HAPPY TOWN

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 637, 13 April 1929, Page 29

HAPPY TOWN

A Little World for Little People FRIENDSHIP IS A STEADY LIGHT SHINING IN DARK PLACES - , AN APRIL BULLETIN “THAT'S funny,” remarked the Little Thought, his head on one ' * side and his eyes bright with interest. “Violets in the autumn . . . Doctor Spring Sunshine must have been thinking of that garden and turning the seasons topsy-turwy. They seem to be saying, ‘ We’re here for a day. Please take care of us.’ ” “Autumn has been spilling her gold in t"he same garden,” observed the Doorkeeper. “Just look at these chrysanthemum’s, like serrated sovereigns on a bed of green. Now, that, just comes of being the Dawn Lady. I wish just such a bouquet would come addressed to the Doorkeeper, with all of somebody’s love.” “Don’t be greedy,” said the Little Thought, gently. “You can’t have all of anyone’s love. It has to be divided "up among all the people a person knows.” . “But this card says, ‘With all my love,’ ” persisted the Doorkeeper. “Look,” said the Dawn Lady, “I have just opened a package containing a large piece of a Sunbeam’s birthday cake. Love is like a birthday cake, and some people get very big slices.” “That settles it,” said the Little Thought, triumphantly. “But it doesn’t solve the mystery of that oblong box,” murmured the Doorkeeper, plaintively, “or why violets and chrysanthemums should be blooming side by side.” “By the way,” said the .Toyshop man, with the look of one burning to impart a piece of important news, “that little Sunbeam with eyes like brown pansies, who writes poems about mermaids, and soapsuds, and fairies on the vine, has had a visit from a most distinguished person. Ido hope she showed him the poems she has had printed in Happy Town.” “1 peeped in at the window and watched him drawing his picture,” murmured the Little Thought. “His eyes were soft and kind, and he was smiling. The little Sunbeam will never forget him.” “There has been the sound of many wings in Happy Town this week,” said the Dawn Lady, “for with every mail entries for the story and painting competition have arrived. Here is a riddle for you, Mister Doorkeeper: « [Why do children love fairies?” / ■ (jq\ ocL<J “I shall have to consult Cua>vv my books of reference,” ► answered the Doorkeeper, l . with a mischievous smile.

“THOUGHT” COMPETITION THE first prize in the “Thought” competition has been won by Dorothy Rice, 62 Albert Street, Onehunga (aged 12) for the following entry:— “What a big blue button on that lady’s coat. It would look lovely on Mary’s dress—it just suits her eyes. I wonder what Daddy’s got in his pocket at home for my birthday? I hope it’© that purse I want. Where’s Mummy taking me this afternoon? I think it’s to Aunt Sarah’s. She has lovely buns, ail creamy and sugary, and her strawberries, my word, they are delicious! There I go again, and nurse says it isn’t proper for young ladies to be always thinking of eating . . . Here’s Mummy ... 1 wonder what she’s bought.” The second prize has been awarded to Joyce Woodcock, Calgary Road, Edendale (aged 13), who summed up the pictured child’s thoughts thus: “l wonder how I can? I am only five, and I don’t know how to spell, but, when nurse reads me the Sunbeams’ letters, it makes me want to become a Sunbeam, too. Now I know! I remember when Daddy went away last year and I wanted to surprise him, nurse gave me a pencil; I told her what to say and ©he guided me. I will explain to the Dawn Lady how it was done and I’m sure she won’t mind. No more hard thinking for me just now. I have solved the puzzle.” A bright little entry came from Jean Scott, Great South Road, Green Lane (aged 6), who observed concisely: “The little girl in the ‘Thought’ competition is thinking of nothing because she is only paper.” Entries worthy of special mention were received from Dick Schofield, Cissy Williamson, Shirley Houston, Lorna Finlayson, Audrey Seddon, Molly Antunovich, Ada Wilkins, Jean Grant, Patricia CarJaw. A number of Sunbeams made the mistake of writing a descriptive story instead of dealing with the supposed thoughts of the child in the picture. - BOTH OCCUPIED 1 Mother is very fond of gardening, and she spends most of her time there, while I walk about in the garden and watch the moths darting about the lawn. —An Auckland Sunbeam.

