THE FELLOW WHO WILL HOT PULL IS NOT WORTH A SEAT IN THE BOAT

Evening Star, Issue 22578, 20 February 1937, Page 8

THE FELLOW WHO WILL HOT PULL IS NOT WORTH A SEAT IN THE BOAT

Winners of competitions published on February 13 are as follow Under 10: Ralph Spiers, 106 Fawcett street, South Dunedin, S.l. Too many cooks spoil the broth). Over 10; Valda Bush, Main road, Burnside, S.W. 'J. (Pink, grey, white, red, cream, amber, s indigo, green, orange). THE COMPETITIONS The under-tens are asked to discover the dinner menu of the crocodile which he so obligingly holds out for your inspection. The over-tens have to make a proverb from the mixed letters on the tummy of the sleeping gnome. Send your answers to Big Brother Bill, care of ‘ Evening Star,’ Stuart Sreet, Dunedin, C.l. Bo sure to mark the envelopes “ Competition.” THE CROCODILE'S DINNER Under 10 years; prize one shilling The question to be answered is what the crocodile has for dinner ? He most obligingly holds out the menu for you to read, but the letters have become mixed. But it will not be very hard to put them, in their right places.

THE LAZY GNOME Over ten years; prize one shilling and sixpence. What the indignant ant thinks about the lazy gnome is written on the sleeping fellow’s tummy. Can you put the letters in their right places and make a good hint for all lazy people?

RADIO POSHE S BAG Palmerston, January 4, 1937. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I will tell you how; we spent the Christmas holidays. As we were not able to go away we made the holidays as merry as possible. On Christmas Day we went to Shag Point Beach, and when the tide was out w© walked out to a big rock and looked for shells. The next day We went past Dunback to Dunrobin, and had_dinner beside a small waterfall. After dinner we walked slowly up the river for about two miles, and came back. Then w© had tea and went home to bed. We awoke next day and went further up the road to a bridge, had dinner, and walked up the creek. I was looking for native flowers. When I was going round a track on the side of a • hill I • discovered a locust. It was striped with yellow. On the way back we looked for nests. We found a lot .of old ones, but did not touch any of them. When we were near the car wc found a waxeye’s nest, with one egg in it. They are pretty little things to look into, do you not think sop On the last day of our holidays we went to Kartigi Beach, and walked round to the lighthouse. When wo looked across the bay

we could see the lighthouse, and in the bay vve saw the waves breaking lazily and rolling to the shore. It was a long walk, and we arrived home late, but we were happy. The next Sunday we went to Shag Point again and had a lovely time exploring, and now we are looking forward to next Sunday. Do you not think that is a happy holiday. Brother Bill?—Yours sincerely, June Findlater. [Thank you for your letter, June Findlater. Your name is on the honour post, and you are the winner of the best letter prize for this week. Brother Bill agrees that you have arranged a very happy holiday in spite of all the disappointment caused by the epidemic. It goes to show, of course, that a holiday is made not by the place were we go, but by the manner in which we go about it. Brother Bill hopes that the remainder of your holiday will be just as happy and successful. Write again soon.] 42 Highcliff road, Anderson’s Bay, Dunedin, E.l. January 9, 1937. Dear Big Brother Bill,—Although I am not one of your family of bairns, I have lawayf wished to be one, and I should be very pleased if you would include me as a member of the family. I am 10 years old, and I have two sisters and four brothers. We have a little blue budgerigar as a pet, and his name is Paul. During these holidays we have had a very happy time in spite of the dull weather, for we have had quite a number of picnics, and on fine evenings we often take our tea with us in the motor car. Drives have been a very big item in our pro-

gramme of amusement. Hoping that ,>ou e. m mane me a member of your happv familv of bairns, —I remain, yours sincerely, Alan Cameron. [Thank you for your letter, Alan Cameron. Your name is on the honour post for neat writing. Brother Bill is glad to welcome you to the family, and hopes that you will write again. Does Paul, the “ budgie,” talk? Brother Bill wonders whether

you know that a cock budgie, kept alone, can be taught to talk better than a parrot. In Brother Bill’s letter bag there are many bairns who have written to him about their talking budgies. Perhaps you know about it already? Write again soon.] 53 Duke street, Dunedin, N. 1.. January 16, 1937. Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I join your band of bairns ? _ I read your page each week, and enjoy it very much. In this week’s paper I noticed that many of the bairns are kept at home, the same as I am, but I went to the beach with mum on Friday. We both came home sunburnt, and had a sleepless night after a very happy day. We have two little kittens and a German sheep dog named Ruff. We have not named the kittens yet. I must close now. Love to all the bairns and the aunts and uncles.'—Yours sincerely, Edna Marshall. [Thank you for your letter, Edna Marshall. You are quite welcome to the family. Brother Bill is glad to know that you enjoy the columns in the ‘ Evening Star.’ The day at the beach would be worth the sleepless night, or perhaps you did not think so Naming kittens is nearly as difficult as naming babies. Brother Bill has u

