“We are looking for our dinner,” replied the dwarfs, who, during the
latter part of their singing, had been hunting under the leaves and down
the slippery slope for a big fat grub which they had carefully stowed
away for a meal, but which had disappeared.
“I’d rolled him all up
just under this cup!”
With a grunt cried out Gup.
“Yes! grunt and croak,
You pig in a poke;
You’re to blame,” cried Joke.
“I’ve told you full oft
Not to gaze up aloft—
That grub was _so_ soft!
He was such a prize!
A sight for sore eyes
When made into pies!”
And Joke heaved big sighs.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” said little Cis, “pray don’t quarrel over a grub.”
“Quarrel, indeed!” cried a voice out of the bushes; “they’re always
quarrelling!”
It was a plump Maori hen who thus spoke, and she added, “If they’d leave
off making rhymes, and attend to the business of every-day life, it
would be far better. While they sat looking up at the skies, the grub
rolled down, and I caught him and ate him, for it was a pity he should be
wasted. In fact,” added the hen, with a satisfied nod, “as a rule, they
find the grubs, and I eat them!”
At this, the dwarfs got so puffed out with anger, that the children were
afraid they would burst, they rolled their eyes round and round, in
search of something to throw at the Maori hen, but she ran away into the
bushes beyond their reach.
“I should be glad if you’d give us a drink out of those green cups of
yours,” said Hal; “and couldn’t you make some better poetry? if so, we’d
like to hear it very much.”
The dwarfs then handed the children each a mountain-lily leaf full of
cool dew, saying:—
“To you we hold the fairy cup,
And bid you drink of sparkling dew,
The stars have gone, the sun is up,
Soon must we hide from mortal view.
But ere we say good-bye, we bid
Ye upward, ever upward go;
Look to the Star that shines above,
Though oft you cull the flowers below.
’Tis Christmas morn, the Bell-bird’s chimes
Rise from the distant woods; o’er hills
Where rabbits skip, there softly rings
The music of a thousand rills.
A merry Christmas! then we sing;
A merry time for one and all!
Let not the poor pass by your gates,
Let from your hands the good gifts fall.
We merry dwarfs have but one gift,
To thirsty souls we hold it up,
And bid them drink refreshing dew
From out our cool green fairy cup.
But ere we say good-bye we bid
Ye upwards, ever upwards go;
Look to the Star that shines above,
E’en though you cull the flowers below.”
“I wonder if they mean our Star of Love,” said little Cis.
“Perhaps so,” said Hal, “though I don’t see it anywhere just now.”
Hal stooped down to where the little dwarfs were hiding themselves under
the leaves, but somehow they and the big stalks seemed to get all mixed
up, and he then could see nothing but the stalks, and began to think he
must have dreamt all the rest.
Just then a Maori hen, with an inquisitive air, came out of the fern, and
Hal, seeing it, cried out,—
“By-the-bye, old thief, where are those buttons of mine you stole?”
“I don’t know,” replied the hen. Indignant mutterings were uttered by
some other hens gathering round:—
“_We_ never stole any buttons, it must have been some country cousin
of ours; we never think of stealing anything,” protested the crowd
indignantly.
“Well, you see,” replied Hal, “all your family have got a bad name; but
there may be some honest ones amongst you.”
But the offended hens did not wait to hear more, and scuttled off into
the bushes.
The children, seeing that Santa Claus was beckoning to them to go on,
tried to get up the slope quickly; but how slippery the stretches of
snow-grass were! they often stumbled, and had to hold on tightly to the
silvery tufts to keep from falling backwards into the awful depths. Many
a time did Hal help little Cis, for he still had the wand in his hand,
and used it as a stick to lean upon.
“We shall soon get to the snow now,” said Santa Claus, waiting for the
children, and pointing above them, where the eternal peaks were shining.
“What is that?” cried Hal, as he heard a loud thundering, as of a huge
mass falling from some great height, waking the echoes far and near.
“You will know soon,” answered Santa Claus; and helping the children up
the last steep ledges, they came in sight of the vast fields of snow and
ice.
Proceeding in single file along the narrow path under his guidance,
he at length placed them on a spot whence they could safely watch the
avalanches thundering from the heights, down the rugged mountain side to
the valley below, and how wonderful it was to see the huge masses of ice
falling, sliding, dashing from ledge to ledge! Then from the clear sky
above them they heard a voice calling, “Ke-a, ke-a. Come up, come up.”
