COURAGE !N THE CITIES.

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 217, 13 September 1930, Page 1 (Supplement)

COURAGE !N THE CITIES.

A VISITOR'S IMPRESSIONS.

HEROISM OF THE POOH.

(By M.J.8.)

Country life is sometimes especially hard in winter. Where clay roads exist, one can go for months without seeing a friend; in fact without any recreation whatever, and with much hard labour, but one learns a new appreciation of the great outdoors and of homely things. A bowl of bush berries and green leaves gives one a thrill, the discovery of an early bunch of primroses is an event, a new book like Priestley's "Good Companions" is a delight, the quaint sayings of small children—all these little details make life sweet. Children, well fed and rosy, a larder full, just ordinary everyday things; but one does not need to be a prig in order to know that there is no better thing in all the world.

Walking down Lambton. Quay recently, I stood by the window of a big book shop to watch the crowd go by. It was, on the whole, a crowd of unsmiling, anxious faces—possibly mothers and fathers struggling to- make ends meet, and not quite succeeding; young faces,,.,,.Tsithc-linea. eL:-discpura,gement,. faintly showing—capable of keen enthusiasm but not getting just quite what they want out of life. Streams of little children were running into picture shows, and other little children, standing outside, gazed longingly after the rest. Men in clothes not quite warm enough, girls with cheeks not plump enough for_ .health, ...then among the crowd' emerged youth as it should be— loving life and thrusting along with zest in every movement. There the contrast was most acute, and one realised there was a fine courage, perhaps, behind the faces that did not smile.

I walked, up the Terrace behind a man immaculately neat, yet, because of the ascent, I saw that his bare feet were touching the pavement. It made me feel guilty of prying, of forcing a confidence. Again and again requests came to the house—an old man selling benzine tins, a girl offering dainty needlework, patient and courageous, and the givers are often juet as hard up in their own sphere—patient and courageous too. A visit to town is good for country folk if they read the writing on the wall, for there is terrible want in the cities of which we in the country cannot conceive. No agony can be greater than to have less than enough food for a tired father or growing children, no sorrow more poignant than watching little children chilled with insufficient blankets at night or warm clothes by day. The picture shows crowded with people, who would be better with the money for food —perhaps—but who can blame them if for a few hours they forget care, live the lives of luxury and beauty depicted there, for a short span luxuriate on yachts, speed through wonderful countries, and until the curtain falls are the idols of the crowd? I saw the poor, who can help it ? I saw the unemployed, who can help that, either? I saw wonderful charity and the dispensers of it. 11 saw beyond all the amazing patience and courage of those who carry on, in spite of fearful odds, and fight grimly a losing battle. New Zealand is too young and too far away to number many rich among her population, but there is a heroic battle going on in the towns to cope with actual want. It may be the man or woman country bred who loves the open spaces, yet sells goods behind a counter to provide as well as may be education for a family. It may be a clergyman tizhtening his belt, hampered at every turn for lack of funds, and which of them are not? It may be a city father giving unobtrusively as befits real charity, but being misjudged at home and even among friends. It. may be just a little shop girl going short on lunches to help the more at" home. No bands will play for them at the end of the piece, nor cheers be given, but they are the salt of the earth, who pass along the street, did we but know them.