THE STORY OF HENRY HUDSON.
One of the most daring sailors the world has ever seen was an Englishman named Henry Hudson. His 
name 
will never be forgotten,
for it is written large on every map of the world. If you look at a map of North America you will
see several places named after him - Hudson Bay and Hudson Strait in the north, and Hudson River, on 
which stands the great city of New York.
Hudson left London in the year 1607 in a tiny ship, to find, if possible, a passage to China by the frozen 
seas of the north. In a fortnight 
he reached Greenland. The weather was thick
and foggy, and his sails and ropes were frozen ,by the great cold. Again and again he tried to force 
a way through the ice to find a passage. But winter was coming on, and, having been farther north than 
any one else, he turned homewards. Among other strange things, he told of the whales he 
had seen.
This led to the whale-fishing, which has since brought much wealth to Britain.
Once more Hudson set out for the north, and once more he returned without finding the long-sought 
passage. His sailors told a story of how they had seen a mermaid. She
came close to the ship's side, they said, and looked up at them. Her skin was white, her hair was 
long and black, and she had a tail like a porpoise. No doubt what they
really saw was a seal.
Hudson's third voyage was made in the service of the Dutch East India Company. At first he intended 
to search again for the passage to China, but he changed his mind and
sailed to the coast of America, where he discovered the river that bears his name. Sailing and rowing  
by turns, he went some hundreds of miles up the great river, and then once more turned his vessel 
homewards.*
 For the fourth and last time we find Hudson leaving home, this time taking with him his little son 
John. He was in command of an English ship called the " Discovery,"
which brought him safely to the coast of America. Contrary winds and icebergs drove him out of his 
course, and he sailed through an unknown strait into a great inland sea.
Both of these waters still bear his name - Hudson Strait and Hudson Bay. For days the little ship sailed 
on, but no way of escape from the ice-bound sea could be found. For
three months they tried, but all in vain.

* This took place in September, 1609. On the 25th September last - exactly three hundred years later - a 
great festival was held at New York in honour of Hudson's discovery of the river. An exact model of 
Hudson's ship was built in Holland, and was taken over in a cargo steamer to America to take part in 
the celebration. To complete her likeness to Hudson's ship, her captain and crew were dressed in 
costumes similar to those worn by Hudson and his men.

At last the ice broke up, and Hudson made up his mind to go forward. But food was very scarce, and 
the sailors rose in mutiny. " We would rather be hanged ashore than
starved aboard," they cried. So they bound the captain and his son, and placed them in a boat with 
seven of the crew who would not be false to their commander.

From a painting by the Hon. J. Collier.]
HUDSON CAST ADRIFT.

No news was ever heard of the little boat and its starving crew. The brave captain must have found a 
watery grave in the great inland sea which bears his name. 
And what became of the sailors who had treated their commander so cruelly? Not one of them could 
guide the ship as Hudson had done. Many of them died of hunger
and cold. Then the ship broke up, and the men that were left took to a boat. Day after day they 
drifted about on the sea, and at last, when all their food was gone, they
lay down in the bottom of the boat to die. A Cornish fisherman found them, all but dead, and brought 
them to England. But none of them ever recovered from the terrible
hardships they had suffered. They were indeed punished for their sin.

THE STORY OF TE RAUPARAHA.*
No doubt many of you have at one time or another journeyed by rail from Wellington to Palmerston 
North. After you have travelled about forty miles from Wellington you
notice, about three miles out to sea, a large island rising steeply out of the water. On this island 
are placed many of our beautiful New Zealand birds that are fast
becoming rare, and here they live safe from many of their enemies.
But Kapiti -for such is the name of the island - was not always the peaceful spot it is to-day. Between 
eighty and ninety years ago there dwelt on it one of the most warlike
of the Maori tribes, the Ngatitoa, ruled by the crafty and skilful warrior Te Rauparaha.
This great chief had been brought up at Kawhia, between Auckland and New Plymouth. But during a 
visit 
to the Manawatu district he had seen that the land was rich, and he hoped that muskets could be bought 
from the trading-vessels which often visited Cook Strait.

* Ra'-u-pa-ra-ha' (a as in far).

So he led his tribe south, and, after fighting many battles and conquering many 
tribes, he settled down at Kapiti.
The conquered tribes, of course, were very bitter against him. They gathered together a great fleet to 
attack him in his island home. They arrived very early in the morning, thinking to take
their enemy by surprise. But Te Rauparaha was warned in time, and, after a long and severe battle, 
completely 
overcame the invaders and drove them from the island. After the battle, Te Rauparaha
composed a song of triumph, the words of which seem, however, to have been lost. Thomas Bracken, 
one of New Zealand's greatest poets, has written the following
lines, which are probably very much like those that the great warrior himself composed:-
The Tuis came the Hawk to kill, Kapai!* Rauparaha!
And yet the Hawk is living still. Kapai! Rauparaha!
The Hawk can soar, the Hawk can fight;
The Tuis tried to stay his flight
The Hawk shall have a feast to-night. Kapai! Rauparaha!
Slaves should have but little words; Kapai! Rauparaha!
Little songs for little birds; Kapai ! Rauparaha! Little Tuis should not try With their little wings 
to fly
Where the Hawk is perched on high. Kapai ! Rauparaha!

* Kapai - Very good.
 
But Te Rauparaha was not satisfied with conquering a few neighbouring tribes. One of his chiefs, 
named Te Pehi, went to England, to buy as many firearms as possible;
and he himself bought a large supply from the whalers calling in at the island. When at last his men 
were all supplied, he set to work to carry out his great plan, the
conquest of the South Island, where he hoped to get large quantities of greenstone.

TE RAUPARAHA.

Now, there were many great and strong tribes in the South Island, far greater and stronger than the 
Ngatitoa. But they were armed only with the old Maori weapons, and what chance had they against the 
firearms of these fierce northern warriors ? So, when Te Rauparaha led his men against a large tribe 
that lived in the Marlborough district, he easily conquered it, and returned once more to his island 
home.
Another portion of this tribe held a strong pa at Kaiapoi,* about fourteen miles north of 
Christchurch. Te Rauparaha knew they had greenstone, and he made up his mind
to lose no time in finding an excuse for attacking them. So he once more crossed over to 
Marlborough, and marched down the east coast till he reached the pa. He found
that it was even stronger than he had expected. A swamp surrounded it on three
sides, while in front were two high fences and a deep ditch. So the cunning chief decided that the 
only way was to take it by treachery. He pitched his camp near by, and sent messengers into the pa to 
say that he wished to sell firearms.
But the men of Kaiapoi were not to be caught so easily. They invited Te Pehi and several other chiefs 
to come in to a great feast, and there fell upon them and slew them
all. When Te Rauparaha heard the news he was filled with rage and anger. He ordered all the Kaiapoi 
prisoners in his camp to be killed, and then went away back to Kapiti to form plans for a fearful 
revenge.
Soon after this he bribed the captain of a vessel to take him and his men to Akaroa, where the chief of 
the Kaiapoi natives lived. When the vessel arrived, the Maoris hid below decks, and the rascally 
captain asked
the great Kaiapoi chief to come aboard. As soon as he stepped on deck he was seized by his enemies, 
and carried back to Kapiti, where he was put to death in a most cruel way by the friends of Te Pehi.

For an illustration of the pa at Kaiapoi, see School Journal, Part II, March, 1909, page 22.

But Te Rauparaha was not by any means satisfied yet. Next year he advanced again on Kaiapoi, and, 
creeping quietly up to the pa, suddenly opened fire. There were
very few warriors in the pa at the time, and these were taken quite by surprise. However, they 
managed to beat back the Ngatitoa, and to send messengers to Taiaroa,
who was leading a large band of warriors back to his pa near Dunedin. Taiaroa quickly returned and 
made his way into the pa, to the great joy of the people of Kaiapoi.
Te Rauparaha was now almost driven to despair.  He called a meeting of his chiefs to talk over the 
best plan of attack. At last he hit upon the idea of burning down the
strong fences in front of the pa. Piles of brushwood were gathered and heaped up. During a strong 
wind these were lit. As soon as a hole large enough was made, the
fierce Ngatitoa burst in, and then began a massacre such as is seldom heard of ,even in Maori history. 
Very few escaped from the pa, and these were hunted down
without mercy. A great many prisoners were taken back to Kapiti; but, some years later, when the 
Ngatitoa listened to the preaching of the missionaries, they set their
captives free and sent them home. One of these missionaries was the son of Te Rauparaha himself.
Only a few years ago our late Prime Minister unveiled a statue on the ground where the old pa once 
stood. This statue, erected by the Maoris of our day, will ever
remind the people of New Zealand of the fierce struggle between Te Rauparaha and the warriors of 
Kaiapoi.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
THE BELL-BIRD AND THE TUI.
 Nearly all boys and girls who go out into the forests in New Zealand have seen the bell-bird,
which is often called by settlers the " mocking-bird," and is sometimes known by its Maori  name, " 
makomako " or " korimako." 

From Buller's " History of the Birds of New Zealand."]
BELL-BIRDS.

It is seen more frequently, perhaps, than any other native forest bird. It is small in size, being hardly 
any larger than a sparrow, and it has a bright greenish-yellow
plumage, and blood-red  eyes. Its chief claim to the regard of human beings is based on the charming 
song it sings. It sends forth loud, clear, and tuneful notes. When 
these are heard from afar they sound as if some person had struck a
hidden silver bell, and had set the notes ringing through the forest. Its song is best heard just as 
dawn is breaking, and the sun's rays are stealing over the tree-tops,
lighting up all the dark places, and calling birds and insects into activity after their night's rest.
When Captain Cook visited New Zealand one hundred and forty years ago, and his ship was in Queen 
Charlotte Sound, he was charmed beyond measure with the bell-bird's song. In his journal he wrote a 
few lines recording his, delight when, on awaking in the 
morning, he heard the singing of the birds. He says that they seemed as if
straining their throats to sing their best, and that he never heard such sweet melody.
During the summer the bell-bird spends a good deal of its time sipping honey from the flowers of the 
flax and other plants. It is both bold and tame, and when human
beings visit its haunts in the forests it seems to welcome their company.
In September a male and female begin to build a nest together. The nest is made of tiny branches and 
moss. It is lined with feathers, and is placed in thick branches of
trees, from 20 to 50 feet above the ground. Nests have also been found in hollow trees. At the end of 
September or early in October are laid four or five pinkish-white eggs,
with reddish-brown marks on them. The male and female share the work of hatching the eggs, and both 
of them feed and care for the young. When the young leave the
nest, the male often looks after them until they can take care of themselves. It is stated that a male bird 
has been seen to knock a young one from a branch because it 
would not take heed of his call to show that danger was near.

Block kindly lent by Tourist Department, N.Z.
TUIS, OR PARSON-BIRDS.

The bell-bird is often seen in company with its friend the tui. These birds are very friendly, and the 
bell-bird sometimes mocks the other bird's song, which has the same
ringing, bell-like notes. A New Zealand naturalist states that he thinks that in the whole wide world 
there is nothing more beautiful than the sight of a bell-bird and a tui, clinging and swinging in the 
sunshine on the brilliant red flowers of the rata-tree, or flying from bough to bough and sending forth 
their rich songs.
The tui is usually called the " parson-bird." This is because it has a tuft of white curly feathers 
on its throat, which look like the white bands worn by clergymen. Its
plumage is black, but has green tints, which catch the sun's rays and make a bright effect. It flies 
well, and twists and turns in the air as if it were enjoying life to the
utmost. It will dart through some low scrub to the topmost twig of the tallest tree, and will begin 
to pour forth a variety of strange notes. It is as great a mocker as the bell-bird. Sometimes, indeed, it 
turns the tables on its mocking friend by mocking it in turn.
The tui is protected by law now, and nobody is allowed to interfere with it ; but in former days it 
was often caught and caged, and caused much fun by trying to mock
cats, dogs, and other pets about the house. It is very courageous in its defence of its young, and 
attacks other birds with great skill, even when they are larger than itself.
The tui is not so plentiful as it was some years ago. It has had the ill luck to have very tasty flesh when 
cooked, and the early settlers killed large numbers of these birds
for food. Tui pie was, indeed, a favourite dish in nearly all households close to the forests. The 
Maoris, also, killed many tuis for food, and loved to have live ones as pets.
The Maoris imitated the bird's song. By that means it was induced to alight on a perch, and was then 
knocked down with a long stick. A skilful Maori fowler sometimes
caught as many as a hundred tuis in a day.
The nest is made of slender sprays, moss, and the down of the tree-fern, and is lined with pieces of fine 
grass. Usually four eggs, pale blue in colour, are laid at a time.

A GLIMPSE OF A CANTERBURY WOOL-SHED.
It is mid-December. The great plain stretches away eastward to the hazy sea, and westward to the 
rugged line of the mountains. High peaks stand out in the forefront of
the ranges, and through the opening where the Rangitata River runs there is a far-off glimpse of 
glistening heights clad in everlasting snow.
The station homestead lies sheltered by its plantations of gum and pine, and the long white road 
runs away northward till it is lost in the summer haze. From the station-yard the dust rises in rolling 
clouds, and there is a constant bleating of sheep and barking of dogs.
The big wool-shed, with its broad iron roof, stands out on the bare plain two hundred yards from 
the homestead. White, newly shorn sheep are in the small pens that are
arranged along either side, and flocks of sheep are being forced with much shouting to enter the 
shed from the back. From the front of the shed bales of wool are being
loaded on a wagon, and away across the paddocks we can see the mounted shepherds bringing in 
another stream of sheep.
Let us enter the shed and see what is going
on within. We will go down this side - the "board," as it is called - and see the shearers themselves at 
work. There are twelve of them in a row bent over their sheep, and
you can
hear the whirr of the machinery as the white wool rolls off. The shearer stands over his sheep, holding 
it with his knees, and it is only occasionally that a sheep struggles or gives any 
trouble. The clipping-machines are kept very sharp and bright, and each
sheep as it is finished is turned out through an opening in the side of the shed into the "counting-out 
pens " that we noticed before we came in.
There is very great rivalry among the shearers, and each one is trying to outdo the others in the 
number of sheep he shears. Big "tallies," as they are called, are
sometimes obtained, and one man is said to have shorn as many as three hundred sheep in a single 
day. As a rule, a hundred to a hundred and fifty sheep are shorn in
a day.
A shearer calls out " Wool away." That means that he has finished shearing a sheep. Now watch, and 
you will see the fleece come upon the table. A boy, very quick and
active, comes running with it held high up in his hands. It is only a shapeless bundle as he carries 
it, but he gives a little upward throw, and, as if by magic, the snowy
white wool is spread evenly over the wool-table. This is made of wooden openwork in such a way that 
the loose pieces of wool will fall through when the fleeces are
thrown upon the table and shaken. The little bits of wool that fall through the table are known as 
"locks." Around the table are the "rollers" - men whose duty it is to " skirt
" and "roll" the fleeces. To " skirt " the fleeces is to take from them certain fringes and outside 
portions of inferior wool, known as " pieces.'' These are put into their own
particular bins, and are packed separately from the rest of the wool. The hands of the rollers move 
with lightning speed as they pass round the fleece, which is then rolled
in such a way that the best wool - that of the shoulder - is on the outside.
Another bundle follows, and another, another. All day long,* from early morning until sunset, the 
white fleeces are thrown upon the table. All day long the fleece-pickers keep hard at
work, and the flying fingers of the rollers are busy in the snowy whiteness.
Behind the rollers stands the wool-classer. He is in many ways the most important man in the shed, and 
everything is done 
under his orders.
He handles each fleece after it is rolled,
and names the class to which it belongs. It is then taken by a boy to a number of men
who are busily working amid great masses of
snowy-white wool piled up on either side. The
wool is rolled in separate fleeces, and these are built
up according to their different classes in the great bins that rise from floor to roof.
One bin is nearly full, and the fleeces there stand in a great white wall, from which they will be
presently taken down and pressed in bales.
In the middle of the floor stands the press.
It consists of two large boxes placed one on top
of the other. After both boxes have been filled with wool, the fleeces are pressed into the lower one by 
machinery, and the bales are then
stitched up.
When the bale comes out from the press
stitched and finished, it is almost as hard as a
board. It must then be weighed and branded.
It is usual to put on each bale the name of the station, the class of wool, and the weight.
But what is the matter? Everything is stopping. The wool - classer has called out "Clear the board." It is 
12 o'clock, and that is the signal to stop for dinner. Across the
paddock shearers and shed hands troop towards the homestead. 

* A few minutes' rest is allowed every hour and a half or so.



There is plenty of talk and laughter, and all the men seem to enjoy the break in their long day of labour. 
In another hour the 
wool-classer will call " All aboard," and the shears will begin to fly
through the wool again.
As we come out from the shed we see the big wool-wagon toiling far along the road. By-and-by the 
wool will reach the port, where every bale will be further compressed by a process called " dumping."

From a photograph by the Tourist Department, N.Z.]
A WOOL-WAGON.

Then it will be put on board a ship* and carried away to England or elsewhere, and long before the next 
shearing-time comes round it may have passed through the looms of Leeds or Bradford, and in the 
streets of London or Glasgow people will be wearing the wool that the
sheep of the Canterbury Plain so lately carried on their backs.