[Illustration: Kea.]
“What is that?” asked little Cis, who had not spoken, but, sitting close
to Hal, had been watching the wonderful scene.
“I do not know,” said Hal, “but it looks like a big mountain parrot that
I’ve seen pictures of in our new book on New Zealand birds.”
“Is that what it is, Mr. Santa Claus?”
“Yes, Hal, and it is a cruel bird,[22] for it will fasten its claws into
the back of any sheep that has wandered away from its companions or is
floundering in the snow, and then, digging its sharp beak through the
flesh, it feeds upon the fat part it likes best. The poor sheep, driven
frantic by the pain, rushes on and on, till it sinks down exhausted to
die; and then the Kea, having got the dainty bit it wanted, leaves its
prey, and goes off to seek a fresh victim.”
“How cruel!” said little Cis, her eyes filling with tears.
“But come, children,” said Santa Claus, “I must take you near the snow,”
and he led them to where the snow lay white and pure.
The children rushed to fill their hands with it, and shouted for joy.
“How cold it is!” cried Hal.
“How beautifully white and soft!” said little Cis.
And the children began to pelt each other, their merry laughter ringing
on the clear air.
“Let’s have a shy at Santa Claus,” whispered Hal to his sister; and,
making a big snow-ball, their eyes sparkling with fun, they threw it
suddenly at their guide, who was sitting on a rock near by.
But how astonished they were, when the snow-ball hit him, to see it
gradually spread out and cover him.
“Good-bye, children! Good-bye! good-bye!” said Santa Claus in a low
muffled voice; and then, all that was left of their kind guide was a heap
of snow.
“Oh! what have we done!” cried Cis, as she looked round and round for
Santa Claus.
She thought the heap of snow was something like him in shape, but then it
was _only_ a heap of snow, and poor Cis sat down and cried.
Hal tried to look brave, but felt inclined to cry too, when he remembered
how far they were from home.
“How shall we get down the mountain? How shall we get back to mother?”
moaned Cis, and the tears ran down her cheeks afresh.
Then from out the snow-heap sprang hundreds of little long-legged
sprites, with high pointed ice-caps on their heads, and wearing coats of
sparkling snow, the icicle-fringe of which jingled merrily.
What round, rosy faces they had! What twinkling blue eyes! In their hands
they carried frost lances or little crystal spades, which they flourished
in the air as they sprang up from the snow, making flashes of light in
the sun.
“Who are you?” cried Hal.
“Are you the children of Santa Claus?” asked little Cis, “and if so, can
you tell us where he has gone, please?”
“We are his servants,” shouted they, “and he has sent us to help you; for
he has started on his journey to the Old World, where the children will
soon be looking for him.”
“Oh! is that where he has gone!” said little Cis with a relieved air,
glad to find they had not killed him; “and will you help us to go
home? because I think it must be Christmas morning, and mother will be
expecting us;” and little Cis thought she could hear the Bell-bird’s
chimes, as she had heard it many a time in the early morning.
“Yes, we will help you,” answered the sprites.
Just then they heard the bird circling over their heads, again crying,
“Ke-a! Ke-a! Come up! come up!” and Hal, helping little Cis, and planting
his stick firmly, step by step, in the snow, followed the sprites, who
tripped lightly on, looking like points of dancing light.
At last, after hard climbing, they reached the ice-clad side of the
highest peak. How beautiful the prospect in the bright sunlight! The
clouds all gone; nothing but the clear blue sky above and around. All
was still, save when the avalanches thundered down from the heights. The
children stood and watched the huge masses of ice as they slid down, now
here, now there from the shining peaks, to fall like powdered snow into
the foaming glacier stream in the dim depths below.
Meanwhile the little sprites were hard at work digging, cutting, shaping
a huge block of ice.
“What are you making?” asked Hal. “Can we help?”
“Yes, if you like,” said the sprites, and they gave him and Cis two
little spades. The children were soon quite hot, working as the sprites
bade them, loosening and shaping the huge block of ice; while every now
and then they would all stop, and pelt each other with the powdered ice,
and the sprites sang:—
“Pelt us, pelt us, we don’t care,
We love the snow so crisp and fair;
We will shape and we will dig,
Till a chariot white and big
We have cut, for those who’d fain
Hasten to their home again.
Slide and slip, and slip and slide,
Thunderous roll, and mighty crash!
In the chariot come and ride,
Down into the depths to dash.
