BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 20980, 19 December 1931, Page 5

BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Hello Everybody!

The Christmas essay competition has T>een won by M. Ryalls, 50 Carson street, Mornington. The winning essay is printed belong this paragraph. The winning competitor in the missing words competition is Fred Tombs, 8 Preston Crescent, Belleknowes. _ The Words are: Cook, ship, girl, kiwi, fist stop, moor, tank, desk, past, tart, dear, ehsy. The thing all the bairns like is Christmas tree. —The Christmas; holidays have begun. When you read this you will all know the result of your last year’s school work. Brother Bill hopes that it proves hard work done well. Now the year’s school- is behind you and your face is toward all the fun and excitement of the happiest holiday in all the year. Read this word of caution carefully. There is always on,e rather sad aspect to holidays, that is, the frequency of holiday accidents. Small boys and girls, determined to have all the- fun and excitement, they can, are- tempted to take, risks, despite the kindly advice 'of their: elders. They play on the roads, go out. boating at the seaside, go swimming in deep water, and think it splendid fun to climb high places. Brother Bill asks the hundreds of bairns who read these columns to practice the greatest care these holidays. Do not, play on the roads, there will be more motors rushing to and fro because it is; the holiday season, and therefore greater danger. Do not go boating unless there is a capable man or wop?an—Vnth you in the boat, and, with a ! capable/person in the boat, do not practice gymnastic stunts from' seat to seat. Boys and girls who -will rock the boat may easily find that it can turn over. Do not swim too _ far in deep water. The further you swim from shore, the deeper the sea becomes, arid it is not always easy for a boy or girl who has shown people how far they can swim to find strength to swim all the way back again. Do not try how near you can get to the edge of a cliff without falling over. It is. usually a long-way to the bottom, and it is too late to be sorry once you start to fall. Big Brother Bill is anxious _to provide a complete radio installation for our Dunedin Hospital in 1932, but he is not a little bit anxious that any of his bairns should be among those who enjoy it. Having said all these cautionary things, he wishes all the bairns the happiest Christmas holidays. May your stocking be full and bulging over' when the time comes, and every minute bring you enjoyment that will mean happy things to talk about when school comes again. CHRISTMAS DREAMS & Have you ever Lad that feeling ' i That there’s something in the air; Some joy that makes your heart go reeling, ’As it does but once a year? £* Have you ever felt like sleeping To make the days; go fast; [When they’re only really creeping, Ever so slowly past?” And when you jump into your bed. Then heave a tired sigh; And think of things.so..far ahead, There’s another..day. gone.by. So be patient,! [ and always good, my friend, [ .... For that aay grows so hear; ’ 'And .see the things Santa Claus will i'-j send . [ , This day, hut once a year. --Jos. Oswald. THE COMPETITION Big Brother Bill will give a special prize of five shillings to the bairn who provides him; with the best "motto to head our columns during the year 1932. This is something in which all can join, and you are at liberty to obtain assistance from your parents and friends. The five shillings will be holiday pocket money for some < lucky bairn. Send your motto to Big Brother Bill, care of ‘ Evening Star, Dunedin. Mark your ,envelope “ Competition.”- ■ THE WINNING ESSAY M. Ryalls, 50 Carson street, Mornington. Five shillings—five whole shillings to spend; ten sixpences, sixty pennies. Christmas was very near and I had still no presents for some of my friends. But those two shining half-crowns opened up new possibilities. I pulled open a box of odds and ends and decided to make lavender bags. 1 cut out twelve pieces of stuff and made them into little bags, filled them with lavender, and on tho top of each put a little kewpie dressed in ribbon. Twelve kewpies at twopence and a yard of ribbon at threepence was two shillings and threepence. Two shillings and ninepence were left. What else could I make? In a shop I had seen shoe trees at fourpence a pair. Three pairs, cost one shilling. I painted the ends with gilt paint and covered the rest with ribbon, three yards at threepence. Then I remembered two little girls whom I knew did not have many dolls. I bought two little dolls with the remaining shilling. Out came the old box of odds and ends again, and the dolls were dressed.

