Under the Totem-Pole

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 197, 9 November 1927, Page 6

Under the Totem-Pole

Chiefs and Braves

Letters to Redfeather are answered as under:— Silent Warrior: Greetings, silent one, and many thanks for your letter and the decorated paper canoe. I have taken many a dream journey in this little craft and it has carried me safely over all the rapids. I can almost hear the splash of the paddle as my eyes fall upon it. Best wishes from the Wigwam. Red Eagle: I was very interested in your story, Red Eagle, and have entered

it in the competitions. Is tflat correct? Are you still reading as much as ever? Greetings from the Wigwam. Silver Heel: Two letters from Silver Heel, this week and much Guiding news. Many thanks, fair one. I am delighted that you have brought a new Brave down the trail. I wonder how many have heard your* clarion? Do you still have field days on the banks of tlie Waikato? I shall always remember the happy day I had with my St. Peter’s Braves. What of the Grand Rally? Will you be present? Dancing Blue Water: Greetings to this clever Brave. I have entered your drawing in the competition. I am delighted that you have rejoined the Guides. If you say to your captain: “Greetings, Red-winged Blackbird,” she will probably say: “Greetings, Dancing Blue Water.”

Fleet Wing: Many thanks for your scouting news, Fleet Wing. Y'ou are a very reliable scribe, and I shall always keep space for your reports. I am anxious to hear about that concert and what part you took in it. Best wishes from the Wigwam. Heart of the Sunset: The band of goodfellowship to this Drury Guide-Brave who is now a Child of Redfeather. I shall always be glad to have news of your company for the Guides’ Corner. What is the name of your patrol? Greetings from the Wigwam. Eagle Feather: I am always glad to greet this Chief under the Totem Pole, and never listen in vain for the sound of your canoe. Good hunting, Eagle Feather.

Keeper of the Fires: Many thanks fof your friendly letter. I don’t think I could have found a more suitable name for %you. You- will have a busier, time than ever at the next camp. I should like to add my twig to the glowing embers.

Dew of June: I have sped “Kim” to your tepee, fair one, and also your autograph book with 1 my mark therein. What a full book, Dew of June. It has much of interest in its pages. When am I to meet this clever Brave?

Blue Wing: Many thanks for your interesting letter, Blue Wing. Did you find your autograph book at Silver Heel’s tepee? You will find an arrow in it from the quiver of the Sioux. Silver Heel felt “the hot winds of the lonely spaces blowing across - her face” when she saw his entry. Red Star would Ijave loved those posies, fashioned by the kind hands of her sister Guides.

Facing the Wind: Greetings to this new Chief who has set foot oh the trail. I hope that your letters may be many and often. When next you write, I should like to hear all about you so that I may feel I know you. Good wishes and good hunting. Light of Eve: This Brave is* now a member of our friendly circle. I am delighted to meet you at the Wigwam

THE ENCHANTED KETTLE

Japanese people think that there is something supernatural about foxes, cats and badgers. But while foxes and cats are often evil spirits in disguise, badgers are only possessed by Pucklike spirits who love practical jokes. Often a traveller has been startled at hearing a noise of drums in the wood, and has come upon a badger, standing on liis hind-legs and playing a tattoo on himself. The poor man runs away, and hears the badger laughing. Once upon a time there was a priest who had an old kettle which had made him many fragrant cups of tea. A day came, however, when the head, legs, and tail of a badger sprang from its sides, ancl it leaped off the fire. Round and round it ran, and then began to fly about the room. At last it settled on the floor, and the badger parts disappeared: The priest, shaking with fright, shut it up in a box. Next day a poor tinker came to the village where the priest lived. “Now I can get rid of my useless, horrifying kettle,” thought the priest. The tinker was very glad to buy it cheaply, and the priest chuckled at the trick he had played on the man. That night the tinker was awakened from a sleep by a noise in the sack where he carried his poor belongings. No sooner was it opened than out rushed the badger-kettle, and immediately started to gambol joyfully round him. The tinker was not frightened, but laughed at the badger’s antics. Then he thought, “If I laugh, why shouldn’t others?” So he set himself to teach the queer creature tricks. Soon he became famous as the travelling showman who had a kettle with badger’s head and limbs, which walked the tight rope and danced Japanese measures with a fan in one paw: Noblemen and princes bade him perform at their palaces, and soon the tinker made a modest fortune. Then he said to himself, “I must not be avaricious. The priest who sold me the kettle so cheaply did not know what a wonderful thing it was. I must give it back to him.” This made him sad, for the kettlebadger was a great pet to him, but he did it. Of course the priest had heard all about its adventures long ago, and learned that he need not hav.e feared it. So he was glad to have it back again. But from that day onward it remained quite an ordinary kind of kettle. The badger head, legs and tail never sprouted again. It was of no use except for boiling water. Let him show a brave face if he can, Let him woo fame or fortune instead ; Yet there’s not much to do but bury a man When the last of his dreams is dead.

