BIG BROTHER BILL AND THE BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 19841, 14 April 1928, Page 17

BIG BROTHER BILL AND THE BAIRNS

A WEEKLY TALK Hello, everybody! The ice competition was quite good, but nobody got completely correct answers. The right answers were malice, paradise, device, Venice, mice, pice, slice, advice, dice, rice, vice, suffice, solstice, entice, Nice, trice, caprice, cornice, Alice. Ruby White, 31 Hums street, Caversham, and Winnie Robertson, 808 George street. Dunedin, divide the prize between them. Each made one mistake. Sooner than iiold the prize back it seems better to divide it. A gentleman who takes a interest in this column .vrote me a kindly note the other day. It began in this fashion: “My dear and wcllrespected Big Brother Bill.” Now, wasn’t that a dainty dish to set beloro the king? i felt quite bucked up when 1 read the beginning of the letter, and the rest was quite as mce. In the letter were these words, ‘ Why not use your magnicent opportunity of teaching children to give tncm sound and helpful advice.” Now, advice is like medicine; quite easy to give, but very nasty in the takingAnd 1 am nob sure the family would love me any the better for doing it. So I have decided not to take my good friend’s advice to begin with. But, listen to mo all the family, each week a motto will appear in this column. It will appear at the end of this little message, and will the printer please set it up in big capitals? Here it is:— BE THE SORT OF FELLOW YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER THINK YOU ARE. Yours affectionately always, > Big Brother Bill. AN INTERESTING FACT You know that birds leave queer little tracks in the sand and mud, and animals leave great scars made by their hoofs and paws. By these signs wo know they have been and gone, and on these signs is built the science of tracking. Did you know that men leave queer and interesting trades Unit tell of their doings in the same fashion? Hero is one. Look at your clock, or watch, and you will notice the numeral for four is III!., but it ought to be IV. What is the reason for this? Here it is in the shape of a story. The first clock that in any way resembles those now in use was made by Henry Vick, in 1370, for Charles \. of France. Charles V. was a gentleman who thought that he knew everything. He certainly did some fine things for his country, and as a reward his people called him Charles the Wise. But no man is wise enough to know everything, and if he pretends to be so is 'likely to look very foolish sooner or later. Henry Vick brought his clock to Charles, and the king found himself I looking at something about which he knew nothing. But lie thought that a little criicism would hide his ignorance. “The figures on the dial are wrong, he said to Henry Vick. “Wherein, your Majesty?” asked Henry Vick. “That four should he four ones, said the king. “You arc wrong, your Majesty,” said Henry Vick very firmly. “ I am never wrong,” thundered the king. “Take it away and correct your silly mistake.” And flenry Vick had to alter the figure IV. to 1 111-, or lose his head. As Henry Vick’s head was more valuable to him on bis shoulders than in a basket, lie altered the figures, and so they have remained to this day. But the figure 1111. on your clock is the sign of a king’s silly vanity. THE CLOWN “ What will you be when you grow up?” My daddy wants to know. I tell him that I think I’ll be A circus clown on show. I must bo dressed in red and white, With cuffs and ruffs of lace; The crowds will laugh when they all see My funny painted face. And when my horse and I ride in, My feet held to a strap, And head first down, I hope they will just clap, and clap, and clap. And then I’ll walk a long tight rope, And toss up balls and rings, And catch them on my big booked nose, And do all kinds of things. I must protend I’m frightened of Two jumbos and a bear, Lions that roar, and monkeys too; But, really, I don’t care. Still, I must learn to tumble down Without it hurting me, ’Cause that is what the clowns all do At circuses, you sec. M.S.B. BIRTHDAYS Just a little note of explanation regarding something that must appear quite strange to my family. The radio postio calls with a parcel at some places, but does not call at others. Now, why is that? Does Brother Bill like some members of his family more than others? Has he got favorites? What tosh it is to talk like that. Brother Bill has more sense, and would not hurt any member of his big family for all the tea in China. No, nobody has said a word about it, but Brother Bill wants to make everything as clear as daylight. The radio postic can’t call with a birthday parcel unless mum or dad writes to Brother Bill about a week before your birthday. Now, then, if you want the radio postie to call, you know exactly what has to he done. Place a pen, a bottle of ink, and a writing pad before dad or mum, and just make them write to Big Brother Bill. The rest will he quite easy; you see. Jean Wilde was nine years old on April 6. Many happy returns of tho day, and I hope it was a Good Friday for you, Jean, stacked full of the loveliest presents. I received your letter with all the birthday dates enclosed in it. We’ll make a note of them all, and send greetings as they come round. Alva is further down in this list. Thank you again, and arms full of lovo to all tho Wilde family at London street, Green Island. . , .. ~ Robert Bruce, 131 Mam road, Northeast Valley, was twelve on April 7. Many happy returns to Bob._ You re climbing up to manhood with long strides now, Bob; may every year make dad and mum more proud of their son. Be like your great namesake in courage and perseverance, and everything else will come to you. Richard John Seddon was seven years on April 9. He is a little chap, named

