Various
Little Folks
THE LITTLE FLOWERS' WISH
Some daisies grew in a green piece of turf just outside the palings of a garden. The grass all round them was soft and fine; they had plenty of room to grow in, and they were near enough to the road to see all that went by. Would you not have thought they were contented?
Little yellow butterflies came and told them stories, little shadowy clouds went scampering over the grass-plot, the pleasant warm sun shone down on their little round faces. And yet they were unhappy with all this.
Through a crack in the palings they had seen into the garden, and it made them all long to be there. Flowers of different kinds grew happily in the garden-beds. Some of them had sticks to lean against and some were trained against the wall.
"Oh, what care is taken of them!" thought the foolish little daisies.
Every day the gardener came and watered these choice flowers. And a stately lady paced the garden walks, and noticed if the flowers grew or faded.
"Oh, if only we could get into the garden!" sighed the daisies, ruffling all their little leaves; "oh, how much happier we should be if we were only growing in there!"
Just then there came running out of the garden a little child with golden hair. Whether he heard what the daisies said I do not know, but it almost seemed as if he did.
"Come along, little flowers," he cried, "would you like to come and live in the garden? See, I will plant you in nicely."
With his soft baby hands he plucked the little daisies from their stalks, sped back with them through the garden gate, and commenced to plant them in the earth. First he made a little hole for each of them in the soft brown mould, then put the rootless flowers in and pressed the earth round tightly.
"It is cold, it is cold," said the daisies.
"I shall have a nice little garden of my own now," said the child, and he ran away contented to his play.
Next day little Harold came to see his garden, and he burst into tears, for the poor little daisies were dead.
And other daisies grew in the grass-plot outside, and the butterflies told tales to them as of old.
The Wounded Cat and the Doctor
Colonel Stuart Wortley says that when he entered the Malakoff, so famous in the Crimean war, he found a cat whose paw had been pinned to the ground by a bayonet that had fallen upon it. He released the poor thing, and took her for two mornings to the doctor to have her foot dressed. The next day he was absent on duty before daybreak, and puss went herself to the doctor's, scratched the tent to be admitted, and when she was let in, held up her foot to be attended to. This cat was very grateful to the colonel, for she followed him about the camp till the close of the war.
A Remarkable Bell
In the temples at Kyoto, Japan, is a great bell, which swings in a huge wooden tower. The bell is a large bronze cup, with nearly perpendicular sides and a flat crown; and is sounded by bringing a big beam against the rim. It needs twelve natives to ring it. It used to be rung once a year, but it may now be heard twice or thrice a month. It is 18 feet high, 9-1/2 inches thick, 9 feet in diameter, and weighs almost 74 tons. It was cast in 1633, rim upwards; and the gold that entered into its composition is estimated at about 1,500 pounds. The tone of the bell is described as magnificent, and when struck with the open hand, the vibration may be heard a hundred yards off.
About the Mina Bird
A lady in India sends me some interesting notes about a mina bird which she obtained possession of while travelling in the Presidency of Madras. These birds talk better even than parrots, and this one soon displayed his cleverness. On the day after his arrival he began to make such a noise that it was thought he was hungry, and the ayah, or nurse, was told to feed him. He was then heard to say "Mina wants his dinner." After he had had some food he said "Mina wants clean water." He calls out "Ayah" and "Boy," so naturally that at first the servants thought it was their master calling them. One day he created some amusement by crying out "Mina wants his breakfast dinner." It appeared he had already had some bread and milk, and being doubtful as to which meal he ought to ask for, gave an order comprehensive enough to include both meals, so as to make sure of one. He is dainty, and will eat only particular food. One day his curry and rice contained plenty of rice but not much curry, whereupon his dissatisfaction was promptly evinced by a shout of "No curry." He gave evidence of soon becoming an excellent linguist, and had acquired a knowledge of some of the native tongues.
