FOR THE CHILDREN.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 37, 13 February 1926, Page 26

FOR THE CHILDREN.

SWEET PEAS. (By PHYLLIS CATO.) The garden lay still and quiet in the warm morning sun and in the oppressive heat the flowers nodded like sleepy children in the evening, as the breeze swept over them. Away in a shady corner of the hedge the purple and red sweetpeas rendered a gay splash of colour against the green grass. Suddenly a voice tinkled out from the house and a little girl came running swiftly across the lawn. The sweet peas shuddered and fastened their green tendrils round the Queen for they saw that she was carrying their dreaded enemy— the garden scissors! "I'll gather some sweet peas to-day," cried the girl. So saying she began clipping the flowers, regardless of the way they clung to their queen, as if reluctant to leave their home. "What a lovely one this one is!" she cried, lifting up the queen's beautiful head. "I must have you!" Clip! clip! and the sweet peas were staring in dismay at the queen hanging her head in the bunch of flowers. A week passed, and the flowers were mourning the loss of their queen when the girl came out again with a dead bunch of flowers and the scissors. 'Til have gladiolas this time," she said, flinging the dying sweet peas away. They fell upon the ground right next to the sweet pea plants, who put out their tendrils and carefully drew their dying' queen into their midst. In spite of her suffering the queen was quite happy. "I am glad that I was picked for when I was taken away the girl placed mc in a tiny vase and carried mc into the room where her mother lay ill. Her mother was over- : joyed at seeing us for she knew that that was a way by which her daughter showed that she loved her. If she wants to pick you other flowers do not be afraid, for my sake," said the queen, and so saying she drew her faded cloak around her and died. THE JUNGLE CAT'S EARS. Once there was a cat who lived in a jungle. She was not an ordinary cat at all. In the jungle everything grows very large. The trees aire tall, the leaves and vines are thick, and the flowers are large and bright-coloured. So the cat, because she lived in the jungle, had grown huge and powerful, and her ears were very long. Now, since she had'such long ears, the Jungle Cat was able to hear nearly everything that went on in the jungle. When she was tired from her day's hunting she would often sit in some quiet spot and listen. If you listen you will hear many interesting things, especially in a jungle. All sorts of lullabies she heard —loud ones and soft ones, the deep, gruff tones of Mother Tiger singing to her baby cubs, and the shrill piping; of huge insects as they rocked their babies in the tall grasses. , Also, the Jungle Cat heard many things beside lullabies. She heard a great deal of gossip. If Tiger had Rot himself a new coat, it was always whispered from one end of the jungle to the other. If any of the tree-top birds had had an egg stolen from the nest, if there was a quarrel in the Parrot family, or Mr. and Mrs. Magpie had an argument, the Jungle Cat was always sure to hear it. And sometimes she heard things that she was not meant to hear at all. One night she heard some gossip about herself.

' "Have yon noticed the Jungle Cat's ears?" someone, said. ( I think it was the Kangaroo that started it. "No, what about them?" "Why, haven't you observed how very long they are getting? They were long enough before, goodness knowa, but now they are very, very long." "Yes, I've noticed that myself," said Old Elephant. '"If they keep on growing they'll soon be as long as my own. And, of course, standing up straight like that, they are very conspicuous." "Oh, very," echoed the Panther. "She looks quite like a rabbit at a distance." As the Jungle Cat listened to these remarks her face burned with shame. She hastened away to a deep pool, where the moonlight shone, to see the truth for herself. Standing on the brink, and peering at herself in the water, she saw that it was indeed true. Her ears were growing very, very long. They shot up from her 'head just like two church spires on a hill. "What shall I do?" moaned the Jungle Cat. "What shall I ever do?" At last she thought, "I will consult King Lion." So the very next night the Jungle Cat crouched in the favourite path where the Lion was accustomed to walk. About midnight she heard him coming, sniffing and "snorting and slashing his tail, so that all the little beasts were afraid, and scurried into their holes and nests. But the Jungle Cat was not afraid. She placed herself directly in his path and cried, "Oh, King Lion, what must I do for my ears, which have grown so long?" And King Lion replied with a roar, "You must wear a cap." So then the Jungle Cat made herself a cap out of some pieces she had, and this she wore night and day, pulled down snugly and tied under her chin. After that, of course, the-Jungle Cat could not listen to things that went on in the jungle, for the cap covered up her ears so tightly that she could hear nothing at all unless it -were shouted close by. Chancing to glance into the deep pool, she made a great discovery. Her cars were becoming" short. They were now only half as lons as before. -l 'suppose it's because I stopped listening.'' she thought. Then the Jungle Cat was filled with glee, and she danced about on the bank of the deep pool,' where the moonlight shone, and flung her cap. far into the middle. "Good-bye. cap!" she cried. So from that time the Jungle Cat always minded her own business and neirr listened any more, for she knew if she did her ears would grow long a^ain.—"Picture Story Paper."