* A considerable quantity of wool is used in New Zealand by the factories at Petone, Kaiapoi, Roslyn, 
Mosgiel, and elsewhere.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
THE FANTAIL, THE ROBIN, AND THE TOMTIT.
Perhaps the most engaging little birds in our forests are the fantails. This summer they have been 
seen in very large numbers in many parts of New Zealand, and those
who love birds will be glad to know that they are not likely to die out. They have been given their name 
on account of their 
fan-like tails, which they open and shut with hardly a moment's rest. They are very
hard workers. This is best shown when they are building a nest. A bough near the high bank of a shady 
creek is a place that is often chosen, because it is close to supplies of insect food. The fantail's nest is a 
wonderful piece of work. Slender chips of decayed wood, or pieces of coarse grass are secured to a 
spray by means pf cobweb or other material. Fine pieces of grass, roots, leaves, hair, moss, and wool 
are used for the main part of the work, which is gradually 
built up until there is a strong, tight little nest, the neatest that can be
found in the forest.
Fantails are so tame that they go into houses in search of flies, flitting about in the rooms and showing 
no fear whatever of human beings. The egg is 
white, with brownish-grey
spots towards the larger end. There are two kinds of fantails - one nearly quite black, the other black 
and white. 
The black one, although rare in the North Island, is often seen in
the South Island; a black and white one is
plentiful in both Islands.
The native robins are hardly less engaging than the fantails. They are not at all like the little robin 
redbreast of England. They are, in
fact, in no way related to that famous bird, which is known out here only by its pictures in story-books. 
They have a dull plumage, greyish-black in colour, with a small white
spot over the bill, and they have dark, piercing eyes, which shine like diamonds. They are very fond of 
company. When a noise is made in the forest, they will sometimes come
down to see what is the matter, and will bear the visitor company for some minutes, hopping on the 
ground or making short flights. 

From Buller's " History of the Birds of New Zealand."]
TOMTITS AND ROBINS.
I. South Island Tomtit. 3. North Island Robin.
2. North Island Tomtit. 4. South Island Robin.

They are tame, pert, merry, and cheerful, and, like the Old World robins, they have a great weakness 
for 
crumbs. There is one kind of robin in the North Island and another kind in the South
Island. The North Island robin has white on
its breast, and the South Island one has yellow.
The nest may often be found among the roots of a
 large tree near a creek. The eggs are dull
white, with brown spots. Both kinds of robins were reported
 to have almost died out some years ago, but
 it has been found lately that they are in
 larger numbers than was supposed, a fact which
 has pleased everybody.
 The tomtits may also be seen by boys and girls who spend a few
 hours in the forests. They are amongst the 
 very small birds, being smaller than
sparrows. Their plumage is black, and, just
 as in the case of the robins, those in
 the North Island have white breasts, and those in
 the South Island yellow breasts. They are very
 tame, and have been known to come down from
 the tree-tops to eat insects off a man's open 
hand. They are noted for the fierce battles which 
 are fought between them. Two males seldom 
 meet without fighting, their tiny, sharp-pointed 
 bills rattling together and causing
painful wounds. Moss, webs, rotten wood, and
 down taken from flowers are used for the nests. Three 
 or four white eggs with purple spots are
 laid, and both the male and the female bird help to hatch the eggs and rear the young.

NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY.
The fantails, which are fly-catchers, are divided into two species -  Rhipidura flabellifera (pied fantail), 
and R. fuliginosa (black fantail). Fly-catchers are found only in the Eastern Hemisphere. The two 
species are endemic to New Zealand, but the genus extends from India through the Malay Archipelago 
to Australia and Polynesia.
 The robins belong to a New Zealand genus, Miro, the North
 Island species being M. australis and the South Island species
 M. albifrons. The tomtits are in the same position, the genus, Petroeca, being found nowhere else. The 
white-breasted tit (North Island) is P. toitoi, and the yellow-breasted tit (South Island) P. macrocephala.

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
"Away, away! " cried the stout Sir John, " While the blossoms are on the trees;
For the summer is short, and the time speeds on, As we sail for the Northern Seas.
Ho! gallant Crozier* and brave Fitz-James!* We will startle the world, I trow,
When we find a way through the Northern Seas That never was found till now.
A stout good ship is the ' Erebus' As ever unfurled a sail,
And the ' Terror' will match with as brave a one As ever outrode a gale."
Since the days when Henry Hudson perished in the great bay which now bears his name, many lives 
have been lost among the ice and snow of the Far North. 

* Leaders in Franklin's expedition.

Among the noblest of those who have died in carrying out their duty in that lonely, dreary region, no 
name stands higher 
than that of Sir John Franklin. Though he was brought up to the navy,
and fought side by side with England's naval heroes at Copenhagen, Trafalgar, and other battles, he 
may well be looked upon as one of our greatest heroes of peace.
Franklin was known in our southern lands also, for he was Governor of Tasmania from 1836 to 1843, 
and 
in 1841 Lady Franklin visited New Zealand, calling in at Port
Nicholson. Before this he had been three times to the Arctic regions; and while he was Governor of 
Tasmania, strange to say, there arrived two ships, the " Erebus " and
the "Terror," which he afterwards commanded on his last voyage.
In all his ships Franklin gained the love and affection of his men. He was brave and courageous, and 
so thoughtful and so kind to his men that his sailors called his ship
" Franklin's Paradise."
 On the 19th May, 1845, he set out with his
two ships, the " Erebus " and "Terror," resolved to settle once and for all time the question whether a 
passage between the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans existed north of America.
All on board were in the highest spirits, for all
knew and loved their commander; a last farewell was waved, and the vessels disappeared,
never to be seen again. 
The ships had on board food for three years, so there was no anxiety when a year passed and there 
was no news of Franklin. But when a second year and then a third
had gone by, and the ships had not returned, and still no word had been received, people became 
afraid that something terrible had happened.
Lady Franklin offered a large sum to any one who would bring news of the missing ships. The English 
Government also offered a large reward. Ship after ship set out,
but found no traces of Franklin, his men, or his vessels. Larger rewards were offered, and Americans 
and others took up the search. But all was in vain, and hope died
as ship after ship returned without bringing any news.
It was not until 1854, nine years after Franklin had set out, that any traces of the missing men were 
found. Then an Eskimo was seen with a gold cap-band round his
head. Asked where it came from, he said, " From the place where the dead men were." Then he told 
that 
four years before some white men had been seen dragging a
number of sledges over the ice near King William Land, their ships having been crushed by the ice. 
The bodies of thirty men had been found, he said, and it was clear
that those who were left were too worn out and weary to bury them. This was the first news that 
reached England.
Even now it was not known what had happened to the expedition, so Lady Franklin herself fitted out a 
ship for the search. She bought a small steamer called the "Fox," and gave the command to Captain 
McClintock, who had already sailed the Polar Seas.
 On the 1st July, 1857, the " Fox " set sail.
She passed through Davis Strait and Baffin Bay
to Melville Sound ; but she became firmly frozen
into the ice, and for 242 days drifted hopelessly about. When the ice broke up she steamed
bravely ahead, and reached the spot where
Franklin must have spent his first winter (on
Beechey Island, near King William Land). Here
were the graves of three sailors from the "Erebus " and " Terror," and here McClintock erected the 
monument sent out by Lady Franklin, bearing the touching words, " And so He bringeth them into the 
haven where they would be."
McClintock steered south, but the summer was all too short, and during the long winter night
the " Fox " was again bound up in the ice. In the spring,
McClintock led out a party with sledges drawn by dogs and men. For many days they bravely travelled 
over the frozen snow without meeting a living soul. Then they saw four Eskimos, one of whom was 
wearing a naval button. When asked where it came from the Eskimo replied, "It came from some white 
people who were starved upon an island in a river."

LEAVING THE SHIPS.
From "Stirring and True," by Herbert Haynes.]

That night the searchers slept in a snow hut
built by the Eskimos, and next morning numbers
of natives appeared bringing things belonging to the dead men. There were silver spoons, buttons, 
knives, and other things taken from the bodies or from the boats or sledges. The natives also said that a 
ship with three masts had been 
crushed by the ice
near King William Sound.
" Many of the white men," they said, " dropped by the way as they went to the Great Fish River; some 
were buried and some were not."
At last the explorers were rewarded. Hidden under a pile of stones was a blue ship's paper which told 
the secret of
Franklin and his men - a secret for which the whole world had been waiting for ten long years.

FINDING THE SHIP'S PAPER.

At first the story was cheerful, and gave good news of Sir John and his crews ; but round the edge of 
the paper was another story, written in another hand. Two years had passed - Sir John Franklin was 
dead; the " Erebus " and "Terror," bound up in the ice for many months, had been left to their fate; nine 
officers and fifteen 
men had died; those
who were left were starting for the Great Fish River - that was all. Many other things were found - 
watches, blankets, instruments, and a well-marked Bible - all of which were carefully kept and brought 
back to England.
Amidst all the sadness of the discovery there was one thing that gladdened the hearts of McClintock 
and his party - the cheering news of' Franklin's success. The paper found under the pile of stones 
showed that 
Franklin had proved
that there was a North-west Passage; he had not sailed through it with his ships, but he had filled 
in the gaps left by
other men, and to him is due the honour and glory of the great discovery.

DRAGGING THE LAST BOAT.

ROUND THE BREAKFAST TABLE
THE WONDERFUL BREAKFAST.
Janie did not look very much pleased when her mother called her to help to get the breakfast ready.
"What a nuisance it is to have to keep cooking! " she said, as she stirred the porridge over the 
fire; "and then there is the horrid washing-up to be done afterwards."
But she did not look so displeased when they were all seated round the breakfast-table and she had 
eaten some nice porridge and milk, and a boiled egg.
Remembering what Janie had said, her mother turned to her with, " If you only knew, Janie, how many 
hundreds and thousands of people have worked hard to get you a
breakfast this morning, I think you would not have grumbled over your little task or thought it a 
hard one."
"Thousands of people!" aid Janie, opening her eyes very wide. "I do not know of any one who works 
for 
me, except you and father."
 "Oh, yes! they do," replied her mother; and Jack laughed, "There's a puzzle for you,
Janie." 
 "Well," continued her mother. "you think
you got the water for the breakfast this morning ; but all you did was to turn the tap.

A RESERVOIR.

Before you got that water, miles away men had to make a great place called a 'reservoir,' in which 
the water could be collected and stored; then great pipes had to be
laid from the reservoir to the town; from these, smaller pipes had to be laid, till at last the water 
was carried to every house. Then other men had
come to put on the taps and to lay pipes to carry away the waste water. Now, think of the men who 
made 
the reservoir, who took the iron from the ground, who smelted it, and who made the pipes. Then think 
of the men who 
built the ships, made the engines, and dug up the coal for the
furnaces so that the pipes might be brought to New Zealand. Then think of the men who made the taps 
and fitted them on, and you will soon see that you did not do
much towards getting the water for the breakfast.
" Then, to make the porridge we must have
 oatmeal, and to make the bread we must
have flour. And how many people do you
 think must
 have worked
 to procure
 these! The
 ground had to
 be ploughed,
 and sown,
 and harrowed,
 and the grain
 had to be
 reaped. To
 make the
 plough how
 many miners, smelters, smiths, woodcutters, sawyers, and
carpenters must have toiled. The leather of
 the harness for the horses had to be tanned
 and got ready for the harness-maker. Then
 we have the men who built the mill, the men
 who quarried the millstones, the men who
 made the machinery for the mill, and those
 who ground the oats and the wheat to make
 the oatmeal and flour. All you did, Janie,
was to stir the porridge and eat the bread."
Jack laughed, and, after looking glum for a moment, Janie had to laugh too.

Block by Tourist Department.]
HOW GOODS CAME IN THE OLD DAYS.

"But that is not all," her mother went on. " In far-off sunny China and India, people are busily at 
work gathering the leaves of the tea-plant, drying them, and packing them
ready to be sent to you. In other parts of the world people are planting the sugar - cane,
cutting it down, pressing it to get the juice, and making the sugar to sweeten your porridge and your 
tea. Think, too, of the men who are
getting salt and pepper for you, and think of the merchants, shippers, and grocers through whose hands 
they must pass.

Block by Tourist Department.]
How GOODS COME NOW.

"Then, nearer home we have the people who milk the cows, separate the cream, and
make the butter, and also those who, early in the morning, call with the milk, sweet and fresh for your 
breakfast. Then there are the cups, and the saucers, and the plates
that we use; and, as we do not eat with our fingers, we must have knives and forks. Then there is the 
table-cloth, and there is the table itself.
"So you see, Janie, that in all parts of the world men are working to provide you with a breakfast. 
By rail, by cart, or on the backs of labourers, the food we eat is
carried to great seaports, where the steamers lie waiting; on hundreds of busy wharves giant cranes 
swing their long arms ceaselessly, as truck after truck is emptied
into the great holds, where men strain and work sorting out the boxes and packing them safely away. 
When the last package has been taken on board and the last
hold has been closed, the whistles shriek their warning, and in the engine-room the men are obeying 
the captain's orders to ' stand by.' Another order comes, the
engines move, the stokers below heap up their fires, and ship after ship steams away, bringing you 
your breakfast."
 " Poor Jin!" laughed Jack. " I suppose she thought she got the breakfast for us."
" At any rate, Jack," said his father, " she did more than you; and I think you might have got the 
coal in for mother, instead of playing with Rover."

THE STORY OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE.
Could we peep back into the past between eighty and ninety years ago we should be able to see a little 
lad,
ten years of age,  working in a cotton-mill in a
small village near Glasgow. Before him is a machine on
which great, reels
of cotton are spinning as the
threads run from them to be woven into cloth. A thread breaks,
and the lad's nimble fingers tie the ends. He is kept very busy, and when work is over at eight o'clock at 
night he is quite tired out.

From " Last Journals of Livingstone."]

A year or two later we get another peep at him. He has grown bigger and stronger now, and the work 
does not tire him so much. He has still to tie the broken threads,
but he finds time to glance at a book that rests on the machine. The hum of machinery and the rattle 
of wheels does not seem to disturb him. Look at the book. You
cannot read it. The words are strange to you, for they are in the Latin language ; and yet the 
factory-lad can read and understand them.
You would think that when his work is over he will be glad to play about with other boys, or to go 
home to rest. But he is off to the village school, to pore over his
books till ten o'clock.
Surely he is tired out now, and will wish to go to bed. Let us peep through the window of his little 
home. His father is dozing before the fire. Creeping quietly in, the lad
glides to a bookshelf containing a few books bought with the savings from his small wages. They show 
by their well-thumbed covers how often they are read. They are
books of travel and books of science. His father wakes up and says, " At your books again, David. It 
is time you went to bed " ; and off he goes himself. But the boy
reads on, sometimes till twelve o'clock, or until his mother jumps up and snatches his book away.
And who was this lad? Well, he was David Livingstone, who grew to be so great and good that his 
name cannot even now be mentioned without stirring the love and
admiration of all Christian men. He was a true hero - as much a hero of the hot burning lands of Africa 
as Franklin was a hero of the regions of ice and snow. And, like Franklin, too, he
died at the post of duty.
When David grew older, and his wages were raised, he saved up all the money he could to attend 
classes in medicine at Glasgow during the winter. Then, when the classes were ended for the 
year, he went back to the cotton -mills to save money for the next
winter's classes.
At the age of twenty-five he went out as missionary to South Africa. He landed at Cape Town, and at 
once went inland to live among the natives. He had begun his life's
work, which was not brought to a close until
he
reached the age of sixty. He occasionally returned to England, but he spent the greater portion of 
his life in Africa. He travelled 29,000 miles - sometimes waist-deep in swamps;
sometimes on dry, sandy, sunburnt plains where his party almost died of thirst; sometimes on giant 
lakes he had discovered; sometimes up 
fever-haunted rivers - but seldom,
 if ever, out of danger. Many, many pages could be written about David Livingstone in Africa 
-indeed, many, many books have been written; but here we can tell only very, very little about what he 
did and what he saw among the African Negroes.
One day a lion tell upon the sheep belonging to a village in which he was staying.
Livingstone went out with the natives to help them to kill it. Suddenly it sprang upon
him from a bush, and, pinning him down with 
a paw, began to crunch his arm. A faithful follower ran to his master's assistance and shot the lion. 
Turning from Livingstone, the furious
beast rushed at the native, but fell down dead before reaching him.
Nor were some of the people of Africa more friendly than the savage beasts. Livingstone had married 
the daughter of another missionary, and with her help he had started a
school, to which over a hundred little native children went. When Livingstone was away on a short 
journey, the Boers, as some of the South African settlers were called,
attacked his home, destroyed his books, shot down many men, women, and children, and carried off 
many of the boys and girls to a life of slavery. This compelled
Livingstone and his wife to seek a new home farther in the wilds of the unknown country.
From the natives Livingstone heard of some wonderful waterfalls on the River  Zambesi. The blacks 
were afraid to go near the " Sounding Smoke," as they called it; but
Livingstone was not afraid, and, after a trying journey, reached the great falls in safety. A huge 
crack lay across the river's course, and into this, three hundred feet deep,
plunged the great Zambesi, more than a mile wide. The thunder of the water could be heard miles 
away, 
and thick clouds of spray rose high into the air. Livingstone called
these giant falls the Victoria Falls. As he did so, little did he think that in less than fifty 
years' time a railway from Cape Town would be made to them, and that a railway-
bridge would span the gorge down which the roaring waters swept.
But the noblest work Livingstone did was in helping to stop the cruel trade in slaves that went on in 
many parts of Africa. Many,
many a time did Livingstone see men, women,  and children, yoked together like animals, flogged and 
driven along with the greatest cruelty. It sometimes happened that his
party was strong enough to set the poor slaves free. They would be so tightly and heavily yoked
that Livingstone had to use a saw to cut the pronged wooden forks into which their necks were 
fastened.
Very, very terrible were the scenes he saw, and he wrote home pitiful letters urging people do all in 
their power to put an end to the cruel trade.

