A Scotsman on the New Year

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21990, 22 December 1934, Page 11 (Supplement)

A Scotsman on the New Year

THERE was an old Scottish minister —not a mythical one —who began a prayer with the words: " O Lord, we thank Thee for Thy mercies, such as they are! " He did not mean to be irreverent —true Scotsmen are never irreverent —but ho could not refiain from indicating, with all respect, that the mercies of late had been somewhat disappointing in their meagreness and quality. Then, confident that the hint would not be taken amiss, he went on to plead foi " a more abundant outpouring. The old Scottish minister has long since gone to his reward, but lie lias left a prayer that seems singularly appropriate for the close of the present year. For nearly everybody it has been a year of endurance and expectation, and at the end of it few of the cheques and watches, so to speak, have, in the phrase of commerce, come to hand. Wherefore our thanks, if any, are, like the minister's —qualified. A Jolly Funeral But the Old Year has always had one large redeeming feature. However gloomy, disheartening and lugubrious its life may have been, its funeral is usually rather a jolly affair. We often hear people refer to " the good ok days," but seldom does anyone present bouquets to " this good old year," which will have to be a long time buried, like some of ourselves, befoie its virtues can be discovered. So wo give the Old \ear the heartiest, cheeriest funeral we can, and keep the feast on the table for a

welcome to the New, which we arc pretty certain has something up its sleeve for every one of us. So it has always been, since man began to take from the sun something more than light and warmth; since, in short, he began to think in dates. So may it always be, for at the end of 363 days, every man, whatever his circumstances, is in need of the stimulation of Hope. The solemn man of science who admonishes us that the moment of time between one year and another is only a thing of sentimental imaginations might as well save his breath; it is the instant at which millions and millions of the world's hearts are as one. Better Times Always Coming Next Year! This year has been a perfect " wash-out," but Next Year —surely, surely it will bring at least some oi our desires! Long ago I knew an old woman who lived in *a country cottage, with a small garden. In front of her sitting room window was a particularly fine apple tree. She doted on that apple tree. She wearied and watched for its first leaf; she rejoiced in its blossom; she became excited at the forming <>t the fruit; she lived lor the fruit's expanding to perfection. And year after year, just when the ripening was beginning, or maybe before, boys -came while she slept and cleared all away. Of course, it was a heart-break, jet to neighbours who condoled, she would merely say: " Well, well; I'll just bo hoping for Next Year." There came at last a Spring, when somobody went . secretly among the boys and by some miraculous means got youth, for once, to see through the eyes of age; and that year the apples remained on the tree till the sun could do no more for them. The old lady was happy beyond words, She admitted, however, that apples always disagreed with her, and sum-

By the Late J. J. BELL, Author of "WEE MacGREEGOR", etc.

moned the boys to help themselves. This mav read like a " Sunday School storv," but, all the same, I think it is quite a suitable one for the end of the year.

The celebration of the New Year m Scotland, though not what it 9nce was, is still more to the unsophisticated Scotsman than that of Christmas. The semi-Scotsman, if I may call him so, who lost part of his character during the reign of Queen Victoria, makes so much of Christmas that he has little enough appetite left for a second festival a week later. In some remote parts of the Highlands they still recognise, like the Russians, the 12th of January as New Year Day, clinging to the old style of reckoning which was amended in the vear 1752. And there may still be a few enthusiasts who, in order that there shall be no error, celebrate on both dates and, perchance, on all the days between. That cheerful method, however, must bo nearing the point of extinction. It was all very well when the price was 3s 6d, but 12s 6d is really too discouraging. Whisky, I am well aware, has always been popularly associated with the Scotsman's New Year> if not his every day existence, including breakfast, but no ono can now deny that the association is wearing thinner and thinner —so much so tha,t one foresees a time when the spirit will be distilled for export only. While the Clock Strikes Whether that prospect should please or displease the moralist is not at present the question. My point is that in a rapidly " drying " Scotland, Scotsmen and Scotswomen continue, like any other peoples, to look to the New Year for better things. There is something in us all —and it is ono of the best gifts we havethat refuses to believe the New Year capable of the crimes of the Old; that prevents us, while the clock strikes,

from thinking ill of anybody. Only onco have I spent a New Year Eve in London. It was long before the hotels and restaurants ha;d got the idea of making it a festival for the money-burners.

My host and I had dined at home, but toward midjiight he suggested that we should join' the crowd outside St. Paul's, and assist them, in " bringing in " the New Year. The crowd was by no means all-Scottish, and.it was nob Scots only who had apparently been " looking on " the so-called national beverage. The hour came, and all eyes, or nearly all eyes, were on the clock while the great bell boomed. When my host and I lowered our gaze to join in the cheers and " Auld Lang Syne," we found before us a miserable outcast, cringing, furtive, seemingly terrified. Handing him a shilling, to which i add'jd a modest donation, my host said: New Year not to Blame "Cheer up, old man! The best is jet to come! Happy New Year I " With a brief " God bless you, gents," the outcast shuffled into the crowd. A little later, my host, seeking his cigarette-case, in which he carried a five-pound note for emergencies, found io not. Gone also was the littla sovereign-case from the end of my watch-chain. <■ " A bad beginning," I could not refrain from saying. But N my host, though annoyed, would not agree. " The beggar must have taken them -before the bell stopped. So it's the Old Year that's to blaine," he declared. " Let's give the New Year a chance." Which, when you come to think of it, ladies and gentlemen, is not a bad idea. And if, afte* all, there have been any mercies in the Old Year, let us at least acknowledge them, " sucli as they are."