ROSES. Christina Sosettl rings: The lily has an air, -' n 5 i£ c a grace, And the Sweet Pea a way And the Heartsease a face'Set there's nothing like th'« When it blows. 6 Ewi . Who does not love a rose? Mt tw favourites are the deep dark red ones and the sweet pink roses that grow cmZ sweet briar bush. * Sir Francis Bacon calls our attention to the fact that "Roses, damask and red are fast flowers of their smells. So that you may walk by a whole row of them and ffndnothing of their sweetness; yea'though it be in a morning dew." ' ! You must read tbe rest of that essay for yourselves to find out what flowers he considered the best for their smells It is so quaint, with its old-fashioned wording and many capitals, but too Ion" for mc to quote here. You know that Bacon is our greatest essayist, of course |but I wonder if you know this little' story about that great man: "Driving in his carriage one snowy day, the thought struck him that flesh might be preserved as well by snow as by salt. At once he stopped, went into a cottage by the road, bought a fowl, and with his own hands stuffed it full of snow. Feeling chilly and too unwell to go home, he went to the house of the Earl of Arundel, which was near. There he was put into a damp bed, fever ensued, and in a few days he was no more." Evidently other enthusiasts followed, on his train of thought, and now we have ice chambers on the big ships which bring from overseas frozen meats of all kinds. So Lord Bacon's deed was not a foolish one, wis it? Dear mc! How far I have wandered from roses! Roses red and roses white, Crimson rambler bowers; Kapturous rose that brings delightRose, the Queen of flowers! Though you have a little thorn, Sharp as sharp can be, It is but your sceptre, worn To show authority. MOUSMEE. She was a weeny little monkey, ever so gentle, and tiny and sweet. And they brought her over to England to keep her as a pet. Mousmee thought England was a very cold place, and sometimes she did the funniest things to get warm. One day she could not be found anywhere. And they thought she must have got out and lost her way. So they told the police, and went sadly up to bed. Mousmee belonged to Jimmy, and used to sleep in his room. And as Jimmy crept into bed his feet hit something. Jimmy threw off the clothes, and there was a* funny woolly bag rolling about in his bed. It was Mousmee, who had found the cover of the hot water'jug, got inside it, and curled up inside the bed! How Jimmy laughed. SKIPPITTY WEE. Skippitty Wee. a little brown gnome, Has gone on a journey—he isn't at home. Does anyone know where is Skippitty Wee? ; Is he out in the meadows or hid up in a tree, • 'Is he hiding with bunnies, as snug as can be? '-"''. Does' anyone know where is Skippitty Wee? * '.-\/k& Sh .' I can tell you what nobody knows,/--'-For I've followed -Skippitty on tippy^toes; He's out with the lambs, and he's teaching each one Exactly how skipping and dancing are done. I've seen them all leaping around in the sun. Following Skippitty—my, what fun! And that's why Skippitty, little brown gnome. "Has gone on a journey, and isn't at home.