THE WENDY HUT

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 80, Issue 78, 2 April 1938, Page 12

THE WENDY HUT

TRUE BLUE IN ALL THINGS

Enter . 4550 "BABY FTSU. 4551 “LOVEJOY 4552 "dirtyia: 4553 “GAY BLUEBi 4554 "GAY MOLLY.

11-j TCXaal Dear Wendy,—l enjoy reading your page very much, and I would like to become a member. I would like “Gay Molly”*for my pen-name. I have not been in good health lately. I’ve been in hospitalj but I’m better now. I go out in a wheelchair because l*m not allowed to walk about too much just yet awhile. We have had awful weather just lately. It’s too hot ana dry sometimes and sometimes too wet for my liking. I do not know any of the Ites, so I’ll be busy finding them out. Well, I must close now. With lots of love.—From “GAY MOLLY.” Bulls. Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear. I am so pleased you do enjoy our page. Yes, you may have the pen-name you have asked for. How wonderful to have recovered from your illness. I hope you will be able to dispense with the chair soon. I hope you will soon discover some of your co-Ites in Bulls. Do write aga.n soon, won’t you?—Wendy.

Dear Wendy,—Here is another reader asking to enter your ranks. I cannot write in ink as I am sick in bed with a bad back. Please may I have

“Baby Fish” for my pen-name? I learnt to swam during the holidays and can now dive from the surface. We have a baby filly and another 15 months old. This morning when I was sitting on the verandah they both came up to me and ate bread from my hand. I am ten and in Standard V. I will soon be eleven. My teacher let me miss Standard IV and I am now trying to beat my sister who is 12 years old. We go to a little school about a mile and a quarter away and I have come top three times at the final examinations and nearly always in other exams. Well, good-bye for now. Best wishes to all the clan.— From “BABY FISH,” Marton.

Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear, and a special cheerio to you as I see you are in Sick Bay. I am ever so sorry to hear you are ill and I hope that by the time you read this you will be quite well again. You may have the pen-name you have asked for. What dears the foals are. Oh, bravo! Fancy three times top or your class. I am going to be proud of you.—Wendy. ....

Dear Wendy,—Would you please enrol me as a member of your Hut? 1 have been reading your page far nearly a year now and 1 have been quite interested in it. I am eleven years of age and I am in Standard 11. I am in the Girl Guides. I am going for a hike on Saturday and I hope it is fine. My birthday was on March 3. Please could I have “Bluebird” for my pen-name? Love to all the Ites and yourself.—Yours sincerely, “GAY BLUEBIRD,” Utiku. Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear. I am so happy to have you in our ranks and I am glad to see you are a reader of our page. Wouli you send me your name please. The penname you have asked for is in use, so I have chosen another for you that I hope you will like. You won’t forget to send your name though, will you, because I cannot enter your name in our big ledger otherwise.—Wendy.

Dear Wendy,—l would like to become a member of your Wendy Hut. Could I have "Lovejoy” for my penname if it has not been taken? The weather has not been very fine here for two days. I hope it will be fine for our school picnic. I will close now. With lots of love to your Hut and yourself.—From “LOVEJOY,” Bulls.

Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear. How pleased I am to have you in our ranks. You may have the penname you have asked for. I do hope the weather was lovely for the school picnic. It is wretched when it rains upon such a jolly event as that, isn t it '—Wendy.

“IT IS GETTING RATHER AUTUMNISH NOW, ISN’T IT," SAYS "LAUGHING WATERLADY'S SWEETHEART.” Dear Wendy,—l think it is about time I wrote to the Hut again. My word, hasn't the weather been hoi! I can truthfully say that this summet I have spent nearly half of my time in the river. We had a splendid swimming pool this summer, which was lucky, for the river changes it course every year, and sometimes we have to put up with disappointments regarding where we swim. “Laughing Waterlady” and I went swimming very nearly every day and we haa great fun. During the latter part oi the summer holidays I went camping with a friend. It was near a beach, so we had all the sun-tanning we needed. It's great fun camping, Wendy, except when it rains, of course. One night, after having had a particularly "camp-like” tea, we went up on the swings. After having a “mix-up' for tea you can imagine what we felt like, Wendy. So we soon got off again, 1 can tell you. In the evenings we read books by the river or went exploring up the river banks, and before bedtime we had a sing-song and generally enjoyed ourselves immensely. It’s get ting rather autumnish now, isn't it. Wendy? But I love autumn. It is usually such a quiet, peaceful season, and autumn sunsets are very beautiful. "Laughing Waterlady' is ill again, so I usually take her dog for a run in the evenings. He is such a dear little doggie, Wendy, and though his small legs must be tired sometimes, he never refuses to come with me. Sometimes I go cycling and when the dog gets tired I pick him up and /any him while I ride. Lately, i have read some of E. V. Morton's books: "In Search of Ireland,” “In Search of Scotland,” and "In Search of England.’ They are all very Interesting, and his descriptions are very good. Have you read his books, Wendy? There is another of his which I would like to read, called "Blue Bays at Sea.” It will soon be Easter now, and afterwards I suppose all the winter sports will be starting. After all, Wendy, there is something to be said for winter, with its football matches and evening fires. Well, Wendy, 1 really must close. So cheerio, from your truant 'Ite.—"LAUGHING WATERLADY'S SWEETHEART," Wendydell. Your letter, dear, is a lovely surprise, I assure you. I wondered when I would have the pleasure of a visit from you again. I am so sorry to hear of our "Laughing Waterlady's” illness. You must miss her companionship. Yes, the autumn is a truly marvellous seasoji with its wealth of colour. I have not yet read the books Books such as his, though, must be very absorbing. I must see if 1 can find time to read them. It will not be long now ere the winter games will be in full swing, will it. Thanks for the poem.—Wendy.

