual and material) of other people is being attacked and sometimes de stroyed in our girls. May the grace and love of Christ send forth now and always from our Schools the flower of Christian womanhood, well in structed in the things that are eternal and ready to give to God and neighbour everything that is good. + J. B. ROPER, Bishop of Toowoomba. Feast of the Roman Basilica, of St. Saviour’s, the Chief and Mother of the Churches of the World.

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January 27th: School reopens for a new year’s work. Ah, me! The subtle charm of home upon me falls! Everywhere are new faces, and, happily to say, quite a few old, familiar ones as well. February 1st: This morning we felt honoured in the presence of the Bishop of Townsville, who celebrated Mass. I notice that there are still quite a few homesick faces about, while letters and parcels from home are expected at most extraordinary times.

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February 2nd: What’s this about a train strike? And did I hear someone wishing it had started a little earlier —say, the 26th of January? To-day we were paid a visit by the Dean, who gave some good advice in all the classrooms. February 4th: Physical Culture commences! Our first P.C. lesson from Miss Blackburn and her assistant, Miss Coots. Marching seems all the rage: “Left! Right!” “We’re in the Army now, girls!”

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View of St. Saviour’s Convent from Lawrence Street.

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February 6th: Two of our Y.C.S. leaders, Barbara Clarke and Rita Brennan, to-day returned from a Y.C.S. Summer School in Melbourne, full of new ideas; and in the afternoon gave a talk to the girls on the doings at the Summer School. I do believe they threw stones in the Yarra, just for the fun of it! February 9th: Folks seem to have Mondayitis after the pleasant week-end. This cold, rainy change brushes away the cobwebs, however. February 10th: We were all present at the Solemn High Requiem Mass celebrated this morning in St. Pat rick’s to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Bishop Byrne’s death. Three young men who are to be ordained in July assisted on the altar. February 15th: The first Children of Mary meeting for the year was held to-day, also the election of Prefects. Roma Smith, senior girl again. Congratulations also to Annemarie Kenafake, Maureen Evans, Rita Brennan, and Barbara Clarke. Page 4.

February 18th: Imagine facing the Inspector at this early date! That’s what happened to our Cathedral school pupils. For three and a-half days they faced the music. Before leaving, Mr. McCahon, our district in spector, told us he was delighted with the results, and in a few days the report arrived. Would you like to read a few jottings from it? “This is a well-conducted .school in which work is carried on steadily, earnestly, effectively and happily in congenial surroundings. The general tone of the school is healthy and uplifting.” February 23rd: “Steadily shoulder to shoulder, . Steadily maid by maid. Steady and strong, marching along. Getting ready for the Big Parade.” —(With all apologies to its author) Yes, it’s “toe-heel, toe-heel” up and down Ruthven and Neil Streets, our school banner flapping merrily in the breeze as we march smartly along, training for the physical culture display next month.

February 26th: Pardon my curiosity, but why is it that everyone I meet this morning is either peering in tently into a book, chanting aloud some geometry there from, or hurrying along, with beret on head and a despairing look about the face, to make a visit to the Chapel? Oh! yes, I remember—the Easter tests begin to-day. March 2nd: The sweet strains of “Kathleen Mavourneen” and “The Fairy Tales of Ireland” are wafted up from the music rooms. The school orchestra, too, has a delightful medley of Irish airs in readiness for St. Patrick’s night concert. March 7th: The Dean is always doing something for us: to-day he enrolled us in the Arch-confraternity of the Holy Rosary. March 13th: Our marching days draw to a close, for to-day the all-Catholic Schools’ Physical Culture parade was held in the Showgrounds. Everyone praised our marching, and congratulated the Cathedral school old girls, who won the cup for physical culture. This is the first display of its kind on the Downs, but we hear it is to be a yearly event henceforth; so all the future pupils of St. Saviour’s will, we hope, go marching, marchmg on. March 17th: St. Patrick’s Day! Everyone is flaunt ing a green ribbon, and even the two Convent cats, Peter and Paul, are proudly wearing green bows. High Mass in the morn, concert in the Town Hall at night, both of which we attended. Everyone voted the concert a great success, particularly the items of our orchestra and choir. March 18th: The Secondary School girls visited the grand display at the Art Gallery. We enjoyed it very much indeed, and some succeeded in picking out the works of the great masters of old, about which Sister gave us such an interesting lecture. March 19th: High Mass this morning in honour of St. Joseph; and His Lordship graciously granted us a holiday as a reward for our efforts last Saturday. A sigh of surpri.se and joy arose from the school children when His Lordship decreed that there was to be no more homework till after Easter for those who attended the High Mass. Consequently, we went en masse to the pictures this afternoon. March 20th: Many girls are bemoaning the fact that all the trains are not running yet. Means of travelling home next Thursday are still somewhat uncertain, but this does not seem to affect the plans for Easter. Grade V. had its first Crusader Club meeting to-day. Its purpose and aims \yere explained. Prayer, charity, work and selfsacrifice were four points briefly considered. Then the Young Catholic Actionists became very active, and en joyed “Musical Rulers” and other competitions demanding plenty of agility. ! March 25th: Suitcases in hand, the boarders qre rapidly departing per car, per ’bus, and per every ot^er means of transport except a train. Last minute goo^-byes are said, and wishes for a happy Easter are on everyone’s lips. March 30th finds us back again, full of new resolu tions and tales about Eastertide experiences. Many home sick girls are lamenting the brevity of the holidays, but console themselves by discussing the joys that are past. April 3rd: “Our Lady’s Club” was the name chosen for the Crusaders’ Club. St. Therese and St. Anne were names that scored many votes. “Joseph” was acted by our members. It is just as well he had eleven brothers, or otherwise some of us would have been without a part in this biblical play. April 7th: Another physical culture lesson. Miss Coots taught us the first steps of the ballet.

April 10th: There was some hearty cheering and applause to be heard on the sports field to-day, as the Day Scholars’ sports were in progress. Some of us went to the Y.C.W. Fete as well, this afternoon. April 11th: Sister is busily disposing of the remains of yesterday’s stalls. I believe the laboratory has turned into quite a tuck-shop. We are all sorry to hear that our dearly beloved Dean will be leaving us shortly. April 13th: We gave Dean O’Donnell a farewell con cert to-day, in the presence of His Lordship. We are all sorry to lose the Dean, whose cheery smile and kind word greeted us whenever we went to the Cathedral. But, as His Lordship pointed out, we shall probably see the Dean occasionally when he visits Toowoomba. Mean while, we heartily wish him the greatest happiness in his new position as Parish Priest at Allora. April 17th: To-day the Seniors and Sub-Seniors went to the pictures to see the filming of Charles’ Dickens’ novel, “Great Expectations,’’ but few of us thought it as good as the book itself. April 21st: We all hurried off to the Show—a longawaited event. Everyone had a merry time, and visited practically all the sideshows, to say nothing of nurnerous rides on the “horse-o-planes,” “ferris wheel,’’ etc. April 22nd: Another holiday to dispose of! A few who could not get enough of the Show went to it again. April 25th, Anzac Day: The boarders went to 10 o’clock Mass, at which many prayers were offered for the gallant men who gave their lives in the two world wars. May 6th: Y.C.S. Soiree! Most of the girls favoured the “old look.” The school orchestra accompanied the dances under the supervision of our capable pianist, Celie Turvey. Everyone voted the afternoon a great success, and I am glad to say that every girl in the Y.C.S. seems to be able to dance anything from a polka to a Jazz waltz. May 7th: We welcomed our new pastor. Father Skelly, by giving a concert in his honour. What a varied programme! There was a Neapolitan Serenade, played by the school orchestra, a Spanish dance, a recitation, not to mention the sweet Irish song presented most delightfully by the choir. May 9th: Another examination! This time Sister Mary Camilla “searched Jerusalem with lamps.” Again the Primary School was gratified with a pleasing report. ' May 11th: We all went to see Thea Rowe’s perform ance in the Town Hall. Everyone thought it most enter taining, especially the stirring “John Peel” and the ducky “Mrs. Bond.” May 15th: Four of our leading tennis stars—Sheila Stewart, Celie Turvey, Clare Hoopert and Lilian Wiemers —took part in the inter-schools’ tournament at Glennie this morning. Back again next week, girls! Our hall jumped and rebounded, or at least it seemed to, when about thirty Crussaders did folk dances there this after noon. “Mother Annika” and the “Durham Reel” are the favourites at present. Later some were overheard ex claiming “Buzz,” which appears to be part of a new game of theirs. For full particulars apply to Grade V.! May 21st: We went to the Mission concert presented by the Seventh Graders. Of course, nobody missed going to our own picture show in the afternoon, either; the Bishop himself was there.. All agreed that the perform ance of the famous Italian musician, Toscanini, was superb. May 22nd: The sports field was a scene of great excitement this afternoon, it being Boarders’ Sports Day. After contending with much spirited opposition from the Greens, the Blues succeeded in carrying off the honours with a narrow margin of two points in their favour. Page 5.

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I The Sanctuary—Convent Chapel. r

May 29th: My! This Dinner Dance is getting close! What about your ideas for the shoulder spray? Is your fan an original and attractive one? Is your evening dress ready? The Ballerinas are diligently practising their steps to the bewitching music of “Tales from Vienna Woods.” I shall be seeing rose garlands on golden chains in my dreams, I think. June 13th: There’s great excitement among the bigger girls, who are dressing up for photographs. We danced on the lawn while the photographer took pictures of our delightful (?) poses. Shower of rain! We fled to the shelter of the verandah, prayed it fine, and out we went and posed again. June 14th: Ah, me! The heavens wept. We nearly wept, too, for we thought it impossible to hold the Dinner Dance. However, we were consoled by the good news that we could have it, not at night as was planned, but in the afternoon. So at 2.15 there was to be seen in the hall a bevy of beautiful maidens, ready for the dance to commence. As an opening we sang the School

Song, and after choosing our lucky numbers for Sister’s special gift, we danced the Pride of Erin. Then we seated ourselves to await the “Ballerinas”—twelve in number—who danced the Rose Ballet in long dresses of pastel shades, and everyone agreed that their perform ance was delightful. An outstanding event of the afternoon was the judging of the fans. We displayed them as we danced the Palais Glide, and there was such a wonderful variety that Sister found it difficult to choose the best in the various grades. After spending a most delightful afternoon at ballroom dancing, we repaired to the Refectory for our High Tea. All voted the 1948 Dinner Dance the best ever. June 17tb: Holidays are near, now. There are whispers of some lucky ones travelling to-morrow, Ah, me! I wish Wednesday would come. June 23rd: All the ports gone! All the good-byes said! Not a boarder to be seen! Breaking-up day has dawned at last.

July 13th: School re-opens. Rain came very oppor tunely to keep some home a little longer. Several new faces—two little girls all the way from Borneo, Mary and Margaret Campbell, who have interesting news of travel. The Crusaders have opened up the term well by holding a concert among themselves, just to show that their spirits haven’t flagged. Piano solos, dances, recitations and songs filled up an enjoyable programme. July 22nd: This morning we attended a Solemn Requiem Mass for Mrs. Concannon, the mother of four Priests, and three daughters who were past pupils of our school. July 26th: Miss Betty O’Brien, the National Secre tary of the Y.C.S., who is at present visiting Toowoomba, was to-day entertained at Picnic Point by our Y.C.S. leaders: R. Smith, R. Brennan, B. Clarke, J. Kennedy, N. Callaghan, M. Evans, A. Kenafake, and R. Letters. Miss O’Brien assured us that she was very impressed by Toowoomba’s natural beauties. July 27th: Miss O’Brien gave an extremely interest ing lecture to the Young Catholic Students this morning, and afterwards gave special help and advice to the leaders. At night we took our Southern visitor to see the operetta, “Castles In Spain.” July 30th: St. Saviour’s Y.C.S. leaders attended the Rally in Holy Name Hall this afternoon. This is the first time the Catholic Secondary Schools of Toowoomba have met for this purpose. We are proud of our leaders, who conducted the Gospel discussion so capably. Have you heard us sing the Y.C.S. song? We are wondering when the next Rally will be, and also when we shall see Miss O’Brien again, for, sad to relate, she bids us good bye to-day. August 2nd: Have you had the ’flu yet? Then watch out; you might be the next unfortunate one. Those of us who did not go out to-day. First Sunday, and those who haven’t got the ’flu,-attended the operetta, “Castles In Spain,” very kindly staged in our hall by the N.C.G.M. and Y.C.W., under Father Walton’s direction, for the benefit of the Religious Orders. August 4th: Those Crusaders are at it again! I hear those of Fifth Grade enjoyed a basketball match to-day. Many were amateur players, but they learnt a few points before the afternoon was out, and perhaps had closer contact with red soil than ever before in their lives. “Laying the Ghost,” an amusing play, was also rehearsed by them. August 20th: To-day we were glad that bur Chap lain, Father Burke, has returned after an absence of a few weeks in the Mater Hospital. We were also deeply impressed by the lecture delivered to us on the plight of the starving children of Europe. I have heard quite a few girls making resolutions to sacrifice their pocket money to help their less fortunate friends in foreign lands. August 21st: There is great excitement in the house, for two Grail ladies, Helen Van Cleef and Johanne Waite, have come to spend the week-end at St. Saviour’s —Helen to teach weaving, and Johanna folk-dancing. Both ladies have given us some stirring talks on Catholic Action, Helen being the apostle of Homecrafts, Johanna that of Domestic Work. While the spinning looms were being set up, the Secondary School girls enjoyed them selves dancing; even the least inclined were coaxed to trip the light fantastic toe by Johanna’s charming smile and tapping foot. August 22nd: More folk-dancing! Everyone seems to have the craze! What with the Big Traal and the Little Traal, I feel somewhat like the little girl whose red shoes ran away with her.

August 23rd: To-night the boarders and Nuns attended the pictures shown by the Grail ladies. “Springwood Story,” relating the life of the Grail Training Centre, was followed by “The Quest,” which gave a detailed acccount of life at “Tay Creggan,” Melbourne—a Grail Training Centre for Questers. The third picture was in glorious technicolour, and showed the Catholic schoolgirls’ trip to Canberra under the supervision of the Grail. August 25th: The “A” Grade team is certainly prac tising hard with that basketball. Everyone is aware, too, that the Pageant is getting closer, and we are wondering if our garlands are swaying “just so” in the floral ballet. August 28th: The return basketball match with St. Ursula’s “A” Grade was played off to-day. Great enthu siasm, keen play, all good sports. We won the day, but had to fight hard. Score-board showed 29—14. August 29th: Did you ever do a “Saint Quiz”? If so, perhaps you could have enlightened some puzzled Crusaders to-day when they were confronted with “Who was the Saint who disliked cheese?” “What was the name of the Good Thief?” “Name a South American Saint,” and other similar questions. By the way, every one, Crusaders included, is delighted that our Chaplain, Fr. Burke, is getting better after his serious illness. He said Mass in the Chapel this morning at 8.15. August 30th: Miss Margaret Herbert, from the Voca tional Guidance Bureau in Brisbane, visited the school to-day. Many were anxious to know whether they were to become air hostesses, Shakespearian actresses, doctors, dentists, or second Louis Pasteurs, and received some good advice in return. September 4th: To-day was our big “Floral Pageant,” which hundreds of our parents and friends attended. What with ballet dancing, Tschaikowsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers,” colourful Maypoles and physical culture dis plays, things were kept moving. Everyone voted it a gala day, especially with regard to the sweets, drinks, cake, etc! September 6th: At last our Retreat has arrived. Watch those tongues, girls, in case they talk! September 9th: After Mass this morning the Retreat was .over. How quickly the days flew! We all found the lectures by Father Branagan most interesting, and very helpful. Many of us wished the Retreat would last another three days, but all good things must come to an end. September llth: Another Club Day for the Cru saders. Basketball and “Proverbs” took up the attention of most members. Evidently proverbs are a little “catchier” than we thought; still, “it’s never too late to learn.” September 18th: To-day is a memorable one, not only for St. Saviour’s, but for Toowoomba as well, for at the request of His Lordship the Bishop over four hun.dred Australian delegates attending the Triennial Con ference of the St. Vincent de Paul Society in Brisbane visited Toowoomba. The only part we played in the celebration was to attend the extremely beautiful High Mass, and afterwards we met some very interesting people from other States, atnong whom was Mr. T. Howe, the organist from St. Mary’s, Hobart. Mr. Howe was so impressed by our singing (we hope) that he begged to take a snap of the school choir. Nothing loth, we all obliged. Our new-made friend from Tasmania has pro mised to send us up a copy, that is, if the snap is a success. September 19th: The Sacrament of Confirmation was administered in the Cathedral to-day.

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September 24th: Both the Primary and Secondary Schools had a very happy Feast of Our Lady of Mercy. Many were at morning Mass and Holy Communion, and by 8.30 a.m. the schoolrooms were hives of activity, for the pupils decided to commandeer the artists of various classes to illuminate their blackboards with festive greet ings to the Sisters. The Oratories were laden with beautiful flowers, and several classes added a spiritual bouquet to their blackboard decorations. In the Primary School, Sister announced a “long play” at 11 a.m., so immediately the budding basketball players of Grade VI. challenged Grade VIL, and the Grade VI. boarders chal lenged the day pupils to a tennis match. Grade V.’s enjoyed a soft-ball game, and though Grade VI.’s suf fered an overwhelming defeat, they were merry as larks when time was up. The day pupils were the winners in the tennis, but by a narrow margin. The new room is not quite finished, but Grade VI. moved in to-day. They will name the room after The Little Flower, and later on have the additions blessed and the “opening” proclaimed. September 27th: This afternoon the Y.C.S. general meeting was held. After the procession from The Grotto to our Lady’s altar, we recited the Rosary and placed gar lands of pink, blue, gold, pink and red roses at our

beloved Mother’s feet. Then the dancing commenced, and the girls made a charming picture in their gaily coloured frocks. We were next entertained by the Dramatic Group, who put on an original play entitled “Modern Macbeth,” which amused and entertained us all. The dancing was resumed, and after it was over we linked arms and had an informal sing-song, in which all the happy Y.C.S. members joined. To finish a most enjoyable programme, we sang a hymn to Our Lady as a last token of our love. October 13th: The school tennis tournament com menced to-day, and if you want to see some good sports manship and keen play just go down to the courts! October 28th: To-day our thoughts are with His Lordship, as it is the anniversary of his Consecration. November 1st: Did you enjoy the picnic? So did I. The music exams are still in full swing, so a few of us missed out. November 9th: St. Saviour’s Day. November 12th: Both Junior and Senior begin to day. Good luck, girls! December 2nd: Ah! The breaking-up concert at last! Good-bye, all! ' —Maureen Evans (Sub-Senior)

FATHER DOMINIC BURKE. “0 world invisible, we view thee, 0 world intangible, we touch thee, O world unknowable, we know thee, Inapprehensible, we clutch thee.” YES, God is everywhere, as long ago we learnt well; but, remembering that God is everywhere, we seemed not to know that He is somewhere. We spent our time—some Page 8.

spend their whole lifetime—seeking in that “everywhere” to find God, forgetting all the while that— “The drift of pinions, would we hearken. Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.” Or, as a Kempis, monk and mystic, echoing Christ’s own word across the centuries tell us— “The Kingdom of God is within you.” This Kingdom is that of our heart, where God abides as our Divine Guest, eager to give us His intimate love and friendship; eager for our answering awareness, and our reciprocal love. Yet how many of us live our lives without any answering consciousness, without making any return of love to this tremendous Lover dwelling in the depths of our being. And so we “miss the many-splendoured thing”—the transforming realisa tion, the undreamt-of joy and familiarity of His Divine companionship; the wonder and the nearness of His love; the glory and the nobility of living daily, nay, hourly “through Him, and with Him, and in Him.” That is the mystery—the Christian mystery—the mystery of the Presence of God in the human soul in the state of grace. It is a mystery which makes Christianity so much more than a philosophy, so much more even than a religion. The Christian is “another Christ.” Christi anity is essentially a life—a life of transcendent sublimity —a dual life of love and communion with God resident in the soul through sanctifying grace—a life-partnership with Christ, with God. “If any man love Me,” Christ Our Lord Himself tells us, “he will keep My Word, and My Father will love him, and we will come to him, and will m.ake our abode with him.” It is a mystery, but it is no metaphor. When God comes thus to us. He is not merely present by His power or by His essence as He is in all creation, but He is in us by His love, with a presence that is at once most real, most intimate, and most sanctifying. Our Emmanuel is all in all to us. A Triune God, He is our Father and Friend, our Saviour and Brother, our Sanctifier and

Lover. Though we know Him here by faith and not by sight, and see Him as it were “in a glass darkly,” He is the only Reality of our souls; He alone gives meaning to life; He is Light and Life and Love, the Love before which all human loves, however tender and true, are but shadows. “No tongue, no pen can show The love of Jesus, what it is None but His loved ones know.” St. Paul, who sounded the depths of this mystery of the Christian life, could in very truth say: “I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me.” And St. Paul gives us a hint of what the love of God can mean to one who has gripped something of its soul-stirring actuality, something of its rapturous ecstasy, something of its indescribable tenderness. “I am sure,” he says, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor power, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to sepa rate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus Our Lord.” All the long line of ardent lovers of Christ, all those who have found Him in the kingdom of their own heart, echo those words down to our own day. This, however, is no doctrine for an elite. The call to closest intimacy with God within us is not just for a chosen few. All who through Baptism are incorporated into the Mystical Body of Christ are thereby initiated into the Christian mystery, and are called to this loving union with God, Who now dwells within them, It is a call for you and for me. To you and to me Christ says in words breathing infinite tenderness and love: “Give Me thy heart.” And how our hearts should melt with love and gratitude, and our souls thrill with unceasing joy and gladness at the thought of it: that God should so love me even me! That He should so want my heart, my foolish and fickle heart! That He should want to abide with me, to be in me, to hold sweet and loving converse with me—with sinful me! Yes, we find it so hard to believe; we forget that He alone makes “much of naught.” But amazing and incredible as it seems, it is true—magnificently, gloriously true. My weakness, my foolishness, even my sinfulness—none of these can keep me from union with Him. Indeed He tells us that He has chosen the w-eak, and the foolish, and the base, and the con temptible to be the recipients of His favours, because He wants us to know that it is all the work of His Grace— without Him we can do nothing. What is there that He could have done that He has not done to teach us—so “foolish and slow of heart to believe”—that He wants us to be completely united to Him? “I am the Vine, you are the branches. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me.” And the whole sacramental system is. His plan

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for the communication of His Own Divine Life to our souls. He gives Himself to us in Holy Communion as a proof of His desire for this extraordinary intimacy, and as a pledge of its attainment on earth and its consum mation in heaven. He gives us His sacrifice in the Mass, His merits. His strength. His adoration. His love. All He asks of us is that we give Him our love, that we let Him live in us. That we leave ourselves in His Hands, and allow Him to make our lives Christ-centered, Christdirected. We must, in a word—Christ’s own word—be “as little children” to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Little children need a mother; and God has given us a mother, too. In giving us His only Son, He gave us all things. He gave us Mary, His Mother, to be our Mother also. We must go to God through Mary, since God came to us, in Christ Jesus, through Mary. Our need of her is absolute and essential, and constant; it must be, since God Himself has made her our Mother— the Mother of that life which He died to give us. She is our Mother by a threefold title. As Mother of Christ the Man-God, Head of the Mystical Body, she is the Mother of the whole Christ; and, therefore, our Mother. She is our Mother, too, by reason of her co-operation, through her compassion, in the Passion of her Son—the price of our redemption. And, lastly, she is our Mother because Christ on the Cross gave her to us, and us to her. The closer we are to such a Mother, the closer we must be to Christ. If we give ourselves completely to her, she will fulfil her maternal office in our regard, and make us more and more united to Christ—more and more “other Christs.” Not alone is Mary our Mother—she is also our model. No other creature lived in such close and holy intimacy with God as did Mary. Her whole life was utterly and absolutely centered on God and directed by Him. Her “fiat” summed up her life. And after the Incarnation her whole being was absorbed in the Christ Child, Her life was completely concentrated on Him—it was a con secration of body and soul, of mind, and heart, and imagination to Christ. She is our model in all this. If we are like Mary towards Jesus, who is God, we shall at last be able to echo -St. Paul’s glorious words: “I live now, no longer I, but Christ liveth in me.” And if we give-ourselves completely into her motherly care, she will make us live entirely for Christ and make Christ live in us; she will lead us to find the Kingdom of God within us—to find Him, Who is our All-Alpha and Omega. “God’s Handmaid now in Motherhood of men: He needs thee still—to fashion Christ, to limn His features on the souls of men—as when Thou gav’st a flawless human form to Him With whispered fiat. Fashion Him in me. Dear Mother—I surrender all to thee.” —Francis B.

