PETER PAN ON HOLIDAY.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 171, 21 July 1928, Page 3 (Supplement)

PETER PAN ON HOLIDAY.

(By GERTRUDE T. DUNCAN.)

Peter and the Gendarme.

The following morning Peter awakened with a feeling of great comfort for his bed was the most cosy he had] •ver slept on. It must be a fairy bed ho thought, such & number of huge feather pillows and ou top of him a tremendous eiderdown quilt five times the thickness of the mattress. "What is that tiny pillow at my feet for?" he asked tha gendarme. "A kneeling pillow when you say your prayers." "Oh, what a big bath," said Peter, and indeed it was, for it took half the room and was made of marble. "Now," said the gendarme, "open tbe window, and etcp out ou to tbe balcony." i'eler did so, and l'ound there a very largw cage full of different coloured birds. There were birds with red beads, others with yellow tails and blue wings, green love-birds, and canaries all living together. They chippered merrily as Peter opened the green shutters to let in the sunshine. "What a noise the paper boys make ia the street." "They have 150 different daily papers to sell," said the gendarme. "What is that girl selling with the bell?" asked Peter. "Goat's milk," and then a knock came at the door. "Breakfast," said Peter opening the door to find a coffee pot of hot coffee and another pot of hot milk. "No egga or bacon," ha exclaimed with disappointment. "No," said the gendarme, "but look again, and you will find a roll of bread as long as the door." 'Why, tho lump sugar ia pinki" Peter laughed. "And lie has forgotten the butter." * "We don't have butter, but here is •era# nice plain chocolate to eat with the bread," and the gendarme brought out two small cakes. Having finished their coffee and rolls, they mada their way to tho street. "I cannot Jet you leave Paris without first seeing our treasure house," said the gtndarme. "It ia tbe most important public building here, packed full of art treasures and of beautiful architecture." "Was it always a treasure house?" Peter inquired. "No, it was the first castle that was built here. It is called tho Louvre, after a wolf hunter whose name was Louverie." "Do you see that arch In front of you? You are looking at the largest iu the world. It is called the Arch de Tviomphe de LlStollie. Napoleon I. began to b"ild that in memory of a victory." "What is the oldest thing ia Paris?" asked Peter. "Perhaps," said tho -gendarme, "the ruins of tho baths that once belonged to the ancient palace of emperors. It is (sailed the Frigidariuni," which means cold wator. You are now on Monmartc Hill, aud are 340 ft above the Seine." "Is this the highest part of Paris?" Peter inquired again. "No," replied tho gendarme, "the Pantheon is the highest; that, you know,'

VOYAGES FROM NEVER NEVER LAND

is the tomb of Saint" Genevieve, our patron saint." "Tliat church over there is not the one we saw the flower sellers outside, is it?" asked Peter. "That is Notre Dame. Its style is Gothic. The one with the flower seller was the Madeleine. Now we will go to the Champ Elysees, and you will see the most beautifully dressed people riding and driving, as well as on foot, and in a Jittlo while you will l>e in such a dear little village called St. Cloud. They hold a festival there each year that lasts livo weeks, in September and October. Then I am taking you to Versailles." '"What is that?" he asked. "It is the home of Ki»i> Louis XIV., but it \vaa built for King Louis XII. for a hunting chateau. There is a room in the palace that will hold IU,OOO people at once. Its salons uru so lovely. The peace treaty for the late war was signed there, in tbe 'Hall of Mirrors.' You will seo the bed that King Louis died on; they have kept the room just as he left it. But while we have been talking we have arrived at the gardens of Versailles." "I don't call them pretty," said Peter; "they look solemn, and stiff, and old." "They are not considered pretty," replied his companion. "Goodness!" exclaimed Peter, "what a lot of statues. Are they made of gold T" "Xo, they are gilded lead and bronze and marble. One hundred sculptors were engaged at once to make them, and the grounds were laid out also like this; but it was a very long time ago. Do you see those wonderful fountains? People come from all over the world to see them. On feast days they play coloured lights on them. Now we are going back by a most a beautiful park called the Bois de Boulogne." It was evening when they arrived in the city again. Peter noticed a man very busy selling paper hats, paper blowers, balloons, ooi little bags of tiny celluloid balls. "What are they for ?" he asked. "For the people who are visiting the dance halls to throw at each other, the sanie*3 you use confetti." "But they must hurt," he said. "They are very small," said the gendarme, who was pushing opeq the door of the cafe they had visited the previous evening for dinner. "May I have something to-night that I know what I am eating?" asked Peter. "You can see it cooked as well if you wish," the gendarme said, smiling. This time a duckling was cooked In front of him on a chafing dish, and the carcase was squeezed through a silver press to bring out the gravy. "Now," said the gendarme, "I shall have to say good-bye to you." "I shall be so sorry to leave Paris," said Peter. "Everyone is," replied the gendarme, and just then Peter saw a flash of light. The gendarme had vanished, and in his place stood Tinker Bell. ■ Peter in London. "Before you know other people's countries you should know your own," said Tinkerbell, "the land where your grandi mother and grandfather were bora."

