Bishop Buddy Scrapbook 1937 (2)

CHIMES

CHIMES

sent a package, too . . . oranges and apples, but never candy. Why can't she slip some in once in a while? I wish Thanksgiving came more often. I do miss that molasses taffy. Sister Antonine read us some of her poetry. My, it's beautiful. She told us the cutest story that happened last year! Father Farley, it seemed, wanted to get the boys over to Saint Mary's wholesale, but never could work it. One Sunday he and a group of young . priests came over. Well, that was all right. But he had fooled everyone. They were not priests, but boys! While we were getting ready for bed, we got Sister to tell us more stories. I liked the one about the young man who came over on his horse every day. Every time he got near the stone dog he had to tie his shoe, so there was an investigation made. It was found that he was putting notes to Kathleen O'Brien there. What adventure! dear diary. J iine 7, 1905- It was a beautiful day for our picnic. I have never had so much fun at picnics until I came to Saint Mary's. We all wore our gingham dresses for the buggies are never clean and the ride is so dusty, but, of course, we changed from our Sunday uniforms after Mass. The horses were so fast today-we got there be- fore lunch. I love St. Patrick's farm. It re- minds me so much of grandfather's. Sister snapped us in the hay loft. Mother will die when she sees me with my skirt up! Watched them milk the cows, helped to feed the chick- ens, and picked berries. Dinner seemed so good because we helped to prepare it our- selves, I guess. Ida sang and Alice played the piano. It was eight-thirty when we went through the gate, and time to get ready for bed, but every girl in the dorm talked after the bell rang.

something because we were expecting it, but she's a pessimist anyway. I wonder if ... but no, we did receive it on that little set Sis- ter Antonine made. And we were the first persons in this section to set up a wireless tele- graph. How very breath-taking it all is. What will Mother and Father say when I tell Today was very dull. No classes. And to make matters worse it rained all day and I did so much want to take a walk with Ida and the others around the river. We were going to practice our psychology on each other. Then, of course, my mending wasn't approved and I was literally forced to prick my fingers over and over again. That uniform tears so easily. The only consoling thing is that it is blue-my favorite color. And then Sister found so many mistakes in my letter to Mother. I wish I could sneak a note to Frank some time. Had a nice chat with Sister Anto- nine in her room this evening. She read us parts of Shakespeare's comedy, "A Comedy of Errors," and we are planning to perform it ourselves. Wish I could take the part of the servant. Sunday, "frlay 27, 1905- Cousin George came over from Notre Dame today and we all joined in the circle with the other visitors to talk. He brought his friend and Ida said he was her cousin so he could come in. He was tall and dark and I think I got along better with him than Ida did. We saw other boys who were neither cousins nor brothers walking along the river's edge. They looked so lonely and forsaken. That's right, tomorrow Sister said we could go canoeing on Lake Marian. Hope it doesn't rain. TiVeclnesday, ]J,Jay 30, 1905- No classes today, but we made a field trip around the river to collect leaves. Mother them what we did at Saint Mary's? 1'Vednesday, November 7, 1904-

A Morning Ride

"What is that coming down the road?" the tiny Sister said. The young school girl looked down the path, then quickly turned her hl ~d. "What makes you look so white, so white?" the tiny Sister said. The face which had turned chalky white now turned a brilliant red. "Oh, there is nothing wrong with me; I'm feeling very well today ... Are you not tired, Sister dear? I've walked you quite a way." "Oh no, my child, I like to walk and hear the breezes play." Then a rider galloped past them in the morning. "A strange young man ariding fast," the tiny Sister said. The young school girl looked down and prayed, her heart a lump of lead. "He's slowing down. Why, now he stopped," the tiny Sister said. "I do believe he will dismount." Again she gasped in dread. The strange young man jumped from his horse and looked around the ground. Beside the dog he stooped to tie his shoe which was unbound. And then he galloped off into the morning.

"That's twenty years ago next month," the old, old Sis- ter said. Some young school girls sat at her feet; then one girl raised her head. The Sister stopped her tale and stared at that one girl instead. "Oh please go on. What happened next?" they all in chorus said. The old nun had rehearsed her tale before a friend that day. The friend said, "Don't you know that girl's young daughter's here today?" The old nun smiled down on the girl and said, "They found a way." For the rid er had a wedding one spring morning.

"Now that was strange. Let's walk down there," the tiny Sister said. The young school girl cried out, "Oh no, let's take chis path instead." But no, they walked on toward the dog from whence the young man sped. The young girl feigning weariness dropped near the stone dog's head. Her tiny hand crept in his paw and took a note from out its place. She dared not raise her frightened eyes for fear was in her face. But oh, the Sister saw it all, the girl was then disgraced. And no rider galloped past there in the morning.

'41.

BETTY DILLON

(After Kipling's "Danny Deever")

'41.

LAURA FRONING

121

JUNE, 1938

.JUNE, 1938

120