Aunt Roberta’s Family

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLIX, Issue 256, 27 September 1929, Page 10

Aunt Roberta’s Family

AUNT ROBERTA’S LETTER. Dearest Children, , 33 You really must not send cigarette cards to mo to exchange. The reason I mentioned the “Real Photographs’’ in my possession was only to help the idea along. ■The marks for the third quarter (13th to 18th Competitions inclusive) I give below: SENIOR DIVISION. Remus 21 Ego 20 Kiwi - 18 JUNIOR DIVISION. Lightning 29 Blue Eyes 26 Rosaleen ... 22 R. Dalefiold - 20 M. Dalefiold .19 Remus and Ego have gained 73 and 72 marks respectively for nine, months of the year, while Rosaleen has 81 and Lightning 79. You will thus see that the marks arc very close, and there will'be a great old tussle for the Gold Medal in each division. Shyloek writes: “I think the story, ‘Suffer Little Children,’ was just beautiful, and May Swain must bo very clever to write so well. Will you please pass my congratulations on to her.” "Will you please congratulate ■ May Swain for me on her beautiful story, ‘Suffor Little Children’,” says Kiwi. Juliet has contributed 2s 6d of her 5s special prizo to the Earthquake Fund, which is very generous of her. Aunt Roberta’s Family’’ Earthquake Fund is now definitely- closed. Rimu remarks: “I must eay I enjoy reading tho page. It must be hard to think of losing some of your family as they grow older.” “Please thank Ethel Procter and the others who have mentioned my entries in so kindly a way,” says Peter Pan. “Although I don’t agree with their remarks, they were vfery pleasant reading! I am sorry that I cannot promise to write to Ethel; I know it is the usual thing to say that school takes too much time, but it is the excuse I must plead. Also, I have music and theory, tennis, and already an extensive correspondence to keep me busy, and it wouldn’t be fair to begin penfriendship without the prospect of keeping it up. . I hope Ethel does not mind. Peter Pan would like to know if Allen-a-Dale is still at school, and, if so, which school does this member attend. “What a lovely story Nicodemus wrote in “A Vain Pilgrimage,” remarked Weka. Phyllis Winn says: “Would you please congratulate Allen-a-Dale for mo. He is a jolly good writer and an asset to the page.” . . . , Tomboy writes: “Ever since I joined your Family I have reading the page. Please congratulate Nicodemus on his story, ‘A Vain Pilgrimage.’ I think some of the juniors are very clever for their age, especially Ronnie Daleficld and Lightning.” . “I think that Nicodemus s story, A Vain Pilgrimage,’ was very realistic, and that Ronnie Dalcfield’s ‘Whitewash’ was a quaint little story. Would you please congratulate these two members for me, also the other competitors.” These are the remarks of an old member Rita Hodges. Ajax says:—“Please congratulate Audrey Drummond on her very fine verses.—‘The Mist on the Hilltops.’ I was very sorry to hear that Merle Collier is ill, and hope she will soon be well again. I am very, very sorry to 6ay I have discovered that the story, ‘The Lost Brownie,’ was copied, and, therefore, the niece who sent this story in as her “own idea and unaided effort” can no longer remain a member of the Family, and her name lias been removed from my roll. Your disappointed, QjuujJz f&Uta, ENROLMENT COUPON. Cut out this coupon, fill it in, and post to "Aunt Roberta,” care “Standard.” My Name is My age is My Address is .: My Birthday is 1 read “Aunt Roberta’s Familly” Page. Signature of Parent, Guardian or School teacher 1 Sent in by “Aunt Roberta’s Family” Badge costs Is each (stamps or postal note). Aunt Roberta has six badges on hand awaiting owners. COMPETITION FOR “SILENT” MEMBERS. A half-crown prize will be awarded to the niece or nephew whose name is mentioned in the following list of “silent” members, who writes the BEST LETTER, saying if they still read “Aunt Roberta’s Family” page, and are interested in the doings of members, also telling Aunt Roberta about themselves. Highly commended and commended marks will also be awarded. ALL LETTERS MUST BE POSTED TO “AUNT ROBERTA” BY NEXT SATURDAY, sth OCTOBER, 1929, AND MUST BE HEADED “COMPETITION FOR SILENT MEMBERS.”: CATHIE ADAMSON, ELMA RUTH BURDON, ANNIE BLONDELL, EVELYN BENTLEY, GLADYS JONES, JOYCE JENKINS, JOAN SHEPPARD, FRANK EVANS. LITERARY CORNER. Favourite verses, opinions of various books and short descriptive passages out of well-known books will be published in this corner each week. Joy Jensen contributes the following gem : THE CHRISTMAS ROSE. (By Anonymous). A little Eastern maid ’Tis thus the story goes Was first of all to see The pretty Christmas rose. Beside the humble inn, Where lay the Infant King, She stood, a child forlorn, Who had no gift to bring. Around their God in Heaven Are angels in a band, Who take the children dear And lead them by the hand. And one, who loved the maid, Had marked her gentle sigh, And now, on snowy wing, To comfort her drew nigh. “Weep not, my child,” she said; “Look down and thou wilt see A gift which thou canst bear, Which God hath sent to thee.” And there, beside her, bloomed The rose that Christmas brings; She bore it, in all haste, To Him, tho King of Kings. CIGARETTE CARD EXCHANGE. (Cigarette Cards are NOT to be 6ent to Aunt Roberta but are to be exchanged among members of tho Family). JACK ROLLO, 100 Chelmsford Street, Invercargill, would like:—Units of the British Army and R.A.F, numbers 1* 2, 6,

