IN THE WOODS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 74, 18 June 1927, Page 27

IN THE WOODS

Elizabeth walked lightly down the soft woodland path. Her arms were full of bluebells, and she sang happy little songs softly to herself. Elizabeth loved the woods. They were so mysterious. You never knew how many tiny fairies might be curled up inside the bluebells. When you peeped into a hollow tree you felt sure some jolly little thing must live there. If you lay on the soft moss and gazed up into the tender green of new-grown leaves, you nearly almost saw the sweet spirits which you felt were flitting from branch to branch. You couldn’t be lonely when you felt like that. Any minute you might make friends with the wonderfullesi: person. And even if you did not, if you never even saw them really, that did not prove that they were not there. Nobody believed in only just what they could see.

A patch of wild daffodils! How perfectly splendid! Elizabeth dashed in to pick them. That was Elizabeth. Ann walked slowly along a little path which led into the wood.

Every now and then' she glanced quickly behind her. Sometimes she looked suddenly to the right, and then quickly away across to the left. Then a darting glance behind again. You never knew what you might see in the woods they were so dark and gloomy!

Gnomes, elves, naughty spirits, anything, simply anything, could lurk in the dark shadows under the trees. And behind big stones, under clumps of bracken, even on the branches, lying flat so as not to be seen, but able to drop things on your head—oh, everywhere in a wood frightening things could hide.

Ann stopped to pick a few bluebells, for she really did want them badly, looking as she did so quickly behind and on each side of her

But in a few minutes she hurried on again. If you walked quickly you would soon come to the bridge, and then it would not take long before you were out into the lane.

Woods were too dreary and frightening, too full of hiding things. You seldom see them but that made it almost worse; if you saw them you might get used to them. It was just the feeling that they might all at once pop out. All at once pop out and— Ah! There was the bridge. Ann ran forward.

But another little girl was sitting there —on the low wall, kicking her heels and singing to herself her arms full of daffodils and bluebells. And she was smiling, and saying: “Hello, didn’t you see the daffies? Isn’t it lovely in this wood?”

And then they talked together, because Elizabeth was never shy, and always felt as if she had known people a long time. She told Ann how happy she was because of her lovely feelings about fairies, and good spirits, and everything being so happy, and even if you didn’t see them yourself they always might be near.

So there you were! Always feeling that they were quite close, and being friendly to you, taking care of you. But Ann said nothing. She just listened, and her dark eyes grew big and bigger, and at last, when she had listened for quite a long time, a happy light began to steal into them. She did not say anything about gnomes, or naughty spirits, or unkind things hiding on branches. But every moment her own fancies grew more and more unreal and far away. She felt the sunshine fall through the leaves and kiss her arms with its gentle warmth; she heard the brook sing the sweetest little song under the bridge, and she moved her eyes from Elizabeth and saw a haze of bluebells flecked with yellow light. She heard a happy little voice saying, “You feel the same, don’t you?” “Not quite,” Ann said slowly, “at least, not until now. But I always shall from to-day. I am glad you told me all about it. Will you show me where the daffies grow?” And after that the laughter of two happy children was added to the music of the woods. THE LITTLE SAILBOAT I’ve a little boat that listens To the secrets of the sea. And when I am very quiet. Then it tells them all to me. O, it tells of magic music Softly flowing rivers make! Every sail it has starts singing When it tells about a lake. Every lake, it says, keeps laughing Till its sandy sides are sore, When we boys and girls are playing Happy games upon the shore. Then the sky gets out its rainbow, Hung with pots of mystic gold, Pours it all into the sunset, Even more than it can hold; So it falls into the water And it glitters and it glows, While I listen to the secrets That my little sailboat knows. . A TONGUE TWISTER Ten tinkers tinkling upon ten tin tinder boxes with ten tenpenny tacks. Billy: “I’m never going to school any more.’* Father: “Why?" Billy: "Because they expect us to learn to spell and they change the words every day!”