MOONSHINE

Southland Times, Issue 22008, 6 May 1933, Page 18

MOONSHINE

—First Prize. —

Owing to the large number of entries this week, these stories had to be printed in single column, although fully deserving the extra space. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat sounded the shiny knocker on the door of Honeysuckle cottage. The next moment, the fat pixie postman went down the neat cobblestone path, puffing and panting at the strenuous feat he had just accomplished on the door-knocker. Upstairs, in the neat little cottage,. Pixie Sleep-a-lot lay snoring in his bed at a time of day when all good little pixies ought to have been up doing out their little houses. It was a mystery which nobody could manage to solve, how Pixie Sleep-a-lot kept, his dwelling so spotlessly clean and tidy, for he was not extra fond of work. But, as they could not solve it, they had to leave it unsolved. At the sharp rap the pixie sat up in bed with a start, and also with an exclamation of annoyance. ? “Oh, bother that postman! Hes always coming round, waking respectable’pixies out of their sleep. Scowling, he turned over, intending to go to sleep again, when something decided him to go down and see what his mail consisted of. He slipped out of bed, and, making a hasty toilet, hurried down the carefully polished stairs. There, just inside the door, lay a nice white envelope with a huge green stamp on it. He tore it open and his eyes greedily devoured the following: 3 Green Row, Pixieland. Pixie Sleep-a-lot, Esq., Honeysuckle Cottage. Dear Sir,—A legacy has been left to you by Pixie Work-a-lot, your uncle. You cannot obtain that legacy until you fulfil the following condition: That is, instead of sleeping your mornings away, you set out on a trip to Fairyland and obtain some moonshine with which to polish his Royal Highness the King’s door-knocker. Yours faithfully, Pixie Knowall, Lawyer. “Hmm!” he grumped. “Doesn’t look as though I am ever going to get that legacy. Still I may as well try. He went off upstairs and packed a neat attache case ready for his journey. The next morning when the fat postman passed on his rounds, he was very much surprised to see one little cottage all shuttered. . “Ha! ha!” he laughed. “Pixie Sleep-a-lot isn’t living up to his name this morning. I wonder what s the matter with him now?” But he went on with his delivery and apparently he soon forgot all about the little pixie. Meanwhile, the little pixie was stumbling over huge boulders on his way to Fairyland. He met a frog, who of course was as big as himself. Had he not jumped in behind a huge dockleaf this huge monster would most certainly have made a most appetising meal of him. Poor little pixie! How he would have loved to lie down and go to sleep. But he managed to keep his eyes open, and before long he could see, above the purple hills, the smoke rising slowly out of the tiny white chimneys of Fairyland. He hastened on, much cheered by this sight, and soon he was within the huge gates. A most peculiar sight met his eyes. Every fairy was out on her doorstep, polishing her door-knockei ■with moonshine. “Now,” thought Pixie Sleep-a-lot, I may be able to get a little piece of moonshine for the King s doorknocker.” ... , . He approached the first fairy very boldly. , , , “Please may I have some or tnat moonshine?” he asked. The fairy stopped rubbing to look down at him. “What do you want it torr sne queried. “To polish his Royal Highness the King of Pixieland’s door-knocker,” he said. ' “What is your name? “Pixie Sleep-a-lot,” he said. “Oh! Be off with you! You’ll not get any of my moonshine. I’ve heard about you and your lazy ways. Be off!” , With this the fairy turned, and once more began polishing. Now Pixie Sleep-a-lot had not bargained for a reception of this kind and he felt like weeping. He met with the same answer every time until, in desperation, the poor little pixie sat down and wept for the first time in his life. Before he was aware of her presence a tiny fairy touched him on the shoulder. “If you will come with me, I will give you some moonshine,” she said. “Bu-but I never do any work!” he gasped. . „ The fairy smiled. “Never mind, she said. “I am sure you have learned a lesson, and I know you will never be lazy again.” She led him to a pretty little house, right on the edge of Fairyland, and gave him a big package of moonshine. She then provided a carriage for him and he was dropped at the door of the lawyer’s office. The lawyer was delighted, and after giving him his legacy, he made off to the King’s Palace. When the pixie reached home he went to his desk and made out a great big cheque and posted it straight off to the little fairy. Pixie Sleep-a-lot turned over such a new leaf that, although his name is still Pixie Sleep-a-lot, everyone calls him Pixie Work-a-lot, after his uncle. -3/- and 4 marks to Cousin Molly Hynd (13), 169 Elies road, East Invercargill. —Second Prize. — One fine spring morning, when the sky was a beautiful deep blue, and the green grass shone with dewdrops, I wandered out into the meadows. Sitting down in the midst of a field, I gazed up at the gleaming ball of fire above my head, which was sending its golden rays down upon the earth. Just imagine being princess of that golden world of splendour, far above in the heavens. Suddenly, without warning, I felt myself being shot up into space, like a rocket gliding through the air. With a terrific bump, I was flung towards a lawn, of peculiar golden grass, which was as soft as a feathery couch. A palace which glittered and shone in the sunlight stood before me. It was the very palace that I had had visions of, with its rainbow coloured walls, which glinted with a touch of gold, and dazzled me as I looked at them. “Welcome to the land of Moonshine!” said a voice behind me. Turning around I saw a dainty little fairy, climbing out of a gigantic mushrdom, which I found after had brought me to this strange and unknown land.

