Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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IQ C. E ,. G.- - THE PLAY'S THE THING To me, there is nothing more enjoyable than the production, preparation, and presentation of a play, and for the past few years, I have had the pleasure of acting in a number of delightful school plays. As soon as the short period of de- pression following the results of Christmas exam- inations is over, a new feeling seems to emerge in the school. Then, we realize that it is time to think about our annual presentation of class plays. For a few days, the peace of the Cornish Branch of the Winnipeg Public Library is disturbed by excited girls in search of books containing all the plays that have ever been written. Then, argu- ments ensue as to which play should be chosen, but at last the Perfect Play is found. Then a director must be chosen. Girls must be appointed to look after properties, costumes, and make-up. And last, but certainly not least, the cast must be chosen. How well I remember trying out for a part several years ago. The director shoved a copy of the play into my hand and ordered me to begin reading at once. I opened the book, and in a gruff English voice began to read. Suddenly, the director shouted. NOP No! A thousand times no! You're sup- posed to be a woman ! With a slightly red face, I carefully raised my octave or two and began again. The voice an choosing of a cast certainly must be an exasper- ating job for the director! After all this has been accomplished, we are so exhausted that we feel we cannot go on, and there is usually a rest period of a week or two before we gain the strength needed to commence rehearsals. Immediately, problems arise. There is not live minutes in the entire school week when the whole cast can get together for a rehearsal. Slowly the difficult weeks pass. All parts are learn- ed, and the play improves and then gets worse again at various intervals. The date is set for the performance and the days slip by unnoticed. Then, one day, you walk into the school gym, and there, straight in front of you is a peculiar- looking piece of apparatus. Upon inquiry, you learn that it is called a stage. The complete dress rehearsal takes place the next day, and everything that could possibly go wrong generally goes wrong. According to a poll conducted among a group of famous actors, this is a very good sign. They say it means that the final performance will be perfect. What a consolation this is! After a sleepless night, the great day dawns. Most of breakfast, a portion of lunch, and a great deal of dinner is left untouched. Suddenly, and without warning the evening comes. And there you are, standing in the wings with shaking knees and chattering teeth. The director then comes back- stage to tell you that the sound of chattering teeth is quite audible out in front where the audience is assembling, and that you'd better try to be quiet. The lights dim, and a hush settles over the audience. Then . . . it is time, and you walk out on the stage. Above you are the glaring, white lights. In front of you are thousands of terrify- ing eyes, two of them in each terrifying face. Oh, dear, you have become so fascinated with these eyes, that you have forgotten to speak your lines. Then, in a Hash, you remember, and you are ab- sorbed in a little story of which you are a part. The most important thing for you to do now is to live that part for the enjoyment of your audi- ence. After it is over the sweet sound of applause is like the sun coming out in all its brilliant glory after a storm. It is hard work, but it is certainly worth it for the wonderful feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment which you derive from taking part in a play. MARY HOPE MCINNIS, Grade XI. NOSTALGIA FOR THE FARM O! to be back on the farm again, Back where the corn stands high, Back where the bales of greenish hay Are piled till they reach the sky. The sun seems to shine more brightly, The moon has a softer glow. The days seem longer, warmer, And gone are the memories of snow. The sweet country air seems fresher, It helps you to feel alive, The people are more friendly And everything seems to thrive. O! to be back on the farm again, Where threshers and balers roar, Where tractors are lumbering heavily- I long to return once more. FRANCES MACFARLAND, Grade X North.

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gg, g g 15 Balmoral Hall BALMORAL CASTLE Balmoral Castle, parish of Crathie and Brae- mar, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, is the private resi- dence of the British Sovereign. It stands nine hundred and twenty-six feet above sea-level on a natural platform that slopes gently down from the base of Craig Gowan to the margin of the salmon- teaming River Dee, which is crossed by a wonder- ful suspension bridge. This castle and the estate were bequeathed to Queen Victoria in 1852 from her husband Albert, Prince Consort, who had ac- quired it through Sir Robert Gordon. It was the Prince Consort who, finding the old castle not sufficiently commodious for the Royal Family erected a new one-at a cost of one hun- dred thousand pounds. The castle was in Scottish Baronial style of architecture in white Crathie granite. The castle consists of two separate blocks of buildings, united by wings. Inside the walls are papered with tartan and the floors are covered with rugs of the Balmoral tartan which the Prince Consort himself designed. At a distance the castle has a strong and imposing appearance, look- ing almost as if it had been hewn out of one huge rock. From the many high turrets, one of which is one hundred feet high, can be seen a command- ing view of the surrounding districts. To the west can be seen Braemar, to the north Glen Gairn, while one mile to the south on the hill Craig Gowan, stand the memorial monuments of Queen Victoria, Albert Prince Consort, Princess Alice and other members of the Royal Family of Great Britain. Nine miles to the west is the railway station of Ballater. Notable people of the Vic- torian Era and a good many of the Edwardian and the Georgian Eras have stepped down on its plat- form as it is the station for Balmoral Castle. DAPHNE HANSON, Grade X South.