Dear Wendy,—Please may I join your Hut? May I have “Dirty Face” for my pen-name? I do not knew any of your Ites. I am in Standard II and live on a farm. We have thiee foals and their names are Benno, Jess and Baby.—l remain, yours truly, “DIRTY FACE,” Upper Tutaenuj. Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my doar. How lovely of you to join our ranks and you may have the penname you have asked for. Will you ftoese send me your name, age and date of birth? This is very imporatnt. When you send these particulars ploase send your pen-name in with them.—Wendy.

NOTICE BOARD “Just Myownself” asks for an Australian or New Zealand pen-pal ar.out 12 years old. Can anyone supply our Marton Ite with an address?

OUR CHILDREN'S CORNER

My Deaf Children, 1 open our hour of Mahc-hclieve upon a note of sadness, sadness occasioned by the recent railway disaster and the sorrow in the hearts of those to whom the loss of dear ones has brought much grief. 1 extend to them the deep and heart felt, sympathy of our clan and our prayers of thank I'illness to Divine Providence for a mercy that wrought a miracle of intervention in what would have been the greatest rail disaster our country has ever known. < Our brightest checrios to those who suffered injury and we ask them to accept our warmest wishes for speedy rejoverics. Now, deal' cherubs, I’ve news for you to-day and it concerns “Aunty,” of Wendytown, whom you all know so well. Our “Aunty” says goodbye to Wendytown, a Hut place name she has —in nearly ten years—come to love very dearly. However in the lives of all of us there comes a time when we must sever old associations and take farewell of beloved scenes and away to fields anew. There is an old and very often quoted axiom which says that “Someone’s loss is another’s gain,” and in this instance Ohingaiti loses two of its sterling folk Io the gain of Christchurch, where “Aunty” and her good man will in future reside. In expressing my thanks and appreeiaiion of “ Aunty’s” good work among you in Wendytown in the inauguration of those delightful Wendy Hut picnics and other activities, I. take comfort in the. thought that although we all lose our 'Wendytown “Aunty” we do not lose her as our Hut “Aunty.” I have her assurance that even although widely separated from us she is always going to be our “Aunty.” I feel I express our entire elan’s dearest hope when I ask “Aunty” to accept our thoughts and wishes for years of happiness and well-being in her new home. Well, cherubs, our day of Let’s Pretend would not be completed without the usual story, that is now a iooked-for feature of our pages and from the telling of which I hope for much good. Now, for to-day I’ve selected one about our Leathered Friends, the birds. Like all other good stories founded on fable or legend it commences:—

Long ago, the legend has it—all birds were white, but one day a rather fussy little fellow perched himself on a flowering bush and looked at. the butterflies that jvere hovering on the blossoms. “What lovely colours they have,” he thought. “I wonder why they are so beautifully painted while we are only white? I wish I were red and gold. I would like gold, with red wings and a ring of pale blue round my neck.” The more the little bird thought of the idea, the more, impatient he became, and he worried all the birds of the forest till they said they, too, would like to be coloured. “There’s so much colour about, too,” raved the little bird. “In the sunset, in the flowers, in the rainbow! How stupid of the Forest Spirit never to have thought of painting us. I shall go and ask him about it.” So the little bird put his bright idea before the Forest Spirit and the Forest Spirit declared it was an excellent suggestion, and promised to set about getting the paint, ready. The little bird could hardly contain his excitement, and he talked, as one can quite well imagine, day and night of his new feathers. And so one morning the Forest Spirit called the birds to gether. When they saw the great array of paint pots and brushes they twittered .joyfully, and the fussy little bird nearly exploded with enthusiasm. “I’ll take you as you’re standing,” said the Forest Spirit, “then there’ll be no confusion. Hop up onto my knee, one by one, in turn.” At the top of the row was the parrot, and up it hopped. The Forest Spirit was rather nervous as he painted the wings green and splashed a little pink round its neck, and finished it off with grey, blue and yellow. The bird.'’, gasped at the bright new parrot, but the little bird fussed and chafed, and worked himself up into a state of such impatience as one bird after another hopped on to the knee of the Forest Spirit, that lie irritated the entire company. Now, the Forest Spirit was just trying out some soft brown paint, which he had made from river mud, when the fussy little bird put him off his stroke, am 1 being dissatisfied with the pretty little bird on his knee, he reached for his pot of precious red paint It wa.s a beautiful colour, and when the impatient little bird saw that the Forest Spirit intended to use a lot of it on the hire on his knee he nearly had a fit. “Keep that for me,” he screamed. “I want, al. 1 the red and gold—keep all the red and gold for me!” Then Ihe Forest Spirit dabbed a spot of red on the breast of the bird he was holding, grasped the fussy little bird and painted it brown all over. The bird with the red spot, of course, was the robin, and the little brown birds have fussed ever since because they have no colours.

