TOPICS OF THE DAY.

Press, Volume LXII, Issue 12443, 5 March 1906, Page 6

TOPICS OF THE DAY.

In the course of wander.A Rural ings in New Sauth Wales, Lyceum, a contributor to the "Syd-

ney Morning Herald" came across B duly constituted State echool ■which should really find a place in a museum of Pedagogy, if there is euch a thing. It was a crazy, ant-eaten old etructure, the only apparently sound part being the roof, which had the good forfone to be made of iron. The wooden chimney, which smoked, had a carat outwards, each of the four walls moved bodily in response to pressure, and the unstable floor had departed from the horieontal. The pupils of this quaint school, numbered only two, but the rules were observed with most commendable strictness. The , pupils were lined up outside at the time for begm<ning school as if they numbered thirty or forty, and were put through a couree of .useful physical drill. "There is here," tcmarked the writer, "an entire absence of that reprehensible sagging in the middle which often characterises ranks of children in some eohoole when they fail in." The" whole school then marched into school with measured tread, and the school N roll was duly called and solemnly responded to. The teaching was marked by an, enthusiasm and 6kill worthy of greater scope and more encouragement. One very small map of the world was the only aid to the teaching of geography that ■adorned the walls, and this had for company several wall-sheete and official proclamations, all testifying to the .persistently penetrative, power of the rain-water. The spare material—for the school had had .at one tome quite a number of pupils — was kept in whisky cases, for want of bookcases and cupboards. The visitor was particularly interested to notice that in a keeon, the teacher touched on the public school-system, and sought.to improve the occasion by inculcating a feeding of gratitude towards a paternal Government, which provided and maintained a. school for this insignificant portion of its charge. To do so, it wae computed that-each of the two children cost the State £43. The teacher's work lay between this . and another eohool eeveral miles away, at which the average attendance was fourteen. He was not, as ifche .visitor thought, by any means on the lowest rung of the profession, and to the visitor's expression of hope that he would rise before long and give place to another tyro, he made, doleful answer. "Can't rise under presaid he. "How could a man qualify for examination for seopnd-clasß ©ertificato in euch a school, as this? Besides, I am no novice, ac you may naturally infer, but have been teaching twelve years." One really feels quite concerned Jest both schools should dwindle away to nothingness, end the poor man disappear from the educational world without feaving so much, ac a Tipple to remind the Education Department of its neglect.

A correspondent of The Year of "Notes and Queries" Moons. recently called for the . names of English months when picturesquely described, in popular or poetic phrase, as moons, fao instanced the use of "Harvest; Moon," for September, ' 'Apple Moon" for October, in his neighbourhood, and . enquired further if there were not enough of such phrases to go all round the year. English counties in general: do not seem to have preserved more than, an instance or two, and show a good deal of uncertainty as to the application of these. South Lincolnshire, perhaps, supplier the best list: i August,, Haymakers' Moon. September, Harvesters'. October, Shooters'. November, Hunters'. But even here there is something out of place, if wo »re to trust the testimony of the old glee which has musically adjured so many audiences:

"Come out, 'tis now September, The hunters' moon's begun." The discussion, however, brought out an contribution from Dr. W W. Skeat upon the descriptive charms of the Anglo-Saxon moon names, not forgetting his own translation triumph as to February, the "Sol-monath," miscalled by many the "Sun-month" ; whereas. Sol, with the short "o" (preeerved in the English "Sully"), had evidently intended that sadly appropriate distinction in the British climate, the "moon of Jniud." Only March, as "Hreth-monath," aftef a mere goddess Breda, stands unpicturetsquely in Saxon nomenclature; though the Skeat's alternative, "Fierce-month," would eiiit excellently with a modern English view of thifl

"Roaring moon of daffodil." To the poets, in fact, rather than to the philologist or the people, the enquirer should go for season synonyms. Longfellow furnished ■almost a whole year's supply for America simply in one pcem, "Hiawatha": ■ " '

"When the birds were singing gaily, In the Moon of Leaves were Ringing,"" cannot te mistaken for anything but a spring month. "In the pleasant Moon of Strawberries" is another agreeable reference; while Indian summer arrived

"In the moon when nights are brightest, In the dreary Moon of Snowshoes." Yet these Indian adaptations have never become current in United Staltee English, any mono than the everyday New Zealander preserves the Maori timemeafiumnent by birds or trees, ox than the college student, onco past hie gree tests, will welcome a new moon in Anglo-Saxon.

v We may havo rashly The Happiest pictured tho man of ■"* Hour. letters as one devoted

. . to midnight thought, the email hoars , gae, and all the iatel-

lectual rewards of sitting,up late. Quite the reverse. ' It <is "established by "the frank confession of many distinguished persons tiat their greatest joy m life is getting up early. Eight to nine in the morning isquobod as their "happiest hour/ illumined with the glow of health and the prospect of breakfast. At that hour the day begins for **x Douglas Sladon, who finds in it extraordinary possibilities and a new round of excitement. "Every day oomee to mc with a baton in its knapsack, though every day is not a field-marshal among its fellows." Mr W. L. Aldoa also declares for a morning gladness when Nature is vocal with ■the sweet song of the sparrow and the cheerful yell of the milkman. "If you live in the suburbs the perfume of your neighbour's flower-bed and your own bacon mingle sweetly in the air. At no other hour of the day does life look quite so bright." This pleasantly reminds one of Mies Edith Fowler's last heroine, who assert* that no earthly food oauld actually taste co good «c bacon smells before you come down in the morning. Mr Guy Thorns, the author of "When, it was Dark," is ''caught up in a psalm of praise end "a song of physical 'happiness" in the early light, between six and seven; and the Venerable Archdeacon Sinclair most enjoys his morning prayers, hie breakfast "Times," and hie St. Paul's morning service. Other celebrities vary things a little. Mr G. K. Chesterton believes his happiest hour is when he ie "posting manuscripts in the piliar-box to appease the demands of irate editors." This chodoe indeed compares favourably with that of another strenuous journalist, Mr Bart> Kennedy, whose bliss is "when I am worrying a poor, unfortunate editor for a cheque on. the nail, and this came poor, unfortunate editor weakly relents, and rings the bell for the boy to bring a pay-slip 1" Afternoon teatime, with a book, represents the day's chief hour for Mrs C. P. Humphrey. Mr "W. Pott Ridge will make no invidious distinctions; he welcomes every hour of the twenty-four. But Mr Frank Reynolds has a decided favourite —"Tho one when the young lady next door etops playing 'Rustle of Spring,' and—apparently takes a little nourish* ment." And Mr W. W. Jacobs answers the query by invereion, .while he incidentally consoles those who have not yet arrived at cheerfulness in, early rising. "AH hours are much the same," he reports, "except that obnoxious hour when one feels that it is really.time to gob up. That is certainly not the happieetl"