Enrolments

Southland Times, Issue 19720, 28 November 1925, Page 22

Enrolments

The following enrolments have been made during the week:— Cousin Ena Hall (11), Dipton. Cousin Ellen Knowler (11), Te Wae Wae. Cousin Dympna O’Brien (10), Te Wae Wae. Cousin Tena Cochrane (14), St. John’s Girls’ School, North Road, Invercargill. Cousin Winnie Stevenson (14), 323 Yarrow Street, Invercargill. Cousin Alice May Willis (11), “Westfield” Gummies’ Bush. Cousin Mavis Hunter (11), Bluff Road, Clifton. Cousin Ivy Morton (10), Seaward Downs. Cousin Irene Dwyer (12), 55 Catherine Street, North Invercargill. Cousin Albert Horrell (&), “Fairview,” Mandeville.

The child’s lips drooped pathetically. “I promise,” she said drearily. Then rising she walked slowly up the path bordered with gay flowers, and disappeared into the house. The doctor watched her vanish then turned to enter his car, exclaiming admiringly, “Gee! she’s a plucky little soul that. She won’t break her word in a hurry.” ♦ * * * The days passed on until a month had elapsed since the day when the doctor had broken the news that Christ was soon to call another of His children home to that land from whence no mortal returns. To an outsider it may have seemed strange that the Grenville children should have received the news with such a seemingly lack of emotion as they did. But the children could have told of many days and nights when their little invalid sister had almost been driven insane with pain; and they knew that Rose herself longed to go to the Kingdom above where no torturing pains i awaited her. But though for her sake they tried to be glad yet they could not visualise the home without her, and many secret tears were shed at the thought of the child so soon to leave them. To each other they spoke of the time when Rose would “go to heaven” in soft voices, and being only children all under Billy’s age they believed implicitly that they would see her in the far-off land some day. Billie herself understood this but the waiting was so long—so very long. “Besides,” she told her mother one day, “I want my own sister, not an angel with wings.” And the mother understood as mothers always understand. Although it had been hidden from her Rose herself seemed to realise that her remaining days on this earth were all too few. As many children who have been ill for so long she was old for her years and would talk to her twin in a manner that made that young lady open her blue eyes widely and say admiringly, “Rose. how clever you are.” One day the little invalid took a bad turn and the old doctor was called in. “She’s very bad, cannot last long at this rate, she seems to be wanting Billy. Send the child in.” he said. When Billy entered the sick-room, Rose looked at her with wistful eyes. “Billy, I am going to die,” she said quietly. “I am not afraid, but there is one thing I would like. The roses are not out in the garden yet, but somewhere there must be at least one early rose out. Billy, it’s all I want dear. Get rile one if you can.” “I will,” said Billy with an air of having made a vow. Once outside the child realised that her task was no easy one. There was nowhere in the village—but stay, yes there was, Old Colonel Meredith had a beautiful prize rose that he was entering in for the “first rose of summer” competition. Billy passed the old Colonel’s house every day, and had admired that rose immensely. She would have liked to have had a closer look at it, but the colonel was a crusty o’d bachelor whom the village children looked

upon as an ogre, so she had had no opportunity.

Now, however, an idea so startling that it took her breath away presented itself to her. Rose must have what she desired, and there was clearly one way in which she could do so. Somehow or other Billy must obtain possession of that rose. She would go and tell all to the colonel and ask him to give it to her. And if he didn’t —“well” Billy told herself “she’d steal it.” A moment later she had set off down the road on her strange errand.

“There’s a young lady to see you, sir,” the butler at Tower House informed Colonel Meredith.

The Colonel’s shaggy eye-brows were elevated to an alarming degree but all he said was: “Shoxfr her in, John.” A moment later the “young lady” m the shape of a small terrified* girl, entered the room.

“I’m Billy Grenville,” she faltered and then did a very natural thing—burst into tears.