“Moonshine!” gasped I, “What a lovely name.” ’ _ “Hush!” cried the little fairy, The princess!”* and with this she jumped into the mushroom and disappeared from my sight. Coming up the path was an exquisite little fairy, draped in a robe of light mauve, trimmed with pure, snow white. When she approached nearer, I saw that she had light, golden hair, with white roses entwined in it. Her eyes were of the darkest violet, while they twinkled and danced as I looked at her. “I would love to visit Mortal-land!” she exclaimed, “So I sent the mushroom fairy to bring you to me. Will you be the princess for a day while I take your place?” “How delicious!” I cried with a vision of all the pleasures that were before me. Immediately, she waved her wand

and said, “I crown you princess of Moonshine for one day,” and with this, she placed the crown of white roses on my head, and disappeared. At my feet lay her magic wand, which would grant me any wish that came into my mind. Picking it up I wished for my best carriage to come and take me for a journey to all the main factories, gardens and pleasant places in Moonshine. A white cloud appeared above me and a carriage of pure gold emerged from it. The carriage was embedded with brilliant jewels such as diamonds, rubies and sapphires, while in the centre they formed a perfect rose, which evidently was the symbol of the princess’s power. The thing which attracted me most were the creatures that drove the carriage in the place of horses. They were dainty butterflies with gauzy wings of varigated colours, which the sun shone through. When the fairy driver and I were settled on the cushions of golden silk, and the fur mats at my feet were put in their places, the carriage glided up into the wondrous blue above me. Looking down, I saw a series of lakes, which seemed to form a word, while observing more closely I found that it spelt “Moonshine,” the name of the land which I was now travelling through. We were now aprpoaching a huge, towering building, and to my utter amazement, we descended towards the roof. Alighting from the flying chariot we saw before us a gorgeous sight, dainty little elves and fairies were running to and fro across the lofty building. As twilight was about to start, one little fairy was getting into a gleaming costume of brilliant yellow, which, when it was on, took the shape of a glittering star. Running towards a cannon shaped machine, the star fairy climbed into it, while a wiry, old magician pulled back an iron trigger. Out far into space the star was shot, until it stopped in its position, suspended by a golden cord. One after another the twinkling little fairies glided through the air, while I watched, with my eyes staring with amazement upon that wondrous sight. This was the Moonshine Star Factory, which was managed by Vango the Magician. In the evening, when I was wandering through the glorious gardens, which surrounded the Sky Palace, I suddenly heard behind me a musical, rippling laugh, and turning round I saw the princess. She took the magic wand from me and said, “You are now an ordinary mortal, and you may go back to your own country.” With this, she took the garland of roses from my head and placed it on her own. I sat astride the flying mushroom, and bade farewell to the beautiful little princess. Down! Down! I went, to the distant earth far below. Having tumbled on to the ground I picked myself up, and again began to w’onder if I had ever been there at all! The only thing that satisfied me was that I knew the name of the golden land of my dreams. It was “Moonshine!” -2/- and 3 marks to Cousin June Black (12), 138 Esk street. —Highly Commended. —

