OUR PUBLIC-SCHOOLS COLUMN.

Otago Witness, Issue 2811, 29 January 1908, Page 85

OUR PUBLIC-SCHOOLS COLUMN.

FOR SENIORS AND JUNIORS. t (Conducted by Magister, to whom all communications must be addressed.) [Magisteb will be glad to receive Nature notes, marked papers containing educational articles, diagrams, details of experiments, •tc., of scholastic interest to teachers and pupils. Correspondents using a pan name muit al«o send name and address.] FATHER AND MOTHER. Last week I promised some poetical selections with father and 1 mother as the eub.jeots. If any reader knows of any book which may be regarded as an anthology on the subject I shall be fflad to get its title. The selections are succeeded by a prose extract from "The Man From Curdie's River," a book upon which "Pater" has had two Chats in the Witness. The writer is the Ralph Connor of the Commonwealth. This is followed by a piece, " Write Them a Letter To-night" — please do so if you haven't done 6O lately, — and a number of "Howlers" and odds and ends to paes away a pleasant few minutes with. The Phe-scrip-tion. ■By Abbie Farwell Brown. It was a very dreadful s time When my Mamma lay ill. The Nurse went tiptoe through the halls, The house was sad and still. The Doctor with his medicines Came every single 4 a y; 4 j He would not let me se© Mamma *»i' To kiss her pain away! "j' But. every time he looked so grave— For dear Mamma was worse; I knew they could not make her well, That Doctor and that Nurse. 1 sat before the chamber door, And cried and cried and cried— p> I knew that I could cure Mamma t» : If I could be inside. s^> But once I had a splendid thought:' ' "'") Behind the Doctor's back _ \ To writ© my- own Pre-scrip-tion out, > And tuck it through the crack I I I made upon » paper sheet I Round kisses in a shower, | And wrote: "A. kiss for my Mamma $ ■ i Please take one every hour." And from that very time, of course, My dear Mamma grew well. The Doctor thinks it was his pills, | And I shall never telH : Congregationalism, Hee Life. She lived and laboured midst the lowliest things ; Walked at my side, and talked, and oft did fill The gracious hours that friendly Twilight brings, With toil, naught questioning if good l or ill Wero hers ; soft lullabies she crooned at «ye, Like poppies' breath, falling down tenderly On infant eyelids that gay sports would leave, To nestle close and sleep upon her Kn«&, Her life was colourless and commonplace. Devoid of poetry: I thought it so For I was blind, and could not see the grace That grew through common duties; now I know, ~~ Since she is gone from me and- all her carea, I enterta&MK^ aj^- angel vawares. * ' - . Zitella ' Cfio>fc

_ ./• The Choich. All the folks in our house had to toll one day In which one of all the rooms they lilted best to stay. Mother chose the living room, where we mostly sit; Sister likes the parlour nights, with her big lamp lit; Granny said her own room's better" n all the rest, Jack (he's always studying) likes the lib'ry; best;I just love the attic, where there's room, to -swing, > . ■ Or rollei -skate, or spin a top, or play 'most anything ; But when I asked my father, he laughed, and said that he - _ t Guessed he'd choose whatever ■ plaos mothes | chanced to be!

New Orleans Picayune.

