SPARE HALF-HOURS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1602, 5 August 1882, Page 26

SPARE HALF -HOURS.

By Henby Lapham.

FORCE OP HABIT.

(Concluded.)

Then, again, there is the very senseless and very foolish habit of retrospection — of looking back and crying over spilt milk. Of course it is impossible that anyone either could or would desire altogether to forget the past, for life is made up of bygones and to come. But though we may not be willing to forget, still there are so many things which are better unremembered that it is almost a dangerous experiment, and it is utterly useless and reprehensible to lament over what cannot be recalled. The past is a ■ tomb from which not even angel hands may roll away the stone. And of what avail is it to grieve over the dear ones departed ? It is natural, when the heart feels utterly worn out and lonely, to wish for their tender lips upon our foreheads, their soothing words in our ears ; and I think in the lives of most women and men

There's a tnuo when all would yo smooth and even, If the dead could only find out when

To return and be forgiven. Well, after all, the time is not so very long till each of us shall be able to forgive and be forgiven, when earth's past and future shall be forgotten in the eternal present of heaven. But indeed there is little time to waste in backward glances in these days of competition. Who wishes to live must work either with brain or hand, and there must be no standing still to look back and regret ; for tho world will mo vg on though our hearts are breaking, and we must either move with it or bo content to be flung aside by the swift torrent as useless weeds to ' rot on Lethe's wharf.' Tru=.t no future, howe'er pleasant, Let the dead past bury it j dead ; Work, work in the living pront-nt, Heart within and God o'crhcad.

We natives of young Colonies have least excuse for retrospection. Tho past holds no emblazoned records of the ' glorious dead,' whose lif'o-blood bought tho charters and sealed the covenants that make us proud and free to-day. We hear no echoes from the voices of groat men passed away. Yet we have something worth striving for : wo havo to make history, not read it. Tho fukiro —a fair white scroll— lies open before us, and no one is so lowly born, nono is so mean or poor, but he may hope by some noble deed to have his name written there for the admiration and applause of all mankind. For be sure no honest endeavour to help our fellow man, no

true attempt to make our fatherland more free, more splendid, more worthy to take hig n rank amongst the nations, will be passed by unnoticed. When a deed Is done for freedom, through tho broad earth's aching breast Runs ftfojy J°y Prophetic, trembling on from oast And S^ftb" bG C ° WOrS ' feelß tho soul To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime ° J Of a century bursts "full blossomed on the thnniv stem of Time. <>wy For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears along 1 , <■ Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right or wrong ; Whether conscious or unconscious, yot Humanltv'a vast frame, ' ' Through its ocean-sundered fibres, feels the nush of joy or sjhame : In the gain or losa of one race all the rest have equal claim.

