FOR THE CHILDREN

Waikato Times, Volume 96, Issue 15033, 2 September 1922, Page 14 (Supplement)

FOR THE CHILDREN

BIRD THOUGHTS. I lived first in a little house. And lived there very well; I thought the world was small and round, And made ol pale blue shell. I lived next in a little nest. Nor needed any other; I thought rihe world was made of straw, And brooded by my mother. One day I fluttered from the nest, To see what I could find. I said: “The world is made of leaves — I have been very blind.” At length I flew beyond the tre*>, Quite fit for grown-up labours. I don’t know how the world is made, And neither do my neighbours. SONG OF THE FAIRIES. By the moon we sport and playj With the-night begins our day; As we dance the dew doth fall; Trip it little Urchins all! Lightly as the winged bee, Two by two, and three by three, And about go we, and about go we! —John Lyly. THE PINK VEST. (From “A Staircase of Stories.”) Jane thought she was not clever, and she knew she was not pretty, and she ought to have been quite sure she was not good- But the worst of it was, she did not care whether she was good or not. Of all Jane’s faults, the worst was grumbling. There were so many things she did not like. For instance, she . could not bear her own name. Why should people not choose what they should be called? Jane was such a plain name, and she would rather have had no grandmother than have been forced to be her namesake. And the provoking tiling was, it would have been quite as easy to have called her after Aunt Beatrice. Jane was so short and plain and snappy—such a “bare" name, Jane said; and Beatrice you could linger over, and it made you think of pretty clothes. Such a name as Jane ghuuld given to no one except as a punishment, and she had been but an unoffending baby , when it became hers for life.

Jane grumbled too much about the colour of her hair. It was neither gol-den-fair nor raven-black, and all the little gjrls in Jane’s story books had either one or the other. Hers was Just a brown-red colour, and she hated it. She would look in the glass and say to herself: "It’s my carroty hair that makes me so ugly”; but really that wasn’t it at all, for it was her poutinglips and scowling forehead that spoilt what should have been a sweet little face.

Jane grumbled too over her lessons, and she grumbled when she had to go to bed, and she grumbled again when she had to get up in the morning. But of all Jane’s grumblings the worst were to be heard at meal-times. There was hardly a day passed but Jane didn’t like or didn’t want what was on the table. , Mrs Brown, Jane’s mother, -corrected her little girl over and over again, but as things remained as'bad as ever, she determined to punish the naughty child next time she grumbled during a meal.

Jane had also a bad habit of fidgeting at table, and sh'e would fiddle with the salt-spoon or anything within reach, and she was a child that did not hesitate to interrupt her father and mother.

Such a state of things could not continue, so one day at breakfast, when Jane began to hum while her parents were talking, Mrs Brown corrected her. Jane stopped humming, but in a moment was tilting back her chair. “Sit properly, Jane,” said her mother. “I want another lump of sugar,” said Jane, slowly bringing forward her chair, and at the same time thrusting out the hand that held her cup and saucer. Over went the cup, and its contents were spilt into the marmalade jar and over the table-cloth. Now Mr Brown was a dear daddy, but he had some peculiarities. One was that he would not eat a chop without ketchup. Indeed, his wife said he would rather have the ketchup without the chop. Nor could he eat mutton without red-currant jelly, nor pork without apple sauce. It also happened that lie could not eat breakfast without marmalade, and so he was extremely annoyed when Mrs Brown told him she had not another jar in the house. Jane’s mother was annoyed for another reason. As it was Monday the clean table-cloth had reached only the second day of jts life and it was now unfit for use.

Mr Brown muttered something, but could, not be sure whether he was saying how tiresome -children were or how good marmalade was. But there was no doubt about what her mother said. “Jane, if you misbehave again, you shall be punished. Eat your bacon.” Jane gave her plate a. push. “I did eat part of it,” She said. “The rest is fat. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. I won’t eat it.”