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velvet glow, and incense it with their rare and exquisite perfume. They fittingly remind us of the spiritual roses with which all loving clients of Mary daily honour her when telling her beads at home or abroad.

For the beloved feast of the Immaculate Conception the Madonna lilies, grown to perfection, stand in majestic array, endeavouring to emulate her inimitable purity; and when we behold them, another stanza of Fr. Watson’s Mater Admirabilis is echoed in our heart— “How pure art thou, O Mater Admirabilis! Pure as the snow on Alpine crest; Pure as mid-ocean spray. The star’s clear ray, Or lily’s cup with pearls by morning drest. Pure as the dove that bathes in woodland spring; Pure as the Seraph’s thought before the Almighty King.’’

The colours of the spectrum are reflected in the Summer flowers, and, for the blessed feast of the Nativity, the fiery warmth of colouring in the blooms around each hallowed shrine would seem to be endeav ouring to make up for the absence of warmth in the heart of man for his Creator. Stately gladioli, multi coloured dahlias, pearl lupin spires, and the never-failing

roses intone glorias of praise and love for their Emmanuel who is among us with His Blessed Mother. Thus, in this fair, sunny land of ours each month has its wreath for the Mother of God, and surely no one but a stoic could look on the glories of the garden and not breathe a “Thank You’’ to the benevolent Hand who fashioned them. The month of May, although on the threshold of Winter, has its array of lovely blooms for the May Day devotions. Summer blooms seem to linger for those days, and the generous chrysanthemums and cosmos appear in their thousands to do homage to the Queen of the May. Lastly in our calendar we have the triumphant feast of the Assumption—the most joyful feast of all the year, and the little green spears of the asphodel family push their way through the kindling warmth of the earth to wish the Mother “godspeed” on her way to her heavenly home, where we know she, the crowned Queen of Heaven, is ever our loving and powerful Advocate, always antici pating our needs and desires. “See! See the Eternal Hands Put on her radiant crown. And the sweet Majesty of mercy sitteth down. For ever and for ever On her predestined throne.” —La Fioraia

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Music Pupils in a Floral Setting.

U'L “When every year the miracle of Spring is wrought anew. And every morn each flow’r awakes when kissed by silver dew, The mystery of life itself, the blossom-scented air Proclaims with Nature’s wondrous voice That God is everywhere.” WHAT rapturous thoughts of praise and gratitude well up in our being when Spring, with its magical moments, with its pledge of eternal beatitude and promise of blissful days, filled with the beauty and glory of the everlasting pageant of the flowers, comes upon us un awares ! Who could tire of exulting in the loveliness of their exquisite colouring and infinity of design? Did you ever pause to pluck one tiny floret of the spirea and gaze with reverent awe into its tiny heart? It is a rose in miniature, and what a rose! All the joy and perfection of Nature shows forth in its regal sim plicity. What an ideal garland for the Birthday of the Queen—our Heavenly Queen, whose birthday we cele brate in the glorious Spring. Methinks the good God had His Own Beloved Mother in mind when, in lavish and poetical mood. He designed the flowers and gave them their periods of guard to honour their Queen, as the calendar unfolds her litany of feast days. Surely, too. He remembered us in our poverty, for in what other tangible way and more fitting fashion could we show our love than by presenting our Heavenly Mother with the gems of her Son’s Creation, the loveliness of which excels Solomon in his glory! For us especially, who have not grown to full spiritual stature, the gardens supply the love tokens for our Mater Admirabilis, and they sing in mute praise what we fain would say. Page 10.

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How sweet art thou, 0 Mater Admirabilis! Sweet as the perfume of the rose That, full-blown, lifts its head Of royal red, And freights with fragrance every wind that blows; Sweet as the honey hived by summer bee; Sweet as thy guileless heart, sweet as thy purity. September ushers in the little tender flowers—shy violets, pertly poised pansies so eloquent, and fragrant freezias in keeping with the birthday of the Queen; while with golden trumpets bowing among their emerald spears the daffodils pay their lowly homage to the Queen, and the dainty poppies, brilliant and gay as captured sun beams, sway the rhythm of a canticle of praise in honour of “our tainted Nature’s solitary boast.” Immaculate lilies follow in quick succession, and all Spring flowers combine to glorify our Marian Shrine on Mercy Day, when around her woodbine encircled Grotto overlooking a sea of marguerites, her devoted children consecrate themselves anew to her love and service, and implore her to cover them more closely with the mantle of her maternal protection, singing in their hearts— “O Mary, when we think of thee. Our hearts grow light as light can be! For thou hast felt as we have felt. And thou hast knelt as we have knelt. And so it is that utterly, Mother of God we trust in thee.” Rosary month is lavish with garlands of the noblest flower of all—the peerless rose: Crimson glory, snow queen, cloth of gold, bedeck Mary’s altar with their

In a modern democratic community “freedom of worship” is regarded as one of the essential components of a happily organised society. Acceptance of this prin ciple rightly includes freedom to be trained for one’s vocation in the environment of any form of religion which one professes—whether such profession be by heri tage or by adoption—for there are many who claim that secular education alone is insufficient for the maximum development of personality and understanding which con tribute to the attainment of that balanced mental outlook so necessary in social relations. The denial of such a freedom, therefore, would be a negation of individual liberty—a suppression of a recognised birthright. Because of the ethical stress of religion,^ it is be lieved that character training is one of the: essential elements of education. Acceptance of this fundamental belief is evidenced by the fact that elementary education in some countries is carried on by religious bodies assisted by State funds. Similar recognition in our own country may be forthcoming in the future, if the high regard in which Catholic educational institutions are held excites the production of tokens more tangible than verbal praise. In modern times, however, accepted educational methods and ideals are being challenged by a new poten tiality—the disposition of the modern State to use educa tion as a purely political instrument. The system in German State schools tended to create the spirit of niilitarist nationalism — an important step towards the disaster of the two World Wars. The political value of propaganda was discovered during these wars, and has resulted in a more sinister phase—the development of adult “education” in which all intellectual activity is determined by the political creed of the ruling party. Such “education” by propa-

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ganda has been extended even to the Universities. It is not the expression of a disinterested love of truth—and truth is essential at the university level, where knowledge must be the expression of the spirit of research—and true research is impossible without liberty of opinion. In Australia we have no Utopian state, but, fortu nately, we have not experienced such policies which fetter the mind and body and prevent original expression. We still have freedom of speech and freedom of worship. The younger generation in Australia to-day are apt to take for granted these freedoms which they enjoy, and should be reminded that they are indeed valuable posses sions, which are by no means universal in history, ancient or modern. Furthermore, they should realise that the Catholic ideal of combined religious and secular teaching as it exists to-day in our country, can continue only provided that our present-day rule of tolerance continues, and it is not allowed to be displaced by a system in which the freedom of the individual is submerged in a rising tide of regimentation, and living personalities are forced to become automatons in a mechanical parade. Complacency and lack of interest in the develop ments of the momentous era in which youth finds itself to-day might result not only in absence of further gains in freedom, but even in the loss of those which have been won. It is imperative that all should strive for the attainment of national harmony founded on a belief in the integrity and independence of the individual. Dy namic efforts towards this end, not static docility, should also be the role of young people, for truly the destiny of a nation is largely influenced by the worth and behaviour of its youth. —Julia Ryan (nee Doyle) Page 11.

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“Time takes us by the hand and leads us onward, Down paths of peace and pain, of joy and tears; And stealthily the childhood of the children Is stolen by the years.” TIME! Precious, elusive, fascinating time. To-day I have stolen a little — time to sit under the blue heavens and think about time. Above me is the sun which spreads its first warmth at the dawn of creation. Around me are trees with age-old secrets buried in their silent hearts. Serenading me are birds, happy with their little span of life. Close by, to delight me, is the great scarlet hibiscus, whose brilliance, I know too well, will be folded to morrow in withered death. It is thought-provoking company. For a moment I am aghast at the fleetness of the seconds, which God measures out one at a time lest I abuse them. Then with a quick return of confidence in Him, and awareness of all the warmth and wonderment which He daily pours into my little world of time, I know only gratitude and delighted appreciation. Time is not only an exacting master, but also a generous giver. For there is a little gold thread woven through the fabric of every life, even the most troublous. Maybe the thread is broken or frayed in places, but it is there, and when the light of memory falls on it, it shows the golden flecks of happiness and laughter and sweetness that only time can weave. What does the lamp of memory reveal to you? Thank God I can see plenty of gold thread, and much of it was woven during my years at St. Saviour’s. Yes, eight years of time were stolen from me at St. Saviour’s; stolen so stealthily that I never missed them till they were far behind. Then, with a sudden appre ciation of their value, I stopped and looked back for them. They were there, accessible now only by the bridge of memory, eight years of precious childhood, stolen, but still mine. And all the peace and pain and joy and tears of them is bound up forever with my old school. Peace! What little things bring back that peace? The faint perfume of flowers on a quiet day takes me back to St. Saviour’s chapel, where peace reigned supremely sweet. My First Communion day! Even now I can feel the peace of it. I can see that soft blur of colour above the sanctuary which was the kiss of the sun peeping reverently through the stained glass window. I can hear that faint, familiar rustle of rosary beads in the hall. I can hear the sighing of the bunyas in the side garden. A breath of incense comes to me in the parish church on Sunday evening, and again, without the slight est effort, I am back at St. Saviour’s. It is the First Friday Benediction! Two by two we march to the chapel. I can hear the tramp of many feet on the creeper-covered walk, and the half-hushed whispering as we cross the verandah to the chapel door. I can see nothing now but rows and rows of little hats hiding rows and rows of small, bent heads. And raised above them —the Divine Custodian of time! Page 12.

Fain! We have all known it. The pain of misunderstandings, of childhood’s tribulation in its first clash with the world. The heart-breaking pain of those black days, when all we reached out for eluded us and left us in dismay. I can well remember those terrible days when I laboured in vain to find an hypotenuse or square root; when I made the unpardonable blunder of crowning a king a century before he was bom; when i perpetrated such villainy in the geographical sphere, that the Black Sea appeared mysteriously in the heart of Canada, to the astonishment and soul-searing disgust of my teacher. Time, on days like this, walked slowly, dragging leaden feet. Joy! Yes, joy triumphed over all the tragic defeat of black days. The joy and optimism of childhood rises above everything. Time on these joyful days had wings that were strong and fleet. The light of memory brings out the shimmering gold of those dear days when all things brought delight to my heart. There was delicious mystery in the whispering of the great camphor laurels around the school. There was happiness in the bird call which rose with sudden sweetness above the droning of the class. There was joy in carefree laughter, in holiday plans and dreams. What has time done to those dreams? Fulfilled some and tossed others aside. And tears? There had to be some disappointments and griefs. And there had to be tears, Who can come back with me to that one sad morning when we found a deserted classroom, and a simple message on the black board which told us a classmate had passed away and we were wanted in the chapel? How many of us on that morning had our first lesson on the meaning of time?

St. Saviour’s Boarders Dressed for the Dinner Dance.

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So the years stole your childhood and mine, or per haps they are in the very act of stealing it, if you are_ still a present pupil, still under the mothering wings of St. Saviour’s. It does not matter whether the years behind us are few or many, this spending of time is always a fascination as well as a responsibility. I pray that I shall always have a little time to sit in the sun and listen to those dear echoes that belong to the stolen years. I pray a little time to stand and stare. As Davies says:— St. Saviour’s Pupills Dancing a Ballet at the School Pageant.

“What is life, if filled with care. We have no time to stand and stare?” There are such a lot of things at which I want to stand and stare, There is that white seabird riding the waves of the bay, this tiny animated streak of bronze, which is a lizard, at my feet, the flowers and fruit of everything that grows around me. They are all passing things, but they are busy, useful things, which fill our —time with wonder (and sometimes put our lazy indifference to shame) as they come and go. What is life? Time and the way we use it. Precious, elusive, fascinating time! —Daphne Skehan

This Page of Illustrations has been kindly donated by— O’BRIEN & FITZPATRICK, the Leading Hardware Merchants, 131 Margaret St., Toowoomba.

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fl£5t£r-^£ar . RECENTLY, when sorting books into a bookcase m a new

and I peered on to the stage of twenty, nearer thirty, odd years ago, because 1921 was my first yeai at S . Saviour’s. I have been on many stages since then be cause amateur theatricals became my special hobby, but no musical comedy could have a happier atmosphere than those years when my stage was set at St. Saviour s. Sister Mary St. Agnes will remember very well that Smart Set of 1926. Indeed, she may have g>^e*i "s the name. Hers was the guiding hand, subdued our more boisterous efforts. The Smart Set included the Riley sisters, Dorothy ^i^h her cornet, Eame the ’cellist, Maureen Frawley, Nellie Edn Whitby, Margaret Lambert, Millie McGarrigal, Thelma Pfingst, Eileen White, Worrall Delaney.

—FatLr Leo Carlton or Father Vincent a Sunday walk. Why we disliked those wal^ks, I don t know to this day. We preferred to stay at the Convent, to read and talk beneath the spacmus trees. P^baps we were lazy, but I don’t think so, when I recall the energy we displayed in the basketball matches. Boarders versus Day Scholars. I had the honour to captam the winning 1925-26 team, which comprised Rita Mackie (goa keener), Margaret Lambert, Maureen Frawley, Edna Whitby, Millie McGarrigal, Muriel Breheney, Worrall Delaney, Thelma Pfingst, Ethel Brideson, Sarah Wood, Mary O’Keefe, Eileen Birmingham, Gertie Pauli (de fender). I have kept through the years the invitation

0 Wind! thy voice comes ringing o’er the mountain. Thy feet are swift—in dew they must be clad; For when the night is dark, and birds cease singing. It is thy song alone which makes us glad. Canst hear the voice of one so chained and worthless. As thou speedest on thy long, unerring way? Dost thou listen to the music of the rushes. As from thy powerful breath they gently sway. And now thou stoopest near the rippling waters,' And takest up a leaf which lifeless lies; Would thou couldst lift me and flying take me To thy mystic, peaceful home beyond the skies! r—Rita Jones

Shamrock light and laughter, which has always been symbolic of the gallant pioneer of Toowoomba, old St. Saviour’s. When I hear a cricket calling in the twilight at the close of a long summer’s day, I think of another cricket which called in the hedge by St. Joseph’s, called while the Sisters said their office, and chirped again in the silence of the chapel. He called, I-shall always remember, when the year was done for lessons, and was closing in, as was the day. His song had its joyous passage—a song of the great world so inviting, where lessons were past, and life was mine for the asking. I think, too, my cricket was a little sad. For, with school days done, we are then on the outside looking in; lost is the joyous camaraderie, gone for ever, while others sit in their crisp white collars where we sat, and others whisper along the chapel walk, and kneel in prayer by the Grotto. Thus it will go on, I feel. While the Cathedral bell peals forth, it will ring out to God for St. Saviour’s a song for the children now within its hallowed precincts, a prayer for those in the world, and a hymn and a prayer, too, for the Sisters and old girls who are with God, smiling down to-day on old St. Saviour’s, gallant yet kindly, proud yet humble, as dear as when you were there—an historic landmark in her ever-familiar russet-brown, with her possessive, warrior camphor-laurels. —Sadie Grace

TO-DAY I went to a Primary School Sports, and the air was rent with yells of triumph and groans too, as it were, of anguish, and above all other sounds, peal upon peal of childish laughter. But I came home to-day, forgetful of this day, remembering a Sports Day of yester-year, down in the shade of the lordly pepper trees and twisted camphor laurels at dear old St. Saviour’s. In my mind’s eye I could see again the blue and green bandanas, donned for expediency, donned with care; and being “blue” in heart, I could never see that Angela (bless her, now one of our own Sisters of Mercy) had not a perfect right to all of her 5ft. llins. But if I remember rightly, when feeling ran high in the Refec tory, and the games were played in anticipation, and played again in retrospect, Angela seemed, somehow, in the eyes of the jaundiced, to have had a little influence with the Almighty, and taken by force a few of those inches which belonged by right to wee Peg. Lynch, or perhaps, was it to Jocelyn? And thinking of that playing field, I imagine that 1 shall always remember it, not as the scene of play, but in the crystal light of early morning—a morning in Sep tember, with just a promise of summer to come, and winter not so very far behind. The gnarled old cam phors always seemed full of secrets; the school buildings empty and waiting, never seemed to me to be sad, like all other empty school-rooms. They lay dreaming, dream ing of the sainted Sisters long since gone to God; sainted Sisters who brought with them from the land of the

Memory leaps bhck. It is the annual concert of 1922 in the Town Hall. White dresses and large blue bows dart hither and thither. Thirty Performers t^e their place for the opening orchestral number La Mousme.” Evelyn Chardon sings “Love’s a Merchant Peggy Troy takes the solo in the song in tableau. Rath ■ feen Mavoureen.” I feel again the A^^er o excRement I felt during that item, because I am next with a Ere _ recitation. The choir sings “The Heavens Are Tellmg, a junior orchestra of twenty-seven Performers plays “Rosebuds,” Peggy Carrigg sings Break o Day, an^ the concert concludes with an operetta, Lily Bell, vith Katie Williamson, Annie Drynan, Mane Redwood, Hannah Gray and Grace Connelly filling the singing roles. In 1923 the accent, as far as I was concerned, was on the scholastic side, and the goal—the Junior. My classmates in Sister Mary Pauline’s Junior room were Maisie Grotty, Viola Lynch, Monica Daly, Nellie Battaglene, Zita Urban, Norah Irwin, Lizzie Handy. Some ot us migrated from there to Sister Mary Mercedes Com mercial room, where we were prepared for the business world. What boarder of 1925 will forget the annual picnic to Spring Creek, when the rain poured down, our bus broke down, and we had to push it back through the red mud? Unfortunately, I have no daughter to follow in my

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THERE are no friends like the old friends, and no days like the old days. We notice the truth of these words when we look back on our schooldays, and more so when that school was St. Saviour’s. There are Sisters who taught me when I first attended St. Saviour’s for SubJunior, who are proving good friends to me to this day. It would take up the whole Magazine to tell of the kindness of each Nun, but there is one in particular of whom I should like to speak. Many a hungry child who had forgotten her lunch would be sent along to her domain to have matters set right, and—for those were the dark days of the depression—many a child also, who had no lunch to remember! One wistful glance at her door was “Open Sesame”! If there are any lonely little souls in Heaven, I am quite sure that . Sister Cosmas will find them. You have your beloved Bishop, and we had ours. We do not need cold print to remind us of our love for him —it is written in our hearts. If I may say something to the present-day girls it is this: It will not be the colour of your eyes, nor the way you wore your plaits, that will be remembered in after years, but the little acts of kindness that you may have done. There is one kind little deed that stands out quite clearly in my memory. It was my first day back at school after the death of my little brother; everything was dark and dreary; John was dead, the world went on, and nobody seemed to care. Then a folded piece of paper

days at St. Saviour’s. __Susie Comans (nee Wilmington).

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card to a farewell supper given by t^e team m the Teachers’ Refectory. Other players of “^her years flit across the stage—the Rennie girls, Lulu and ^ovie Grace Connelly, Gwen Norris, Nita McDonald, Marcella Hic y, Iris Goode, Eunice Marconi, Annie Curran.

A smoky sunset in a flaming west, _ And the death of the day draws nigh; The whisper of winds in the laurels. And the ring of a night bird’s cry. The hushing of girlish laughter, ■With the scent of dew-laden air; The voice of a silver, tinkling bell. And this small world kneels in prayer. _ From the valley beneath us a murmur faint. Of the roar of a restless town; And the silent approach of the Lady of Night, While a crescent moon smiles down. Flickering shadows that linger and fall On the banks where the willows weep; While the Slumber Ships sail with their cargoes of dreams From the far-away Harbours of Sleep. __Pats Patterson (nee Gibney)

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was passed along to me from the end desk. It- was a message of sympathy from one of the girls. She wasn’t a particular friend, just a classmate, but she had that most precious of all possessions—an understanding heart. In an instant everything was changed. Somebody did care! In fact, they all did. Thank you, Lily Turvey, wherever you are! After all these years, I am glad to be able to say that there is still a member of my family—“the last of his tribe,” alas!—attending the old school, or, rather, the infant portion of it. Old age, however, is creeping upon him, and he will be one day pensioned off to “the Brothers.” Maybe it is the Irish blood in me that has left this memory to the last. It is the memory of a well-loved Priest who has gone from your midst. “The Dean” he was to you, but to us he was just Father O’Donnell—and Father O’Donnell he shall remain, It was a great day for the Allora people when he “fell from out their sky,” for, like his countryman, the great war ace, Paddy Finucane, who “had only to waggle his wings for the Aus tralian boys to follow him through Hell,” Father O’Donnell has only to smile his Irish smile for the Australian children to follow him right through the Gates of Heaven! And now, here’s hoping that we shall all meet at those Gates one day, to talk over the old times, and to look down with loving pride on our old school, St. Saviour’s,'Toowoomba! —Leonie Gleeson Page 15.

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The bugles of war are ringing far, A nation’s flags are unfurled; The fire that glows in the heart of man. Has flamed through a blazing world. And restless hearts are throbbing anon To the tramp of marching feet. As empires quiver and crumble oft. In flaming ruin complete.

The sky is clothed in crimson, For Old Sol has played his part, And in pity changed the jungle Just to soothe some aching heart.

But over the pain and the anguish Comes soft the whisper of Spring; To hide the wounds of a war-torn world, And to soothe its suffering. 'And in blossomy fragant twilights The winds their lullabies croon; Breathing ever their balmy incense To a slender golden moon.

That rugged range no longer stands A cruel, relentless track; For now it scintillates with gold. And lures us to attack.

And the world must list and know again The glory of dreaming eyes. Of the radiant star of evening Aglitter in cloudless skies; Of the red, red rose of the dawning. And dusk with its sweet, shy flush. As breezes whisper of love and faith In the evening’s velvet hush.

And then those swaying, singing trees They move, to let us know The hand that sent the bayonet Finds a shelter in their glow.

Of faith and trust through the years to be. The future, like rose unblown. That awaits the hand of Destiny To gather her for her own. ■ Of faith and trust, though the eyes be dim. And the heart beats yet in pain; Of faith and trust for the love of Him Who died ’midst the blood-red rain. —Pats Patterson (nee Gibney)

Some shining threads of silver Fall down to form a foam Of lurid green, and azure blue. Beneath their rugged home.

And so with thoughts uplifted. We slowly creep along, Till Jack falls headlong at our feet. And groans—another gone.

And many pairs of tear-dimmed eyes Gaze manfully around; And understanding slowly dawns As blood enhances ground.

Our String Ensemble.

Why would ferns and trees and pathways Turn beauteous fair and smile; If not to take in hand a soul Who loved them for awhile?

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And so the grimy fight goes on ’Gainst foes who choose to fight In a mud-wrecked, heated jungle. Which is sometimes wondrous bright. —Rita Jones

Sl^eading, ^Wilting and <^Il SOMEBODY has amended the old adage to “A little knowledge is a useful thing.” More to the point, indeed, To keep pace with our changing world, a man must know more than the plough, and a woman more than the baking board. Present day civilisation, whether we are in favour or not, makes many demands, and gone are the days when young ladies sat straight-backed at their needlework, and learned only the gentler arts. True, good housekeeping is of major imSome there are who maintain it is the partance. foundation of world peace. But good housekeepers, to be good home-makers, need wider horizons than the cooking range and the mending basket can offer, They must have sufficient business acumen to handle their household finances efficiently; they must know how to speak articulately and to the point in all circumstances; a knowledge of psycho logy is not amiss, particularly if they belong to com munity welfare groups. Current affairs affect us all, and here Geography and History play a big part. Nobody cares when the Battle of Hastings was fought, but success

or failure of political bodies, and their effect upon the nations of the world, from Ancient Rome to Soviet Russia, will have parallels to the end of time. Science provides the reason why the scones rise^or fall; and the bread goes mouldy, and Mr. Pitman has made it possible for many girls to earn a very creditable salary, which is, to most of us, extremely desirable. Then, too, those who “take music lessons” may never grace a concert platform; but what a pleasure it can be to enjoy somebody else’s efforts, and to be really attuned, so that music can lift us from the common cares; and they are always with us. Whoever remarked that education is no load to carry spoke more truly than he knew, Those who will, can make their knowledge carry them beyond the closing of the schoolroom door, through the portals of each phase of life, helping them to find happiness for themselves and others, proving again and again that “knowledge is power.” —A.E.K.

