"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT ENTERTAINING READING.

No. 55.]

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1876

[Price: ONE PENNY

Poetry.

STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM.

Bf JOHN BLA.CKWA.N.

Summer is como, my Maggie dear. The sun is shiolng w-.rm trul bright; And blooming natare everywhere

Is la 'ghing with clelis<hi

Mothoucrht it was an English May, So be lut'f il did ail things ssom, As dreamLvg. on my bod [ li*y, Of strawberries and cream. Methongh!; tho birds chirped merrHa Up in tli'ir lio-.vca- the loaf? trees — Bcneithtbe blua November sfcy. Ami softly ciglicJ the breeze. TVn C"OSS6d fha \7niteroata, lova, ■Where noontide suo-rays hotly g'oam. And foisted in the willow grove. On si awbarrieg and cream. Methought the fruit bo red snd lipe, A'.aou-r tua Cfltnpl7 leaves wo spit d. And that I lit my mecrgchum pipe "SVlth you, love, by my side. Wa fondlofl b.v the dusty ro;:d, Aud loitered by t.h^'silver Btr«!iin ; But sweot, oh sweet, our language flowed With strawberries aad cream, You worn that leathered hat you wear So far abova y-.'ur gent'e be id. With tuit tr*m9 id ms mouad of 'as»ir "Wbich ancient ladies dread.

I liissad yoEf ch.^efe of rosy bus,

Tlion woko aad found 'twas all a dream, You1" form had v»ai3hed from my vio-v Wit a str.TObjmei and craam.

A SONG FOR THE TIMES.

Pair liberty callei in, f-omoH 3lDg!and to come 'Jo the far-fani'jcl ifew Zjaland, and. make it our home: Where Ui > sheen of sweei freedom respiendently shore, And the Huh of toe tjratit would never be kno'."D ! So wo answered t >at c:\ll In the joy of our hearts, Quite datsrciinei to bear, or to act well our p.u"t: - But a.^3 for tix ■• pride that old B -bel once built, And whica l-.n.Ua hoc ;j i;i coaiasion and guilt. So the beat of all soUoaca that the wildest could plan. May bamd'.y und'tio by 'he folly of man :— For confus3loa will follow where prido beireth 3 .ra V, And boh ri-eVfs and people be brought to di;may. How wild *rs t-'-o rnlsrs in tho plans that tiiay m-ikc ? la thetiicij t'i»t :hey play, and the lawa that they hreak! An " Indemnity Bill" Vhey did wilfally frame, TopreteCj thiurvi'.n parses Mrt cov'ijr r,heir sh imo : Our :ie'.r govor^f'sah-nae is pe"puta.il now, ffor ths crest of true knighthood ha 3 fled from his brew; He cUoso his advisers from ths TiU'it of suen, And o'erwheluied in their counsels, ha ialloth with them ' For the yoici of the peopla they said " It is naught,' While the b..-5> civil servant to honor -,vdi bronchi; Till tho paov.le ar-; curs-j^ by thoir bHtadora in law, By tiie t&xes they ta-jkc and th>J vf^os toey di\i-v. Then the business of State the/ do hr.ng ia sns pancs, While they revel ia balis at the public nxp<>nf c : Until reason hath fled frotn thd face of display, As do drewis of tU'i night at the dawning of d»y. Until Jmili-.oQs. have 11 wn like wild I>ird3 from a CS£O And they buiug aUriued for their own guiUy w -ge, Have impose 1 on the inuoc9nt toiiera fox weilth, In ttupoun-iinc; lueir earnings by Kuavory and Stealih. They re so vfak i" their head, and so strong ia their tail. If wo doa'i till th-m off! Why tho country wfli fail. Now wa kaow we are lijht, and we're sure they are weeing, So our c^u^o we'll maintain, both in speech and in S:' 11Kl - A. N. Z. ■— rrriiJ" 0 "■

THEN AND NOW.

