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

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13 years of life, he still loved Germany, and it was with a heavy sigh that he turned and left his country behind for ever. Weeks later, as he entered Amsterdam, it seemed to him the largest place in the world and he felt suddenly lost. He wandered through the streets, stopping passersfby with his one Dutch word, and in German and English trying to explain that he wanted a place to stay. But they only shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders. Towards sundown, when he was tired and disf couraged, he saw a tall, fair man walking down a little side street. Once again Daniel called the only Dutch word he knew, Mynheerl The man did not respond, and so he tried, Sir! The man turned, holding in his hand a tall, black, Puritan hat, and answered in English, Didst thou call me, sir? From that time on they were friends. The man's name was Thomas Berkley and he and his family had come from England because of certain religious laws, but in the fall they were going to America. Daniel stayed with Thomas, delivering homefmade pies to help support the family who had been so kind to him, and when fall came, Thomas persuaded him to go to America with them. Consequently, in midfAugust, he boarded the boat at Amsterdam, a Berkley child in each arm. On the second day at sea, he was admiring a silver plate on the bridge, which read, The Princess Angustus, when he heard a sailor say, We'll be back in Holland within the fortnight if the weather holds. Aye, said his friend as he turned up his collar against the raw saltfwater spray that lashed at his face and neck. How could the ship return so soon? wonf dered Daniel, and when he sought an explanation, they told him that the passengers were to be transferred to another ship at Land's End, England. Anne Brownell was wondering why the ship had stopped so long off the coast of Land's End, when she saw the boat from the anchored Princess Angustus, with its load of Pilgrims, coming towards them. As they climbed over the rope rail of the ship, she greeted the Pilgrims and helped tired mothers with their small children. She noticed that one of the men was not a Puritan, but was tall and fair and dressed in tanfcoloured cloth. He was speaking softly to two of the Pilgrim children in heavily accented English, but as he passed, he bowed and smiled to her. He had first seen Anne as he climbed over the rail of the new ship. She was wearing a green dress trimmed with lace, and her hair was piled high on her head. She was greeting the travellers, and as he passed her, he bowed and smiled. After eight days at sea, Anne and Daniel were the best of friends. They stood together on the deck, laughing as each gust of wind which brought them closer to the new land, dashed the fresh saltfsea spray in their faces. They read to each other or talked during storms when the ship tossed on ll blackened sea. It seemed like years to Anne before she heard the longfawaited words of, uLand Ahoy V' Through the early morning mist, she could see the rugged coast, and hear the lonely call of the gulls that circled the ship looking for food. Later, helping her into the small pilot boat and sitting in front of her to shield her from the drizf zling rain, Daniel realized how wonderfully glad and how lucky he was to have someone to face his new life with him. At last Anne heard the bow scraping the sand, and before she knew it, she was lifted by Daniel's strong arms and was placed on her feet on the soft, cool sand of North America. She had left England alone, but now with Daniel she was no longer alone. It was a good way to start a new life, she thought. Anne and Daniel, hand in hand, looked back over the misty, grey waters. They would always remember this day, and years later, grandchildren would tell greatfgrandchildren how Anne and Daniel had been passengers on the historic voyage of the Mayflower JUDITH HARRIS, Grade IX Intermediate Literary Competition Prize Story 'THE' S. SALZBERG