door. Greetings to everyone in your tepee. Grey Dawn: I was delighted to hear the sound of your moccasins on tlie trail in the first light of morning. I think you must have made many secret journeys to the Wigwam as our comings and goings are an open book to you. Silver Wing: Many thanks for your letter, faithful one, and also the programme of that wonderful concert. It must have been a great success. That

dream was a mere figment of the imagination as all dreams are. When such fantasies visit my couch of skins, I reach for my bow and arrow, take careful aim and say, “Get thee hence. I would sleep.” That little matter yon mentioned is now adjusted. Red Star: Flying Cloud has written me the sweet story of how your arrow found her tepee. I shall publish it at an early date. I was delighted to have another letter from my little faithful one. Your tepee is well supplied with flowers. I have no Iceland poppies this morning, but the Wigwam is sweet with the fragrance of roses. Red Leaf will have much to tell when she returns from the far trails. Don’t you think her name exaetly suits her? She looks a true maid of autumn. Greetings from the Chief and the Children of the Wigwam. Golden Noon: Greetings, maid of the sunshine, and many thanks for your Company news. A great honour has been conferred on your captain, but she richly deserves it. I wonder when you will turn back the flap of the Wigwam? It is an interesting place.

Little Buffalo: Was the water cold? 1 was sorry that you could not call in. as you intended, but hope to hear your triple knock ere many moons have passed. Greetings and best wishes.

White Canoe: Welcome to this new Brave who has at length stepped out of the shadows where the waters of the lake lap the fringe of the forest. When next I visit Hamilton, I hope to meet you. In the meantime, I shall. always be glad to greet you under the Totem Pole. Red Moccasin:. Yes, I certainly entered for a guessing competition at that bazaar, or, if I remember riglvtly, I attempted several. . The only way to guess how many peas are in a bottle is to tip them out and count them? I have known that for a long time. Wouldn’t you like to call and see the Chief, Red Moccasin? I am always at the Wigwam between 4.30 p.m. and six o’clock each Thursday. Flying Cloud: So before long, you are going .to pound on the Wigwam doer, bound in and greet me? It will be a joyous moment, Flying Cloud. I shall recognise you at once because every day your face looks down at me from the wall. Many thanks for your charming enclosure. I shall use it soon. Greetings •to you, maid of the large heart and haunter of the sun-warmed beaches. Silver Moon: Many thanks for your letter, Silver Moon, with its Awataha news. What of Paddle Carver and Lapping Water? Did you see them on the trail? I am sorry that there is sickness in your tepee, but hope that matters will soon' right themselves. Greetings from the Wigwam. Singing Arrow: Ping! An arrow in the birch tree to herald the approach of a faithful Chief. Greetings to St. Barnabas and a good wish for Supple Bow. THE JASMINE Centuries ago, rich people of Spain and. Italy paid homage to the jasmine, regarding it as the most handsome of flowers. There was a Duke of Tuscany, who grew a special kind, and gave strict orders to his gardener that no seed or shoot should leave the Palace grounds. For many years the gardener kept his trust, and no jasmine of the kind was to be seen elsewhere in all Italy. But there came a day when the gardener could not refrain from including one of the fragrant sprays in a bouquet to his sweetheart, whom he dearly loved, but was too poor to marry. Instead of setting it in a t vase, she cleverly planted the beautiful shoot, which in course of time grew into a magnificent climbing shrub. She sold it for a large sum of money, and, the gardener escaping from the wrathful "Duke, they ran away and were married. This is why bridal wreaths are often twined with jasmine. IN OLD ARABIA A rich man in Arabia called Mu left a will bequeathing his fortune to the happiest man on earth, and appointing a merchant friend, Abbas, to search for this mortal and deliver to him the large chest that held all his wealth. On his way back from Mu’s funeral, Abbas thought over the best way to carry out his friend’s wishes, and decided to send a herald all over the country to let people know that every evening, from five to seven, he would see the claimants to Mu’s wealth. Apparently many men were satisfied with their lot in Arabia, for men of all conditions, sizes, and races, flocked to Abbas, calling all to witness that the chest with Mu’s riches should be theirs, considering that they were without doubt the happiest men on earth. As their claims were being examined more applicants kept coming, and the crowd grew riotous. From words they came to blows. Something must be settled. Abbas, supported by half a dozen worthies of the city, interviewed three hundred candidates a day, but when several days had passed and no choice had been made the crowd grew threatening. - At last, in order to get rid of the noisy applicants, Abbas appeared at a window and declared, “We have found the happiest man on earth.” When the grumbling of the discontented had somewhat subsided, and the guards had succeeded in clearing a space round Abbas’s house, the chosen man opened the precious chest. The chest was filled with pebbles! And Mu had engraved inside on the lid these words: "False heart! If indeed thou wert the happiest man on earth what need wouldst thou have of my gold?”