Hare i? the . ame old mansion "WIMI its quaint moss-covered towers, An<l the Bumsnor sunlit-lit sleeping On the gleam of thu garden flowers; And tlie wild dove, far in the fir-wood, Cooing in moaotona ; Ard ihf! gtntelr, quiet, court-yard, Withiis antique dial-stone, Ths swallows have come as of yore, lad, From ever the sunny sra. And Uie cup of the lily ecuoes To .lie hum of the, wandering bee. The 1 irk, ia Us silvery treble, Sinjrs up in the deop-Mue Bky ; But the housa is not as it was, lad, In those dear old days-gone by. '11733 thero that her garments rustled Like music amidst the flowers; And her low, psveet, lippling laughter Made richer the rose-wreathed bowers. But now, it is noontide brightness, The. place sseras cold and dead, Ati'i it lies Ifke a foraaof beauty When the light of the soul h.s fled. All hashei is Bach lonely chamber That eohoed t> songs of old ; Xha c:in.:.rs are now .-vl v»cuit, Ami the h-iarths are dark aud cold. Yo:; (ho 3073 I had here of yore, lad, JiO heart but my own can know ; Andjhe glirupseslof heaven she gave me In l-hls dour house long ago. Bit ti;ey went ono eve, when she left me 'Mid the balm ot the summer air; There's a grave fat over the hill, lad, Xha horns of my heart ia there.

LIFE AND DEATH.

What la t'ae i- Fa if m^G ? A pawing shide Upon the chaifetul mirror of old Time ; AEero :e-.{ Ion,; arss Autumn comci, decayed f- plant or trea that soaatly reaches p-imc ; A dew-drop Of the morain™, p,one» ere nooa ; /. mct'OT expiring ia Its fa: .l; A bUde o-;; -i-.'- thai firings to whthor soon ; A dyinf la-JOro-i -■ natksiowve pall; The foam up m tUe torrent's whirling w^ve ; A bird that flatten on adr .oping wing : A shado vy spsoier o'or an open gcj,vo • A rnoniW; jdoric's mo;neii-3iu tha spricg ; A breabiug bubble on a rashiog stream : A sunset uitc-itjim, an errin;,' angel's dream.

■Whit is tlii- d -Btli we fenr? The poacerill close Of eiorray life- of wr<cklef.Bp:>s> onssway ■ The veil that munUts aU our cuea and woes ; Thj heavenly ending o! an e?rihly day; . The cown of tlm w 11 spant: the portal fair Wliicli opts ttoway to never-ending J ->y ; It Fets the captive spirit freo as air, From all ti c let'era which ou cavth am.oy. "What is this dea'h? The sleep the [,i!grim taites After inrxh weary travail hshai Kaowu. Aud whe 100 with renovaied power be w.ikea, His soul more uilstiiiy for Ita ilamber grown The glorious conqttest nvar human ill; A spirit's joy which death qic never will.

A Special Constable.

Two women, sisters, kept a toll-bar at a village in Yorkshire. It stood apart from the village, and they often felt uneasy at night, being lone women.

One day they received a considerable sum of money, bequeathed them by a re lative, and that set the simple souls all in a flutter.

They had a friend in the village, tho blacksmith's wife ; so they went and told her all their fears. She admitted that theirs was a lonesome place, and she would not live there for one —without a man. Her discourse sent them homo downright miserable.

The blacksmith's wife told her husband all about it, when he came in for his dinner. ' The fools !' said he : ' how is anybody to know they have got brass in the house ?'

'Well,' said ths wife, ' they make no secret of it to me ; but you need not go for to tell it to all the town—poor souls.' ' Not I,' said the man : ' but they will publish it, never fear; leave wooieufolk alone for making their own trouble with their tongues.'

There the subject dropped, as mau and wife have things to talk about besides their neighbours.

The old women at the toll-bar, what with their own fears, and their Job's comforter, began to shiver with apprehension as night came on. However, at sunset the carrier passed through the gate ; and at sight of his friendly face they brightened up. They told him their care, and begged him to sleep in the house that ni^ht. ' Why, how can I?' said he. ' I'm duo afc—; but I will leave you my do^.' The dog was a powerful mastiff.

The women looked at each other expres sively. 'He won't hurt us, will he p1 sighed one of them, faintly. 'Not he,' said the carrier cheerfully. Then called the do<? into the house, and told them to lock the door ; and went away whistling.

Tii.o women were left contemplating the dog with that tender interest apprehension is sure to excite. ' first he seemed staggered at this off-hand proceeding of his master ; it confused him ; and he snuff ed at the door; then, as the wheels retreated, ho began to see plainly ho was an abandoned dog ; he delivered a fearful howl, and flew at the door, scratching and barking furiously. The oil woman fled the apartment, and were nest seen nt an upper window, screaming to the carrier. ' Come back !— come baukj John ! He is tearing the house down.'

