HENRY V AS PRINCE AND KING.
No braver king than Henry V ever sat on the throne of England. He was the idol of his 
people and the 
pride of the
army, being loved and honoured by every soldier who followed his banner to the 
wars. Yet no English 
king was so wild
in his youth, or gave such trouble and anxiety to his parents. "Madcap Harry," the 
people called 
him, and the
nickname, given to him at a time when he richly deserved it, clung to him long after 
he had given up 
his wild life.
Many stories are told of the mad pranks played by the young Prince. He mixed with 
low companions, who 
led him to
do many wicked and mischievous acts, quite unworthy of a prince who was some day 
to become king of 
England.
In those days railways were, of course, unknown, and all travelling was done by 
coach. One day some 
of the Prince's
friends lay in wait for one of these coaches, and robbed the passengers of their money 
and jewels. 
One of the thieves
was captured, and brought before a Judge, who ordered him to be sent to prison. 
When the Prince, who 
was in the
Court, heard the sentence, he became very angry, and ordered the Judge to set the man 
free.
"I am Prince of Wales," he said, "and I forbid you to send this man to prison, like a 
common thief. 
Set him free
instantly."
The Judge refused to do so, and told the Prince that he ought to be ashamed to have 
such a bad man as 
a companion. At this the
Prince became even more angry, and, striding up to the Judge, lifted his hand to strike 
him.
The Judge immediately rose from his seat, and ordered the Prince to be seized. 

PRINCE HENRY AND THE JUDGE.

"Remember yourself, sir," he exclaimed, in a stern voice: "I stand here in the place of 
the King to make all men obey the law. You have broken the King's 
law, and you
have raised 
your hand to strike the King's Judge. Great is your crime, and severe 
will be your punishment. I order you to be sent to prison also."
Bowing his head with shame, the Prince silently allowed himself to be 
seized and led away. When the King heard the
whole story he exclaimed, " Happy am I to have a Judge who does not fear 
to punish a King's son, and a son who is
wise enough to obey the law."
Many years passed away, and the old King grew more and more feeble 
until, wearied out with the heavy burden of
government, he died. Then Madcap Harry was crowned King of England.
Many people came to render homage to the new King. With them were those 
evil companions who had led him into
mischief when a youth, and who now expected rich presents and other signs 
of his friendship. Little did they know of
the great change that had come over the heart of Madcap Harry. He had 
made a vow to his dying father to rule his
people with justice, and to give them an example of a pure and noble 
life. When his former friends pressed around
him, he turned from them, and advised them to give up their foolish ways, 
as he had done.
Among the others came the Judge who had sent Harry to prison. Although he 
knew that he had only done his duty,
he feared that the
King would take away his office. He, too, was mistaken. The King received 
him kindly and
thanked him for the severe lesson he had taught him. Shakespeare has put 
the following noble words into the mouth
of the King:-
And I do wish your honours may increase Till you do live to see a son of 
mine Offend you, and obey you, as I did. So
shall I live to speak my father's words: " Happy am I that have a man so 
bold That dares do justice on my proper
son; And not less happy, having such a son That would deliver up his 
greatness so Into the hands of justice." You did
commit me, For which I do commit into your hand The unstained sword that 
you have used to bear; With this
remembrance, that you use the same With the like bold, just, and 
impartial spirit As you have done 'gainst me.
Let us glance for a moment at the life of Madcap Harry after he was 
crowned King. No longer did he waste the
precious time in idle pursuits and empty pleasures. France and England 
were still at war, and Henry was eager to
lead his soldiers against the enemy. He first besieged the town of 
Harfleur, at the mouth of the Seine, and captured it
after a month's siege. With a starving and ill-clad army of but nine 
thousand men, he then marched for Calais. Before
him was a great army of sixty thousand Frenchmen, eager to crush the half 
- starved troops of the English King. The
two armies took up their positions at Agincourt,* not very far from the 
battlefield of Crecy.
Terrible was the battle that followed. The English archers drove poles 
into the ground, their sharpened ends pointing
outwards. When the French horsemen charged, their horses struck the sharp 
points, and horses and riders rolled to the ground.

* See "The Battle of Agincourt," one of the series of pictures 
distributed to schools in 1907.
 See School Journal, Part II, October, 1908, page 131.

The English archers poured in a hail of arrows, and forced the French to retreat into 
safety.
Again they came to the attack, and a French knight dealt the King a great blow, which 
dented his 
helmet and brought
him to his knees. But the knight was quickly overcome and killed, before Henry, who 
always admired a 
brave man,
could save him. The King's brother was dragged off his horse, but the King stood over 
his body, and, 
fighting with the
strength of a dozen men, kept the enemy at bay. In three hours the battle was over, 
and the English 
were everywhere
victorious.
With his little army Henry pushed on to Calais, and thence to England, where he was 
received with 
shouts of joy, the
people wading into the water and carrying their monarch shoulder-high to the shore.

THE TRAIN-MEN.
A passenger-train is standing at the city station ready to start. People are hurrying to 
and fro, and 
the porters are
placing luggage and parcels in the guard's van at the rear of the train.
The guard - and it is he who is in charge of the train - sees that everything is properly 
arranged so 
that he can put out
the parcels at their proper stations without much trouble. Nor is this his only duty. 
Before the 
train starts he has to
look closely at the couplings between the carriages. The hooks and chains joining the 
carriages 
together must be
properly placed, and the ends of the pipes which work the brakes must be securely 
joined together. If any accident occurs through this being carelessly 
done, the guard is
blamed. One by one he inspects them until he reaches the engine.
On the engine are two men, who share with the guard the work of taking the train to 
its journey's 
end. These are the
engine-driver and the fireman. The driver is in charge of the locomotive, as a railway-
engine is 
called, and he has to
see to the safety of the train as much as the guard has, but in a different way. He must 
see that 
the line is clear of
any objects  that would upset the engine or throw it off the line.
The fireman is throwing coal into the fire, and the engine is puffing and gasping 
noisily. This noise 
is caused by the air-pump of the brake. The pump is to be seen on the outside of the 
engine, and is worked by steam from 
the boiler.
The brake used on the New Zealand railways is the Westinghouse quick-action brake, 
and, by means of 
it, in times of
danger the train can be stopped very quickly.

Photo by J. N. Taylor.]
MENDING THE BRAKE-PUMP.

From the engine to the van runs a long pipe, and beneath the engine and under 
each carriage
there are steel drums into which air is pumped. When these drums are filled with 
compressed or 
forced-in air, a valve
closes. So long as there is compressed air in the long pipe, the air in the drums cannot 
escape. When 
the driver
wants to stop the train, he allows the air in the pipe to flow gradually out, and then the 
pressure 
of air in the drums
pushes the brakes against the wheels. Each carriage has its own brakes, and, if a part 
of the train 
breaks away when
going up a hill, the pipe is broken, the air escapes, and the brakes act of their own 
accord. Both 
parts of the train then stop.
Now the train is all ready. The stationmaster comes to the driver, carrying a wooden 
hoop at the 
lower end of which
is a small leather bag. Inside the bag is a brown tablet like a piece of chocolate, and 
the driver 
must not start until he
gets this tablet. It is a sign that there is no other train on the line between the city and 
the next 
station. On the tablet
are the names of the two stations between which it is used. These tablets are kept at 
the station in 
a machine that is
so wonderfully made that only one tablet can be taken out at a time, and no tablet can 
be taken out 
at all without the
consent and the help of the man at the next station.* So far as the skill of man can 
arrange, there 
is therefore no
danger of one train running into another. You see that not only the men on the train 
watch over you, 
but also the men at the stations before you and behind you.

*Between the two stations there is an electrical connection, and the machine cannot be 
opened or shut unless the "keys," or "plungers," of the machines at the two stations 
are pressed down at the same time.

Near the platform there is a signal-post which carries a cross-arm. This arm is made to 
move up and 
down, and is
worked by a wire. The wire is pulled by a man called the signalman. He has also 
received word that 
the line is clear,
and he causes the arm to fall. This tells the driver that when all is ready he may take 
his train 
out. At night the
signals are given by means of lights - a red light for " danger," and a green light for
"safety."
Everything is now ready. The stationmaster strikes a bell, the guard blows his whistle 
and holds his arm out straight,
as a signal to the driver. The driver blows the steam-whistle on the engine, and turns 
the steam from 
the boiler into
the machinery. Round go the wheels, and friends wave their last good-byes.
As the train moves out of the station, the guard steps on to the van and waves his hand 
when the train is clear of the platform. 

Photo by J. N. Taylor.]
THE GUARD.

This is the " Right-away " signal. Now the driver allows more steam to work, the 
wheels move faster, and 
the trees and
houses glide more quickly by the carriage-window.
Just here the roadway crosses the railway, and the driver again blows the whistle to 
warn people to 
keep off the line.
In the tender behind the engine is kept the food, solid and liquid, for the engine - the 
bright coal 
for the furnace, and
underneath that the store of water for the boiler. The door of the furnace is opened, the 
fireman 
tosses in more coal,
and then glances at a clock-like object to see " how much steam there is."
As the train runs out into the open country the speed becomes greater, and the engine 
rocks and sways 
gently on its
springs. When the steam has performed its work it escapes into the funnel, and roars 
its joy at its 
release.
In front of the train there is a hill, in which a dark hole is seen. As we get nearer, this 
hole 
proves to be a tunnel, and
very dark and small it looks. The whistle blows, and the next moment there is pitch-
darkness. The 
smoke from the
funnel whirls round the men on the engine, and leaks into the carriages, bringing in a 
smell of 
sulphur. But the
darkness lasts only a few moments, and the train is out into the sunlight once more, 
and racing along 
the level line.
It is easy to see the line in the sunlight, but at night a bright light has to be carried in 
front of 
the locomotive to throw a
light on the railway, and to warn people to keep out of danger. When an engine is 
travelling very 
fast at night, it is hard
for the driver to see the line far ahead. He strains his eyes to do so, and also watches 
the country 
through which he is
travelling, so that he may know when to urge on or to curb his iron horse as he nears a 
hill, a station, or a 
sharp curve in the
line.
After flying along for some miles the train gets near to the next station. Soon the 
signal-post, can 
be seen, and the
arm stands at " danger.'' The whistle is blown, and the signalman, hearing the sound, 
and knowing 
that the line is
clear, allows the arm to drop. 

Drawn by the Railway Department, N.Z.]
CHANGING TABLETS.

The train rushes past the signal and towards the station. The fireman has the hoop of 
the tablet held out on the side next 
the platform, and
the stationmaster is on the platform, holding a hoop out towards the engine.* 

* At some stations the tablet is not held out by the stationmaster and taken by a man 
on the engine. On the platform is a post on which the tablet is hung. On the engine is a 
device which takes up the tablet and leaves behind the one it carries. This overcomes 
the danger that, if the stationmaster keeps hold of the tablet too long, he may be pulled
against the train when it is travelling quickly.

The stationmaster takes the fire man's tablet ; the fireman receives from the 
stationmaster the tablet which allows the train to 
proceed to the next
station, and, without stopping, the train thunders on its way, in charge of the men who 
watch over us 
on the railways -
the guard, the engine-driver, and the fireman.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
INTRODUCTORY.
Children in every land like to learn all they can about the animal life of their own 
country, and, as 
the animal life in
New Zealand is more ancient, more peculiar, and more interesting than that of any 
other country in 
the world, young
New-Zealanders are very fortunate. When we say that our animal life is more ancient, 
we do not mean 
that New Zealand animals live longer than animals belonging to other parts, but that 
many of them are 
creatures very like those
which lived millions of years ago. They are the waifs and strays of that old-time 
animal life whose 
history, told in
piecemeal fashion by remains dug out of the earth, can be only guessed at now.
Ages and ages ago most of the land in the world was covered with curious trees and 
wonderful ferns. 
There were no
birds flitting from tree to tree, and no bright flowers making
beautiful the silent and gloomy forests. New
Zealand was then part of a vast continent, which stretched north, south, east, and west. 
In that dark 
and awesome
time, there were in the world no mammals - that is, animals which suckle their young. 
Reptiles of 
gigantic size were
the kings of the animal world. They are referred to in Tennyson's poem " In 
Memoriam " as " dragons 
in their prime "
who " tore each other in their slime."
In those early days these large reptiles must have been fairly plentiful in New Zealand 
as well as in other parts, as their remains have often been found imbedded in the 
rocks.


From "Harmsworth History of the World."]
THE AGE OF REPTILES. (The creatures shown flying are not birds, but flying 
reptiles.)

Among these great ones of the past, there lived the smaller tuatara, a strange lizard-
like creature 
that still honours
New Zealand with its presence, although it is found in no other part of the world.
In later periods, owing to the gradual sinking of the land, New Zealand was separated 
from the vast 
continent of which
it formed a part. That was before mammals had begun to spread out over the world. 
Mammals, therefore, 
had no means of reaching lonely New Zealand, and when human beings first came 
here they found a land 
almost without
mammals. It was not wholly without mammals. There were no mammals such as 
sheep, cattle, pigs, cats, 
and dogs,
but there were two kinds of bats. Bats are flying mammals - they are, in fact, the only 
mammals that 
can fly. These
two New-Zealanders probably flew here when the gap between this country and the 
old continent was not 
very wide.
When the Maoris arrived, about five hundred years ago, the bats were the only land 
creatures in New 
Zealand
belonging to the great class of mammals - the highest class of the animal kingdom. 
Seals, which are 
mammals, were
to be found in numbers along our shores ; but, as they spend nearly as much time in 
the water as on 
the land, and
travel great distances over the ocean, they must be looked upon as belonging to the 
sea almost as 
much as do the
whales, the porpoises, and the dolphins.
The lack of mammals left the birds, which form the second-highest class in the animal 
kingdom, at the 
top of the
animals in New Zealand. They had no natural enemies. The bats, of course, did not 
interfere with them 
in any way,
and the tuatara, the only other land animal of any size, gave them no trouble whatever.
These circumstances, together with long separation from the rest of the world, have 
caused our birds 
to become very
peculiar. If a person has not to struggle in life, if he satisfies all his needs and desires 
without 
effort, and if he does not mix with his fellow-men, he becomes odd. This has 
happened to our birds. They have become quite different from the birds of
other lands, and they present strange differences among themselves. Some, 
for instance, are quite unable to fly, and
some undertake the most wonderful flights known to men; some are so local 
in their habits that they never leave
small districts in the mountains, and others pass the time in both the 
Northern and the Southern Hemispheres; some
are so tame that they place a charming trust in all who visit their haunts 
in the forests, and others are so shy that few
people have been able to make their acquaintance ; many are utterly 
songless, and some sing notes of extraordinary
sweetness.
One of the most curious things about our bird life is the large number of 
birds that are flightless. There are more
kinds of flightless birds in New Zealand than in any other country. It is 
believed that this has been brought about
mainly by the absence of enemies, and by the plentiful supplies of food 
always found here. The birds had no great
use for their wings. They had no enemies to flee from; they had no 
difficulty in getting as much food as they needed.
Some therefore neglected their power of flight. As age after age passed, 
they became lazier and lazier, and their
wings became weaker and weaker, until at last they were quite unable to fly 
even if they wanted to do so.

THE LIGHTHOUSE AT NUGGET POINT, SOUTH-EAST OF OTAGO.

THE LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER.
As a rule, the lighthouse stands on the crest of the cliffs, high above 
the breakers which flash their white foam on the
rocks and beaches. The tower gleams golden in the glow of the setting 
sun. In the lantern, the blinds, which have
been drawn down all day, are raised, and the lingering sunlight fills the 
glasses round the lamp with all the rich
colours of the rainbow.*

* If a prism in procurable, these colours can be shown.

As the sun dips below the ocean far away on the western horizon, darkness begins to 
creep over sea 
and land.
The coming of night is the signal for lighting the lamps in the lighthouses all round. 
our coasts. 
The bright beams flash
across the waters, and the men on the ships that glide by in the night know where they 
are, and what 
course they
must steer to reach their port.*
The lighthouse is built of wood, iron, or stone. At the top is the lantern - a room the 
seaward side 
of which is filled with
glass. In the centre of the lantern stands the lamp upon which so much depends.
But before the rays of light flash out into the darkness they have to pass through the 
lens, a strong 
metal frame filled
with long three-sided pieces of glass. The lens causes the light to shine more 
brilliantly. Some 
lights are fixed - that is,
throw a beam of white or red light steadily out to sea. Others give out a flash every 
ten seconds, or 
thirty seconds, or,
it may be, only every minute. It appears as if the light were put out and then relit. But 
such is not 
the case : the lens
and the lamp turn slowly round and round, and this causes the beam to sweep over the 
ocean's surface 
just as the
rays from a warship's searchlight move from point to point. To the men in the ships 
the light 
flashes, and then there is
darkness until the beam sweeps round again.
The men who look after the lighthouse live with their families in the cottages near by. 
There are at least two men at each lighthouse-station. 