Those who took part in Hamlet, Act III, Scene II--- Our Contribution to Secondary Schools’ Shakespearian Miscellany.

This Page of Illustrations has been kindly donated by— PIGOTT & CO. PTY. LTD., The City Emporiums, Toowoomba and Warwick. Page 17.

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TO-DAY is a beautiful, typically Australian Spring day. The sky above is a gorgeous blue, and not even the smallest cloud mars its beauty. The birds are chirping noisily in the green, leafy trees, and the flowers and shrubs in every garden lift their colourful blooms to greet the warm Spring sun which streams gently down . as if to offer solace to the earth for the long, dreary months of winter. It is not, however, these picturesque beauties of Nature which fully occupy my mind to-day, for I am thinking of the many happy days I spent at the best school of all—St. Saviour’s. How clear and vivid my school days seem to me now-! I can still picture the neat brick paths and the clean white paling fences which surround the school. The cluster of brick buildings, the long, sloping, green turf of the playground, the laughter and shout of children at play will never fade from my memory. The sweet, healthy scent of the mountain air, the bright sunshine of summer, and the cold frost of winter made my life a healthy one. How easily I recall the classrooms, and the grim, semi-conscious fear with which I beheld them. Now they hold for me no fear of chastisement for work neglected, but only a feeling of pride, for here many hundreds of girls will receive, as I did, the spiritual and intellectual training destined to benefit them so consider ably in adult life. How well I remember the daily routine which then seemed so dull and tiresome! How I dreaded the creak of the door at 6 in the morning, and the tinkle of the bell which summoned me from my cosy bed. Then fol lowed the trek across to St. Joseph’s, after which was Mass in the Chapel. Well I remember breakfasting in silence, making my bed in a hurry so as not to miss the opening of the door on the stairs on the way to my charge in the Chapel. At 8.30 school commenced, and the day proceeded sometimes peacefully and sometimes stormily. It all depended on how homework was treated the night before. There were depressing times, when everything seemed to go wrong, yet there were times when hearts were light and gay, and the buildings and

playgrounds rang with the joy of life, The joy of a carefree Sunday afternoon, the thrill of a telephone call from home, or the pleasure of an unexpected call to the parlour will never be forgotten. The friendly rivalry of the school teams at sport, the thrill of First Sunday, of going home for holidays will linger long in my memory. The curriculum at St. Saviour’s was full and varied. Girls with their hearts set on teaching could take an Academic course; those who entertained the idea of a Civil Service or an office position took a Commercial course; and those interested in home training were in structed in Domestic Science. There stood above all these one course which He Himself wishes us all to take—-a thorough training in Religious Knowledge—so essential for the salvation of our souls and the instruction of those children not so favourably circumstanced as to attend a Catholic school. For this spiritual training we have to thank those noble ones who sacrificed the earthly pleasures of this life to heed His command. “Going therefore, teach all nations.” Yes, these brave followers of The Master are per forming a wonderful task, and ! know that every girl who has worn, or is at present wearing the navy and white uniform of St. Saviour’s realises the tremendous and boundless opportunities God and her parents have given her—opportunities by which she can receive a truly Catholic education. It is my heartfelt wish to re-visit St. Saviour’s every time I have the chance, and even though I may be con fronted with new faces, both those of pupils and teachers, I hope to see at least a few familiar ones which will make more vivid the recollections of my school days. Yes, St. Saviour’s, your gates will open to, and close upon, many hundreds of girls, but your unconquerable spirit will live for ever in the hearts and minds of your grateful pastpupils, who will strive unceasingly to be ever what you wish them to be—an example of Catholic womanhood: true, noble, and virtuous. —Margaret J. Waterson

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FEW have contributed more to the growth and develop ment of St. Saviour’s Convent than Sister Cosmas, whose long and fruitful life came to an end on the Feast of Saint Cecelia, November 22nd, 1947. Of her professed religious life she spent forty-nine years at St. Saviour’s. She was first and foremost a faithful Religious, a true Sister of Mercy, and as such her life was, and her memory will be, an inspiration to her Sisters. All through her life she was intensely devoted to the Mass, and, in spite of her sufferings and infirmities, she heard every Mass that it was humanly possible for her to hear. Pioneering work is difficult and arduous. It needs grit, determination, and courage on the part of the pioneers, and these qualities Sister Cosmas had in great measure. The difficulties of the long years did not daunt her, and, no matter what was asked of her, she was ever valiant, and, to the utmost degree, self-sacrificing. She saw the tiny mustard seed of the infant convent grow to a huge tree in the massive pile of the present buildings. She saw countless numbers of pupils who passed through the School return to greet her again with their children, and, many of them, with their grand children. She endeared herself to them all by her un failing kindness, her gentle sympathy, and the deep in terest she showed in them and their families. Deeply sympathetic and large-hearted as she was, her charity to the poor, the sick, and the aged knew no bounds. They welcomed her visits to their homes, and her prayers gave them renewed strength. By pious word and tender admonition she consoled them and urged them to place their trust in God. Many proofs of the enduring quality of the little lessons she gave can be found; but

here is just one; A jockey called at one of the Convents of the Sisters of Mercy far, far away from Toowoomba, and asked for a pair of Scapulars. He said, “Sister Cos mas told me I must always wear them.” Her zeal for Religion showed itself in countless ways, but most remarkable was her desire to help God’s Priests whenever she felt she could be of assistance to them. A fine tribute by one, who knew her over a decade of years, came to us shortly after her death: “What an example she gave to all: her humility, her piety, her patience and all embracing charity marked her out as a wonderful Religious; I can never forget her special kind ness to me during the years I was in Toowoomba. She seemed to mother me; and I believe she had the same interest in all the Priests. May God now grant her a reward for her holy and devoted life.” Her remarkable charity for the Missions is known to all with whom she came in contact. Every year the Pro pagation of the Faith, St. Peter Claver Sodality, St. Joseph’s Union, and the Missions of the Far East all re ceived substantial monetary help through her charitable efforts. She was an ardent believer in the good work that Catholic literature can do, and she never failed to distribute Catholic papers of all kinds. Her love of souls was so deep and expansive that nothing—even the smallest that she could do-—was left undone to win them for God. Her whole life was an example of that charity which the words of our Lord inspire: “As long as you did it to one of these My least brethren you did it unto Me.” May her example inspire many others to be generous with God and devote themselves to His service in Religion, for “the fields are white for the harvest.”

A TRIBUTE TO SISTER MARY COSMAS

. . T/tmjs 1. I love to hear the voice of sparrows Chirping from a tree, I love the lusty shout of children— Joyous and carefree. I love the sound of raindrops patt’ring On the window-pane. The sweet notes of a singing ’cello In a sad refrain.

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2. I love to see a rainbow gleaming In a storm-stain’d sky. The moon’s cool radiance o’er a sea. Where placid wavelets lie, I love a baby’s face aglow with Holy innocence. And the sight of praying hands upraised In wond’ring reverence.

3. I love to feel the gentle breath Of a night breeze in my face. To feel the thrill, the tender joy Of a mother’s fond embrace. But above all else, I love the singing. Surging ecstasy To feel a Mystic Presence steal Into the heart of me.

(By a Past Pupil) Now that the full impact of the news of your death has penetrated my consciousness, I feel not stunned as at first, but rather filled with a sense of sorrow, a personal sorrow, for I know that something fine and beautiful has passed from my life, the memory of which I will carry with me always, and treasure while I live. Even now I seem to see you doing the thousand and one tasks which were without end — hanging out the innumerable clothes on the line and bringing them in, feeding the fowls and gathering the eggs, nursing the little sick children with tender care, picking roses to adorn Our Lady’s shrine, making the sacramental bread which was to become the Body and Blood of Him Who gives all. But not even there did your duties end. Like little Theresa, you were a tireless worker for the Missions, always hunting up subscriptions for the Annals, the Pro pagation of the Faith, and many more magazines. Your heart was so much greater than your frail body.

But if you filled the role of Martha so well, how much more were you a Mary? A short, few moments were all you could spare for a visit to the Blessed Sacra ment, but always there was a prayer on your lips and in your heart. So often have I heard your weary voice giving out the beautiful mysteries of the Rosary or the tender supplications of the De Profundis as you bent over the laundry tub or the ironing board, that I can almost hear you now; and my heart goes back in sudden longing to the things that have been, and now . are past. I think I am right in supposing that for you there will be little delay before you enter into your eternal reward, and that you will no longer fill the lowly sphere that was yours on earth; but, having shaken off the fetters of this life, you will be very close to the Heart of God. —Mary Baines

—Maureen Evans (Sub-Senior) Page 19.

Page 18.

Leaves

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Have you ever met a lonely child. Who had no friends, no childish games With which to pass the fleeting hours? And have you ever passed him by. Unmindful of his childish sorrow. Of the longing in his eager childish eye? You tell me you are really kind. You love the little children. You would not pass the youngster by— And I believe you!

She stood by the cross in her sorrow, For her Son was hanging there, She thought of the words of Simeon As she looked at Christ’s matted hair. Her heart was full of mourning. For Christ, the world to save. Gave His life to the soldiers. To help each new-born babe.

But let me tell you of another child. Who often through the lonely hours Has no kind friend, no playmate near. To comfort sorrows in His loving heart. He was born in a lowly stable. Of a Virgin Mother singly blest By God to guide His childish feet. And comfort Him if He should chance To meet some sorrow in His childhood days. You say you know the Child of whom I speak— And I believe you! You say you know Him, love Him, too. But in His lowly tabernacle dwelling You do not think He longs for friends to come. And speak with Him when daylight hours Are long, and no friends come To share His loneliness—the loneliness of love! Come then to share the solitude that reigns Where the little lamp’s serenely flickering rays Seem to tell you of the beating of His Heart— Come! And I will believe you. —J. M, Waterson

Green leaves of Springtime, shutting out A sky of deepest blue. See the green leaves laugh and glisten As the sunshine filters through! A sea of waving emerald tips— Beautiful, fresh, aglow— Like man who, in the prime of youth, Finds Life a joy to know. Like man when Life to him doth mean A sweet and happy song— The world about, and all it holds. May e’en to him belong. And he’s aglow with joy and hope. And basks in Life’s warm sun— Like glist’ning leaves that dance for joy When Springtime’s just begun.

With her faithful husband, St. Joseph, She bore the King of us all; No mother’s joys could be greater Than her’s, when receiving her call.

Brown leaves of Autumn, shutting out A sky that’s dull and drear. The red, the brown, the yellow leaves They drop and wither here. Those lifeless, multi-coloured things But moulder in the dust. And pass into obscurity— As all poor humans must!

She is the Mother of Sorrows, But God sent her wonderful news When he gave to her loving keeping, Christ, the King of the Jews. With the last spark of life in His heart, Christ spoke at last to His mother; He garve us into her care. The sinner, as well as the other.

For all men, life will pass away As quickly as these leaves. Youth lasts a very little while. And the joy to life it gives Is fleeting. Ah! man soon grows old. Low burns life’s quiv’ring flame— Then into death’s vast sepulchre His withered form is lain.

So when we are doubtful and wonder To what pathway our feet should go. Just turn to Mary, our Mother, She’ll intercede for us in our woe. —Pat Shepherd (Sub-Junior).

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WHAT greater guarantee of security and success could a school wish for than to be placed under the ever-loving guidance of the Holy Name of Jesus? Few of us who were her pupils really appreciate this privilege, so gene rously showered upon us, for we more or less take for granted those things which have cost us no effort—our home, our school; but when we do come to understand this wonderful gift, it becomes something we treasure through life. Like so many others, I attended this school, yet it is only now that I realise how great was the opportunity of leaning entirely on Our Lord, always present, so close to us in the Tabernacle. It is true that we can be just as close to Him through grace, but the church and school, so united, offers an incentive to piety, since His Presence is felt more strongly. There are many sweet memories hidden in the school for those who wish to look back. The beautiful Crucifix, raised on high in the classroom, is a reminder of the happy associations with one, whom God so favoured and loved as to call from us, so soon after she had succeeded in inspiring her pupils with her own sanctity—Sister M. Cassian. These are sweet, sacred memories. There are others, too, which we also hold dear—the Crusaders’ Clubs, out

ame of which developed the friendly air of companionship; our diligent work for the Missions, and the excitement of naming the ransomed pagan babies; the polishing of the vases, which were to be used on the Altar. There are so many things to remember, so few do we wish to forget, but whether they are mentioned or remain unspoken, they lose none of their value for us. Although still a Primary School, the number of its past pupils is remarkable. Yet what is this if, when they leave their school behind, it is forgotten? It costs nothing to pay a friendly visit to the school, in return for all the school has done for her pupils. In all School Magazines we find many past pupils visiting their Alma Mater again and again. Can the same be said of the past pupils of Holy Name? We are inclined to forget that it deserves as much, in the way of gratitude, as any other school, for the Faith it has bestowed on us. I say this for those who hold this school so dear, because to those others it would be out of place to say anything else than— “All you who have not loved her, You will not understand.” —Nell Callaghan, Senr.

Is this the end? Of what avail To blossom, fade, and die? In truth, the leaves die not. For their rebirth in Spring is nigh. Then, just as leaves are born again. From out high Heaven’s dome, A glorious Resurrection For man will surely come! —Maureen Evans (Sub-Senior)

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Before I start, I must say this— That with a nod you can dismiss The other classes of the school— But there’s an exception to this rule. For we can boast a Senior class, And visitors will never pass Without some mention of the name— The class that caused St. Saviour’s fame. For as I take them one by one. You’ll see my boast is not “just fun.” In French, it’s Roma who tops the class. Nor can we others her surpass— For errors grave our eiforts mar. And Roma remains in this our star. Not less in fame is Rita smart— In Science she comes to claim her part. Though many ’gainst her here compete. There are few who can our Rita meet. Barbara shines in English prose— Rightly to her much credit goes; In other realms great deeds she’s done. And often has fine praises won. If arguments arise, we turn to Nell, Who gives a logical return quite well.' Then there’s red-haired Joan, In Geography she stands alone. Anne Marie, that dainty lass, Is quite at home in the History class. To us who know so little of Sphinx, She supplies the knowledge, almost before she thinks! For athletes never dies the fame. The Seniors always play the game! The school choir loudly does regret That sopranos are scarce, and hard to get; But for Maureen, our scholar and singer great, I fear for the choir—it would meet its fate. Last, but not least, there’s the author—me, In basketball, as all can tell. Perhaps, certainly, I do excel. Now there’s the class from start to end. No other with it can contend. —Bobbie Letters (Sub-Senior)

As I R emember VIl) Trip Home At Vi ic-winter 194S THE car sped swiftly over Toowoomba’s smoothly bitumined streets, and soon we were leaving the city behind. I was not sorry to see the houses dwindle, for every mile travelled was one less of the ninety which parted me from my longed-for destination. Over Drayton bridge, and then the houses gave way to rich green fields stretch ing for miles across the undulating countryside._ The milestones flashed by. Here and there we caught glimpses of stylish country homes, nestling comfortably amidst the verdant hills. Cambooya came into sight, and Too woomba was now fifteen miles away. Here one building which arrested my attention was the local hotel—it put me in mind of the imposing yet rather antiquated type of tavern Dickens would like to describe. Soon we were traversing the flatter Felton district. The hills had merged into a broad expanse of rolling downs. Truly fine grazing country, as we could see from

the flocks of sheep about us. We passed through the small village of Salisbury. More sheep, grazing in their hundreds upon the wide wheat fields of the Smith Bros. It was from this district onwards that one could see the devastation caused by the recent cyclone. Trees torn up by the roots lay scattered for miles. The car ascended a gentle but decided slope along a roadway bordered by cool, shady trees, to reach the summit of a sandy hill, which, I am told, was noted in the old days as a carriers’ camp during rainy seasons, on account of its elevated position. We caught a glimpse of what was once “Felton Inn”—now a private residence. On either side of the road heaps of debris lay piled up against the fences, further evidence of the all-too-recent floods. It became more and more apparent that we were approaching the Condamine. Ah! The river itself! As we crossed the bridge, I gazed in awe at the brown, swirling waters. Page 21.

Page 20.

still dangerously high. And then, on the other side of the river, what a sight was there! Stretching back as far as the eye could see was a veritable sea of water. Hundreds of acres were completely submerged. The road itself had, fortunately, been raised far above the level of the land, and stretching ahead of us it looked like some huge serpent floating on water. Cautiously we drove along, fearful lest we should slip off the serpent’s back into the muddy ocean. We found that the overflow of the river extended for nearly a mile and a half. Next we crossed Thane’s Creek, which had also flooded its banks. The beautiful old gums gazed sadly out upon the drowned countryside—upon large cultivations under water, crops completely ruined. Ellengowan homestead swept into view, its imposing red and yellow brick gleaming in the afternoon sun. Many of the trees about this picturesque area are gradu ally dying, being literally smothered by the parasitical mistletoe. In olden days the road from Ellengowan to Leyburn was a bed of pure sand, but now it has a fine metallic surface, and is a veritable motorists’ delight. We passed the turn-off to the aerodrome, constructed for emergency purposes during World War II. Countless cottonbushes dot the Leyburn countryside. We drove through the town; the streets were quiet, almost deserted. Three miles slipped by, and to the left we saw ahead a herd of bailies grazing on the sparse

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grey undergrowth, to the right an abandoned sawmill. Yes, this country produces splendid timber. We drove along a green avenue bordered by Cyprus pines, cabbage gums, red gums, ironbarks, black wattles. This delightful woodland is the haunt of many shy bush creatures—the wallaby, the ’possum, the kangaroo. Untouched by man, it is indeed a naturalist’s paradise. In the distance we could discern a huge mob of cattle, and for a while the milling herd blocked our path, but skilful drovers headed them. Cattle from Everley, perhaps?

At last through the large rabbit gate and into Rocky Creek district. Then through the trees we caught glimpses of blue mountains ahead. Suddenly we emerged from thickly-timbered country, to be confronted by open culti vated fields, sweeping as far as eye can see. Ah! there’s something breath-taking in the sight! Yet another ten miles and Basault and Domville mountains began to lose a little of their blueness. Surely Kooroongarra was get ting near? About them stretched the hills, bathed nowin a golden splendour by the setting sun. With misty eyes I gazed at the panoramic scene, and my heart kindled with a thrill of love for what I saw. Yet even if the sun had not been shining, to me they would still have been touched with glory—the dear, familiar hills of home!

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The March Past: St. Saviour’s Pupils at the Physical Culture Display.

—Maureen Evans (Sub-Senior)

A Geographical Tour

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Location and Vegetation: Senior Room is in a quiet little spot at the end of a shady walk, where the only diversion is an occasional conversation between the tradesmen. The vegetation consists of hardwoods used not only in the form of desks, chairs, etc., but in the make up of our craniums. The soil is not very fertile, owing to the lack of grey matter, the cause of which is still puzzling our geologistic teachers. Climate: This land is of mild, Mediterranean climate, which is often rocked by earthquakes—the Sub-Seniors looking for their books! The westerlies are with us all the year round—Roma Smith flying past us, late for class! Thunderstorms are not infrequent when the clock says the hour is for French; but sunshine is brought back by Rita Brennan’s uncontrollable mirth. Physical Features: Proximity to the sea is felt by those girls contiguous to Annemarie Kenafake, whose waves wash a nameless shore. The country is very mountainous, the highest peak being Maureen Evans, whose intellectual height has never been attained by her fellow-students. If we wish to be the best mathematician we will first have to cross Bobbie Letters, who changes her letters to figures and secures top marks for Maths. Communication and Important Ports of Call: All

Red Air Routes run from our room to the back gate. All red—for when we take off we see red, and we take the air while wrestling with our homework. One of the most important ports of call is the Top Step outside the room , where we spend as long as possible between Page 22.

lessons. The most unfavoured port of call is Sister’s table, especially when it is decorated with examined test papers. Communication is continually made between students, and the time the lines are busiest is Study Time. When we are in need of a lively argument to give a lift to our spirits, we communicate with Barbara Clarke. Population and Occupation: The population is 7,000,007, less 6,999,999, and the main occupation is wool gathering, while second in importance is endeavour ing to keep apace with the outside world through our two-day scholars — Nell Callaghan and Joan Kennedy. However, the inhabitants of Senior Room are becoming more industrious as each day brings Senior closer. Products: Gold is found in the auburn rifts of Joan Kennedy’s, Nell Callaghan’s, Barbara Clarke’s, and Roma Smith’s hair. It is difficult to mine, except when the sunlight shows the rich trove. Despite the fact that the soil is known to be unfertile we, the inhabitants of Senior Room, uphold that we produce some of the best women in the whole school. After a long and, for most part, pleasant journey through Senior land, most of us have now come to the turning-off point of the road, so we bid you a cheery farewell, and hope that if you ever chance to visit this land your companions will be as happy and carefree as mine. —Annemarie Kenafake (Sub-Senior)

on play on words for effect. Even more fortunate is the humorist who can take advantage of the tense or embarrassing situation. Strangely enough, we are more inclined to remember the comedy of a happening than its difficulties.

HUMOUR, because of the selfishness of human nature, only too frequently consists of one person’s discomfiture and another’s amusement. We laugh on numberless occasions, yet who can really explain why. One theory regarding our mirth in such instances as the dignified personage slipping on a banana peel, is that it is the result of our comparison of this with the usual course of events. This fact, claims one authority, is the reason a dog cannot laugh. Whatever the fundamental cause for amusement, there are many people who devote their time to creating comedy; to some, indeed, it is a means of livelihood to develop humour for people, too unob servant to find it in their own, lives.

Finally, we come to those people whose profession it is to provide humour or comedy for the entertainment of the public. These have three main mediums—speech, song, and print. Speech and song are capitalised exten sively by our radio comedians—those people who assure us that their session is absolutely new and entirely dif ferent. After this encouraging introduction, they pro ceed to relate variations of the jokes we have heard so many times that we know the end almost as soon as the story begins. Yet still we laugh. I wonder why? Per haps, however, it is the cartoonist who has the use of the most efficient medium. I have heard at least one pro minent artist claim that he envied the cartoonist his power of cheering the nation. Why, some cartoon characters have become synonomous with the country of their origin. Another type of cartoon which appears in our newspapers and periodicals is the satire which gives us a comical aspect on grim world events.

Before we consider the professional comedian, let us regard a far more common person—the unconscious humorist. This type of person exists in practically every neighbourhood, and, if truly worthy of the title,, can provide humour in almost any circumstances, What an ordinary person may perform quietly and perhaps think rather uninteresting, this individual finds a source of endless antics and ludicrous mistakes. (While the temp tation to laugh continues, the performer wonders just what he did that was entertaining.) Next in the scale of consideration comes the person who is constantly exhibiting his wit, but who can rarely be classed above the amateur status. Exponents of this standard of humour have a considerable range of implements from which to choose, The more incompetent usually resort to booby-traps above doors, or placing blank pages in envelopes marked urgent, The more skilled can tell the inevitable joke realistically, or rely

Humour exists in many things of life, and fortunate is the man who can realise this, for a true sense of humour is a great advantage, and can raise the morale when even the last hope seems lost. What a splendid example we have of this in the way the British people, in the darkest hour of the war, retained their precious gift—the ability to see the humour in any situation! —Adele Gayford (Junior) Page 23.

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(A Parody on “The Teams”)

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Winners of the Cup Presented by His Lordship at the Primary Schools’ Physical Culture Display.

