July 1953 School Magazine
·Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine
July, 1953
Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine
July, 1953
TO VIRGIL
ing its way round to fill the troughs. It was a fine, clear day, and the blue sky glared down on the yellow grass , for the country was in need of rain. Suddenly, we heard a "bang" and a faint squeal as of an animal in pain. Then silence. We could see neither my cousin nor the dogs. Then there was another bang, another squeal, and we saw a faint yellow streak in the distance, coming towards us. "He must have wounded it. Come on! We'll head it off", shouted the cousin who had remained with us, and we raced off across the plain, grabbing sticks as we went, and trying in vain to catch up with him. We saw the dingo now, and my other cousin chasing it. Nearer, nearer, he was running fast for a wounded animal. We yelled at it, brandished our sticks, and put on an extra spurt of speed, but in vain. He loped away into a patch of scrub. It was bad luck that my cousin had run out of bullets. Anyway, my sister and I went with him to scalp the animal at the big dam, the other cousin going back to the homestead in the "tilly" to get a horse and another rifle to finish off the wounded one. It was an unpleasant business scalping and skinning it, at least so I thought, for I had never seen it done before, but it was a beautiful pelt when finally cut off. We walked back through the paddock and the burnt scrub to the other "tilly", and when we reached home, pegged it out to dry in the sun. My other cousin reached home after tea, triumphant, with the scalp of the male dingo. So there were two skins and two scalps to peg out, two pounds for the pockets of my cousins from the local shire council, and a very interesting day to remember in our holiday out West. -PENELOPE ROGERS, III. A ...................... .............................. uw:
0 Latin singer , didst thou think When thou dids t write thy stirring works Of sad-faced girls who sit a nd shrink ' Translating thee in starts and jerks? 0 eloquent! thine epithets So lyrical, are learnt by heart; And stude nts , caught in endless nets Of grammar, stumble ere they start. Thy favourite words are now profaned By lips which know d eclensions not · Thy choicest quantities disdained ' Either unknown or else forgot. ' 0 La tin S'inger, think not yet The minds of men are dead to thee! Somewhere a soul shall find thee out And rise, and soar and grow more fre~ And dwell in thine eternal ligh t, Gazmg upon the glorious field, Hearing the shouts upon the height The warlike clash of sword on shi~ld, While elsewhere bask the peaceful herds On sunlit grass 'neath laden trees And here resounds the cry of bird;, And there the roll of wind-whipped seas.
-JUDITH C. GREEN, VL
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