BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 22086, 20 July 1935, Page 9

BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

SERVICE BEFORE SEIF The ■winners of the competitions are »» follow: —June 22: Alex, Weir, 70 Fitzroy street, Oaversham, 5.W.2 (under 10); Edna Weir, 70 Fitzroy street, Caversham, 5.W.2 (over 10). June 29: Sylvia Scott, 28 Bernard street. Mornington, W. 7 (under 10); S. Johnson, 6 Scott street, St. Kilda, 5.2 (over 10). Congratulations, THE COMPETITIONS The under-tens have a buried animal and fish puzzle, and the over-tens are asked to give the names of some people found in a book written by Charles Dickens, Send your replies to Big Brother Bill, care the ‘ Evening Star ’ Newspaper, Stuart street, Dunedin. Bo sure to mark the envelopes'" Competition.” BURIED ANIMALS AND FISHES ■. (Under 10 years; Prize, Is.) There is the nahie of an animal or fish buried in each one of these sentences, but to discover it you must read the letters back wards;— (1) Do not annoy me now, as I AM UPset by some other matters. PUMA. (2) London is known to have a fine tram system (3) The officer reported that there was no illness in the company. (4) The soldier drew nis sabre and Wounded a man. (5) We were alarmed when we heard no prattle in the nursery. (6) The gentle evening breezes blew •8 the ship sailed down the bay. SOME CHARACTERS' IH DICKENS (Over 10 years. Prize, Is 6d.) These are all characters found in the book called ‘ The Christmas Carol.’ Bee if you can guess them all; (1) Sen o'g e, (2) M x r 1 x y: (3) F e x x i w x g. (4) C x x t c h x t. (5) T x n y T x m. (6) T x p p e x. THE MODEL AEROPLANE CLUB Members of the Model Aeroplane Club will find a place here that will interest them. Each week there will appear something that will help dub xnenibersi This week Brother Bill is publishing the conditions of the Passmore Challenge Cup flight to take place later in the year. The plans of the Robin fuselage model will be ready in a few days, but the plans of the Bell Bird will bo ready for issue before this page appears. Club members are advised to cut out the Passmore Challenge Cup conditions and paste them in their scrap books for future reference. Big Brother Bill will be glad to explain any of the* conditions that are not clearly stated. CONDITIONS OF MODEL AEROPLANE FLIGHT. (1) The model shall weight one ounce for every;so square inches of wing area. For instance, a model with 125 square inches of wing area should weigh 2ioz. (2) The minimum area of the largest cross-section of the fuselage shall be derived* from the following formula : (L)2 (10) sq in where L is the length of the fuselage from the propeller bearing to the end of the fuselage, including the nose and tail blocks it tlaere are such. (20) 2 N.B.—L=»2oin, .*. (10)' =2x2=4 sq in (3) The model shall rise off the gftmrid (R.0.G.) under its own power, and shall not be, pushed or otherwise helped into the air. (4) The model must not drop any parts while in flight.

(5) The motor must be totally enclosed by tile fuselage except 5 per cent, of the area of one side of the fuselage may be left uncovered to gain access to the motor. (6) The average of three R.O.G. flights will be counted as one point a second in deciding the winner of the competition.

