Enrolments

Southland Times, Issue 19546, 9 May 1925, Page 18

Enrolments

Cousin Frances Scott, (11), Otahu, Clifden, via. Otautau. Cousin Rita: I am glad you liked your present, dear. Had you read it before? You must tell me what you thought of it, and how you liked it. That was a strange “Laugh” you sent in—l wonder what the little boy expected to see! Cousin Kia Ora: So you are one of the laggards, Kia Ora! And no excuse to offer, either! Dear, dear this will never do. Still, to tell you a wee truth for which I don’t want you to think I forgive you one little bit, I like you better for not making up all sorts of silly excuses to pacify me. That is what I don't like at all. When shall I see your jacket, dear? What sort of books do you read, and what are you reading now? Who is your favourite author, little bookworm? I should say four correspondents is quite enough for one long Cousin to have —quite enough, indeed! Your suggestions for competitions are practicable and doubtless you will see them made use of shortly. Have you really violets still flowering in your garden? What a wonderful place it must be, and what a lucky Cousin to have such a home. Cousin Daphne: Your jacket to hand, dear, and a very wonderful jacket it is, too. I am proud of you, dear! I can realise what a great deal of work you went to, though you do not mention a word about it. Perhaps you will obtain your wish, dear, who knows ? And I am not going to tell you any more, just at present. Cousin Golden Link: Twink sounds a simply lovely wee kittie, dear—does she get into all sorts of mischief? Wee kittens like that generally do. What photo do you mean, Goldenlink, that you wish sent back? Do you ever milk any of the cows with the nineteen names, and have you a favourite amongst them? I’m quite sure you do like school, and your twelve little playmates. What a lovely, “homey” school it must be. Cousin Meadowsweet: The quotation over which you have had so much trouble, dear, is from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “In Memoriam.” I hope you will have no more difficulty in locating it. I do not want you to tire yourself out, dear, or harm yourself in any way. You must remember your first consideration must be your health, and taking care of yourself. And you mustn’t overtax yourself working for your Cousin Betty, and the little hospital children. You know you best please me by being cheerful and bright, and getting well as quickly as ever you can. Your new ideas for scrapbooks are lovely and I am sure will delight lots of children.

Cousin Sunflower: I will not allow you to say disparaging things about your perfectly sweet jacket, you know. It looks very tricky and cosy, and the f idea of the animals is quaint. I’m sure you cannot imagine all the fun I really do have —I wouldn’t change places with anybody in the world, Pm quite sure about that. You do not tell me about school, dear. Do you travel in the train every day? Cousin Mellow Moon: What a lovely idea to write me a diary letter, so that I may know you better and be acquainted with your doings. I appreciate your thought

i very, very much, dear. I think second year I Latin is the hardest subject in the school ! and certainly the hardest period in learning j the subject, besides having a lot of study ■ attached to it. But you may rest assured, Mellow Moon, that it is this year that will i form a foundation for your future studies, '■ and probably for. your future life, because in practically all the High School subjects, the - second year comprises the ground-work. Your algebra marks were very creditable, dear, and I think perhaps your French ones were too, were they? I have found so often that Algebra and French go together, though why they should I do not know. Fruit salad was a lovely dish to make at Cooking—was there any left for your people at home to taste, I wonder? Cousin Mary: It is so long since I heard from you, dear. Are you always going to neglect your Cousin Betty so utterly in future? I should love you to tell me all about school, and your impressions of it. Did you play Basket Ball at primary school? You must be a very good player to be included in the Junior A team, and what a record you have to uphold! I shall look forward to that longer letter, dear. Cousin Eileen: I am so sorry I did not answer your letter last week, dear; but you will forgive me, I know, when you think how very busy I have been opening parcels and admiring jackets. Your jacket reached me safely, Eileen, and I know some little Cousin will be proud of it, and beautifully warm and cosy inside it. And the two lovely red hair-ribbons, one in each pocket, will be surprises! I will enquire about your magisine at once, dear. That is two which have gone astray. Surely you use a milking-machine for 32 cows! Why, you would be no sooner finished than you would have to begin again, otherwise! What do you call yoqr very interesting black cat ? It would be a terrible insult to him if you have not named him.

Cousin White Violet: What do you mean by “silly,” dear ? You must tell me at once, because I am very impatient to know. Olive will naturally be jealous of baby sister at first but she will do her all the good in the world, and will save her from being too spoilt. You must be very careful that you do not spoil her too much, because it is upon her impressions now that her whole life depends. Cousin Pearl: What a lovely birthday you must have had, dear, and what a lucky Cousin to be given so many nice presents. You must have been a particularly good little girl all through the year, were you? Goodness! Don’t you find the 24 miles you walk to school very tiring, dear, twice a day? I am sure I would often grumble if I had to do it. You will love music, I know and must tell me how you get on, and all about your first pieces. Give my love to Smut and Betty, and if they are really very clean kittens, hug them extra specially tightly for me, won’t you.