8 11, 14, 16, 17, 19, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 33, 34, 35, 37, 39, 41, 42, 48, 49. He is willing to exchange “Notable Ships” (Past and Present), “Homeland Events” and “Royal Family at Home and Abroad.” , , MARINE JENSEN, Linton, would like a full set of “Dc Rcsko Ileal Photographs”—she has three numbers only—B, 23 and 24. She has to exchange: Ships No. 8, Children of All Nations No. 20. Straight line caricatures No. 45, Around the Mediterranean Nos. 30, 36, Wonders of tho World No. 4, Signalling No. 2, British Royal and Ancient Buildings No. 18 .Village Models No. 24, Bonzo Dogs No. 23, Interesting Views No. 56, Feathered Friends No. 9, New Zealand Bird 6 No. 44, Wild Flowers No. 8, Ancient Egypt Nos. 14 (2), 18, 21, 7, 13, 15, 12, 16 17, 3 22, 11, Ancient Chinese Nos. 21, 14’ 5, 20 12, 15, 8, 22, Birds, Beasts and Fishes Nos. 10, 40, 36, 1, 12, 7, 13, 29, 28, 39 48, 16, 1, 10, 14, 18, 4,5, 25, 44, 24, 33 (2), 45, 46, 8,2, 3, 30, 21, 6, 43, 23, 19, 49, 22, 38. t . . This member is also very interested in scenes, both River, Valleys and Camera Studies, and is willing to change any scene for another card if the number of tho scene is sent to the Cigarette Card Exchange. i DID YOU KNOW ? That ROBIN HOOD, who attends Primary School, lias successfully passed the second term examination. That BABY PEGGY came top of her class last examination and has been put up into Standard 2. That several A.R.F. members gained prizes in Youth, the new magazine recently issued. OUR MAIL BAG. AJAX: You have 27 h.c. and c. marks to your credit. RITA HODGES: I really think the “Family” was never in a more flourishing condition than it is at the present time. I agree with you that the flower of the plum tree is beautiful. I appreciate your kind enquiry about my mother. I’m sorry to say it is unlikely that she will regain her health again. Best love, my dear. WILFRED EDWARDS: I am doubtful if such a competition as you suggest would appeal to many. Thanks, all the same. TOMBOY: Thanks for tho contribution to our Literary Corner. You have 15 h.c. and c. marks. The “Roll Call” names are just- chosen at random from my roll. GWENDOLINE SMITH : You are very welcome, and your name has been entered on my roll. The nom-de-plume you have chosen is uncommon. FRED PYCROFT: That’s right, Fred. PHYLLIS WINN: It is very nice to hear from you again. Sorry to hear that your mother has been ill. Best love. PHYLLIS ANDREW: Welcome. Your name has been put on my roll. Always sign your own name as well as your nom-de-plume. Love and best wishes to a new member. WEKA: Thanks for the contribution to the Literary Corner. PETER PAN: Many happy returns. RIMU : I should be surprised and very disappointed if I did not hear from you occasionally. Yes, I have seen hundreds of chickens hatching. It is most fascinating, I think. Best love to a faithful niece. DICK DRUMMOND: Thanks for the lovely kisses. JULIET: You are a very generous little niece. Did you both get nice prizes for the buttonholes? I already have such a competition as you suggest on the “waiting” list. Love and best wishes. INNOCENCE : So glad you had such a mice time at the fancy dress ball. Best love. ' KIWI: Holidays spoil one for work, I think. EILEEN PYCROFT: I like the nom-de-plume very much. Thanks for the competition suggestion, which I may bo able to use later on. You must be a great help to your grandmother. KAT: I am sure you would never, never merit the title of “silent” member. MERVYN DALEFIELD: Well, you are a conscientious little nephew. Best love. ANNA LEE: You are a lucky niece to get so many nice birthday presents. Merle is 11 years. Thanks for the competition suggestion, which I may use at some future date. MARINE JENSEN: You have 4 h.c. marks to your credit. It is surprising how quickly they mount up—jf you only perSHYLOCK: It all depends upon whether the snapshot is a good one. I had a beautiful bunch of blue violets presented to me last week. The kisses were very sweet, my dear. 21 ST COMPETITIONS. CLOSING DATE—MONDAY, 14TII OCTOBER, 1929. Each entry must be on a separate sheet of paper (written on one side only), bearing tho name, age and address of the competitor. Each entry and envelope must be marked “21st Competitions.” Senior Division : 15 years and up to 19 years. Intermediate Division: 12, 13 and 14 years. Junior Division: Under 12 years. TRUE STORY. (Maximum number of words 1,000.) Must be tho unaided effort of the competitor. Stories may be about a pet, an incident in your own or another’s life, etc., as long as they are TRUE. Senior Division: Prize, 4s. Intermediate Division: Prize, 4s. Junior Division: Prize, 2s 6d. SOUND. (Suggested by Country Maid). Describe the sound which is the most pleasing to you —the hum of the bee, the twitter of birds, the lowing of a cow, the .noise of a motor-car or an engine, etc., etc.—and just why it appeals to you. -For instance, Aunt Roberta is very partial to the humming of a bee, as it seems such a drowsy, contented eort of sound. Senior, Intermediate and Junior Division, and a prize each of 2s 6d. BEST JOKE. (Suggested by Ruth Barker). Write out the best joko you know. Senior and Intermediate Divisions— Prize, 2s 6d. Junior Division—Prize, 2s 6d.

