A FEW HOLIDAY THOUGHTS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXIX, Issue 9040, 19 November 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

A FEW HOLIDAY THOUGHTS.

Nearly everything we do is a homage to a sentiment, for how is to-day different to yesterday? Why did we get up twentyhours ago to the same old round, with tho sense of the work-day world, and to-day with a feeling of rest and leisure, of bodily and spiritual refreshment? Ib is duo to what the philosophers call the power of association. Ib is the remembrance of other days, of jolly riding parties, high days of picnicking, and

Of Harrison's barn with its" muster, With flags festooned o'er tho wall, Lit by caudles that shed their soft lustre, And tallow on head-dress and shawl. This holiday recalls other holidays, as the thrill of one stretched cord quickens all the others to music. Sentiment hides in myriad shapes. Love of country, as of wife and child, tho nobler forms of ambition, of selfsacrifice, all are sentiment. The saints and heroes are its servant*. Bruce at Bannockburn, Nelson at Trafalgar, the martyr Bishop Patteson in the Islands of the South Sea, all obey a sentiment. Sentiment alone is a very light diet for either mind or body, but, nevertheless, beyond doubt, it rules the world.

An almost irresistible inclination to spend his holidays amid rural scenes is a remarkable trait of the intelligent townsman. Bub should it cause us any wonder ? Country life is one with which we have always been accustomed to associate peace, leisure, and innocence, and therefore we readily set open our hearts for tho admission of its influences, which contribute bo drive away care and trouble. We have seen fields and meadows from the time that our eyes opened upon life, and are pleased with birds, brooks, and animals much earlier than we engage among the actions and passions of the world. The satisfaction derived from this kind of life not only begins early, but lasts long. We do not, as wo advanco in years, throw it away among other childish amusements and pastimes, but willingly return to it in any hour of indolence or. relaxation. Country scenery has always the power of exciting delight, because the works of Nature have always the same order and beauty, and force themselves upon our thoughts, being alike obvious to the most careless and the most intelligent of mortals. In childhood, we turn our thoughts to the country, as to the region of pleasure; wo recur to it in old age, as a port of rest, and perhaps with that secondary gladness which every man feels on reviewing those places, or recollecting those occurrences that contributed to his youthful enjoyments, and bring him back to those happy days when the world was gay with the bloom of novelty, when mirth was at his side, and hope sparkled before him.

For weeks before, we had been looking forward to an outing in the country on the Prince of Wales' Birthday, with that keen delight which only those who are confined to the monotonous treadmill of daily work can fully appreciate, and wo could have chosen no more delightful a spot to enjoy ourselves in, than the dear old valley of Southern Wairoa.

It is observed by Milton, that he who neglects to visit the country in spring, and rejects the pleasures bhabare then in their first bloom and fragrance, is guilty of " sullenness against nature." There is something inexpressibly pleasing in the annual renovation of the world, and the new display of the treasures of nature. The cold and darkness of winter, with the naked deformity of every object of which we turn our eyes, makes us rejoice at the succeeding season, and in every budding flower, we hail the approach of more joyous days. Nor has the most luxuriant imagination been able to describe the calm and happiness of the Golden Age, otherwise than by giving a perpetual spring as the reward of innocence. The spring affords almost everything that our present state makes us capable of enjoying. Here from our window, what a landscape we have! Gentle slopes of daisied pasture lead the eye complacently ; along the river banks, sleek cows snuff the herbage here and there. The long rows of willow trees, forgetting all the rudeness of the winter winds, are now disclosing all the cream of their summer intentions, and, in full enjoyment of all these doings, the poet of the whole stands singing —.the . simple-minded blackbird— proclaiming that the world is good and kind, but himself, perhaps, the kindest, and his'nest, beyond doubt, the best of it.

Now every field, now every tree is green, Now gentle nature's fairest face is seen. Yet there are men tJo whom these scenes are able to give no delight, and who hurry away from the varieties of rural beauty to divert themselves by horse-racing, gambling, and drinking.

Obviously the clerk of the weather is no respecber of persons, and bhe 9bh November, 1892, will nob be look back upon as worbhy of the Royal personage whose nativity it commemorated, or fitting to the season of the year. Our small party, though kept within reasonable distance of the farmhouse, did not lack, however, either amusement or employment. Wairoa Soubh has justly been renowned for the hospitality of its settlers, and this has been attributable by some to the preponderance of the Scotch element, by others to its equable climate. In readily conceding the tirsb, the claims of the second alleged cause should not be ignored. The relation of temper and disposition to the weather has never been scientifically studied. Our observation of the iufiuence of climate is mostly with regard to physical infirmities. We know the effect of damp weather upon rheumatics and gout, but too little allowance is made for the influence of weather upon the spirits and conduct of men. We observe that long-continued clouds and rain beget crossness and illtemper, and we are all familiar with the universal exhilaration of sunshine and clear bracing air upon any company of men and women. It id a remarkable thing, too, that neither society nor the law makes any allowance for the aberrations of human nature caused by dull and unpleasant weather. And this is very singular in this humanitarian age, when excuse is found for nearly every moral delinquity in heredity or environment, bhab the greatest facbor of discontent, the weather, should be left out of consideration altogether. Yet crime and eccentricity of conduct are very much the result of atmospheric conditions, since they depend upon the temper and spirit of the community. Many people are habitually blue and downhearted in dour weather. A long spell of cloudy, damp, cold weather depresses everybody, lowers hope and tends to melancholy, and people when they are not cheerful are more apt to fall into evil ways and manners, as a rule, than when they are in a normal state of good humour. We find the good folk of Wairoa hospitable, light-hearted, and agreeable ; the people of another place cold, morose, and unpleasant, and to a certain degree the weather is responsible for the difference.

We owe to memory not only the increase of our knowledge, bub many other intellectual pleasures. Indeed, almost all that we can be said to enjoy is past or future. The present is in perpetual motion, leaves us as soon as it arrive*, ceases to be present before its presence is well perceived, and is only known to have existed by the effects which ib leaves behind. The greater part of our ideas arises, therefore, from the view before or behind us, and we are nappy or miserable according as we are affected by the survey of bygone days, or our prospects for the future. The satisfactions arising from memory are solid.and, indeed, theonly joys we can call our own. There is certainly no greater happiness than to bo able to look back on a life usefully and virtuously employed. Life, in which nothing has been done to distinguish one day from another, is to him that has passed it, as if it had never been. The time of life in which memory seems particularly to claim predominance over the other faculties of the mind, is our declining age, when, with no longer any possibility of great vicissitudes in our favour, we turn, our thought back to try what retrospect will afford. It ought, therefore, to be the care of those who wish to pass their last hours with comfort, to make the best use of those faculties which God has given them, and that lay up a fund that will support them when the years roll by, remembering well that.

No day's remembrance shall the good regret, Nor wish oris bitter moment to forget, They stretch the limits of this narrow span, And by enjoying, live past life again.