COG STORIES

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6803, 5 January 1929, Page 14

COG STORIES

THE LONESOME CRICKET. When a little boy has finished his supper it is fun to sit on the back steps. So David went to sit on the back steps last night. Ho sat there very still and listened to a cricket chirping. It chirped and chirped and then it slopped. David listened. He heard tho cricket begin to cry little shrill sobs—the kind that a cricket, would sob. Then it chirped a little more, very sadly. “Oh, what is the matter, Cricket,” said David. No answer. “Cricket; cricket, where are you?” A little scared voice answered him “Who wants to know?” “David,” said David. “I’m. a little boy who likes crickets for friends. Where arc you please?” “I’m under the red maple in front of you,” said the cricket. David tiptoed over and lifted the leaf. There stood the cricket up to his ankles in a puddle. It was a puddle of his tears. “What’s wrong, little one?” said David very ,very kindly. • “I’m lonesome,” said the cricket. “My wife and six children have gone to the mountains on a vacation, aud I haven’t a friend.” “I’ll be your very good friend,” 'said David. “Cheer up, little one!” “Thank you,” said the cricket solemnly, “but a .little boy is only a little boy and a cricket is, alter all, a cricket.” “Then I’ll find another cricket for you.” And he walked off toward the shed. “I’m afraid you won’t find any for I’ve looked myself,” the cricket called after him'. “I’ll have to hurry,” David said to himself, ‘‘ or that puddle will be up to his neck.” He looked all around the shed and in the stablo and out in the kitchen garden. There were no crickets to bo found and lie was just beginning to believe that the sad one was right, when suddenly he camo upon two crickets talking with the pansies in the garden. They were very small but very gay and giggled and cnuckled in a lovely way. “You’re just the ones 1 need,” said David. Ho picked them up carefully and brought them to tho other one. The puddle had reached his knees. “Just iu time,” said David. “Now be nice and cheery,” he whispered to tho two gay little crickets. And they began to play leapfrog , chirping ail the while with glee. David had to hide a smile down his sleeve because it wasn’t long be-' fore the sad one hud hopped out of his puddle and was leap-frogging and chirping. “You’ll simply have to stay until my family conic home from tho mountains,” he said. The gay ones promised.

Bo David brought a match box and made a home for them down by the pansies. There was a large clear space in front—for playing leapfrog. Ami they hired a big yellow caterpillar to sweep tho leaves away and keep it clean. They were very happy, and I’m. afraid they showed off iu front of the pansies, leaping and chirping all day long and underneath the moon. NO SQUIRREL. Everything was ready, and the stage manager rubbed his hands in eager anticipation. He took one swift look round, and then nodded for the curtain to go up, but the man whose duty it was to attend to this took no notice. “Now, then, wake up, you?” shouted tho manager hoarsely. “Everything’s ready. Run up that curt-iin.” Tbo man standing near the curtainraising apparatus scowded darkly. “Run up the curtain yourself!” he replied heatedly. “I am a stage-hand, not a blinkin’ squirrel.” An English lesson was being given in a foreign school, and the mistress asked if any pupil could make up a sentence containing the words, “defence,” “defeat’ ’and “detail.” The sentence she got was as follows: “When a cat jumps over defence defeat goes over in front of detail.” TWO GULLUFS. Aunt Maria was without a peer among Negro cooks. Her specialty was molasses cookies. One day she was asked her recipe. Without hesitation she replied: “Ah takes a cup of flour, but Alt don’t I use all of it, then Ah adds two gullups lof molasses—” “But,’ interposed the guest, “what jare ‘gullups’?” “Honey, don’t you know? Well, When you has a jug of molasses, and

turns it up, the molasses say, 'Gullup,’ and then run a little more and say ‘ Crullup ’ again. Ah takes two.” Tommy's mother came in to give him a doso of castor-oil. Tommy, looking up, said: “Mother, can you keep a secret?” (til being told she could he saidj “Castor-oil is the secret of health. “Yes, it is,” said his mother. “Well, keep it!” said Tommy. Bobby (to visitor): “I’m going to be a musician like you when I grow up, ’cos mummy says you never do anything else but play!”