Aunt Roberta’s Family

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLVII, Issue 124, 23 April 1927, Page 12

Aunt Roberta’s Family

AUNT ROBERTA’S LETTER. *» Dearest Children, “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, And there’s Pansies, that’s for thought.” “Anzazj Day” comes round once more, bringing with its Remembrance. And we again publicly honour the memory of those gallant Anzacs who fought and died for their country. Nancey Hobson’s favourite poem—a very beautiful one —is, I think, most appropriate to the occasion : THE SOLDIER. If I should die, think only this of me; That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is forever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England’s, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Here sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

On the third day, after the mid-day meal, Long Tack Sam’s vigilance was relaxed. Ho had been coughing in spasms all the morning, and, worn out, fell into a deep sleep. It was easy for Polly to catch up one of tho lamps and slip outsido unnoticed. Her playmates followed with simulated carelessness. Safely removed from any possiblo inter’fercnco of mother, father, Aunt or Uncle, they ran helter-skelter round tho rocks to the ledge, Polly clutching tho precious lamp. Boy entered the cavern first, closely followed by tho two girls, who were very nervous, but would not have confessed to this feeling. They found that it was larger even than the one in which they were living. It sloped downwards so that the floor was on a slant, and it was necessary to bo careful or, against one’s desire one might find oneself suddenly sprinting at a break-neck speed, until collision with tho wall ehded the flight. This unique feature, however, was an added distinction in tho children’s opinion.

Swinging the lamp backwards and forwards, so that the light fell into the uttermost recesses, Boy ejaculated: “Jove I Wouldn’t Long Tack Sam be wild if ho knew he’d missed such a beauty of a cave 1” There was no appearance of goblins, fairies or treasure being there. But, as Boy explained, tho smugglers’ loot would not be left lying about tho cave but would be buried under the rock. “Then,” said Polly in a very small voico, completely frightened by that, time by the surounding darkness and silence. “We won’t be able ter find any golden sovereigns, ’cause w’ero you goin’ to git the pick from to pick up tho floor with?” “No,” Girl agreed hastily. Her little heart was fluttering wildly with fear. Her lively imagination peopled tho blackness with creatures that were far more dreadful than goblins. She hoped fervontly that Boy would, see the wisdom of Polly’s remark and not set to work to unearth tho treasuro there and then, as it was quite likely he might. “You girls leave it to me,” said Boy in his grandest manner. 110 sniffed loudly, moving round in a circle. “The air in here isn’t too good yet. ’Course, after a place line been shut up for years the at-at-atMOSphero becomes pol-pol-luted.” “Yes,” and Polly nodded her head ponderously, not, of course, understanding tho meaning of the big word. “I can’t breavo —’ardly,” and sho started to puff like an engine. “I can’t either,” said Girl. “Let’s go now and come back to-morrow.”

—Rupert Brooke.

Peggy Meredith, South Invercargill, wishes to congratulate Daisy Rae on her good work. Peggy also says: “I think Aunt Roberta’s Family Pago is topping; no other page could be better.” Mavis Wesney, Invercargill, an old member, writes: “Please congratulate Peggy Nathan on gaining the highest number of points for the first three months of the year. She does indeed do splendid work. .... My time at present i 6 well occupied as I have started teaching music out in the country. Howe'er, I still read Aunt Roberta’s pago with interest, and will send in entries to the competitions whenever possible.” Mavis concludes with: “Please don’t overwork yourself because wo would be lost without the Page.” Mavis saw her name next to the words RjOll Call in Aunt Roberta’s Family Pago on the 9th April. R ector McKinnon, llongotea Siding, whoso name was “called” the same date, has also responded. A special prize of 2s £d has been mailed to tin’s niece and nephew. As you will all see by the results of the 50th Competitions, the retired members have evidently outgrown “Aunt Roberta’sI'amily”. I sincerely hope that the half dozen or so of the senior members who will soon be eighteen will nob follow this exnmple. The badges are now in hand, and should reach those who have ordered any day—if they have not already been received. I have three badges over, which will go to the first three who send in a shilling (stamps or postal note). I hope all the members of my big family spent a very happy Easter. Yours lovingly.

Boy hiyf been waiting for the suggestion. 1-Ie was finding tho dark, silent cave most uncanny and depressing. “Oh, all right. You girls never know your o\sn minds for two minutes at a stretch,” bo said with assumed nonchalance.

