For the Children

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16668, 25 February 1922, Page 16

For the Children

A JAPANESE VIEAV OF LONDON. Whenever I see London streets l always feel what a 1 ree country is England! Ail the buildings are irregular, for they are built as the. people like, and the streets are not in square blocks either. This is a great benefit to us artists. I was told that the Londoners are so conservative as to keep every bit of old buildings, places, etc. ; but it seems to me these are done specially for the artists’ sakes, unless they themselves are all artists. Lately I have begun to study about architecture, .nd I am much interested with some London buildings, but I shall not talk about this subject now. We have a saying in “Do not try to preach a sermon before the Buddhas.” Age and fogs have made the buildings sc beautiful. I often hear artists complaining because they cannot get models or views resembling their own ideal, but I must say London in mist is far above my own ideal. . . . The colour and its effect is most wonderful. . . . I like thick fogs as well as autumn mists. Even on a summer day I ht-v some covering veils. AY hen I came to London first, I thought the buildings, figures and everything in the distance looked comparatively large, because in Japan the atmosphere is so clear that you can see every small detail in tli© distance, while here your background is mystified abruptly, v.-hich has a great charm to me. Indeed, tho London mist attracts me re that I do not feel T could live in anv other place but London. It is most difficult for me to show my impression of this wonderful misty town either by my pen or my brush, hut I have more self-confidence to succeed with the latter. December is my favourite month in London. The volume of thick roiait whicli covers the whole town mystifies o\erv view in the most picturesque way. The pavements reflect everything as if the whole city were built on a lake.—Yoshio Markino. OUR FIRE. Our fire sings a cheerful song, 4 ‘Crackle, crackle,” says he. Our fire sings a cheerful song, All the blowy winter long The snow is falling steadily On every house and hush and tree, And it hears our fire a-singing, oh, “ Crackle, crackle,” says lie. FALLING LEAVES. The leaves are falling down— Now one leaf alone. Hither, thither blown. Now one, two and three, Fluttering from the tree, Golden, scarlet, brown. A crowd of them, a host, Drops to earth almost And the wind, in fun, Swoops them every one High into the air. See them whirling, twirling, dancing

there! Now the wind, the clown, Lets them flutter down. Whisks more from off the tree. Blithely, merrily. Golden, scarlet, brown. The leaves are falling down. CLOCKS. Clocks do not sound at all alike When they tick or when they strike. Our grandfather’s clock, so very tall, In one corner of tho hall, Says, “ Tick—Took,” so solemnly, And sounds the hours with a boom : Our middle-sized clock in the livingroom Busily says, “ Tick, tick, tick, tick,” Very happily and quick, And sounds the hours merrily. And Mother’s dressing-table clock Daintily says, “Tick, took, tick, took,” And when it wishes the hours to tell It tinkles like a silver bell ; That’s really true. I think clocks are interesting, don’t you ?

VOYAGERS' TAL.ESMany of the talcs of voyagers that were collected by Richard Hakluyt m the time of Shakespeare are fully as pleasant to read now as “ Robinson Crusoe ” or 44 Gulliver’s Travels,” and they have the advantage of being shorter. Take, for instance, “ The First Voyage of Master John Davis, Undertaken in. June, 1585, for the Discovery of the North-West Passage, written by John James Alarchant, servant to tho Worshipful Master William Sanderson.” Here we read of the discovery of a land “ the first sight whereof did show as if it had been in "form of a sugar loaf, standing to our sight above the clouds, for that it did show over the fog like a white liste in the sky.” Mooring the barque in good order, the captain and his company went cm shore on a small island, where they found people who showed them a “ thing made like a timbrel,” which they 44 did beat upon with a stick, making a noise like a small drum.” Then John James Alarchant goes on to tell of the canoes which these people had, the rocks of the land 44 very fair, like marble, full of veins of divers colours,” of their sleds, of their fire backed by stones laid like a wall, of their fruit like currants, and of the pools of snowwater beside cliffs “of such ore as Master Forbisher brought from Meta Incognita.” A pleasant land it was to discover, and a pleasant land it is to discover to-day with the help of some parts of Hakluyt’s tales. FROM THE TRAIN. The evening is a garden Of dim and shadowy tilings. The darkness folds it close about. As the train onward swings. And broadcast through that garden. As in a splendid park. Are flower-like yellow windowpanes, Blossoming in the dork. WHO GOT THE BABY? Read over this little story carefully, and see if you can tell who got tho baby. Once upon a time, when all living animals could talk together and understand each other, an ugly old crocodile stole a tiny baby and was about to make a dinner of it: but the frantic mother begged so piteously for her child, that the crocodile said : “ Tell me one truth, and you shall have your baby again.” - You will not give him hack to me,” she replied. Then hv our agreement, I keep him,” said the crocodile, “for if you have told the truth, I am not going to give him hack, and if it is a lie I have also won.” But the mother said: “ If I told you the truth, you are hound by your promise; and if it is not the truth, it will not be a lie until you have given mo my child.” MOTHER AND SONS. I here are Fairfax and Fred, and Arthur and Ned, Good boys, and remarkably clever ; In studies and sports, and games of all sorts, I o excel is their noble endeavour. And when poring o'er books with studious looks. Despairing of help from a brother. The eldest of nil will not scruple to call For aid from his bright little mother. Tr; out-of-door games, every one of them claims Her presence to strengthen and ch<*>r them. For the better their luck, and the greater their pluck, They say, if their mother i 9 near them. With hearty goodwill and wonderful skill, She champions one or the other, And the boys oft declare, with a satisfied air, There’s no bptter playmate than mother.