BIG BROTHER BILL AND THE BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 19800, 25 February 1928, Page 18

BIG BROTHER BILL AND THE BAIRNS

A WEEKLY TALK Hello, everybody! Here we are again. The unfinished limerick competition brought a large number of entries, and the surprising thing about them was their similarity. Squealing, ceiling, peeling, dealing were the only words used to rhyme with feeling. The lines written were also very similar. The winner is Eric Holman, Osmond street, South Dunedin. This is his attempt:— There was a young man of Darjeeling, .Who was born without any feeling, When they sawed him in half, He gave a loud laugh, And GAZED WITH CONTEMPT AT THE CEILING. . Better luck next time for all those who failed. There is a new kind of competition this week; have a try and see what you can do with it. Yours affectionately always,— BIG BROTHER BILL. THREE WISE MEN In a bowl to sea went wise men three On a brilliant night in June; They carried a net, and their hearts were set On fishing up the moon. The sea was calm, the air was balm, Not a breath stirred low or high, And the moon, I trow, lay as bright below', And as round as in the sky. The wise men with the current wont, Nor paddle nor oar had they, And, still ns the grave, they went on the wave, That they might not disturb thenprey. Far, far at sea, were the wise men three, When their fishing net they threw; And at the throw the moon below In a thousand fragments flew. The sea was bright with a dancing light Of a million million gleams, Which the broken moan shot forth as soon As the net disturbed her beams. They drew in their net: it was empty and wet, And they had lost their pain; Soon ceased the play of each dancing ray, . , And tho image was round again. Three times they threw, three times they drew, And all the while were mute, And evermore their wonder grew, Till they could not but dispute.

Their silence they broke, and each one spoke, , j Full long, and loud, and clear; I A man at sea their voices three Full three leagues off could hear. The three w-ise men got homo again To• their children and their wives; But touching their trip and their net’s vain dip, „ They disputed all their lives. The three wise men could never agree Why they missed the promised boon; They agreed alone that their net they had thrown, And they had not caught the moon. SOME DOG STORIES As I sit writing at my study window there is the quaintest wee dog playing on the pavement on the opposite side of tho street. It has long silky earfiaps hanging down both sides of the nicest pug face, a fat roly-poly sort of body that seems too heavy for its four tiny legs, and a long bushy byown tail like a squirrel. And two tiny little girls, I think they must ho twins, have stopped to play with it. Which reminded mo that all children like dogs and dog stories. There is the lovely fable that explains how the dog first became tho friend of man. It is a “ once upon a time ” story, of course, which means that it is make-believe. The fable says that, after everything had been made at the beginning, something dreadful happened, and the first man became separated from all the animals. He had been friendly with them, and they with him, but a great gulf began to open between the animals and himself. Among the animals stood tho dog, gazing wistfully across at tho man as the great rift in the earth grew wider and wider. Then, when tho separation was almost complete, the dog leaped across across the gulf and stood by tho man’s side. There, with very slight exceptions which do not matter, the dog has stood in his master’s hour of need ever since. Just a inake-believo story, to bo sure; but one feels that it could ho true. Certainly, above all the animals, the dog is the friend of man. There was King Edward’s Caesar—a little wire-haired terrier dog loved by a great king. And he certainly loved his master. When King Edward VII. lay dying tho doctors would have bundled little Caesar out of his master’s bedroom.

“Let him be,” said the dying King. “I’m a bit tired myself—old. I suppose we’ll have to do as we’re told, you and I, and keep quiet and warm indoors. I’ll promise to rest a bit. But Coesar stays in tho room, of course.” And so little Csosar flayed till the end. When tho body of King Edward passed through London streets little Caesar trotted quietly in tho funeral procession.

