FAIRY STORY OF A DROMEDARY

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 116, 17 May 1924, Page 22

FAIRY STORY OF A DROMEDARY

TRANSLATED FROM THE _fv.>_ E OF ROSA XOSSIG. 1 On one cold but bright and _n I December day a dromedary was wan? 13 ' 1 in slow and stately fashion alon. g of the busiest streets of Lend.. 3 •?! was of course, an odd day for a dr__T dary to choose, and still odder for i?'" to be in such a place, but this v fairy story, you must remember t__ * I all things are possible. * nea His queer-shaped head and B __. which somehow remind one of » v* bass viol, raised itself high above t? crowd, and bis small limpid c «! looked dreamily over them into t_ distance, thinking of his far-away horn! in a warmer clime, you may think but wait and see. " Though the crowds hastily dispersed at the sight of the huge, ungainl» animal, and motor horns sounded warning notes all around him, he took no notice whatever of anything or any body, but calmly pursued his way, on L' wagging from time to time the card he held in his mouth bearing the wordi"Make way for mc. lam coming." Now please do not think that the beautifully decorated cloth which hum, down each side of his great back was the cause of his proud look and bearing. Oh, no, it was something deeper than this, as I am going to tell you. _n the morning someone or other had stuck a rubber stamp to his right

hoof with the words, "Use Brown's Soap." So the '"Ship of the Desert was printing these words in Regent Street (it is only a dream story, you know) with every step he took along this busy thoroughfare, also down Waterloo Place, and so on to Trafalgar Square, where Nelson's Monument stands guarded by those big lions of Landseer's. It was this fact, the knowledge that he was leaving his mark behind him, which made the big four-footed creature so solemnly proud and happy. For, you see, with every forward step he took he left those words printed along the street behind him—a long row of "Footprints on the Sands of Time,"' as Longfellow says—and perhaps that was what he was thinking of—who knows. At Piccadilly Circus, however, someone got ri__it in his way. It was his former colleague—the performing donkey. Jack, from the travelling menagerie he formerly belonged to. "Hello, Harry!" called out the donkey in delight*. "What a long time it is since I saw you. How are you?" | The dromedary* looked at his former friend somewhat contemptuously. "Get out of my way," he said slowly. "And don't speak to mo. Don't you see that you are interfering?" "Interfering with what:"' asked the astonished donkey. The desert animal simply made a majestic movement of his head towards the long string of words behind him. '"With my literary studies, of course," he said solemnly. * "All those words that you see down there have been printed by this right foot of mine." which he held up impressively, and with a flourish of it. said, "Get out of my way. To-day I am in the mood for study, as you see." Saying this, he marched on majestically, leaving liis "'footprints'' behind him in one long litany of "'Use Brown's Soap." The poor donkey stood as though rooted to the spot, and looked first at the slowly disappearing body of his old friend, and then at the long row of words he had left in his wake—even though they only referred to soap. "Happy animal!" be said at last with a big sigh. "He leaves his mark behind him. And I—l have no talent and can leave nothing." Then the poor donkey gave vent to a big bray, which was almost lost in the noise around him, and left no trace behind, except the mark of a blow lie received from an angry pede.tr* n as he told him to "shut up!" What happened after that I don't know, as I woke up.