* The captain has a book that tells him the kind of light shown by every lighthouse, 
and he is thus able to find his way even on the darkest night.
 At some lighthouses the light shows red in the direction of a reef or other particularly 
dangerous spot.

If it is also a signal-station to report passing ships, or is on an island, or at a lonely 
spot on the mainland, there are three men.
At sunset one of the keepers climbs up to the lantern, draws up the blinds, and 
prepares to light the 
lamp. While the
twilight is still lingering, the bright glare, which can be seen thirty miles away, flashes 
over the 
sea.
The keeper stays on duty till 8 o'clock. Then his place is taken by another, who 
attends to the lamp 
until midnight. If
there are only two men at the station, the first keeper, having had four hours of sleep, 
comes on 
duty again until 4
o'clock in the morning. If there are three men, the third takes his turn.
The keeper on duty sits in a little room just below the lantern, and when not attending 
to the lamp 
spends the greater
part of his time in reading. Every now and again he goes out on the narrow gallery 
which encircles 
the tower just
outside the lantern, to see that the light is showing well ; and, if the light is not fixed, 
he must 
also wind up the heavy
clockwork weights that drive the lamp slowly round and round. So dazzling is the 
brilliant white 
light that when he has
to look at it he wears dark glasses to protect his eyes.
It is very lonely at night in a lighthouse. Except the man on duty, or one of the other 
keepers, no 
one is allowed to
enter the lighthouse while the light is burning. The reason for this rule is that the 
watcher must 
keep his mind always
on his duty. If the light failed, vessels might be wrecked and many lives might be lost.
At the far-away island stations it is very lonely in the daytime too. But the men often 
spend the 
time gardening or
doing carpentry-work, at which some of them are very clever.
They soon become accustomed to the quietness, and there are some who prefer to live 
at these lonely 
posts. Yet
they are always glad when the Government steamer calls - usually every three months 
- to bring books and provisions
and other things they need, and, it may be, to take a keeper away to spend a holiday in 
town. Mails, 
however, arrive
every month, and with the mails come many newspapers and magazines, which are 
read during the night 
watches.

Photo by W. E. Spencer.]
CAPE EGMONT LIGHTHOUSE.

 All night long the light glows or flashes over the lonely sea, and the ships that come 
and go steer 
their courses by
its friendly aid. But the dawn comes at last. In summer it is daylight by 4 o'clock, and 
the last 
watch ends at that
hour. In winter the daylight comes later, so the watch is changed again, and is kept 
until the sun is 
beginning to light
up the sea and sky with his beams. Then the keeper puts out the lamp and stops its 
turning, for the work of the night is over.

JOAN OF ARC.
During the Hundred Years' War there lived, in a little village of France, a girl named 
Joan. She was 
a good and kind
girl, and used to sit and sew by her mother's side, or go out to tend her father's sheep 
in the 
fields. So kind was she
to birds and beasts that they would come when she called them, and feed out of her 
hands. She had 
pleasant ways
with sick people, and with people poorer than herself.
While she was growing up, her country was falling into worse and worse trouble. All 
the north of 
France was like a
desert. The people used to flock into the towns till the townspeople became afraid of 
starvation, and 
shut their gates
against them. Then, not knowing what to do, those shut out went to live in the woods, 
and became 
robbers.
Joan and her father and mother saw a great deal of the war. They had to flee into the 
woods from 
bands of soldiers,
and when they came back they found their home burned and their goods carried off or 
destroyed.
 There was no proper king in France. The
king was just dead, and his eldest son was a
selfish young man, who loved himself more than he loved France. His name was 
Charles. He was usually called the Dauphin, the name
given to the eldest son of the King of France.
Joan was so sad about the French people that at last she could think of nothing else. 
She heard of 
thousands dying,
in Paris alone, of want and sickness. People who were sick or hurt would come past 
the cottage 
where she lived,
and again and again she took them in. She gave up her own bed to them, and nursed 
them till they were 
well.
Then she began to dream strange dreams. In her sleep she thought that an angel came 
to her and told 
her to go and
help the Dauphin to save France. "I am only a poor girl," she said, "I know not how to 
ride to the 
wars or to lead
soldiers." Then it seemed to her that the angel told her not to weep, but to be brave 
and fear not.
At last she made up her mind to go to the Dauphin. She thought that she would not be 
doing God's will 
if she did not
go. She was only eighteen, and her father and all the people who knew her were either 
angry with her 
or laughed at
her. No one would help her on her journey to the place where the Dauphin then was.
" I must go," said Joan, " even if I wear my limbs to the very knees. I would much 
rather stay here 
and spin by my
mother's side ; but I must go and help the Dauphin, for my Lord wills it."
" Who is your Lord ? " people asked her.
" He is God," she replied.
Then a rough captain took her by the hand, and told her that he would lead her to the 
Dauphin. He 
kept his word, and
Joan went to the town where the Dauphin lived. At first the grand people there would 
have nothing to 
do with her, and
she had to wait a long time before the Dauphin would see her.
Then she said to him, " Gentle Dauphin, God sends me to tell you that you shall be 
crowned King of 
France." She
told him she had received a message from heaven to deliver the city of Orleans, which 
the English had 
surrounded.
The Dauphin was glad to have her help, and at last gave orders that the army should 
obey Joan the 
Maid.
Joan rode upon a white horse, and was clad in white armour from head to foot. A 
great white banner, 
on which were
worked the golden lilies of France, was held over her. The soldiers loved and obeyed 
her from the 
first. Wherever she
went, the people came out to bless and thank her. Sick people often begged her to 
touch them, 
thinking that the
touch of her hand would cure them; but she would smile and say, " Your touch is just 
as good as mine."

JOAN OF ARC ENTERING ORLEANS.

One of the first things she had to do was to save Orleans, which the English were then 
trying to 
take. No one thought
she could do it ; but she said that it was what God wished, and went boldly on, leading 
the French army.
When she came near the city, the English were afraid of this strange girl, and she rode 
straight through them and into Orleans. "I bring you," she said to the people inside, 
"the best help ever sent to any one, the help of the King 
of Heaven." Then
she went to the great church, followed by her soldiers. While the priests sang and 
prayed, she knelt, 
and wept, and
gave thanks; and all the people, seeing this, wept with her.
But she had still to drive the English away. They had put up many strong forts all 
round the town. 
Joan said that
these must be taken, and, day after day, she led the soldiers out against them. 
Everything came to 
pass just as she
said it would, and soon every fort but one was taken, and this was the strongest of 
them all. The 
chief men in the
army were afraid of attacking it, and said that they would wait. But Joan, mounting 
her war-horse, 
and taking her
banner, called a few soldiers to go with her. She then ordered the town gates to be 
thrown open, and 
rode out against
the fort. The other soldiers were so ashamed of themselves that they followed. The 
English fought very
 bravely, and the French had hard work to take the fort.
In trying to climb up the walls of the fort, Joan was wounded, and fell back to the 
ground. Some one 
carried her into a
garden, gave her water, and dressed her wound. She was faint and frightened, but 
when she heard that 
the French
captains had told their men to run back she became as bold as ever.
She begged her followers not to run away.
"Wait a little," she said ; " watch my banner, and when it touches the walls you shall 
enter in." So 
they went on once
more, and Joan's standard-bearer pushed on nearer and nearer to the walls. At last the 
white banner 
touched them,
and almost at the same moment a hole
was made, the French soldiers got in, and the fort was taken.
Next day the English army left Orleans. Joan took many other towns out of their 
hands, and, when at 
last the
Dauphin was crowned King, she felt that her work was done. She wished to go home 
to tend sheep again 
with her
sisters and brothers; but Charles and his great men could not do without her.
In those days she was very sad, and nothing seemed to go well with her. She had 
enemies among her 
own people,
and some of them one day shut the gates of a town against her as she was coming in, 
and she fell into 
the hands of
the English.
She was kept in prison for a year, and treated very harshly. Then she was tried before 
the Judges for 
being a witch.
No one was allowed to speak for her or to help her in any way. King Charles did 
nothing to save her, 
and she was
burned to death.
" We are lost," cried an English soldier when he saw Joan die; " we have burned a 
saint."
From that day the English never did well in France, and before many years had passed 
they were all driven out of the country.
-From the " School Paper," Victoria.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
(Continued from page 16.)
THE KIWI.
The kiwi is the most notable of our flightless birds - indeed, it is the most notable 
living bird 
known to man. If you look
at the picture you would think that the kiwi has no wings at all. The fact is that its 
wings are so wasted and small that they do not show through its plumage; they are 
merely crooked limbs, about an inch and a half long, each with a horny claw at the 
end. It is probable 
that, in the distant
past, the ancestors of this bird had strong wings, which could be used to some 
purpose. Kiwis of the 
present day,
suffering from the laziness of former generations of kiwis, are at the mercy of men, 
dogs, and other 
powerful enemies. They are therefore being rapidly killed off.

THE KIWI.

The picture also shows that the kiwi has remarkably thick legs. The strength of these 
legs to some extent makes up for the loss of wings. When an attempt is made to catch 
a kiwi it strikes out savagely with 
its legs and
claws, which are so strong that they have been known to split open a man's hand to 
the bone.
In manner and appearance the kiwi is very quaint. It has a peculiar and clumsy gait, 
which, however, 
carries it along
fairly rapidly when it is being chased. At first glance its
body seems to be covered with hairs. They are really soft and downy feathers, quite 
unlike the larger 
feathers on the
body of an ordinary bird. Its nostrils are at the tip of its long and slender bill, instead 
of at the 
base, near the head, as
is the case with all other birds. Altogether, as a great naturalist in England once said, 
it is the 
queerest and most
unbirdlike of all living birds. It is one of the oddest of Nature's productions.
One of the most curious things in regard to the kiwi is the enormous size of its egg as 
compared with 
the size of its
body. The egg is sometimes five inches long and three inches thick. This is a great 
size for the egg 
of a bird that is
not much larger than a large domestic fowl.
The eggs are laid in a hollow on the ground. They are placed on the bare soil, no 
attempt being made 
to form a nest
of dried ferns, grasses, or other material. The nest, if it can be called by that name, is 
usually 
found beneath the roots
of trees, in logs, or under logs. The duty of hatching the eggs is often undertaken by 
both the male 
and female birds.
In some cases young kiwis have been found at a short distance from the family abode, 
in a kind of 
nursery. They are
described as " quaint-looking little animals, with not too much of the savour of youth 
about them, 
being nearly exact
miniatures [or little images] of the adult."
Kiwis usually sleep all day, and come out at night to search for worms, which they 
find by poking 
their long bills into
the earth. The birds live mostly in the darkest and densest parts of the forests. Not 
liking the 
light, they prefer to live
in the gloom of the damp, thick undergrowth, and they give forth no song to betray 
their 
hiding-places.

THE WEKA.
The weka, or woodhen, is another flightless bird. Its wings are larger and stronger 
than the kiwi's, 
but they are not
strong enough to enable the weka to fly.

THE WEKA.

They are, however, very useful in battle, in which the weka delights to 
engage. When two male
wekas meet in the open, there is almost sure to be trouble, and the
wings, which are armed with spurs, are brought into use with a great deal of fluttering 
and fury. Mr. W. W. Smith, a New Zealand naturalist, in describing a battle between 
wekas, states that, besides bruises made by 
the hard bills,
wounds are caused by the wing-spurs. The effects of these fights can be seen for 
several days, the 
little spitfires
going about with stiff necks, and sore and swollen heads, carried well forward. When 
they can get to 
cold water they
bathe their heads, and, making a rapid recovery, are again eager for the fray.
I am sorry to say the weka is a great thief. It will steal almost anything, from hen's 
eggs to boots, 
spoons, and
pannikins. It is also prying, deceitful, and sly. It is, however, a great favourite with all 
who 
spend much time in its
haunts, and its weaknesses are readily forgiven.
The nest of the weka is made chiefly of grass, piled together, with a kind of basin on 
top. It is 
found in many different
situations. The eggs are pinkish white, sometimes spotted with reddish and violet 
spots. They are a little over two
inches in length, and from five to seven eggs may be found in each nest.
THE KAKAPO.
The kakapo, a large parrot with a fat body, and with eyes like an owl's, is also 
flightless. Its 
wings are fairly strong,
but not strong enough to raise the heavy body into the air. The kakapo has not 
altogether left off 
using its wings. It
finds them of some assistance when it runs, when it balances itself on a branch of a 
tree, and when 
it wishes to
break its fall to the ground. The kakapo is a very lovable bird. It is intelligent, playful, 
and affectionate, and is a very
pleasant companion.
The kakapo is mostly a night-bird, and spends a great deal of the daytime 
in holes in
 the ground,
 or under the
 roots of trees.
 When taken
 from its hole,
 it will try to hide again as
 soon as possible  in its
 dark retreat.
 The eggs are
 white and are
 less than an
 inch in length.
 The kakapo
 was once fairly
 plentiful in the
 South Island,
 but it has.
 always been very rare in the North Island. It is another of New Zealand's songless 
birds.
(To be continued.)

THE KAKAPO.

[NOTE FOR THE TEACHER ONLY - The kiwi belongs to the family Apterygidae 
and the genus Apteryx (a, without; pteron, a wing); and this genus is divided into five 
species, as follows: mantelli, brown kiwi (found in North Island); australis, southern 
kiwi (South Island); oweni, grey kiwi (South Island); occidentalis, spotted kiwi (west 
coast of the South Island); and haasti, great kiwi (sub-alpine regions of the west 
coast of the South Island). The weka belongs to the family of rails (Rallidae) and the 
genus Ocydromus (okus, swift; dramein, to run), which is also divided into five
species, as follows: brachypterus (brachus, short; pteron, a wing), black woodhen 
(west coast sounds of the South Island); earli, North Island woodhen (North Island 
and Stewart Island); finschi Finschi's woodhen (Te Anau district, South Island) ; 
hectori: hill woodhen (sub-alpine districts of North Island); and australis, South Island 
woodhen (South Island and Stewart Island). The kakapo (rare in the North Island) is 
the only member of its family, Stringopidae, and its name is Stringops (owl-eyed), 
habroptilus (soft or delicate feathered).]


THE POLICEMAN.
How goes the night?
The stars are sleeping in their misty bed; The moon is young, and will not 
show her head. I hear a hurried step, in
chase or flight. Who goes ? All's right!  
 How goes the night ? The rains are falling fast in drowning showers; The 
clocks are sounding slow the crawling
hours; Beneath the arch a lantern glimmers bright.
Who goes ? All's right!
How goes the night ? The burglar skulks within his cellar deep, The 
homeless wanderer sinks his cares in sleep. And
dreams of joys that vanish with the light.
Who goes ? All's right !
 Swift runs the night!
Lo! morning breaks along the eastern sky;
I hear the heavy tread of comrades nigh,
A file of hearty fellows, punctual quite.
 Who goes? Alls right! 
 Good night!

Everybody has seen the stalwart policeman in his blue uniform pacing along the city 
streets, but not 
everybody knows
what training the policeman must go through before he is allowed to begin his duty of 
watching over 
the public safety.
To become a policeman, a man must have passed the Fifth Standard of the public 
schools, and must be 
healthy,
strong, and sober. Before he is appointed, he goes through a course of training under a 
police 
sergeant, who teaches
him the geography of Australia, New Zealand, and the islands of the South Pacific. 
He must learn and 
understand
also the laws dealing with his duties. He has to gain, too, a certificate showing that he 
is able to 
render first aid to
any one who has met with an accident in the streets. Lessons in drill and physical 
exercises also are 
given to
strengthen his muscles and to make him quick and alert. At the end of two months, if 
he proves 
himself to be a
suitable man, he is taken into the police force, and at once begins his duties as a 
guardian of law and order.
The portion of the city which is directly under the care of each policeman is called his 
" beat." As 
he goes to and fro
he keeps his eyes and ears alert for any sights or sounds that will tell him that people 
are breaking the law.
The reliefs, or watches, of the police are five in number. Four of these are the daylight 
watches, 
and consist of four
hours each. The fifth watch is the night watch, and is eight hours long, from 9 o'clock 
at night till 
5 o'clock in the
morning.
Just before the night watch begins, a squad of constables under the charge of a 
sergeant marches 
out of the police-station. As they pass along the streets they drop out one by one, and 
relieve the men at the 
different beats. Extra
men also are set on watch, for at night the number of constables on duty is nearly 
double the number 
needed to do
the work in the day. When all the men have dropped out and taken up their duties, the 
sergeant moves 
from beat to
beat to see that his men are keeping faithful watch and that all is well. He also calls at 
the 
police-station to make
reports, and to learn if a call for him has come from any part of the town.
From 9 o'clock to midnight the constable finds interest in watching the people as they 
pass to and 
fro. But, as they
go off to their homes, the streets become more and more quiet, until there are no 
sounds at all save 
the moaning of
the wind through the telephone-wires and the soft*, steady tread of the policeman 
himself.
 All night, while we are sleeping, he paces
back and forth. Over his uniform he wears a
long overcoat bound at the waist by a leather
belt. On the belt is his bull's-eye lantern,
which is alight, but has its light covered by a metal slide.