From " Last Journals of Livingstone."]
DRIVEN ALONG WITH THE GREATEST CRUELTY.

Roused by Livingstone's story, many other brave men pressed forward to carry on the work the 
unselfish Scotch peasant boy had
begun, and now slavery in Africa is
all but ended. Livingstone sawed through the first slave-stick in Central Africa, and
Gordon, Kitchener, and others broke up the strongholds of the slavers by their victories along the banks 
of the Nile.
Livingstone kept at his noble work till he was sixty years of age. He was completely worn out by 
toil, suffering, and sickness. Daily he grew weaker, and he knew that his
end was not far off. His followers, led by Chuma and Susi, who loved Livingstone as a father, did all 
they could for him. Day after day they carried him, in a pitiless rain
through swamps and across swollen rivers.

From "Tales of Travel, a First Book in Geography," by T. C. and E. C. Jack.]
"HE WAS KNEELING BY THE BEDSIDE."

When at last they saw the end was near, they bore him to higher ground, where with quick and skilful 
hands they soon built a hut. Then they lovingly laid him on a bed made
of boughs and dry grass, and covered him with a blanket.
It was a sad, silent party that gathered around the fire outside the hut that night.
At midnight the "master" called in Susi, and, after whispering a few words, sent him away. When next 
his men went in they
saw by the dim light of the candle that he was kneeling by the bedside; his face was buried in the 
pillow - the saviour of Central Africa had found rest at last. He had given
his whole life to his suffering fellow-men - not for money and not for fame, but because of the great 
love he felt towards them.
 Chuma and Susi talked over what was to be done. Their beloved master had come  from the far land of 
the 
great white Queen, not to make slaves, but to free them. He was a great
chief, and he must be taken home to rest in the land of his fathers.
Their plans were soon made. They prepared his body so that it could be carried to the coast, but his 
heart they buried under a
large tree, marking the spot with two posts and a cross-bar. When all was ready they  began their long 
march. Braving hardships, hunger, and thirst for their beloved master's
sake, they carried the body over hundreds of miles : not till nine weary months had passed were they 
able to give it to the care of the English settlers of Zanzibar. All his
papers,  property, and clothes were there, too, down to the very last button.
Livingstone's body lies in Westminster Abbey,
among the greatest in the land; but his heart lies where he wished it to lie - in the "still, still forest" of 
Central Africa, peaceful under the shade of the great tree on which has been carved "Here Livingstone 
died, May 4, 1873."

ROUND THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.
II. THE TABLE.
 When they were seated at breakfast the
morning after mother had spoken about the
wonderful breakfast, their father said, " I think
that this morning I shall  tell you something
about the breakfast-table."
"Why, father," said Jack, "there can't be much to say about a table like this."
" But there is a very great deal to say, Jack, as I think you will admit when I have finished.
" First of all, the wood from which most of our tables are made grows in New Zealand forests. The 
whole table may be made of kauri; sometimes, however, the top is of white-pine, and sometimes
the legs are of red-pine, which is used for the sake of its pretty grain.
" The home of the kauri is the forests in the north of New Zealand. It is the giant of our trees, 
and a noble and beautiful giant it is. It is this tree that produces the kauri-gum, a lump of which
cousin Tom gave you, Jack, when he was down last Christmas holidays."
"Yes, I have it in my bedroom now; and in the shops I have seen pretty ornaments made of it," said 
Jack.
"So they are," went on his father. "Men get it from the growing trees or by digging in the ground 
where the trees once grew.
" The white-pine is found in the swamps of both Islands, and its tall, straight stems often rise up 
without a single branch for seventy or eighty feet. Its wood is very light in colour. Though at one
time it was not thought much of, it is now greatly used for making butter-boxes, for it does not give 
any smell or taste to the butter.
"The red-pine is one of the prettiest trees of the forest The wood is red or yellow, and is so beautifully 
grained that it is much used in making houses and furniture.
" For ages these trees grew quietly in the forest, giving shelter to our native birds and making the 
landscape beautiful. The only men the trees saw were the Maoris ;
but of these they had little fear, as they had no sharp iron tools.
" Then came pale-faced men. Some made tracks through the forest, and after them came others with 
sharp axes and saws - the killing of the forest had begun.
" The trees were felled, and the branches were lopped off. Then the bare trunks were drawn on wagons 
or along tramways to the sawmill, where the shrieking saws
cut them into planks and boards. Then, by road, rail, or vessel, the wood was brought to the 
factories, where the men were busy with their tools and machinery,
planing the timber and making it up into all kinds of furniture.
"Let us now see how our table was made; and, as breakfast is finished, you may remove the breakfast 
things and take off the cloth.
" Look at the top of the table. How smooth and even it is ! You might think it is all one piece. But 
if you look very closely you will see two thin lines running the whole
length of the table. These lines show where the three pieces which make the top have been glued 
together.
" It sounds easy ; but it requires great care to make a good glued joint, for the edges must be 
planed smooth, and the glue applied thinly and carefully. Then the
pieces are put into a clamp to squeeze them together, and if this is well done the joint will be 
almost as solid and as strong as the wood itself.
" Now, Jack, help me to turn the table on its side. That's right. Here are the four legs, shaped and 
rounded into a pretty pattern."
" However did they carve them so nicely ? " asked Jack.
"Well, a square piece of wood about the length of the leg is placed in a machine called a 'lathe' and 
made to revolve very rapidly. Against it are held sharp tools which
quickly cut into the wood. Round and round it whirls, hundreds of times a minute.

From a stereograph copyright by Underwood and Underwood, London, New
York, and Melbourne.]
JAPANESE AT TEA.

A touch with the chisel here, a touch there, and soon the pretty knobs and rings begin to show.
" As you see, one end of each leg has not been rounded, and is still square. On these ends the top of 
the table is placed. Into them, too, you will see that the side
pieces and end pieces which make the frame have been glued.
" To further strengthen the table, little blocks of wood have been glued to the corners formed by the 
frame and the top.
" Now, if you have listened very carefully you have noticed that not a nail or screw has been 
mentioned. A good carpenter would not dream of putting either into a table of
this kind : he depends on the close fitting of his work and the strength of the glue."
" But how did people make tables before they had the machinery we have now ? " asked Jack.
" Long, long ago people had no tables," replied his father. "They used to sit on the floor, and the 
food was spread out before them. Later they used a few boards placed on
trestles. By-and-by, however, they made rough tables, but it was a very long time before they had 
tables so nicely made as those we have nowadays."

THE STORY OF THE "BOYD."
In the Wanganui Museum there may be seen many old pictures of the Maori wars, and curious things 
belonging to the history of old New Zealand. One of these things is a
plain piece of wood, below which is written that it was part of a spar of the " Boyd," and that it 
had lain under water for eighty-seven years. And this is the story of that old
ship, which was lost a hundred years ago.
About thirty-five miles north-west of the Bay of Islands is the beautiful harbour of Whangaroa. At 
the time of which we speak many Maoris lived there; but there were no
white men in New Zealand except a few whalers along the coast - men nearly as rough as the wild 
people with whom they traded.
It was in 1809 that Captain Thompson, of the " Boyd, " was sent from Sydney to get a  load of New 
Zealand timber. The vessel
had seventy Europeans on board, and also four Maoris, who helped to work the ship. One of these was 
Tara, a Whangaroa chief, who was called George by the white people.
The captain was a hard man, who had George flogged for laziness when he was, or said he
was, too ill to work.
Yet the captain was not afraid when he
put into Whangaroa and sent the Maoris shore to ask about the timber - he had guns and the Maoris had 
none.
We can imagine what George, still scarred with the lash, said when he went home. How
angry his father and friends were with the men who had beaten a Maori chief as though he were a slave 
!
George and some other natives soon rowed
out to the " Boyd," and quite pleasantly invited the captain ashore to choose the trees he wanted to 
cut down. Three boats from the ship were manned, and the captain and
chief mate rowed up the Kaeo River, several Maori canoes going with them.
By-and-by they landed, fastening up their boats, which were soon left high and dry by the tide. The 
cunning natives led them here and there through the bush, and
managed to separate them one from another. Then George, suddenly killed the captain with a 
tomahawk, 
and before the other white men could strike a blow in self-defence they were all murdered.
But the wicked work was only half-done yet. Dressing themselves in the clothes of the dead sailors, 
the Maoris rowed back in the boats. In the darkness of night they
reached the " Boyd," George calling out that the captain had stayed on shore. The supposed sailors 
swarmed up 
to the deck, struck the second officer dead, and cut down the crew one by one as they
came up from below. Five of the most active sailors, however, sprang past their enemies and climbed 
into the rigging, where they stayed till morning.
On the ill-fated ship were two women, and each had a little daughter with her. One of the mothers, a 
Sydney lady, was killed with the rest; the other was spared, with both the children. The cabin-boy also 
was spared ; he had shown some kindness to George on the voyage, and it was not forgotten.
The five men in the rigging were less fortunate. When day dawned they saw on the beach Te Pahi,* a 
good chief from the Bay of Islands, who was known to be a friend to Europeans. He readily
promised to protect them if they came down to him. But George was still angry, and Te Pahi had no 
one 
to help him, so the poor wretches were killed after all.
The plundering of the " Boyd " then began. The Maoris took all they could, especially firearms. While 
George's father was handling a musket he set fire to a keg of powder, which exploded, killing
the old chief and thirteen others. The ship took fire and burnt down to the water's edge. Afterwards 
her hull drifted to the shallow end of the harbour and stuck fast there.
Soon the dreadful news reached the Bay of Islands. Two brave Europeans came up from Kororareka, 
and boldly asked to have the four prisoners given into their charge.

This chief must not be confused with Te Pehi, about whom you were told in the February number of 
the School Journal.

From a painting by W. Wright, Esq., Auckland; by kind permission of the artist.]
THE BURNING OF THE "BOYD."

George gave them up unharmed, and all four were sent back to Sydney. George was never brought to 
trial; and the Maoris thought less of the English people for not
punishing the murderers.
Revenge was taken, however, but on the wrong people. A story got about that Te Pahi had planned 
the murders. A number of whalers, without waiting for proof, robbed
and wounded the good chief, and killed thirty of his people. Thus one wrong led to another ; and New 
Zealand was given a very bad name as a land of murderers and evil-doers.
The Whangaroa Maoris never throve after the murder of the " Boyd's " crew. The riches they got by 
plundering the ship tempted other Maoris to come and rob them.
Eighteen years afterwards a great chief, Hongi Hika, drove them all away from Whangaroa.
George never repented of his cruelty, but always lived in fear of being hanged. He was a sulky, 
treacherous fellow, given to drink, and was hated alike by Europeans and
Maoris.
He did not dare to touch the missionaries himself, though they lived near him; but when he was dying 
he ordered his brother either to kill or make slaves of them, as
payment for his father's death on the " Boyd." The brother was afraid to ignore a command which 
Maori 
law held it his duty to obey, but he took an odd way of obeying. He
killed a duck belonging to the missionaries, and said that the blood of the bird had settled the old score 
!
Such was law and such was life in old New Zealand a hundred years ago.

JAMES WATT.
Have you thought what the world would be like if we did not know of the power of steam? And yet it 
was 
not so very long ago when there was no such thing as a steam-engine,
all machinery was driven by hand or by such things as windmills or water-wheels. Many men had 
thought of the power of steam;
some had even made simple engines worked by it ; but it was James Watt
who first set about making the improvements that have made it so useful in our day.
James was born in 1736, at Greenock, in Scotland. Greenock is now one of the busiest ports in 
Scotland, but was then only a small fishing village, and in one of its 
little thatched cottages lived James Watt's father and mother. James was a
frail, delicate little boy, but he very found of drawing, and as he grew older he was fond of working at a 
small forge, blowing 
the bellows, melting the metal, and hammering it into different shapes. He was
very clever at making things, too, and used to surprise people by the models of cranes, pulleys, 
pumps, and other
things that he had made all by himself.
His parents, seeing that " Little Jamie," as he was called, had a clever, active brain and
skilful hands, did all they could to help him in the work he was so fond of. 

From the painting by Marcus Stone, R.A.]
JAMES WATT AND THE KETTLE.

When other people thought he was sitting idly dreaming
over the kettle as it boiled on the fire, his father and mother knew that the thoughtful boy was watching 
the steam turn into "water-dust," and was puzzling over " how " and " why " it should do this. But they 
did not know that from this
small beginning he would, years afterwards, make his greatest invention - the steam-engine.
When he was eighteen years of age James left his home, and went to Glasgow to learn how to make 
drawing-instruments. There he was unable to find any one who could teach
him more than how to mend fiddles and make fishing-tackle. So he had to make what was then a very 
long journey
to far-off London.
In London he was soon working ten hours a day at the workshop learning his trade, and then further 
long hours at
home in the evening earning some money to help his father. Such hours and hard work were too great a 
strain on his poor, frail body; but he
struggled bravely on for a year, fighting against his bad health, until he had learned
his work thoroughly.
Watt then returned to Glasgow, and set up a
small business of his own. Here he soon
became known as a skilful workman and a clever thinker. Men interested in science used to gather in 
his 
shop in the
evenings to talk with him, and to hear about the things that he had learned from the books he studied 
so diligently.
It was about this time, when our hero was twenty-three years of age, that he began to think about the 
power of steam - 
the steam that he used to watch and puzzle over in his boyhood. He read all that was then known about 
it, and he
tried hard to make little models of steam-engines.
At last he got a very poor model that some one else had made, and his dream was to correct its faults 
and turn it into
a great and wonderful machine.
For years he thought and thought, and tried and tried, until quite suddenly he hit upon the idea that 
would make the steam-engine workable and useful. Then, in an empty cellar near his house, 
he soon set to
work to build the engine he had planned.
Do not think that Watt's work was finished yet. The difficulties he had still to overcome were great 
enough to make
many a man lose heart. First of all, it cost a great deal of money to carry on the work, and Watt 
was only a poor
man, with a wife and two children to support. Then, he could not get good workmen to carry out his 
plans, and one
attempt after another failed because the work was not done quite correctly.
Still James struggled on, earning his living by making fiddles and other things, and by drawing 
charts and plans; but
every moment he could spare he spent at his engine. His wife was a noble, cheerful woman, who did all 
she could to
encourage and help him, bearing poverty and hardship bravely in order that her husband might carry 
out his work.
Unfortunately, she died at the most hopeless time, and sorrow, added to his other troubles, nearly 
made Watt give up
in despair.
It was just at this sad time in his life, when he was a disappointed man of thirty-nine years of age, 
that fortune began
to smile upon him. A clever engineer at Birmingham, named Matthew Boulton, hearing of Watt's 
invention, asked him
to bring his plans to his large factory, and have the work carried out by skilled workmen. You can 
imagine the inventor's joy at this offer, after all his trouble with bad workmen and want of money.
The two men soon became partners and great friends, and together they shared the burden and anxiety 
of completing
the engine.
There were still many difficulties in the way, but at last their efforts were crowned with the
greatest success, and all over England and Scotland people were hearing of the wonderful engines that 
saved so much
time and labour.
From this time James Watt's life was a very
happy and a very busy one. After he left off working at the factory he still continued to work and invent 
in his workshop at home, right up until the time of his death, in his eighty-fourth year ; and he never 
ceased adding to his large
store of knowledge.
What an example he set us in constantly making the best use of our eyes, our hands, and, most of all, 
our brains, in overcoming every difficulty that comes in our way! What a lesson in patience and 
unselfishness he taught us!
Well and nobly did this great man earn for himself the honour and the gratitude of his country.

WHAT MAKES A NATION GREAT?
Our hearts fill with pride when we remember that our country stands first among the nations of the 
earth. But we do not
always stop to think what it is that makes a nation great. It is not the size of the country, nor even 
the number of people
who live in it, but the people
themselves
If they are great, their country also will be great. If they are small in mind, without true courage, and 
only anxious about their
own comfort and safety, their country will be of little, if any, importance. The people of other lands 
will not pay much heed
to what that
country says or does.
Let us see what this means. Just before the Battle of Trafalgar Lord Nelson, by means of flags, made 
his last signal
to the fleet under his command. When men saw it, there went up a great cheer from every ship. This 
was the.
message: " England expects every man will do his duty."* That was all, and yet the simple words 
fired every heart
and nerved every arm, and a great victory was won.
Those men fought, not for themselves, but for their country. They knew that the honour and, it might 
be, the liberty of
England was in their keeping. They knew what their countrymen expected from them, and they proved 
worthy of the
trust placed in them.
After one of the great battles which our soldiers won when fighting against the Russians, they said to 
one another, "What will they say at home ? " They were surrounded by dead and dying comrades, and 
many of them were badly
wounded. The war was not over, and yet the chief thought in their minds was, "How glad our 
countrymen 
at home will
be when they hear that we have won this great victory."
Again, the steamship " Birkenhead," with nearly five hundred British soldiers and many women and 
children on board,
ran on a rock on the coast of Africa. The roll of drums called the men to the upper deck, and there 
they stood in order
as if on parade. The word was passed to save the women and children, and they were at once put into 
the boats.

