Beds Of Gold, But Not For Sale.

Tally Ho, Trainlanders! Let's go prospecting.

In the Waimakariri Gorge, which is on the way to Otira, there's gold galore. Gold—gold everywhere. It glows and nods to us from every side. Up the cliffs and over the hills and far away is one sea of waving gold. There's no gold shortage here. Yet the gold-buyers make no use of all this wealth.

But we will! Spring days, picnic days and happy days are here again and with all this golden glory nor' wester-land is a grand picnic place. Amongst this glowing gorse and broom we can play the most exciting games.

True, we can scarcely stand up against the howling nor' westers as we cross the railway bridge. Still, it's fun to be blown about by the howling wind in brilliant sunshine and to have our laughter carried down the swirling Waimakariri waters. But down on the shingly river bed, where we paddle and boil our billy, it is quite calm and sheltered.

When we are breathless with scrambling up the cliffs, we throw ourselves into the broom and let the winds go singing through our hair. We lie and look at the wispy clouds in the bright blue sky and watch the drunken bees go tumbling over the apricot-scented gorse. Yes, we lie on beds of gleaming gold, like the princes and princesses of old. Their beds were cold and hard though. Ours are sun-warmed and soft.

You know, this is where spring throws all her left over gold after she has finished bedabbling the world!

What shall we do with all her board of goblin gold, now that we have found it? It is every bit as precious as the gold which the jewellers are so busily weighing upon their tiny scales. Instead of letting all this golden beauty fade away, do you think you could save it for a rainy day—store it in ourselves to brighten us up?

That's the best of all these jolly picnics and tramps and mystery trains, isn't it? We have the gay and care-free memories to store away and live over and over again, giving us untold pleasure.

Wishing you all the Springtime joys,

Yours in Trainland,

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