BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

Evening Star, Issue 22454, 26 September 1936, Page 6

BIG BROTHER BILL and the BAIRNS

NOT FOR OURSELVES ALONE Winners of the competitions published August 29 are:—Under ten: Elvina Ufton, 124 Helensburgh road, Wakari, N.W.2. (monkey, donkey, turnkey, turkey, hockey, jockey). Over ten; Herbert M'Gilvary, 25a Queen street, Dunedin, C.2. (mandarine, mandolin, mangle, mango, manilla, manoeuvres, mansion, manly). Congratulations.

THE POSTIE’S BAG

Moa Creek, Oturehua, Otago. . Dear Big Brother Bill, —1 was pleased to receive my new badge; it is nicer than the old ones. I have Jots of waseyes feeding around the house. They are starting to make their nests at present. A red robin was liere ono day. There are not many about. We have no lucerne trees here yet, but I have some seeds in, so hope they do well. I was pleased to get the book which the society sent me.—Your sincere cousin, Syd. Woodbury. [Thank you for your , letter, Syd. Woodbury . Brother ■ Bill is , glad to know that you like the badge. Lucerne trees will bring the honey feeders. The bellbirds and tuis like them very much indeed. Did you make a note of the nesting instructions that appeared in the columns earlier in the year? They will be useful now the birds are beginning to build. The books are most interesting, as you say. Write again soon.] 17 Cutten street, Dunedin, S.l. ■ i.; August 29. Dear Big-Brother Bill, —Before writing out my solution of this week’s competition I wish to say a few words on other matters. First of all, I want to tell you of a blackbird which sits on the top of a neighbour’s wireless pole every morning. This bird is seen every day from my bedroom window by my sister and 1 about 6 o’clock, calling to all the houses around. It goes away about 7.30, and is not seen until the following morning.—Yours truly, William Crosland, [Thank you for your letter, William Crosland.' Your name is in the Honour Square for neat writing. The blackbird is the alarm clock of the wild. Have you noticed when walking in the country that the blackbird warns all the wild of your coming? Sometimes “ blackie ” makes a lot of noise about nothing, too. There is an Australian bird, called the “soldier bird,” which always • warns people when there is a snake about. He is related to the blackbird, and a practical friend of all bushmen. Write again soon.] 9 Jones street, Dunedin, C.2. August 31. Dear Big Brother Bill,— May 1 join your happy family of bairns? I am 11years old, and go to Musselburgh School. I have an iron on my foot, as I have a broken bone in my ankle, and a badly twisted foot. We have a bird at home, also a cat. The bird s name is Budgy and the cat’s is Peter. Every Saturday - night I read your page in the 1 Star.’ 1 am entering the competition for the over-tens, and hope to be successful. As it is getting late 1 will close, with love to yourself. —Yours truly, Margaret M‘Ansh. [Thank you for your letter, Margaret;/M‘Ansh. Brother Bill was glad to hear from you and to welcome you to the family. He is sorry to hear about vour misfortune, but keep a brave heart about it, Margaret. Many useful and good things can be done, even though you are not able to romp with the other bairns. There is a very charming and clever girl, whom Brother Bills knows, who has to be pushed about in a chair, and she has turned her mind and hands to writing poetry and stories. Everybody loves her de-

