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

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two creatures had no objection to the treatment they were to undergo. Mugs needed a good rest. Four weeks of being fed with the kind of food he had always dreamed of! Also. things had been getting a little too hot around No. 10 lately and he welcomed the chance of being treated royally by humans. Not many rats ever found themselves in such a position. I may not have mentioned it, but Abednego was a hen-pecked mouse. His wife Arabella, along with all his social engagements, gave him little time in which to write his Analysis of the Psy- chological Effect Mice Have Upon Elephants. He considered his cage to be a perfect private study where he could become a recluse for four weeks. A well ordered routine aided him in his work. Rising early in the morning he would do a few push-ups then climb to the top of his cage and do a few hang downs by his tail. After a good breakfast he would get to work. His only inter- ruption through tbe whole day was when he was weighed by the white-coated humans, but be took pride in the way his line graph on the cage climb- ed each day. Mugs took no interest in his graph. Perhaps this could be attributed to his failing eyesight for he was already showing the signs of Vitamin A deficiency. Soon he couldn't make out the name of Sleezy Slim's late gun moll in the crime comic on the bottom of his cage. Poor Mugs was sinking into a sad state! He couldn't understand why he, living in luxury, was wasting away, while that mousy book-worm in the next cage was gain- ing in health and vigour. One day in about the third week, he was lying listlessly on the bottom of his cage when he sud- denly began to suspect-candy, cake and pop! He resolved to go on a hunger strike with the hope of dying. That evening as he lay with his eyes closed, preparing himself for the prospect of death, delicious odours from the next cage drifted past his nostrils. Dragging himself, he followed his nose and with hunger-glazed eyes looked up beseech- ingly at Abednego. Now Abednego was not a snob, and although he knew this rat to be a rather rough character, he did not hesitate to help a fellow in distress. Quickly he dipped a piece of his whole wheat bread into milk, tied his tail around it, and by this means, passed it through the small wire mesh to Mugs. .For three days he continued these unselfish acts ot mercy and gradually Mugs regained his strength. Abednego chuckled when he noticed the baffle- ment of the white-coated humans as Mugs' line graph began to climb. Finally these humans dis- li iii. , 1 'l' 'J 6 ,U 4? X x gn 1 4? 3.4, X- X r . 53 :5 i -Q -A Lf' li. liii-liziialstrii covered the little fund traHir between the two cages. They seemed to be salished with the way Mugs had performed during the last three weeks and so relented and gave him a proper diet. Life began again for Mugs. Besides a physical change, he underwent a great mental and spiritual reformation. Aibednego became his ideal and from him he learned of the better, nobler things of life. At the end of the four weeks, the two friends were parted. Abednego went back to Arabella proudly carrying his newly completed book and satisfied that he had done his share for the ad- vancement of science. Mugs went back to the sewers, but not back to his old ways. Instead he returned as a missionary, proudly wearing a white collar. Soon be became known throughout No, 10 as Fighting Father Rat. Mary-Kaye Simpkinson, Grade XI. Swzior Lilerfiry Cwzfpelilmzf Prize Slmzy Delightfully handled! Abednego is the embodiment of grave dignity, while Fighting Father Rat aroztses cur unqualified admiration! The touch is light and the humour wr-ll sustained throughout the story.

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IO if Null H Hr s'l1fb,l- ll. flx Abednego This is the story of a mouse and a rat, Abed- nego and Mugs, who one day found themselves the subjects of a biological experiment. Mugs had heard that the set up was pretty good and as it was only going to be for a period of four weeks, he allowed himself to fall into circumstances which landed him in a cage. Abednegos purpose was different. While chewing through a Medical Science journal he suddenly felt a call for service and in answer, had volunteered So the two rodents who had never scampered across each other's path before, now found them- selves living side by side, but in very different conditions. Abednegos cage was well lighted, airy, austere but comfortably furnished and well de- signed for cleanliness and sanitation. Mugs' cage was more luxurious with plenty of scraps of soft fluff, but a health inspector could see at a glance that it was not designed for healthful, efficient living. Abednegos diet consisted of milk, vege- tables, fruit, whole grain cereals and liver. His routine consisted of sleep, exercise and oppor- tunity to develop his mouse mind. Mugs was allowed to nibble at cake and candy and drink pop all day long. This was all that he was re- quired to do, although for amusement, he could read the comics that lined his cage floor. Now, you may not know it, but each of these rodents considered himself to be in paradise. Perhaps to t VR ,:,..- lr-ul ,....,.-. F r and Mugs understand this you would like to know of their life histories and backgrounds. Abednego belonged to the Upper Crust of mice, known as Mus musulus. He was born in a hole in the wall of a six pillar mansion and from his first bite of Roquefort cheese was well established into the life of a cultured mouse of the Old School . Being well brought up he was taught neither to be seen nor heard, and to sit quietly among the pipes of the organ during Sunday Wor- ship. His scholastic abilities were very highly de- veloped and he had even eaten Les Miserables at the age of two months, fwhich is equal to the age of ten years in humansj Mugs was a rat, a rackateer rat who ran a Bu- bonic Plague Ring, He was born at the corner of No. 2 Lateral and No. 16 Main of No, 10 Sewer. In his teens he had been the leader of a hoodlum gang called the Gnawersu the members of which let nothing escape the mark of their incisors. From his earliest moments he knew he had to depend on his wits for survival. If his brothers keeled over after eating a certain innocent-loking morsel, he carefully avoided the same. He had a number of close escapes to his credit, One time he was caught in a warehouse that was being fumigated, but by burying his nose in a wad of cotton pack- ing he was able to wriggle to safety. Now you may understand the reason why these

