FOR YOUNG FOLKS.

Waipa Post, Volume VIII, Issue 347, 8 September 1914, Page 6

FOR YOUNG FOLKS.

LITTLE MISS PERVERSITY.

Once there was a maiden who wouldn’t be polite; Wouldn’t say “Good morning” and wouldn’t say “Good night”; Felt it too much trouble to think of saying “Please”; Slammed the door behind her as if she’d been a breeze; Wouldn’t ask her mother if she could take a run; Ran away and lost herself, because it was “such fun.” Merry little maiden, isn’t it too bad, That' with all her laughter sometimes she was sad! But, you know, the reason isn’t hard to find, For this little maiden didn’t like to mind; Didn’t like the things she knew she really ought to do, Who was she? Oh, never mind; I hope it wasn’t you.

EAGER FOR HIS RIGHTS,

As little Freddie had reached the mature age of three, and was about to discard petticoats for manly raiment ih the form of knickerbockers, his mother determined to make the occasion a memorable one. j

The breakfast-table was laden with good fare as the newly-breeched infant was led into the room. “Ah,” cried the proud mother, “now you are a little man!”

The fledgling was in ecstasies. Displaying his garments to their full advantage, he edged closer to his mother, and whispered: “Mother, can I call pa Bill now ?”

WHEN TOMMY STRUCK,

Tommy had been severely caned for being ungrammatical. Nor was this the first time.

In fact, so often was our youthful friend punished for the same offence, that the iron of an unrelenting hatred entered his small soul. So that one day, when his form-mas* ter requested him to ask another scholar to come forward and speak -to the said master, promising Tommy a jolly good hiding if the message were delivered ungrammatically, our hero rose to the occasion.

Advancing majestically on the youth in question, he first bowed, struck an attitude, and then began: “There is a common substantive, of the masculine gender, nominative case, and in a violent temper, who sits' perched upon the eminence at the other end of the room, and wishes to articulate a few words to you in the present tense.”

History relateth not whether Master Tommy received further chastisement, or a prize in gilt-edged covers.

THE CAREFUL! SPIDER,

Like all careful housekeepers, Mrs. Spider has her cleaning days; but, unlike other careful housekeepers, she wears her fine clothes when she works. Maybe you have seen her all rigged out in her yellow and black velvet gown, sweeping and dusting her web, but she is not as extravagant as she seems. Clothes never bother her. She doesn’t have to go to a dressmaker when she needs a new gown. She has only to step out of her old one, and lo! just under it a fresh one, already made, and a perfect fit. Mrs. Spider is very economical, for instead of throwing aside her old dresses she rolls them into a ball and eats them. Well, to tell about Mrs. Spider’s house-cleaning. She has neither brushes nor brooms nor dusters, so she begins her work by raising one of her eight claws and giving her house a shake that reaches every corner. She is careful not to injure it, but she makes the dust fly. When this is done to her satisfaction, she looks her web over, first from the top, then from the bottom, then from both sides. If the walls sag or are the least bit broken, she rolls them into a ball and eats them, just as she does her old clothes. Then she replaces them with now ones.

THE BABY CALF’S TAIL,

There was once a beautiful MooCow, who, although the rest of her was brown, had a lovely white tail. She attracted a great deal of attention, and everyone' who happened to be passing would stop and say, “Dear me, what a pretty animal ; and just look at her white tail!’’*

Well, this Moo-Cow had a dear little baby calf, and he too was brown liko his mother, but, alas! his tail was brown, too, so no one stopped to talk about him, and that worried his proud mother very much indeed. She thought and thought it over, and at last she hit on what she imagined a splendid plan. Next time the milk-boy passed by with a pail of creamy white milk sho would push her baby calf’s little ordinary brown tail into the pail, and then perhaps it would turn white! The next morning, as usual, Peter, the milk-boy made his rounds, and came into the Moo-Cow’s field with a pailful of frothy milk. Splosh ! The cow had knocked up against him and pushed her baby’s tail right into the milk, and when it came out it was quite, quite white! But in the morning a great disappointment awaited her. Poor Mrs. Moo-Cow found that her baby had licked her tail all brown again, just as it had been-before—sc, she had had all her trouble for nothing. However, sho made up her mind that it was, perhaps, all for the best. “Moo, moo!” she said contentedly. "After all, I think it is nicer to hav# & tail that matches.” Which shows how wise she was.