FOR THE GIRLS

Auckland Star, 2 September 1933, Page 2 (Supplement)

FOR THE GIRLS

"BON VOYAGE."

THEY WHO TRAVEL THE SEAS.

My Dear Girls,— When I was little I used to think it was the most wonderful treat in the world to be talten down to the wharves just prior to the departure of a big ocean liner. Now lam not so sure, for beneath the gaiety, the glamour and the music is an underlying current of sadness, the tragedies of families who are parting, of friends who are never to return, of man and women who are leaving the shores of their country forever to seek their fortunes in another land. It was a day in early summer, a year or so ago, when last I had occasion to-farewell one of these big ships. I remember well the sunshine and the gaiety and excitement. Such crowds of happy folk were bound for far distant America. It seemed to me, who was so soon to lose a friend, that surely I must be the one sad-hearted person amongst those happy throngs. But no, , for somewhere near by, while I waited on deck for the return of my friend, a dog whined. A Foxie it was—a thin, miserable little dog, appearing strangely out of place on that great ship. But if the dog looked neglected and uncared for, even more eo did its owner. He, too, was thin, with loose, ill-fitting clothes, and the blackest, untidiest hair I ever have seen. And although hi* dark eye. were sullen and angry, yet the hands that fondled the wee dog were gentle as a girl's. Of all the memories I have of that summer morning nothing stands out so vividly in my mind as the picture of that boy and the htile Foxie he left behind him.

At the far end of the deck was a crowd of athlttei, cheery and jolly and full of fun, and past them a schoolgirl with tear.stained cheeks was standing forlornly by the deck rail with not a «oul t© comfort or cheer her.

It wae in the purser's room, where I went in search of my friend, that I first saw the twins. In these modern days mourning is unusual— for children, almost unknown. Yet the tiny girl and boy, sitting as quietly as two little mice on the couch, were both dressed in deepest black. There was something quaint and very old-fash.oned about them. They reminded me as they sat there, with their little short legs dangling over the high couch and their bine eyes timid and very afraid, of two wee folk from the day. of Dickens. A trim, alert little lady came up—* lady who spoke to them not unkindly, said "Deck B" in a crisp, author,tative voice to the bellboy, and whisked her two small charges out of sight. Later, down on the wharf, I thought of them all..and """Ifred. Thd boy with his little dog, what did America hold for Wm? And the schoolgirl with her tears? Up. on deck I *aw the team of athletes singing and cheering. And the little mites in mourning? What was their atory, and what sad fate or circumstance was .ending then»-lwo little - New Zealanders—over six thousand miles of ocean to far-off America? And my gaze came at last to my own friend and rested there. A shower of rainbow streamer, hid her from view. When I looked again the boat was moving off—a great, ever-widening gulf of water lay between us. And walking back along the wharf, with a wisp of coloured paper stffl in my hand and a AjJU* great loneliness in my heart, I thought I never % I>">27^ want to see another boat leave," and although, girls, that wat quite m long time ago, to this day &r I never have.