lightful little poems, and she has made a talent for herself out of her misfortune. Write again soon.] Gordon road, Mosgiel, September 2, Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I join your happy band of little folk ? I am in Standard HI and I am 10 years old. We have no wireless, but I enjoy reading your page every Saturday night. I must close now.—Yours truly, Dorothy Humphrey. [Thank you for your letter, Dorothy Humphrey, Brother Bill is glad ito welcome you to the family. He is glad to know that the columns are enjoyable. You must write a longer letter soon, and tell the family more about yourself.] * Mount Cargill, Dunedin, August 20. Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I join your happy family ? I am 12 years old and in Standard IV. at the Mount Cargill School. 1 have a pet cat called Nebuchadnezzar. There are plenty of birds on Mount Cargill. I write to Ettie Hanson, and she writes to you, too. I enjoy reading your columns on Saturday night. There are only eight at our school. It is a lovely day to-day. The sun is shining, there is not one breath of wind, and I can hear the birds singing their spring songs. The daffodils are very pretty just now. I have four sisters and one brother. I am a Cococub leader. I was 12 last Friday. I will close now.—l remain, yours truly, Olive Ross. [Thank you for your letter, Olive Ross. You are welcome to the family. Your name is in the Honour Square because of your interesting letter. The spring is the loveliest time in all the year, and you must have been writing on a spring day. Brother Bill is glad to know that you are a Cococub leader. If Jt pof upp. Bsf zpv _ mppljoh gpsxbse up uif ofx qbqfs? Write again soon.] Union street, Milton, August 31. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I am entering for the over-ten competition, and as I want this letter to catch the mail I am only writing a little bit. Some time when I write to you I will tell you about our new pigeons. We have owls, a pair of archangels, a pair of jacobins, a black spangled blondinette, and another pair of pouters. Well, I will close now.—Remaining yours sincerely, Marjorie Wells. [Thank you for your letter, Marjorie Wells. It was a little bit, as you say, but Brother Bill is glad to read anything from the bairns. Suppose you write to him and explain the meaning of all those strange names? Are they all pigeons? Write again soon.] THE COMPETITIONS Here are two more unusual competitions. The under-tens have to make an octagon and the over-tens to help the little gnome catch his fish. Send your answer to Big Brother Bill, care ‘ Evening Star,’ Stuart street, Dunedin, C.l. Mark the envelope “ Competition ” MAKING AN OCTAGON, (Under ten years; prize, one shilling.) The clown is laughing because he has the idea that you cannot cut out pieces of thick paper to the pattern of the black figures, and make the eight-sided figure given in the picture. Remember, you must cut out four exact

copies of each black figure. When you have done it successfully, draw an octagon with lines where the black figures join, and send it to Big Brother Bill. The neatest wins the prize. HELPING THE GNOME TO FISH. (Over ten years; prize, one shilling and sixpence.) The little gnome has a big fish on the hook, so big that he cannot draw it from the water. The head of the fish is nine inches long, the tail is as long as the head and half the back, and the back is as long as the head and tail together. How long is the fish?

A PLAGE FOR BIRD LOVERS THE PLEDGE. —“ I promise to care for all wild birds, especially New Zealand native birds, to feed them in winter and to protect them at all times. I promise also to protect our native trees and bush, and at no time to assist in their damage or destruction, since they are the natural home of our native birds.”

If you wish to join the (Bird Club fill in the printed pledge and send it, together with a shilling postal note or stamps, to Big Brother Bill, care ‘Evening Star,’ Stuart street, Dunedin, C.l. Mark the envelope “ Bird Club.” THE WEKA. [By Manu.] A good many years ago I was one of a party, of three who were mining for gold and tin, near the southern end of Stewart Island. It was a lovely spot, far removed from any settlement, but that was a minor drawback; everything else was in our favour. We had thousands of acres of forest-clad hills, beautiful and rugged scenery, and

A SIMPLE “ MOTOR BOAT.”—If you feel like arranging a smart little race, either in a brook or in a bath, all you need is to make a few small boats like the one in the illustration. Cut them out of thin wood, from. a cigar box would do, while, as to the size, that is simply a matter of taste. Do not make them too big though. Thin sheet tin is used for the “ screw ”

at the back, and ordinary elastic for the “ engine.” The screw is held in the correct position on the elastic by a couple of eyes of thin wire. On winding up the elastic by turning the screw in the direction of the arrow, the boat will speed along as soon as it is “launched.” It goes without saying that the thicker the elastic is, the more you can wind it up and the farther the boat will go.

numbers of native birds. We had a comfortable camp, wood and water handy. Whilst engaged in pitching our camp, we were visited by a pair of woodhens '(weka), and they eventually became part and parcel of our home. Although a bit shy at first, and very much afraid of the dog, they soon found out that we were friendly, and the dog was trained to leave them severely alone. After a time they became very tame; in fact, quite part of the outfit; very jealous of their camp rights, insomuch that they would not allow any other wekas to come near, but, with outstretched wings and sharp cries, would drive them off. Then came a period of partial absence on their part, until they made their appearance one morning with a brood of five young ones, funny little fluffy black chicks. But not for long did we have the chickens with us. One by one they disappeared, until one chick only was left The wild cats, both numerous and fierce, a legacy left by miners of the great “ tin rush ” days, many years before, must have accounted for them. A good many times I have noticed wekas with only one chick, and blame eats and rats for their destruction. The one chick grew fast, and in time became a lusty youngster, much greyer than the old birds, and always hungry. At that time we were sluicing in a gully con-

