Aunt Roberta’s Family

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLIX, Issue 113, 12 April 1929, Page 10

Aunt Roberta’s Family

AUNT ROBERTA'S LETTER

welcome you as a member of the Family. I have an idea that “Pom Pom” has already been chosen. Please select another nom-de-plume. You see, I do not keep a record of the pen-names of my nieces and nephews. If you want a badge I would suggest that you send mo tho shilling at once. Love and best wishes to a now niece.

Dearest Children,

Julietta says: “I have not written to you for a long time, but please do not think I have lost all interest in your page. Every week I read “Aunt Roberta’s Family” columns from beginning to end.” “I am very interested in your page, and I read it each week. Will you please congratulate Mervyn Dalefield on his story ‘The Wedding,’ for me. I think you have’ some very clover nephews and nieces.” These are the remarks of Baby Bruin. A new member, Alyce Hancox, writes : “I read your page every week, and I like it so much that I have docided to join. I think Aileen Henderson is a very clever niece.”

SCOTCH BLUEBELL: Oh, poor little niece. I hope the nasty sore throat is better. I got a lovely big Easter egg, too! But I didn’t get a cup and saucer and a bangle I The kisses were very sweet; thank you, my dear.

GEORGE S. SINCLAIR: You are very welcome, little nephew,’ and your name has been put on my roll. Yes, I love boys and girls. What is mother going to call the new baby ? Thanks for the lovelv kisses! AILEEN HENDERSON: You got 19 new members, my dear. I have kept a careful record in a little notebook. I am sure Billy Collins will be very pleased when he knows that he is to get ss. It is very generous of you. Billy has worked very hard too. Fancy, you enrolled 37 new members between you! Love and best wishes to Basil, Kitty, Bene and your dear little self.

Ronnie Dalefield wishes to thank Cissio and Con Fraser for the nice things they said about his stories.

Maxine Mummery writes: “Please congratulate Ronnie Dalefield—his work is very good. Also congratulate Aileen Henderson on working so hard for the junior division’.”

Congratulations for Aileen Hepdersop on getting top marks for the first quarter from Billy Collins, who adds: “I think ‘Blue Eyes’ and the Dalefields did well too.”

FLEUR-DE-LYS: I am indeed pleased to hear from you. I don’t think the half hour makes any difference; an hour is noticeable. Miko and Lizzie send their “best love.” Best wishes, my dear. BABY BRUIN; Thanks for the contribution to our Literary Corner.

Alfred de Reya has answered to the Roll Call of 29th March, and the halfcrown special special prize has been posted to him. Lorna Griffiths and Reginald Forde, whose names were “called” 22nd March and 15th March, respectively, have failed to respond, I am eorry to say. Lorna used to take such an interest in

ARGONAISE: I like very much the small paragraph you send for the Literary Corner. Thanks for the competition suggestion! however, I think such a sketch would bo beyond the powers of many nieces and nephews. Love and best wishes.

“Aunt Roberta’s Family.” All the badges on order have been posted. I have six on hand, so will those pieces and nephews who want a badge please send along their shillings at once. A HALF-CROWN PRIZE will be awarded to the niece or nephew, whose name is mentioned in the following list of “silent” members, who writes the BEST LETTER, saying if they still read “Aunt Roberta’s Family” page and are interested in the doings of members, also telling me about themselves. Highly commended and commended marks will be awarded. When these marks total 30 a 5s special prize is given. ALL LETTERS MUST BE POSTED TO ME BY SATURDAY, 20th APRIL:—

9th COMPETITIONS.

CLOSING DATE MONDAY, 29th APRIL, 1929.

EACH ENTRY must be. on a SEPARATE sheet of paper (written in ink on one side only), bearing the name, age and address of tho competitor. Each entry and envelope must bo marked “9th Competitions.” Senior Division.—ls years and up to 19 years.

Intermediate Division.—l2, 13 and years.

Junior Division.—Under 12 years.

SHORT STORY (ANY SUBJECT)

Morac Blair, Harold Bennett (Kauwhata) Patricia Harman, Basil Moore, Mary O’Reilly, Bertha Zurcher (Longburn), Mollie Akinß, Thomas Wm. Byran (Orepuki), Verona Bloy (Limehills), Helen Johnstone (Thornbury), Mary Richards (Lumsden), Irene Varcoe.

