THE MAGICIAN’S GIFT

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 851, 20 December 1929, Page 7 (Supplement)

THE MAGICIAN’S GIFT

(A Fairy Story For Children)

SANTA CLAUS naturally knows a great many people of all sorts, some of them very curious folk indeed. So. when he was taking a short cut across a corner of China on Christ-

mas Eve it did not surprise him to be stopped by an important magician. He thought he had bumped into the edge of a yellow cloud, but it rolled over, came right side up. and there was the great magician Lt Borax. The magician was waiting for the sleigh, and while he waited he meditated on the relation between Tibetan necromancy, and chilblains. Santa Claus bowed, and he bowed. He handed Santa Claus a strong oblong box. wonderfully decorated !n bright red and gold. “For the child of Ah Tung,” he sajd solemnly. "For the child of R. Young," repeated Santa Clau3.

They each bowed again, unconscious of any mistake. Santa Claus drove gaily on and the magician dived into his yellow robes until he was nearly hidden, and went on meditating about Tibetan sorcerers and chilblains. The chilblains were his own, and the sorcerers lived across the border where he could not catch them. On Christmas morning a little boy named Robbie Young found a wonderful box on his bed. It was decorated with the most burning reds and golds ever seen; it had curious,letters on it, and it had a strange smell. Inside, packed in golden silk, lay a remarkable rubber toy in the shape of a dragon. "Look at its gilt claws,” exclaimed Robbie’s mother, "and the coils of its tail. It’s just like a real dragon." A wave of fiery heat broke out of the box. The little dragon came to life, lifted the green scaly lids of its eyes, opened its fanged mouth, and said. "O revered ones. lam a real dragon. lam the last hatched dragon of the large family of the Dragon of Wisdom.” Then his eyes shot fire. “What strange people are ye?” he shrieked. “I have been carried into captivity. Enemies have captured me by deceitful arts.” At this the angry little dragon ran up the window curtains and sat on the top of the window frame. “We —we didn’t know you were alive,” said Robbie, “but we won’t hurt you . . .” “I might hurt you,” replied the dragon, and blue smoke came out of his jaws. “Your magic may be strong but my respected master’s is even stronger. Mark my words, by the seven and forty curses of Tong Fu I will burn down this delectable palace of yours with my fiery breath, and plant molten coals in the centre of your demon bodies if you do not set me free to seek my new master. Ah Yung.” “But I am R. Young,” cried Robbie. “Stop! stop!” for the dragon was rolling out clouds of red smoke.

“Is this then a test of my knowledge and wisdom,” said the dragon. “But why, venerated one, have you taken on the appearance of a demon?”

‘I didn’t know I had,’* said Robbie. ‘You have indeed,” said the dragon shudder-

(Continued.) hurried home with her treasures. She stood them in jam-jars on the table, and on the window-sill. They made a pathetic dash of colour, a breath of fresh air into the sordid little room. Evening came to find her flushed over her exertions with the dinner. She had tried so hard to have everything at its best. It was ready now, waiting for him to come in, everything he liked best, and cooked as beautifully as she knew how-. She hurriedly changed her frock, brushed her pretty hair, and dusted cheap powder on her nose. How surprised he would be! She opened the door into the narrow hall, and the woman next door, a slatterny, thin, peaked woman named Mrs. Cribb, came and stood in the doorway and looked over her clean rooms with scornful eyes. She looked at the gay nasturtiums, and sniffed, smelt the wholesome smell of the good dinner, and smiled sardonically. “Havin’ comp’ny?” Ruth Cowin got rid of her, not without some difficulty, and closed the door. She ran to the oven and looked with pride at the best dinner she could get. Beef steak, bubbling gently in its burned iron pan. Turnips, because they were cheap. And as an especial luxury, a lemon sago pudding. A noise down in the street attracted her attention. She went to the window and peered through the gathering dusk. A procession of blurs that were men winding slowly along, strangely silent. Bearing between them something that looked horribly like a stretcher. Something that sagged in the middle; something slack and .. . dead. A few little boys proceeded them and brought up the rear, morbidly curious, yet awed. Shop doors opening, sympathetic heads craning, a murmuring of sad voices. The girl at the window caught a glimpse of the white face on the black pillow-. Her heart seemed to stop. A terrible choking rose in her throat; she put up a hand to relieve it. The room went black, and she swayed a little. Downstairs she heard the main door open. She ran into the sitting-room, and stood petrified.

ing. “Your honourable slits of eyes have become rouud and perfectly blue, your noble little yellow face is a horrible pink in colour, and your tornerly stiff black hair is brown and curly. But who tun I to complain of what my respected superior does?”

