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

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VOX FLUMINIS 29 Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. Michaelo, like Kipling's pattern of a man had to begin again and with the sme ambition, same perseverance, and same patience build up his dream. He seemed older now, and the road to success would seem longer and dustier to him, but next time he would reach the top of this much be-travelled road victorious! ELoIsE EDMOND, '39, Douglas Hall. A DOG'S LIFE LEFT' my diary in the city so I have been unable to write till now, be- cause I never thought of writing it down on paper and copying it out later. Anyway, here are some of my adventures. I called for Pug this morning, but he was still eating breakfast when I got there, so I helped him finish, though, of course, against his will. When this was done we ambled out of his yard, down the sidewalk to- wards Bing's house. He is my best friend next to Pug. Pug is a fat, old codger, with no teeth, and Bing is a spaniel with two large ears. We then raced over to our enemy's house, and dug up all his bones. Finding this of little amusement, we went over to a kind old lady's house who always gives us something to eat. Today she gave Pug and Bing bones, and me a little milk. Being annoyed at this, I took half of Pug's bone when we were outside again. We had a fight over it and my mistress tied me up as punishment. THE NEXT DAY I am no longer tied up by a rope, and I am occupying the yard now. It is fenced off from the driveway, with a wire fence, so that I can look through it. In the very far corner of my yard there is a tree, and exactly eleven inches south-east is buried the nicest bone. I intend to dig it up one of these days and will it be nice and wormy. In the north-east and south- west corners are' likewise bones, but in the north-west corner I have a trea- sure, really a treasure. There is a can which is buried and in it, under the lid, are four of my baby teeth, a de- cayed rubber ball, and a dead bird, and it is very mouldy. Today I had ever so much fun. I escaped from my yard, the bread- man let me out. I walked down Gros- venor almost to the end of the street until I found a big dog playing with a rubber bone. We immediately made friends. I went with him till we came to a garage. Here he told me that they were having a debate, the question be- ing whether Irishmen are better than Scotchmen or not. As I am Scotch I immediately pointed out that the Scotch were not stingy, that they were wonderful people and were much cleverer than the Irish. Getting im- patient, he told me most rudely to stop and get out at once. Then he started bunting me. I immediately dropped down and refused to budge an inch and I put up a good fight. Then, much to my amazement, he fairly screamed with joy because he had a new point. The Scotch have ability to resist! Well, good-bye for now, Dear Diary, for Pug wants me to meet him and go out to play. BARBARA ANNE KING, Grade VIII, Douglas Hall. A TYPICAL SCHOOLGIRL'S TELEPHONE CONVERSATION ELLO? . . . Oh, Hi Molly! . . . Where was I today? Well, I had a very bad cold so I decided I'd better stay home. Cough, Cough, See? What show did I go to? Why, Molly, I said I had a cold-well, as a matter of fact, I did feel well enough to run down town this afternoon and see the Motor Show, and who do you s'pose I almost bumped into? Three guesses . . . No . . . Yes! . . . and me without my beret and chewing gum. Boy! You couldn't see me for dust! . . . What's new? . . . Don't tell me she's changed her hair again! Honest, that girl never

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28 VOX FLUMINIS be! His Mary, his wife in Jones' arms. Jones who had stolen his job, now stolen his wife-here he was jobless- wifeless-while Jones stood smug with Mary-his Mary-in his arms. He'd show Jones-he'd show him! Kill him! Kill him! It was over. 41 :If Sk wk And the jury said guilty. Sure he was guilty-guilty as hell-and yet . . . PEGGY CAMPBELL, Grade XII, Douglas Hall. THE MOUSE 0nce there was a little house, In it lived a little mouse. He scampered all the livelong day, Then at night he ran away. He was back again at seven And he worked until eleven, And he stored his food away To have enough for another day. JOAN Ross, Grade V, D-ouglas Hall. , MICHAELO Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build them up with wofrn-out tools. ICHAELO ANGELO, struggling artist and sculptor, lived in a hot, dusty tenement in the Bohemian section of the city. I had often visited his rooms while making my by-monthly rounds. To-day I was to resume my duties again after a really delightful summer vacation by which I had es- caped the still, hovering mugginess of New York in July. September was a heavenly month-friendly sun-light filtering through the thick foliage, fresh, exhilarating breezes, opaque skies, and warm, dreamy noon hours. I was returning from lunch to re- port for afternoon duty at the clinic. Life seemed glorious, heavenly, and worth living. My heart was light as I stopped to buy some daisies from an old decrepit woman on the corner. My Hrst call was at the Angelo's, that large, happy family of Italians. As I climbed the rickety stairs that led to their rooms I remembered that Michaelo had been working on a beautiful marble statue which he had intended to be his masterpiece. He hoped that it would be accepted for the Exhibition sponsored by the American Art Society which was to be held here in New York during the latter part of October. I sincerely hoped it would be accepted. The Angelo's certainly needed money, but if Michaelo's work was accepted the honor of it would gratify him more than anything so material as money. -KIPLING. I was still wondering whether or not the statue had been finished yet when I tapped lightly on the dilapi- dated door. No one responded so I turned the handle cautiously and walked in. Everything was bare and quiet. Strange, I thought. All was unbearably still and deserted. N o mu- sical childish voices issued forth from the corner of the room where the younger Angelos played. After a quick survey of the room I conceded that the children must have gone to the park. Just then I heard a slight noise from the next room. I peeped into the room -there was Michaelo seated on an old chair, his head between his hands. He looked up calmly as if he had quite expected someone. I sensed trouble immediately and asked quietly what the trouble was. In his broken, simple English he told me that his statue had been finished and packed safely, but when the men who were carrying it down the stairs slipped and fell, the statue had been smashed to bits. There had been a terrific crash! That was all! Nothing could be done about it. I knew that Michaelo cared terribly but his 'outward appearance was one of calmness and serenity. The dis- appointment that was stofred inside of him showed itself in his sad melan- choly eyes. The words of Kipling's poem If came to me then.

