NIGHT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3101, 20 August 1913, Page 69

NIGHT.

A RAINY NIGHT. By Ripple. A dismal rain is falling. It just patters down, accompanied by the same monotonous tune. It has •*. peculiar soothing effect, that dull rain. I went to rest rather early tonight, tired with the day’s labours, and now Nature is singing me to sleep with rain. Hardly singing—just droning me to sleep and quietness. The window is open, and as I lie upon the bed the hills, wreathed in greyness, loom up close to the only awaiting the invitation to step in Now I stare hard, but soe nothing, only a darkness that envelops everything, with one or two blurs that show that houses are near. Over all the rain falls. It is not hard, pelting rain that makes one feel cold; it is not the drizzle;. It is the soothing rain Maybe it i£ not so outside; but gazing out ■into the blackness and hearing it fall is soothing. Of course there must be no glaring "lights. Perhaps ono watery gleam in the fur distance that would draw one’s thoughts around it. Just for a little, though, and then 1 wander back to space filled with gxcvncss. I never think of people rich or poor,—or where they would spend the night. It , is the fierce cold nights that crowd thoughts of the poor into my mind, and where they would slleep on such a night. It is only the homeless and desolate I think of then. Perhaps I will think of riches now. Build fairy castles of what money can do. For it docs’ a lot, an immense lot, even though it doesn’t bring everything. I am thinking of gardening now—how I would like mv garden laid out. Poppies—big single ones, red and pink—must be everywhere. Evening stock along the bord’er. I will have that, as it is one of unfavourite perfumes. Or iris lilies there will be a bed. Pansies also I must have. I have these all in my mind’s eye; then I think of my rain-sodden, neglected garden, and firmly resolve to have a lovely garden in the summer. Once again I peer into the darkness and drowsily -watch tho moon fighting with a mass of black, thundering clouds. The moon has won and gently drops a white haze over everything. Then up come the clouds still unconqucred, the light is shut off, and the fight resumes. A light moaning wind cries in the window. JThe rain commences iii earnest, and I sleep. A WINDY MOONLIGHT NIGHT. I stood on the bridge; but not at midnight as you might think, and there were no clocks striking the hour. No, I just stood on a rather rickety country bridge not very long after sunset, there was nothing romantic- or fairy-like about it, nothing whatever. All 1 could see was one large willow protecting the bridge with its drooping, tossing branches. A belt of gum trees, with the twinkling lights of the farmhouse behind them, and, a little further away, a plantation of pines swaying gently to the rising wind. Surrounding all were the hills. Gradually a slice of tho moon peeped above the dark range—peering to see if the world were ready for it, and if not the little slice would run back and join the big moon. However it came sailing up, and soon was perched on the ridge of the hill, .a big red and yellow Dutch cheese. Seeing the world needed him, he seamed across the say, trying to keep up with the wind, which was by now having a brisk run across the countiy. How beautiful the country looked now, bathed in a soft, mellow light. My little rickety bridge changed as if ir-y magic, and in its place stood a white fairy bridge, while moonbeams, filtering clown through tho willow, looked lika white ribbons from the moon. I almost expected fairies of all colours and kinds to jump out of the moon and come slipping and sliding clown the ribbons. The gums and the firs were frenetically gesticulating, and, although I could not hear, I know they were moaning and sighing to each other. Who knows what trees talk of 9 The gleaming bit of white nestling at tho foot of the pine, what is it? It is a tombstone, and round it are many others, some white and gleaming, some weather-beaten, and not a few moss-covered. For that is tho old English Cemetery. I was not frightened of it. Everything looked so calm and quiet, and there were the big pines standing like sentinels, watching that no harm comes near that peaceful restingplace. Now look up into the sky. A lovely, very dark bine sky, with a few stars twinkling behind grey, lacy clouds, or, sometimes, between heavy, solid-looking clouds, while, brightest of all. sails the moon. It is round and white now, while the “man” in it looks down with a grin on his face. It is a grin rather impudent, and rather happy. I suppose he is pleased at the light he has shed on this troubled old world. I think it is just what we need, ancl

what we have been trying for and are still trying for —a little light on tlio dark world.