FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19864, 11 June 1927, Page 22 (Supplement)

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS

FUN s STORY :: PICTURES §

THE WENDY HUT

OUR GRAND MISSING WORD COMPETITION Fill in the Missing Words! FEEZES FOB THE FIRST THREE CORRECT ENTRIES. FIRST PRIZE ■—5/SECOND PRIZE 3/6 THIRD PRIZE 1/6

Now for particulars of the competition. Below you will find a little ftory —at least PART of a little story, because twelve words are missing! And I want you to supply these missing words. I have the complete story here, all ready to publish when the results are announced; but I just want to find out whether you can complete it yourselves. The blank spaces indicate where the missing words should be, and each space is numbered 1. 2,3, and so on up to 12. When you have read carefully all there is of the story, think long and hard, and decide what words are needed to make sense of it. It is NOT necessary to send the story itself back to me; just write the words clearly on a post-card, with the correct number beside each one, and send the card to me. Now is that all clear? If you are not quite sure, please read again what I have told vou. because we can’t have mistakes and misunderstandings when it is all over. I WANT THE MISSING WORDS, WITH NUMBERS INDICATING THEIR CORREST POSITIONS IN THE STORY, WRITTEN ON A POST-CARD ! Rules? Well, I suppose we must have one or two to keep you out of mischief! Here they are! 1. Your entries must be sent in by FRIDAY, J L'JNE 19, addressed to WENDY, care P.O. Box 105, Wanganui. 2. Your full name, address and age must be clearly stated on your entry. I cannot accept these particulars if they are sent on afterwards, so please do not forget to furnish them at the time. 3. The work must be YOUR VERY OWN, ENTIRELY UNAIDED by father, mother, brother, sister or friend! I put you on your honour again, as Tinkites, to observe this very important rule. 4. Please write your missing words on post-cards if possible; if you write neatly and keep the letters small, you should be able to manage this. And don’t forget to put the number beside each word. That’s all. my bairns, and now let’s see what you can do! Remember the jolly prizes—and do your utmost! Love from Wendy. COMPETITION STORY. At the bottom of the old garden Hugh stood just near the tall and thick (1) —hedge. For quite a while he (2) there, admiring the wonderful (3) of a copper beech tree that grew in a neighbouring plantation. It was a day to tempt anyone out of doors. The (4) was very fine and every thing looked quite gay in the sunshine. Then ( 5 ); noticed that a man started to (6) a tree in the plantation. To his surprise it was the biggest and tallest tree of them all a gnarled old (7) too! He felt sorry that such a mighty tree was to be destroyed. But a few moments’ thought told him that such a thing was necessary. (8) see , in the field near the plantation was a very valuable (?) anJ a (19) — . If either of these prize animals had nibbled at the sweeping branches of that three, it would most certainly have been poisoned. ( n ' ; the man had already lost animals through that cause or not, Hugh did not know. But. after thinking quite a lot about the subject, he finally decided that it was far better to (12)- the tree than to let the animals run into danger.

JACKO ONE WINDY DAY , There was such a high wind blowing ©ne day that Mrs Jacko was almost afraid to put her head out of doors. Jacko thought a windy day was fcreat fun, especially if people’s hats blew off and they had to run after them. 1 ‘l’m going out,” he told his mother. ••I shouldn’t he surprised if I don’t earn a sixpence or two.” . It didn’t take long to earn sixpence An old lady had had her cloak so twisted round her by the wind that she couldn’t move, and Jacko was to the rescue in a twinkling. ‘‘Now then, ma’am,” he said cheerfully, and he gave a push and sent her spinning. tShe went round and round so fast that by the time she was properly untwisted she felt quite dizzy. AH the same she managed to find a sixpence for Jacko. The next happened to be an elderly gentleman who had lost his hat. “There it goes!” he called out. “Run after it, my lad, and I’ll give you something for your pains.” Jacko ran after it. But the hat had got up a terrific speed, and after Jacko had chased it over a wall and tinder a motor car it suddenly rolled through a doorway out of sight. “Cooi I’ll get it now!” cried Jacko. But when he got inside the house he had quite a shock. There were dozens ©f hats lying about all over the place: in fact, that hat had rolled into a bat ■hop—the shop belonging to old Mr Cripps the hatter. Jacko picked up a hat from the fl->or and ran off with it. Just then Mr Cripps reared himself up behind the Counter. “I thought so!” he said softly. Who's a-thieving! ’’ And he hurried to the door. But he was rather stout, anil by the time he reached the street Jacko had disappeared. Poor Mr Cripps was very perplexed. He waddled this way and that, and at last, just as he w:< going along to the police station, he caught sight o- ; a hat he had seen before. It was on the head of an elderly gentleman who was strolling calmly down the street. Mr Cripps could hardly believe his eyes. “Hi, you there-” he cried, 1 ‘You’ve got my hat on! ” The gentleman was furious. They were both furious. In the end they called a policeman, and both talked so fast that the poor man found it impossible to understand what it was all about. When he had had enough be said if they didn’t stop it he would take them in charge for making a disturbance. Jacko watched it all from a safe distance. “Coo, 1 must have picked up the wrong hat,” he murmured. How it all ended he never knew.

