JENNY sat on the top step of the side porch, hemming a towel with stitches as small and neat as herself. Jenny was eight years old. She had light-brown hair tied in two braids with a blue ribbon and bits of shoestring to keep the ends in. Her large, bland, blue eyes were a little absent at times.By EVELYN MURRAY CAMPBELL
THE tang of autumn was pungent in the October air when Tom Anthony awoke that morning. Slipping across the room on bare feet, he leaned against the window sill. In fancy he smelled burning leaves, saw a brace of dogs pointing and heard the explosive clatter of a rising grouse.By JOHN RANDOLPH PHILLIPS
JUNE waited in the shadow of the big brick school building, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her dark coat. The spring dusk wasn’t really cold but she was shivering uncontrollably. “What’s teacher standing over there for?” she heard the boys, skimming by on bikes, asking one another. Their voices were shrill, unsure, eighth grade voices—like Andy’s.By DOROTHY BASTIEN
ON THE door was one of these WELCOME HOME signs that they sell in 15-cent stores. It looked a little pathetic in the dingy, illlighted hallway, but the full irony of it wasn’t visible until the elderly lady opened the door to show me into the “apartment” itself.By BLAIR FRASER
WHAT,” asked the quizmaster, “is the most common name in the world?” The contestant hesitated, muttered, and finally blurted out, “Smith, I guess.” “Wrong,” said the quizmaster, “the most common name in the world is Wong.” Sitting beside the radio in his Toronto home, W. J. Weldon snapped his fingers.By HELEN BEATTIE
NORTH AMERICA’S vast wild duck factory, which was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy less than 10 years ago, is solvent again. The ducks don’t know it, of course, but those late-model quackers flighting south these autumn days from the assembly line that runs across three prairie provinces and north toward the Arctic owe their survival to a fantastic organization called Ducks Unlimited.By S. KIP FARRINGTON, JR.
HIS OUTFIT looked perfect . . . grey sombrero, bright yellow-checkered shirt, red silk kerchief knotted at the neck, sturdy blue jeans and high-heeled boots. He was tall, tanned and nonchalant as he leaned on the coiTal fence. From where I stood he looked every inch a cowboy, a true rider of the purple sage.By LINDA BRUCE
THE whole white population of North America and the Dominions owes its existence to individual acts of emigration from Europe, and in great part from the British Islands, in the past. This movement, which began in the 16th and continued up to the 20th century, represents one of the greatest human emigrations in the history of the planet.By QUINTIN HOGG, M. P.
TOKYO (By Wireless)—The attitude of the average Japanese to his present plight, in my opinion, was best summed up by a very old English-speaking Japanese woman at the front desk of our hotel. She was scarcely the size of a nine-year-old Canadian child.By Col. Richard S. Malone
CANADIANS in British Columbia, Manitoba and Nova Scotia march to the polls this month in the first provincial elections since war ended. The results in the first two provinces may indicate the answer to the question—what are the postwar prospects of the CCF? Political tipsters do not always agree, but in the main they dope the three campaigns this way: The CCF will make its major bid in B.C., against Premier John Hart’s Liberal-Conservative coalition, when west coasters vote Oct. 25.
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