FOR THE CHILDREN

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2455, 20 March 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

FOR THE CHILDREN

HER BOXING D*AY. This prim little heroine, who sits by her uncle at the head of the long din-ing-room table, with a big white cake in front of her, and our lighted candles on the top of the cake —this guest of tho occasion had the misfortune to lie born upon Boxing Day. We avlio still belong to the fairyland know very Avell that absolutely the worst months in the year for birthdays are the months of December and January, not because winter babies are, as is said, of a chilly and shivering nature, Avhich 1 have never believed, but becaurx- Avinter already has -a birthday, supreme and universal, Avith presents and parties and other distractions, Avhich completely outshine all feebler festivals. And I think that (Santa Claus may have felt that our little heroine might lose her special share of birthday gifts, for he has brought her riches Avhich are all her own. He Avent to the sparkling pools of the mountain streams, and found the color of her merry broAvn eyes.. He swept over the cornfields in their ripeness, aud there lie gathered tho sunny gold of her hair, which falls from tAvo pink knots of riband, till-it breaks into curls around her neck. And it must have been, I think, from Della Robbia that he got the idea of her hands, so small, so chubby, yet so delicately fashioned and expressive in their movements. I don’t knoAA- Avhere Santa Claus found her lips, but I do know that they can close themselves very tight, and can say no Avith immense resolution, especially AA-hen it comes to taking medicine. And this was her birthday, the first that she Avill remember all her life; she hereby crosses the Rubicon of, memorv, never to return to the oblivion of babyhood. There she sits—foun- years old to-day —a picture of demure importance, at the top of the great long table, facing what seemed to her a very big world of people. The joy of life had begun at seven o’clock on Christmas morning. Six stockings hung out on the landing, hers among them, not really her stocking, but the biggest that she could borroAV. Yes, aud Santa Claus had remembered that in her report last term she had received ‘three excellent®,” one of them for “conduck,” so that she knew her stocking from the rest by a card printed to this effect. She also knew tha ihe must not run for her stocking before seven o’clock, because there Avould be a fierce hobgoblin outside, with a green face, teeth made of steel," fiery eyes, blue cl a ays, and yellow tongue, ivhich, having a taste for children, guarded the stockings until the clock should strike. That welcome sound, however, seemed to be the signal for an earthquake. From all the darkened rooms came shouts and groans and yells, and all sizes of pyjamas, ill-covered by respective dressuig-gOAvns, executed contortions along the passages.

“My red shoes,” said little Miss, imperiously. “And my red dressing-gown,” she added, while she hastened to the melee. For the next half-hour there.was silence in Heaven—ihe little angels were examining their treasures. But presently a contented voice arose from a certain well-sheltered cot. There she lay, Avrapped in the red dressing-gown, with the red, pointed hood pulled over her head, and the pilloAVS in just the right position for comfort and bliss. On the counterpane were scattered an umbrella, an apple, an orange, three boxes of chocolates, and innumerable other trifles. The stocking dangled useless over the rail of tho cot. And the little voice sang to itself its oivn paean' of praise. “All things bright and beautiful, all things great and small, all things aaisg and wonderful, the Lord God made them all. What a lovely umbrella for dolly. Ploaso open it, daddy, it s raining. But the candles arc burning low and the cake—which with all its finery lias a simple inside, suitable for the insides of others—must bo cut. She stands upon a chair. “My dress has got flowers on it,” she remarks casually. “Yes, it has. And mummy said I needn't Ai'ear overalls as it’s niv birthday. Yes, she did. 1 A large strong hand .points the knife at the heart of the sugary design, and little Miss, reaching forth her arm with a gesture of queenly condescension just as if she were launching a Dread-nought-lay® her fingers upon the hilt. The blade disappears, the deed is done. And then it occurred to some of her admirers that the ceremony demanded musical honors. There were all sorts of Amices represented at the table, and a look of transient terror came into tho Avidening brown eyes, as little Miss heard herself declared to be “a jolly good felloAv” in so many different keys and tones. But she joined heartily in the cheers Avhich followed, evidently thinking that it was a new kind of game, and then she found herself still standing on her chair, with fifteen pairs of eyes, fixed intently upon her small person; She became grove and in the pause somebody said; “You must make a speech.” “Yes,” said another, “say ‘Thank you very much/ ” . It seemed as if from another uxirld more innocent* than; ours there came a child message, clear and gentle, firm and conscious. “Thank you,” she replied, “thank you very.much. Can we play at musical flop?” Wo applauded the suggestion, and amid scenes of uproar the, feast broke up, Old bones and youu§ bones bump- .\ - <• ; . .* - -a w;.

ed upon the carpet, skeleton ages rattled in. and out of : tl ture, and at last there was a 1 cession across the hall and up i and into tho nursery, while tl thundered “God Save the Ki “What a happr day you’v said her mother, as little her nose in the'pillow. Ska till head quickly. “How did you like me,” &b| “in my blue dress with tho flow “You’re a nico little girl,”s her mother. “Yes,” she said, reflectively?.'; Nice*—and good!” - t