And there, dears, is a reason why we must never be impatient. I know lots of small folk who are a little inclined to he like that birdie, but after reading our story 1 am sure they will profit ty the lesson it teaches. I must now conclude and close the magic door to Make-believe until next Saturday, so until then all my warmest love and kisses with a special hug and kiss to those in Sick Bay.— I our ever affectionate

“I LOVE READING ‘MADCAP S' LETTERS,” SAYS “JUST MYOWNSELF”

Dear Wendy,--May I enter the Hut after my long absence? Please could you find me a pen-friend about twelve years of age in Australia or New Zealand. I do not know any of the Iles yet, but I love reading “Madcap's” letters. They arc always so interesting. “Kiss Me Again,” what has happened to you? 1 have not seen your cheery letters for a long time. I am in Standard V now. We have some lovely owe lambs. Uncle Dick bought them at a sale. I can swim well now, Wendy. While 1 am writing this letter I will include a story 1 have just read:—“Once upon a time there wa.s a young Maori cilled Te Rui, who lived on the upper Waitara. Te Rui, urged by his wife, who had no meat to set before him with the kumara, set out one morning pig-hunting. On his bolt he wore a sheath knife, that wa.s his only weapon for the chase. On his way he passed the whare of his relative Hakopa, the Tohunga and medicine man of the little tribe. To Rui stayed a while to talk to him. “Where are

you going for your pig?” Hakopa asked him. To Rui pointed to the blue ridge overlooking Waitara. “Foolish man!” said Hakopa, “don't you know that bush is unlucky for the hunter? You may not. be able to leave. Tltcy may set their magic on you.” “I am not afraid,” said Te Rui. “What do I care for the fairy tribe.” I want a pig and that bush is full of pigs. “Have I not my dog and my knife?” “Go your way then,” said the cld man, but remember what 1 have told you. Beware of those red pigs.” ‘ I am reddish of hair myself,” said Te Rui. Early in the day Te Rui caught a red hoar, killed it and cooked it. for tea. When the next morning came Te Rui prepared to leave Ihe bush for home but when he wa.s just going to leave he noticed a stick twitching on the ground in front of him. He grabbed the stick and it led him out of the forest. When he reached home his wife asked where the pig was. “You can have it if you ask the fairies for it,” said Te Rui. I must close now, Wendy. Hoping “Hairy Goat” has had a shave. —I remain, yours truly, “JUST MYOWNSELF,” Marton. Welcome once again to our ranks, clear. I began to fear the old Witch had you in her clutches. I will ask tor a pen-pal for you. “Madcap's” letters are simply wonderful, indeed. I am pleased to hear you are in Standard V. You have done well. Many thanks for the story and conundrums.—Wendy.

