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

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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

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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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15 direction in which they were travelling. We should be in the wood soon, he thought, then perhaps the trees will shelter us a littlef' The fierce wind and blinding snow were not the only diiliculties facing Doctor McGarther, for he began to feel sleepy, then strange, weird thoughts entered his mind, and the monotonous white wall of snow was becoming a burden to his eyes. Often, when he felt drowsy, his wife's face appeared before the sled in a mirage. As they passed through the woods, the force of the wind was broken to some extent, but another danger arose. Great piles of snow falling from the trees would often land in the sled. Molly halted when she came to the creek at the edge of the tree line, but with a word of encouragement from her master, she proceeded cautiously to cross the frozen ice. john said a silent prayer for the horse's safety. No sooner had he finished, than Molly's right foot slipped and she tumbled on the ice with a dreadful cry of pain, sending the doctor sprawling too. Uninjured, john staggered to his feet. He took a bottle of ether from his bag and approached old Molly, who was lying in anguish. Reluctantly, he poured out the contents, knowing that a horse with a broken leg in a growing blizzard, and five miles from the nearest shelter, would have had no chance of survival. Now the problem of his own survival faced McCarther. Shall I go on, or return home? He pondered a moment, then decided to continue, for again devotion to his work gave him renewed courage. Walking was dillicult and slow without snow' shoes, so John travelled very little distance in the next hour. His legs ached from the cold and with each step he sank down into the deep drifts. Again he felt the temptation to sleep, but with the thought of the sick woman waiting for him, he plunged onwards in the raging storm in a semi' conscious state. Gradually his courage and physif cal strength weakened, his limbs became immovable, and the doctor's will to live faded as sleep conf quered his exhausted frame. An anxious week of worry passed for Agnes McCarther, wondering if her husband would return or if he were lying dead in the snow. When these doubts could be contained within her soul no longer, she resolved to tell the next visitor. A few days later, a party of neighbors was formed and the task of finding Doctor McCarther began. Not until spring was the body found. It lay one quarter of a mile from its destination. Yes. Doctor John McCarther, like so many of the early settlers, had lost the battle against the forces of nature. MARGARET Goonna, Grade IX Liberty Our lot was servant to the King And nobles. We dressed in rags of dirt and grime And filth. All men worked hard, and harder still, But starved. Because the King loved riches well, We suffered. Then bitterness became too great To bear. Gut hate gave strength unto our arms At last. And so, with hate, we started out To slay All those oppressors. One by one They fell, Their blood looked red upon our knives And swords. Revenge was sweet, and grew unchecked. We watched The guillotine give up her dead With glee, And cry for more to bring her axe Upon. And now so many years have passed, And men can work with mind and hand, We're proud we fought for liberty, In this our free and prosperous land. MARGARET FISHER, Grade IX Intermediate Literary Competition Prize Poem Rainy Days The ground was saturated, and still the rain pelted down on the small farm buildings. In the fields, the cows tried to graze on the soggy grass, The hens huddled in the henhouse to keep them' selves warm, their heads under their wings. Old farm cats and little kittens sulked in the barn, while two pups hid under the tractor in the only dry spot they could find. But inside the toolfshed no one was idly waiting for the rain to stop. The farmer was mending a harness, his sons were building a trough for the chickens, and the hired man hammered at a dent in the fender of the new combine. You may have no use for this kind of weather, remarked the farmer to the old collie who was gazing forlornly through the doorway, but we have. When else would we get all these jobs done? And besides, just think how the corn will be shooting up in a day or two after this! No, we couldn't do without a few rainy days. BETTY Nicol., Grade VIII