WRITTEN IN SAND

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 81, 29 December 1917, Page 8

WRITTEN IN SAND

CHILDREN AND THE WAR

THEIR QUAINT POWERS OF / ABSORPTION

(By "Sylvius.")

Summer-tinie and high holiday are with us. The business of learning that two and two are four, and that Petrograd, the unhappy, is still the capital of Eussia, has been flung aside with all the rest of the necessary routine that goes to make up school life. Some of the bigger boys havo gone into the country to help the farmers through, but on the part of the majority of the smaller ones the rush is ever to the sandy shores of the big ocean—the open pathway to \ everywhere. And there beside the lapping waves the little people play from earliest'morning until tired evening, pleasantly* joyfully regardless of the world's gieat i travail; believing (some of them) that I the German hosts are only beyond the farlnesfc blue ridge of mountains, but dimly conscious that our brave soldiors aro quite capable of stemming any attack on Trentham Camp. I know of one little fellow who gazes fixedly at Somes Island for ten minutes every morning, believing in his little mind t-Jjat a German army corps is located tliere, only awaiting a favourable opportunity to rush over the intervening space of .water aria raid. It is a wonderful castle of sand. The thought leads to ■ the question as to how the children are affected by the war, and what impression the terrible happenings day by day will , have upon their plastio minds. That they do think of the war, or at least of those multitudinous things' coruieated with lrar—the reflex of narratives of the great stiuggle which crop up in every magazine, newspaper, and letter from the frontis clear to tho observant. Listen to them on any fine day on those beaches they haunt. "You're a German! You get back to that trench, it's >not fair! You. have to wait till the whistle blows before you come out."' This from a boy of six or seven, who was crouching behind a mound of 6and, which anot'uar lad was trying to push over him. "Bufc this is a surprise attack," said the other. "I'm not going to tell jcu when I'm coming—the Germans don't do that."

I "Well, I won't play if you don't play fair. You can have the rotten old trench!" said the "Britisher," scraping the sand out of his eyes. "All right, I'll go back until Jimmy whistles, ilo rushing before." Little Jimmy was sitting on a rock pear by with his feet in a pool, aud.a whistle strung round his neck. This he had cajoled out of Father Christmas. He was only mildly interested in the local disturhance, because he had discovered what he called a "cockerbully" in the 'pool at his feet. "Jimmy," called out the "Britisher," "when I show- tho flag you blow ffie whistle,' d'ye aee?" Jimmy saw, and one minute later a "iiariky" flag was raised from the British trench, and Briton and Teuton rushed from behind the scooped-up sand, and-engaged in a deadly melee in "No Man's Land" ' in between. They rojled about and tussled valiantly for .three minutes,• when the., Briton sat upon 'tho foe, and claimed the German trench, which was grumpily conceded; It was then the duty of the "German" to build another one further along the beach, so that another battle could be brewed.

Who will say that the war does not concern the children after such a graphic reproduction of what is happening in Flanders? Aiidall over the world boy children are digging trenches in ihe sand; making forts with toy ■guns; playing at bayonet charges, and in a harmless way reflecting in their little lives the real events whicH keep ih'e world, on tenterhooks from day to day. Will thoy remember the war? Why not?' Our late.lamented grandsires could remember at four-score years or more being frightened to bed of an evening with tho dread threat that "Boney" would catch them if they did. not get between the blankets, the ogre being tho great little man, who at one time had all Europe-;save and except England—under his Imperial thumb. ' .

Nor are tho girleens oblivious to passing events. With the sandy oei-h for a scroll, I saw two little petticoated darlings drawing houses; marking off tho Tooms in big, irregular squares, and then drawing in tables, and chairs, and dressers, and beds. One little mite, who did not look very strong, had an array of parallelograms drawn all round one of her rooms. '.'What's all those for?" asked ono of the other girls, who had just adorned her table with the drawing of a cottage loaf of bread. "Them's beds!" said the little oi;». "What d'yer want so many beds for in a house, I'd like to know?" !r iVs the hospital—like I-was in - -for sick people 1" "Who's going to be all the sick people?" This seemed to be a poser for Mie mite, but after thinking for a second or two, she said—"Soldiers I" Aud. so the game goes on. ,