Once upon a time, the magpie was a wicked old woman. She became changed into a bird for her ill deeds, as you shall hear.
One good season, when there was plenty of grass, this old woman gathered a great store of seed, which she crushed into meal with her two grinding-stones. She stored it away in skin bags, ready to be made into cakes, with which she used to coax little children to come to her.
As soon as she had made her first batch of cakes, a tribe of blacks came and camped near by. The men went off to hunt possums and kangaroos and any other beasts they might find in the bush. The women and children stayed at home.
Shortly after the men had started, the old woman went over to the camp to have a chat with the other women. She asked them why they, also, had not gone hunting. Many were the hives of wild bees near by, and sweet and thick was the honey in them; in great plenty, too, were the yams; and why should they sit therehungry, and hear their children crying for food, when so much food was near at hand?
"Get your bags and baskets, " said she, "and go out and fill them; and I shall stay here and mind your children till you come back. Besides, " she went on, "I have just cooked a lovely loaf, which I shall give to your children; and when they have eaten it I shall cook them another. "The mothers, without thinking of any harm, did as they were bidden. Off they hurried into the bush, joyful at the thought of the food they would bring home, and thinking to themselves how pleased their husbands would be as well as the children.
When they had gone out of sight, the old woman took the children to her mia-mia, where she fed them on hot cake with plenty of honey on it.
The poor, hungry children were pleased and happy while they ate the nice things, and they thought she was such a good, kind old woman. After they had had enough to eat, she took them to a large hollow tree, and said she would give them many things to play with if they would go inside with her.
Of course they all did what she asked; and, as soon as the last one had gone in, she herself followed, and then shut the door tight. She gave them toys and plenty of wildfruits; but when they were no longer hungry, and had grown tired of the toys, they began to want their mothers.
They cried and cried to go home; but the old woman only shut the door the closer. Their crying was faintly heard by their mothers as they came back to the camp, laden with food. At first they thought the children were crying for food, and they felt so happy to think how soon those cries would be changed into laughter when they had eaten a dinner of the good things in the bags.
But what was their horror when they reached home and not a child was to be found! They thought, at first, that the children must be playing hide-and-seek; but when night came, and there was no sign of them, the mothers were almost mad with fear. Still could be heard now and then the wailing of the children, coming from the bush beyond.
When the husbands came back to the camp, they were very angry with their wives for leaving the children in the care of such a wicked woman, for they had heard of her before. All night long they walked through the bush, calling the lost ones by name; but the only reply was this low wailing from the gum-tree, sent back from all points by the echoes. Day after day went by, but nothing was to be found of the lost children.
At last a goanna heard them crying, and knew what it meant. He made up his mind to find out in which tree they were hidden. He is a very kind animal, the goanna, so the blacks say.
Drawn by John Rowell
"A door in the tree flew open. "
This kind old goanna crept along, and crept along, and stopped at every hollow tree. Of course he knew all the secrets of the bush. At last he came to the gum-tree in which the children were hidden. He crept along till he reached a hollow that led from the trunk to the first fork of the tree, and down this hollow he went. As he came near the bottom of the hollow, he could see the little children"s heads. Then he made up his mind to set them free, but first of all to throw a spell over the old woman and make her sleep.
So he said something in goanna words, and the old woman at once dropped down at the bottom of the tree in a deep sleep. The goanna lifted up one claw and said another charm, and at once a door in the tree flew open and the children marched out-and once again the door in the tree closed.
The children ran home as fast as their little legs could take them; and you may be sure their mothers never again left them in the care of a stranger, no matter how pleasing that stranger might be.
As the old woman slept, her form slowly changed into that of a magpie, so that when she woke she flew up through the opening by which the goanna had come down.
She built her nest in the tree; and ever since that time she has had no love for children, and that is the reason why she flies at them every time they come near the tree where she has built her nest.
Some of the blacks fancy that the echoes of the wailing of the lost children may still be heard among the gum-trees in the depths of the bush.
From Where Fairies Dwell, by J. T. Gilmour WallaCe.
About the Author.-The story is a myth told by the blacks to the piccaninnies. It owes its present form to Mrs. J. T. Gilmour Wallace, a Melbourne writer.
About the Story.-What do you learn from the story about the way the Australian blacks lived? What kinds of seeds are ground by the blacks for food? What kind do we grind? What are yams? Where were the children shut up? Have you ever heard a tree wailing or sighing?
What do you think the sound is like?