THE STORY OF A CAT. NOT A COPY CAT.. From the very beginning Marcus Superbus had shown that be had no intention of becoming a “copy cat,” A cat he certainly was, and always would be, but a copy one —never! Ho took a firm stand about this matter from the very earliest age that a kitten may have. His mother had always worn an uglypatchy coat of ginger and black and white. The patches may not have looked so bad i had they been becomingly arranged; but they were not. Ugly ns the coat was, however, the mother cat appeared to be quite satisfied with it. That, when you come to think of it, was a very good thing, as she could not easily have changed it. Of course, the coat may have’ been a source of secret annoyance to her. For, sad to st>y, her temper left much to be desired in the way of sweetness. There must have been some cause for that. So perhaps the gingery coat.with its patches of black and white got upon her nerves. Well, one would naturally suppose that, the son of such a mother ,as this would inherit a coat and a temper of the same striking tones. He did not. For one so young he certainly showed good sense. Curled up in an old basket, at the mature age of three weeks, he was like nothing

OUR MOTTO: “ CHARACTER AND PERSEVERANCE ”

but a soft, fluffy, grey ball, striped with black. You had only to poke the grey round ball when up would ooine the duckiest little cat face with tho duckiest little ears you ever in your life could see. There were two eyes also, as you will probably have guessed, and those ! Well, those merry blue, twinkling little eyes at once looked straight d,own into your heart, and —would you believe it? —stole something out of it! Right from under your very own eyes ,too. You never got the’ thing back again either, so closely did the fluffy grey ball hold it. Not that you ever wanted it back really. Many and merry were the pranks of Marcus Superbus as his coat lengthened and his whiskers likewise. Age added beauty to his figure and character, just as certainly as it added warmth to his mother’s temper. Whether her soured disposition hastened her end or not, it would bo hard to say. All that is really known is that before she reached the age limit of cats she ceased to be.

