BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 20374, 4 January 1930, Page 14

BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

A WEEKLY TALK Brother Bill is writing these notes away from home, or anything connected with the activities of _ his largo family. The sun is shining in a blue sky, splendidly warm as though trying to make up for his absence lately; the gulls are wheeling and wailing overhead ; the sea is making the crooning noise specially soothing on a summer’s day; and there is the sound of happy laughter from men and women and bairns on the beach. _ It is just the right kind of day to wish all the family a bright and happy New Year. It is also the right kind of day to remember gratefully all the good folk who have sent Big Brother Bill kind letters and happy greetings during this holiday. Big Brother Bill thanks them all and returns their good wishes a thousandfold. _ He is wondering what all his bairns are doing this holiday. In the country, and by the beach, on the hills, or climbing the mountains. The other day he called at a friend’s place in the country for afternoon tea, and, as he sat on the verandah, a shy voice said: “Good afternoon, Big Brother Bill.” The voice belonged to one of tße bairns who has often performed in front of the “mike,” and both Big Brother Bill and this bairn were nearly 100 miles from 4YA. It seems as though our family is everywhere. On another day Big Brother Bill drove into a country place and stopped tor lunch. After he had spoken to the lady behind the counter, she said: “Excuse me, but aren’t you Big Brother Bill ?” He replied? “Guilty, madam, She said: “My little girls listen to you. and read your columns. I recognised your voice.” So Big Brother Bill enjoyed a cup of ten.with two more of the bairns. And there was fifty miles difference between the two places. It is a rather wonderful business to be Big Brother to a fariiily so scattered through the land, but on every occasion that fie has met with members of the family, they have been just the sort of happy bairns that he suspected. We are a big family, just as happy as we are big, and the Big Brother wishes that this may continue for all during 1930! May the family still grow bigger, and its happiness never grow less Your always affectionate, BIG BROTHER BILL.

THE COMPETITION Here are some things to be seen on your holidays by the beach. They are all to be seen if you are sufficiently observant, and all you have to do is to write them down neatly. The prize is two shillings and sixpence. 1. am made by the restless sea, and. if placed in your bed you would restless be. „ . , . , , 2. I am too small to be counted by the eye, yet myself, and millions like me, stay the march of the mighty sea. 3. I grow in the' garden of the sea, but cast on the shore am but a weed. 4. A certain fishes worn-out suit or clothes. . . ■ , , . 5 I am cousin to the snail, but good eating if you like me well. g.Jlj am small and of blue colour, and my family goes back to the beginning of the world. 7. X am thrown up by the tide, dirty on one side, but on the . other have all the colours of the rainbow, vand within me grow pearls. g J am shaped with a hern and crinkled like an ear, and within .me has lived something that all fishes love tO 9 G —Let me but get ray hands upon a rock and I will not move while I h Td —I am like a tiny octopus, and when you see me lying on the sand you may fish sure of getting bites.

PER DRUMS WARTEDThe following invito letters from readers of this column Marvio Clarke, Bay View road, South D James Gray, 2 Valley road, Kaikorai. THE POSTIE'S BAG 2 Valley road, - Kaikorai. Dear Brother Bill,—For a long time I/have read your weekly page in the ‘Evening Star,' and have mended to write and ask you if 1 may join your happy family. You seem to me to be a real nice big brother who loves to make girls and boys happy. I'saw last week in your page that a member brought about the idea of writing to one another. I think that is great, and hope it proves successful. I am th» oiliest boy in the family, and I have n« “ big brother.” I went in for my proficiency a while ago and the other day I received; the joyful nows that 1 had passed My parents gave me a bicycle for getting it, and. 1 am looking forward to a great time in the Christmas holidays. There 1 will be many exciting rides. I intend to go to Silverstrean often, also Brighton and places that give one a day’s enjoyment. My birthday is on the 24th of February, and I will then be fourteen. Are you getting excited at thought of Christmas? I am. Did you ever have to be Fathe Christmas” ? what a jolly one you would be. lam sure you would revel in it. My brother is extremely foni of animals, and has now two young pigeons. He is very faithful to their wants, and he is quite excited because they kpow him when he goes to then. He once had a white rat and, of course, he could not see why my sisters and mother would not handle hijn and go near his cage. - But 1 am afraid it did not live very long, for my mate’s dog happened to go near it and having never seen one of those strange creatures, killed it by barking and running around the cage, and it died of fright. Well, Brother Bill, hoping you will allow me to enter into your Targe family,! remain, your loving brother, James P. Gray. [Thank you for your nice letter, Jim Gray; it is interesting enough to put your name in the Honour Square. \on say some very nice things about Big B-other Bill, for which he rises in his seat and bows fairly gracefully. It is nice to be thought very kindly of any-