Mrs Brown took the plate in her hand.. “Come upstairs, Jane." The little girl followed her mother to the box-room in the attic. “I shall lock you in till my work is done,” said her mother. “Then I shall come to sec if you have finished your breakfast. If you have you shall come downstairs, if not, you shall remain where you are until you have eaten every morsel.” Then Jane’s mother left. her. Jane heard the key turn in the lock. In the box-room was nothing but boxes, and everyone of them was empty. From the window Jane could see nothing but the sky; and what a blue sky it was.

It was too bad to be locked up on such a day! She would make her mother very sorry for treating her so. She would scream at the top of her voice so’that all the neighbours could hear, and then they would toll Mrs Brown what an unkind mother she was.

So .Jane screamed and screamed with all her might. Then when she paused for breath she thought she heard voices beneath the window. She could see no one, but she distinctly overheard these words: “I’m sorry for that girl's mother. The brat needs a good heating, that’s what she does, disturbing Hie whole neighbourhood like that. Poor Mrs Brown, to have such a daughter!” "So, it's mother they're sorry for, is it?" thought Jane. “Nobody cares about me, but I’ll make mother sorry for me. If I’m very quiet she’ll think I’ve cried till I’ve fainted and when siie comes up she’ll find I have; and then she’ll get a frigid.” And Jane lay down on her back on the uncarpeted door, stretched out her legs very stiff, and straight, closed her eyes, lips, and fists tight. “I wonder if that is right," she thought. “No; I believe my mouth should be open." And Jane opened her mouth wide. Then in a few minutes, although to Jane it; seemed hours, she thought: “I hope Mother

(BY PETER PAN.)