Cousin Eileen: Of course I didn’t mind your doing what I consider to have been your duty, dear, and a favour for me. For how was I to have known, dear, if some thoughtful Cousin did not tell me? I am glad you sent in two essays, Eileen, and hope you will continue to write to me often and fully. I should like you to try your hand at verse dear, as I am quite sure you could make a success of it if you only tried. There are lots of worse things than being at home, dear, you’ll find, though I know it must be dreadful to be in ill-health. I do hope you are quite well and strong now, dear and that the winter will not set you back at all. You mention a sister Ruth —I have a faint suspicion I have heard of her before —do you think I have? Cousin Kiltie: I do hope your mother’s bad, bad cold is better, dear, or at least improving. A nasty cure, but with excellent results, is for the patient to drink the juice of onions which have been boiled in sugar, and water. I have never known this to fail, so you try it with your mother. Just make her take it whether she likes it or not—remember all the horrid things you have had to take when she has told you to! I excuse all defects this week, certainly, but will expect you to be doubly neat and tidy next week to atone. “Duty then Pleasure” would be rather a ponderous responsibility to have engraved on our badge, don’t you think? IN A HUNDRED YEARS. DIARY OF A DAY IN MAY, 2025. (First Prize.) This morning I woke up to find my bedroom filled with lovely sunshine, bringing with it the fragrant scents of wild violets and briar roses. For a moment, I lay dreaming, but then, I remembered myself and picked up the telephone receiver, to ’phone the Central' Kitchen to send along breakfast in half-an-hour. Meanwhile, I dressed, and ran down fo my electric-heated conservatory to get an orange to eat before breakfast. After breakfast, there was washing to be done, so I turned on the electric heater which heated the water to the correct tem- • perature in a few r seconds. As I washed each garment, I hung it, firstly, over the electric-drier, and then over the electric ironer; so that the clothes were dried and ironed almost as soon as I began washing. I next ’phoned my friend, Miss Gwenda de Verle, to see if she would come with me to Dunedin in the “Butterfly” (that’s my aeroplane), to see Shakespeare’s famous play, “The Merchant of Venice,” which was being geted by world-famed actors, in London. She readily assented, so to put in the few minutes when I was waiting for her to put on her aeroplane costume, I picked up The Southland Daily Times, and rqad, not without interest, that the Monowai water supply was givifig out, and that another electric scheme altogether was being started. I also read the “Little Southlanders’ Page,” (it was Saturday morning, you see), which is always so interesting, under the supervision of the untiring example-setting Cousin Betty. Just as I was in the middle of reading Cousin Betty’s letter on the results of the competition for the Sewing Clan, in rushed Miss de Verle, so we jumped into the spacious compartment of the “Butterfly,” and seated ourselves beside the air-fcoles, where we could see clearly the/ scene around. / As we flapped daintily through Hhe air, the cool fresh air was wafted softly against our faces by the gentle motion of the lemon-tinted wings of the “Butterfly.” The scene below was always much the same. Tiny villages were dotted all over the country, and in the centre of these villages towered huge schools and colleges. The country roads of flat-sheeted metal freshly prepared, were fringed with beautiful shrubs, fruit trees and flowers, all to match the natural colours of the scene immediately around. Cattle were grazing peacefully in the well-cultivated fields, and

the towns were as fresh, spotless, noiseless and beautiful as these cool grassy meadows. One thing which attracted our attention and admiration very much, was a hansomcab which was driven by a lady high in society. It was not one of those oldfashioned cabs, for the horse was of a pale heliotrope with a crimson mane and yellow eyes. It was, you see, not a real horse, but was driven by machinery. Miss de Verle remarked what a marvellous improvement this was on the motor-car, as ladies can drive them without any fear of getting punctured tyres. We reached Dunedin in less than an hour from starting, and did a little shopping before going round to the theatre. It is so easy to do shopping now-a-days, as every kind of goods imaginable is stocked by one shop. This certainly saves much time. We purchased an aeroplane-costume each, and then boarded a trackless electric car to the theatre. Was it any wonder that we held our brteaths in astonishment, when we saw the play being acted so far away, just as if the actors were th front of us ? While at the theatre we pressed the after-noon-tea button, whereupon afternoon-tea glided along an elastic wire on to a table beside us. Then, having enjoyed Shakespeare’s wonderful play, and our afternoon tea to the full, we paid a visit to the museum, where we saw, amongst other things, a piece of black stuff called coal which, it is said, people used to burn in fires. Then we went to the Zoo. where we saw the only crocodile supposed to be left in the whole world, and also one of those Kings of Beasts which are now so very rare. Then we boarded the “Butterfly,” and fluttered home, helped by a cool night breeze, having spent a very enjoyable day. -5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Annie Playfair (14), ‘Bonniefield,” Gummies Bush, k - TOUCHING BUTTONS. —Second Prize. — On May 1, 2025, I made up my mind to visit a friend in Invercargill for the day. The train did not leave till half-past eight, so I did not have to over-bustle myself. When I reached the station the clock showed me that I had five minutes to spare, so I made myself comfortable in the train. What a difference in the trains. There were no second-class carriages at all. The carriages were all the same and the price a great deal cheaper. The seats were all padded and plenty of electric heaters were conveniently near, so - 1 did not' take long to become comfortable. The train soon started and in half an hour I stepped out of the train feeling sorry to leave it. I walked out of the station and all along the back of the station there were electric buttons, so I pressed one and immediately in. front of me there appeared an aeroplane which, in a couple of minutes, arrived at my friend’s house. Pressing a button the gate flew open and I entered. My friend was very pleased ot see me and at once touched a button. A couple of maids appeared ; one with afternoon tea and the other for my hat and coat. For afternoon tea we had a tablet, containing all kinds of food, each, and a glass of mineral water. My hostess wore a blue silk dress freely made and low-heeled shoes. Her hair was black and long and exquisitely twisted round her head. She looked very simple, but charming. In the corner of the room there was a piano and, because I was a musician, my friend (Alice) pressed a button and the piapo commenced to play. When I was satisfied Alice stopped the music and we went up the town. ? The