“MY TROUBLES ARE NOTHING COMPARED WITH OTHER PEOPLE’S” SAYS “COLE’S BOOK ARCADE.” Dear Wendy,—How are you keeping these days; well I hope? I would have written sooner, but trouble and sickness have dogged the steps of me and mine this last three months. I have taken out my writing-pad several times, but felt so miserable I have put it back for another day. I have read our page each week though, and enjoyed it, too. Although my troubles - seem big and real to me, they are nothing compared with some people’s. That train accident now; was not that terrible, yet those who were able, how well they seem to have acted, and helped those who were less fortunate? How awful for that poor woman in the Wanganui Hospital, expecting a visit from her husband and then to be told that she will never more see him this side of the grave. May she have courage and strength to bear her burden. We New Zealanders can be thankful we have so few railway accidents compared with other and larger countries. I expect, Wendy, that a number of ’ltes will write to you this week, telling you of the accident. Well, co-’ltes, this is not a cheerful letter to our Leader, is it? Never mind, the next one may be, so cheerio for now, Wendy and co-’ltes. With love and best wishes, from.—“COLE'S BOOK ARCADE,” Marton. Thank you, so much, dear, I am in very good health. I am sorry to hear you have not been in good heal At and I can understand how miserable it does make one. However, I hope you are soon recovered. Yes, the accident was terrible, and you are righty, that although our own troubles appear tremendously large there are always others whose cross is much harder to bear. I paid a visit to the scene of the disaster and I thanked Divine Providence for the mercy shown. I marvelled that all those poor passengers were not killed. I shall not easily forget the tangled confusion. —Wendy. “THE BROWNIE” (Sent in by “Dirty Face.”) Once Brownie had a large family and he needed a large house to keep them. So he set to work and cut down some trees-and made four walls and a sloping roof. He called his children and they all came but they couldn’t get in. They asked how” to get in. “Why!” said the Brownie, “I forgot the door.” So he set to work and made a neat door. Then the children went inside but what do you think, they could not sec. They asked why. “Why, I forgot the windows,” said Brownie. “DON’T GO AND LEAVE ‘HAIRY GOAT’ ALL THE DISHES TO DO, BIG SISTER,’ ” SAYS “TWO BIG SISTERS” Dear Wendy,—Rat! Tat J Tat! Please let “Two Big Sisters” in. Isn’t the weather dreadful lately, nothing but rain! rain! rain! Well, “Hairy Goat" that cycle of yours does look nice with that brake. Now, “Big Sister,” you don’t want to go away and leave poor “Hairy Goat” to do the dishes because he only licks them with his long, rough tongue. “Poultry Maid’s Admirer,” you must have been cold wrapped up in that green coat the other night. Yes, “Nelson Eddy,” you don't want to try to jump on behind anybody on a horse as you might injure its back. I saw the “Big Sister” riding a little pony and, oh, Wendy, she was getting along in great style. I suppose “Cuddle's Chum,” you will get your horse shod for mere nothing now the Village Blacksmith is about. “Mr. X Junior,” I like that photo of you; it does look good. Now, “Stella,” I haven’t seen you for “donkey years” and how are things up country. Is everything alright on the Western fronts of Taihape? Well, "Unlucky Love,” do you still catch the flies on the window? Have you finished your mending, “Shepherd’s Bride,” or is there that much you don’t know where to start first? Have you broken the darning needle or lost your cotton? As news is short, Wendy, I will tollie off to Birch Bay for some sleep.—Yours truly, “TWO BIG SISTERS,” Pukeroa. Oh, so here you are, my dears. I somehow expected a call from you to-day. We have had .such lovely weather here. The rain has not been excessive and the gardens and pastures look much improved after the dry spell. Wendy. Conundrums

(Chosen for our page by “Just Myownself.”) Q. What fashionable games do frogs play at besides leap-frog? A. Croaky. Q At what time of (he day was Adam born? A. A little before Eve. Q. Why is the letter K like a pig? A. Because it is at the end of pork. Q. How do you spell blind pig in two letters? A. P.G.—-pig without an L

The professor set out to visit a friend but he had not gone very far when he discovered that he had left his door key behind. Returning home, he knocked loudly on the door and his housekeeper, who happened to be upstairs, called out: “If you want the professor, he’s out!” “Oh, very well,” said the professor, “in that case I’ll call again later.”

“I’D BETTER GO AND PUT ON MY STRAW HAT,’ SAYS “UNLUCKY LOVE.” Dear Wendy,—Here I am again, pressing my pencil hard on the paper, so as you can see what I am writing. Did the "Two Big Sisters” get frightened when the swimming was on, because I saw neither of you swimming. Yes, "Big Sister,” I would have taken you in my car, but when I heard tha powerful Dodge go down the road I , knew where you were going. Weil, '■■'l "Stella,” I don’t live on a hill. I live r in a house somewhere in the country by a lot of thistles and quite a lot of grass round me, too. Weil, "Cuddle’s Chum,” what did the Village Blacksmith say when the hard, hard hammer hit his thumb? Seeing that "Hairy Goat” only lived on scenery and air for Christmas, how about sending out some of your scones, “O.L.B”? I hope they are fattening as "Hairy Goat” has not too much, grass, because the dairy herd gets most of it. Well, Wendy, as the sun has popped out from the clouds, I had better go and put on my straw hat.— "UNLUCKY LOVE," Hunterville. So pleased, dear, to have your welcome letter. I wondered if the Old Witch had run off with you. Hasn't the weather been beautiful? The sun, now that it has lost its summer glare, is lovely. The slight rainfall has been so acceptable, too. The pastures look grateful for the cooling showers.— Wendy.