It really was a ridiculous name for a girl—she admitted it herself. How she come to be given it she could not imagine, and no one could enlighten her. Moonshine did not mind at all, in spite of much teasing; when, on rare occasions she spoke of it, she rather proudly said that it was “distinctive and would make a good “story-name.” For that was her object—to become an authoress. Nothing could alter, her decision as to that, and she certainly was talented. Moonshine was well informed or alt that had taken place in her life, or rather, what was known of it. She knew that one night an empty cottage in the village was burned down and she was discovered in a shed wrapped up, in a basket, a baby only nine months old. She was taken to the Little Hospital but no one ever called for her, nor advei-tised. She had become part of the hospital, and the kindly doctor, who had no children of his own, had seen to her education. The Matron, however, had never ceased to let her know how dependent she was upon them, and that is why Moonshine was restless. She wanted to know who she was, and there was nothing to enlighten her on the babygarments. There was only a little note saying “Please care for Moonshine, and so they had taken that to be her name.

She had reached the important stage of her life, the time when her future hung in the balance. She had won a scholarship that had given her a free secondary school education, but she had now to decide what work she could do. The doctor had suggested nursing, but she wanted—desperately—to be an authoress. As the room grew darker she stayed beside the flickering fire, fingering each garment lovingly. If only they could tell her all they knew of the person who had worked the dainty embroidery and fashioned the little clothes, and all the many things she longed to know! She took them over to the window and drew the curtain aside to see them by the light of the moon. A little sigh escaped from her lips. The countryside was bathed in moonlight caught in intangible meshes of beauty. Her heart quivered in the fullness of its appreciation. She stood there, clutching the garment, her face with its fine dark eyes, and black hair flowing in loose waves from high temples, upturned. She felt like a martyr, just as if she was being tortured; yet she was swimming in a sea of ecstasy. Minutes passed as hours, and years seemed to have passed when she was at last disturbed by the Matron. With the light on Moonshine came back to earth bringing a mental picture with her. She longed to share it with someone —oh, not the matter-of-fact Matron—so she sat down eagerly to write what she had felt and seen. Moonshine had never before felt the pain of trying to put into words what was making her heart swell until it pained her. She, too, thought that if the scene was in one’s heart, words would flow from the pen, “atmosphere” would be created without a judicious choice of words, and readers would not fail to picture it all. But Moonshine sat in her chair, her mind clogged. Each word she wrote seemed to become harsh and common-place—she felt as though it was a beautiful dream she was scrutinizing in the daylight. It seemed to be wrenching something from her—she shed a few tears over it, and struggled and twisted. When at last it was finished she felt just an ordinary, cross, disappointed girl—not at all like the exalted, high-think-ing authoress she read about. She posted it away to a firm of magazine publishers and then did an unprosaic thing in going to bed. It was a week later before Moonshine heard anything about her work, when she was surprised by a visit from a sweet-faced lady. When Moonshine came into the room the lady introduced herself as the wife of the editor to whom Moonshine had sent her essay. “My husband told me that he had received a writing from a young lady whose Christian name was ‘Moonshine.’ The unusual name had attracted him, and he gave it to me to read. It was a charming piece of work, so I became eager to meet the wr»ter. Besides, the name brought memories of—of my own little daughter who—” she paused and Moonshine guessed that the little daughter had been the cause of pain. She gently persuaded her to speak of what had happened. “We loved her dearly,” continued the lady, “and because she was so tender and fragile we called her ‘our Moonshine child.’ But one day she went missing; both nurse and child were never heard of again, although we tried hard

enough to find them. We „ think she must have been kidnapped.” Moonshine nodded sympathetically and then told her story. She brought the baby-clothes and showed them to the lady, who cried out in surprise. “Why, these are the very clothes my daughter wore when she was lost. Surely you must be—you are—-my daughter.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “My mother!” cried Moonshine wonderingly. Now all the doubts and fears were chased away. She understood now that the cottage had been burnt to attract attention so that she would be found, and she knew that her father could give her the training necessary to become an authoress. “My Moonshine child,” her mother murmured as they hugged each other with joy. —2 marks to Cousin Constance Fox (16), 94 Earn street.

