A CARGO OF DREAMS.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 58, 9 March 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

A CARGO OF DREAMS.

(Half-crown prize to Jean M. Clewer, 4, Stepney Place, Wellington; aged 14.) On towards the setting sun drifted a tiny cloud. With fleecy white sails furled, the ship of the sky swayed along, sapphire seas bearing her precious cargo of dreams to the haven of nightfall. Mystic, magical dreams, spun of the happiness and lovu that glows in the hearts of the immortals, clustered together in the silver grey hold of the cloud boat. Twilight came, and with it a rolling, rollicking wind. It curled the sails of the ship ae it dipped and nodded past the evening star. Playfully the twilight breeze swept up upon the snow white decks. The ship lurched, a golden catch fell open and the dreams of the precious cargo bound for Night soared up into the air. Ruefully the teasing wind caught at them and secured them once more within '.:hc hold. But some had sleepily drifted away— to the east, to the west, to the north, and to the south.

There was nought but shadows in the world for the little grey-haired lady who sat beside an empty hearth nodding gently to herself. Old age crept like a shroud about her worn shoulders. She was alone with the swift twilight wind. There was love in that old hearth weaving fantastic pictures with memory and golden hair. The little lady in the hearth seat saw again the world as it had been long ago. before swift winged sight had fled. Grey doves were cooing gently and resting peacefully in old ivycoveied caves. Seagulls whirled above white ships-— ships laden with dreams. And again came the tangle of golden hair, and a youthful, dimpling face smiled beneath it. The grey head nodded contentedly, and the little lady dreamt

As the twilight shades fell upon the west, Hughes Gantani, world-renowned composer, sat before his piano. His face wore a perplexed look, one hand ruffled his dark hair, while the other idly fingered the ivory keys. His was a ma&ter touch, but it lacko/l the beauty he sought to give it. ... A wifitful, enchanting melody broke gently in upon the quietness. Mingling with it came the echoes of yesterday, the magic of to-day and the promisee of to-morrow. The artistic fingers of Gantani strayed along the keys. A river rippled on, white sails dipped and swayed. The .sound swelled. Against grim walls the waters lapped, the echo crept murmuring back, a wind sobbed, and silence came.

Caressingly the fingers tipped the keys and a profusion of harmony filled the room. Inspiration in all its wondrous beauty had come to Hughes Gantani.

Lazily a dream uncurled about a ragged urchin sitting wretchedly on the jiavemcnt edge. A car sped paet her, and Susan, the waif, sighed. It was a deep sigh, hut it effected a perfect transformation. She smiled. A smile was rarely to be seen on the face of Susan, the urchin. But now . . .! She was no longer a bpggar-maid of the-streets. Her rags had given way to beauteous silks and satins. Diamonds and sapphires