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

Page 25 text:

Vox Fluminis 23 wouldn't come. Cracking twigs warned him to Hee. He wanted so badly to take Snubrby with him, he tried drag- ging the body, but it was immobile. Sadly Gab'by trotted into the shadow of the friendly forest. He was safe but it didnft matter, now that Snubby was gone. Exhausted and sick at heart the lonely deer sank to the ground and fell into a troubled stupor. Behind him the sun. sank beneath the horizon. Next morning it would return to begin another era. Lois Parkhill, Grade XI, Garry Hall. Tt .i. SPRING The mountain streams go racing down From every mountain's melting crown, The skylark mounts the heavens to sing He is a herald of the spring. The white clouds scud across the sky, Over the bay the seagulls cry, The oceans waves are leaping high All white with foam as they rush by. The April sky, a sapphire blue 'Tinted with clouds of every hue The glorious sun sets in the west, The darkness spreads, proclaiming rest. Barbara McLean, Grade VII, York Hall. 1..l.. THIS LAND I LEAVE BEHIND CANADA-what a beautiful name. How well it describes the open prairies, the stately mountains, the glorious lakes and rivers that belong to Canada. When I first thought of Canada, I thought of wild Indians chas- ing buffaloes over the prairies, of small groups of people living, half-civilized, in an empty country, in daily terror of the attacks from wild animals. I wondered how it was ever given such a romantic name. Well, I have lived in Canada for three years now. I have come to the conclusion that it is a wonderful co-untry, a country in which its people should have great pride. What a country Canada must be for those who like to be free. What a joy it gives you to wander along the rocky shores of Canadais beautiful lakes, to look out over the vast expenses of forest or prairie, to cry with the loon or to laugh with the sky, to spend your life as you please. I spent one glorious month in outdoor Canada. I slept under the stars, I canoed through lakes and rivers. I was carefree and ate, slept, and did as I pleased. The wild animals were my companions. My heart was free. With a bump I came back to reality, to civilization. It was like walking into a stone wall. Civilization meant shoes and skirts, electric lights and running water. But no, it was not unpleasant. I came in contact with Canada's people. The friendship of the Canadians is world-famous. They open their homes, hearts and country to any in need of them and what an assorted band of refugees have landed on Canada's shore! The Canadian is the Englishman, the Scot, the Russian, the Irishman, the Frenchman, the American and the German, in fact every single nationality in the world is represented in Canada. Canada's history is a romance. I often imagine the feelings of Champlain as he, for the first time, stood on the top of Mount Royal and peered for miles around him, until even the green of the forests and the blue of the lakes dwindled together into a sombre grey. I often think of Wolfe at Quebec, fight- ing to win Canada for England, fighting to win this mighty land, that ended, he knew not where. I often think also of Laura Secord and wonder if any of these had visions of Canada as it is to- day. I believe they did. I believe the thought of it inspired them onwards with a new courage. Although I could never think it as wonderful, as beautiful, as divine as my England, there are many things I like about Canada. I like its vastness, its free air, its scenery, its hurriedness and yet its peacefulness, its loyalty to Eng- land and its people themselves. Yes, it is a wonderful country. How proud Canadians should be to know that they

Page 24 text:

22 Vox Fluminis BETWEEN TW Ol SUNS ALL nature seemed asleep. To the flaming ball of sun showing its blushing forehead above the horizon, the world was a pleasant sight. It was as if at dawn each day, a new era began. The grass and trees stirred, trying to rid themselves of a drowsy stupor that had held them captive for twelve short hours. T'he little stream meandering through the friendly forest regained its lost gaiety. Twigs snapped a few yards away, and a small deer trotted into the mossy glade. He was wobbly on his long gangling legs, and his winter coat, shaggy now after long winter months, was being replaced by smooth fur. The slight animal's alert eyes searched among the shrubs for his friend, Snubby. But Snubby was nowhere to be seen. He was playing footy with the sandman under the shade of soft ferns. He and Snubby were only a few months old, but were already loyal friends, although as different as black and white. They were the hare and tortoise of the woodland universe. Gabby being the fleetest, was the hare, and Snubby, habitually trailing behind, was the tortoise. Gabby was thirsty, this fine spring morning and so he bent down to take a long, cool drink from the clear pool. Snubby chose this moment to wander aimlessly into the nook, with his eyes half-closed. He neared the bank of the shallow pond and ran head-long into Gabby. The latter fell into the water, while Snubby overcome with exhaustion, sank to the ground and proceeded to finish his game with the sandman. This episode had the opposite affect on Gabby. It revived his spirits and the thought of food entered his head. As- he stumbled over Snub-by's un- conscious form, he whistled a tune in his own deer way, and set off through the forest in search of breakfast. S-nubby, recognizing this pre-dinner lullaby, followed Gabby with amazing alacrity,-for ,Snubby lo-ved his food. Having replenished.themselves they started down the mountain. T'he shrill shriek of the annoying jay roused. their anger, and off they sped. The clear, bristling air cleared their lungs and filled their bodies with an exhilarating sensation. Never would they tire of this, now they were free to so-ar with the birds as swiftly as the wind. They neared the end of the hill an.d came lolloping in for the finish. Gabby turned to see lovable Snubby wearily wend his way into the coo-1, sequestered valley. They would have to rest awhile before beginning the weary ascent ba-ck home, but they could bide their time by scraping the velvet OH their new antlers. Gabby began vigorously rub- bing his horns on the rough bark, -but Snubby used his tree for a leanin.g post and promptly began to snore. Turning to waken him, Gabby's eyes caught the gleam of metal flashing in the surrounding woods. This was the enemy! His first thought was for Snubby. He whistled wierdly and Snubby' sens- ing the danger, fled from the hostile valley beside his fleet friend. T'error struck at their hearts. Their legs seemed filled with lead. Why wouldn't their feet go faster? They ran wildly, blindly! A bullet grazed the soft fur of .Snubby's ear. Another found its way into Snubby's right' flank. A third missle stopped his heart. He slumped to the ground with a retching gurgle. The pupils of his baby eyes sank out of sight. The sound reached Gabby. He turned and his blood froze in his. veins. In- stinct warned him to leave, but all at once he felt lonely. He wanted to stay and talk to the silent form beside him. Something told him he had witnessed a similar scene once before in his life. Only this morning he had stumbled over Snubby's unconscious form. Only then there hadn't been the ominous silence there was now, nor the pool of blood behind his head. Gabby couldn't cry. The tears just