shops were very different. Instead of men and ladies serving you, a number of electric buttons were in a line and on top of each was printed the name of each food or material, etc. Underneath was the price and there was a slot to put your money into. Of course, the money had to be paid first. I had a few’ messages to accomplish, but they did not take extremely long so we went back to my friend’s house for tea. After tea I had to hurry for the train, so I hired an aeroplane which very soon took me to the station. After paying the man sixpence I entered the train, but I was a couple of minutes early because the train did not depart until seven o’clock. As there were numerous books and newspapers in the library on the train I was soon comfortably seated and in the trance of a delightful book. The time soon passed and, before half an hour had gone by I was in Lumsden. Because I lived half a m ; le out of town, I hired an aeroplane and very soon I was back home again after my enjoyable day with my friend. —Three marks and 2/6 to Cousin Winnie Belsham (14). Lumsden. HIGHLY COMMENDED. A LADY OF 115. As I lie in the shade of the trees iu our garden, listening to the birds singing in the tree-tops overhead, and watching the chimneys smoking all around me,'l try to imagine what the world will be like in 100 years’ time. When I shut my eyes, I can see myself an old, old lady sitting in a gloriously furnished room. Not like one of to-day, with a huge tiled fireplace, but in its place I sec a neat electric heater. In place of our wax candles or gas lamps, this room is brilliantly lighted with electricity. As I sit here thinking over the past, one of my little grandchildren comes to me and asks me to tell her a story. “What kind of a story would you like, dear?” “Oh, tell me all about the when you were young, please grandma.” Sitting down near the window, I begin my story. “In my young days people did not own aeroplanes, as you see everyone flying about in to-day. If we wished to travel, we went in trains, which were run on iron rails, and driven by steam. It took much longer that way, because the rails curved in and out, round corners, up and downhill and sometimes over very rough places. While to-day, you lucky children can travel in electric trains, or, better still, you can travel through clear, open air in an aeroplane. In my day, great excitement occurred if an aeroplane so much as flew over the town. Our method of lighting up our houses was entirely different from to-day’s method. On coming home in the dark, we had to hunt round for matches to light our candles, which gave a very dim light compared with your electric lamp. On entering, you have merely to press a buttton and immediately the room is filled with a clear, strong light. As for traps, carts and horses, they are entirely things of the past, and electric cars and machines have taken their places. If, in those days, any important message had to be delivered a man would, perhaps, have to walk miles in order to deliver it, and, besides wearying himself, much time was wasted. Thus you see the use of your present-day wireless. One has only to press a few buttons, and the message is delivered, maybe miles away, in less than a minute. Also, look at those swing-doors. One hundred years ago the doors in my home were ones that opened inwards and outwards, and were always banging. Again, think of your electric ovens and stoves. How handy they are, for you havs merely to press a button or turn a handle, put your cakes into the oven, and leave them to cook, without all the bother of shovelling on coal. You see, my dear, whatever way you take it, everything is much improved upon now to what it used to be. But, no matter what others may say, I myself prefer the old days, when everybody seemed much more homely and happy. From the house I hear my mother calling, and gradually I pass my thoughts back to present-day life, where I am lying beneath the trees in our garden. —Two marks to Cousin Alice Perry (15), 24 Oteramika Road, Invercargill.

