Children's Page

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 18653, 23 August 1930, Page 12

Children's Page

(By PETER PAN).

THE BUTTERFLY. The pretty little butterfly Comes flitting all around; It cannot fly so very high And settles on the ground. It flits around from tree to tree, And then from flower to flower, And then you say “How can it be, “It rests not in the bower?” And when the light fades from the sky And the sun has gone to rest, To butterfly we'll say goodbye, For I think that is the best. (I Mark and a Merit Card awarded to “Queen of Sport”—Winnie Jarman, Tasmania, aged 15.) THE BROOK. Oh! you lovely little brook, Seen in every shady nook, Aren’t you tired of roaming round Endlessly across the ground? You’re always winding through the trees, And singing with the merry breeze. A tall green fern grows on your brink Where the deer come down to drink. When I am very far away, I can hear you sing all day. (I Mark and a Merit Card awarded to “Buttercup Lass” —Annie Head, Waimate, aged 10.) OUR OWN STORY-TELLERS THE GHOST OF HARPER’S MANSION. It glided softly along the wall, keeping in the shadows, and not making a sound, until it reached a small recess in the east wing of the old Harper Mansion. Then, breathing audibly and uttering a piercing shriek, it swung itself out the window and, clutching the ivy for support, succeeded in reaching and entering another window further along. Its pursuers stopped as if thunderstruck. Rob, Dave, Betty and Mavis were staying with a wealty uncle and aunt, who lived in the backblocks of Auckland Province. These children resided in Auckland, but, owing to unfortunate circumstances, they were compelled to spend a whole month in this isolated place, when they would much rather have gone to the sea. Harper’s Mansion, as the place was called, had originally belonged to a Mr Harper, who lived alone in the house years before. On the night before his death, he had seen an apparition descend from a window and glide swiftly across the lawns to the shrubbery. It was to this ghost that the children referred. “Spooks!” ejaculated Dave. “Ghosts!” said Betty. “Did you ever see anything so cool?” added Rob. Only Mavis was silent. She was secretly afraid, but she would not allow the others to notice it. “That must be the same one that Mr Harper saw,” said Rob, after a few minutes’ silence. “Silly!” exclaimed Betty, “that was nearly two hundred years ago! Even a ghost can’t live that long!” “Oh! I don’t know so much about that,” said her brother. “Anyway, what’s the time? Ten o’clock! Gee! Aunt Cath will be expecting us to go to bed. We’ll come back here this time to-morrow evening and see what will happen. By the way, whose room did the ghost go into?” “Betty’s and mine,” said Mavis, speaking for the first time. Her voice was shaking slightly. “We’ll come down that far with you and see if anything’s there,” said Dave. “Righto,” agreed Bob. “That's the best way.” They arrived in the room and searched fruitlessly for half-an-hour. Once Betty discovered a loose panel, but it did not, on examination, prove to be any help. “I think it’s a sell,” said Rob at length. “Are we sure that we saw it, or were we only dreaming?” “Positive,” said Mavis. “I know I saw it.” “Yes! we did too,” said the others in chorus. “Well I’m going to bed to try and sleep it off,” said Dave, and they all repaired to their rooms. ! Long after, Mavis was still awake. Betty had been asleep for some time but Mavis could not sleep. It was silly of her, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling that something further would happen. It was about three hours later when she sat up in bed with a start. She had heard a noise in the room. The noise was still audible. It was like someone breathing, but the breath was coming in gasps. “I won’t be afraid,”- Mavis said to herself; and she tip-toed over to her wardrobe, and cautiously opened the door. The noise stopped at once, and Mavis thought her heart had, too, but she kept bravely on, and left the room. As she was crossing the corridor she saw the same apparition they had seen before, only it was running this time, terribly quickly. Mavis followed at a safe distance, and the ghost got out the window at the end of the corridor and descended quickly. Mavis rushed to the window and was just in time to see it cross the lawn and disappear into the shrubbery. She returned to (5 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Dimples”—Lindsay Mayo, Timaru, aged 15.)

her room. All was still, and as she crept into bed, she thought. “I won’t tell the others about this. At any rate, not now.” At breakfast, they noticed that Mavis was pale and heavy-eyed, but no one troubled her with questions. The day passed pleasantly, and at about half-past nine that evening the children asembled outside the girls’ room, and waited. They waited until an hour had passed, but nothing happened. “It’s no good,” said Rob, who still believed they had dreamt it. “It’s not coming to-night.” Hardly had he uttered the words than a noise was heard behind them. The children jumped back, only to be brought from their hiding-place by their uncle. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a kind voice. “It’s time you children were in bed.” Dave related how, the night before, they had seen the ghost, and to the astonishment of all the others, Mavis added her story. “I saw that, too,” said her uncle. “I thought it was rather queer, but it does not seem as if the ghost will put in an appearance to-night, so you had better go to bed. They went gladly, Mavis secretly pleased that the others had not found out she had been afraid.