(Maximum number of words 1000). Musi be the competitor’s OWN IDEA AND UN AIDED EFFORT. Senior Division.—Prize 4s. Intermediate Division.—Prize 4s. A TRUE STORY ABOUT A BABY— Junior Division.—Prize 2s 6d. LETTER TO AUNT ROBERTA—

Yours affectionately.

fejerbxb CORRESPONDENCE CLUB. DULCIE MORE, (14 years), 43 Earn Street, Invercargill, would like a correspondent living outside of Invercargill. Will someone please write to Dulcie? ENROLMENT COUPON. Cut out this coupon, fill it in, and post to “Aunt Roberta,” care “Standard.” My name is My age is My Address is My Birthday is I read “Aunt Roberta’s Family Page. Signature of Parent, Guardian or School teacher Sent in by “Aunt Roberta’s Family” Badge costs Is (stamps or postal note). ENROLMENTS RECEIVED BY 31st. MARCH.

For those members of the Family ONLY (under 12 years of age) who have never won a prize in the competitions. Prize 2s 6d. This half-crown has been generously given by a junior member of the Family. THE CHINAMAN’S CART—

A Chinaman’s cart upset and the vegetables were badly jumbled. Can you help John to restore them from the following:— (1) SERBH, 12)ARNSIPP, (3) UTELECT, (4) ’KELE, (5) RAROWM, (6) SAHQUS, (7) BERCMUCU, (8) VAOSY, (9) COLIROCB, (10) SERCS.

Senior and Intermediate Division. —Prize 2s 6d. Junior Dvision.—Prize 2s 6d.

RESULTS OF 6th COMPETITIONS,

(Continued from last week)

HIGHLY COMMENDED ENTRIES.

“THE IMMIGRANT.”

(By Remus, 14 years)

It was mustering time at Blackmount

Station. Men shouted, stockwhips cracked and a din of bellowing rose from the cattle being driven slowly into the stockyards.

Jack Leigh jumped off hie horse, and leant back against the stockward rails.

The little chestnut mare, free from the iron grip on her mouth, galloped madly away and came to a standstill in a corner of the yard. Anyone could see Jack was a new chum, but it was an honest face that looked out from under the broad felt hat. It was a relief to get off his horse, for he never felt at home in the saddle. He sat stiffly upright and had not got into the knack of going with the horse, and so felt every jolt. A week later the owner of Blackmount sat in his office with his foreman, Tom Brown. A large mob of yearlings had disappeared from the rough hill country where they had been grazing. “Well, it beats me where they can have got to,” said Mr Gordon, “unless the cattle rustlers have been at work again.” “Yes,” replied Tom, “there must have been something like that. That new hand you took on, Fred Jones, acts very sus-

RENE and' ETHEL PARKER, GEO. S. TERRY (Sent in by Aileen Henderson) NANCY and DESMOND O'DONNELL, ELSIE BOAG (Sent in by Billy Collins). MEMBERSHIP PRIZE OP 10s. The Membership Prize of 10s, which was offered to the niece or nephew who sent in the most names of new members by the 31st March, has been won by AILEEN HENDERSON, who has enrolled 19 new members. Aileen very generously wishes to share this prize with the girl or boy who came second. BILLY COLLINS was only one member behind Aileen, and, therefore, he will receive a prize of ss. LITERARY CORNER. Favourite verses, opinions of various books and short rescriptive passages out of well-known books will be published in corner each week. Dreamer devout, by vision led Beyond our guess or reach, The travail of his spirit bred Cities in place of speech. So huge the all-mastering thought that drove— So brief the term allowed— Nations, not words, he linked to prove His faith before .the crowd. (Rudyard Kipling). The above was contributed by Rimu, who says: “That is how Kipling describes the aims of Cecil Rhodes. I have always

peiously. He is always riding off on his own after work is finished."

A few days later Jack Leigh wa6 out riding, looking for stragglers. He dismounted at the foot of a hill to rest from the saddle. Suddenly he heard voices speaking behind a thick belt of scrub. The words came clear and distinct in Fred Jones’s voice. “Well, Jim, the men have that mob of yearlings well away by this, and if you are ready by the pine trees in the north paddock at ten o’clock to-night, I’ll have fifty young steers waiting for you, and we will be miles away before Gordon discovers his loss. We will make a good thing out of them.” “Will you?” thought Jack, “not if I can prevent you.”