I am 6adly afraid that this doleful event brought more of pleasure than of pain to the heart of the deceased lady’s son. When you have been spitefully chased many times from your favourite sunning ground by a scratching parent you get to feel that way. So Marcus Superbus sorrowed little. The moral of which is, be amiable if you wish your children to mourn you. Even in the matter of size Marcus Superbus disdained to be ns other cats. As time passed ho grew huge. His big form and handsome coat always won him admiration as he lay stretched at full length, basking in sunshine or firelight. It became the thing with Marcus to play watchdog to the only two members of the “family.” At night time theso he would escort almost to the railway station when a trip was to be taken by train. It was an eight or ten minutes’ walk. Never, though, would he go beyond tile paddock near the station. Somewhere in it, hidden in the darkness, he would lie in wait for the return of the “family.” It did not matter whether the latter came down the dark road from the station talking or whether it came in silence. Very often it did the latter to test the sagacity of Marcus Superbus. It was all one to that gentleman. At a bend of the road beside the paddock out would leap a furry form to roll at tho feet of the “family”’ with loud purrings of delight. Greetings over, the furry one would boun dahead to lead the way home. Every now and again, though, he would return to rub fondly round the legs of tho “family.” It was not a quick mode of progression for either himself or the objects of his affection. Many a time was this performance of his repeated. Dear old faithful friend, waiting patiently through dark hours for the fall of a well-known footstep ! Marcus Superbus—perhaps in order to still further prove his dislike to being a copy cat —had a queer little fad. He refused to have his meals anywhere except in a certain corner of the kitchen, where he had lapped milk in his early youth. If denied admittance to the corner Marcus refused his meal, and with dignity walked off. As this meant that he would hunt a bird meal, in the garden or the bush close by, the “family” would have to indulge the whim of its pet. Then Marcus would consent to dine.

Poor pussy 1 His little mania in this respect was to be one of the means of a tragic end for him. Time changed for the “family.” It became necessary to leave tho little homo which it and Marcus Superbus loved. As caretakers of other people’s homes, the family had frequent moves. It was inconvenient keeping a cat under such conditions.. Especially when tho cat was tremendously heavy, and also both loudly and strongly objected to being moved from place to place in a dress hamper. So Marcus Superbim had to be given to a friend who lived some half-mile or .yo from the little cottage homo of his youth. He very soon discovered that he was back in his own special land again. Away went Marcus to the old familiar spot, expecting, no doubt, to find tho family there, and also his meal in the corner. Alas, poor Marcus- Strangers and shooings were all that greeted him. Still, with the conservatism of cats (in this he could not avoid copy-catism) he stayed about in the garden of his old home. Very unhappy, he made night hideous for the tenants of the cottage by his mournful wailings for “the family.” The latter, hearing of his escape from the good home provided by friends, wont to the rescue. Very troubled was “the family”over the sad plight of its pet. Woefully lean, and with a coat from which all the lustre had gone, no longer was Marcus Superbus kingly among cats, but an object of pity. Tears of distress were shed by the “family.” To the poor thin pet’s joy he was gathered again to its bosom. Unfortunately, though, for him, only to be borne again to the scene of caretaking. Marcus, alas, had been spoilt. The family had very little spare time now, and not its own "home. He missed the frequent pettings and his meal corner. At this strange house, belonging to strangers, he was expected to dine in the yard. A gardner shoo-ed him out of the garden. A stout dog, the pampered pot of this home, gave him unpleasant greeting; in fact, became almost apoplectic when Marcus unthinkingly strayed near a luxurious kennel. The wanderer decided that this was no fit place for him. Off he went again. He so wanted the old home and tho feeding corner and “the family.” A sick woman in the little cottage was very ill. She needed sleep above all medicine. One cannot sleep, though, when ill, if all through long weary hours of darkness a gaunt grey cat wails mournfully for its family. Tho cat’s story being known, by day food was placed in the kitchen corner with the hope of lessening its woe. Marcus, however, was too unhappy now to be tempted. Nothing except his home, his corner and his family would satisfy him. He wanted all three,’ nothing less. Poor old faithful friend. Some people say that cats do not love their owners. Well, as it has been written before, Marcus Superbus had never shown a desire to be a copy cat, so porhaps that fact explains matters. For the sake of a poor sick woman, and for the sake of a poor unhappy cat, there was only one thing to be done. His life had to end. Through the years, though, the memory of faithfulness survives, and that, as you will some day know, is good to have.