A PLACE FOR BIRD LOVERS New members to the Bird Lovers’ Club:—Dorothy Grace, 18 Gilfillan street, Tainui, E.l; Jack Keen, 67 Princes street, Musselburgh, 5.2; Ken Wynn, 9 Brighton street, Kaikorni, Dunedin, N.W.2; Margaret and Andrew Wilkinson, The Manse, 124 Main road, Wellington, N.2; Jim Farquharson, 9 Forbury Crescent, St. Kilda, 5.2; Clara Hunt, 3 Elliot street, Anderson’s Bay, Dunedin, E.l; Ronald Anderson, 32 Lynwood Avenue, .Dunottar, Dunedin, NiW.l; Betty Ralston, 72 Havelock street, Mornington, W.l; Lyall Beck, Brighton; Miss W. Mitchell, 22 Pitcairn street, Mornington, W.l; L. Brown, 151 Albany street, Dunedin. N.l; Olive Robertson, 9 Calder street. St. Kilda, 5.2; Ray Bartlett, 229 Oxford street, Dunedin, S.l; Betty Mackintosh, 26 Rawhiti street, Sunshine. E.l; Stanley Harris, 345 King Edward street, South Dunedin, S.l; Billy Evans, 5 Michie street, Roslyn, N.W.I; Isabel Lewis, Rosebank, Balclutha; Dorothy F, Beale, 23 Waverley street, South Dunedin, S.l; Owen Lane Davies, 468 d Castle street, Dunedin, N.l ; lan and Peter Ryalls, 50 Carson street, Mornington, Dunedin, W.l; Alfred Maddock, Papanui Settlement, Cape Saunders; Allan Smith, 74 Warden street, Opoho, N.E.I; Juno Findlater, Palmerston, Otago; Neil Motion, •13 St. Helidr’fi'Court, Gaversham Rise, Dunedin, S.W.I: Eileen O’Brien, 110 Bedford street. St. Clair, S.W.I; Gerald O’Brien, 110 Bedford street, St. Clair, S.W.I; Rosemary Johnson, 4 Royal Terrace, Dunedin, C.2; Vera Elder, care of Mr D. Elder, Knapdale R.D., Gore; Eddie Nelson, Carey’s Bay, Port Chalmers; Gladys Alcock, Gladstone road, Wingatui. The letters (published this week are from new members also. HELPING THE BINDS TO BUILD THEIR NESTS Here is a third section about nesting material for your scrapbook. It will come in very useful later on when the birds begin < to seek for things with which to build their nests. SMALL FEATHERS. The people who sell plucked, dressed poultry will save these for you if requested. Boil them in disinfectant, and after thoroughly drying cut all the fine material off the quills with scissors and tease this fine material out. DRY MOSS. This hangs on the vines and trees in the native bush, but it can also bo bought from the florists. You must not boil this, as it contains no insects nor insect eggs, and it is quite clean It must, however, he thoroughly teased out and broken into very small pieces so that the birds will make many visits to the box. Should you have any difficulty in obtaining dry moss ask your wood and coni merchants to help you. The man who supplies the wood to your coal merchant may be able to supply it

BIRD CLUB LETTERS Here is a number of letters from members of • the Bird Club. Brother Bill is sure that the bairns will be glad to read them. They are published without comment, so that more of them can be printed. It is quite clear that there is a good deal of happiness and real fun to be found in being friendly with the birds. 72 Havelock street, Mornington. W.l. July 4, 1935. Dear Big Brother Bill, —Will you please allow me to join vour Bird Chib, as I am very interested in birds? 1 have been feeding them for a fortnight now, and find the wax-eyes very comical when 1 am having my breakfast. When I started to feed the birds I found the neighbours very interested, and they are feeding them. too. I will close now, with love to you all, yours sincerely, Betty Ralston. 13 Hawthorne avenue, .Mornington, Dunedin, W.l. July 6. Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I join your Bird Club? We put out food every day for the birds. There are dozens of waxeyes, which come every morning for their breakfast. The bellbird comes every morning for its food. 1 fill a small treacle tin with sugar and water. My. brother draws it up on a pulley into a high grass tree. We put' the food on a table on our lawn for the other birds. 1 also put a piece of suet in our hedge. One day last week a tui came on to our tree, but it did not drink. Do you think it would if there were honey and water, dear Brother Bill. Hoping you will allow me to become a member of the club.