OUR VISITOR

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 73, Issue 81, 5 April 1930, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR VISITOR

Once a little imp of mischief lost his way in our house! Daddy said he was —just Brother! Mummy said he was—just Grouse!* I knew better—so did Paddy; and it was the greatest fun to wait and watch, and see the mischief that the little imp had done. lie started early in the morning. Poor Jane thought if was so late, ’cos our clock upon the. landing called out loud that it w:*s eight! Out of bed we all came tumbling—such a scramble for the bath! “Wiiy,” cried Jane, “it’s only seven; the milk boy’s coming up the path!” All th<‘ eggs were raw at breakfast, and the porridge tasted queer. When we rang and asked for letters. Jane replied. “There’s none, I fear.” Out stamped Daddy, looking puzzled, ami beneath our front door mat. found a most important letter’ What, I ask. <l'you make of that? Then the soot came down the chim noy; Jane upset the best glass jug; Mummy screamed mid shouted “ l’’.!‘p! ’cos a mouse ran on the rug! Paddy looked at me and whispered: “Don’t you think we ought to tell that nothing in the house is ringing, not the front nor back door bell’ Oh. I shall never forget it! Such a lovely ’citing day. But alas! that very evening wc hoard the imp creep right away. Softly, softly, creaking, cracking, down the stairs, out neath the door. “Oh.” said Paddy, “don’t forget us. Do come back, ami play some more! THE FIRST SWALLOWS During the dark and bitter mouths, the Eskimos ted their children lovely stories as they sit round their trays of burning moss soaked in seal oil. Imagine a little round house, built of snow, with ice windows; imagine the children, wrapped in furs, sitting round the stone on which the moss burns, their bare feet stretched towards the warmth; imagine their mother toasting a piece of seal flesh on an iron rod, while she tells t'nem stories. “Winter is lung and dark,’’ says mother, “but summer will come, bringing with it the swallows. Yes, even to the far land of the Eskimos they come on their soft wings, twittering like children. Listen, and 1 will tell you the story of the first swallows. “Long ago, during the suemcr. two Eskimo children, a boy and a gi l ‘l, went to play on the ci ills. They made themselves a little round house of mud, elay and moss, and stuck it to the cliff. Then they tried to get into it. But alas! the ground gave way and down, down fell the children. .Now they had not been disobedient, because m one had told them not to go near the cliff, and so, as they fell- the Good Spirit heard them cal;. He told them to stretch out, their arms, and as the children obeyed, their arms changed into soft wings and before they reached the shore they were lovely swallows! “No wonder the swallows come tu the land of the Eskimos, and twitter, twitter during the short summer months when they make their little round houses of mud and moss. They are telling you that they are your little brothers and sisters. RHALISM One evening a young mother heard a great deal of noise coming from the dining room, where her three small children, ranging from four to nine years of age, were evidently having a; very happy time. She went to the door and asked what it was all about, ami was told that the children were playing radio. She paused for a moment before attempting to quiet the' racket, when the youngest little boy gave, out an unusually loud shriek, when she turned to the older sister and said. ‘‘Yes, but why is Junior screaming?” The girl replied. “Oh, he’s static!’’