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SARAH AND THE NIGHT It was two o'clock in the morning, and Miss Sarah Toopingham was asleep in bed in her little apartment, as any proper, law-abiding person should be. Her day had been pleasant and un- eventful, like all her other days, and she had had a pleasant evening reading the church periodical news. Perhaps now she was having a nice dream about the forthcoming Ladies' Aid Society tea at which she was to give an exhibit of her crocheted tea-cosies. The clock in the hall ticked endlessly on. Suddenly the silence was shattered by a pierc- ing shriek, followed by running footsteps clatter- ing somewhere overhead-then a crash. Again there was dead silence. Miss Toopingham's dream had now shifted from a tea party to a bombing raid, and presently she began to wake up, with a vague sense of confusion. It was just then that there was another scream-this time followed by several more shrieks and the sound of a great deal of running about on the upper floor. Miss Toop- ingham was now fully awake. Her first impulse might have been to pull the bedclothes over her head, but our Sarah was not altogether a cowardly woman and her curiosity began to get the better of her, so she rolled out of bed, Qif a woman of her quality could be said to rollj, put on her bed- room slippers, cautiously opened the door, and advanced bravely into the hall. She was just about to mount the stairs, when there was a most ter- rifying shout of a man's voice and a muflled ex- plosion like a pistol shot. Miss Toopingham, now completely unnerved, gathered up her night dress above her knees and fled back to her own rooms where she dashed insanely to the telephone, dialled a number, and began to gibber, between gasps, something about house . . . falling down, thieves and murder',. After that she sat bolt upright in her rocking chair, tensely awaiting the police. The noises upstairs had calmed down a bit by this time, with only an occasional thump being heard now and again. Then all of a sudden there was the sound of a door opening and a great rush of sound issued forth - shrieking, shouting, scuffling . . . and something else. Miss Toop- ingham gave a start. That other sound was laugh- ing, or was it singing, or both? Yes, the mystery had at last solved itself, with embarrassing results for Sarah Toopingham. The entire police force would arrive any minute to settle not a murder or a theft, but her landlord's birthday party! ANN JENNINGS, Grade X North. A . I7 THE GOLF BALL The tee is placed, The ball is set, The player takes his stance. Now for a long And easy swing, He must not lift his glance. The follow through, That powerful stroke, The ball wings into flight, Breaks through the air Like shot from gun, And now is gone from sight. JOEY ADAMSON, Grade X North. MY FRIEND THE CAT I have always been very fond of cats, but the one I thought was the most exceptional, was a cat called Tinker. He was a very snobbish pure-bred Persian, and he wouldn't associate with other cats. He had always been pampered by his mistress and refused to touch anything except the thickest cream and red salmon. During the war when it was impossible always to get these two items, he would nearly starve. Instead of lapping his cream up, he dipped his paw in and licked the cream off his paw. He had many tricks and some were funny and some were cute. His mistress had bought him a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and she would put these on his nose, and he would sit on his hind paws and hold the newspaper in front of him with his front paws as if he were reading it. He was never put out like other cats, but when his mistress went for a drive in the car, she put him in the back seat with a shawl around him and a bonnet on his head and the glasses on his eyes. He also could play a wonderful game of base- ball. He would sit on his hind paws, and when his mistress threw the ball, he would hit it with his paw. Sometimes he could catch it with his paws. He finally died at the age of twenty-one Ccat's agej, or about ninety Qman's agej, but we all remember what a smart cat he was. MARY TUCKWELL, Grade VIII.