* In order that the policeman may move about quietly, his boots are provided with 
indiarubber heels.
 
He carries a pair of handcuffs, and is armed with a short, thick piece of hard wood, 
called a baton. Should
he need help during the night, he blows a shrill whistle as a signal to the nearest 
policeman, who at 
once comes to
his assistance.
Up the street he
goes, walking slowly and looking carefully about him. Every now and again he turns 
the handle of a 
shop-door to see
that the door is safely locked. Presently, a long way off, he hears footsteps. They draw 
nearer, and 
gay voices echo
down the street. The policeman stands in the shadows, and, taking his lantern, 
uncovers the light and 
holds it so that
it shines across the footpath. The merrymakers come up to where he is standing, and, 
as they pass, 
each face
flits through the rays of the lantern. He sees they are law-abiding people returning 
from some amusement. He bids them good night and passes on, getting a cheery 
"Good night " in reply.
It may be that he has been ordered to keep his eye on a house whose owner is out of 
town. In this 
case he enters
the gate and walks round the building, turning the light of his lantern on the windows 
and doors to 
see that all is
secure. Should a light be burning in a house after midnight, the policeman may, if he 
thinks it needful, rap on the door and ask what the light means.
It is lonely work indeed when the rain or snow is blowing along the empty streets, and 
the wind is 
swirling and tossing
the tree-tops. But at times the men on beats next one another may meet and have a 
few words together 
about their
duty. Especially is this done if one of them has seen suspicious people about, and 
wishes to tell 
his comrade to be
watchful.
But for the greater part of the eight-hour watch the policeman on night duty is quite 
alone. The 
breaking of the day in
the east is a welcome sign. At last there comes to him the tramp of the relief. The 
work of the night 
is over.
The duties of the policeman are so numerous that a list of them would be a very long 
one. In the 
country districts his
work is often very varied; for it must be understood that he represents the law of the 
land, and 
that his duties are
connected with every law that is made. Wherever, therefore, there is no officer to 
attend to a 
particular duty, the work
falls on the policeman.
If a policeman shows cleverness and has a good memory for faces, he may become a 
detective; and, if 
he is careful
and capable, he may rise to the highest rank in the service.
Judges, Magistrates, and many others also help in seeing that the law is obeyed and 
enforced. Yet 
their work would
be indeed difficult without the assistance of the observant, steady-nerved constables, 
who guard us by day and by night, and who are the backbone of our police force.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
(Continued from page 32.)
THE NOTORNIS.
The notornis, whose dead body has been valued at £300, is another flightless bird, but 
it is rarely found. It is a very
shy bird, living in the wild and little-known regions of the West Coast Sounds of the 
South Island. 
It is larger than a large domestic, fowl, and its plumage is a mixture of green and 
blackish-blue, these colours 
being in marked
contrast to its bright-red bill and legs. Only four of these rare birds have been 
obtained. Two skins 
are in the British
Museum, one is in the Dresden Museum, and the fourth, for which New Zealand paid 
£300, is in the Dunedin
Museum, where it is one of the most treasured possessions. We do not know much 
about the habits of 
the notornis,
but an examination shows that it has feeble wings, which it probably uses, like the 
kakapo, when it is running.

THE NOTORNIS.

THE MOA.
There once lived in New Zealand another flightless bird, the moa. It was the 
clumsiest, ugliest, and 
most ungainly bird
that ever lived. Scientists called it by a name which meant " terrible bird " (Dinornis). 
Its body 
was covered with soft,
delicate, hairlike feathers, quite unlike the feathers of an ordinary bird. Its neck was 
long and 
strong, and its small
head had a large and terrible beak. There were many different kinds of moas, but their 
habits were 
very much alike,
and they were all vegetable-eaters. The largest kind stood about twelve feet high, and 
the smallest 
about three feet.
At one time moas must have been very plentiful in New Zealand, for their bones have 
been found from 
the far north to
the far south, and as high up the mountains as 5,200 feet. We cannot say for certain 
when the moa 
became extinct.
Some people think it probable that the last moas were killed by the Maoris who came 
to New Zealand 
about five hundred
years ago.
In some swamps moa-bones have been found in large numbers. Fragments of moas' 
eggs are also 
plentiful. An egg,
nearly whole, was found at Cromwell, in Otago, in 1887. It measured nine inches by 
six inches.

From Dr. Hochstetter's " New Zealand."]
THE MOA (as it is believed to have been in life).
(The gigantic size of the moa is shown by comparing it with the kiwis, which are 
about as large as an ordinary fowl.)

It was found in sand about two feet below the surface, and had been partly 
hatched, for it contained the bones of a young chick. Another egg, even less broken, 
was found at Kaikoura. It measured ten inches by seven 
inches and
three-quarters, and was sold in London for £120.
Moa-stones from the birds' gizzards are often seen, and a complete set varies in 
weight from eight 
ounces to five
pounds. It has been noticed that these stones had always been picked up by the bird 
close to the 
place where it
died. From this it is thought that moas did not travel very fast, but wandered about 
slowly.
Feathers, sometimes attached to pieces of skin, have been found. The largest feathers 
known are not 
more than
seven inches long. The feathers are of different colours. Those found in the Clutha 
district, in 
Otago, are brown at the
base, black farther up, and white at the tip. Others are pale brown, and one pure-white 
feather has been found.

From Sir Walter Buller's "History of the Birds of New Zealand.")
THE SKELETON OF THE LARGEST MOA.
(The moa stood about twelve feet high. The Maori represented in the picture is Waka 
Nene, a famous northern warrior.

NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY. - The notornis (notos, south; ornis, a bird), 
which is a large rail, has 
hochstetteri for
its second name, given to it after Dr. Hochstetter, a German naturalist who visited 
New Zealand many 
years ago.
Formerly it was known as Notornis mantelli.
The moa belongs to a great order, group, or division of birds known as " struthious," 
which is taken 
from the Latin
struthio, the ostrich. Struthious birds are different from all other groups of birds: they 
are all 
flightless, and they bear
striking resemblances to one another. The living members have been divided into four 
families, as 
follow:
1. The ostrich (Struthionidae).
2. The rhea of South America (Rheidae).
3. The emu and cassowary of Australia and Melanesia (Casuaridae).
4. The kiwi of New Zealand (Apterygidae).
The three lost members of the group are more notable than the living ones. They are: 
The moa 
(Dinornis); the
dromornis of Australia, which was the moa's contemporary; and the aepyornis of 
Madagascar, which, it 
is thought,
was the famous roc of Marco Polo and of the "Arabian Nights." All these birds are 
"struthious," and 
they are also one
of the two great divisions of birds : they are the Ratitae. All the other birds in the 
world, 
numbering between forty and
fifty thousand species, are the Carinatae. The word
" ratitae " comes from ratis, a raft; " carinatae " from carina, a keel. The application of 
the words 
lies in the fact that
the Ratitae have breast-bones that are flat, like a raft, while the Carinatae have
large keels on their breast-bones.
(To be continued.) 

JAMES CADDELL.
The boys and girls who live in New Zealand at the present day can hardly form an 
idea of what this 
country was like a
hundred years ago. Then there were no big towns, no roads, no railways, no schools. 
In both the North 
Island and the
South Island there was open land, but over the greater part of the country there were 
dense forests 
and slimy
swamps, through which even the Maoris found great difficulty in forcing their way.
Now and again a ship cast anchor in one of the lonely harbours. At such times it was 
necessary for 
the captain to be
very careful in dealing with the Maoris. A moment's carelessness might mean death, 
and worse than 
death, to the
whole ship's crew, for the early Maoris were wild and fierce, and most of them were 
eaters of human flesh. Many are
the tales told of narrow escapes, many are the sad stories of disaster and death. One of 
the strangest stories is 
that of James
Caddell.
About a hundred years ago, the ship " Sydney Cove " came to New Zealand from 
Sydney to trade with the 
Natives
and to catch seals. On arriving at Stewart Island, which was then believed to be a 
peninsula,* the 
captain sent off a
boat's crew to search for seals. He then set sail for the Bay of Islands, intending to 
pick up the 
party on his return
journey.
We, who live in a peaceful country in comfort and security, can hardly imagine what 
dangers and 
difficulties these
early adventurers had to face. They were exposed to all the fury of the fierce gales and 
to the 
stormy seas which so
often break upon our coasts. Their stock of food often failed them, and at such times 
they considered 
themselves very
lucky if they were at a place where seals were numerous, and where the sea yielded a 
rich harvest of 
fish. Added to all this, they were in constant fear of attack by roving bands of Maoris, 
who had not yet come to 
look upon the white
man as a friend.
The boat's crew sent off from the " Sydney Cove " consisted of five men and a boy, 
James Caddell. 
The unfortunate
men were attacked near the southern cape of Stewart Island by a band of Maoris, and 
all put to death 
except the boy,
who, in his fear, rushed up to the chief and flung himself at his feet, begging for. 
mercy.
Perhaps you may think the chief would be moved to pity at the lad's terror. No ;. pity 
has no place 
in the heart of this
fierce warrior. Already he lifts his arm to strike the death blow; already his followers 
lift their spears and stone clubs (meres) to strike also.

* See School Journal, Part II, August, 1908, page 112.

But see, no death-blow falls; they
lower their spears and clubs ; the hand of the chief falls to his side. Henceforth the 
boy is sacred, 
or " tapu," for, in
his fear he has grasped the mat of the chief, whose person is sacred.
But, although Caddell's life was spared, he was held by the Maoris as a captive. 
Gradually he began 
to see what a
small chance he had of escaping from the country. To this out-of-the-way place few 
sealers came, and 
when they did
cast anchor the Maoris took care to keep the lad out of the way.
He soon became used to his new life. He quickly learned the Maori language, and, 
having no white 
person to talk to,
forgot most of his own. In fact, he was often called "James the Maori."
Years passed, and James Caddell, grown to be a man, married the daughter of the old 
chief. He himself 
became a
very powerful chief, and grew in all ways even more wild and cruel than those over 
whom he ruled. 
Whenever a party
of unfortunate sealers came ashore, Caddell and his fierce band fell upon them, and 
put to death all 
who were unable
to escape.
After living sixteen years among the Maoris, Caddell was invited by the captain of a 
trading ship to 
go to Sydney. At
first he hesitated, but at length agreed to go if his wife were allowed to go with him. 
For some time 
he and his
princess were to be seen walking up and down the streets of Sydney decked in full 
Maori dress ; but 
he soon
became tired of city life, and longed for the cool forests and towering mountains of 
the land which 
he had come to
look upon as his home. He was allowed to return; but it is said that he had first to 
promise that in 
future he would not
attack white men, and would try to make friends between them and the brown 
warriors among whom he 
lived.
Such is the strange story of James Caddell, ship's boy and Maori chief.
-Told from "Murihiku and the Southern Isles," by R. McNab.

PRINTING.
Many of you like to read the daily newspaper to find out what has been going on in 
different parts of 
the world. Many
of you, too, like to spend your spare time in reading story-books. But how many ever 
think of the 
great amount of
work that is needed before the paper, over which your eyes so eagerly travel, becomes 
covered with 
the regular lines
of neat letters that have so much meaning to a reader ?
You have been used to seeing books and newspapers ever since you can remember, so 
that you may find 
it hard to
believe that, a few hundred years ago, there were no newspapers, and the few books 
that then existed 
were not
printed, but written by hand. You may be sure that this made books very scarce; but 
the people did 
not mind, for few
of them could read. The reading and writing of those days were done chiefly by the 
monks.
It was not until the fifteenth century that printing was begun in Europe. The slow- 
going Chinese, however, whom we think so very much out of date, had a knowledge 
of printing hundreds 
of years
before it was known in Europe.
Let us now see how the printing is done. The words are first made up of little pieces 
of metal, 
called type, each of
which has a letter on the end. The pieces with the letter " a " on them are kept in one 
division of a 
large tray, those
with " b " in another, and so on. In this way the printer knows where to pick up the 
letter he wants. 
When the words
that are to be printed have been thus made up, they are fixed in frames.

AN OLD DUTCH PRINTING-OFFICE.

They are then placed in the printing-press, and their surfaces are covered with ink. 
Sheets of paper are passed
over them, and the printing is done. Afterwards the letters are put back into their 
proper places 
ready to be used
again.
By means of wonderfully made machines the type can be got ready in a much quicker 
way. One of these 
machines
is called a " linotype "
machine. In front of it is what looks like a large typewriter. For each letter there is a 
separate 
key; and, when a key is
struck, a mould of the letter drops and takes its place by the side of other moulds that 
have already 
dropped  into
position. When a line has been set in this way, it is spaced - that is, the words are 
pushed out so as 
to exactly fill the
line, and the same space is left between each word. The line is then moved on by the 
machine and molten metal
is run into the moulds, thus making a line of type. This is placed in its proper position 
among the 
lines that have been
already made. Remember that after the key is struck the machine does the whole of 
the work!  There 
has been
much dispute as to whether printing by means of type was first invented in Holland or 
in Germany. The 
Dutch account
tells us that it was invented in Holland by a man named Coster. To amuse his 
children, he cut letters 
out of the bark
of a tree. On one occasion he wrapped the letters in a piece of paper, and when he 
unfolded it he saw 
the marks that
the letters had left. He then prepared a special kind of ink for the purpose of making 
the marks clearer.

THE LINOTYPE MACHINE.

After a while, he used letters made of lead or tin.
A man whom Coster employed was not honest, and ran away to Germany, taking 
with him his master's secret. The
Dutch people say that it was from him that the Germans learnt the art of 
printing; but the Germans deny this, and give
another account. They say that while Coster was at work in Holland a German 
named Gutenberg (goo'-ten-berg) was making type at Strasburg.
The first English printer was William Caxton, who began printing in England 
about the year 1470. He spent a long
time on the Continent of Europe, and seems to have studied printing both in 
Germany and in Holland. His
printing-office was near Westminster Abbey.
People were quick to see that the printing-press was a new power in the 
land. Fifty years after it became known in
England, laws were made against it, and, if printers dared to send forth 
books that did not suit the King or the high
officers of State, they were cruelly punished. These laws caused printing 
to be neglected for a century and a half. In
1694, in the reign of William III, greater freedom in this, as in other 
matters, was allowed, and printing-presses were
set up in many of the large towns of England.
The invention of the steam printing-press in 1814 was a great event in the 
history of printing. Since that date many
other improvements have been made, and now printing has reached so perfect 
a stage that one machine can print
and fold 72,000 copies of a newspaper in an hour.
- From the "School Paper," Victoria.

QUEEN VICTORIA, WHOSE BIRTHDAY, THE 24TH OF MAY, IS 
CELEBRATED AS EMPIRE DAY.

THE UNION JACK.
CROSS OF ST. GEORGE.  CROSS OF ST. ANDREW.
FIRST UNION FLAG.  CROSS OF ST PATRICK.

STORIES OF OUR SOLDIERS.
To-day our nation is at peace with the world. No cruel war is causing the 
loss of brave lives, and we feel thankful that
we are living in so peaceful a time. But, while we take a pride in the 
greatness of the British Empire, we should be
very ungrateful did we not honour the brave men who have helped to make it 
great. Among these are our soldiers,
who, again and again, have risked their lives at their country's call.
Many brave deeds are performed on the field of battle, but only the bravest 
of deeds are rewarded with the Victoria
Cross. This is but a bronze medal, on which are the words " For Valour " ; yet it is 
highly prized. Whenever it is 
possible, the winner
receives his cross from the hands of the Sovereign.
 Here is an account of how two brave men earned this coveted prize. The event took 
place about thirty 
years ago, in
the war against the  Zulus, a black-skinned  and fierce people in  South Africa.
On the day before a battle, a small party of men was sent in front of the main body to 
find out where 
the enemy lay
and what was their number. After they had gone some distance from the camp, they 
were suddenly 
attacked by a
large force of Zulus.
As the few British soldiers had no chance of making a stand against the natives, the 
order was given 
to fire a volley
and retire to the main force. While they were riding back, two men were killed, and 
another, a 
sergeant, was badly
wounded. He fell from his horse, and was unable to rise.
On rushed the yelling Zulus, and got within a short distance of the wounded sergeant. 
Bullets and 
spears were flying
thickly through the air, and the fate of the poor man seemed certain. Captain 
Beresford knew that his 
soldiers would
get no mercy from the cruel blacks, and he at once made up his mind to return. He 
wheeled his horse round, and dashed forward against the foe. In a few seconds he 
reached the sergeant.

THE VICTORIA CROSS.

From the "Patriotic Historical Readers." published by William Collins, Sons, and Co.
CAPTAIN BERESFORD WINNING THE VICTORIA CROSS.