An Historical Cocoa-Plant
In a greenhouse belonging to the Royal Botanic Society there is a cocoa-plant which has achieved greatness, for it has actually borne fruit, and is, according to Professor Bentley, the first that has done so in England. The fruit gave evidence of reaching maturity and of ripening its seeds. Linnæus called cocoa "Theobroma," by which he meant to imply that it was food for the gods, but Belzoni, writing in the sixteenth century, regarded it as fitter for pigs than for men. Readers will be able to decide this knotty point for themselves, despite the proverbial difficulty of deciding when doctors disagree. Sixty years ago the annual consumption of cocoa amounted to only a quarter of a million pounds, but now it has reached a total of probably not less than twelve millions of pounds.
The International Health Exhibition
The great Health Show which was opened in May has already proved itself to be the most prominent feature of the London summer season. It embraces a display of everything even remotely connected with Health, and a more interesting and attractive collection it would be impossible to form. Appealing, as it does, to the taste of all ages, its variety is certainly charming. Nor is it without its educational value, as the "bits" of Old London, the historical costumes, and the trades in operation, abundantly testify. And not the least pleasing circumstance is that those very exhibits which are of an instructive character are the most popular. One sees in different ways that the experience gained by the Fisheries Exhibition of last year has been of immense service to the promoters of the Health Exhibition. The grounds have been decorated and illuminated by night so successfully that the Horticultural Gardens have been transformed into fairyland itself. The lakes and terrace picked out in many-coloured lamps, the lawns festooned with Chinese lanterns, the dazzling brilliancy of the electric light that lords it supreme overhead, the strains of the military bands, all combine to render the grounds of the exhibition the favourite open-air resort of Londoners and visitors during the warm summer nights.
Famous Old London Buildings
The most novel feature of the exhibition is a street in which have been constructed imitations of several of the most celebrated buildings in Old London. Each has been carefully reproduced from engravings and drawings in Mr. Gardner's priceless collection. The street begins with an excellent imitation of Bishopsgate, one of the City gates, with moss-grown walls, and statues of Bishop William the Norman, and of Alfred the Great and Aldred. On one side of the street will be found such quaint and picturesque buildings as the "Rose" Inn and "Cock" Tavern, the "Three Squirrels," Izaak Walton's House, and All Hallows' Church, Staining; on the other side will be seen, among others, Dick Whittington's House and the Hall of the Holy Trinity Guild in Aldersgate. The street ultimately narrows into Elbow Lane, in which will be observed a number of historical places, such as Gunpowder Plot House, where Guy Fawkes and his fellows concocted their detestable plot; and the curious houses at Pye Corner—which are illustrated on the opposite page—where the Great Fire of London ceased its ravages. The street runs down to London Wall. The ground floor of the houses is occupied by shops, in which the different trades of the old City Guilds are carried on. Perhaps the only thing that spoils the illusion—apart from the unavoidably modern crowds of sightseers—is that the interiors of the houses are connected by a gallery that runs from one end of the street to the other, so that you may enter the "Rose" Inn and come out at All Hallows' Church, or vice versâ.
Model Dairies
In the South Gallery will be noticed a number of Model Dairies, which are well worth a visit. Here little folk will see how the trade has been revolutionised, and how in such matters even as milk and butter machinery has to a very large extent replaced hand labour. These dairies are beautifully clean, and the effect is in one case decidedly improved by the introduction of a few stalls occupied by some pretty cows and a little calf, some ewes and two kids, and some queer-looking Zulu sheep, all of which excite much admiration.
