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

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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.

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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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10 VOX FLUMINIS Oh, whispered Sally, looking at Lorry, who was yawning widely. Will he ever be 'unwitched' again? ' . Peter nodded. You see, he said in a dreamy voice, Prince Lorendavia always wore a beautiful ring which his great-great- grandmother had given him. This ring is magic, and as long as the Prince wore it nothing could hurt him, but his uncle persuaded him to take off the ring, and when Prince drew off the ring the wicked man immediately transformed him to a puppy, and seized the Prince's kingdom. The magic ring in the meantime had seemingly vanished, and after a vain search the uncle finally decided the ring had disappeared. The ring did not vanish, however, instead it took on the shape of a monstrous beast. One day this beast will kill the uncle, and so break the spell. Lorendavia will re-sume his princely state, and the wild beast will become the magic ring and return to the finger of the Prince? Sally had listened enchanted by the tale, fearing to speak lest the story should abruptly end. The shadows lengthened as the sun crept towards the western horizon. Sally, said Peter, someday, someday when I've- grown to be a man, l'm going to write a book about a lame boy, only he'll,--he'll get better, and he'll be able to race, and to jump, and--to ride a bicycle. It'll be a famous book like Dickens' and Kip-ling's, and everyone will read it. There was another long silence. Then,-- and, Sally, I'm going to dedicate that book to you, because,--because you're the only person who has ever cared about a crippled boy, who can't run, who must just sit,1and dream. CAROLINE HARRIS, '38: Douglas Hall. THE FIRST RIDE Up! Up! Nothing below me, air above- Mountains appearing, wind sweeping by, Clouds in the distance, and dust in my eye. Hands all trembling, breath comes in gasps, Oh, good heavens! How long will this last? Whirling and twirling, spinning with a zoom, Hold her boys, or we'll hit the moon! Soon there's a city, then it is past, Sinking and sliding, why so fast? All full of fear, l'm thinking of home: Slow her down, or you'll be alone! 'Tis only a nightmare. Am I going to die? T Oh, no! I am living, there's the blue sky. With half of my senses, and more dead than alive, The plane has landed! She's lit on her side. LoU1E LEIs'r1Kow, '38, York Hall.