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

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Balmoral Hall June, 1959. My dear Girls, For so many months this year my only means of communication with you began, My dear Girls . Each time I wrote to you I hoped soon to return and that it would be my last letter, but the Editor is now very firmly reminding me that despite my return to School, I owe you one more. Here it is. Between September and Easter, the months of my absence, I learned a great deal about you and a great deal about me. I really don't want you to know what I learned about me, but I'll whisper one or two facts. I discovered that I am very impatient and I did not like waiting to be well. Many times I was preaching to myself as I often preach to you, but to practise what I preached was another matter. It wouldn't be good for you to know any more about me. What did I learn about you? From the Opening Day in September when I could not be with you, I knew how much you matter to me. It was some time before I received the four House Books with your pictures, and then I met the new girls. But I didn't know you. Then letters began to come from old girls, new girls and former students of Bahnoral Hall. From these letters I learned a great deal to your credit. I felt your loyalty, your consideration, and your desire to keep our flag of tradition, high principles, and achievement, flying at top mast. I felt this in your letters to me, and I read it in letters I received from parents and friends of the School. You will never know how proud of you I have often been this year. I know that Miss Sharman and The Staff shared my duties and responsibilities, and guided and encouraged you, but your co' operation was needed too, and the effort made by many of you has not passed unnoticed. Sports Day came and went as did Initiation Day and the Carol Service-each with the right spirit. The games programme was well organized, a French Club was established, and Cupid Capers was even more successful than last year. The result of your efforts to discipline yourself, to improve your work or your be' haviour, or to help another, may not always be apparent, but you know if you have tried harder, and you know if you have made a conscious effort to support your House and your School, particularly during my absence, by Seeking Better Things. I am proud and pleased to see that many of you are discovering, and some of you have discovered, the real meaning of our School motto and have indeed shown your true worth by doing that much more, and trying that much harder to bring this year to a successful close. I shall look for you all on September 1Oth.4Till then, have a very happy summer holiday. Affectionately yours,

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i z I l . J l STANDING-Pamela MacCharles: Heather Miller: Barbara Park: Valerie Saulg joceyln Wilson: Sara Allan: Shirley Donaldson. SITTING-Donna Day Washingtong Signe Salzherg, School Captain: Karen Jones, Sports Captain: Betty Anne Aitkens, Head Girl: Carole Ann Coryg Helen Smith. PHEFECTS We were very sorry that Miss MurrellfWright was unable to present the Prefects' cords herself this year. We do, however, constantly remember the letter that she sent to the School for the first presentation in September. Her message could well be summed up in the words, Much will be required of those to whom much is given. This thought helps to give each new Prefect some knowledge of the essence of leadership. As a member of any group, it is easy to envy the leader, the one who gets his way and gives the orders , and to daydream of What I would do if I were boss. As an inexperienced leader, it is too easy to be intolerant of those who do not conform, and to be resentful of the effort needed to make others abide by the restrictions necessary for an efficient community life. A Prefect gradually realizes that privilege and responsif bility go hand in hand, and she is increasingly concerned that she should merit the privilege and learn to bear the responsibility. From the practical standpoint, a Prefect has many opportunities to gain experience which should be of lasting value. She learns that no project involving a number of people, especially a number of teenagers, will be successful without careful planning beforehand, and some supervision at the time. She feels the exhilaration that comes from running such events as the Halloween Party, and when things are going with a swing , she feels that all her efforts have been more than worthwhile. Through years of knowing Miss MurrellfWright and Miss Sharman, we realize that it is the busiest people who have the most time. A new Prefect also sees that the Head Girl and experienced Prefects manage to fulhl their duties without appearing conf stantly harassed. From these examples, she learns that more careful organization of her time can do wonders in making her efforts effective and that experience is a great teacher. Above all a Prefect has the privilege of helping her fellow students to live up to the standards which the school upholds, Each day as she ties on her cord, she is reminded of this privilege, and each night as she removes it, she hopes that she has earned the right to wear this symbol which so identifies her with the high ideals of Balmoral Hall. PAMELA MACCHARLBS

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8 X X. - The Face Dark shadows stole across the weedfinfested. leaffstrewn yard as the clock in the old man's hall struck seven. A stormfforetelling wind blew into the room, sweeping aside the dustfladen drapes, and swinging the huge glass doors to and fro. Groanf ing, the old man slumped forward, fastened the doors, and sank into his chair again. He stared out of the windows, remembering another night twelve years before very much like this one- the same wind, the same clouds, the same time of year. Bah, he thought, my nerves again! Reaching to the floor, he picked up the halff empty whisky bottle, raised it to his lips, and gulped. Yes, exactly the same kind of night. Now, at the place , the wind would be moaning through the trees as it had done when he crouched on the path, waiting for Father Patrick to come along with the money that had been raised at the church meeting. He always came that way, a small, slightlyfbent man who braved the dark of the forest because he feared no one but God. The old man remembered seeing the tiny lantern bobbing along the path, hearing the priest hum to himself, and tensing as his eyes picked out the money bag swinging in the priest's hand. Yes, while crouchf ing there, he had been afraid. But of what? Quickly the old man took another gulp from the whisky bottle. The priest had not put up much of a struggle. One blow over the head with the iron bar was all that was needed. The priest lay still. Picking up the lantern, he had grabbed the bag of money from the man's clenched hand. It was then that he had noticed the face-wrinkled, very grey, very still, but with a certain strange look of peace. The old man shuddered and again lifted the bottle to his lips. I didn't mean to kill him, he muttered. 'flust wanted to knock him out. Oh, well, no time for thinking of past days. That money had started him on his way to bigger things, and now he had a vast sum accumulated. Thinking about this, the old man grimaced. S Eff 23' a 1? QQIQAL l'That young nephew of mine is just waiting for me to have another heart attack and pass out of the picture, he mumbled. Well, he won't get a cent of my money for years. Reaching again for the bottle, he inadvertently lifted his eyes to the window. There, in the semifdarkness, was the head of the old priest- wrinkled, very grey, and very still. The bottle clattered to the floor, the old man clutched at his breast, and with one long, last, shuddering gasp, his soul descended into hell. A few weeks later, his nephew removed the large grey wasps' nest from the tree outside the study window. JACQUELINE DUNCAN. Grade XI Senior Literary Competition Prize Story The Lake The lake is the mournful cry Of a lonely loon, piercing the stillness Of a summer night-a breezeless, Humid darkness. It is the twinkling Lights of a distant shore, The caressing breeze through the still pine trees, And the dry, brown needles On the mossy forest floor. It is the silverfscaled minnows Gliding byz The screeching gulls 'gainst a crimson sky At dusk. The crackling of a cheery fire, The lashing rain outside, ' A threat of thunder, sheets of light, And billowing waves-the wet gray night- This is the rapture of the lake! JOCBLYN WILSON, Grade XI