RESULTS OF PREVIOUS COMPETITIONS. HIGHLY COMMENDED ENTRIES. HOME FLASHLIGHTS. Of all the dear places on earth the dearest of all to me is homo. A small path leads up to the little ditch which is crossed by an old wooden bridge. Tho path goes on up to the little white gate, on either side of which is a fence. Growing up this fenoe are roses and honeysuckle and these make a pleasing picture. On one side of tho gate tall Christmas lilies blend with the roses and honeysuckle, while on tho other side of the gate is an anemone bed, where purple, red and white anemones grow in profusion. Then there is a little under path between this garden and the next one, where roses, jonquils and daffodils all grow together. Next to this is a pansy bed where millions of different coloured pansies mingle together. In a corner of this bed is a big red currant tree, which when in bloom makes a beautiful splash of colour. A little wire-netting fence divides the garden from the next one, and sweet peas grow up this fence. This, next garden has a little brick path running up the middle of it, and on either side of this path sweet primroses put a dainty finish to the garden. Strawberry plants fill up a lot of this gar.den and the remainder p£ it is

filled with many-coloured carnations. In yet another garden freesias are growing by the dozen, and one corner is taken up with a big clump of sweet-smelling forget-me-nots. In the garden opposite this one is a clump of daises, pinks, a red-currant tree, a koromiko tree, a peony ro6e, a lavender bush, somo hydrangeas, jonquils, daffodils and violet borders, and in ono corner is a big ice plant. On either side of the verandah steps is a small garden, where stock of many colours make a bright patch of colour against the dark verandah. On either side of the house are green fields where cows are lazily browsing—and this is my home. ETHEL PROCTER (15 years).

If you ever chance to come this way and you see a plain looking house painted cream, with a rod roof, with part of the front garden made into a lawn, and the rest all overgrown with coarse grass, with lots of flower-beds filled with brightcoloured, sweetly-scented flowers, with a low, little hedge along the road fencearid hills away in the background, you’ll know it’s the home of “Innocence.” INNOCENCE (16 years).

Our home, although it is no palatial mansion, is “home.” The kitchen, like most kitchens, has a range, a sideboard for crockery, and is—well, it is a kitchen. The bedrooms, of which wo have five, are all that bedrooms should be. A bed, dressing-table, and wardrobe for the most part. Our dining-room, however, excels as a dining-room. It is not wonderfully panelled in mahogany and we have no Chippendale furniture, but the room has some cosy chairs, a writing table, a dining table, bookcases, a piano and some other oddments, and lastly a fireplace. A big fireplace which throws out a beautiful heat and makes the room all a diningroom should be. Now we will have a glimpse at the sitting-room. Some chairs, a table and a gramophone, together with a cosy fire make the room just like “home.” KAT (15 years). ROLL CALL : Gordon Sandri. STORIES BY THE JUNIORS. “MARY’S DREAM.” (By Country Maid, 11 years.) Mary, after a dreary day of examinations, lay dow'n on the nursery sofa. Presently she went to sleep and she had a dream. Her school books were hopping about the floor on legs, and they had arm 6 and a head apiece, too ! “Oil, dear me,” sighed the Arithmetic Book.’ "I do so wish the child ) would leave off marking my poor pages.” “You are not half so badly treated as I am,” shouted the Grammar' Book. “Why, I have got scribbles all over my pages, besides ” ' “Shut up 1” scoffed the Copy Book. “I’m worse than any of you. Look at me. I’ve got horrible writing all over my pages. “My troubles are worse than all yours put together.” It was the History Book that was speaking. “My pages are all finger-marked, and two of them are torn out,” puffed the Reader. “I am worse than any of you, sobbed the Geography Book. “I’ve lost my cover, an-an-and you d-d-d-don’t know h-h-how it is when y-y-y-y-you have no “I DO wish Mary would learn what we have to tell her without spoiling us,” said the Grammar. Ding, dong, ding, dong. . “Get back to your places,” whispered the Arithmetic Book. It’s 12 o’clock.” * * * *