Essays

A is for Ailsa, so good at her sums, The mistakes that she makes you could count on your thumbs. B is for Betty, at Latin she’s best. With no help from a book she is sure of her test. C is for Clare, the pick of the three. She has finished her homework each day before tea. D is for Dell, whose memory is good. At French she’s outstanding when she’s in the mood. E is for teacher, I can’t spell her name. But I hope in the Junior we’ll all bring her fame. F is for Frances, she makes us all smile. With her witty remarks and her eyes full of guile. G abrielle’s a wonder, her cooking’s the thing. And when we’re at choir, you should just hear her sing. J is for Janet—a little sedate. She’s always on time, that’s if you mean late. K for the Kaths. Mmm! what a pair! They work on a system of fair, wear and tear. L for the lunch which we all greet with glee. We have plenty to eat, but no cups of tea. M for the Margarets and Maureen as well. They are always first up at the sound of the bell. P for the Pats, they both like a game. In class or outside, it’s all just the same. A break in the letters brings Sheila to light. Her tennis is good, her cooking a fright. T is for Toni, who strikes the right note. As an artist at music I’ll give her my vote. V is for Vonnie, we’re nearing the end Of a class that’s outstanding, from that we won’t bend. W for water—I now need a glass, I’ve struggled with “The Juniors” to be top of my class. —Pat O’Meara (Junior)

A pile of books on the old school desk. And the Juniors go creeping on Inch by inch, with never a rest; And by the power of their teacher’s zest The distant goal is won. With eyes that are heavy, but hearts full of trust, And heads to the books bent low. The Juniors are pulling as Juniors must; And their tiring brains might almost rust While the pages are turning slow. The Juniors with their Maths, fiercely combat, Though for respite each one craves. And wearied with tests which are ever their lot. The toilers plod with a gait like that Of weary, patient slaves. But the lessons are heavy in classes like these; And locked in their lonely retreats For weeks together, no Junior sees The tennis matches or funny movies, While their friends enjoy such treats. And then when the Juniors are at their worst. Their more fortunate friends hear All for which the Juniors thirst. While they work as if their brains would burst. As Junior is drawing near. And thus with little of joy or rest Is the long, long journey done; And thus—’tis a cruel class at the best— Is Junior fought in the old school blest. And the final battle won. —Margaret King and Maureen Shannon (Junior)

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WE have only to glance through a periodical to realise the great numbers of people who are trying to penetrate the secrets_ and the mysteries of the future. We all wonder what lies ahead of us; what will ten, twenty, thirty, or maybe fifty years bring? With science progrossing, and continuing to progress, in such a “non stop” manner, the thought is somewhat terrifying. Imagine, then, how much more terrifying would be the thought of a thousand years of progress. My imagination could not successfully visualise such a change, but I shall make some little attempt to see the world of 2948. Being a student, my first concern will be to see how students of the future will be treated. Wait! I have just been arrested by the startling inspiration that schools and study may be non-existent. Perhaps there may be some scientific method of acquiring knowledge. Who knows? Anyway, it would be unfair to the youth of the present age to continue such a discussion, so I shall put an end to this student’s dream, and turn to yet another aspect of the ultra-modern world. What a time to be brought down to earth! Thank ful, indeed, am I that the span of human life is within a century. I have just had the most terrifying experience: rockets and space-ships have been speeding through the skies, missing each other by fractional distances, not to

mention helicopters and many other strange “birds of the air.” The whole world seems to have a mania for speed. These people are evidently ignorant of the slogan— “Better to be Late than Dead on Time!” Again, by 2948 the housewife’s job will be an easy one. The only thing that may tire her will be having so many buttons to press—that is on the condition that some “genius” hasn’t invented “a button-pressing button.” As for the preparation of meals, there is little to be said __a pill will supply the necessary vitamins. Ah, me! Of how much joy will this new race be deprived? Thus, in my wilde.st dreams, I have created a world which would seem fantastically unreal, but a thousand years of progress would deem it possible. Of course, I have overlooked the possibility that, by 2948, civilisation might have deteriorated to such an extent that my “ultra modern world” might prove to be a “stone-age world,” or that the human race might just be learning to tame horses. In such a strange world anything is possible, but what unquestioned good could be wrought if we could ____these humans away from some of the false theories warn on which men have tried to build, so that they might be saved the loss of time by finding out by bitter experi ence. Nevertheless— “Progress is the law of Life; Man is not Man as yet.” —Toni Dower (Junior)

a birthday gifts hold an intangible attraction for me. They are such elusive things—that’s what I think when Dad very conveniently forgets the date of that special day. I am sure that you, too, must feel that air of mystery which pervades the house on the eve of your birthday, when the very doors seem to be conspiring against you. Of course, one does not mind in the least about being omitted from all this secrecy, and continues blissfully with the ordinary routine of life, though with a more than usually elevated heart. However, it is rather disconcerting to find the younger members of the family popping out of corners and giggling ominously. Strangely enough, I always seem to wake with the lark on that great day. Perhaps it is that, even in my dreams, I am wondering as to the solution of all this intrigue. Quickly I leap from my bed, and start a general search party, attacking every corner where my enterprising family may have hidden some “pleasant” surprise. A rather small object obscured by white paper attracts my attention, and I pounce on it with unre strained delight. Nimbly I unfold it—to be confronted

§iit. by a green toffy placed there with the good wishes of young Tim, aged three. Well, I think resignedly, it could have been worse; it could have been one of those small frogs which attract him so much. Next, after a little careful, charitable thought, I stumble precariously near “something” long wrapped up neatly, bearing the benevolent wishes of Aunt Aggie. Aunt Aggie, I wish to inform you, is very musical, so rhythmetically minded, in fact, that sometimes, forgetting her surroundings, she starts to beat the table musically with her knife and fork during meals. Aunt Aggie, I know, has a special soft spot in her heart for me, and so it is with great excitement that I proceed to remove the wrappings. My eagerness receives a very heavy jolt, for there, complacently staring me in the face, is a book entitled “Scales.” I control a sob, and turn my gaze to the top of the wardrobe, lest, perhaps, - . I should resort to tears. This gaze, I was mentioning, becomes focussed magneti cally on a very peculiar article, indeed. The peculiarity of this object lies in its extraordinary shape. It is not Page 25.

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round, the sides are not parallel, and yet I would not call it a quadrilateral, either. The mystery thickens, until suddenly I remember air-minded brother Bill, aged eleven. Surely dear Billy will offer some compensation for my past disappointments, I think, and set to work to withdraw this peculiarity from its enveloping paper. On discarding these unnecessary coverings, I see one of Billy’s specially constructed home-made aeroplanes! At this critical stage, I remember my practical Uncle George—George, whose matter-of-factness is part of his manner at all times. He is never disconcerted, excited, annoyed or quarrelsome. Perhaps the most concise and appropriate way to describe him is to say that he is simply George. I am reminded of him now, because of an encounter I had with him a few days previously, when he said: “It is not the present that counts; it is the thought.” On imparting this information he gave me a hearty, resounding pat on the back, and a birthday card. Next ensues the most excitable present—that from Mother and Dad. You will, no doubt, realise the priceless value of this, for (I presume) I am not the only one who has birthdays. Admitting this fact, you will pardon my

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“AH! fresh air at last,” thought June Grayson, as she stepped from the train at the small town of Crawford, late one autumn evening. All around hung a thick mist, while a slight drizzle of rain added to the dreariness of the atmosphere. She was standing on this cold platform, because she had decided to accept a position as secretary at “Limestone Grange,” near Crawford. She walked to the street to get a taxi, and found only one in sight. As she came near, she saw the driver dozing peacefully over the wheel, but he looked up as she ap proached. He touched his cap, and said, “Good-evening, Miss, now where is it you wish to be going?” “To ‘Limestone Grange,’ please,” she said. “Oh! ‘Limestone Grange,’” he replied, hesitatingly. “Well, Miss, not many people go to the Grange now. I think it would be better if you didn’t go there.” “Why?” she said. “What is wrong with going there?” “Strange things have been going on around there, and it would be better if you didn’t go, that’s all.” “But T must get there,” June said. “Well,” came the reply, “if you want to go, you will have to get someone else to take you, and this is the only taxi around here, so it looks as if you won’t be able to go.” June turned despairingly away, and was amazed to see a young man standing very near to the car. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I could not help hearing what was being said just now. I had better introduce myself. The name is Slick Chester, of the Private In vestigation Business. I happen to be on my way to ‘Limestone Grange,’ so you will be able to go in the car, if you wish.” June gratefully accepted, and it was not long before they were speeding through the gathering gloom, towards “Limestone Grange.” On the way. Slick Chester informed June that the owner of the Grange was an old man. He was a jewel collector, and had many valuable gems in his possession. Lately, however, the gates of the Grange were locked, and fierce dogs roamed the grounds. This had given rise to a rumour among the village people that the old man was mad. Soon, however, the little speedster pulled up at the gate. Slick tooted the horn a few times, but no one Page 26.

light of their torches they captured the gunman and re moved his mask. June caught her breath in amazement, and the words, “The taxi-driver,” slipped from her lips.

haste in uncovering a large green parcel engraved on the cover, “To our dear Daughter, with fondest love. Mother and Dad.” Out falls a game of snakes and ladders, followed by a large book entitled, “Webster’s Modem Dictionary.” It is with a cynical smile on my face that I make my way down to the breakfast-room to hear the melo dious strain of “Happy Birthday to You,” as sung by my benevolent family, who are all smiling brightly, thinking, no doubt, how lucky I am! Now, as you have viewed all these exciting proceed ings, I am sure you must understand my conflicting emotions as I lay down the night before that eventful day. Ah! what priceless things are birthday gifts— especially those we do not receive. I do not mind a little forgetfulness at Christmas time, but my birthday is so specially my very own day, a day when the rest of the world cannot lawfully claim presents also. Oh! by the way—if any of my readers are really interested, my great day falls on none other than Foundation Day! —Betty Richardson (Junior)

came to open the gates, so he climbed out of the car into the grip of the wind and rain to see if he could discern anything moving in the grounds. He was sur prised to find the gates unlocked; so he swung them open and returned to June. Pie turned the car around, but, as he did so, the lights flashed on something just inside the gate. Slick and June got out of the car together, and walked to wards the bundle on the ground. June gave a gasp of horror to see a man of about sixty lying there with blood trickling from a gun-shot wound in his temple. It was evident that he was not dead, but they were afraid that it might be dangerous to move him, so they decided to leave.him there, after tying up his wound. At the Grange their knock was answered by a tall, dark, sinister-looking man, who looked at them sus piciously, but let them enter. He said that he was the caretaker of the Grange, as they told him what had hap pened, and he led them to a telephone. After ringing for the doctor and the police, Slick and June settled down to await their arrival, while the caretaker quietly walked to wards a small lodge, where he evidently lived. Suddenly June gave a terrified .scream as she saw a face peering through the window. There was a shattering of glass, and the two found themselves confronted by a little .45 pis tol. They could not see who was holding it, for a dark mask covered his face. A muffled voice told the two to walk towards the large clothes closet in the corner. As they turned. Slick slowly clasped a small china vase on the table, and, as the mysterious intruder lowered his eyes for a second, while he climbed warily through the window, the small ornament flew through the air and, with a clatter, it hit the light. In the sudden darkness June and the detective ran for cover from the wild bul lets that whistled around them. Slick counted the bullets, so, when there were six fired, he knew that the gun was empty, and he turned and went towards the intruder in the darkness. After a few minutes there was the sound of fighting, as each of the two men fought desperately for an advantage over the other. Suddenly there was a terrible crash and the police burst into the room. By the

The police identified him as a well-known jewel thief, and June realised why he had refused to drive her to the Grange. At this moment the caretaker entered with the doctor and two policemen. Between them they were carrying the wounded old man. When he regained consciousness, he explained that he had been receiving threatening notes from an anonymous writer, who evi dently was preparing to steal some of his precious col lection of jewels. He had kept the gates locked, and had

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At six o’clock we hear the bell. Get up quickly if you’re well. “I feel sick. Sister,” some will say, “Let me stay here awhile to-day.”

kept fierce dogs to protect himself from any attacks. However, he had gone to the gates that evening, as a car pulled up, expecting to see his new secretary, but had been greeted by bullets. That was all he remem bered. He turned to June and said, “I don’t suppose you will want to stay here, now.” But she replied, “Yes, I think I will. It seems to be a nice old place, that is, if there are no more episodes like this one.” And she did stay. Slick Che.ster must have liked the Grange, too, for he was a frequent visitor there.

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GREAT was the excitement in the Smith household, for wasn’t this the day that father was to bring home the new wireless? As soon as the purr of the motor-car was heard, everybody in the house rushed out, and all were crowded round the front gate before the car had even stopped. Willing hands all helped to carry the new prize into the house, and very gently it was laid on the stand pre pared for it, as if it were the most precious article in all the world. With cries of delight the younger children, Jane and Billy, stood admiring and urging their father to hasten and connect the wires, as they were anxious to hear this new introduction to the household. But when all was in readiness, then the trouble began. Teenage Mary wanted to hear the musical swing session; the twins, Jane and Billy, wanted to listen to the new detective serial; nineteen-year-old Bob, the box ing; while father was determined to hear politics; and as for poor mother, she could not even get a chance to state her choice, so heated became the argument. Then father said that, as he was master in this house, all were to obey orders and be silent while he proceeded to switch the wireless on. Not being able to find the sta tion on which the politics were supposed to be, he had to turn the dial many times, and, in doing so, sessions from other stations could be heard, and the following medley ensued:—

Then to Mass in the Chapel we go. The girls fill up every row; After this to breakfast we run, .If we’re late it won’t be fun. Upstairs we hurry, our beds to make. I’ll make mine tidy for my own sake; If we’re not at school by half-past eight. Our teacher will demand why we are late. We sing a hymn in June and May, It’s the very best way to begin the day; When. at eleven the bell -------isrung. You’d think that we had all been stung. Our shorthand speed has improved this year. The dictation we write in outlines clear; To a singing lesson we go twice a week. For beautiful voices the teacher will seek. After dinner the practice room calls, Melodious sounds echo through those walls; It’s back to school at half-past one. Where all the languages wait to be done. We all give a groan when Latin is near. When it is over we sound the “all clear”; You ought to hear the happy shout When from school we are let out. 1

We have a good time ’tween four and five. When the sports mistress keeps us alive; We play many games with bat and ball. If it is raining we dance in the hall. At study our lessons we do not shirk. The tea-bell brings us from our work; After Rosary, it’s study again. Busily we ply the pen. At nine o’clock we go to bed. The exciting events I leave unsaid; U you knew the Juniors at St. Saviour’s this year. You wouldn’t wonder that they’re happy here. —Frances Hintz (Junior)

So if you want an enjoyable evening for dancing— go to the North Pole, where blizzard are frequent, and for your colds and sore throats—you need Shell Oil, obtained from—Lux Toilet Soap, which is used by all Hollywood actresses—for cooking meals with electricity—the FortyHour Week is going to be demanded,” and at last father had his politics. Meanwhile, Bob had become disgusted and had gone to his work-room, Mary was absorbed in the book she was reading, and the twins were beginning to cry. Hear ing the noise they made, father immediately switched off the wireless, picked up the newspaper, and walked out of the room, saying, a man couldn’t even have his way in his own house. Mother then sent the twins to bed, and as Mary who was by now deep in her book, no longer wanted to hear the swing session, she was able to turn it on to her own favourite serial, and li.sten to it without any inter ruptions being the only member of the family able, at the breakfast table, to give a good account of the Smiths’ new radio. •—Hazel Peebles (Sub-Junior). Page 27.

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A is for Agnes, at crocheting she’s first, B is for Bernice, whose far from the worst; C for our Colleens, they both know a lark, D —we’re busy from dawn until dark; E is for E'sme, who learns her work well, F is for Frances, who’s learning to spell; G for Geography, they’re up to the Rhine, H is for Hazel, in all she doth shine; I is for Ingham, from here she does come, J for our Joans, they ne’er miss a sum; K for the Keenness that’s shown by each one, L is for Lyn, at Maths she’s not dumb; M is for Margaret, at English she’s best, N is for None, who don’t know a jest; O for Omissions, I hope there are none, P for our Pat, she’s the only one; Q for the Questions, we answer the best, R for the Rally at our Y.C.S.; S for the Speller, but don’t look at me, T for Theresa, who can reach High C; U for the Union, we’re one happy crowd, V for Vivacity, that’s always allowed; W for our Writing. Oh! you should see mine, X for the girl, of her there’s no sign; Y for the Yawns at the end of the day, Z for the Zeal, outstanding at play.

Those precious words we learned to speak, As round of eye and rosy of cheek, Our tiny fingers clasped the beads; So mother sowed of faith small seeds. As les.sons claim our busy minds. The evening oft us in trouble finds. There’s Algebra, French, and Latin, too. Yet dad always summons our tardy crew. Oft to us by mother ’tis told. Our land was menaced by Japs so bold. The Rosary then did play its part. Those Japs retreated faint of heart. A battle was fought in the Coral Sea, Shells and shrapnel flew so free, The Rosary Queen came to our aid. And so the might of the Jap was stayed. Thus through life our beads we’ll take. Then no foe of us, fools can make. And when we’re old and grey and weak. Our Rosary Beads we’ll always seek. They brought us comfort along life’s path. When the Queen took us to her loving heart; So while saying the Rosary, be earnest, my friend. For in it may lie our eternal end.

—Pamela Ann Weir—(Sub-Junior). '

—Esme Rogers (Sub-Junior).

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“MR. Smith’s car has broken down,” said the nurse, as I sat in the dentist’s chair, awaiting the arrival of the dentist. I turned to the window to hide my smile of re lief, and became absorbed in the interesting spectacle of activity presented by the busy street.

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Opposite the dentist’s building a shabby car was standing. A man was busy cranking it up. What strenuous efforts he made! At last the engine started, and Mr. Speed stepped into his car and drove off down the street, look ing as happy as a king. A black shiny limousine pulled up, and out stepped Mr. Divydend, the wealthy stockbroker. He was very pleased with the results of his business, and walked across the road in a very joyous manner, carrying his neat valise of papers. Miss Stenographer was next to pass, looking trim and dainty, and a little smile played about her lips as she thought of the party the night before, and the enjoyable afternoon she was planning for the following day.

This Page of Illustrations has been kindly donated by— WESTERN TRANSPORT and “ALKE’S” SHOE

As Miss Stenographer moved out of my view, “Somebody’s Mother” passed by. Groceries made bulges in her shopping bag, and a toy motor-car peeped out from a brown paper parcel, for John was five to-day, and she crossed over to the other side to buy the apples for the apple tart John had requested. REPAIR

The next person to come into view was Tom, the football captain, his boots hung over his shoulder. He whistled gaily as he thought of the football match that afternoon. He was very light-hearted, as he was very confident that his team could defeat the visitors. Two little girls then went by, talking excitedly of the wonderful gifts they expected for Christmas. One wanted a doll and a pram, while the other wanted a new ball and some paints, as she had a book she wished to colour. Life was a joy to those two. A sailor was the next passer-by, and he walked briskly along, in a fashion easy to a disciplined man. His spotless uniform and white cap drew admiring glances from the passing throng. He was in a very joyful mood, as his leave had only started to-day, and the thought of a week’s freedom delighted him. Just then the dentist entered the room, and my atten tion was diverted from the window. In about ten minutes, however, I found myself outside in the street, and part of the swiftly moving throng visible from- the dentist’s window. —Joan Garrett (Sub-Junior).

SERVICE, 364 Ruthven St., T’mba. Page 29.

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When the sun shines ’hove the mountain. And the hills are misty grey; When the trees are decked in dewdrops. With the night wings far away. The moon has spent her brightness And the world grows clear with light. When the birds all leave their slumbers. For their songs are glad and bright. The air is fresh and fragrant With the scent of new-born flow’rs In every gully dreaming. And all of nature’s bowers. Who could sleep on such a morn, With its sunshine bright and gay? For the earth is waked this morning To greet the coming day. —Margaret Baines (Sub-Junior). (Eompoaitian-

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“DARK purple chased with sudden gloom and glory, Like waves in wild unrest; Low wooded billows and steep summits hoary. Ridge,' slope, and mountain crest.” These lines, written by George Essex Evans, in his and strikingly express the poem, “Toowoomba,” , aptly _ changing, numerous colours of the Range, now purple in its shadows, but the next moment gloriously illuminated and tinted by the bright rays of the rising sun. Oh! what those people on the plains miss; the beauty of a trickling, crystal-clear mountain stream, running through fern-covered banks, and rippling over small pebbles and rocks, the glorious colours at sunset, the pale moon rising slowly above its steepest summits, and the refreshing beauty of the uncultivated mountain flowers, nodding amongst luscious green grass and trees and stern majestic boulders. Nature has not blessed the mountains of the very cold places with such as those, enjoyed by nearly all Australians, but she has compensated by giving to them the fairy gift of crisp, white snow. What sport fun seeking skaters and skiers must derive from the frozen rivers and snow-slippery slides. Another entirely different and awe-striking type of mountain scenery is the erupting of a volcano, a scene which is as beautiful as it is terrifying. No rainbow could ever rival the various and prodigal dyes of the flashes seen, some of the brightest blues, greens, and reds. Gushing forth, come columns of fire and smoke hundreds of feet into the air, causing ruin and destruction. But some good must come of any evil, and now that molten lava and ash have formed the rich red .soil for the establishment of farms and orchards. Our thoughts at this will cause us to wonder at the marvels of nature. One may say that it was God’s way of doing things, and nowhere is His power more plainly seen than in the mountain heights. So we see the wonders, beauties, and terrors of nature reflected in mountain scenery, in a way entirely unknown in the placid calm of the plain-dwellers’ en vironment, and we recall pleasant hours spent in the en joyment of its attractions, and long for a renewal of such pleasures. —Janice Minon (Sub-Junior). Page 30.

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Not a sigh was heard, not a key was struck. When examinees to their typewriters ran; Not a whisper disturbed the examination room, ’Ere that Ten Minutes’ Speed Test began.

Truly so good is God in His love. He gives us many friends in Heaven above; Of all that famous galaxy. My choice is dear St. Anthony. For legion are his discoveries In classroom, field and dormitories. Blue berets are here in profusion. To lose one’s own causes deep confusion; No time to pray with lengthy speech. Dear St. Anthony knows the cry of each. Our joyous smiles he loves to see. Oft’ .’tis all the thanks from you and me. He knows thoughtless young girls are we. At school—alas! my books do stray. Impossible to find, though I look every way. Pencils, rules and books I find After prayer to St. Anthony so kind. Now if your straying wits disappear. Pray without ceasing, and have not fear. For he’ll give them back to you new. Even with more for Algebra, too. For Anthony’s the patron saint of our class. And secures for even the dullest a pass. Now, my young friends, when your things go astray. Knock at St. Anthony’s door right away. For the good man once beloved of the poor Is waiting to help all, within Heaven’s door. —Theresa Twomey & Margaret Baines (Sub-Jnrs.)

