Observer, Volume XI, Issue 671, 7 November 1891, Page 18
Dear Observer, — I am tired — sick — from continually fighting against my desires — from always growling, but never praising.from exposing faults where I much desire to praise goodness. Why can't people act as they are taught — good Christianity — and be kindly to one another instead of ever beiner on the watch to do an injury ? ?es, Ifeel tirea of it all. My reward is only the satisfaction of having endeavoured to do rightly. I have to fight alone. Those who should be foremost to help me are in the ranks against me, and to battle and have no one to cheer, no one to counsel, is indeed hard work, and fortunate is he who does not go down under the strain. The mountain of ' man's inhumanity to man ' seems to resist all efforts at demolition* and rather extends than decreases. Oh, I am so tired of all this unkindliness and bitterness and this continual having to find fault. 0, Mother Earth, receive back thy sorrowing son ! O, all-absorbing Universe, take back my dust and gases ; and O, Oblivion, receive me ! J?or what is life worth living, with such a nest of unsociability.
One says Observer a naughty man, who considers small boys legitimate game after nine o'clock at night. Another says Observer a bad man, who tries to traduce an innocent girl in a very underhand way. Another aays, there's an unprincipled man who won't pay his debts, and one who won't pay his rates. A pretty girl says the boys were rowdy outside church tonight. A mother says my boy is keeping company with a girl I don't like. Someone says a man tried to hinder and hurt his neighbour by refusing him an old rightof-way. One man won't clear his road of gorse ; another says, why is ail the Road Board work given to one man ? And a whisper is, why did not the footballers identify themselves with the last concert and ball ? Captain Luke, footballer, would have been more in place than Captain Crawford, volunteer, as chairman. No one says anything sweet, anything nice. Is it a wonder it is soul- depressing ? — I am, etc., Clevedon DM.