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

Page 17 text:

He stepped out of the car, and leaned against the door, thinking: 'His large, roomy trousers flapped lazily in the wind. His wife ran up to him, but taking a closer look, backed away. Before her stood her husband, looking like a chimney sweep. His face was as white as death from the dust except for several greasy streaks across his forehead and down his cheeks. He had re- moved his goggles and his eyes stood out clean and bold. His dry, cracked lips turned up in a sheepish grin. He and his wife began to laugh. That monster may not win races, giggled his wife. but it obviously has a great effect on you. She's my pride and joy, Harold answered. JANE EVANS - Form III A Spring Wallr As I walked through the woods one day, I heard the sounds of springg The rustling leaves, echoing through the trees The chanting of the brook in time with the breeze. Cardinals in the treetops sweetly singing The bluejay's bold call makes the valleys ring. As I walked through the woods one day I felt the joys of spring. As I walked through the woods one day I saw the sights of spring, Wise old owl peering from his tree, Toads staring idly, looking at meg Swiftly scampering deer coming from the marsh, Busy beavers building dams of bark so harsh. As I walked through the woods one day I felt the joys of spring. ANNE GRANT - Form I Noises Have you ever gone to a matinee When all the audience is girls and boys, And listened throughout the entire play To the various echoes of their noise? There's a snap and pop With no sign of stop. Thereis crackle and crunch And an occasional munch. They shift and prattle While wrappers they rattle. They cheer, then hiss, But not a play do they miss. JANIS MCKEAG - Form III BRUNCHING OUT On our Christmas holidays my family went to Florida. While there we met a family from New Jersey who had two girls about my age, Nancy and Jane. We three became very good friends. On New Year's Day the two families went out for brunch It was served in the Satel- lite Room of the Satellite Hotel. There were two eating areas, a lower lounge and an upper lounge just above the lower level, so that one could look down on the people below. Brunch was served in buffet style. There were many kinds of food, and I did not know what to -have. I decided on an old standaby, scrambled eggs and bacon. Nancy, Jane, and I ate in the upper lounge. Before eating, we talked about the setting of -the room, the place mats, and watched the stars above in the ceiling. The whole room was designed to give the atmosphere of being in a satellite in space. By the time we had finished chatting, 'my brunch had grown cold. 'Ilhe bacon was very tough and with a blunt knife, I found it difficult to cut. Finally I resorted to pulling it with my knife and fork. When it broke, my hand with the knife flew away from me taking with it my eggs. Th-ey went over the edge of the table and down to the next lounge. To my horror the eggs not only went down onto the plate of the lady below, but onto lher that and down her dress! My face, which was alreday beet red, turned redder when she turned around and gave me a withering stare. She then said, Harry, we will have to move! They im- mediately gathered up their food, water, cof- fee and utensils and moved across the room. Now, I never eat scrambled eggs and ba- con unless I am at home. JANIS MCKEAG - Form III THE ECUMENICAI GUINEA PIG The Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. At ten-thirty a group of rosy-checked young ladies neatly dressed in warm coats walked primly towards St. Anne's Church. Their feet crunched on the snow-covered walk as they trod along in the crisp morning air. Unknown to the senior girls in charge, curled in the depths of a winter coat pocket, nestled a black and white guinea pig. He had been bought by one of the girls as a pet for herself and her roommates. We had brought him to church, hoping that his religious knowledge would be improved. We settled down happily to listen to the service and fervently hoped it would help our Fiflrru

Page 16 text:

THE HORSELESS CARRIAGE The sun beat down on the dusty gravel road which led through town. The crowd which 'had gathered was hot and unco-mfort- able although a fresh, perfumed breeze cool- ed the air. The swish of long skirts along the wooden sidewalks was scarcely audible above the laughter of children. It was early twen- tieth century, and horse-drawn carriages were tethered at every availalble post. After all, this was the first time in years that there had been a competition, ia race, in the quaint, sleepy Tethertown. Everyone was excited. 'I'll wager two dollars on the horse and carriage, offered an elderly shopkeeper. 'tl shall double that amount for the car, replied his fat, domineering wife, giving her husband a sharp poke in the ribs with her elbow. In front of the post office at the end of town stood a chestnut mare, harnessed to a light buggy. A plump, elderly man, in a t-op hat and dark suit, stroked the horse's n e c k fondly and chuckled. Give in, son, the gentleman laughed. You don't have a chance! Mr. Lyndale's son stood nearby, polishing the already brilliant chrome bumper on his car. It was la small car with large, thin wheels and high, uncomfortable seats. She's my pride and joy, Harold Lyndale answered, patting the windshield. Her for- mer owner assured me that she would never fail me. Why, he was almost in tears when I took her away. Again Mr. Lyndale chuckled. Will the contestants please get ready, an announcer bellowed from his seat neanby. A fair young lady picked up her skirts and trotted lightly to her husband. She wore a beautiful pastel pink dress land a large, wide- brimmed hat decked with frills and flowers. Are you sure this monster isn't danger- ous, Harold? she asked, drawing in her flowing skirt. Harold kissed his wife gently on the cheek. On your mark! called the announcer. Harold ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair and adjusted his large, comical goggles. Get set! LSGOYY7 He turned and gave his car a firm, swift crank. A blast of stale air exploded from the back of the car. His father's horse, startled, 1 0'l!l'fCCIl reared and -bolted. The carriage sped into the distance with only Mr. Lyndale's coat-tails visible, flapping in the cloud of dust. Harold cranked anxiously. What a time for his car to fail him! He could feel the mocking eyes of the crowd 'watching him. He glanced around. He saw bright, shiny faces peering at him from long lines along the street, and grinning at him from above. I'l1 catch up! he shouted shaking his fist at the cloud of dust rolling in front of him. He cranked again. His grease-smeared fingers slipped over the handle, and left a large black smear across the gleaming bum- per. Would he ever forget the day he had bought his car home? He had driven up the road in triumph. Dogs had barked, and chil- dren had run along-side. His wife had dashed out to meet him, ther face beaming. Then came the shattering blow! Having sighted the tin can as he called it, his father had burst into gales of laughter, and had had to be helped -into the house. Then, to make matters worse, he had challenged his son to a race with his horse and carriage. If the car won, there fwas a hands-ome money prize. If it lost, as he now felt it was sure to, the car was to be sold. Harold cranked again,.. as. .ifxhe fwere knocking down his opponent. A loud blast, and the car began to chug, and shook vio- lently. He hopped over the door, and smoothed his fuzzy moustache -with this black, grimy hands. Then he pushed the gear stick forward. What a jolt he got! He lurched down the road. On either side, the crowd snickered softly, and ladies hid their smiling faces be- hind their lacy lparasols. The simple, white- washed fences passed in endless lines beside him. Even the small, two-storey 'houses seemed to lean forward in wonder. He pas- sed all the tiny shops which cluttered Main Street, and came to open country with the dazzling yellow mustard fields. He must have travelled about two miles before he saw the finish line. There stood his father gloating, grinning triumphantly, and giving his winning mare a carrot. lt was such a nice car, Harold sighed, feeling very abashed as he putted slowly across the line. Bouquets of flowers fluttered about him. From playful children's hands shot brightly coloured streamers. All around him birds sang and insects hummed. Harold felt gay, although the streamers were not for him, but his father.

