AUTHORS AND THEIR VIEWS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 18173, 19 August 1922, Page 6 (Supplement)

AUTHORS AND THEIR VIEWS.

THE DETEEMING FACTOR. , " Character rather than circumstance, determines human happiness and human misery. " You tempt me to surrender my teaparty and to argue with you. If I yield, the whole course of my life may be altered. Some wonderful woman, unknown, beautiful, and with not less than £2000 a year, may be entering Mrs. Van Someren's loggia—some rich, rare creature * intended for me by character, robbed from me by circumstance.' " " On the contrary," I retorted, " if you don't go to the tea party, the determining factor will be your own laziness, and if you miss this chance—one in twenty million—for what I have seen of Mrs. Van Someren's tea parties, you will have only your own laziness to blame."—Carpta Mackenzie, " Life's Little Ironies." THE UNEMPLOYED. " When my few pounds went, I swelled the ranks of the great unemployed, or in mora simple , English—sank. It is curious how quickly a good suit turns to rags, if you've nowhere to change it. and the : weight of my razor soon seemed to exceed the pleasure that its use could give me. Oil, it's surprising how easy one finds it to sink. And, after all, I wonder if I'm loss happv than when I was struggling to rise. \Vho has ever defined happiness? I've no responsibilities; I am free; I never beg. I work for my night's lodging; I sleep well; I feel fit; I have tho very best' of company. Is there any moral or social duty to succeed? Possibly, but to me it is just a problem to pass away a treelesa mile or some brief waysida rest while my dog' sleeps. You despise me? Well it is—as my dear aunt told me—never too late to lie sensible. I may still get another job,", though it is not so easy when one is down, and I feel that just the same thing would occur again."—Desmond Coke, " The Tramp's Tale." ON BEING A SCHOOLMASTER. "I chose to be a schoolmaster for half-a-dozen reasons; very good to twentythree; I should still get games; the holidays were long; I had no strong wish for any other life; above all, it seemed easy. 1 succumbed. What did the fifties and the sixties matter to me? I could do something later. Keenness took the place qf that conviction, that belief in education which I should have had, and I easily hid my hereditary idleness under the physical energy of youth. The boys learnt little from me. I aro afraid, but I am sure that they learnt no more from any of the other masters, and they liked many of them less. I was excellent at* nets, and in general always ready to oblige by helping at anything which held my interest. I sometimes recited on Saturday nights, but not often, and I never buttonholed the boys or asked them out for strolls. I was a strict disciplinarian when anything came beneath my notice, but I avoided the odium of detective work. The testimonials which I received on leaving, increased in warmwess with my age. Altogether on my fortieth birthday, a very solemn landmark in any career, I saw no good cause to regret that young undergraduate's momentous and careless choice."—Desmond Coke, " The Tramp's Tale." ' AN AMERICAN LADY. '"Mrs. Branson sailed in to the room.; The word ' sailing', when applied tor; human beings, has been' unjustly appropriated to connote a smoothness of motion which the landsman often fails to connect with his experience of the sea. Mrs. Branson's method of approach was of that jerky and spasmodic order which suggested a small boat, inadequately steered, under a heavy spread of sail. The sail, in this case, if the metaphor is to be prolonged, was supplied by her costume, which was elaborate and expansive. The largo pattern of her blue and gold brocade did full justice*to her ample proportions; a dog collar of pearls bore up her massive chin; sapphires lent a touch of Apocalyptic splendour: one felt instinctively that the piga of Chicago had not died in vain. For indeed it was from Chicago that Mrs. Branson came, and in her determination and initiative she did not disgrace, the city of her origin. She had devoted a considerable portion of her widowhood to efforts, hitherto vain, to arouse Mr. Branson to reopen communications with her from the other world. His friends found the failure easy to account for, but they were wise enough to keep their theories to themselves. She was one of thost ladies whom St. Paul must have had in mind when he spoke of 'widows that aro widows indeed.' "—Cyril Alington, " Strained Relations."