siderably over half a mile from the camp. We had no regular track to the claim, but the way led over a semiopen expanse of peaty ground, clothed with coarse grasses and numerous bushes of stunted bog-pine, the pricklyleaved styphelia, and clumps of manuka; and the only indication of a track was our footprints showing here and there in some boggy place. Wo were therefore considerably surprised one day to see our three wekas—father, mother, and chick—bearing down upon us. How they found us out is a mystery, as neither the place—nor the smoko of our fire at dinner time — could be seen from the camp. Anyhow, there they were, and soon proceeded to have a royal time. Our sluicing operations washed out numbers of large worms; and these, floating down the tailrace, soon attracted the wekas, which took up their station where the tailrace joined the creek. The parent birds waded into the muddy water and dragged out the worms, which they then broke up to feed the youngster. That work went methodically _on for quite a long time, until their baby couldn’t possibly hold any more. Then they mooned about for a while, taking stock of everything of interest to a woodhen —our coats, the billy, and the tucker bag—everything, in fact; very little escapes the eye of a woodhen. Then they wandered over the ridge, and we found them waiting for us at the camp on our return in the evening. Their trek to the claim then became a daily occurrence, and their stay with us was gradually extended until well on in the afternoon. No doubt their increasing knowledge of the road to take permitted that. Things went on for some weeks without alteration until we decided to shift camp across the range to the west side in order to work some more promising ground there. Regretfully we said goodbye to our faithful wekas, and I often wondered how long they continued their pilgrimages to a deserted gully, and whether their untutored, but active, minds ever registered a regret for our departure, MEHITABEL The rain fell against the attic roof and against the small, high window which was framed in cobwebs. It made a cozy sound. Willie Mouse, w’ho lived in the attic along with his brothers and sisters, listened to the soft patter of it and was stirred with a desire to search the nooks and corners of this quiet, spacious place. Down on all fours he scampered to the furthest corner, where an old chest sat plumb against the wall. the lid of the chest was open, and Willie Mouse, having climbed up the side, peered within. Instantly a wee voice said: “ Hulloa, Mouse.’ Willie was excited. Blinking and winking into the dimness he saw a wooden doll lying flat on her back. “ Who are you?” Willie asked. The doll sat upright with a queer, creaking sound, “ I’m Mehitabel,” she said; ‘‘l am more than 100 years old. ’ Willie was impressed. “ You don’t say,” ho squeaked. Mehitabel nodded. “ I can tell you about everything in this attic,” she said. With considerable effort, for her wooden limbs had not moved so energetically for many years, Mehitabel climbed to the top 'of the chest and sat beside Willie, her long Ibgs in muslin pantalettes, dangling over the side. “ This chest belonged to Mr Hawkins,” she said. “He went to sea and saw strange sights, black men and straw houses 1 He used to tell us about them when he came home.” Willie gasped. “ Fancy that,” he said. . Mehitabel was becoming excited. For 50 years she had had no one to talk to. “You see that wooden cradle over there,” she said. “ That was baby Silas’s "cradle, and one day when he was asleep in it an Indian came and sat beside him and tickled his cheek with a feather!” . , “ A real Indian,” Willie asked, “ with war paint and feathers?” Mehitabel nodded, and, pointing to another corner, she said; ‘ ‘ Look at the spinning wheel. That belonged to Silas’s mother. One day when she was spinning a black bear came and stole a jar of wild honey from her kitchen window shelf!” “ You don’t say?” Willie cried. “ Yes,” Mehitabel said, but already her long, thin arm was pointing to a tall, brown basket. “ See that basket,” she said, “ Mr Hawkins fetched it from a place called India, and ; what do you think was in it? A monkey with a long curly tail; and he used to curl his tail around the beams in the kitchen and swing himself by it. “ And that brass pan with the long handle,” Mehitabel went on., “Mrs Haw'kins used to fill it with hot coals and put it in her bed on winter nights to keep her warm.” “My whiskers,” squealed Willie Mouse. It was his turn to point, and with a paw trembling with ■ excitement he pointed to a small, round, wooden box with tiny holes in the lid.” What might that be?” he asked. “That,” Mehitabel explained, “held sand, and when Mr Hawkins wrote a letter he sprinkled sand from the box to dry the ink. They didn’t have blotters in those days, you know.” Willie Mouse chuckled, his bright eyes dancing. Raising his paw, he swung it rhythmically and said: These strange old things, Mehitabel, Were not strange then, were they? And who can tell But what our things Will be curious some day? THE BGY WHO SLEPT AT HIS POST I suppose you all know that if a soldier on . guard sleeps at his post the penalty is death. This has become the universal rule, owing to the dreadful events that have occurred in the past when a sentry, failing to hear the approach of the enemy, has allowed them to fall unawares on the sleeping troops he was supposed to guard. There have been times, however, when the passing of the death sentence on a sentry has been grossly unfair; that is, when a man has been posted on duty following a day’s march under exhausting conditions. If the human body reaches a state of complete exhaustion, sleep must naturally follow, whatever the result. For a soldier to be placed on sentry in this physical state, and then be punished when he fails in his duty, is nothing but absurdity. Years ago, when America was fighting its Civil War, a farmer’s boy was found asleep at Ins post. He was sentenced to death, but before the sentence could be carried out Abraham Lincoln, President of America, heard about the boy and visited him. He soon discovered that the lad, William Scott, bad stood a double guard to share a comrade who was ill. and, exhausted by a long march, had fallen asleep at his post- , , , . Lincoln immediately made up his mind that the boy would not be shot. Said he: “ I believe you when you tell me you could not keep awake. I’m going to trust you. You can return to

