Your Life Preaches a Message

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVI, Issue 11, 24 December 1925, Page 9

Your Life Preaches a Message

“So make your message worthy of i that which is best in you.” ‘j£VERY life that, was ever lived has preached something. It is • what you do or what you fail to do, | where you are interested or where i you have an ambition to become greatiy interested, that is preaching a message louder than words. One life will preach that the . wages of sin is death ; another, that . the wages of unceasing effort for . the good of humanity brings lasting i happiness. | Your life is intended to preach a ' message that is different from any : other. Wherever you go, or who- ‘ ever you see, you carry your message to those with whom you come in contact. Actions speak when ' words do not. What your life says, and what you know it ought to say, are serious to you only as you see i the. seriousness of the better life ; that should be lived. , Your life preaches something to * everybody, and do what you will, < you cannot conceal your message. It is read as an open book by .friends and foes alike.

“ SKINNER’S CHRISTMAS ” (Continued from column two.) “Busy! Well. well, and what can a young lady like you find to be busy at ?” “Well you see, Sir, I help mother at home every day now that 1 have left school, and then 1 go each night to classes at the Technical School where I’m learning book-keeping, and when 1 have any spare minutes, 1 have business to look after for the Girl Guides and Brownies. You see, I’m secretary now.’’ “Deair me. what a busy life you lead; and when do you enjoy yourself?” “Oh! I enjoy myself all the time. I'm having a simply splendid time just now. The Guides, the Brownies, the Boy Scouts and the Kiwis have all clubbed together, and we’ve subscribed over ton pounds between us, and I’ve been commissioned to buy toys with it—isn’t it lovely?” “Buy toys! You don’t mean to say you are going to waste all that money on rubbishy toys?” “Most certainly 1 am not going to waste it. You see, wo have a list of over so many poor children—children we know will get few, if any, Christmas presents—and 1 hope to buy a toy for each. Oh dear, 1 do hope the money will <ro round.” As Joan, bubbling over with enthusiasm, babbled on, for a second time some note of chivalry was struck in the shrunken soul of the money lender, anj on the spur of the moment he waved his stick hailing a passing taxi.

“I owe you a taxi drive. Miss Joan. May I come with you on your shopping expedition? 1 can’t walk fast enough, but if we go in a taxi 1 won’t hinder you, and I may be some help in buying toys worth the money. “Certainly, I’d love you to come, but can you really afford a taxi ? I’ve not

enough to pay for it this time; every penny must be spent on toys.” “Yes, yes, 1 can pay. Didn’t I say I owed it you? Jump in before you make me angry.” Hour after hour, with the skill and perseverance of a born shopper, Joan pursued her quarry, regretfully laying iaside many desirable expensive toys, carefully selecting those showing greatest value for the money. Doggedly the old man hobbled in her wake, and to one who knew Skinner it would be apparent that he was deeply intrigued with this, to him. new game, and that ho laboured under some unusual excitement.

In each shop, unseen by the busy Joan, the old chap contrived to draw the proprietress to one side, and thereafter one might have seen various expressive nods and winks pass between the two as Joan regretfully discarded toy after toy.

At last, with a sigh, Joan declared her funds were exhausted, though many names of poor children remained on her list for whom she had been unable to secure presents. “Well, Miss Joan.’’ said the old man. “if your shopping is all done, ill peg along home. I’ve paid that robber of a taxi driver, and he’ll run you round to collect your parcels— Good evening.” Turning on his sticks the old man hobbled off. no entreaty of Joan’s proving sufficient to swerve him from his purpose of walking the long road to his.com fortless home. With heaps of parcels to collect, Joan Bright had little time for further thought of the old man. until at each shop at which she called to take delivery of her purchases, she found a number of packages for which she

could not account. Surely she had not managed to pay for all of these, yet the shopkeepers were quite definite — they were he-r’s and paid for. Gild Skinner the money lender, shuffled painfully on his wa v. \\ by was it, he wondered, that he felt wellhappy, younger? Coni J it be that this Joan, this Girl Guide child, had guided him to a greater happiness than he had ever before attained in all his long years of money-making? Surely he should be angry at having wasted so much good money on a foolish whim, and yet he felt it was worth it. Wonderful. He felt this chit of a girl had put- him out of his stride. Made him waste money—money—the thing ho

bad spent his long lifetime worshipping. Well, if it gave the children as much pleasure as it had given him this day, it was well spent. Children! What was it that snivelling Dunn had said about a sick woman and children? Oh, yes; the man owed him money; he’d forgotten about him. Told Dunn to turn him out day after to-morrow, lie was sorry for the kiddies. Ye<. be hadn’t thought of them before. He wondered what Joan would have him do. Turn them out at Christinas ? Heavens no! Ah. there was Dunn’s office now; better go in ami tell bin: to put it off until after Christmas. “Dunn. J think you’re a damnec snivelling, sentimental old fool, t( suggest putting off foreclosing on that waster until after Christmas, still, oui of consideration for your feelings I’ll I’ll—Here, have you a receipt book?’ Tremblingly the bewildered Duni passed the " book, and before hiastounded eyes saw the renowney S.hvlock till in a receipt for half rear’ interest due from one A. Tryer u Isaac Skinner. “While I’m here, Dunn, you inigh’ turn up my will. I want to add r codicil. Here man. wake up: you’re taking to dreaming and I won’t stain. , for that in my lawyer. Add thai I eodocil I tell you. One thousanc I pounds to be left without any restrain I ing conditions to Joan Bright, don' i know her address, but she’s a Gir j Guide and lives hereabouts. Now ge I your witnesses and I’ll sign while I’r

here. .1 in getting pretty old and shaky nowadays, and cae can’t put these things off.” . As shabby old Skinner hobbled on his homeward way, a musty shrivelled lawyer, dashed al an unseemly pace, receipt in hand towards the home of Mr. A. Tryer. A sweet-faeed Joan, with eyes brimmil g with happy tears, untied countless pareels that would gladden many a child’s heart this Christmas, and a shuffling old man smiled, a rare anile, as he muttered to himself: “Thank God there are lots of Girl Guides, and. Brownies, and Boy Scouts, and Kiv is, and what not. growing up. Weil, well, we’ll soon have a better and happier world to live in, and I’ve n > doubt in time, we’ll be justified in calling New Zealand, ‘God’s Own Country? ” (THE END.)