They turned and stumbled in the direction of tho faint light that filtered through the exit. Boy went first, with the lamp, and the girls, fingers tightly entwined, fell over his heels. As the small aperture was reached they made a wild rush, nearly upsetting Boy, who cried angrily, when they were safety outside on the ledge—- “ You—you mad hens !” Ashamed of their fear in tho bright light of day, they did not reply. He continued witheringly: “You were both scared stiff.”

“Wo wasn't, Boy Mer’duth ! You was !” Polly retorted. 1 “I was not,” Boy cried with heat. “And just to show you, I’ll go right in again—without thb lamps.” “You’re not to, Boy !” His sister said, half crying. “I'm sure”—her voice sank to a frozen whisper—“lt’s a goblins’ cave or “Bosh ! There’s hidden treasure there, I tell you ! I feel it in my bones.” He, however, allowed himself to be persuaded to abandon the idea of carrying out his threat. " They decided they would not return the hurricance lamp that afternoon. Long Tack Sam did not count his lamps so it was feasiblo to suppose he would not discover that one was missing. Tho children did not find any treasuro in the cave, nlthough Boy continued to assert that there was a “whole heap” buried somewhere there. He said that after the flood had subsided ho would get a pick and dig for it. Girl and Polly kept a. sharp watch for goblins or but thero was no trace of either. (To be continued.)

'QjuujJc Ji ENROLMENT COUPON. I read “Aunt Roberta’s Family.” Cut out this Coupon, fill it in, and post to “Aunt Roberta,” c/o "Manawatu Evening Sttndard,” Palmeraton North. My Name is My Age is My Address is My Birthday is "Aunt Roberta's Family” Badges aro obtainable at a cost of Is each (stamps or postal notes). SPECIAL PRIZE OF ss. To: Lucretia Irvino, Luinsdcn, who has gained 30 points by highly commended and commended marks. “THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF HAPPY VALLEY.” CHAPTER XV. EXIT SPIDERS. Two days passed, during which it was impossible to get possession of one of Long Tack Sam’s hurricane lamps without being caught in the act. And tho children wero in despair. Boy had found a candle amongst the stores his father had brought. On trial, however, it made such a pin-prick of light in the new cave that Boy secrctlyquaillcd at the idea of going any further than a couple of yards into tho dungeon of darkness. As far as he could make out, the cavern at the entralnco was narrow, and the roof low; it gradually broadened out into much larger dimensions; however, he could only guess at these.

“OUR MAIL BAG.” Mauvico Gillott: Your enrolfnent coupon lias come to hand, and I am very pleased to welcome you as a member of tho Family. Your name, etc., have been entered on my roll. Best wishes to a nownephew. RESULTS OF 50th COMPETITIONS. OPEN TO RETIRED MEMBERS AND THE SENIOR DIVISION. SHORT STORY (characters given) : Not a single retired member competed. The entries from the senior members were very good. JACK DURHAM, 52 Chelwood Street, Palmerston North (15), winner of the FIRST PRIZE (6s), strikes a new note in tho •character of Mrs Turner, although it is. a trifle overdrawn. In this typo of story the mother is invariably of tho "gentle” typo. Hie facts of the story "are simply anil, faithfully drawn to life. The SECOND PRIZE (4s) story, by DAPHNE GUTZEWITZ, 22 Janet Street, Invercargill (15), is exceptionally well -written. The opening sentence immediately gains the attention of the reader. A gloomy ending rather detracts from the story. I have great pleasure in awarding the THIRD PRIZE (2s 6d) to dne of the oldest, and, I regret to say, a long lost member of the Family, JEAN MONTEITH, l’orangahau Road, Waipukurau (15). This pretty story also has a sad ending. It lias the true bush "atmosphere.” Jean i 3 inclined to make tier sentences too long, in which case they become unwieldy.