Trades in Operation
The West Gallery is one of the most popular and instructive in the Exhibition. Here a variety of trades are in full operation, in which it is possible to trace an article from the raw to the finished state. In one stand, for instance, may be seen the whole process of mustard-making. The seed may be viewed in the pulveriser, then in the crusher, then in the sieve, and then being done up in packets of various sizes for sale. The making of jam also affords much entertainment to onlookers. Doubtless the nature of the trade will account for the large crowds who surround the stand where Messrs. Allen's industrious workmen turn out lozenges, and almonds, and chocolate in enormous quantities. Their machines are busy from morn till night. Where all the operations are interesting it is difficult to specify any in particular; but, perhaps, the process of preparing, cutting out, and printing lozenges is as worthy of special attention as any. Elsewhere the mysteries of meat-cutting machines may be solved, and the processes of aërated water making and of soap-making studied with profit. These are but types of the busy life of the West Gallery, which resounds with the clang of machinery in motion, and the hum of hundreds of voices of amused spectators.
The Costume Show
In the Western Quadrant will be found an exhibition of waxworks that would have filled poor Artemus Ward's heart with joy. There are two series of figures, representing English civil costumes and military uniforms from William the Conqueror almost to the present day. They have been prepared under the personal superintendence of the Hon. Lewis Wingfield, and may therefore be relied upon for accuracy in every respect. These series will repay careful study. The civil costumes start with those of two women, a shepherd, and a man of the period of William I. and wind up with samples of the era of George IV. It is impossible here to go into details, but it may be said that costume does not necessarily improve with time, as the dress of the last period is certainly the worst. The military uniforms begin with some suits of armour from the Tower, then proceed to a halberdier of Henry VII., and so on down to the uniforms now in actual use. The West Quadrant should on no account be missed by visitors to the Exhibition. In the Eastern Quadrant will be seen some specimens of present-day attire, chiefly ladies' and children's dresses.
Street of Furnished Rooms
Those who feel an interest in the modern methods of furnishing rooms will be glad to have their attention called to this street in the South Central Gallery. Here room after room has been equipped in the richest and most artistic fashion, and full advantage should be taken of this opportunity for comparison between styles of furnishing a house of the most varied character possible.
Other Exhibits
I cannot stay to mention even one-twentieth of the different exhibits. Little folk who have seen the Show will know it is not possible for me to do so here. There are foreign annexes full of interesting articles. The London Water Companies have a pavilion all to themselves. The South Gallery may be regarded as an elaborate model of the food of London. Then the British Beekeepers' Association will explain much of an instructive kind about the busy bee. In short, the whole Exhibition is so full of information of a useful and, in some cases, even of a delightful sort, that I must now leave the subject with the intimation of that fact.
Young Heroes
Some time ago a child fell off Oreston Pier, near Plymouth, and had drifted out about seven yards in twelve feet of water, when a little boy, nine years old, named S. G. Pike, plunged into the sea with his clothes on, reached the child, and swam back with it to some steps, where they were both assisted out. Another boy, W. W. Haynes, aged twelve, saved the life of a child who had fallen from a bridge into the river at Llanberis, near a whirlpool. E. S. Deacon, a girl, twelve years old, rescued a lad from drowning at Blackpool, near Dartmouth. The boy had slipped off a rock and become unconscious, when Miss Deacon jumped into the water fully dressed, and succeeded in holding him up until help arrived. We are glad to know that the Royal Humane Society rewarded these brave children for their noble heroism.
An Intelligent Mare
A mare, with her young foal, was grazing in an orchard on an American farm, when she was noticed to run at full speed from a distant part of the orchard, making a loud cry—not like her usual voice, but a kind of unnatural "whinny," like a scream of distress. She came up to a farm servant, as near as a fence would allow, turned back for a short distance, and then returned, keeping up the shrill noise all the while. The man's curiosity became excited, and as soon as he started to follow her, she went off in the direction of a miry place that had been left unguarded, and stopped upon its very brink. Hurrying on as fast as he could, the man found the colt lying dead, suffocated in the mud and water. The poor mare had unfortunately been unable to procure his help—though she tried her best—in time to save her foal. This touching instance of maternal affection is a very interesting example of the way in which the "dumb" animals—as they are somewhat absurdly called—make up for the want of speech. The mare's strange cry and her extreme restlessness were as eloquent as words.
