An Open Air Page For Big Girls and Boys

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 279, 15 February 1928, Page 6

An Open Air Page For Big Girls and Boys

CHILDREN OF REDFEATHER

TD-XIGHT, Black Wolf, the wind has a thousand voices and the air is full of whisperings. Xow I hear the mysterious sound of a canoe being beached in the shadows, and Flowing Gold, a maid of the sunset, is stepping ashore. See, the last light of day seems to linger all about her. She brings memories of forgotten loveliness to the Wigwam, and, as Flowing Gold has already found her niche in our rapidly spreading circle . . . Hush! From the depths of the forest, where the waterfalls catch the glimmer of moonlight as they tumble into their beds of fern, comes one Silver Cascade. She has rare talcs to tell of calm nights when the restless waters weave patterns of jade and silver, and, once her name is inscribed on the Totem Pole, she will he a frequent and looked-for guest. And now comes the Little Lone Pine whose tepee is pitched on a far plain, but whose arrow has heralded her coming. In the Wigwam we know little of loneliness and here shall she find the cup of friendship filled to the brim. . . . All day long I have rested in the shadows and pondered the stories of the children. Sometimes I have read them aloud to the trees and the sky, and the birds and the wild things have drawn nearer to listen. Such is the charm of the written word. Magic is surely in the quills of the Children. And when next the faithful ones come down the trail we shall gather in friendly council and the stories of the Children shall be read and heard. . . . Ah, a footstep. . . . Three arrows are missing from your quiver, Silver Wing.” “But I sped them to the Wigwam, O Chief.” REDFEATHER.

GIRL GUIDES’ CORNER “The Dominion Girl Guide” for February la of a high standard and contains news from ajl quarters. In this number will be found some bright camping verses by Guides, while the page devoted to nature notes continues to make excellent reading. A patrol-leader has sent a “Knot Rhyme,” which should be cut out and kept for reference: A “reef knot” is used when doing firstaid. Because it is beautifully flat. With a “sheet bend” you fasten a very thin rope To one that’s exceedingly fat. A “bowline” you put around people’s waists, When you lower them down from a height. With u “clove hitch” you fasten a boat to a post. And be sure that you make it quite tight. A “sheepshank” is really quite easy to tie, *Tis for shortening a very long rope. A “middleman’s” goes round the waist of a man Who with others ascend a steep slope. The “fisherman’s knot” is for joining two ends Of rope that is slippy and wet. And these are the seven knots, hitches and bends That all Guides must never forget. Those Guides who do not take the monthly magazine issued from Dominion Headquarters should become acquainted with it without delay. * * m Blue Fire reports that the first meeting of the Judean Company to be held in 1928 took place last even ing. The first Birthday Party will be held at an early date and a progressive year is anticipated. * * * The Kakamui Company will hold the first meeting of the year to-night, and this will take the form of a combined muster of Guides and Rangers. The girls are keen to resume work after the long vacation. • * • Golden Noon, of the Cavell Company, reports as follows: “Thirty Cavell Guides took part in a treasure hunt last Saturday afternoon. The trail led across Mangere Bridge to Mangere Mountain. The treasure was found by Betty Grove, of the Poppy Patrol. The Guides cooked their teas out in the open and returned home about 7 p.m. “A pleasant ceremony took place last week when 12 guide patrol-leaders and Guides went up to Rangers.” Miss M. Burgin, who recently returned from Honolulu, lias resumed her charge of the Company. Red Leaf forwards the following tried and trusted recipes, useful for sweet stalls at bazaars: Chocolate Fudge: 2 cups sugar, 4 cup milk, 2 tablespoons cocoa, 2 tablespoons butter. Method: Place all ingredients in a saucepan and stir over a low gas flame until all the sugar is dissolved, then boil until a little ot the mixture hardens when dropped in coid water. When ready, take off gas and beat until mixture thickens. Pour out on to a buttered plate and cut into squares before it hardens. Coconut Date-Drops: 14 cups granulated sugar, 4 cup dessicated coconut, 4 teacup chopped dates, 2 tablespoons milk. Method: Put sugar, milk and butter into a saucepan. Bring to the boil and continue to boil for 15 minutes. Add the coconut and beat until the mixture is creamy, then stir In the dates and drop from a teaspoon on to waxed paper. Sprinkle with dry coconut. A variation can be made with the same mixture by using figs Instead of dates. Marshmallows: - teacups granulated sugar, 14 cups water, 6 sheets leaf gelatine, 3 tablespons icing sugar, 1 tablespoon cornflour. Method: Break up gelatine and dissolve in 6 tablespoons water. Boil the sugar and remainder of water until the mixture hardens when dropped in cold water, then pour the syrup over the gelatine and beat for 20 minutes. This is most important as it Is the beating that produces the creamy, marshmallaw effect. k Vell powder a square 'tin with some of the icing sugar and cornflour mixed. Pour the sweet mixture into this and let it stand all night, then cut into squares and again roll In icing sugar and cornflour.