In normal times, ns signs of suppressed excitement were apparent, the children would have been suspected of trying to hide something, and questioned. As it was, the three men and two women of the party had sunk into a lethargy of sheer boredom. There was nothing to do but to wait until jho water subsided, which Long Tack Sam assured them was happening each hour. He tried to cheer them by saying that things could have been much worse, which was perfectly correct ; but they were not in a fit state of mind to accept this —and be thankful. Mr Meredith was sore because the outside world did not appear to bother whether they were det.d or alive. There was no means of communicating with anyone. He supposed his film would think that he and his family had perished in the flood. Baby Joy had recovered from the cold, and romped about the big cavern with Jerry. Sometimes Long Tack Sam watched the two, but never a smile lightened the gloom of his sickly countonance. Once after Polly had flitted through the shadowy cave, passing like a ray of sunshine, he turned to her Uncle and Aunt saying: “I seem to know that girl. They exchanged furtive glances, and their eyes were sly. His lingers wandered up to hie head. “Since I had the fever I can’t remember things.” , “How long-ago v/as that? asked Mr Meredith, hearing .lie remark. “A good many years,” Long Tack answered, and moved away. The adults practically spent the whole of the time in the cave, which was lucky for the children’s plan's. There was nothing interesting to them in the rocky mound on which they were camped, and they could see as much of the scene a dreary waste of water that seemed never to alter, as they wr.nted from the entrance the cave.

Highly Commended (in order of merit) : Nory Bagr.all, a pretty story, but so sad. Rita Puddle, pretty idea. It is a Christmas story. The weakness is where John Turner "stepped into the bedroom of the two sleeping boys,” etc. You don’t mention how lie got thero —in another person’s house. It would be rather risky for him to enter without permission. Phyllis Winn, idea: good, but not convincingly told. You leave too much to the imagination, not clear enough in parts. Never describe the looks of your characters at length in a short story. Mollio Puddle, good ending to a rather ordinary story. Rhdna Wahlberg, a goo'd attempt ; you want more practice. Commended : Elsie Ballard, Beryl Perry, Ethel Proctor. ORIGINAL VERSES—“MY FAVOURITE COUNTRY.” Hero again, no entries came to hand from the retired members. Quite a number of the senior competitors “sang” of Italy, a few of Hawaii’s alluring beauty and of Bonnie Scotland, one ot the Far East, one of England, and many of their own land, New Zealand. Three good entries came from junior members'of the Family, Edith C-anton, IJorothy and Cecile Bagmall, i who are awarded three marks each. Edith Crantun’s verses, “Now Zealand,” show great promise for a girl of 11 years. “England,” tho FIRST PRIZE (6s) verses by WINNIE ARCHER, P.O. Box iVi. Palmerston North, are lull/of men., and have a strong appeal. It is easy to see where Winnie’s heart is.

OUR MOTTO : “ CHARACTER A 1 D PERSEVERANCE ”

Tho S ICOND PRIZE (4s) is awarded to MAI GARET HENRY, oaro P. 0., Nightcaj i' (15), whose verses, though rather o ecure, convey a striking impression of taly. NORY BAGNALL, 2 Allardyce Street, Dannevi ce (14), gives a true picture of New Ze land in her verses, which aro in tho son i strain as the beautiful “Haiwatha.” The THIRD PRIZE (2s 6d) goes to thin nember of the Family. High!; Commended (in order of merit) : Helen S law, good, but no particular appeal. J ck Durham the last three verses are fh- best; Mollie Puddle —fair; “Huia”, fair. It i 6 not permissible to rhyme ‘ ;outh” with “south,” etc. Conitn nded : Elsie Ballard, May Swain, . lex Pretence, Beryl Perry. AUNT ROBERTA’S 1927 PORTRAIT. The r< ired members failed to enter even one ale; :h of Aunt Roberta. As i. /bole the black-and-whito sketches wero d appointing. They lacked origisality, bi ing for the most part copied ideas. A few wero so appallingly grotesque that th< r made Aunt Roberta shudder — and cit cd much merriment amongst the Family- lenagerio and Lizzie ! Leggy an d Mollie Nathan submitted a nu/nbtr of quite good sketches, which, howev :r might have been the portrait of anyone.

Madel ino Borrenson's entry is exceptionally well done, but is a sketch of a “weary Willie” looking tramp. Merit; bio attempts came trout three juniors- Ralph Holes, Cecile and Dorothy Bagnall Mary Diederich, 68 Linton Street, Palmerston North (15), wins the First Prize (6s) wit a full-length “portrait” of Aunt Roberta -glasses on her nose, pencil behind lie ear, ami a post bag on her arm. ft is th i expression of the face that is so good. tis quite apparent that Aunt Roberto is thinking deeply; ccie can almost In ir her.

