DAY-DREAMS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2285, 16 December 1897, Page 26

DAY-DREAMS.

(Specially Written for the Witness Christmas Number of 1597. ) Bright sunshine sleeps upon the hill, Bees drone about the garden flowers, The stream goes singing to the mill Its song of moments and of hours. The path fiom school is by the stream, Shadowed by boughs of ancient trees, And little Eva sits to dream Across the book upon her knees. The open page has thoughts of school, The daily task to read and learn, And all the streamlet's path is full Of greening moss and growing fern. Her thoughts' are far ami far away Beyond the mill, beyond the wood ; She heeds not where the waters play Or the goose calls her downy brood. The world she sees is all her own — A world with fairy colours gay. And wonders that were never known Within the round of every day.

Where Princess Cinderella dwells, And Santa Clius comes driving by, A.nd palace domes by magic spells Are reared to touch a fairy sky. Where beauty sleeps a hundred years To vvakea to a prince's kiss, A world of bigger joys and fears And other Bights and sounds than this. Dream, little maiden, in the shade; Dream of that bright dim world afar ; Dream the old dreams that rise and fade, • Where all life's richest fancies are. Dream on, the sun is on the hill : Between the braidings of j r our hair Yonr deep soft eyes with wonder fill At thoughts your poet may not share. Dream on of what can never be Within the common world of men, The childhood's dreams that seem to me Beyond the reach of word and pen. — David McKeb Weight. Dunedin, December, 1897.

the West Wind'(whose other name is Hanauru) whispered this story to me :—: —

"Do you know the creek where the white men have their encampment?" he said. But never waiting for my reply, he went on : " I know it, for I love to go there to talk to the Toi (tall grass) and the Wai (water) which talks loudly sometimes, but not when I am there — then it flows softly and sings a quiet tune to me, while the tall grass waves and the little birds fly in and out of the bushes. We were not quite pleased when the white men came here with their tents, but none of vs — the birds, the water, nor I — can be long angry. One day a strange thing happened. A punt — not a beautiful canoe such as these Ti-trees have seen on these waters — left the bank where it had been moored with two men in it. One ofc" the men was well known to vs — the Ti-trees and ive — for he was a descendant of a great chief ; now he worked for the pakeha (white man) and took his pay. But they were good friends, and this was a merry fellow. The youth (his companion), a, pakeha, was merry, too, aDd they laughed and sang as they went down the river. The Ti-trees could see the river from their hill, and I have often travel ed over it. I know where it is broad and clear, and where the fishes leap, and the clouds" are reflected on its bosom, and I know where it narrows between mud-banks, where the mangoes grow, and where the eels live, and I know, too, the great trees where the owls (koukou) sit that cry in the nighttime.

" The men in the punt knew a good deal about these things, too, for in their camp was a man who spoke the language known

was bright they would sit for hours on the hillside. The young Ti-trees grew quite vain because the wahine said they had brown eyes and sweet faces, and because she always wore a little piece stuck somewhere about her dress ; and the old Ti-trees felt pleased because the tohunga praised the hillside and preferred it to his tent, where he had to spend much time poring over plans. 1 heard all the Ti-trees told me, but I feared for the tohunga and wahine, for Ti Haere boded no good, as I had often heard, and the pekapeka (bat) called too loudly and too often to please me in the night-time from the great trees that looked towards the camp of the pakeha.

"No evil, however, came to the camp, but before, it was broken up a strange thing happened. One day the Ti-trees saw the tents taken down and many of the men searching the ground over which the tohunga's tent had stretched. Evidently their search was fruitless. When for the last time the hillside was visited by those who had so loved it, and the Ti-trees, and the murmuring water, and waving toi grass, the wahine said, * I'm sorry I lost it ; my ring must have broken when I struck my hand last night. It was the first gift you ever gave me, and that was the finest stone in it.' • This was the last time any of us saw our

friends (for I know they were true friends, and loved us all), for the tents were struck, and tohunga, wahine, and Horo, with the youth and men, did not come back."'

" This the Ti-trees told me, and I much feared we should never see them again. I did not like to think that any evil would befall them, yet I feared Te Haere and the night owl.

long grass, and the brown eyes of a young Ti-tree saw where the lost stone lay. We are glad it is there, because it will always mark the spot. Only the young Ti-tree and 1 know where it is hid, and we whisper about it together, but will tell no one else. The old tree where the night owl sits is very angry because we will not tell him ; but we do not care, though just now he is flushed blood-red with fury. Some say this is because it is Christmas-time ; but we know better : it is because we will not tell our secret ! "

" Crocodile tears " are alluded to by several Latin Greek authors, it being a superstition among the ancients that the crocodile, after killing a man, ate all his body but his head, and shed tears over that before eating it also.

The Father oe Christmas. — Pope Telesphorus, who died before the middle of the second century, deserves canonising, if for nothing else, for instituting Christmas as a festival. It has been celebrated ever since in all Christian lands, and has given more happiness to children than any day in the calendar. Making children happy is the essence of Christianity.

How He Lost. — An able eater made a boast that none could eat as he. " Three dozen eggs," he said, "on toast are but a bite to me." He freely bet that he could do precisely as he claimed, and many thought his brag was true — thus was the eater famed. Yet when they brought the' eggs — ah, when! — all vanished was his smile. They'd ne'er been laid by farmyard hen, but by a crocodile.