I was very proud of my handiwork. Seventeen presents for five shillings. The kewpies sat upon the lavender bags and looked at me. At their feet lay the shoe trees resplendent in ribbon and gilt, and lying asleep, were the two little dolls. A most imposing dispay.

THE POSTIE'S BAG 383 Anderson’s Bay road. Dear Big Brother Bill, —You will no doubt be surprised to hear from me again, as it is a long time since we last corresponded. Well, Brother Bill, please accept a litl© excuse. 1 have been working hard all the year in order to gain my proficiency, so. I have had no time to write you a letter. We have finished bur. examination now, Brother Bill, so you can imagine how I anxiously await the arrival of the ‘Evening Star ’ to see if there is any report out. Although examinations come; Brother Bill, I, always make time to read the bairns’ page on Saturday night. I am entering for the comEetition this week, Brother Bill, so I ope to prove successful. Now, Brother Bill, I must bring my letter to a close. I have no more nows. Hoping to see my letter published, I will wish all the aunts and' uncles of Brother Bill’s big family, including yourself, a very merry Christmas and a bright and prosperous New Year.—l remain, your big bairn, Audrey Curran. [Many thanks for your letter, Audrey Curran. You say some very nice things about the bairn’s columns, so your excuse for not writing before is hereby accepted. There is a difference, you know, Audrey, between an excuse and a reason. An excuse is something invented with which w© try to escape from embarrassing circumstances; but a reason is not an invention at all. A good reason is a satisfactory explanation one is bound to accept. Yours was a good reason, and Brother Bill hopes that all the things you worked for have come true. Did you get your proficiency after all? It is a good thing to work for, and an excellent thing to have when one leaves the primary school. Brother Bill hopes that you were successful in all your examinations. Many thanks for your good wishes to all the aunts and uncles, and to Big Brother Bill; they are sent back again magnified a hundredfold. Write again soon.] ,168 Valley road, Kaikorai. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am writing to tell you that my birthday is on the 15th of this month. I would like you to Call it over the air. I will be eleven years old. I am doing all right with my collecting card, and hope to have it filled up during the holidays. I have two brothers and one sister. lam hoping to have a good time during our terra holidays.—l remain, yours faithfully, Una Burgess. [Many thanks for your letter, Una Burgess. Brother Bill wished you many happy returns of the day, and hopes that you heard him do so. Brother Bill is glad to know that you are doing well with your collecting card, and hopes that you get it filled during the holidays. You will have lots of time to try,, and there is no better way of spending time than trying to do good for other people. Brother Bill hopes that you do have a real good time during your Christmas holidays, but he also hopes that you will be very careful. It is so easy to do risky things but not so easy to escape the consequences, so, whether your are in the country, or by the'sea, or stay at home, be very careful to see that no accident happens by reason of the taking of unnecessary risks. A happy birthday, a happy Christmas, and a prosperous New Year to you from Big Brother Bill.] 8 Wales street, Bishopscourt. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I have not written to you for a long time, but seeing that I have nothing to do I thought I would write my letters now. I am in Standard V. at Maori Hill School, and am eleven years old. We have a rabbit called Loppie, as he is rather fat, he eats quite a lot. I sometimes forget to feed him, bub dad always remembers about him. One night we heard a dog barking, and dad said it was the dog which lives down the road, but Afterwards a knock came at the door. The man at the door asked us if his dog was there. After looking round we went to look at the rabbit. There was the dog trying to get hold of the poor rabbit. It was a cocker spaniel dog (they are the kind which like rabbit hunting). In the morning the neighbours told us our rabbit was in their place. We searched round, but all in vain; then, as the last rays of hope went out, we caught sight of him under a tree. I am sorry, hut I will have to close now. —I remain, yours affectionately, Nance Guthrie. [Many thanks for your letter, Nancy Guthrie. Brother Bill has kept it on bis file intending to-print it one day, so now you can see it in all the importance of newspaper print. Topsie most certainly had an adventure with the cocker spaniel. Most dogs will kill a rabbit, but some dogs