COG STORIES

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6867, 23 March 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)

COG STORIES

SKIS FOB THE WILD BABBITS Among the "Wild Babbits who lived iu tho Big Brown Field, Bungle was very popular. Bungle was a merry little, fat little, smiling little cotton bunny with a pink tail and whiskers. He really lived in the Nursery, but whenever Mary (who lived in the Nursery, too) went to school, he skipped off to the Big Brown Field on top of the Hill. Before he left he always filled his pockets with cookies for the Wild Babbits.

One morning when Mary and Bungle woke up, it was snowing. Great bn; flakes they were, as big as two-sliilling pieces. “Oh, Mary!” said Bungle. “How can I ever get up to the Big Brown Field in all this snow? It looks very much to me as if I have to sit here all day and look out the window. And what will my friends the Babbits do without their cookies?” Ho looked very- mournful and sad.

“The snow docs look much higher than you arc,” said Mary Bunglo -was just six inches high. Ho climbed up on tho window seat and looked out. Snowflakes were everywhere and more falling all around. Every leaf on every tree was covered.

“Bunglo! I’ve an idea,” said Mary and van downstairs. Bungle jumped along behind her and they scurried into their coats and mittens. Bungle never wears a hat. He can’t got one on because his cars arc too tall.

Then they went out. Mary jumped into a snowdrift, but Bunglo had to stay oil tho doorstep. He would 'have been buried in the snow if he hadn’t. Mary disappeared around tho back of the house and Bungle sat down sadly. He began, to whistle “Home Sweet Home. ’ ’

By and by Mary came round the corner with a tiny little pair of skis in her hands. She had made them out of part of a barrel. . Bungle hopped for joy. “Skis! Just what I’ve been longing for.” I-Ie put them on and went skimming off toward tho hill. He turned around and waved a mitten at Mary and began to climb tho long hill. Halfway up he had to turn round because he’d forgotten the cookies for his friends tho Wild Babbits. So ho sailed clown the hill, mile a minute, with his oars flopping and his excited squeaks tradinn behind him. Then ho began tho long climb up again. Ho got quite puffy and blowy before he reached the Big Brown hi el cl. Over the top of the snow lie skimmed and came to where the Wild Babbits lived —in among the roots ol: a tree. They all came out to look at Bunglo. Thev danced up and down to keep warm and blew on their fingers. v> del Rabbits never wear overcoats and mittens. , ~ , . “Oh, Bungle, let me try,” begged ( a little brown one with a wigglcy, eager nose. .... ~ So Bungle took off his little skis nnd tho Wild EaWoits took turns llyinrr down hills. They were very good at”it and could jump over stones and down from all the tree stumps. The next day when Bungle climbed t], c hill, beside his pocketful of cookies lm carried six little pairs of skis iha't Mary had made for his friends, the Wild Babbits.

DOG MONTY’S GIFT,

(A True Story.) Bang! went the screen door and out on the porch came Ben. In each chubby hand he held a cooky, and moro delicious cookies you could not imagine. Hot and spicy they were, with lots of juicy-iooking raisins in their round sides. Ben sat down on the top step. It was a crisp autumn morning—just the day for a boy to be outdoors. He took a tinv bite of cooky. My, but it was good." Mother lin’d said he. mustn't st.sk for more, so he wanted his two to. last, for a long time. Suddenly Ben heard a friendly woof,l woof, and there was Bog-Monty. His: ■perky black cars were high in the air: as a good police dog s cars should be. j Ho and Ben were the best of chums, and he frisked about to show his joy an seeing his little playmate. | It was not only the sight of Bon that; pleased Dog-Montv though. He smelled’ those cookies! Never did a dog like sweet things to eat better than Dog-! Monty. Now lie put his front paws up on Ben’s knees and stood wagging his tail, his brown eyes fixed earnestly on; Ben’s face. "B-onnie! Dear master,” they said j as plainly as words. "Do please give me a piece of that wo-o-onderful-smcl- 1 ling thing. Oh, please, little master!” But Ben only shook his head laughingly.

4 ‘No, Monty, you can’t have these

cookies!” ho cried. “These are my cookies. Go 'way, Monty, and let me eat my own cookies.” Ben kept on taking bites from one cooky while ho held the other high over his head out of Dog-Monty’s way. At last, Dog-Monty must have grown discouraged. lie could not have any cooky and Ben did not even want to play, so he wandered away. On the ground sat Big Master, Ben's daddy, husking ears of nice I sweet-corn for Mother to can. j “Here, Monty!” he called and threw j a plump ear to the dog. Perhaps Monty liked corn almost as well as cookies. Anyway, ho quickly i finished it. | Just then Brownie came along. Brownie was not a handsome police puppy like Dog-Monty. No, Brownie was rather a shabby old dog, with a rough coat. Ho had been out in the fields all morning and now he stretched out comfortably in the shade. Ben watched Dog-Monty as he bounded to Brownie’s side. DogMonty wanted to play and havo some fun, that was clear from the way he jumped around trying to urge the other dog to join him. Brownie evidently intended to take a rest, however ,for he did not move, just lay still with his front paws on the ground beforo him. Then Dog-Monty walked over to the| sack of corn and picked up another ear. He looked inquiringly at Big Master, who nodded and said, “All right, Monty.” Ben's eyes opened wide when he saw what happened next. Dog-Monty car-

ried the corn over to Brownie and laid it carefully on his outstretched paws! “Daddy! ” cried Ben excitedly. “Did you see what Monty did?” “I did,” said Daddy. “He is a generous dog.” All at onco Ben grew very thoughtful. He sat without moving or saying) a word for several minutes. Then hei called Dog-Monty. “Come here, Monty, come here, nice Doggy!” And wlion Monty leaped to his'side Bon put into the dog’s eager mouth, one whole, fat, sweet cooky.

WHO LOVES THE TREES BEST? ‘'Who loves the trees best?” “I,” said the Spring; “Their leaves so beautiful To them I bring. ’ ’ i “AVho loves the trees best?” “I,” Summer said. “I give them blossoms, White, yellow and red.” “AVho loves the trees best?” “I,” said the Autumn. “I give them sweet fruits, And bring tints to some.’ ’ “AVho loves the trees best?” “I love them best,” Harsh AA'intor answered; “I give them rest.” '