FAIRY STICKS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VII, Issue 10, 7 March 1891, Page 19

FAIRY STICKS.

HE fairy Woodleaf has not been heard of "* for some time, has she, children ? Well, f I am glad to be able to tell you someZ SMI a S»jX thing about her to-day—something nice, I course - This fairy is one of the good I WO 3■> kind, who al ways likes to do nice things j for people, especially for children. One afternoon, when the leaves were falling off the oak trees, and oft’ all others which have been planted in New Zealand and do not belong to the country, the fairy Woodleaf was sitting upon a branch of an oak tree. She was watching the leaves as the wind caught them, shook them, kissed them, and let them drop to the ground, where they all began to play at Kiss-in-the-Ring. Have you not often heard that little swiss-swiss-kiss, as two dry leaves touch each other ? Some people say it is just

rustling leaves, but we know better, do we not ? It is the leaves kissing when they catch each other. Woodleaf was busy watching two leaves which had been chasing each other for some time when the wind suddenly came behind the one that was trying to catch the other, gave a great push with his breath, and blew it right against the one that was running away. Such a loud kiss they gave each other that Woodleaf actually laughed aloud. The noise she made startled two children, who had come to the wood to gather faggots. Woodleaf sat further back, and hid behind the leaves which were not yet brown, and listened to what the children were saying. ‘Did you hear that noise, Georgie?’ asked the girl, Nellie. ‘ Yes,’ answered Georgie. ‘lt sounded like someone laughing, but I cannot see anyone, can you T ‘No,’ said Nellie. ‘ But let us be quiet and gather as much firewood as we can whilst it is dry enough to burn. Poor mother says we shall not be able to buy any coal this winter, and if we wait till rain comes the wood will be wet, and will not cook the dinner.’ ‘ Well, we could make a fire and dry it,’ said Georgie. • You stupid boy,’ said Nellie. ‘ How could we make a fire of nothing ?’ George laughed, then sat down on a tree stump and said he was too tired to gather any more of those tiiesome little sticks. •Do help me, Georgie dear !’ said Nellie. • I shall never get enough myself. These small pieces do burn so fast.’ • I wish each little stick we pick up would turn into a big bundle of faggots, don’t you, Nellie ?’ the tired little boy said. • Indeed I do,’ Nellie answered, sitting down beside him. • Georgie, do you believe in fairies !’ • Of course I do,’ said her brother.

* Then let’s both wish as hard as ever we can that sonic good fairy would appear now and turn our sticks into bundles of faggots, all nicely tied up.’ ‘ Hadn’t we better say some rhymes, or something ? That’s the sort of way fairies like to be asked, I know,’ George said. * How would this do •’ Nellie asked. 'Sticks, dear sticks, to faggots turn. Then you in the tire shall burn ; Cook our dinner, boil our tea. Your dames dancing merrily.’ ‘ But,' George said, * you shouldn't tell the faggots they are to be burned. They mayn't come if they think they ate to be treated so unkindly.’ * They know that is all we want them for,’ said Nellie. * Come, Georgie, sing away.’ So the two sang heartily, and the good fairy slipped oil' the branch, let herself to the ground by a silken thiead, crept quietly along to the little heap of sticks, touched them with her wand, when, lo ! a large pile of nicely tied-up faggots appeared in their place. Two little sticks that were lying on the ground close by were also tnrned into two bundles of long sticks. Both children cried, ‘ Oh, look !' and jumped up. George took one bundle oft' the ground and sat down, it was so heavy, to look at it closely to make sure the sticks were real, whilst Nellie picked up the other bundle and put it on the large pile. If you look at the picture you will see them doing tnis. They wanted to thank the fairy, but she had disappeared. So they ran home and fetched the big wheelbarrow, and spent all the afternoon getting those faggots home, and I can tell you their mother was pleased.

Jack Frost.