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!?. cs.- . The Shoe It lay lazily, gently bobbing in the water as the waves rose and fell beneath it. The sole was of rubber, the sugary rub-ber that had had lumps pulled off by grubby little hands. A knotted lace clung to the damp leather, The waves continued to rise and to fall, bringing the voices of the water to the shoe. No, Bud, no luck. How about you? It was the relaxed voice of the Wednesday afternoon fisherman. If I don't bring something home this time, Mother will have me up for failure to support the family. The reply was not toned so seriously as it was phrased. They sure don't bite on these sunny days. I've a notion to haul in that shoe over there. Least I'd have some catch, Well, good luck ! Right-cheerio, Charles, and the waves con- tinued to lap at the shoe. Young voices, more in.erested voices than those of the fishermen were transmitted next by the watery key. You're about the best swimmer, for a girl, that I've seen. Really? Oh, youre just saying that. The waves had waved that phrase before, and now they tinted the tone to the delicate blushing pink. You know, I'm a poet. This frank confession was quite audible and fostered an adoring . . . Really! I-low wonderful! Yes, spoken with that same frankness. What do you write poetry about? Oh, anything . . . do you see that shoe over there? It brings poetry to me and words of rhythm rush from my brain- Oh, shoe: how do you do? In the water Your shade is turning slightly blue, In the water. -And the same waves that had brought these voices to the shoe, carried them away. The water became rough. The once gently nibbling waves began to bite, showing their foam- ing fangs. But still, the voices were carried to the shoe. I wish you hand't made me come -a woman's voice, nervous and unsteady. Everything reminds me . . . Don't remember, jan -pleaded a steadier, masculine voice. just forget . . . and enjoy the ride. The waves brought silence. In innocence the shoe came into sight. Di . . . ck! The waves transmitted the hor- rible cry. It was more an echo of the mournful wail last summer, than companion to the shaking finger, pointing at another shoe. jan, my poor, dear jan. It is only a shoe, just ii shoe-not little Rick's,-oh, jan . . The roar of a motor intervened, Its steadily turning armature sent a pattern of regulated whrres across the water to the shoe. The pace slackened, and voices were silhouetted on the motor's hum. You think you lost it near that buoy? Yes, and I hope it is still there. Dad, it will be, don't you think? Oh, I hope . . A voice, offside, and a trifle sarcastic, Our son has become responsible. Then laughingly it con- tinued, Yes, son, if it hasn't sunk. Oh, I don't think it would, the youth replied with a questioning faith. Then more hopeful again, his voice came, I know we shall find it . . . For a time the waves brought many sounds. Yes! Look! Over there! toned with childish, but earnest excitement. A bewildered voice replied, Oh . . . good. We shall have it in a minutef' Yes, I've almost got it. His voice was expect- ant. Why, Dad, but it's not here, he's gone-Dad, he's gone. What is it boy? You have your shoe? 'No, Dad. Croak. Croak has gone! Oh, the voice was relieved, then comforting . . . Croak will 'be quite safe . . . and you have your shoe. SUB AQUAM . , . a green webbed foot stretch- ed a lazy farewell to its curious sun shade, the shoe. Dawna Duncan, Grade XI. THE SHOE The story indicates promise rather than achievement, being interesting for its style rather than its content. The theme however is somewhat ambitious and needs a surer handling to hc entirely satisfying. I VVonder I wonder how the stars stay up, And why the sun is round, Or why we never tumble off Into the space around. I wonder how our body works, And how names came to be, Or why all camels have big humps, And why there're waves at sea. I think I could keep wondering, For ever and for aye, But now I really must leave off, And put this thing away. R. Lloyd-Davies. Grade VIII.