*See coloured wall-sheet, "Two Men who did their Duty," and also other pictures forwarded to the 
school.

When they had all left the side of the sinking ship, the captain, seeing that the vessel
could not hold together much longer, cried out, "All who can swim, jump overboard and make for the 
boats."
"No," cried a Highland officer, " if you do that the boats with the women will be swamped."
Not a man moved and not a soldier flinched from his duty at that terrible moment, though they all knew 
that to remain
meant death.

"THEY STOOD FIRM AND FEARLESS."

Like the heroes they were, they stood firm and fearless even as the vessel sank under their feet. Not 
long ago a vessel
ran aground on the Goodwin Sands, off the south coast of England, and the watchers on shore rang a 
bell to call the men to the lifeboat. As the boat went forth on its 
perilous errand a
cheer rose from the crowd on the beach. When the wreck was reached it was found to be on the worst 
part of the
sandbank, and was being beaten to pieces by the angry sea.
The crew of the lifeboat knew that to go near was to risk their lives ; but said one, "We're bound 
to save them, daring all that men can do." As they drew near, their
boat was hurled against the ship and badly damaged. For a moment they were obliged to push away. 
Then 
again they went near, and took off the shipwrecked crew
one after another, and so saved thirty-four German sailors.
New Zealand, too, has her tales to tell of heroes who are worthy of being remembered. Some of these 
stories have been already told, in the Journal, but are well worth
telling again. There was Allan, the bugler boy, of the old war-days. Awakened by the Maoris creeping 
up to his sleeping companions at the Hutt, he raised his bugle in
his right hand to sound the alarm. A fierce blow descended, and the bugle fell to the ground. Still 
determined to do his duty at whatever cost, he raised the bugle in his
left hand, and roused his comrades, even as a second blow fell and laid him low.
Then there is the story of Julia Martin, the New Zealand Grace Darling, who saved the crew of the 
"Delaware " when she was wrecked near Wakapuaka. Through the
dashing waves Julia swam out towards the vessel, and seized a line thrown by the sailors. Then 
turning she fought her way back, and made fast the line, and along it
the crew crept one by one to safety.
Then, again there were Mrs. Hope and Mrs. Jacob, who so nobly helped the women and children, 
cheering 
them and fixing lifebelts round them while the " Penguin "
was sinking under their feet in Cook Strait last year. 

From a painting by H. C. S. Wright, reproduced in the "Illustrated London News."]
THE LIFEBOAT TO THE RESCUE.

And there is, too, the never-to-be-forgotten story of Annie Macquaid, who, when the "Wairarapa " was 
wrecked in 1894, took off her own lifebelt and fastened it round a
little child that was clinging to her, and who kept on speaking words of cheer and comfort till she 
was swept away into the darkness of the night.
This land of ours has been settled and made pleasant for us only by the heroism of those who came to 
it in the very early days. Think what it meant for them to leave
their homes and friends in the Old Country to make new homes for themselves in the great silent bush. 
Many of them suffered the greatest hardships, and some even
lost their lives while trying to find out what our country contained. And even nowadays how many 
stories do the newspapers tell of men and women who risk their lives
for others in bush-fires, mining accidents, and when people are in danger of drowning!
Without such a spirit of courage and self-sacrifice it would be useless for us to expect to keep the 
freedom we now enjoy, for we learn from history that as soon as the
people of a nation become selfish and lazy, and do not do what they know to be right, that nation 
loses its freedom, and is soon trodden on by other nations.
The chance to do great things is given only to a few, but all can do their duty, whether boy or girl, 
or man or woman ; and if each person in an empire does his duty,
then that empire is safe. It is by this sense of duty that the British have made their country esteemed by 
the other nations of the world. " Duty first " is the motto of every lover of his country.
_Adapted from "The Commonwealth School Paper."

THAT'S NOT THE WAY AT SEA.
On the 22nd December, 1875, the British training - ship " Goliath" was lying in the River Thames. 
On board were nearly five hundred little boys taken from poor
homes in London and sent on board to be trained as sailors - boys of seven, of eight, of twelve, of 
thirteen.

From Nelson's " Royal Reader."]

Early in the morning the ship suddenly caught fire, and was soon ablaze from one end
to the other. The boys "behaved like men," as the captain said. There was no crying, no screaming, no 
flying about in confusion, but each one went to his post. When it was found that the ship
could not be saved, the captain ordered those who could swim to jump into the water and swim ashore, 
and some he ordered into the boats.
Others were still on the ship while the flames kept spreading. Yet they thought more of the safety of 
their kind captain than they did of themselves. One threw his arms round the captain's neck and said, " 
You'll be burnt, captain" ; and another said, "Save yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them 
the best of 
all lessons for that moment. He said, "That's not the way at sea."
Those little lads quite understood what he meant - to meet danger bravely when it comes, and to look to 
the safety not of oneself, but of others. The captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but 
he also knew how to teach it to the boys under his charge.
-Adapted from a sermon preached by Dean Stanley.

THE MAN-O'-WAR'S MAN.*
The man-o'-war is steaming over the sea, lifting and rolling in the waves. Behind her streams the 
smoke from the 
funnels and the
white foam thrown up by the
spinning screws, or propellers, as they are more properly called. Though the stars in the sky still 
tell that it is
night, in the east there are signs of the coming dawn.
On the vessel's bridge the officer on duty paces backwards and forwards, and the steersman holds the 
small brass steering-wheel. 

The pictures illustrating life on board the battleship "New Zealand" should be used to illustrate this 
article.

In the bows there is a look-out man, just as in a merchant steamer.
Right in the stern, another look-out paces in soft felt slippers. He wears these because he walks on 
the deck that is above the sleeping officers, and the tramp of
heavy boots would disturb them.
This sentry has a special duty. On each side of the ship at the stern is hung a lifebuoy with a tin 
containing chemicals fastened to it. When a man falls overboard, the
cry " Man overboard! " is raised, and the sentry at once pulls a cord, which causes the lifebuoy to 
fall into the sea. As soon as the chemicals touch the water, a blue
flame bursts out and continues to burn. The man who has fallen overboard is then able to see where 
the buoy is, and the men in the lifeboat, when it is lowered, know
in which direction to row to rescue him.
It is growing lighter now in the east. The tall funnels and the guns are more clearly seen. The red 
and green lights in the front part of the ship and the light up on the
mast are put out. Then just before 5 o'clock shrill whistles break the quiet, and the order is 
shouted, " All hands lash up and stow hammocks! "
In the place where the men sleep in hammocks slung from the ceiling a scene of bustle presents 
itself. In a few minutes all the hammocks have been rolled up, and
then the men rush up on deck and stow them away in nettings. When the ship's bells toll the hour of 5 
o'clock, a basin of cocoa is served to each man.
Then the bluejackets begin work, and the rising sun finds them scrubbing down the decks and cleaning 
the boats. Next, the watch on deck turn their attention to the
brasswork, and polish it till it blazes in the morning 's glow. While they do this, the men below are 
tidying up the mess-deck, where the hammocks were slung.
" Clean guns!" the bugle calls. The big guns and the small quick-firers are all cleaned till there is not a 
speck of dirt on them, and as the men rub and polish, the
warship's band plays well-known tunes.
At 8 o'clock the colours are hoisted. Every
man on deck faces the stern of the ship, and salutes with hand to cap as the White Ensign, the flag 
which only British warships are allowed to fly, is run up and "broken out " to flutter in the breeze. The 
band plays " God save the King," for that flag is the 
naval flag of England, and this is one of the King's ships. The bugles are
calling again. The order is "Cooks! " - that is, the cooks are to prepare to serve breakfast. At a quarter 
past 8 the orders " Breakfast! " and " Hands to clean! " ,are 
given. The men are allowed three-quarters of an hour in which to take
their breakfast and to tidy up afterwards, for everywhere on a British man-o'-war everything is kept 
very clean and tidy.
After breakfast there is an inspection of the
men and of the ship, and prayers are said. Then the men set about their different duties, or attend 
classes of instruction.
Down in the engine-room there are two spinning
propeller-shafts, which are driven by the great engines. These are attended to by skilled
engineers, while in the stokehold the firemen and
trimmers carry coal and feed the furnaces.
A warship's engine-room is deep below the
level of the sea, and the coal is carried in bunkers which are built between the engine-room and the 
ship's side. Should a shot chance to strike the vessel beneath the water-line, the coal helps to protect the 
engines and boilers.
Across the bright blue seas the man-o'-war is speeding - a floating city with men ready and alert 
whenever they are needed, and day by day carrying out their round of
duties.
During the day the watches change every four hours, as in a merchant steamer. As evening comes, the 
men on deck put on warmer uniforms.
Half past 7 is supper-time. At 8 o'clock hammocks are slung. At 9 o'clock an officer makes the 
rounds, visiting each deck to see that all is safe for the night. At 10 o'clock the bugles " pipe down," 
and every man who is not on duty turns in.
The hammocks are soon swinging beneath the weight of the tired men, who sleep the healthy sleep of 
the sailor. And no matter how much the ship may roll, the
hammocks never touch one another; they always swing together, and clear of one another. When the 
watches change, a boatswain's mate picks his way carefully
among the sleepers and quietly wakens the men who are to go on watch. Very quietly they tumble out 
and dress, for it is considered very wrong to waken men whom
there is no need to disturb.
So towards another dawn the man-o'-war steams, her guns covered up, her engines not running at their 
greatest speed. Yet at the signal for battle her men would leap to
their battle-quarters. In a few minutes her decks would be cleared for action, and her guns run out, 
while her engines would drive her onward at their topmost speed.

KING EDWARD THE SEVENTH.
On Saturday, the 7th May, people in New Zealand received the sad news that King Edward VII was 
dead. 
Telegrams since received show how widespread has been the sorrow and regret over the sad event, and 
how deep has been 
the sympathy with the Queen and the Royal Family, not only
throughout the British Empire, but over the whole world. The King died a quarter of an hour before 
midnight on Friday, the 6th, according to the time in England, but in
New Zealand the time
was a quarter past eleven on the morning of Saturday, the 7th. The news was therefore
widely known throughout New Zealand whilst most people at Home were quietly asleep in their beds, 
not 
knowing that the great King passed away.
King Edward died at Buckingham Palace,* London, where he was born on the 9th November, 1841.

See card No. 14 of the series "Geography of the British Isles."

KING EDWARD VII AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA.
KING EDWARD VII AS A BOY SALUTING THE FLAG AT WINDSOR CASTLE.

He was therefore over sixty-eight years of age at the time of his death. He was the eldest son of Queen 
Victoria and the Prince Consort, as her husband was called. When he was about a month old he was 
made Prince of Wales.
The good Queen Victoria and her husband took great care that the education of the young Prince of 
Wales was such as would fit him for his Royal position. Up to the age
of eight he was taught by a lady of high rank, and afterwards by two very learned men who acted as 
his tutors. He then went to Edinburgh, Oxford, and Cambridge to study.
As a young man the Prince travelled widely, visiting Ireland, Italy, Spain, the United States, Canada, 
France, Egypt, the Holy Land, and India.
In 1861 his father, the Prince Consort, died. After a period of retirement from public affairs the Prince 
assisted his Royal mother in her many public duties.
In 1863, when he was twenty-two years old, he married Alexandra, the daughter of King Christian of 
Denmark, and from the day of her arrival the beautiful Princess of Wales won the hearts of all by her 
kind and gentle nature.

From " Tour of the Prince of Wales."]
KING EDWARD VII IN INDIA.

KING EDWARD VII, KING GEORGE V, AND PRINCE EDWARD, THE ELDEST SON OF KING 
GEORGE V.

In 1869 the Prince was struck down by fever, and the doctors said there was no hope his recovery. To 
the great joy of the nation, however, the danger passed, and, soon as the Prince was strong enough to 
attend, a National 
Thanksgiving
Service was held at St. Paul's Cathedral.*
On the 22nd January, 1901, Queen Victoria died, after the longest and most eventful reign in British 
history, and the
Prince of Wales became King, with the title of Edward the Seventh. He was to have been crowned on 
the 
26th June of the following year, and great preparations were made in honour of the event. Two days 
before the 
appointed day the
whole Empire learned with sorrow that the King was seriously ill, but the welcome and joyous tidings 
that all danger
had passed was a few days afterwards flashed over the deep-sea cables. On the 9th. August he was 
crowned King in
Westminster Abbey, amidst great rejoicings.
During his reign of nine years, Edward VII endeared himself to his people in all parts of the world. 
His good sense and his courtesy did much to strengthen the friendly feelings between Britain and other 
nations, and he 
was often called
the "Peacemaker." The promise he made when ascending the throne was well kept: " I will, with God's 
blessing,
work for the promotion of the common welfare and security of the great Empire over which I have now 
been called upon to reign."

Lives of great men all remind us
 We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of Time.

* See card No. 5 of the series "Geography of the British Isles."  See card No. 11 of the series 
"Geography of the British Isles."

THE FIRST PRINCE OF WALES.
More than six hundred years ago Edward I led his troops against the Welsh, with whose
ruler, Llewellyn, he had quarrelled. After a stubborn resistance and the Welsh were defeated, and 
Llewellyn was slain
In order to gain favour with the Welsh chieftains, Edward promised to give 
them a prince who could not speak a word of English, who had led a blameless life, and who had been 
born on
Welsh soil.
Pleased at the thought of having a Welsh prince, and wondering who it could be, the chieftains obeyed 
the King's 
command to meet him. When all were assembled, in walked the King carrying his own son, who had 
been born at Carnarvon
Castle a few days before. "Here," said he, "is your prince"; and since that time the eldest son of the 
Sovereign has
borne the title of Prince of Wales.
In this way also was fulfilled an old Welsh prophecy which said that when English money
became round a Prince of Wales would be crowned in London. Before the time of Edward, the penny 
had 
been deeply
stamped with a cross, so that it might be easily broken into halfpence and farthings. Strange to say, 
Edward I forbade
the penny to be cut into halves and quarters, and actually introduced the round coin. Thus did the 
prophecy become
true, though not in the way the Welsh expected.

The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight.
 
HONGI.
Nearly one hundred years ago the greatest man in the north of old New Zealand was the Ngapuhi chief, 
Hongi Hika,
whose name was the terror of the Maori tribes from North Cape to Poverty Bay.
Yet Hongi, the man of many wars, appears largely in New Zealand history as the friend of the great and 
good missionary, Samuel Marsden.
Even in his worst days he was still the protector of the men
Mr. Marsden sent to preach Christianity.
So highly was  Hongi
thought of in Sydney* that when magistrates were first appointed to
New Zealand he was one of them. With his nephew and friend, the noble chief Ruatara, he was Mr. 
Marsden's guest
in Sydney, and both sailed with him on his first mission to New Zealand.
Ruatara had received much kindness from Mr. Marsden, and so he took the lead in gathering together 
the savage
Maoris who heard the first sermon in New Zealand, preached on Christmas Day, 1814.

New Zealand was at that time a dependency of New South Wales.  
See Part 1 for March.

It was Ruatara, too, who translated into the Maori language those words of peace 
and good
will, so strange to the minds of his friends.
Hongi was that day a listener, and so was the sullen George, a Maori who, five years before, had 
caused the murder
of the crew of a vessel called the " Boyd." Very different were Hongi and George, however.
Hongi Hika was at this time a slightly built but handsome man. At all times, except in war, he was 
noted for his mild
and pleasing manners, and for his affection towards his family and friends. He was, moreover, very 
fond of children. 
Though a chief of wealth and high birth, he never thrust himself forward in company. He was a good 
speaker, and was
skilled in Maori carving. The picture of Hongi on page 72 is taken from a carving he made of himself. 
He was
respected by Europeans for his honesty and good sense. When other Maoris pulled up the young corn-
shoots to see if seeds grew at the roots, Hongi and Ruatara waited patiently, and reaped the first grain 
grown in New Zealand.
But soon the good Ruatara's reaping on earth was done. He died in 1815, first charging his uncle to 
protect Mr.
Marsden's missionaries. The promise made was never broken. Hongi sold Mr. Marsden land at 
Kerikeri, 
near his own
home, and on that the first mission-station was built. But Hongi, though friendly to the 
missionaries, never became a
Christian.
Hongi saw that the old day of the Maori, with his old-fashioned axe and spear, was gone; guns meant 
power, and guns he would have, for Hongi wished to be a great man among his people.
With this idea in his mind he went to London in 1820, accompanied by another native, and a 
missionary, Mr. Kendall. Hongi became the hero of the hour. George IV was
pleased with him, and gave him costly presents. The greatest people in England showed him kindness. 
At Cambridge he stayed some time, helping Professor Lee with
the first Maori grammar.
When Hongi came back to
Sydney he quietly sold all his presents, except a suit of armour
 the King  had
 given him, and
 bought guns.
 This armour he
 kept, and it was
 regarded with
 fear and admiration all over the
 North Island.
 After Hongi died,
 very few  knew where the armour was.