When Mary woke she thought of her dream about her school books, and said to herself, “I will look after my poor old books in future,” as she was sorry for them. Thus it happened that her dream taught her a lesson.

“THE STORY OF A CANARY.”

(By Flowerette, 9 years.)

Two years ago a man gave me a yellow canary. I put Joey in a wire cage, which I hung up on the wall. Every cold night I brought Joey inside to 6leep. On cold days I took him inside, and he flew round the room. About twenty days latG.- a huge black cat came creeping up to the cage, and frightened poor Joey. When I woke the next morning I went out and found that Joey was dead.

“A SNOWY DAY,”

(By Bunny, 8 years.)

One morning when I woke up I dressed and opened the back door and looked out. It was snowing, so I ran out and got the spade and cart. I put the snow in the cart and made a big heap by the busm When we had finished our dinner we had a snow fight.

“TOMMY.” (Bq Norma McLean, 11 years.) A bright little lad stooped down to put a finishing touch to a neat, little garden he had made. “I wonder which flower mother likes best?” smiled Tommy, the little boy. Tommy had saved up all his pennies and bought a small vase and flower seeds. He decided to put a bunch of flowers in the vase and give it to his mother on the day of her birthday. He kept his garden tidy, till one day lie became seriously ill, and he died. Two weeks passed. when his mother found a little vase of flowers, and a little card hung on it—“To dear mother from Tommy, wishing you a happy birthday. “God bless his little soul,’ said Mrs Field, and she burst into teal's. The vase later was placed on Tommy s grave.

A STORY BY A SENIOR MEMBER.

“THE RATTLER.”

(By Ajax, 13 years). Dick Lawson lived in the small town of Rushbrook in Devon. He was an orphan. His father had been killed in the war and his mother had died soon after, and now Dick was alone in the world working for his living in one of the local motor garages. ; Dick’s one ambition was to become a dirt-track rider. He had bought an old motor-bike which lie called the “Rattler,” and he spent all his spare time fiddling about with it, but the fastest speed he had ever got out of it after all his hammering and tapping was about twenty-‘five miles an hour. Dick had also invented a carburettor which he said would get twice as much power out of a motor bike or car. He had tried his invention out on the “Rattler,” but it was not a success—there was something wrong somewhere. At last, after patient work, he discovered the small fault in his work that meant so much between success and failure. After fitting the carburettor on to the he wheeled his charge out on to the “track” behind the garage. This track had been a heap of cinders, but Dick after much labour had succeeded in smoothing out the cinders into a circle. He kicked the starter and with a roar the ‘Rattler’s” engine woke to life. Dick opened the throttle and with blaring exhausts the bike roared down the short straight. At the oorner Dick broadsided cleverly, his rear wheel sending up a shower of cinders as -t sought for a grip in the loose cinders. For three rounds Dick continued before he brought his machine to a halt outside the garage, his face wreathed in smiles at his success, for, in one part of the. run, his speedometer had registered thirty-three miles per hour. Weeks passed. No one ’Would have recognised the “Rattler” if they had seen her then. Instead of an old rattling machine, that looked fit for the scrap heap, was a low racing bike painted dark red with “Rattler” painted in black paint across the petrol tank. Dick was astride the saddle studying the morning Review,

