Verhovayak Lapja, 1944 (27. évfolyam, 1-52. szám)
1944 / Verhovay Journal
8-ik oldal Verhovayak Lapja February 24, 1944 Children’s Page Conducted by AMELIA NYERS KIAO, the Dragon Mirror It was the morning after the blizzard. The children in the Barbour home rubbed some of the frost off the window and looked out at the deep snow. It was piled thick and high. Huge drifts blocked the road, making travel impossible. There was a high wind that whistled angrily about the house and carried swirls of snow in its fury. The children were delighted with the snow-scene, for it was a beautiful sight to behold. The trees’ outstretched arms were all white and thick-covered with star-shaped flakes that glistened brightly. “Just think!” Jed exclaimed, happily. “No school until the storm lets up.” “Oh, goody!” Elsa cried. “Won’t you have fun just staying home?” “Yes,” answered Kiao, thoughtfully. “But think of the lessons we will miss.” “Oh.” Elsa was crestfallen. “I never thought of that.” “We had so many lessons to make up when we went to the north country,” Jed said. “I suppose we will have a lot of lessons to make up now.” A deep silence descended upon the room. The children stared out the window, each wrapt in his own thoughts. “What' is the matter, children?” Mrs. Barbour asked, coming into the room and finding them so silent. “We have been thinking of the lessons we will have to make up when we return to school after the storm is over,” Jed told his mother. “Oh, so that’s it.” Mrs. Barbour looked from one to the other and smiled. “Well, cheer up! The storm can’t last much longer, and then you can return to your studies.” “Where is Father?” asked Elsa. “He went to the postoffice for the mail. I do hope he arrived there safely. He should have returned half an hour ago,” Mother said; while a worried look crept into her eyes. “I do hope Uncle Bill gets through all right,” Kiao said. “I’m sure he will,” Jed spoke, confidently. “Is that he coming through that big drift over there?” Elsa asked, looking through the frost-painted window. The others drew near the window and looked out. They could see a truck in the distance making its way through the deep snow. The car’s progress was slow and laborious. It stopped and would not start again. Mr. Barbour stepped from the truck and picked up the shovel that was kept in the car for such an emergency, and began to dig his way out of the snowdrifts. The children watched his work from the window with wide-eyed interest. It seemed a long time before he could get throungh the snow. But finally his work was finished. He got behind the wheel again and the car moved forward. Mr. Barbour drove up near the house and brought the car to a stop. Then he jumped out, carrying a large parcel under his arm. The children pressed their face close to the window, wondering what the parcel contained. They watched while he ran lightly up the steps and entered the house. Eagerly the children ran forward to meet him. They followed Mr. Barbour into the kitchen, where he placed the strange-looking parcel on the table. He removed his cap and brushed off it; then he took off his coat and shook it free of snow. Mrs. Barbour then took the coat from him and hung it up. The children’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Father!” Elsa cried. “What is in that package?” A merry light twinkled in Mr. Barbour’s laughing eyes. “That package came all from China. It is from Uncle Ned,” he answered. Then he reached into his pocket and drew forth a letter. “Here is a letter Uncle Ned wrote us.” “Oh!” Elsa said, breathlessly, as she ran her fingers over the package. Kiao was too surprised to speak. Mrs. Barbour looked from the letter to the package. She was as excited as the children. “What does Uncle Ned write?” Jed asked, eagerly. Mr. Barbour broke the seal on the envelope and began to read: “Dear Bill and Willa and the Children: “ ‘ must make this a short letter. “Disaster has struck our village again. The enemy has come every day for the past two weeks and demolished practically everything. The people are much saddened by the events taking place. However, they are brave and carry on in spite of extreme hardships. “Food is not too plentiful; but with a willingness on the part of those who have more to share their provisions with those less fortunate, I believe we will manage somehow. “Despite daily catastrophes, there is one thing we can thank our enemy for. One day they came and scattered their bombs everywhere. After they came and scattered their bombs everywhere. After they left we came out of our hide-outs and found part of the mountain-side torn away. Upon close examination, we discovered our enemy’s bombs had unearthed treasures that have been buried in the earth for centuries. Most of the precious objects were injured too badly to be of any worth. But we decided there must be more’ hidden deeper in the soil. We worked several days and finally brought to light some beautiful scrolls, old vases and bronze mirrors of the T’ang dynasty. We learned from one of the scrolls that these treasures were hidden here by the exiled Emperor Wen Wang, when he fled from his province and lived in our village so many centuries ago. “The authorities were kind and granted us the