FOR THE CHILDREN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 18019, 18 February 1922, Page 3 (Supplement)

FOR THE CHILDREN.

A HINDU STORY.

A rich man, being at the point of death, handed over all his wealth to a trusted neighbour, asking him to keep it in trust and saying, "When my son comes of age, give him whatever you wish."

Thi s the neighbour agreed to do, and, after tho man died, he took tho money home.

When the boy came of age, he went to his father's friend to claim his fortune.

"Very well," said the trustee, " your father on his death-bed told me to give you whatever part of his fortune I should wish. This I promised to do; so take this!" And ho handed tho boy a huudred rupees. Now this sum wa s scarcely a thousandth part of tlie "fortune the rich man had left, and indignantly tho son refused it. Instead, ho rushed to tbe Court to beg justice. It happoned that at this time the Court was presided over by tho clever boy Raman. To him, therefore, the heir told his tale. Raman had the trustee summoned at once, and asked him on what grounds ho withheld the fortune from tho boy. " Your Honour," tho man replied, "this boy's father on his death-bed handed over all his money to mo with these words: ' When my son comes of age, give him whatever you wish. Hence I now give him what I wish."

" Ah !" said Ramnn, after a moment's thou'eht. " You arc certainly right in wishing to adhero so closely to the dead man's wishes; but I fear you have mudo a mistake. Yom have not given tho. boy what vou wish; ratlicr you have given him what you do not wish. What you wish is tho part of tho fortune which you aro withholding for yourself. This it # is which tho boy's father wanted ydtl to givo to tho boy. and which you, by your own words, agreed to give. Therefore, you vshall keen the hundred rupees only for yourself, but the rest you must deliver at onto to the boy." Thus wat the boy made rich; but the trustee, on account of his greed and dishonesty, received only the hundred rupees.

THE CLOCK AND THE SUNDIAL. In tho centre of the peaceful churchyard stands the old church. In its square lower is a big clock. This clock is very proud because she has beautiful golden hands. Night and day. wet or fino, she ticks heavily and solemnly. She rules tho whole village j she is respected and admired.

School children, late for school, look at the flock as they go by, and hurry on. The old gravedigger raises his bead, mops his brow, and says: "It is twelve o'clock; I must go and have my dinner." At the foot of the tower, surrounded with ancient tombs, i s * sundial. More modest than the clock, he makes no noise, nand no looks at him. The clock despises him. From the top of her tower she says with disdain : " My poor little fellow, no ono looks at von! When the thinnest cloud veils theface of the sun you are useless While I! Listen to my ticking; look at my beautiful golden hands." The dial, ever modest, listens, looks on, and admires. Only, at that moment, the sun appears between two clouds. A fine shadow stretches across the sundial. And the dock, much confused, pretends to be interested in other things. " I think it is going to rain," says she. 'For she has just noticed that she is ten minutes slow according to the dial,