Mystic trip for those who roam;
One wild rush: Hurrah for home!”
Tempting indeed looked the chariot; bright and sparkling were its wheels
of ice, and some of the sprites had decked it with starry edelweiss
gathered on the slopes below, and with handfuls of the red snow-lichen.
“Let’s get in, Cis!” cried Hal.
“Is it quite safe?” asked Cis of the sprites.
“Quite, quite,” answered they; “Santa Claus told us to make it for you.”
Taking hold of little Cis, the foremost sprite helped her to get in, and
Hal jumped quickly in by her side.
Throwing down their spades, the laughing sprites rushed to the chariot
wheels, ready to push them round, whilst others pelted the children with
snow-lichen, shouting at the top of their shrill voices:—
“Slide and slip, and slip and slide,
Thunderous roll and mighty crash!
In the chariot those who ride,
Down into the depths shall dash.
Mystic trip for those who roam;
One wild rush: Hurrah for home!”
Then the wheels began to turn, and Hal threw his arm round Cis, who was
holding on to him, and looking with a little white face into the depths
below.
[Illustration: “You must have been dreaming, Hal!”]
But the wheels turned faster and faster, as the chariot dashed down
the glassy slope. Hal looked at the sky above, where the Kea was still
crying, “Come up! come up!” and he thought he saw the Star of Love
shining faint and far; and then—— Hal remembered no more; and, with the
words of the sprites ringing in his ears,—
“Slide and slip, and slip and slide,”
he—awoke,—to find he had tumbled out of bed, and that it was Christmas
morn indeed. And there was little Cis, sitting up in her bed, and there
were the stockings with their bulging sides; and Hal rubbed his eyes and
wondered if he were awake or dreaming. But he and Cis hastened to dive
into their stockings, to see what Santa Claus had put into them, and,
what treasures they found!
For Cis there was a big doll, dressed like an angel, and fairy-like small
ones, and beautiful furniture for her doll’s house, and a book with
pictures of all kinds of birds and insects.
And in Hal’s, what treasures for his collection! Rare birds’ eggs in
little glass-covered boxes, precious bits of many-coloured ores; and from
the Terraces, about which his mother had often told him, were specimens
of white encrusted sticks and delicate ferns. How he longed to put them
in his cabinet with his other treasures!
But when Hal talked to Cis about Santa Claus and their night’s travels,
she laughed and said,—
“You must have been dreaming, Hal, or perhaps the treasures in the
stockings whispered it all in your ear,” which Hal indignantly denied.
“For I know it was real,” he said.
But the Bell-birds were singing their Christmas chime in the bush, and
the morning sun was gilding the tree-ferns and the waves, and their
mother’s voice was calling, “A happy Christmas, children! a happy
Christmas!”
And whose was that other voice that called out the words too?
“Father! father!” cried the little ones eagerly, tearfully, as they
rushed into the outstretched arms of their mother and _father_ too!
Yes, it was a happy Christmas morn, indeed, for the sea had brought its
_living_ to their home. And as the children sat that evening in the
little low room, their father told them of the shipwreck, of his life
on an island with one other, carried like himself to its shores, and of
their joy when a passing vessel sighted them and brought them home at
last.
When the Southern Cross again shone down from the sky on the father and
mother and happy children, Hal told them his tale of all he had seen the
night before.
Although little Cis declared it was not so, Hal would never believe but
that Cis and he had been with Santa Claus to see all the wonders of the
Southern Cross Fairy-land.
FINIS.
NOTES.
[1] Bell-bird. Korimako. (_Anthornis melanura._)—A honey eater, the
size of a sparrow; plumage dark green. It inhabits the outskirts of the
forest. At daybreak the Bell-birds collect together in a favourite tree,
especially on the Pohutukawa, or Christmas-tree, so called because it is
in blossom at Christmas time, every little branch being then decorated
with a tuft of crimson flowers, the cups of which are full of honey. One
bird acts as conductor, making a snap with his bill, which is the signal
to the others to begin the music, when at once a beautiful sound, like
distant chimes, is heard; all the birds listen to the conductor, and stop
or begin at his command. During the daytime they do not sing in chorus,
but before retiring to rest they again gather together and with sweet
music show their joy in life.—A. REISCHEK, F.L.S.
