JOY OF THE SANDS

Evening Post, Volume LXXXV, Issue 21, 25 January 1913, Page 11

JOY OF THE SANDS

AT ISLAND BAY TODDLERS IN THE -WAVES (By Eareye.) The sand is so smooth, the yellow sand, That thy keel will not grate as, it touches the land ; All around, with a slumberous sound, The singing waves slide up the strand. And there, where the smooth, Wet pebbles be, The waters gurgle longingly, . As if they fain would seek the/ shore, To be at rest from the ceaieless rour, To be at rest for evermore. —Lowell. Island Bay smiles sadly at the Mayor's praise of Lyall Bay, as a' prospective "Manly of New Zealand."' Island Bay feels resentful as an old love edst off, without just cause. "If the other one was prettier, I could understand," sobs Island .Bay, "but look! Did you ever! Well, man is a mystery." Yet. in time th*,, ; Wellington wooer will find that Island Bay has certain charms of her own which" her rival has not, and cannot hope to have. Nature has been kind to Island, Bay, by the shore, .by the locks, by the hills, and man has been unkind' inland. Ug 7 , liness abounds at , the , tramway ter^ minus. ' Straggling ' gorse, " 'dock, and wastepaper, greyness and drabness, offend the eye till the' sea .rushes up with comfort. The burgesses' of the bay have" plenty of scope for that promised working bee. ,* » » - • It is so easy for » blundering, man to stumble sacrilegiously into territory, forbidden by the decencies. /This wayfarer bent his steps along the sparkling fringe of vocal waters, musing on the days when the sands had a crimson stain, and the lace of the broken waves was dyed red. That Was long ago, when the little island Was not go desolate and bare. Maori braves had apa there, where enemies found ' them and sent death among them. \ Suddenly the Present spread over" the past. The absent-minded one was among ' maids and matrons at play ,on the gentle surge. They were clad for these gambols, of course, and the beach was public, but — . • One wild sweep of the' eye emyhasises the man's loneliness in the sanctuary. His sex is 'represented by only a' few small boys, and he scurries to the rocks like a rabbit,- and there, at a respectable distance from 'the scene of beauty, gazes on the merrymaking. , , A boy of twelve, a roguish, imp, well tanned by long days in the sunshine, splashes along the changing Wave line, and does some aquatic acrobatic feats to dazzle the small girls. He' dives, and flashes his feet above the blue sea, and he swims in all orthodox and unorthodox styles. He is. Neptune, for five minutes, and then" his trident, is snatched from him. A girl (perhaps she would be a "flapper" in full dress) plunged into the little rollers, and swished out, at the double over-arm, for fifty yards. Then she, went Under like a mermaid, while anxious, mothers feared for her fate. The swimmer had a fine scorn of all perils of the deep, and she lingered long at many evolutions in the return trip. < The ' boys retired abashed. They could not challenge the .feminine champion. They seemed to think i it was unfair somehow that a f girl sliould be so expert .in the -water- /- Toddlers, especially the dots' of girls, are the prettiest splashers. Some with, their little white , dresses, bunched at i-he back, x look like birds. _, .They feel their way gingerly, and their round eyes grow big with daring. They pause and ponder -by little inlets, as large to them as the Atlantic was to Columbus, and they screw up their courage for a great .venture. Success ! ' They are through, with only half the dress wet, and brilliant eyes Signal the triumph to mother. All the time a delightful chatter and laughter comes to the onlooker, with a squeal occasionally breaking through the melody. This is when a bold girl, braced against a great hazard, slips, and has to have all her holiday raiment spread out to dry. By the rocks th© tide creeps stealthily through many crannies', with an eerie gurgling and rippling, and, one thinks it would be mournful music on a desert island under a grey sky— a chorus to suggest the onset of the treacherous octopus, but under a blue sky. within fine minutes of the electric car,' the song cools the sunshine pleasantly. Vivid colours gleam in the sea's garden. Browns, greens, yellows, maroons, swirl softly to and fro. In small pools, anempiies open out those beautiful petals in L which • djath lurks for unwary baby fish and other little creatures which do not suspect an ambush in the glow of colour. They touch that flower of the sea, and at once they are enveloped, and it is dinner-time fte anemone. These craggy indentations by the sea have much wealth for the schoolboy to study. Here he can find iriany lessons in natural history, and when' he is weary of wandering among the little marine creeks, he cahlook seaward, and make fleets 1 of noble galleons for J himself on the romantic ocean which- meets the sky on the edge of the dream sea. • • • t 4 Bathos, yes, but it has to be said. Mosquitoes ! Large ones ! Busy ones ! Lawless ones ! Island Bay's, mosquitoes are not respectable members of this fly race. tlßually this insect is nocturnal, but Island Ba^'s pests, by the water's edge, do not believe in any "eight hours' work, eight hours' play, etc. All hours are busy hours for them. They have not yet Organised into unions, with a reasonable programme of work. They are individuals— each mosquito for himself, and each is a ceaaeleßS toiler. It is sad to have a continuance of this persecution among the rocks year after year when the cure is so easy and so cheap. About £1 worth of kerosene per season, poured in thin films over the fresh-water pools, by the coast, would bring peace. .Mrs. Mosquito leaves her eggs in water, and the larvae (queer top-heavy wrigglers) come to the surface to breathe. If a layer of kerosene is there the baby mosquitoes are suffocated. Island Bay has been told about this remedy a few times. Will a work-ing-bee take the hint ? ,