HONGI'S ARMOUR.

 But a short time ago it was brought to light,
and is now in the Museum at Wellington.
When Hongi landed in New Zealand, he found a relative of his had been killed at Mercury Bay. Hongi 
at 
once declared war on the tribe that had done this, and armed
three thousand men. A dreadful battle was fought at the Firth of Thames; the opposing Maoris wore 
simply mowed down by Hongi's terrible guns, and he took back a thousand prisoners to death or 
slavery.
 Seven terrible years followed. From 1821 to  1827 Hongi's wars filled the Auckland Province  with 
bloodshed and misery. In battle every trace of his former gentleness
seemed lost in his eagerness to conquer. He had seen that there was but one King in England, and he 
dreamed of becoming the King of all New Zealand. He was a
clever general, and hardly ever lost a battle. After a victory he would return with hundreds of 
slaves, and far away the missionaries  would stop their ears as the frightful 
yells of the cannibal feast came along the water.  Now Hongi was sweeping away the natives of the 
North Cape; now he was attacking those on the coast down about
Poverty Bay ; then he would be fighting the powerful tribes along  the Waikato River. Mokoia, an 
island 
in Lake  Rotorua, was the scene of one great massacre;  Tamaki
was the scene of another. It was a dreadful time for New Zealand, because three
other great warriors - Te Waharoa, Te Wherowhero, and Te Rauparaha - were fighting in other parts of 
the Island.
But Hongi's day was short. Some of his family grieved him greatly by ill conduct; others met sudden 
and violent deaths; Turi, his favourite wife and most trusted adviser,
died. He grew to hate the place where he had suffered such sorrow, and removed from the Bay of 
Islands to Whangaroa, where the Wesleyan mission fled from before him. It was then that the natives 
who had killed the " Boyd's " crew were
at last driven from their lands. All through these years he had shown some signs of his old better 
nature. He kept his word ; he often freed his slaves, and sent his prisoners home with gifts. His 
children, too, attended 
the mission schools.
Like Richard Lionheart, the great Hongi got his death-wound in an unimportant battle. When he was 
fighting with some of his own people a musket-ball passed through his
body, and, though he lingered on for thirteen months, he could fight no more. The missionaries, who 
knew him well in those later days, saw much to like and respect in him,
and lamented his death.
He died early in 1828. He left orders that no slaves should be killed at his death, nor any revenge 
taken on the people who had shot him. The missionaries had done
nothing but good, he said, and they were always to be protected. His last words were a charge that 
his people should always be brave, and defend themselves against their
enemies.
Hongi was never King of New Zealand. Yet, considering the time in which he lived, there was much 
that was kinglike in this old Ngapuhi warrior.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
THE KEA.
Are there many New Zealand boys and girls who have not heard or read about the kea - the mountain-
parrot that has become so much talked of because of his cruel
attacks on sheep ? Yet, even if you do know something of the kea, you may be glad to learn a little 
more about him.
Those of you who have not seen the kea may know the kaka - a bird he is not unlike in appearance but 
is very unlike in other ways. The kaka is harmless, and therefore is
protected by the law, while the destructive kea  has a price upon his head. In some districts in which 
keas are found, County Councils pay half a crown for a head, and the
Government pays an additional sixpence. Sheep-owners, enraged at the number of sheep they have 
lost, have paid as much as ten shillings for a head.
The kea is a South Island bird, and is found only among the mountains of Southland, Otago, and 
Westland. He seldom comes down to the plains, for he loves the wild,
rugged country. There he may be seen flying about the glaciers and snow-clad peaks, or haunting the 
dense 
bush in search of food.
Before the white man came, the kea lived on berries, or, at most, on insects. With the white man came 
the sheep. We cannot say for certain how the kea first came to
attack the sheep, but attack them he did, and he has continued to do so to the present day. Alighting 
on the back of a sheep, he clings
with his claws to the wool, and digs his strong bill through the skin and into the flesh. The poor 
creature may live for several days with
the horrid, painful wounds in its back.
Yet there is much in the kea that would endear him to us if it were not for his cruelty, for he is an 
amusing and attractive bird. He is full of mischief, and is so fearless that he
seems to be naturally tame.
The young birds are easily tamed, and, like other parrots, can be made to imitate the
human voice. If a person comes across a flock of young keas and keeps quite still, they are so 
friendly that they will
come up to him, walk round him as if asking " What sort of featherless creature is this? " and even 
peck at his
clothes as if to find out what curious covering he has got on.
The kea does not like captivity, however, and wonderful stories are told of his escapes. Once a kea 
was caught and placed under a bucket turned upside down.

From a painting by George Sheriff.]
THE SHEEP-KILLERS.

Pushing his beak into the space between the rim of the bucket and the 
floor, and using
his head as a lever, he raised the bucket and escaped. Another prisoner ate his way out of a wooden 
cage. With his
powerful beak he performed some wonderful feats of carpentry, and chiselled his way to freedom.
At the Ball Hut, on Mount Cook, keas have kept visitors awake at night by walking up, the iron roof 
and then sliding down and falling off the edge with shrieks and screams. They have even 
been seen
following one another in line down the roof on feet and tail. When they reached the edge they fell 
off and then flew
away, as madly delighted with the game as
children are when they roll or slide down sandhills near the seashore.
On one occasion the shepherd on a sheep-run in Canterbury closed up his hut because he was going 
away for a few
days. On his return he was surprised to hear something moving about in the hut: it was a kea that had 
flown down
the chimney. The bird had made himself quite at home, and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Blankets, 
bedding, and
clothes were torn and rent; pannikins and plates were scattered about; and everything that could be 
broken had been
broken most carefully. Even the window-frames had been attacked with the greatest diligence.
Though the kea is so fearless and venturesome, the female is careful to place her nest in a deep cleft or 
crack on the
steepest cliff, or in some other out-of-the-way place, where few men are daring enough to climb to 
it. The eggs are
white and about the size of those of a pigeon, and the female, while absent from home, has little 
fear of their being
stolen: there are very few schoolboys where the kea lives.

[NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY - The kea belongs to the order Psittaci, which includes all the 
parrots and parrakeets. The kea and the kaka, which are much alike, form the genus Nestor. This name 
was given first to the kaka, on account of its grey head. The kaka is Nestor meridionalis, and the kea is 
Nestor notabilis. The kakapo
(Stringops habroptilus) is the only other New Zealand parrot, but there are several species of 
parrakeets.]
 
WATER.
You know that we all require water to drink. We can do without food for some time, but we cannot do 
without water, for thirst is much more painful and distressing than
hunger. About two-thirds of our body consists of water. As this is always being given off by our 
breathing and through our skin, it must be replaced by water taken into the
body.
Water quenches our thirst, and is our natural drink. Water is also taken into the body in the food we 
eat, especially in fruits. If we feel thirsty, we can get relief by eating
apples, pears, bananas, or such fruits as oranges and melons, which contain a great deal of water.*
Water helps to turn the food we eat into a liquid state, it helps to carry the food into the blood, 
and it helps to carry this food in the blood to all parts of the body. Water also
aids in carrying away the worn-out portions of the body. It thus not only builds up the body, but it 
carries away the rubbish. You see, therefore, that water is a most
important part of our food.
Some people, however, drink liquids that contain a great deal of spirit or alcohol. This alcohol does not 
do the good that water does. It does not quench thirst; it causes
thirst. It does not aid digestion; it hinders digestion. It does not assist in carrying away the waste of the 
body; it helps to keep this in the body. Alcohol thus prevents the
organs of the body from carrying on their proper duties, and the person who takes much of it will soon 
become ill-nourished and unhealthy.

For illustration see Part III,  March, 1910, page 61.

CHILDREN IN THEIR GARDENS AT RIWAKA SCHOOL, NELSON.

KING GEORGE THE FIFTH.
THE " SAILOR PRINCE."
When King Edward VII died, his son, George Frederick Ernest Albert, became King, and is to be 
known as George V. He will not,
 however, be
 crowned for some time. At the crowning of a king there is great
 rejoicing, and so,
 while the
 court is in
 mourning for Edward VII, the ceremony cannot take place.

KING GEORGE.

 George was born on the 3rd June, 1865 and on the 3rd of last month was therefore forty-five years old. 
At one time it was not thought that he would become King, for he had an elder brother, 
Albert Victor Edward. But Albert died in 1892, and so George became
heir to the throne. In 1893 he married his cousin, Princess Victoria Mary, or, as she was generally 
called, " Princess May." She is now Queen Mary.
When George was barely twelve years of age he entered the navy with his brother, and he has been so 
much at sea and has sailed so widely over the world that he has
been called the " Sailor Prince." Though he was a prince, he had to do his share of the work like 
other boys on board. He had to handle the boats, keep his watch day or night, go aloft in all weathers, 
and obey quickly and promptly the orders given by the officers.
A good story is told about the Prince when his ship was coaling in an American port. An American of 
some importance visited the man-of-war and asked that he might
look over her. What he really wanted was to see the young Prince.
As the captain was busy, he called to a young officer who was helping with the work. His hands and 
face were begrimed with coal-dust, for coaling is one of the dirtiest
duties a sailor has to perform; but he cheerfully obeyed his captain, and for two hours took the 
visitor all over the ship.
The American spoke to his guide about the Prince, and asked, " Isn't he to be seen to-day ? "
" I am afraid you will not be able to see his face," was the reply. 
" Oh! I suppose you keep him wrapped up in cotton-wool when work like this is being
done," said the visitor. But the young officer
made no reply, and only laughed good-naturedly.
When everything had been shown to him, the American went to say good-bye to the captain, who 
asked 
him if he had seen all he wanted to see.
"Well, I should have liked to see the Prince," he said; and then, to his amazement, he heard that the 
dirty, 
coal-begrimed young officer who, for two hours had been showing him
over the vessel so politely, and who had laughed so good-naturedly at his remarks about the Prince, 
was the Prince himself. You can imagine that he felt rather ashamed of
himself.
When George was about fourteen years of age he was sent with his brother for a long  cruise in H.M.S. 
"Bacchante." In two voyages they visited the West Indies, South
Africa, Australia, Fiji, Japan, China, and many other smaller places.
Leaving the sea for a time, George went to.
college. He afterwards rejoined the navy, serving in turn on several battleships. At last he got his 
first command - a small war-vessel. In her he performed a very plucky deed
in rescuing from a dangerous position another war-vessel whose machinery had broken down off the 
coast of 
Ireland. She was drifting towards the shore in a storm; but George
brought his vessel close up, and, after much difficulty, got a wire rope to her, and towed her to 
safety. For this he received much praise from older officers who had seen
the skilful way in which handled his vessel.
But the greatest voyage the " Sailor Prince" made was one he undertook in 1901. Great preparations 
had to be made, for it was to take eight months, and had to cover fifty thousand miles – twice the 
distance round the world. British lads in most parts of the world would be visited, and British subjects 
of all colours and races would see their future King.
At last a great steamship, the " Ophir," was all ready, and, guarded by war-vessels, she left England 
on the 16th March. The first visit was to Gibraltar, where great guns guard for England the
entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. Malta, our strong island-fortress, was next visited. Then the 
"Ophir" passed through the Suez Canal and on to Aden, the outpost of the Empire guarding the
entrance to the Red Sea. India itself was not visited, but the Royal
 party landed at Ceylon and Singapore. The " Ophir " was then steered for Australia and New Zealand.
But to reach Australia she had to cross the Equator, or the "Line," as sailors call it, and when a vessel 
crosses the " Line " it has for many 
years been the custom of the sailors to have some fun. One of the crew is dressed up as
Neptune, the King of the Sea, another as his wife, and others as members of the court. Those on board 
who have not previously crossed the " Line " are taken charge of by Neptune's 
barber: he lathers them (with a big paintbrush), and shaves them (generally with a piece of 
hoop-iron), and they are then tumbled into a bath.
Prince George was too good a sailor to spoil fun. He even said he hoped that all men on board, whether 
they had crossed the " Line" or not, would allow themselves to be introduced to Neptune and his court.

Photos by Sundstrum.]
SOME PLACES SEEN BY GEORGE V DURING HIS GREAT JOURNEY OF 1901.
1. Gibraltar.	2. The Suez Canal.	3. Entrance to Colombo Harbour.	4. Niagara.

On the " Ophir " a bath was made by means of a sail filled with water, and above it, at one edge, was 
a small platform. When the " Line " was reached, a voice was heard
hailing the ship, and Neptune and his followers, pretending to have come out of the sea, appeared on 
deck.
The Prince himself was the first victim. He was duly lathered and shaved, and was then tumbled 
backwards into the bath, where he was "ducked" several times. The other
men on board were then treated in the same way, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
The Prince and Princess received a very joyous welcome in Australia. Some of you may know that at 
one 
time the colonies of Australia -Victoria, New South Wales,
Queensland, South Australia, and Western Australia - each had a Parliament of its own. So also had 
Tasmania. But some time before the " Ophir " set sail these colonies
had joined together to form a Commonwealth, as it is called, with one Parliament to manage the chief 
affairs of the great island-continent.
It had been arranged that Prince George was to open the first Commonwealth Parliament at Melbourne. 
This he did before a great gathering of twelve thousand people,
while thousands and thousands of others lined the streets to cheer him as he passed. After the 
Parliament, was opened, the Princess pressed an electric button and
flashed to every school in Victoria the signal for hoisting the flag in honour of the day.
From Australia the " Ophir" sailed to New Zealand. The Prince and Princess landed at Auckland, and 
then went to the other chief cities of the Dominion. Everywhere they were warmly welcomed, while at 
Rotorua the Maoris
gathered in great numbers to greet the son of their King in the old Maori manner. They danced
their poi and war dances, and gave the Prince and Princess valuable presents. The Royal 
visitors were much pleased at the way the Maoris welcomed them, and at
the good  wishes that were expressed to towards themselves
and King Edward and Queen Alexandra.

THE "OPHIR " IN LYTTELTON HARBOUR.

Leaving New Zealand, the " Ophir " returned to Australia, and, after visiting South Africa, steamed 
across the Atlantic to Canada. Crossing Canada by the Canadian Pacific
Railway, the Prince and Princess saw the great lakes and the wide, wheat-laden plains of that huge 
Dominion, and then returned to England.
In 1905 they sailed for India, which had not been visited during the voyage of the "Ophir." 
Everywhere they were received most warmly and welcomed most
heartily, and native princes with their followers in thousands - on foot, on horseback, on camels, and  
on elephants -  met  them at the great Indian cities.
You will thus see that Prince George was well called the " Sailor Prince." Now we may call him the 
"Sailor King."
He has seen more countries and  more peolpe than any other king that ever lived, he has met more of 
his subjects in all parts of the world than did even his great father. 

Erratum - On page 69 of Part II for June, "1869 " should have been "1871."

GEORGE STEPHENSON.
There are few boys and girls who do not enjoy travelling in a railway-train. While you are looking out 
of the 
carriage-windows and watching the buildings, fields, and fences as they seem to fly
past, do you ever think of the wonderful engine that is carrying you along so quickly ? Perhaps you 
would  like to know
something about the clever man who laid the first railway and made the first engine that travelled 
along it.
After James Watt had made his engine, men began to talk about engines that would travel by steam-
power. Many tried to make them, and a few really made engines that would move;
but they were poor affairs, and it was left to George Stephenson to make the first useful travelling-
engine.
It is certain that George Stephenson did not go distances in his school holidays - first, because there 
were no trains to travel in, and then because he did not have school holidays when a little
boy. Indeed, he did not go to school at
all. His days were spent minding cows and hoeing turnips, and thus he earned a few pence to help to 
buy his 
food and clothing.
George was the son of a very poor collier, living near Newcastle, in the north of England, about 130 
years ago. 
Although his father could not afford to send him to school, and although he had to work when he was 
so young, little George's boyhood was 
a very happy one.
He loved the green fields and the birds,
and
used to amuse himself taming rabbits and blackbirds, and looking for nests, which, however, he was 
taught never to disturb. He was a clever boy, too, and made little
model engines
out of clay. These models were like the standing engine that drew up the baskets of coal at the pit 
where his father worked.
When he was fourteen years old, George went
joyfully  to help his father at the engine, and
very proud he was of the shilling a day that he earned as fireman. He worked so hard and so steadily 
that in two or three years he was set to manage an engine. His engine always seemed a very wonderful 
and interesting thing to him. He loved 
to take it to
pieces, examine and clean it, and build it up again. Soon he understood every part of it thoroughly.
George's great trouble was that, being unable to read or write, he could not learn about the improved 
engines that
were being made for mines and factories in other parts of England. He therefore joined a 
night-school, where he
worked hard every night after his twelve hours at the mine were finished. At nineteen he was just 
able to write his own
name, and he was much pleased with himself. After that he learned so quickly that he could soon read 
and
understand the wonderful books written about the power of steam and the making of engines.
To earn some extra money he used to mend the clothes and shoes of the other colliers. When about 
twenty-one he
had saved enough to furnish a little cottage, and bring a wife home to it. Two very happy years were 
spent in that
humble home. Then poor Stephenson's wife died, leaving him with a baby boy only a year old. Work 
became scarce
at that time, too; so, leaving the baby in the care of some friends, Stephenson walked all the way to 
Scotland to look
after one of James Watt's famous new engines.
 At the end of a year the longing to see his little son brought him back again to the coal-pits. His poor 
old father had
been blinded in an accident, so George had to find work quickly in order to support his parents and 
his little boy. For
some time he had a very hard struggle against poverty, but one day he was able to turn his knowledge 
of engines to
good use.
A coal-pit near by was half full of water, and a pumping-engine had been working for months trying to 
clear it; but all in
vain, although
skilled engineers had come long distances to
try and improve the engine. At last the overseer allowed Stephenson to try what he could do with it.
The engine was soon pulled to pieces and rebuilt, and in two days all the water had been pumped out of 
the mine. Amid the cheers of
the onlookers the men went down the shaft to work, and Stephenson was nicknamed the "pump-curer." 
After that all the machinery at the colliery was put in his charge, and good wages were paid to him. 
This gave him 
great joy, because
he was able to keep his old parents in comfort, and also to save some money to
send his little boy, Robert, to school.
George then set himself a great task. It was to make an engine that could be used instead of horses to 
draw the trucks of
coal along the little tramways at the mine. He had seen one, called " Puffing Billy," crawling along 
with coal-wagons,
but it required horses to help it. After much thought and labour, and many vain attempts, he at last 
managed to build
one that would travel at the rate of four miles an hour.
For years he worked quietly away, all the time improving his little travelling-engine. At last, after 
seeing it working at the
mine, a certain rich man was so pleased with it that he engaged Stephenson to build a railway  between 
the towns of
Stockton and Darlington, and run an engine along it.
By the year 1825 the new line was laid, and in the presence of a great crowd of people George 
Stephenson's engine,
drawing six trucks and a passenger-wagon, made a successful journey. It travelled at the rate of only 
fifteen miles an 
hour, but this was the first time that a steam-engine had drawn
passengers and goods from place to place. The people were astonished at the wonderful sight, and 
Stephenson became a famous man.
His next undertaking was the building of a much larger railway, between the cities of Liverpool and 
Manchester.
  