Hiose wko brmq Sunshine into the lives of others | cannot keep it -front themselves k

£ DEAREST CIRCLIANS, £ A nicely made Scrap-Book has arrived for our Christmas Ship ? from “Darkie,” Waimate, and a dear wee doll from “Smile-a-Little,” • t Timaru. £ ; I hope all my Toy-Makers will read “Dorothy Dimple’s” nice 1 % little story telling you how to make Scales for your Christmas Ship ; £ Toy-Shop. But I must not write about our Christmas Ship or Toy- - | Making to-day, because, as I told you last Saturday, this letter is going < £ to be a very important one, all about the Rules and Regulations that \ £ are so necessary in such a big Circle as ours. We have so very many * £ Circlians, and our Circle is growing so steadily, that from now on I find I « $ shall have to be exceptionally strict at enforcing the Circle Rules. I ‘ t am re-printing your Circle Rules to-day, with several new additions, { £ inserted in capitals, and I hope all Circlians will read them through * carefully and cut them out and keep them in place of the old Rules. 1 £ As you will see, I have had to alter Rule Three. Our Verse-Makers * & and Story-Tellers have grown amazingly, and though it is splendid to \ £ have so many enthusiastic young writers, I cannot possibly find room « | for all your original verses and stories. So, from now on, no Circlian ! £ may send me more than one story and one poem a month. Several * £ little people have become rather slack where some of the Rules are * •£ concerned—especially Rules One, Four, Five and Nine—and as these * are particularly important, I am sure you will all remember them in * f future. £ And now I think it is time I ended this prim and proper, but * | very necessary letter. If I make it much longer you may be imagining * £ me a tall, angular old person, peering severely over the top of huge, ♦ f hom-rimmed glasses, and frowning ferociously as I wield my wicked I * little red pen. I must stop immediate- * | ly—now—this very moment—because it> a * f would never, Never do if you thought f C/ * £ such things of j JA&SL. j | YOUR VERY OWN * v 4 *>4* ** *4* 4* *>4* 4* 4* ♦> *4* 4»4* 4*4* 4*4*4*4* 4*4* 4* 4* 4* 4*4*4*4*4* 4* 4* 4*4*4* 4* 4* 4* 4*4*4* »> 4*4* ♦

MOLLY’S SCALES. It was raining hard when Molly Brown woke, and it was Saturday morning and Molly's mother had promised to take Molly, her sister, and her two brothers for a picnic. Molly was so disappointed to And it raining that she became very cross. “Molly, why don’t you play shops?" asked her mother. “How can I! You know Billy broke my scales yesterday and I can’t play shops without scales,” grumbled Molly. “Why don’t you make some scales?” said her mother. “I can’t!” grumbled Molly again. “I will show you how to,” Mrs Brown said pleasantly. “Qo and tell Billy and Peter to get the shop ready, while I show you and Betty how to make the scales. After that go and get me some glue, two thin strips of wood, a small block of wood, a piece of elastic, a pin, a tin-lid, and a safety-pin or some wire. “First I glue the strips of wood together so that they form the letter "L.” Then I turn this upside down and glue it to the block of wood, which forms the base. Now, as you have brought me some wire, I will shape it like an “8” hook which I