The t econd Prize (4s) “portrait,” by L. Kemptc i, 217 Teviot Street, Invercargill, shows , unt Robert at work in her otlico on a bi f pile of entries. The ' bird- Prize (2s 6d) is awarded to Maja 1 etersen, Hospital Road, Waipukurau (.’.7 fir a sketch of Aunt Roberta in outdoor attire, looking very businesslike, with t big post-bag slung across her back. Highl y commended (in order of merit) : Made c io Borreson, Irene Oliver, Martha Chiltcn Peggy and Mollie Nathan Cecile and D irothy Bagnall, Ralph Holmes, Ngaire Lovelock. Conn, ended : Nory Bagnall, Jack Maxwell, N ona Inglcy, Beryl Perry, Arthur Peart!, Mollie Puddle, Elsie Ballard, Dougla: Harris, Vera Martin, Myrtle Whytb, Douglas Rees.

JUNIOR MEMBERS. WE A V AM I? Everyone of the numerous e:it ics gave the correct answer, which is “S n .” Prize of 2s and three marks are awarded to t io three competitors who stint in the net est eitries, Reggio Morgan, Raymond i ees, Mary Chilton. Two larks: P. Monteith, D. Rae, Myra Baty, ,ottie Houlihan, J. McCartney, Betty ,atimore, Tlieona Rose, Annette Bristow Chrissie Field, N'ola Tregurtha, Viole. Zurcher, Millie Proctor, Phyllis Gillott, B. Tait, D. Woods, V. Martin. A. Christo :en, R. and B. Hannon, D. Oliver. E. Crai on, M. Christensen, I. Scragg. li. Puddle, A. Isdale, R. Holmes. L. Bunn, E. A. nd S. Thompson, F. Baxter, A. and L. Irvine, L. and W. Maxwell, J. Ingley, E. Payne. FIRST PRIZE. “GR EF FORERUNNETH JOY.” ( 5y Jack Durham, 15 years.)

Mrs. Curlier was not the kind of woman ono ii ; ;cu6tomed to think of in terms of "mairn or “best pal I’ve had” songs: neither was the type which ono is used to sec i the theatre —dear, old, snowy, imperil- bable ladies, gentle and loving in spite of all adversities. No ! John Turner was sui ' she was not. This lie thought as lie cam through the back door of his dwelling and sat down moodily on tho 6tep of th s ,-erandah, followed by, first, a fusillad< of dishes, then by a fusillade of words. nd, finally, by the cause—his mother. Mrs ’ urner was not a very prepossessing pci on at any time. At that moment she wo- almost repulsive; tier eyebrows and lip drawn into a straight line, and her cvi 4 narrowed till they glinted like pin-pnc s light. Her irregular nose was ast >w and each flaming check twitched as, rom her mouth, sho poured forth a tori ei t of abuse. “Wjl it heals me,” she .said, after a short p tusG to recover her breath, “how anyono ;an • sit, sit, sit, all day long, an’ never < > a single tap of work. Ach I” she conclud d disgustedly. “Mit icr. do ho reasonable! You know I’m cu of work!” . “Out of work !” Mrs Turner ended in an angry hriek. “Well, get some! Move yours'ill ! That’s what you’re here for. 'D’yoi. vant the Prime Minister to come at th a lead of a deputation and ask you if you’ accept a job as chief sandwich i man? Sail! You’re a good-for-nothing, j lazy n ’er-do-well 1 Here am I workin an’ sen bbin’ mo fingers to the bone, while the lilt of you lounges about, goesipin an’ sm kin’.” , . . , “Mol ler,” returned John, slowly ana empliai cally. “you’re a fool 1” And ho arose i -om the verandah and walked behind a wood-shed of his own erection, follows. by a fresh stream of words. ' Ho leant on the rickety fence anti. reflected upon the might-have-been. • \Miat an utter, hopeless wreck liis life was. What a grand, noble thing he could have rnnclt if it I , With envy ho recalled lus pre-war days: then ho had been contented, happy and carefree. But the War had changed at that. He lost an arm in tho firing-line and l-eutrm d home. Then it was that discord arose in tho once peaceful home. Fortune turned her back on the widow and tier son; no one had any use, it seemed, for a one-armed man, and thus the strugglo to make -nds meet changed Mrs 1 urner s tempei for tho worse. An « xcited yelp recalled John Turner to tho grim realities of the present life,' He te< lived the beautiful collie dog, which came i tinning up, N with an effectionato pat. “Good old Laddie,” ho said. “Hu lo,” said a small voico, and John looked up to behold Dorothy, or Dot, as she was most frequently called, one of the Fawcett twins from next-door, sucking a limplct 1 finger and gazing at hhn shyly. “Why, wherever have you been lately, Dot? You haven’t been to see mo for ages. ’ He forgot his miseries as he chatted vilh his little visitor.'