ABOUT THE FRANCOLIN
Partridges by any name would taste as sweet, and when you have learnt that the francolin is one of the few different kinds of partridge, you will have obtained the chief clue to the life-history of these birds. They may in a general way be defined as the representatives in various parts of Asia (as in India and the Caucasus mountains) and Africa, of the well-known family which is so diligently searched for in this country during the month of September. One sort of francolin is still to be met with in the countries of Europe that border on the Mediterranean. The bird was at one time common in Sicily, and it is yet to be found in the island of Cyprus. Some of them live on level plains, and others in forests. They differ from our partridge in that they studiously shun cultivated ground, preferring the proximity of woods, in which they carefully select damp spots overgrown with reeds. In time of danger they conceal themselves in the densest brushwood, out of which they do not emerge until the peril is past. Should no shelter be at hand, they will try to seek safety in flight, and will use their wings only in the last resort. Partridges, as we are all aware, are not averse from feeding many times and oft on grain; but the francolins, whose taste is not so fastidious, will not refuse to dine on the wild berries as well as on grain, while they hunt for worms and insects with a zeal worthy of the cause. Some of them have rather a fondness for perching and roosting on trees of a night, and they display the same affection for their young as partridges show for theirs. The cry is harsher and noisier than that of the latter. There is one sort which has a cry of so curious a description that a good deal of speculation has arisen as to its significance. It sounds like "Tre-tre-tre," and is meant, according to a prosaic Sicilian proverb, to be a declaration by the bird of its market value, which it assesses at three coins. Others have likened its cry to the harsh, grating blast of a cracked trumpet. Such being the case, it is just as well that we have no francolins in this country.
The "Little Folks" Humane Society
THIRTIETH LIST OF OFFICERS AND MEMBERS
Officers' Names are printed in Small Capital Letters, and the Names of their Members are printed beneath. Where a short line, thus "–," is printed, the end of an Officer's List is indicated.
[Officers and Members are referred to a Special Notice on page 55.]
OUR LITTLE FOLKS' OWN PAGE
PRIZE COMPETITION (Vol. XIX., p. 376)
FIRST PRIZE DESCRIPTION OF "RAINY DAY INDOOR OCCUPATIONS AT THE SEA-SIDE."
While the weather is bright and warm, children seldom lack amusement during their annual visit to the sea-side; but in this changeable climate of ours rainy days often occur, when out-door recreation is impossible, and little folk must be content to seek employment in the house. Many boys and girls while enjoying the fine days give a thought to these occasions, and lay in a store of matter for amusement in readiness for the time when the somewhat limited pursuits of indoor sea-side life will have lost their charms. It is a very good plan to make a collection of shells, seaweeds, pebbles, and such marine treasures while opportunities occur. These may be arranged and sorted at leisure, and will afford employment for many idle hours.
One almost unfailing source of amusement, within the reach of every boy and girl, is an aquarium. A great deal of pleasure and instruction will be found in the study of its various little inmates—no matter if their home consist of nothing more than a common earthenware pan. An establishment of this kind, however, demands constant attention, cleanliness and light being very necessary to the health of the fish.
Shells may be utilised in numerous pretty ways. If for a collection, the arrangement and classification of each species form a very pleasant employment. They may also be used to cover boxes, brackets, and such small articles with very good effect.
Neither does their use end here, for they may be tied in neat bags, and will then be gladly received by the secretaries of any Children's Hospitals, for the benefit of the patients.
Seaweeds, if neatly mounted, make very pretty collections, and are useful in the decoration of albums and Christmas cards. The easiest method of preparation is to float them on paper, after allowing them to expand in a basin of water. No gumming is required, but the larger specimens may be further secured by strips of paper pasted across the principal parts, after they have been thoroughly dried and pressed. They may be arranged in books like plants, the proper name and that of its locality being assigned to each variety.
Some boys seem to think it worth while to polish the pretty pebbles which are found on some shores, but this process is both tedious and unprofitable. In these days there are few children who do not possess a microscope; those who do will find innumerable interesting objects both for mounting and inspection.