will fasten to the arm. On the lower end of the hook I fasten the elastic band, on the bottom of which is the tin-lid. Push a pin through the elastic to act as a pointer and mark off the quantity degrees on the upright post. Now your scales are finished. Do you like them?” ‘‘Oh! Yes!” cried Molly and Betty together as they ran off to open their shop. Just before dinner Molly came running up to her mother, her face wreathed in smiles. “Mummie, may we make some scales to send to Peter Pan for the Christmas Ship?” she asked. “Yes, of course you may. We will begin after dinner,” replied her Mother with a smile. (5 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Dorothy Dimples”—Dorothy King, Timaru, aged 13.) AN ADVENTURE. Joan was a little girl of twelve who lived in a large ranch in the wilds of America. She had no brothers or sisters and was often a lonely child. She had all sorts of toys and pets to make her happy, and perhaps best of all she loved her little shaggy pony, Tommy. Many were the adventures she and Tommy had, but the one I am going to relate, happened on a bright hot summer’s flay. On this particular day, her father was busy branding cattle in the corral, while her mother was cleaning in the house. Joan just felt like a good gallop. To whistle “Spot”, her pup, and saddle and bridle Tommy were only matters of a few minutes to an accustomed hand, and away she went. She rode slowly for miles without meeting a single person, and dawdling in this fashion takes time. Joan was surprised, on looking at her watch, which she always wore when riding, to find it was after four o’clock. She thought she would just go on a little further and then turn back, when, as she gazed around, she saw a huge cloud of dust rising in the distance. In an instant she realised what that meant. A mob of wild horses were stampeding from someone or somewhere, and bearing upon the little lone rider. She had only time to call faithful “Spot” to heel, and collect her scattered wits and Tommy’s reins, and the whole herd was almost upon her. Tommy, terrified by so many animals around him, broke into a wild gallop. Joan clung desperately to the saddle as the other horses jolted poor Tommy from side to side. Oh, however many were there round her? There must be at least fifty. Joan felt herself giving way and uttered a little scream, which seemed to bring Tommy to his senses. But Joan was past caring. She remembered no more until she awoke in her own little bed in the big ranch- ! house, with a kind doctor bending over | her. Her head ached terribly and her arm was very sore, but the Doctor told her to lie still and that she would soon be alright. But Joan knew, as she smiled wanly, that she had broken her arm. Joan’s father told her that “Spot” had come home making a great fuss, and, on going out, he had found Tommy galloping wildly and riderless round the yard. Then he knew something must K&ve happened, and had gone looking for Joan and found her in a little hollow, four miles from home. “It is a miracle you were not trampled to death,” he said, smiling down at his daughter. “Promise me you will never ride so far from home again unless lam with you.” And Joan promised. (5 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Herald of Spring,”—Ethel Fleming, Glenavy, aged 13). THE MATCH. On January 16th. night (for that was when the toys came alive), the toys played ‘a cricket match against the kitchen utensils. When the nursery was quiet and the children had gone to bed the fun began. The match was to be played in the Dolls’ House grounds. A tent had been erected for refreshments and Mrs Noah who was in charge, was arranging the boxes of sweets and cakes. The guests began to arrive and the Kitchen team was to be seen coming in Mr Dingle’s car and Mr Monkey’s cart. The toys’ team was waiting to receive the opposing side. The toys’ team was mixed. Golliwog was captain and the rest were as follows: —Dolly Dingle, Tommy and Sally, two little people from the Ark, Neddy the Donkey, Tommy Aitkens the soldier, Bunny Rabbit, Topsy the nigger doll, Alice Pinetree the wooden doll, Teddy Bear and Tim of the Train.

The kitchen team was headed by Kenneth Kettle who led on to the field, Susannah Saucepan, Florence Flour-bin, Saucy Steamer, Robert Rolling-Pin Colonel Coal-Bucket, Sarah Shovel, ’Lizabeth Ladle, Percival Poker, Gerty Grid-Iron and Selina Sieve. Mr Noah, in a new suit and spotted silk tie, was elected umpire. The game was very exciting and Mr Fire-Tong danced a polka on his best Sunday hat. Tiger Tim growled ferociously when Neddy the Donkey swallowed the ball. A new ball was procured and Topsy, the nigger doll, caused a sensation by tripping over the wickets. It was now the Toy’s turn to bat. They began rather badly, for Teddy Bear,

