Stories told by Children.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue IX, 1 September 1900, Page 422

Stories told by Children.

MY OWN FAIRY STORY. I am a little girl, just recovering from typhoid fever, and I am dictating this story to my nurse, who writes it just as I give it to her, as I am unable to write. Once there were tw-o little girls, named Ethel and Mary, who lived in a lane in a tumble-down house with their grandmother. They worked hard all day, with hardly time for play. When they had time they used to sit under a tree and read a’ story book that Mary had found in the street. The stories in the book were fairy tales. So Ethel and Mary believed heartily in fairies. One day they had finished working and were sitting under a tree. “I am so tired I wish we could go to Fairyland.” Just then a sweet voice was heard, singing. "What’s that?” said Ethel. They looked, and there in front of them stood a fairy. Not far from the fairy was a beautiful coach. When the fairy saw the children were looking at her, she said:—“The queen sends for you to come to Fairyland.” The children clapped their hands for joy. The fairy told them to get into the coach and they rode away. Soon they reached Fairyland. The children had never seen anything so beautiful. They stared at everything. I here were four little girls dressed in pink, with beautiful wings. The fairy queen was sitting on a throne and was very kind to the children. She said:—“Children, you have worked hard all your lives and if you wish you may become fairies.” The children said they- should love to, but what would their grandmother do. “Your grandmother is all right, safe and happy.” said the queen. So the children became fairies and were happy ever afterward.—Yours truly, ERNESTINE (aged 11). ® ® ® THE LIFE OF OUR TOM. Tom is a large, powerful and lanky cat that has lived in the neighbourhood of our street for many years, not only living out his nine lives, but losing many more.. When a kitten he was east out from his home, and was forced to live on such food as he could pick up in the street. For five years this eat lived as an outcast, but finally became well known to all the boys who tied cans to his tail, and generally made matters pretty hard for Tom. His first notable escapade happened about six years from his birth, and made him popular in the society of other cats. One day he was walking the top of a fence when a boy spied him. and carefully taking down his air rifle in his hand he aimed it at Tom. The missile struck Tom in the head and laid him apparently dead at the boy’s feet. The cat was then buried for dead in the ground, but recovered, and miraculously clawed his way to freedom. This scene was observed by a neighbour, and the fact was soon proved. A short time after our friend Tom was set upon by dogs and lost his tail in the scrimmage. \\ hen he had recovered from this injury he was taken into the house of a kind old man, who kept him for some 1 ime. One night the house mysteriously caught fire, and when the occupants had been gotten out the people were astonished to see Tom on the highest roof of the house unable Io move, and bewildered by the flames and smoke, lie kept his presence of mind, and made a leap for the ground, breaking his left foreleg. While his injured member was healing he disappeared, to be heard of next as having fallen in a well, and only escaped by getting into the bucket of the well and being raised up to the ground and

to safety. His adventures would ’ill a large book, as he was shot at. run over, and only missed being burned in an oven by his loud meows, whieh attracted the attention of the cook, who rescued him from his peril. Now he has settled down to quiet life, and though tailless, minus one eye, his fur torn out in many plaees. an injured foot, he may still survive for some time to come.

RANDOLPH.

© © © MILLIE STANHOPE’S DIARY. Monday. —I’m going to write in this every day of my life. Dinner was horrid to-day. (lot slapped in school just for missing my spelling. Tuesday)—Fighted with Nellie Green. I slapped her. and she pulled my hair. Wednesday. —Nellie told on me and 1 got spanked. She's a mean thing. Pa called me Fitzsimmons, and I ain't. Thursday. —Didn’t do nothing, but had a tea party when mamma forbidded me, breaking some dishes, and got locked up. Friday.—Hope sister May is satisfied after getting me whipped for droitping her doll, which breaked in fiftv pieces. The whipping hurted awful. Saturday.—lt's morning and 1 didn’t do nothing. I’m getting tired of writing in this. Sunday.—This is the last time I'll write in this. Pa and ma say the grammer in it would scare a crow, so I’m discouraged. Goodby forever and ever. LILY. I am 13 years old.