COMMENDED. In a hundred yeare time you and, I and probably everyone on this earth to-day, will be dead. Also, in a hundred years hence this world will have changed a great deal. Places with which we arc now quite familiar, will have altered beyond recognition. Invercargill may be a great flourishing city, while Wellington may have shrivelled up into a small place. Although that seems almost impossible, one never knows what can happen until it does happen. And in a hundred years there is ample time for astounding things to happen. Let us look ahead a little.

Instead of motor cars thronging the | streets as they used to, aeroplanes have come into use. People think as little of flying into town now as they used to of motoring. It is quite an everyday sight to see aeroplanes flying over the town. Aerodromes have taken the place of motor garages. When a person comes to town, he takes his aeroplane to an aerodrome, as they cannot be parked in the street like motor cars. The streets are much wider, as they need to be, to meet the demands of the growing population. Motor cars are still used, though not petrol fuel. Instead, electric batteries are fitted into all cars, making them almost soundless. The ears of to-day are much bigger than those of a hundred years ago. They are double-deck-ers and can accommodate big-ger families than of yore. No motor 'buses run to Wallacetown or Makarewa now. These places have been connected up with electric trams and people living there can come into town quickly and comfortably. Indeed, they have scarcely any need to come into town at all for there are very good shops, stocking all requirements at their very doors. Education, too, has gone ahead and school is a much pleasanter place fhan it used to be. Children enjoy learning in the new ■vtfay. Gramophones are used extensively, and every school has at least one piano and gramophone. Children cannot leave school until I they are at least sixteen, thus making a healthier, happier nation for later on. One thing of olden times which still remains is the Southland Times. It is now a flourishing concern, supplying nearly the whole of Southland with news from all parts of the world. Cousin Betty’s page, too, still exists, and takes up the best part of three pages, though the original Cousin Betty does not still conduct it. Many of the Cousins now enrolled are grandchildren of the first young Southlanders, and proudly . display their badge as the very one grandmother wore when a young Southlander. On the whole, the world has made wondrous strides, whilst India and Africa, now civilised, well-governed countries, are among the leading countries.—l mark to Cousin D. Eileen Jaquiery (15), 13 George street, North Invercargill. From The Poets VENICE. I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand; A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying glory smiles O’er the far times, when many a subject land Looked to the wing’ed Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles! —Lord Byron —Sent in by Cousin Jean Somerville, (12), Mabel Bush. EXCITEMENT. ONE CROWDED HOUR. (First Prize;) The sun shone brightly down upon the grey placid waters of the Pourakino river and the air was filled with the happy laughter of a gay picnic party who were returning on their homeward journey after a delightful afternoon spent at the beautiful spot known as the “Governor’s Tables.” The party numbered about forty and consisted of many of the residents of this district along with their wives and children. As the waters of the river were delightfully cool the children amused themselves by dipping their hands over the edge of the boat and trailing them through the waters as the little launch “Palatine” rode gaily along. At last after a calm and uneventful trip we reached the spot where the suspension bridge spans the river; but to our amazement we found that the tide had risen so quickly during our absence that the launch was unable to pass under the bridge. “Whatever is to be done,” everyone asked each other, and then there arose a chorus which reminded me very much of the song, “I’ll stay out as long as you like next week, but I must go home to-night,” almost everyone in that boat had something to get home for that night. Some had forty cows waiting to be milked, some had more and others less, but all seemed agreed that the launch must go under that bridge. After a hasty consultation with the captain many of the men pressed forward hoping that their avoirdupois would be sufficient to weigh her under the bridge and then the clear, shrill voice of the captain rang out. “All down,” and like the Mahomedans at their mid-day devotions all hands ducked and prostrated themselves on the floor of the boat, so that their heads would not be struck by the timbers of the bridge. The efforts of the men proved unavailing, still more men were wanted in order to weigh her down so more men pressed forward. Mother whispered in my ear and told me not to be afraid, but I am sure I heard her own heart thumping beside me and I must confess dear Cousin Betty I was sore afraid, and if you will promise never to tell it even to your very best chum I will admit I wept. I thought I would never see dear Southgrove again. Who would feed Billy the pet calf that night? Who wou|d tuck the rag dolls in their little cardboard bed if we were to sink to the bottom of those cruel waters, and as such thoughts were chasing each other through my excited brain the captain’s voice rang out once more: “All down.” Down we ducked again. Would she go under. “No,” “Yes” was to be heard on every side, and with my eyes closed waiting for the worst to happen, I heard a grating, jarring sound, and hurrah! hurrah! for the “Palatine,” she was under, not under the cruel, cold waters of the river, but under the bridge and sailing aw r ay on her homeward journey once more. Ido not know if the excitement lasted an hour or a little more or less but I do know it was the most exciting hour I have ever known.—s/- and 4 marks to Cousin Helen Cormack (9), “Southgrove,” Gummies Bush. THE CIRCUS. (Second Prize.) On the whole, my life has not been a very eventful one. At times, however, things more or less exciting have happened. I think the time I spent at the first circus I ever saw, was the most thrilling of all. On drawing near to the circus tents, real live elephants could be seen parading round the grounds; and great cumbersome animals they were. With great swinging trunks, huge flapping ears and a coarse gray skin, besides being of such gigantic dimensions, they were indeed objects to strike terror into the hearts of children unaccustomed to such big animals. The dismal roaring of lions could be heard, giving me a hollow feeling in my stomach, and making me glance quickly over my shoulder to make sure no wild, tawny-maned creature was pursuing me in the hope of an extra meal. Then came the crush to get tickets, with everyone pushing and shoving, and men reaching over the heads of those who were unfortunate enough to be smaller than they themselves. Then a rush for the door of the tent, during which scramble I was lucky enough to pick up sixpence, which some unfortunate had dropped, and which I promptly spent on chocolates. Our tickets having been passed into the grhny hand of the man in charge, we were admitted to the big circus tent where the performance was