But what could he do? It was thirty miles to the homestead and it was now nearly five o’clock. To a good rider it was nothing, but to Jack it seemed an awful journey. However, he climbed into the saddle, and turned the horse in the direction of home, Hour and hour he galloped, clinging desperately to the reins, now half falling off as the horse jumped over a narrow creek or fence. His whole body seemed a mass of burning fire and his head reeled under the unexpected jolts. He lost all idea of time or place, but the fallant little chestnut mare made straight for the homesteod. It was just half past eight as she stopped in front of the stable door. Jack dropped, panting, out of the saddle and collapsed in a heap on the ground. “What’s the matter, Jack ” asked one of the station hands as he rushed up. Jack eat up and gasped out—“ Fred Jones —ten o’clock—north paddock—pine trees —rustling fifty steers—tell Mr Gordon.”

OUR MAIL BAG. ALFRED DE REYA: I am so pleased you answered to the Roll Call, but it shows that you are interested in “Aunt Roberta’s Family.’’ Just send in entries to the competitions when you have any spare time. Best wishes.

JULIETTA: I am glad .you take such an interest in the page. I hope you get a nice correspondent. No, I did not go away for Easter, pd love to see the little baby. You have 10 h.c. and c. marks to your credit. Thanks for the lovely kisses. Best wishes, my dear.

BILLY COLLINS: I appreciate very much the great interest you take in “Aunt Roberta’s Family.” Lots of love. KIWI: My dear boy, you signed yourself as my “niece” 1 Isn’t it cold and altogether unpleasant these' days ? HARDCASE: The nom-de-plume is most uncommon. Always sign your own name as well.

The man turned and ran for his life to tell the boss. Soon MrGordon and a dozen station hands were riding off to catch the rustlers, after telephoning to the town for the police to meet them. Jack wanted to go with them, but Mr Gordon would not 'et him. He had quite recovered from his rough ride' when they returned with nows of the capture of the thieves. Fred Jones and his partner in crimo have a few years still to put in gaol. Jack is now foreman on Blackmount Station, and is one of the best riders there, but he never forgets his terrible ride when he was a new chum.

-TWILIGHT: The. nom-de-plume will do very well. I expect you enjoyed the special Easter service very much. Best love. ARNOLD DALEFIELD: Thanks so much for the poem for our Literary Corner. It will bo much appreciated, I am sure. Yiour grandmother must have been very clever. You boys have evidently inherited her literary ability. GOOD GRACIOUS: I am so pleased to hear from you. I was sure you had forgotten me. The Bagnulls have quite deserted the Family and it is a long time since I heard from Annette Bristow and Loras Perrin. Thanks for the nice kisses. You are a generous niece.

“THE STORM.”

CIRCE: I like the nom-de-plume you have chosen. I shall look forward to receiving at least’ one entry to each competition, as you have promised. You have 18 h.c. and 6 c. marks to your credit, and Vichos 22, whilst Iris has 21. Best wishes. ALLEN-A-DALE: Everything is quite in order. Good luck! MARY ENGLISH: You and Richard are very welcome, and your names have been put on my roll. Competitions are printed every two weeks, and the closing date is given, also all particulars. The nom-de-plume you have chosen will do very well. Always sign your own namo as well. Love and best wishes to two new members of the ramuy. ALYGE HANCOX: I am delighted to

(By Tomboy.)

I wa6 absorbed in a very interesting book, when suddenly darkness fell. The feeling that something was going to happen came upon me. The noisy, outside world had given place to an expectant calm. A dark, sombre, threatening curtain seemed to hang over the earth, blotting out all signs of the blue sky which had been above us before.

Then it came —a dull roar, followed by a sharp rending sound. The mountain peaks in the distance were enveloped' in a veil of silvery mist, while their sides were a mass of purple. The rain and sleet hurled themselves down with incredible fury and the hail

OUR MOTTO: " CHARACTER AND PERSEVERANCE ”

lashed the windows and roofs of tho houses in awesome angor. Out in the streets people were sheltering beneath verandahs, because many of them had come out quite unprepared for a gale. Little ragged paper-boys ran in and out of the crowd trying to earn a few ponce by selling their papers. Soon, however, the wind moderated, whilo the tempeßt quietened down. The dark, dreary curtain rolled away from the horizon, allowing the sun to come out once more. The wood, a sombre mass before, revealed its varied tints to the now smiling world. Except for the puddles and raindrops,, which still hung like diamonds from tho trees, no one would have believed that only a short whilo before a terrific storm had been in progress.

