SPORTING.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2134, 27 December 1880, Page 3

SPORTING.

AUCKLAND EAOE3. [PBE P3BBB ASSOCIATION SPECIAL WIBB.J AUCKLAND, December 24. The following is the betting on the AUCKLAND CUP. Foul Play, even money Lara, 100 to 20 Grand Duchess, 100 to 15 Yatapa, 100 to 8 Ariel, 100 to 6 Rosalind, 100 to 5 Maid of Honor, 100 to 7 Libeller 100 to 12 King Quail, 100 to 10 Kenilworth, 100 to 5 Lonehand, 100 to 7 Vampire, 100 to 3 Eewi, 100 to 2. STEEPLECHASE. Lonehand, 100 to 50 Agent, 100 to 50 Mignonette, 100 to 10 Sportsman, 100 to 20 Don Juan, 100 to 10 J. Sheppard, 100 to 15 Ghost, 100 to 20 HANDICAP HURDLE RACE. Lonehand, 60 to 40 Harry Mount, 50 to 20 The Agent, even money Mignonette, 4 to 1. We learn by telegram that Betrayer has gone amiss, and was scratched on Friday last for all engagements. HAWKE’S BAY EAOING CLUB. fPBB PRESS ASSOCIATION SPECIAL WIRE.] NAPIEE, December 24. The following entries and acceptances were received last night for the Hawke’s Bay Racing Club’s annual meeting, to bo held at Olivo on January 19th and 20th : MAIDEN PLATE. Entries. Comet I Laverock Kawenetta I Algebra Novelty I LADIES’ PURSE. Hero I Transit Merlin ! HANDICAP HURDLES. Loch Lomond I Harkaway Angler I Pnkerna Matan I Ada DISTICT PLATE. Hailstorm Laverock (Hairs) Uawonctta Algebra Primrose Addition Hero Mataa HAMKE'B HAY CUP. Acceptances. Soakar I Midge Looh Lomond I Merlin Grand Duchess 1 Moanatira

The Moa’s Plight hy Night AND THE FAIRIES’ CAVE. A Christmas Tale. WHITTEN BXPBBBBLY 808 THB WBBKLY FBBSB By 0. L. Inneb, Authoress of ‘ Canterbury Sketches.’ How one’s heart warms at the word Christmas, suggesting, as it does, visions of huge fires, roast beef, plum puddings, mince pies, blind man’s buff, forfeits, and other merry games ; not to speak of Christmas boxes, and warm Christmas greetings. Frost and enow outside, warmth, fun, and jollity within. But such is not the Christmas of this tale in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 18—. It has been a blazing hot day ; a tearing nor’wester, and it is now evening, the wind _ has lulled, and the air is getting cool, and in a pretty drawing-room in a large house not a hundred miles from Cathedral square, are seated some people connected with this tale. First, father and mother. Father is a handsome, portly man of about fifty. He looks as if the world had used him well, and kindness and good temper beam from his face. Near him is mother ; she is still handsome; her clear grey eyes are filled with love for her dear ones. Those eyes have been dimmed by watching at the sick bed of her children, and by tears —for some little buds that the Reaper plucked, but she knows they are safe. She is a motherly woman, and is always dressed in some soft dress, so that children may clamber on her lap and love her to their heart’s content. Sitting on father’s knee is the youngest child, little Rosy. She is five years old, and is a dear little rosebud, with sweet, innocent blue eyes and golden hair. She is every one’s pet, and is quaint and amusing. At his mother’s feet is a handsome darkeyed boy of seven. He is holding her hand and kissing it. _ „ , ~ • Why do you kiss my hand, Harry ? said his mother, • ’Cause I love you, and it a so jolly soft, was his answer. This lady and gentleman are a Mr and Mrs Stuart. They have a large family, but this tale has only to do with the two little ones just mentioned.

