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

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Vox Fluminis 25 harvester has done his work and has deserved his well-earned rest. As the last load of grain is hauled to- the granary, the dusky harvest moon rises in a deepening sky. As candles guide the weary to rest, stars light up the heavens and the autumn night covers the earth. Gentle night, like a welcome blanket, wraps up a tired earth, weary from a summer's toil. In the stillness of the night, we seem to hear the joy- ful peal of churchbells, calling the wor- shippers to service. In our mind's eye, we see the white-surpliced choir come through the arches of golden grain, singing: Come ye thankful people, co-me, Raise the song of harvest home, All is safely gathered in, Eire the winter storms begin. Donalda Murdoch, Grade XI, York Hall. ii. THE STORM THE cool evening breeze swept inland, gently ruffling the moonlit surface of the undulating waters. The tiny wavelets swirled and eddied on the silent beach, like malevolent fingers striving vainly to grasp some inaccess- ible object. And on the shore, a group of trees clung tenaciously to mother earth whilst their glinting leaves whispered untold secrets in hushed tones. Here peace and quietness reigned supreme. Now, even the lapping of the waves had stopped. A strange calm had settled over land and sea, a profound silence that carried with it a strange sense of disaster. One by one the candles in heaven were extinguished as if by some un- seen hand. A cloud floated over the mo'on's face and it too was gone, leav- ing only an expectant darkness. Some- where in that unpenetrable night a storm was born. A The sea, once calm, was now a boil- ing, bu-bbling cauldron. Its waves towered uncannily and dashed them- selves mercilessly on the immovable sands. The sky was split thunde-rously with a jagged flash of flame. Rain slashed doiwn unendingly. The wind screamed in sympathy and lifted the waves bodily out of the sea to thrash them remorselessly against the un- yielding trees. The strength of the storm seemed ever-increasing. The noise was deafening. All the forces of evil seemed bent on the destruction of the land. Was it for days or only hours that this living demand rent its fury on earth? Slowly, reluctantly the storm abated. The sea once more grew calm and still. The wind dropped and with one last feeble gust, died, and was heard no more. The rain relented and seemed to dry up from its source. The storm at last was over, leaving only the memory and a group of bedraggled trees on a wide lonely beach. A calm settled once more, broken only by the spasmodic, futile efforts of the dead storm to revive itself to the full glory of its intensity. The tiny wavelets once more beat their mournful tattoo on rain-drenched sands. On the shore a group of trees huddled closely together, as if for shelter. Their leaves shivered in a cool breeze, relinquishing drops of rain which fell noisily, continuously, to the ground beneath. The sky was an end- less mass of grey clouds which hurried in on their way into space. Here peace and quietness once more reigned. ' Far away to the East the sky became tinged with gold streaks of light spread over the sky. Grey clouds rolled back and disappeared over the Western horizon. The world became lighter and lighter. The dark waters turned a de- licate blue and splashed gaily on a dry exposed beach. The trees rustled contentedly as they prepared them- selves for another day of glorious tropi- cal weather. Presently the dawn came, as the sun rose slowly out of its golden cushion and filled the wakening world with sunshine and happiness. As the sun rose majestically, the memory of the terrifying storm was lulled, dozed, and finally slept. Gladys Robison, Grade XI, York Hall.

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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

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26 Vox Fluminis Qaacfaalian THE thirteenth graduation of River- bend. School took place on June 16th, 1943. Although we were the thir- teenth class to graduate, superstition took a back seat and the day proved most enchanting. For several weeks we had been atwitter over the forthcoming gradu- tion. The main reason perhaps being that it would be necessary for us to wear short white frocks this year Cdue to war-time restrictionsb instead of our usual long ones. Many bitter tears were shed over this loss for it seems that graduation is not graduation with- out long dresses. However, we were consoled with the fact that we would be the first class to appear in short dresses-and would therefore be set- ting an original vogue-which helped greatly to restore our lost pride. Therefore on a beautiful summer day, the class of 1943 trooped patri- otically out in gay war-time models of the graduation dress. We all felt very proud! The service, as usual, took place in Westminster Church, where Doctor Crossley Hunter addressed the twenty members of the graduating class- moving and impressing them to great depths. . une 16, 1943 After the service the guests were invited to- a garden party held in the school grounds. There was great ex- citement and we, the graduating class, were very much in the limelight, as the honored guests, what with a soft musical background, cameras flashing and proud parents- beaming. The climax of the day came in the evening when Ellizaibeth Irish, Betty McGuinness, Kitty Rainey and Ann Parkhill were hostes-ses at a dinner party preceding the dance. Each girl received little favors as souvenirs of the all-important occasion. Later in the evening Miss Carter very kindly chaperoned a small in- formal dance at the school at which the happy couples swirled and whirled to the chippy notes of the conventional juke-box. Much later we went home tired but very happy, the important day being over. And now because we are no longer a part of the actual student body, we feel a little sad and 'look back with longing on all our happy memories at the dear old school but-then we look forward to old-girls' day and realize that we will never actually lose con- tact with our school days. A.P. lllfl!I1'l'ull'l'lllll'zfilwmvll'Wil 1 ix 5E 3,,' I ,il INK? 1 ll we l' lla Wi. xi-' H li Aw 'X i t . . ,li 1. 1 5. .' l that ai, ,.Q,. ...,rla5g I . l'u N , ill. A a:gf'zniilli!llw6Z.'!il