' Drat the varmint!' said John ; and came back. On the road he thought what Was the best to be done. The good-natured fellow took his great coat out of the cart aud laid it down on the floor. The mastiff instantly Ja id himself on ife. 'Now,' said John, sternly, ' let us have no more nonsense : 3 Tou take charge of that till I come back, and don't ye let nobody steal that there, nor yet t' wives brass. There

now.' said he, kindly, to the women,

shall be back this way breakfa t tim.', and lie wont budge till then.'

• And he won't hurt us, John?

' Lord, no. Bless your heart he is as sensible as any Christian ; only, Lordsake, woman, don't you go to take the coat from him ; or you'll be wanting a new s^own yourself, and maybe, a petticoat and all.' He retired, and the old women kept at a respectable distance from their protector. He never molested them; and, indeed, when they spoke cajolingly to him, he even wagged his tail in in a dubious way ; but still be moved about, and squinted at them out of his blood-shot eye in a way that checked all desire, on their parts, to try on the carrier's coat. Thus protected, they went to bed earlier than usual; but they did not undress, they were too much afraid of everything, espociaily their protector. The night wore on, and presently their sharpened senses let them know that the do-j was getting restless ; he snuffed, and then he growled, and then he got up, and pattered about, muttering to himself. Straightway with furniture, they barricaded the door, through which their protector must pass to devour them. But, by and by, listening acutely, they heard a scraping and «i grating outside the widow of the room where the dog was ; and he continued growling low. This was enough ; they slipped out at the backdoor and loft their money to save their lives ; they got into the village. It was pitch dark, and all the houses black but two; one was the piiblic-house, casting a tri angular gleam across the road a long way off, and the other was the ;black-smith's house. Fere was a piece of fortune for the terrified women. They burst into their friend's house. 'Oh Jane ! the thieves arc come !' and they told her in a few words all that had happened.

•La !' said she ; ' how timoursome you are ! (ea to one lie was only growling at some one that passed by.' ' Nay, Jane, v.'C heard the scraping out side the window ; oh, woman, call your man, and let him go with us/ IMy man—he is not here.'

Where is he, then ?'

' I suppose he is where other working women's husbands are—at the public house,' she said rather bitterly, for she had her experience.

The old woman wanted to go to the public-house for him, bat the blacksmith's wife was a courageous women, and besides, she thought it was most likely a false alarm. ' N ay,' said she, 'last time I went for him there, I got a fine affront. I'll come with you,' said she. ' I'll take the poker, and we hare got our tongues to raise the town with, 1 suppose.' So they marched to the toll-bar.. When they got near it, they saw something that stag gered this heroine. There was actually a man half in and half out of tho window. This brought the biackssnith's wife to a standstill, and the timid pair implored her to go back to the village. ' Nay, snid she, 'what for? I see but one— and —hark !it is my belief the dog is holding of him. However, she thought it safest to be on tho same side with the dog, lest the man iniffht turn on her. So she made her way into the kitchen, fol lowed by the o'.ber two; and there a sight met their eyes that changed all their feelings, bo,th towards the robber, and towards each other. The great mastiff had pinned a man by the throat, aud was pulling at him, to draw him through the window, with fierce but muffled snarls. Tho man's weight alone prevented it. The window was like a picture frame, and in that frame there glared, with lolling tongue, and starting eyes, the whiLe (ace of the blacksmith, their courageous friend's villainous hus band. She uttered an appalling scream, and flew upon the dog and choked him with her two hands. Ho held, and growled and tore, till be was all but throttled himself; then he let go, and the man fell. J3ut what struck the ground outside, like a lump of lead, was, in truth, a lump of clay ; tho mau was quiet dead, aud fearfully torn about tho throat. So did the comedy end in an appalling and most piteous tragedy ; not that the scoundrel himself deserved auv pity, bir Ins poor brave honest wife, to whom he had not dared confide the villany he meditated.

Advice to Auckland Girls.

(BY THE OLD GUBIi OF PARNELL.)