to be held. The seats rose in fairly steep tiers, with a rickety sort of stair-case going up the middle. After a brisk scramble, I was lucky enough to secure a seat from which I had a fairly good view of the ring. I had just got nicely settled, and was doing my beet to keep myself from falling from my rather wobbly perch right down onto the hard earth, so many hundreds of yards beneath, (so it seemed from my aerial perch), when what should I hear just behind me but the thundering roar of a lion, just outside the tent. I felt the contents of my stomach go slipping and sliding down into my shoes, and devoutly I hoped that they would not escape by way of the eyelet holes. I very nearly toppled right off my seat, but the roars died away and the cage of lions was finally drawn into the tent by one of the big elephants I had seen outside before. After them came tigers, wolves, bears, dogs, performing horses and ponies, Chinese boys and , clowns and actors in a grand parade round the ring. After they had marched round and then withdrawn, a performing pony made its appearance, and was ridden bareback by a little girl. She was really a charming and clever child. She could dance and skip on horseback wonderfully well. After she had performed her clever little tricks, a gaudily arrayed clown entered the ring, and began the usual performance of hair-haising tricks. He seemed made of India-rubber, the way he jumped and bounced about, seemingly never hurting himself. I don’t think I could topple off a pile of boxes ever so high and never receive so much as a scratch. The clown was followed by three or four men who twisted themselves about on a trapeze, formed a living chain across the ring, and turned themselves nearly inside out. They kept their audience on tenterhooks throughout their clever, acrobatic performance, and were clapped and cheered with great enthusiasm as they made their exit. The lions then showed what they cpuld do. 'They had a keeper in bright red uniform to keep them in order, who cracked a whip and shouted at them. They leapt through burning hoops, marched round their cage in pairs and leapt over each others backs. After they had gone, the dogs came yelping in, to be harnessed to tiny gigs, or to ride miniature bicycles. The monkeys, too, when they made their appearance, were very clever; doing numbers of tricky things and showing how intelligent they are. One big monkey chased his keeper <ight out of the tent. The man ran away squealing and pretending to be very frightened. A lady walked a tight-rope, climbed swaying rope-ladders and swung herself backwards and forwards on a tiny swing high up in the middle of the tent. After doing several rather risky things, she descended to the ground by simply sliding down a rope, landing lightly and gracefully on the ground. Shortly after that, the performance came to an end. The whole thing had been very good, the performers keeping their audiences in. a wild state of laughter, and sometimes, anxiety for the safety of the daring acrobats.

A friend at the back of me kindly (or unkindly) pushed me from my precious position on the plank, to the ground below, on which I discovered it to be nearer than 1 thought. I made my way out to see the animals fed. The lions and tigers were cross and snatched the food from their keepers as soon as they could get at it. I fed the monkeys, gave tfie elephant some peanuts, and a peppermint, and after it had succeeded in getting rid of thff offending sweet, I gave it a paper bag screwed up into a ball. However, the beast did not suc-