striped tabby puss whose name is 'digger, and she has a kitten whoso name is to be Jigger. There used to he another puss whose name wns Trixie. Her baby w r as called Dixie. There is a small member of the ‘ Evening Star ’ family who has a kitten Pooh, after the Christopher Robin tales. And Brother Bill remembers another named Rabby. It is nice to find a name that is a little unusual. What is a German sheep dog. Edna? Is that another name for an Alsatian ? Write again soon.] Dear Big Brother Bill, —I have just been reading your page, and would like to enter for the over-ten competition. We are not having very nice weather for our holidays, but perhaps it is just as well, as very warm weather might make the infantile paralysis spread more. lam very sorry for the children who are ill, and hope they will soon be better. I think we are very fortunate to be living in the country, especially as we live on a farm and have lots of space to play in. My two younger brothers and I help dad to milk the cows, and every night we take the milk out to the gates with the sledge and horse for the lorry to pick up. Sometimes we all get on Snowie and have a ride home again, and other times we sit on the back of . the sledge and drag our feet on the ground. Sometimes we slip off, and are left behind on the track. It is getting near bedtime, so I will close. Wishing you a happy New Year.—l remain, Irena Stoddart. [Thank you for your cheerful letter, Irene Stoddart. You are very fortunate living in the country, and your good fortune has stood you in good stead during this epidemic. Fortunately the sickness is nearly over, and we shall soon be able to forget the word “ epidemic.” Everybody will want to hide the word away and not use it again for a very, very long time, especially the poor little people who were ill. Brother Bill can tell a story about a farm sledge. This particular sledge was old and tired, nearly ready to fall to pieces. On a certain _ wet day, when the muddy road was in a nice squelshy condition, a very dignified gentleman sat down in the sledge to be drawn about a mile to the railway station. Halfway there the bottom of the sledge tell out in the softest part of the road. But the man on the horse -was unaware of the tragedy. So he continued on, with the dignified gentleman seated in what remained of the sledge. Goodness! If you had only been there to see. On second thoughts, it is as well that you were not. Even the horse laughed; indeed, everybody laughed but the dignified gentleman. No! It was not Big Brother Bill. Write again soon.] 24 Pitt street, Dunedin, C.2. January 17, 193 G. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am entering for this week’s competition, hoping to be more successful than I have been previously. I think this is a rather funny incident: Some nights when our kitten has not finished his milk we afterwards hear a hedgehog tipping the saucer up and down, doubtless drinking the milk. As I have nothing more to tell you I shall dose.— Your bairn, Joan Brisk. [Thank you for your amusing little story, Joan Brisk. The bairns will be glad to read it. Kitty would have a job arguing with a spiky hedgehog. Did you know; that a hedgehog will kill and eat a snake ? The snake will strike at the spiky bundle, of course, but there is nothing for him to poison, although there is quite a lot to hurt his mouth. When the snake has struck again and again until he is tired to death the hedgehog unrolls himself and starts to eat the snake. So there is no marvel that kitty stood back and allowed the thorny little fellow to help himself. Write again soon.] 55 Chapman street, St. Kilda, Dunedin, S. 2. January 17, 1937. Dear Big Brother Bill, —This is about the fourth time I have written to you. How are you enjoying the holidays? I am entering for this week’s competition, and I hope to be successful. Twinkle, our cat, had two baby kittens. AVe have three horses at our stable, and they are all racehorses. One of the horses took sick the other day, but she is quite all right now. Wishing all the aunts, uncles, and yourself a happy New Year.—l am. yours truly, Dorothy Nixon. [Thank you for your letter, Dorothy Nixon. Brother Bill enjoyed his Christmas holidays very well, but they are now only a happy memory. It must be very nice to care for racehorses, but a worry if they are sidle. Brother Bill is glad to know the sick one is better again. Thank you for your good wishes. It does not matter how late they arrive, good wishes are always nice things to receive. Write again soon.]

23 Helena street, Dunedin, S.W. 1. ‘ January 16, 1937. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I would very much like to join your happy family. I read your page every week, and also listen to you oyer the air every night. Owing to the epidemic we cannot go out very much, but wc have a good time reading and making scrap books. On Friday night we tried our hand at toffee, and it turned out lovely, though we thought it would not set at first.— I remain, yours sincerely, Hazel Kruskopf. [Thank you for your letter, Hazel Kruskopf. You arc quite welcome to the family. Brother Bill is glad to know that you have had a happy time in spite of the sickness. Making toffee is a great idea, especially when it turns out well. It tastes all the bettor, too, when mother does not have to clean the pots and pans afterward. Peanut toffee is good, and easy to make. Try it one day. It is all tkc nicer when the peanuts have been browned in the oven. Write again soon.]