WITH THE BOY SCOUTS Black Wolf (Douglas Blackman) of the Avondale Troop, has now won his Gold Cords, having 18 badges to his credit. He is the first boy in the troop to achieve this honour. In a recent yarn the Chief Scout discusses the origin of the Thanks Badge: On the stole of an ancient bishop of Winchester, Edyndon, who died in 1366, is the Swastika or Scouts’ Thanks Badge. It was at that time called the “Fylfot,” and was said to represent Obedience or Submission, the different arms of the cross being in reality legs in the attitude of kneeling. But this symbol was used in almost every part of the world in ancient days, and therefore has various meanings given to it. It has been found engraved on weapons belonging to the Norsemen. It was also engraved on the spindles used by the ancient Greeks in their weaving at Troy. In India rice is spread on the ground in the form of the Swastika at the baptism of a baby boy to bring him luck. The Red Indians in North America lisa it as an ornament, and it has been found engraved on ancient pottery in Peru. How it got from one country to another, separated as they are by oceans, it is difficult to guess; but some people who say they know all about these things, affirm that there was one© a great continent where now there is the Atlantic Ocean, but it went under the sea in an earthquake. This continent was called Atlantis, and joined up Europe with America. It was supposed to have four vast rivers running from a central mountain in different directions —North, East, South and West —and the Swastika is merely a map of Atlantis showing those four rivers rising from the same centre. Anyway, whatever its origin was, the Swastika now stands for the Badge of Fellowship among Scouts all over the world, and when anyone has done a kindness to a Scout it is their privilege to present him—or her —with this token of their gratitude, which makes him a sort of member of the Brotherhood, and entitles him to the help of any other Scout at any time and at any place. After a time the metal badge worn by every Scout becomes dull, and when rubbed with ordinary metalpolish retains its shine for only a short time. The polish is also apt to cling to the crevices of the badge and give it a dirty appearance. A good remedy is to clean the badge with ammonia and then to give it a final rub over with a good metalpoiisli. The badge will then remain bright for a considerable time and will have an added brilliance. * * * Here is a simple but very effective method of sending a secret message to a friend. To anyone who does not know how the cipher is made the message appears just a long strip of paper with a. number of broken and meaningless letters upon it. The cipher is made in this way. Procure a smooth round stick, a piece of broom-handle or a round ruler will do, and a long strip of paper such as could bo torn from the border of a newspaper. Wind the strip of paper neatly and tightly around the stick, allowing a little overlap at the ends. Now write the message in printed letters along the stick. When the paper is unwound you will find that it is impossible to read any of the words. The only person who will be able to read the message will be someone who has a piece of stick of exactly the same circumference as the one in your possession. If you give your friend a piece of the same broom-handl© he will be able to .read the message quite well. A very little difference in the circumference of the stick will make it impossible for the strip of paper to be arranged round it so that the lines read correctly. MICROSCOPES The great world of little things revealed by the microscope is about to become greater still, for new instruments have been invented which have enormously increased the magnifying power which is at man’s command. A good microscope of moderate power will magnify an object about 600 diameters, or 360,000 times in square measure. Such a magnification as this is difficult to imagine, but some idea of the power of the new instruments may be gathered from the fact that a tennis ball, if it could be viewed through them, would appear about a mile and a-half in diameter. Man is the merriest species of creation; all above or below him are serious.—Addison.