The wounded man begged the captain to gallop away at once without him. " You have 
a small chance of safety now," said he, " but it is impossible for both of us to get back 
to the camp." But 
the captain was
firm. Having stopped the advance of the foremost of the Zulus by shots from his 
revolver, he lifted 
the sergeant to the
saddle, jumped up behind him, and galloped off. The shower of spears and bullets still 
continued, and 
there seemed
very little chance of escape.
When the captain wheeled round to rescue the wounded sergeant, another sergeant, 
named O'Toole, saw 
him. He
also turned to face the foes, and kept up a brisk fire at them. While the captain and the 
man whose 
life he was
saving were quickly getting out of danger, Sergeant O'Toole, at great risk to himself, 
kept the 
foremost of the pursuers
in check by shots from his revolver. Then he too got safely back to the main force.
When the war was over, and the troops returned home, both Captain Beresford and 
Sergeant O'Toole 
received the
Victoria Cross from the hands of Queen Victoria.
But brave deeds on the battlefield are not performed by soldiers only. Many stories 
are told of the 
great courage
shown by the doctors and nurses whose duty it is to lessen pain and save lives. Here is 
one about a 
doctor named
Hugo, who was with some British soldiers in the north-west of India.
Just before dark, a gallant young officer, named Ford, was struck by a bullet. He fell 
to the ground, 
and was slowly
bleeding to death.
Although the enemy kept firing across the battlefield, the doctor was going hither and 
thither 
attending to the wounded
at the risk of his life. When he came to Captain Ford it was dark, and he could not see 
what wound 
the captain had
received.
Thinking only of saving the life of the wounded man, Dr. Hugo struck a match. The 
light was seen by 
the enemy, who
at once sent several shots towards it. The doctor saw that an artery had been cut, and 
that, if it 
were not closed and
tied up, the man would bleed to death.
Having nothing with which to tie up the blood-vessel, he held it between his finger 
and thumb to stop 
the bleeding. He
remained in this position for three hours, during which time the bullets of the enemy 
were flying all 
round him. When
he no longer heard the crack of the enemy's rifles, the brave doctor carried his patient 
back to the camp.
-From the " School Paper," Victoria.

THE EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL.
If we are to be men and women in the best sense, we must form the habit of letting the 
mind rule, not 
the body.
Anything that will injure our power of knowing right from wrong must be avoided.
It is possible to take into our mouths certain things that will weaken our power of self-
control, and make us unable to
tell the difference between right and wrong. There are certain drinks containing 
alcohol that can do 
this.
These drinks containing alcohol are often known as stimulants. There are other 
stimulants also - for example, tea and coffee. Now, what is the great difference 
between the stimulants containing alcohol and those which 
do not contain it? Tea and coffee will injure you if you take too much; they act 
harmfully upon your nerves and your 
digestion; but they
will not destroy your self-control.
All over the world the story is the same. Everywhere an enormous amount 
of crime is due to drink. A very great
number of the prisoners in our gaols are there through taking too much 
alcohol. If people gave up drinking such liquors
there would be much less crime.
Now let us think of the use of alcoholic drinks from another point of 
view - namely, that of their action upon the body.
When taken often or in large quantities, they decrease the power of the 
body to do work, and render a person more
liable to suffer from cold. They make the blood poor and unhealthy; and 
it is the blood that has to carry nourishment
all over the body. They injure the stomach, so that the power to digest 
food is lessened; and they act upon the
kidneys in such a way that waste matter cannot be properly removed. They 
weaken the action of the heart and lungs,
the organs on which a good supply of pure blood to all parts of the body 
depends.
When a great doctor (Sir Frederick Treves) was in South Africa during the 
Boer War, he noted that the drinking-men
were the first to give in on long marches. Nansen, the Arctic explorer, 
would not allow his men to take alcohol ; he
knew well that, in spite of the feeling of warmth that follows, alcohol 
was of no use for keeping out the cold.
Then, again, beer and spirits are very dangerous because a man may form 
for them a liking which he cannot get rid
of. This may lead to drunkenness, with its sad results to the man 
himself, to his wife and family, and to the State.
It is very clear, then, that alcoholic drinks are best left alone. There 
is no drink better than pure water.

FAMOUS MIGRANTS.
The flights of birds, and their movements over sea and land, were noticed by men in 
very early times, 
but it is within
only comparatively recent years that the subject has been inquired into in a thoroughly 
careful 
manner.
Some kinds of birds live in certain districts all the year round ; others make short 
journeys between 
districts close to
each other ; and others go from country to country, spending the spring in one place, 
the summer in 
another, and the
winter in another, and making their great journeys as regularly as the seasons come 
round.
The causes that lie behind the movements of these birds of passage, or migrants, as 
such birds are 
called, are still
in many cases hidden from us.
In former years, before the movements of birds had been very carefully watched all 
over the world, it 
was believed that
when birds disappeared during the winter they lost all power of exertion ; it was 
thought that they 
became dull,
sluggish, and stupid, and remained hidden from view until the warm weather brought 
them out again. 
Even at the
present time there are some people who hold this belief. But now men in nearly all 
parts of the world 
are observing
and noting the flights of birds. In this way we have obtained evidence which shows 
that, when birds 
disappear from a
district or from a country, they start out to some other district or country, perhaps in a 
very 
different part of the world.
Several famous migrants come over to New Zealand every year. Amongst these the 
most noted is the godwit. It is a greyish-brown bird, about the same size as a pigeon, 
with lanky legs, 
and a long and
slender bill, which is slightly turned up at the tip.

THE GODWIT.

The godwit belongs to a large group of birds known as shore-birds.  Such birds are 
often seen in 
large estuaries.
seeking for food in the mud-banks. There the godwits gather in immense flocks, 
sometimes containing countless thousands of birds. They fly and flutter about, making 
a great noise,
and appear to attend with much earnestness to the business of the
hour.
The most remarkable fact in connection with the presence of these little birds in New 
Zealand is that 
they do not live
here all the year round. They come to us from over the seas, and depart again to other 
homes. So far 
as we know,
they do not nest or lay their eggs in New Zealand; they do that in a distant country, 
which is 
believed to be Eastern
Siberia.
They usually arrive in the northern parts of New Zealand at the beginning of our 
summer. They go as 
far south as
Stewart Island, and for several months they may be seen on many beaches and near 
the mouths of many 
rivers.
About the end of April or the beginning of May they leave the northern parts of New 
Zealand in great 
flocks.
It is thought that they fly out across the Pacific Ocean until they reach the tropical 
islands 
north-west of this country.
Then they go from island to island, up the Malay Archipelago, across the China Sea, 
along the coasts 
of Siam,
China, and Manchuria, and the shores of the Sea of Okhotsk, and so to Siberia. There 
they breed in 
June and July,
and then come down along the same route until New Zealand is reached, in the 
summer months of the 
Southern
Hemisphere.
We cannot, of course, be quite certain that the godwits that breed in Siberia are the 
same birds that 
arrive in New
Zealand later in the year ; but the evidence is strong enough to be accepted by many 
learned men. 
Although the habits of the godwits have been closely watched, the birds have not been 
known to breed in any 
country except
Siberia. It has been noticed also that they arrive at and depart from countries at times 
which seem 
to prove that they
do migrate from Siberia to New Zealand.
In this country the godwits are looked upon as game. Their flesh is delicate to the 
taste and is 
pleasant to eat. In
February, March, and April they are shot in large numbers by sportsmen.

THE SPOTTED PLOVER.

The law gives them protection from their human 
enemies during all
other months of the year; but it is reported that in some parts of the Dominion the law 
is not 
observed so strictly as it
ought to be.
Several other shore-birds come to New Zealand regularly once a year. They usually 
spend the summer here, and then disappear until the cold of winter has passed away. 
Amongst these is the 
spotted plover,
an exceptionally handsome bird, which is somewhat smaller than the godwit.
There are two small birds that come as messengers of spring with surprising 
regularity. They are very 
different birds
from the godwits and their friends. Both of them are cuckoos; and, like cuckoos in the 
United 
Kingdom - and, indeed,
in nearly all countries - they do not make nests for themselves, but impudently lay 
their eggs in the 
nests of other
birds, which feed and rear the young cuckoos. Something more will be said later in 
regard to this 
strange habit of
these birds. Just now, however, we
cannot dwell on it. 
One of these cuckoos is called the bronze or shining cuckoo, on account of its bright 
plumage. It is 
larger than a
sparrow but smaller than a starling or a blackbird. Its back is bronzy-green, and its 
breast is white, 
but is slashed with
bronzy-brown bars, like a footballer's jersey. Altogether it is a very attractive and 
handsome bird. 
In addition to its
outward charms, it has a sweet, ringing note, and is therefore a very welcome visitor 
to New Zealand.
The other cuckoo, which is called the long-tailed cuckoo, has a different appearance. 
It is 
brownish-red on its back,
and its white breast has dark-brown streaks. Its tail is unusually large. Its head and bill 
are 
remarkably like the head
and bill of a hawk. Indeed, if it were not for the size and the colouring, it would be 
hard to tell 
the difference between
the heads of the two birds.
For some unknown reason, a great dislike is felt towards the long-tailed cuckoo. Its 
appearance seems 
to repel
human friendship, and it is so well hated by the other native birds of the forest that 
many of them 
never miss an
opportunity to set upon it and chase it away from the places where they live.
It is believed that both our cuckoos come from the Polynesian islands or from New 
Guinea. They arrive 
in October and
November, when this country is bright and gay with the promised delights of the 
coming summer, and 
they usually
leave when winter draws near.
It naturally occurs to many people to ask why the godwits and the two cuckoos come 
to New Zealand so 
regularly,
and apparently with such an earnest object. But this is a question that all the 
knowledge which 
science has gathered
cannot satisfactorily answer. We do not know what is in the minds of these birds. 
They would not come 
here year
after year for the mere pleasure of visiting New Zealand. The cuckoos have beautiful 
homes in the 
tropical islands to
which they fly during our winter; and, although it can be easily understood that the 
godwits would 
like to leave cold
Siberia, they could find delightful climates much nearer than New Zealand.
In many cases birds undertake long flights because they wish to obtain good food-
supplies; but this 
does not account
for the migrations with which. New Zealand is connected. The cuckoos, which are 
insect-eaters, can 
in the summer
get more insects in their island homes than they can get here, and the godwit's food is 
as plentiful 
here in the winter
as it is in the summer. If food were the only thing to be
thought of, the godwit would never leave New Zealand shores.
The sense that guides the birds is quite as much a mystery as the cause of 
their flight to and from these shores.
They fly by night as well as by day, often many hundreds of miles from 
land. They cannot, therefore, be guided by
sight, and we know of no other sense that tells them how and where to go 
when they have set out upon their remarkable journeys.

THE NEW ZEALAND GRACE DARLING.
On the 24th of April last there died a Maori woman who was as good as she 
was famous - Julia Martin, of Nelson.
If you look at the map of the South Island you will see, down in the deep 
pocket of Tasman Bay, an islet called
Pepin's Island. On the coast opposite you will see the name Wakapuaka, and 
most of you know that this is the name
of the station with which the cable to Australia is connected.
But there was no cable, nor were there any homes of white men there seventy 
years ago, when Julia was a little
brown baby on Pepin's Island. Her father was a chief, and she grew up to be 
a great woman in the tribe, as well as a
good friend to the white people who had begun to settle in Nelson.
While she was yet a girl she married a young man of her own people called 
James Martin; and she was probably
about twenty-five when she performed the brave deed which caused her to be 
called the New Zealand Grace Darling.
Every one knows that the real Grace Darling was a brave English girl who 
saved a shipwrecked crew at the risk of her
own life, and who even now is praised and honoured wherever the English 
tongue is spoken.
This is how the good Julia came to deserve so beautiful a name. 
Forty-five years ago, on a wild, stormy morning of
early spring, the little ship " Delaware " was driven on the rocks and 
wrecked under a steep cliff on Pepin's Island, a lonely, dangerous spot.

Photo by H. Brusewitz, Nelson.]
JULIA MARTIN.

The storm-wind howled and the sea boiled like 
yeast over the jagged rocks that lay between
the island and Wakapuaka - it seemed that the crew was cut off from all 
help.
One brave man, the mate of the "Delaware," tied a line round his waist, and let 
himself down into the 
terrible sea.
Though a splendid swimmer, he was soon beaten senseless against the rocks. The 
sailors drew him back 
into the
ship, laid him on his bed, and gave up all hope of ever reaching land.
But at this moment five Maoris were seen on the shore, one of them a woman. Yes, 
these heroic natives 
were really
coming to save them through that awful churning sea, and the woman was swimming 
too!
In trembling hope the sailors flung a weighted line on to a rock their brave friends 
were just able 
to reach. Quickly the
Maoris caught it and fought their way back to make the rope fast on shore. Two of the 
men held it 
there while the
three other Maoris plunged once more into the waves to help the numbed half-
drowned sailors to land. 
One by one
these came in, thanks to the line and the friendly brown hands that drew them to 
safety. Last of all came the captain; and, just as he reached
land, the line broke. All 
were saved but one, the
poor mate, who came to himself after the others left the ship, and crept on deck only 
to be washed 
away by a great
wave.
Next day the whole story was told before a jury, and every one knew that, but for the 
bravery and 
endurance of Julia,
her husband, and her brother-in-law, with their two friends, not one of the crew could 
ever have 
reached land alive.
All New Zealand admired and praised Julia and her friends. To her and the two 
Martins the Government 
gave a money
reward of £50 each, and to each of the other two men £10.
But Nelson did more. Some weeks later there was a great gathering in the old 
Provincial Hall to 
honour the five brave
Maoris. Each of them was presented with a watch, the gift of the settlers of Nelson. 
On each watch 
was the name of
the receiver and the story of the rescue. A beautiful address was given to Julia, telling 
her that 
she would always be
remembered in New Zealand as Grace Darling was remembered in England, that her 
deed was one of which 
a queen
might be proud, and that in after-years she would read with pride and pleasure the 
words graven on 
her gold watch.
But Julia, so ready to face wind and wave, hung back now, and modestly let her 
husband speak for her. 
This he did
earnestly and well, saving that they would always treasure those gifts, and that not one 
of them had 
thought of any
reward but the pleasure of saving the lives of their white friends.
All this was in the year 1863. From that time Julia and her husband lived quietly in 
their home at 
Wakapuaka,
respected by all. Her unaffected ways, her good sense, and her kind heart endeared 
her to all those 
who knew her.
Latterly she had not been in good health; but her death, just after a drive to Nelson, 
was quite 
sudden, and all the
more sad because her husband was away in the North Island at the time. Yet it was a 
gentle ending to a good and useful life; and her 
noble story will never be forgotten in New Zealand.

Boys of spirit, boys of will, Boys of muscle, brain, and power, Boys to work with all 
their skill
These are wanted every hour.

THE STEAMER-MEN.
We've turned her head to the open bay, And, spun by the prisoned steam, 
The screws are drumming the miles away 
Where the bright star-shadows gleam.
The steamer is lying at the wharf in readiness to sail. Passengers are 
still arriving in cabs or on foot, and their
luggage is being carried on board by the stewards or placed in the hold 
by the steam-winch.

THE COMPASS-CARD.

Presently a bell rings as a warning for the people who are not passengers 
to go ashore. Then the gangway is lowered,
the ropes holding the steamer to the wharf are cast off, and at the stern 
the great propeller, or "screw " as it is
called, thrashes and churns the water into boiling foam.
The captain of the steamer directs her movements. He stands on the 
bridge, which is the high, narrow platform
reaching from side to side of the steamer in front of the funnel. The 
front of the bridge is shielded by a piece of canvas
about the height of a man's eyes. In stormy weather this protects the 
officers from the wind and spray.
At the middle of the bridge is the compass, and near it is the 
steering-wheel, which is held by the steersman. An officer stands beside the 
"telegraph," a brass 
instrument with a face like a clock. By moving
its handle the officer sends messages to the engine-room. On the bridge 
there are no lights except two inside the
covering of the compass to throw a light on the card.
The captain gives an order to the steersman: "Port* a little."
"Port it is, sir."
He turns the wheel, and the ship swerves to the right.
" Steady."
" Steady it is, sir."
The steamer remains on her new course. Her engines are running at only 
one-half their full speed. Again the captain
speaks to the officer.
" Full ahead."
" Full ahead, sir."
The officer moves the handle on top of the telegraph instrument, and away 
down in the engine-room shrill bells clang,
the sound rising faintly to the bridge. In the instrument on the bridge a 
whirring sound is now heard. This is the
engineer's message that he has heard the signal, and the harbour lights 
slip past more quickly as the ship rushes
forward to the open sea.
On her decks the passengers sit or walk in the brilliant glow of the 
electric lamps. The saloon is warm and cosy, and
the stewards and stewardesses are flitting to and fro preparing the cabins 
for the passengers. Up till midnight they will
be busy, but after that only one steward keeps watch in the saloon.