look upon the killing of bunny as a very important and exciting business. A cocker spaniel is one of these. It was no wonder that he was trying his best to get at Topsie. Brother Bill does not know exactly why dogs should wish to kill rabbits; neither does he know why cats should wish to kill mice; but they certainly do, and enjoy it, too. The wise men say that it is old Mother Nature’s way of keeping a proper balance in the number of her bairns, although it isn’t a very nice way to do it. Another reason is to keep her bairns fit. The bunny who knows that his life is forfeit to his natural enemy if he slacks about important things takes good care of himself in. every way. For example, among other things the bunny in the wild state usually has some mate on the watch for

strangers, and warning thumps on the ground are given when enemies appear. Also, the little white flag that is bunny's tail is used to warn all other bunnies that danger is about. It bobs up and down when a bunny runs for cover, and every other one in teh neighbourhood sees "it as a warning. Mother Nature, when she made natural enemies of birds and beasts, gave each the power to defend themselves ns well as be offensive to one another. When boys and girls have pets it is a wise thing to take ©very precaution to protect them from their natural enemies. If you do that with Topsie she will live to a ripe old age and give you happiness all the time. Brother Bill hapes that this will be so.] 32 Easther crescent, Kew, Caversham. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am not a member of your happy family, but I would like to be. I like reading the children’s page in the ■' Star ’ very much. I go to Caversham School, and am in Standard 11. ,1 am sending you a few books' which might please some of the children in the hospital. Hoping to become a member of your happy family,—Yours truly, Peggy Elvidge. [Many thanks for your letter, Peggy Elvidge. You are welcome to the family. Brother Bill should have answered your letter before; but better now than not at all. Many thanks for the books sent for the sick children; they were very much appreciated indeed. You go to one of the nicest schools in Dunedin, and as Brother Bill passes he notices that the bairns with their gardens are making it nicer all the time. It is a school that one could be proud of, and Brother Bill hopes that is the feeling of Peggy Elvidge about it. You will be now entering upon your Christmas holidays with all the excitement and fun ahead of you. May you have a very happy time, with nothing to mar or spoil .it in any way.] THE RECIPE A cure for the shy I offer you, brothers: Forget about 1 And think about others. SUCH A LITTLE FELLOW It was a day of sudden showers and blustering winds in Budapest. Also it was one, of those days when toll is being levied on all passers-by for the benefit of some charity. This time it was for poor and crippled children. At every street corner stood a table with a large red parasol spread over it, and at every table a patient, shivering lady sat guarding the funds collected and brought to her by her company of smartly mackintoshed young women. Disconsolately now and then the smartly mackintoshed young women walked back to their headquarters to show how slowly their money boxes were filling. • .It surprised them that when they stooped to beg for a good cause the results should bo so meagre. But there was one table to which a well-filled box was brought every hour or so. And brought not by a pretty and smartly-clothed damsel, but by a bare-footed urchin'of twelve. He was not even a good-looking urchin; his face was pinched and pale; his eyes lay deep in their sockets, and the hands protruding from his outgrown and much-patched jacket were red and chapped. But the smile with which he placed his spoils on the table and bogged for another box to fill was so radiant and happy that while it lasted you saw nothing else about him. A visitor to that table asked with some curiosity who and what he was. “A charity school boy,” she was told. “ His mother is a charwoman, his father fell in the war. Three years ago he offered to help us collect, and he has never failed to turn up since whenever we have wanted him. He is the best worker we have—absolutely tireless and fearless—jumping on to moving taxis, hoarding motor buses, driving underground to meet the tube trains. You see the results. He coir lects ten times as much as any one of the others. • ■ “ And don’t imagine he does it for personal gain. We have offered to pay him for his work, but'he refused to take .anything. The only thing he did accept once was a pair of old boots. But he will not wear them yet, as you see; he says he is keeping them for the winter.” When, a little while later, the boy drifted