A PLUCKY SCOUT WHANGAREI BOY’S HEROISM A story of splendid heroism comes from Whangarei, where Eric, the 13-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Fred Reynolds, and a member of the Whangarei Troop of Roy Scouts, recently succeeded in saving the life of Laura Potter, daughter of Mr. W. P. Potter, at Taurikura Bay. The girl, who was being towed behind a punt, released her hold thinking that she was in shallow water and immediately found that she was out of her depth. Her struggles were noticed by Eric Reynolds and others who were about 200yds down the beach. They raced toward the scene, the Scout outstripping his elders and swimming out to the spot where the girl had disappeared. As she did not come to the surface he dived down and brought her up, and but for his knowledge of lifesaving a double tragedy might have occurred. Escaping from the grip of the drowning girl, he seized her and swam ashore on his back, then carried her up the beach where the resuscitation process was successfully carried out. Later she was taken home and put to bed. The action of this Scout is all the more creditable in that he is a delicate lad with a weak chest. It is stated that he is to be recommended for the Silver Cross. FROM A BRAVE I have a little flower legend ready to send you this week. It is a tale I told my wee sister, who loves to sit on my knee in the garden and say, “Tell me about that flower, Fitzie,” until I have woven myths about all the flowers we can see. And I never dare to change my stories when I tell them a second or a third time, for she remembers them better than I. She was born when we lived in Niue, and she is named after a flower which grows there—Maile. It is much like a jacaranda blossom, but its colour is bright yellow. Some day I shall weave r-a story just for her, and perhaps when she is old enough .-'he will make one to her own liking. When I lived in Niue, the natives, who could not say “Fitzie,” used to call me “Fisi,” which meant, in their pretty, soft language, “a flower,” so we both bring a flower laJe back from the Southern Seas. —Little Swift Canoe iFitzie Morris). THE WALLS OF CIRCUMSTANCE Alack! Each day sees your maid of the Great Outdoors chained to her dull brown desk. Each sunbeam that slides on a golden ladder to the parched world taunts me—and the gay butterflies flaunt their freedom in my face. My desk is by the windows which look out on a row of wattle trees and a stone wall covered with a creeping plant, but oh, for my glistening sea. . . —Flying Cloud. TO THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT A NAVAJO INDIAN’S PRAYER

Lord of the mountain Reared within the mountain, Young man, chieftain, Hear a young man’s prayer! Hear a prayer for cleanness. Keeper of the strong rain, Drumming on the mountain; Lord of the small rain, That restores the earth in newness: Keeper of the clean rain, Hear a prayer for wholeness. Young man, chieftain, •Hear a prayer for fleetness. Keeper of the deer’s way. Reared among the eagles, Clear my feet of slothness. Keeper of the paths of men, Hear a prayer for straightness. Hear a prayer for courage. Lord of the thin peaks, Reared among the thunders; Keeper of the head-lands. Holding up the harvest, Keeper of the strong rocks. Hear a prayer for staunchness. Young, man, chieftain, Spirit of the Mountain! MACHINERY We sometimes hear a father say of his son that the boy is not in the least clever, that he does not at all care for ideas, that his whole mind is set on machinery. But every machine in the world, from a crowbar or a needle to the marine engine which drives a mighty ironclad through the ocean, is an idea. There is no difference in that respect between Hamlet and a watch, or between St. Paul’s Cathedral and a motor-bus. When a boy is interested in machinery he is interested in the most tremendous idea that has ever occupied the human mind. For a very little reflection will tell us that if savage man had never thought of machinery he would have been either wiped out of existence by wild beasts or doomed to remain in his savage state up to this present time.

A FAERY SONG We who are old, old and gay, O, so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told: Give to these children, new from the world, Silence and love; And the long dew-dropping hours of the night, And the stars above: Give to these children, new from the world, Rest far from men. Is anything better, anything better? Tell us it then: Us who are old, old and gay, O, so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told. —W. Is. Yeats.

