A Tale from the Garden

Dominion, Volume 26, Issue 48, 19 November 1932, Page 19

A Tale from the Garden

In a shabby little house on One Tree Common lived a beetle, called Montgomery. ‘ “Shabby, yes very shabby,” he sighed, shaking his head sadly. ?Oh! that I were richer.” > •- It was quite true, bis one-roomed house was shabby. His rug, which at one time was his proudest possession, was now old and threadbare, his broom had only six hairs left out of thirtysix, his nightcap -had lost its-glossy shine, and his slippers were full of holes. . - ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ * . He sighed again, and blowing out hrs candle, he jumped into bed. He was so worried that he spent a wakeful night, and when at last asleep, he tossed and turned feverishly. ' Awaking in the morning, he blinked, and gazed about him. “H’m,” he said, “nothing’s missing, but it’s frightfully dark.” Montgomery- jumped, out of bed ahd pulled up the blinds, but a blank wall confronted him. He was snowed ■ up I How very cold, and miserable jt was. “Goodness.” said he, gloomily, “It

must be tli£ snow, that one hears, of eternally;” ■ '; '■ His teeth chattering with cold and fright, he sat down to breakfast, finishing up half of the food in the house. Ho waited for something to happen, but. of course, nothing did, and, being an impatient’beetele, he was soon down“i know,” he suddenly exclaimed. “H-er-a danger signal. Brains, I- have many,” and his chest swelled with pride, and he patted himself on the back. After sitting for a few minutes, deep In thought,-he said approvingly, “Bed means danger. Why, my red rug is just the thing.” Then, fetching the broomstick, after much difficulty, ho managed to, tie the

The--First Snow-Storm

red rug to the end of it. He then poked it up the chimney. Half an hour passed, and then, as he decided it was lunch time, ho set the table, and finished up every morsel of food. About teatime’ Montgomery, feeling drowsy and hungry, went to bed. When he heard, “Tap, tap, tap.” Rousing himself, 'he shouted, “Come in,” -But the tapping went on, and so he got out of bed. Peering up the chimney,! he made out Timothy Thrush, looking for his breakfast. Quickly Montgomery hauled down the danger signal." "I’m not going to be his supper,’? he said. He jit the fire, which crackled merrily,’ and melted the snow quite a lot. Timothy, hating smoke, spluttered, “Chirrhp, ishoo,” and flew away. Then that danger -was past. Going oyer to the window, he found the had sunk as low as the window ledge. Timothy had helped, and the fire to lower It. “I shall get out of the window,” was his resolve. Melting snow is awful to walk on, and he found himself sinking. So he struggled back through the window.

He brightened, however, when he saw the fender. Chopping it in two he tied one piece to each foot. Completing this task, he struggled through the window, and was soon at the summer house, where some of the garden folk were sheltering. “What have you on your feet?” asked Saminy Snail.., ■ ‘ “.Oh! Just snow-shoes,” Montgomery replied. ' They watched him curiously. • “How nice-they must be,” sighed Ethel Earwig. “Please sell me some.” So Montgomery was kept busy making snow shoes for all the garden folk. He bought new oak furniture, and Ethel will tell you that his is the most up-to-date cottage.—Original, by “Nonnie the Gnome,” aged 11, Napier.