CLUB CAPTAIN'S CORNER.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 140, 15 June 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

CLUB CAPTAIN'S CORNER.

■ DESECRATION. (By Patricia Owen, 12, Hall's Avenue, Reinuera; age 14.) A thin spiral of grey smoke curled up against the evening sky, transparently beautiful, forming a misty scarf thrown across the faces of the stars. But beneath the quivering tree-tops Fear stalked, merciless, trampling on tiny animals' hearts, and putting terror in their eyes, and wild, heedless words in their mouths. I The spiral of smoke thickened, grew blacker, more sinister, and leaping tongues of flame writhed among the I grasses of the forest. A shuddering sigh went echoing through the wood as many a stately tree, felt the cruel flames licking round its trunk, and many a leaf, so joyous but an hour past, shivered with horror as it saw its mother-tree fall crashing to the ground. A mad race for life started, and the pad-pad of many feet, urged on by a fear that brooked no telling, and the panting of many little furry beasts filled the forest with a regular, pulsing beat of terror, unreasoning- fear, and horror. Through the byways and highways they ran, over crackling leaves and slippery pine-needles,'' through twisty paths, traversed only by the initiated of the forest-dwellers, where every little, curly

turn and funny, tricky corner was familiar with time and experience. Many hearts were wrenched that day as tear-

ful eyes bestowed what they knew to be their last glance on dear, beloved things. But there was no time for good-byes. The kiwi threw dignity to the wind, and ran like any craven; the opossum, shrieking at the top of his voice, swung from tree to tree, and from branch to branch; the grey wallaby hopped steadily on, but panted in little quick jerks; the deer crashed through the undergrowth, bewildered and terrified, and overhead the sky was black with birds, and the air was filled with their

cries. Never had the river seemed so far away! The forest stretched out before their eyes, and for the first time in their lives they found themselves hating all the woody places, which lengthened their way, and all the slender, trailing vines which tripped their hurrying feet. They grew ashamed of themselves, and thought of the vandal at their heels, desecrating all their hallowed haunts. And fear lent wings to their feet, and forced them to still greater efforts. Then a vague, unreasoning doubt grew in their minds as the river did not appear. They strove to banish it, but each saw his companions' eyes filled with the same fear. Had they missed the river? Surely not! Hundreds of times had their feet trodden the selfsame path they were treading now, but sane reason fled, and panic spread as here and there a friend fell in a crumpled heap, lying still and horrible, till the cruel flames covered the inert little body. Almost mechanically they ran on, incapable of cool thinking. They would run for ever, they had been running for ever. On and on, up and down, went the padding feet, but growing slow and lagging. Then flashes of silver appeared among the trees, and tumbled water suddenly came into view. Gasps of relief came from many tortured throats, and all along the banks of the river tiny bodies hurtled into the clear, cool waters. Always a playmate and helper, the river was now more a friend than ever, soothing torn feet and checking its turbulent rush to whisper quick words of comfort. Many little animals were drowned that day, and the kiwi was missed from his usual place in. the forest circle, but they died gladly, accounting at a better death than to die in the burning, searing flames. The Are burnt down to the very edge of the river, then disappeared, hissing and spluttering in the glory of a golden dawn. Instead of rising on a sea of green tree-tops, welcomed by the happy songs of the birds, the sun rose on desolation and misery, but in the light of the coming day verily a great multitude did bow their heads, and give i thanks for escaping with life and limb. :

, A Column to Help Young Writers — and Artists.

"BEAUTY." (Monica Matheson, 124, Victoria Eoad Devonport; age 17.) P Y Marjery laid her sewing down with a a little sigh and looked out of the wint dow. A small square of backyard r greeted her dissatisfied glance. Jfank 7 green grass and wild yellow daisies. The i sun wasn't even shining, and the 'smell a from the. gasworks nauseated her. Was there no beauty at all in the world? she ' reflected. Well, she would find some r , and laugh at the dismal backyard. i Within ten minutes she was walking i down the road at a furious pace, but ' the beautiful gardens were all walled in i and all she saw, were a few apologies , for flowers in the poorer homes. The sun was shining brightly now, and she felt very hot by the time she reached the end of the road. Which, way should she take? T 0 her right lay the glistening sea, which was yet hidden by a dip in the road, but to the left was a cool forest in which grew many wild flowers. Both promised beauty, but Marjery finally chose the left road. The sea would look too inviting, she decided, for one with no bathing suit. Through the outer trees she stepped, and under a canopy of leafy green. The sun seemed to go out all of a sudden and the air was quite cold. She gathered the pretty flowers nestling by the way, but the deeper she penetrated the colder it , became until she was glad to retrace her steps and emerge into the sunshine. As she walked towards the sea shore she mused: "There was beauty in the forest, but the damp air prevented me from enjoying it. Perhaps the sea will be more beautiful." Over the dip in the road, and dancing blue waves lay before her. Across the yellow sand she strolled, hut the glaring sun was in her eyes, so that she could not look at the blue and the gold of the seaside. She looked at the wilting blossoms in her hand, and sadly walked home again to sit by her window. She picked up her sewing with no glance for the distasteful scene before her. But the sun had awakened the cicadas to song, and their droning reached her unwilling ears.

J Looking- np, she was surprised to see i how the sun had lighted the grass to a shining emerald green. A playful breeze caused, the daisies to nod thengolden heads at her wisely, while a finely-marked ginger eat walked sedately along the fence to join his mate in the next yard. Fluffy white clouds were sailing across the blue sky, and as she listened to the cicadas' song of summer, Marjery realised that, though she had wast&d an hour searching for beauty, it had been there all the time beneath her window.