The Lost Voice:

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23339, 6 May 1939, Page 8 (Supplement)

The Lost Voice:

by Joan Satterly (17) Original

Elizabeth went to bed with a sore throat —not very sore, but bad enough for Mother to take the medicine bottle from the shelf and say "Open wide," to Elizabeth. But it was nice medicine, and Elizabeth didn't mind taking it. In the morning she woke up feeling quite well. Her sore throat was gone. "Are you feeling bettor this morning dear?" said Mother, coming in. "Yes," said Elizabeth. 13ut she didn't say it. "Yes," shq said again, but still she didn't say it. She felt very frightened because suddenly her voice had gone. "Oh, Mother!" she whispered, "Where is my voice?" The tears were not very i far away,> bub Mother exclaimed cheerfully. "You've lost it dear, but we'll soon find it again. It often happens. I think we'll keep you in bed this morning," and tucked her up and loft her. Elizabeth put her head back on tho pillow and pondered. From her window she could seo the clouds dreamily lumping themselves together and gliding by. Their placidness helped her to think. Mother had said everything would be all right and that her voice would soon bo found. But where was it hiding? Perhaps it was in the chest of drawers or the ottoman, or even in the dolls' house, but that seemed hardly likely. "No," she thought, "it must be in some very secret place. Where were tho secret places that she knew of?" There was the cupboard under the stairs to begin with. It was very dark there and everything seemed to wear a mysterious air. Especially when the door was shut. But that was too secret altogether—it wasn't nice at all in the pitch-black darkness of tho cupboard under tho stairs when the door was shut

Hastily she thought of another secret place. The corner of the garden where the bush drooped nearly to the ground was a beautiful hiding place. You scrambled under and curled your legs under, and nobody could see you at all. But a voice wouldn't hide there. Elizabeth watched the clouds moving slowly and dreamily, until she felt she was moving drowsily along with them.

Then quite naturally it seemed, she found herself in a cool green valley. In the distance were purple-streaked moun* tains, but the valley was green and fresh. She wandered down to the river that wound in and out, and gazed down into clear depths. . . She suddenly became aware of a pointed little face laughingly looking over her shoulder. I3eiore she could turn round, a merry voice exclaimed, "You won't find it there, if its you're voice that you're looking for. You'll find that if you come along with me." Elizabeth turned to see a green-clad imp with a laughing, friendly face. "You're in the Silent Valley now, but you'll find your voice in the Echo Valley. It isn't very far away, just through tho Laughing Dell and up the

Listening Hill. Come now," and the green imp took her hand, "Come with 1110." » "I couldn't do otherwise," thought Elizabeth, "because ho tugs at my hand so." This must be the Laughing DelU she thought suddenly, for here the trees were tWistv with laughing, and the leaves kept shaking merrily while a tiny stream ran gurgling through. The little green imp laughed merrily now and then as they passed, but suddenly he stopped and said, "Listening Hill* Listen!" It was a little hill where the tall grasses grew up stiffly, jiever wavering as the breeze played through them, but waiting—listening, where all was still, expectant. "They're listening for the echoes from the Echo Valley," whispered the imp,

and that was all he said till they turned a bend, and there below them, on the other side of the hill was the Echo Valley. Elizabeth realised that now they were much'nearer to the purple mountains, while the quiet river of the Silent Valley was now a rushing torrent singing a deep, unceasing song to the hills. "All the voices here," said tho imp "have been lost, this is where they come. Some go back, but many can't." And then from far away in the hills, and yet sounding quite near came the echo of a long, happy laugh. They listened. "Tha.t is lost laugher," explained he, "when people forget they have it, it comes here and is lost'. Never forget how to laugh. Lost laughter is hard to regain." He was silent, then, "Do you recognise this'echo?" - ' Elizabeth listened. There was something familiar in this voice, it was reciting: "She wore her yellow sun-bonnet, She wore her greenest gown—" "Why!" cried Elizabeth, "it's my voice. That's me reciting my recitation.

Temple Gardens

In the dusk of Temple Garden $ Gently peal the Temple Bells . . . Soft I The jasmine pours its fragrance O'er the dreaming. blue manels. Na and nadun rear their branches To the langour of the moon . . . Vesak blooms and champak odours Cascade thru' the air then swoon. Seek beneath the summer gloaming Where the musky-scented neem Reeks in perfume . . . slow revealing Stardust on its naked cream. . . Crystal clear lie Templs waters, Lotus leaves float gently by, There in dreaming, ebon shadows Dusky temple gardens lie. —Original, by Sumana Cooray. M.B.G. (IS), Ceylon.

Of course it's me. That's how I say my 'r's'. I've found it —it's come back." "What did you say, dear?" asked Mother standing by the bed. "Mother--" Elizabeth cleared her throat and said huskily—but still she said, "Mother! I've found my voice." She clapped her hands. "It was the cough-mixture dear. It is very good stuff." But Elizabeth know better.