HAPPINESS

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 726, 27 July 1929, Page 33

HAPPINESS

The \R'ind Boy blew down a. narrov." alley between rows of tall, dingy‘ houses. Here, the birds never sung: ‘ here the sunlight came but sparingly: Yet, while peeping in at the window§ of one of the houses. the “find Boy‘ was amazed to see a small, grubby' baby laughing and chuckling lmpplly.l “011, Why are you happy?" sighed the;

Wind Boy. “Why are you happy when you have so little to be happy for?” But the baby only stared at him with big, wise eyes, and the Wind Boy passed on.

Presently he came to a house where a little girl was' sitting on one of the green lawns. She was smiling happily at the trees and birds ami flowers. “Why are you smiling” whispered the Wind Boy. “Why are you happy, little one?” But the little girl was gazing at the deep, rich blue sky. and the Wind Boy’s voice was not heard by her.

The Wind Boy next peeped in at the casement of a wonderful palace. Inside sat a little princess, surrounded by her books and toys. But she was not laughing; she was frowning and pouting sulkily. “You are unhappy!” cried the Wind Boy. “Why is it so, princess, when you have much more reason to bo happy than the little girl and the slum baby?” But the Wind Boy was not visible to the little princess, and she heard only the sighing of his voice through the trees. And still his question went unanswered. As the Wind Boy continued on hi way he noticed several times tha great kings and princes, with seem ingly all in the world they wanted, were unhappy and discontented, while often he came upon little children—poor children, slum children, and blind children, who were laughing and happy. And the Wind Boy wondered why" it was. “Why is it?” he sighed to the tall trees. “Why are some happy, and others unhappy?” “We do not know,” answered the trees. “Ask the birds, Wind Boy.” “Oh, birds, what is happiness?” cried the Wind Boy. “Why are some always unhappy, and others just the opposite?” “We do not know,” sang the birds. “Ask the sunbeams.” The sunbeams, too, could not answer his question. “But ask the Lady of Dreams; she will know,” they murmured in their tiny voices. So up, up toward the majestic Sunset City of the West went the Wind Boy. He found the fairy lady who distributes the dreams to mortals standing on the balcony of her beautiful palace, between two pillars of rosy cloud. She looked at him with gentle eyes, wise with the wisdom of ages, when he put his question to her. “It is tho Happiness Flower, Wind Boy,” she said. “The Happiness Flower, whose garden is the mortal heart.” “And where can the mortals buy this wonderful flower V” asked the Wind Boy.

The Lady of Dreams shook her head. “Men would give a great deal of money for the Happiness Flower,” she answered. “But it is not to be bought- No one, not even the most learned on earth, can tell why some people are born with the Flower in their hearts: it just grows. And they who possess it are happy and fortunate indeed. Money can bring the mortals many wonderful things, but it cannot give them the Flower. Men think money the symbol of happiness, and they fight for it. But they are wrong. Money is not everything. The little princess showed you that; the tiny slum baby showed you it, too. Now go back to earth, Wind Boy, for the baby birds are waiting to be rocked to sleep, and I must sort my dreams.”

Bo out from the gleaming golden and crimson gates of the Sunset City flew the Wind Boy. “The Happiness Flower,” he whispered. “Then the baby was richer than'the little princess, richer than many kings, although they have much money!”

And the trees below echoed the sound of his crooning voice as he hushed the birds to sleep. —Jean Mclndoe, aged 14.