* Well Horry,’ said his mother, ‘ are you going to hang up your stockings to-night for Santa Klaus to fill ? ’ ‘ Yes, mother, but I don’t believe in Santa Klaus, and I am going to keep awake to see what does fill our stockings.’ * Harry* said Rosy, ‘ Fee quite sure Santa Klaus comes down the chimney, and he is an angel, ’cause I woke last Kissmas and saw a tall white sing at my bed.’ Mr and Mrs Stuart exchanged glances, for Rosy had awakened just as Mrs Stuart was filling the stockings. ‘ But Harry,’ said his father, ‘ Don’t you believe in fairies ? ’ ‘Not a bit, I am sure there’s no such things,’ said Harry. * I ’ike to think there is fairies,’ said Rosy. • They is such dear ’ittle sings, but Harry says it’s nonsense.’ ‘Harry, like most colonial children, is rather matter of fact,’ said Mr Stuart. ‘ Now, my chicks, it’s time you were in bed,’ said the mother.

The children wished their father and mother good night and went to bed. They both slept in a pretty nursery on the ground floor facing the lawn. They found their nurse, Mary, waiting for them, and after they were bathed and snugly tucked in bed Harry said ‘ Mary, do you believe in fairies ?’ * Belaive in fairies, is it, Master Harry,’ said the good-tempered Irish girl.’ ‘Faith and I do that, for didn’t my grandfather see the “ good people ” wan Christmas eve havin’ a dance. Shure I’ve heard the story often.’ * Tell it us now, Mary,’ said Harry. *lf yez are good childer to-morrow I will ; but there’s Miss Bosy’s eyes heavy with slape, bless her heart,’ said Mary, kissing her. ‘ Dood night, Mary,’ said little Rosy. Mrs Stuart came in just then to have a good-night peep at her darlings. She kissed them both, and whispered ‘ Have my children said their prayers, and remembered whose birthday we keep to-morrow ? ’ ‘Yes, mother,’ said they reverently. She then left them. Mary waited till she thought they were both asleep, and then went to enjoy a chat with the servants in the kitchen. Harry was determined to keep awake, but the room was so still, and he was so comfortable, that his eyes gradually closed, and he was sound asleep. He was wakened by a tapping at the window, and being a brave little fellow he sat up, and called out, ‘ Who’s there.’ There was no answer. ‘That’s Santa Klaus, I’ll bet; and he won’t come in ’cause he thinks I’m awake. I’ll pretend to be asleep.’ So he laid down and kept quiet. Presently he heard tap-tap-tap, and the window opened, and the head of an enormous bird appeared. ‘ Goodness gracious, what’s that ?’ said Harry, sitting up in bed. A hoarse voice answered, * Do not be afraid, Harry, in me behold the last of the Moas; the last of that once famous race, Dinoris Gigantens.’ ‘ Walk in, MrDinornis,’ said Harry, politely, ‘ and sit down.’

‘ I am afraid that is not possible, Harry ; lam too big,’ said the enormous bird, as he squatted himself outside on the verandah. It was a bright moonlight night, and everything was peaceful and still. The lawn looked like green velvet, with the shadows of the trees defined sharply on it. ‘And so you are the boy who does not believe in fairies ? ’ said the Moa. • Well, I am not so sure about that,’ said Harry. * How is it you can talk ?’ ‘On Christmas all animals are endowed with the power of speech, and there is a grand gathering of fairies on that night,’ answered the Moa. ‘Would you like to see them P’ ‘ Oh, so much, Mr Moa, and so would Eosy.’ ‘ And would you like to see what Christmas Eve is like in England ?’ • Indeed, I would.’ ‘ Then you shall see both if you are willing to put yourself under my care,’ said the Moa. ‘ But how can we ?’ asked Harry.

‘ I will take you on my back. Ido not as a rule fly, as I have no wings to speak of, but I have borrowed a pair of fairy wings for the occasion.’ Harry now awoke Eosy, who was alarmed when she saw the large bird, but was reassured by the gentle way he spoke, so they dressed themselves, and the Moa lifted them both on his back, and saying ‘ Hold on,’ he spread out his wings, and flew into the sky. The children held on by some strong feathers, and as the motion was pleasant and easy, they soon got accustomed to it. ‘Look down, what do you see,’ said the Moa. ‘Oh, Eosy, we are just over the Cathedral and Godley statue,’ said Harry, ‘ And there are the Gardens and the Museum.’

