NIGHT AND MOTION.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 14906, 3 February 1912, Page 1 (Supplement)

NIGHT AND MOTION.

BY FRANK. MORTON. •';' By a mischance which I deplore, it seemed as if last week I claimed paternity of certain • charming verses of Mr. William Canton's. Now, I didn't. I put, in quotation marks; but the printer-man didn't notice. Mes regrets. And please accept my assurance that I have a certain; modesty, which is strong enough to prevent my ever intruding little verses of my own in this column. There is no other modesty on earth.to equal the modesty of insignificant small poets. We shall now get to the matter in hand. Motion has various qualities. There is the poetry of motion, generally associated in the popular mind with yachting and Miss Gabrielle Ray. There is grace of motion, regularly attributed (in the society newspapers) to an extraordinarily diverse great company of women. Then there is the thrill of motion. You get the thrill in the grace and in the poetry, but it, is not essential in either, arid it is often at its highest "when grace and poetry- are absent. Yon get the thrill of motion when you are in a swift automobile on an unfamiliar road; and at its best you get it when you motor by. night. . , ' .

Last night,; for instance, two friends came along to the hotel and took mo and mine out motoring. lamas a little child perplexed .amid the labyrinth of this great and goodly city, and all that; so I can't pretend to explain about which way we went. But I think it must have been out by Ponsonby; because, you see, there were all sorts of little shops and fat old men about. And in the quieter roads,. as we got out a bit, was pastoral* simplicity here and there a black arm round a white waist, and now then then (tut, tut!) 'a white arm round a, black one. If this is not Ponsonby, in heaven's name where are we? All I do know is that at last, after a swift rush through quiet villages and a panting leap down roads heavily agloom with trees, we got out somewhere towards the Manukau Heads.. There .we left the car, and walked soma (distance down a woealand ' way*,'while < I made love to Marjorie and : she cooed back to mo. So quiet and dimly wooded it was that one- could not have been honestly surprised if Puck had leapt grimacing from the bushes, or my dear sister 'ritania had twinkled to our sides. -Down such a lane at night one could imagine grave, haunted Quixote (dear master of the world) straying rapt in exaltation of his dream. Down such a lane (for choice) lovers have strayed since ever dimpled Eve came out of Eden. Down such a lane, on such a night, men's dearest thoughts have wandered and wept each to each since tho first thinking man stood blinking in the sun. In such > a lane, so guarded by the dark, the most prosaic man's mind goes back to Chipette, who has forgotten and Pidelys who never knew. We will leave the lane at that. After a littlo we came to a point whence we looked over billowing woods upon a world that lay enchanted in suave moonlight. And so we knew that the drive, delightful for its own sake, had been dosigned to an end absolutely worth while. But we had to turn back. Back up the long lane, in company with the whispering shadows. Right back, till wo smelt the petrol, and the golden byes of the motor were peering over the hill. It was, you understand, a perfect night. There was about it nothing of the somewhat banal publicity of i'ull-moon. Instead of that, a subdued pervading glow that seemed to creep in potent glamour through one's blood, a glow liquid in the imagination like vaguely remembered tears. We wore a little later than Mr. Laurence Binyon was that time, but a few lines of his " Summer Night" will do very well for a suggestion.

A sultry perfume of voluptuous June, Enchants the air still breathing of warm day; But now the impassioned night draws over, soon To fold me, in this high hollow, quite away From oaken groves beneath, the glimmering bay And valley rock-bestrewn: •From all but shadowy leaves and scented ground, And this intense blue slowly deepening round. From all but thoughts of beauty and delight And thee that stealest as with hair unbound O'er the hushed earth, and lips sighing, enamoured of night.

After which eharacteriscfic wandering from my subject, I get back to the- main point, briefly, that, night goes best with motion, if it is thrill you seek. If you arc at sea in a steamer the thrill of your speed is keenest after dark. If you aro in a ship under a cloud of canvas, the rush through the water is magnificent after the stars come out. So it is in a train, the blacker the night the better.

When you move swiftly through the night, there is a tremendous grip in the feeling, a sense of being hurled. You are a scrap in a handful of litter Hung far by one of the old gods. You are afraid of this adventure, but it thralls you. You feel yourself an atom, amid infinities. In dreams, when you travel wildly and far, it is always through enshrouding" darkness; in dreams where there is light, you simply dawdle about. In the rushing dreams of glamour, you are never alone ; for the dark lias a thousand eyes. Indeed, when you get the thrill of . motion after nightfall you are always more or less in dreamland. For this reason I don't think that I shall ever buy a motor-car; no, not even when my ship comes in. If I owned one I should travel by preference through tho night; and, with mv short-sight and my reckless habit, I should infallibly steer askew, and break people. Motorists are becoming almost respectable now in many cases, and I don't want to bring back to them their ancient evil reputation. Have I mentioned before that if I were asked to state in a phrase tho thing that charms me most in Auckland, I should say this ?—I should say, "How beautiful the suburbs are!" Even Ponsonbv. where the black and white sleeves and the white and black waists were. But Epsom, and all that neighbourhood is a perfect delight. There is always a thrill in motion, whether you be riding- with Aunt Sophonisba in a tram, o r with the dearest of all girls in a dog-cart. Trams are not especially thrilly, I admit; but even there things may begin. But from any old vehicle where the dearest girl of all is you can always leap together and ride a star. This fact is noted for the edification of the young and simple. The poor in experience are always with us. It is well to remember, though, that this star-riding is often breakneck business. . .