THE CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 39, 10 December 1920, Page 12

THE CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

MATER'S LETTER BOX. Mater invites children to send in gtoriea for this column, or correspondence wbich will be replied to througli these columns. All matter to be clearly written in ink, on one side of the paper only. Name, age, and address, must be always given, and correspondence directed to "Mater," care of Editor, "The Diggei^" Box 310, Invercargill. THE OLD LAMP. On Wednes-day niglit last week a great storm raged round the liouse. The trees bent and cracked, and the wind liowled and shrieked. Little gleams of moonlight burst out now and then and feil across the floor. 1 lay awake and listened to the sound. Suddenly something cracked loudly. I felt. startled, and then remembered that our chest of clrawers is the home of live goblins, wlio crack their joints for fun in the dead of rnjght. Then I thought I heard our ghost stealing coldly across the landing outside. It was just as I felt I should have to switch on the light and read "Dope," a bedside meditation which I keep for nights when things don't let me sleep — it was just then I heard a frightful hump, and again hump. It seemed below. Not quite like burglars, but more like a giant's head would sound if cut off by some brave Jack. I began to freeze with horror ; but I heard nothing more except the dismal howling and screaming of the wind. Then 1 fell asleep. The next day I remembered what liad happened in the night; but it wasn't until later that I discovered out in the front garden by the fence the old lamp. Just over the wooden fence had stood a lonely lamp post. Each night the lamp -has made a broad splash of light in the back street and in our 'garden. It must be many years old and must have seen all sorts of things. J went and looked at it. "So it was you," I said, "who bumpej down on Wednesday night. What a fright you gave me ! I suppose you were getting old and weak, and the wild wind threw you over." "Yes," said the lamp, a little sharply, I thought. "Go on ! Blame me ! I woke you up, of course. 1 was a nuisar.ee. Go on!" "Oh! I'm sorry," I said. "Did I seem rude? It must be rofc. ten for you lying here after allyou've done fov u%" "Not at all," said the lamp, suddenly cheerful ; "It's been almost worth my awful hump, which did upsetme, to hear the opinions of the people in the back street about me. I've stood here guarding the backs of the houses for 20 years, and I've never heard a kind word. Indeed, two lovers once put out their tongues at me ; but that was because I helpsd their parents to discover why they were so long getting an evening paper. I did it for t.he best." "Yes," I said, soothingly, "I'm sure you did. But we've often felt grateful. We didn't know you cared to hear us say so." "Oh! that's because you're Yorkshire," said the lamp; "I come from Birmingliam myself ; and I don't believe in waiting till people have their necks broken before you tell them what a comfort they've been to you." "Well, we should have complained if any. thing had been wrong," I said, "and we never did complain." "There you go again," snapped the lamp. "That's Yerk.shire all over. C'an't you tell a fellow when you like him as well as when you don't?" "I'm not Yorkshire, anyhow," 1 said, shortly. "To continue," said the old lamp, as if I hadn't interrupted, "I have been gratified by the kind things said since my downfall. The old gentlejnan at No. 9 missed me at once. 'My old friend has gone,' he said. 'Now, I wonder why? Corporation saving again, I suppose ; and the rates as they are' ; and he got quite peppery. 'If there was a thing in this town I did value, it was that lamp.' I felt it was worth dying for that. And then the little boy across the way, who is so poorly — I heard him cry : 'Oh! my dear lamp is gone' ; and he sobbed and wouldn't be comforted. It is pleasant to be loved so. Then quite lialf-a-dozen people banged themselves badly during the evening coming coming up your garden. 'Just like the Pomeroys', they said, 'to live in this forsaken spot.' " "Well," I said, "I do hope you'll be mended and set np again to cheer and 'guide us. My wife often speaks most highly of you." "Oh! is that who she is?" said the lamp, quite eagerly. "Now, her remarks to me have been most appreciative, and I may say, personal and confidential. I should not care to repeat what she said to me. I am glad to know who she is. I rather gathered from her remarks that she was an orphan and you were her great-uncle. " "Are you being funny?" I said coldly "Not at all," said the lamp. "But I do find it delightful to he ahle to tell you — as I believe you are a person — that there are

things to make up for being laid aside. Laid aside — a good old phrase, sir. I can truthfully say I regret nothing. It's true I bumped badly. It is true I shall have to be doctored. It is true I am rudely passed by cats as I lie here. But we can always lie and learn. And there's one thing about being ill or dead — you do get i to know if you're missed." "But what a pity to have to wait till then," I said.