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

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Do you mind if I join you? he asked earnestly. Of course not, she replied. They walked together for a while, each thinking about different things. I certainly hope Mr. Grenville is in a good mood today, said Miss Valour after a long silence. Mr. Grenville was the manager. He was a large man and loved to talk, especi- ally about himself. He loved to tell others how he had worked himself to the top. Suddenly a car came to an abrupt halt by the curb, spraying Mr. Hodges with water. Would you like a lift? Mr. Grenville asked Miss Valour, coldly ignoring Mr. Hodges. No, thank you, Mr. Grenville, replied Miss Valour pleasantly. Mr. Grenville's face flushed with irritation and his manner became menacing. Are you sure? he said, and opened the car door. Mr. Hodge's face became pale as he waited. Yes, thanksg we prefer to walk, he heard Miss Valour say. Mr. Grenville eyed the two, shut the car door noisily, and drove off. Mr. Hodges though to himself, She did not want a ride, even though it is raining! He looked at her and they both smiled. At that moment it seemed that the rain stopped, the fog lifted, and a bird began to sing. ANN TOWNSEND - Form III Spiders These are my friends, these spindly spiders, Eminent enemies, excellent hiders, Is it they who of pests my bedroom do rid. These silent stalkers, I watched where they hid. In wispy webs where ants are threshing, And floundering flies are caught in the meshing, This fly-catching friend is feeding the birds. In cocoons of silk his dinner he girds. With treacherous teeth sunk deep into flesh, The deep scarlet blood on their limbs is fresh. They waste not their time when waiting to kill, I watched every scene from my window sill. In cobwebby corners where hide the small fishers I seem to be their only well-wishers, For if mopping maids walk into a thread Of unseen stickiness-Swish! The spider is dead. ELIZABETH HAWORTH - Form I Eighteen YOUNG HUNTER Well, Peter, would you like to go? his father inquired absently. Do you really mean it, Dad? Peter cried eagerly. I certainly do, his father said. I think fourteen is old enough to go on a hunting trip. With the discussion ended, Mr. Martin settled -back into his deep, comfortable chair. The curls of smoke from his pipe almost looked as if they were being inhaled 'by the mounted grizzly bear head above A moose and several deer heads with magnifi- cent, antlers were hanging on either side of the huge trophy. A skilled taxidermi-st had prepared them, and their life-like counten- ances gave the room an eerie atmosphere. Peter, returning to his book, On Safari, was lying stretched out on the rug -in front of the fire. The flames crackled merrily on the hearth, casting a red glow on his intent face. His attention was drawn to the swirling mass of flame, and as he gazed into it, his imagina- tion took possession of him. He saw himself on the African veldt, aiming a large elephant gun at a crouching tiger. His finger squeezed the trigger, the huge beast dropped, and he was lifted on to the shoulders of a grateful tribe. In the next few days Peter's brain teemed with plans for the trip. After much deliber- ation he chose a place to hang the head of the deer he was going to shoot. He was deter- mined to have as many trophies to be proud of as his father had. A deer or two th-is season . . . perhaps a grizzly when he became more experienced. That would certainly give him a good start. Already he could visualize the plaques mounted on the wall! To his sur- prise and delight, his father presented him with a gun of his own. Faithfully every morn- ing he went out to practise. How absolutely mortifying it would be if he missed the game on the trip! Peter was sure his father would never again take him along if he made a blunder like that! The day of the trip dawned clear and cold in the November sky. The trees, bared of their leaves, stood stark and grey. Peter and his father, loaded with equipment, set off into the woods. The snapping of twigs and crunch- ing of leaves broke the stilhiess of the forest as they trudged on their way. Then, approach- ing deer country, they became more cautious, and spoke only in whispers. p One morning, while they were stalking the woods searching for deer tracks, Mr. Martin stopped suddenly, motioning to Peter to do