need in digesting such a tough morad, and was obliged to disgorge it. I discreetly removed myself from its presence, fearing it might take it into its head to squirt dirty water over me, like some elephants have done to their keepers. Having gone the rounds and seen everything there was to be seen, I wended my way homewards, having spent a very satisfying and exciting time. —2/6 and 3 marks to Cousin Eileen Jaquiery (15), 13 George Street, North Invercargill HIGHLY COMMENDED. OH, TOPSY! One day as my mother was away, my sister and I caught the old mare and got on her back to go down and see the flood. Well, you see, when the flood is out the Titapu crosses the road on both sides of the bridge and is sometimes very deep. 1 We thought we would make the horse go through it to see how deep it was. When ■ we got into the middle, the horse stopped and would not go any further for us, 1 neither backward or forwards. No matter how we coaxed or hit, she would only go round and round. At last we had to give it up, for if she went off on to the side it was very deep. There we had to sit perched up on the horse, and water all around us. We were getting very frightened, when at last a man came in a gig and rescued us. As soon as he had got us both safe in the gig our old horse turned round and made ’ off home as fast as she could. I never again got on old Topsy’s back. One ride was enough for me. I —2 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (11), Mabel Bush. THE GHOST. The pictures were just over, and 1 was ' walking home by myself. It was a moonlight night, so I was not afraid. It was just around a corner when I saw a parcel with string around it. At that moment the moon went behind a cloud. I stooped to pick the parcel up when, to my surprise, it moved. I looked up and saw something white—a ghost. With a yell, I ran forward with the “ghost” in pursuit. How I ran. I'm sure I never ran faster in all my life. I was breathless when I reached our gate, and when opening it, I looked round and, to my surprise; the white thing had gone. I did not say anything to anybody inside, but could not help thinking about the thing in white or ghost as I thought it was. Next morning a parcel was handed to me by my brother. I recognised it as the same one as I had seen last night. When I opened it I saw there was only brown paper in it. “How did you ’get hold of this?” I asked. My brother laughed and said: “After this, don’t be frightened of a brother dress ed up as a spook.” “W T as it yoq?" I asked, but my brother had disappeared. —2 marks to Cousin Mary Richards (13), Lumsden. COMMENDED. ANTICIPATION. I may truthfully say that the most exciting hour I have spent was on the first Saturday morning after I wrote to our I Cousin Betty.

Dear me! As soon as I woke up in the morning, my heart began to beat excitedly, for was it not the “Little Southlanders’ ” day? Would not my very own name be in the enrolments?” Thea I began to think that perhaps my letter had gone astray, or perhaps, I had forgotten to ask if I may enrol, or perhaps, I hadn’t sent the letter at all, or perhaps the letter I had eent for the Competition was not at all what was required, or perhaps ever so many more disasters had come upon that letter. As sleep was utterly impossible, I jumped out of bed and dressed, although everyone else was still sleeping soundly. However, the others were soon awake, so I thought it couldn’t be so early after all. Thai morning, we were going down to “The Rocks'’ for a fortnight’s holiday, so Jean and Peggy were soon dancing round happily. (They couldn’t have been nearly as excited as I was, though.) The others had either forgotten there was, or didn't know there was a “Little Southlanders’ Page” (it was quite young then, you see), and of course, I didn't let ©n. as I didn’t know what may have happened. So, first chance, I slipped away and ran down to the corner of our road, where the paperman drops our paper. I was imagining all manner of things as I ran down, but oh! I felt the very worst of them—had come true when I reached the corner, for —the —paper —was —not—there'. Such disappointment! All my hopes seemed to fall to the ground, but then a little thought crept into my mind, which caused my heart to start that beating and jumping •gain. “Good gracious, you silly girl,” the little thought said, “you didn’t look to see what time it was. You can’t expect the paperman to be here before half-past seven.'’ I ran home, to find that the time was precisely a quarter-to-seven. How slowly the time seemed to pass! I thought half-past seven would never come, and my most ardent wish at that moment was that my heart would stop jumping so. At twenty-five minutes past seven I again raced down to our corner, but again the papers were not there. “Dear me,” I thought. “The paperman must surely have forgotten to come, and on Saturday, too!” .As I didn’t wish anyone to notice how silly and excited I was, I ran home to breakfast, without waiting for the mail-car to pass. After breakfast, everyone was in a bustle preparing for “The Rocks,” and, what with the double excitement, I didn’t know what to think about the most. After the luggage was all safely packed in the motor-car, in came someone with the