STEPHENSON'S "ROCKET. "

His son, who had grown up a very clever young man, helped him in this very 
difficult task. After some years of hard and persevering labour, the
new railway was opened, in the year 1830. A prize was offered for the best engine, and four were tried, 
but our hero's " Rocket " was declared the best and fastest. It was cheered by thousands of 
people as it sped along at the rate of twenty-four miles an hour.
Father and son then worked together building railways in both England and Europe. By his skill and 
industry and perseverance, the poor collier 
lad had altered the old way of travelling and trading, and had made it
possible for passengers and goods to be taken quickly and easily all over the country.
Although now a famous man, George Stephenson was still kind and modest, and was always ready to 
help those who were poor and struggling, as he had once been.

A MODERN LOCOMOTIVE ENGINE. In use on the North Island Main Trunk line.

He died at the age of sixty-seven, beloved by all for his
goodness and simplicity. Everybody admired the noble and persevering nature that had raised the poor 
collier to be the inventor of the locomotive engine, and the great and famous founder of railways.

 It is good to begin well, but better to end well.
Have a place for everything, and have everything in place.

"THE STONE OF DESTINY."
CORONATION CHAIR.
The picture on this page shows the chair on which English kings since the time of Edward  I have been 
crowned. It is kept in Westminster Abbey, where the ceremony of " coronation,"
as it is called, always takes place. Look at the picture, and you will see that under the seat there 
is a rough stone.
This is its story :-
You have been already told that Edward I conquered Wales, and made his little son Prince of Wales; 
but he also
marched north into Scotland. He captured many towns, and for some time the Scots were forced to 
submit to him as
their King. To show that he meant that Scotland was to be no longer a separate kingdom, he carried 
the Scottish
crown and the royal jewels away to England. With them he took away also the stone upon which for 
ages 
the kings of
Scotland had been crowned, and placed it in the Coronation Chair at Westminster.
No one knows the early history of the stone. There was a legend that it was the stone that Jacob used 
as a pillow;
and it is also said that the Scots brought it from some place in Ireland. At any rate, it is very, 
very old.
The Scots were much grieved at their loss, and often tried to get the English to give it back. 
According to one old
writer, it at one time bore some Latin words which meant,
Except old saws do fail, And wizards' wits be blind, The Scots in place must reign
Where they this stone shall find.
The Scots therefore thought that while this "Stone of Destiny," as it was called, remained in England, 
Scottish kings
would not rule in Scotland; and there seemed to be little chance of their ruling in England.
But about three hundred years ago a Scottish king, James I, did actually come to rule over England, 
and thus the
prophecy that Scottish kings would rule wherever that stone was to be found seemed to be fulfilled.
 
HEROES OF OTHER LANDS.
Of every land there are stories of great deeds to be told. Every nation and every empire has its 
heroes. Men, women,
and even children have won honour for ever, because, when sudden danger came, they were faithful, 
and 
patient, and
brave.
Very long ago, in Italy, a great city was built at the foot of a burning mountain, Vesuvius. For many 
years smoke rose
from the mountain, but the people below only laughed at the idea of danger.
Suddenly one day an earthquake shook the city, the mountain rocked, and fire burst forth from its 
summit. Streams
of melted rock, called lava, ran down its sides ; showers of hot ashes fell ; red-hot rocks crashed 
on to the roofs of
houses. At last the whole city, and many of the people, lay buried deep under rock and ashes. No one 
could have
guessed that there had ever been a city there.
Now, before all these dreadful things began, a Roman soldier had been placed as sentinel at the city 
gate. It was his
duty to stand there on guard ; and the gate might not be left by one soldier until another was sent 
to take his place.
When the earthquake came, and the first showers fell, hundreds of people ran out of the town towards 
the sea. If this
man had gone with them, he might have saved his life, by getting on board a ship and sailing quickly 
away. But the
Roman soldier would not leave his post. He stood still, true to duty, until the hot ashes buried him.
Many hundreds of years after, people dug very deep down just at that spot, and found the buried city. 
They uncovered the old gardens and 
houses. They found
the remains of many dead men and women, still lying just where they fell on that terrible day. They 
saw how mothers had died while trying to save their 
children, and how a miser had died on his bags of gold. And by the gate
they found the remains of a Roman sentinel in his armour, and knew how well he had kept that last 
watch, as a good soldier - faithful unto death.

RUINED POMPEII WITH VESUVIUS IN THE BACKGROUND.
From the painting by E. J. Poynter, R.A.]
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

Although women are not soldiers, they have often been brave in war. Once, in Germany, there was 
great 
fighting between a royal Prince and a royal Duke. At last things
went so badly with the Duke that he had to shut himself up with his brave Duchess, and his soldiers, 
and their wives and daughters, in a strong castle called Weinsberg -
so strong that the Prince and his men could not break in.
But soon food began to grow scarce in the castle. The Prince's soldiers had camped all
round, so that no one could go out to fetch
more. Rather than see all his people die of starvation, the Duke had to give up the castle. The women 
were all to be allowed to pass out safely first, and the Prince said that
each woman might take with her " as much of her wealth as she could carry."
Now, the Duchess feared that after she had gone the Prince might order her dear husband to be killed. 
So 
all these brave ladies made a plan to save their men. When the gates
were opened they passed out, and each woman was bent under the weight of as much treasure as could 
carry. But the treasure that the Duchess carried was the Duke
himself; and each
woman had left her silver and gold behind, and carried, instead, a husband, or a brother, a father. The 
Prince was so much surprised and pleased that he made a happy peace, and the name of "The Women 
of Weinsberg " became famous 
through all the world.
Another story of a great siege comes from Holland. The Dutch were at war with the
King of Spain, and he sent an army to take the city of Leyden. These soldiers from Spain camped round 
the city. The people fought well, but could not drive them away. And every day the men of Leyden 
grew more hungry, for the army outside let no
food go into the town.
"When they have eaten up all the food they have inside the walls," said the Spanish captain. " they will 
be glad to give up fighting, and let us in."
"So long as there is a living man left," said the people of Leyden, " we will fight for our city."
A good Prince, William of Orange, tried hard to send food to Leyden. At last he thought of a 
wonderful plan. Holland, you know, is a low, flat country, so low that in many
places great banks, called dykes, have to be built to keep the sea from flooding in upon the land. 
Every Dutchman helps to keep these dykes in order, lest the waves
should break in and sweep all over the land. But William of Orange said, " We can let in the sea for 
once, to sweep away our enemies, and to carry shiploads of food to our
friends in Leyden."
One day the starving people in the town saw a great flood coming. A dyke had been cut through, and 
the water rushed over fields and orchards.
" Better a drowned land than a lost land," said these brave men, as they saw the Spaniards begin to 
run away before the flood.
Then what did they see come sailing towards them, on the waters that lay where fields had been? 
Ships! good Dutch ships, laden with good Dutch loaves! William of
Orange had kept his word. The sea had defeated the Spanish army, and had carried the food to the 
town.
To save a city full of heroes, it was worth while to destroy a dyke. But another story from Holland 
tells how a small Dutch boy was a hero because he saved a dyke. This
was in a time of peace.
Late one evening the boy was coming back from a long walk, and was still far from home, when he 
saw a 
thin stream of water trickling through a hole in one of the great
banks built to keep out the sea. He knew that even a little opening must be closed up at once, or the 
waters would soon make it larger, and then all the 
dyke might be washed away. He could find no other way of blocking it,
so he lay down close against the bank, and put his hand and arm into the hole.
All night long the boy stayed there alone, and his little arm still kept back the water that was 
trying to come through and flood the land. Every hour he grew colder and
colder, for the nights freeze hard in Holland. 

From " World Pictures," by A. and C. Black.]
DYKES IN HOLLAND.

In the morning, when people came by and found him, he looked like a little dead boy. But his shoulder 
was 
still pressed close to the dyke. Like the Roman sentinel, he was
ready to die rather than leave the post of duty. And the men of Holland have never forgotten this 
young hero:
'Tis many a year since then; but still,
When the sea roars like a flood,
Their boys are taught what a boy can do Who is brave, and true, and good.

RUSSELL, THE FIRST CAPITAL OF NEW  ZEALAND.
In the great British Empire, lands have been colonised in several different ways. Sometimes traders are 
the first visitors to 
the new country. They settle down to supply the natives with English
goods, and to ship home the furs, or fruits, or other valuable articles received from the natives in return. 
Sometimes gold 
is found ; then a great rush of men may take place to dig for the precious
metal. Afterwards many may stay to take up land and to find perhaps a safer, though slower, road to 
fortune as farmers. But 
sometimes a country is settled upon some well-thought-out plan by
men who hope to found, far away, a colony worthy of Great Britain.
And how has New Zealand been colonised?
At first came chance visitors who did not intend to stay; then came settlers who had left their old homes 
in the Northern 
Hemisphere to take up land and make new homes in our fertile islands.
After Cook discovered New Zealand, ships belonging to different nations began to arrive. The men 
who first came hunted the 
whales and seals that live in the seas about our shores. In those early
days whales were very plentiful round our coasts and in other parts of the Southern Ocean, and 
thousands of seals had their 
homes in the rocky bays of the South Island, and on the bleak islands
of the south. For the fur and oil got from the seals, and for the oil and whalebone got from the whales, 
the people of Europe 
and America were willing to give high prices.
The sealers and whalers came ashore in order to melt down the oil and to get fresh food
and fresh water. They visited only those parts along the edge of the sea. They brought neither wives nor 
children with them, 
and they tilled no land, for they did not intend to make
their homes here. Then came other visitor - some to get kauri-trees to be used as masts
of ships; others to buy flax from the Maoris and to ship it to Sydney and England.

KORORAREKA IN 1820.

One of the first places where white people settled in any number was Kororareka ("the beach of shells 
"), on the beautiful 
Bay of Islands. This at first was a large Maori settlement. Then whaling-ships began to call to get kauri 
- trees, fresh water, pigs, and potatoes. Sometimes the sailors on these ships grew tired of 
their life at sea, and made for themselves
rough homes on shore. Runaway convicts from Australia also came to the bay, and a settlement grew 
up which was for some time called Kororareka, but is now known by the name of Russell.
In those days Russell was very different from the present quiet, pretty little town. Opposite to the beach 
stood a native pa, or village, surrounded by a high, strong fence. Walking along the beach, sitting about 
in the sunshine, or carrying
on the work of the village, were to be seen large numbers of Maoris - fierce tattooed warriors 
dressed in their native
mats, and carrying native weapons, or occasionally a European musket; native women and slaves 
bringing and
preparing food for the warriors; and little brown children rolling and tumbling about on the beach, 
or sporting in the
glistening waters of the bay. Here and there was the rough wooden hut of some white settler, and from 
shady nooks
there peeped out the snowy tents of the pakeha traders who were on the beach or in the pa exchanging 
blankets,
tobacco, knives, axes, and even muskets, for whatever they wished to get from the natives.
But at Kororareka there was no government, no law. So lawless, indeed, were many of the inhabitants 
that at length
the people set themselves to punish wrongdoers. One of the favourite punishments was " tarring and 
feathering." An
early writer tells how this was done. The offender had his garments taken from him, and was then 
smeared thickly
over with tar and covered with the white, feathery flowers of the raupo plant. He was then taken to 
the beach ; before
him marched a fife-and-drum band playing the " Rogue's March," and round and about him was a 
crowd of 
jeering white men and astonished natives. After being told that if he returned to the
settlement he would be again tarred and feathered, he was put into a boat and landed on the opposite 
side of the bay.
In the year 1833 Mr. John Busby was sent to Russell to try to keep the settlement in some kind of 
order, and to
protect both white men and Maoris ; but so little power had he that he was truly called " a man-of-war 
without
guns." In 1840 the first Governor of New Zealand, Captain Hobson, arrived at Russell,*  which was 
made the 
capital of New
Zealand. Only a few months afterwards, however, Auckland
was made the capital.
This was a sad blow to Russell. Trade became less, and there was much discontent among both the 
white 
people
and the Maoris. A chief named Hone Heke saw the flag of England flying from the hilltop that 
overlooked the town.
Now, this flag was the sign of the white Queen's authority, and it seemed to Hone Heke's simple mind 
that if this flag were removed the good old days would return. Heke therefore entered the settlement 
with his 
followers, and cut down
and burned the flagstaff. Another flagstaff was set up, but Heke soon cut this down also. Then the 
Government offered a reward for Heke's capture, and a third flagstaff was set up, and a guard of 
soldiers was placed about it. 
But the cunning Hone Heke surprised the guard, and cut down the flagstaff for the third time. His 
Maori followers attacked the town, but were beaten.

Governor Hobson selected a site for the capital about four miles from Kororareka by water, and fixed 
his headquarters there. The new township was named Russell, 
but it never flourished; its name was afterwards transferred to Kororareka.
 
Then suddenly there was a loud report - something had set fire to the powder-magazine, and the white 
soldiers could resist no longer. Leaving the 
town to its fate,
they hurried to take refuge on the vessels in the harbour.
Quick was the end of the bad old town of Russell. The Maoris rushed all over the place, robbing and 
plundering, but
killing no one. Then the houses caught fire, the flames spread and spread, and the people of Russell, 
safe on board
the vessels in the harbour, watched their town become a heap of blackened ruins.

RUSSELL OF TO-DAY.

A new Russell was soon built, a quiet Russell which never knew the noisy
scenes of the old days.
Very beautiful, very restful is Russell as seen from the hill on which Hone Heke's warriors cut down 
the flagstaff. For miles and miles stretch the beautiful blue waters, lapping the sandy beach, and gliding 
into bay 
after bay and cove
after cove. The waves flash blue and silvery in the summer sun, countless flocks of sea-birds follow 
the shoals of
kahawai and other fish, porpoises and spouting blackfish* sport about in the outer waters, and a white-
sailed schooner 
or fishing-boat
skims along in the inner bay.
It is hard to believe that this was once the busiest, noisiest seaport of New Zealand, that more 
than thirty British and
American whale-ships sometimes lay at anchor in the bay, and that once these hills echoed and 
re-echoed with the
crash of muskets and the fierce yells of blood-thirsty warriors.

