ASHBURTON LIBRARY AND OTHER THINGS.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume XXIX, Issue 7830, 24 June 1909, Page 4

ASHBURTON LIBRARY AND OTHER THINGS.

A book of verses underneath the bough, I A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and j thou Beside me singing m the wilderness—Oh wilderness were Paradise Enow. Ah, Love could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp thia sorry scheme of things entire, Would we not shatter it to bits—and then Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire! —Omar. "When the unknown scientist with a fixed belief ever before him, after years of patient search and experiment, is suddenly confronted with the concrete result of his belief, he knows a joy that is not of the earth, earthy. Now and then the writer hath received a little ray of warmth from the reflected glory of such a joy. 1 have long held a belief m the unconscious effect of environment and climate on character, and shyly wondered why such phenomena have not more interested others. But just therein lies the effect of such a cause. A few days ago Mr Jones m (I think) criticising the last declaration of the borough's finances, when refer- j ring to the cost of the up-keep of the Library, classified it as a "necessary luxury " ; and, I understand, Mr Jones is, himself, a purveyor of the light that leads us. Alas, are gas lamps, then, of more importance than the light of the soul? But I have a great respect for Mr Jones for two reasons: m that he takes some interest m his fellow-man and his day; and also that he has just given me another ray of that reflected glory of which I have just spoken! He is the unconscious result of his environment. How now, you ask? Do not misunderstand me, please, for he is not alone m his trance. Environment is as subtle and insidious as hypnotism, and he is but hypnotised by the bald -flatness and monotony of this town and its surroundings. And right here I should say that some one with the dim light of artistic longing m his soul attempted to reconstruct the Garden of Eden out of a depression m your domain —and then left for fresh woods and pastures now. Once a week it is visited by zebraed youths and maidens with fearsome crooked sticks, and—three nursegirls. But to return to the burden of my endeavour, and m serious mood. You are wondering why I am not satisfied with my first quotation from dear old Omar. Well, I have more than a penchant for visiting the library (your culture-loving Scotsman calls it his Athenaeum! if it has but a roof and a copy of Burns) of the town m which I happen to be m for the time being, and yours is the sorriest one for the size of the town I have yet seen. The building m which it is housed is grotesque and forbidding. The public reading room on a wet day is something to smell and remember. Of proper ventilation there is none. Higher up a fearsome stairway, you come to a subscribers' room-cum-museum, where the draughts are guaranteed to kill m half an hour—no one stays longer if he wishes to live. I hold no brief for the hotel and its degradation; but Ashburton has banished its cheerful clatter and seductive glow—and what has been given the youth of the town m its place? "Am I my brother's 'keeper'," you ask. Yes: to the extent of your observation, ability, and—cash. You have all these with the finest country m the world behind you; but you are twenty miles from nowhere, and as far as providing ■for, or inducing towards, some better outlook for the mental, moral and physical energies of your youth and age what are you doing? It might almost be on the verge of the ' Never-Never Land.' The churches but touch the fringe of the question. You have a Council mainly composed of live and cultured gentlemen, but their hands are tied and are you freeing them with your personal interest and encouragement, ye people of Ashburton Mcthinks not. The other night, at a meeting called to appoint the necessary members on the Library Committee, only a few councillors put m an appearance. But I am told that a lonely wanderer from the glare of the town looked m, and seeing what he took to be a half-dozen councillors and a reporter, thought he had stumbled on a Council meeting, and fled sThere are but tiyo main conditions m life worth our attention—progression or retrogression, and the former demands that you erect an attractive (it needn't be palatial) block of buildings where the aforesaid building now stands. You have a splendid position and plenty of ground-room, which should include not only your Council Chambors but also a public library with a public room downstairs, and a long cheerful subscribers' room upstairs, well stocked with current periodicals and the books you already have m plenty—not forgetting a male or female librarian m charge of the circulating department and the other rooms every evening. And this also is relevant tothe above: The building should include a municipal'''theatre,, The situation is perfect; the need essential." instead of the above you have an abortion m brick at onp end of the town and a brick barn at the other-. To any ultra-pious reader to whom a theatre is anathema I would affirm that you cannot eradicate the dramatic instinct m nature. Look at your children m their innocent make-believe. Thero is even an Ober-Ammergau religious play. Would, it not be better, then, to make nrovision for a company that could stage for you a decent p]ay to which you could go with your sons and daughters, instead of them as now going to see a show tha£ all tp,q often only panders to their worst instincts? Those of us with an appreciation of the best m drama, comedy or opera m the spirit of an Eli a or Clement Scott, know that with such poor\ stage accommodation as you have here, it is not to the interests of a good company to give us of their best; it is all too frequently considered the thing tq play to your worst tastes m these degenerate days of light and frivolous vaudeville. ACTON.