WHY I JOINED THE WIGWAM

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 83, 29 June 1927, Page 16

WHY I JOINED THE WIGWAM

Who can resist a call from the open spaces, or refuse an invitation to join in the comradeship of one's fellow creatures? To every girl and boy who is a lover of outdoor life and goodfellowship. the “Wigwam” came to be a very welcome and almost indispensable part of their leisure hours. In its very first paragraph the “Wigwam” extended a hearty welcome to all would-be chiefs and braves, inviting them, to be comrades under the Totem-Pole, thus establishing a firm foundation for the growth of its numbers.

From the very beginning the “Wigwam” had a great attraction for me. It was the thought of all the effort that had been expended in the arranging of the “Wigwam” that held the greatest fascination. What hours of untiring energy and careful planning had the Great Chief spent in its preparation. All this has the Great Chief done, in order that we may have the pleasure of learning about and understanding one another.

Such unselfishness can have but one result, and that is loyalty from both braves and chiefs.

Another attraction which the “Wigwam” had for me was the strong un-der-current of friendship which would not and could not be suppressed. Then again there was the spirit of helpfulness which suggested itself in many of the letters published in the “Girl Guides’ Corner.” Now you know why I joined the “Wigwam.” To a large extent it was because of the unity and fellowship among the chiefs and braves, but first and foremost it was due to the splendid example set by our Great Chief, whose unfailing energy and unselfishness have been the greatest asset in maintaining the “Wigwam,” of which I am proud to be a member. —Little Feather (Doris Bint, aged 15). AUTUMN ’Tis autumn in the bushland. The summer days have fled. The trees have changed their airy cloaks For those of chrome and red. The primrose pale is showing Upon the hillside green, And in the valley lowly The violets ax*e seen. The coloured wings of Autumn Across the land have spread; The trees are red and golden, For Summer days have fled. —Red Star (Jean Mclndoe, aged 12). PINE-WOODS The pine is the three of silence. Who was the Goddess of Silence? Look for her altars amid the pines—silence above, silence below. Pass from deciduous woods into pine woods on a windy day, and you think the day has suddenly become calm. Then how silent to the foot!- One walks over a carpet of pine needles almost as noiselessly as over the carpets of our dwellings. Do these halls lead to the chambers of the great, that all noise should be banished from them? Let the designers come here and get the true pattern for a carpet—a soft yellowish-brown, with only a red leaf, or a bit of grey moss, or a dusky lichen scattered here and there; a background that does not weary or bewilder the eye or insult the ground-loving foot. John Burroughs.

ALL IS SPIRIT AND PART OF ME A greater lover none can be And all is spirit and part of me. I am sway of the rolling hills, And breath from the great wide plains; I am born of a thousand storms, And grey with the rushing rains; I have stood with the age-long rocks, And flowered with the meadow sweet; I have fought with the wind-worn firs, And bent with the ripening wheat*, I have watched with the solemn clouds, And dreamt with the moorland pools; I have raced with the waters whirl, And lain where their anger cools; I have hovered as strong-winged bird, And swooped as I saw my prey; I have risen with cold grey dawn And flamed in the dying day; For all is spirit and part of me, And greater lover none can be. —L. D’O. WALTERS.

TO A BLACK GREYHOUND Shining black in the shining light, Inky black in the golden sun, Graceful as the swallow’s flight, Light as swallow, winged one, Swift as driven hurricane, Double-sinewed stretch and spring. Muffled thud of flyi fg feet — See the black dog galloping. Hear his wild foot-beat. See him lie when the day-is dead. Black curves curled on the boarded floor. Sleepy eyes, my sleepy head— Eyes that were aflame before. Gentle now, they burn no more: Gentle now, and softly warm, With the fire that made them bright Hidden —as when after storm Softly falls the night. —Julian Grenfell. THE NEST I 'watched a nest from day to day, A green nest full of pleasant 'shade. Wherein three speckled eggs were laid: But when they should have hatched in May. The two old birds had grown afraid, Or tired, and flew away . . , Christina Rossetti.