* A small kind of whale.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
Over eighty years ago a pretty little girl lived
in a beautiful
English home,
surrounded
by a handsome
park. S h e
played with her
dolls just as
little girls do all
over the world.
She cuddled.
them, undressed
them, put them
to bed, made
tea for them in
doll's-house
china, and
petted and
scolded each in turn. But she did something else, too.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

She used to pretend that they were ill or that frightful accidents had happened to them, and would 
bandage their legs and arms with 
strips of linen, and nurse them with the greatest care.
As she grew older she used to visit the peasants in the cottages round her father's estate, and if 
she found any of them ill she would set about nursing them and trying to
make them well. It was wonderful to see this bright girl, who might have spent all her time in games 
and sports, giving herself with delight to nursing the sick people of
the village.
She was intensely fond of animals, too, and the first patient she had was a sheepdog named Cap, 
belonging to an old shepherd.  One day when she was out riding she
met the old shepherd, and asked him why the dog was not with him. " Oh," he replied, "Cap will 
never be of any more use to me; he will have to be killed."
The little girl was much distressed at this sad news, and asked what had happened to him. She was 
told that a cruel boy had thrown a stone at him and broken his leg.
As soon as she heard this she hastened on to the shepherd's cottage to visit her poor dumb friend, 
who was very pleased to see her. She soon found that the bone was
not broken, but only bruised, and at once set to work to heat some water and bathe the wounded leg. 
So well did she treat the bruise that in a few days poor Cap was
running about again, as well as ever.
The years passed away, and this happy child, whose name was Florence Nightingale, became a 
handsome 
young lady, who had
to go to London with her parents to be presented at court. But she did not like a life of gaiety and 
pleasure, so, instead of going out to parties, she visited the London hospitals and 
studied how sick people were nursed back to health and strength.
In those days hospital nurses were very ignorant, and were badly trained, and Florence was shocked by 
the roughness and stupidity shown in many of England's
hospitals. So she went away to Germany and studied nursing there; and then she went to Paris and 
learned all she could there. At last, when she was quite sure that
she had mastered her subject, she began the work of improving the nursing in English hospitals.
While she was engaged in this task a war between Russia and England broke out in the Crimea. At 
first people thought only of the glory of battle, and the courage of
the soldiers who faced death with songs on their lips. But soon other stories came home to England - 
dreadful stories of wounded men being
left to die, or of their being operated on by surgeons in the blood-soaked trenches. England was 
shocked at the neglect of her brave soldiers, and everybody cried
out that something must be done to relieve their sufferings at once. And it was done – by Florence 
Nightingale. How she did it will be
told in next month's Journal.*

*Just as the School Journal was about to be printed news was received that Florence Nightingale had 
passed way on the 14th August.

A noble type of good Heroic womanhood.
-LONGFELLOW.

ROUND THE BREAKFAST TABLE.
III. THE TABLECLOTH.
The next morning, after Janie had laid the breakfast-table, her mother said, " I see you have put on 
the new cloth
auntie sent us from Ireland."
"Yes, mother; doesn't it look pretty ? Do tell us about it this morning."
So, when they had finished breakfast, their mother said, "The tablecloth, Janie, is made  from flax -"
"What! The flax that grows in the swamps?-" exclaimed Jack.
" No, not the New Zealand flax, but a beautiful little plant that was known hundreds and 
hundreds of years
before any one heard of New Zealand or its flax. Even in so old a book as the Bible we read of ' fine 
linen.'
"But the flax plant from which linen is made may be seen in New Zealand, too, for it has been 
brought here among
other seeds. As you walk across the fields you may see a beautiful little blue flower standing on the 
top of a thin graceful stem about two feet high.

THE FLAX PLANT.
 
Just think how beautiful great fields of these dainty bright-blue flowers must look when the sun shines 
on them, and the clinging
dewdrops sparkle in the sun like pearls. That is what you can see in Ireland and Belgium, where the 
best flax is grown and the finest linen is made. In some countries of Asia
and America also a great deal of flax is grown - but chiefly for its seed, from which linseed-oil is made.
"In July, which is one of the summer months at Home, the harvesters - generally lads and lasses - in a 
long line pull up handful after handful by the roots and tie them loosely in bundles. These are then 
made into stooks similar to those you see in corn-fields. When the flax has 
been dried by the sun and the wind, it is soaked in water till the soft
parts rot away and the strong fibres are loosened. It is afterwards spread out in the sun to dry again, and 
then, by means of machinery, the fibres are separated, and combed and twisted until at last,
they lie evenly and closely together and leave the machine as thread or yarn.
"Now, look at this piece of old handkerchief that I use when either of you has a cut finger. It is also 
made of linen. You will see that fine threads cross one another, but always at right angles. The linen of 
which this handkerchief was made was cut from a
long  piece.

STEEPING THE FLAX IN WATER.
WEAVING THE LINEN.

The threads running the whole length of the piece are called the warp, and
those running crosswise are called the weft.
"The threads that make up the warp are attached to a machine. When the machine
 begins working, a shuttle darts backwards and forwards carrying the thread of the weft, just as
the shuttle in my sewing-machine darts backwards and forwards. The threads of the warp are so 
arranged that the threads of the weft go 
alternately under and over them, as you see in the old handkerchief."
" But how are the beautiful figures woven into the tablecloth, mother ? " asked Janie.
"Well, that is the most wonderful part of it all," answered her mother, "and without,
seeing it done it is hard for you to clearly understand it. But, simply, it is this: While the cloth is being 
made, needles are arranged so cleverly that they come down on it and make the beautiful patterns you 
see.

THE SPINNING-WHEEL.
A CHINESE SPINNING-WHEEL FOR SILK

 A machine for doing this was invented by a clever French silk-weaver about a hundred years ago, and 
is now used all over the  world."
" I don't quite understand it," said Janie, "but if I ever get a chance I shall certainly go and see the 
machine working."
"And I should like to see it, too," said Jack. 
" Well," said their father, " you both may some day, 'when our ship comes in."'
" But the cloth has not yet got its beautiful white colour," continued their mother. "The threads are 
brown or grey,
and, of course, the cloth is of the same colour. But you know, Janie, that when the sun is shining 
brightly on washing-day we lay the white clothes on the grass, and that makes them snowy white."
" Yes; I know. It bleaches them."
" Yes, and that is what is done with the dirty-looking linen. It is bleached by being laid out in the 
sun. It is sometimes
bleached with chemicals, but the sun gives the best result.
"And now the tale of the tablecloth is nearly at an end, for it has only to be washed and ironed and 
is then ready to be
sent to the shops.
"But long ago people had no machinery such as we have now, and the thread was spun on spinning-
wheels 
like those
you have seen in pictures [see page 126], and the cloth was made on looms worked by hand. Even to-
day some of the finest linen is made in the cottage homes of the weavers."
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
 (Continued from page 121.)
 
 The little girl who had bandaged her dolls
and nursed the sheep-dog now stood forth as
England's Angel of Pity; and, as long as
England's history is written, the name of Florence Nightingale will shine in golden
letters on the page. She went to the Crimea,
with forty nurses, and within a few months
of her arrival she had made an entire
change in the way the wounded were treated. Can you not imagine the relief that came 
over our poor soldiers when they found themselves tended in smooth and comfortable beds by gentle 
women, and felt tender hands, which shrank from causing the smallest pain, lovingly fastening the 
bandages about their throbbing wounds?

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AT THE HOSPITAL.

Florence Nightingale used to be always in the wards, and at night she would glide softly among the 
beds, carrying a
lamp in her hand, to see that her patients lacked for nothing. The soldiers, looking through the 
darkness at the figure
moving among them like an angel, called her "The Lady with the Lamp." Her name, it was found, 
contained just the
letters that make the sentence,  " Flit on, cheering angel." And truly that is what she was to those 
thousands of
tortured soldiers in the Crimea - a cheering angel. It is no wonder that the men loved her and watched 
for her coming.
"To see her pass is happiness," said a soldier in one of his letters. " She would speak to one, and 
nod and smile to
many more; but she could not do it to all, you know - we lay there by hundreds - but we could kiss her 
shadow as it
fell, and lay our heads on the pillow again content."
You will understand what wonderful work this noble woman did when you know that, at the time of 
her 
going to the
Crimea forty-two men died out of every hundred in the hospital, while soon after her arrival only two 
died out of every
hundred. She had as many as 10,000 wounded soldiers to care for; and when they had to be carried into 
the operating-room -  and you must remember that in those days surgery was not so perfect as it is now 
- Florence Nightingale would go with them, and stay by their side to cheer them under their sufferings.
England heard of all this splendid work, and the name of Florence Nightingale became a household 
word in the land.
A subscription was made for her, and £50,000 was raised as gift. A man-of-war was sent to bring her 
home, and 
preparations were made
for giving her
a hearty public welcome when she reached London But Florence Nightingale did not want this. She 
came 
home
secretly, and went quietly back to her father's house. And as for
the £50,000, she thanked England for the gift, and used it all to found a home for the training of nurses.
Her health was, however, broken by the hardships she had undergone; but though she was ninety years 
of age when
she died, and
been an invalid for many years, nothing was dearer to her heart than the work to which she
had given herself as a little girl with her dolls.
She had never asked for fame or glory, but both had come to her. Queen Victoria and other Sovereigns 
wrote thanking her for the great work she had done. Nor were her heroism and self-sacrifice 
forgotten though long
years had passed, for in 1907 King
Edward conferred upon her the Order of Merit,* and in the following year the City of London gave her 
the 
Freedom of the City - the greatest honour the capital of the Empire could bestow.
But all these honours were as nothing to Florence Nightingale. Her noble self-sacrifice was to her only 
the performance of a simple duty.
Yet, as the poet Longfellow sings - 
A lady with a lamp shall stand In the great history of the land, A noble type of good, Heroic 
womanhood. 

Florence Nightingale was the first lady upon whom the Order was bestowed.
 
AUCKLAND, THE SECOND CAPITAL OF NEW  ZEALAND.
We have seen how Russell became the first capital of New Zealand. But only a few months after our 
first Governor (Captain Hobson) arrived he made up his mind to
remove the capital to what he considered was a better place for the growth of a large city. The 
choice lay between Port Nicholson and Waitemata Harbour, and he
selected the present site of Auckland. At that time there were really no settlers there, and many 
persons thought that he should have chosen Wellington, where settlers
from Home had already taken up land.
On the 18th September, just seventy years ago, the British flag was hoisted at Auckland, and amidst the 
boom of guns from vessels in the harbour the new settlement was proclaimed the capital; and the 
capital it remained for twenty-four years.
Well was the position chosen for a large town. Placed on an isthmus seven miles wide, where the 
Hauraki Gulf and the Manukau Harbour almost cut off the great
northern peninsula, Auckland rests a hand on a harbour on either side. To-day the city's suburbs 
extend almost across the isthmus, and train and tram carry their loads
of passengers to and fro.
Very beautiful, too, is Auckland, having few rivals in the world. When speaking of the Empire's 
cities, Kipling says of Auckland,
Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart,
 On us, on us the unswerving season smiles, Who wonder 'mid our fern why men depart
To seek the Happy Isles !
From Mount Eden, an old volcano on the isthmus, can be seen a stretch of country dotted with pretty 
homes in rich green gardens, and only a few miles away are the
shops, stores, and offices where business is
carried on in Auckland to the east and in
Onehunga to the west.
But it is the harbour that will give us the greatest delight, for no port in New Zealand is so 
well suited for yachting and boating. At the large wharves, too, may be seen
great ocean-liners, and also smaller traders from the romantic islands of the Pacific.
 A great deal could be said about Auckland, but you know that words can give you but a poor idea of 
what a town is like. So, instead of saying more about the city, I
am going to let you read what a lady who was a little girl in Auckland over forty years ago has 
written for you. Here it is: - 
Forty years appears a long time to you
looking forward, but to me it seems no time
since I was a little schoolgirl living in Auckland. At that time the city had not crept
out so far as it now has, but was built
about the pretty bays that front the harbour. Then, as now, on sunny days the
water sparkled and glittered on the beaches
and around the islands, so that one does not wonder at the beautiful name the Maoris
gave it - Waitemata, "sparkling water."
Just about that time Prince Alfred, one of Queen Victoria's sons, paid a visit to New
Zealand in his ship the
"Galatea." What with the men-of-war in the harbour, and the pleasures on shore, we all felt that the 
northern city was a very gay and important place indeed. Even we children were proud of it, and 
looked with pity on poor little country cousins 
who did not know
the delights of town.
But, O dear me ! what would a modern child in Auckland, or Wellington, or Christchurch, or Dunedin, 
have thought of
our joys ? Why, there was not even the beginning of so many things that to-day we think we cannot do 
without.
First, there were no trains. The railroad was being laid between Auckland and Onehunga, and we 
school-children
watched its progress, and wondered at it very much. We felt that, some day, when we should be old 
men and
women, we should dart about in its wonderful carriages, which as yet we had not even seen. But, to 
our minds, that
time seemed as far away as the coming of the air-ships seemed a few years ago.
Then, there were no electric tram-cars. They were not even thought of. We read of horse and steam 
cars, and saw
pictures of them in books, but in real life we felt very grand indeed when we were allowed to ride in 
one of the old-fashioned and uncomfortable buses which carried children a mile for sixpence, as half-
fare.
There were no telephones, no gas-lamps or gas-stoves, no asphalt pavements, no motorcars. There were 
very few
steamers plying about the harbour, and there was only one good road leading out of the city. That was 
the metalled
South Road, running down to the Waikato, where the Maori war was hardly yet a thing of the past.
However, we were satisfied with our home. Though there were no motor-cars there were lovely walks, 
and if ferry-steamers were few we often sailed in cutters, and for our holidays
we had excursions that even twentieth- century children might envy.
When we went into the country we found the beautiful bush; when we journeyed by sea we sailed, 
which 
is much
more pleasant than steaming; and by land we travelled in bullock-drays or sledges, quite the most 
delightful of
chariots. And, all through the country, peaches grew wild in groves, first planted by the missionaries. 
All down the river-banks
the pink peach-blossom drooped above the water, and in some places peach-trees sprang up among the 
river
mangroves. Even as you passed along the little mean streets of the town (overgrown with docks and 
arum lilies,
which in those days were generally found side by side), you would hardly see a back yard that had 
not one or two
peach-trees bravely showing in leaf or blossom above the bottles, and bricks, and dust-heaps with  
which it was
littered. Dustmen and dust-carts were unknown in the colonial city of forty years ago.
So, too, was the sparrow. That pert little enemy of the fruit-trees had just been introduced into New 
Zealand. But we
had crowds of locusts and grasshoppers - far more than we ever see now. The native birds, too, were 
more plentiful,
and the bush was
full of their music. The tinkling cow-bells, which told the early settler where his herd was straying, 
to my young ears
blended
sweetly with the notes of the tui and the bell-bird; but I dare say I should nowadays
find them quite out of tune.
Forty years ago the Maori war was so
fresh in our memories that we still awaited
news in the daily papers with bated breath.
 
OLD AUCKLAND.
The soldiers' gardens are seen to the right. Contrast this with the picture below. Large buildings are 
now erected where the old wharves are shown.
MODERN AUCKLAND

All the stories of battles and massacres had made us dread the coming of the newsboy. For many years 
afterwards the sight of a red coat brought to mind the days
when the barracks on the hill were full of soldiers, when military bands played daily in the 
Government House grounds, and when soldiers' funerals brought the " Dead
March in Saul"
into our homes as a familiar air.
Yet the war was over, and the troops were going back to the world that needed them. We were sorry 
to see them go, for with them went so much that had become part
of the city. Another parting that touched all hearts was that with the great missionary, Bishop Selwyn. 
All children loved him, and I remember the feeling of loss with
which we watched his familiar figure leaning over the side of the departing boat.
Forty years ago! It seems almost impossible. Why, it might be only yesterday that I was racing to 
school down the clay tracks that led across Barrack Hill. I can see
quite clearly all the old landmarks, can hear the old voices. I can almost remember the old lessons, 
so very, very different from the lessons of to-day.
Across the harbour I seem to see an unpeopled North Shore, with Flagstaff Hill watching over a few 
small houses. Round the North Head, like some beautiful white bird,
comes slowly sailing one of the old incoming ships - a barque or a schooner from Sydney, or perhaps 
only a cutter from the north. It seems to me far more beautiful than
anything you modern children see from your fine wharves. But, then, my eyes, even of memory, are 
not 
so young as they were, and perhaps cannot be trusted.

HOW THE SLAVES WERE SET FREE.
In the School Journal for April last you were told how Livingstone tried to set free some poor 
negroes who were being dragged from their homes in Africa to be sold as
slaves. I am now going to tell you something more about this terrible trade in slaves, and also 
something about two good and noble men who did a great deal to put an
end to the horrid traffic.
 When America and the West Indian Islands
were discovered, it was found that the soil
was very fertile, but the climate was so hot
that white men could not work with comfort.
Many cruel men, therefore, went to Africa,
where they captured as many negroes as they
could. These they shipped over to America
in large numbers to be used as labourers.
Englishmen, too, entered into the trade, and
 - to our shame be it said - for many years
English laws allowed the trade, and English
merchants made large profits out of the
sufferings of the poor blacks.
 Let us see what this meant. Bands of
slave-traders marched through Africa. They
would attack a peaceful village, sometimes
in the daytime, sometimes at night. The
sleeping inhabitants might be wakened by  
fierce yells to find their village surrounded
and in flames. Attempting to escape they would be captured, or, if they resisted, would be slain. The 
strong men, women, and children would be carried off; the weak
and the sick would be killed or left to starve. Then the captives would be driven
to the coast, but all the way would be dotted with the bodies of those whom the cruel drivers had 
killed or had left to die.
When they reached the coast they would be forced into the filthy, reeking hold of a slave-ship, being 
packed together for a long sea voyage worse than we should
nowadays pack sheep for even a short journey. Is it any wonder that about half of those who were 
shipped died on the journey across ?

" PACKED TOGETHER."