—Hilary Poppelwell. 12 West avenue, St. Clair, S.W. 1., July 9, 1935. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am 10 years old, and am in Standard IV. at St. Philomena’s College. _ I like school very much. I have a sister, Colleen, who is five, and a little brother, Victor, who is two, and I enjoy taking him for walks when mother is busy. May Colleen and I join your radio family, and also the Bird Club? Every Christmas, when we go to Christchurch for a holiday, we feed the cape pigeons at Oamaru on sandwiches, and they flocik at the side of the train in great I enjoy listening to Thursday night's session, as it is in connection with the Bird Club. 1 shall write again soon. Wishing yon the best of health for the future.—Yours sincerely, Patricia Finlin. Brighton. 5.7.35. Dear Brother Bill,—May I join your happy family of bairns? I am nine years old and in Standard IL at Brighton School. I would also like to join your Bird Club, ns 1 am. very interested in our little feathered friends. I like listening to the children’s hour, ahd enjoy reading your page in Saturday night’s ‘ Star.’ A few days ago I awoke in the ■ morning, and you could never think what 1 saw. I expected to see the cattle grazing peacefully on the green pastures. To my surprise the meadows and the roofs of the houses were covered by a snow-white blanket. I was very sorry for the little birds that day, so I threw them an extra lot of scraps. It must have been snowing all night, for the world was a very pretty sight. Last Christmas holidays we went for a row on the river. Having reached Black Bridge uncle took a photo of ns in the boat. There we spent a little while rowing round about Black Bridge till, after a happy time on the river, we went home.—Yours truly, Mavis Wentworth. 151 Albany street, Dunedin, N 1, Juno 30, 1935. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am writing to ask you it I may become a member of your Bird Club? Mother and I listeu-in every Thursday, and quite enjoy the talk on birds. Would yon, please, tell me where I can get the glass tubes for the honey? I started a few weeks ago putting crumbs under my window-sill, and some sparrows used to come; but now 1 have lots of waxeyes. There is a tree next door on which I hang suet, and they come in dozens. One day, as 1 was hanging up a piece of suet, two of the birds sat quite close to me and did not fly away. Would yon, please, let me know when I can got a bird lover’s badge? I must close now, hoping to write again.—l remain, yours sincerely, Leslie Brown. District road, St. Leonards, June 27. Dear Big Brother Bill, —1 would like to join the Bird Lovers’ Club. I am in Standard 111. at school. I am nine years old. I live near the bush, and last year, when the gooseberries were ripe, a number of waxeyes was having a great time eating them. Last year there were two bcllbirds on the flowering currant tree. This year there is only one on a bluegum tree. It sings the most cheerful song. I like your talk on Thursdays. We have a cow, and it has to be milked when my father is 'coming home, and my sister and I take the milk bucket to my father ; so we have to hurry home to hear the children’s hour. We have been listening for two years, and enjoy them very much.—l am, yours sincerely, Gwen Tobin. District road, St. Leonards, June 27. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I would like to join the Bird Lovers’ Club. We live near a bush, so we can see a number of birds. ' Last year there were two bellbirds on the flowering currant tree. They sat there all day eating the honey out of the flowers, 'there is a bluegum tree growing near our house. It has white flowers on it just now. One bellbird has been visiting the tree nearly every day. it sings beautifully while it is on the tree. .1 like to look at Saturday’s paper. It is very interesting. 1 am eight years old. I am in Standard 11. at the St. Leonards School. —I am, yours sincerely, Kathleen Tobin.

