THE CHRISTMAS TREE

Waipa Post, Volume 43, Issue 3392, 24 December 1931, Page 2

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

(By Lauretta Maud Willoughby.)

It is in the bush, and in the forests , that the fairies dwell. It is under the gnarled rata trunks, where the knotted roots rise up and spread their witchery fingers over the ground, they build their cosy homes. From branch to branch beneath the rustling green they string their babies' cradles, where the babies lie and laugh and stretch their tiny hands to touch the leaves. It is from the floating thistledown they make their quilts and cushions, and all their flimsy coloured frocks are specially chosen petals. At night the moonlight filters through the trees, and the branches throw their fairy patterned lace upon the moss.

A man came walking through the tangled fern to seek a Christmas tree. He sought anxiously, for to-morrow was Christmas Day, and what would Christmas Day be to his little children without a Christmas tree ? He had walked from the very outskirts of the bush, where burnt trees stretch their charred black arms toward the sky, and little fronds of bracken, coloured bronze, grow up and strive to hide the bareness of their trunks. His dog followed at his heels, sniffing the ground with his little black nose and wagging his little black tail, hoping with his little dog mind that it would be a long time before they found a fir tree, as he loved nothing better than to frighten a young hare, or a little rafbfoit, and everywhere there were little scampering rabbits; . but; even as he thought they reached a clearing in the undergrowth and, standing straight and green, a small _ l > :'.;'*'Just as though it grew for me," Jthought.the man, and he eased the roots.with"his spade and pulled it out of the> earth, and carried: it home, its branches sweeping a pathway through the fallen leayes. Now, -hoysTj was the man to know that hidden.: in: branches .swung a fairy cradle, with; a tinyrftihy sleeping fairy baby? ■f' How; was.he to even jas ■ he; reachedvhis door, airy mother knelt by-the loose earth; where the Jinfc-e© had and beat her little hands against her breast? He did not know that while he made ready t)i« fc?ee for Santa Claus to the /rifts for his children a broken voice chied through the forest: "My baby i My little, little baby ! " Little trembling;, hands beating beating agai; .4 the trunks of the tall j trees. t \ ! "Where is my little baby ? Dear trees, tell me. where to find my little baby!" Tiny white lips quivering to, the moon, to the stars, to the. seeking wind: " Help me Eiid,my little .baby.?' All the forest awakeningAll the elves searching* all the fairies, all the goblin kings. Little feet,' pattering, pattering over the dead leaves^K■. ; 'iAll the trees stirring, whispering, calling: " A fairy child is lost ! " It is very late. Santa Claus is hanging toys upon the fir tree. Coloured kites and strange yellow balls, and Httle glistening stars of tinsel. ( He reaches up to tie, a red balloon. He sees the fairy baby in her tiny fairy cradle In the leaves. He forgets thehalloon, he string, and ii J" oats up'to the;ceilmg. H< Ufts the 'tiny cradle gently down. Tiie baby is still sleeping, it's.vtiny hands-'are; stretched above its head, its face is like a little drowsy flower. :■■■■-..' 1

Santa Claus knows exactly what has happened. If he knows and loves all the little children in the world, then surely he must know and love the fairies too. He carries the fairy baby tenderly. He has left the house and is hurrying toward the bush where he knows he will find the fairy mother. He has found the pathway made by the fir tree as it brushed over the leaves. He is running. The gnomes are coming to meet him, the goblins and the little brown elves. The voices of the trees call through the forest: " The fairy child is found I" The fairies are coming. The fairy mother cannot speak—she stretches out her arms, and clasps the tiny baby to her heart; she rocks it to and fro, and croons, awakens it with burning little kisses. Its tiny hands reach up to touch her face, its tiny hands reach up to touch her hair. The bush is ringing with the voice of fairies: " Santa Claus has saved the Fairy Child ! We will never leave him —never, never, never ! " The sleepy birds come fluttering down to sing to him; the brown owls come, the hares, and the baby rabbits; they are forever with him. That is why he never grows too old to remember the wishes of the little child-