The Queen of Fairyland -was celebrating her birthday in two days’ time and ordered a sumptuous feast to be prepared as she intended having the best party she had ever had. Now, of all the parties previously held, she had never had a suitably coloured dress, so she offered a generous reward to the fairy who brought her the most beautiful material for the dress for this annual festival. All the fairies in Fairyland were m a great hurry’—even little Moonshine, the shyest fairy of all was excited. Moonshine searched all round Fairyland but finding nothing to her satisfaction went to visit the “Land of Mortals.” On arrival she slept under some long grass in Mr Nobody’s orchard. Waking next morning she was surprised to find that she was wrapped in a blanket. It was composed of beautiful autumn-tinted leaves fallen from a tree above where she had been sleeping. At once she had a bright idea. This w’ould just be lovely for her Queen’s dress. Gathering a sufficient amount, she began her return journey. She was having a very hard time carrying her treasure and had just dropped it on the ground in despair when kind Mr Spider came along. “Hello!” he said, “Would you like me to bind your leaves together?” Quickly he bound them with a silken thread. Thanking him for his kind deed the fairy set off again. The Queen was so pleased with the material that she at once sent for the dressmaker who made the dress out of the leaves, joining them together with the spider’s web. The reward was not forgotten by the Queen, and at her party she granted Moonshine the right to live in the Palace as her companion. The little fairy lived at the palace for quite a while. Later on the Queen’s son, Prince Sunlight, married her. She did not forget the spider and returned the kindness by commissioning him to weave her veil. The Prince and the Princess were married at the Royal Palace and lived happily ever after. —2 marks to Cousin Ruby Beggs (12), Otautau-Blackmont, R.D.

The princess was very perplexed and worried, for a very grave decision had to be made. The' king was getting old and feeble, and there being no son, it was well known that the Princess’s choice of a husband meant much to the kingdom, for he would eventually rule the land. Now two princes were suitors for the hand of the princess. Both were handsome and rich, and she liked them both equally well. Also, it seemed that each would rule wisely and well, but she could only marry one of them and the question that so worried her, was, which of the two to choose.

She went at last to her father, the King, and asked his advice, but he could no more choose between them than the Princess could. He advised her to put them to some test. After a lot of thought, this was the plan she hit upon. She would send them both on a journey through the kingdom, each to start in opposite directions and to visit each of twelve towns in the land and obtain a letter of goodwill from each town. The first to arrive back at the palace with twelve sealed letters from the Mayor of each town, expressing their goodwill, would be chosen as the husband of the Princess. The time of starting to be exactly at sunrise the following day. So it was arranged, and each Prince went home to prepare for the morrow, and it was at this point that each showed his true nature. After getting ready, the one Prince looked out before retiring to bed. It was a beautiful night. A full moon shed a silvery light over the land, and as he looked on its beauty, he thought of the princess, and the errand on which he would be well started when he saw the moon again. The other Prince also looked out at the night after making his preparations, but when he saw how light and clear it was, a cunning idea struck him. He would start his journey at once. In such a light he could reach the first town by daylight. He would thus gain a lot of time on his rival, for he had no doubt of being able to persuade different mayors to give him the necessary letters. He acted as quickly as he thought, and was soon on his way. He did not know however, that the moon at full, had, and still has, a peculiar power. Everyone has heard of “moonshine” or of someone or something being moonstruck. Well this is what happened to the Prince. The enchantment of the night muddled his brain, so that when he arrived at the first town he was very much muddled. He managed, however, to find the Mayor, but his talk was so confused that the only thing anyone could understand was that he wanted some sort of letter to show the Princess. Seeing his court dress the Mayor decided to humour him and gave him a sealed letter, telling how the prince had seemed to be the victim of moonshine. The prince resumed his journey and the effects of the moon gradually wore off, so that by the time the second -town was reached he was a little better, but not clear enough to get a very nice letter from its Mayor. After this he made good progress being now quite normal was able to obtain his desire at each of the remaining towns. Meanwhile the other prince started at sunrise as arranged and made his way through the various towns. So charming was his manner that he received from each Mayor a very earnest letter of their goodwill. The moon had added to his charm, on that night, for he was in his rightful place asleep. Now on the eve of his departure the Princess also looked out at the glory of the full moon and thought of her suitors and, curiously enough, she had since then, hoped in her heart that the Prince whom we know was honourable, would be successful. This wish increased as time went on. Moonshine had worked another wonder. She was disappointed, therefore, when the crafty prince arrived first at the palace with twelve sealed letters. But the result was still in doubt, for several of his letters were not flattering and one was decidedly otherwise. A few hours later the other prince arrived and handed in his twelve sealed letters. Each contained a glowing tribute to his charm and manner and he was justly rewarded by, being able to claim the princess for his bride.