your regiment, but, first of all, I want to know when you are going to pay your bill.” Scott was a little mystified, but thinking that he had to pay money for his pardon, he said he thought his friends might raise SOOdol for him. “ No,” said the President, “ my bill is a very large one. Your friends cannot pay it. Only one man can pay it. His name is William Scott. I want you, William Scott, so to do your duty that when you die you will feel that you have done your part nobly as a soldier. Then my bill will have been paid.” Scott was overjoyed at the kindly action of the great mau. And he kept his word. Some time later he was mortally wounded, but before the poor fellow died he sent a written message to Lincoln that ho had paid his bill, but only wished that he could have lived longer to serve the master who had understood him so well. This story, which is a true one, is a good example of how tolerance often brings better results than harshness. It was often said of Lincoln that he was a poor soldier, because he could not bear to sign a death sentence; but the truth is that he was a greater soldier than those who criticised him, because he was able to obtain unswerving obedience and loyalty from his troops without employing the cruelty that so often creeps into war. Lincoln once said: “ You do not know how hard it is to let a human being die when a stroke of your pen will save him.” In the case of William Scott, Lincoln made a great soldier of a man by forgiving and trusting him. A TAX ON LIGHT In the old days when conditions were far from the healthy ones we enjoy today, there was a tax in the land on windows. The more windows a_ house had, the' more tax its owner_ paid, for there was a tax on every window exceeding six. Poorer people, when they built a house, put in as few windows as possible, so they would have only a small amount of tax to pay. In some cases, however, they left places where windows could be inserted if, at some later date, they became rich and could afford more lighting. But then, there were other people who, instead of becoming rich, lost their wealth, and became poorer; and these _ would have some of their windows bricked up. This is the reason why, in England, we can see many homes with places which have once been used for windows bricked up. Not until 1851 did this law go out of existence, and everybody was very pleased, for it was one of the worst possible taxes, a tax on healthgiving light! A FAITHFUL SERVANT Maximilian, Archduke of Austria, was born in Vienna in 1832, where his youth was happy, and carefree, and he began to dream of great enterprises. At the age of 22 he was made viceadmiral of the Austrian fleet, and a few years later- Governor-General of Lombardy-Venetia. Then Napoleon ITT, thong’ i of a great plan. He was to lend Maximilian troops and money to establish a kingdom in Mexico, and he received an invitation from the Mexicans asking him to rule their country. In 1864, the young Austrian and ms wife sailed to their new land, but, alas! they soon found that it was only a very small number ,of the people wanted them; the greater part of the nation was loyal to the President, For a while Maximilian held out against great opposition, and proved himself a good ruler, but he could not win over the mass of the people, who considered him to be a foreign usurper. When the French troops left the Emperor was soon over powered by the hostile forces. His wife he sent to Europe, but the poor woman was refused help, and lost her reason. , So Maximilian, betrayed by Mexicans, and deserted by France, was in 1867 led to his trial accompanied by two faithful followers. The men were tried at Queretaro, and their death sentence pronounced. Early on the morning of the execution Meija, a faithful Indian general, was awake, thinking of the happy life he had led, when suddenly the door opened, and a man of the Republican side entered. He said: “ General Meija, three times I have fallen into your hands, and three times you have saved me ( now I have come .to return your kindness, for outside a horse waits at your disposal, to take you to freedom.” Meija asked: “ Is there also one for the Emperor?” The man replied that there was not; the Indian’s quiet manner disappeared, and he replied scornfully that he would not dream of leaving without his beloved master. He told the man to go, and thus threw away his chance of escape; a few hours later he went to his death with the surely one of the most faithful subjects ever known. A SPANISH LEGEND A GOOD-NIGHT TALE The day was hot, much too hot, for hunting, even in the depths of the forest, and presently the thirsty prince left his companions and made his way down to the stream. There, sitting on a fallen tree and dabbling her pretty toes in the water was the loveliest maiden the young man had ever seen. She had blue eyes, creamy skin, short curly golden hair, and the fact that all the ladies of his acquaintance were brunettes only made the prince consider this one doubly fascinating. He smiled at her, she smiled at him, and he was overjoyed to find that, though obviously a foreigner, she spoke his language. The prince stayed chatting till sunset, and then departed, promising to return. Next day they met, and the next day and the next, and the prince fell so deeply in love with the exquisite stranger that at last he persuaded her to accompany him to the cave of the hermit priest and have the old man marry them. Now, the prince had no right to marry without his father’s consent, and not daring at first to confess that he had married a penniless nobody who dwelt in a wood, he decided to keep the marriage a secret until he should himself be king, or at least till some favourable moment should arise. So the stranger—now, of course, the prin-cess-continued to live on the bank of the stream and in the hollow trunks of trees, and less‘than a year later _ a little son was born, blue-eyed, fairhaired, the very image of his mother. The prince was very proud of his wife and baby, and had almost plucked up courage to present them to his father, when war broke out, and the prince bad to go off and fight by his father s side, His wife and baby bade him a tearful farewell, and he departed, promising to take them to the palace as soon as he should return.