The Moa gave a grunt of dissatisfaction at these words, and Eosy said—- * What’s the matter, you dear old Moa. Is us too heavy for oo ? ’ ‘ Matter enough,’ growled the Moa. * Have you both seen the Museum ? ’ ‘ Oh yos, often,’ said Harry. ‘Did you see some very large skeletons of birds? ’ • Yes, they are Moa skeletons, collected by Dr. Von Haast,’ said Harry. * X wonder how he would like the skeletons of his grandfathers and grandmothers dug up and stuck up for exhibition,’ grumbled the Moa. • Oh, but father saye it’s good for Oh, Eosy, what’s that long word beginning with an S, that father often uses ?’ •I know ; skientific purposes,’ said Eosy triumphantly. 1 Yes ; that’s it. So please, Mr Moa, don t be cross.’ ‘ I am not cross, Harry. I am only sad. I was strolling through the gardens one night, and I looked in at one of tho windows, and am positive I recognised my beloved grandmother by the shape of her beak (she certainly used to pock me very hard), but I dropped a large tear to her memory,’ And the Moa gave a snivel at tho thought. ‘Poor old Moa, don’t oo cry; I lore oo,’ said Rosy, patting his neck. Away" they flew at a tremendous rate right out to sea, and wore soon out of sight of land. Far away in mid ocean on the Line lay a ship becalmed. ‘ The sea was still as still could be,’ and shone with a silvery light; tho moon was nearly full. The Moa

swooped down bo aa to let the children dren see the people on deck. They were all talking of Christmas, and breathing fond wishes for absent friends, and in the forecastle the sailors were enjoying themselves, having had an extra glass of grog served out to them, and one musically inclined tar was singing a Christmas carol, and the rest joined in chorus. On went the Moa faster and faster, and it got very cold. Suddenly he said—- * Here we are at last,’ and, looking down, the children saw the great city of London spread out underneath them.

‘ Oh, what a lot of lights,’ said Harry. Down the Moa went till they were just above the tops of the houses. The ground was covered with snow, and it wag freezing hard.

The Moa hovered over the roof of a large house in a fashionable square, and by his magic power they could aee through the roof. * Ob, how splendid,’ said the children, when their eyes rested on a large Christmas tree, with all kinds of enticing fruits hanging on it. which were given out by Old Father Christmas himself, with his jolly rosy face and white hair, crowned with a wreath of holly. Crowds of happy children, all in fancy dress, were enjoying themselves to their heart’s content. In another room was a large table fairly groaning with the weight of good upon it—trifles, creams, jellies, cakes, lollies, and everything that children love. Rosy said, with a sigh, ‘ Oh! I’ao so hungry.’ After supper dancing began, and it was a pretty sight to see the gaily dressed children moving in harmony to the music. The Moa now moved on, but Rosy and Harry said—- ‘ Oh, dear Moa! let us stay a little longer.’ ‘No,’was his answer; ‘we have a great deal to see yet.’ So ho spread out his wings and flew away. As they passed over the streets he flow low, so that the children could see the people moving to and fro. And the shop windows, what a wonderful eight they were. Harry kept asking the Moa to stop, and he good-naturedly did so. At last they came to one of the large bridges crossing the Thames, and crouching under one of the archways were some miserable-looking children—two boys and a girl.

Bagged, homeless, little outcasts, with no thought beyond getting enough “grub,” as they called it, to satisfy the craving hunger there was always on them. Their scant clothing, with numberless holes, showing their thin bony arms and legs. Poor little street Arabs, Christmas is no season of rejoicing to you. ‘ What poor children; we never see anything like them in New Zealand. Do let us hear what they are saying,’ said Harry. The Moa went nearer, and they heard the little girl say—- ‘ Wat’s the good of Christmas to hue; it don’t do bus no good nor give hus no grub.’ ‘ Oh,’ said the smallest boy, ‘ I seed such a stunnin’ pudden. My, it was a whopper. Would’nt I have grabbed a piece if I had the chance.’