In the palace garden, on the night of the next full moon, the Prince and his betrothed looked on the beauty of the night, and recalled the whole story. “Moonshine,” the Prince whispered, “to those who do right, a friend and a fairy godmother, to the dishonourable a wicked witch, let us thank it together, for to-morrow is our weddingda _2 marks to Cousin Connie Jellyman (14), Queen street, Otautau.

It was harvest time in the country, and old man Harvest Moon was in a great bustle. Every year the farmers expected him to flood the harvest fields with moonshine, and as the harvests were ripe far earlier than other years, he was making great preparations

Now he wondered however he was going to get together all his merry little helpers, who were at the far end of the sky world. Not being able to puzzle it out himself he sent for the Three Wise Men, who dwelt in the windy weather clouds. After hearing the Moon’s problem they told him they thought it best to send out four messengers, to each part of the sky world, to tell his helpers that they were all wanted urgently at Moon Court. Accordingly, the Moon sent out four of his most trustworthy messengers, the Shooting Stars, to deliver his message. When all the little workmen arrived he told them all the various things he wanted done, and to a tiny elf called Pixie Goldgleam, he set the most important thing of all. Pixie Goldgleam’s work was overseer, and he had to see that the moonshine was evenly distributed over the waving harvest fields and meadows. The night when the Harvest Moon was to be at its fullest and best had arrived, and all was excitement and bustle. Down on earth Pixie Goldgleam was ever so busy, and soon the harvest lands were bathed with the brightest of moonshine. Now just when the moon was at its best and brightest there came stealing over the hills Pixie Fog and all his damp and dismal followers, whom Pixie Goldgleam thought were far away in another land. One can imagine how disturbed Pixie Goldgleam was until he suddenly remembered that Jack Frost had told him if he was ever in trouble to send post haste for him, so he straightway sent a messenger to find him.

By this time Pixie Fog and his band were slowly hiding from view the lovely golden moon and just when there was only a tiny bit of moonshine, left, and Pixie Goldgleam thought his night’s work was ruined, over the hilltops came the first icy breath of his old trusty friend Jack Frost. Now Jack Frost and Pixie Fog had always been rivals, and sometimes one would lead and sometimes the other, but Jack Frost knew that success was his because he had brought with him all his workers. Now when Pixie Fog and his band saw Jack Frost coming they fled for dear life, but Jack Frost soon overcame them and in the battle that followed Jack Frost won, knowing that he had done away with one of his worst enemies, for the present. When he left he cast a spell on them, turning them into lots of little puff balls, scattered all around the meadows and hills. , r As Jack Frost sped onwards iron} the scene of battle to another land, he very lightly laid his hand on the fields of waving corn, and again the moonshine shone better and brighter than ever. As the night wore on Pixie Goldgleam was beginning to feel very tired and when the first rays of daylight peeped over the hills, just before he went to sleep, he heard Old Man Moon telling the east wind what a splendid success it had been last night, and that most of the credit was due to Pixie Goldgleam and the splendid way he had distributed the moonshine, and Pixie Goldgleam went to sleep happy to think he had satisfied the Harvest Moon. . , Later on in the morning when the children were chattering along to school, thev remarked on what a lot of puff balls there were scattered around, but if they had only known, it was Jack Frost’s old enemy, Pixie Fog, and his dead followers —2 marks to Cousin Jean Neill (14), Tokanui.