“Get ready—Go!” a supervisor called, And away o’er the keys fingers darted; And the steady click^click of the types could be heard. As that Typewriting Speed Test was started. And well on that Speed Test those typistes did stare. Every one of them could do “touch typing”; “Music” of typewriters filled the air. More vibrant than Highlanders’ piping. On, on they typed, and soon arrived At the end of the prescribed test; Then started again with lightened hearts, . Each girl doing her best. “Time’s up!” brought that race to a sudden close. As the bell was rung right on the time; The Speed Test was over—’twas done by those Who have signed at the end of this rhyme. —Second Year Commercials

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HOW enchanted we were with the scene! It was a beautiful, cool drive along a wide, paved highway, with aisles of forest giants along either side. Further on we came to a large stretch of land dotted with houses, the roofs of which glimmered in the sun light. Winding in and out among these farms was the stretch of a river which looked like a ruby in the distance. We came to a waterfall which fell in a broad, crystal ribbon sweep down a steep precipice to the rocks below. Soon we came to the house about which so many had told us. Towering in the background was a beautiful residence, fringed with trees; and in the foreground lay a beautiful lake, with two majestic white swans swimming in the silvery waters. Floating on the lake were water lilies and ferns. We gazed at this scene for some time. and then went on our way. Sheep browsed among clumps of stunted grass, and bright flowers atop roan mountains, In the recess of the mountains could be seen the homesteads of the pioneers. We passed through a small village which was highly decorated for a festive season. The inhabitants, dressed in their village costumes, sang and danced their tradi tional songs and dances. Truly this was a magnificent spectacle. The wheat was ripe for the farmers to “gather the golden grain,” and the labourers moving in and out were scarcely visible. Finally, we arrived at our destination—an old world mansion of a famous artist. The furniture was carved in beautiful old world designs, and some of the paintings on the walls were magnificent. On looking at those paintings one’s thoughts were truly brought back to the time when the castles were all the rage. How privileged we were to be able to view these creations of God while on our journey to our destination! —Ann Tuche (Commercial)

in the quick action.and the relating in stirring manner of noble deeds. The paths leading to your field of reflection are quiet, and as we traverse them, portrayed we see the’ thoughts, desires and hopes of poets from centuries past. These are seldom trodden, and peace is prevalent in such verse as— “There is .sweet music here, that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.” And then we travel the ways of descriptive poetry; here the choice of words and epithets is most discrimi nating, and only the most expressive are used. They are so beautiful that to describe them another poem would be required. Such appeal of your poetic beauty is seen in these lines from “Sherwood”:— “Like a flight of rose leaves fluttering in a mist. Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.” You, the soul of beauty and praise, loved and always to be loved and honoured in your so many, many forms of lyrics, narration and description, shall never lose your ' wonderful and magnetic appeal—the appeal of Poetry. —Margaret Baines (Sub-Junior) P. Sn S^c (Eane^ie

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HEARING the clock strike four one morning whilst lying in bed, brought back many memories of my home in the tropical North and of the harvesting which would now be in progress. For although machines have been used in America for cutting the cane, they have not yet been introduced into Australia, and all cutting has to be done manually, and so the cutters have to rise very early in the morning to escape the trying heat of the day. So in the cane cutters’ camp all is stir and bustle. POETRY! immortal poetry! what depth of emotion lies The cook has been the earliest riser, and a substantial in your appeal—an appeal from time immemorial through meal awaits each of these tireless workers. At the fields centuries of disorder, political and individual, peace and we usually find some of the cane trucks have been loaded civilisation in the innumerable pages of your anthologies. the previous evening, and now wait to be conveyed to the In your realm, from the times when, enthralled, roughlyprivate railway lines of the mills, where they will then clad men squatted encircling their bards, to the present • be taken to the various mills. These trucks are drawn when enthusiastically each new publication of a book of from the canefields to the railway of the mill by high poetry is read, you have collected your masterpieces and . powered tractors, and thence to the mill by the company’s less famous poems. steam engine. Unrestrained, every one of us may tread and explore your wonderfully diverse paths. There are those easy-to- ' _ As soon as these trucks have gone, then the cutters follow ones of such sweetly simple poetry as Lowell’s begin that strenuous .work of cane cutting, and you will “Fountain”:— see them with backs bent, and their cane-knives being “Into the sunshine. brought up and down with great speed, as they pass Full of the light. along these never-ending rows of cane. When enough Leaping and bounding has been cut to load the remaining trucks, the sun has From morn till night.” been up for quite a while, the heat is becoming What could be more easy to follow than these lyrics oppressive, for the perspiration is running down their in their lovely simplicity and beauty. They are widely faces, and their clothes are clinging to their weary bodies. read, and everyone takes keen delight in them. They hurry to get these trucks loaded before mid Full of vigorous appeal are your narrative works day, and when they are finally finished and on their way telling of stirring battles, sea sagas, deeds of heroism in to the mills, these hardy men leave off their work and the Australian outback; but they are innumerable. Often go home to their barracks to have dinner and to rest we see in our mind’s eye the thing as it happens. Such until it is cool enough to work again. When it is about an example, whose appeal is very strong, we see in “The three o’clock, the work commences anew. Ancient Mariner”:— If the cane is to be burnt it is now that this “A mist, a speck, a shape I wist. ■■ dangerous work is performed, for there is usually not a .... it plunged and tacked and veered.” very strong wind at this time, which would spread the As we tread this path our steps are invigorated till fire and burn cane that is not meant to be burnt. When we are urged on to great things to be sung of the poets a certain amount of burnt cane is needed from one field, of to-day. As we follow your path here, my friend then the cutters have to,, cut what is called a fire-break. Poetry, it becomes split into so many lanes; one leads to This is a passage about fifteen feet in width which sepa great battlefields; one to the sea, and they stretch out rates the cane required to be burnt from the other cane alluringly, yet all converging again on your original which is not needed, and so prevents the fire from spread path—all parts of that sphere wherein your appeal lies ing. Often a flying spark has lit other fields, and burnt

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many tons which the cutters cannot get away to the mill before it decays, and so the workers have to be very alert when burning cane. When the labourers have finished this task, they then settle down to cutting again, and to laying the lines which have to be moved every time a new area of cane is cut. This job is long and strenuous, and occupies a lot of the cutter’s valuable time. As it nears time to finish work the trucks are once more loaded in readiness for the morning, when they will be again conveyed to the mills. Then, with weary and aching limbs, these valiant toilers make their way home to enjoy a much-lookedforward-to meal, and then to go thankfully to bed, for they have another strenuous day of work ahead of them, and need all the rest they can get, in order to keep the flag of “White Australia” flying in our rich tropical North. —Hazel Peebles (Sub-Junior)

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JANE was attempting to learn her history, but no matter how hard she tried, she was unable to establish the facts in her mind. How could she concentrate when, by this time, her sister Mary would be enjoying herself at a party, to which both girls had been invited? “Edward I. summoned the Model Parliament in 1295,” chanted Jane wearily. “At any rate, who cares what King Edward did in 1295?” Jane’s voice faded into silence as her head drooped downwards on to the table, for she had fallen asleep. “Here, you must speak of His Majesty in a more respectful manner,” said an unfamiliar voice at her elbow. “No thirteenth century lass should express her self like that.” Turning, Jane’s gaze fell on a man, who was the living image of a painting which she had seen of Sir Francis Drake. “Thirteenth century,” replied the stupified Jane; “don’t you know that this is the twentieth century? If It you want further proof, look at my clothes But here Jane stopped abruptly, for, glancing into a mirror, she saw that her dress was fashioned in ancient style. “Silence! Come with me,” commanded the intruder. “Where are we going?” asked Jane, helplessly. “Do not ask any more questions, or I shall have you imprisoned in the Tower,” said Sir Francis. “How curious,” thought Jane, as she was led away by her captor. “I did not know that Francis Drake lived during Edward’s reign. But still, anything can happen in History,” reconsidered Jane. At last they reached their destination. This proved to be a beautiful garden through which was walking a woman whom Francis greeted as Mary, Queen of Scots. As Mary was about to pass through a puddle of water, a chivalrous gentleman hurried forward and placed his cloak in the Queen’s path. “That is Christopher Columbus,” explained her companion. At this statement Jane laughed heartily. This was one thing which even she knew to be positively incorrect. Queen Mary became very angry at this commotion, and ordered that Jane be beheaded. Rough hands seized her, but Jane struggled bravely.

I ome

“Jane! Stop wriggling. It’s only me.” Jane awakened suddenly. It was Mary, “Ohyou!” she gasped, in relief. “I don’t think you have learnt a word of History. The book is still open at the first page,” said Mary. “No, and I don’t intend to learn it. History is really quite senseless.” And with that Jane went oif to bed.

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—Rita Coyer (Grade VII.)

should not be the one who is left to tidy up, but should be assisted in the tasks by her children.

Mid pleasures and palaces Though we may roam; Be it ever so humble. There’s no place like home.”

HOW true the foregoing lines are! Yes! Even though a person’s home may not have expensive furniture gracing it, it is still home, if the “spirit” which makes home is present. That word “Home” lends a brightness to a man’s eyes and a quickness to his step. There’s nothing more beautiful on earth than a cheerful, loving and happy home.

en Busy students now are we. Books such tyrants true can be; Morning finds us each in place. Cuffs so stiff our wrists do grace.

We should first of all respect, as well as love, our parents, who must come first in everything; for without them we would not have a home at all. Next we must cultivate the virtue of patience with all in the home, especially with our younger sisters and brothers, Faultfinding, contradicting and loss of temper may be the cause of discontent in the home where there are young children. One truly patient person will probably succeed in quieting the most discordant elements, thus changing the one-time turbulent fireside to that of a tranquil one. One who desires a truly happy home would also show patience in their dealing with servants.

So all the weeks fly swiftly by. And then to our hall we all do hie. For Sister a party gay has planned. Frocks so fine and fans so grand; The building looks like fairyland. Ferns and flowers, and even a band. We all do lend a helping hand. For out we step in frocks so grand. Toe, then heel, and round we swing, To make our ballet just the thing; To show the world what we can do. In that dear school where all is true.

A virtuous woman is a great asset in the home. She fills her place to the best of her ability, and it is to her we go when anything disturbing occurs. It is she who cares for us when we are ill, who watches us go, hesi When tatingly, towards school on our first day. Mother leaves her own little kingdom for a while, the household tasks should be performed for her. However, her absence is immediately felt, and the longing for her fills the heart of everyone. The queen of our home

When some ten years have rolled away. Then again we may think and say: “Oh, now I wish that I could be Back in that school where all is free.” The year forty-eight will come back to me, Later in the twentieth century; A score there were in our little class. How fast the years did swiftly pass.

Tlie R osapij

Colleen a chemistry marvel is she. And Margaret, so ’twas told to me. Has just taken up philosophy; Pamela Anne at geometry, the best. Has finished her course, and now takes rest.

You’ll only have one Mother, So cherish her with care; For when she’s gone, and gone forever. You’ll miss her everywhere. The proverb “Many hands make light work” is . brought home clearly to us when we think how much easier the work is made when everyone takes a hand. There are numerous little things that would make home life more pleasing if only we would take the trouble to perform them. When Father arrives home late in the evening, after a hard day’s work, it is com forting for him to find some of the family waiting at the front gate, and his slippers warming and ready for him beside the fire. Mother also would be glad of an occa sional rest. To find the tea-table all prepared and a cheerful fire blazing in the grate is, to her, a blessing when she arrives home tired and cold. What a pleasing sight it is to see one of the boys of the family chopping and bringing in the firewood, his sister the while carrying out ■ small, necessary duties, while their parents relax before the fire, for— The softest chair, most loving tone. And cosiest nook shall be their own; And every sweet, endearing art That shows a truly filial heart. On walking into a perfect home, one is immediately put at ease, and feels that welcome, cheerful feeling possessed by those in the home. What a better world it would be to-day if everyone showed “affection at home.” —Esmee Hohnke (Commercial Class)

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The Rosary is my favourite prayer, For in it we ask our Mother’s care; We ask for protection during the day. And trust that She’ll help us on our life-long way.

_ In a fairy dell so far away. The fairies hide till the close of day; And then they come with glee to play In a fairy dell so far away.

Bernice, Joan and Lola do nurse. Without them the sick would be much worse; Hazel a doctor grave is she. To her we go with our pleurisy; Marie and Joan are typistes bright, 'Iheresa all of her science does write.

First we offer our roses white, And hope they’ll be pleasing in her sight; Then come the roses of red and gold, Which both have stories to unfold.

Pat and Mary in dreams do shine, Frances has drawings all in a line; There’s authoress Esme entwined in her mystery. And Clare busy teaching history.

The red roses are symbolic of the Blood of Our Lord, Who suffered and died to save us all; While Mary His .Mother stood by the Cross, And wept and mourned her extraordinary loss.

And when the night gives way to day. The fairies will have to cease their play; And lull to sleep their tiny fay. When the night gives way to day.

Last, but not least, our roses of gold We lay at Mary’s feet as in the days of old; And ask for favours and graces as we Kneel and recite “The Rosary.”

Some day I hope to see this dell. That in my mind I picture well; And I might be neath a fairy dell. When some day I’ll see this dell.

The rest of the class before me pass. Some as busy housewives shone. Others to the missions far have gone; When St. Peter opens the door. We hope he’ll admit the entire score.

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—Colleen Borghardt (Commercial Class)

The bee will hum a pretty tune. When the fairies dance beneath the moon; But they will have to go so soon. While the bee still hums a pretty tune.

—Clare Gilligan (Grade IV.)

—Lynnette Hunter (Sub-Junior) Page 33.

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Ho,.,.. Land Mouse, i^ana,

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after the defeat of the Japanese in Borneo my father Was sent, with many other soldiers, to Borneo to liberate and rehabilitate this over-run colony. Sandakan, the capital, had been bombed flat, as had the other places. The church had the roof blown off, and the mission was wrecked. One day the long expected letter arrived saying that We were to prepare for a trip to Borneo, Daddy now held the position of manager of a Custodian Estate, called Mostyn, on the East Coast, south of Sandakan. So we got ready and journeyed by train to Sydney. ^ We left Sydney on the 15th April, 1947, on the “Marella,” and reached Melbourne two days later. Here, on account of the strike, the ship was held up for two Weeks. Then the day on which we were to sail, the Customs officers boarded and searched the ship. Hidden in the crew’s quarters they found rubber tyres and soap. They would not let the ship leave the wharf until the court case was over, so we were held up for a montli in Melb oume. Then came the trip across the Australian Bight. The Captain said that the storm which occurred was the worst in the history of the ship. Windows on the promenade deck were smashed, and guards called fiddlesticks were ^newed to the tables to prevent the food from slipping. But still tea, soup and water splashed, and day by day

Soft Ball Enthusiasts. In the Rear, Group from Grade IV Ready for Pass Ball.

This Page of Illustrations has been kindly donated by-j c n ri ARK" I MARKER’S BOOK SHOP,’ 189 Margaret St., Toowoomba and F. G. CLARK, and Estate Agent, 200 Margaret St., Toowoomba.

the place where we celebrated this event the previous year, was passed, and we were nearing our destination when, directly in front, perched on the fences and along the road was a flight of birds. Their feathers were of the most delicate of colours, and each had a red or a yellow comb. At the toot of our horn they flew away, and allowed us to proceed. At about ten-thirty we arrived at Jackson’s Creek, and after parking the car we entered the stream for a bathe, thoroughly enjoying the refreshing dip. All too soon our enjoyment was put to an end, owing to a slight accident encountered by Beth. Stepping on a rock which was concealed by water-cress, she bruised her foot. How ever, after a little massaging, it was restored to its normal state, and everyone was once more happy. After dressing we played a game, and then it was decided to have lunch. Aunty Joan had packed a de lightful hamper containing freshly-cut sandwiches, home made cakes and sweets, and many other suitable delicacies. The afternoon was spent in competitions, games, going for a short walk, and whatever amusement attracted us. Sad for all was the sunset, for it meant a departure for home. The journey home took little time, and after dinner we went to the theatre to see the play “Smithy.” It proved interesting, and the caste were all local stars. Before going to bed Mummy thanked us, and said it was probably the most delightful day she had spent for some time. Uncle Jim gave out three cheers for Mummy, and after the Rosary we, tired but happy, went to bed. —Kathleen Martin (Grade VI.)

IT was April 21st, and to-morrow was Mother’s birthday. Aunt Joan and Uncle Jim were due to arrive any minute; Cousin Beth was also expected. You see, we had arranged an outing for the morrow, and some of our relations were accompanying us. At approximately half-past one we were roused from our siesta by the tingle of the door-bell, and who should be the culprit of our disturbance but Aunty Joan and Uncle Jim. “But to whom does the tiny head decked ^with curly, black hair belong?” “Why!” I cried, amazed, “ ’tis little Beth. “My! What a pretty dress you’re wearing,” Carol, my sister, exclaimed admiringly. “Well!” said Daddy, “I shall not think much of your ability to be a hostess, if you leave all your guests standing on the doorstep as you have treated these.” So we all went into the sitting-room, while Jean departed to the kitchen to make the afternoon tea. After our guests were refreshed. Daddy suggested making arrangements for our outing to-morrow. After each person had outlined her plan. Uncle Jim appeared to have the be.st scheme, and when all particu lars were settled, it was not mentioned again that day, for Mummy had come home from town, and might over hear. Saturday dawned bright and- sunny, Mother was smothered in caresses and gifts, and was given her break fast in bed. We set out early on our way to Jackson’s Creek. The route was dangerous, as the roads were unpaved and rough, and skilful driving was required. Mount Murphy,

T lienee in

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the vacant places increased as the ship tossed on the billowing waves. I must confess that mine was one of the vacant places. For four days the ship struggled in that raging storm, till we rounded Cape Leeuwin, then all was calm. Fremantle was very warm, and it was quite a treat to wear summer clothes after the bitter cold in Melbourne. We stayed for two days in Fremantle while the ship brought on bunkers for the long 2000 mile trip to Singa pore. Then we went on across the calm Indian Ocean, through Banka Strait, where porpoises raced in the bows of the ship; passed the great volcano Krakatoa, and reached Singapore. There we disembarked in our sunniest dresses, with the perspiration streaming down our faces. Then we motored to Raffles Hotel, where we went to our cool flat, furnished with rattan, and containing three fans. ..At the end of three weeks Daddy came over. We went aboard the “Darvel” on the 16th June, and sailed for Kuching, our first port of call in Borneo, However, on account of the position of the tides, it was impossible for the ship to sail up the river. Outside the harbour I had my eleventh birthday party, which was provided by the Chinese cookie on board. Our next port was Labuan, where much of the fight ing had been. Labuan was even more battle-scarred than

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Sandakan. On board was a Catholic missionary. Father Walsh, with whom my brother and I played quoits and deck tennis. He took us to the mission in Labuan, which had been partly rehabilitated by the soldiers after the occupation. Then we came to Jesselton, Kudat, Sandakan, Tawau, and finally the last stage of our journey by our 70ft. M.F.V. to Mostyn Estate. When we reached our new home Mr. Rais, the conductor, was there with the truck to meet us. Up we went over the rough estate road, over six miles of rich volcanic soil to our house. We exclaimed over the acres and acres of “banana trees,” and how Daddy and Mr. Rais laughed at us. For it was Manila hemp, the strongest fibre in the world, from which shiphawsers are made. Mostyn is the only hemp estate in the British Empire. Our house was not quite finished when we arrived, so we lived in the assistant-manager’s bungalow till it was completed. Five days later we went into our own house. How big and wonderful it was! Daddy had ordered lovely polished furniture for the lounge and dining-room, and rattan chairs, table and lie-back for the spacious verandah. Mummy made pretty curtains for the bungalow, and Ah Chai had planted turf, so that soon the house became quite homely. Each day Mummy took us for lessons from 8.30 a.ra. till 11 a.m. At 11 we had morning tea. Then one of us

would help Mummy make the milk, which is part of the Malay Child Welfare Scheme, When it was mixed, we ; would hop into the jeep^with the milk, and Segundo, the Filipino sice (driver), would take it to the Kongse (the Malay long-house wherein live up to forty families), while Daddy made his rounds of No. 2 division, We then had luncheon on the verandah in the cool. At '4 p.m. we rose, bathed, and dressed for tea. Nursery Tea, as we called it, was at 6 p.m., before Mummy and Daddy; they had theirs at 8 p.m. We read ; till 8 p.m., then straight off to bed. Daddy usually went to Tawau, where Major Sim.j, the assistant Custodian, held conference with him mons on matters of importance. We went weekly with Daddy to Lahad Datu to collect the mail. It so happened that only one set of Correspondence Lessons came through, so Mummy and Daddy decided that we should have to come home to Australia to school. We left Mostyn on 28th April, 1948, travelled by the “Serudom” to Sandakan, then to Singapore in the “Kajang.” In Singapore we met an old friend in the person of the good ship “Marella.” We came into Townsville on June 19th, travelled down the Sunshine Route to Brisbane, then to Toowoomba, where I now board at St. Saviour’s Convent. —Mary Campbell (Grade V.) j

ON the King’s- Birthday I arose at six-twenty. Everyone was so excited, for, was it not the day on which our Dinner Dance was to be held? “Happy birthday, Mr. King, but I wish you wouldn’t pick such a nasty day,” was the remark of one of the High School girls who was passing through our dormitory on her way to get a jug of water. True enough, it was a nasty day; the whole place seemed to be enveloped in fog and mist. Clang! Clang! Clang! went the Mass bell, “Oh!” cried one of the girls, “I’ve to do my hair yet. I put it in last night.” “I, too,” said another. Anyway, they were in time for Mass. After Mass we went to breakfast, during which Sister announced that, owing to the unfavourable weather, our Dinner Dance was to be held at a quarter past two instead of eight o’clock. Bitter disappointment was depicted on every face. However, all realised that the change was for the best. After we had made our beds and completed our charges, we tidied our presses, Of course, the decorations had to be done, too. The Seniors, Sub-Seniors, and Sub-Juniors (Subs, as they call themselves), had to

decorate the hall, the Juniors the Refectory, while the Commercials were to make the place-cards. After dinner we dressed for the Dinner Dance. Up stairs there was a great hustle and bustle. Of course, the new frocks had been viewed many times before, but when the girls donned them for the occasion, there were exclamations of admiration from all quarters of the dressing-room. Very pretty were the evening frocks of the Senior girls, but we, the girls of the Primary Section, were content with our ordinary outing frocks. A varied dance programme was enjoyed by all the girls after they had sung the School Song. At an interval between the dances our fans were judged, and prizes were awarded to six girls in different sections. At half past five, after the hymn had been sung, our Dinner Dance was over. From half-past five to six we prepared for our High Tea, during which Roma, our Senior girl, announced that we could sleep in until breakfast. After tea we went to Rosary, and then bed. “What a good time I had to-day!” I said to the girl who slept next to me. “I, too,” she replied sleepily. —Mary Ward (Grade V.)

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A Team Ready for Overhead Ball.

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^o&tman EVERY day the postman comes down our street, I do not know his name, but he is a very kind gentleman. He wears a smart uniform of navy blue. His hat is the same colour as his uniform. He rides a bike with a bag in front. When he comes to our house, he blows his whistle. As soon as the children hear it they rush out of the houses. They feel disappointed when he says: “There is no letter for you to-day.” Sometimes it is a letter, and other times it is a parcel he brings.

Sometimes the letter is not addressed properly, and 1 the postman has a great deal of trouble finding the | house. The best way we can help the postman is by j writing neatly on the envelope. It must have the number of the house on it, and the stamps must be on the right side. I The postman is extra busy at Christmas time. He has many heavy bags to carry, Most of the time the bags are overflowing with parcels. The only holidays he ; gets are Christmas Day and Good Friday. —Patricia Flynn (Grade III.)

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Caught by Our Cameraman at 1 o’clock in the Infants’ Playground.

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Better Late Than Never

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IN the fifteenth century there lived in England a very rich and proud lady. One day she bought some very expensive cloth, and took it to a tailor to be made into a frock. This frock she wished to wear to a ball given by the King. The tailor to whom she took it was poor and old, but skilled at his work. Everybody grudged him his pay until at last he received only a very small sum. The lady did not ask, but demanded that the dress was to be finished by the end of the week. “Old Rupert” said very politely that he could not possibly have it finished by that time, as he had many poor peoples’ clothes to mend, and they needed clothes more than she did. The lady became furious and flew into a temper, saying she had never been so insulted before. Rupert replied very calmly and very softly, explaining his reason for not being able to finish the work. The lady would not stand any more, but said she must have it finished early so that she could have a whole week in which to show' her new frock to all her friends and display it round the town. Then, grabbing hold of Rupert, she boxed his ears hard, took her cloth, and walked off to another tailor. This tailor’s name was Theodore—quite a rich tailor, but always wanting more money. The lady asked if it would be finished by the end of the week. Theodore, seeing that the women was rich, and finding that the material was expensive, thought that he might receive a great deal of money for his work, so he readily agreed to take the cloth and to finish it in the required time. It was early in the morning, on the Saturday of the week, that the proud lady went to Theodore to get her frock. On the way she thought how wonderful she would look among the ladies who would be wearing plainer, cheaper dresses, and how everyone would admire her; perhaps even the King himself would notice her. To her consternation, on arriving at the place she beheld nothing but a heap of ashes. In among the ashes she found a piece of the cloth she had given to Theodore. Now she w’as sorry that she had not given it to “Old Rupert,” as she would still have had it in time for the ball, though too late to show it off to her friends. “’Twould have been ‘better late than never, ) ft she sorrowfully mused as she wended her way home. —Clare Gilligan (Grade IV.)