A PLAGE FOR BIRO LOVERS The Pledge:—“ I promise to rare for all wild birds, especially New Zealand native birds, to feed them in winter and to protect them at all times. I promise also to protect our _ native trees and bush, and at no time to assist in their damage or destruction, since they are the natural home of our native birds.” Name Full Postal Address If you wish to join the Bird Club it is necessary to send Is in stamps or a postal note, and a badge and bird book will, be sent to you. Address your letters to Big Brother Bill, care of ‘ Evening Star,’ Stuart street, Dunedin. C.l Be sure to mark your envelope “ Bird Club.” RECORDS OF ENGLISH WILD BIRDS. There has just been completed a task of infinite patience; a gramophone book of the songs of English wild birds. It is a fascinating book, packed in a neat box with the records, which took such infinite patience to make. Often when Mr Koch and the Parlophone travelling van with its assistants were ready, with five microphones set and the bird' just tuning up, some unexpected noise would break in and

drown it, perhaps an aeroplane flying overhead or a shower of rain sounding through the microphones like hailstones on a corrugated iron roof. In the ran a loudspeaker connected with the microphones allowed the listeners to hear when the bird started singing, but if the turntable with the warm wax records was started only when the bird was heard it was already too late to catch the snatches of song, and frequently the records ran in vain for an hour waiting for the bird to begin, it was so before the laugh of the green woodpecker was caught as we hear it on these records (a matter of about 10 seconds in all), but once we have heard it in this way we shall never again wonder what this strange cry is. That is whnt is so fascinating abput these records. Instead of tantalising snatches, wo can play each song over and over till never again shall we confuse the repetitive song of the thrush with the bold air of our greatest sougster, the blackbird. We can more easily remember such songs as the blackbird’s, says Mr Nicholson, because it conforms with our idea of music and can be played on a piano, but others, like the grasshopper warbler’s, are so high-pitched that some people cannot even hear them. Because w© have so many well-fed garden birds without many cares we get bird song neatly all the year round. The book gives a chart showing clearly the chief singing periods of all our songsters in this island paradise of birds, and Mr Nicholson suggests that wo should all keep our own bird calendar. December is a good time to start, for then each new voice can be picked out as the spring climax approaches. The song of tbo nightingale nearly fills one side of the first record in this wonderful series, which goes from the sublime to the ridiculous by ending with our old friend the cuckoo. On the other’ side are the blackbird and the thrush, the curious drumming sound of the pied woodpecker, and the laugh of the green woodpecker. The second record goes from the hold song of tho robin and the shrill little wren to the modest notes of the hedge sparrow, the contented purr of the turtledove, and the complaining phrase of the wood-pigeon. On the other side are the brief sweet songs of the chaffinch, the willow wren, the whitethroat, and tho call of the great tit; and behind them all is often a chorus of other birds, so that wo may shut our eyes and imagine ourselves in an English wood early on a May morning. What could be lovelier than to give such song to an invalid cut off from the green woods ?

A ROYAL ADVENTURE Tlvo following story, told of Maximilian Joseph, a King of Bavaria, is related to show that almost every job in life—even the most lowly and humble—requires some degree of experience and skill, and that it is much

better for every man to stick to his own work.

Maximilian Joseph, the late King of Bavaria, was one summer day sitting in plain civil costume in the garden of his palace at Tcgernsoo. The heat was indeed great, and it was so very quiet in the garden that the king fell asleep over the book ho was reading. He laid it down beside him on the bench, and continued to slumber. When be awoke be thought ho would drive away bis drowsiness by taking a walk. Tbo road, which took" him farther and farther away from the garden, brought him at last to the meadow which extended on both sides from the shores of the beautiful lake near which the palace stood.

Here the king remembered bis book which ho bad left lying on the bench in the park. If anyone passed by they might take the volume, which, being rather a, rare one, the king did not wish to lose. As ho was unwilling to return the same way, ho looked about for someone who would fetch the book to him; but far and wide he did not see a single human being, except a boy who was watching a flock of geese. The king went up to him and said: “Listen, my boy; you can go and fetch me a book which I have left lying on a bench in the park, and you shall have a florin for your trouble.” The lad, who did not know the king, looked at the gentleman with much mistrust. A florin for so small a service seemed to him to be so largo an offer as to be a hoax. “ I am not the simpleton you take me for,” said he, turning away What makes yon think that I take you for a simpleton? ” asked the king, smiling, pleased with the open manner of the lad.

“ Because you offer me a florin for such a trifling service,” replied the hoy; “ money is not earned so easily. The people down there,” he added, pointing his finger to the distant palace, “ take us for fools, and I know you are one of them.” “Well, what if I am?” said the king. “ Come, here’s half a florin in advance! Now go and fetch me the book.” The hoy’s eyes sparkled when he held the money in his hand, for he did not get much more than that tor looking after the geese for the whole year; but still he hesitated. “ Well,” asked the king, “why don’t you go?” The boy pushed his cap on' one side, and scratched himself behind the car. "Yes,” said he, “I will—but—l dare not. If the farmers heard that L left the geese they would dismiss me, and I should lose my daily bread.” “ I’ll watch them till you come hack again.” “You!” replied the boy, measuring tho stranger from top to toe: “yon don’t look to me like one that could take care of geese. If they were to run away and got lost in these meadows, I might have to pay more than [ should earn in a year. Look at that fellow with a black head, who belongs to the court gardener; he is an awful old bird, a deserter, a good-for-noth-ing, like all people who have to do with a court; ho would play you fine tricks whilst I was away. No, no 1 that would never do!” “ But why should I not he able to keep these geese in order as well as I succeed in keeping men in order?” said the king. (To be continued.)