49 Quari'v street, Musselburgh', 5.2, June 27, 193 h. Dear Big Brother Bill,— We are both n embers of , your radio family. My brother Jack and myself wish to join the Bird Club. Will you please send us a book and a badge each, and will you tell us where to get the glass feeding tubes? We have only a small lawn at the back of our house, with a flower border round it. Just in front of the breakfast room window wo have a small tig tree, from which we started feeding the birds about three weeks ago. At first we had only sparrows, then one day we saw a pair of wax-eyes at the snot, then Mother set a plate on the brandies, and in a very short time it was covered by wax-eyes. Since then they are hero every day. We have only the two kinds so far. One very cold day one thrush and one blackbird came to feed, ft is great fun to watch them flitting about from twig to twig. The sparrows and wax-oyes feed together in the morning when they are hungry, but later on they fight to see which shall have the right to stay. Dad and mum are as thrilled as wc are. I must close now, hoping to receive the book and badge soon.—Yours sincerely, Kathleen and Jack Russell. 20 Fortune street. Dalmore, N.E.I, June 14, 1935. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I have been interested in your talks about birds and 1 wondered if you would care to know about our pet sparrow and her more shy companions. It is three winters ago since I first noticed a little sparrow, with one foot missing, and she is now a constant visitor and so tame she will feed while I walk past, but her mates always fly to a nearby tree. She brings her little nestlings during the early and midsummer, and I was amazed to see how much a baby sparrow' could eat and - bow unselfishly the mother would feed all to her babies. I marvelled at what she lived on, as she did not seem to eat at all She is handicapped by the_ loss of her foot, having to use her wings to balance her when hopping about—tho leg hangs useless, but she can grip the wire clothes lino and keep her balance, unless it is very windy. One is eer tainly repaid for any trouble taken to tame any wild thing. Some of the strangest of my pets were some tamo fish I had when a girl. My brothers made a big pond in the creek that flowed through our property, and we placed these fish in there, and they became so tame we could lift them out of the water, but it was their undoing A couple of lads tried it and instead of putting them back transferred them to the 'frying pan. We were yen sorry. When feeding the fish on mince or finely-chopped liver we would tap on the side of the tin, and instantly the fish would come swimming into view, and they looked so pretty ay they rose for tho food showing their pink undersides. If you have any wish to tell your family of this I would ask you just to leave out my name, please, Brother Bill. Thanking you again for your kindness,and help, and wishing' you all you desire. —1 am, yours gratefully, Bird Lover. 642 George street, Dunedin, C.2. July 3, 1935. Dear Big Brother Bill, —Thank you very much for the Bird Club badge and booklet? I was going to send .you a stamped envelope, but your badge and booklet came before 1 posted it, so now I am enclosing ji stamp. Daddy lias made me a little red house without walls. U is six feot from the ground and in it we have a shallow tin basin filled with honey and water. Tho waxeyes come to this and sip the liquid. Sometimes the bellbird comes, although he is very timid, but I think that is little to be wondered at, as there are no trees in our garden, and wo live near the town. The wuix-eyes, however, are quite tame, and last" winter they fed out of my hand. They fly away in the spring and come back in the autumn just as timid as before i tamed them. Talking of the tame seagulls at Oamani. Have you ever heard of the tame thrush at the New Plymouth Hospital. It is quite a well-known character amongst the patients. It always turns up at meal times and perches on the patients’ beds or pillow's waiting to lie fed. Well, I must close now, looking forward to your next bird talk.—l remain, yours sincerely, Janet Cogan. THE JUBILEE STAMPS The Jubilee stamps which English pepple eagerly fixed to their letters have a story of which may well be pround. They were designed by an artist who would never have been an English subject but for the fact that before the war England welcomed to its shores political refugees from every country in the world. Mr Barnett Freedman, the designer of the stamps, was born 33 years ago in a poor home in Stepney, where his father had settled as a refugee from Russia. From the age of eight for four long years Barnett Freedman lay on his hack in English hospitals, and the doctors and nurses at the London Hospital encouraged him to draw. He became a pupil at the Royal College of Art, and his paintings are now in the famous art galleries of Sheffield, Leeds, and Manchester, as well as in the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Tate Gallery. With their olive branches and laurel leaves, combined with the leaves and acorns of onr native oak. the stamps had an appropriate symbolism which was new to English pqstage stamps. WAITING FOR A LION There may be a cooler customer in the world; hut it seems hard to believe that anyone could be cooler than the hero of a true story in William Mnkin’s new book, ‘ African Parade.’ A certain village was terrorised by a man-eating lion. Three German hunters undertook to shoot him, and hid themselves by a dead zebra. They waited all night, but the lion did not come. Next they tried a live goat, tethered near their hiding place. But again they waited in vain. “ Ho wants only men,” said the villagers, and then one of them volunteered to be the bait. For the sake of the village be would risk his own life. That night he smeared himself with fat, whoso savoury smell would hep to attract the lion. Then he put his bed under the trees where the guns were hiding, and lay down upon it. Tho long night passed slowly ; for no one dared speak. We can imagine what eerie shadows and sounds tricked the hunters a score of times into thinking that the lion had come. At last, ns dawn was breaking, they saw him suddenly, by the native’s bed. They shot the lion in time. At the noise of the shots tho man sat up and rubbed bis eyes. Tho coolest man in the world had been asleep!

