THE PICTURE ALMANACS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1890, 10 February 1888, Page 33

THE PICTURE ALMANACS.

(Continued). Mr D. Manson, baker and provision merchant, Riversdale, issues the picture of a, lovely woman dressed for a ball. It is called I" A World of Joy." " A thing of beauty is a joy for ever " the poet tells us, and I suppose the world this woman lives in is one of joyShe is standing in a hall on a soft carpet, a large and handsome vase behind her, in which is growing a rare exotic, her dress of rich white silk trailing behind her. The panels are beautifully embroidered with red roses and green leaves, large white ostrich feathers looping it here and there. The bodice is pointed at the front, the sleeves reaching to the elbow, one cloth of gold rose at her breast, a beautiful bouquet in her hand* Her hair and eyes are dark, her lips rosy and tempting. Such a beauty ! And she lives in a world of joy — young, beautiful, rich, strong, and lovable, and sweet by temperament, what can her world be but one of joy ? What weary, tired, working woman would not change her lot for such a one, at least for a time ? The dignity of labour does not pre vent one getting tired. How many poor souls there are that have no prospect of rest till the last long rest, while the life of others is one long pleasure. Not always are the most worthy the most prosperous. Acciden of birth, the circumstances among which life is cast, influences almost irretrievably a whole lifetime, unless there is more than ordinary ability and will power sufficiently strong to push a man to the front. Tennyson says : " Man is man and master of his fate." Not always I think, for some are always climbing up the falling wheel, and though they toil and toil they get no higher up; the wheel of fortune is moving downwards towards them, and it requires all their concentrated energy to keep themselves from being borne under and submerged in seething waters. But amid all the weariness is there not a grandeur in a life that takes a constant effort to be strong 1 It calls forth those elements that are the very bone and muscle of the soul. All can be idle, bub everyone cannot work with equal facility. Yet in one way, perhaps, prosperity tiiesa man more than adversity, tests the nature and brings forth what there is lurking beneath the surface. Those who are by nature overbearing and arrogant can be so if they are rich. The proud and little hearted have full scope to exercise their littleness ; and how paltry, mean, and greedy some rich folks are. They almost grudgo the labourer his honest hire, while acts of generosity and benevolence are almost unknown. The poor, on the other hand, help one-another with ready hand and sympathising heart. Yefc who would not be rich if they could ? The life of ease and luxury always forms an attractive picture, while wealth to the noble of heart is a means of diffusing joy.

" The Chorus " is a picture issued by Messrs Mercer Brothers, family grocers, Princes street. It represents a pretty boy of about four— dressed in a suit of black velvet, with red stockings and white lace collar fastened with a red bow, sitting on a sofa playing a concertina. The chorus consists of a huge St. Bernard dog, who is sitting at the boy's feet with mouth open emitting a most awful howl. Another dog is on the sofa, who appears to be whining softly to himself. Both are in the depths of despair; only the child looks happy, and leans his little back against a big velvet cushion with a pleased smile on his face— a smile which one cannot help reflecting as one remembers what an awful noise dogs do make when they hear music. It does not soothe their savage breasts anyway, but rather rouses the deepest hidden anguish of their hearts. A moment before the dog may have been dozing in the sunshine at peace with all mankind ; but let a sweet strain of music be wafted on the summer air and lo ! a howl that destroys all sentiment tears itself up from the creature's lacerated heart. The dog looks big enough to swallow the child, yet he sits there and endures the affliction patiently. The child is as sacred in his eyes as though he were invested with the strength of a nation ; and the little tyrant knows it, and sits there a king upon his throne. Mercer Brothers have also another charming picture, " What o'clock is it ?" representing a young woman and a girl of about 10 in the woods blowing a thistle to see what time it i 3. The young lady..-, is prettily dressed in pink with a white spotted muslin apron, and a Dolly Varden hat trimmed with red flowers. The little girl's dress is of green, with apron of muslin also. They have more the appearance of two sisters than mother and child. There is a wealth of colour all round them—the green

of the woods and the wild flowers at their feet, bright poppies and cornflowers, and many other flowers we never see in New Zealand. Our native bush is beautiful, but it cannot compare with the English forests, which form natural avenues of dear old English trees, towering high with their hundreds of years of growth. I saw some very pretty bush— Waihio Bush— near Geraldine several years ago. There was a natural avenue about two miles in length, and about the tops of the giant trees the lovely white clematis was growing, giving the appearance of the trees being covered with snow. I saw one of the beautiful old trees felled, and covered with moss, brought down on trollies to the sawmill situated on the edge of the forest. Then it was given over to the cruel saws, whose strong teeth soon cut it through with a savage humniing. From saw to saw it was passed on until it was converted into smooth white-tongued and grooved boards. (To be continued.)