Christmas Morning LAST Christmas I woke up bright and early. The. first thought in my mind was that it was Jesus Christ’s Birth day. Then I glanced at the foot of the bed, and there was the pillow-slip I had put out the night before. I said my Morning Offering, and made for the end of the bed. When I arrived there, full of excitement, I dived into my pillow-slip. Out came a broom, a dish full of lollies, two story-books, and a packet of sweets. Already Annette had a teaset, a lucky stocking, and a brooch on the floor. We tried not to wake our parents, but Annette called out with delight, for she had found an Indian’s cap. Then we went to our parents to show the toys Santa had brought us. They agreed with us that Santa Claus had given us useful things to enjoy a game with. Soon we were ready to go to Mass. On our way we wished everybody “A Merry Christmas.” It was a lovely

Mass, and I enjoyed receiving Jesus on His Birthday. Annette and I then made a visit to the Crib. We said a prayer, took up some of the straw, and returned home to a lovely breakfast awaiting us. —Shirley Troyan (Grade III.)

(_A IN James Street there is a very beautiful garden belonging to Mrs. Smith. Every afternoon as I go by she is watering it with a rubber hose. The flowers in her garden are violets, asters, roses, and two palm trees. Around the palm trees are two beds of pansies. Between the beds of roses and asters is a red path leading from a

A Good Deed IN our street there is a little old-fashioned cottage in which lives a middle-aged lady named Mrs. Briggs. One day Mummy said a IRtle bird has whispered that Mrs. Briggs was very ill. Then Mummy gave me a basket, which contained some hot soup and some tea in a thermos flask, and off I set to the old cottage. When I got there I found the ill lady trying to make herself a cup of tea. I made her as comfortable as I could, and then tidied the small bedroom. Everywhere I found dear little knick-knacks which Mrs. Briggs said her son had sent her from India, but the ornament I fancied most was a little pearl-shell with a pearl in it. Then I went into the garden and picked some flowers. After that I cooked the lady some tea, and seeing it was nearly my tea-time, too, I went home. After that I went to the house every day until the lady was better. One day Mrs. Briggs was waiting for me. She held a little parcel wrapped in tissue-paper, which she gave me, and said: “This is just a little reward for your kindness, Margaret.” I thanked her, and went home wondering what it could be. Guess what it was? ' Why! the pearl-shell with the pearl in it. How delighted I was! I always keep my pearl-shell on the mantel-piece to remind me of Mrs. Briggs. —Margaret Campbell (Grade II.)

en green gate to the front stairs. In the middle of the lawn is a fountain, which has violets around the edge of it. A yellow fence is around the flowers. Mrs. Smith is very proud of her garden. Often she picks a bunch of flowers for her room. —Margaret Sullivan (Grade II.)

^dke jlational Catholic Shis CMovement^ j |

The Day I Like Best I LIKE Sunday best, because it is a holiday from school, and we do not have to do much hard work. Last Sunday morning when I woke up, I dressed and went to seven o’clock Mass, and to Holy Communion with Mummy and John. ; When I came home I had my breakfast, and then | helped Mummy to dry the dishes. After I had made my bed I cleaned my bicycle, Then I gathered a large i bunch of daisies, and when I thought I had enough I i sat on the front stairs and made an enormous daisy chain, After that I took Patricia and Bernadette for a walk. By the time we came home it was dinner-time. and when I sat down to the table my dinner was in front of me. When I finished my dinner I went to my room, ; changed my clothes, and tidied myself, because I was going to the aerodrome. About two o’clock I left home, and I arrived there at a quarter past three. While I was out there the pilot asked me if I would like to go for a ride. I thanked him very much, and climbed into the cockpit. When we landed it was four o’clock, and as I jumped out of the ’plane I felt very cold. Soon 1 decided to go home, so I went over to where I left my bike. As soon as I arrived home I changed my clothes, and then I had a game of hide-and-seek with John. Then we had a game of races. This game was very tiring, however, so when Mum had tea ready we went upstairs ; and sat down to a good, hearty meal. j After tea I had my bath and prepared for bed. Then | I said my prayers. I did not like having to go to bed, although I had had a most satisfactory day. —Carmel Mills (Grade II.)

“CATHOLIC ACTION” is a term which we “moderns” hear quite frequently, and which, quite as frequently. We pass over, because it fails to “strike home.’ ^os of us have developed our own peculiar ideas about Catho lic Action. These ideas, in some cases, are detrimental to the cause. Since the Pope has summoned us to Par ticipate in the work of Catholic Action, we should endeavour to understand exactly what this Catholic Action is, and the necessity for it. These days, when a girl leaves school and takes up her position in the world, her Catholic education is stopped, many of her Catholic principles are dropped with text books and tunics. The people the young gir meets in the office, at the dancing class, or at the tennis club are non-Catholics, some of them quite pagan in their outlook. They don’t think on the lines she has been taught. Gradually the ideas of the “just-left-schooler kegin to change under the influence of the crowd, i would be too hard to be different, and she doesn’t want to feel out of it. Consequently, the young girl becomes a victim of the environment. Environment is a peculiar thing, One can’t make one’s own, nor sidestep the wrong one. A _ girli.j,must • work. A girl must live. God meant her to enjoy life in accordance with His Will, of course. Since then the young girl must spend her days in a pagan atmosphere, being influenced by the conversations she hears, the films she sees, the papers she reads. We must transform that environment and make it Christian. As a result of pagan influences, the minds of the young become “broadened, and unconsciously their standards slip as the evil influ ence of their friends becomes more powerful. There are many girls to-day who, regular in their reception of the Sacraments and observance of Sunday Mass, glad to be Catholics, ready to defend Ca^olicism should anyone attack it, are, with all that, not Catho ic minded. We mean by that, having a Catholic outlook on life and every aspect of it. To be a good Catholic is no enough these days. One must be an active one, living the Catholic life to the full, thinking with a Catholic mind. We have to make these girls Catholic-minded to offset the attempts to make them pagan-minded. It’s pretty hard for a Catholic woman or girl in the 'world to-day where the large family is an object of scorn and pity; where parents are neither honoured or obeyea, 'Where God is seldom recognised, and very seldom loved and served; where living is an end in itself, and has no purpose beyond its opportunities for selfish pleasure.

It is the responsibility of every Catholic girl to correct these errors, and this is where the National Catholic Girls’ Movement is the answer to the problem. The task is too big to be tackled individually. We must be organised. The Movement is a vital, active thing __not a series of “clubs.” The National Catholic Girls’ Movement is made strong by the combination of thou sands of individual efforts to transform the Catholic girl’s environment. In the N.C.G.M. we have leaders and general mem bers—both a vital part of the set-up. The leader is the specialist, the general member is the ordinary practitioner having the same task. The training provided by the N.C.G.M. shows us how we must go about re-christenising the environment, how to help others. The girls are trained to think and act as Catholic leaders, so that they in turn may influence other girls in their thinking and acting. The Gospel discussion gives the girls the intimate knowledge of the Life of Christ, and His words give them the inspiration and encouragement they find so necessary to carry out their apostolate. The girls are trained through the Enquiry to examine every aspect of the lives of the girls they know. They see what places, things and habits are detrimental to the spiritual and temporal welfare of our young girls. Having compared the situation as it is with what it should be, they decide what action they can take as individuals and as a group. Through Activity Groups or other services such as the Savings Scheme, Dressmaking, Library, the leader is given the -opportunity to put into practice her ideals—to influence her group towards a more Catholic outlook. The N.C.G.M. girl must remember that every action decided upon, all our programmes, our meeting or recrea tional services, must always be directed towards the salvation of souls—the souls of the young girls who sur round us. In our contacts and association with others we must bear in mind the concluding words of our Move ment prayer— “Let me preach Thee without preaching, not by words, but by my example, the catching force, the sympathetic influence of what I do, the evident fullness of the love my heart bears for Thee.” Amen. —Rita Keogh (President of the N.C.G.M.) Page 39.

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27k ôung Ckîstian Students ^âlly FOR the first time the Y.C.S. leaders in Toowoomba had a chance to come together at a Rally organised for them on Friday, 30th July, at Holy Name Hall, Toowoomba, by Father E. Concannon. The students were honoured by the presence of His Lordship, Bishop Roper, who stayed for the entire Rally, and gave us much encouragement when he spoke to us. Miss Betty O’Brien, National Secretary of the Young Catholic Students, who had journeyed from Melbourne, conducted the Rally. The Rally commenced with the prayer of the Y.C.S., and then the girls from St. Saviour’s did a Gospel dis cussion, “The Salt of the Earth.’’ The girls brought out many practical points, and showed us clearly that Our Lord’s words were directed just as surely at us as they were at the Apostles. Miss O’Brien gave immense prac tical help to the Young Catholic Students by her expert advice on how to manage the details of the programmes for meetings — Gospel Discussion, Contacts, Facts of Action, Items of Interest, the Enquiry and the Activity Groups. The fundamental importance of action resulting from the Gospel discussion, and of the necessity of making contacts, was stressed, and helpful illustrations were given.

S'ke Summed School

^J.C.S. JdeacL

THE annual Summer School for Y.C.S. leaders was held at “Tay Creggan,” the headquarters of the Ladies of the Grail in Melbourne. As its name implies, “Tay Creggan” savours the unusual, both in architectural style and in the well-laid-out, extensive grounds sloping to the Yarra. In the home itself the atmosphere of an original Tudor mansion has been recaptured to a great extent. The picturesque entrance, little hidden attic windows and creeper-covered walls lend it a charm entirely its own. It is like a breath from the past—something that one would identify with the oak rafters, wide staircases and graceful furniture of the Tudor period. In all there is an old world flavour surrounding the house and gardens, which sharply contrasted with the purpose of the Summer School—to train leaders in the es.sentially modern field of Catholic Action. Archbishop Beovich the Episcopal Chairman of the Young Catholic Students’ Movement, opened the school on the_ Monday morning with an address on Catholic Action in the world to-day, and he stressed the import ance of the role played by the Catholic students in that world. In concluding, he expressed the desire that the school would be very successful from every point of view, and placed it under the protection of Our Lady of Fatima. The first lecture each day was given by Father Kennedy who, in his talks on the Mass and Sanctifying Grace, showed us that religion should be a vital part of our lives as Catholic Actionists, so that we may be more closely united with Christ—our Friend and Leader. The lectures dealing with the Y.C.S. were both varied and interesting. Father Mayne, S.J. (Rector of Corpus Christi College), dealt with the Inquiry, illustrating clearly the tactful and tactless methods of carrying it out. His talk on films, which was accompanied by lantern slides, was of great value because of the information given as to how to discriminate between the good and doubtful films from a Catholic point of view. Page 40.

She went on to say that in our work of Catholic Action we should all be heroines in a quiet, unobtrusive way, and not desire the fame which the world can give; to be a heroine we must have virtue in our own lives, for we cannot give what we have not got. It should be our ideas as Catholic Actionists to build up a happy school spirit, to prevent the pagan ideals of greed and selfishness taking possession of us. The Christian ideal is service to others. Re-Christianising the world does not mean the world as seen in an atlas, but our own little world in the school room, the hospital, the office, the factory, or the univer sity. Benefit is intangible—we ourselves cannot see it, but if we sow the seed now, future generations will reap the benefit. A fitting conclusion was made to this eventful Rally by His Lordship the Bishop’s words of encouragement: “The blessing of God will rest on Priests and Nuns, boys and girls, and on Miss O’Brien. We are living in the age when all must do something for Christ. So that your energy is yeast, the active member, the living germ that is changing yourselves and those around you into the very image of Christ Himself.” —Maureen Evans (Sub-Senior)

= SMelhoulnc

Fathers Leonard, Chamberlain and Bracken deliv ered lectures on other important Y.C.S. subjects: The School Environment and our duties to our fellow-students, the Dignity of the Apostolate, and the importance of the Gospel Discussion at the weekly meetings. We were also privileged to hear talks by some of the well-known speakers in the Catholic Action world: Messrs. Maher, Mitchell and Santamaria. These men brought home to us the importance of our tasks as Y.C.S. leaders, and our responsibilities connected with the restoration of the world to Christ. The time between lectures was spent wandering around looking over the grounds, and the home itself, from the dark musty cellars to the quaint attics. Some one came upon a life-like statue of the— “Great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river”; and there was a general move in this direction to view the discovery. The Priest’s Hole—relic of that period in English History when no Priest was safe from the per secutors of the Church—was also a place of curiosity for youthful explorers. Students came from the five States—Tasmania, Vic toria, New South Wales, South Australia and Queensland, and, as one speaker said, this was surely a sign of the zeal with which the Y.C.S. was being carried on in all parts of Australia. Thus at the conclusion of the Young Catholic Students’ Summer School, 1948, the future of Catholic Action in our schools seems assured, for there will ever remain in the minds of Catholic youth the warn ing given by Pope Pius XII. in June of last year:— “Woe to the nation, the day when there is extingu ished in the heart of youth the sacred flame of faith, of ideals, of readiness for sacrifice, of the spirit of dedication.” —Barbara Clarke (Senior)

The Melbourne Summer School.

£r/ic ^].C.S. Summei School, ig/jS I

THIS year’s Young Catholic Students’ Summer School ■was held at “Tay Creggan,” Melbourne, and two leaders from St. Saviour’s High School were privileged to be among the large number of representatives from the various Catholic schools in Australia. , n ^ The students, having assembled in the Tudor Hall of the old English mansion, welcomed Archbishop Boevich, who had so kindly consented to be present at the official opening of our Summer School. Archbishop Beovich ex pressed his pleasure at seeing so many leaders who had travelled from South Australia, Tasmania, New South "Wales, Victoria and Queensland. The large attendance, added, was a positive sign of the enthusiasm v/ith which the Students’ Movement is being carried on in Aus tralia. In his address he reiterated the obligation of Catho lics to refrain from separating their life from their '■eligion, and reminded the students, in the statement of the Holy Father, that “Catholic Action is Catholic lif e. Ill concluding, he placed the school under the protection of Our Lady of Fatima. The delightfully novel surroundings of “Tay Cregj gan” and the beauty of the home itself were objects of aur complete admiration, and having passed our time pleasantly, we were able to listen attentively to an enlightening address delivered by Mr. Maher. Mr. Maher has recently been in Europe, where he inspected various Catholic Action groups. He spoke of the Popes and Catholic Action, and, in the words of Pope Pius XIL, Urged every Catholic to do what he could to save Aus^alia from the disaster which had literally befallen Europe. He also stressed the need for intelligent Catholic

men and women to be “at the top,” and so make their Catholic influence felt in social life. Just as the Jocists in Belgium work untiringly among the slum areas, so we, the Catholic students of to-day, must work in our own particular environment, and by our action and conver sation endeavour to “win over” our fellow-students. Father Chamberlain, the new National Chaplain, addressed us on the Apostolate, which he said was a normal thing. Our Lord was the greatest apostle of all time, and we can model our apostolate on His sublime one. Father Chamberlain told us that Catholics must turn from the defensive to the offensive, from a state of apathy to one of activity, “a participation of the laity in the work of the Hierarchy.” Pope Pius XI insisted that apostles work in their own environment, as the Y.C.S. was not merely a training ground for the N.C.G.M., but important work of influence in the school. A lecture of particular interest was that given by Father Leonard, who spoke on the school environment, and stressed the fact that, although while at school we are in a Catholic atmosphere, we are still subject to evil influence. Father Kennedy, aptly likening our influence to the rays of the electric light, reminded us that we influence others for good or evil. Our calling to live a super natural life was made more clear and more significant. Father Mayne, S.J., the Rector of Corpus Christi College, urged us to concentrate on facts of action in our Y.C.S. work. In a series of examples we were given some model facts of action for Catholic students. Page 41.

•» ! Mr. Mitchell advised us about the gathering of infor mation for our inquiries, and dealt with it under the headings we commonly know as See, Judge, and Act. The leaders derived much benefit from his talk, which will be very helpful in the Activity meetings throughout the year. Another very enlightening lecture was from Father Bracken, his subject being the Gospel Discussion. Father Bracken said that, whatever we must sacrifice at our meetings, we should never omit the Gospel Discussion, as it is through it that we can know and love our Lord. It is true that love of Christ must influence all our work, but we can never love Christ or know Him adequately until we have studied the Gospels. He added that Catholics to day are altogether too vague in their attitude towards these matters. Father Bracken concluded his lecture with a very striking quotation from G. K. Chesterton:— “There is enough spiritual dynamite in the Church to revolutionise the whole world, but the temperature is too low.” Mr. Santamaria, a man who is well known in Catho lic circles in Australia, brought the Summer School to an end with a most inspiring address. In the words of Pope Pius XII, he stressed, “Christianity is living through

the most serious crisis Christianity has known.” The world is threatened by an attack greater than the early persecutions, greater than the Reformation or the French Revolution. The Pope has said that participation in public affairs is a serious moral obligation. Those who ignore this are committing a grave sin of omission. Mr. Santamaria also added that, if we cannot send trained Catholics into lecture rooms where pagans are swaying the crowds, Australian people in a few years’ time will be under the rule of pagan domination. He urged that Catholics join the secular organisations in which the battle for Australia is being waged. He con cluded with the often repeated statement, “Our welfare is not against flesh and blood, but against Principalities and Powers.” That was the conclusion of our Summer School, and I am sure that there was not a student present who did not leave “Tay Creggan” feeling more enthusiastic in the great task of Catholic Action. May our efforts at school be blessed, so that students will leave the protection of their schools ready to combat the attacks of a pagan world and so help by their example in the Salvation of Souls. —Rita Brennan (Senior).

B'he Cp.C.S. Soilee ON a lovely sunny afternoon of May 6th, the Y.C.S. held its first social in the form of a soiree. The dayscholars and boarders assembled in a lovely colourful array, and we commenced at two o’clock with the Grand March. We then danced the waltz, the music for which was graciously supplied by Celie Turvey, and many others. Later on in the afternoon we had a most enjoyable buffet afternoon tea, which was daintily prepared by some of the nuns, together with the help of several of the girls. Of course, I must not omit the novelty events. Each grade had its own; that of the Commercials was most amusing, being in the form of an obstacle race. The girls were allowed to see the hall floor littered with every possible obstacle. They were then blindfolded and set to pace the floor, being strictly warned not to knock things over. The audience had great joy watching them, since every obstacle had been removed. The Jolly Miller was a great novelty, too. Both men and women were presented with a little card bearing the name of some animal, and at the change the man had to find his partner with a name corresponding to his own, by the noise she made. You should have heard the noise. It was really a Taronga Park let loose. Other novelty dances, such as Spot Waltz and Monte Carlo, crowned the programme. The Seniors’ novelty event was the throwing of cards into a hat, and, needless to say, only one card courageously reached the interior of that forbidding hat. Then came the Jazz Medley, and, although we were all tired, it was with no reluctance that we danced this, which, when over, the girls turned to the beautifullydecorated statue of Our Lady, which was the best pos sible way to offer thanks for a most enjoyable evening, and sang the hymn: “Help of Christians, Chosen Patron of this Pair Australian Land.” —Roma Smith (Senior).

* Page 42.

Our fashion editress reports on the frocking at the Y.C.S. Soiree. Saw Joan Kennedy and Nell Callaghan arriving. Joan in a deep blue skirt topped by a white embroidered blouse. Rumour has it that the blouse was brought all the way from Guam. Nell chose a sky-blue frock of silk linen, of which the distinguishing notes were a tiny fluted peplum and a pencil-slim skirt. Roma Smith also favoured blue when she wore a classically-tailored suit which featured white embroidery on revers and pockets. Annemarie Kenafake made a charming picture in a white crepe suit made on simple lines and featuring an unusual neckline accentuated by colourful embroidery. Noticed that the “new look” was achieved by Margaret King, Maureen Shannon, and Janet McIntyre. Margaret was in teale green, white yoke treatment making an at tractive contrast. Maureen was a dainty figure in coffee lace relieved by brown velvet at the waist, while Janet provided a touch of the unusual with a striking tartan skirt topped by a white peasant blouse. Spoke to Gabrielle Mullen, Toni Dower, and Pat O’Meara, who seemed to be enjoying themselves im mensely. Simplicity was the keynote of Gabrielle’s blue linen skirt and crisp, organdie blouse. Pat’s red floral frock was relieved by bands of white at neck and sleeves, while Toni chose a peplum style which featured blue, green, and grey tonings on a white background. Joan Fox and Margaret Carter were attractive figures waltzing round the hall. Joan was another who favoured blue, and her crepe frock featured an em broidered neckline, envelope sleeves, and knife pleated skirt. Margaret’s blond hair was set off by her frock of rust and black tonings on a green background. Sheila Stewart and Kath Quinn were smart sil houettes in multi-coloured florals. Sheila’s frock certainly savoured the unusual with wine, mauve, and yellow flowers on a background of white linen. A red shoulder spray and a red ribbon atop her blonde curls set off Kath’s red and green floral frock to great advantage. Kath Willshire, Betty Richardson, and Ailsa O’Sul livan were seen chatting between dances. Kath’s attrac-

tive green and black frock boasted a smart bolero; Betty chose a frock which featured rose and ice-blue tunings on a black background. Pam Weir, Margaret Baines, Mary Kaveny, and Esme Rogers were sighted at the buffet table. Pam’s pink frock featured puffed sleeves and embroidered neckline; Margaret chose a green and white spot finished with dainty white collar; Mary’s pink crepe featured a draped skirt plus brown beaded effect at the shoulder; Esme’s

vividly-patterned frock boasted large green flowers on a white background. Deirdre McNamara wore a pink figured silk frock featuring a very full skirt and lace inset in the bodice. Kitty Philp sported a brown pleated skirt topped by a dainty satin blouse. Truly a lovely Mannequin Parade. Barbara Clarke (Senior).

^he Uay Scholars’ Sports SPECULATION ran high two or three days before the appointed date for the Day Scholars’ Sports. The invita tions had been sent out, but the sky was cloudy and rain was falling; would it clear up or would it not? As Hamlet would say, “To be or not to be.” However, Satur day, April 10th, dawned clear and hearts lifted with joy and expectation. The morning passed and, though 1.30 may seem an early hour, the majority of the visitors and contestants Were there long before. The Y.C.S. stalls were well pat ronised first, and then—sounds of a whistle reached our ears. Action! Play has begun. While the tennis doubles were being played off. Circles and Badminton were in progress, providing plenty of interest to the spectators. Hearts rose and fell as ins and outs were proclaimed. However, at the conclusion. Colds had carried off the Tennis and Circles champion ships, while Blues obtained the Badminton points. Now there are some more whistles and the day scholars, with their distinguishing bandanas, arranged

over the shoulder, marched on to the sports field. Then the novelty games are played; tunnel ball and circle ball, and then the relays. Many thanks to our barrackers among the boarders. Golds carried off all these games, and their congratulations were plentiful. Of course, the most interest was centred on the Basket Ball. Both teams were strong, but which would prove stronger? I’m sure some of the girls must have suffered from laryngitis as a result of their earnest cheers. From goalpost to goalpost the ball moves; there is certainly plenty of action here. However, thanks to ex cellent goalies, the Blues had won when the scores were added up. The novelty games were the last items, and breaths were held until the winners of the day were announced ;—the Blues. Cheers rang out and the sporting captains proposed cheers for the opposing teams and for our active organiser. Thus passed another day in the Chro nicle of the year, a day which was enjoyed by all. —Joan Kennedy (Senior).

orts WITH the school flag and colours flying over the en trance to the courts, and excited boarders making lastroinute preparations for the afternoon, the sporting spirit of all was aroused in eager anticipation, “A” grade tennis was scheduled for 2 p.m., and at a minute to two, Sheila Stewart and Clare Hoopert (Green) were on the court with their two “Blue” opponents, Marie Doran and Celie Turvey. Sheila, Clare, and Celie had been up at Glennie in the morning playing in the Inter-School tournament, so Sheila’s and Clare’s victory, 6-0, was ’all the more meritorious after the morning’s exertion. Lyn Hunter and Pam Weir, captains of the Blue and Green teams, respectively, in the “B” grade basket oall, had their players well placed, but the Blues had *^he upper hand and won by four “tries.” The Blues Centre, Josie Keane, and free-runner, Lyn Hunter, were outstanding players in this game. A diversion was then afforded by the Junior team.’s place ball, and later in the afternoon that of “B” and C” grades. Youthful competitors in these games in cluded Patricia McGovern and Valerie Lee. The “A” grade basket ball aroused greatest en thusiasm, and it was certainly one of the best garnes ^0 had witnessed for a long time, the final score being I?-14 in favour of the Greens. Goalie (Julie Cleary), uefence goalie (Pat Barry), and defence assistant goalie (Annemarie Kenafake) were outstanding Greens, while Centre (Celie Turvey), defender goalie (Maureen Evans), ^Pd assistant goalie (Margaret Carter) upheld the repu tation of the Blues. In the “A” grade Badminton, the Greens were not Pp to their usual standard, and servers, Barbara Clarke

and Frances Hintz, were largely responsible for the Blues victory, 17-13. Just before the adjournment for afternoon tea, the “A” and “B” grades combined in an N.S.E.W. competi tion—a novel event from which the Blues again emerged the victors. The programme after afternoon tea consisted mainly of novel events, and, of course, the “C” graders will not allow an omission of their basket ball. With goalies such as Pam Ashwin and her defender, Margaret Gadsby, we have no fear for the future of our “A” team in basket ball. In the novel events, Ailsa O’Sullivan and Pat Barry were the w-inners of the “Threading the Needle Race”; Carmel Hogan and Pam Ashwin the winners of the Primaries’ “Egg in the Spoon” event; while Marie Lee returned in a remarkably short space of time with the “treasure” from the treasure hunt. Sheila Stewart, with a mathematical accuracy, was the successful competitor in “Stepping the Distance.” These prize winners were popu lar, at least, for the rest of the day. The afternoon’s sports was brought to a conclusion with a general vote of thanks to Sister, to whom the organisation of the day had been due. And both teams were very grateful for the assistance Sister had given them in their Haining. Congratulations to the Blues,' whose claim as “The Unconquered and Uncon querable” was almost shattered by the narrow margin of their victory—61 points to 69. As a Green, I voice the reply of our team, “We can take it!” —Rita Brennan (Senior). Page 43.