*Meaning "Turn the wheel from the port or left side of the ship."

It is just 8 o'clock. Above the chatter of the people and the rush and rumble of the sea 
and the engines sounds the harsh-toned ship's bell,* while faintly through the dark 
comes the voice of the look-out man who is stationed in the bows - the front of the 
ship: "Eight 'bells. Lights burning brightly. All's well." 

ON THE BRIDGE. 

* On shipboard, time is notified by a bell which is struck at 4, 8, and 12 o'clock. Half 
an hour after it has struck "eight bells " it is struck once, and at every succeeding half-
hour the number of strokes is increased by one, till at the end of the four hours it is 
struck eight times. From 4 to 8 o'clock in the evening (the "dog watches ") the 
bell strikes 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 8.

This is a signal for a change of watches.
The men of the steamer, on deck and in the
engine-room, are divided into watches, and each
watch goes on duty for four hours at a time.
In shriller tones the " eight bells " sounds in
 the engine-room, where the great rods and
 cranks roll, and toss, and tumble as they spin
 the shafting round.
 The shaft which connects the engines with the
 propeller lies at the level of the engine-room
 floor. A dark hole behind the engine-room
 leads to the " tunnel," which extends right to
 the stern of the steamer. It is made so that
 the whole length of the shaft may be watched
by the engineers, and the slightest crack may
 be seen in time to prevent a break.
 In front of the engine-room a low doorway
 leads into the stokehold. Here are the boilers, wherein is made the steam which drives 
the ship along. The stokers fling the furnace-doors
 open to toss in more coal. So dazzling and so
 hot are the fires that it hurts the eyes to look
 at them. There are half a dozen stokers, and
 the coal is brought to them by the trimmers,
 who have to work inside the dark and dusty
 bunkers Which hold the coal.
 As the night wears on the passengers will go
  to bed, but the steamer-men work all day and
 all night to send their steamer through the seas
 till she comes to the port for which she is bound. When nearing port, the officer of 
the watch calls the captain. He comes to the bridge, looks around, and then gives the 
order " Stand by."
The officer works the telegraph, and a bell eight in the engine-room rings. The 
telegraph machine down there shows the 
order " Stand by." The engineer on watch gives the 
answering ring, and repeats the order to show that he has got the message.
The chief officer takes his men to get the anchor ready. When this is done he hails the 
bridge, " All 
clear, sir."
From time to time, as the steamer comes up the harbour, the captain alters the speed. 
In the 
engine-room the
second engineer has in his hand the wheel which allows the steam to enter the engine, 
and the fourth 
engineer is at
the telegraph. As he receives and answers each order he writes it down on a slate, with 
the time at 
which he receives it.
The great rods and cranks are tossing and rolling up and down, round and round, with 
a heavy 
thundering roar.
" Half-speed."
The song of the engines is softened as the second engineer turns the wheel and allows 
less steam to 
work.
" Stop her."
After the hours of noise, you can almost feel the quietness. Only the pumps and the 
electric-light 
machine break the
silence.
" Slow astern."
The engines seem to groan in protest as the great propeller is reversed, and tosses up 
white water 
round the
steamer's stern.
" Stop her."
Then, " Let go."
" Let go," repeats the chief officer, and the anchor drops. It falls, splashing, to its bed 
in the 
harbour, where it grips
the mud and shingle and holds the steamer firmly with her head to the breeze or tide.*

* Or, as is generally the case, the vessel may be brought up to the wharf.

And in the engine-room sounds the welcome ring, " Finished with the engines."
The steamer and her passengers and crew are, safely in port.

WHERE ANIMALS ARE FOUND.
There are more than two hundred and fifty thousand known kinds of animals. As they 
depend upon climate and food
for their well-being, we find each in the place suited to its habits.
In the Tropics we find the larger flesh-eating animals, such as lions and tigers; the 
elephant, crocodile, and the larger
reptiles ; the ostrich, flamingo, peacock, parrot, and humming-bird; the giraffe and 
zebra; as well as the most
abundant insect-life.
The Temperate Zones are the home of the ox, bison, buffalo, goat, sheep, deer, camel, 
and other animals that are
plant-eaters; the wild boar, wolf, fox, and beaver; in addition to the eagle, turkey, 
goose, and grouse.
In the Arctic regions we find the reindeer, musk-ox, polar bear, the 
Arctic fox, and many other fur-bearing animals.
There are no reptiles, and the myriads of sea-fowl that are found are 
migrants from lands lying more towards the
Equator.
ANIMALS IN THEIR ZONES.
The picture shows at a glance the distribution of animals.
From the "School Newspaper.''

THE HISTORY OF ARBOR DAY.
"Plant me aright," an acorn said,
And I'll grow to a mighty tree,
And then, perchance, on a summer's day,
In my shadow I'll shelter thee."
An old Swiss story tells that away back in the fifth century the people of 
a little Swiss village named Brugg made up
their minds to have a grove of oak-trees on their common, or piece of open 
ground where games were played. More
than a dozen sacks of acorns were sown, and after the work was done each of 
those who had helped received a
wheaten roll as the reward of his labour.
For some unknown reason the acorns did not grow. The next year another 
attempt was made, but again the acorns
refused to grow. The people, however, were determined to have an 
oak-grove. So on a fixed day everybody in the
village - man, woman, and child - marched to the woods. There each very 
carefully dug up a sapling, or young tree, and
carried it to the common, where a gardener showed how it should be 
planted. At the close of the day every boy and
girl was given a roll, and in the evening the grown-up people had a merry 
feast and frolic in a big hall.
The saplings were well watered and cared for. No one was forced to look 
after them, but every-one gladly did his
share. In the course of years a fine belt of trees grew up, and the older 
people used to sit in the pleasant shade while
the children played about among the trees or climbed their stems.
Year after year, on the same day, the people of the village planted more 
trees or tended to those already planted, and
the children marched through the streets to the common carrying oak 
leaves and branches. At the close of the
planting, rolls and other good things were given out in honour of the day.
It is said that even now the same thing is done in Brugg and other Swiss 
villages. This seems to be the first mention
of a day being set aside for tree-planting, and this custom, begun so 
long ago, we now follow on our Arbor Day.
"Give me a chance," said the rose-bush small, "And I'll bloom with a 
beauty rare, And out of my heart in its
gratitude For you I will scent the air."

Many years ago men knew nothing about the compass which now guides sailors 
across the lonely sea. They did not
often go out of sight of land, and, when they did, they steered by the sun 
during the day and by the stars at night.
Hardly any one knew how large the world was, and very few thought it was 
round. They thought the world was flat,
and were afraid that if they went too far from land something dreadful 
would happen - perhaps they might even tumble
off the world altogether!
Four hundred years ago, however, there was born at Genoa, in Italy, a boy 
who was to become a very famous man.
His father was not very rich, but was able to send his son to college. 
Every book the boy could get about this
wonderful world he read eagerly. When he was only fifteen years of age he became a 
sailor. You may have heard his 
name - Christopher Columbus.
As Christopher grew up he thought a great deal about the earth and its 
shape. He had heard of India, far, far away to
the east, and had seen some of the rich cloth and treasures brought from 
it. " Surely," thought he, " the world must
be round ; if it is so, then India can be reached by sailing westward." 
He believed that if he sailed far enough across
the Atlantic he would reach India and the beautiful tropical islands he 
had heard of.
He went about among the sailors of Genoa, and Spain, and Portugal, to 
find out how far they had been, and what
news they had brought back from the great seas. He heard much about the 
ports of the world that were then known,
but nothing could he hear of what lay across the Atlantic. It was a sea 
of storms and terrors, and strange stories were
told of things that were supposed to have happened to sailors who had 
been driven far into it.
So firmly did he believe that the world was round that he explained his 
ideas to learned men; but no one in his native
city would help to solve the mystery. The King of Portugal and the King 
of England would do nothing for him. Then he
told his story to the King and Queen of Spain, but it was seven long 
years before they agreed to give him ships.
In the year 1492 he set out with three very small vessels, and for two 
months sailed " on, and on," without seeing
land. The sailors were brave, but they became frightened when day after 
day passed and not even a barren rock
appeared above the water. The ocean seemed to have no end.
In vain did Columbus tell his men that land could not be far off. They thought he must 
be mad, and 
talked of throwing
him overboard and of trying to return home. Sometimes their hopes rose. Twice the 
cry of "Land, 
land," made their
hearts beat quickly. But the clouds they took for land faded away, and the men 
became more and more 
discontented.
Then they saw some things that gave them fresh courage - a branch of a tree with 
berries on it, a 
piece of board, and,
above all, a carved stick. Flights of land-birds, too, had been seen going to the south-
west.
Hope now rose high that land was near. The King and Queen of Spain had already 
promised a reward to 
the one who should first see land, and Columbus promised a further prize. Not an eye 
was closed that night. About 
10 o'clock
Columbus thought he saw a light glimmering in the distance. Then for a time the light 
was lost, but 
again appeared,
moving about. Columbus was now certain he had reached land, and that it was 
inhabited. At 2 o'clock 
in the morning
a gun was fired as a joyful signal of land. As soon as day dawned Columbus went 
ashore, and, falling 
on his knees,
thanked God for his success.
The land was an island covered with beautiful trees and shrubs. At first the natives 
were afraid of 
the strangers, and
hid themselves, but when they found that no one followed them they crept out of their 
hiding-places 
and became quite
friendly. Seeing that the people were dark-coloured, and thinking that he had found 
one of the Indian 
islands,
Columbus called the people Indians, and even to-day the islands he discovered are 
called the West 
Indies.
After staying a few days, Columbus sailed away to other islands that were not far off. 
Everywhere 
beautiful trees and
flowers were found, and strange, bright birds, decked in gay feathers, flitted through 
the air.
Then Columbus sailed back to Spain. On his way a great storm arose, and lasted so 
long that he 
thought the ships
would be lost. He therefore wrote an account of the voyage, and wrapped it up in a 
piece of waxed cloth. 

COLUMBUS BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN OF SPAIN.

This he placed in the centre of a cake of wax, which he put into a barrel and threw 
into the sea. He hoped 
that if the ships
were lost the barrel would be picked up, and that the King and Queen of Spain would 
be told about his 
voyage and of
the new land he had discovered. But the storm passed, and Spain was reached in 
safety.
It was a glad day for Columbus when he was able to tell his Royal friends the story of 
his voyage, and show them what he had brought back - the gold, the cotton, the 
parrots, the curious arms, the strange
plants, the unknown beasts and birds, and, above all, nine Indians.
Columbus made three more voyages across the Atlantic, but it is sad to read that 
troubles gathered 
round him. His
crew refused to obey him, and his enemies, envying him his fame, slandered him at 
Court. After his 
third voyage
across the ocean, his enemies in the west sent him back to Spain in chains. When the 
Queen heard his 
story,
however, she released him and gave him more ships.
His health was now failing, and at last this great man - one of the greatest sailors the 
world has 
known - died poor and
broken-hearted.
How his brave heart would have rejoiced had he known that he had found not merely 
a new way to an old 
land, but a
new world lying between two mighty oceans!

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
TWO UNNATURAL PARENTS.
In the School Journal for May you were told a little about the two cuckoos that come 
to New Zealand 
every summer - the long-tailed cuckoo and the shining cuckoo. It is believed that they 
come to us from Australia or 
New Guinea, or
from the islands of the Pacific Ocean. Their presence here every summer is very 
extraordinary.
More extraordinary still is the habit practised by both of these birds. So far as we 
know, they never 
make any nests of
their own, and they never take any trouble to rear their young.
They seek out the nests of other birds, place their eggs in them, and leave the owners 
of the nests 
to hatch the
cuckoo-eggs and rear the cuckoo-chicks.

From Buller's " History of the Birds of New Zealand."]
THE SHINING CUCKOO, WITH YOUNG CUCKOO IN GREY-WARBLER'S 
NEST.

Our two cuckoos are not in the least alike in appearance, nor are they closely related; 
yet both of them have this
strange habit. It is stranger still that cuckoos in England, and, in fact, in nearly all 
parts of the 
world, follow the same unnatural desire to leave their off-spring to the mercy of 
foster-parents. Yet in the 
breeding season they are
separated by vast stretches of land and sea, and therefore have no possible means of 
learning bad habits from one another.

From Bullers' " History of the Birds of New Zealand."]
THE LONG-TAILED CUCKOO, WITH THE LITTLE GREY-WARBLER 
FEEDING THE YOUNG CUCKOO.

The foster-parents hatch out and rear the young cuckoos, feed them, teach them to fly, 
and attend to 
them in all
respects with the greatest care and fondness. The young cuckoos are equally as 
wicked as their 
parents. Not
content with wrongfully occupying  the nests.
 of other birds, they even object to the presence of the chicks of the rightful owners. 
As soon as 
they are strong
enough, they try to raise those chicks on their backs and gradually lift and push them 
out of the 
nests on to the
ground below, where they perish.
The eggs of both of New Zealand's cuckoos, have been found in the nests of a large 
number of other 
kinds of birds.
The bird that usually suffers is the little grey-warbler, a grey-plumaged, modest, 
active, and 
industrious bird. It has a
long, sweet, and plaintive note, which is often heard early in the morning, and 
sometimes on a 
summer day just
before rain comes.
(To be continued.)

THE NEEDS OF A TOWN.
If, on a summer's day, you climb one of the hills close by a town, and sit down and 
look about you, 
you will see how
much work, and thought, and planning it takes to care for the people of a single town.
Away beyond the town are the fields of ripe grain which the farmers are busy cutting ; 
on the road 
which winds down
into the town are many, many teams bringing the grain to the mill. The mill is that tall 
building 
from which you see the
wagons carrying the loads of flour.
Afar off are the busy coal-mines. You cannot look into them from your place on the 
hill, but you can 
see the trains or
steamers coming to the town, bringing coal to feed the furnaces of the factories and to 
furnish fuel 
for the
household fires. 

HARVESTING THE CORN.

Behind the hill to the left is the great reservoir that supplies water to every part of the
town. Perhaps you can see the first very large pipe, but the others are underground 
and out of sight. 
From this large
pipe the water flows
into smaller pipes, and these branch off into still smaller ones, until at last they enter 
the houses 
through the smallest
pipes. There the water is used, and is sent out again in little pipes, which empty into 
larger ones 
and still larger ones
until it is carried off by the largest pipe, or main sewer.
See the policemen and the watchmen walking to and fro, guarding the people and all 
that belongs to 
them, to keep all
safe from harm ! Do you see that large building near the centre of the town ? That is 
the central 
telephone-station. See
how many wires pass out from it and go in every direction all over the town.
If you could only listen a little while to what is being said over those wires, you would 
hear the 
miller asking the farmer
about the grain, and the baker asking the miller to send the flour, and the women in 
the houses 
asking to have the
bread sent to them. You would hear the policemen sending word about danger at a 
bridge, at a mine, or 
elsewhere;
you would hear people asking for more coal and for different kinds of food. You 
would hear others 
saying where the
coal shall be taken, and what shall be done with the grain and other foods.
If you watch all this life and motion, and see what it all means, you will surely say, 
"How many 
things it takes to look
after all the needs of a town! " - the miner to provide fuel to keep the people warm; 
the farmer to 
grow food for their
bodies; the miller to grind the grain into flour; the baker to put the food into form to 
be used; the 
many wagons, cars,
and boats to carry the fuel and food from the place where they are prepared to the 
place where they 
are used; one set of pipes to send the water wherever it is needed, and another set of 
pipes to carry away
the waste; the guards to keep the people safe; the telephone system, which lets each 
worker know what 
the other
workers are doing, and keeps all things working together.
If you are surprised to see how much is needed to supply a town full of people, you 
will be more 
surprised to know
that each person has within himself needs similar to all of those that we have found in 
a town. Each person has within himself the means of satisfying all of these needs.

From a photograph by the Tourist Department, N.Z.]
COAL TEAMS AT TAUPIRI, AUCKLAND.

When we study the body we find it very much like a town. It has a mill, a place to 
prepare food; 
wagons and carts, in
which food and fuel are carried about; pipes in which liquid is carried over the body; 
and other 
pipes in which the
waste is carried away. It has also what may be likened to a telephone system, by 
which each part of the body knows what the other parts are doing, and it has even 
policemen and watchmen to give warning of danger and to keep everything safe.
- Adapted from the "New Century Intermediate Physiology."