“It seems to be some kind of lixard,” said Robbie's father, for strangely enough only Robbie understood the creature's words, "we had better catch it again.” The dragon glared at Mr. Young as soon as he spoke, and then said.

“I have learned many things since last wa met in the service of the seven time* honoured Li Borax. Shall I now descend and turn these attendants of yours into a porcelain jar and s lacquered table for your use. I dislike their looks so much that I must either do that or destroy them.”

“No. wait a minute." raid Robbie, “the great aud seventy nine times admired Li Soda—Bor»\ I mean—told me to say this magic riddle to you It is hyperboreal eqtiatorial magic and if you cannot answer—”

He paused and the dragon shook wfth anuiety while its scales became silvery pale “If” said Robbie solemnly, "a sacred, golden plumed peahen aud a half laid a silver egg grid a half in a day and a half how many eggs wotttrt six ordinary peahens lay in seven days?"

“The immeasurably wise and conaldgratjjy irritable great one. Li Borax, bade you Jrtt me this magic question?" said the dragon. “He did,” said Robbie. “It is a dark saying, full of wisdom doubtless. Give me time to reflect, oh wisest of mankind.” "Not too much time,” said Robbie, who had suddenly remembered that the name of the Chiba man of the fruit shop down the road was Ah Yung, and that he had a yellow little, slit-eyer son, who used to sit on the step of the shop and look extremely solemn and wise. “If you can’t answer that magic conundrum said Robbie in a stern tone, "I shall have to report to the enormous, I mean great, Li Borax that you have failed in this test of knowledge." “No, no, don’t do that,” said the dragon, “you would ruin my prospects. I was never much good at theory—give me a practical test instead.” “Come down then,” sali Robbie, "and let me see you turn yourself into a little lacquered box.' “That is comparatively easy,” replied the dragon.

He came sliding down the curtain and began writhing about and puffing out smoke. When it cleared away there lay a neat little black box with a raised picture of a dragon on it. A fierce, ramping dragon that looked uncommonly alive. Robbie hastily popped it into the big red box and fastened it up.

“I think Santa Claus has made a mistake.” he said with relief. “This was .meant for Ah Yung at the fruit shop." He took the box down the street to the fruit shop and at sight of it a queer sparkle came into the eyes ol the little yellow boy. In that moment Robbie saw that though he looked like a child he really was a magician, fit to manage the fiercest dragon. He took the box and bowed deeply to Robbie, and Robbie smiled and wont home' He knows if no one else does that there is a magician down his street, and what’s more, he is on very friendly terms with him, and that is a good thing to be with magicians. ALICE A. KENNY.

The world stopped. There was no such thing as time.

Her man! She knew! They had parted hating each other. And they were bringing him back to her, dead. They were bringing him back to her, all that was left of him. The machinery! The great, crouching silver demon! The delicate silver jaws . . . horribly staingd red. . . . She screamed, and her seraam was drowned by the marching of feet up the narrow stairs. His beautiful straight body torn and blood-covered. Oh, why hadn’t she rushed to him for forg veness before he went! It was too late now .. . The fragrance of the flowers she had gathered suffocated her. In her ears echoed the gentle bubbling ot the beef-steak pudding. Oh, the irony of it all. the miserable irony! Buc louder than this, louder than anything, filling her ears, her mind, her soul, throbbed the machines. They filled her and shook her, until she, too, seemed to be swaying to the unchanging rhythm, the dull pulsing of the living silver monster who had killed her man! The heavy footsteps of many feet reached her landing. She shrieked again and again, and threw herself against the wail, clutching the arm of a chair to save herself from falling. And suddenly she became strangely quiet. The piteous sobbing ceased. Only her -wide eyes dilated horribly through the fast-gathering darkuess. And the thick silence, broken only by her choking, heavy breathing, was more terrible than her sobbing.

They had stopped cutside her door. There was a great deal of subdued talking. A dSor opened. Silence. Then a woman screamed.

And then her door opened. A tall, muscular, familiar figure blocked the oblong of bright light. A familiar voice called softly, and in some surprise at the darkness "Oh, Ruthie!”

He switched on the light, and discovered her crouching in an agony of fear by the window. "Poor little kiddie! It’s poor old Cribb. Caught in the machinery, poor devil.” He came toward her. Stood beside her, his beloved fair head against a background of red and yellow nasturtiums.