Hello Everybody I

way, and Big Brother Bill will keep your good opinion in mind if he is ever called upon to act as Big Brother to Jim Gray. It was queer that the white rht should hav died of fright. We have a tamo white mouse at our house, kept m a cage, arc! our bis; black tom cat very often sits on top of the cage hmking hungry things. You can see horn shining in his green eyes as he watches the white mouse and thinks, men a nuisance who invented fine wire retting. But the mouse doesn’t mind a little bit. He sits up and washes '.is face, or nibbl bread between his cunning littb pink paws, as if there were no green-eyed hungry cats in all the world. Yes, Brother Bill has acted the part of Father Christmas; he'did so this Christmas to the joy of some bairns in Dunedin who would otherwise have had a very lean time indeed. They can teh best whetboi he made a jolly Father Christmas or not, but Big Brother Bill enjoyed it immensely. Thank yoi foi your letter, you must write again soon ]

59 Signal Hill road, Opoho. Dear Brother Bill, —I would like to become one of your happy family. I always enjoy reading your letters in the ‘Star,’ and have always longed to become a member. I am ten years old; my birthday was last month. I have a brother and two little sisters younger than myself, but they are not old enough to enjoy your stories. lam entering for your competition this week. I hope you like my story. Igo to the Normal School, I am in Standard 111., but I hope to be in Standard IV. next year. We are going to the seaside for our holidays after Xmas. To me it does not come quick enough. I will close now, with love to yourself and all the bairns.-—From * Mercia Pagonis. [Your letter was neatly written, Mercia Pagonis. for which your name appears in the honour' square. The trouble about holidays is that they go just about as quickly as they come—more quickly, so it seems. Big Brother Bill remembers , three different things about the holidays when he Was a boy. First, the excitement of anticipating them, then the swift way the ! days passed by the sea, then the anticipation of the long train journey home again. He always felt there was something very unfair about the speed of the last two; the days seemed to melt like snow in summer. Brother Bill hopes fJiat you will have a most enjoyable time during your seaside _ holidays. You must write and tell him some of yopr experiences.]

HaU road, Sawyers Bay. Dear Big Brother Bill, —We have been having very bad weather since- 2 o.m. on Thursday. I have been out bird-nesting, and I have got four blackbirds’ eggs, six hedge-sparrows’, nine thrushes’, and one starling’s. T was going to write sooner, only mother said that the infection of chicken-pox which my brother and 1 have had would be carried on the paper. We have eleven chickens, and all of them are pullets. We also have five hens, one cow, two nigs (one of which is going to be ■killed' iiv a fortnight's time), a cat, and a white rabbit. T have a meccano, which f am very fond of playing with. We are starting our term examination next week. Would you, please, nut-.my name down in the “Pen Chums” column. My second oldest brother, who is employed' at Messrs J. and T. Christie’s, goes away to Bushey Park, near Palmerston, at 6 o’clock in the morning and does not get home till about 9 o’clock at night. I will close now, as that is all the news. With love to all the aunts and uncles and yourself especially from your loving brother, Jack Broadley.

[Thank you for your newsy letter, Jack Broadley. Your egg-collect-ing expedition was quite successful, Ug Brother Bill doesn’t think there is any harm in collecting birds’ eggs—he once had a collection himself; but don’t destroy the young birds, Jack. The birds eat the fruit, to be sure, and if you are growing raspberries or strawberries in your garden you soon discover what luxurious tastes they have. But they destroy the grubs and insects, too. It seems fair payment that they should have an occasional berry or two if they destroy the damaging insect pests. In America they have waged war on the birds only to discover that they have now a worse problem in the shape of much morb destructive insects which the birds would have destroyed. So remember, son, eggs may be collected, but birds must not be destroyed with needless cruelty. Mother Broadley must be a very considerate and thoughtful sort of person, but all good mothers are that way, Jack. You are very fortunate to have all those pets and playthings. Your name will go down in the Pen Chum’s column, and Brother Bill hopes that someone will write to you very soon.]