paper. Of course, I didn’t let on that I was longing to see it, though I could hardly help from doing so. However, after everyone had gone out to the garage, I stayed behind, with the paper. For a moment, as I began to open the paper, all my hopes flew up; but then, after my hands had stopped quivering a little bit. I managed to find the “battle Southlandera’ Page ” and then, oh! I forgot all about the disasters I had been imagining, for Cousin Betty had actually enrolled me. The next thing I read caused me to drop the paper and rush round to tell the news to the others round at the garage. I was delighted as well as kind of astonished, for in the competition, I read: Qiusin Mary Richards, Ist; Cousin Annie Playfair, 2nd. How pleased I was! and was it any wonder? for it was the very first prize I had ever won, or ever had a chance of winning. Even when we reached “The Rocks” my excitement had not ebbed away the least little bit. 1 mark to Cousin Annie Playfair (14), “Bonniefield*” Gummiee Bush. WINGED MERCURIES. I arose one bright morning and after taking my concentrated food tablets, sufficient for the day, I clamped on my electric wings and flew out of the window over the red-roofed sky-scrapers, not alighting until I reached the blue-tiled esplanade of Pleasure Bay. Here I sat down to enjoy the warmth of the summer sun and to watch the might ocean greyhounds as they steamed into the sparkling waters of the harbour. The beach was now a blare of colour with the multitudes of gaily dressed sun-bathers who flocked along it. Overhead the huge mail aeroplanes buzzed and hummed, and blew their shrill sirens, a warning to the traffic of the air. Tiring of the beach, I started the tiny engine on my back, and, rising high above the merry crowds, flew back towards the city, where I rested on a rustic seat on the roof-garden of a sky-scraper. Looking across the broad white street with its row of shady trees, I marvelled at the great majestic building opposite, where, above the windows of the thirtieth story, there flashed in brightly coloured lights the words—- ■“ Southland Times.” Far back, in the early days cf my youth, I remembered tales my grandfather told me of the days when he worked at the Southland Times, which was then a building of a few stories only—bu. this! this great sky-scraper—famed for its beauty of architecture and its paper, known throughout the Dominion! Oh the differ enee a hundred years had wrougrA: Down, down, I looked to the windows of the third storey, where, in letters of gold, were the words—“ Young Southlanders’ Office.” Everyone was interested in the work carried on by the children, led by Cousin Betty, for did not the names of young Souihlanders of a century ago still live in the history of New Zealand? Children who, led by the first Cousin Betty, had had their respective talents developed and encouraged until many of them had become well-known writers, poets, artists, or hospital workers. On this day of May. 2025. there stocd in a healthy sunny suburb a Children’s Hospital. which had been built with the money raised by the ceaseless toil of young Southlanders of one hundred years. Praising them, as they deserved, and the person who had started their worthy league and who had conducted the page which had been the first rung on their ladder to fame, I flew from my resting place to where the broad breast of the Puni lay sparkling in the sun. A few gondolas, with their happy, laughing occupants, glided by, beneath the shade of the weeping willows which dipped gracefully over the water, two or three graceful swans with snow white plumage floated along in the clear pools in the park. In the distance, beyond the city, I saw the towers of the University, and alongside them, the massive Parliament Buildings showed grey against the sky. The day was now almost spent. I rose again into the air and flew homewards, passing above where a crowd had gathered to watch a ceremony, the laying of the foundationstone of the tepid baths, the funds for which had been collected in grandfather’s day. —2 marks to Cousin “Sea Nymph,” (15), Invercargill. [For obvious reasons this Cousin implores that her name be omitted.] NIGHTMARE. PERHAPS! A little glen with a coral moss carpet, an overhead bower of weeping willows, and a brooklet rippling over the stones, singing a song of happiness all the while. This is what I imagined the little dell to be like as I lay in dreamland. I dreamt the fairies were dancing round the queen, who sat on a toadstool throne, with golden hair hanging over her shoulders. She was clad in a soft pink cloud (or seemed to be) with two little silver-clad feet peeping out beneath her skirt. This was the scene I saw before me as I stepped over the brook. As the sound of my footsteps fell upon their ears their merrymaking ceased and a strained silence fell upon us until one fairy, a Bluebell, came forward with outstretched hands. “Welcome, little mortal, fcr we know you will not tell of our merry gambol.” Then, turning to her sisters, she added: “She is welcome, js she not?” At which a murmer of consent arose. She led me to the seat cf honour beside the Queen Rosebud. The merry-making again commenced. This time fise Queen, too, tripped merrily around