‘ Them things are honly meant for coves as has got money. Siuh as we as got to starve or steal,’ said the elder boy. Little Rosy was quite affected, and said, ‘ Dear old Moa ! can’t ’em give them sonefin, poor sings ?’ The Moa shook his head sorrowfully, and rose in the air and flew away. He stopped over a house and the children saw a little room with nothing but a bed on the floor, a table and a chair. There were three children, neatly but poorly dressed ; two of them, a girl of nine and a boy of seven, were seated on the floor, near a mere handful of fire. A boy of five lay on the bed ; ho had been a cripple from his birth, but was a bright, merry child, and thoughtful beyond hie years. 1 The girl was a pretty little thing, but looked thin and hungry. The elder boy said in a grumbling tone, • I wish mother would come in ; I am so hungry.” * Poor mother will bo so tired,’ said little Willie, the cripple ; ‘ she has been at work all day, and it is late now.’ ‘ I hope she will bring us some presents,’ said Tom, who seemed the malcontent of the family. ‘ If mother brings us soma dinner for tomorrow it’s as much as she can do,’ said Mary. ‘ Oh dear, I wish we weren’t poor,’ sighed Tom ; ‘ I’m always hungry now.’ ‘ Don’t say so to mother,’ said Mary, ‘it would make her feel so bad.’

* Perhaps Santa Elans will give us a good dinner to-morrow,’ said Willie.

‘ Oh, rubbish,’ said Tom. * I’don’fc believe in your Santa Klaus, Willie ; he never gives to poor people.' 1 Well,’ said Willie, ‘ I know what I shall do when I say my prayers to-night. I’ll ask God to give us a good Christmas dinner.’ * I wonder if it would be wrong to do that, Willie,’ said Mary, ‘ No, my children, not wrong,’ said the mother, who had just oome in; ‘and your prayer may be answered.’ She sighed as she spoke and put down a basket she was carrying. She had a pleasant face, but looked thin and overworked, but had lustrous dark eyes and beautiful white teeth. ‘ My poor children, I am sorry I have very little dinner for you to-morrow,’ she continued. ‘I did not get paid for my work of yesterday and to-day. Mrs Brown was dressing for a party, and the servants would not disturb her, and I had only a few pence ; but I will make some soup out of this,’ taking out part of a flap of mutton ; ‘ and here is a stale loaf, that must last us till the day after to-morrow ; and the kind grocer gave me a little bit of tea and sugar,’ taking out two very small parcels. ‘ And shan’t we have a pudding,’ grumbled Tom.

‘ No, Tom, be thankful you have anything to eat. I had to buy a candle, and lam glad we have enough coal to last,’ she said, looking into a box which contained a very little coal. «And, Willie, my good, patient little boy, here is something for you,' and she took out of the basket a sprig of holly, bright with scarlet berries.

‘ Oh! mother, thank you; what a lovely bit of Christmas. Put it in my mug that_ I can see it,’ and he lay looking at it quite happy. The mother then got tea ready, which consisted of a slice of dry bread and a cup of weak tea without milk. They then drew close to the fire, such as it was, and mother took Willie on her knee.

‘ Let us sing a Christmas Carol,’ said Mary. So they struck up a well-known carol. When they had finished, the poor mother put her handkerchief to her eyes, and Willie found out she was quietly crying. ‘What’s the matter, dear motherP’they all said, as she was not in the habit of giving way. * My darlings, I feel so low to-night, and that carol put me in mind of the many happy Christmas’s we have spent_ with your dear father. I am almost in despair, for after to-morrow we may not even have this_ poor shelter, for if I do not pay the fortnight’s rent I owe, the landlord says we must turn out. For a year I have struggled and worked, and have just been able to live, partly by selling all that belongs to a once happy home, but now I have nothing left, and what I am to do, God only knows.’ A little voice broke in with, ‘ Yes, 'mother, God does know, and will help us ;’ it was Willie. ‘ My dear little boy, you are right, and I will trust to Him,’ said the poor mother. ‘lt is a year since father’s ship was wrecked,’ said Mary. 1 Yes, Mary, a year to-morrow. The Jupiter was wrecked off the coast of Africa, and with her went down your dear father.’ ‘ Was there no one saved ?’ said Tom. ‘ Not one ; but part of the wreck was found with the name on.’ By this time both mother and children were crying bitterly. ‘ Poor things,’ raid Harry; ‘ what will they do ? I wish wo could help them.’ « Oh, dear Moa, take me away; Is’e so miserable,’ said Rosy weeping. Wait a moment,’ said the Moa, with a cackle of satisfaction. Juet then a knock was heard at the door, and the poor woman dried her eyes hastily and went to it, saying, ‘ Who can it be ; not the landlord I hope. She opened it, and by the dim light of the candle saw a tall man with a large, brown board. • Does Mrs Davis live here ? ’ Yes,’ she answered, in a tremulous voice. ‘ Why, I’m blest if it isn’t Molly herself ; don’t you know me, dear lass ?’ ‘ Oh Jack, dear Jack ; is it really you ?’ sho said, at he clasped her in his arms. He had no word for anyone but his wife for a few minutes, and then the children clung round him, saying 1 Eather, dear father.’ • Why, my lass, how thin you and the young uns are,’ said Jack; ‘a bluff, honest-