Eobbi's Teacher. "When Bobby was at our house, I heard my grandma, say: "He has the prettiest manner* I'v-e seen for many a day." So then I went and asked him What made him so polite. I said : " I s'pose somebody Is teaching you just right." But Robby said there wasn't; He said his mother's way « Is just to smile and make him feel p'liter every day. Elizabeth. Lincoln G.ould. How Pa. Rests. When pa comes home at night, ma says, " Now, children, you must quiet be ; Poor pa is alomst tired to death, And I'll be quick and get his tea." Then pa comes in, and claps his hands, And says, "Hurrah for little Tim!" And all at once we children know That we shall have some fun with him. The baby ia her high chair crows, And stretches out hex arms to him, And scon he takes her on one knee, And on the other dandles Jim. And Juliet and Kate and me — We hang upon his rocking-chair, And every breath, we talk, to him, And pat his' face and" smooth Jiis hair. And ma — she gets the supper on, And says, "Do, children, let him be! Poor pa can't get c, minute's rest; ' .Now l&t him come and have his tea." And then we hold him 'fast and- tight, TJxrtil he' pulls and- breaks away; And- then we. chase him round the room Pa is -the 'greatest one for play! And. then ma smiles, and says, "Dear me. You're .wilder "than tine children, Ned! .Now quiet down; and; come' and eat' And then X'll put them -straight -to bed." And ma, she means it, truly-true; But pa,, he looks at Kate and me, And when he looks like that we know , There'll Be a frolio after tea. Father is Comhtc 3"be_ clock is on the stroke of six, The father's work is done; Sweep up, the hearth and mend the fire AmSi put the kettle an.: ' The wild night wind is blowing cold 'Tis dreary crossing o'er the wold. He's crossing o'er the wold apace, Hrfjs stronger thsui the storm; He does not feel the cold, not he, His heart it is so warm: For father's heart is stout and trueAs ever human bosom knew. Nay,- do not close the shutters, child For, far along the laaie, ' Tie little window looks, and he Can see- it shining plain; I've heard him say he loves to mark The cheerful firelight, through the dark. And. we'll do all tha.t father likes ; Hisr wishes- ace; so few: "Would they were 'more! that every hour Some wish of his- I knew! ; I'm sure it makes a happy day, , When. I- can please him .any way. I know he's coming by this sign. That baby's almost wild; See how he laughs, and- crows, and stares — --Heaven bless the merry child! He'js, father's self in, face and limb, And father's heart is- strong- in 'him. Hark! hark! I hear Ms footsteps now; He's through* the garden gate: Run,, little Bess, and ope -fcbe door, And do not lei him wait. Shout, baby, shout! and clap your hands, For father on the threshold stands. Mary H-owitt. Mother^ Work. Setting tables, washing dishes, Sweeping rooms, and baking bread, Dusting books, and sewing- buttons, Smoothing now a> curly head; Making, mending little- garments In a mother's, deftest style, Washing- little hands and faces, Planning something all the -while; Darning stockings, telling stories. to the group about her knee. Searching for lost gloves and 'kerchiefs Non© can find so well as she; Trimming lamps, or hearing lessons,. Putting this and that in place: — Tired feet< and busy fingers Giving home its nameless grace ; Folding: tiny hands together, Teaching infant lips to pray, Singing- cradle hymns so softly: Mother's- work ends not with day. The (Vwl and the Ea&ub. The owl and. the eagle struck up a friendship. " How shall I know your young ones?" said, the, eagle. "I have no fear that you will, attack, mine, but I wish to spare yours 1 ." • • "My children,-" replied the owl, " are the most' beautiful Jbirds in the forest: You will . seen none to equal them anywhere. Their ' plumage is as white as snow, their voice is sweeter than that of a -nightingale; and their eyes -are like those of a- gazelle." "You '"astonish me," replied the eagle., ". I have met many birds in my time, some' very beautiful, but never any to equal these. However, I shall easily know them when. I ■ meet them. Now Til -wish you. good-day." Away flew the eagle; and came, in. t> few moments, to- the nest of the owL When he spied -the ugly little nestlings, he said, " These surely cannot b& the children of my friend, so X will have them for dinner." Just when, he was on the point of killing them, the owl fllew down, screaming with, terror and anger. Te eagle- stopped in time, and explained that he had. mot known them. " But," added he, " this is your fault, not mine. You ought not to think- that your children will seem to others the same as they seem to you." GRANDMOTHER AND CHILD. ""Very sweet and ■ beautiful did my mother seem, to me ac she sat there in the ■firelight with, her hands- folded contentedly ia her lap. The peaoft o£ God seemed to rest upon, her face,, all the fuxro-w6 ploughed so deeply by time and care weie smoothed 1 ' \ and softened by that rich, kindly glow,. < utMle ffie gi?ey hair, escaping' fiom the toils' >s of her quaint- -woollen cap,, was -transformed ', into -a listo of jjlbry aßoufr her head. She had wQrked. lenjt and Lard in her day, and - . now fcn&t it, was- toward* evening witk her, azu£ the, work o£ near day ■vraa^ done, T had 1 mo- gzeatex .jciy than ta^ sea her in. peace and comfort and airresfc from ncr labours. . " Si^fcmfc afr her .feet and looking- up ihto>- ' her face was. oar. Tittle Olive. The two had been' talking eeariQoely together, ac tibs Tzery old and the very younj?. oftentimes will do. Olfira. invariably came to her grandmother when the evening drew on, for the red coak, the- dancms firelight, the cliinbins: smoke, and the leaping shadows never failed to €11 b«r head with etranere fancies, and

