The Song of the Nightingale

Timaru Herald, Volume CL, Issue 22043, 16 August 1941, Page 9

The Song of the Nightingale

Spring was in the air, and Puck was feeling happy. He was swinging on a willow catkin, wondering what would ba the nicest thing to do next; he decided to go and find his friend Brownie for he hadn’t see him all the rooming Brownie was sitting on a bank of primroses, straightening out the petals that had been bruised by an April Shower. “Come and have a game!” said Puck. “Can’t, I’m too busy,” said Brownie, going on with his work. “Oh, come along, you can do that tomorrow.” No, I can’t,” said Brownie, “it must be done to-day, because the queen is coming here to-night to listen to the nightingales. We must have every, thing tidy.” But Puck wanted to play. ‘■The nightingales haven’t come yet,” he protested a little crassly. “Mo, but they will be here by tonight,, and so will the fairy queen.” “How do you know they’ll be here? 1 ’ he asked. “Because a breeze brought a message from the South. They’re on their way, and they never disappoint the queen ■■ By this time Puck was feeling quite naughty. He had an idea. Without stopping to say “good-tee” he flew up to tile tree-tops and then turned southwarts. flying as fast as he could, which vegy fast indeed. ttfcsouthern.mppfcjrood of, England fie -found th* tngliMngales. They X£B>. noting afte£ their-gurney ovpr the-jegjJsfore they started northwards; again. • • ► ftucZ searched until be • found soma feathers, then he put them on and disguised himself as a thrusK‘He went and woke up Grandfather Nightingale, “Good morning,” said Puck. “Good morning,” said the nightingale, “I’m afraid I don’t quite recognise you, I’m getting a little shortsighted, Pm ' " “I’m Peter Thrush," said Puck, drawing his disguise a little closer round him. The nightingale looked at him again and Puck felt a little uncomfortable. “Bad weather up north,” he said. “That’s a pity,” said the nightingale “for we have to go that way." “Yes," said Puck, “thunderstorms! The fairy queen has sent me to tell you that she won’t expect you to-night. Your are to wait here until the weather is better. She will send for you again,” and then he flew off in a hurry, for he wasn’t sure that the nightingale was as short-sighted as he would have liked him to be. He dropped his disguise into a half built nesU-and then flew soutrwards. He was' soon back., again beside BrowtdA “ X “The nightingales aren't coming,” ha. a announced. T H S “Why not?” asked Brawnif. “I don’t know,” said Puek. -'They sent~me to tell you.” - • “Oh, dear,” said Brownie, “what’ shall we do? The queen will be so disappointed.” He flew off to tell the other fairies. There was a great commotion in the wood; everyone was very worried. The birds were consulted, about it. At last it was arranged that the blackbirds, who really had very good voices, should sing instead. “We’ll do our best,” they said doubtfully, “but we’re not used to singing 3t night.” The sun went down early, and the moon peeped over the tree-tops. Then the queen arrived with her court, and the fairies clustered round her, on the ground, in the flowers, in the trees, everywhere. She called Puck and Brownie to her, and they sat at her feet, but Puck was not as merry as usual, and Brownie felt sad and disappointed. Everybody was waiting for the music On the branches above the blackbirds shivered. They were too nervous to begin. Everyone waited and waited. Then far away on the edge of the wood there was a trill, and an answering trill from the other side; then, another and another, calling and answering, till the wood seemed full of song. Such music! Everytime the queen heard it is seemed to her more beautiful than before; the fairies listened breathlessly, even the rabbits came out of their holes, the woodmice wakened from their sleep, and the stoats and weasels forgot for a time their ways of hunting. And the blackbirds went hack to bed with a sigh of relief. Grandfather Nightingale had not been so short-sighted after all, and Puck had left his pointed ears sticking out between the thrush’s feathers. The queen looked at Puck. As he listened to the music all the naughty feeling inside him had melted away. He "Began to cry, and now he was sobbing loudly, his tears trickling through his fingers and falling on to the grass. She said nothing. There is not much that the fairy queen does not know.’ They listened to the nightingales’ singing until the dawn came, and all the time Puck cried. The next day a child was playing in the wood, and she picked up a string of pearls. She took them to her mother. “Look, mother what I have found!” Her mother looked at them. “These are precious jewels,” slie said. But they were Puck’s tears.