and his gaze was concentrated on the following paragraph: — Speed 1 Thrills! Northshire Speedway, Wednesday evening. When the final for the Golden Helmet will be fought amongst these contestants: “Cyclone” Scott (Great Britain). “Speedy” Lawson (Great Britain). Johnny Matheson (U.S.A.) “Ace” Laroche (France). Dick, or Speedy, as he was known amongst the racing fans, thoughtfully folded the paper and placed it away inside his leather jacket. He started the bike and opened the throttle and the machine roaied towards the garage where Speedy was employed. It was Wednesday evening. The large stands around the track were packed with crowds of people all eagerly awaiting the commencement of the great race. Speedy was astride the “Rattler” talking to Ins chum Jimmy Valentine in the enclosure just before the start of the race. Crack! _ , “There’s the signal, Speedy. Good luck, old boy.” The four competitors were lined up and Speedy found himself next to “Ace” Laroche, the French crack, who was the favourite for the race. The flag slashed down, and with a thunderous road the four machines leaped forward, and, skidding and roaring, raced up the straight at forty-five miles per hour. Skidding! Slashing! Roaring! The exhausts bellowing a wild, mad song of speed. On they raced lap after lap. There were two machines ahead of Speedy, Cyclone Scott on one and Ace Laroche on ihe other, then crash! Cyclone was down right in front of Speedy. It seemed as though a crash was inevitable, but Speedy, seeing his danger, broadsided cleverly in a shower of cinders. The crowd held their breath. Would he escape what appeared to be a terrible accident ? A roar—and Speedy had passed the fallen bike. How the crowds cheered when they again saw Speedy roaring down the straight after the French crack, his machine hitting fifty. The distance between the Rattler and the French machine was rapidly getting less and less. Speedy’s patent carburettor was working well. At the next bend they were level, racing neck and neck. B-r-r-r-r-r-r, they were round the bend, and with exhausts belching flame and smoke the pair shot down the straight. How the crowd roared! “Speedy! Speedy! Let her rip, boy!” “Come on, Ace! Ace! Ace!” were the cries that came from the excited fans. But Speedy was in front of the Frenchman and he flashed past the flag a good two yards ahead of his opponent. He had won the Golden Helmet! The old “Rattler” had not failed him. With cheers that could be heard for miles around the crowd broke away and carried Speedy shoulder high before the judves, where he was presented with the Golden Helmet. Speedy was in his glory. He would not have changed, places with the King of England.

CRISPIES AND RIDDLES. Jones: ‘Which would you rather have, a million pounds or twelve daughters Smith : “Twelve daughters. Jones: “Why is that?” , .... Smith: “Because if I had amid.on pounds I should want more, but if I had twelve daughters it would be enough. * * * ' Magistrate: “You here again. I told you 1 didn’t want to see you again. Pickpocket: “I told the policeman that but he wouldn’t believe me. # * * * What is the difference between a cow and a weak chair? . One gives milk and the other gives way (whey). When is a wall like a fish? When it is scalcd ' (Sent by Soashell). What*pnrt of *you is like two Shetland ponies? Why, logs of course! When* does a*five pound note become valueless? When compared with a ten pound note it is absolutely worthless^ Can you tell mo which letter of the alphabet goes all round an island? C, of C >UI L ' (Sent by Norman Turner). Office Bov (mournfully, as vi9iting team scores 10th"goal): “I tbld the boss I was going to a funeral -and I was right. Husband: “I say, Alice, do you know where the dickens my shaving brush is. Wife: “Oh! my dear, I’m so sorry. I used it to enamel over the bath, iou li find it in a jam pot of turpentine down in the scullery.” - * * * * The school inspector had arrived to examine the i class. Pointing to one boy, he said. “You look intelligent Can you tell'me where Ben Nevis is ?” “No, sir,” replied the boy. I don t think he’s at tins t “I hope-there are no barking dogs in the adjoining flats.” “Oh no, marm: nothing like that. “Then I’ll take the place. You see, I ve two dogs of my own that bark all day, and I really could not stand any more. He :* “Do you*know I won four hundred pounds in the last month. To look at me you would not believe it.” She: “To hear you say it doesn t make me believe it either.” “How is it you know all about the Smith’s (private affairs?” “We looked after their parrot during their holidays.” “Johnny, Mr Brown tells me that when Basil gets home from school .he can repeat the lesson the teacher had given him. You know you can’t. Johnny: “Yes, but be lives ever so much closer to school than I do.”