THE THRESHOLD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19833, 31 December 1927, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE THRESHOLD.

BY EDNA GRAHAM MACKS'.

! Once every twelve months we stand | liefore the door of Destiny. It is not | Srnarked by any outward sign except upon \ the calendar, yet there is momentous signi- | licance in traversing the threshold of a I mew year. There is a mixture of joy and 5 sadness in the experience for aJI of us, ' sadness for the passing of the old order ! things, when we leave beryrid familiar j s;cenes and faces, and the dear, dead days ! which will never be ours again.. There is : joy in the expectation of better times, the lure of untrodden pathways of | romance, the urge to go on * with the j interesting business "of life. Under the intoxicant of meditation, I have been seeking a message for the new I year. The sun is warm here in my corner 1 of thp garden and the drone of the bees | in the poppies contributes to the spell. | -After a while everything becomes strangely .1 unfamiliar and I find myself a pilgrim in a j far lamb I discover that lam tired from \ the heat of the day and the heavy burden I which I am carrying upon my shoulders. Unexpectedly I come upon a magnificant { doorway set in a marble wall which stretches as far as the eye can see. Standing in front of the portal is a queenly figure, crowned with stars. In one hand •she holds a cross and in the other a j crown. I strive to find out what manner I ®f person she is, but she keeps her face bidden from ine with a thick, dark veil. I [While I stand there wondering, other pilgrims advance, one by one, to choose S between the cross and the crown and ; then pass into the great unknown that i lies beyond the mysterious doorway. On they come, some old, some young, some laughing and g&y, others full of sorrow arid care. A 'yourtg girl, dancings and singing, snatches the crown from the guardian of the portal and places it jauntily upon her red gold curls. Behind her a serious - youth with the eyes of a poet reeeiv3S the cross in his trembling hand and v mishes from view. I am curious now to know the meaning of this pageantry. Where leads the door and who is the guardian of it ? I take up my burden and seek a place in the line. I find myself beside a wise-looking man, serene of countenance and friendly in manner. Picking up courage I venture to ask him a lew questions. " All, that is Destiny," he replies, " and she is presiding at the gate of the New 1928. Everyone must make a< choice between the two symbols she holds in her hands. The crown signifies wealth and personal pleasure, and the cross is the unselfish desire to help and comfort others. Most people chooso tho crown bs you have no doubt observed. It is fndeed strange that year after year, in . spite of bitter disappointment and .my urgent pleadings, th?y make the same choice." Here my kind counsellor whispered in my ear. " I am called Experience, and I would warn you concerning the choice you make.* The cross is made of wood and tho crown is of solid gold and many there are who think tho wooden symbol j h poor bargain indeed. In every year •[here i?j a desert land of doubt and despair and blessed is hie-who has chosen the cross, for if it is planted firmly, in the soil of that land, the sap of life will run into its branches and there will be u profusion of fruit to refresh the wayfarer who has chosen it. But he who puts, hiii trust in the gold cronn, glittering with the honours though it tie, finds to his sorrow that it grows heavie.: 1 than lead, and has; to ha dragged along a; great cost' of strength." _ j I thanked my friend for his advice and i added that I had burdens enough of my' own already. " And what," said he, " have you wrapped up in that bundle of yours ?" "Those are my regrets and secret griefs," I replied. " Sad memories of those whom I have loved and lost. Each year my burden is heavier for I am always adding to it." " You will have to leave it behind you this time, for see, the door is too narrow to admit such* a large bundle. Let Vis st%> out of the line a moment and I will take you to my elder brother 'Philosophy' who conducts a stall by "the side of the pilgrim way. He does a fair amount of trade, as I will show you."

Sooner than it takes to tell, I had exchanged. my heavy load of sorrow for a little packet of dried flowers, fragrant and delicate, which I was able to wear "with ease over iny heart. " Now one more piece of advice before I leave you," said Experience, as he pressed my hand comfortingly. "Be sure to exercise great care in the choice of guides who will offer their services as soon as you pass that door. There is Self will, a strong, attractive-looking youth, but do not trust yourself to him, for ho is reckless and foolhardy and will lead you into all sorts of difficulties. Then there is Indifference, a (Slatternly dame ■who ambles along into many a blind Alley, and tuniblas into every grasscovered ditch. She is worse than* no etude at all. Take neither of these, but ask for the guide called Faith-, who is, surefooted and skilful. She will guide you through all the dark places for she carries with her the lantern of hope. 'Adieulie says. "Adieu!" I answer him as I make my choice from the hands of Destiny and cross the threshold of the New Year.