"Variety is charming," as every one knows, and after a little recreation of this kind young people are often glad to return, by way of a change, to books, work, and sketching, and appreciate all the more a favourable rise in the barometer. But while so usefully and pleasantly employed they will soon learn to greet with less regret an occasional rainy day.
Hilda Frisby.2, St. Mary's Crescent, Leamington. (Aged 15.)Certified by Jane A. Frisby (Mother).
SECOND PRIZE DESCRIPTION
When the day is fine and the sea calm, it is very pleasant to wade and splash about in the sunny water, and to roam among the rocks, searching for little crabs, many-coloured anemones, starfish, &c.; but when the rain is pouring down as if it would never stop, and the sea looks grey and dismal, it is sometimes difficult to amuse oneself within doors.
It is interesting to collect seaweed, though in pressing it, it is difficult to prevent the thin fibres from matting together when taken out of the water. One of the best methods is to float the seaweed on a plate, full of water, and after placing a piece of rather thick blotting-paper in the water, underneath the seaweed, to raise the paper suddenly out of the plate, when the water sinks through the blotting-paper, on which the most delicate parts of the seaweed remain spread out.
There are many games suitable for a rainy day; amongst them a poetry game, in which each player is provided with a slip of paper and a pencil. A circle is formed; every one writes a noun, and, folding down the line on which he has written, passes the paper to the next player, who writes a question on it. Each paper is then passed to the next person, who, unfolding it, has to make a short piece of poetry, not only introducing the noun but also answering the question.
When finished, the rhymes are read aloud, and generally cause much amusement.
This game can be varied by limiting the "nouns" to names of animals, with any absurd question concerning them: for instance—
"Porcupine," and
"Does it like sweets?"
The porcupine of many spines
Always eats sweetmeats when it dines,
'Tis very fond of chocolate-creams,
And munches candy in its dreams.
The little ones, as may be seen,
On brandy-balls are very keen,
And peppermints they will devour,
And lemon-drops eat by the hour.
For girls, painting and drawing are a great pastime, and a very pretty and effective method of shading small landscapes is produced by drawing on smooth paper the outlines of a landscape (a sea view is the prettiest, with the moon shining on the water), and then painting with a weak solution of gum-arabic the lightest parts of the picture, such as the moon, the ripples, and the high lights. When quite dry, rub the whole surface over with lead-pencil dust, applied either with a stump or with chamois leather, till the whole becomes dark grey; then mark out with a B pencil the shadows of the rocks, &c. When everything is drawn, pass a damp handkerchief down the picture, which will wipe off the gum, leaving the places where it has been perfectly white.
Such occupations, although the day may be dull, will pass the time pleasantly within doors.
Margaret T. S. Beattie.
St. Michael's, Torquay. (Aged 13.)
Certified by E. Rogers (Teacher).
LIST OF HONOUR
First Prize (One-Guinea Book), with Officer's Medal of the "Little Folks" Legion of Honour:—Hilda Frisby (15), 2, St. Mary's Crescent, Leamington. Second Prize (Seven-Shilling-and-Sixpenny Book), with Officer's Medal:—Margaret T. S. Beattie (13), St. Michael's, Torquay. Honourable Mention, with Member's Medal:—Edith M. Mason (14), 64, Park Walk, Chelsea, S.W.; Sharley Fullford (12), High Street, Fareham; Grace Pettman (14), Ladbroke, The Elms, Ramsgate; Sue May (12), 8, South Parade, Bedford Park; C. M. Battersby (15), Cromlyn, Rathowen, Co. W. Meath; Sybil A. Coventry (13-1/4), Severn Stoke Rectory, Worcester; May Johnson (15-3/4), Boldmere Road, Chester Road, near Birmingham; Leonard Watts (12-1/2), 12, Broadhurst Gardens, Finchley New Road N.