THE GREAT OUT-DOORS Great Chief, — My little eanoe glides merrily along as I lift my voice to greet you . . . Last week-end, I drove with some friends to Waitawa Bay. 40 miles from here. It is a glorious drive. Little by little civilisation is left behind —the houses seem to be running to town — beyond us were the purple hills, near us, the brown ones. Fences soon disappeared and long, high, hawthorn hedges scented the air, then gorse—everything wild and beautiful. . . - Stately pines and sturdy oaks grew all about. At last we reached the white gate that leads to a wonderful place—a place of six bays, covered in shell and sand and trees, almost too perfect even to write about . . . Farewell, my chief, I must away. ... A cuckoo calls from a tree and the wings of night are closing. —FLYING CLOUD. A MILE WITH ME O who will walk a mile with me Along life’s merry way? A comrade blithe ana full of glee. Who dares to laugh out loud and free. And let his frolic fancy play. Like a happy child, through the flowers gay That fill the field and fringe the way Where he walks a mile with me. And who will walk a mile with me Along life's weary way? A friend whose heart has eyes to see The stars shine out o’er the darkening lea, And the quiet rest at the end o’ day— A friend who knows and dares to say The brave, sweet words that cheer the way Where he walks a mile with me. With such a comrade, such a friend. I fain would walk till journey’s end, Through summer sunshine, winter rain. And then? Farewell, we shall meet again! —Dr. Henry Van Dyke. THE TRUE RICHES Laughter and loye are the world’s wealth; Laughter and love are giving; And the treasure I seek is a road and health, And the ecstacy of living. To walk to the setting sun and the. hills With belief, and alove that’s strong; And to smile when an angel of quietness stills A heart that has thronged with song. E.H.E. CHILDREN OF THE SKY In the morning of the world an angel was sent on a message to a holy man dwelling in a desert in Persia. But as the angel was flying through the air he saw a beautiful Persian girl sitting by the side of a well and braiding her hair with blue forget-me-nots. He came down and made love to her, -and for a while they lived very happily together. Suddenly the angel remembered that he had not delivered the message with which he had been, entrusted. He flew back to Heaven to ask pardon for his forgetfulness, but he found that the gate was closed for him. For a long time he stood/.by the shut gate weeping, and then the Archangel Gabriel appeared, and said, “You .must people the Earth with the Children of the Sky before you can bring a daughter of the Earth into Heaven.” The angel, did not understand what this meant, and asked his beautiful bride if she could explain, it. “Yes,” she replied, taking some of the flowers from her hair. “These lovely little blue forget-me-nots, which reflect the exquisite colour of Heaven, are the Children of the Sky.” So the angel and his bride wandered hand in hand over the Earth, and planted forget-me-nots in every country. Then, when their task was ended, the angel took his bride in his arms and carried her up to the gate of Heaven.

THE THRUSH’S NEST Within a Spreading hawthorn bush, That overhung a molehill large and round, I hear from morn to morn- a merry thrush >ing hymns of rapture, while I drank the sound With joy; and oft, an unintruding guest, I watched her secret toils from day to day. How true she warped the moss to form her nest, And modelled it within with wood and clay; And bye and by, like heath bells gilt with dew, There lay her shining eggs, as bright as flowers. In spotted-over shells of green and blue. And there 1 witnessed, in the summer hours, A brood of nature’s minstrels chirp and fly, Glad as the sunshine and the laughing sky! John Clare.