THE LITTLE GUILD IN THE HILLS If Joseph Ncmet will reveal his whereabouts to tho undersigned he will find friends ready and willing to help him. Something like this ran an announcement in one of Budapest’s daily papers the other day. Possibly a few imaginative people wondered what lay behind the lines and even tried to fit a story to them; but no imagined tale could vie in pathos and in strangeness with the facts. Twenty-two years ago a poor Rumanian miner, making his way across tho snowbound Transylvanian hills, came upon a grim find: a young mother, all but naked and frozen stiff, with a new-born baby in her arms, wrapped in her own clothes. Her heroic self-sacri-fice had not been in vain; the baby was stilt alive, and the miner, who had recently lost a little boy of his own, resolved to take it home. The unknown woman was buried, with her secret, in the village churchyard. No one ever found out who she was or whence she came. . A year afterwards the miner’s wife bore him a son, and he no longer felt that he wanted to keep the stranger’s child, so he offered it to anyone who liked to have it; and this time a childless Hungarian couple, another miner and his wife, took charge of the little waif. They called him Joseph, and gave him their own surname of Nemet; and, poor as they were, they gave him the best education they could. The boy rewarded their efforts. Affectionate, hard-working, and exceptionally intelligent, he was invariably at the top of his class, and finally matriculated with such distinction that his teachers thought ho should go on to a universitv.

Joseph himself was all afire to do so. Ho wanted to become a scholar, a writer, and a poet; and, young as he was, he had already written verses accepted by editors. But an unexpected obstacle rose in his way. He had never been formally adopted by his Hungarian foster parents, and, now that Transylvania had come under Rumanian rule, permission to attend a university was only to be granted him if. he took, a Rumanian name and joined the Greek Orthodox Church. Neither of these things was he prepared to do, and so, after an arduous year as a conscript in the Rumanian army, his thoughts turned longingly to Hungary, tho land which, but for the war, would have been his own. He sent there a letter in which he of his difficulties, his frustrated hopes, and his gallant ambitions. “But for my faith in God I would have ended my life before this,” he went on. “ I have literally not a soul to turn to, and nothing hut death to look forward to. And yet I should love to live. I have no material aims, nor do 1 ask to be saved from suffering; all I ask is to go on with riiy studies, not to be worn down and wiped out before my time. I do not mind where or how I live, one nieal a day will suffice me; I will do any sort of work if only I can study.” By a fortunate chance these poignant lines came into the hands of one who makes it his business to watch over the fortunes of needy Transylvanian boys in Hungary, and a letter was despatched to Joseph Nemet bidding him to come to Budapest. But •by the time it arrived he had disappeared without a trace. Had ho gone under, as he had feared ? It looked like it; and it was more as a forlorn hope that the announcement at the head of this column was put in the papers. Yet it accomplished its purpose, for within a week the post brought news of Joseph Nemet. He was alive, but had gone hade in despair to Transylvania to make a precarious living by fiddling in a gipsy band. Now wo may hope there is at last a happy ending to his story, THE FAIRY RING Helen sat down on the floor, with a sigh of relief. She had succeeded at last in creeping up unknown into the diseased attic. A shaft of light from the setting sun trailed across the far end of the room. Helen sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Something was moving in that line of light—two somethings with fluttering wings. Perhaps they were huge butterflies. They came nearer and settled on the ground. Then Helen saw they were far too big to be butterflies, and with a gasp she realised they were fairies. What were they saying? “ 'We really