' Now then, you pretty little girls of Auck land m general; you that love to exhibit at fifteen in woman's dress, aud think yourselves on the shelf if you don't catch a husband at seventeen. Now, listen to the old girl of Parnell! Don't keep going to your mother. You have, .every one of jrou probably, some little independence of money or some possibility of economizing it. Buy your own utensils ; set up your own establish ment, if only by slow degrees. You will know the good of it then, and you will bo setting up your character at the same time. There will be no sudden, violent resolution and undertaking, which drafts aid a..d encouragement from everybody about you, getting up prospective virtue by subscrip tion and upsetting half the current order of the household for an uncertain experi ment. Bo in earnest enough to make your own way, and before you or anybody else thinks about it, you will have become a recognized force in the domestic commu nity ; you will have risen into your altitude without assumption, just as you are growing by invisible hair-breadths into your womanly stature. Then, some day, you may say to your mother. ' Let me have charge of the china-closet and pantry, please ;' and you may enter upon a new realm, having fairly conquered your own queendom. And I can tell you this new one will be a pretty aud a pleasant realm to queen in; an epitome of the whole housework practiced in dainty, easy little ways. Shelves to be kept nice, wiped down with a soft, wet cloth wrung from the suds that cups and silver have come out bright from ; cups and silver, plates and dishes, to be ranged in prettiest lines and piles and groups on the fresh shelves; cupboards to be regulated with light daily touches and replacements ; yesterday's cake aud cake basket, fruit or jelly, custards of blanc mange, to be overlooked and newly dished for the next table-setting; the nice remnant of morning cream to be transferred to a fresh jug and put in a cool clean corner ; to-day's parcels, perhaps, 10 be bestowed ; and the door 3 closed, with a feeling of plenty and comfort that only the thrifty, delicate housewife—who knows and utilizes the resources that are but uncomfortable odds and ends to the disorderly, heedless, procrastinating one —ever has the pleasure of. All this is, cosily and in miniature to the larger care of kitchen and larder, what the little girl's baby-houso has been (if she began, like a true woman-child, to 'spin "and weave' for her womanly vocation), to the ' house of her own' thac she—you—began to talk of then, and that you are earning a right to now. And pretty soon this daily care—this daily pleasure -will have become a facile thing,

a thing easily slipped into tho day's programme, and never to be a mountain or a bugbear any more, either to do or to teach ; because you ' know every twist and turn of it,' aud it is not a process of conscious detail, but a simple whole that you can dispose of with a single thought and its quick mechanical execution. In like manner, again, you can take up cooking. You can learn to make bread, until the fifteen minutes' labor that it will be for you to toss up the dough for to morrow's baking will not seem to you a terrible infliction when it happens that you may have it to do, any more- than tho mending of a pair of gloves i'ov to-morrow's wearing ; simply because it will be an old accustomed thing that you know the be ginning and the ond of —not a vague untried toil looming in indefinite porpor tions, that are always ihf awful ones.'

Munk's Disastrous Voyage.

In the year 1G1!), able navigator, Jeiis Munka, v/c.h sent out on a vo3 7a«o of diHcovory towards tho uorfch-vyenii coast of America, by Christain IV, Kin« of Denmark.

Sailing from. Elsinoro oa tho IS^.h of May, he succeeded in reHching Hudson's B-iy.

Muuk had two vessels, ona of them of Hißall burthen, manned with only eixtefm bands ; the largiat b^d a orow of forf.yoight.

He met with h great dsal of ice, which forced him to <3cok for shelter in what i 3 now called Chesterfield's Into.

It was the 7th of Septemboi when ho entered the inlet, whore, from *ho latnnrss of the season, it was but too obvious ho mvn1". winter. Thy ics closed in "round him,' ,'md every proTpr.ctr*of returning homo the Game SMsm. wan shut outev^ry Hpondily,

Munk n 0.7 b r^!?,an fco construct huts on shore for himself and Crews, wbioh being; completed, his paopla "set out *;o oxo'oce the country round, and emp'o7 themselves in hunting for their future suh«isto«oo. Taoy foil in with an abundance of game. Hares, partridges, fox"-, beu-s, ruv] v.i'"i»nia will fowl, were equally applir*".} to secure fch?m a winter stock of prwurion.?.