JOHN RUTHERFORD.
Eighty-one years ago a man named John Rutherford arrived in England and 
told a wonderful story of his being
captured by the Maoris, and kept a prisoner among them for nearly ten 
years. Being himself unable to write, on the
way home he told the story to a friend, who wrote it down.
Rutherford said that he went to sea when he was ten years of age. He 
visited many parts of the world, and when he
was twenty years old he was serving on board an American ship, which 
traded for pearl and tortoise-shell among the
islands of the Pacific. The captain tried to reach the Bay of Islands, 
New Zealand, to obtain fresh provisions, but was
driven by a gale away across the Bay of Plenty. He took shelter in a 
bay - now thought to be Tokomaru Bay, south of
the East Cape.
Great numbers of natives came off and began to trade, and also to steal 
whatever they could find - nails out of the
boats, lead off the ship's side, pieces of rope, and such other things as 
they could carry off. After obtaining some
provisions, the captain, being much afraid of the natives, ordered his men 
aloft to unfurl the sails.
Then one of the chiefs, who was on board with a large party of natives, 
threw off his mat, which he used as a cloak,
and began a war song and dance. The other natives did the same, and then 
attacked and overcame the captain, the
mate, and the cook - the only persons who were not handling the sails.
The Maoris then mounted the rigging, drove the crew down, and took them 
ashore with the bodies of the men they
had killed.
In those days the Maoris were cannibals, and used to cook and eat the 
enemies they had killed in battle. The bodies
of the white men killed on board, together with those of six of 
Rutherford's companions whom the natives killed on
shore, were cooked and eaten. The feelings of the poor survivors may be 
imagined, for they knew not when their own
time would come.
Rutherford was treated better than the other prisoners. His life was 
spared, and, as he made himself useful to the
Maoris, he was made a chief and given the chief's daughter in marriage.
In his story Rutherford tells us about many of the old customs of the 
Maoris. Among other things he tells how, with
some of his companions, he was tattooed. " The natives sat down on the 
ground in a ring, and we were brought into the middle and laid upon our backs. Each 
was held down by five or six men, while two others began the 
work of
tattooing.
 " Taking a piece of charcoal, they rubbed it on a stone with a little water until they 
made a thick 
black liquid. Into this
they dipped a kind of sharp chisel made of bone. Then the chisel was placed against 
the skin and  
struck two or 
three times with  a small piece  of wood. This made  it cut  into the flesh as a knife 
would  
have done. In  the
work they  used other instruments also, one of which was made of a shark's tooth, and 
another had teeth like a saw. Although the 
workmen were very
quick, I was four hours under their hands. For three days I was nearly blind, and it 
was six weeks 
before I was really
well."
Rutherford describes also how the Maoris cooked their food. They dug a hole, into 
which they put a 
great quantity of
dried wood and then some stones. The wood was set on fire, and by-and-by the stones 
became red-hot.

JOHN RUTHERFORD.

Any large pieces of burning wood were then pulled out. Some wet green leaves were 
laid over the stones, and the
food was placed on the top of these. Then some more green leaves were put in, and 
were covered with a 
mat. Some water was then poured on the mat, and, passing down to the hot stones, 
caused much steam to arise. 
Then the
whole was quickly covered with earth. Even nowadays the Maoris often cook their 
food in this way.
Rutherford and one of his companions were taken farther inland to the village where 
the chief lived. 
and here an
unfortunate thing happened. The chief went to visit another village, and left behind 
the two 
Englishmen, a few slaves,
and his mother, who was very sick.
Rutherford's companion chanced to lend his knife to a slave to cut some rushes. A pig 
was killed, and 
small portions
of it were put into a pot and cooked with potatoes peeled by the white men with their 
knives. The 
old woman asked
for some of this food, and it was given to her. Next morning she died.
The Maoris held that their great people were tapu, or sacred. Anything that a slave 
had used could 
not be touched by
a chief, nor could it be used for preparing food for a person who was tapu. When the 
Maoris returned 
and heard what
the old woman had eaten, and how it had been prepared, they came to the conclusion 
that she had died 
because
she had eaten food which had been touched with a knife handled by a slave. They 
believed that 
something dreadful
would happen unless they punished the white man who had lent the knife. He was 
therefore put to 
death.
Rutherford now began to think that he was never to get away from New Zealand. He 
lived just as did 
the Maoris, and
got quite used to the life. He travelled about with his captors, visiting among other 
places 
Taranaki, where he said he
met James Caddell.* He saw a great deal of fighting, and met with many strange and 
startling adventures.
At last, off the coast where he had been captured, there appeared a vessel. The chiefs 
made up their 
minds that if
she came in they would take her and kill the crew. To deceive the visitors, and to 
guide them to the 
anchorage, they
sent off Rutherford dressed as a Maori chief. Rutherford presented himself to the 
captain, who, as 
soon as he saw
him, exclaimed, " Here is a white New-Zealander." Then Rutherford explained who 
he was, told of his 
misfortunes,
and asked to be taken away. To this the captain agreed ; Rutherford's canoe with its 
crew was cast 
adrift, and the
vessel stood off from the land.
Rutherford ends his story by saying, " For the first six months of my residence in New 
Zealand I had 
counted the
days by means of notches on a stick, but after that I kept no reckoning. I now learned, 
however, that 
the day on
which I was taken off the island was the 9th January, 1826. I had, therefore, been a 
prisoner among these savages ten years all but two months."

* See School Journal, Part II, April, 1909, page 42.

 Doubt has been cast upon the story of Rutherford's arrival and departure from New 
Zealand. It has been said that he was probably a deserter from a vessel visiting the 
North Island for the purpose of procuring kauri spars. Some of the tattooing is not like 
that done by the Maoris.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
TWO UNNATURAL PARENTS.
(Continued from page 91.)
The grey-warbler generally makes a hanging nest, shaped like a pear or a soda-water 
bottle, with an 
opening in one
side. It is a small nest, with a small hole, and people often wonder how the cuckoo - 
especially the 
long-tailed one,
which is a fairly large bird-manages to get its egg into the nest.

From " The Voyage of the Erebus and Terror."]
THE GREY-WARBLER.

It would be quite impossible for the cuckoo to lay its egg in the nest. It is believed that 
it lays it on the ground, takes it up in its bill, and then places it in the nest. Cuckoos in
other countries, at any rate, do that, and, although New Zealand's cuckoos have never 
been caught in the act, it is believed that they adopt 
the same
course.
The practice is so strange and unnatural that few people believed that it was followed 
until strong 
evidence was
brought forward. In England, cuckoos have been shot carrying in their bills cuckoo-
eggs - their own, 
it is thought.
There are a few fortunate observers who say that they have actually seen the cuckoo 
putting the egg 
in the nest. Two
sons of a farmer at Coxmuir, in Scotland, state that they once saw part of the 
operation ; and a 
forester at Darmstadt,
in Germany, with the help of a telescope, watched a cuckoo lay her egg on a bank and 
then convey it 
in her bill to the
nest of another bird.
Naturalists in New Zealand would like to obtain more information about the manner 
in which cuckoos 
actually do
place their eggs in the nests of the grey-warbler and other birds that are their victims. 
Amongst 
these are the tomtit,
the tui, the whitehead, the yellowhead, the bell-bird, and the silver-eye. Here is a 
splendid 
opportunity for boys and
girls to do some interesting work which will be very valuable to scientists. In the 
summer months, 
when a nest of the
grey-warbler is found, it should be carefully but quietly watched day by day, to see if 
either a 
long-tailed or a shining
cuckoo comes near. The nest should not be disturbed in any way, but frequent visits 
should be made to 
it. There is
not much chance of seeing a cuckoo place her egg in the nest, but one day a cuckoo's 
egg may be found 
in it. In that
case, a record should be kept of the time the egg is hatched, the behaviour of the 
foster parents to the young cuckoo, and the young cuckoo's behaviour to the other 
birds in the nest. If any 
one is fortunate
enough to observe these things, he or she will be able to supply information that all 
scientists will 
be delighted to
receive.
To show what may be done in this respect, the following interesting extracts are taken 
from a diary 
kept by Mr. W.W. Smith, of New Plymouth, a New Zealand naturalist who has done a 
great deal to add to our knowledge 
of the
habits of our own creatures :- 
October 7-Found a nest of the grey-warbler, with four small eggs and one much larger 
; I take the 
latter to be the egg
of the shining cuckoo. Left the nest, to return in a few days.
October 11.-Visited the place again ; the grey-warbler flew out when I approached; 
five eggs still all 
right.
October 24-Two young ones hatched; one egg lying on the ground outside the nest 
containing chick 
quite cold and
dead.
October 25-Three young ones in nest ; large egg unhatched.
October 26-Large egg hatched, chick of the shining cuckoo ; very clumsy in nest, 
lying on top of the 
three young
warblers.
October 30-Found one dead chick lying on the ground: two young warblers still alive; 
young cuckoo 
growing rapidly,
being now nearly large enough to fill the nest itself ; beak and legs fairly well 
developed.
November 2-One of the young warblers lying dead in nest ; the other alive ; young 
cuckoo now has its 
eyes open ;
signs of feathers on the neck and wings, but under-parts of the body perfectly bare.
November 5-Visited nest again. Young cuckoo thrust out its head to receive food 
when I approached; 
lifted the
surviving warbler out of the nest and found it very feeble.
November 6-Young cuckoo lying with its head at the opening of the nest, having 
taken full possession; its lifeless companion was lying underneath, having died, 
apparently, from starvation.
November 8-Found young cuckoo almost ready to leave its cradle. Brought 
both nest and bird home with me.
November 10-Young cuckoo thriving well, being fed on small worms, grubs, 
flies, spiders, and small pieces of lean
meat.
November 15-Young cuckoo has now come out of the nest. Eats largely three 
times a day, but does not care for
meat ; rapidly increasing in size.
November 20-Young cuckoo nearly feathered; placed it in a cage, but it 
looks sickly.
November 21-Young cuckoo died.
Apart from the bad habit that has been described, our two cuckoos 
resemble each other very little. The long-tailed
one is disliked
the other is looked upon as a charming summer visitor.
The long-tailed cuckoo has a head and bill bearing a remarkable likeness 
to the head and bill of a hawk. Strangely
enough, cuckoos in other countries also have hawk-like heads. Some 
persons think that it is because of this
peculiarity that the long-tailed cuckoo rouses the anger and ill will of 
nearly all the small birds in the forest. They
seem to have a great dread of it; but whether this is because of its 
piratical habit, or because they think that its hawk-like appearance is connected with 
hawk-like ferocity, is not certain. They 
chase it away from their trees with the
utmost fury.
Dr. Fulton, of Dunedin, who has made a special study of the long-tailed 
cuckoo, says. " The moment it shows itself in
the daytime, it is pounced upon by all the 'small fry ' in the way of 
native birds, who pursue it and torment it until it
reaches the safety of long grass or thicket once more." It has a loud, 
harsh, grating note, which sounds like " whirt-t-t,"' and which may be heard 
night and day, ringing out sometimes at intervals
of from three to fifteen seconds.
The shining cuckoo, on the other hand, does not seem to excite ill 
feeling. It is of a gentle nature, and has a very
pleasant whistle.
 The grey-warbler's
nest may often be
found     hanging in
bushy manuka. It is
generally found hanging by its top, and,
in that case, it is
kept from swaying in
the breeze by slight
fastenings to a spray
or two. Moss, and
occasionally wool, are
largely used for building-material, which is
sometimes bound together by cobweb.
Poultry-feathers, down, and pieces of
string and cotton are
also used when they
can be obtained.
The inside is often
thickly lined with feathers. The nest
is not always hung as described, and the bird constructs and fixes it 
according to the situation in which it is built.

NEST OF GREY-WARBLER.

The grey-warbler's egg is sometimes pure white, but is usually white or 
pinkish spotted with red, chiefly at the larger end. The cuckoo's egg is bigger. It is 
usually greenish, stained 
with a brown tint.
[NOTE FOR TEACHERS ONLY- New Zealand's two cuckoos belong to the order of 
birds named Cuculi, and to the
family Cuculidae, (which includes all cuckoos in all parts of the world), but they 
belong to 
different genera. The long-tailed cuckoo belongs to the genus Urodynamis, and its 
specific name is taitensis; the shining 
cuckoo's generic
name is Chalcococcyx, and its specific name lucidus.]

WHY WE EAT.
Have you ever thought how much time is spent in growing, preparing, selling, buying, 
cooking, 
serving, and eating
food ? I have even known little girls who had to wash dishes, and boys who had to 
bring in fuel for 
the cooking, wish
that people did not have to eat ; but they never seem to wish that just before dinner. 
Let us see why 
we spend so
much time in this way.
If the legs or arms of a chair have to be made longer, the carpenter has to add a piece 
of wood to 
each. When a
child's arms and legs become longer and longer each year, we know that something is 
being added. That 
something
is the food which the child eats, and unless some food is added there can be no 
growing.
Even if we are not growing, we still need
food. If boys or girls climb trees or fences,
their clothes usually need mending, and new
thread must be woven in and out, or new cloth
must be put on. Now, the body that does the
climbing wears out, too, and must be mended,
not with cloth or with thread, but with food.
There is no other way of mending the body,
which wears out a little with every motion we
make, with every thought we have, and even
with every breath we take.
Your mother and father, whom you look upon as very tall, were once smaller 
than you are now, and it is the food
which they have eaten that has made them so much bigger than they were.
Put your hand on the glass of the window and see how cold it feels. That is 
because your hand is warmer than the
glass. If there is no fire in the house it feels cold, and so would your 
body feel cold if there were nothing within to keep
it warm. To keep the body warm is another part of the work which the food 
does. Now we see why so much of our
time must be spent in getting, preparing, and eating food, without which we 
could not keep warm, could not grow,
could not even live.
We eat to grow, to repair our bodies, and to keep them warm.
-From the " New Century Intermediate. Physiology."

THE MEN OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DAY.
Just over three hundred years ago lived a great Queen of England, Queen 
Elizabeth, who has often been called "Good Queen Bess." As a queen she was noble, 
firm, and wise ; as a woman she 
showed weaknesses of character,
being vain, fond of show, and sometimes very hard to please. But she loved 
England very dearly, and chose wise men
to advise her. In her reign England prospered greatly. On the sea English 
ships were victorious in fight after fight, and
at home, under her kindly influence, rose many learned men whose names will 
ever be remembered.
The printing-press had given cheaper books to the people, grammar schools 
were founded in the larger towns, and
the spread of learning had made the works of the great Greek and Latin 
writers more widely known. Englishmen, too,
were taking more interest in countries beyond the seas, for the wealth and 
the wonders of the recently found America
had caused English sailors to visit lands far from their own shores.
The restless spirit of the " sea-dogs," as the brave sailors of Elizabeth's 
time were called, brought great riches to the
older ports of England, and caused new ports to spring up. The sea was 
dotted with the ships of English sea-rovers,
who fought the Spaniards and plundered their ships as they returned to 
Spain laden with the gold and treasures of the
west.
Chief among the English seamen was Sir John Hawkins; but we are sorry to 
say that as a young man he had made
himself rich by joining in the cruel practice of carrying slaves from 
Africa to America, and selling them to the
Spaniards. In those times only a few of the noblest men thought there was any harm in 
this horrible trade, and very 
few refused to share in the great profits to be
made.
The ships of Hawkins had been attacked and plundered by Spaniards, and he 
vowed to have his revenge. Together
with a young man named Francis Drake, he made his name a terror to the 
Spaniards, capturing their ships and
attacking their settlements in America. But Hawkins did greater work than 
this for his country. He spent many
months in England teaching his countrymen how to build better ships, and 
we have him chiefly to thank for the
complete victory the English gained over an immense fleet that Spain 
afterwards sent to conquer England.
Drake became one of the most famous of our sailors, and the story of his 
deeds makes a stirring page in history. As
a young man he had seen the horrors of the slave trade, and, when he got 
ships of his own, he was one of the few
who would not make money out of the sufferings of the poor negroes. He 
thought, however, that in capturing Spanish
ships and taking their treasures, even when the two countries were not at 
war, he was performing noble deeds, for
Englishmen and Spaniards hated each other.
Drake was the first Englishman to sail round the world. He set out from 
England with five small ships, and, crossing
to America, sailed down the coast. He passed through the Strait of 
Magellan, for he did not know that he could find a
passage farther south. But he had to sail the wide waters of the Pacific 
with only one ship, the others having been
lost or separated from him.
Sailing north up the coast, he captured so many ships that his vessel 
became deeply laden with gold, silver, and other treasures. But behind him the 
Spaniards were on the watch, so, hoping to 
escape them,
he tried to find a way home round the north of America.

From the "Patriotic Historical Readers," published by William Collins, Sons, and Co.]
QUEEN ELIZABETH KNIGHTING DRAKE.