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30 VOX FLUMINIS seems to be able to make up her mind. What's it like? . . . Page Boy? Well, that's nothing new . . . Oh, another doo-dad on top, eh? That makes three, now . . . Hey, get oi the phone! . . . No, I wasn't speaking to you, Molly, somebody was on the downstairs phone. Oh, by the way, what French did we have? Oh, no, don't bother telling me, I forgot I had been away today so I couldn't possibly know my homework, could I? . . . Say, have you seen the Green's new Cadillac . . . Isn't it a honey? Radio and everything! . . . O.K., Mom, I'll be off the phone in a jiff! . . . Mother says my bath's run- ning over .... What? . . . A History exam, tomorrow! Jiminy Crickets, I forgot all about it! . . . Gee, will I ever have to cram! . . . Bye, Molly, see you tomorrow! SIDNEY FLANDERS, '39, York Hall. -l- SING A SONG OF GRADE X Sing a song of Riverbend In the room they call Grade Ten, Four and twenty giggly girls, Each one looking for her pen. When the classroom door is closed And the girls are left to chatter, Is it 'not an easy thing To soon produce a clatter? Girls at once begin to argue, Let's have heat! No, we shall not! Coming down the hall, Miss Carter, Easily hears them almost shout. Then she opens wide the door, To her surprise she finds again, Four and twenty giggly girls Each one looking for her pen. MARGARET BENNETT, 39, York Hall. .l THE STORY OF BILLY NCE upon a time there was a little boy named Billy, and he could hardly wait for the next morning to come. It would be Easter Sunday and Billy wanted to stay awake to see the Easter rabbit. His mother said to him, Billy, you cannot stay awake, be- cause the Easter rabbit will not come and give you any eggs. So Billy went to sleep, and while he was asleep the Easter rabbit came in and brought a big basket with colored eggs in it. When Billy woke up he got a big surprise. He was so happy to see all the colored eggs that the Easter rabbit had brought him. GAIL GRAHAM, Grade IV, I Garry Hall. FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND HE old stone tower stood apart from the cottage on a small hill over- looking the lake. Its stones were cov- ered with moss, the windows were broken and the sagging door creaked on its hinges, disturbing the peace of its surroundings. We loved to walk down to this line old tower and spend many happy hours there. After frequent visits to the tower we felt it belonged to us. One fine day we decided to have our lunch at this spot. We took a hamper of sandwiches, Coco-Cola, and fruit. As we approached the sandy path to the door, Mary stopped still with a puzzled expression and looked at a queer mark in the sand. It almost looked like a human footprint but it was too small and there were no toe prints. We walked around the tower but could find no other clue. Then we went inside and looked around but we saw nothing. Timidly we tip- toed up the stairway, hand in hand, and peeked into the tower attic, but we saw nothing. After having a second glance around the attic we walked bravely down the staircase. We were both feeling strange by this time and decided it would be more pleasant to eat outside than in. We found the hamper where we had placed it. Mary picked up a sandwich and exclaimed that there was no lettuce in it. I had made it myself and had put a leaf in each one. We were both puzzled over this sece ond mystery when we heard a shrill cry. We couldn't tell where it came from. We looked up at the tower in consternation, but could see nothing.