Page 26 text:

24 Vox Fluminis can call themselves Canadians, how sorry I am to leave this Canada of yours. Valery Rayner, Grade XI, Nelson Hall. i,T, AUTUMN BEAUTY Welcome to you, rich Autumn Days, Ere comes the cold leaf-picking wind, When golden stooks are seen in fields, All standing arm and arm entwined, And gallons of sweet cider seen, On trees in apples red and green. -W. H. Davies. AUTUMN is without doubt a season of mists and mellow fruitfulnessf' The colour of the leaves has deepened and there has come a sen.se of beauty, singular and sad, like a smile left upon the face of a dead summer. The forest has become a painted forest, with an ever-thinning canopy and an ever- thickening carpet of crimson and gold, everywhere there is a low crackling underfoot and a slow rain of colour. The air is thick with the drowsy and bitter smell of smoke, rising slowly from the many heaped piles of leaves along the winding road. The children come running with rosy cheeks, flaxen curls and sparkling eyes, tripping and skipping among the fallen leaves, mak- ing them into veritable mansions. Joining the children in the leaves are our animals, now beginning to dis- appear. T'he birds fly :by like shadows on a silver plate. They are swiftly winging their way down to- the sunny south. The squirrels are making their preparations for winter, as they run across open fields, carrying the rich, juicy, brown nuts in their tiny mouths. The rabbit is slowly changing his brown summer clothes for a white fur -coat, in his preparation for the long, cold days ahead. God gave me in these little pictures an idea of the loveliness in which he has clothed Nature. One of Nature's clothes is the at- mosphere. Autumn air can be neither hot nor cold, but breathless and quiet, on one day, but the next day, the cold, leaf-picking wind swirls around the corner of one's house, making you realize that winter days are not far distant. The tang of pickles co-oking,, coming from the house kitchen win- dow, seems to suggest that even Mother Brown is vying with Mother Nature in further scenting the autumn air. ' Far above the autumn air are the clouds, sleeping on the blue mid-fields of heaven-floating clouds, all pure and white as new shorn flocks, who- are fresh from the crystal brook. As the day wears on, one notices the sunset. The sunsets in autumn are strikingly beautiful. T'he sun gradually' wheels his big, broad disc down into the west. The horizon becomes a fine golden tint, changing gradually into the rosy gleam of a precious jewel, from that into a violet haze, and finally changing into the deep azure of the mid-heaven. Fort Garry, in the -distance, is pale, shim- mering gold bathed in the last rays of the setting sun. To the west one notices our wheat fields. After the so-wing of the wheat in spring, the careful tending in sum- mer, then comes the reward in autumn. The harvesting season is one of thank- fulness and prayer. The vegetable gar- dens are turned over, displayin.g the rich, dark earth. Nearfby stand pails of rich, ripe, juicy tomatoes, big, yel- low pumpkins, that will soon be made into tasty pies, huge sacks o-f potatoes waiting to be stored in readiness for winter. Then, in the country, stands the golden wheat, waving slightly by the caress. of the wind. In some fields stand threshing machines, ready' to thresh this precious product. But, in a field of stooked wheat, stands. the Harvester. He stands, strikingly ma- jestic, against the sky. His face, tanned and rugged, shows the labor of the past few months. He wears a dirty, dusty pair of blue denim o-veralls, a blue faded shirt, open at the neck, and on his feet, a soiled pair of working boots. He is resting on his hoe, his bronzed hand raised to his forehead, looking over his harvest, and thanking God for all that he has done. The