A RUSSIAN HERO On© still night in the depth of winter a Russian baron set out from th« little frontier town of Rob-rin. Th« snow lay knee-deep in the streets and was still falling as the baron, with his wife and child and his servant Eric, got into the sledge and started on the next stage of his journey aome td Petrograd. The landlord of the inn begged nim not to attempt to travel that night, as the roads were full of snowdrifts, and packs of hungry wolves were known to be in the neighbourhood. But the baron was anxious to reach the next town, called Bolisov, and the order was given to start. About an hour later, as they approached a great forest, the baron’s wife suddenly exclaimed: “Hark! What was that?” In the distance came a long, melancholy wailing that rose and fell on the still night air. There was no mistaking that sound —it was the howling of a pack of wolves. The baron and his servant drew their pistols; and non too soon, for, looking back, they saw grey, shadowy forms coming across the snow. faster and faster flew the horses, straining at the harness, and rocking the sledge violently from side to side. But the wolves came steadily nearer. There was a large number of them, led by an enormous old wolf, which, os soon as he drew alongside, tried to spring upon one of the horses. Bang went Eric’s pistol, and the wolf sprang into the air and fell dead. At this the others fell back for a few moments, but they were soon again in full pursuit. This time the baron and Eric fired together, and four wolves fell dead in the snow. The rest of the pack paused for a moment, but they, too, were soon again in full pursuit. “There is no help for it. We must turn one of the horses loose,” cried Eric, desperately. “Cut the traces!’ This was done, and one of the leaders dashed into the forest with the whole pack of wolves after him. “We are saved!” cried the baron. But his servant, Eric, knew only too well that the hungry animals would soon return. Sure enough they did, and then another horse had to be sacrified. The carriage was now within two miles of Bolisov, and the lights of the outlying houses could be seen in the distance. The party in the carriage thought they were saved; but, as they galloped along, it became evident that the horses were tired out and were slackening speed, while the wolves were once more rapidly overtaking the party. Then it was that the servant proved himself a hero. “It will get down, baron, and keep the wolves at bay while you, with your wife and child, get away to the town. If we stay together we shall all perish. But perhaps I may manage to keep the wolves off till you »'eturn with help.” The baron could not bear the thought of losing his faithful servant in this way, but Eric was determined to risk his life to save his master. The wolves were now on both sides of the carriage. “Now God be with you all!” cried Eric. “Fire as I jump out!” The baron fired, and his faithful servant sprang into the midst of the wolves. The savage animals stoppe<3 for a moment with the blaze of the pistols in their eyes. Then came a fearful, savage yell and Eric fired again at the wolves. Then there was silence as the horses dashed forward. Eric was never seen again, out the pistols were found lying in the snow. A stone cross now stands on the spot, bearing the name of the heroic servant on one side and on the other the words; “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Tire squirrel flying opossum, which is found in Eastern Australia, is able to leap and glide considerable distances from the tree-tops by using the membrane which stretches from its fore legs to its hind legs as a kind of parachute. It is most active at night. The head and body together are nine inches long, while its bushy tail is rather more. The general colour of the soft fur is grey, but a black band beginning near the nose runs down the hnok to the tail.

FOOTSTEPS IN THE NIGHT Once more I creep along the trail to where the smoke rises in blue columns and the sound of low voices drifts across the night. I see the glow of the camp-fire on the young faces and the dull amber flicker on the tent flaps. Between the fir trees a golden moon swings and the river gives back a perfect reflection. It is a night for music and laughter, a night for dancing and the sound of tom-toms. All around is the deep silence of the outer night, forbidding, mysterious, but I, Harvest Moon, fear not the shadows, for I come from the land of light. There is a soft 'ootstep behind me. It is a friend, Redfeather, who wishes to have her name carved on -he Totem Pole. Greet the Little Lone Pine who peers into the circle of light and sees the happiness upon the faces of the Chiefs and Braves. . . . Farewell . . . While the moon is yet gold in the heavens, I shoot an arrow from the bow of love. —Harvest Moon (Alma Chamberlain).

