THE LAST CHRISTMAS OF THE CENTURY.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 11925, 25 December 1900, Page 2

THE LAST CHRISTMAS OF THE CENTURY.

Every recurring festival brings with it characteristic reflections. In the springtime of life the birthday is awaited with impatience and looked back upon but ns a stepping stone to the next, which shortens the interval between us and manhood, or womanhood. As the years advance, the birthdays come more swiftly, and when we have reached the grand climacteric we sadly think of the now rapidly lessening number that lie before us; and those that have gone, j though so fondly anticipated, fade into I indistinctness. The birthday reflection j is therefore progressive in its character, and changes with the passing years. At the New Year we note the flight of time and make good resolutions even to the last, when the opportunity of fulfilment has dwindled away to microscopic smnllness. The learned toll us that our New Year observances are a survival of the rejoicings that marked the solstice, and echoed the gladness of Nature because the gloom of winter hnd reached its culmination, and would soon melt into the joyous exuberance of spring. But while this may hold good with respect to the inhabitants of northern latitudes, it is not so elsewhere. The Judaic New Year indicates no natural phenomenon. Nor does the Chinese, nor the Turkish. They are arbitrarily fixed. Ours is practically the same. Wo in this colony have borrowed our rejoicings from the Scotch, who celebrated New Year's Day first because they were forbidden to observe the " papistical" rejoicings of Christmas. So wo observe the selected day and use it as a mark to indicate the flight of time. For this purpose any day will do, and, perhaps, | some future reformer will so rearrange the calendar that our descendants will revert to a "new style," as our forefathers did. But whether the year is factitiously lengthened or shortened by some days, we seize the turning point, and mark it with a white stone, so that it serves us for a landmark for past and future. Among the English-speaking peoples Christmas is the season of family reunions. The reunions culminate in the Christmas dinner, and poor indeed must that household be where some daintier fare than usual does not grace the festive board. In the humblest cottage, as in the lordliest ball, the snered rite proclaims the family bond—the surest surety of the nation's well-being. There are a few, it is true, who disregard thisentiment, and select Christmas Day for some outing; but such are frowned upon by all who uphold what the majority undoubtedly feel: that as no one knows what the future mny have in store, it is well that all should sit clown together, seeing that it may be for the last time. And who is there among those who have reached middle life that does not remember that last Christmas dinner, when all sat down together?

There are those who painfully stickle

for absolute and literal correctness, and tell us that we are all wrong in celebrating the birth of the Lord on December

25. But these are the same people who tell us that we are wrong in observing our Sunday as the day of rest, which, according to them, should be held on what we call Saturday. But as the principle of observing one day in seven

for rest is not affected by the selection of any particular clay, neither is it essential to the observance of Cliristmns that the festival should be astronomically and archreologically correct. For the purpose of sentiment any day would do as well, but custom has entwined this particular day into our annals, and if we observe it in the spirit we may smile at pedantic objectors. If a community in some remote island lost their reckoning of the time, as has frequently happened among castaways, they would still feel the emotions proper to anniversaries, nor would their enlightenment bj' their rescuers obliterate the recollections of their feelings. Every Christmas differs from its pre-

decessors. None of those who read this

wero alive at the first Christmas of the century. It may be said with almost ab-

solute certainty that none who read it will be alive at Christmas, 2000. Centenarians are few. As the Christmas of to-day differs from the Christmas of 1800, so will the Christmas of 2000 dif-

fer from thnt of to-day. But the change will come insensibly, and it is'not until after some long interval and by fixing two dates far apart that the results of

the inexorable march of progress are

j seen and realised. For example, there 1 are still a scattered remnant left alive

who landed in Otago by the Philip Laing ■ and John Wickliffe. How is it possible j for them to do other than contrast this | Christinas with the first they spent in j their new home? Perhaps in those days ' Christinas was not a momentous date

to them, but it did not pass quite un- ■ marked. Now in the sunse.t of their

lives they are surrounded by nil the comforts of civilisation, and rugged Nature stands confessedly defeated by ' the energy of man. They at least cannot

view the past altogether with regret. Even though wealth should not be theirs,

though the infirmities of nge tell on their

enjoyment of life, they have still the

consciousness that they fought well

though their victory is not recorded in a

banking account, nor perpetuated ii

rows of brick and plaster

Tho sun shines alike upon the just and the unjust, and to the unsuccessful man, who has by some means got " off the r.iils " that lead to success, Christmas brings its compensations. As he looks

around upon his meagre belongings, ho may realise that from a worldly point of view he might have done better, but if

he have tho love of those who surround

him he cannot be said to be poor. If he have no one to wish him well, then is he bankrupt indeed. If for him no

wife proffers the affectionate kiss, no child confidingly grasps the knee, no friend clasps the hand, then let him look

to himself, for the man who lives in

chilling loneliness must lack the qualities of heart and mind which alone can

make the end endurable. But if he

have affection, let him not repine, for

even on the ..dullest day the sun is still

shining behind tho clouds ready to shed

its beneficent beams through Wen the

smallest opening.

The last occasion on which an event can occur becomes invested with unusual

importance. Do we change our residence or our occupation ? At a given time we realise that this is the last'time

we shall do such and such. Do we visit a

friend who is sick unto death ? As we press his enfeebled hand, do we not realise

that it is for the last time? The next

timo we see that hand it will be placidly

crossed on the stilled bosom. Do we say " Good-bye " ? The words stick in tho

throat, and we turn away in affected

ligktsomeness to hide the tear that will

come unbidden. There is a certain sadness in doing any thing for the last time, and it is not without sadness that we shall to-day remember that this is the last Christmas of the century.