For the Children

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16732, 13 May 1922, Page 15

For the Children

A FAIRY PARTY. (Written for the “ Star.’*) One midsummer s eve long ago, the beautiful Fairy Queen. Mossrose, decided to give a birthday party for her only child. (Now, before 1 begin, J must insist that no one who does not really and truly believe in fairies must read this story.) Mossrose was the queen of the flower fairies, and when she died. Primrose, her daughter, would take her place. As soon as the yellow buttercups, "ho were the queen's little page boys, heard what she had decided, away they flew» for fairies never run—to tell ail the* other flowers. When the evening came the silver rays of thd moon came peeping through the leaves of an old. old oak. to watch the fun that was going on below; and a more exquisite and dainty sight you could not wish to behold. The Queen and her daughter sat on a throne made of pure gold, over which a rug of soft heliotrope and pink was flung. In front of the throne danced the fairies they were nearly all there roses. violets, lilies-of-the-valley, sweet-pens, and many, many more. Suddenly a sound as of silver bolls broke in upon the soft laughter of the fairies, and the heralds blowing their little silver trumpets announced the turning of the prince, who was to marry thoir princess. At last he had c ome in great splendour from his home in the east. You see he was an Oriental Poppy, and after him came three little cream poppies holding up his long satin train. As soon as the fairies had greeted one another the dancing began again. The fire-flies burned their very brightest that night and the butterflies hovered lightly above the fairies so that 1 here niignt hey a slight breeze for them. Indeed everything was at its merriest and brightest that night. First the wild hyacinths danced the ‘ Dance of the Wood-Nymphs,” then the pink peonies danced the “ Dance of "Plushes.” in which there was much pirouetting and bowing. Next the nightingale gave a solo and then all the fairies started to dance to the time of tiny hells which were tied to the leaves of the old oak, and which tinkled whenever the leaves were stirred by the soft whisperings of the summer breeze. At about three o’clock the Queen and the Prince led the war to supper, which was laid at the other side of the tree. What a wonderful feast it was to hr sure • The cloth was made of cobwebs with silver drops of dew glistening on them still; these were woven rinser and closer together until it, was lik® a fine silver veil. The fairies had many sweet delicacies on their table : little red fungi .jugs of dew and grape juice were ready ; and honev and cream beaten together lightlv that you could hardly see it was there, instead of jelly, which the fairies do not like; also there wore cakes and real icecream. Tint in the centre, on a sneeial cobweb-covered mushroom, was the

crowning glory of all. It was the Princess’s birthday cake. The cake itself was of crushed strawberries, great layers, half an inch thick, stuck together with whipped cream ; and the icing really was as nice to eat as it was to look at. for it was cream and snow beaten together, ever so thick. But. at the dawn of day, the tiny inhabitants of this little known world, had to creep back to the gardens and do their work. “ Mere they tired? ” you ask. Of course not! Fairies are always much fresher after an all-night pnrtv. By H N. ABOUT ROMAN ROADS. You have all heard, I am sure, what groat road makers the Romans were; how everywhere' they went, as tho empire* spread their first care was to bo : ,V^ n i Wf ids. You remember rea<i history, don’t you, abet* \J\ l ’two great Roman roads, W. V .rcet and the Fosseway. But 1 wonder if you know what wonderful roads they were. Many of them remain, of course, to this day, much the same as they were when the Romans finished them, nearly 2000 years ago. Do you want to know how they made them? Well, I’ll tell you. First, they marked out the width of the road by two ditches from eight to twenty feet apart; then they levelled the space in between, and covered it with large stones bound together with a kind of concrete, then came a bed of atone and lime mortar, nine inches thick, of fine brick or pottery bound together with rnortar ; and, finally, the pavements of flat, stoftes carefully fitted together like a Chinese puzzle and cemented in their places. Roman roads are often being found in England to day, overgrown with mosses and grass, but otherwise almost as good as they day they were put down. ABOUT A SHEEP DOG. The black and white sheep dog of the Scottish Highlands is one of the cleverest kinds of dogs. Once a simpherd had a dog called “ Dileas ” which is the Gaelic for “ Faithful.’’ Sometimes the shepherd would i>© out on tho hill with his dog and he would havc all his shoe;) together in a big flock. Perhaps he would find lie wanted to take one particular one home to put in a. di fie rent place. So he would point out this sheep to the dog and the clever Dileas would drive that sheep right through the flock and separate it from the others, although you and 1 would think that all the sheep looked the same- Then he would take tho sheep all the way borne across the hill 9,11 by himself, and drive it into a small pen or enclosure. Here he would lie down at the entrance to prevent the sheep getting out, and watch till his master came home. But sometimes lie would hare to wait hours and hours, but all

the same he would never take his eyes off the sheep. His mistress would come out of the house and bring him some food. If she put it where lie could eat it and still keep his watch on his charge ho would take it, but if she put it out of his reach, he would not touch it. Don’t you think this dog deserved the name of Faithful? MY MOTHER’S RING. My mother has an opal rwig, A dainty, softly glowing tlung Wliich like a rainbow seems. It flashes red, then green, then blue. Ite colours are of every hue; The lovoty jewel gleams Upon her finger. When the sun Has gone to bed and day is done, My mother’s ring I wear, And watch the firelight make it shine | As if a bit of sunset fine Had been imprisioned there. WHEN THE SUMMER PEOPLE GO. “ Oh, toll me, little Marr, Oh, tell me, littlo Joe/ \\ hat is the seashore like When we “summer people” go ? Is the beach as nice as ever, "Where wo children loved to play ? Do the waves still sparkle on the sand W lien we are far away ? Do the cows some home tat evening? Do the. stars ehino just jus bright ? Do people pass along tho road Jn colours gay and bright? Are there music, games and laughter ? Are there white sails on the bay ? Does the sun shine ? Do the birds sing I After wo go away ? I wish I could stay hero, j Like you, through aJi the year. ! Oh happy little Jo-ey, | Oh iiappy littlo May !” “ W T liy, listen now,” says Mary, “Just listen now,” sajs Joe, “ The seashore is quite different When you summer people go, The beach is all deserted That was so gay before, 1 hat wind blows cold and wintry, ild waves beat on the shore, riie village folks, along the road Walk, singing as they go ; There’s lots of work *to finish up Before the winter enow ; The flowers are gone; the birds are flown ; SVhool closes in cold weather ! Vic pinv outdoors and do the chores, 1 hen ’round Ihe firp we gather, You think it is a pity To back to the city ? Moll, wo like it here, you know But we’d rather like to go !” WHY WIT.TJE WAS CANED. Some of the boys were taking but little interest in the lesson, and the teacher grew desperate. ”, William Smith, ’ he demanded, suddenly, ” are you listening?” ” Yes, sir ! ” “ Then, perhaps, you can tell mo where Nelson was killed ? ’’ “ Trafalgar Square ! ” was the reply. “Indeed! ” ejaculated the teacher. ” Then I suppose Wellington was killed at "Waterloo Station? 1 ’ “No, sir.” responded William. “ that was Napoleon ! ”