Oq the 27o'n of Nov^m'oH,-. rhsy wern BurDrised by thn ph«notn/)no?i of three distinct suna, which appeared in tho b >avensi. On the 24th of January they saw two equally distinct;. On the 18 h of Decembp-r 'hey had an eclirjes of l;he moon. They also saw a transparent circle round the raoon, and what; they fancied a cross within ii, exactly quartering thai; satellite. The?e particalfirappear-inoog were regarded according ro the spirit of fh^se days), aa omens of ro future good fortune. The frost speedily froze up thair beer. brandy, and wine, bo than the casks burst. The liborat use of spivitur>un liqures, which in h'gh latitudes are doubly pemiui'iua, was (juickly productive of disease. Their b^ea^! and such provisions «li they h^d brought from home where exhausfed e','iy in th'i apriML' ; ;»nd scurvy having reducsd them to a moat misorable condition they wore unable to piirsue or capture auy of the nmltiiinde of vvihi fowl which 11 ickcd to the vicinity of their raiserablo dwellings. Peath now com mitted frightful rWiAtjos arao»g«t bhem. They were hel[)lesa as children, and died in numbers. I'l May KJ2O cheir proviwions were entirely consumed, «nd then famine aided disease in the .york of de.ish.

Never waa the was bo of iifo in such a situation so terrible.

Summer had nearly arrived, not <o bring hope and consolation to those who had lived through the dark aud cire:;ry winter, bat to show fciie survivors the ex.enu of the havoc death hud made amongst Uu-m.

Munis w^s auiony bho living, bui ro wnjk as to be unable to indulge iv a, hope of re covery, lv despair and perfectly hopeless, ho awaited the fate which seemed inevitable. He had been four d;i3'3 without food.

Impelled afc length by hunger, an<l ignorant of the fate of his companions, he gathered strength enough to crawl out; of his own hut to enquire after tha others, and try fco satiate nis appeti'.o. He discovered Übafc, out of lit ;y-bwo, only two remained alive among the dead bodies of their comrades, who lay unburied around. Seeing they wore tha romnaut of tha crows, and hunger-stu og, they encouraged each other to try for food.

By soraping away the snow, they were forfcunato enough to find s<>ine rooba, which they devoured with ravenous eagerness, and tht'n ny, allowing some herbs and grass, which ha.ppen;d to be anti-scorbutic, they found thsirisulves batter.

They then made c efforts to preaerva life. They were soon »<.b'e to reach a river near, and (o lake some t'uh, and from that they proceeded to .shoob birds and animals. In this way they recovered their strength. The two vessels lay in a seaworthy state, but; orewleas aud ur,tcn>mted. On weeing tho ahipsi, which wuro afow moafcha before well appointed and exulting in anticipated succes3, aud observing Ujo number to wuich their crow 3 were reduced, wh:ib must have been their sensations !

Notwithstanding, they took resolution from despair. Tbey mule the smaller vessel ready f<>r sea, taking what stores fchay had a necessity for from tho larger, and a crew of three hand 3 emba'kei in the ship.

Tuey succeeded iv repassing Hudson's Straits, enduring dreadful hardships.

Their passage was stormy. Day and nigh'- T.hoy were necessitated to labour, until the vessal was almost wholly abandoned to her own course.

Nevertheless they succeeded in making a. port in Norway, oa the 25sh of September. Upon reaching Denmark, the whole nation

viewed them as men who had risen from the tomb. Tiie sympathy displayed towards thorn by their countrymen was universal, and must have poured balm into thsir minds and repaid them for the hardships they had sustained.

A subscription was set on foot for another expedition, arising out of the interest the narrative of these unfortunate men had

created

Everything was ready for saiiiug. Munk, noi dismayed by his past sufferings, offered his services again to command tbe new ship, ani search our, the m-rfch-west passage. H« attended at courfc to take loave of (Jiiristain IV.; and the misfortunes of his former enterprise coming upon the carpet, the King admonished him to be more cautious than he had been on Kis former voyage, conveying oo the bravo seamen, by implication, that the iosf:, of the iives which had t-.aken place was iisfcribahje to their comuxand«r.

Thu soul (if Dho biunti navig^^or wa^i stung by r.iiia uumoritad reproof. He was not the courtier- who lioks the hand that deals the ungenerous blow.

Munk made a reply suoh r.s the oar of royalty was not acous:omed to hear from the sycophants that gouerally address it The King, pnss issing no sense of the dignity and den.-'-! . ■ v.'hich become a crowned head, ' ; .L, the inferior, who could not return the blow. Munk ia a f<iw days died of a, broken heart, —one of the numerous victims of royal ingratitude and cruelty.