The pixie vender rapped impatiently on the door of the little cottage for the sixth time. “What a nuisance these late risers are,” he grumbled, “and on a beautiful morning like this, too, when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, t he -” , j j Just then a window creaked open, and oh dear! a whole ocean of soapy, but very dirty, warm water fell on Sammy’s small, but extremely fat person, leaving him by no means in the state which upholds Godliness. A low chuckle sounded right above him. A funny little night-capped head popped out of the window whence the deluge poured. The very large mouth which stretched almost from one ear to the other opened wide, and the funny little fellow held his sides tight as he looked down at the greatly stupifica Sammy. „ “Y-you, b-big, h-horrid creature, exploded the young man, in an accusing voice. “If you can t be more civil than that, I don’t think much of you. Besides, I’m feeling very cold and miserable.” . _ “Never mind. I’m sorry. I really meant to miss you, only give you a big fright.” . , “Huh!” expostulated the tiny hawker. “What have you got there?” asked the other, still with a smirk on his face. “Come down for yourself, and see, snapped the annoyed little fellow. The night-capped head disappeared and a few minutes later appeared at the front door. „ “Well, what have you got there! asked its owner. “Moonshine —moonshine polish. Very good stuff too.” Then forgetting his former anger, he hurried on. _ Very good for cleaning spoons, grates, boots, shining floors and—” „ “Never mind what it s used tor, said the other impatiently. Sammy produced a neat, small, round, tin out of his very dirty, scraggy, pocket. Taking off the lid he showed his buyer what was in it—a yellow, squirmish looking substance, oozed out on to his hand, whereupon he calnuy rubbed his hand down one trouser leg. The other smiled as he, said: Whatd you say it was used for?” “Used for polishing handles, boots, grates, spoons—” . _ . „ ~ “I see, it’s a polish is it? Whats its name did you say?” “Moonshine,” answered Sammy, feeling very proud of himself, for he was sure he was going to get a customer. “Humph, would you mind coming in and giving me a demonstration. Er by the way, is it registered?” “Registered. Why, of course, by the leading firm in Pixiville. They were so charmed with its brightness and cheapness that they ordered one million tins to be manufactured—at once. The king himself used it for polishing his royal boots. The Archbishop of Elftown, grumbles most terribly if a tin of ‘moonshine’ is not rubbed on his floor every morning, afternoon and n '“l see, I see,” responded the other. “I’m getting interested. What’s the price, and where was it first used?” “Oh dear!” thought Sammy. “What a lot of questions." Then aloud, “Well, at first the fairies used to use it to polish the moon. It made it so—” “I asked you what price!” thundered the other. “Not how it made the moon look.” “Dear me, he is getting snappy, grumbled Sammy to his own small person. “I’m losing my patience but I’d better try to be civil. Yet how can I—he asks so many questions.” Seeing the other looking expectantly. at him, he quickly responded, “Er—nine pennies if you please, sir.” “How do you know I’m going to take it? Perhaps I will. But you haven’t demonstrated yet,” whereupon the little seller got quickly down on his knees and polished the floor until it shone like diamonds.

“Very good,” observed the future buyer. “I’ll take a bottle if you please. But a new one —not the one that you used now. You see, there’s a wee bit

taken out of it. Money and new tin were soon exchanged, Sammy was soon out of the gate. “Moonshine,” the other murmured, still standing on the doorstep. “It sounds good. Moonshine!” he looked 'at the tin again. “For polishing the 'moon. !” ' —2 marks to Cousin Winsome Blue ■(13), 69 Ellis Road, Invercargill,