YESTERDAYS AND TO-DAYS I wonder why Yesterdays always seem more wonderful than To-days. Perhaps dreams are really more precious than the hour that is passing . . . “The fool in the future lives. The dreamer in the past. But the child and the wise man live now.” One of these fine summer mornings, as you stand at the door of the Wigwam down in the forest, perhaps you will see a flicker of light across a little lone pine tree and know that I have slipped into the Wigwam to ioin the Braves. —Little Lone Pine (Phyllis Agar). THE CRANE AND THE WISE CRAB A crane grew too old and feeble to catch the fish that lived in a lake close to his nest. So, after thinking the matter over, he resolved to do by cunning what he could no longer do by force, and he said to a crab in the lake: “My dear friend, whatever will you and all the fishes do now? Some men are coming presently to drain every drop of water out of the lake. You’ll all be caught and killed!” On hearing this dreadful news all the fishes assembled to try and find some way of escape. “I have thought of a plan,” said the cunning old crane. “Of course, I eat one or two of you now and then, but I don’t want you to perish in a heap for want of water. What good would that do me? Now, there is large pond Just a few hundred yards away. Let me carry you, one by one, in my beak to this safe place.” The fishes got an old carp to go witli the crane and see if there was such a pond. The crane took him very gently in his beak and showed him the new stretch of water, and then put him back among his companions, and when the fishes heard about the pond they cried, “Very well, Mr. Crane; you can take us all with you!” The cunning old crane meant to take the fishes one by one in his beek, and eat them under a tree far away from the pond; but, unhappily for him, he began with the wise crab. “Come along,” he said to the crab,” and let me take you in my beek to the new pond.” “I don’t like to trust myself in your beek,” said the crab. “You might let me fall and break my shell. We crabs have a famous grip. Let me catch hold of you round the neck, and then you can take me.” The crane did not see that the crab was trying to outwit him, and agreed to the proposal. But when the crab was fixed on his neck, instead of going to the pond, he went to the tree. “Where is the pond?” said the crate “Pond?” said the wicked old crane. Bo you think I’m taking all this trouble for nothing? The whole thing is just a trick for catching you and the other fishes, one by one, and eating you.” “Just what I thought,” said the crab. And he drove his claws into the neck of the wicked old crane, and killed him. THE BRAHMIN AND THE POTS A Brahmin went to rest in a potter’s workshop, taking with him his staff and a little dish containing some meal that had been given to him. As he lay on the ground he began to meditate on what was best for him to do. “If I sell this meal,” he said, “I can buy some of these pots with the proce- ’s. Then I can sell those and nake a profit, and with the money I can buy clothes to sell. An so, in time, I shall be worth many thousands of rupees. Then I shall buy a house and marry, and if my wives quarrel I shall take my stick —like this —and punish them — thus. As he thought these things he waved his staff, smashed his own dish, upset the meal in the dirt, and broke many of the potter’s vessels. So ended his wonderful castles in the air. And all the meadows wide unrolled. Were green and silver, green and gold. Where buttercups and daisies spun Their shining tissues in the sun.

THE WIND There is a subtle charm in the touch and a strange magic in the voice of the wind that blows over the hill. " Even in autumn it is full of the promise of spring, eloquent of laughter and health and happiness. It is cool and sweet, a tonic to body and soul, blowing away ill-humour and making the blood leap for the joy of life. It plays hide-and-seek in our hair, kisses our cheeks, and is so powerful that it almost lifts us off our feet. Many people think of the wind us if it were only destructive. They know that it will level standing crops, snatch blossoms from the trees, play pranks in busy streets, and overturn ships at sea. They forget that the wind is a friend in a thousand ways. Should it cease to ride over our hills and through our valleys all life on earth would cease. It is the greatest husbandman in the world. It has planted almost every blade of grass, and half the flowers and trees. When springtime comes it is the wind that helps to carry the magic pollen from flower to flower, and carpets the earth with green grass, rich fruits, and bright flowers that are beautiful and useful to man. And even in the winter there is method in what seems to be its madness, for by breaking down or uprooting old trees the wind makes sure there shall be nothing useless or unhealthy in its garden. There is no vcuum-cleaner to equal the wind. It is the great sanitary inspector of the world, spring-cleaning all the year round. Should it ever grow lazy, or , fall asleep, the air of our towns would be so foul that we should die from breathing it. IN TRINIDAD In the hottest spot of the Island of Trinidad a lake of asphalt simmers in the sun. The pitch and asphalt in it, which for nearly 50 years have been dug out by thousands of tons and have been shipped all over the world to pave the streets of cities from Mew York to San Francisco, London. Paris, and Berlin, have left it unchanged. The Asphalt Lake remains to view just as it was when Sir Walter Raleigh saw it in 1595. At first sight the Asphalt 2-«ake is not impressive. The traveller goes to the seaport of La Brea, which, though only a village and a pier, is the outlet for all the asphalt of the world. From the pier a road winds upward till, at 130 feet above the sea. it leads to the vast basin of dark brown asphalt, which is pitted rather like a Gruyere cheese, and is rather like soft cheese to stand on. Stand on it one may, though if one stands still one may sink in a few inches. Round the basin are palms and tree-ferns, which need only a little encouragement and a little soil to plant themselves on the Asphalt Lake itself. In places the surface rises in little mounds like solid bubbles, and puddles of rain-water collect about them in the rainy season. There are labourers at work on this brown desert, digging out the material and loading it in the buckets, which travel on an endless cable down to the pier and the ships for distant parts. That is the only sign of life on the Asphalt Lake, which is desolate and gloomy, hot and depressing. Kingsley said it was like a lake in Dante’s Inferno and it is true that it has an uncanny look, perhaps the consequence of : ;he feel ing it imparts that it is coming up from the unknown interior of the earth, where so nany secrets are hidden and mighty forces imprisoned. SILVER CANOES The Malays have always been good sailors, so it is not strange that the Malagasy people are boatbuilders. They make dug-outs from single trunks for use on their rivers, and the coast folk build quite large boats made of planks sewed together with palm fibre. Some of these are fitted with outriggers just like the craft used by the South Sea Islanders. A very interesting point is that even the inland people formerly buried their chiefs in canoe-shaped coffins. Indeed, it is said that the Hova kings were each buried in a silver canoe.

