HAPPY TOWN

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 478, 6 October 1928, Page 29

HAPPY TOWN

WILD ROSE (Written for Sunbeams by Lone Hunter,* of the Wigwam.) Pretty little wild rose, nodding in the sun, With so many lovers you're not content with one, Yesterday I watched you, from the hollow of a tree, Those who passed all kissed you. even Mr. Honey Bee. Oh, then the lovely butterfly, that fluttered round all day. It seemed he’d not a thing to do, but compliments to pay; But I know why they loved you, my pretty, wild red rose, You’re so sweet, so patient, and your heart you never close. To those who love to whisper little secrets in your ear. Of how their eggs are hatching, or of their babies dear: You are so sympathetic, although you are so small, And we like you will too be true, and so be loved by all. PUZZLERS Jumbled names in this week's Hollow Tree:— ZEILTABHE RENCITSIH. RECUB KALCER. XOJEC COOWODKC. * * * Riddle-ine-ree: My first is in plum, but not in pear; My second's in Rome, so look well there. My third you will see in use each day; My fourth is in straw, but never in hay. You’ll find my fifth in the east and the west — My whole in the wainscot makes its nest. * * • Answers to last week’s puzzlers: Word Square; Imps. Moat. Pane. Step. AVord puzzle: Doorkeeper. GLIMPSED BY A SUNBEAM Spring is here at last. I see her as she comes tripping through the paddocks, scattering brightly coloured flowers at her feet. A thrush sitting with his head under his wings now begins to sing lustily, “Spring is here. Spring is here.” The buttercups and ptnk-tipped daisies lift their shy heads and gaze upward. She carries a wand, wreathed with pretty flowers and green vines. About her waist a vine is entwined and on her golden head is a wreath of violets, daisies and buttercups. As she trips along, the green grass grows greener, she bends her pretty head and touches the trees with her wand. Do! they are covered with tiny green leaves. She flutters about the earth bestowing her marvellous gifts upon all, and the world of frostbitten grass, bare brown trees and few flowers is with us no longer. —Gay du Faur (aged 11).

THE WIND One summer’s morning Mr. Wind decided to blow liis hardest. He thought: “No one will expect me, so I can take them unawares.” Directly he saw Bridget Anne in her straw hat crossing the bridge to school, ho puffed out his cheeks—POOF—PUFF—POOF—and up bobbed the little girl’s hat from her curls. But she put up her hands and pulled it over her ears again. “Bother it!” frowned Mr. Wind. “I’ve never been beaten by a straw hat yet and, what’s more, I never will be, either.” So he summoned his brothers, the mischievous little puff-o’-winds, who chuckled with delighted glee when he told them about blowing away Bridget Anne’s hat. Just fancy it I A strong gust of wind and a dozen or more little breezes that crept up under her skirt and blew it out like a balloon, spun her round like a top, and made her curls flutter over her eyes. “Oh, goodness!” gasped Bridget Anne, holding on to her hat with one hand and keeping her dress down with the other. “Oh, bother!” cried Mr. Wind, furiously. “Blow harder, brothers, I’ve never been beaten by a straw hat before!” But he was beaten this time because Bridget Anne reached the school house with her hat safely on her head, in spite of Mr. Wind and his brothers. Fie was angry. He went blustering and blowing about all day wondering how in the world he had been unable to blow away a mere straw hat! He didn’t know, silly fellow, about little girls wearing elastic under their chins to keep their hats on! ; DAFFY-DOWN DILLY Said Daffy-down-dilly To little white Lily. Whose tip was beginning to show—. “Why, what are you about? Do make haste and come out. You are really most painfully slow!” Said little white Lily To Daffy-down-dilly, “Your remarks are a trifle unfair. For you seem to forget That my time is not yet. When I bloom—p’rhaps you will not be there !” The weeks flew by fast Till the Lily at last Lifted gently her little white head, But she stood all alone Like a queen on her throne. For Daffy-down-dilly was dead. RIDDLES YY hat is the difference between a donkey and a bee?—One gets whacks (wax) and the other gets honey. Why may St. George be considered a very careful driver?—Because he never appears without the dragon (drag on). What part of a dog grows on a tree? —The bark. Why is a carpet like a cooking egg? Because after it • is laid it is often taken up and beaten.

HOW ANIMALS LEARN Perhaps yoir sometimes think when you go to school that animals are very lucky not to have to do any lessons. If you do, you are quite wrong, for animals all have lessons to learn, and start their lessons when they are about a month or so old. Mother is always the teacher and a very strict teacher she is, too. She has to bo strict because she knows that unless her babies learn their lessons properly they may get into danger. Wild animals all have to hunt for their food, too, so animal babies have to learn the best ways of finding food for themselves. Watch your cat next time she has a family of kittens and see how she teaches her babies manners by cuffing them sharply when they are rough or quarrelsome. You’ll see, too, how fussy she is about cleanliness, for she knows that a healthy animal must keep itself clean. Watch how she always clgans them with her own rough tongile and keeps their fur smooth and free from tangles and so gets them used to being clean, so that as soon as they are old enough they learn to wash themselves. She teaches them to hunt, too, in the cleverest way. Have you ever watched a mother puss lying on her back with her babies round her, waving her tail about? The kittens thoroughly enjoy making pounces at- mother’s tail and they never realise that they are having a lesson in hunting. But jumping for the quickly moving tail teaches them how to pounce on some quickly moving object so that later on, when they want to catch a mouse or a bird for themselves, they know just how to set about it.