past them the visitor beckoned him to her. “Look!” she said. “Here is something for your box. And here (she held out another coin) is something for yourself to buy what you want.” “Thank you!” cried the boy gladly at the first gift. And “ Thank you ” he repeated more quietly at the second. Then his deep-set eyes suddenly lifted to the giver’s face. “ May I not put that into the box, too?” he asked shyly. _ And already, taking her surprised silence for consent, he had slipped the coin into the slot. She caught him as he was moving away. “ Tell me,” she asked, “ why did you do that?” “ So that there should be more money for the crippled poor children, of course,” he answered. “ I don’t know what it’s like to be a cripple, but I do know what it is to be poor.” And he was off again, pursuing a ear which had been held up by the traffic. A GREAT BEAST AND HIS MASTER Along the Grand Trunk road through Delhi a big Indian elephant padded in the dust and the sunshine. Behind the huge head and flapping ears .perched the mahout, saying a gentle word of encouragement now and then to his charge, but at other times nodding a little sleepily in the heat. Both were bound for a native State. But this peaceful companionship was suddenly and disastrously interrupted. A noisy tram came clattering down the road. The elephant had never beheld such a strange and fearsome beast. In an access of timidity it shied wildly and violently. The mahout, also taken by surprise, rolled from his seat and came with a crash to the ground. He lay there still and stunned. The elephant forgot its fears in the presence

of this new cause of dismay. When the mahout fell, almost under the elephant’s feet, the elephant’s huge foot had been withdrawn only just in time. Bystanders hurried up in a state ox great excitement. The elephant allowed them to tie it to a thin _ railing and stood looking out of its little eyes at its prostrate master. But the master did not get up. He lay there unconscious, and the elephant whose world had crashed when the mahout fell, would not allow anyone to go near him. The Delhi native is not at his best in such emergencies. There were two hospitals not far away, but no one thought of seeking aid from them. Then a bright idea did oc'cur to son* 6 ' one. Why not try Queen Mary’s Girls School? Queen Mary’s Girls’ School was taking a holiday, and the few occupants left in the building were rather taken aback by an appeal for help for a man said to have been lying unconscious for an hour and a-half by the roadside. | But a captain of the Girl Guides rose to the occasion, and this is what she saw. The mahout still lay on the ground. The elephant was still fiercely trumpeting and would allow no one to go near. Two assistant mahouts could do nothing. Tlie Girl Guide very naturally asked why they did not take the man to the hospital. They replied that the elephant would allow no one to go near, and would obey no one. This deadlock was fortunately _ interrupted by the stricken mahout himself. Ho stirred, and half sat up. The elephant allowed the assistants to go near him and help him to an open space oft the road. He waved a little stick and feebly murmured a word of command. The elephant followed. Between two large trees in the open space he ordered it to lie down. It obeyed, and suffered itself to be anchored by a leg to each tree. When this was done the Girl Guide ordered a tonga, a two-wheeled cart, to take the mahout to hospital, and when he was safety laid in it she breathed a sign of relief at having dealt satisfactorily with a difficult situation. But the elephant was not satisfied. Bereft of its master, it champed and trumpeted, strained at the chains, and began to uproot the trees. The earth shook. So did the bystanders. They raced off to bring the tonga back. Back it came. Someone found a charpai, or string bed, and by the mahout’s directions he was laid on it by the side of the elephant. It was the right friend to stand sentinel over its master. For ten days it did so, allowing no one to come near except the doctor. The Delhi people say that all this time the elephant neither ate nor drank. That is perhaps an over-state-ment, but one who tells this story is certain that it wept, for she saw it do so. Great tears trickled down its face. The last act in this little drama shows us the mahout recovered and allowed by the doctor to leave Delhi, with the caution that he must be taken in a tonga. And behind the one-horse vehicle, meekly following and obeying _ each word of command, padded the faithful elephant along the dusty Grand Trunk road. ALLIGATOR MEETS HIS MATCH George, the Zoo’s large centenarian alligator is suffering from a bad attack of sulks and depression. Until lately he had the reputation of being the terror of