“MEMORIES.”

(By Becky, 15 years).

In a dimly lighted room of a dark and gloomy cottage an aged man sat. His care worn faoe bore the scar of life’s sorrows and strife, life’s cruel deeds and bitter memories, and in his eyes there shone a wild reproving light—tho light of repentance. As he sat there, by the light of the flickering fire, memories of happy, carefree days danced slowly, sadly through his troubled mind. Then, in a whirl, his thoughts fled down the years of pain and strife, shame and dishonour, until they came to a clouded time, over-hung by a brooding storm. As he roamed far back in Time’s old and faded garden, he saw a lad of ten, bright-eyed and resolute, with a sunny smile, and as open as the four winds around. His was a lovable face, framed in a mop of golden curls, as bright as the summer sun. And to-day . Tears trickled down liis wrinkled face as he thought of the whitehaired dame and kind old father he had left so many years ago.

His mother was a beautiful woman, and as he bade her a last farewell he saw a wistful pleading in those grey eyes; he saw again that lovely face, smiling in heaven, and entwined in the frame of love and peace. Onoe again ho heard his father speaking gently words of wisdom and reproof. What was he today A voice, harsh, cruel and unjust was borne down upon the rippling waves of time, answering “Thou art, 0 Man, an exile in thy own land.” Two long years ago the cold dark door of Reformation swung slowly back and 6et him free. Whilst he was paying the price of evil many were the happenings in the world outside. His parents had left this world of sorrow and strife ond found comfort in the cold grave’s embrace, for Death bestows the Balm of Forgetfulness. He was a lad of five-and-twenty summers when he set out on the long, hard pathway of life, filled with all the cheerful aptimism of youth. Hoss-covered thorns lay concealed in nature’s smooth green carpet, and oft he stumbled into the hidden pitfalls by the way, but he rose again, ever smiling, ever singing. But his clean, honest hopes were soon stolen by an unseen hand and borne away upon an evil breeze.

Then Satan, the fiery demon, ever heady to demoralise, stood before him, holding in its claws gems, rich are rare, but, alas, they cost him dear. Temptation won the day, and the blue cloudless -sky was held in Sin’s deadly embrace. His yet unstained soul was stained with the mark of Evil’s dark and deadly fingerprints. The hand of Fate guided him Mindly, stumblingly, over a stony pathway, over rugged rocks, until It was dead of night. The rich man’s house was rapt in slumber’s dusky mantle of rest and peace. Stealthily Ben O’Rore crept forward: catlike he entered the house, and cautiously he tip-toed round performing his Satanic Heed. His eye 6 gleamed as they beheld the jewels in bis grasp; they glistened as ho contemplated the wealth that would soon be his. Then wary footsteps were heard outside; Ben O’Rore fled—but too late. A pair of strong arms entwined themselves round him, and 6oon he was at the mercy of the law, and for five years he had laboured, paying his evil debt. He was free now but bis heart smote him as he thovight of all the loving care his parents lavished upon him. He remembered his father saying once, “Guard well thy my son, for thoughts are heard in heaven,” and a shiver crept down his back. He remembered a poem he had leaned at school:

“Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.” Tears tricked down his wrinkled cheeks.

His Bible lay open on his knees, and he kept 6aying one verso over and over again : “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” As he repeated those words, a'deep and wonderful peace descended upon him. Somewhere the clock struck the hour of midnight, but he heard it not. He heard only the rustling of wings, and he saw only a golden city, bathed in eternal sunshine. The Angel of Death had come swiftly; his weary eyelids closed, and the guiding angel led him up a shining pathway to the golden gates of Rest and Peace.

“LOST AND FOUND.”