CHIMES AND RHYMES PETER PAN STATUE. (At Dusk in Kensington Gardens). I walked by Peter Pan to-day, And as I passed, his fairy lute Was in his hand; And round his feet a fairy band Of elves and rats and rabbits stood, Awaiting for a fairy chime To turn the silence into rhyme. And as I paused—the evening glow Came stealing through the garden dusk; And then I heard a note—so low That every living thing was hushed, And tiptoed up to Peter’s seat, And gathered round with noiseless feet, A happy and expectant throng; Well knowing Peter’s flute would wake The evening silence into song.' Robert E. Key, in Christian ►Science Monitor. THE STARS. (What anyone may know). I walk, and the stars walk with me; I sing, and they sing at will; I run, and they all run together; I stop, and they all stand still. Egbert Sandford. THE MOTHER. God thought to give the sweetest thing In His Mighty power To earth; and deeply pondering What is should be—one hour In fondest joy and love of heart Out-weighing every other, He moved the gates of Heaven apart And gave to earth—a mother! G. Newell Lovejoy. ME. They might not need me—yet they might. I ’ll let my heart be just in sight. A smile so small as mine might be Precisely their necessity. Emily Dickenson. RIDDLES TO ASK What creatures turn red when they get into hot water?—Lobsters and small boys. Do you know what happened to the baby who swallowed a spoon?—Well, he simply couldn’t ir. What coin is double the value when half is taken away?—A halfpenny. If a ton of coke costs 40s, what will a ton of coal come to? —Ashes. Why is the letter H magical?—Because it makes “cat” “chat.” What .man is the slowest writer?— The convict, because he sometimes spends 15 years on one sentence.

MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT My Dear Children, A little ** cottage” string-box will be a jolly present for mother, and you’ll enjoy making it, too. You’ll need a fairly deep square cardboard box, and you must mark it up as shown in Diagram A. Cut away at the dotted lines, and then you will have a shape like Diagram B. The roof is made from a piece of stout cand, cut to fit over the ton of the house, and bent in the middle, as sbow r n in Diagram C. Cut a little hole in the top, through which to wedge the tiny chimney D. (you make this out of a scrap of card, bent round and glued to form a cylinder). Paint a red door, green shutters, and black and white windows, using small tins of enamel paint; and then you might add a wee flower garden round

the house, as indicated in the sketch. Next, get some plain raffia, and cover the rojf with this by laying it over in strands,• and glueing it down at the edges. This will make the wee house look thatched. Fasten a boot button on to the outside of the back wall, in the middle, and make a corresponding loop of raffia on the edge of the roof and down the sloping sides, leaving the back of the roof open, to fasten with the loop and button, so that you can place the ball of string inside. The end of the string, of course, comes out

