CAMP LIFE WITH THE SCOUTS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 19, 13 April 1927, Page 12

CAMP LIFE WITH THE SCOUTS

One bright sunny day in sußimer during the Christmas holidays, the Whangarei Boy Scouts set out on a long journey towards their camp site which lies in the heart of the Manau Bush. There were thirty boys and four officers, who were in charge of the Scouts and their camp, and, after travelling about two miles on foot they were offered a ride in a motor lorry which they gladly accepted. The camping spot was soon reached, the lorry was unloaded, and after thanking the driver the boys began to pitch their patrol tents in suitable places. During the afternoon bridges were built so that the adventurers could cross the creek which surrounded the delightful spot in which they were staying for ten days under canvas. Soon the darkness of night commenced to close in and the Scouts began to prepare the camp-fire, around which they would sit and sing songs or tell jokes and ghost stories. Here, each night, a competition would be held between the different patrols; a patrol would be awarded one point for each item, and the one with the most points at the end of the ten days would receive a tin of sweets as a reward. The time-table was: Work in the morning and play in the afternoon (the latter being the more attractive to the boys who thought that play should come before work), the best game being flag raiding on Manau Hill, situated about a quarter of a mile from the camping spot. The sun rose early, each morning, awakening the boys at the best part of the day to watch him climb from his warm bed into the dull sky and shine down on the sparkling grass. The boys w*ere very sad when the last day came and they had to prepare for the journey home, wffiere anxious parents were awaiting their sons’ return, eager to hear of the fun they had had and how* they had enjoyed “camp life.” —By Big Brown Bear (S. H. Barrett), aged 14. SEA-GULLS INLAND A flash of silver wfings in the sun, And I see, with divine surprise, Here in the Midlands, quiet and dun — Sea-gulls up in the skies! Sea-gulls! I am content no more With tame little fields and woods — My thoughts are set to a rock-bound shore, The sea, and the sea’s wild moods. God! for a headland far away, Bare to the autumn gale, Where the great waves roar, and the wind-whirled spray Drifts out like a torn white veil, And the wild white horses toss their manes Far out as the eye may reach. While the sea-birds cry in the winds and the rains, (The boats moored high on the beach). Back go the sea-gulls, splendid and free, In rhythmical, ordered flight, And my heart goes with them, home to the sea, As I watch them out of sight. —Teresa Hooley.