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Updated: June 2, 2025
This charge was very deliberately brought against hockey for women some little time ago in an influential London journal, and was rightly and promptly answered by a spirited article with illustrations of some well-known lady hockey players proof positive of the fallacy that hockey damaged their appearance. I am afraid most of these contortions are the product of the snapshot camera.
Maud exclaimed, in fresh amazement. "How could you forget an important thing like that? Why, nowadays if a school can't put a decent hockey eleven in the field it does not count for much."
"The Games Club will try and work up a decent hockey team, and when our play is worth anything, we'll see if we can't arrange a match with some other school. The Literary Club will run a magazine, to which you'll all be welcome to send contributions; and the Entertainment Club will concentrate on getting up theatricals or something of that sort for the end of the term. Does this meet your views?"
One Saturday afternoon, when the roads were frozen into ruts as hard and sharp as iron, and when the Dozen had just started forth to take a number of pretty girls to see a promising hockey game, the villainous old fire-bell began to call for help.
Imogen would sometimes wish that they had worn out Jack, who continued to play at them and talk of them with the simple zeal of a school-girl learning hockey; at the age of Great-uncle Timothy she well knew that Jack would be playing carpet golf in her bedroom, and "wiping somebody's eye."
This conception of the classroom is unworthy the modern girl who has, otherwise, a fine understanding of the meaning of team-play, of playing all together for a common end, a game or a republic united by a tacit compact. Does the average student feel responsibility for the game of basket-ball or lawn hockey which she is playing?
He got a blue for hockey his second term." "I know nothing about the 'Varsity." Rickie winced at the abbreviation "'Varsity." It was at that time the proper thing to speak of "the University." "I haven't the time," pursued Mr. Dawes. "No, no," said Rickie politely. "I had the chance of being an Undergrad, myself, and, by Jove, I'm thankful I didn't!" "Why?" asked Agnes, for there was a pause.
That this supposition proved to be a correct one may be judged from the title of the fourth and following volume in this series, which can be had wherever boys' books are sold, and bearing the suggestive title of "The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey; or, A Wizard on Steel Runners."
She's able to organise things and to keep order, and she's good at games. She'd throw herself heart and soul into it, and work tremendously at all the new schemes. She'd start clubs among the juniors as well as the seniors, and coach them in hockey, and do her level best! I'll guarantee she would!" "And what about yourself? Can't you do any of these things?" questioned Miss Fanny.
"I've been readin' for myself some, and observin' too. The Bluff folks that plays grass hockey, all over what was Bijah Woods's farm, men and girls both, has their sleeves pushed up as if they were going at a day's wash, and their collars open and hanging to the hind button, which to my mind looks shiftlesser than doin' without.
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