through the chimney! THE LOST MAP A TALE FOR THE TINIES ‘ ‘ Come and have your geography lesson,” said the big fairy to the little one who lived w’ith her in a lamp. You see they were doing a term of work on earth where people thought they were just lamp-light, but when the lamp was turned; out the little fairies were free. “Come along,” said the big fairy. “The map is downstairs. To-night I will show you the Golden sea which flows to the West of Fairyland, and the Sugar Valley, noted for the manufacture of moon shine. Then you must tell me the names of all the rivers, and the celebrated towns on their banks. ’ ’ “I hope I shall remember them when I see the map,” thought the little fairy. ‘Oh dear, is Happyland in the Sunny river, and is it noted for smiles, or for Spring blossoms?” Down the stairs they flew together, and into a dark dining-room. Everyone had gone to bed, but of course fairies do not mind the ‘dark for they see as well by night as by day. The little fairy had not had a geography lesson for a whole week, and she was beginning to feel quite nervous. “I shall be a dunce by the time I go back to Fairyland,” she thought. “Why—where’s the map?” “They’ve whitewashed the ceiling!” cried the big fairy. “My beautiful map has gone! And the trouble I took to draw the rivers, and islands, and mountains, and seas! I shall have to draw another somewhere else. Yes, cracks on the ceiling are fairy maps! If you have one on yours, just study it and see if you can discover Fairyland. JIMMIE’S DOG Jimmie lived on an island off the coast of Maine. One night, when he was quite a little boy his father brought him a young dog. Of course Jimmie was delighted and the two had good fun playing together. He named the punpy “Prince Buficrt.” The dog was not a collie or any special kind of dog to have on a farm, so the family were much surprised when, one day, after he had been with them several months, he came driving the cows home at milking time, without one missing. Jimmie was glad, for he was saved the long walk to the paddock. After that the dog brought the cows home every night. But one evening Jimmie’s mother saw that one of the cows had not come home. She called Prince Rupert and scolded him and told him to go back and get the other cow. But he only walked around and wriggled, and seemed unwilling to go. Finally his mistress stamped her foot and said: ‘Go, get the other cow!” so sharply that Prince Rupert started off for the paddock. He did not come back, and finally Jimmie and his father went to see what was the matter. They found the 'dbg sitting on a rock, guarding the cow and her new abby calf. He knew that she had to stay and take care of the calf, and could not come home that night. In the evenings at home Prince Rupert helped Jimmie fill the kitchen stove corner with wood. Every time Jimmie went down the cellar for an armful of wood the dog went too, and brought up a stick in his mouth. He would lay it on the pile and then straighten it with his nose. Prince Rupert grew to be so big that when he sat up in the wicker rockingchair his head came away up to the top. Woudn’t you like a dog like Prince Rupert to help you work and play?

AN ISLAND’S QUEER LIFE THE DOGS OF JUAN DA NOVA the mystery of a strange COLONY OF WILD THINGS. HOW HID THEY GET THERE! There is a little-known island between Madagascar and the East African coast which is called on the map .Tuan da Nova, but among travellers it is called the Island of Dogs, with as good reason as we speak of the Isle of Dogs. There are no other inhabitants at all. The dog is king /f the castle and lord of the isle, and he fiercely repulses any attempt at invasion. All the days are dog days there. The dogs do not belong to a native breed of wild dog. Every sort of crossbreed and mongrel is to be found there from the mastiff to the pomeranian, but the animals have been wild for generations, and they behave like wolves.