will be quick or I’ll have to come out of this faint. The floor is so hard and there’s a fly keeps tickling my tongue." But her mother did not come, and Jane could bear it no longer. She got up. She must do something. But what? Her daddy often said that Satan finds some misohief still for idle hands to do; but that was not .true to-day. She was deserted by everyone, and she felt miserably and utterly lonely- Time dragged slowly on. Would her mother ever come?' At last Jane smiled a watery smile. She had an Idea. Slowly she began to undress. One by one she took off her things. No sooner had. she done this than she began to put them on again—-all but her little pink vest. Jane could knit and she had made that vest last winter. With it in her hand she now sat down on one of the empty boxes and she nibbled at the edge of the vest until she could get hold of an end of the wool. At last there was something to do. Mischief had been found for those idle hands. She gave the wool one pull after another, and she went on pull, pull, pulling. Then she began to roll the wool into a neat . ball. And the neat little ball began to grow, and Jane went on roll, roll, rolling until at last she had a big ball of wool in her hand and not a suspicion of the pink little vest remained. Jane now had something to play with, and for some time she was happy tossing and catching the ball. But before long she grew tired and wondered what she should do next. She was beginning to feel hungryand. her eye fell, not for the first time, on the cold fat bacon. “If I shut my eyes and hold my nose, I believe I can eat it,” she said. And she did, for when her mother cam e in five minutes later Jane’s plate was as bare as old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. “Come along, Jane,’’ she said. "Bring your plate and wash it,” Jane followed her mother downstairs and all that day she was very subdued. She watered the flowers in the gard.en plot, she went to buy marmalade for her father’s tea, and altogether it seemed as if she had made up her mind to turn over a new leaf. But when night came and Jane undressed, her mother noticed that she had on no vest. “You naughty girl, how dare you •leave off your warm underclothing without my leave! Bring me your vest at once and see that you put it on tomorrow morning. Jane tried to speak, but not a word came. ■ “Where is your vest?” Before Jane could reply, her mother, who was hanging up her little girl’s dress, muttered to herself: “What can be in’the child’s pocket?" Jane made a queer sound- It was half a laugh and half a cry, for Mrs Brown now held in her hand the ball of pink wool. “Good-night, Jane,” said, her mother in a cold voice. “Good-night, Mother,” whispered her wonreding little daughter as she crept into bed. If Mrs Brown had been angry Jane could have understood that, but what could her silence mean? Was it possible that she did not connect the pink ball with the missing vest? Whether that was so or not, the next morning a clean one lay with Jane’s clothes. As soon as she was dressed and had had breakfast, her mother sent her on various errands, and as the day went on Jane breathed freely, and by dinner-time she had forgotten all about the ball of pink wool. I must tell you that while Jane was a child that grumbled when she did not get her own way, no one enjoyed a treat more than she did. So it was with great excitement that she said to her mother after dinner, “I am so glad it, is such a fine day. What a treat it will be to go to the seaside for the afternoon!’’ “The seaside did you say, my dear Jane?” “Yes, mother. You remember Mrs White said a week ago that she would take me to-day if it was fine. Shall I wear my straw hat, and where are my spade and pail, and will you let- " “Before you go to the seaside,” interrupted Mrs Brown, “you must find the vest you wore yesterday. You had better look for it at once." Jane tried to get off her chair, but she could not. Her knees were knocking against each other. 'She could not move, but sat with her eyes cast upon the ground. “You will find nothing as long as you sit there, Jane. If you bring your vest to me before two o’clock, you shall go to the seaside with Mrs White. If not, you must knit another. In that case this , ball of pink wool may be useful. Strange to say, I found it in your pocket.” So saying, Mrs Brown left the room. But her mother’s words were too much for Jane. She burst into tears and cried as if her heart would break, and she was still sobbing when the door opened suddenly. There stood Aunt Beatrice, looking so sweet and wearing Ihc pretty clothes that, according to Jane, her name gave her the right to possess. “Why, Pigeon, what is the matter?” and the young aunt bent down and kissed the angry little face. “I hate everything in the world,” said Jane. “I hate my bare name, and I hate my carroty hair, and I hate fat bacon, and I hate, hate, hate knitting pink vests.” “Something has happened,” said Aunt Beatrice. “Tell me all about it-" And Aunt Beatrice’s voice was so gentle and her face was so kind that Jane told her everything. She even told her how she had fainted in the attic and how the fly had tickled her tongue. And Aunt Beatrice did not even smile, hut listened quite solemnly, for she knew how very unhappy and miserable her little niece had been. At last Jane finished her truthful story, which of course included how she had ruined both a clean tablecloth and her father’s appetite. “For,” she explained, “daddy really likes marmalade as mfich as I hate fat." Then Aunt Beatrice look Jane on her lap. “You see, Pigeon,” she said (and how Jane loved to be called Pigeon instead of bare Jane!), “you see, you think too much about a little girl’ called Jane Brown, and about the things she likes and the things she doesn’t like. If you could forget her and think a little more about other people and the things they like and the tilings they don’t like, you wouldn’t grumble any more, and you would be a much happier child. Will you try, Pigeon ?” Jane flung her arms round Aunt Beatrice's neck. “Indeed. I will, Auntie, 1 will, 1 wilL; but I’ll always hale fat bacon and pink vests."

NATURAL HISTORY. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. Does a Klole Dio If Ono Spot of Blood Is Drawn from Its Body? Nu. This is simply an old country superstition. A mole, like other creatures, only dies when some vital part of its body jg injured.

Has the Elephant Got a Tongue? Yes- all mammals and reptiles and nearly’all birds have tongues. The elephant’s tongue is of great size. Are Lizards Ever Eaten by Wien as Food? Savages eat lizards and many other things repulsive to civilised palates, and often eat them uncooked. Can Wasps be Kept from a Camping Ground? Only by tracking the insects home and destroying their nests. The nest is the source of the mischief; the individual wasp Is only a symptom. What Should Homer Pigeons bo Fod On? Every corn-chandler sells a mixture of corn and grain for pigeons, and it is better for beginners to use this than to try foods of their own choice. What are the Worm-Ilke Marks on the Sea-Shore? Usually these worm-casts indicate the presence of the lug-worm, or sand-worm. The worms are useful as bait, and at low tide they are to be found 'in abundance by a little digging.