THE LOST STAR

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 152, 17 September 1927, Page 27 (Supplement)

THE LOST STAR

A long time ago it happened. Perhaps it never will again, so really it is a good thing it happened at all, or we might never have had any—but wait.

The moon had started to develop the bad habit of eclipsing the sun. No one likes to /be eclipsed—the sun least of all, for he is a proud fellow, and loves to outshine everyone. “It’s extremely annoying,” he remarked, “to be eclipsed by a mere moon.”

While the moon had complained to the Pole Star: “I’m tired of doing nothing but sail across the sky, especially as it is always at night, and so few humans about to see me at this time.”

So once more she determined to attract attention by eclipsing the sun. However, the sun was warned by a friendly sunbeam, and prepa :ed to give the moon a surprise. The day came, but to her horror the moon found, instead of eclipsing the sun, she was herself being eclipsed. Several stars began laughing—but not for long. Oh, no! a terrible thing happened.

The stars could all see the moon at night, and they had to w&.tch carefully for her during the daytime, she grew so pale. But wnen she was behind the sun they couldn’t see her at all, and they all fell cut of place. Luckily it rained that night, so no humans saw wtiat a terrible muddle the sky was in. The Little Dog, who had no business to be near him, informed the Little Bear: “I say, mind where you go; Saturn has lost one of his rings, and he’s in a terrible temper about it.”

“If you ask me,”’ declared the Great Dog, trotting up, “the Bull has found it, and is trying to decorate his nose with it,” and he winked at the other two knowingly. Many people see the stars wink, buf they never guess the joke.

“Haven’t you found your places yet?” cried the Charioteer, galloping up. “Into them, quickly.” Then he dashed after the Great Bear, who was loafing about quite the wrong end of of the sky. By dawn everyone was in their right places, except one little star. He was hopelessly lost: none could remember where he belonged. All day he wandered about alone.

“I’m so lost, quite lost,” lie sobbed at last.

When night came he was so miserable he didn’t even look where he was going, and slipped m a piece of the Milky Way. Right across the heavens he flew, and then fell with a sizzle into the sea.

“A shooting star!” sailors remarked to each other.

Down, down through *he water he sank, and King Neptune turned him into the very first starfish. At least this is the tale the starfish tell, the jellyfish, and as *he jellyfish don't know any better they always believe it. FROM A SUNBEAM The last time I wrote I told you about having a letter from a lady in Samoa, and on Friday I received a beautiful Samoan tray from her, which I will treasure much. I am getting such a big circle of nice pen friends through belonging to the Happy Town and Wigwam pages of THE SUN and feel I have a great deal to be thankful for. —JEAN McIXDOE, Hamilton. There was a small person of Ryde, Who was caught by the incoming tyde; Though rather too small To wade through it all. She tucked up her frock aad tryde.

MALIGI, THE MAGICIAN (Written for THE SUN.) Mai iff i was a very wicked old magician who lived in a cave not so very long ago. Now, this wicked old fellow hated all the little children very much indeed, and was always trying: to spoil their fun. He very nearly succeeded, too, but I shall tell you all about it. The thought of Happy Town he could not bear —the very name was enough to upset him for a week, for anything happy he tried to make uphappy. He thought of a scheme one day which would make hundreds of little children miserable if he succeeded. It was thbff: He determined to make the Dawn Lady a prisoner in his cave! Think of that, little Sunbeams! No Happy Town then for little folks. So one bright morning he harnessed his hippogriph (which is a winged horse, you know) fed his pet toad, left a saucer of new milk for his favourite snake, and set off to Happy Town to capture the Dawn Lady.

Now, in the eyes of the fairies, the Dawn Lady was too important a person to allow Maligi to capture without making a fight, so that when Queen Titania arrived in Fairyland with the news that Maligi had set out on his wicked plan, the fairies were instantly roused, and the bravest fairy knight, Sir May-dew, begged to be allowed to defend her. The king and queen of the fairies were only too pleased that he should go, and that the Dawn Lady should be able to continue her work, and the children be able to go to Happy Town as usual; so Sir May-dew put on his armour of butterflies’ wings, and helmet which was a may-flower, bowed to their fairy majesties, and set off on his quest. Now, all this time, the Dawn Lady was quite unconscious of these proceedings; she was busy answering letters and arranging competitions for her little Sunbeams, and talking to the Little Thought. Suddenly the room in which she sat grew very dark and gloomy. “Oh, dear,” she said, “I do believe it is going to rain.’ ’ But she was wrong, for it was Maligi on his hippogriph, who had come close to the window and was blotting out he sun. Maligi rubbed his hands and chuckled silently in his wicked glee. There was the Dawn Lady, quite alone, for Little Thought had left her, as Little Thoughts are apt to do. Yes; there she was quite alone and unprotected, he thought. But was she? What was that ray of light that landed on the window-sill? Why, the good* knight, Sir May-dew, who instantly drew his sword and flew to attack the magician Maligi, who was thunderstruck. How dare this tiny fairy challenge him—Maligi—the most powerful wizard that ever lived? With a roar of rage which the Dawn Lady thought was thunder he rushed upon the knight, but Sir May-dew was ready. He was very brave; he flashed his sword around, and the Dawn Lady said to herself: “How very bright the lightning is!”

The battle was long and hardlyfought. You see, neither could use their magic arts against the other, because their spells would have had no effect on either fairy or magician; so they had to use their strength alone.

Sir May-dew fought most bravely, and at the last it seemed as if he would have to yield, and the Dawn Lady be carried off, when all at once the hippogriph, who was getting tired and wanting his tea, stopped dead in the middle of a swoop, and May-dew was quick to make use of this. Flapping his tired wing in one last effort, he flew at Maligi and killed him. Then he seized the hippogriph, who was not at all unpleased at the change of masters (for

fairies are always kind to animals) and away they went. The Dawn Lady was safe, and knew nothing at all about it.

You may wonder how I know. Well, I shall tell you. Some years ago I was able to help Sir May-dew’s sister, the powerful fairy Gloriana, when she had hurt her wing and was unable to fly. I helped her to mend her wing and get back to Fairyland. Since then we have always been friends, and it was she who told me about the wicked Maligi and how Sir May-dew had fought him, and that the Dawn Lady, whom the children and the fairies love, was quite well. ANGELA C. TONG.

Two travellers were compelled to share one bed in a ramshackle country hotel. The landlord had assured them it was a good feather bed and they would sleep quite comfortably. But they tossed and turned all night, till toward 3 a.m. one fell asleep, only to be awakened a few minutes later by a ■violent nudging from his companion. “YThat’s the matter?” he asked. “Is it'.time to get up?” ‘No.” answered the other. “It's my torfi to sleep on the featherl,"