He sailed on till he was stopped by the cold. He then made up his 
mind to return
by crossing the Pacific
and rounding the Cape of Good Hope. When he reached England the Queen visited 
his ship and gave him 
the title of "Sir Francis Drake."
One of the noblest men of Elizabeth's time was Sir Philip Sidney. He was a great 
favourite with the 
lords and ladies of
the Court, who admired his witty sayings and were fond of reading his beautiful 
poems. But Sidney was 
not content to
waste his time in idle pleasure. He wished to share in the work of the gallant men who 
were spreading 
the fame of
England over the world.
At last his chance came. The brave Dutch people were fighting for freedom against 
the Spaniards, and 
asked for help
from England. Among those who went was Sir Philip. Towards the end of a fierce 
battle he was severely 
wounded.
The wound causing great thirst, he asked for water. It was brought to him, but, just as 
he was 
raising it to his lips, he
saw a wounded soldier looking at it with longing eyes. Lowering the cooling draught 
from his lips, he 
handed it to the
soldier, saying, " Drink, friend, thy need is greater than mine."
Another great man was Sir Walter Raleigh. At one time he would be writing poems or 
amusing the Court 
with his
witty sayings, at another time he would be fighting the Spaniards or looking after an 
English 
settlement which he had
founded in America, and had named " Virginia"
in honour of his Queen.
For many years no great book had been written by an Englishman ; but Elizabeth 
encouraged learning, 
and in her
time two of our finest writers appeared. Edmund Spenser wrote a long poem called 
the " Faerie 
Queene," which
pictured the triumph of truth and goodness. Some day you may read his story of " Una 
and the Lion," 
and the
adventures of the " Red Cross Knight."
The grandest name of Elizabeth's reign is that of William Shakespeare. He was born 
in 1564, at Stratford-on-Avon,
England, the people of which are very proud that their town was his birthplace. We do 
not know much about his early
life, but we know that while still a young man he went to London.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

There he became an actor, and after a time wrote a large number of plays. These have 
been
printed in many languages, and have been acted all over the world. Not only by 
British people, but by people of every
nation, Shakespeare is honoured as one of the world's greatest writers.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
SEA-BIRDS.
There are very few people who have not watched with wondering eyes the hosts of 
seabirds that are to be seen about
our harbours,
on our beaches, and sometimes following vessels on their voyages from port to port. 
We watch these birds soar, hover, and sweep in graceful circles through the air, we 
listen to their great clamour and clatter,
and we feel we want to know more about them and their ways. Where
do they nest ? What are their daily habits ? How do they rear their young ? These are
questions we naturally ask, and they are questions that earnest and clever men who 
have carefully studied the habits
of the birds have been able to answer.
On all the sea-beaches of New Zealand, in
many of the harbours, and often away inland, there may be seen the black-backed 
gull, the commonest sea-bird in
this part of the world. It is a large gull, with black back, bill, legs
and wings, and white breast. It is to be seen in flocks of hundreds, especially in our 
harbours.
Although handsome in appearance and very graceful, it is not at all a lovable bird. It 
quarrels with its fellow-birds, and
is a coarse, gluttonous, and filthy eater. It devours all
kinds of refuse, and thus acts as the scavenger of our beaches. It will attack even live 
animals if they cannot defend
themselves.
One of the worst habits of this beautiful but cruel creature is to attack young lambs on 
the farms, and peck out and
eat their eyes. In some parts of New Zealand, especially in Otago and Southland, 
farmers suffer severely on account of 
this habit of the
black-backed gull. Most people heartily hate the bird because of its shocking cruelty 
and the torment 
it causes
innocent and utterly defenceless animals.
As some kind of punishment for its crimes, the black-backed gull is one of the few 
New Zealand birds that are not given some kind of protection by an Act of 
Parliament.

From Gray's " Genera of Birds."]
BLACK-BACKED GULL.

This says that most "of our native birds must not be killed. Some, which are looked 
upon as game-birds, may be killed during a few months of the year; a few may
be killed at any time, and the black-backed gull is one of these. 
This gull breeds on the sea-shore and on sandy spits in the river-beds. It has a large, 
rough nest, 
usually made of
grass, but sometimes of tussock, which it pulls up by the roots for the purpose. Its egg 
is of a 
yellowish-grey colour,
with grey and dark-brown blotches.
Some observers of Nature state that this gull has discovered a clever way of obtaining 
the soft 
morsel inside a pipi-shell. It takes a pipi in its bill, flies up to a height of about fifty 
feet, and then drops the pipi 
on to the hard sand in
order to break it. If the pipi is not broken at the first attempt, the gull picks it up and 
drops it 
again and again until the
little creature inside is at its mercy.
A smaller bird, called the red-billed gull, is not so numerous as the black-backed gull, 
but it also 
is often seen in our
harbours and along our coasts. Most of its feathers are white, its back and wings are 
pearly-grey, 
and its bill and
legs are red.
Red-billed gulls are usually seen in flocks, and it is very interesting to watch them 
gather on the 
sea-shore. The birds
will alight on the sand, and stand for several minutes, all facing the wind, while tiny 
wavelets 
ripple over their feet and
wash their legs. Suddenly one of them will rise gracefully but rapidly a few feet into 
the air. The 
whole flock will then
rise up and flutter about, while they all cry out " Croo, croo, croo," with a noisy 
clamour that is 
in striking contrast
with their former silence. After this has continued for several seconds the birds 
gracefully settle 
down on the sand
again, like a great moving grey curtain.
(To be continued.)

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
SEA-BIRDS. (Continued from page 125.)
The red-billed gull, it is stated, treats the oyster-catcher, one of the 
shore-birds, very badly. The oyster-catcher has a
long, sharp bill, which is very useful for obtaining crabs and
other food-supplies to be found in the sand. The red-billed gull often follows the 
oyster-catcher, and 
robs it of the food it
has been able to secure by means of its long bill.
There is another New Zealand gull, called the black-billed gull. It is about the same 
size as the 
red-billed gull, and has
the same kind of plumage, almost the only difference being in the colour of the bill. It 
is often 
found on rivers and
lakes, and occasionally in harbours; it is, however, seldom seen on the open sea-coast.
The red-billed gull and the black-billed gull both lay their eggs, which are of a greyish 
colour, in 
rough nests made of
tussock or grass.
There is no doubt that terns are the most graceful sea-birds seen on the New Zealand 
coasts. There 
are five or six
different kinds here, and all of them are very interesting. Perhaps the most plentiful is 
the white-fronted tern, which is
shown in the picture. Its body is white, its back and wings are pale grey, and it has a 
black cap which extends down to the back of its
neck. Its wings are long, large, and strong. It is a very graceful bird on the wing, and 
flies with surprising quickness.
It sometimes lays its yellowish-brown eggs on a bare rock, without any protection 
whatever; indeed, they may be only a few feet from high-water mark, and within easy 
reach of showers of spray. Sometimes its eggs are deposited on shingle-banks near the 
mouths of rivers, where this tern is often seen.
The black-fronted tern, which seems to be rare in New Zealand now, is a very useful 
bird, as it eats 
large numbers of
insects, especially in fields that have been newly ploughed.

THE OYSTER CATCHER.

From Buller's " Birds of New Zealand."]
BLACK-BILLED GULLS.
 
The petrels also are very interesting birds. Amongst these are the mutton-birds, which 
nest in countless numbers in
burrows on lonely coasts, and which are largely used for food.
There is a very interesting member of this group called the black petrel. It is found in 
large numbers in the northern
parts of New Zealand, but is seldom seen in the South.

From the "Voyage of the Erebus and Terror."]
WHITE-FRONTED TERN.

Its plumage is quite black, and its legs and feet are of the same colour - in
fact, the only part of it that is not black is its bill, and that is a dirty yellow. It flies 
about at night, going high up 
in the
air, and making a strange, unearthly noise.
It usually makes its nest in a burrow at the top of a high hill near the coast, and it lays 
only one egg in each season.
Many other sea-birds are seen in New Zealand. We cannot, of course, here describe 
them all, but it would hardly be
right to completely omit to mention the stately and majestic albatrosses, which breed 
on the southern islands, and which have the great Southern Ocean as their domain.

THE WANDERING ALBATROSS.

These birds belong to the South, and are seldom found north of the thirtieth degree of 
south latitude. They have become famous on account of the majesty and remarkable 
character of their flight. With outstretched and motionless
wings, the albatross sails over the surface of the sea, now rising high in the air, now 
with a bold sweep and sloping
wings descending until the tip of the lower wing almost touches the crests of the 
waves as he skims over them. Then there is a sudden change. "He sees something. 
floating in the water, and prepares to alight," says a writer who has specially studied 
the albatross's habits. " But how changed he is now from the noble bird who, a 
moment before, was all 
grace and beauty! He raises his wings, his head goes back, his back goes in ; down 
drop two
enormous webbed feet, straddled out to their full extent, and then, with a hoarse 
croak, between that 
of a raven and that of a sheep, he falls souse into the water. There he is at home again,
breasting the waves like a cork. Presently he stretches out his neck, and, with great 
exertion of his 
wings, runs along the top of the water for seventy or eighty yards, until, at last, having 
got
sufficient way on, he tucks up his legs, and is once more fairly launched in the air."
Albatrosses have been known to follow vessels for days together, without resting. It is 
surprising 
how they find sufficient energy to keep up for such a long time. When they want to 
rest they go
to sleep on the ocean, rocked in the cradle of the waves, and lulled by the sea-breezes 
that blow over them.
Much thought has been given to the albatross's habit of remaining in the air for a long 
time without 
appearing to move his outstretched wings. At one time it was believed that the bird 
actually
slept in the air, so quietly and peacefully does he sail along. The poet Leland,
in an address to the albatross, says: Thou sailest wide to other lands,  E'en sleeping on 
the wing.
But this is not correct. The albatross sleeps on the water, but not in the air.
Nests of the albatross are found on the Auckland, Campbell, Antipodes, and other 
southern islands. 
The nests are large and cup-shaped. They are built up from the ground, and are made 
of feathers or grass and twigs, matted together, usually with mud.

NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY-The albatrosses belong to the family 
Diomedeidae. The genera and species are: Diomedea exulam, the wandering albatross 
; Diomedea regia, the royal albatross ; Diomedea chionoptera, the snowy albatross ; 
Thalassarche salvini, the grey-backed mollymawk ; Thalassarche melanophrys, the 
mollymawk ; Thalassarche bulleri, the white-capped mollymawk ; Thalassarche 
culminatus the grey-headed mollymawk ; Thalassarche chlororhynchus, the 
yellow-nosed mollymawk; and Phoebetria fuliginosa, the sooty albatross.

THE MUTINY OF THE "BOUNTY."
In the month of April, 1789, an English ship called the " Bounty " was sailing one 
night upon the 
starlit sea, about fifteen hundred miles from the lovely tropical island of Tahiti, in the 
Pacific
Ocean. She had been to the island to take in a cargo of bread-fruit and some of the 
plants, and was 
on her way to the West Indies. Captain Cook and other explorers had said how much 
the fruit
was used by the South Sea Island natives, and it was thought that it would prove very 
useful in our 
West India colonies.
Just before daybreak the mate, named Fletcher Christian, was keeping watch. His 
mind was hot and 
angry with the recollection of many rough words and unjust actions which he had 
suffered
from the ship's commander. Captain Bligh had sailed with Captain Cook in his second 
voyage round the 
world, and, though a brave officer and a skilful seaman, he was very much of a bully. 
He
had made the voyage a time of misery for his crew, and at last they were going to 
have revenge.
During their voyage the men had taken a great liking to the sunny Pacific islands. If 
they could only get rid of Bligh and live undisturbed on some island of their own, 
how happy they might be!
The idea had been talked over among them, and they had agreed upon a plan. 
Christian, who was the 
leader in the
plot, together with three of the seamen, entered Bligh's cabin armed to the teeth, and 
threatened to 
kill him if he cried
out. In a few minutes the captain was tied hand and foot.
Meanwhile the rest of the mutineers had treated five of the other officers in the same 
way. All of 
these, together with
the members of the crew who refused to take part in the plot, were placed in a small 
boat. They were 
given provisions,
and instruments by means of which they could find their way, and were then cast 
adrift. Besides 
Bligh, there were
eighteen persons in the boat, and twenty-five remained on the ship. The "Bounty" was 
turned back to 
Tahiti, leaving
the boat's crew abandoned on the lonely ocean.
It was then that Captain Bligh performed one of the most wonderful boat-voyages in 
history. Only his 
worst qualities
had shown themselves on board the ship. Now, in a position of constant danger, he 
was to prove what a 
brave man
and skilful sailor he could be.
The boat's crew first tried to land on one of the Friendly Islands; but the natives drove 
them off, 
killing one of the
sailors. So Bligh set his course for the far distant coast of Australia. Sparing their 
scanty food as 
much as possible,
and eating the raw flesh of sea-gulls, when they could catch them, the men came at
last to Restoration Island, off the coast of Queensland. Here they obtained fresh water 
and a welcome 
supply of
oysters. Continuing their voyage, they sailed through Torres Strait, between Australia 
and New Guinea, and at last 
reached the Dutch
Island of Timor, in the East Indies. Their journey of 3,620 miles had taken forty-eight 
days, and five of the party had died of 
fever. The rest returned
to England in a sailing-ship.
But what had become of the mutineers of the
"Bounty " ? A ship-of-war named the " Pandora," under Captain Edwards, which was 
sent to look for 
them, found
fourteen of their number at Tahiti. These gave themselves up to be tried in England 
for mutiny, and 
stated that their
companions had sailed away, they knew not whither.
The prisoners were put in irons by Captain Edwards, who was even rougher and more 
brutal than Captain 
Bligh. The "Pandora " searched for three months' among the southern islands in hopes 
of finding the rest of the 
mutineers, and
then started back for Timor. Soon afterwards she struck upon a rock and sank, thirty-
five of the crew 
and four of the
prisoners being drowned.
The ninety-nine who were saved got into four boats, and made a sea journey scarcely 
less remarkable than Captain
Bligh's. After suffering the greatest hardships during a voyage of a thousand miles, 
they landed at 
Timor, and from
there made their way to England. The prisoners, who, even during the boat-voyage, 
had been treated 
with the greatest
cruelty by Edwards, were tried for mutiny, and the three worst offenders were hanged.
Many years went by before any further news was heard of the "Bounty." Then, in the 
year 1809, an 
American captain
told how he had found, on the tiny island of Pitcairn, south-east of Tahiti, a white man 
and several 
half-caste families.
The white man called himself the last of the " Bounty " mutineers, and the
half-caste families were the descendants of the others, by their native wives.
Five years later still, the ship-of -war " Briton" visited Pitcairn Island. It is doubtful if 
the 
captain of the " Briton " had
heard the story told by the Americans. When the people of the island came off to him 
in a canoe, what 
was his
astonishment when one of the natives said in English, " Won't you heave us a rope ? " 
This was done, 
and the
strangers instantly sprang upon the deck.

CAPTAIN BLIGH CAST ADRIFT.
THE LANDING AT PITCAIRN ISLAND.

The eldest then explained the mystery, saying that his name was Thursday October 
Christian, and
that he was the son of Fletcher Christian, of the " Bounty." His curious name had been 
given to him 
because of the
day and the month of his birth. The captain of the " Briton " asked the strangers to 
have something 
to eat. Before
partaking of the food, Christian rose up and, placing his hands together, asked a 
blessing, and then expressed his 
surprise that the
sailors began to eat without doing the same.
Other ships visited Pitcairn Island, and gradually the story of the " Bounty " became 
known. Fletcher 
Christian, eight
others of the crew, five native men from Tahiti, thirteen native women, and a child, 
had landed on 
the lonely island.
They had destroyed the " Bounty," and built homes for themselves from her timbers.
Quarrels, however, broke out among them, leading to much bloodshed. Fletcher 
Christian was shot. The 
other
mutineers died or were killed, and at last a seaman named Smith was the only 
Englishman left. He had 
changed his
name to John Adams, and, with a Bible for his guidance, had taught and governed his 
half-caste colony 
in the most peaceful manner.
Smith, or Adams, was pardoned by the English Government, and lived till 1829. By 
1856 the descendants 
of the
mutineers on the island had increased so rapidly that the place was too small for them. 
Fierce 
hurricanes, too, had
swept over the island and destroyed the crops.

 JOHN ADAMS.

The British Government, therefore, removed 187 persons to Norfolk Island, north-
west of New Zealand, so that to-day there
are. descendants of the old mutineers on both Pitcairn and Norfolk Islands.