A SAND GAME First of all mark off a section of the sand with a piece of wood. It roust be- nice and level, though you can soon do this yourself by smoothing it over. As a matter of fact, you’ll find the sand nicest to play on soon after the tide has gone out and it isn’t too loose. Well, mark off your pitch—about three yards by two. At one narrow end scoop out some holes In the ground—about five—and give each hole a number. You can do this by writing a number boldly on a piece of paper and putting it in the hole itself. To play the game, you just stoop at the other end of the pitch and throw up the ball. And. of course, you score by the number of the hole In which you get the ball. If the ball goes outside the pitch you can make arrangements to lose a point. Another good suggestion is to dig a little trench right round the pitch, and to score “one” only when it goes into this trench.

KNOWLEDGE NEEDED Street Orator: “It’s knowledge we want. Ask the average man when Magna Cllarta was King of England —and he can’t tell you!” —Sent in by Clarence Davey.

A STRANGE EXCUSE "Now, we will just see how you are getting on with your arithmetic at school,” said little Betty’s father. ‘‘Supposing you went to the shop and bought a dozen eggs for half-a-crown, but, on the way home, you dropped two and found that three more were cracked. How many sound eggs would you have?” “Oh, I can’t do hard sums like that, Daddy.” “Hard? Why, it is ever so easy. Surely you can count a few eggs?” “But,” protested Betty, “wo always do our sums with apples at school!” —Sent in by Norman Lydster.

A CATCH Here is a catch for you to try on your friend. All you have to do is to say to him: “Jones and Smith had a race to see who could eat the most sweets in five minutes. Jones ate 99, and Smith ate 100 and won. How many more did Smith eat than Jones?” Of course, your friend will say two. but he will be wrong, for the real answer is “one.” He’s sure to think you said a hundred and one—not a hundred, and won.

’THE LOST PLANET “I wonder if the planets ever get tired of travelling round the sun." thought Periwinkle, as she turned on her pillow and settled down for the night, “I suppose they know every inch of the way just as 1 know the road to school. Perhaps, they would like to play truant. I an» Mercury would because he is nearest the sun and must get very giddy.” “A planet did play truant once,” said a strange voice. “I live on it.” Periwinkle sat up in bed with odd little shivers running up and down her spine. There on the bed-rail sat a curious little man hugglmg his knees and gazing at her with mild curiosity. From head to toe he was potvdered with star dust, which even clung to his long, pointed beard. “Good evening,” .lie said, pleasantly. “You have thoughts beyond your years. Can you do this?” And gran fully balancing himself in an upsidr* down position he made liis way hand over hand along the bed-rail, removed one hand, raised his hat and sprang lightly to the floor. “No,” said Periwinkle, “I should not like to try.” “You have been summoned to appear at the Court of Thinkers by Royal Command,” said the strange visitor, “and there is little time to lost.' “What is the Court of Thinkers'.” asked Periwinkle, in bewilderment “You will see when you arrive there,” answered the little man, removing liis cloak and spreading it on the floor. “Now stand on this, seize my beard between your right forefinger and your thumb and spell your name backwards. tl Filled with curiosity Peri winkbobeyed, and, in a moment, the star dust cloak had changed to a magic carpet and the stars were all about, lier. “Keep a close grip of my beard said her companion, “and if you feel giddy just close your eyes. Do yon know' how fast light travels? No? Well, we are outstripping it now. Hen we are. Steady, steady. You are now on the planet that played truant and was expelled from the school. As I remarked before, you have been sum moned •to the Court of Th’inkers by Royal Command.” The Court of Thinkers was not hard to find. Spread in a circle in the centre of a silver field were a score of little men, exactly like lier guide, and with one, a little taller, in the middle. They sat in complete silence with their chins cupped in their hands and made no attempt to welcome Periwinkle into their midst. Then the one in the centre# spread out a piece of parchment and beckoned with a long, thin finger. Periwinkle stepped shyly forward and bow’ed low. “This,” said the King, “is the only map in existence with the locality of this planet marked in. It is likely to be of great interest to astronomers and you are now commissioned to return with it to earth.” Then lie again became plunged in meditation and Periwinkle felt herself dismissed. “And now’ to go home,” she said, the roll of parchment held securely under one arm. But, on the return journey, a sad thing happened. Overcome Ly the desire to inspect the map in her possession. she forgot to cling to lier companion’s beard. There was a great: noise about her ears, followed by a blinding flash, and she found herself sitting up in bed. The magic cloak the guide and that precious map had vanished, and only the far-away stars were winking at her through the window. In the silver field, no doubt, the Court of Thinkers is in session still. • W.iS.T BLOWING FEATHERS What about playing at blowi feathers next time you cani.ot think or* what to play? You’ll enjoy it. though I expect you’ll laugh ever so much more than you will blow. Get a number of feathers —one for each player. Let them be much the same size. Then mark out a line at one end of the pitch and anotherJim* at the other end. All stand behind one line. At the word “Go!” you blow your leather ami keep on blowing it. The player to have blown -his feather to the oth' iend of the pitch first wins the game Tr isn’t so easy as it sound®, because th■ ■ feather blows all over tlie place—--1m it’s great fun.