The Star Of Hope On The

Rim Of The Moon

THE constellation of the moon shown in the sketch, which was observed on June 3, at 5 a.m., from one of the Lau (or Windward) islands in Fiji must be of a comparatively rare occurrence.

The moon had passed the last quarter, new moon being due on June 6, but, owing to the purity and dryness of the atmosphere, the whole orb was clearly visible. The star perched so jauntily on its rim is generally accompanied by a smaller one, when observed in the morn-

Ing sky. On this occasion, however, the nearness of dawn had already paled the smaller fry.

It was a lovely picture. The morning sky was of a light blue-black, lit up by the hidden radiance of the approaching sun. The moon, just risen above the inky darkness of the hills, seemed to pour liquid silver over this little sleeping world, dripping from the fronds of the ghostly palm on to the native hut nestling so peacefully in its shelter. No sound broke the deep silence. Even the thunder of the reef, ever awake, ever watchful, had died to a low distant rumble.

Then a slight breeze stirred, like a sigh. A rooster lifted its voice to greet the new day, followed by answering calls from every tree and bush on the home stead.

I gave a last look at the moon—so serene and aloof from the worries of this, our world. Yet that same adornment, in congruous as it looked, placed thus on the great orb, seemed to work a subtle change in its expression. There was a promise, a message of hope.

That star looked exactly like a “teki teki”—as the Fijians call the custom of tucking a flower into one’s hair, just above the temple. You wouldn’t do it if you were depressed. I thought: “Well, if the moon feels like a ‘teki-teki’, things can’t be quite as bad as they look now.

Isn’t it always darkest before dawn?”. — E.H.

Messrs. L. Round, Paul and A. Hogan have been transferred from the Rabaul branch of B.P. & Co., Ltd., to Port Moresby.

A sketch of the moon, made by the writer.