AUTUMN PIXIES (This little tale, an entry for the “Thought” competition, exceeded the word limit): One autumn day, when a gentle breeze was softly shaking the leaves and flowers, nurse took little Gwendolyn© Mae for a walk in the park. They sat down on a seat, but nurse was called away for a few minutes, so she told Gwendolyn© Mae to be good, and then she went away. Gwendolyn© sat still for a time, watching the tall trees shiver as the autumn breeze swept past, and listening to the babble of a fountain nearby; but little children cannot be left alone for more than five minutes before their active minds start thinking of something . . . Somewhere in the park (probably beneath the fountain) was a Pixies’ shop, where little pixie-men mixed the paint for the autumn leaves. There were pots of brilliant red, shiny yelow, russet brown, gold, or green, and tiny palettes which the Autumn Pixies used while painting. At night, when the flowers had folded their fragrant petals, out crept the Pixies, painting the leaves here, dabbing them there, and spilling specks of yellow paint on fresh green leaves, making them speckled, but certainly brighter. When they had finished. they crept back to their shop, and the .trees in the park, instead of being uniform green, were coloured with a riot of bright red leaves, and the bushes and shrubs seemed flecked with yellow light. Then the sun came out, and smiled on the vivid splash of colour, the riot of beauty—autumn's handiwork. • * • When nurse came for Gwendolyne Mae, she found her deep in thought on the same park seat. “What are you thinking about, Miss Gwendolyne?” asked nurse. “Just Autumn,” replied the little lady. “Yes, and when it’s gone, Winter will he here!” answered nurse, little dreaming of Gwendolyne’s real thoughts. —Joy Hill (aged 14). PUZZLERS Word square: 1. A" very old city. 2. A Persian poet (Christian name). 3. A planet. 4. A language. Jumbled names of Sunbeams in the Hollow Tree: ROYHOTD GITNORBN. CEPNERS LADNACMOD. CAKJ KAPRCID. Answers to last week’s puzzlers: Word Square: Nest. Ever. Semi. Trip. Riddle-me-ree: Puzzlers.

A DRAWING LESSON Let us draw a circle, now; I am sure you know just how. o If we add this tiny thing, II may look like Mother’s ring. Cb Now suppose the ring we fix On two tiny little sticks. a If we add these tents so neat, They will make a pair of feet. Q> Then a point so very wee, Facing downward, as you see. ' Qh Add this tiny dot. ‘ Well, there! Here’s a chicken, I declare! Os

A VISIT FROM TRADER HORN the last night of his stay in Auckland there was a gentle tap at the door of a little Sunbeam's house, and there stood the worldfamous Trader Horn, who had heard of a certain small person for years unable to run about like other children. In the back of her drawing book he left a sketch of his profile, complete with flowing beard and wideawake hat, with the inscription: “I’m him—Trader Horn,” and underneath the words: “To Gloria Rawlinson. I can’t leave you my heart as I am on a voyage round the world, but here is my photo. Yours to a cinder, Old Trader Horn.” St. Nicholas, himself, could not have brought more joy to that little SunbeamTHE SUIT OF YELLOW Overhead the sun shone brightly from a clear sky of deep blue, the tender green blades of grass underfoot formed a soft, fresh carpet, while in the leafy trees the birds sang out the beauty of the day. Peggy, too, sang joyfully, for the day was too glad to allow anyone to be anything but happy. On and on Peggy tripped, singing all the while, until suddenly she came to a stop as she spied something bright and soft almost hidden by the grass blades. On closer examination Peggy discovered it to be a suit of dandelion-yellow, so tiny as to be too small to fit the smallest of her dolls. It was made from a soft light material that Peggyhad never seen before. Folding it up she carefully placed it in her pocket and set out to find its owner. At the opposite side of the field a little elf sat on a large dock-leaf weeping bitterly. Although handsome, this little mannikin was attired in what had once been a smart suit of deep green, but, either by accident or wear, it had become torn and frayed. The faint breeze gently- wafted the sound of his distress to Peggy’s ears; It was like the rustle of leaves on a windy day, and, by walking toward the sound, she soon discovered him. At first the mannikin was afraid of Pe&gy, but, when she showed him the suit, his elfish features lit up with a smile of joy. He told her that he had been caught on a rose-bush and that his suit had been torn to pieced. He had bought a new one of a bright yellow tint, but had lost it. This distressed him considerably, as it was the night of the fairy queen’s ball, and disgrace and shame would fall on him if he were to go in ragged garments. As a reward for restoring to him his suit, the elf showed Peggy a little room under the dock where a fairy house was hidden. Dulcie Rigden (aged 14). THE PINES Don’t you love the pines? I love their upright, sturdy trunks and the sighing of the wind in their sombre green boughs. It is a sad, wistful sound like the crying of a mother for a lost child—the spirits of the Forest sighing in the branches for their children, the vast wonderful forests of long ago. —Eileen Grade (aged 13).