must do it to-night. The Queen said so. The moon will be out, which means there’ll be dark shadows to hide in. Inside the old beech will be tho best place, just at the end of the wood. The bats will be asleep, and we shall be safe.” “I do think it’s horrid having enemies all about us!” chimed in the other. “ I’ve never found out whv they hate us so.” “ I know. Once, long ago, they mortally offended the Queen, and she put them under a ban, and ever since “ Oh, look! There goes the sun! We must fly! The bats will be out! ” Helen toptoed to the open window and tried to see the disappearing wings. As sire stepped back something rolled away from her foot. She groped on the dusty floor and found it—a tiny ring that wouldn’t even fit her little finger, Helen’s eyes grew round. “They must have dropped it I Was it what they wore wanting to hide? ” She sat down and thought hard, staring at the minute circlet in her little palm. Scraps of the fairies’ talk came to her —the old beech, the moonlight, the enemy. What could it all mean? There was one thing certain—she must help the fairies. She knew the _ old beech quite well. Perhaps the fairies were fluttering round it now. But it was a long way off. She peered out of the window. ’ The ihoon was already glimmering through the autumn dusk. It wouldn’t bo so dreadful to go in the moonlight, and she needn’t look at the dark places. She ran down the stairs and out into tho darkness, on and on till she came to a well-known gap in the orchard. If the bats only knew, wouldn’t they hunt her down! She stole across the fields, a little elfin figure herself in the shadowy moonlight, and began to climb the big pasture on the hill. Once over the bill it wasn’t far down to the wood in the hollow. The world looked so dreadfully big and wide from the pasture. How strange! There seemed to be something small moving here, too. Helen snt down a minute to be quite sure what was coming down the hill. Then a queer little creatured appeared from nowhere at all, and sat down opposite her. “Oh!” gasped Helen, struggling to her feet. “ Don’t go,” said the visitor. ‘ I won’t hurt you. I’m only a‘pixie. Where are you going?” “To find the fairies,” stammered Helen. “ Don’t be afraid. I can take you there. You see, I belong to the Fairy Queen’s Life Guards. But to-night everybody is in trouble. They’ve lost something.”

“ I know. You mean the ring? “ How do you know anything about the magic ring? ” demanded the pixie. “Tell me why you hide it,” replied Helen. “ Then I’ll tell you what I know.” , , . “ Well, you see, it is the magic ring that gives the Queen the freedom of fclxe woods, and one of the rules is thftt it must never leave the woods when , the fairies are away. So every autumn, before we follow the swallows, we bide it. And the bats, our enemies, always have a fearful scrimmage, when they know we’re going, to find out where we put it. But how came you to know? * Helen told her story. ' The pixie gave a yell of delight and sprang to his feet. Then, like the opening and shutting of a door, the hillside disappeared, and Helen sat up and rubbed her eyes. Someone was holding a candle in the attic and talking. “Here she is, ma'am, fast asleep! She must have been here hours! ” POLAR BEAR'S SAD FATE Another well-known Zoo favourite has disappeared from the Mappin Terraces, for Lizzie, the Polar beai, is dead. . ~ One afternoon at feeding time the keeper noticed that she had difficulty in getting out of the water after a dive. She managed to climb out of the pond and seemed to recover, but two clays later, when the keeper arrived at work, he found her lying dead at the bottom of the pond. . Lizzie came to the Gardens, m 1920 and was for a time the companion of Sain, the Zoo’s most famous Polar bear. Lizzie, however, was then young and frivolous while Sam was old and staid, and lie reproved her constantly as though drawing unfavourable comparisons between her and his old mate Barbara. At length there came a day when Sam’s nagging and a sudden disappointment drove Lizzie into achieving it feat believed to be beyond her. powers; she jumped the ditch separating her from the