looking sailor. But never mind, I have got some shot in the looker, and I’ll have yon into the country in a brace of shakes, and thinking you wouldn’t have a good Christmas dinner I’ve brought it with me.’ So he went to the door and shouted out ‘ Ahoy, messmate, below.’ A gruff voice answered, ‘ Aye, aye.’ ‘ Heave up the hamper, Bill.’ ‘ All right, boar a band. Jack,’ and in a few moments the hamper was in the room. Bill was a big jovial sailor, with darning red hair and beard.'

‘This is my missus, Bill,’ said Jack. ‘ And there are the little uns.’

‘My sarvioe to you, mum. And here’s a wishing you all a merry Christmas,’ said Bill.

‘This is my messmate. Bill, and we’ve weathered many a storm together, Molly.’ Mrs Davis shook hands warmly with Bill, and then Jack said, * And now for the hamper.’ It was opened, and what a turkey, what fowls, what a ham, what n glorious piece of roast beef, what mince pies, what a plum pudding, what fresh butter, eggs, bread and sausages appeared, and cakes, oranges, figs, nuts, tea and sugar. They soon sat down to a good supper, which they did full justice to, and Jack told them how he had been wrecked, and how he and Bill had lived with a savage tribe for nearly a year on the coast of Africa, and had managed to escape.

When supper was over, Willie said, ‘ Thank God for sending dear father back, and for our good supper —Amen.’ ‘ Now,’ said the Moa, ‘ wo must go.’ ‘ Do let us stay a little longer, said Harry. ‘ No, wo must get back to New Zealand in time for the Fairy entertainment. So goodbye to London, where there is so much wealth and luxury, and yet so much poverty and misery.’ So away he flow, and in the short space of one hour they were in Christchurch, New Zealand. See what it is to have magic wings.

‘Now, children, here we are bock again. Are you tired, and would you like to go to bed,’ said the Moa. ‘ No, no ; you promised we should go to see the Fairies, and you know Moas always keep their word,’ said Harry. ‘ I is not one bit tired, dear old Moa,’ said Bosy. ‘ Then hey for the Otira Gorge,’ said the big bird. They soon reached it. It was a bright moonlight night, and the dark ranges of mountains on the West Coast, seamed with ice, and clothed from base to snow line with magnificent forests, excited the children’s admiration. There were hundreds of fairy nooks festooned with trailing ferns, and carpeted with fairy moss, which caught a brighter green from the translucent stream, that flowed from a shelf of a rook a hundred feet above, and came leaping down, sparkling and radiant.*

The Moa said, * There is a cava here known only to us, where we meet every Christmas Eva after twelve o’clock.’ He then chanted, in a loud voice—

‘ Christmas Eve is here, All fairies now appear; Open cave, and let us in, And our revels we’ll begin. ’