privilege of keeping the treasure. After we rebuild our village, we build a small museum and place there the priceless articles for safekeeping. However, I am permitted to send you a small bronze mirror. There is a charming story connected with it which I’m sure Kiao knows. Ask him to tell it to you. “Now I must close as I am needed to assist with the work of reconstruction. “Hastily, Ned’.” “Father, please open the package!” Elsa exclaimed. Mr. Barbour removed the wrapping from the parcel. There were several wrappings on the package that had to be taken off. The last wrappings revealed a box tightly sealed. Father opened this box and found a beautiful bronze mirror, about ten inches in diameter. He lifted it out of the box and held it up for all to admire. The children were speechless with amazement, for the mirror was beautiful and in good condition. “How lovely it is!” Mrs. Barbour exclaimed, fondling the bronze object. There was a dragon motif on the eight-lobed mirror. It was a horrible looking monster, yet its awfulness was beautiful and there was a certain fascination about it. “Kiao, are you familiar with this symbol?” Mr. Barbour asked the bright-eyed boy. “Yes,” he answered, eagerly. “I’ve seen this motif a number of times. The dragon is the symbol of the •emperor, who is all-powerful. But if he misuses his power he will be as dangerous to his people as the fabulous winged monster of ancient times. The emperor must be as strong as the dragon if he would repel bad elements from his kingdom. He must use his knowledge wisely and govern his people justly. The emperor must use his power properly lest its strength, like that of the horrible monster, destroy all within its reach. The dragon also symbolizes power which can be terrible if not properly directed.” For a moment there-was a silence in the room after Kiao finished speaking. “Emperor Wen Wang must have loved beautiful things very much to have taken some of them with him when he went into exile,” Mrs. Barbour said. “Perhaps, like the dragon, he did not use his power properly and it destroyed him in the end,” Mr. Barbour said. A strange light came into Kiao’s eyes. It was as though he were seeing events that happened hundreds of years ago. “When the Emperor Wen Wang went into exile, it may have been because he did not possess the strength of the dragon. It may have been a certain weakness rather than uncontrolled strength that caused him to be banished from his province,” Kiao spoke, softly. Mr. Barbour looked at the boy, surprised at his understanding and knowledge of his race. For the boy possessed a wisdom far beyond his years. The man suddenly realized that the culture his ancestors had perpetuated for thousands of years had been bred into the boy in a way that change of environment and circumstance could not obliterate. Mrs. Barbour gave the bronze mirror to Kiao, and he ran his fingers over it caressingly. The symbol of the dragon on the mirror had awakened many strange memories within the boy. He looked up at the man and woman standing before him, and when he spoke his voice was filled with many emotions foreign to a boy as young as he. “I hope I will grow to be as strong as the dragon and that I shall not misuse my power. When I am a man I will return to China and help my people rebuild their country, so that once more we can take our place among the leading nations of the world.” The Humorous Vein Young Thing: I wonder why they call it free verse? Poet: That’s simple. Did yuo ever try to sell any? * * * “Come now, own up. Who is the head of your household?” “Well, my wife used to be, but since my daughters have grown up, we have a commission form of government.” * * # “My wife has been nursing a grouch all the week.” “Been laid up, have you?” * * * “Poor old Tomkins has two wives to support now,” remarked the cash-order collector to Mrs. Brown the other morning. “Good heavens!” Mrs. Brown replied. “You don’t mean to say he’s a bigamist?” “Oh no. Nothing like that; but his son got married last week.” Editor: Say, this story can’t be printed. It says here that the heroine was nude. Author: That’s all right. I cover her with remorse in the next paragraph. * * * A missionary in a slum once laid his hand on a man’s shoulder and said: “Friend, do you hear the solemn ticking of that clock? Ah oh, friend, do you know what day it inexorably and relentlessly brings nearer?” “Yes—pay day,” the working-man, replied. * * # We had quite a prominent actor as a guest at our house the other evening. Gracious! didn’t you find it hard to entertain him? Oh, no, we just handed him a bunch of photographs and a number of his own was among them. He amused himself for hours. THE COOKY TREE My mother asked my father To plant a cooky tree; She said she needed one at once To grow a crop for me. So father started right away, To plant a cooky tree for me; He planted it at one o’clock; And now it’s nearly three. But just look at it now, — With scores and scores of cookies there; Each hough is heavily-laden down With wondrous cookies rare. I reached out and took a handtful; I’ve been eating them for hours it seems; What many wonderful things I can have, — When I’m dreaming just simple dreams. -EMMA JENE EVANS, Age 14, Pricedale, Pa.