Qleanings '^rom 'T^ast C Tupils . .

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Boarders’ Sports Teams. Will You Challenge Us?

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.. St. Saviour’s Tennis Pupils with Their Coach, Mr. Fox.

This Page of Illu.strations has been kindly donated by— DUNCAN THOMPSON’S SPORTS’ STORE, Margaret St., Toowoomba and Quality Butcher, Cnr. Ruthven and James Sts., Toowoomba. Page 44.

FRED.

PLATZ,

PAGEANT Day brought to St. Saviour’s hundreds of our past pupils. The Magazine wishes to express its gratitude to them for their assistance and unfailing interest. The Committee would like to name each and every one in detail, but it would be an impossible task, and it asks these loyal friends of ours to get in touch with us directly so that we may record them individually in a future issue of our Magazine. News of the Nilans: Kath is Mrs. Bert Schneider, The Pharmacy, Mitchell. She has three children: Mar garet, John, and Anne. She is most interested in the Magazine. Peg is Mrs. J. Strohfield, has three children at the Cathedral School: Catherine, Gerard, and Damien. Mrs. M. Godsall, nee Peg Murphy, went to England this year. She sends news to the Magazine that she arrived safely, is living at Putney Hill, and that her daughter, Kerry, is at school with the Religious of the Sacred Heart. Peg’s mother. Peg, and Kerry are all past pupils— three generations. News of the Kellys: Margaret is Mrs. G. Tutin; Maureen, Mrs. Geitz, mother of Eleanor and Colin, present pupils of the Cathedral School; Eileen is Mrs. Cliff Tutin; and Nancy, Mrs. Patterson. News of the Thoms family: Florence is Matron of Hawkesbury District Ho.spital; Marie is Mrs. Doctor Ward, Double Bay; Norma is nursing in Sydney; Millicent is Theatre Sister at Ipswich General Hospital; Connie works at the , State Wheat Board. The O’Donnell sisters have never lost touch with us. They were present at our Pageant. News of the Devonshires: Margaret is Mrs. T. Burt, Da'lby; Fat, Sister Mary Ann, Rockhampton; Joan, Mrs. Castles, Millmerran. Sister Agnes Devonshire is nursing in her home town. The McNamaras have never lost touch with us. Camillus is one of the best friends St. Saviour's Convent has. Annie is Mother M. Stephen, Good Samari tan Sister; Cecelia is Mrs. Healy; Kathleen, Mrs. McLoughlin; Mary Ellen, Mrs. Reynolds. Maisie and Patricia Crotty brought their children up to see us; Mai.sie is Mrs. Bruce Roderick, and has a son. Garth; Pat is Mrs. Alan Roderick, and has a son, Martin. We were delighted to make contact with the Rileys, Wanko, Charleville, again; Eanie sent for a school Magazine, Celie, the youngest of the Purveys, is a present pupil. She gives us news of the family: Lil, Mrs. Alec Lamb, Bonney Avenue, Clayfield; Bessie keeps the home fires burning; Marie is in the G.P.O., Goondiwindi. Joyce Fitzpatrick is Mrs. Dick Byrne. News of the Redwoods: Marie is Mrs. Copeley; Josie works in Pigott’s; Kathleen in McKinney’s; and Dossie is Mrs. Parker. The Mohr sisters: Annie works at Castlemaine Breweries; Minnie keeps the home fires burning; Clare was married in September to Mr. W. Schmid. Margaret Frawley is Matron at Mitchell Hos pital; Bridie is Sister Claver of the St. Joseph Sisters, Augathella. Saw Viola Lynch at the Pageant with her two nephews, children of her sister, Irene, who is Mrs. John Robinson. Eileen and Nora Carter were both with us on Pageant Day. After the Magazine went to print last year news reached us of the death of Mrs. Hurley (nee Frances Dunn). R,LP. She belonged to an earlier generation of our past pupils, for she attended school at the little cottage, which was the first building. It has given us much pleasure to receive a letter from Julia Doyle, one of our teachers of earlier days. She is the wife of Senior-Sergeant J. J. Ryan, Ingham; has a son, Lawrence Doyle, who is at Melbourne University. We are kept in touch with the Hickeys by Mrs. L. Nash, Clark Page 48.

street, who was Doreen Hickey. Her sister, Marcella, is Mrs. Thompson. Vicky Bennett is Sister M. Paschal, Religious of Our Lady Help of Christians, St. Columbas, Springwood. She still hopes to have her schoolgirl ambi tion of nursing lepers fulfilled. ^Eunice Joseph was a bridesmaid at the recent Hall-Heeney wedding. Monica Marshall has had leave of absence from the railway to nurse her mother. Mary and Nessie Cuskelly are frequent visitors to S.S.C. The school is proud of their prowess in tennis. Wedding bells will ring for Winnie Newman on October 30th, when she is to be married to Brian O’Shea. Joan Brady and Sheelagh O’Shea are to be bridesmaids. Yvonne Baxter now lives at 62 Gustavson Street, Annerley. She often sees Len Warfield. Flora White was married this year to Glen Droney, of Southbrook. Mary Keogh (Mrs. Michael Hogan) is one of our most faithful past pupils. She gives the last issue of our Magazine unstinted praise and great encouragement for the Committee. Maud May, Mrs. Perrin, loved getting the Magazine. She lives in Ranfurley Street. She has a little son, Denis. Sheila is Mrs. Cole, and has a little daughter, Sandra Maria. Mona Brown, Mrs. Gordon Jurd, Oakey, has a little son, Brendon. Lily Kriebke, Mrs. Colin Clancy, Roma, has two children, a'boy and a girl. Peg Herbert, Mrs. J. P. Quin lan, writes: “I think the Magazine is a lovely idea, and I am looking forward to receiving mine.” Past pupils at the N.C.G.M. Retreat at S.S.C., Carmel and Marie Hall, Joan Stagg, Joyce Grundy (R.I.P.), Bernice Langsdorf, Phyl Taylor, Carmel O’Beirne, Mary O’Lonergan, Mar garet Kelly, Angela Phillips, June Dennis, Joyce Lockett, Rita Keogh, Margaret Zeller, Joan Kennedy, Winnie Newman, Joan Brady, Una Westman, Dorn Grundy, Marie Fitzpatrick, Dorothy Shearer, Betty Brennan, Daphne Martin, Pat Wright, Marie Nash, Kath Shearer. Lovely letter from Joan Whittard containing fine ap preciation of the Magazine, and a description of the wheat harvest in one of the Darling Downs centres. Tessie Doyle writes of her marriage this year to Lionel Hyde. She has made her home in Warwick. Imelda Kingsbury writes: “We (Kitty and I) would like to congratulate your editors on their enterprise and achievement. Like other past pupils, we have very fond memories of the years spent at. St. Saviour’s, and we feel that the pub lishing of the Magazine will do much to bring back those pleasant days to all who read the pages.” Five S.S.C. girls nursing at the Mater: Fae Gordon, Berenice Byrne, Kath Mitchell, Avis Nolan, and Marcia Cordeley. Teresa Keane was married in October to Mr. Matt Mc Grath, of Motley. Anne Wiedman (Mrs. Dudley Just) and sister, Elsie, brought up Anne’s son, Graham John, to be dedicated in the Convent Chapel. Elsie has been transferred to the Railway Department, Toowoomba. May is teaching at Harristown. Maureen Devlin and Eileen Murphy entered the Noviciate of the Sisters of Mercy, All Hallows, on May 24th. Alvene Elborne called to see us. She made a trip by air from Charleville. Mrs. F. Cuskelly, Vonnie Sullivan, brought baby Thomas An thony to be dedicated. Betty Bliss made her debut this year at the Mater Ball. She is nursing at the General Hospital. Sadie Grace, in her good epistolary style, tells of Rose Kruger, who works at -the G.P.O., and Mary Wynne, who teaches at Biggenden. Rita Hoare, Mrs. McAuliffe, Jandowae, has a special word of praise for the Magazine. She has four children, sons John and Daniel,

Children oi Past Pupils

Doreen, Kathleen, and Danny, Children of Mrs. G. McAuIiffe Cnee Rita Hoare).

Dianne, Daugher of Mrs. G. Fit*' more (nee Joan Clark).

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Patricia, Daughter of Mrs. E. Smith (nee Grace Lynch).

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David, Son of Mrs. A. Skerman (nee Ailsa Bottomley).

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MM Mi Anne, David, and Jonyth, Children of Mrs. J. Mapstone (nee Eileen Fenton).

Josephine, Daughter of Mrs. ^ Carmichael (nee Tess Gabbctt)'

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A John, Russell, Raymond, and Brian, Sons of Mrs. R. Campbell (nee Agnes Erbacher).

Glen, Son of Mrs. L. Purcell (nee Cecelia Erbacher). Jeffrey, Son of Mrs. F. J. Kill”* (nee Pat Paterson).

Peter, Janette, and Geoffrey, Children of Mrs. McCahon (nee Jean Cooke).

and twin daughters, Doreen and Kathleen. Beryl Crowley and Erin Kerwin are both teaching at St. Stephen s School. Jean Tully was bridesmaid for Rita Thornton and Joan Kennedy for Nancy. Margaret Thornton, of course, attended both her sisters. Letter from Surat tells of past pupils in parish activities: Mrs. Bill Simpson (Helen Bingham), Marjorie Bingham, Noela Simpson, Peggy and Lola Cherry, Betty Stephenson. Doreen Clark was bridesmaid for Gloria Outen. Maureen Brosnan and Lizzie Constable are both Sisters of Perpetual Adoration. Mary Short, Mrs. G. Wallace, called to say good-bye. She was on her way to her new home m Cairns. Carrie Hooper writes of the enjoyment she and Joan got out ot the Magazine. Joan Doherty gave the Magazine Com mittee a wonderful appreciation of their efforts. Kath Smith (Mrs. Thompson) brought her three daughters— Josephine, Anne, and Nancy—up to see her Alma Mater. She spent a pleasant afternoon viewing all the changes in her old school. Alice Carlyle (Mrs. Foote, Sydney) sends news of her little son, Kenneth Harold. We were all delighted to hear of Betty Blair’s restoration to health after her sojourn in St. Vincent’s. She sends news of the Catholic Youth Club, of which she is a member. Vonnie Lalor sends a word of sympathy to the Convent on the death of dear Sister Cosmas, who was a favourite with everyone. Countless are the tributes to Sister Cosmas and her work, which have come to St. Saviour’s Con vent. Dorothy, her sister, is nursing in Maryborough. Margaret Fitzgerald writes, “I am sure every pupil, past and present, must be pleased to see St. Saviour’s Maga zine a real fact at last, as I am sure it was the dream of many girls of the past.” Joan Clark is Mrs. Finnimore, Wavell Heights. She sends news of Muriel Nicoll, who is Mrs. Kimble, Berkeley, California, U.S.A., and loves the American way of life. Jean is Mrs. Gott, Abing don Street, Woolloongabba. Nancy Grinke sends news of her marriage this year to Mr. H. Balstad, Jandowae. Florrie is Mrs. Cecil Pfingst, Willoughby, Warra. Dossie Ryan (Mrs. B. F. Moynihan) writes, “this thought, that my wedding photo will be in the 1948 issue of the Maga zine gives me a sense of pride to be so closely associated with my old Alma Mater.” Monica McCormack, Aubigny, visited us this year to place her bridesmaids’ bouquets on Our Lady in the Convent Chapel. Margaret Lynch, Mrs. T. Murphy, brought up her baby son, Terence, to be dedicated. Beryl Connelly, our good basket ball umpire, ever ready to help our teams, sang the Ave Maria at Mercia Lynch’s wedding to Anthony Byrne, Quinndi. Alma Gibney, Mrs. M. Priddeaux, is the mother of a son, Graeme Richard. Saw a charming sight this year, three past pupils. Sisters of Mercy, Sisters M. Simeon, St. Ursula and Christine Angela, Ursula and Josie Gabbett talking to the dear old Mother and urging her to “husband out life’s taper to the close and keep the flame from wasting by repose.” We have news of the Paulis for this issue: Gladys, Mrs. W. Sullivan, has two children in school. Adelaide lives in Nobby and Gertie is Mrs. Langsdorf. Eileen Erbacher (Mrs. Hilton) most interested in the Magazine, asks for a Magazine for Mollie Brown. Mollie is Mrs. Charles McCaul, Warmington Road, Ashgrove, and has a daughter, Pauline. Joan Connors writes to give her appreciation of the Magazine, and some news of the family. Noeline works at the Mater Private Hos pital, Joan is Superintendent of ’Phones Office, G.P.O., Rita at Commonwealth Savings Bank, Norma is a legal typiste for Sir Edward McCartney. Long letter from Fonda Lang, Mrs. H. Matthews, Peel Street, Brisbane, telling of her pleasure at receiving the Magazine. Peggy is Mrs. Neil Dwyer, and is living at Holland Park. She has a son, Kevin. Pat Thorn, Mrs. A. Hunt, said good-

bye this year to S.S.C. She writes of her new home in Bankstown, Sydney. Mary is Sister M. Angela, of the Missionary Sisters of the Holy Ghost. Josie McNamara is Mrs. James Townson, Dnrong. Sister Betty Bingham called on her return to Toowoomba after completing her Post Graduate Course in Child Welfare. Betty was chosen to make the speech at the Graduation Ceremony. She is now a Sister at Too woomba General. Marion Dobbyn, another past pupil, also did the Post Graduation Course. Rita McHugh, Mrs. Neville Gore, Southbrook, brought up son John Frederick to be dedicated in the Convent Chapel. Erin Aldridge writes of her life as a teacher at Trebonne, Ingham. She is getting a chance to learn languages. Her pupils are British, Italians, Maltese, Spanish, Finns, and Balts! Margaret Galligan, Mrs. M. Cosgrove, “Garryowen,/’ Jimbour, sends regularly for the Magazine. She was aL- Boarder --------- in 1930. Josie Whittaker, Mrs. Lambert, brought up baby son, Christopher Hames, on the day of our Pageant. Nell Grace, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, has a son, Roderick: Sadie is teaching at Ascot State School; Katie is Mrs. E'. Beattie, Brisbane. Long letters from Nea Munro, telling of her sojourn in Mackav and Springsure. She is most enthusiastic about the Magazine. She is like many past pupils, a tireless Legionary. Jean was married this year to Jack Montgomery, Nea is most anxious for news of Page Breheny. Long letter from Peg. Byrne, who is working in Brisbane. Her brother-inlaw is a pilot, and Peg does a good deal of flying. She says the old school looks like a matchbox from thousands of feet in the air. Cathleen Wallace is an enthusiastic member of the Catholic Younger Set in Mitchell and plays basket ball. Peggy Cooper, Dalby, is an enthusias tic Legionary of Mary, and member of the Catholic Tennis Club. She often sees Leila Brudeson, Mrs, Peter Cahill, and gives news of Beatrice, Winnie, and Elsie Weir. A long letter from Celie Moy gives news of her self and Marie. Both enjoyed the Magazine and are en thusiastic tennis players; Celie became engaged at Christ mas time. Mrs. Pat O’Brien (Frances McMahon) brought up baby Brenda Mary, fresh from the Baptismal Font. Ruth Mulheran keeps in close touch with her Alma Mater. She came up early in the year with her sister, Doreen (Mrs. Lex Ure), and Doreen’s two sons, Richard and Paul, to the Convent Chapel, where Paul was dedicated to Our Lady. Nancy Leahy works at Deagon, and always visits the S.S.C. Sisters. Carmel McGahan pays an an nual visit to her old school.' She teaches at Irvingdale. Moira Weatherley (Mrs. J. Hinsley, Spring Street, Lismore) writes that she was thrilled to get the Magazine with news of the past pupils. She has two children, a boy and a girl. She met another past pupil in Lismore, Hazel Crist, who is a Daughter of Charity. Eileen Erbacher, Mrs. J. Hilton, has a baby daughter, Kay; Vera, Mrs. J. O’Donohoe, has four children: Erin, Pat ricia, Bernard, and Mary. Mary Mullins is doing jour nalism at the University this year. She sent us some wonderful samples of her sweet-making for our Pageant. News of past pupils living in Ipswich: Miva Quinn is Mrs. J. Potts, and has two daughters, Pauline and Julie Anne. The Nielson girls: Joyce is Mrs. W. Maycock, the mother of three children: Pauline, Robert, and Garry; Jean is Mrs. Vince Cassidy, has two daughters, Marie Therese and Kerry Ann. Bridgie Byrne teaches at the State School, Darra. Barbara Hile sits for Intermediate Pharmacy this month. The Magazine wishes her success. Alice Rowley called up to S.S.C.' in her August holidays. Carmel Hall keeps our Missionary spirit alive with pos ters, cards, etc., for the Propagation of the Faith. Mrs. McNally (Eileen White), Mt. Tyson, writes, “I will be Page 47.

Monica and Catherine, Daughters of Mrs. J. Tierney (nee Maureen Rayner).

Kevin, Bernice, Marie, and Noel, Children of Mrs. J. M. Lipp (nee Irene Hallam).

Neil, Son of Mrs. C. R. Campb”'' (nee Pattie Neale).

Mrs. Rex Gibson Cnee Annette Campbell).

Mrs. P. Byrne (nee Phae Murphy).

Mrs. V. Hannay (nee Joyce Lockitt).

Mrs. B. G. McCool (nee Brenda McMahon).

Mrs. John Meehan (nee Avon Mewing).

Mrs. H. Harber (nee Teresa Erbacher).

Mrs. T. E. Creedon (nee Vivienne Condron).

irs. V. Clarke (nee Gloria Outen).

( t

ii, E,y

£|E;f2

delighted to receive a Magazine. I am always interested in St. Saviour’s.” Hazel Kirby writes from her new home in Sydney. Her address is “The Gulf,” Little Hartley, N.S.W Kathleen Byrne is teaching Domestic Science at the State School, Goondiwindi. Colleen Frawley is work ing at the State Government Insurance Office in the metropolis. The Watersons keep in constant touch with their Alma Mater. Merle and Margaret have taken posi tions in the home town. Joan is at the Training College. Peg Coyer, Bernice Robinson, Elsie Weidman, Irene Vallely, Rita Murphy, and Angella Philipps took part in the recent N.C.G.M. and Y.C.W. production, “Castles in Spain.” Pat Brassington and Rita Rashleigh are on the teaching staff. Clare Becker and June O’Connor, we hear, are nursing at the Brisbane General Hospital. Maureen Sweeney, Barbara Hannant, Ailsa McGaw, Betty Cochrane, Joan Murphy, Doris and Patty Hill, Margaret Markham, and Gwenda Day are working in town. Averil Jones, Shirley Cork, and Shirley Bianchi are regular visitors. Pae Speering is continuing her studies in music. Val Dixon left Toowoomba during the year to take up a Civil Service position in Brisbane. Bernice Langsdorf has a position at Ludgates, and is a frequent caller. Betty Brennan, working at Cleary and Lee, Solici tors, devotes spare moments to Legionary work. June Berthelson, also working at Cleary and Lee, calls to see us. Loretta Gordon is at present supervising education of younger sisters. Joyce Garland called up to see us when in Toowoomba at the beginning of the year; has clerical position in Brisbane. Congratulations to Celie Newman on the Art of Teaching success, and to Rae Fisher on winnmg the Baywreath Art of Speech Prize for the Excerpt from “The Hound of Heaven,” at the recent Eisteddfod. Phylis Coonan writes, and Joan Boland called up to see us. Mary and Agnes Cuskelly and Monica Marshall have Civil Service posi tions in the Railway Department. Kathleen Roessler calls when in town—helping her mother at home. Betty Stephenson and Peggy Cherry often write and ring up— both happy in their positions at Surat. Have had a month’s holiday together. Dorothy Shearer is still at “Downlands.” Narelle Hobbs and Imelda Hegarty are helping in the home; they call and write. Mary O’Lonergan is working in the Bank of Australasia in Brisbane. Kathleen Chandler is working in the Bank of Australa.sia at Oakey. Pat Conway is at present off duty, recovering from an operation; will soon be out of hospital. Cerretti O’Keeffe gave generous help for the Pageant. Long let ter from Muriel Hyland (Mrs. J. Pagliano). She is anxious for news of her contemporaries. Genevieve Clarke, Tele graph Office, Toowoomba, P.O., sends a warm apprecia tion of the Magazine. News of the two Stewarts, Sheila and Shirley, who tell us they will soon be leaving Dirranbandi to live in their new home at Bowen Hills. We frequently hear from Vera Kerwick, one of last year’s Juniors. Marie Challenor recently took up her Public Service position in Brisbane. Last week we had a visit from Rita and Carmel Connell, who are now working at the Jondaryan Post Office. Theresa Durkin is attending the Teachers’ Training Col lege in Brisbane. Lorna is the ever-faithful accompanist of our choir at High Masses. Peggie Carrig (Mrs. T. Watson) conducts the Cathedral choir. News of the Mc Manus girls: Tess is Mrs. B. Keays, Bundy Station, Wanganella, N.S.W.; Nancy is Mrs. Ben Cook, Hartwell, Vic toria. Cecelia Barry is Mrs. Z. Zeegler, Bundaberg. Mrs. J. R. Henderson, Hawthorne, writes: My congratulations on the publication of the School Magazine. It is wonder ful to read of all my old school pals, and the progre.ss the school has made since 1937. Thank you all for such

a living memento of my school days. Pat Twomey meets our Sisters when they go to the Country Church, Athol. Ailsa McGaw lives at 37 Ramsay Street. Margaret O’Don nell, Southern Hotel, always likes to get a Magazine. Dorothy Fox, West Street, got in touch with us again this year. Cecily Conroy renewed old friendships on Pageant Day. We were delighted to hear from Clare Nihill—she is Mrs. John Fitzpatrick, Gatton. Moira Mc Mahon is in the Phonogram Dept., G.P.O., Brisbane. Agnes Cole is Mrs. E. G. Fallon, Arthur Street. Elaine Gates renewed her acquaintance with S.S.C. this year. We were delighted to hear from Bernice Brady again. She works at Irving’s. Irene Bauer, “Caffey,” via Gat ton, keeps in touch with us through the Magazine. Betty Bremner is Mrs. B. Hockmuth, Mundubbera. Nora Burns is anxiously awaiting the 1948 copy. Jean Roberts’ ad dress is c/- Redgen Bros., Chinchilla. Marie McGregor and Joyce Dangerfield both write from Miles. Kath Barrows’ address is Maclagan, via Jondaryan. Anne Quane never fails to comply with a request from her Alma Mater. Page Golledge is teaching at “Star of Sea” Con vent, Southport. Marie James (Mrs. C. Weack) sends new address: Peeramon, via Cairns. Lorna Boothby is Mrs. P. Clark, Bunya Street, Dalby. Kathleen McAuliife (Mrs. T. Hamilton) got in touch with us again this year. She is manageress of Mackay & Co., Ruthven Street. Cynthia and Leola Williams send regularly for the Maga zine. Their address is Heeney Street, Chinchilla. Evie Quinlan’s new address is Runn Street, Sandgate. Stasia Coonan writes from Nangwee, Cecil Plains. Many past pupils ask about Mary Wynne—she sends for a Maga zine from State School, Biggenden. Mary McCaul is Mrs. J. Dwyer, Rockmount, Helidon. Every year we hear from Moya Soil, Callandoon Street, Goondiwindi. Margaret Wilkinson has many friends at S.S.C. We are delighted to hear of the improvement in her health. Closed, 9th November.