Bay View road, South Dunedin. Dear Big Brother Bill,—l thought I would write to you and tell you all my news, First of all, I have got a new nephew. He is four months old, and he does nothing except laugh, eat, and sleep. We have nearly finished our exam now at school. Would you please put my name in the “Pen Pals’ Column.” I asked before but it 'was not put in. Christmas is near now, isn’t it, Brother Bill? I am looking forward for holidays and presents. But' that is being greedy, although I think that everybody likes presents. Do you like reading, Big Brother Bill? I do. I think I like history made up into stories about boys and girls 'and knights best. I have a book called ‘Three Little Cavaliers.’ It is about the Royalists and Roundheads. Dad says I’m a bookworm, but he -read 3 a lot himself, and I think it’s a case of saying people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” don’t you, Brother Bill? Well, I think T must close now as it is getting late and I’m sure I don’t want to be left in the dark with the lights out. With lots of love, I remain your affectionate sister, Marvie Clarke. [Brother Bill thanks you for another delightful little letter, Marvie, Clarke. Reading is very flue and Big Brother Bill share-s your liking for it, little sister. But you do not expect that he will incur Father Clarke’s anger by agreeing with what you say, do you? It is-the special privilege of all fathers to keep a watchful eye on their sons and daughters; and it is an extra Special privilege to give words of advice. If,Father Clarke thinks that his

small daughter reads ; too much, she had better take due’heed of his warnings. The very best things do harm uiuess one remembers that moderation is good. Your name will appear, in this week’s Pen Chums’ Column. Christmas has come—and gone; but Big Brother Bill hopes that all your wishes in the shape of presents were more than gratified.

A VERY QUEER CONCERT VERY LIKE FAIRYLAND The strangest concert in the . world has beeir held not far from Trieste, in the underground caves of Postumia. In the old days these caverns were a legend. It was said among the people hundreds of years ago that there were mysterious caves running for twenty miles underground, with a river of tremendous force, and, among many halls, one vast hall which would hold nearly 20,000 people. No one knew quite where they were. Just over a century ago the entrance to the caves was discovered, and they were opened up. Since this district has belonged to Italy people have been intensely interested in the amazing underworld town. A railway line has been laid, and a funny little train of about sixty open trucks takes people down into the caves, 600 ft below ground. There could hardly be anything more like fairyland than this journey in a winding train through caverns shining with crystals and stalactites, ending in the great hall known as the Elysian Fields. On the concert day the illusion must have been complete. , The concert was given by the choral society of Natisone, helped by an enormous band drawn from fifty towns and villages. The hall, needless to say, was crowded.

Sounds echo in the great hall as in a vast cathedral. Only those who were at the concert know just what the music of Beethoven and Wagner can be* in such circumstances. Curtains had been hung on various parts; of the walls, and the lighting effect was so lovely that the audience wanted to stop their ears so that they might use oqly their eyes. This magic hall of fairyland has a natural dome of some 300 ft, set with crystals and curiously-shaped stalactites. It must have been of some such place that Coleridge dreamed ,when he wrote ‘Nubia Khan’; In’Xanadu did Kuhla Khan A stately pleasure dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Y .Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea, THE MAH WHO RAH ON ERIC LIDDEL WINS ANOTHER RAGE One bf the finest athletes in the world is Eric Liddell, the champion runner in the Olympic Games and the Scottish itugby international. Mr Liddell has distinguished himself in other directions also. ' He secured his degree of Bachelor, of Science at Glasgow University with high distinction. He is also a very popular speaker and keenly enjoys camping with boys. For the last three years Mr Liddell has been teaching Chinese boys in the Anglo-Chinese College of the London Missionary Society at Tientsin. Since •lie has been there the college athletes have greatly improved, and they have won.many championships. Mr Liddell himself still finds time for athletics, and he recently, crossed from China to Japan to take part in an international sports meeting there. He discovered on arrival that his race, the 400 metres, was timed to be run only a quarter of an hour before the steamer left Ahe _ dock in Japan to take him back to China. He arranged for a taxi to be waiting for him on the sports ground, and when the time came for his race, which he won, he did not stop at the winning-post, but ran straight on, jumped into the waiting taxi, and reached the dockside to see the Tientsin steamer fifty yards away from him, just leaving the sjde. In between Were parcels and boxbs and barrels and all the usual dockyard impedimenta. Liddle steeplochased over these and raced to the end of the. dock which the steamer had to pass on her way out. With a tremendous flying leap he jumped across 15ft of water and landed on the deck of the moving steamer.