The earth opened and displayed a largo cave, into which the Moa carried the children. It was a wonderful place, lighted by a pure white light, which the Moa said was the true electric light, invented by the King of Coal. The cave was carpeted with thick moss, and beautiful stalactites hung from the roof, which was very lofty, and lining the cave were masses of gold and silver ore. The feathery toi toi, the dark tutu, the waving fern, and the glossy flax, surmounted by the rata with its splendid crimson flowers, formed a background to a throne of pure gold. ‘ What a delightful place,’ said Harry, as the Moa lifted them off his back, and squatting down, told the children to seat themselves on the soft elastic moss. A strain of fairy like music was heard, and a whirring of many wings, and in a moment the cave seemed full of birds. There were tuis, bellbirds, kakas, kiwis, wekas, pigeons, ducks, hawks, moreporks, robins, paraquets, larks, and many other birds peculiar to New Zealand. They all greeted the Moa with most respectful salutations, which he received with condescending politeness. Another burst of music, and in walked sixteen tuis, drawing a shell-like carriage in which were seated two beautiful fairies. The taller of the two dark and strikingly handsome, in crimson and gold, with gold wings and gold crown. The other fair and exquisitely lovely, in silver and blue, with silver wings and silver crown. They were the King and Queen of the New Zealand Fairies, King Doro and Queen Argentine. They were followed by a long procession of all kinds of elves and fairies. When the Royal pair were seated on their throne, the birds and fairies burst into a loud chorus of—

‘ Welcome King and Queen so great, View with favour this our f£te. Which we hold on Christmas Eve, And with honor thee receive,’ King Doro bowed in and acknowledgment) sang in answer—- * Thanks my loyal subjects all For your welcome kind and true, Wo shall much enjoy the ball. And Christmas greetings we wish you.’

Cheers followed this, and then the King stood up and said, “Where is our chief Minister?” “ Here, your majesty,” said tho Moa, bowing. “ Dinoris," I see two mortals present, how did they come ? ” “Your Majesty, I brought them,” said the Moa.

“ ’Tis well, bid them approach, we would speak to them.” So Harry and Rosy went up to tho throne hand in hand, and stood before it.”

‘ And do youbelieve in fairies now, Harry?” said the Queen, in a sweet little voice. “ Yes;” said Harry, “I certainly do, your Majesty.’ ‘ And little Rosy always liked us,’ said the King. ‘ What do you say, Argentine, * Shull wo give her perpetual youth and beauty or wealth or wisdom, or the power to inspire love.”

* Let her choose for herself,’ said tho Q.uoen. What will you have, Rosy ?’ ‘ I’ae not kite sure, but I think I would like everybody to love me,’ said Rosy shyly. ‘ You have chosen wisely, little one,’ said the King, ‘ Fairy of the flax, bring me the magic draught!’ A handsome dark-eyed fairy, in crimson and dark green, and crimson wings, the color of the flax flower, stepped forward with a cup made of a flax leaf, and gave it to the king who said—

‘ Rosy, drink this ; it will give you goodness, amiability and unselfishness ; and those are the qualities that inspire love.’ Rosy drank it; and Harry whispered, ‘ls it nice, Rosy ?’ ‘ Delicious! like honey, Harry.’ ‘Now, Harry,’ said the Queen, ‘we will give you a little imagination and ideality, and some day you may be a poet, and send good and beautiful thoughts in harmonious measure into the world.’ ‘ You New Zaaland children are sadly wanting in imagination ; you are too matter of fact. I have actually hoard of some deluded people who tell their children that fairies are all nonsense ; and it they happen to dream of ns, or we appear to them, they are told by their parents that we are only a piece of undigested cheese, or new bread or pork chops. I have no patience with such idiots. So, Harry, kneel down.’ And the Queen anointed Harry’s forehead and temples with flax gnm. ‘Now,’ said the King, * let the entertainment begin. Dinoris, I hear you have composed a now aong for the occasion ?’ 1 Yes, your Majesty,’ said the big bird, with a comical air of shyness, ‘ I have written a trifle on my lonely condition,’ and he stopped forward, and in a voice resembling the whistling of the American engine and tho harsh grating of a cross-cut saw, he sang the following : The Moa’s Song.