But King George’s dog, Happy, didn’t like Caesar at all. _ When the King went to live at Buckingham Palace Happy made poor Caesar’s life miserable. But punishment came just as soon as King George knew. “Outside, Happy,” he said. “Here, Caesar, poor old chap; don’t take any notice of him.” And Cresar became King George’s friend until Queen Alexandra took him to live with her, where ho stayed until he died. You know how dogs are used to find lost travellers in the snow-clad Alps; to find wretched men who break tho law; to dive into water and save drowning people; and very often to find people who are lost in the bush. But, once upon a time, ancient nations used dogs as soldiers in war. Before the days of the Romans, the Corinthians, a Greek people, used dogs as- a military guard on the seashore. There were fifty of them, and they all lived in wooden kennels on the beach. One dark night, other Greeks, with whom tho Corinthians were at war, disembarked on the coast. The garrison was asleep, but the dogs were wide awake, and the fifty soldier dogs fell on the enemy like lions. All but one were killed. Sorter, the surviving dog, raced to the town and alarmed the citizens, who armed themselves and beat tho enemy back into their ships. To Sorter alone were the honors of victory, and the grateful town gave him a gold collar. On it was engraved: “Sorter, Defender and Saviour of Corinth,” and a monument was erected to him and the forty-nine dogs who died. They were heroes, every one. THE DONKEY Which is tho name we are often called, unless, of course, we receive the other name meaning tho same thing? Neither name is a compliment. One wonders why the poor donkey should, have been chosen as the symbol of stupidity, and, why nobody can bo found to say a good word for the animal? Somebody has been found, however, and has said the kind word in the most beautiful fashion possible. Read the poem beneath, and you will discover what I mean; but you will need to know something of tho Bible to properly understand. Read Matthew, chapter 21, before you read the poem. When fishes flew and forests walked, And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood, Then surely I was born; With monstrous head and sickening cry, And ears like errant wings, The devil’s walking parody Of all four-footed things. The tattered outlaw of the earth, Of ancient crooked will; Starve, scourge, deride me; I am dumb, I keep my secret still. Fools. For I also had ray hour; One far fierce hour and sweet; There was a shout about my ears, And palms before my feet. (G. K. Chesterton.) THE COMPETITION Here is an unusual sort of puzzle. It is a story with a catch in it. The question is whether you can find tho catch. The prize will he given to the one who sends the best letter explaining WHY THE STORY COULD NUT BE TRUE. Remember, I want you to read the story carefully, discover what tho catch in the story is, and write me a letter explaining the catch. YOUR LETTER MUST SAY JUST WHY SUCH A STORY CANNOT BE TRUE. This will test just how sharp you are. THE STORY A lady went with her husbaud to church last Sunday morning. The day was warm, and she carried a fan. During the service, feeling the heat, she began to fan herself whilst listening to the sermon. Her husband gradually nodded his head and fell asleep He leaned more and more forward, until his arms were on his knees, and his back was almost horizontal. He had a terrible dream. Ho thought that ho was living in the time of the French Revolution, and that he had been sentenced to have his head chopped off. He was brought to the guillotine blindfolded. He was laid on the plank, and was so sure the knife was about to fall that he had a stinging sensation in the back of his neck. Just at this moment his wife noticed for tho first time that her husband was fast asleep. Very much shocked, she closed her fan, and, in ordor to waken him,/ tapped him sharply on the back of his neck. HE FELL DEAD IN THE SEAT. The prize will go to the BEST LETTER explaining why this story could not really happen as it is tplot