the reptile house and the most accomplished fighter in the menagerie, for George had killed two alligators and a crocodile, and been the unscathed victor of innumerable battles. But now the championship has been taken from him by a giant water tortoise from Malaya. After he had committed his third crime George was sentenced to solitary confinement, but the tortoise (Horatio) became his housemate because he, too, had won too much distinction in the battlefield. Owing ot a shortage of suitable ponds Horatio could not be provided with a den to himself when he arrived at the Zoo some weeks ago, so he was asked to share a home with some smallish alligators and crocodiles. The result was that within a couple of hours Horatio was in complete possession of the pond and his companions were huddled together on the banks in a state of terror. The water tortoise was at once removed to a pond occupied by several medium-sized crocodiles; but again he snapped at his housemates. Once more Horatio was moved, and this time he was introduced to largish crocodiles and alligators, but he managed to terrify them in the same manner. So he was then placed in George’s domain. . . George was in good form, and, opening his jaws aggressively, he advanced to meet the intruder. But the tortoise simply withdrew into his thick shell, and although the aligator spent the following three weeks trying to dispose of his new companion, he never managed to get his teeth into any part of Horatio but his shell. Then Horatio began his tactics. Day after day he nibbled and snapped at the alligator’s feet until, at length they became so raw and sore that George was forced to leave the pond and remained on the bank until the keeper took pity on him and removed Horatio. Soon after the tortoise’s victorious departure a crocodile in a neighbouring enclosure managed to scramble over the barrier into George’s home. George quickly recovered his spirits and forgot his painful toes; he snapped his jaws and drove the visitor into a precarious position on the edge of the pond. But just as George was waiting with wide-open mouth for the collapse of his victim, the keeper intervened. Zoo visitors who go to the reptile house either to commiserate with George _or to congratulate Horatio should interview a most entertaining newcomer in a ridged esulanta (or crying frog) from Brazil, which behaves and looks like the clockwork toys sold by street vendors. The frog is a large species beautifully camouflaged in brown, with broad green markings, and when angry ho inflates his body until he seems to he made of indiarubber. As he is exceedingly badtempered, the frog is often angry, and if the keeper lifts him out of his den and places him on the floor, the reptile blows himself out, gives a little .hop, and opens his month wide to squeak loudly. Each time he is prodded gently he repeats this performance, and as his anger ceases his body deflates and his cries die down just as though he needed winding up, THE GHOST ON CHRISTMAS NIGHT It happened when we were staying at Grandmother’s; we’d often stayed there before, of course, hut never at Christmas time. Anyhow, we were staying with her that year because father was wounded at the Front, and mother was nursing him. Wo were all sitting round the fire in the playroom on Christmas Eve, roasting chestnuts and talking, when suddenly Christine —who’s the only girl of us three— Bob and me being boys—suddenly cam© out with it: “ I say, did old Ann tell you about the ghosti?” she said*

We said no, for old Ann hadn’t. “ Buck up, and tell xis yourself, said Bob, “ for there’s something awfully interesting about gbosts.” “ Listen, then,”- said Christine. “It’s in this house. Every Christmas night, Ann told me, it used to bo supposed to sit and weep in the gableroom. Of course, slie says, it doesn’t really. It was some Plantagenet girl, or something. I’d rather like to see it.” Of course we roared at that. Girls are terrified of ghosts, and always have been; and we told her so pretty plainly. She got quite ratty, in fact, at our words, for Christine hates being reminded that she’s a girl. “ You’re a pair of hateful teases,” she said; “ you deserve some one to tease you!” Then we roared again, and she shut up and wouldn’t say a word; I really thought she was sulking or something until, when Bob went out of the room to get a book, she suddenly turned to me: “ Tom,” she said in her ordinary voice, “ I’ve got such an idea.” “ What is it?” 1 said; for Christine really has good ideas sometimes. “ I say, it’s the ghost. Let’s frighten Bob. He says he doesn’t mind them: but wait till he sees one! If you’d dress up in a sheet and sit in the gableroom to-morrow, I’d get him to go up. He can’t say no, if 1 ask'him ; he’d be ashamed to.” “ All right,” I