WHAT THE MOON SAW

Evening Post, Volume CXXXII, Issue 89, 11 October 1941, Page 13

WHAT THE MOON SAW

A BRAVE DEED.

JProm amidst dark clouds, the moon shone brightly, whilst enemy bombers roared overhead. Searchlights raked the sky for the invaders. Occasionally their beams alighted on one of the attackers, watch was instantly exposed to all the anti-aircraft guns the London Home Guard could train on them. Air raid wardens patrolled the streets, and Scouts ran here and there to report where there were time bombs or people injured. Immediately stretcher bearers were dispatched to the place where the helpless people lay. A Boy Scout was hurrying back to report. He was \ thankful for the moonlight. As he was passing a large pile of fallen masonry he Jerked to a halt. What was that? A low moan had come fr6ffl underneath It. Quickly he ■ ran ver and tugged aside a large boulder. In the ~iostly light he saw a little girl pinned to the ground by a pile of bricks. With feverish haste he pulled them aside until, at last, with a heave, he hoisted the child on to his shoulder and carried her to the nearest first-aid depot. The moon, who had been looking rather sad, seemed suddenly to smile when she saw the brave action. "SOUTHEBN STAR" (10). Berhampore.

GARDEN PEOPLE,

As the moon came peeping through the bare branches of the old grey walnut tree, the slimy, black eels slowly lifted their ugly, snakelike heads and rose from the lily-pond, slithering through the damp green grass, while greencoated musicians sprang from their muddy beds to practise croaking. Next she found a bird's nest where the mother sat, quietly sleeping, as she. kept warm the tiny eggs beneath her, while close by an opossum hung by its tail On she went through the garden, sending sweet dreams, and kissing each sleepy flower with her soft light. As she did so the my flower fairies stepped out of their soft beds. They were all dressed in the shades of the flowers out of which they had come. As she left the garden she vanished behind a fleecy white cloud only to appear again on the hilltops, where she smiled kindly down at the baby lambs, nestling close beside their mothers. Sinking slowly behind the western hill, we j say good-night, wondering what marvellous | things she will Bee as she travels on her vi&y j through distant lands. How I wish .1 could travel with her! Bhretaunga. "LOVE-IN-A-MIST" (10).

PARAGRAPH CONTEST Points will be given each week lor para* graphs written on given subjects. Ring members of all ages may enter, marks being awarded according to age. Paragraphs must not be longer than 250 words, and must reach the Ring by Wednesday of each week. See fairiel's letter for next week's subject. POINTS WINNERS. Points for this week's paragraphs were won as follows:—"Pip" (12), 9 points; "Love-ln-a-Mist" (10). "Southern Star" (10), "Grey Owl" (15), "Bush Elf" (12), and "Water Nymph" (14), 8 points each; "Saturday's Child" (13). "Southerly Buster" (13), and "Genevleve" (13), 7 points each; "Lady of the Clouds" (13) and (II). 6 points each. j

THE MOON LOOKS DOWN. She came out as the sun sank in the west. A pale yellow light in the dusky sky. Imagine that you are the moon. What would you see? Everything. Perhaps little toddling sleepy-heads climbing wearily up the staircase, kneeling by. their beds and drowsily saying: "God bless mummy. .. ." The blinds are drawn and you look for something else to watch. Little miniature searchlights speed here and there. They swerve to the left, now to the right, and then disappear. Lights burn in windows, looking like the stars and comets which surround you. The birds have, gone to rest, and you peep into a nest where a mother bird is patiently sitting on her eggs, while the father bird sits by her, chirruping sometimes, but more than often just watching. The sun is beginning to rise, sending a dull red glow all over the sky. Ah! The farmer comes striding out of the door carrying his milk-pans. He picks hjs way through some mud, whistles his dog, which scampers along to bring in the cows. There he is, he's bringing them in now, and the farmer, singing as he goes, starts milking the many cows.

PIXIE PEOPLE:

THE MOON PLAYS DETECTIVE. As the emerged from behind a black cloud, the moon's eyes alighted on a house almost directly beneath her. A mansion it was, with spacious grounds, green lawns, colourful flower beds, and a little stream flowing behind the house. In a grove of shady trees, a figure lurked suspiciously. After a few minutes In seemingly careful observation of the house, the figure moved cautiously towards one of the windows. He carried a small black bag, which he placed on the flowerbed, and opening it, he tooK something out and began probing the. window. The moon hid behind a cloud and looked out again In a few minutes to see the man looking up at her. He turned and opened the window, and noiselessly clambered Into the room. He drew the curtains Immediately after looking out the window for a moment. Suddenly, down at the far end of. the drive, the moon saw a car's headlights, and although the tyres scrunched on the gravel, the man in the room appeared to have heard nothing. The moon shone as brightly as she could in the hope that he would be seen getting out of the window. Fortunately, the car stopped, and the man who opened the car door was able to see the other climbing out of the window. The burglar snatched up his bag and ran towards the grove of trees. Before long there had been a successful capture. I should Imagine the owner had burglar alarms Installed in his house, for the moon not see burglars enter his home again.

•WATER NYMPH" (14)

Heretaunga. ' Lower Huttp ,

The letter-box fairly groaned under its load of complaints about rain and floods and gales this week; but cheer up, my elves, the rain and winds of October are just part of Mother Natures spring-cleaning plan. Hoiv vividly green the new leaves and lawns are after the showers, and how gay the fldwer-borders. Many of my artist-elves have been asking for pictures to paint. I'm afraid, pixie ones, there isn't, enough space to spare for a colouring picture fust now, but have you thought of making a water-colour picture of a corner of a garden ... a cherry tree hung with pink pompoms of blossom, or even newly-ivashed roof-tops against green hillsides. If you do make a spring picture, don't forget to tuck it into your next letter to me. This is the time of year when we all long for the skill of an artist's brush . ... 'to be able, with a few swift strokes, to 'prison the fresh loveliness of spring on paper, and to keep it through the long, hot summer and bleak winter days. This week's paragraph subject h "A, Garden Conversation." Flowers, vegetables, trees, insects, and animals may all be given voices, just for this week. s- / hope ybu enjoy tonights paragraphs! FAIRIEL

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