Past Pupil. . . . Debutantes

IJ V'l/; Margaret Conway.

Aileen Paterson.

Thanks are due to the following, who gave special gifts to the Magazine: Peg. Raftery, Mrs. W. Simpson, Mrs. A. E. Knox, Imelda Kingsbury, Margaret Newman, Carmel McGahan, Eunice Thompson, Gerarda Meibusch. News of Engagements: Len Warfield to Neil Moran; Maureen Mitchell to Jim Fox; Coralie Harber to John Connelly; Pat Scott to Jim Stokes; Marjorie Bingham; Berna Butler; Cecelia Moy; Joan Whittard to Norman Shields. Our deepest sympathy is extended to the following in the loss of their dear ones: Nell and Teresa Cronin, the Deller girls, Imelda and Kit Kingsbury, Kath, Pat, and Mary Murphy, Mary Loughran, Sheila, Naurie, and Nell Quinlan, Nell and Nan Walsh, Tottie Conway, Cora lie Harber, Dorn Grundy, Sister M. St. Thomas (Ursuline Order), Joan, Mary, and Ellie Bennett, Meta and Gertrude Dunn. Past pupils who have children in our schools: Mrs. Rosenthal, nee Margaret McDonald—Mary and Grace; Mrs. Allen, nee Mart Caffery—Denise; Mrs. Hill, nee Edith Bollen—Edith; Mrs. Teys, nee Marie Johnson— John; Mrs. Kelleher, nee Josephine Sullivan—Mary, Patricia, and Margaret; Mrs. Saffrey, nee Iris Stenzel—■ John and Daphne; Mrs. Fechner, nee Vera Heeney— Glenis; Mrs. Watson, nee Mary Hawkins—Fay; Mrs. Mc Gaw, nee Mary Smart—Patricia; Mrs. Jones, nee Dorothy Cranitch—Brian; Mrs. Fogarty, nee Lorna Hartman— Colleen; Mrs. Duff, nee Margaret Kelly—Mary; Mrs. Shaumberg, nee Zita Urwin—Maria; Mrs. Garrett, nee Mary Collins—Margaret and Betty. Past pupils nursing at St. Vincent’s: Dorothy Blair, Mary Becker, Kath Shearer, Noela Lucht, Lea Hayes, Betty Hehir, Joan Ross.

m.: Wilma Sullivan.

Mary North.

Rita Murphy.

Joan Murphy.

Dulcie Borghardt.

Page 50.

\ Yvonne Houston.

More news of past pupils who have entered the Sis ters of Mercy: Kathleen Strohfield, S.M. Antonia, Con vent of Mercy, Gatton; Tessie Connolly, S.M. Therese, Sacred Heart Convent, Rosalie; Peg Troy, S.M. Jose, Convent of the Assumption, Warwick; Dorothy Quinlan, S.M. Annunziata, St. Mary’s, Ipswich; Mary Furtill, S.M. Grace, St. Saviour’s; Shelia Brosnan, S.M. Imelda;

Maureen Prawley, S.M. Bartholomew, All Hallows’; Helen Leane, S.M. Consuelo; Marie O’Neill, S.M. Noelle, Con vent of Mercy, Gympie; Stephanie Dunne, Sister Regis Mary, St. Vincent's, Nudgee; Mary McManus, Sister M. Agatha, Mater Hospital; Stasia Keogh, Sister M. Ignatia, Convent of Mercy, Wynnum; Jean McShane, Sister M. Immaculata, St. Joseph’s Convent, Kangaroo Point.

PUBLIC EXAMIhATlOh RESULT/ ☆

SENIOR:

☆

Eileen Murphy: English (C), French (C), Latin (C), Mathematics I (B), Logic (A), Bookkeeping (B).

☆

Page Golledge: English (C), French (C), Mathematics I (C), Logic (B). Mary Mullins: English (C), French (C), Latin (C), Mathematics 1(C).

JOAN STAGG. Piano, A.Mus.A., L.T.C.L., 81; Art of Speech, A.T.C.L., 81; Rudiments and Harmony, 70; Grade II, Theory of Music, 88; Grade I, Theory, Art of Speech, 67; Grade I, Art of Speech (Practical), 88.

☆ 1-^

JUNIOR: Maureen Evans: English (A), French (A), Latin (B), Arithmetic (B), Algebra (A), Geometry (A), Home Science Chemistry (C), Stenotyping (A), (A). Fae Speering: English (B), French (B), Latin (C), Arithmetic (A), Algebra (B), Geometry (B), Music (A), Bookkeeping (A), Stenotyping (A). Margaret Waterson: English (A), French (A), Arith metic (C), Algebra (C), Geometry (B), Book keeping (A), Stenotyping (A), Home Science (B).

ii!!

Kath Chandler: English (B), French (C), Arithmetic (B), Algebra (B), Geometry (B), Chemistry (B), Bookkeeping (Al, Stenotyping (A), Home Science (C). Vera Kerwick: English (A), French (B), Latin (C), Arithmetic (C), Algebra (B), Geometry (B), Chemistry (B), Bookkeeping (B), Stenotyping (A).

Jfn JELiitoriani

Margaret Maguire: English (A), French (C), Latin (C), Arithmetic (B), Algebra (B), Geometry (C), Book keeping (B), Stenotyping (A). Marie Challenor: English (B), French (A), Arithmetic (C), Algebra (C), Geometry (C), Bookkeeping (C), Stenotyping (A). Shirley Bianchi: English (C), French (C), Arithmetic (C), Algebra (B), Geometry (B), Bookkeepilng (B), Stenotyping (C), Home Science (C).

ISABEL CARLYLE (Mrs. DENIS DELLER)) We record with sorrow the death this year of one of our past pupils of other days—Isabel Carlyle (Mrs. Denis Deller), of Herries Street. Close neighbour as she was to St. Saviour’s, she was always on all occasions an inspiration and a help. That fine tradition of active helpfulness to the Sisters, so that the cause of Religion may be advanced, she passed on to her daughters, who at all times are ready with their co-operation. To them we say: “May your mother’s spirit always animate the hearts of our past and present pupils.”

Helen Ryan: English (C), Arithmetic (C), Algebra (B), Geometry (C), Music (B), Bookkeeping (C), Stenotyping (A). Valmai Dixon: English (B), Arithmetic (C), Algebra (B), Geometry (C), Bookkeeping (C), Stenotyping (B), Home Science (C). Joyce Garland: English (B), French (B), Arithmetic (C), Bookkeeping (C), Stenotyping (A).

MARGARET MARY CROZIER After a serious illness, there passed to her eternal reward in June this year, Margaret Mary Crozier. Mar garet always desired to give her life to God, and in His own good time He accepted her sacrifice. Her cheerful disposition and courage in bearing her great trial won the admiration of us all. Like the Little Flower, in her youth and her suffering she is, like her, too, in her promise to remember her friends and their needs, and to intercede for them in heaven.

Page 52.

JOYCE ELLEN LONG (Nee GRUNDY) God claimed for His own, too, this year another of our past pupils—Joyce Ellen Long (nee Grundy). Though so young and just on the threshold of married life, Joyce has left behind her the record of her exemp lary Catholic life. In her genuine love for her religion, in her ever-ready helpfulness, in her zeal for Catholic Action, she could not but be a strong inspiration to all our pupils, both past and present.

SCHOLARSHIP. Joan MacGinley, 84 per cent.; (lolleen Brady, 82.6; Esme Rogers, 79.8; Joan Garret, 78; Clare Kelly, 75.7; Agnes Gentle, 76; Eileen Lobwein, 72; Joyce Buckle, 69.4; Fat Shepherd, 64; Lilian Wiemers, 64; Bernice Wuth, 64; Theresa Twomey, 64; Mary Hall, 64; Lorna Laughren, 64; Anne Tuche, 61.2; Julia Cleary, 60.6; Clare Hoopert, 60.6.

☆

SHORTHAND-WRITERS’ AND BOOKKEEPERS’ ASSOCIATION. Advanced Shorthand.—Mary O’Lonergan (78 per cent.), Gwenda Day, Narelle Hobbs, June Berthelsen. Intermediate Shorthand.--- Rita Rashleigh (1st in Queensland, June, 90 per cent.), Marjorie Richardson and Vivienne Dower (85 per cent.). Faith Golledge, Ailsa O’Sullivan, Frances Hintz, Marie Doran, Sheila Stewart, Deirdre McNamara, Kathleen Quinn, Esmee Hohnke, Margaret King, Patricia Barry, Cecelia Purvey, Janet McIntyre, Margaret Mullen, Margaret Jeffrey, Kath leen Willshire, Joyce McCleery, Veronica Kennedy, Catherine Philip, Eileen Rawlins, Joan Pox. Elementary Shorthand.—Margaret King (2nd in Queensland, November, 98 per cent.), Marjorie Richardson. Sylvia Swan, Joan White, Marie Doran, Vivienne Dower, Marjorie Kirby, Kathleen Scanlan, Cecelia Pur vey, Kathleen Quinn, Frances Hintz, Margaret Jeffrey, Katherine Just, Sheila Stewart, Ailsa O’Sullivan, Faith Golledge, Deirdre McNamara, Patricia Barry, Rita Rash leigh, Maree McNamara, Imelda Hegarty, Janet McIn tyre, Esmee Hohnke, Margaret Mullen, Maureen Shan non, Shirley Mays, Joan Pox, Kathleen Willshire, Catherine Philp, Joyce McCleery, Veronica Kennedy. Shorthand Speed.—Eighty Words Per Minute: Gwenda Day (98 per cent.), Mary O’Lonergan, Patricia Brassington. Sixty Words Per Minute: Shirley Arnold and June Berthelsen (99 per cent.), Narelle Hobbs. Steno-Typist’s Certificates.—Patricia Gwenda Day, Mary O’Lonergan.

Brassington,

Stage III Bookkeeping.—Gwenda Day (71 per cent.). Stage II Bookkeeping.—Marie Doran (78 per cent.), Cecelia Turvey, Rita Rashleigh, June Berthelsen. Stage I Bookkeeping.—Cecelia Turvey (92 per cent.), Joan White, Joyce McCleery, Margaret Jeffrey, Vivienne Dower, Marjorie Richardson, Sylvia Swan, Marie Doran, Joan Fox, Kathleen Quinn, Frances Hintz, Shirley Mays, Imelda Hegarty, Margaret Mullen, Faith Golledge, Patricia Barry, Ailsa O’Sullivan, Janet McIn tyre, Kathleen Willshire, Hazel Kirby, Kathleen Scanlan, Deirdre McNamara, Katherine Just, Rita Rashleigh, Esmee Hohnke, Maureen Shannon. Senior Typewriting.—Esmee Hohnke (81 per cent.), Cecelia Turvey, Rita Rashleigh, Marie Doran, Deirdre McNamara. Junior Typewriting.—Marjorie Kirby (92 per cent.), Vivienne Dower, Joyce McCleery, Margaret Mul len, Joan Pox, Sheila Stewart, Maureen Shannon, Hazel Kirby, Patricia Barry, Margaret Jeffrey, Margaret King, Janet McIntyre, Faith Golledge, Kathleen Willshire, Marie McNamara, Marjorie Richardson, Shirley Mays, Frances Hintz, Veronica Kennedy, Kathleen Quinn, Ailsa O’Sul

livan. Page 53.

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Page 54.

Page 55.

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s. A. BEST PTY. LTD.

PURCHASE YOUR LUCKY TICKETS FROM HER

Toowoomba Branch Makers of Line, Half-Tone and Colour Process Blocks. Electros, Stereos and Metal Name-Plates, Specialists in all kinds of High-class Reproductions. CHKONICLr: ARCADE.

U.'i 1

t ■

//.MODERN SEWIRflGEi I'W EMIESIK PLlilOSER Phone 554.

99 RUSSELL ST., TOOWOOMBA

WE PRIDE OURSELVES IN PLUMBING OF DISTINCTION We Specialise in: Sewerage Connection, Septic Tanks, Hot Water Installations, Electric, Gas or Fuel. Also Water Softeners of any Capacity.

We manufacture tanks to any specified size, and carry out Plumbing Repairs of all description. If you are requiring a Plumbing service of repute then contact O’NEILL.

Pag* 60.

Page 61.

I i

. World^s

No.

Typewriter f

“X.

OFFICE APPLIANCES PTY. LTD. (FORMERLY SYDNEY PINCOMBE Q’LD. PTY. LTD.)

☆

UNITED GRAZIERS^ BUILDING, NEIL STREET, TOOWOOMBA V

C.G.VIDGEN,“'L„»„

I I I

347 RUTHVEN STREET —582 RUTHVEN STREET TOOWOOMBA

WATSON & HILE

Prime Quality: BEEF — LAMB — MUTTON — PORK All Meat Electrically Cut and Free of Bone Chips.

Dispensing Chemists TWO

DELICIOUS

Telephones : Mr. WATSON 60

SMALL

GOODS

ALWAYS

HAND.

We Specialise in Prime Baby Beef and Choice Sausages — Satisfac tion Guaranteed When You Shop at Vidgen’s.

SHOPS :

Cnr. Ruthven and Margaret Sts.

Complaints (If Any) to be Given to C. G. Vidgen Personally.

463 Ruthven St. (Near 4GR) Mr. HILE 964

347 RUTHVEN STREET 582 RUTHVEN STREET TOOWOOMBA. ’PHONES: 220 and 1213 After Hours: 762.

FOR ALL YOUR MEAT REQUIREMENTS VISIT—

C. G. VIDGEN, The City Butcher WE SPECIALISE

COUNTRY ORDERS.

Page 62. Page 63.

Phones 80 and 87. GARDEN SEEDS

Private Phone 807. Foreman 711

P.O. Box 53.

',y-

and Mashes

iCW

SECURE YOUR REQUIREMENTS OF FLOWER AND VEGETABLE SEEDS, FLOWER AND VEGETABLE SEEDLINGS, SHRUB AND ORNAMENTAL TREES, ROSE AND FRUIT TREES, AND ALL YOUR GARDEN REQUISITES.

Bird Seed.

(Pkts.)

RUSSELL

for Quality and Stitisfaction^

Fowl Feed

STREET, TOOWOOMBA FROM . .

Graded and Government Tested

TWINES

FARM SEEDS

i I I I

PRODUCE

WALSH & CO. Pty. Limited Garden Lovers' Store

BAGS FERTIUZERS

TOOWOOMBA

193 MARGARET STREET

E. LOBEGEIER

Cakes that please the palate

153 STUART STREET, TOOWOOMBA

Various kinds for all occasions.

Specialises in MADE BY

Prime Dressed Poultry

T. K. Lamb & Co. (inding) Pty. Ltd.

—: ALSO

TOOWOOMBA. ................ BELL STREET OFFICE and FACTORY.... 455 RUTHVEN STREET CAFE ALEXANDRA.......... 371 RUTHVEN STREET CAFE ARCADIA ................

I"'

Toowoomba’s Leading Caterers For over Sixty Years.

Page 64.

Fresh Fish For

Complete

Satisfaction

PHONE

1851

Page

GALVANISED

BRASS MILK STRAINER GAUZE

FLY PROOF

See the Toowoomba Electric Light & Power Co. Ltd., and join the thousands of happy housewives who wash the “no scrub,” “no rub” way, with a Washing Machine. Time-saving, labour-saving, a Washing Machine ends forever that Monday morn ing’s back-breaking task—cuts your Washing Time in Half. Prom greasy overalls to fine, flimsy fabrics a Wash ing Machine does the perfect job of cleansing, at very little running cost.

24in. Wide x 12 Mesh— Per Foot ........................... 100ft. Roll ...................... 30in. Wide x 12 Mesh— Per Foot ........................ . 100ft. Roll...................... 36in. Wide x 12 Mesh— Per Foot.............................. 100ft. Roll.....................- ...

7d. 50/9d. 62/6 lid. 75/-

• RUTHVEN

STREET,

TOOWOOMBA

(Next

Town Hall), ’PHONE 327 (3 Line.). • PALMERIN STREET, WARWICK. ’PHONE 315. • MARYLAND ST., STANTHORPE. ’PHONE 249.

TOOWOOMBA ELECTRIC LIGHT &

3/-

BRASS TANK STRAINER GAUZE Extra

Heavy

Gauze,

36in.

wide-

Lineal Foot.................................... ..

16/-

e.....

lOd. 68/6 1/-

85/-

1/3 100/-

DAIRY GAUZE 12in. Wide, lin. Mesh, 18 GaugePer Foot ........................................

1/3

—: AT

WYETHS of TOOWOOMBA The Leading Hardware and Crockery House on the Darling Downs ’PHONE 75.

BOX 34.

POWER CO. LTD.

cleans clothes perfectly Wholesome, Easily Digested

Per Sq. Ft.............

MOSQUITO PROOF 24in. X 16 Mesh—Per ft................... 100ft. Roll ............... 30in. X 16 Mesh—Per ft 100ft. Roll............... 36in. X 16 Mesh—Per ft 100ft. Roll ............... >.

Make Arrangements for a Demonstration at the Showrooms of Toowoomba Electric Light & Power Company, Ltd.

GAUZE

Keeps Fre^ Longer

Excellent For Toasting

McCAFFERTY MS SERVICES OPERATORS OF ...... Picnic Point, Rangeville, Tourist Road, St. Vin cent’s Hospital, and Gowrie Road ’Bus Services.

PRO-MAX (PROTEIN)

The New Standardised Starch Reduced Loaf.

PROPRIETORS OF ... “Highway Holidays,’’ 16 Day Blue Mountains Tours. PRINCIPALS OF ... ... “Eight-Double-Eight” Taxis.

(MAXIMUM)

Offices and Depot: 159 MARGARET STREET, TOOWOOMBA

MANUFACTURED BY

PUGH BROS Page 66.

CONTRACTORS FOR Toowoomba-Helidon Portion of ToowoombaBrisbane Co-ordinated Road-Rail Service.

138

CAMPBELL ST.

’Phones :

41, 888,

1962

PHONE 819

Page 67.

❖

SILVERPLATE

QUALITY.

GUARANTEED THE BEST.

HICKEY & HICKEY FUNERAL DIRECTORS

Beautiful Range of Utility Sets, 40-Piece. Special Value: £6/3/6. Other Dainty Teasets, Coffee and Morning Sets: £2/19/6 to £13/13/-.

12-14 Bowen Street, Toowoomba

r.r.TJ

’Phones;

DAY 1754

AFTER HOURS 1878 A Matchless Selection of Silver Plate: Entree Dishes, Tea and Coffee Sets, cake or Scone Trays, Reproduction Salvers, Fruit Dishes, and Entrees.

YOU

BUY

JOHN

THE

BEST

FROM—

McKinney

TOOWOOMBA’S FAMOUS GIFT STORE.

For Tasty Cakes and Pastries

EXechicai Wotk . .

which make your Lunch a Real Delight, we suggest you select your heart’s desire from our Variec Selection of Delicious Oven Fresh Cakes, Scones, Sponges, and Pastry

INSTALLATION AND REPAIRS-TOWN OR COUNTRY

Work Executed at Shortest Notice

YOU’LL BE DELIGHTED !

MARANTA ELECTRICAL SERVICES 565 Ruthven Street

’Phone 1654

Toowoomba

Our Modern Cake Shop Can Also Supply You With Delicious Malted Milks and Peters Ice Cream.

R. DUNSTER & SONS PTY. LTD. 620-622

Page 68.

English Crystal, of Dazzling Bril liance: £6/6/- to £14. Whisky Sets, Sherry Sets, Stainless Chrome Trays: 43/6 to 71/6.

RUTHVEN STREET

THONE 452 Page 69.

Where Quality Counts!

Qoo^ '^ooh is Cjoo^ flealilt And EVERYTHING . . . Yes, EVERYTHING that comes to your table from Barry & Roberts’ Store carries that eye appeal and freshness which is the unmistakable Symbol of Goodness. Let Barry & Roberts serve you well. The best costs you less at BARRY’S.

BARRY & ROBERTS Pure RUSSELL

GIFTS

Food

§tu3ioA THONE 490

ail

*T0ot^

PERSONAL SUPERVISION OF Mrs. L. A. BRYDON (NEE)—

Stores . TOOWOOMBA

^REET

FOR EVERY

OCCASION - Inspect Our Beautiful Display

YOU’LL BE PLEASED WITH THE FRESHER LOOK OF YOUR CLOTHES WHEN

Drycleaned regularly toy ’IK.

UNIGUTS

The Most Modern Machinery is in Use, Therefore when the Clothing is Returned it is Odour less, because it is Cleaned in Distilled Spirits.

DON’T DELAY, TAKE IT TO KNIGHTS TO-DAY! WE ARE ALSO EXPERT DYERS AND LAUNDRY SPECIALISTS.

C. Page 70.

FORTESCUE

THE LEADING JEWELLER Box 134 —:— Toowoomba —:— ’Phone 242

Factory, 6 Ann Street ’Phone 69 Depot: Next to Rankin’s, Ruthven St., Toowoomba Page 71.

There Are Six Essentials to Safe, Satisfactory, Electric Refrigeration : 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Beauty in Cabinet Design. Safe Temperatures. Reserve Cold. Faster Freezing. Low Running Costs. Experience (33 Years), Plus the Ex clusive Kelvinator “Polarsphere”' Sealed Unit. CHECK UP, YOU’LL CHOOSE KELVINATOR. Darling Downs Distributors:

McKINNEFS RADIO & ELECT. CO. 501 RUTHVEN STREET, TOOWOOMBA.

FLORIST and

CHAS. J. SEARLE

NURSERYMAN

(LATE GEO. SEARLE & SON)

• WEDDING BOUQUETS, DEBS.’ & PRESENTATION BOUQUETS. • DRESS SPRAYS, FUNERAL WREATHS. • SPECIAL ATTENTION PAID ORDERS.

PACKING

COUNTRY

• NURSERY DEPARTMENT— Roses, Shrubs, Ornamental Trees, Bouganvilleas and Other Creepers, Flower and Vegetable Plants.

52 WARWICK ST., HARRISTOWN, TOOWOOMBA - Thone 109

H. D. DOBBYN I MESON & SON o. Quality Butchers 505

RUTHVEN ’PHONE

Optometrist

STREET 405 Ruthven Street, Toowoomba

246

TELEPHONE 1963. --- ®

■■■

★

Pag. 72.

TRIAL

WILL

CONVINCE

YOU

u 6'

J /

USE

DEFIANCE FLOUR

/ I

\ }

An Appreciation of Advertisers. The Sisters and Pupils wish to thank most sincerely all the advertisers for their generous support. They trust that readers of this Magazine will accord their patronage to these firms, thus reciprocating their help and goodwill.

I t

Wholly set up and printed in Toowoomba by McDONALD & ROSBROOK PTY., LTD., 434 Ruthven Street.

■<s

1. liH'f I