THE WHELPS.

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLI, Issue 10526, 2 December 1916, Page 10

THE WHELPS.

AND TWO LONDON BOYS. (By O. LEWIS HIND). Wo were seated round the fire discussing the inevitable subject. But we had made a, compact. Our war talk should be only of things that are encouraging and helptui. So much, afc least, we, safe, snug ami warm, could do. From our fireside would pass out into the world invisible rays ot lortitude; pride and trust in wise rulers, in devoted civilians, in our glorious soldiers and sailors—and in the whelps. AC first we, called them our chicks, and we imagined a patriotic cartoon snowing lie old bird suddenly finding herself in trouble, beset bv cnemies-and yoa know what happened, the chicks flymg home r.ciobb the seas from ad parts ot the "oHd t° round her. The rumour that the old mother was in trouble was enough .tor them- Uchicks renounced at once their pursuit ana pastimes, and flocked home—such big, gai lant chicks , Unon But Migglee (she has always been called Higgles after a famous and dea charactei in fiction), who was trying not lo cry team of pride, winch were half joy and ' half sorrow, complained that she ddn't like the idea of the old bird and her chicks "They're whelps—lions the old lion roar, and they came. It -was the call of the blood. So we named them the whelps, and we hymned them as we sat patiently wu. . for our whelps, three brothers, one ot »*m had married a daughter of our host Ilig were coming in then- khaki to saj an ie voir. Alas, .here is no word m Eng which whisper,-" We'll back foon. and all uili be well." So we waited and talked of the great family of whelp, from Australia. Canada, N T ew Zealand, Newfoundland, and South Africa; t.-oai all lands where the hardy English have pen* trated-those whelps, some rich, some p0..,. some fair, some dark all ol the moo.i clear-eyed, defiant, who bring llw air■ ol the open and the stride ol five men into muggy London town. Sometimes when I meet them in Victoria street. I think .01 the moment that I'm on the prairie. OUR 1.0.N DON BOYS. We talked proudly of the whelps; but after a while, our hostess, who is a Londoner born, and who had been rather silent, said "But don'e forget our London boys—the boys of Pimlico, and lloxcon, anil Streatham. and Highgatc and everywhere, who rushed to help when the old lion first began to lash his tad. He found that he was a little stiff in the joints when he shook himself, but he soon showed that he v, as as game and as strong: as ever Don't forget our London boys who helped him to his feet.'' . No, we did not forget them. \et we were silent, for not, one of us but ached for the loss of a London boy, and at the thought of all that was left—a little cross in Flanders. GaJlipoli, or Mesopotamia, or some spot on the great waters, never to be Incited but never to be forgotten. We were silent. , . • Presently 1 told them the tale of the two London boys and the Galtipoli blizzard, a sad tale but the simple splendour of it outsoars the sadness. It was the fifth day of the great blizzard and frost, at Suvla. Men oame in, reported the medical officer, frozen to the knees, some with gangrene. Many were mere boys, but they had refused ro leave the trenches until reinforcements arrived. One morning a Newfoundlander in a trench near by, drew the attention of the medical officer to two figures in a ditch out by. the Salt Lake. _ The officer called a stretcher party, and they found two lads of the City of London Regiment sitting in the ditch, frozen and dead. One of the lads had his arms around the other, and he was holding pieces of biscuit in his companion's mouth. Wo were silent. We could not speak, and while we sat thus, looking down, the three whelps entered grand in their new uniforms, and one said, "Halloa, is this a funeral?" They judged by our faces; they could not see the prido and glory in our hearts just because we belonged to the Anglo-Saxon race. We admired their uniforms, debated kit topics, and told cheerful stories, for nobody wanted to break down, and we wished to send the whelps off with happy memories. . > .