Winnie with Walter.

Warm we.-jbhor, Walter ! Welcome w\rm we.tther ! We w.;re wishing Winter would wane, werea't sve?'

' Wo were well wearied with waiting,' whispered Walter wearily. Wan, white, wo-vbo-g'iuo. -'\s Waher ; wayward, wilful, worn with weakness, wasted, waxing weaker whr?acv.jr Winter's wild withetiag winds Wi-vo s'/.iii'u.;. Wii'4'.y without wayvy^niness wa? WinitrWi, Walter's wise, womanly watnher, who, wioia winsome, wooing ways, was woil-belovtid. ' Wo won't wait, Walter ; wlii'e weather's warm, w> '11 Tauder whace woodlanda wave, rt'oa't we?' Waiter's wouted wretchedness wholly waned. ' Why, Wiunie, we'll, walk where we wet t whea we were with Willie ; we'll weave wild flower wrea bos. watch woodmen working, ,vood I-.J'J, '.voroid, wriggling, wiudmill whirl ing, water-milla wheeling ; we will win wild rt'hoi-^ieberrit-y, witness wuoat winnowed.'

Wiseo -iicii Woods were white with, tvild flowora; warm, Westerly winds whispered whure wiilows were waving ; wood-pigeons, wrens, woodpeckers, were warbuug wild wood-notes. 'Where Wiaubeacu water-mill's « afcesrs, which were wholly wavefess, widened, where watei-iJlliea waxen white, Winifred wove wreaths with woodbine, whifce-horn, wall-flowers, whilst Walter whittled wooden wedges with willow wands. Wholly without warning, wild, wes winds woke within Wise beach Woods, whistlujj; where Winifred wandered with Waiter; weeping willows were waving; wierdly, waging war withwmd-

iß>3Be»l watura ness waked.

Wiaifrod'a wary watheful ' Waiter, wo wou't wait.'

' Wh'.oii way, Wiuuio ?

Winifred wavered. ' Why, where were wa wandering ? Wisebeaoa Woods widen whichever way wo walk. Where's Wiae ijonoh whifca wicket '( Where's Winscou's

water-mill?

Wimfully WaUor witnessed Winifred's woujer. 'Winnie, Winoie, we were wrong, wholly wrong, wandering within wiid ways. Wayfaring, weather-beaten waifa we're well nigh worn-out.' Winifred waited where, within wottled woodwork walls, waggona, wheelbarrows, wains, were waiting—weighty with withered wood Walter, warmly wrapped with Winifred's weii-worn wadded waterproof, was wailing woemliy, wholly wearied. Winifred, worn with watching, weil-uigh wuepiug, w-id tvistfully wakefully, waiting Willies -.veil-known whistle, wholly wished Walter's well being warranted. With well timed wisdom, Waiter was wound wiihwide, white worsted wrappers, which wonderfully well withstood wiutar's withering, whiafciiug wtuds. Wholly without warm wrappers was Wioifcod, wiio, wi'h womanly wisdom, waa wacctiing Walter's welfare, warding Walter's weakness.

' When will Willie wend where we wait?' wearily wondered Walter. ' SVhiiiG ! Walter,' whispered Winnie, ' who was whooping?'

' VV hereabouts ?'

Welcome whistling was waking Wisebeach Woods when winter's windy warfare waxed weaker,

' Wiuaie ! Walter \' Winifred's wake fulness was well grounded,

' We're wtll, Willie ? we're where Wins ton's waggons wait,'

Without waiting, Willie was within Wins ton's woodwork walls.

4 Welcome ! welcome ! Willie,' Winnie was weeping with Weariness, with watching Walter, wifeu wayfaring, ' Why, Winnie ! wise, watchful, warm hearted Wfunie,' Wiliie whispered, wheod iingiy, 'we won't weep; Walter's well j wba*; were Walter without Winnie?'

Wholly wonderful was Winifred's wull fcimed, vtoiaaaly wisdom, which well war ranted vva*kly Walter's welfare. Whenever wandering within Wiaebaaeh "Woods with Winnie, Walter should whisper, 'Whatwere Walter wishoufe Winnie? VVW watchful wainvheartod Winnie !'£ ' ""