she loved to talk to her grandmother about them. The thoug-hts of Olive at these times I were long, long, thoughts, and 6ome of her questions would have puzzled Mr Gladi stone." QUOTATIONS. The finest fruit earth holds up to its Maker is a finished man. — Humboldt. The greatest truths are the simplest, and so are the greatest men. — A. W. Hare. What a piece of work is a man ! hownoble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a God! — Shakespeare. Great men are the fire-pillars in this dark pilgrimage of mankind; they; stand as heavenly signs, everlasting witnesses of what has been, prophetic tokens of what may still be, the revealed, embodied possibilities of human nature. — Thomas Carlyle. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close ; * Something attempted, something doney Has "earned a mght'ff- repose. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I What words more precious do we learn ; Than, those of Mother, Father, j What hearts more precious are revered By loving- sister, brother? — K.Xi. " I am indebted to my father for -living," said Alexander, the Great, "but to my teacher for, living well." Patrick Henry owed much of his success under difficulties to his father's 'encouragement. His father— said: v "Be sure, my son, and remember that the" best men always make themselves." Surely that people is happy to wiom the noblest story in history has come through father and mother, and by the unbroken tr-aditions of their own firesides. — Senator George F. Hoar. White Them a Letter To-night. Don't go to the theatre, lecture, or ball, But stay in your room to-night; Deny yourself to the friends that call, And a good long, letter write — Write to the sad old folk at home, Who sit when the day is done, With folded Bands and downcast eyes, And think of the absent one. Don't selfishly scribble " Excuse my haste, I I've scarcely time to write," Lest their brooding thoughts go wandering back To many a bygone night When they lost their needed sleep and rest, i And every breath was a prayer j That God would leave their delicate babe I To their tender love and care. Don't let them feel that you've no more need Of their love and counsel wise; For the heart grows strangely sensitive When age has dimmed the eyes. It might be well to let them believe You never forget them quite — That you deem it a pleasure when far away Long letters home to write. Don't think, that the young and giddy friends Who make yonir pastime gay Have half the anxious thoiigjjits for you That the old folk have to-day. , duty of writing do not put off, Le±- sleep- on pleasure wait, Lest the letter for which they looked and lenged > Be a day or an hour too late. For the sad old folk at home, • With locks fast turning white, Are- longing to hear of the absent one — Write them a. letter to-night. SOME "SMILERJB." We herewith give N the following "absolutely genuine " howlers, that are vouched for in the current Past and Present, the Friends' Schools' journal:— The potato is not only used for feeding peasants, but goes' to more important things, such as whisky. — A miracle is a thing no man can do except the person who does it. — A long time ago England was once a foreign country. — In trial by ordeal a man had to carry a red-hot piece of iron for five years. — The Anglo-Saxons had no drains,, and so ■ used to disperse their broken vitals into the middle of the road. — England has much coal beds. When the coal is finished we shall have to use our brains for fuel, and it -will be scarce. The Prime Minister of England was 71 on' September 14. In England he is popularly known ac "C.8.," and occasionally as tKe Eag-lx-fc Sir Henry CampTbellBannerman, G. 0.8., M.P., P.C., M.A., i IX>.D., D.L., J.P. In Germany he is sometimes styled Herr. Lord. Campbell T «n Bannerman. In France he has been referred to as- the " Messrs Campbell and BannerI man who have formed a coalition " ; while in Belgium a newspaper has had the enterprise to call him "Ere 'Baron de Baniierman, of Campbell, in Scotland." His First™ Dip»— A certain little man of six had been all eagerness in anticipation of & summer at the seashore. He could hardly wait for the first bath. When, however,. he> saw the ocean with the great waves rollinsr on. the beach he could not be induced to go near it, and positiveiy refused to put on the bathing- suit, of which he had been so proud 1 . One. day his father offered him 2s if he would put on his suit and get wet all over once. He wanted the money very x much, so he finally consented. Clasping his- arms around his s father's neck like a vice, the jrreat undertaking was begun. Affcer much shivering and trembling' he was- wet about 2in above his ankles, when he exclaimed: "Papa, I — guess — I — will — only — take^ — sixpence — worth — this — time." Information on the Brain. — A boy at>plied to his head teacher for a form for th© infirmary for his little brother. While the letter was beinjr written the applicant volunteered the' statement r " Please, sir, I've been in. the infirmary." v Oh, indeed, 5 ' said the master, "and what was the matter with you? " " Please, 6ir, I had information on the brain ! " Was this a. case of over-pressure? Holiday Echoes. — A correspondent of the Globe hais collected the following notices "durinff his holiday: — On an excursion steamer : " Seat reserved for ladiesl Gentlemen may not seat themselves until L tfie ladies' have taken their places." - At one end of a swing-bridge-: "You are requested not to pass the bridge is open." At a little- bathing, station.: " "Visitftra are warned- that they must not bathe 1 at this spot, ' sayeraT persons having lately been drowned- Here by order of the authority." Over » por£ butcher's : " Jean X- — kiila pins like his- father." A milkman's sign.: "We fAxmisn- families on order." Dead Teacher Beauraed. — An amusinj? i error ooanfc into- tk* I-*~* 'an Count* Coim- I

cil Gazette, receniilyt X is the practice of tlie authorities to announce all the vacancies occurring in the soho«ls under their control in order to -facilitate applications from candidates. Among the vacancies there is the following entry: "School, Latchmere, Department B Status of teacher required, teacher deceased." The Anxious Step-father. — The master of an elementary school sent a circular letter to the parents of several backward boys ■who were under his charge stating that unless those pupils paid more attention to their lesions he would have to resort *to drastio meihods of punishment. A few dave later the following reply was reoefved: — "Dear Sir, — I have reseved your flogeinjr sirlkler. and v have my sankehun too walup my sun ass much ass v like. 1 no c is a very bad ekoler : is spellin _is simply atroshus. I have tried to teecb im myself, but c "ivdll not learn nothin, so hop v will beet it intu im ass much as v. can. p.S. : The resin cis sich a bad skoler is bekas c is my sun bye my wife's fust uebacnd."