said, just for a joke. It seemed rather a good joke, too. Next night, Christine dressed me up in sheets and things in her bedroom, and then, just at nine o’clock—and it can be awfully dark at 9 o’clock on Christmas night—she said I was ready. I felt a bit funny—l won’t deny it—as I went along the passage to the gableroom. I hoped Chris, would hurry Bob up, and I said so; then he could get his fright and he don© with it, and I needn’t hang about in haunted rooms. “Hop© you won’t see the ghost yourself,” said Christine in a terrified sort of voice as she left me at the top of the- stab's and stood to watch me go in at the gable-room door. You won’t believe it, but, the minute I entered the room, I saw it; it was all in white, sitting at the table; and sobbing! I forgot I was dressed as a ghost myself—and if Chris, hadn’t been watching from the stairs I’d have skedaddled—l own it; but 1 took a step forward, though my heart beat like a hundred hammers. And then the ghost looked up. Ive never seen such a face: it was all white and staring; it stopped sobbing, though, at that instant, and, instead, it gave an awful shriek: “ O-h-h-h-h!” it went. And in ah instant I’d twigged, for it was Bob’s voice! Christine had taken us both in; she had got us both to dress up as ghosts and frighten each other, and had succeeded! “ I say, Bob!” I said, and threw off my sheets just in time to stop him as he fled to the door, “ stow it! Don’t let Chris, know; it’s only me. Lets get the better of her yet ’’—and we put our heads together. And the end of it was that we both came out looking cool and collected, and found Christine on the stairs, beginning to look anxious. “ I say, Sis, you’ve muddled your ghosts,” I said with a yawn; “ 1 found Bob there before me.” . “ Trust a girl to muddle things, said Bob.

You should have seen Christine’s face; she did look small—and she’s never mentioned that ghost since. All the same, it was a jolly fright we both got that night, sure, though we wouldn’t let her know that same for nuts! SAEDI’S GRATITUDE A GOOD-NIGHT TALE Eve had married and had gone out to Kenya. Before she had left England she iiad been a nurse, and rather to her surprise she found her knowledge very useful in a place where doctors and nurses were apparently scarce. At first everything seemed very strange to her; It took a long time for her to become accustomed to tbc quaint little houses, with their mud floors, for she came from a very spick-and-span home,, where every cup iiad its own hook and every spoon its special place. But Eve came to love the lile of a colonist. There were always the animals to look after; and she took a great pride in her garden, much to the amusement of her friends at home, for it would never have occurred to her in the old days to take up even a weed. She looked with envy at her neighbour’s lovely garden, with its grand display of flowers, but consoled herself with the thought that after all five years’ work had been put into it, and that one day hers would look as fine. ■ When holiday-time came round Eve and her husband decided to -join some friends and go on safari. Saedi, their little black cook, was to go with them. He nearly burst-himself with pride, and at once felt himself very superior to all the other boys. The necessary preparations and packing done, the little party set out. They had a very successful holiday till the last day. They had decided to go for a picnic to a large cave on the mountain side, supposed to be the playing ground of young lion cubs. But from start to finish the picnic was a failure. First one of the party showed signs of fever coming on, another sprained his ankle, no lion cubs were to be seen in their usual'haunts, and the final catastrophe was when Saedi tripped on a rock, fell, and broke his arm. As there was no doctor on the spot Eve came to the rescue. She hound up his arm in a very masterly way, and soon had him comfortable. Saedi was full of wonder at his mistress’s skill. It was very unexpected, too, for he had never had much opinion of women; now she went up in his estimation by leaps and bounds. The following day the party reached home, glad enough to he back, as is so often the way after a holiday. The same night Saedi, with rather unusual generosity, offered Eve a large bouquet of beautiful flowers out of Gratitude for what she had done for him. As soon as lie liad left the room a dark fear stole into Eve’s heart. She crossed the room to the window. It was as she thought. Her neighbours had paid the price of Saodi’s gratitude. Their garden was stripped of every flower!

THE HONOUR SQUARE

Una Burgess, 168 Valley road, Kaikorai, is awarded five marks for neat writing. Nancy Guthrie, 8 Wales street, Bishopscourt, is awarded five marks for an interesting letter.