In later years people tried to stop the traffic, and men-of-war were sent to capture the slave-ships and 
set free the 
slaves. If he was being chased, the captain of a slaver would throw the
negroes overboard one by one, in the hope that the pursuing ship would stop to pick them up, and thus 
give him a chance to escape. On one occasion sickness broke
out among the slaves in a ship. The crew became frightened, and the slaves, 132 in number, were all 
thrown overboard, to be drowned or to be devoured by sharks. But the awful things that 
happened are too painful to dwell upon.
Then, when the ships came to port, the slaves would be driven to market and sold just as cattle are sold 
to-day.

"FORCED TO WORK BY CRUEL MEN WITH WHIPS."

Think for a moment what it would be like to be a slave - to belong to 
another person just as your horse belongs to you; to be forced to work
by cruel men with whips ; to be fed on scraps; to be clothed in rags; to be separated from your family,
to have not one gleam of happiness in a life of endless labour. That is what, in most cases, it meant to 
be a slave.
You must not think, however, that all masters were cruel, for some treated their slaves with great 
kindness, as those of you who have read a book called "Uncle 'Tom's
Cabin " will know.
At last people began to see the horrors and cruelties of the slave-trade, and, exactly 138 years 
ago, it was decided that no slave could be held in England. This does not mean that slaves were ever 
shipped to England, but occasionally persons who had bought slaves 
in America or elsewhere brought them over to England with them.
 Slavery, however, was still allowed in the British colonies, but a young man named Thomas Clarkson 
began to urge people to do away with the slave-trade altogether.
Clarkson was soon joined by William Wilberforce, who, though only twenty-nine years of age, had 
already been a member of Parliament for some years.
These two set themselves to draw public attention to the sufferings of the slaves, and Wilberforce often 
spoke on the subject in Parliament. But they were bitterly
opposed by those who made money by trading in slaves; so for many years Wilberforce and his friends 
were unable to do much to lighten the negro's burden.
But still they did not give up hope, and year after year Wilberforce did what he could in Parliament, 
while Clarkson travelled round the country giving lectures and making
speeches. At last, in 1807, they succeeded in getting an Act passed forbidding that any more slaves 
should be carried to British colonies.
 But this did not do away with slavery altogether, for those who had slaves when the
 Act was passed were still allowed to keep
 them, and
 the slave-
 trade,  a  
 though now
 against the
 law, was
 still carried
 on secretly.
 So Wilberforce again set to work
 to get Parliament to
 pass a law
 that would
 stop slavery
 altogether, and to this
 object he
 devoted the
 rest of his
 life.
Little by little the people of England became more and more awake to the cruelty and wickedness of 
slavery. But it was not for another twenty-six years that this good
man's efforts were rewarded. Wilberforce did not live to see the end of his work, but when he died he 
knew that Parliament was going to free all the slaves. 
Three days
After his death, in 1833, the Act was passed, and on the 1st August, 1834, all slaves in the British 
Empire 
became free.
Imagine, if you can, the feelings of the negroes as the day of freedom approaches. At midnight on the 
31st July the slaves gather in their chapels, and thanksgiving services are held. The hour of midnight 
peals forth, and these poor, downtrodden people become 
free - free at last. They know that they will be paid for their labour; they
know that there will be no more flogging; they know that husband will no longer be separated from 
wife, brother from sister, or parent from child. What happiness this
means to them! No wonder that tears of joy stream down their dusky faces as they call down the 
blessing of God on those who have striven so long and so earnestly to
free them from the dreadful yoke of slavery.
The following lines by the American poet Whittier show the feelings of the negroes on this great day:
Oh, praise an' t'anks! De Lord He come To set de people free ; An' massa t'ink it day ob doom, An' we 
ob jubilee. De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves He jus' as 'trong
as den; He say de word - we las' night slaves; To-day de Lord's free men.
We pray de Lord : He gib us signs Dat some day we be free ; De norf wind tell it to de pines, De wild 
duck to de sea. We t'ink it when de church-bell ring, We dream it in
de dream ; De rice-bird mean it when he sing, De eagle when he scream.
We know de promise nebber fail, An' nebber lie de word ; So, like de 'postles in de jail, We waited 
for de Lord : An' now He open ebery door, An' t'row away de key ; We t'ink we lub Him so before,
We lub Him better free.
Long after England had forbidden it, however, other countries still allowed people to make slaves of 
the blacks. But when a slave in any country escaped from his master he always made for British
soil. So strongly did the British nation now feel against slavery, that they not only forbade it 
amongst themselves, but were prepared to protect slaves who escaped from other countries.
In the United States of America, however, the owners of the cotton-fields desired cheap labour, and. 
for many years slaves were still made use of. The question of slavery was the main cause of
the great American Civil War, and at the end of the war, in 1865, the United States followed the 
example of England, and freed all the slaves.
Yet for many years after slaves had been set free in lands held by Europeans, the Arabs of Africa still 
continued to capture and enslave the negroes. But, as you were told in the story of David Livingstone, 
that great African missionary sawed through the first slave-stick in central Africa, and 
Gordon, Kitchener, and others broke up the last strongholds of the slavers by their victories along
the banks of the Nile.

THE WONDERFUL BREAKFAST.
IV. CUPS AND SAUCERS.
"Well, mother," said Jack the next morning, "what are you going to tell us about now? You have told 
us 
all about the table and the tablecloth. What comes next ? "
" Cups and saucer, " cried Janie eagerly. "I always put them on first."
"Yes," said her mother, with a smile; "I think we will talk about cups and saucers today.''
" I wonder," said Jack, " who made the first cup. "
" That would be very hard to say," said his mother. " Of course, tea-cups are quite modern, but the 
first drinking-cup was probably the human hand. When you, Jack, yesterday scooped up the
water from the creek with your hand, you only did what your forefathers thousands of years ago often 
did. Then man learned how to make vessels of clay, and harden them in the sun. As he
became more and more skilful, he used better materials and improved the vessels he made."
"Did the ancients colour their drinking-vessels ? " asked Jack.
" Yes, Jack; some beautifully tinted vessels are in the world's great museums ; but if I begin to 
speak about that I shall not finish by the time you have to go to school. I will, however, tell you
about the cups and saucers we use now."
"Can't you begin right at the very beginning," asked Janie, "and tell us where the stone comes from 
out of which our cups and saucers were made ?
"Yes, dear," replied her mother. "They are not made of stone, however, as you seem to think, but of 
baked clay.
" But all clays are not suitable, and so the potter has to make a clay, as it were. He takes 
different kinds of clays, and,
after treating them in various ways, he mixes them all together into a clay suitable for the deft 
hands of the workers.
"Let us now suppose that we have given an order for our cup and saucer, though we must not expect 
them to be
finished for at least three weeks. During that time they are going from hand to hand and from kiln to 
kiln, and in all
about twelve sets of workers have to do their share in the making.
" To begin with, a piece of clay is taken by a boy, who cuts it, cross-cuts it, slaps it, and kneads 
it like dough, until he
is sure that it contains no air-bubbles, and that it is neither too hard nor too soft to be shaped 
easily. He then rolls it
into a ball ready for the thrower.
" The thrower sits with a disc revolving in front of him. Upon this he throws the ball, pushes it 
into the centre, and with
the fingers of both hands makes it into any shape he chooses  -in this case, our cup. Then, forcing a 
thumb into the
clay, he hollows it out. So quickly is this done that almost before you can see what is happening a 
graceful cup is
formed. It is then cut from the disc by means of a wire.
" The marks of the thrower's fingers are still upon the cup, and these must be taken out. But it is 
so soft that it cannot
be handled without putting it out of shape. It is therefore carried away and allowed to dry before 
being passed on to the
turner.

"UPON THIS HE THROWS THE BALL."
"HE HOLLOWS IT OUT."
"SHE ATTACHES THE HANDLE."

" The turner takes the dry cup, and, while it is whirling round and round on a lathe, he removes all 
finger-marks,
makes it nice and even inside and out, and makes the edges round and smooth.
 "But the cup still requires the handle. While it has been passing from
one clever
worker to another, the handler has been making handles of clay in a mould. A woman  takes the 
cup, and,
using only water, or clay and water, she attaches the handle. Our cup has now its proper shape, but it
is far from finished with yet.
At another part of the works our saucer is being shaped and is coming along; but it is passing 
through fewer hands
than the cup. The saucer-maker is called a jiggerman. He takes a ball of clay and flattens it out 
like a pancake. He,
also, has a disc, in front of him, and on it is a mould shaped like the inside of the saucer. On top 
of this he lays his clay pancake and sets the disc revolving. Then he takes another mould, of the same 
shape as 
the outside of the
saucer, presses it on to the clay, and our saucer is made. Like the cup, it is next dried, and its 
edges are trimmed
by the turner.
" Both the cup and the saucer have now to be baked to harden them ; so they are handed to the 
kilnman. Each
cup and each saucer is placed in a fireclay vessel, called a seggar, to keep it apart from other 
cups or saucers, and
then the seggars are placed in a biscuit-oven until they fill it from floor to roof. The door of the 
oven is then closed and
the fire started. The firing has to be very carefully carried out, or the whole ovenful  may be spoiled. 
When the cups
and saucers are sufficiently baked, the oven is cooled, and the biscuit is taken out and carefully 
examined to see
that there are no flaws.
 "But our cup and saucer are still porous, and will absorb water just as a brick will. They are 
therefore not ready for
use, for a cup that would let milk or tea soak into it would be of little use on the table. So the 
small pores have to be
filled up, and the cup and saucer given their glossy appearance.
"But before this is done they have to be decorated. There are several ways of doing this. Our cup 
may have on it a
pattern that is repeated over and over again (Fig. 1). A girl does this with a piece of the stem of 
a. sponge on which is
cut the design. She places the cup on a disc which she can turn by hand. As the cup turns she dabs on 
the 
colour, and
so clever at this do girls become that you would think the pattern had been printed. Should we want 
lines (Fig. 2) on our cup, she does it with a brush.
 "We may, however, want our cup to be printed (Fig. 3). This is more difficult. An engraver takes a 
sheet of copper
and cuts on it whatever has to go on the cup. The marks are then filled with colour, and the face of 
the copper is
wiped quite free from any colour except that lying in the cuts. A piece of tissue paper is next 
pressed on to  the
copper by a  machine. The colour sticks to the paper, and comes away with  it when it is pulled  
off. The paper with 
the pattern on it is  then placed against the  cup and the colour  rubbed well in so that  it will 
soak into the  pores.
The cup, with the paper sticking to it, is plunged into  water, and the paper  can then be 
removed,  leaving the
pattern  clear and distinct.
" We are now ready to fill up the pores in the cup, and give it a nice glaze. It is dipped into what 
looks like cream, but
is really lead, flint, and clay mixed with water. When the cups are again put into an oven and baked, 
the creamy-looking mixture on the outside melts, filling up the pores, and giving the glaze. On cooling 
our cup 
is ready for use,
and so also is our saucer after being treated in the same way."
[The Editor is indebted to Mr. James Johnston, of the pottery works, Milton, for assistance in 
compiling this article.]


TWO NEW ZEALAND SPIDERS.
THE KATIPO AND THE TRAP-DOOR SPIDER.
No doubt many of you have heard of the katipo spider, for it is the only very venomous creature in the 
whole Dominion. There are hundreds of kinds of spiders in this country, and some of them can give 
painful bites ; but the
katipo is the only one whose bite is very poisonous and dangerous.
This spider is a handsome creature, and has a striking appearance. Its body varies in size. Sometimes 
it is about the
size of an average pea, but often it is much smaller. In colour it is jet black, and it looks like a 
large shot that has
been carefully polished. But its real beauty lies in a coloured band that extends from its head all 
the way down its
back. This band is sometimes bright red, sometimes pink, and sometimes orange. On some katipos the 
band is straight, on others it looks as if diamond-shaped marks had been placed end to end in a line. 
Some katipos do
away with this line altogether, and wear instead bright red spots on their shining black
bodies.
The katipo is found also in Australia, the Malay Archipelago, and India; but in these countries 
venomous reptiles and
insects are plentiful, and so the katipo does not command much attention there.
There is no doubt that it is a good plan to keep out of the way of the katipo. A
young man who was bitten while he was bathing on the Foxton beach, near the mouth of the Manawatu 
River, a few years ago, had
good cause to regret that he made the katipo's
acquaintance. One of these spiders, which had been running about in the sand, got into his clothes 
while he was in
the water, and, when he was dressing, gave him a sharp
bite on the leg. His leg became very painful and began to swell, he had a very severe headache, and he 
suffered so
badly from pains in different parts of the body that the doctor who attended him sent him to the 
hospital at
PaImerston North. In a few days he was cured and went away, determined to look out carefully for 
katipos the next time he bathed in the sea.
A Maori boy was taken into the same hospital, suffering from a bite on the right arm. He had a very 
bad 
headache, and great pain in the arm. Apparently, the katipo that bit him had not forced much poison 
into the wound,  
and he was soon
able to go away cured.
Ten years ago a young man went to a doctor in Wellington, and said that he had been bitten by a 
katipo while he was gathering dry wood on the beach at Petone. The
bite was on one of his hands, and, as he was showing it to the doctor, he fainted. The doctor found 
that the wound was like that made by a scorpion, but was not so
severe. The poison was most powerful near the bite, but its effects were noticeable on all parts of 
the body.
Maoris state that their children have often died from katipo-bites, but in only one case is there 
good evidence of death in New Zealand from this cause. A Maori girl who
lived near Maketu, in the Bay of Plenty, was bitten. She was attended to by a missionary in the 
district, who did the best he could for her. She seemed to be getting
better; but one day she suddenly became pale and faint, and afterwards lost all desire for food. In 
that condition she lingered for six weeks, and then died.
The katipo's favourite haunts are amongst sandy places near the sea-beach or only a few miles 
away. It is usually found under sticks or logs, but is to be seen also
amongst the tussock and grass. It lives all round the coast of the North Island, and in the South 
Island has been noticed as far south as Timaru. It seems to be most
plentiful on the western coast of the Wellington Province, in a district extending from Paraparaumu 
or Waikanae to the mouth of the Manawatu River, or even farther north.
A resident of Christchurch, who has several katipos in captivity, kept two in separate
bottles. Each of the captives made a cocoon or nest. This was composed of a fine, silky web, dirty 
white in colour, oval in shape, and about half an inch long. In each
case, the cocoon was attached to the under part of the stopper of the bottle, hanging there like the 
hanging-nest of a bird. 

THE KATIPO SPIDER AND ITS NEST.

The eggs are round, about the same size as a mustard-seed, and are of a pale red colour.
For the reasons just stated, the katipo is the most interesting spider of New Zealand;
but there are hundreds of other kinds in the Dominion, and many have very strange habits.
There is, for instance, the trap-door spider. It makes a remarkably clever nest, protected by a trap-door, 
which it pushes open when it comes out, and shuts again when it takes its walks 
abroad to search for
victims.
The first trap-door spider seen in New Zealand was found near Timaru in 1874. One day a gentleman 
was 
riding
through a grassy paddock when he saw a large spider on a bare piece of ground. Attracted by its 
size, he looked
steadily at it for some time, and then, as if by magic, it suddenly disappeared.

TRAP-DOOR SPIDERS.

He dismounted and took out his knife to dislodge the spider from the dirt-heap in which he 
believed it had
hidden.
No sooner had he applied the point of the blade than, to his great surprise and delight, up sprang a 
beautiful trap-door. It formed the lid to a hole several inches deep which went down into the earth. It 
was lined 
with white silken
web, which glistened in the sun. The web lined also the inside of the little door, and formed a clever 
and remarkably good hinge.
The door had been made so well that it shut down tightly on to the top of the nest, fitting exactly 
into the edge. No
human being could have made a door that would fit better. When it was allowed to slip from the knife, 
it shut down
with quite a little bang, showing that the spring formed by the web was strong. The lid had been 
peppered on the
outside with loose soil, like that which was lying all around. This, of course, helped to keep the 
spider's little home
still more secret.
So successful was the spider in hiding its nest that the gentleman who had thus accidentally found it 
lost it again. He
marked several objects close at hand, and went off for a spade with which to dig up the home he had 
so strangely
discovered. When he returned with the spade, no searching could find the nest, and he never saw it 
again.
[NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY - Spiders do not belong to the class Insecta, and should not be 
confused 
with
insects. They are included in the class Arachnida, which also includes scorpions, mites, and ticks. 
Spiders, however,
belong to the order Araneida, which does not include any other animals. " All spiders are predacious, 
and suck the
juices of insects; but the manner in which they get possession of their prey varies greatly, and 
often indicates the
possession of a highly developed instinct. The so-called vagrant spiders, of which the katipo is one, do 
not, as a rule,
form nets to catch their prey, but use the secretion of the spinning-glands only to line their 
hiding-places and to make
their ovisacs [egg- receptacle]. They catch their prey either by running after it or by springing on 
to it. Other spiders
are able to run quickly, but they render the task of catching prey easier by making webs and nets, on 
which they
move about with great dexterity, while other animals, especially insects, become easily entangled. 
Most spiders rest
in the daytime, and go out for prey in the dusk or in the night-time. Many vagrant spiders, however, 
hunt in the day-time, even when the sun is shining." (Dr. Claus's " Elementary Zoology.")
The katipo belongs to the family Therididae, and to the genus Latrodectus. The specific name of the 
New Zealand katipo is hasselti, but there is a variety named atritus.]









