THE AMBITIOUS WAVELET.

Otago Witness, Issue 4041, 25 August 1931, Page 69

THE AMBITIOUS WAVELET.

“ I’m going further and further into the shore,” cried the little wave as he threw some jets of spray into the air; “ I’ll soon be able to go as far as the seagulls, right into the big Land-world where the boys and girls who come to paddle in the summer time come from.” And he gurgled happily to himself as he went back again to take a still bigger jump into the shore. The seagulls whirled and screamed above him and laughed to each other at the very idea that such a small wave should think of getting into that lovely Land-world which they knew so well, especially when the farmer went ploughing and they got fat worms. “ He will have to grow a great deal bigger and stronger than he is now,” sniggered a large black-headed gull, “ and I am sure the boys and girls will not want to see him in their Landworld. After all, the Sea-world is his place, and only we seagulls have the right to both worlds.” “ There you are wrong,” snappily said a wild duck, who happened to be passing, “ we other birds have the right of both worlds as well as you silly old seagulls. Why, even in Glasgow seagulls are as common, as common—-as common as sparrows.” And, as this was the nastiest thing he could think of, he flew away quickly, and all the time the little wave was getting further and further into the little cave which was at the foot of the rocks.

“ Oh, I do wish I could get into the Land-world,” he said wistfully; “it would be lovely to see a field. I’ve never been at this shore before. Perhaps some land fairy might want some real salt water to help something, and she might take me.” But, alas! no land fairy was about to hear his wish, and all that day he just ran into the shore, and, as evening came, he was back far from the shore.

Even waves sleep, and that night he dreamt that he was going to get his wish. Morning broke, and all over the sea were strange white horses on the crest of the waves. Little waves were now big waves, and a strong wind was coming out from the gates of the sunrise. The winds did not care what they did. There was a. rebellion among them, and a great rough, unkind wind had broken away from the others and said in a loud voice, “ I’ll let these land folk see what I can do.” And as he came out of the gate of the East he saw the sea lying calm and gentle, and he heard softly the dream of the little wave.

“Ha, ha!” he cried. “I’ll give him his dream true, and I’ll drive these waves right into the field which is newly sown.” So a great storm arose, and all the waves were hurried hither and thither, they didn’t know where, and they were not quite happy, because they felt that the wind was not kind.

“ There’s a boat, we’ll rock her some,” shouted the wind, and he drove straight at the boat, but the boat was a big liner, and she just sailed on without paying much attention to all the hubbub.

At last the wind got really angry, and he blew so strongly that he caught the waves high up in the air, and drove them right to the edge of a field. The farmer looked out anxiously, and prayed in his heart that no great damage would be done.

The little wave of yesterday came along joyously. “At last,” he thought, “ I will be in a field just like the seagulls,” but the seagulls were there too, and they were afraid. “Go back, go back,” they shouted. But the wind just laughed. “ Poor daddy will lose all his seeds,” said a sturdy little fellow of five summers to his mummy, who stood looking out with anxious eyes. “Yes, darling; much harm will come if the waves do not stop.” And the little wave heard, and with all his might he forced the other waves back and would not let them come on to the field.

“ I’m so sorry,” he sighed; “ I never thought we would do an unkindness to the Land-folk. Please, Mr Wind, go back.” And the wind was so astonished that he forgot to blow, and just then his master called him home.

So the little wave gave up his ambition. “It is better to be kind to those folks than even to see the Land-world,” he said pensively.—E. H. W., in the Glasgow Weekly Herald.