(By Kiwi, 13 years)

The fiery sun sank slowly down among

the Rockies, leaving a riot of beauteous shades and tints in the sky. Yet as Jock Sanderson, a lonely trapper, sat smoking at his cabin door, he noted not the wondrous blendings of oranges, purples and crimsons in the evening picture. He thought of a little girl, who, since her mother’s death, had been the star of his life. But that was long ago, before she was captured by Indians. Pursuit proved fruitless, and then it was that the lonely man, with nought save a vague hope that he might find his lost one, took to hie trapper’s life in the woods. To-day he had seen blue smoke spiralling into the air, indicative of the presence of Indians. And, thinking of Indians, he had thought of Rose. “Ay, it is nigh five years ago,” he mused, “since they took her. She had blue eyes, auburn locks, rosy cheeks and laughing lips. Yes, she was pretty.” No feature was effacod from his memory by time. “But now,” thought he, “she is lost.”

Next morning, as he visited his traps, he came upon a huge brown bear caught in one of them. Foarlesßly approaching him was a small Indian maid; doubhtlnss she had wandered from a nearby camp. The hunter knew that once she was within range of the beast’s free paw her life would be forfeit. In the fraction of a section he had fired; in the next he realised that he had missed. ) At the same time it seemed to him that she was paler than a true daughter of the forest, that there was a resemblance to one whose memory he cherished. Could, oh, could it be Roeie? Such were his thoughts, as, bracing himself, he leapt to 6ave the girl. Easy it would bo for him to jump into those very jaws from which he meant to have the unsuspecting maid. But he was not the one to pause before danger; and so he succeeded. “Me once paleface, ’fore Injuns steal me. You take me back paleface.” And he took her. A few years later, there appeared in the Boston Times a notice that Miss R. Sanderson had passed through' the University with honours. “Now,” thought her father, “she is found.” “AN EXCITING DREAM.”

(By Ocean Spray, 12 years.)

One night I retired to bed earlier than usual, and it was not many minutes beforo I was sound asleep among the warm blankots. I awakened when the old oak i clock was chiming midnight, but I soon : dozed off to sleep again, and I dreamt i

I could hear voicos on tho front lawn. I listened again. Could Ibe mistaken ? No; there were tho voicos becoming louder, and in tho distanco I could hear tinkling music. I leapt out of my bed and gazed across tho moonlit garden. At first I could not sec anything, but after looking for several momonts I noticed little fairies sitting on the grass, talking. After watching for a while, I decided to speak to them. “What aro you doing here?” I askod. “This place belongs to us.” “Oh, does it,” replied tho little fairy people in an angry chorus. “It is the first timo we have heard of it. We came here first and I think it belongs to us.” I did not say any moro to them, but after awhile a little fairy, whoso name was Bluebell, said to me: “If you let us come hero at midnight every night wo will permit you to visit fairyland with us.” “Very well,*’ I said, “but you have wings and can fly 'there—but I shall have to walk.”

“Oh, wo will soon fix you up,” said a fairy, whoso name was Primrose, and with that she waved her wand, and I felt mysef gradually becoming smallor, and, to my surprise, I had a pair of glistening wings on my shoulders, which looked as if they were gold. After a few seconds we were all gliding among the soft, fleecy clouds, and it was not long before wo reached fairyland. The other fairies led me into a beautiful garden, which had lovely flowers in bloom. After wo left the flowers we passed through an orange grove, and it was there that I tasted tho most delicious oranges, which were three times the size of the ones we get on the land. In a little while I noticed a large building looming up in the distance, and the fairies said it was the palace, where the king and queen of fairyland dwelt. In ten minutos we reached the palace, which looked very inviting, for, insido tho huge doors, elder fairies were making ice cream in tho tiniest cones I had ever seen. I

know I could easily eat six myself, but I did not make any remarks in case I was not given any at all! I received a hearty welcome from the queen, who gave tho fairies and myself an ice cream and jelly. When we had finished tho meal she told us we could go into the orchard and pick some fruit for dessert, and we all went scampering off. After I had eaten about six different kinds of fruit, I thought I would see whore the other fairies were, but alas! They were nowhere to be jeon. I ran across the lawn to search for them, and in my confusion a terrible calamity happened. I stumbled over the queen’s prize rose-bush and broke tho top of it. ■ The queen who had seen what I had done ordered mo at once to be beheaded. Although I begged to’ be let off, saying I would go straight back to my homo, she only stamped her foot, and said, “Indeed you won’t.”

I was led away by a grumpy old lady with an axe in her ‘hand, who told me I had only one minute to live. Just as the minuto was up, and the axe was coming down on my nock, I awakened with a great fright—only to find it was all a dream.

