OUR YOUNG PEOPLE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1666, 3 February 1904, Page 58

OUR YOUNG PEOPLE.

:l XJNCLE TOBY.)

. G \ !7"Uv' ; -V [Little folks are -invited to send letters •v Vfcod-fTlncle 'Toby” on any subject: .. and notes about their gardens ;and • household pets will be very aceeptable.J -

TO SLEEP.

Leap, leap, Into the arms of sleep! There is no cure - So sure ‘ For mortal woes as this; ’ A pfllcw for thy head, A soft and silent bed ' Ah, bliss!. ■ Fiy, fly, ' « -mf . Up to the boundless, sky j b.. • ■■‘■■'it And float awhile. Where Smile _ ; .; !* • .‘Gardena of fancies wild, \ ‘And white cloud palaces Lie soft on purple-seas En-is2ed. Sing, -sing, - ■ Far thcu art ; pn the wing, The buoyant wind Behind,- * • : ' The light upon thy face; ■ Thou shallt have power to climb Beyond the walls of time And space. Deep, deep, Xntn the wells of sleep Blunge without fear. For .dear ... ..And cool-those waters be:' A balm of .virtue rare—■A respite from despair: , Ah, me! . ■ rV T —E. D. &. “The Pilot" THE DISOBEDIENT SON.

The parents of Cotarad were poor peasants, who lived in a green vail ley. As Ootvpad was their only child,, they doted

Upon him most tenderly, feeding him up- .. QQ, white bread and sugar, whilst they themselves toiled hard in the fields and fed upon black rye. The little hoy was aim aUiawod to play about in the village whilst his father and mother worked.

Btrt on . this one condition —that he should never speak to any stranger. ‘For if you do,” said the mother; “yon will one day be taken away, and we

thlall never see you mare.” And Conrad promised always to obey. jQinfl day he was sitting by the hedge Side waiting till his mother should call hha in far supper, when a little old woman came hobbling down the .road. She wore a rad oloak. under which she carried a bundle, and when she caught sight of the plump and pretty ohil'.d she stopped short and.said, in a kind voice: “Good .evening to you, my fine little man."

evening,” said Conrad politely. f T wonder if you would 'like to look at my talking. bird?” t*l»deted I should,” replied the little bqtf, forgetting, in his eagerness, to see this netw sight. all that his parents had said about talking to unknown, people. “Very well, and so you shall.” And the old woman threw open her cCoak, from which a large black raven gravely hopped. It had but tone leg >and a single eye, and tins it fixed on. Conrad. *1 should like to talk to you,” it said in a croaking voice, “hut we have no time to spare. Can you walk a little of ' the way with us?”

/SS should j like to,” said Conrad, '{hesitating. ' . • “If you will come/’ said the old woman, “my hir'd' shall teach you the way to dance on one leg.” / ’ • ‘Stoke this/’ said the raven,, commencing to twirl .round and round 1 on the taadlway with its single foot. Conrad felt quite dizzy with watching it. “1 will come a short distance,” said the little boy at length. So he got up and, walkod by the side of the old woman whilst the raven danced on in front. Conrad was so amused with the antics of the wonderful bird that he wont a very long way with the strange pair. .It had, indeed, grown quite dark heforo lhe thought .of returning. “Oh.don’t go!” cried the raven, hop-' . plngrwmd him ; “you haven’t heard me ' -'whastleyet; I will teach you to whistle' oo3y*«oma a little further.” . ’ . , /Bfikniymother is .at . home*. and will grieved if I am not back.” said Can,:Tad, who half wanted to come. said the old m wrrniflrhy 'ynn can go in a fey minutes, you' know:” \-himself, to be per-

• , iniaided into continuing the walk, until .ait length" they reached the foot off- a rfhigh mountain. Here the old woman ; tinned suddenly round, and, catching Odnnad !by the wrists, bound him fast I' with cards before he could help himself,

jh© raven laughed loudly with ill- ' iaßfcuirfsd glue. , ;V. have got to come with me,” said now changing, her voioe to “and be my little f«®are. me., dainty suppers ; **Au.d.j'ti£» [ -draw our. water from the m&mm . the . raven, chuckCins:.

