YOUTH

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 409, 18 July 1928, Page 6

YOUTH

IN' the days when the big storm winds walked the world unmolested and the sun peered over the rim of a sparsely populated world, there lived a chief who, in his youth, had befriended an unhappy spirit. And when the years lay like a mantle about his shoulders and his strength was failing, the spirit appeared again out of a dream and, in return for his kindly action, granted him a wish. “I desire a son,” said the old chief, “whose keen eyes shall be the servants of my dimming sight, whose hands shall glean strength from my weakness, and whose feet shall be as swift as the glint of light along a sped arrow.” And 10, in the morning, a stranger stood at the door of his wigwam, the sunshine playing over his bare brown shoulders, slung with a quiver of many arrows. “I am Youth,” he said, “come at your summons. My eyes are your servants, my hands your slaves, my feet are as swift as light on an arrow, and my alertness is such that my thoughts can outrun all others. Henceforth, you are my master. You have but to speak and I shall obey.” The old chief rubbed his eyes and stared at the stranger with a new vision. “The day of miracles is not yet past,” he said, “for, though the mantle of years is on me, it is yet possible for youth to be a guest in the crumbling house of age. Come, let us eat.” Thereafter, Youth became the old chief’s constant companion, and, though they dwelt together for many years in the closest sympathy and understanding, the powers of the younger did not diminish. Time, it seemed, could weave no mantle to cloak those brave, brown shoulders. Then there came a day when a message was borne to the old chief out of the rose and golden glory of a late sunset. With it came the spirit, who had so long guarded his destiny. “The time has come to leave your earthly possessions, gentle one,” he said, “and to discover what lies beyond the gold-tipped battlements of the sunset. What shall Ido with your well-loved son, whose name is Youth?” The old chief looked into the west. “Leave Youth immortalised in the world,” he said, “that his eyes may be the servants of age, his hands the strength of weakness, and his feet as swift as light along a sped arrow.” “It shall be even as you say,” answered the spirit, laying a hand on the shoulder of Youth, who, to this day, remains immortalised in the world of men. REDFEATHER.