JUNIOR ESSAYS

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XXV, Issue 148, 8 June 1935, Page 15

JUNIOR ESSAYS

One fine day some boys and I went for a hike across country. We passed through paddocks and came to a plantation of oak trees, which were filled with beautiful music from all kinds of birds; then through an orchard where all the trees were beginning to lose their leaves. Finally we passed some silver poplars which looked very pretty with their silvery leaves dancing about in the breeze. Love to all the Kiwi band. —Blue certificate to “Felix,” age 10 years, Hastings. (That was a nice description, Felix. This year the golden leaves remained with us a longer time than usual.— C.K.) Quite unexpectedly Aunty called in her ear and took mother, my sister and me to some friends four miles away. First we went to the stables to let Ginger go. My friend had been riding him. Getting “Gaury, ” the draught horse, we harnessed him to the sledge. We followed the road on the sledge through the boggy mini, then turning back we went into a paddock through which flowed a stream. Down the hill we went, and turning to go across the stream someone called to us and the horse turned at right angles, nearly bumping us off, Laughing merrily

jogged back to the stables, where we unharnessed and groomed the horses. It was nearly tea-time, so we played a game of football. After tea we went to the car, but finding it would not start we drove home in another car after an enjoyable • time. With love to all. —Blue corticate to “Strongheart,” age 10 years, Otane, (You spent a jolly time, Strongheart. Unexpected outings are usually enjoyable, I think. —C.K.) To-day I ffm writing about how I picture a lake at night. A slight breeze stirs the silent stillness of the night, ruffling the smooth surface of the blueblack water, and causing the weeping willows and poplars that fringe the lake to sway to and fro rhythmically. A few stray moonbeams filter through the trees shedding a pale, ghostly light upon the lake, and tracing a silver path on its rippling waters. The stars, like myriads of tiny, fairy lanterns twinkle from their lofty perch in the black velvet heavens and are reflected in the silvery path of moonlit water. Here and there the trees throw black, fantastic shadows, which rise and fall with the motion of the water as it laps upon tho shore. Half the beauty of this scene is that there are seldom mortals near it to drive away the magic silence with their noisy chatter.

—Blue certificate to “Konini, ’’ age 13 years, Hastings. (This would have been good but for the waters of the lake being blue-black in the first paragraph, and then pale and ghostly and silver from the moonlight. You didn’t introduce your moon, Konini.—C.K.)

Last Sunday we were going to Haumoana fishing, s o we packed up all the things we needed and started off. It was half-past eleven when we arrived at Haumoana. I was the first to catch a fish, but soon my father had outwitted me. He had got three kawhai and I had two. We thought it was time to go home, so we went to the car, put our rods away and went home.

—Red certificate to “Big Bill the Pirate, age 10 years, Hastings. (Nevertheless, I think you were a clever fisherman, Big Bill the Pirate, to catch two kawhai.—C.K.)

On Monday, May 6th, my sister and I were in bed with the ’flu. We were so disappointed that we could not go to the celebrations which were held in the Otane recreation grounds. That afternoon mother read me a story of “Anne of Green Gables.” It is such an exciting story. It was about Matthew going to the shop and buying rakes instead of a dress for Anne. After mother read me that I read a book called “.Stella and Her Uncle.”

It also was exciting. I did some fancy work, and some of the time I read comic cuts. After the celebrations some of my friends came and told mo about them.

—Red certificate to “Cobweb,” age 10 years, Otane. (You were cheerful invalids, Cobweb, though I know that you were disappointed about missing the celebrations.—C.K.)

You have not heard from me for quite a while. We have five dear little Irish terriers. They are three weeks old. They are fawn in colour and are just beginning to fight and squabble with each other, especially one; he is a little bully, but one cannot help loving him all the same. Flo, their mother, is very fond of them too. She does not like any strangers near them. Won’t it be fun when they are able to run about the yard? Love to all the Kiwi band. —Red certificate to “Mickey Mouse,” age 9 years, Hastings. (To have five puppies must be terribly exciting, Mickey Mouse. Do tell me more of them as they grow older. I was ever so glad to hear from you and your brothers after such a long silence. Keep it up, but please remember always to sign your own name' as well as your pen-name.—C.K.) I am so sorry I was not able to write, but I am going to start this week. My essay is about how I spent one day of my holidays. Just a few days ago I was sent out to. pluck some wild ducks, and a little while later my mother came to help me also. I asked her “how could they swim in the water without getting wet?” She said: “The ducks supply some wax and rub it over their feathers with their bills, and this keeps the water from their body.” —Red certificate to “Little Elf,” age 9 years, Otane. (Many little boys and girls will like to hear how ducks keep themselves dry. Did you find plucking them hard work, Little Elf?—C.K.) This is the first time I have written to you. We have a pet lamb called Mary. Every time I go up the drive she runs after me and bunts me. She is very fat. Love to the Kiwi band. —Orange certificate to “Big Bad Wolf,” age 7 years, Hastings. (Welcome to ou r corner. Mary is not a bit afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, is she?.—C.K.) This week I am going to write about the motor cycle sports. In the first race twelve cycles started, but in the end there were only five. All the others had fallen out of the race. When the sports came to an end we went home. Your photograph shall be sent next week. —Orange certificate Io “Tiger Shark,” age 8 years. (Would you likse to ride one of those noisy motor cycles, Tiger Shark? — C.K.)