CLUB CAPTAIN'S CORNER

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 230, 28 September 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

CLUB CAPTAIN'S CORNER

CONFESSION

(Book prize to Anna Christensen, 255, Botanical Road, Palmorston North; age 17.)

"Such a dreadful night!" said a friend to whom I was speaking at the side of the footpath. Politely I_ agreed, hardly conscious that I was doing so, for the wind had apple-pied my mind. "Have you come out aloneislio inquired, and again I answered in the affirmative. We passed on our Now that I am home, in warmth and quiet, conscience has troubled me to pick up my pen. I must ease it by writing confession to you, as a friend who will sympathise.

To me the night was not dreadful, nor did Igo out alone. The wind was blowing in an abandon of freedom, and tossing handfuls of rain in my face. For company I had Belinda Bicycle, an old and trusted friend. Before me widened the shadow and glisten of the road. A road is more friendly when it is wet. It clung lovingly to Belinda's wheels. Belinda's eye, which is her lamp, forged ahead in exploration of road's character. Road showed its friendliness by gleaming at us in smiles and pools of laughter. The Wind was padding softly behind Belinda and me, and became a little jealous of the attention we thiee were paying one another.

Wind is a person who does not like to

'be loft out of anything, so he threw himself into notice, ahead at our feet.

To show what he could do, he whipped the pools into tears. Wind was satisfied when I laughed merrily at his mischief, puffed with importance, and elusive ran off to whisper his conceit in the trees' hair.

Along the side of the road, the Lampposts hung their heads. They were trying to retain their dignity, and appear meek and uninterested. But the night had caught them in its feeling, and their fact j shone with misty glory. Their white light was faithful through it all, and unwavering in its friendliness.

Wind came back again, with a boasting shout this time, intoxicated with all the compliments paid him by all the little lady tongues of the trees. He somersaulte-d his cleverness all about Belinda and me, played leap-frog, and stood on his head on Road. He tried to whip off my hat with a swift, sly hand, and not succeeding, he pulled my hair and blew it in my face. He wanted to tangle my coat in Belinda's wheel, but Belinda would have none of it.

No matter what Wind may try to do, I am never angry. Understanding quietens strong feeling ,and keeps one's temperament even and always at peace. Wind lias many moods: Boasting, humble, naughty, repentant, and moods that" croon or are careless in defiance. He is lovable 'always, and interesting ■ because of his swift changes of expres- ! sion. Sometimes, when Wind fears he j lias annoyed, he creeps up to me, and [nits a whimsical hand into mine, and | blows soft pleading in my face. ! Wind got tired of his schoolboy antics, and decided to grow up into a man. "I'll sing you a song," lie shouted, just to show his wisdom and the strength of his masculine lungs. This is the song he sang: r am a hold adventurer—never am I asleep. Over the wide and windy world, free and unelinined I sweep.' "Ho !" do I sliout. "Awake ! Awake ! Open your lungs and fill ! Widen your scope and embrace all. Never my world, be still !" The Wind dropped suddenly, and was a little boy again. He put his hands to his face, shaken and sobbing from liis feeling. The tears of rain fell on my head .and pattered on to Road. I knew I must rouse him, so I whispered that I had been out long and must go home. Wind looked through his fingers, and grew suddenly bright

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ill interest. He decided to oblige me with his help, and shook himself into swift teasing. "I'll race you!" he said and merrily chased Belinda and me. let us have the lead for a while' and panted in feigned horror at bein<* beaten Then with a rush and a laugh h e passed us, and ran still further ahead to sure of the way. ake Oil, no, to me the night was not dreadful, nor did I go out alone. It was swept with exultation and the delight of varying moods. It was crisp a nd cold, yet warm and alive in friendliness And how could I be alone? Belinda Bicycle was with me, and my wayside companions were Lamp-posts, Road and Wind.

CHOCOLATE. (Book prize to Joan Davoy, Katahi--14.) b "Choeldit," murmured Elizabeth loneingly, "and lots of it." Ever since Elizabeth could talk "eliocklit" had been her keyword. Her obstinate will became as pliant as claybefore the power of chocolate. She would impart any secret at the sight of it. It was lier weakness. If it had not been so, perhaps my story would never have been written. But still .. . It was a hazy day, a spring day which resembles one of summer, when voices carry on the clear air, carry distinctly. Elizabeth was lying in the hammock with her eyes closed. They were not closed because she was tired, but because she found that it took less energy to keep them closed than it did to keep them open. The droning of innumerable bees was, however, quickly hilling her to drowsiness. She was at the stage when she was neither awake nor asleep. "Where's Beth?" she heard her mother ask. She felt too lazy to reply. "I saw her in the hammock a few moments ago, fast asleep," replied her father. "That's good! I've bought some chocolate, and I want to know where to hide it. Did you ever see such a child for chocolate? I ought to forbid her eating it now she's six. "I know the very place." Beth was fully awake now, and could hear the whole conversation. "In the old oak at the end of the garden. She'll never know." Her parents moved on and their voices became fainter. Elizabeth sat up in the hammock. She wa- six, and a more innocent-looking child could not be found. Golden curls, blue eyes and rosy cheeks, but oh! looks don't count, for she was the heart and soul of mischief.

She waited until her mother and father went back into the house. Then, with an air of lazin ss, she swung ono leg over the side of the hammock and jumped lightly to the ground. She sauntered off to the old oak tree and sat at its roots fondling them with her left hand.

Meanwhile her right hand slipped into the hole at the bottom. Her little fingers groped around and felt a small box. Delightedly she drew it out and opened it.

"00-o-oh!" she murmured i" ecstasy. "Chocklit!" And "chocklit" there was, big sticks of milk chocolate.

She sampled a bit, and then another, and then another . . .

"I'd better leave it flow," she thought, and went to close the box. And then, "Why, it's all gone!" she cried.

She gave the box a little push and it slipped back into the hole. She rolled over in the grass and closed her eyes. Her face was lit up with her cherubic smile, and decorated with brown, sus-picious-looking stains.

"Ghocklit," slie murmured drowsily.