Conrad burst into bitter tears a® he sa/w himself unable to escape. He remembered now, when at was too- late, the warning -words of his good old mother, who .at that very moment was Bending over the porridge pot in their valley home. -S l ’'-'- ; But the witch would not listen to Iris cries and entreaties, dragging;him along up the steep mountain path, whilst the raven, who had quite ceased dancing by this time, viciously pecked his legs from behind. At last they reached the witch’s 'Cave —a dark and lonely place, full of toads and toad-stools—and here Conrad was unbound, and bidden to cook supper for the old woman and, the bird. And because he was slew in doing this the oild woman flew into a violent rage, pulling his hair and cuffing him mercilessly, whilst the raven bit him wherever it would find -a tender spoilt was a miserable life. All day long the pear bey was obliged to work hard —cooking and sweeping and drawing water for the sorceress. In the summer the heat was so great as to blister his hands, whilst in winter his very tear drops were frozen. And whatever he did and wherever lie went, the onelegged raven followed him, and if ever ho tried to rest, the wicked bird would call to its mistress, who would then beat Conrad _ with a switch she had cut for that purpose. At alight the poor boy would lie. awake and cry •as he thought of his father and mother and thier sorrow at losing liim, and bitterly indeed did he now repent his disebenience. _ This life went on for a who!)*- ten years, and at the end of that time the witch died. When, this happened the raven flew away, .and Conrad was Iciflt free. He was now a young man of wild unkempt, appearance, with a long straggling 'beard, so that none would have known him again. But he made up his mind at once to return to the valley and seek out his Lost friends again. After a weary Journey the youth reached his native village, when in,a field near by he caught sight of his f ather at work. Although he was very old and nearly bent double, iQcnrad recognised him at -onoe, and ran lip to greet the old mail. 'But the peasant, who was at first very startled at his appearance, only stared tuv the stranger, who was dressed in sheep skins, and certainly looked very funny. ‘Don’t you know me?'” cried Conrad. “I am your son, whom you lost many years ago. But I have come back ” ■ . ‘>My son!’ cried the oild mmi to the other workers, who had gathered round. “This wild man of the mountains tells me he is Conrad. You are mad, young man, for at this moment my son is seated at home with his mother.” Tho villagers burst out laughing at Go nr, ad, so that tlie young man turned sadly away. ~ „ “I will go home to find ray mother,„ ho said, “and surely she will know me.” The peasants jeered <at this, but lie quickly made his way to the old hut, which stood just os he had left it lien years before. . He lifted the latch of the door land looked in. And there by the chimney hearth sat his mother, very old anq grey, and opposite to her, Reading from the Good Book, was another Conrad a slim and well set youth, upon whom his mother beamed with lovihg eyes. Then the real Conrad gently dropped the latch and stole away. He journeyed on till he readied another country, and settled there, never again returning to the home of his lost childhood.

A-LESSON IN Rebecca’s grammar lesson with _ Miss Dearborn. the mistress of the village school,.-is worth recording:— 11 ‘Rebecca,- -I am -afraid I punished you more than I meant.’ said Miss Dearborn, -who was only eighteen herself, and in her year of teaching country schools had never encountered a child like Rebecca. ‘I hadn’t missed a question this whoile day, nor whispered either,’ quavered the culprit ; ‘and I don’t think I ought to he shamed just for drinking.’—‘You started all the others, or it seemed as if yiqU did. Whatever you do. they all do, whether you laugh, ! or miss, or write notes, or ,ask leave to drink: and it must he stop-ped.’—-‘Sam Simpson is a copyopat” stormed Rebecca. TE wouldn’t have minded standing in the corner alone—that is, not so very much j hiit I couldn’t bear standing’ with him.’-—1 saw that you couldn’t, and that’s the reason I toGd yoii to take your seat, and left him id the corner. Remember that you are a stranger in the place, and they take more notice of what you do ; so you must be careful. Now let’s have our conjugations. Give me ■ the verb “to be,” potential mdoid, past perfect tense.’— •I might have been, thou mightsfc have been, you might have been!, they might have been.’-—‘Give me an example, please.’—! might have been glad, thou mightsb - have been glad, he, she or it might have been gjlad.’— ‘ “Me,” or “she” might have been .glad because they are masculine and feminine, but could “it” have bean .glad?’ asked Mss Dearborn, who was very fond of, splitting hairs.— TWihy not?’ asked Rebecca. ‘©eoause “it” is neuter gender”-—‘Couldn’t

we say “The kitten might have been glad if it had lmovm it was not going to be drowned ?” ’ —-‘Ye—ee,’ Miss Dearborn answered hesitatingly, never very sure of hersell: under Rebecca’s fire; but though <we often speak of a baby, a chicken, or a kitten ,as “it” they are really masculine or ' feminine gender, not neuter.’ Rebecca reflected a. Long moment and then asked, Ts a hollyhock neuter ?’—-‘Oh yes, of course it is, Rebecca.’—'Well, couldn’t we say - “The hollyhock might have been glad to see the rain, but there was a weak little hotly h ctok bud growing out of its stalk, and it was afraid that that might be hunt by the storm; so the big hollyhock was kind of afraid, instead o : f being real glad ?” ’ 'Miss Dearborn look ed puzzled as she answered, ‘Of c outvie, Rebecca,, hollyhocks could not be sorry, or glad, or afraid, realty.’—We can’t tell, I s’pose,’ replied the child; but I think they are, anyway. Wow what shall I say?’—The subjunctive mood, past perfect tense of the verb “to knew.” ’ —‘lf I .had known, if thou ihadtst known, if he had known, if we had known, if you had known, if they had known. Oh, it is the saddest tensed’ sighed Rebecca, with a little break in her voice; ‘nothing hut ifs, its, ifs! And it makes you feel that if they only had known, things might have been better 1’ Miss Dearborn had not thought of it bs»fore, but on reflection she believed the subjunctive mood was a ‘sad’ one, and ‘if’ .rather a sorry ‘pant of speech.’ ‘Give me somo more examples' of the subjunctive, Rebecca and that will do for this afternoon,’ she said. —‘If I had not' loved mackerel, I should not have beet thirsty,’ said Rebecca, and with an April smile, as she closed her grammar. ‘lf thou hadet loved me truly, thou woulctst not have stood me lip in the corner. If Samuel had not loved wickedness, he would not have followed me to the water pail.’—‘And if Rebecca had loved the rules of the school, she would have controlled her thirst,’ finished Miss Dearborn with a kiss, and the two parted friends.”