Perhaps the Colonel was not so hard after all for somehow Billy found herself on his knee sobbing out the whole story with the result that a little later a very as’tonished gardener was despatched to Grenvilles’ cottage with the first rose of summer. And the next morning when they went to awaken the little invalid they found that she had already passed into the heaven above, whilst in her hand, withered and faded, now, was the first rose of summer. —4 marks and 5/- to Cousin Gladys Stimpson (14) 20 Sydney Street, North Invercargill. —Second Prize— It was the first day of summer; and a glorious day it was. The flooding sky of blue and white was sparkling over the earth, throwing its enchanting rays of sunlight on the flowers and summer wonders, awakening the growing year of bud, bloom and leaf. The larks, too, enjoyed this encouraging day, as they soared amid the cloudlees blue, clearly and blithely singing. Above all these when one passed by, could be seen the first sweet blushing rose of summer. The rose that sends forth its sweet fragrance and scent, adding beauty to the bright green and new-leaved birch, alder and maple. Many a child passed by, with fingers ready to pluck, but nature seemed to cast a power over them, and bade them go their way, leaving the still life in peace. “Oh how beautiful everything looks,” was the comment of many a person. Over the distant channel-vapour, sunshine mingled in blue and gold, and each spike of unfolding foliage, blushed to its top, and made a ruddy harmony with the drooping blossom bells. As evening fell shadowy lights stretched over the plains and streams, making them as if gold had been cast upon them. Now as the rose nodded in the gentle breeze, it seemed to say, “For us, life is short and sweet.” With that she closed her petals, to wait for the silver reign of dawn, to enjoy another day of praise and sweetness. —3 marks and 2/6 to Cousin Doris Henderson (12) 64 Melbourne Street, North Invercargill. —Highly Commended — Summer is dawning! The sun smiles benignly down upon an earth, robed in its early summer garments. Through a little rustic gate, and over a quaint little bridge, under which a shining, bubbling, laughing stream, chatters on its way, and under the canopy of beautiful, stately trees, I wander, in search of a rare rose. The glorious, weeping willows mirror their beauty in the crystal waters beneath them. For a moment I gaze in rapture and astonishment, then, with a sigh of ecstasy I sink down upon the velvety sward, and drink in the beauties of Mother Earth. Mother Nature has indeed decked the earth with a lavish hand. All around me the bees buzz drowsily, and the daisies and buttercups nod sleepily in unison. Suddenly a sound like the chiming of Cathedral bells across some rich old English valley on a still summer’s afternoon, disturbs the quietitude. Turning round sharply I behold a vision. It beckens me and in silver tones inquires if I would care to see the first rose of summer. Would I! with this beautiful creature to guide me? Why, of course I would. I nodded assent and felt myself lifted into the air, as airy as a baby cloud. The sun shone on the fairy’s winga making them glow with myriads of glorious hues, on the halo of golden hair, and on her shimmering gown. Takiner me bv the hand she led me gently through the air. Suddenly there loomed in the distance a palatial edifice, of finest white marble. Un entering, we were welcomed by a host of dainty fairies. They led me to a room, where dozens of fairies were working with silks and perfumes. “They are making the beautiful first rose of summer,” said my escorts. Swish! What is that? The fairies have vanished and I am in the pretty woods beside a crystal brook. The sound which aw’akened me was the scuttle of a rabbit through the undergrowth. It was naught but a dream. No stay! What is this beautiful flower blooming by my side? It is the first rose of summer. —2 marks to Cousin Winnie Stevenson (14) 323 Yarrow Street, Invercargill. —Highly Commended— Mellow autumn had passed, and once more the Winter Fairy occupied the throne. Once again the weather was cold and dismal, once more the world was wrapt in gloom, and once again the merry flower fairies were absent; for the Storm King, the Snow Queen and Jack Frost held the garden in their icy clutches, and the flowers had long since fled, leaving their fairies to sleep. Jack Frost with his followers, drew fancy pictures on the house windows, froze the little pool at the bottom of the garden below the fruit trees, and, dancing about, flung glittering lace-work all over the land, transforming it into a fairy place, sparkling as though lit up by a thousand silvery lights. On trees and grass the frost was white, and a faint mist was over all while tiny snowflakes, tossed hither and thither by the wind that blew so fiercely, hid among the bare brown branches of the trees so soon to be made beautiful by the buds and bright green leaves of spring. Winter had come in all its majesty. Underground the fruit fairies were just beginning their preparations for Spring, talking all the while; and in amongst the flowers the others were doing the same. But they were not happy for the proud Rose Fairy was angry—very, very angry indeed. She had been new last year, and was dreadfully proud. That was why she was angry, for some new roses had been planted and she, instead of being the only red Rose Fairy’ in the garden, had to share her position with these usurpers, and she was very cross in consequence. One she particularly disliked, and this was the one she addressed now. “A common rose,” she said disdainfully. “A common rose among US! And you are placed in such a prominent position that I am almost hidden.” “Yes, look at us!” cried the White Roses, eager to take part in the discussion. “Should not we be seen? Our petals are soft as velvet, and sweet, too.” “And us!” exclaimed the Cloth-of-Gold Roses. “We are like stray sunbeams, and yet you have the presumption to come here among us!” The new Rose Fairy listened humbly to all these speeches and in sorrowful silence; but now she spoke, “I am sorry to be in the way,” she said, “but surely you see that is it impossible for me to change my position? I was planted here, and here I must grow, but I’ll try not to grow so much that you are hidden from view.” “Selfish thing!” muttered the White Rose Fairy. “Anyway, there is only one bush and perhaps we’ll have a little space and she turned her back on the Rose Fairy, who sighed and returned to her home. Sadly did she prepare £er petals for the summer, and sadly dad she make her leaves; but the Sun smiled down at her, and, despite her sorrow, she could not but feel happier in the promise of the bright days to come. She worked busily and was soon