FROM THE CHRYSALIS Could there be a greater contrast than that between a lovely butterfly, scented and scintillating with radiance, and- the crawling caterpillar out of which it comes? A butterfly which goes to lay its eggs on a leaf is frightened at the approach of a caterpillar. There seems no affinity between the unattractive grub and the ethereal beauty from the air. What does a butterfly know of eating? Some species have no mouths, and take no nourishment whatever during their brief lives. Generally they feed on nothing more than the nectar of the flowers. But the caterpillar munches leaves with the avidity of a tortoise munching lettuce; and some of them will eat each other’ The butterfly knows no change from the moment it first flings itself into the air till the moment it dies; but its offspring is constantly changing; its caterpillar will load itself with food, change the food into flesh and blood, split off its skin, and so gain fresh room for expansion—feeding, resting, bursting out of its clothes in a cycle of restless haste which ends only in the strange sleep out of which it awakes a winged wonder and a thing of perfect beauty. “THE BIG ONE” When Kent was joined to Belgium and forest trees grew where now the cross-Channel airplanes fly, the families of the most ancient men took their rest in the clearings. They were often large families with one man ruling over them with heavy hand. For him the women lighted the fire. It was their task and privil€:ge, because the art of making fire was for long preserved as a magical secret among the women. The big man was the hunter, the food provider. The boys would some day learn to do likewise, but the man, the Big One, was jealous of his powers. He alone had a flint weapon of stone laced with thongs of wolf-skin or sinew to a wooden haft, which was handy for the kill. The boys had no such weapons. At most they had flint scrapers with which they could dig the ground or dress skins. A boy’s lot was a hard one. Sooner or later the Big One would drive him from the family camp. He would be forced to make his own way in the world. Perhaps in this way the wandering instinct in boys was first implanted. The vast forests which stretched for hundreds of miles over Southern England and Northern France, and bordered the great-western-flowing rivers, must have had many a wandering boy in them, who, after looking for the last time hungrily at the home-fire, would set out to fend for himself, until he too grew to manhood, became a Big One, and ruled those under him with an iron hand. VEILED MEN The veiled people are probably the most mysterious of all living races. For generations scholars have sought to discover their secret in vain. Perhaps the veiled people themselves have forgotten the answer to their riddle. The Sahara is their mother. They wander oyer a huge tract of country, and are divided into four main groups, but everywhere they speak the same language and use the same script. They are a proud feudal race, yet they shroud themselves in mystery, and even veil the faces of their men, though the women, unlike those cf many Eastern races, wear no veil. It is not an occasional veil such as some Arabs wear to protest themselves from sand, but a veil worn by everv man when he reaches a certain age. ‘Slaves may not wear it, but serfs may, though they wear a white one, and the nobles wear black. A long strip of thin cloth is wrapped about the head, and only the wearer’s eyes can be seen gleaming through a slit. The custom is so old that no one knows how it began. In Arab books dating from the fourteenth century there are references to the veiled people, but even then the meaning of the veil seemed to be a mystery. Perhaps the veiled people used to live by raiding, and wore this disguise to save themselves from vengeance; but it is equally likely that it has some religious significance long forgotten.

