"WILL O- THE WISP."

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 95, 23 April 1928, Page 6

"WILL O - THE WISP."

The sun came out gloriously with the mellowness autumn gives after the first frost. Through the sparkling air we travelled in the morning, remembering that ere long winter will shut the door on us dwellers in the roadless backblocks. For miles the blackness of desolation shows the path of the late bush fires. Smouldering lo>»s lie by upstanding blackened, smoking tree trunks sweeps of burnt earth and blistered greenness, where by some trick of fate a few odd bushes have escaped. The spiral of smoke issuing from an ungainly heap shows where a stack of hay for winter fodder has helped to feed the greed" flames "Ugliness." "Desolation." All the words that leave an ache rush to the mind. In the seat behind one hears the trite phrases, "It will be the making of the countrv," "Excellent" but i+ will take a dickens of a lot of grass seed" Of course it is undoubtedly true, but the surprising barrenness of a fire scorched area leaves a sense of melancholy unutterable. The day closes in and a twenty-mile visit lengthens out. It is dusk as we rush through Raetihi, dark at the turn y Horopito. Suddenly the fire countrv bursts forth-a glory! Black trees are silhouetted agamst the wonderful glow on the horizon. A tall matai trunk sends a shower of glistenin® sparks into the night air. Long, black candlesticks hold magic torches of flame, and the crude logs of the day time are columns of vivid fire. We draw up to watch this ever-changina gloiy of the night. From the side road com® whispering voices, then excited high-pitched ones'. Their owners loom up beside us—a white-faced mother with four excited children. In their arms are bags and bundles of all sizes. A headless doll protrudes from under the arm of a small girl with wispy hair and great dark eyes. Thev have left their home. Dad is watchine If 'a wind rises everything will go. They stand round ing *v° r * fiends and neighbours, who will take them to the township for safetv It has happened often this summer. Still, by sheer chance, their small home stands. An old bu<»Tv 1 umbers up. Tied to the back of it are the ends of an old brass bedstead. The tarnished knobs a 6 tlme " We P ass on out of the .u (>hee . r ~ v g°od-night and a laugh rin~s out as others join them. Courage aplenty and need they have of it. these anxious "n with a t r h lWay b^ kb,ocks - Wonderland will vanish with the grey dawn, all the beautv fade. Tim loveliness is bred of the night, and, like a will the wisp, will vanish with the sun.

—M.J.B.