to the music of the brooklet. At one o’clock the merry-making ceased and a supper was then attended to. The dew-drops tasted most delicious. A flow of talk kept up all the while. In the .midst cf these surroundings, lo! the Queen gave an exclamation of dismay, at which all the fairies drew close towards her, asking her trouble. She replied in a woebegone voice: “I have lost my silver slipper and the King will be angry, then he will send me away as fairy to watch over a prickly blackberry bush.” The fairies consoled her by saying they would look for it. I went away with Fairy Bluebell, who declared that Johnny Elf was the culprit. Straightway we directed our steps to his home, but he was not in. This confirmed her suspicions, so we went hunting behind this stone and in this bush. But no! it was not to be found. Many fairies did we meet, but all with the same tale of woe—no, they had not found the shoe. I stopped in my search to gaze at Nature’s beauty in the bushland, when my eyes fell on the roof of Johnny Elf’s house. But lo! Surely not! Yes! it was the slipper, the sun’s rays making it glisten. I hurried forward to reach my prize, hardly daring to breathe. Now I had in my own hand, really and truly, the Queen of the Fairies’ slipper. I went tc wards her in an ecstasy of joy. When I held the slipper up in my hand I was surrounded by a crowd of questioning fairies. For what an honour! Queen Rosebud came forward. “How can I thank you, you dear little mortal, but come and—- “ Wake up! Wake up; ’tis eight o’clock.” I awoke with a start. “Oh, Mother! You spoilt my dream,” I said. —1 mark to Cousin Emma Kellahan, (14>, “Glencain,” Dipton. Think Twice 1— I am pushed about all day, And yet I do not drop, I am in lots of people’s way, Yet no one I stop. My four arms each day point in every way And my head is screwed on at the top. —A turnstile. 2 When is a good idea like a clock?— When it strikes one. 3 When is a cabbage like a lover?— When it loses its heart. 4 What is it that nobody wants hnd yet nobody would like to lose?—A bald head. 5 Why are the sentries outside Buckingham Palace like night and day?—Because when one comes, another goes. 6 Where would you send a boy who had lost his appetite?—To Hungary. 7 Spell blind pig with two letters?— Pg, that’s pig without an i. 8— What trees can you find in every kitchen ?—Ashes. 9 What men are always aboveboard?— Chessmen. 10 — My first is in bat, and also in ball, My second is in cat. and also in call, My third is in bumble, and also in bee My forth is in yes, and also in your, My lot is something we all love I am sure. —A Baby. 11— Why is a spider a good correspondent? —Because she drops a line at almost every post. 12— Why is the letter ‘A’ like twelve o’clock?—Because it is in the middle of day. 13 — When is a ship like an artist ? W’hen she shows her colours. 14 — What is lengthened by being cut at both ends?—A ditch. 15 — When is a ship like a floor? —When it is boarded. 16— Why is a grain of wheat like an acorn?—Because its a corn. 17— Why is a horse that is constantly ridden but never fed not at all likely to starve?—Because it usually has a bit in its mouth. 18— In what tree would you shut up a gift?—The box. 19— What letter of the alphabet is necessary to a bootmaker—Z; because it is the last. 20— Why is TT the gayest letter in the alphabet—Because it is always in fun. 21— If a tough beefsteak could speak what English poet would it mention?— Chaw, sir, (Chaucer) 22 Why is “T” like matrimony?—lt is the end of quiet and beginning of trouble. 23 Why is an author the most wonderful man in the world?—Because his tale (tail) comes out of his head. 24 Why is Egypt like England?—lt’s a Nileland (an island) 25 Why is a schoolmistress like the letter “C"?—She forms lasses into classes. 26 Why is a miller like a cook?—He prepares the meal. 27 — When has a boy two pairs of hands? —When he doubles his fists. 28— What is the best day to make pan-cakes?—Fry-day (Friday). 29 — What is the difference between a tree and an aeroplane?—One leaves the shed and the other sheds its leaves. 30— Which bums longer, a wax or a tallow candle?—Neither, they both burn shorter. 31— Spell mouse-trap in three letters?—• OAT. 32 — By the name of what animal would you address a dejected pig?—Porcupine (Pork, you pine!) 33 — Why does a sailor know there’s a man in the moon?—He’s been to sea (see.) 34 What is a button?—A small event that is always coming off. 35 — WTien is money damp?—When it is dew (due) in the morning and mist missed) at night. Points have been awarded to Cousin Joy Kellahan, (13), “Glencairn,” Dipton; Cousin Elsie Amos, (11), Mabel Bush; Cousin Eileen Jaquiery (15), 13 George Street, North Invercargill; Cousin Winnie Belsham, (14), Lumsden; Cousin Winnie McQuilkan (11), 225 Yarrow Street Invercargill; Cousin Mary Richards, (13), Lumsden. Meccano Clan. IMPROVEMENTS TO MANUAL MODELS (By Cousin Phil). MONOPLANE (No. 213). This model is listed among those made with the No. 2 Outfit, but the only parts not in the No. 1 are the 54 in. braced girders used for the wings. These can easily be replaced by 54 in. strips connected at the ends by 24 in. strips with one hole projecting at the back. To convert the model into a biplane, an upper wing made of two 124 in. strips joined by 24 in. strips as before is attached by four 24 in. by 4in. double angle strips placed at the corners of the lower wing. These angle strips should be placed so that the edges of the vertical parts cut the air when the machine is moving, so reducing the force of the wind against it. If 24 in. strips with angle brackets are used, the strips can be made to slant forward, placing the upper wing a little in front of the lower. This is correct practice, and is followed on many machines. The fuselage or body can be improved in the following way. Take two sector plates arrange them facing each other with flanges inside, and join them at the forward end by two vertical 24 in. strips, with one hole left over below the bottom plate. To the narrow end of each sector bolt two 5| in. strips, one on each side, bringing all four together at the tail and connecting them by a double brackpt. The undercarriage or support for the landing wheels is made on both sides with two 2| in. strips, the upper ends of the front strips being bolted to the hole left over in the front vertical strips. Another point is about the ailerons, that is, the flaps on the rear edges of the wings at the outer ends, used to keep the machine from heeling too far to right or left. In making the wings, one hole at each end was left over. Bolt 2Jin. or 34in. strips in these holes, placing them alongside the wings at the back, and connect them with flat bracket at their inner ends. If you have not enough 24 in. strips, use cardboard for the tail and propeller.