whilst making a run fell over his shadow. The toys were soon bowled out. The kitchen team did not reach double figures as the toys were too quick in the field, while the toys were even worse because of the accurate bowling of Percival Poker. Refreshments were now served by Mrs Noah and her willing assistants. Talk was all of the match and Mrs Dingle was so much engrossed in talking that she accidently poured the hot contents of her cup down Master Pepper-Pot's neck. After many similar accidents the crowd began to break-up and the mess was cleared up before dawn so as to leave no signs of the nightly revel. (5 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Goblin,”—Sybil Grant, Timaru, aged 12). A SPARROW’S ADVENTURE. “Oh, dear, it is so hot!” sighed the flowers. It certainly was hot, and I was very tired. It was all I could do to fly over the wall, and perch wearily on a branch of the friendly old willow tree. I looked around. Oh! what a beautiful patch of dust I could see down there in the pleasant shade. “A dust-bath is just the very thing I would like,” I thought, and so, putting aside my fear of cats and dogs, down I flew, and in a minute was enjoying £iyself in the dust. Suddenly I thought I heard rustling behind me. I turned, but all I could see was the shadows of the garden trees and shrubs. Certainly, in one place, the shadows looked rather dark, and a rather queer shape. But what of that? A good dust-bath was too pleasant to be stopped, simply because the shadows looked different from usual. However, no sooner had I begun to enjoy myself once more, than I was conscious of a dark shape springing towards me, from the place where the shadows looked strange. Something hit me with great force, I flapped my wings wildly, and in a second was sitting, trembling, on a high branch of the willow tree. Below, slinking sulkily away, was a horrible black cat. I was faint with fear, but could not feel safe until I rested, exhausted on a tree over in the next garden. (3 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Dreamaway,”—Beatrice McCahon, Dunedin, aged 12). A DREAM OF FIRE. The silver moon peeped from under the dusty clouds. Here and there the small twinkling stars peeped down at the vast stretch of land below, and the wind, as it sprung up, tossed and blew the trees of a mighty forest a few chains away. Not long had I been sitting up in bed when I smelt some- j thing strange and a few i 'ars came 1 into my eyes. Nothing stirreu Quick- j ly dressing myself I went to t*. back ! yard, where, looking down the avenue of trees I noticed a small, variegated flame ascending to the sky from my father’s farm. A kind of superstitious feeling came over me as I hastened to the spot. Noticing an old tin lying on the ground I picked it up, filling it from the near-by rivulet, threw the water upon the flames. But they grew and grew, and soon the great conflagration spread for yards. Cinders and ashes whirled like meteors through the air, and the flames roaded madly. Wondering what else I could do to stop it, I turned to wake the others. The wind still stirred, causing more and more dry leaves and trees to burn, and 1 suddenly awoke, sat up in my bed, and unconsciously rubbed my eyes to find out where I was. The sun was shining brightly upon my tent and to my amazement, I found It was all a dream. (3 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Singing Water,” —Gwen Bruce, Kakahu, aged 12). THE WICKED WITCH. Once upon a time there lived a wicked old witch. She lived w r ith her ; big black cat in a tiny cottage in the woods. She was such a fierce, cruellooking witch that all who went near . were tinned into frogs or trees or something horrid, and were never ■ turned into themselves again. So one day the Fairy Queen gathered together < all her Fairies and told them to go i into the woods and take the witch by ; surprise. The Fairies crept into the j woods and knocked at the door. They - had meant to catch hold of the witch w r hen she came to the door, but her l big black cat came instead, and before j the fairies could do anything it sprang i at them, but did not hurt anyone. The £ old witch, hearing the noise, came rushing out and some of the Fairies i vanished as if the air had swallowed 1 them up. But you see the wicked i witch had worked magic. The rest of < the Fairies went back to the castle to 1 tell the Queen the sad news. Again the Queen gathered together all the l Fairies and this time some bees. She 1 told them to do the same as before and t the bees were to thing the witch. This t time they were successful and the bees £ flew in the windows and stung her. The witch was fearfully angry and just * as she was turning two of the bees into tadpoles, the Fairies rushed in and took her magic from her. Then they bound her up and were returning when they met the Fairy Queen coming to join them. She turned all the Fairies, bees, and people who were bewitched back to their proper forms again. Then she imprisoned the witch and her cat until they were both good. When they were, they went back to the cottage in the woods and were kind to everyone. (3 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to John Buckingham, Waimate. aged 12). £ THE FORTUNE OF THE BRASS £ BOX. £ s There was once a little old woman s who lived all by herself in a tiny cot- £ tage. One fine day she met a pedlar t selling his wares. “Good morning," she said, as she •

, looked over the various articles. Suddenly she observed a small shining box with quaint characters carved on its lid. “May I ask you the price?” she inquired. “It is only two pennies,” he laughed, as he handed her the brass box. As she took the box, she said, “When I dust this lovely box I shall remember you and your kindness.” After taking the twopence to him she went into the cottage and began sweeping, when who should she see but a wee green man standing on the window-sill. As the wee mite looked round the room he noticed the shining box on the most decorated shelf where the passer’s-by could see it and would say what a beautiful box it was. As the wee man gazed at it he realised that it was the box he had given the pedlar to sell. Then he said to her, “You Have chosen well, and now you shall have a fortune and will be rich for life; and you may have a little girl as a present from us all.” As he said this he waved his magic wand and the brass box fell into her apron. When she picked it up a great many coins fell out all over the floor. She held the box over a bag and a continual stream of silver came pouring out. Then the wee man waved his wand again and who should she see but a dear little baby girl come toddling into the room. With great excitement she thanked the little man, who flew out the window and away to Fairyland and was never seen again. So the little old woman lived happily ever after. (3 Marks and a Merit Card awarded to “Dancing Elf,”—Audrey Thoreau, Gleniti, aged II). LOLLIES. Once there lived in a far-away country a wee girl and boy whose names were Peter and Lucy. Every day they both had a great amount of work to do for which they were given three pennies As soon as they earned ! two days’ wages they would run : straight away and spend it on lollies. I One day a fairy happened to be in the j shop. When she heard what they asked for she said, “Lollies! I don’t think they are good lor you. Oranges ar# much nicer. How would you like to be a sweet lollie?” With one touch of her wand they were both sweet lollie* in a jar. The next day the fairy came back. Lucy and peter had not been sold. But the following day a little girl named Mary bought Peter and i Lucy. As scon as she went to eat 1 them they jumped out of her hand and were once more the little boy and the j little girl who earned three pennies a day. Never again did they spend their money on iolV.es, but alwa3 r s put it n “The Post Office Savings Bank.” (1 Mark and a Merit Card awarded to “Chickabiddy,” Sylvia Austin, Orari, aged 11).