public. She had just had a particularly trying interview with Sam when she saw a Iceeper walking past her den with a pail of fat in his hand and at once assumed that the fat was intended to console her for Sam’s ill-temper. A few minutes later she saw the keeper returning with the pail empty, and this disappointment, coupled 'vitn gam’s intolerance, proved too much for her temper. Without hesitation she proceeded to jump the ditch. Happily for the keeper the ditch was just too wide for her, and though she got her front paws on the coping she lost her balance and slipped down into the di After that Lizzie was seperated from Sam and took up her residence in the next-door den with two other s’oung Polar bears, with whom she lived most amicably. . ■ , . The Zoo is arranging to have a most original new feature, which is to be reaclv after Whitsuntide. It is an open-air ant hill, situated on the site or the beaver pond outside the insect house. The Zoo’s one and only beaver has just died of old age, and it was decided to convert the pond into this ant hill. . , , , „ The ant hill will consist of a sunken pond containing three major islands and on each of these islands there will be an ant’s nest, of pine needles and leaves inhabited by large black .wood nuts. Each of the major islands will communicate by means of a small

bridge with a minor island, which will be the ants’ larder. In order to obtain food the ants will have to cross the bridge to the larder island, and, so that they will not be, able to carry off food without being observed by onlookers, their rations wii! be placed on a ridge round the edge of the island. The water will keep each nest and its occupants isolated, not only from the rival colonies, but also from visitors; and so, although the large wood ants are bad biters, the public will be in fio danger of receiving ant bites. At intervals round the enclosures there will be telescopes to enable visitors to get a “ close-up ” view of the interesting and energetic insects. JIM’S GLOGK A GOOD-NIGHT TALE Jim went out to water the plants in his owh tiny bit of garden. He found the bucket which he took with him to the seaside, and went up the garden to the water tub. But when he got there he found that his big brother Andy was sailing a whole fleet of little walnut-shell boats on it “ You can’t get water here, said Andy, “ because you’ll swamp my fleet; • and *1 can’t take them out, they’ve just sailed out of port for a cruise.” . ~ “ But I must w'ater my pansies, objected Jim. “ Well, you will have to wait till after dinner,” answered Andy. “ I can’t,” protested his small brother, “ they’ll all die.” “ Fill your bucket from the water tap, then,” Andy said, his head nearly in the tub. “ That only drips spots, replied poor Jim, “ you know it does. Daddy hasn’t mended it yet. It would take hours to fill my bucket.” “ No, it won’t,” said Andy cheerfully, prilling out his watch. “ You seel I’ll time it: tell me when its full.” Jim sat down and watched the tap drip slowly into his bucket, and it really wasn’t so very long before he cried out. “Full I” “ Five minutes exactly,” said Andy, glancing at his watch and then going back to his boats. Jim carried the water to his precious pansies. Next evening, when his mother said it was Jim’s bedtime, he begged to stay out a little longer so that he might finish gardening. “Just five minutes, mummy!” ho pleaded. “ I won’t be a second longer.” “ You can’t tell five minutes, laughed Andy, “ you haven’t got. a watch.” ‘ . , , “Time me, 'then! cried Jim as he rushed off, for he had remembered that it took hist five minutes to fill his bucket. While the spots dripped into his pail Jim finished his weeding, and when the bucket was full he ran back indoors- “ How long have I been?” he cried. “ M-m. just five minutes,” said Andy grudgingly, looking at his watch ° Jim laughed delightedly. “ HaJ” he cried. “I’ve got a clock I” And when he told mummy how it took exactly five minutes to fill his pai! from the water tap she said; “Well done. Jim! People used to measure time like that thousands of years ago. You’ve made a real water clock for vourself!”