BIRTHDAYS Gwendoline Bennett, 71 Maryhill terrace, Mornington, was ten years old ou Monday, February 20. Gwen, found a lovely Brother Bill parcel on tho gramophone cabinet. A happy year to Gwen. t Jim Davidson, 157 Forth street, Dunedin, had a birthday on the same date. Many happy returns to Jim. Duncan Coburn, 65 Valley road, Caversham, was seven years old on Wednesday, February 22. Duncan was a wonderfully lucky boy. He found a Brother Bill parcel on the sideboard. It was the loveliest box of chocolates, and a purse of money on the top of it. May Duncan’s new year go on just as happy and exciting as it began. Many, many happy returns to him. Teresa Smith, 29 College road, Caversham, was eight, years old on February 1. This little sister with the lovely name has a wee brother and sister. They are twins, and will be one year old on February 28. And a sunbeam Hashed into 4iA the other day to tell me the nicest story about her. What a wonderful little mother she is to her wee brother and sister, and how she helps Big Mother Smith to look after them! 1 Teel quite proud that she is in our Radio Family, and calls mo her Big Brother Bill. Many happy days to little Teresa Smith. May folk bo as kind to her as she is to others. And Big Brother Bill has had a birthday. On my breakfast plate one morning was a lovely parcel—a tie, a handkerchief, and a pair of socks. And some of my family—my radio family, I mean now—have been pending me tho loveliest gifts, too. I didn’t tell of my birthday, because .1 don’t want ray radio family to feel they ought to send mo presents, but they have been doing so in spite of my silence. Handkerchiefs, a box of plums, tomatoes, and a cucumber all tho way from Christchurch; and tho bonniest silver matchbox. There is a story about that matchbox. The fruir little Hayman children, Highclifi road, saved their pocket money to buy it. They ran errands, chopped wood, washed dishes, and blacked dad’s hoots to earn enough to buy it. And I hereby give notice that there isn’t enough money in all Dunedin—and Dunedin is the richest city in New Zealand—to buy that matchbox from Big Brother Bill. Many, many thanks to all my kind family. THE Mm CLOUD I A GERMAN BED-TIME STORY One s hot summer morning a wee Cloud was horn of Mother Ocean, and floated gaily like a ball of cotton wool across the blue sky. “ 'What a lovely world this is,” she said. “ and how good it is to bo alive.” Tnen she looked down at tho earth, and instantly became sorrowful, The earth was brown and dry and almost dead from drought. The wee Cloud could see all the poor people working and suffering in tiie hot fields, whilst she floated on the cool morning winds hither and thither without a care. “Oh,” she thought to herself, “if I could only help those poor folk I If I could make their work easier, or give tho hungry ones food or the thirsty a drink I” And as the day went by the weo Cloud gi'fijv bigger, but the wish to help was always in her heart. On earth it grew letter and hotter, tho sun burned fiercely so that people fainted in its rays; but they had to get on with their work, because they were not rich. Sometimes they stopped, wiped their foreheads, and looked up at tho Cloud.

“Ah, if you would only help us,” they said. And in tho middle of the afternoon tho Cloud suddenly ivide up her mind. “ 1 will help you, i will,” she said to herself, and began to sink slowly and softly down toward the earth. Then she remembered something that Old /Mother Ocean had told her that morning tvhen cradled in her lap. “Go from me where you will, my child,” tho Old Gray Dame whispered. “ but don’t go too near the earth. If you go too near the earth you will die.” When tho Cloud remembered this she stopped sinking towards the earth, and swayed on tho breeze whilst she thought on what might happen. “ I will help the people down there,” she said at last, “ 1 will help them, come what may.” And when she said that she became marvellously big and strong. She hud never dreamed of becoming so great and mighty. Like some vast bird, her dark wings spread across the sky so that the light of the sun was darkened, and the fields and woods and town stood silent in her shadow. “ Yes, I will help you,” she shouted across tho heavens. “ Take me to yourselves; I will give my life for you all.” Tho trees and the grasses bowed down before her wonderful majesty; the animals stood awestruck at the sight of her; whilst the people said; “ Did you hear it thunder? Perhaps we shall have rain ot last.” And they said it as though they were praying to tho Cloud. Then a groat light glowed in the heart of the Cloud, and once more she shouted across the sky in a voice like thunder: “I am coming ... lam coming to help you all.” Then down—down—down—softly and silently—close to tho bosom of the earth—until at last the Cloud gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain. Then a wonderful thing happened. Over the whole countryside rose tho arch of tho loveliest rainbow. The brightest rays of heaven made it wonderful colors, and the sun shone through it and over it as though stroking its loveliness with sunbeams. It was as though all heaven rejoiced at the Cloud’s deed; happy because of a wonderful love that became glorified when it sacrificed itself. THE LOUIE RECIPE ’lho recipe lor old-fashioned barley sugar is given by request. Boil one and a-half pounds of sugar in one pint of water, skimming it carefully, until the syrup snaps when dropped m cold water. Add the juice of one lemon and a Jew drops of essence of lemon and boil up again. Stand in a pan of Told water until the syrup is cool, then pour into a buttered dish. When sufficiently cool to handle, cut into narrow strips with scissors. Twist the strips. This is the real old English barley sugar, and won’t do anybody a mite of harm. Cheerio, everybody, BIG BROTHER BILL.