For the Children

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16586, 19 November 1921, Page 6

For the Children

TO TILE SHACK OF THE WOODS. This interesting little account of the way some winter days and nights an spent by the boys in Canada should Lk of interest t.j our boys sutd girls in warmer New Zi•e«tancl. because, we oitei. have cold winters even here : Sing a song of winter evenings. Spent around a. cheery blaze. Piping tunes, and telling stories Of other ways, and other days. All this week the snow has been fallitig, falling, so that everywhere now it is very deep and no long walks are possible. iiut there is a great v rent to-day, for Duncan has just called, in passing, to ask his friends, the puffs, if tuev would care for a ride in tho snuv/ plough, as he and his two dear horses, Donald and Charlie, are going to clear the road right along by the big loch, as far as the inn. Dave and Kenny don their cosiest, wooliest clothes and off they go in their funny chariot, with plenty of straw to keep their feet warm. What a happv jaunt tills is ! Even Donald and Charlie enjoy and you shoul just see how they code their ears to li-ten to the music, for all the way the boys arc* either whist! ng. or singing, or plaving on the mouth o?-gan. which is another cheery friend that goes with them o v ery wb ere. Tho boys have great talks, too, as the*- jog along, about the making and mending of roads and bridges, and the wonders that have been done in that way. When on their return Dave and Denny thank Duncan for giving them such a treat, and let tin them see so much of tVm country in this deep snow, he. in his turn, thanks them for their cheery compnnv, and savs how they shortened the road for h'm. In the evening ns this Duffs look from tho window they see the light from tne little shack in the wood, beckoning to them, and they are eager *to be off, for they know that Andrew, the woodman, will bo looking for them to spend this evening around the cosy fire of logs that they helped him to prepare. Off they go, and as it is quite near, they are soon seated in the shack listening eagerly to great tales of brave adventures. Andrew seems to have been all over the world, and can tell many a tale of peace and war. The favourite stories are those that tell of camp life out in tlie great woods of America, of the doings of Hiawathas and Redwings, and many a cosy hour is spent listening to these tales and joining in the choruses of the songs about these heroes and heroines. They love to dawdle on the hill with the shepherd, on the road with the roadman, and in tho wood with tlie woodman, and each is to the other helpful, cheery company- , . Andrew shows them many things, from the management of his mag-

uifioent horse Ambassador to the ism of cross-saw and hatchet. So these cheery, eager boy 9 learn to spend manv a happy, useful hour in the wood, providing and bringing home twigs and logs to give you a welcome, to make the fire and to boil the kettle. ELFIN MUSIC. On© night a year, when the days art* long. There’s a hum in the fields, and a faint, far tune; And tlie tortoises stare as they creep along, For the elves are practising under the moon. In their flowery caps and their leafy frills The elves go into the fields to play; And the elfin music hums and shrills Till the joyful dawn of the summer day. MORNING GLORIES. Morning-glories, morning-glories. On tho garden wall. Pink and white and dainty blue, 1 wonder who does call You in the morning, when it's time For you to arise, Quite earliest of all the flowers You open up your eyes. Docs the robin waken you With his cheery songP Or does tho trumpet vine nearby Blow quite clear and long A merry, ringing reveille, Which only you can hear, Or does a little wandering breeze Come a-whispering near, In the early morning hours, In the cool, sweet dew? Please tell me so that I can ask To be wakened early, "too. THE LITTLE BUTTERCUP. A little yellow buttercup Stood laughing in the sun, The grass and leaves all green around, The summer just begun; His saucy little head was full Of happiness and fun. The flowers smilecf up, the «un beamed down, As they for years had done, Until as golden as his friend The little flower had grown. As summer passed and autumn camo, The flowers above him said, ” Come, buttercup, our work is done, It’s time to go to bed.” ‘‘Not yet,” said he; 44 the sun. siiU shines, I'll wait till he has fled ; T yet some little seeds can form, Some miles about me shed.” The merry buttercup laughed on. And tossed his golden head.