Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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8 VOX FLUMINIS home. One of them had the nerve to say, 'Even if we have to- swim.' I chucked him overboard, a big brute of a fellow. One of the others took ill with scurvy and died next day. The other was fro-zen to death and there was I alone in the frozen North! My only comfort was that I had the run of the shipfs kitchen, but soon even that gave out. It was not long before the ship struck an iceberg and sprang a leak in the hold. By that time I was too weak to care whether the old ship went down or not. By and by I felt the water around my ankles and resolved to swim for shore. - I swam ste-adily for three hours and the floated, half asleep. The water was paralyzing and once I thought I was a goner when a huge mountain of an iceberg came bearing down upon me. I dove and the thing passed over me. Finally, after two days and nights, I reached shore. I had landed at an Eskimo settlement. A drunken group of them tried to murder me, but I soon made short work of them. E I was fortunate enough to find a schooner anchored in the harbor on which I returned home. Thus ends another of Captain Ezra's stories. He is at the present quite peeved since I refuse to believe him,-in fact, to quote him, So you'd be making a bally ol' liar of me. But nevertheless his good nature or his appetite soon overcame his distaste for my remark. FRANCES HEAKES, '37, York Hall. BUTTERFLIES Oh! Butterflies, purple and gold, With your queenly airs and bold, You, with your wings a sheer delight, Folded in cobwebby slumber at night. Oh! Butterflies, yellow and white, Wrapped in green leaves far out 'of sight, When you emerge from your cocoon, You are as fresh as the bright new moon. Oh! Butterflies, small and great, As you come in your season, early or late, You bring a message of bright good cheer, That gives us pleasure throughout the year. MARJORIE C. MCKINNELE, '38, ' Garry Hall.

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VOX FLUMINIS 7 ll ll i ADVENTURES IN THE NORTH ' fPrize Winning Storyj THE following is a very exaggerated and comical account of an Arctic, or thereabouts, adventure. It couldn't be anything but foolish since Captain Ezra Pyke is the narrator. First let me introduce you to the Cap'n. He isn't very tall, in fact, quite the reverse, with a well-fed tummy and a broad, beaming countenance. Despite his very comfortable appearance he has led an exciting life, as he will tell you. His one fault is over-indulgence especially in matters of food. But that needn't worry us since Cap- tain Ezra has just begun one 'of the stories for which he is famous. Yes Sir, those were the good old days! Why I remember away back in 'eighty-six when my crew and I went on a fishing trip in the North Sea Islands. That was when I was Capt'n on the 'Mary- land,' the stoutest little ship that ever set out of port. Well, we left on Friday morning. It was good sailing until we got north of Labrador and then we struck a gale. There was nothing to do but lower the sails and wait. Unfortunately we had left the anchor behind and had to drift with the waves. Speaking of waves, them's the worst I've ever seen and in my days I've seen plenty. They were biggerln this here house. We drifted for ten days, only God knows where. The only time we came near any fish was the time we were wedged in be- tween two rocks and the fish trying to get us. Once a whale came on board-and, as everyone else was scared, I took the butcher knife and after a terrifice struggle killed the brute. We kept on drifting, always farther north, till by this time we'd gone two weeks I had on four pairs of red flannels, two waistcoats, my own trousers as well as the head engineer's, the mate's fur coat and three blankets. As I was saying before, that was the worst shipwreck I've ever been in. Oh, pardon me! I thought Ild told you we were wrecked. Yes Sir! why they even had to take a pair of my red flannels to make a flag. The first pair blew away with the wind, the second was torn and the third fell into the sea. I resolved to keep my last, so they took. the blankets and the mate took his fur coat, so there I was stranded in mid ocean with only one pair of red flannels. I assure you I was never sohumiliated in all my life. Finally, after drifting for days without a single blessed ship coming within fifteen leagues of us, the men took sick with scurvy. Some of them died leaving only four of us, valiant and hearty sea- men. That night we held a meeting and'I swore to guide them safely

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VOX FLUMINIS 9 THE NEW NEIGHBGR HOW she hated that new boy, thought Sally, as she passed his yard on her bicycle for the ninth time. There was the boy, still busy with his hammering, his dog by his side, never once noticing the bicyclist passing and repassing the gate. Sally had failed to attract his attention by motion, but there were other resources. Hey! yelled Sally, How do you like my new bicycle?,' At last the boy looked up. It's very nice, he replied, and again continued his work. Humph, muttered Sally and rode on, but she wasn't the type to give up so soon and she resolved to try again. Want to ride it? she called over the gate. 'fThanks, was the reply, But I don't ridef' Sally stopped in amazement. Who ever heard of a boy not being able to ride a bicycle? Recovering from her surprise, she asked: Why don't you learn? No response, so Sally repeated her question a little louder. Still no answer. Can't you hear? Sally shouted. Yes, replied the boy gazing intently at his work. Well, why don't you learn to ride? demanded Sally. T Because, came the reply ,low and soft, as the boy remained still bent over his work, because I'm lame. Sally's active mind went blank. A hot wave swept over her, and tears sprang to her eyes. In a stupor she pushed aside the gate, and advanced slowly. Halting, she sank down beside him. The boy looked up realizing Sally had come in, and a sad smile spread over his face. Sally wanted to return this smile but somehow she just couldn't. Finally Sally ventured awkwardly: My name is Sally Watson. What's yours? Peter Burrows. Are you the girl who lives next door? UYeS.H 'Tm glad you live next door, said Peter. You sort of seem to-to understand, and he fingered his crutch which lay close at hand. Sally remembered how she had, not even an hour ago, despised Peter. Will you, she asked, will you ever be better? Peter shook his head and began to stroke his dog. This is Lorendaviaf' said Peter huskily, introducing him. Lorry, this is Sally Watson, our next door neighbor. Shake hands. Lorendavia? murmured Sally. Yes, said Peter. I call him Lorry for short, and then he dropped his voice to a whisper. He's a fairy prince, who has been bewitched by his cruel uncle.