"Mu imie’s going .” Dorothy was interrupted by a terrific shriek, and Daphne, her twin sister, squeezed through the dividing fence, whero a paling had been, broken away. The newocmer’s face was o a deathly pallor. Seeing'John, she la to him with a sob of relief. “\Vli i,t’s the matter ,” but John >stoppe. in amazement, as through the broki n fence emerged a boy—truly, but what a boy I Clothed in a discarded blanket, a vivid green scarf and an old coat, from too folds of which proceeded fearful and ferocious rumblings, the apparition was very difficult- to recognise as Bert (tho twins’ brother), - who had blackened his lace with boot polish until it shone like i il er. “Wh it-in the name of earth ,” gasped John, hut- for the second time lie was rule! y interrupted, :is Bert, his vision ouscurcd by the coat, charged into him and lent him stumbling. “Her 1” called John to the fleeing

spectre. “Hey 1” John chased it round the yard (watched from a window by his indignant parent), finally running his prey to earth.

“Now,” ho said sternly, as lie took the coal and blanket from the boy’s form; but he could say no more, for the child’s face looked twice as ludicrous above ordinary clothes as above his former fearsome array. John Turner rocked with laughter. After he had recovered somewhat, he delivered judgment on the culprit: “You young monkey! You’ve nearly frightened the wits out of poor Daphne.” “Haw !” scoffed Bert in derision. “Now, explain yourself; what do you mean by it, you little rascal ?’’ “Well, I didn’t mean to give her such a scare, hut I was reading ’bout a man. who blacked his face and cut two men’s heads off who had been making a nuisance of themselves.” “Wherever did you read that?” cried John.

* “If I tell you, will- you promise not to tell Mum or I’ll get what-oh !” Tho required promise being given, Bert produced from his pocket a soiled, creased, dog-eared “Buffalo Bill.” “Got it off the road, I did,” •ho informed his audience confidentially. “Gam! you didn’t! I did,” contradicted a fourth Fawcett, Edgar, who meanwhile, had entered by the sanio hole. “I got it yesterday, coming home from school. Besides, it isn’t yours. I only Ictit it to you.” “You didn’t,” retorted Bert. “You said last night that if I gave you the shark’s tooth and the cigarette cards I could have it.”

“Yes, hut you say you can’t find the tooth, and I’m not going to let you —— “SavUThat’s enough,” John put his word in. “Stop bickering.” “There’s mother calling us,” said Daphne. “Goodbye,” and all four tripped off home. “Ilml" mused John. “Great little kids. But Bert as a Nigger! Oho! Ha! Ha! Ha ! “It seems to me as though you could do something better than .” The rest of Mrs Turner’s sentence was drowned in the shrill scream of a postman’s whistle, and she rushed out to receive tho first Tetter the postman had brought for a year or more. She tore it open excitedly, even though" it was .addressed to her son: For once she was civil. "From your Uncle Frank,” she said, and read out aloud. “What do you think? pve just had a great business deal—gained fifty thousand, and I’m so pleased that I’m ready to kiss everyone. So if you haven’t got work yet, vou might like me to set you up in a little confectionery business ...” “Oh, John !” Mre Turner cried, and fell into his arms. “Tht.nk God !” said John, fervently. And of the four small faces ranged along the Fawcett's fence Daphne’s showed the most surprise. “Look,” sire whispered in amazement, aa John tenderly kissed his ole mother, “He’s crying!” She spoke the truth—ho was.