“L’ACTEUR.”

(By Heffalump, 18 years.)

Jimmy Dale wanted to be an actor. At the moment he was a bank clerk, and a not too successful one, but ho thought he was born to be an actor. After having ruined two amateur plays—he had been made the hero, solely on his own recommendation—ho decidod he was too good for his home town, and for two years he saved desperately. Then he begged three months’ leave of absence and crossed to America. Straight to Hollwood he —well, flew, and the day after his arrival found him the last of a iong queue waiting to interview Carl Laemmle. At last his turn came.

“I wish,” ho said to the secretary, “to see Mr Laemmle. 1 am THE jimmy Dale.” J

The secretary paused in her ceaseless grind— not work, but chewing-gum—and stared.

“And who,” she asked, “is THE Jimmy Dale ?”

‘'Have you never heard of me?” lie asked in pained surprise. “Never,” said the secretary. That was the end of Jimmy for her, because she commenced to vigorously masticate the chewing guin again. “May 1 see Mr Laemmle?”

She grunted and pointed to the door But Jimmy was made of sterner stuff. “NoI” ho cried. “No! No! No!.”

Then the door opened and Carl Laemmle himself appeared. “Dear! Dear!” ho moaned. “What a noise!” “Are you Mr Laemmle?” cried Jimmy. “Ugh!” “Well, I want to see you.” “Are yo blind ?” _ “Oh no! I want a place in your next picture.” “That’s nice for mo!”

“I know,” said Jimmy, and meant it. He was made that way. “I am THE Jimmv Dale.”

“Never heard of you.” “Good heavens! Have you heard of New Zealand ?”

“Ugh!” “Of Wellington?” “I believe I have heard of that village.” “Well, I’m it’s leading actor.” “Really ?” “Yes. And I have come over here especially to offer you my services.”

“How fri’fully nice of you. Wall, if ye can act as well as ye talk, ye Valentino’s successor.”

Friends, I must hurry the next scene. Laemmle, out of the kindness of his heart, gavo Jimmy a chance. His tragedy was like a comedy, his comedy so obvious a baby would have seen its faults. “Well —no —wal,” announced Jimmy, on his return, “Oi didn’t stay ’cos the pay’s rotten, an’ the worrk’s harrrd. At any rate, mo acting was too ’igh class for cm.” Jimmy still thought Jimmy was wonderful. Not even Carl Laemmle could squash his conceit.

PAY AND RONA

(By Hazel Collins, 6 years.)

Once upon a time there lived a fairy named Fay, who loved a little girl. Every day the fairy came and played with tho little girl whose namo was Rona. One day Rona did something vory naughty, and the fairy got very angry and told her she would not play with her again if she was naughty any more. Now Rona is a very good girl.

“THE THIEF.”

(A True Story.) I(By Ronnie Dalefield, 7 years.) A little boy namod Bobby once had a pot woodhen. It was very fond of worms, so Bobby used to find some for it every day. It became very tame but it didn’t like visitors; if _ they came it would hide somewhere until they had gone. Now Bobby had been blamed for taking tho China eggs from the fowls’ nests. Every day the nest eggs wore taken and now ones had to bo bought. One day Bobby and his mother wore walking past a hedge when out ran the pet woodhen. ' “I wondor if sho has a nest there,” said Bobby’s mother. She pooped into the hedge, and there was the nest, and it had fourteen China eggs in it! So then Bobby’s mother knew that it had been the naughty woodhen, and not Bobby who had been stealing the China nest eggs! “BREAKFAST IN BED.”

(By Rosaleen, 8 years.)

One Sunday morning my sister and I got up early, so I said we would give Mum and Dad a surprise and cook the breakfast. My sister fried some baoon and eggs, while I made the toast. When it was ready I carried two plates

of bacon and eggs into bedroom. laid Mum’s on the edge of tbe duchesso and as Dad was half asleep I put h.s on top of his chest, while I wont for the to and toast I had just reached the kitenen WhenTheard a yell anda big swear word. I ran back and found that Dad had go to turn over in bed and the eggs had slip ped off the plate down insido his pyjamas on to his bare skin! j Mum laughed and laughed as I got a towel and Relped Dad to clear away the mess of eggs. But it was not safo to mention bacoh and eggs to Dad for the rest of the day'.