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12 long there were no traces left of the paradise which had enthralled us such a short time before. Descending through the clouds, washed clean and billowy white by the night rain, we entered once more into our own world, resolved to do our part in its badlyfneeded improvement. We taxied along the runway, heading straight into the glazing glory of an autumn sunrise. JENNIFER YouNG, Grade XII . Two 0'C1ock The moon again! Why can't we remember to pull down the blinds? Sandy muttered sleepily, seething with anger. She sat up to look at her watch. Two o'clock. Where in the world does it find the pep to shine so brightly at this hour? There was a movement from the shapeless blob in the bed opposite. Val? she whispered tentatively. Another moment and a sleepy reply came, What? Are you awake? No Sandy was contemplating reading in the closet until she got sleepy again, when her ears caught the low sounds of conversation from the room next door. She threw off her covers and padded quietly, with bare feet, to the door. Turn the handle to the left, she reminded herself, it squeaks to the right. Hey ' she called in a stage whisper, You awake in there? Hi, Sandy, did the moon wake you too? Come on in! We're going to have a party. Karen got her food parcel today. The three notfsof hushed voices of Karen, Sue, and Ginny welcomed her. They sat in a circle around the array of cookies, fruit, and candy, and chatted and munched conf tentedly until someone casually said, There's nothing better than cheeze Ritz biscuits and tomato soup. Karen added that chicken noodle was her favourite. An inspired look appeared on Sue's face and she burst into smothered gales of laughter. Anybody want a bowl of chicken noodle soup? she gasped. What's so funny about that? asked Sandy. I have a package ofit in my drawer, that's all. Sandy still failed to see the humour, but Karen and Ginny both exclaimed, Sure! Why not? Then they explained the secret. Karen was the proud possessor of a popcorn popper which could be used with equal success for soup. Karen dived into the closet and, after a frantic minute of muffled searching, she emerged triumf phant, clutching the popper in her hand. The moon shone with all its radiance through the bars of the fire escape on the four conspirators as they sat in a huddle planning their escapade. Karen was delegated to get water from the bath' room, Sue was to crawl under the bunk to plug in the popper, and Sandy and Ginny drew the task of creeping down to the pantry for spoons. The two girls crept soundlessly down the hall and negotiated the stairs past the housemother's door safely. The next flight was more hazardous since several steps creaked. Approaching foot- steps sent the girls scurrying into the iniirmary as the night watchman went past on his hourly round. They heard a metallic click when he clocked his station on the third floor. The first floor finally attained, Sandy stood guard while Ginny swung open the pantry door and slid like an eel through the narrow space. Thankful now for the light of the muchfmaligned moon, she peered inquiringly into several drawers before striking the right one. Seconds later, she reappeared, four spoons held triumphantly aloft. As the two climbed the stairs, their expectant nostrils caught the faint aroma of chicken noodle soup. It seemed incongruous to be creeping up' stairs in pyjamas with hair in pins, and to be smelling soup in a girls' residence at two o'clock in the morning. Sue and Karen were already testing the tempera' ture of the soup and the tenderness of the noodles with eager fingers. The brew was pronounced ready, spoons were doled out, and the feast began. The striking of the big grandfather clock ref minded the girls that only four short hours away lay a new, full day. Sandy hurriedly said, Good morning! and crept back to bed. SHIRLEY DONALDSON, Grade X The Voyage That Made A Nation Her name was Elizabeth Anne Brownell. She had never left home in all her seventeen years, and she was frightened. She stood at the ship's rail and watched the bustle of sailors and travellers, a million thoughts whirling through her mind. Is sailing dangerous? What will it be like to live in a new land? Would she ever again see the little bake shop on the corner, the misty after' noons, or lazy London on a Sunday morn? As the ship drew away from the shore of her homeland, the tears swelled in her eyes. She looked back and thought, I have left dear England for a cause, and if the good Lord wishes it, I shall arrive safely in the New Land. Turning her back to the land, and squaring her shoulders, she bravely faced her new life. His name was Daniel Kummer, and standing just inside the borders of Holland, he looked back towards his homeland. For all the trouble and sorrow she had caused him in his short twenty