[2] The Cabbage-tree (_Cordyline australis_) is a characteristic feature
in New Zealand landscapes. It receives its name from the arrangement
of its leaves in tufts or heads at the ends of the branches. The tree
may reach forty feet in height, and the tufts of stiff and sword-shaped
leaves at the ends of the not very numerous branches gives it a
peculiarly picturesque appearance. It is a member of the Lily order, and
bears in the spring, feathery masses of small, white and sweet-scented
flowers.—A. P. W. THOMAS, M.A., F.L.S., F.G.S.
[3] Kiwi. (_Apteryx mantelli._)—A bird about the size of a common fowl,
with a long bill; it cannot fly, as the wings are extremely small and
hidden amongst the plumage, being only 2½ inches long. The plumage of
the Northern Kiwi is brown, and that of the South Island grey, the
feathers are very much like hair, and when walking it steadies itself
with its long bill. In summer it inhabits dense and secluded gullies,
and in winter the spurs of the forest-covered hills. During the day the
Kiwis sleep in burrows, under roots, or in hollow trees. As soon as the
sun sets the shrill call of the male, and the croaking answer of the
female, is heard, and it is amusing to see these creatures on a moonlight
night, coming into the open spaces, and challenging any of their rivals
who may dare to intrude into their favourite haunts. The challenge
being answered, each bird makes a grunt of defiance, then the two rush
together, and the fight begins. They strike forward with their strong
legs at each other, and often roll over and over from the hard blows
given. They are the most unsociable of all the New Zealand birds.—A. R.
[4] Parson-bird. Tui. (_Prosthemadera novæ Zealandiæ._)—A honey bird, the
size of a blackbird; plumage black, with steel-blue and green shimmer,
and two white tufts of soft curly feathers under its throat, suggestive
of white bands, hence the name, Parson-bird. It imitates nearly every
bird, and talks to perfection when in captivity and if taught. It alters
its note according to the four seasons. In September, when the Kowhai is
covered with bright yellow flowers, it is a remarkable sight to see the
Tuis climbing among the blossoms, and sucking the honey from them, their
dark plumage forming a beautiful contrast to the mass of brilliant golden
flowers.—A. R.
[5] Pied Fantail. Piwakawaka (_Rhipidura flabellifera._)—A small
fly-catcher; plumage greyish brown. While busily engaged catching
mosquitos or sand flies, these birds steer with their fan-shaped tails,
making fantastic evolutions in the air. When a fantail has spied out with
its big black eyes the hiding place of the owl, in the daytime it will
call its mates together and show them the spot where their enemy dwells,
and then all the birds dart at the owl, and fly round and round, annoying
it in every possible manner until they chase it away.—A. R.
[6] The little Brown Owl, or Morepork. Ruru. (_Athene novæ
Zealandiæ._)—The size and plumage is the same as that of the European
Stone Owl. As soon as darkness covers the land, the Moreporks appear
silently swooping through the air, or darting suddenly after insects.
Woe to any small bird which happens to chirp in its dreams, or to any
rat which is taking a walk abroad, they will be sure to be detected by
the bright yellow eyes of these nocturnal wanderers. On one occasion I
saw one of these owls dart down on a large rat, fly with it high into
the air, then let it drop, and, again darting down upon it, it repeated
the operation till the rat was dead. The bird then proceeded most
systematically to skin its prey, and, after feasting on the flesh, flew
to the nearest tree, where it gave a few contented calls of “Morepork,”
and then sat like an image, with its piercing eyes gazing on the ground
in search of other prey.—A. R.
[7] North Island Crow. Kokako. (_Glaucopis wilsoni._)—A bird about the
size of a jay; plumage of a slaty-grey. In the North Island it has blue
wattles, in the South, orange with blue. This bird inhabits the secluded
slopes of mountains, hopping swiftly through the forest, or hiding itself
and peering through the boughs. Its note is melodious, and similar to
that of a flute, and in the pairing season the male dances up and down on
a branch, with his tail and wings out-spread, making at the same time a
gurgling noise to attract the female bird’s attention, who sits near by,
looking on in quiet admiration.—A. R.
[8] The Tuatara (_Splenodon punebatum_) is one of the peculiar animals
of New Zealand. It is a lizard-like animal, rather less than two feet in
length. It was formerly found on the mainland, but is now confined to
a few of the outlying islands which are seldom visited. It has no near
relative amongst existing lizards, and its nearest allies are certain
fossil saurians of a remote geological period (_Lianic_). A. P. W. T.
[9] VEGETABLE CATERPILLAR.
A caterpillar found in the New Zealand forest, which, when it buries
itself in the ground previous to its change into the perfect winged form,
is attacked by a kind of fungus.