CARE OF THE TEETH.
The first teeth you got as a little child are not those you use through life. Your 
permanent teeth do 
not begin to appear
until the age of about six is reached, and the first teeth, or milk-teeth, as they are 
called, are 
then gradually pushed
out. With the exception of the wisdom teeth, which are at the back of the jaw, and do 
not appear till 
the age of about
twenty-one, all the permanent teeth are cut at the age of thirteen.
If you lose these permanent teeth, other teeth will not grow in their place. You should 
therefore 
take the greatest care
to preserve them, in order that they may remain sound and useful as long as possible. 
If you do not, you will suffer all
the pains of toothache, for which you will get little sympathy; your breath will be 
foul, your mouth 
will present a very
unsightly appearance, and your general health will suffer because you cannot grind up 
your food 
properly. 
Nature has given the teeth a hard, white shell on the outside to protect them, but once 
this is 
broken the softer parts
quickly decay. You must therefore be very careful not to break this shell by biting 
hard substances, 
cracking nuts, or
in other ways giving the teeth, work for which they are not intended.
The real danger, however, lies in the fact, that the shell can be 
gradually eaten away, and the teeth of sickly persons
are more liable to this than are those of people in good health. Scraps 
of food get between the teeth, and, in
decaying, produce acids which eat away the shell. Much smoking discolours 
the teeth and also assists decay. By-and-by the decay reaches the little nerve with 
which each tooth is 
supplied, and then the fun begins.
Prevention is better than cure, and in this case the means for prevention 
may be summed up in one word - cleanliness.
This applies not only to the permanent teeth, but also to the milk-teeth; 
for decay of the milk-teeth leads to decay of
the permanent teeth.
To preserve the teeth, you should see that they are thoroughly cleaned 
after each meal, and always before you go to
bed ; for during the night most of the damage is done. Use a brush, not 
too soft, but not so hard that it will hurt the
gums. Use also warm water and some simple powder or plain curd soap ; 
but, if you have neither of these, use
common salt.
Brush not only the front of the teeth, but also the back. Move the brush 
up and down so that the hairs get well
between the teeth. Then wash out the mouth with warm water.
To remove any food that sticks between the teeth, use a quill tooth-pick; 
you can now easily understand why you.
should not use a hard substance, such as a pin.
Always remember that the only protection a tooth has is very thin, and 
that, once it is damaged, Nature is not in this
case a healer.

THE FIRE BRIGADE.
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" How terrible is the cry in the daytime, but how much 
more terrible at
night! In the daytime people leave their work to see where the fire is, 
and at night they start from their sleep and throw
up their windows to
make anxious inquiries. Some hurriedly dress themselves and run to the 
burning building.
In country places, though there is not much danger of the fire spreading 
from one house to another, little can be done
to save a building when the fire has once got a strong hold ; yet
willing friends from the fields and neighbouring farm run eagerly to save 
what they can. In towns, however, the
buildings are so close together, and the danger that the fire will spread
is so great, that a band of trained men, called the Fire Brigade, keep 
constant watch night and day. At a few
moments' notice they are ready to rush to the scene.
Here comes a man running along the street, crying breathlessly, " Fire! 
Fire! " He dashes up to a red-painted box
fastened to a wall or a post. With a stick or a stone he breaks the piece 
of glass in front and presses a button.
Instantly an alarm-bell rings in the Fire Brigade Station, and a hand on a 
dial turns to a number that shows in what
part of the city the alarm has been given.
The men, already dressed in their uniforms, rush to the fire appliances, 
some coming in through doors, and others
sliding down a pole from the rooms above. Some take their places in the 
motor-engine, which is throbbing and
trembling as if with eagerness to be off. At a touch of the driver's hand 
she darts through the wide-open doors, the
clang of her bell warning people to get out of the way.
A minute or two, or even less, brings the brigade to the fire. The hose on 
the motor is run out and screwed to the
water-supply pipes. If the fire has not got a strong hold, a fireman enters 
the building carrying a cylinder containing
chemicals. These when pumped on to the fire may be sufficient to put it 
out; but if more is needed, streams of water
are poured on to the flames.
Sometimes the smoke is so thick that the fireman cannot with safety enter 
the building. He then puts over his head
what is called a "smoke-helmet." Air is forced into this through tubes, 
and, though the smoke may be rolling
densely around him, the fireman, being supplied with fresh air by his companions 
outside, can carry out his work without 
being suffocated.
Horses also are used to take the men to a fire. The horses stand in the 
Station with their bridles already on. They
know exactly what is required of them, and, at the first sound of the 
alarm, trot out of their stalls and take their
places in front of the fire-engine. A fireman gives a tug at the harness, 
which has been hanging from the ceiling; it
drops to the horses' backs and is fastened by quick hands ; and almost 
before you know what is happening the
horses are galloping at full speed down the street.
To reach the top of a high building a ladder which runs on wheels is 
used. It looks very short as the horses dash up
with it; but, when they are taken out and the men begin to turn some 
handles, it grows longer and longer - somewhat
after the manner of a telescope - and creeps higher and higher up the wall 
of the building. When the fire is near the
waterside a " steamer " may be brought along from the Fire Brigade 
Station. This is an engine fitted with a powerful
pump. It dashes up with smoke pouring from its brass funnel; pipes are 
quickly laid, the pumps are set to work, and a
great jet of sea-water leaps up to attack the flames.
How bravely the firemen work! Breaking in windows with their axes that 
they may drag the hose into the rooms,
climbing to the roof and cutting holes to pour in floods of water, 
standing under tottering walls and chimneys - here,
there, everywhere - they risk life and limb to save the property and, it 
may be, the lives of others.

At last the efforts of the firemen are crowned with success. The angry flames die 
down and give place 
to rolling smoke and steam, the crowd thins and
dwindles away, and the firemen return to the Station, leaving one or two of their 
number to destroy 
the last traces of fire and to prevent a further outbreak.
Of those who watch over and guard us asleep or awake no one does nobler work than 
the fireman. He is 
the friend of all alike. The call he answers and
answers promptly is the call of duty. Nor does he always return unharmed from 
answering the call. On 
the shelves of a cupboard in one of the London fire-stations are a number of battered 
helmets, each of which was once worn by a hero who, quietly and 
manfully carrying out his duty, gave up his life for a
fellow-creature.

THE HEAT OF THE BODY.
Our bodies are kept warm by the food we eat. Indeed, they have been called " living 
stoves," in which 
burning goes on very slowly. The food we like best and
is best for us is different at different times of the year. In summer, when the weather  
is hot, we 
should eat fruits and other light foods; but in winter, when the
weather is cold, we can enjoy fatty foods, for our bodies require them to keep up the 
warmth. People 
living near the Equator would soon become ill if they ate
much fatty food, but the Eskimo of the Frozen North greatly enjoys a piece of rich 
whale-blubber - it 
helps to make him fat and to keep him warm.
Some people think that beer, spirits, and other drinks containing alcohol help to keep 
the body warm. 
These do warm the body a little, but only for a short
time, and then the body feels the cold more keenly. In olden days, when ships went to 
the icy regions 
round the North and South Poles, they carried a great
quantity of spirits for the use of the men. Nowadays, however, the men are not 
allowed to drink 
spirits, for it is found that those who do not use them suffer
less from cold than those who do use them.
You have all heard of the " Nimrod " expedition which recently returned with some 
explorers from the 
South Polar regions. Professor David was one of the
leaders of the expedition, and on his return he said that when they were celebrating a 
birthday some 
of the men took a little wine, but afterwards found that
they suffered severely from the cold. When, therefore, they set out on a long journey 
across the ice, 
they benefited from the lesson they had learned, and
during the whole of the four months they were away from the ship they touched not 
one drop of alcohol.
A well-known doctor tells the following story:
Some surveyors were working in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of the United States. 
They camped at a 
great height above sea-level, where the air was bitterly
cold. They suffered very much, and were very miserable. Some drank a little whisky, 
and some took 
more. For a time they found relief. Next morning those
who had not taken any spirits were all right, 
those who had taken a little got up feeling
uncomfortable, but those who had taken much did not rise at all - they were frozen to 
death in their 
sleep.
You will thus see that spirits do not supply the body with heat as suitable food does. If 
you are 
very cold the best drink is warm or hot milk. This will at once make you feel
warm, and will help to keep you warm for a long time.

BIRDS OF NEW ZEALAND.
THE HUIA AND THE WRY-BILLED PLOVER.
You have been already told that, owing to the long separation of New 
Zealand from the rest of the world, and for other
reasons, many of our birds have formed curious habits, and have become 
curiously constructed. There are two New
Zealand birds that are specially interesting in this respect. One is the 
huia, and the other the wry-billed plover.
The huia, as most New-Zealanders know, is now very, very rare. Even when 
it was more common it was never known
to live outside of certain parts of the Wellington and Hawke's Bay 
Provinces. It has been seen most frequently in the
valleys of the Ruahine, Tararua, and Rimutaka Ranges. It dwells in the 
dense forests, where it lives on insects and
berries.
The huia is not showy, but it is very handsome. It is about the same 
size as an ordinary pigeon, has shiny, greenish-black plumage, a white-tipped tail, and 
an ivory-like bill. It is chiefly 
because of its bill that the huia has become
famous. The picture shows that there is a great difference between the 
bill of the male and that of the female. The
male's bill is straight, strong, and short; the female's is curved, 
slender, and long. There are no other birds in the world
that show such extraordinary differences.
Naturalists have often wondered what has caused the bills to become so 
curiously different. One noted naturalist
thinks that the difference has been brought about in order that the sexes 
may fairly divide the labour of obtaining food.
Huias feed largely on a grub called the hu-hu, which lives in logs of 
wood, and is about as large as a man's finger.
Two huias, male and female, have been watched while attacking a log to 
get the grubs. The male, with his strong,
straight bill, chiselled the wood away until the position of the grub was 
shown, and then the female, with her long,
slender, and flexible bill, probed into places that the male could not 
reach.

HUIAS (Male and Female).

Sometimes the male removed decayed wood without being able to reach the 
grub. The female then went to his assistance, and, pulling out the grub, selfishly ate it 
herself.
From these observations, it is believed by some persons that the strange 
difference in the shape of the bills enables
the birds to attend to different work in obtaining food. Others, however, 
point out that, if this were so, there would also
be differences in the bills of many other kinds of birds. No really satisfactory 
explanation has as yet 
been given, and we can only look upon it as one
of the wonders of Nature.
The huia has always been a rare bird, and it is feared that it will soon 
be extinct. Every New-Zealander would be very
sorry indeed if this were to happen. To prevent its total disappearance, 
if possible, Mr. A. Hamilton, Director of the
Dominion Museum in Wellington, has been out into the mountain-ranges in 
The hope of catching some huias for the purpose of placing them on the 
Little Barrier Island.

NEST OF THE HUIA.

This is near Auckland, and is what is known as a " bird sanctuary " - that is, a place 
where every care is taken that birds are not destroyed. In that
sanctuary the huias , would be safe from all enemies, and would have a 
chance to live in peace. Mr. Hamilton took
with him Maoris who knew the habits of the huia and were skilful 
bird-catchers. But although he
paid five visits to the Ruahines alone, and several visits to the other 
ranges, he saw not a single huia, and on only
three occasions was its note heard.
The decrease in the number of the huias has been brought about chiefly by 
the vanity of human nature. In the old
days, before the white men came to New Zealand, the huia's white-tipped 
tail-feathers were worn by Maori chiefs in
their hair, and were looked upon as badges or marks of rank. The idea 
caught the fancy of Europeans, especially
tourists, who liked to show their friends in other countries the feathers 
of a rare and beautiful bird, which might have
been worn by great chiefs in a savage land. A trade in the feathers soon 
sprang up ; and, as high prices were paid for
them, amounting sometimes to £1 each, Maoris and others killed as many 
huias as they could, and almost swept
them out of existence. Should we not feel ashamed of the foolish pride and 
vanity that has robbed the world of one of
its most interesting and beautiful birds !
It is many years since bird-lovers saw the danger that beset the huia, and 
the law has now given it all the protection
possible : that is to say, nobody is permitted to kill or to catch a huia, 
or to interfere with it in any way. Lord Onslow,
a former Governor of New Zealand, was the first to take an active and 
practical step to give the bird the law's
protection. In 1892 he wrote a long letter to Mr. John Ballance, who was 
then Premier, asking that the huia and
several other native birds should be protected. Mr. Ballance at once agreed 
to the proposal. The idea, however,
seems to have been suggested by a Maori tribe in the Wellington District, 
the Ngati-huia,* which took its name from the bird. Lord Onslow named his son, who 
was born in New Zealand, after the Ngati-huias.

* Ngati means tribe. Ngati-huia = the Huia Tribe.

At a gathering at Otaki, when little Huia Onslow was presented to the tribesmen, one 
of the chiefs, in the picturesque language of his race,
asked that the bird from which the tribe had taken its name should be protected. 
"There, yonder," he said, " is the snow-clad Ruahine Range, the home of
our favourite bird. We ask you, O Governor! to stop the white men from shooting it, 
so that, when your boy grows up, he may see the beautiful bird whose name he bears."

THE WRY-BILLED PLOVER.
(Buller.)

Yet in spite of the protection of the law, and in spite of all that bird-lovers could do, 
huias continued to be killed in order that their beautiful feathers might be
used to give a passing pleasure to vain and foolish persons.
The huia lays a greyish-white egg, which has a few spots of purple and brown on it. 
The nest is usually made in a hollow tree, and is lined with grass and twigs and other 
materials.
The other bird referred to at the beginning of this article is hardly so interesting as the. 
huia. In 
fact, there is nothing to draw special attention to it, except the
shape of its bill. It is the only bird in the world that has its bill turned sideways. Many 
birds 
have bills turned up, and, many have bills turned down, but the.
wry-billed plover has a bill turned to the right. The male and female are alike in this 
respect. 
Though many people have tried to find a reason for this strange
shape of the bird's bill, no satisfactory explanation has been given.
The wry-bill is a neat little bird. It lives on the sea-shore and near the mouths of 
rivers. It lays 
greenish-grey eggs, speckled all over with dark brown. Its only
nest is a slight hollow amongst the pebbles on a beach or in a river-bed.

[NOTES FOR THE TEACHER ONLY - The huia derives its name from its note. It 
belongs to the order Passeres, the perchers, and to the starling family, Sturnidae. Its 
generic name is Heteralocha and its specific name acutirostris. The wry-billed plover 
belongs to the order Limicolae, the shore-birds, and to the family Charadriidae 
(plovers, sandpipers, &c.). Its generic name is Anarhynchus, and its specific 
name frontalis.]

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.

THE SPANISH ARMADA SAILING UP THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.

In Part II of the School Journal for September you were told how some of 
the great sailors of Queen Elizabeth's day
fought against the Spaniards in the New World. Spain wished to keep for 
herself the great treasures - the gold, the
silver, and the precious stones - that were to be obtained in the newly 
found lands. England disputed the claims of
Spain, and so there arose constant quarrels. These quarrels could have 
only one ending, and the countries went to
war.
Philip, King of Spain, saw that he must conquer England if he wished to 
keep his lands in America. He gathered
together a great fleet of ships, but, before he was quite ready, Drake 
sailed boldly into Cadiz Harbour and burned and
sank many of them. Drake then returned to England, and laughingly said he 
had been " singeing the King of Spain's
beard."  
In 1588, however, the Armada, as the Spanish fleet was called, sailed for 
England. When it was seen entering the
English Channel, beacons, or signal-fires, flashed the news from hill to 
hill and from peak to peak throughout the length and breadth of the land.
The English had then no regular army, but they prepared to fight bravely to defend 
their homes 
should the Spaniards
land. They trusted to the fleet, however, to keep the Spaniards at bay, and, though 
their ships were 
fewer in number
and smaller in size than the vessels of the Armada, the men on board were daring and 
skilful sailors. 
The English
vessels, too, being lighter than those of the Spaniards, could sail much faster.
Lord Howard of Effingham commanded the English, and with him were Drake, 
Hawkins, and others - all 
heroes of many
a well-fought fight. As the Armada passed up the Channel the English ships hung 
about it and dashed 
in to attack
wherever there was a chance. One Spanish vessel after another was captured, sunk, 
burnt, or driven 
ashore. As the
English seamen said, they plucked the feathers of the Spaniards one by one.
 After a week's fighting the Armada anchored off Calais. But Lord Howard made up 
his mind that the 
enemy should
have no rest. Eight of his vessels were smeared with pitch, and were filled with things 
that would 
burn fiercely. At
midnight, when the tide and wind were favourable, they were taken close to the 
Spaniards, set on 
fire, and allowed to
drift onward.
  The Spaniards were seized with terror. They did not stay to lift their anchors, but let 
loose their 
ships at once. They
clashed into and fired upon one another, and stood out to sea in a panic. At dawn the 
English ships 
were among
them, and, before the sun went down, had fired off almost their last cartridge.
The Spanish fleet was still a powerful one, but among the men all hope was gone. 
They tried to 
return to Spain by
sailing round the north of Scotland. The English, having little, if any, powder left, 
were forced to 
give up the chase. But
the work of destruction still went on, for the fierce northerly storms beat upon the foe 
with all 
their fury. Some ships
sank, and others were dashed ashore on the wild coasts of Scotland and Ireland. Of 
the 149 ships and 
28,000 men
that set out to conquer England, only 50 ships and 10,000 men returned to Spain. 
What a fate for the 
great fleet
which, but shortly before, the Spaniards had proudly named the "Invincible Armada"!
All over England rose a cry of relief and gladness, and in honour of the great victory 
there was 
struck a medal bearing
in Latin the words " It came, it saw, it fled."



