NATURE AND MAN

Grey River Argus, 16 October 1936, Page 8

NATURE AND MAN

Comfort from the Great Mother SOLACE OF OLD AGE. (Edited by Leo Fanning). Noble heart-warming soul-stirring words of Sir William Mulock, Chief Justice of Ontario, the oldest acting Judge in the British Empire-des-scribed as “95 years old or young are moving from one paper to anotner around the globe. Some readers “Nature—<and Man” may have seen the inspiring statement. However, it will do them good to read it a S ain: “I am' sf.ll at work, with may hand to the plough, and my face to the future The shadows of evening lengthen about me. but morning is in my heart, r have lived from the forties of one century to the thirties of the next. I have had varied fields of labour, and full' contact with men and things, and I have warmed both hands before the fire of life. . . “The testimony I bear is this: that the Castle of Enchantment is not- yet behind me. It is before me still, and dailv I catch glimpses of its battlements and towers. The rich spoils pt memory are mine. Mine, too, are the precious things of to-day—books, Hovers pictures, Nature, and sport. The first of Mav is still an enchanted day for me ’The best things of all is friends.’ The best thing of life is always farther on. Its real lure is hidden from' our eyes, somewhere beyond the hills of time.”

WORDSWORTH’S PHILOSOPHY. That lovable veteran’s declaration of cheerful creed is a reminder of passages iu Wordsworth’s famous “Lines composed a few miles above Tmteru Abbey, on revisiting the banks of the Wye during a tour.” Here is the part in which the poet- prayed for the happiness of his sister: Nature never did betray The heart that loved' her; ’tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so Impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life. Shall e’er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful 4 ’aith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in tky solitary walk; And let the misty mountain wind* be free To blow against thee: and iu after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured In sober pleasure, when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! jR. L- STEVENSONS’ JOY IN nature. Robert Louis Stevenson’s brave sensitive soul was always responsive to Nature’s moods. In his “Travels with a Donkey” he mentions the joy of lying out in a sleeping-bag under the stars of a summer night—a delight which increasing numbers of New Zealanders are seeking.

“Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof,” wrote R.LJS. “'But in the open world it- passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and Ihe hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. "What seems a blind o'f temporal death to people choked between walls and c urtains, is only a light, and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one Stirling hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night. "At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies Even shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest in these arcane, have not a guess as to the means or purposes of this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are disturbed in our slumber, only, like the luxurious Montaigne, 'that we may the better and more sensibly relish it.’ We have a moment to look upon the stars, and there is special pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature’s flock.’’

Well, after that heavenly night, Stevenson’s heart was filled with gratitude to Nature. ‘‘l hastened to prepare my pack,” he remarked, ‘‘and tackle the steep ascent that lay before me; but I had something on my mind. It was only a fancy; yet a fancy will sometimes be importunate. I had been most hospitably received and punctually served in my green caravanserai. The room was airy, the water was excellent, and the dawn had called me to a moment. I say nothing of the tapestries or the inimitable ceiling, nor yet of the view's which I commanded from the windows; but I felt I was in some one’s debt for all this loberal entertainment. And so it' pleased me in a half-laughing way, to leave pieces of money on the turf as I went along, until I had loft enough for my night’s

lodging. I trust they did not fall <o some rich and churlish drover. Meditation on that charming Philosophy will make many New Zealanders grateful for the Hon W. E. Parry’s recent declaration that ‘‘the Government intends to do all it can to preserve the remaining forest area”—the beautiful native woodlands where Nature always has peace for troubled minds —a refuge from ‘‘the fretful stir unprofitable and tho fever of the world,” as Wordsworth put it—that green haven. Tn which the brethren of the mystery In which the heavy and the weary Of all this unintelligible world Is lightened