SECOND PRIZE. ’ “THE LAND OF MEMORIES.” (B;. Daphne Gutzcwilz, 15 years.) I’eop.e called John Turner “queer,” and looked askance at him for he lived in a differo: t world to theirs, the Land of Memories, blood-red, hauling memories. Tlier • was a time when John Turner had been young and happy, with all his life before’ him; but that time was past, and nothing remained but a broken man—with memories. His mother was one of those kindly, good women, who see no further thaJn their cwn noses, and sho daily lamented on ‘‘mf poor son’s sad ways.” Sho knew he liac had many awful experiences, but they were over and done with, so why could ho not forget? But John Turner lived cn, wrapped in memories which no one else shared, and no one saw into that dark, mysterious thing which was Ins heart, unless it was little Edgar Fawcett. The Fawcetts lived next door, and they had four fine children, of whom Mrs Fawsett wis justly proud. Bert, the eldest, was a merry sports-loving hoy. His twin sisters, Daphne and Dorothy, wero mischievous little sprites. John Turner used to stare half-wonderingly, half-sadly at their dimpled, laughing faces, and then shako iis head. It was Edgar, who came in between Bert and the twins, who was both Mrs Fawcett’s pride and distress, lie ne.-cr seemed to care to rush around and make a general nuisance of himself like other boys, hut would spend hours wandering., by himself or gazing in silent adoration at liis hero—John Turner. And to this smad bov John Turner would sometimes unburden himself and tell the most wonderful and terrible stories of the landing at Gallipoli, for John Turner was a brave Anzac. After these outbursts he would ho more gloomy and silci.it than ever, and Edgar would creep away awestricken, leaving John Turner gazing through tho mists of the beyond. “Oh, memories that bless and burn !”

On© day the Fawcett family had come over to pay the Turners a visit, and all were assembled in the drawing-room—Mrs Turner's pride. John had been coaxed to come into the room, and ho sat in a big chair, with Edgar on a etooi at his feet, and th© twins—well, tho twins were all over him. Suddenly a knock sounded at | tho door, which Daphne and . Dorothy rushed to open. In the doorway stood two men, who speedily dispelled Mrs Turner’s hopes that a rich relation had died and left her a fortune, by saying that they were reporters. They wanted to write up somo articles on the Anzacs, and they had heard that John Turner could help them. Here they became slightly embarrassed under the sombre gaze of tho tall, gloomylooking man. Mrs Turner glanced nervously at her son, awaiting an"abrupt refusal. Instead, John rose to his feet, and his voico tilled tho room. “Yes, it will do them good to hear the story of the Anzacs, the shallow-headed fools.’’ Thus he began his 6tory, and before ho had been speaking for more than ten minutes both the reporters had dropped their pencils and listened to him as if in a trainee. | “ . .. . and out there on Egypt s burning sands wo trained —and died, died like dogs, without a hope. Trained until we became mere lighting machines,' trained until, wo seemed to lose our very souls.” Edgar was leaning forward, face whito and eyes gleaming, aind even the twins were quiet. Mrs Turner looked at her son as if she saw him for the first time. "... and the landing at Gallipoli! The World thought it knew what happened there. But if it could have seen the men dropping down before tho murderous fire of tho Turks—comrades quietly sinking on every hand, inever to rise,- and tho blood. Oh, God ! tho blood 1 The men who ■came through are not men—but the meer husk; they havo no feeling—only memories ...” When the husky voico ceased, dead silence reigned for some moments. Then tho reporters rose, looking dazed, and tried to thank John Turner. He stopped them with a gesture, and courteously hold the door open. As they passed him, he 6wayed, and would havo fallen had not they caught him. They laid him gently on tho couch. Mrs Turner was rushing round, wringing hor hands, and crying something about “a wenlc heart.” The children crept out, one-by-one, leaving their mother .with the distraught, woman. The doctor nrrived, but John Turner, tho Anzac, had gone to the land where ho would meet his comrades once more.

ORIGINAL VERSES.