Then there is the habit of worrying— of being over-anxious, and inflicting your anxiety on all around you. Worrying is generally the effect of a restless, discontented, fearful nature— one that occupies itself only with trifles. It is essentially selfish, for it contrives to inflictmore discomfort and uneasiness, while bestowing no compensating amenities, than any one other habit in the world. A worrying woman is the most unhappy being in the universe. Every little calamity is a source of intense suffering to her ; but, strange to say, very" great misfortune seems sometimes to act as a sedative, and the fidgety, nervous woman meets the evil with a steadiness and fortitude ' , which few of her sex could imitate. But in the small every-day accidents, the slight illnesses, the simple anxieties of common existence, are almost fatal to her ; she frets herself into a fever over nothing at all. As for a worrying man, he is a much more unpleasant , creature. He frets, and fumes, and makes life a burden not only to himself but to all about .him. A worrying man is like a hedgehojy in the family. As a rule such men are always suspicious, weak-minded, unamiable creatures. Ihey scold sometimes, but oftener they whine, lhey have no faith, no hope, no trustfulness. As quiet Jan Rice, in 'Lorna Doone,' quaintly says— # They know nothing of Providence except with a small p.' As a rule their wives and families are unhappy. How can they be otherwise when subjected to the perpetual 'worries, the continual naggings, the small annoyances of a worrying man ? It is a fearful torture, like being pricked to the death with pins. One might make a catalogue as long as 'Homer's List of Ships' of habits goo! or bad ; but— pardon me, sir or madame— what is your own little failing ? Of course you have one, for are we not all miserable sinners— once a week, at any rate, in well-dressed company, and with proper reservation? Well, then! wnat is your own particular failing? You would not condescend to be mean and avaricious, like Brown ; nor a gossip and talebearer, like Miss So-and-So, whom by-the-bye you kissed so warmly when she called to-day • nor lazy and loafing, like Jones : nor waste your husband's money, like Mrs Such-an-One ( lhe third new gown since Christmas !'— You don t say so ! Disgraceful ! ') ; nor wild and dissipated, like Eobinson ;■ nor a shrew, like Mrs Over-the-Way. By-the-bye, do you believe that bruise on her cheek" really came from knocking against a door in the' dark? A worm will turn, you know j and they do say that Over-the-Way got maddened, and flung a saltcellar • But, consider the children, 1 my dear ! Johnny, you very naughty boy, what are you listening to ? Go on with your Catechism, sir ! 'To keep my tongue from evil speaking, &c. Johnny finishes his ' Duty to 1 his Neighbour,' and the next time ho and young Over-the-Way have a quarrel, our boy remarks— ' What do saltcellars cost, I say? Your father ought to buy the cheap kind; what hit hard and don't break ! ' Naughty'ot him ; but as you remarked, good madame, all clever children have a tendency to sarcasm. But though you are neither avaricious, nor mean,_ nor slanderous, is it quite conducive, to morality and the happiness of your family that you, good sir, should so often come home with flushed cheeks, unsteady gait, thick speech, and dim eyes ? It is preposterous to say that suppers always disagree with you, an"d the moonlight cannot always have such a direful effect. Men may call you 'a jolly good fellow ' at night ; but is it worth while to sacrifice for such poor praise talents, worldly success, and respectability? You, dear madam, I grant, are not at all a scold, nor uncharitable, nor extravagant ; but would it hot be possible to make home a little more cheerful, a little more attractive to the children, by employing your undeniable talents ' in the amusement of your family circle > at least once or twice a week, instead of being present at every ball and rout, dancing, singing, ogling, flitting, while the baby cries itself to sleep in the dark, lonely nursery, and the sick child sits with its head upon its thin hand, gazing at the dying embers, and wondering how long it will be before it can die and find some one to love it and take care of it in heaven ? You, most respectable, reverend brother, whose broadcloth and white choker are the types of intense propriety, have you no faults concealed beneath that very broad phylactery ? No accusing thought of sins left unreproved because the sinners were well-to-do ? No thoughts of duty unfulfilled ? Is your heart purged from envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness ? Do you never preach a little more for popularity than for the Master's service sake?' Or oft at Bible meetings, o'er the rest Arising, did his holy oily bestDropping the too rough Him, Hell, and Heaven, ' ''' To spread the Word by which yourself have thriven. You, oh young man, in the pride of your youth and strength, have you no habits which would be better broken off, no lurking weaknesses which threaten to become overmastering vices if not curbed in time ? Of all sins, those from which we havemostneed of deliverance are the secret sins of which no one suspects the oxistence but ourselves. There are habita acquired at public schools, and which are admittedly prevalent among the youth of Australia—habits perfectly secret in their operation, but which are yet so powerful as to destroy the constitution, emasculate the character, weaken the brain, and force both soul and body into eternal perdition — habits which spring from seeds so small that their growth is unnoticed, but which, if not uprooted in time and with a strong hand, will spread into a upas-tree beneath whose deadly shadow no virtue can thrive, no talent ripen, no good thing prosper. And after forty years of age no man or woman need hope to break off a habit, for then in very truth habit becomes a second nature. It matters not that the victim perceives how fearful is the sacrifice he must make, how awful tho price ho must pay honour, respectability, love, hope, ambition, all must bo thrown away ; nor can human care and love and tenderness avail to turn aside the evil, nor prayers do much to lessen the penalty Only death can bring rest, and thus pay the wages which are due to some sin which is nothing more than a terrible example of how overmastering and fatal is the. ung^ c k e( j f Qm of habit,