Digging Up Turtle Eggs. They have formed themselves into j packs, and each pack has its own hunt-ing-ground, on which no “foreigner” dares to venture. Their chief food > s j turtle eggs and sea birds. The foolish , mother turtle crawls up on the hot ] sandy beach, scoops a hole, lays her - eggs, covers them with sand, and crawls ] back to the sea, whereupon the fourfooted islanders spring from their hid-ing-places to dig up the eggs. It is a harder matter to catch sea birds, but these dogs have learned to stalk as noiselessly and spring as swiftly as panthers. ‘ How did Juan da Nova get its doggy population? One authority believes the < dogs were marooned there, either on purpose or by accident, in the days of r sailing-ships. Nowadays, when ships can cover great distances in a short time, they do not call at Juan da Nova for fresh water and fruit. It is unlikely that a whole cargo of dogs was ‘ dumped here, though this was done on Juan Fernandez because that island 1 was overrun by goats, and the Spaniards wanted the dogs to kill the ( goats. No Foreigners Admitted. In the case of Juan da Nova it is more likely that sailors took their dogs ' for a run there and the dogs played truant, or that sailors who were too < merciful to drown vicious or dirty animals would leave them on this desert island to fend for themselves. The little - colony quickly multiplied, until now it is not a colony but a huge population. The islanders are as savage as those who would have killed Crusoe’s Man Friday. Some years ago a French ship sent a boat ashore at Juan da Nova to get water. A perfect army of dogs attacked the sailors, so that they had to flee for their lives to the sea, and another boat had to come with armed men to keep the dogs at bay by ceaseless firing while men fetched water. Man-Hating Dogs. These dogs seem to hate man with a peculiar fury. Do they dimly remember chains, dog whips, and cold kennels in lands where they were once servants instead of masters? They need not fear. No one would try to capture and tame one of them any more than he would attempt to get a wolf. One of the most strange things about the savage mongrels of Juan da Nova is that they do not bark. They are only known to howl like wolves in the moonlight. Is it possible that because they have no human enemies to bark at these poor creatures have lost their power of barking? There are many lovely isles in the Indian Ocean, and perhaps Juan da Nova is not the loveliest in spite of its flowery jungle; but it can surely claim to have the queerest population.

DO YOU KNOW—WHERE lODINE COMES FROM? When you cut your finger or bump j ourself, I expect you have the cut or bump painted with ioidjine. You wouldn’t think that seaweed was used to make this useful medicament, would youT Most of the seaweed employed is found at Jaerleren, Norway. If you went along the coast there in dry weather, you would, think that there were big bonfires burning. But it is only the peasant farmers burning enormous piles of seaweed, the ashes of which are used in the manufacture of iodine. More than two centuries ago seaweed ashes were used in the glass-blowing industry. But in the year 1748 a Scotsman went to Norway and showed the Norsemen how to burn the seaweed, and he took the ashes back to Scotland and had them manufactured into iodine. So in spring at Jacdoren, you see two-wheeled carts loaded with seaweed which is spread out later to dry—like hay. And then the dry weed is piled together and burnt until only the ashes remain. The landowners have come to an agreement among themselves, and the man owning the largest “seaweed” property, is entitled to have the most wagons and horses. Horses, carts and farmers are all taxed during 11 seaweed” season, and the richest and largest local landowner may use 18 wagons; ho is called the “Seaweed King.” THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND “Oh, is it far to Fairyland Pray, tell me, Goblin do! “The road to Fairyland is long, But if you sing an elfin song To cheer you as you plod along, It won’t seem "far to you!” “Oh, let me learn that elfin song. Please teach it to me here.” “I have no time, I cannot stay To sing the air (it’s bright and gay!) But if wc meet another day. Perhaps, I will, my dear!” “But—can’t I go without the song? I do not want to wait.” “There’s something else you’ll neeid*, a key. Of skilful Goblin artistry, To turn the fairy locks, you see, That guard the Magic Gate.” “Oh, Goblin green, give me the key!” “I may not, Mortal dear. But if you’d only understand, That key is ever to your hand, Why—all the world is Fairyland! Yes! Fairyland is here!”

Don’t Mention It! “Twenty minutes for refreshments!” shouted the guard, as he hurried along the platform. The little girl with jam on her lips hailed him. “You needn’t stop the train on our account,” she said. “We’re eating ours in the carriage.”

