THE MURMUR OF THE SHELL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21100, 6 February 1932, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE MURMUR OF THE SHELL.

By BATH IA H. It. LUTTRELL. M.8.0., " Maroera," Waimana. Ago 35. (Original). I sat gazing dreamily out of my window on to tho peaceful view outside. The clear azure sky seemed to be smiling down upon all the living tilings; the Maroera stream was rushing, bubbling and laughing as it meandered down stream. Such a day it was, just a day made for a holiday— holiday by the sea ! Lying on the table beside mc was a large pale yellow-coloured shell, wonderfully worked inside with mother of pearl. It was a souvenir of a happy day at the seaside I had spent last year. Instinctively T picked it up and held it to my oar, as my little sister delighted to do. There was a low murmur, as of waves in the distance, then, slowly, very slowly, the whisper became louder and sounded nearer. Then quite suddenly I could see the waves, tumbling ono over the other, tho white foam that was created by the clash, and the smaller ripples of the sea running up the sand splashing some brownlogged little child, then tearing quickly back over, the \\ et sand as though it were playing some great game. So it was! Never had 1 seen the sea in such a mood, ll seemed almost as if those great billows of green sea-water were out for a holiday too. There was no loud roar when they clashed on to the shore. It was a laugh, and everyone along that sandy stretch of seashore seemed to have been inspired with the same gay spirit of lioli-dav-making. The pohutukawas, their branches crimson) with gay flowers, threw out a glorious shade and when the many sea-bathers tired of their sirenuous but exhilarating play with the waves, were resting in their shade, the sea took on a quieter mood. It murmured almost faintly, swept tiny bright, attractive shells into crevices in tho rocks and played about the grey stone caves that were along the cliffs. Then slowly the murmur grew quieter until it became an indistinct whisper, and blinking inv eyes if 1 bad been asleep T found myself gazing once more on to the peaceful country scene. The. graceful willows, the grazing cattle and the laughing stream—thev were, all there, and tho shell lay among "tho litter of other things on the table. What wonders T had seen ! A few lines of poetry that described them well, entered my head. The sen. shell murmurs softly A story of the waves. Of mermaids fair with golden hair And weird enchanted eaves. Of weed-strewn, pebbly beaches. And rork-hound. sandy shores. Of summer breeze and soft blue seas, Of angry billows' roar. I picked up the, shell again and put it to my ear. There came only that soft murmur that lingers about any seashell, and another whispering, flapping, sound, that, might have been the wind playing in the leaves.