BROTHERS OF PITY Seven hundred years ago an importer of Florence had a ct®-, **' spiration. It has borne fruit rieCt. *' the centuries- snt This porter. Pietro Borsi ; many hours daily in the Duomo waiting to be hired *1 It occurred to him one dav instead of thus wasting their and his fellow-porters might h.i' ” carry the people sticken bv the Dhi 10 and he propounded this ’ idea vf*?' comrades. 10 They agreed to his proposal, ani also to his suggestion that their hT should be gratuitous, and he h»m ** ously persuaded them to tax Cor ‘ other for swearing. The money tv? raised was spent on litters tor th carrying of friends or strangers struct down in the street. The movent, grew and. stirred by their examp? 1 ' i rich men of I lorence subscribed 1sums of money for further litters, a! themselves joined the ranks. They took the name of the Fralw della .Visericordia. the Brother; 1 Pity, and they agreed to maintain tk strictest secrecy. They dressed in black hooded gown which coverji them completely, leaving onlv two hnl!« for the eyes. OK3 In this dress men may still be net., hurrying to the help and rescue o* all who need their services. TW take ho reward save a draught Tr water, and they take regular terms o( service, daily or weekly, j Two bells summon them to aecidents, three to death. Xo cne is left ito die friendless or alone where the j good Brothers of Pity have a branch. They are of every rank and station. | from the king downwards. They nara- ! the lonely, ministering to their need* j and when death knocks at the door a i Brother of Pity enters also. He closes j the eyes of the sufferer, and doesan the kindly deeds that those who loTed him would have done had they been able. It is the Brothers of Pity srh o bear his body to burial. A priest told how, at the bead# of a dying man, he had seen fall the hood of a Brother of Pity, who proved to be a well-known duke of Italy. As “shines a good deed in a naughty world” so shines the bright, strong light of these Little Brothers, steadily and unwaveringly through the centuries of Time. THE HARE ON THE MOON Indian children declare they can a hare on the face of the moon, and this is the story of how they imagine 1 the hare came to be there. In India long ago animals were as wise as men; they could speak, and, what is more, they could reflect— which ; cannot be said of every human being. There were four creatures in particular —a hare, a jackal, a monkey, and an otter—who were very pious. They » lived like hermits in a wood near Benares, and they never thought of worldly excitements or selfish plea- | sures They gave alms and kept the fast days like good Brahmins. One evening a poor man came through the wood, and found the jackal sitting on a log, deep in meditation. “Good beast!” whined the man, “of your charity give me a little food." j “With joy!” cried the jackal, jumping up. “How fortunate it is that I had luck in my hunting I will fetch you the meat from my cave.” “I do not eat meat,” said the man, and he passed on. Presently he saw the otter sitting on ■ a stone in mid-stream, deep in meditation. When he begged the creature gladly offered him some fish, but this, too, he refused, and went his way. By and by he encountered the monkey swinging from a bough by one hindleg, deep in meditation. The beggar had hardly begun his request before the animals offered him some mangoes; but the man would not eat fruit either, and walked on again. Lastly lie found the hare, lying ia the dewy grass with the moonlight shining through his pink ears, deep in meditation. “Charity, good sir!” whimpered the man. “I am famishing.” All that the hare had to give was grass, and what use would that be to j a hungry man? He thought, “I willgive j myself.” The charitable animal said: “Make i a fire sir, and you shall soon have a meal.” The man made a fire of twigs on large 6tones, and when they were redhot the hare threw himself upon them. : But instead of being burned he felt as i if he lay on a bed of cool water-lflks. He lifted his head and asked the beg- ; gar: “What is this? Kindle your lire again. I do not scorch.” Suddenly the beggar shot up past the tree-tops, gigantic in height and splendid in appearance. * ‘Oh, noble little beast” he said, T only sought to test your charity. Itu l boundless. I will set your seal on the j skies so that Man may forever remem- ■ ber your example.” So saying he tore ' up a mountain, and squeezed it tiu its juice ran out. Then using its peak as i a pen and the juice for ink, he drew r a picture of the hare on the full m® o ®- j J Indian children point it out to each i other to this day. ; g MMMM *^ M ******