“THE CHERRY TREE.” (By Apple Blossom, 11 years.) The cherry tree was getting her new clothes for her wedding, .for she was going to marry tho North Wind. She had hei pretty blossoms and leaves on. Once she thought he was coming, but it was one of his brothers. , . t “Oh! I hear him whistling now; I know that’s his whistle.” , , ~ She was a little proud of herself. She spread out her arms to him But alas. it was his brother, the South Wind. He lushed into her, shaking. off all her blossoms and leaves. He was jealous because she liked the North Wind best. Just then the North Wind came along. “What aro you doing?” he demanded. The South Wind wa.* shaking all over. “I was going along with my eyes shut,” ho said shakily. “What are you going to do with me, brother? Have pity. He was very frightened then. . “I am going to put you in prison, said the North Wind. “I will not be able to marry tho cherry tree until next Spring.

“THE BLACKBERRIES.”

(By Lightning, 9 years.)

Jimmy Green was a bright happy boy, full of fun and misohief, but with a kind and loving heart. One warm, summer morning Jimmy wiui whistling loudly as he dressed, when his father came to his room and said, “Hush, Jim, don’t make so much noise. Your mother is ill, and her head aches badly.” “I’m so sorry, dad,” sad the boy, and finished his dressing quietly. When he went into the kitchen ho found his father was getting the breakfast ready. “Go and see if mother. will have a cup of tea,” he said to Jim. Soon the boy was back. “No,” he said, “Mum doesn’t want anything.” “That’s too bad,” said Mr Green. “Now, Jim, I must hurry away to work, and it's up to you to do anything you can for your mother. You will look after her, won’t you, son?” “Yes,” answered Jim, soberly. When he was alone in the kitchen _ he started to wash tho dishes. He was tired of them before he had finished, but ho kept at his job and at last he had them all done.

“Now,” he thought, “What will I do next? I wonder how mother is.”

He went quietly to tho bedroom. “Do you want anything, Mum ?” he asked. “No, dear,” said the sick woman. “Run out and play. I will soon be well again.” So Jim put on his cap and went outside. He took his football and went to the field at the back of ihe house. In the field grew a lot of blackberry bushes. Jim picked and ate a largo number of the big ripe berries, when he suddenly thought of his sick mother. “Jove! These are good! I believe Mum would eat some.” Taking off his cap he filled it with the biggest and ripest berries he could find, and carried the fruit inside. He went to the bedroom, and asked, “How is your head, Mum ?” “Much better, dear,” was the answer. “Look)” said Jim. “Seo what I have brought you. Do you think you could eat them ?” “My dear boy,” said Mrs Green, “how thoughtful of you. I do believe they are just what I was wanting.” She took one or two, and Jim was delighted. He watched her eat more and moro till the cap was half empty. “There,” she 6aid, “I feel ever so much better. Thank you, Jim, and now you must eat. the rest yourself.”

And Jim was a happy boy as he quickly finished the blackberries.

ROLL CALL: Marion McLean

“CRISPIES.”

Johnny: Say, Mum, our teacher has never seen a horse. Mother: Nonsense, child! Johnny: Well when I drew one to-day ehe said: “Goodness! Whatever is that animal ?”

“Look here, Jane,” said the mistress reprovingly, “this chair is covered with dust.” “Yessum,” answered the imperturable Jane. “I reckon nobody ain’t sat on it latelv.” * * * » «

“What are you crying for, my boy?" “ ’Cause father’s invented a new soap substitute, an’ every time a customer comes .n I get washed as an advertisement.”

Mother: So you got those beautiful moccassins for Daddy ? They are splendid. But, dear, I think he would have preferred carpet slippers. Young Hopeful: I know—but you’ve never been spanked with carpet slippers, have you ? • * * * *

Master: Have you anything to say before I cane you ? This is going to hurt me more than you ! ~ Boy: Well, as you’ve done nothing wrong, sir, suppose you let yourself off?

Faddy customer; I don’t like the look of his haddock.

Fishmonger: Well, madam, if it’s looks you’re after, why don’t you buy a goldfish ?

* * * » * Mother: Dear me, the baby has swallowed a piece of worsted. Father: That’s nothing to the yarns she’ll halve to swallow when slie grow 6 up.