Come all you birds and fairies and listen to my song. It is a very simple one, and won’t detain you long. In days of old we wore, indeed, a strong and mighty race, And you may well believe that wo could go the pace. The Maoris, when they saw us, wore filled with fear and dread ; There was a tale that one of us once scoffed a a Maori’s head. OHoatra. Oh I I’m the last, the very laat, of Moas small and great. And my sore grief and sorrow is, I hayn’t got a mate. 11. Oh, I am sad and lonely now, for I have got no wife, * Vide “ New Zealand Tourist,”

I miss her, though she often led me a henpecked life. But she’s been dead these twenty yeare, and I am growing old, My ago is great, for since my birth one hundred years have rolled, And wondrous changes have I seen in this fair fruitful land, Whore lay a vast plain bleak and bare, io now a city grand. CHOEDS. Oh, I’m the last, the very last, of Moas small or great, And my sore grief and sorrow is, I haven't got a mate. The Moa was loudly applauded, and the King and Queen expressed themselves highly delighted. Four Kiwis now advanced and executed a most grotesque dance, with great solemnity, and sang as they danced—- * Oh we’re a set of funny chicks, Our Latin name is Apteryx We’re so awfully shy you know, We shiver and shake and tremble so. It was so very amusing, that the cave re. echoed with fairy laughter, and the applause was so great that being very shy retiring birds, they made hastily for their corner. ' Rosy and Harry laughed so much that they fairly rolled on the ground. A very conceited looking bird now came forward, and said with a self-assertive waggle of a rudimentary tail. ‘ Your Majesties, I have also composed a song for this festive occasion. Will you condescend to listen to it ?’ ‘ Certainly, Weka,’ said the King. ‘Wo are always glad to encourage local talent,’ So he began to sing in a shrill voice, to a monotonous air, the WEKA’S SONG. I. A very important bird am I. The Weka is my name. Some people say I am a Paul Pry, But that’s an awful shame. 11. I ferret out all my friends’ affairs : But blame me not for that. I like to hear of their troubles and oires, And do love a gossipy chat. 111. Moas and Kiwis are all very well. The Weka’s praise I'll sing. In future days, I can foretell, Of birds I’ll be the king. At the end of this verse the King beckoned to the Moa, who was standing on one log, fast asleep, till Harry pinched his toe, and ho went up to the King, who whispered to him ; then the Moa, waiting till another verse was over, said—‘lllustrious Weka, how many verses are there in that charming song ?’ ‘ Only a hundred and ten,’ was the answer. ‘ Well,’ said the King, ‘ we must postpone the pleasure of hearing the rest for another time, as our programme is a long one; but wo thank you, Weka,’ The Weka bowed and retired, muttering to himself, ‘ It’s all that jealous old Moa’s doing that I was stopped.’ And now a pretty little fairy bounded into the circle ; she had pale yellow hair, completely covering her, and yellow wings. She held in her hand a tiny stalk of toi toi. She sang— I am the Toi Toi Fairy, A little being, light and airy ; I dance and sing the livelong day, And from my foes I keep away. Then followed her a tall, handsome elf, with dark glowing eyes. He was in purple and green, with purple wings. He held a stalk of tutu in his hand. He joined the Toi Fairy, and sang— The fairy of the tutu am I, By my power cattle die ; But every plant has its use, Wine is made from my juice. And now a most graceful being advanced in green and gold, with long golden hair and green wings. She hold a fern leaf, and sang:— “ The fairy of the fern you now behold, O’er a beautiful kingdom I reign ; From the tiniest fern to the fern tree old Order and law I ever maintain.” The fairy of the flax, and he chanted “ A very useful plant is mine, “ From it is made rope and twine.” Then the four fairies danced an extremely pretty dance, which was received with great pleasure, when suddenly the sound of a silver trumpet was heard, and King Doro, rising, said—‘Now, my loyal subjects, welcome King Aquarius and Queen Snow.’ A cold air seemed to fill the cave, the band played a lively air, and the birds and fairies joined in the chorus of ‘ Welcome, welcome, mighty pair, King so great, and Queen bo fair.’ And then entered eight white seagulls, drawing a carriage carved out of a large snow ball, in which the Royal pair were seated. The King was tall and strong, and was a bluff jolly-looking elf in green, with transparent wings. The Queen was very beautiful, with a robe of snow and radiant crown of ice, and silver wings, which sparkled with every movement. They were followed by a long train of water sprites and snow fairies. King Doro invited them to bo seated on the throne, and refreshments were handed round by fairy attendants. Rosy and Harry wore not sorry, as they were very hungry. What these refreshments were the authoress is not prepared to say ; suppose we say nectar and ambrosia. At anyrate it was very delicious. After supper was over King Doro said to his friend — * Well, old man, how are you getting on with your subjects ? ’ ‘ Oh, very well, Doro, they are very amenable, except that tiresome fellow Waimakariri, he is inclined to break bounds, and go off on his own account.’ A curious rumbling sound was now heard, and King Doro exclaimed, — ‘ Better late than never! That’s Coal coming,’ and in walked eight kakapos or ground parrots, drawing a large lump of ooal, fashioned into a queer kind of carriage, and seated in it was King Ooal, a jet black elf, with red glowing eyes, and red wings. He had a jovial merry face. He was followed by o number of ooal elfs, just like himself, only smaller. He jumped out, saying,— ‘ Doro, I am awfully sorry I am so late, but I had to go to the Springfield Colliery on important business, and could not get away. Will yon all forgive me ? ’ ‘ Yes,’ was the answer, ‘but you must sing a song.’ ‘ All right; here goes. And he sang, in a deep, bass voice : ‘ Here I am, old King of Ooal, 1 am a jolly sort of soul. A merry Christmas unto you, May your troubles bo but few.’ Chorus. ‘ Long live King Coal, A jolly old soul,’ The fun now grew fast and furious, dancing went on with great spirit, and the Moa was seen in the middle executing a pas seul with great vigour. Harry and Rosy were getting sleepy, and lay down on the soft moss, and they heard some sweet voices sing, A Fairy Chorus. ‘ Harry and Rosy go to sleep, And when the dawn begins to peep. Waken ’twill bo Christmas morn. The day on which your King was born. Dear little children fare you well, Remember the Fairies of the Dell.’ The voices grew fainter and fainter, and ’ore they ceased, the children wore fast asleep. Next morning Harry woke first, and found himself in his own little bed. Ho looked across the room, and saw Rosy in her’s. ‘ Goodness me,’ he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes. ‘ How on earth did we got back. I suppose that dear old Moa carried us home and put us to bed. Rosy, wake up, it’s Christmas Day.’ Rosy jumped up and ran to her brother, and gave him a good hug, soying—‘ A Merry Kissraas, Harry.’ Ho returned her kies warmly; and they looked at their stockings, which would not hold all their presents. Harry bad a cricket bat and ball, a many-bladed knife, a paint box, books, and a small bicycle. Rosy had a lovely doll and dolls’ house, a paint box, a tea set, and a little gold bracelet and locket; and both children had a largo bag of lollies and fruit. They ran to their mother’s room, shouting out a Merry Christmas. It was early, and Mr and Mrs Stuart were not up. The children jumped on the bed, and thanked them for their Christmas presents. After a bit, Hurry said, ‘ Ar’nt you tired. Rosy, with our long ride ?’ ‘ No, not a bit, Harry,’ and then tbo whole story came out, and Rosy said plaintively, ‘ I should like to see that dear old Moa, and give him a ties.’ After listening to the long story, Mr Stewart said,

‘ My pets, you have had a very prett; Christmas Eve dream ; don’t forget it.’ ‘ And wasn’t it funny that Rosy dreamt it too,’ said Harry. And she had ; but how that is to b( accounted for the aulhoress does not know Maybe the fairies had o hand in it. And sc endeth this fairy tale. Perhaps, in futur< years, whan a poet of our own rises amongsl us, he may look back to that Christmas Eve when the first germs of poetry, the first dropi of that divine essence were dropped into hii soul. And we can see in the future Rosy growing up, a good, unselfish, pure-minded, loveable girl, and, doubtless, she has her wish ‘ that everyone should love her.’ The authoress trusts that all children who read this tale may spend a pleasant half-hour, and she wishes them and their belongings A Meebie Christmas and Happy New Yeae.