THE REFUGEES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 19986, 30 June 1928, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE REFUGEES.

BY GILL VINE. Moonlight, and under the pohutukawas in Parnell Park, bcsido the path leading to the beach, something unusual was happening. Havo you ever noticed how on a dewy, moonlit night the flowers' scent is sweeter and stronger'! Yes, because the spirit oi the flower is abroad, i'he moon dappled grass looked like u bnliiant oriental shawl, as thousands of ilower fairies, gaily gowned, gathered expectantly together, imagine how beauti ml they must have appeared, those little oemgs, as gorgeously i'rocked as the ilovvers they represented. Fuchsias, vio lets, carnations, roses, Canterbury bells, Hollyhocks, pansies, foxgloves, poppies, and the graceful arum lilies were all present. For what are they waiting ? A return visit ol the little bush laines, who once lived and revelled in the park's fern-cushioned gully, among the donse undergrowth, along the shaded, winding J paths, and under the cool, green arches that have all been cleared away, To-night they are returning to their old haunt, and their friends have prepared a royal welcome. See, here they come like a shower of green rain falling over the entrance arch, that massive, stone arch, which always reminds one of the four tremendous legs of a mammoth elephant. Welcoming each other, merrily the little people danced, and the smiling old moon moved high in the heavens beaming her pleasure upon them. Whirling across the green, chattering, laughing, singing, they turned about on their toes in ecstacies of delight. Only little children can understand the fairies' joy, their elfish music only the dreaming child hears, and understanding, smiles in its sleep.

" We have been merry to-night," the leader of the bush elves spoke sadly, " but, alas, we cannot stay with you. Among the mountains we have been kindly _ treated, and have made now homes. The natural charm that distinguished this park has gone, and now our dear old home is just an ordinary city park. From the hill-tops of the YVaitakeres we have come again to our barren play-ground, to revel and rejoice, for what does an elf know of sorrow ? " So away they all went, down the lawn and up again, round and round the lily bush, forming those wonderful fairy rings of which you have so often heard. On the rustic seat, below the lawn, where you can just peep over the young privet bush, sat a man and a maiden watching the tide stealing across the muddy flat. Slowly the moon-tipped ripples covered the bay with a sheet of silver,. In this polished mirror the telegraph poles cast their wavering reflections. Beyond the embankment, and the huddle of grey sheds surrounding the engine with its long line of trucks, red and gold lights twinkled on the North Shore, like elfin lanterns showing Rangitoto's three cones inked against a pale sky. The man and the maiden's beautiful thoughts were beginning to attract the fairies. One by one they left tho dance and floated by the young couple to rest on the privet's smooth leaves. " Listen to the music," the maiden cried, " Oh! see the lights among the bushes! "

" Nonsense/' the man laughed, " it's the wind among tho trees, and those are glow-worms." Yet, for a few moments they were on chanted. Amused a,t their bewilderment the fairies swept quickly past, to dance again upon the green. A sudden gust from over the sea lifted a child's lost balloon from the sand, whirling it over the maiden's head.

" That's a balloon," the man explained, jestingly, " not a drifting planet." Laughing, good humoured, the maiden did not bother to look over her shoulder, or she might then have seen the fairy folk in whose midst the rubber bubble was bouncing. What a game the baby sprites had chasing it before the bush elves bade a tender farewell to the flower fairies. Their glistening tear-drops lay tike liquid crystals upon the grass. Slowly the elves rose with the night

wind, passing over the roof of the row ing club's boat shed, the bank of tangled gorse, and the wilderness of marguerite daisies and rambling white roses that cover the last earthly resting place of the long-forgotten dead. The twittering birds in the tree-filled gully nestled together, forgetting their fear of the night owl's gurgling call " more-pork." Higher and higher rose the elves, over the broken willow stump, over the cross capped steeple of the old wooden church, until, wheeling aloft, they flew, side by side, back to the cloud—like line of •mountains, far and faint against the evening sky.

Unrolling the closing petals of their homes, the park fairies slipped within, arid soothed by the fragrance prepared for sleep. They heard the young couple wend ing their way homo, heard also how the maiden was saddened at finding their teardrops on the grass, but the man laughed, saying, " What's the matter with you to-night ? You know it's only the dew! "