after a great man in the history of New ] Zealand. Many happy returns to; Dickie Seddon from all the radio family. I hope the birthday brought presents you wanted most, Richard, and that every day in the new year will he chock full of happiness. A barrel full of good wishes to R. J. Seddon, at 9 Corunna street, St. Kilda. Gwen King, Grange street, Dunedin, was eight years old on April 10. Many happy returns to Gwen. Thank you for your letter. I hope the loveliest presents came to you, Gwen; what’s the good of having a birthday unless one gets stunning gifts. Write and tell me what you received. Norman Brown, 70 Eden street, Oamaru, was seven years old on April 10. Norman was listening in at the home of his little friend, Pearl Waring. And the radio postie flashed over the air to leave a gift for Norman and Pearl at the foot of the wireless polo. Many happy returns to Norman; and happy, healthy days to little Pearl. Specially does Big Brother Bill send all love and pood wishes to Pearl. May the coming days bring her health and strength, making her a rosy little fairy to delight the hearts of dad and mother Waring. Alva Wilde, London street, Green Island, was seven years old on April lw. Many happy returns to Alva, and the very best of love and good wishes. ANOTHER CURIOUS SIGH-BOARD Here is another curious sign-board that used to appear in Wigan, Lancashire, England. I James Williams, parish clerk, saxtone, town cryer, bellman, makes and sells all sorts of haberdasheries, groceries, etc., likewise hair and wigs drest and cut on the shortest notis. N. B.—l keeps an evening school, where I teach at reasonable rates reading, writing, and singing. , N. B.—l piny the hoohoy occasionally, if wanted. T N.B.—My shop is next door where I bleed, draw teeth, and shoo horses with the greatest skill. ‘ ... N.B.—Children taught to dance, it agreeable, at 6d per week, by me, J. Williams, who buy and sell old iron, and coals—shoes cleaned and mended. N.B.—A hat and pair of stockons to he eudcrelled for, the best in 5, on bhrot Tuesday. For particulars encuiro within, or at the horse shoo and hell, near the church, on tother side of the way. _ FTJ3.—-Look over the door for sight of the three pklgeons. N.B. I sell good aylo, and sometimes cyder, and logins for single men. THE WEEK’S COMPETITION Here is a new competition. Ye will call this one town charades. The name of the town is hidden very caretullv, and what von must do is seek until you find. 'The first question is answered just to help with all the others. (1) A great religious leader, and Lhe place where his religion is taught. Christeclmrch. (2) A color, the letter o, and a noise. (3) An extinct bird and terra firma. (4) A source of w'ater, tho name or a fish, and a great weight. (5) A cunning animal and a great weight. . (6) A delicious Maori vegetable. (7) A color and a place for food and drink. (8) Men ivho had visited Palestine in olden days, and 2,2401 b. (9) The opposite to big, with a heavy weight added. (10) Head of an ecclesiastical order, and an easy place to cross a river. (11) A one-roomed house in the bush. (12) The name of a city iu Palestine. . . (13) A famous river in Palestine. (14) A legal gentleman crossing a river. (15) The opposite % to old, and something that happens in a cemetery. (10) The name of a girl, and village with its tail lopped off. (17) Tho negative, and something stretching from the land into the sea. (18) A mountain, and the world’s first garden. (19) Something everybody likes and the amount they like of it. (20) Something found iu Holland, and a good thing to happen to the fire on a cold morning. These are all names of New Zealand towns. The prize will ho the usual half-crown, and the competition will close on Saturday, April 21. THE POSTIE’S BAG 7 Prince Albert road, St. Kilda. Dear Big Brother Bill,—Since 1 was a very little girl I have been very fond of spending my leisure moments ■writing scraps of poetry and stories. I enclose some, and perhaps you would kindly write and toll mo if they would be of any uso to you tor your children’s page.—Yours truly, Ariti Andrews. [Thank you lor your letter, Ariti. I liked your little story of Gipsy and the ivoundcd fairy very much. Yes, I shall most likely' print it in the column. Watch tho column for its appearing. Poetry is not very easy to write, and 1 would advise you to study the work of those who have written it successfully. Your attempts arc not at all Dad for a little girl beginning to write poetry and prose. Certainly keep on trying; the old proverb “if at first you don’t succeed try, try again” applies as much to writing as anything else.. Keep on trying, and good luck I he with you.] 38 Magdala street, Tainui. Dear Big Brother Bill,—l am ten years old, and will bo cloven on December 8. Will you please enrol me in your little baud? 1 always read your bedtime stories. 1 read them to my little sister, who loves them. My father gave me a lovely bicycle, and wo ride to all tho beauty' spots around Dunedin. Often 1 go surfing at .the beach. 1 am in the Third Standard, and hope to pass next year. My little bister Rhoua is too small to ride a bicycle, so my father carries her on his; wo do have a glorious time. Morva Lilly. [What- a stunner time you all must have, Morva, riding on those bicycles. Rhoua riding with (M;. Morva riding at the side of both; but*isn’t somebodyleft out? What about mother? I can see that lather Lillv will have to buy a little car and take ail the family to the beauty spots. Perhaps mother Lilly, however, is like all good mothers, happiest when she secs those she loves best happy and contented. Thank you for your letter, Morva; write again soon.] Ettrick. Dear Big Brother Bill,—We are sending you a case of Cox’s Orange 1 ipnins. I hope you will enjoy' them, lours affectionately, Adrian Johnstone. (This is what might be called a most important letter, Adrian; short and to the point. I received the apples, anu they are absolutely “scrumptious. What shall I say to my kind friends in Ettrick? I can only say thank you a thousand times. Write again, Adrian; by which 1 do not mean write the same sort of letter in the same sort of envelope. Tell mo how fhe new orchard is getting along, and if you like Ettrick better than the Cathns.) Dear Big Brother Bill,—l wish very much to join your many sisters and brothers. 1 am nine years old, and in Standard Hi. at school, I have no pets, but I very much wish I had a kitten; but I cannot, because I have a little brother. —Yours truly, Dorothy Wimpenny. (W T hy docs the little brother kcepthe kitten away, Dorothy? Is he a little baby 7, and mother does not like cats about the house where he is? Never mind, Dorothy, a little brother is better