finished, so feeling a little tired, she went to sleep in her pretty fairy house. Winter passed and spring came. Our fairy was the first to put out her leaves, and hers were as pretty as any. All through the months she prolonged her flowers and, when spring passed, she was ready to put them out. Summer came. The Rose Fairy opened her eyes, and awoke. Busily she hung her first flower on its stem. Rich, beautiful red it was, as soft as velvet, and glowing in the morning light like massed rubies, filling the air with its sweet scent. The fairy glanced round to see her neighbours’ flowers, but saw—much to her surprise—not one. Quite astonished she looked again, but found that her first impression was correct; her eyes opened wide and she regarded with delight her own fragrant blossom, for she had made “The First Rose of Summer” and the lovely rose was the queen of the garden. But her triumph was not over yet; along came the owner of the grounds and he stopped to admire it. “What a glorious flower!” he exclaimed. “I must take it for Edna.” Stooping, he plucked it, and with a sigh, the fairy watched it go. She had wanted to keep her first flower, but, all the same, she wanted it to go, for little Edna, the gentleman’s daughter had been seriously ill, and seemed too listless to improve in health, and the fairies wanted to help her become quite well. ‘ Here is something for you, Edna,” he said, "do you like it, child?” "Oh Daddy, how lovely!” exclaimed the little girl eagerly, as she took the flower from his outstretched hand. “It is a fairy flower, Daddy, it is, I’m sure, and oh, it is beautiful, isn’t it? It says Summer is coming, get well for summer is here,’ and I WILL get well, I know I will” Outside the Roses heard all. How sorry they were for their unkindness! "You are much more beautiful than we are,” they said sorrowfully, “but we wiP try to be better to you after this, if you forgive us.” And there we will leave the happy R«)se Fairies as they waved their tiny leaves in the wind —a sheen of gold on them as they were touched by the sun—and as they listened to the birds pouring out a stream of melody, a continuous note of joy, of the summer heat and sunshine, of the blue skies and the caress of the warm soft wind. —l-2 marks to Cousin Winnie McQuilkan, (12), 255 Yarrow Street, Invercargill. —Highly Commended—“Oh! Mumma,” cried little Thelma Stacey, one early morning as she came running inside with her little face all bright and shining, “I have found the first rose of summer. It is out down in the orchard in a little shady corner hiding away all by itself. It is such a beautiful red and oh! it does smell sweet, and it is all alone too. I have looked all over the garden and there is not another one near out yet, they are only in bud.” “Where, dear, I didn’t know there was a rose bush in the orchard, are you sure it isn’t a sweet briar?” “Oh! mumma, as if I didn’t know a rose from a sweet briar! It- is hiding away in the corner by the big cherry tree, and I didn’t know it was there either, only I heard a bird fly away and I thought I would just have a peep at its nest but there I found the rose instead.” “And did you see the nest, dear?” “Oh! no, I didn't think of the nest after I found the rose. I couldn’t leave it, for it was so beautiful. Come with me and I will show you.” Taking her mother’s hand she led her to the fartherest corner of the orchard, and sure enough there was the rose tree with one flower out and several buds still to come out. "Well,” said her mother, “I have lived here three years and I never knew there was a rose tree in that corner. It could not have been out before, or else my eyes were not as sharp as yours, Thelma.” When daddie came home he had to be told about the lovely rose and shown where it was. When he saw it, he said, “Now that is a funny place to plant a rose tree, but I think I can tell you why it is there. The man I bought this house from told me that he had buried his first born child in this orchard,” and upon looking among the rubbish sure enough there was a little mound of earth where the baby had been buried more than fifty years before. Thelma was quite pleased over this and of course daddy had to clear all the trees and rubbish away and make it tidy. Thelma planted more flowers and cared for the little grave and the rose bush flourished beautifully. The father always called it ‘Thelma’s rose tree”, and she would often be found sitting beside it with her doll humming a soft little tune to the little baby in the grave. —2 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (12) Mabel Bush. —Highly Ccmmended— Elfrida, the only daughter of Mrs Mcßae, took seriously ill and when the doctor came he shook his head as if he knew or feared something he did not like to express. Night after night poor little Elfrida lay tossing and moaning on the pillow unable to sleep. At any time of the night, the nurse on coming into the room would see the large staring eyes of the little sufferer following her round the room. The summer days came and went, but still nothing could ease the pain so that the little girl might sleep. The first rose in the garden came out on a tree just at the window where Elfrida lay. Now in this rose lived the fairy who dropped the sleeping powder into childrens’ eyes. The wind who carries the messages to the fairies had whispered that the little girl on the opposite side of the window was ill and could not sleep at night. At night the fairy stole through the window and dropped some of her wonderful powder ' into the eyes of the little patient, which ! sent her at once into the land of nod. The nurse on coming into the room was surprised and delighted to see the lids closed over the staring eyes. Running for Mr and Mrs Mcßae, the nurse led them on tip-toe to the bedroom. The doctor was satisfied next day because he knew that after the sleep Elfrida would get better. It was said that the soothing colour of the rose had the desired effect and the first rose in the garden was cherised every year, especially if it came from the tree under Elfrida’s window. —2 marks to Cousin Norma MacKenzie (13), 206, Kelvin Road, Invercargill.