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14 On Being a Wallflower Only those with true Wallflower tendencies can achieve perfection in this art. The predestined Wallflower can be detected by her unimposing entrance and her hasty withdrawal to a dark corner of the dance floor. Despite her shyness, she has high hopes for a glorious evening, with men fighting for each dance. But two unhappy hours later, the dream of even one dance diminishes and her spirits wilt. The Wallflower sneaks furtively home, unnoticed and unescorted. She continues, however, to go to dances, as only real Wallflowers do. Since each occasion ends in the same way, the young potential acquires one of two predominant traits, She may either sit in Victorian straightness, her unseeing eyes peering directly ahead, or she may assume a look of challenge, daring any boy to ask her to dance. Both of these habits frighten away any possible escort. But these disheartening experiences become easier to bear, and it is when the Wallflower looks forward to a dance for other than dancing that she becomes an acknowledged professional. Many people find this difficult to believe. They cannot understand why anyone, however dull, would not want to dance. Obviously they are not Wallflowers, hard, callous Wallflowers. It is some time before the girl realizes this change in herself. She only knows that she has become quite an authority on the styles of various orchestras and the specialties of several caterers. She may even find herself smiling faintly when she notices a blonde, definitely peroxided, wiggling excessively in a black clinging sheath. Another source of amusement occurs when a jiver slips on the highly polished danceffloor, sustaining a nasty fall. But the Wallflower's greatest triumph in ballf room observation comes when she learns to classify men. Those who brush past her, their inflated egos almost visible, she places in category one, The Great I Amsf' This type she can tell at a glance by their swagger and debonair manner. In class two, are the males who walk up to her, filling her Wallflower heart with hope, and choose the belle behind her. She despises these men utterly and names them 'lThe Sneaksf' The Weaklingsu are the third group. They are the species who start towards her, pause, take another step, peer closely and in a wild, uncontrolled movement, rush in the opposite direction. The above types of men the Wallflower ignores, but there is a fourth for whom she has only contempt. They are entitled The Herd. These despicable creatures, the lowest in male life, in her opinion, cling together in a small knot, disregarding all girls. It has never been decided whether they are frightened to walk alone across the dance floor or whether they abhor the entire female sex. Whichever it is, the Wall' flower considers them cowards and smiles her grim smile as they leave, en masse, for the supper table. But the ascetic life of every Wallflower must end when a man, impervious to her glare or in an equally desperate situation, chooses her to be his waltz partner. Then she will dance from the Wallflower ranks, she will smile again, and, being merely mortal, she will forget her sisters and will scorn them. LINDA RIDDBLL, Grade XI Blizzard of Death Life in early Canada was not easy. It involved many hardships and heartbreaks. Settlers lived and died to build this nation, and Doctor Mc' Carther was among the most courageous. He and his family lived in a small village in Quebec. One typical midfwinter day snow fell steadily against the McCarther's primitive homestead, and the wind rattled the doors. Doctor McCarther finished packing his coonskin kit and pulled on his old beaver coat. He had just received an urgent message from a neighbour that the mother of new homesteaders was seriously ill. His wife looked at him anxiously and urged, Dear, hadn't you better wait at least another day until the storm dies down? You know Molly's footing isn't very secure in deep snow. No, he replied firmly, I am in good health and strong enough to make the trip even if the horse fails. All calls for medical aid, no matter when they came or where they would take him, were vitally important to john McCarther, and he never allowed such a difliculty as had weather to stop him. Having kissed his family goodbye, he opened the door and started towards the shed where Molly was waiting. A biting gust of wind greeted him, stinging his leathery skin, and blinding his eyes for a moment. The first few miles were the worst, since the roads had disappeared under the drifting snow, and direction could not be determined. He realized that Molly would have to follow the route to French's creek by instinct. Constantly the horse stumbled, jerking the sled and almost throwing her passenger into the snow. The violent wind blew drifts of snow into the open sled, so McCarther, with only a fur blanket and heavy clothing for warmth, pulled the cover more tightly around his legs and shouted encouraging words to the old horse. His clothing and cover soon became inadequate. His face and feet were frozen numb and a chill was gradually spreading through his very bones. While wind and snow continued to beat against the doctor, and no sign of the woods could be seen, McCarther became doubtful of the