“A story is told of an Irish soldier's adventure near the Waikato River, one night towards the end of 1863. Jack Murphy was on sentry duty outside the redoubt, when he heard a Maori pig grunting, and presently observed a big porker rooting in the fern. The pig gradually came nearer, and to the soldier it seemed an unusually large one—a big bush boar, he thought. Getting uneasy, he challenged, and, remembering stories of Maori tricks, he fired. He missed the pig, which next moment threw off its hide and leaped at him with a longhandled tomahawk. It was a naked warrior, who had adopted this old pigskin ruse of creeping up on an unsuspecting sentry. Murphy had no time to reload his muzzle-loading long Enfield. He tried to parry the blow, but the blade caught his left hand. The camp turned out, but the Maori had disappeared, and Murphy was yelling for some one to bring a lantern and find his thumb. The pig with the tomahawk had cut it clean off.”

This exciting story is taken from “The Romance of the Rail,” Book No. 1. (See competition prize-list.)

Here are two other extracts:—

“Kipling once saw Wellington and something of the back-country, as his poem, “The Flowers,” reminds us—

Broom behind the windy town, pollen o' the pine—
Bellbird in the leafy deep where the ratas twine.

For miles the outer hills and gullies where the bush has been cut away are golden with gorse and with the broom that took the poet's eye.” (Book No. 1.)

“The half-caste blend was a race that produced daring seamen, and the active young fellows of the Bluff and Stewart Island have no betters the world over in the handling of small craft.

You are reminded here, too, of the fact that you are at the southern end of New Zealand, cut by such quaint sights as a child walking down the street leading a tame penguin on a string. Now and again a sea-lion wanders into the harbour from the ocean.

This is the jumping-off place of expeditions to the far-south islands with their wonderful plenty of bird life and amphibious animals.” (Book No. 2.)

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Lolly Trains.

Christchurch has some strange trains, but they do not belong to the Railways! These ones can be eaten. They are made by two young girls who have recently started a home-made sweet shop. They are turning out fascinating lolly novelties by the dozen, ships, cottages, baskets of flowers, animals, and all sorts of things like that. The trains are made of liquorice, and look far too nice to be eaten. Perhaps those lickable, likeable, liquorice locos are made specially for such little people?

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Last week I had a letter from a schoolgirl saying that she and her chums had formed a secret society for solving local mysteries.

Who has not wished, at some time or another, that he or she could be another Sherlock Holmes? It is good fun imagining that you are a detective, and to observe every detail of each person whom you meet. Try training yourself to observe certain strangers so closely that months later you are able to give detailed descriptions of them. You will be surprised how alert your mind will become to small though important details, and how good your memory will be.

Observation has led to many of the world's greatest discoveries.

We often think of detectives as people with supernatural powers. Their almost uncanny knack of solving mysteries is really the result of having a keen observation. They have probably been playing detectives since childhood.

But! Remember why Sherlock Holmes was such a success! He did not let people know he was a detective. So do not forget and stare at strangers with open eyes and mouth whilst seeking your details and clues!

They must not have an inkling that you are a 'tec.

Oh, no! That would spoil all the fun, wouldn't it

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Gold Fish.

Sydney has a gold fish craze, and New Zealand is catching it. But instead of keeping the fish in everyday glass globes the latest idea is to have aquariums made like slabs of ice. Some are set in marble or plaster-of-Paris pedestals, in the form of icebergs, with polar bears looking longingly at the fish. Other aquariums are set in wells with small statues of girls drawing water from them. Best of all are the ones made like miniature lakes with funny little men and boys fishing with wee lines. One young ragamuffin has fished up a tiny old boot. He is also trying to brush a big black fly off his nose. The gold fish aren't a scrap frightened of these lines dangling down into their domains, and they try to nibble at the toy bait.

“Aquariums should be placed in a good light but not exposed to the sun's rays,” said Uncle Walker, of 1YA, at whose place I saw these quaint aquariums. “It is advisable,” he continued, “to place two or three fresh water snails in with the gold fish to keep the green slime away from the glass and also to eat up any surplus food. Gold fish should be fed page 15 sparingly on aquarium food. A fourpenny packet should last one fish for about three months. Over-feeding kills them.

“If the Italian water-weed, Vallisnaria Spiralis, is placed in the aquarium the water need only be changed about once every six months. This weed gives off oxygen, which the fish inhale, and it breathes in carbonic acid gas which the fish exhale. The plants keep the fish alive, and vice versa—a perfect balance. If these weeds are not procurable, the water should be changed every day or so by lifting out a cupful or two and replacing it with some that has been left outside for twenty-four hours to collect minute insects which the fish eat. These insects are only discernable under a microscope. River water is ideal, as it already contains hundreds of wriggling little insects and worms. These can be seen with the naked eye. Riverweed and duckweed are splendid for the fish, and make the aquarium look most attractive.”

I wish you could see Uncle Walker's fish. Such odd ones! There are funny North American cat fish with whiskers; telescopic gold fish with protruding eyes; and tiny carp, so small you can scarcely see them!

Next month Uncle Walker will tell you how to keep your dogs healthy and contented.

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