THE CHILDREN’S HOUR At twilight when the dancing flames, Glimmered eerily and lent A glow of'glamour to the shadowy room, She told them tales of wonderment. And laughed to see the wide, mazed eyes, Lit with the old, old flame Of questing youth, that never dies. She held the youngest tightly by the hand, And led them—a small, wondering band, Into a dim, enchanted land. A land of heroes and of pageantry, Of gay adventuring—the home Of mystery and wild barbaric ploys, An Eldorado gave she them to roam. Wrapt in the.magic of her voice, They knelt before the blazing fire, In hushed intensity—nor moved, nor SDokc* - Heedless of time—knowing but one desire' So listen, listen still. • . . So sped the children’s twilight hour, Into the past and memory it fled,' As with glowing eyes, reluctantly They trailed upstairs to bed! —Rene Wilkie, 48 Eglinton road, Dunedin;

THE GHOST OF THE MANOR First prize short story, written by Joyce Throp, 8 Lynwood avenue, Dunottar. ’ A strong wind howled round the old manor house and echoed dismally among the trees and down the chimneys, and the snow fell thick and fast. To the girl who was sitting within the noise seemed intojerable, she was sitting stock-still, white with terror, scarcely daring* to breathe. Her sisi ter, reading in the corner, did not seem to notice anything until suddenly she looked up, to see Joan, pale and wjiite “What’s wrong, Joan,” she cried cheerily, “you look .as white as a ghost?” Joan shivered, she was very, nervous and superstitions, and at .the word “ghost” she shuddered.' “Ugh,” she said “ but, Silvie, it is said in the old chronicles of Mardston that when the west wind howls the ghost of Hard stori prowls round the manor. , “You know,” she added, “the ghost is supposed to know where the priceless pictures and jewels are hid- “ As though a ghost would know,” sneered Silvia, “ but I dare you to go up into the room that is supposed to be haunted, in the west wing, at midnight.” Joan shuddered again, turned 1 white, then laughed. “Are you going too?” she asked. “ I’ll go if you are afraid to go yourself.” , “ Of course I’ll go,” answered Silvia, “ but since you seem to know so much about the ghost, what is it supposed to wear?” " A suit of armour,” said Joan. That night, at ten minutes to twelve, two girls met in one of the many corridors of the old manor. “ I’ve got the key of the west wing, ” said Silvia, “ I slipped it off dad’s chain. Come on.” When they reached the door which led to the_ west wing, Silvia unlocked it and whispered “ come.”

She started as her voice echoed along the corridor, and the key dropped to the ground. Joan ncked it up and Silvia, holding the candle aloft, led the way along the passage. “ The book says the thirteenth room on the right side,” whispered Joan. There Silvia stopped and opened the door. • “What’s that?” Joan blew out the candle as she uttered the words. “Listen,” she whispered. They listened. There was the loud whispering of. men’s voices. _ • “Yes, we’ll do it to-morrow night. The chart says: “ Press the thirteenth panel from Ihe right, Press it hard and press it tight, You will see a knot of wood, Press it well, and press it good, You shall see a wondrous sight, Jewels, pictures, in the, light,” ' It must be the Mardston jewels all right.” “Course it is,” whispered another voice. “ Well, we’ll come again to-morrow night with something to put them in.” Out of the door came two pien, one holding a lighted candle so that the light shone on his face. “ It’s cousin Gus,” whispered Joan. The girls heard one of the men say; “ Why, the door, is open. I’m sure I locked it.” “You can’t have,” said the other. “Well, I’ll do it now, anyway,” said the man with the candle, suiting action to word.

The key clicked in the lock and Silvia lit their candle at once. “Well!” she said. “ Quick,” said Joan “ we’ll hare to get the treasure out. The sale is tomorrow, and if there is much, we mightn’t have to sell at all. Thirteenth panel to the right he said.” She counted thirteen panels to the right of the door and sure enough, there was a notch of wood which she pressed. The panel slowly opened, and before their eyes were three iron-bound boxes and about three'dozen canvas rolls. “Treasure!” almost shouted Joan. Silvia had almost opened one of the dinvas rolls. They’re pictures,” she said. “ You stay here while I fetch Dad.” Soon Silvia came back with Mr Mardston. As soon as he saw the pictures he rushed forward and unrolled one. “ A priceless Rubens,” he exclaimed. “ Girls,” he said, “we shan’t have to sell to-morrow. How can I ever thank you. Come, let’s get out of here.” When the treasure had been moved to a safe place,- Mr Mardston put back the empty boxes and rolled some plain canvas. ‘ ‘ A trap to catch the thief,” he explained. And it did, the empty boxes and canvas deceived them entirely. Gustav Grey, whom Joan had recognised received a heavy sentence of imprisonment for his attempted theft, but Mr Mardston and his children lived

appily at Mardston Manor for many years. THE LOUIE RECIPE To make old fashioned treacle toffee try the following recipe *—Take a pint of treacle, two tablespoons of butter, a pound of brown sugar, and two , abiespoons of vinegar. Boil until a little hardens when dropped into cold water, then beat in a level teaspoon of baking soda, 'turn'into buttered tins, and mark off into fingers. Wrap in greased paper and pUt away for a day “ to ripen.” Cheerio, everybody, BIG BROTHER BILL.