[than a kitten any day. If he is a teeny, weeny brother why not treat him ■ Pke a !;; 0 .ivc dull. Play pretends than you are his little mother, and ask mother to let you look after him. That ought to bo a stunner game, even better than hugging a kitten, although nice Persian kittens are the loveliest things. And you ought to be able to have your kitten when brother grows a bit.) THE LION AND THE GNAT A BED-TIME STORY This story happened in Central Africa, where are thick forests and wild beasts. It happened at the end of a day wheu the shades of night were descending, warning all creatures that it was time to seek their beds. The last sound had rumbled its rumble, the Inst bee had mumbled his mumble, the last bear had grumbled his grumble; even the grasshoppers chirruping all the day long had stopped their shrill chattering, tucked up their long legs, and gone to sleep. On a swaying grass blade a tiny gnat had made himself a swinging couch, folded his wings, closed his tiny eyes, and gone fast asleep. And in this perfect sleepy stillness, from the far-away gloom of the forest, came a sudden crashing, mighty roar-r-r-r. All the birds and beasts were wide awake in a moment. The poor little gnat was nearly frightened out of his senses. .Ho rubbed his little eyes "with his feelers, and then peered all around trying to see through tho darkness. “ What on earth was that?” he whispered in terror. Then came a rushing and crashing through the thick undergrowth of the forest, a clashing cf teeth like steel traps, and a lion bounded into the clearing where was the little gnat. Now the gnat was certainly not afarid of lions, so, ho cried out: “Hi, stop, stop, you great big bully. What are you making all that horrible noise about?” The lion stopped short, then sat down on his haunches and regarded tho littlo gnat with scorn. “What,” lie said, “you tiny insignificant little mean insect 1 How dare you speak to me?” “How dare I speak to you?” answered the gnat quietly. “By the virtue of right, which is always greater than might. Why don’t you keep to your own part ot ihe forest? What right have you to come here disturbing folks at this time of night?” Now, you cain imagine how angry tho lion became; but he restrained his anger. Ho knew that nobody can be master over other folk unless he first masters himself. “What right,” ho answered in dignified tones, “ because I am the king of the forest. That’s why. I can do no wrong, and therefore I do what I please. And I say what I please, eat whom I please, go where 1 please, simply because I am the king of the forest.” “ But who told you that you were king?” demanded the gnat. “Just answer me that ” “Who told me,” roared the lion. “ Why everybody says so! Isn’t it written in all tho hooks that children read at school? What more do you want?” “ Umph,” sniffed tho little gnat. “ Lots of things that are not true nro written in books. I’m not afraid of you anyway, and I deny your right to he king.” The lion worked himself into a perfect fury. His tail .switched from side to side, his great mouth opened wide, and a growl came up from the bottom of his throat. “You—you—you deny my right to ho king?” “I do, and, what’s more, you shall never bo king until you have fought and conquered me.” Now, the lion laughed; and a lion laugh makps just as much noise as a lion roar. “Fight! Did you say fight?” he asked. “ A lion to fight a gnat! Ho 1 ho 1 ho! My poor ribs 1 Here, out of my way, you atom of nothing, or I’ll blow you over-tho edge