THE LIGHTHOUSE

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

THE LIGHTHOUSE

The lighthouse stands upon the hill. Lonely and brave and kind: It looks and looks into the night. The troubled ships to find. It guards them from the hidden shoals, It guides them safe to land; It points them out the wisest course. Just like a mother’s hand. If vessels have their dearest friends. As you and I have ours. I think they would most likely be Those lonely lighthouse towers. THE TREASURE HUNT Little Joris was the son of a poor widow who lived in a small cottage on the edge of a great forest. He had no brothers or sisters to speak to—only the trees and flowers and birds. When the cold days of winter began, and oatmeal and flour became dearer and dearer to buy, Joris thought he would like to go into the woods and try to find a great treasure, so that he could give it to his mother. If only he could meet a gnome or a fairy, and explain how hard it was for his poor mother to find food! Ah, that would be fine!

So the very next time he was sent out to gather fuel for the fire he went deeper into the wood than he had ever done before. He was not a bit frightened. He talked all the time. “Hullo, tree,” he would say, “how old are you? Do you know where the treasure is?” Or he would part the long grass where a little wood violet lay hidden, ariH say, “Ah, you thought I didn't see you!”

So he wandered on, and on, until suddenly he caught sight of a little man with a long red cowl on his head, looking round the stalk of a very large mushroom.

“Can you tell me where I can find a treasure for my mother, please?” cried Joris. “She is very poor, and

“A treasure! Ha! ha!” laughed the little man. “Why, your mother has a treasure already!” And he vanished quickly between the tall reeds that lined the banks of the little stream.

Poor Joris was very puzzled indeed. Why had his mother not told him of this treasure? The little man must certainly be mistaken. Joris turned sadly homeward, and, following the stream, found his way safely back to the cottage door. His mother ran out to meet him.

'‘Where have you been, my darling? ’ she cried, putting her arms round his neck. “I was so afraid you were lost.”

Joris told his mother all about his wanderings, and what the little man had said.

“He was quite right, my dear son,” his mother, hugging him closer to her bosom. “You are my treasure.”