FIRST PRIZE. “ENGLAND.” '■ (By Winnie Archer, 17 years.) England, dear land, I miss the forest , glade, The shady chestnut trees ’neath which I played, The scented meadows where the daisies grow And where the tall sweet grasses wave ai.ud blow; I miss tho hawthorns, bending ’neath their load Of May blossoms, that hedge the dusty road, The flaming poppies ’mid tho golden corn; I miss the sleepy place where I was born. I miss tho sparkling river by whose bank The thirsty, patient, dusty cattle drank, Where drooping willows dipped their tasseled floats, And brown-legged children . sailed their paper boats, On whose translucent ripples, clear and cold, The sun from silver changed to burnished gold. I miss the celandines, whoso lovely sheen Carpets tho woodland dell with gold and green. I miss the April showers, and March winds blow, November’s mists, December’s cold whito snow; I miss July’s wild ro6es, blushing red; The glowing leaves, and nuts, September’s spread; Sweet August’s purple blackberries on tho thorn; The huntsman’s scarlet coat and winding horn, The “view halloos” that ring, and, echoing die Beneath tho eager foxhounds’ yelding cry. England, dear land, farewell for/ everyinore ! One lingering glance I cast at thy receding shore. England, tho Hope, tho dream and pride of Youth, Birthplace of Liberty and home of Truth; Mother of nations, England of the Brave, Jewel of Empire, cast upon tho wave. Oh, Thou who made the world, Heaven, Earth and Hell, Lord of tho Universe, guard England well. SECOND PRIZE. “ITALY.” (By Margaret Henry, 15 years). Where broad blue rivers slowly wend beneath their silver spray Where emerald vines quiver and bend in the breezes sway; Fathomless glories—mystic and rare—blend in sweetest harmony, Enthralling, bewitching—a country fair, Italy, enchanting Italy. A mass of whitened marble halls—here and there a dome; Proudly gazing o’er romantic walls serenely towers Rome; Far below tho starry spanso that spangles o’er the plains, Dark-eyed maidens 6ing and dance to sweet melodious strains. On either side of rivulet thread that winds through peasant soil 'Till it’s last glow the sun has shed, gay-clad figures toil. And, piercing up, with ages to vie, their towers of crumbling stdne The- forgotten glories of some city lie — shimmering vines, their ruins atone. Alluring the tranquil of turrents grand, with dark eyes mystic bright, Fair goddesses by lovers stand — hearts blending with the melodious night The whispering breezes, the starry blaze, enwrap souls in ecstasy; For the harp of beauty ever plays J in Italy—enchanting Italy. j

"CRISPIES.".

Shopkeeper (questioning boy for a job as errand boy): ‘.‘Can you do mental arithmetic ?” Boy: “Yes, sir.” ' . , Shopkeeper: “Well, what would sixtj pounds of salmon at threepence a, pound be?” Boy (promptly): “Bad, sir 1” Pompous Customer: "I say, wa ’KTl, bring me some oysters. They must be really good ones, not too email or too large. They mustn’t be too fat or too salty, and above all make sure they are quite cold. Bring them quickly. . , , Waiter: “Yes, sir, certainly sir. With or without pearls?” * * * t' 9 ‘ Mother ’ (to little daughter): “Your hands are not clean, Betty.’ ' Daughter: Oh, but they, will be when I wipe them on the towel, mummy. * * * Marjorie (putting an applo on her grandfather’s head) : “Oh, grandpa, don t move! Boy’s goin’ to play V llliam lell.. **~ * , “What was tho last card Oi delt ye, Mike?” “A spade.” . « Oi knew it. Oi saw ye spit on your hands before ye picked it up !” » * ,* * “Judge,” complained an irate coloured lady to tho court, “dis yeah no ‘count husban’ o’ mine stays out late.” ~ “Yassuh, judge. Ah does stay out late, admitted the husband, “but' judge, dat woman don’ treat me right. Why, Ah sells de kitchen stove t’ git a an’ 6lie don’ miss it fo’ two weeks." * * * * ’Bus conductor (to Jew with large parcel by his side in ’bus) : Fares'! Penny for you and threepence for the parcel.’ , Jew (to parcel) : “Isaac, come out, it’s cheaper sitting down.” * * " # * Teacher (sternly): “Talking again? You two boys in the back will write your names out one hundred times.” One boy lTandcd in his papier happilyThe other boy began to weep. “Now, what’s the matter?” asked the master. “Haven’t you finished yet?” “Please, sir, it isn’t fair,” sobbed tho boy. “His name is John Dobbs, and mine’s Marmaduke Christopher HCppcithwaito.” , Schoolmaster: “You •mustn’t 6ay ‘I ain’t going.’ You must say ‘I am not going. He is not going. We are not going.” Tommy: “Aint nobody going?” The only man she knew who 1 lisped called her up on the telephone, and said : “Ith that you, Ruth? Well, gueth who thith ith.” « # # EASY CATCH. If you see your chum, go up to her and say, “I have not gov all my' fingers on one hand !” “Good gracious!” she will reply. “What ever happened ” “Well,” you reply, “you see I have got five on each band.” » * * * WHATS AND WHYS. How did the householder know the burglar was a-blacksmith ?- Because he made a bolt for the door. * ♦ * # A GAME BY YOURSELF. Get a sheet of paper and a pencil, and then stand in front of a mirror. Draw a square, watching yourself in the mirror a-s you do it, with your paper facing the mirrow, too, of course, and then try to write your name inside the square. This is ever so difficult, you will find. ROLL CALL: Jack Ingram.