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Someday I 'll Smile They said he had died, But I was with him only yesterday, Surely they had lied! I remember eyes, Blue as a summer sky, twinkling, gay. Our tender good-byes. He'd write me he said As he kissed me farewell, but now I must Write of him.' he's dead. The words mock me now, But in some future hour, Iill think of fun, The trip in the scow, The day at the lake, Or other adventures of the summer And smile for his sake. J UDITH DOWLER - Form VI THE HA UNTING MEI ODY One warm, summer evening an old lady strolled through the park enjoying the quiet. Violet, which was the 1ady's name, loitered on the paths to enjoy the sweet smell of the blooming roses. The crickets chirped con- ten-tedly in the nearby pond. The park was peaceful that evening. She walked on until she came to the fork of the path. Between the -two paths was an old signpost. To the left the sign read, The Fairies' Garden. The other sign pointing to the right path read, t'The Fairies' Palace of Music. Ah, the old bandstand brings back so many memories, she said as she reached it. When I was young the rustic pillars were decked with flowers, she said to herself. The circle held the band and some dancers too, s-he stated. Dreamy waltzes held the people spellbound. Oh those were the days! she exclaimed. Now thewpaint is peeled, the floor too weak to dance on, and the sides broken and ugly. Sadly she whispered, Those days are over! Only sweet memories are left to replace the music and merrimentf' Suddenly the clear sad notes of a violin gently disturbed the silence. Violet, thinking that she imagined it, began to dance to the music with an imaginary partner. Suddenly she stopped. The music was real! Who played the violin? she asked herself. Silence, then a rustle of leaves, and Violet saw an old man hurrying away. She did not see his face as he fled. Puzzled, she walked home, promis- ing to return the next evening. The next evening Violet returned to the old bandstand to find out who had played the violin for her. Did I hear footsteps? she asked herself. Bent double, she concealed herself behind a bush near the bandstand. Strains of beautiful violin music filled the warm air. Now the tune changed from a waltz to 'Beautiful Dreamer. Freddy, she cried, Come to me! Vio1et! he cried. t'Oh, that's our favourite tunej' she said. t'Yes, the tune played at our engagement, he replied, and at our party afterwards here. Freddy, you went to sea and were said to have been shipwrecked near Africa, she cried. Dear, I am back now, for you, for ever. They were married in a month. Now when- ever they have company, Freddy plays the Beautiful Dreamer, the haunting melody. DONNA ROGERS - Form I A BIRD BEGAN T0 SING Mr. Hodges looked at his watch again. It was seven forty-five. The rain poured down, forming small pools of water at his feet. That morning was dreary and Mr. Hodges felt de- pressed. Even the air seemed drab, for a thin, grey fog had settled. Tall, bleak skele- tons of trees towered above the bench where he was sitting. A sigh escaped him. He was tired and the last thing he wanted to do was to go to work. Today he would go to work, tomorrow he would go to work, and for ages after that he would go. His eyes brightened for an instant. Today he would wait for Miss Valour and walk with her to the office. He was sure she liked him, for she smiled at him every morning when he came into the office. Sitting up a little, he tightened his hold on the umbrella. His face darkened as he thought, But what if she doesn't like me? For no one except Miss Valour ever smiled at him. He remembered the time he had heard two other employees talking about him. Mr. Hodges is an awfully quiet chap, re- marked one. It is a wonder he doesn't fade away, laughingly remarked the other. He grew sullen as he remembered. Frown- ing he mused to himself, I do hope she likes me? Just then he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Why, hello Mr. Hodges, a friendly voice said. He looked up, smiling, and said, Hello, are you going to the office? Now where would I be going on a day like this? There is hardly even a bird to be found out in this weather, she said laugh- ingly. Srrenlr

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the same. Feeding on some moss was a magni- ficent stag, not more than ten yards away. As yet he was unaware of their presence. Peter gasped in sheer admiration of the proud ani- mal. The stag's body was lithe and muscular, with its antlers crowning its head majestic- ally. At his father's signal to shoot, Peter cocked the gun and aimed it. Suddenly the animal looked up, with a frightened, puzzled expression in its gentle eyes. For a moment Peter hesitated, but he had lived this moment so often in his dreams that the next step was automatic. The shot rang and echoed in the deserted woods. The stag dropped to the ground. Staring blank-ly at the dead animal, Peter stood, .paralyzed. He was completely void of emotion or sense. Hfis father rushed over to examine the kill. Good shot, son! Got him right through the heart. I'm proud of you! he said. How- ever, his father'-s praise only made him realize more acutely the horror of what he had done. It was his fault that that magnifi- cent, innocent creature lay motionless on the ground. With one thoughtless impulse he had stilled its heart for ever. Lucifer! What are you staring at? de- manded his father impatiently. Don't tell me you're squeamiish at the sight of a little blood! Unaible to bear the presence of the thing he had destroyed, Peter dropped the gun and ran. SHELLEY MITCHELL -- Form III My Magic Vase Last night, when all had gone to sleep, I to my magic vase did creep, Softly, silently, And there behold it all aglow, Then gently rubbed it to and fro. Genie appeared right at my side, Where shall we go tonight? she cried, Pausing pensively. Without a word my thoughts she knew And back to the days of yore we flew. There were Robin Hood and his men, Chasing the sheriff through the glen, Riding rapidly. With utter glee I joined the band, Feeling the glory of the land. All too quickly the time had fled, And there I was back in my bed, Dreaming drowsily Of my wonderful nightly flights, Stirring adventures, dazzling sights. DIANA MAJURY - Form III A Carefree Follrsinger A singer who sings Of ballads and creeds Under a roof, under some trees - With confident ease She sings to please The youth at her feet. With hair misty black And guitar in her lap, She urges her listeners to clap, Cares are released And the clappings increase With the stirring beat. PAMELA DANGERFIELD - Form III - ., .?, z, Kg da I kin-0.51 our hooseagnogiasggoww re 15 db'-Hn here. Semcwlncxet rs Ai w Q Q K Oo EX go Tl-LE BLx2.zmQ:D OF 'Gb ggi K. NEILSON BY THE SEASIDE I-t was before dawn on a Saturday morn- ing. The sea was stretched out for miles. The calm blue water was covered by a thin mist. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to show over the treetops. There was not a single person in sight. The beach was quiet and still. As the sun cilmbed higher, the sand was struck by the warm, glowing sunbeams. There was not a cloud in the sky as far as the eye could see. A lone sea-gull glided over the waters, occasionally swooping down. Then the tide began to come in. The waves came up farther and farther onto the shore. The first few people appeared on the beach. Coloured umlbrellas went up. The waves crashed against the shore. The chil- dren ran out to greet them and were hurled back onto the sand. Farther out, baskets were opened, towels spread out, and surf- -boards propped up in the sand. Overhead, the gulls could be heard screeching. The chatter of voices from along the beach, and shrieks of delight from children splashing and play- ing in the water were heard. Sails were rig- ged up and sand castles were built. There was excitement in every direction. Everyone was in the best of spirits. SARAH EVERETT - Form II .Yixzetrr u