The fungus spreads through the substance of the caterpillar, upon which
it lives; it then sends up a stem from the neck of its victim, and this
stem appears above ground, growing to the length of some eight or ten
inches. From its slightly thickened end, spores are shed.
The caterpillar becomes hard and dry, and its skin being filled with the
wood-like substance of the fungus, its natural shape is preserved.—A. P.
W. T.
[10] Grey Robin. Toutouwai. (_Petrœca longipes._)—A bird very much like
the Robin Red-breast. The plumage is grey, with a yellowish-white breast.
Robins are very tame birds, and can easily be made pets; they will often
come into a tent. When I was camping in the forest, a pair came into my
hut, ate off my plate, drank and bathed in my tin mug, sat on my dog’s
back, and, when I did not get up by daybreak, actually pulled my beard
and sat on my blanket. They often followed me on my expeditions for
miles, and were so jealous that they would not let any other robins come
near my camp.—A. R.
Tomtit, or Black Robin. (_Petrœca macrocephala._)—A bird of the size
of a titmouse; plumage black, with yellow and white on the breast. On
the Little Barrier Island, off the coast of the Auckland province, a
pair came to my camp every morning to get a little porridge or a few
crumbs. If I did not feed them at once they would come to the entrance
of my tent, and whistling, ask for food. One morning, to my delight,
they brought a family of three pretty little birds covered with yellow
speckles. As soon as I gave them oatmeal they fed their young with it.
They stayed with me till I broke up my camp.—A. R.
[11] Parrakeet. Kakariki. (_Platycercus novæ Zealandiæ._)—A small green
parrot, red on the top of the head. The parakeets climb about in large
flocks on the tops of the trees, feeding on seeds and berries. They are
most amiable towards each other, chattering the whole day, feeding and
kissing.—A. R.
[12] Maori Hen. Weka. (_Ocydromus earli._)—A bird rather smaller than
a common hen; plumage brown. It is the most inquisitive, cunning, and
mischievous of all the New Zealand birds. During the day it hides in
burrows or in thick scrub, from which, however, it emerges as soon as it
hears any unusual noise; it then hides behind a log, stone, or tree-root,
whence it watches all proceedings, calling to its mate with a booming
noise. Any small, bright article, such as a knife, watch, or bunch of
keys laid aside, the Maori hen will at once pick up and carry off with
delight to its hiding place. When near a farm-house, this bird, as soon
as it hears a domestic hen cackle, will watch its opportunity to run to
the place and carry off the egg she has laid, to eat it at leisure. In
the forest the Maori hens watch the birds building their nests in order
to steal their eggs. If a young bird or a rat is not sufficiently on the
alert, it will be seized at once and devoured, or should a lizard or a
grub cross their path, or a fish come too near the shore, they seldom
escape the eye of these vigilant birds. When chased by a dog the Maori
hen will run into its hole and slip out by another opening, and, screened
perhaps by a bush or fern, will watch the dog digging for it.—A. R.
[13] White Heron. Kotuku. (_Ardea alba._)—There is a Maori saying, that
the Kotuku, or White Heron, is like a great chief, seen only once in a
lifetime. These birds inhabit the rivers on the west coast of the South
Island, proudly stepping up and down the shore, or standing knee deep
in the water, with neck drawn in and head bent downwards to be ready
to make a dart should any fish venture too near. In November the White
Herons leave the rivers and congregate at one of the old breeding-places
on the shores of secluded inland lakes, where they sit about on the
crowns of tree-ferns or branches of trees near their nests; if any enemy
approaches, the birds begin in chorus a strange croaking noise. It is
a beautiful sight to see the long-legged, snow-white creatures sitting
amongst the green foliage, the whole picture clearly reflected in the
dark still water.—A. R.
[14] Wairakei Valley.—K. C.
[15] The Eagle’s Nest Geyser.—K. C.
[16] The hot-springs and geysers of New Zealand are chiefly found over a
broad belt of country stretching from the great volcanic mountains near
the centre of the North Island, in a north-easterly direction to the Bay
of Plenty. Hot-springs occur in tens of thousands over this area, showing
every variety; the water of some is only pleasantly warm, so that they
serve as natural baths, others are at a boiling temperature; the geysers
are boiling springs which act intermittently, now throwing up a column
of water fountain-like into the air, now sinking to rest for a longer or
shorter time.—A. P. W. T.