THE MAN WITH A POCKET OF .AIR

HOW HE KEPT ALIVE If ever a man was in a hopeless fix it was a stoker who went down with a tug that had been towing a liner to her moorings at Bremerhaven. As the tug sank the men on deck escaped ,but the stoker was below, and was given up for lost. The tug, after sinking, turned over on her side. The water was shallow and she was partly visible. More than that, she was audible, for long after all hope of-the stoker had been given up sounds were heard from inside the tug. The desperate man, who was in the submerged stokehold, had still a little pocket of air left to breathe. A diver was sent for, who bored a hole in the tug’s side, through which air could be pumped through a tube, to the stokehold. The air thus pumped in. to reinforce the air already there, kept the water at bay till, five hours after wards, the man was rescued. In the last few minutes of this heroic adventure the water rose up to the lips of the imprisoned man. STILL MORE POWERFUL RAYS DR. COOLIDGE AND HIS WONDERFUL TUBE Electric rays travelling at a speed of nearly a million miles a second are likely to be produced when Dr. Coolidge has completed his new experiments. Some time ago we were told of a new tube of his invention which was excited by a voltage of 350,000 and drove cathode rays through a thin metal window at a speed of 150,000 miles a second. These rays have already been proved tq possess remarkable properties, 1 but their full powers have by no means been discovered. By passing them through a second tube Dr. Coolidge thinks he can produce still more powerful rays, and by using a cascade of four tubes he will be able to obtain the effect of a million volts. An entirely new world of experiment will be opened up by this work, which may lead to important discoveries about atomic structure, and greatly influence the electrical treatment of disease. THE SCHOOL PREFECT Patty Martin stood before the school prefect. She was in disgrace, for being the cause of a pillow-fight the night before in the Fourth Form dormitory. Helen Carter, the prefect, had heard a noise in the dormitory, and had gone to find out the cause of it. What a sight met the amazed prefect’s eyes, for on opening the door, she saw Patty and her study-mate, Alice Anderson, engaged in a pillow-fight, while the enraptured fourth form applauded. Seemingly, Helen’s entry was not observed. “Silence,” rapped out Helen, irritably. Patty paused, a pillow aloft in her hand, while Alice dropped hers, and stared at Helen’s stern face. ‘ ‘ Who began this?” she inquired, coldly. “I 1 did,” Patty stepped forward, her pretty laughing eyes now serious. Helen thought for a moment and then said, “There shall be no hockey practice for this form on Saturday. Patricia, I will see you to-morrow, the rest will take two hundred lines for to-morrow evening.” The amazed form gasped as Helen 'left the room. “No hockey practice,” Patty wailed. Patty was hockey captain, and consequently felt the blow harder than the rest. Lights-out bell rang shortly after, and without further ado the girls prepared for bed. But now, Patty was waiting anxiously for the prefect to speak. At last she eaid, “You will learn two verses of ‘Valour’ before three o’clock to-day, besides the two hundred lines. You may go now.” Outside the door Patty’s brows contracted in a worried frown, w’hich was seldom seen on her usually pleasant face. She had only an hour rn which to learn that awful poetry and she knew she would forget it. She went up to the study that she and Alice Anderson shared however. Alice looked up from her lines as she entered, “What did she give you, Patty?” asked her chum. “Two verses of ‘Valour,’ and the lines.” Patty worked feverishly with “Valour” till three o’clock, and then went slowly upstairs to the prefect’s study. “Come in,” said Helen in answer to her timid knock. “Oh! it’s you, Patricia. Do you know your poetry?”

“I —l think so,” Patty muttered. She recited the two verses faultlessly, and when she had finished Helen said, “I have decided, Patricia, to allow the fourth form hockey practice on Saturday, and your lines will do to-morrow.” “Oh! thanks, Helen,” Patty exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. Five minutes later, Patty burst boisterously into the fourth form common room, “Girls!” she cried, “Helen says we may have hockey practice on Saturday. ” “Goody for Helen,” they chorused, “she’s a brick.” “Hear! Hear!” cried Patty. TONGUE TWISTERS If a wicked witch wished a wish, where’s the wicked witch that wished the wish, and where’s the wish that the wicked witch wished? Gordon’s gone to get grandma a glowing great glass gas globe. Now take a deep breath and say: “Hans Anderson handed Andy a heavy hapimer, and Andy handed it back to Hans.” Bu>mind your aitchcs! Hie!— The old soldier was relating his experiences in the Ypres Salient; the precise old lady was an attentive listener. “Well, one night, just as we was getting into Wipers—” “Ypres,” corrected the old lady. “We was about ’alf-a-milc from Wipers—” “Ypres,” said his listener. “When a whacking great Jack Johnson landed in the middle of the town. Golly! I thought the ’ole of Wipers—” “Ypres,” put in the old lady, gently. The soldier looked at her for a moment and then: “Lumme, mum,” he said, “you ought to take somethin’ for them ’iccups.’*