of the world.” But, though he puffed his cheeks until they were like blacksmith’s bellows, and blew with all his might, he could not disturb tho littlo gnat’s hold on tho grass blade. “Y'ou’ll blow your whiskers away if you’re not careful,” laughed the gnat, “ and I shall still bo here. Remember, if you dare to leave this place without fighting me I’ll tell the beasts of the forest that you are afraid of me, tuen they’ll make mo king.” ‘[Very well,” snarled tho lion, “since you want to fight, let it be so.” “Ihe one which conquers shall be king? ” “ Oh, most certainly,” laughed the lion, “are you ready?” “Quito ready.” “Then—Go,” roared tho lion. With that ho sprang forward with jaws wide enough to swallow a million gnats. And just as tho great jaws were ahem to close on the grass blade to which tho gnat clung, what do you think ho did? Tho littlo gnat spread his wings suddenly, and flew as nimbly as you please straight into one of the lion’s nostrils. And then he began to sting. My gracious, how lie did uso that little needle-pointed sting of his. At first the lion wondered where tho little gnat had gone; then lie roared like thunder as ho began to feel sting after sting inside his nostril; then he blundered about like a foolish, drunken man. But the little gnat wont on stinging. Then the lion foamed at the mouth, and moaned, and groaned in agony. _ But the little gnat went on stinging. Then the lion rubbed his head in the dust, swirled his tail in furious passion, sniffed and snuffed and spluttered. But tho little gnat went on stinging. “ Oil, my poor nose, my nose, my nose,” the lion began to shout. “ Como down, come down, come down. You’re king of the forest, you’re king, you’re king—only please come down my noso. My poor, poor nose.” So tho gnat Hew from the lion’s nostril back to his waving grass-blade, while the lion slunk off into the depths of the forest with his tail between his legs—beaten by a little gnat. “ What a splendid fellow I am, to be sure,” said tho littlo gnat, as he stretched his wings. “ I’ve beaten a lieu —a lion. Dear me, a clever chap like me ought to have been king long ago. I’m that clever, and big, and strong—oh, my gracious, what has happened now? ” While boasting about his victory, the little gnat had walked down his grassblade, right into some soft, silky threads stretched acioss the ground. It was a spider’s web hung from the overhanging branches of a tree. Oh, the struggles that lie made to get free, onlv to become more entangled than ever. Then, slithery-slidity, slitheryslidity, glidery-glidity,_ glidery-glidity, down his cunning stairs _ came father snider to gobble up the little gnat for his supper. A strong lion—and what beat him? A little gnat. A clever little gnat—and what beat him? A silly thing like a spider’s web. There seems to be something the family might profitably remember in this story, doesn’t there?

THE LOUIE RECIPE

Here is a simple way to make chocolate fudge. You will need one cupful of sugar, three-quarters of _a of golden syrup, a quarter pint of milk, one tablespoon of butter, and two tablespoons of grated chocolate or cocoa. Place all the ingredients in a saucepan, and boil them together for fifteen minutes. Keep stirring all the time, and as soon as the mixture shows signs of becoming crystallised and stiffening, beat it up hard for a few minutes. Beat it like beating eggs, and beat it hard. Then pour into a greased dish, and mark into squares when cool. niioorin pvprvhorlv.

BIG BROTHER BILL.