"' THE'OLD HEROES. When they had left I began thinking of the Briton*, who, for some centuries have scattered over the globe. They are thesires, grandsires, ancestors of our whelps. Then 1 remembered the forty-niners in California, and the clays of my youth, when Bret Hart© stories, revealing a free, fresh life. Brimming with humour, pathos, and the sense of sacrifice, seemed to me, as a Ixty.. sublime. Obsessed by the dream. I rose and drew from the Iwolwhelf the volume of Jire: Harte's stories. Works of fiction may be divich d into two categories —those which, when you close the book, you mutter—"What a beastly world this is," and tho3e .1 which when you close the volume you say : "What, a, splendid world this is." Bret Harte's tales to the latter category. Aloud I read passages from the four masterpieces: "Tennessee's Partner," "The Luck of Roaring Camp," "The Outcasts c; Poker Elat?' and "Migg'es," wherein are enshrined types of the fearless, philosophical, humorous, unmoral, straight British, ancestors of our dear whelps. How glad 1 was to meet again "Man o' War Jack, an English sailor from her Majesty's Australian Colonies," and Stumpy, and John Oakhurst, and Jack Hamlin, and all (he beloved rogues, who mked the highest chivalry with their roguery. Glad, too, was I to recover from the past dear Mliss, i'nd best of all, the loval loving and unparalleled Higgles. Saoramentally 1 repeated the Judge's toast, bur in barley water: "Are your glasses charged, gentlemen':" asked the Judge. solmenlv taking off his whir* hat. Thev wne. "Well, then, here's to Higgle?— God Bless tier. - ' While our Higgles hied to dissemble, I thought <t" another wanderer, a Scoit tin? time, R. 1.. S.. who, far. far from home. • rote of hi;-, wife : Trusty, dusky, vivid inu-, With eyes of gold and bramble dew. Steel-true and blade-straight The great artificer Made my mate. I said these, lines over to myself as we made our way home through the darkened streets, and I dreamed that night of all they meant, and of Tennessee's partner, and of the unconquerable Higgles, and of whelps so big that they could not stand upright in a motor bus, and who always called Englandhome. Next day we met two more whelps. The encounter stirred us to joy. The first sat opposite to me at a luncheon party in Westminster. He was a young fair, with an eye like a lance, who quoted Michael Drayton, and was familiar with and who regarded London as the most entrancing place in the world. "Where do _\uu come from?" 1 asked him afterward.-- shuffling my chair alongside his. He told tno he is; a South-African, English father, Dutch mother, and that he had worked his passage to Tilbury docks as assistant purser. And why had he come? "Oh, yon know, the Old Country wanted—you understand." Yes, I understood. The mother-father lion was bothered, and the whelp hastened lo her aid. "When I first Arrived at Waterloo station from Aldershot," lie said, in an undertone, "1 wanted to kneel down and kiss the platform." I told this to Higgles as we roamed round about Westminster afterwards. "I'd I love to adopt a whelp," she said tearfully. I ''All right," said 1, "but choose one who i is not more titan six fret six inches high." J "Here's a batch to select from," I renarked, as towards us from the direction [of the Embankment Gardens came four! soldiers, privates, magnificent men, laden, mud-stained, fresh front the trenches. As they approached, one of them, who was walking lame, lagged behind. His companions crossed the road and hastened towards the Square. The lame man hobbled towards us, and as ho passed I noticed on his epaulette tho word "Canada." Private Somebody of Canatia had gono a dozen yards away when Higgles cried, "Can't, we do something for him? Do let me try." She ran after him. I followed leisurely, to discover her pressing upon him offers of assistance. "There's a delightful Soldiers' Club at Victoria," she was saying, "where you can get a really good meal for a few pence." "Thank you so much," he said, "I appreciate your kindness, madame." His manner was courteous, his accent that of an educated man, but there was a tiny twinkle of amusement in his eyes, and I noticed that he wore on his little finger a fine signet ring. But Higgles would not be denied She plied him with offei9 of help and question? Yes, he had come from the tren cbsj?"Wiat morning ;'V thrsa raontha old

wound m his leg was troubling him a bit. but it waa of no consequence; he had bear in London before, knew it rather weli: i A little embarrassed, perhaps, his <•>?- roamed up to the Mother of Parliaments. ''That's wonderful," he said. "It's worth fighting for," cried Higgles. , It s the heart of England." "Yes," said the soldier quietly. "It's worth fighting for.'' it "And are you sure," continued Higgles, that we can't do anything for you. Louldn t we find you a nice little hotel and .drive yo_u there?" looking furtively at Ins lame leg. 'Thanks .so much," said the Canadian. i ovate; "my friends have just gone on to nnd a cab—and we have already engaged rooms at the Carlton." We resumed our walk, and I said gentlv to Miggles, 'When you propose to adopta whelp, you'd better make sure that he'? not ;i mdlionaire."—Dailv Chronicle