Page 18 text:

rodent friend. We deeply feared he was of heathen inclination. Suddenly there was a crash as one of the offering plates fell dur- ing the collection, and we turned around to see the cause of the commotion. But, Tom's reactions were different. Startl-ed by the noise, he wormed his way out of Carol's pocket. He dropped to the floor with a thud. Free he ran, squeaking frantically down the aisle. Too late, Carol realized what had hap- pened. Dismayed and helpless, she looked at us. What could she do? A sharp tap on her shoulder made her turn around to meet the furious eyes of the prefect -in charge. What on earth do you think you're do- ing? she hissed. Carol was speechless. She was saved an ex- planation by the girl's curt command. '!Catch the horrid beast, for heaven's sake! We watched helplessly as poor Carol scrambled down the aisle after Tom. She put the poor animal into her pocket and sat down. The rest of the service was endured in great discomfort. We knew that serious trouble awaited us. The group of girls that returned to the school was a very downcast one. Gone was our enjoyment of the crisp air and clear sunshine. We were all silent and gloomy. Carol was sent up to the Prefects' sitting- room. We sat, awaiting her return. When we heard her running down the stairs, we looked at one another, fingers crossed. Carol's words erased the gloom in the room as the first rays of sunshine clear away the mist after a storm. We can keep himll' We gaped at her unbelievingly. The sharp ring of the dinner-bell cut the silence. Strage to have a common thing like a dinner- bell end such an exciting morning! JENNIFER Weiss - Form II Death Your six white stallions and rich black coach Glide between the gates of fate, Silently stealing through the dark of night Kidnapping weary souls and encouraging hate. Towards the gates they wing their way Judgment passed, they turn each face To the eternal kingdom where love reigns Or to the fiery domain of hell's race. We fear their breath so cola and deadly Which impregnates the very air, For their presence is ever near us Reminding us of our short life, though fair. O Death, linger not upon my threshold! Get thee hence - Thou art too bold. ELAINE WADHAM s r M Y LORD BISHOP On Sunday afternoon, Father appeared with a very important announcement. Children, he said, we are going to have the privilege of entertaining a very dis- tinguished guest in our home on Friday. His nam-e is Bishop Reindorp who is the bishop of Guildford in Surrey, England. Furthermore, he has demanded that all the children be present! Shivers came through us as we listened to these last words. The lbishop had com- manded us to fbe present! As the week passed, all I could think of was our guest who was comfing on Friday for dinner. What was he like? Why had he com- manded us to be present? Perhaps he was comparing Canadian clergy's children to those of English clergy! In my mind, I built up a picture of the bishop. He was a towering figure of over six feet. His hair was a mottled white. His eyes were a cold, steel grey. When they met mine, they seemed to pierce right through me, and I knew that he could tell everything that was going on in my mind. Like many English- men, he carried a cane which he tapped continuously. His voice frightened me. It was hard and cold, and it echoed throughout the house. , As , the Q3 great, . day -grew-5 nearerfrthe figure haunted me. ' Finally the dreaded moment came, when Bishop Reindorp arrived. Mother and Father greeted him warmly and ibrought him in to meet the trembling triibe. When I saw the bishop, I was dumb- founded. All I could do was stare open- mouthed. Is there something the matter, my dear? came the rich voice of the bishop. The family laughed, and I blushed, rea- lizing how ridiculous I must have looked. I stuttered a reply. UN-No, sir, I-I am fine, thank you. When looking at the kind Visage of the bishop which bore a friendly, warm smile and clear, understanding eyes, I had to laugh to myself as I remembered the severe face and steel, grey eyes of my bishop. It was plain to see that my lord adored children, as he sat telilng stories and jokes, his eyes sparkling. Father informed us later that this was the reason for our ordered presence. As the most wonderful evening of my life drew to a close, I breathed a sigh of relief as I thought of how miserable it would have been if Umy bishop had come to visit. JANE HARRISON - Form II