TO OUR CIRCLE

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 17773, 8 October 1927, Page 12

TO OUR CIRCLE

PETER PAN’S LETTER. Dearest Little People: I’m sure I was up as early as any of you this morning! A thrush woke me singing outside my window, and I am sure he sang “Get up! Come out!” over and ove. again. And a host of yellow sunbeams danced beneath my blind and beckoned to me, so what else could I do but “Get up,” and go outdoors It was a wonderful morning; m tact, I think I can say that it was a Perfect morning—A perfect s P morning, anyway. The garden \< ■ full of birds, and when they saw me they all started singing at once an informed me that they, too, thought it was a wonderful morning. l looked at my watch and found that I had almost an hour before breakfast. What would I do? I simply could not stay indoors, so I caugnt and saddled and bridled my horse and went for a ride. I cantered along the road for a while, then jumped over a nice low gorse fence into a field of ewes and lambs, is just as well that the farmer who owned them was not an early-nser, or I might have been chased with a stick! Fancy Peter Pan being pursued by an irate old farmer, brandishing a stick in one hand, and shouting all the impolite names he could think of! Wouldn’t it have been dreadful! However, the farmer did not see me, and I didn’t frighten the lambs a scrap, either. In fact, they were very friendly little fellows. Several of them trotted up to investigate us as soon as my horse jumped over the fence, and the Others went on playing their games. I wonder if you have ever watched a number of lambs at play. They usually choose the early mornings or evenings for their playtime, and they ARE merry, carefree little chap?. I reined in my horse to watch about ten having a game of “King-of-the-Castle” on the top of an old haystack. A sturdy Shropshire lamb, with a black face,, and four funnylittle black feet, was the “King,” and try as they might, his play-fellows could not knock him off his makebelieve “Castle.” At length they gave it up in disgust, and began to chase each other round and round the haystack. lam sure a number of children at play could not have been more amusing than those babylambs, and I laughed at them and watched them until my horse began to get impatient. I knew what she wanted —a good gallop! So I jumped over the next fence into a big, empty field, leaned low on her neck, and loosened the reins I do not think there is anything better or more exhilarating than a good gallop on a horse across a soft, springy field. All you little people who own horses and ponies will know how perfectly delightful it is to feel the sting of the wind in your face, the swift sound of the horse's hoot's, and the steady rhythmic motion of its body as it races eagerly along. . ' .. 1 wonder if any of you read a little rhyme of mine several weeks ago, balled “The Hour For Me”? I wrote it* on a morning like this, when I was out for a ride on my horse. Of cdurse, I only wrote it in my head then; I did not put it on to paper till I reached home. Yes, it was a morning just like this. The fields were full of baby lambs at play, the gorse was a mass of golden flowers, the sea was a gleaming sheet of silver, and all the birds were singing their hardest and loudest. In short, nature was at her very best, as she usually is in the eariy mornings, and I really believe that if you had been out with me that morning you would all have turned into little versemakers, too. And now I have two important pieces of news to tell you. I am sure you all enjoyed reading our column of original verses this morning. lam very proud of our small poets, and at the end of the year am going to give a special prize to the best little verse-maker. You have nearly all chosen nom-de-plumes for'yourselves now, and I am sure you will agree with me that it is great l'un having a pen-name of your very own. But quite a number of people have told me that they would enjoy reading your letters far more if they knew who they were from. So after this, little people, I would like you to sign your full name as well as your pen-name whenever you write to me. And you won’t forget, will you. Hurrah! Here comes the postman! I always welcome him, no matter how many letters he brings. .“The more the merrier,” you know. Lots of love, PETER PAN.

REDDLES. Q.: If you were thirsty in the bight what Would you do? A.: Look under the mattress for a spring. Q.: Why are banana skins good lor the feet? A;: Because they make good suppers. , _ . . (Sent by “Jack Frost, Otaio). Q.: Black within and black without, • Many nice things go in and out? A.: An oven. Q.: Black within and red without, Four corners round about? A.: A chimney. (Sent by Alma Stowell, Pareora West). Q.: Why did the back-pedal brake? A.: Because the wheel spoke. (Sent by Jean Galbraith, Woodbury). Q.: Why is a dog like a tree? A.: Because when they die they both lose their bark. (Sent by Hilda Beattie, St Andrews). Q.: Why is a mouse trap like a hospitable' host? A.: Because the visitor is pressed t 0( Sent" by Mabel Woods, Pleasant Point). When is a door nice to eat? A.: When it’s jammed. (Sent by “Moonlight,” Cave).