The princess was very sad and lonely, too. The only people she saw were her little boy and a dark-skinned Moorish woman who came down to the stream for water. This woman was very jealous of the princess’s fair skin, and also of her royal husband, but she pretended friendship, and was for ever urging the princess to let her dress her hair. The princess, living alone in the wood, saw no need for elaborate hairdressing, but at last, for peace sake, she gave in. The Moor brushed her hair and ■ combed it, and then, pretending to pin it up, drove one of the hairpins into the princess’s head. The princess gave one cry of pain, and then changed into a dove, and flew away. Delighted, with the success of her wicked spell, the Moorish witch—for such, of course, she was—picked up the baby, put on one of the princess’s dresses, and settled down in the tree trunk home to await the return of the prince. Very soon the young man who, owing to his father’s death in battle, was now king, rode into the woods to collect his wife and son, and one can imagine his astonishment and dismay when he saw who awaited him. “ What, my love,” said he, “ have you been doing to yourself?” “ ’Tis the sun and the dew that darkens the skin,” replied the woman carelessly, and with this the prince had to lie content. At any rate his son was unchanged, and, making the best of a bad situation he took the child and the woman, who insisted she was the child’s mother, back to the palace, where they were respectfully welcomed by the court. But although they dared not say so, the courtiers and servants were very astonished that the handsome prince should choose so unlovely a wife, and they often discussed the matter among themselves. In fact, the gar-

dener was just saying to the under* gardener, “ I wonder why he did it,*' when a small voice beside him in* quired:— “How fares the king and his dark* skinned queen?” “ And the baby prince; does he smil* or weep?” The frightened two whirled round, only to find that it was a dove who spoke, a little white dove, with rosepink feet. The pretty bird repeated her questions, and the men answered to the best of their ability. Each day after that the dove appeared, and at last the gardener mentioned the matter to the king, who was most intrigued. “Catch the dove,” he _ said “Hi should not he hard if she is so tame,, and bring her to me.” Next day the man did as his, master bade him, and the dove Seemed quitaj happy to be carried into the palace* The royal family were at breakfast, and the king and his son delightedly fed the pretoy, tame bird with grain* of rice from their plates. Only the queen protested, and cried out again and again that she hated birds. Then the' king lifted the dove on: to his wrist, and saw the pm sticking out of her head. - ■ “ Look! Look!” he cried. How.tlio poor little bird must be suffering. I’U pull the cruel pin out!” The queen screamed so loudly that her crown jumped off, blit no one took any notice, for at that moment, a* the pin was withdrawn, the dove, disappeared, and in her place stood the true wife of the king, lovely as ever and weeping tears of joy. What happiness there was in ; tha palace then, the loving little family reunited And as for the wicked black witch, she was banished from the land, and no one ever heard of her agaiij.