"You mean England and Scotland," ! said Peter. "You are going to London," she replied. "On that," asked Peter, pointing to tlio aeroplane that runs daily from London to Paris with passengers? "Certainly not,'' said Tinkerbell, at the same time adding, ''Off," and the next thing Peter realised was that he was sitting outsido Victoria station on top of a motor. bus. What a dismal looking placc, he thought, as lie looked around him, so dull and heavy. "I I don't have to stay long." Just then tho bus started oif. *" Wonder where I am going?" thought Peter, but there was nothing for it but to wait and see. Now they were passing a big church. "Is this Westminster Abbey," some one asked "1 must see inside that one day," thought Peter. He was wondering what tima it could bo when looking up he saw the tallest clock he had ever seen. The man sitting next to him brought out his watch. "Two minutes slow by 'Big Ben,'" be remarked, adding, as he looked at Peter, "the House is sitting." "Is it?" said Peter, seeing no difference in the long important looking houses in front of them. "I am speaking of Parliament," ha replied; "you are a stranger, I see.' Where from ? "The Never Never LancL? said Peter. "Netherlands," said tbe ifian, "What part?" "No part," answered Peter. "That is, it's all part." "Better put yourself in charge of a Bobby," the man added. "What's that,"jMked Peter. "A policeman. Know vekero you are going?" "No," eaid Peter." "Try Colney Hatch," said tho man. "Thank you, I will," Peter replied. He wished he could get down, but tbe hue never stopped for two seconds together; people were jumping on and off while it was running at quite high speed. "Whitehall," shouted the conductor," and Peter made for the stairs, but before his foot touched the second step, off they went again. Just then Peter noticed two handsome soldiers on horseback outside the gates; they wore brass helmets with long piumee of horse hair coming from the top of the®, brilliant red and white uniforms and shiny boots. Peter called to them. "Would you mind getting me off this bus?" be asked, but they took no notice of him. "Trafalgar Square," shouted the conductor, and Peter saw in front of him a number of big lions and fountains, and the tallest column he had ever seen. Standing right on the top | was a little man dressed like an admiral, j with a three-cornered hat and only one : arm. On went the bus again. "Hay- [ market," shouted the conductor, and j Peter saw the people around were very | well dressed, although not smart like the j French people. "Strand" called the conductor. They were in a long street now with theatres, hotels and shops each i side. "Charing Cross," again shouted I the conductor, and Peter wondered why ! they called it a cross when it was a big railway station. On they went, "HolI born" shouted the man again. Peter I began to see how thick the traffic; was

getting. '"Fleet Street I" Wliv there aro nothing but newspaper shopa and offices, thought Peter, and how busy for such a narrow street. "Saint Paul's.'* 4 'T should love to go inside," lie said, as he looked at the large, stately dome, "and what a lot of pigeons there aro about." "Bank," called the conductor again. Peter, realising there was a block in the road, and the bus wuiiid iiavo to stop, made a dive fur the stairs, this time with success, but only to find himself hemmed in in every direction with traffic and men. "Oh, dear,'' lie said, "where am I;" "Tim Ls tiio Bank of England," said a jwliceman, in a rouud helmet, blue uniform ajid braos buttons. "Will you please take mo to Coluey Hatch," asked Peter. "Why do yoii want to to a lunatic asylum':" asked the policeman. ''I don't," said Peter. "Come along with me," replied the policeman, looking down at him. "L shall bo off duty in a few moments. Now you see those shops marked A.8.C.? Go in one of thoce, have a cup of tea, and wait for me; you will lind dozens of them every few yards or those marked Lyoas will do; you will be quite safe there." Peter did as he was told. A few minutes later the policeman joined him. "Jump on a bus," said the policeman and Peter found it was quite easy to get on while they were going, but he was bo crushed in with people that he lost his hold and had to step on to the road again. "We will take the tube," said the policeman. Down they went in a long lift, stopping at last at a railway station, packed more than ever with people. Bang went the door before he had hardly time to get his foot inside the carriage, then off along a long tunnel. Someone shouted, "Piccadilly Circus." they scrambled on to a moving staircase, then up another long lift, through a tunnel, and at last the open street. It was evening. The streets were a glare of light from the lamps and electric coloured advertisements. The traffic was just as thick as it had been at the Bank, only this time the people were on pleasure bent instead of making for their homes. They were coming out for the evening'a amusement, their clothes were smart, they were entering the theatres, cafes and restaurants, but the place seemed almost peaceful compared to the noise of Paris, and when the people had reached their destination the cars drove off leaving the streets almost quiet. How very shiny the roads were, almost like glass. Everybody looks so comfortable. "I suppose there are no poor in London." thought Peter, and the policeman must have read his thoughts, for they walked down three streets and he saw they were on the banks of a river. He was about to ask what that tall piece of stone, with Egyptian writing all over it was, when he saw the name "Cleopatra's Needle," and sitting down on the bench in front of it was a line of the poorest people he had ever seen. Peter's eyes filled with tears, he looked up at the policeman and saw he also had a look of pity on his face. "Hundreds spend the night like this on the Thames Embankment," he said. {To be continued.)