CYNICISMS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1934, 19 March 1891, Page 30

CYNICISMS.

MORAL CRITICS. By Oy.nio. How prone we are to sit in judgment on other people, and to leave our own slips unmentioned I Yet this is perhaps only as it should be ; for whilst we are criticising and picking holes in our neighbours' coats, we may be sure that the " other people" are just as busy at ours. Most people delight in this kind of employment, and it is one of the things in this world that is thoroughly enjoyed and done well. If one of our friends makes a profession of religion or of anything else, and steps aside but for a moment, like the policeman in the song, we are " down upon him like a shot," and put him in the pillory. And yet how natural I We are told "to err is human"; and although we are said to be partly divine or godlike, yet that part is seldom seen by the world at large, but is kept like our shadow in a looking-glass, for our own private use and admiration. The greatest men in history have stepped aside. Even King David "whiles stachered," and not only stachered, but lurched about in all directions, and often lost the path altogether. Yet there are thousands who say " What a beautiful character he was ! " — not for his faults, but because he was sorry for them. Thousands of great men have been even worse than him. And are not men nowadays sorry for their follies ?— even as torry as David. But what avails their sorrow I—not1 — not a whit! Into the pillory with them; let them repent in sackcloth and ashes; still into the pillory they must go. The world may gloss over, smile, or read with gusto the sins of the ancient ; but oh, modern man or woman, look to your feet that they stray not into the pleasant paths of folly. It reminds one of a father sitting thinking over the pranks he played when \& boy, and then getting up and " lacing " his own son for doing the same kind of things. So long as it is we who do it it is all right, but let not our neighbour venture on the slippery path ! And who is our neighbour? This question was answered plainly centuries ago, but we have improved on that answer. Our neighbour now is anyone into "whose affairs we can by any possible means poke our nose, and we look over the back fence and point out all the weeds that are growing in his patch of morality, and quite neglect our own plot until it is greener with a ranker growth of weeds than is our neighbour's, quite forgetting that eyes are peeping over our fence and noting how ill-kept is our patch. But some of us do not like the trouble of pulling up weeds, and so build our fences higher until our neighbour cannot see over, and then, sit down and rest and let the weeds grow as they like, until one day a gust of wind, sent by the devil or some other ill-natured power, comes along and down goes the fence, and the garden of weeds is laid open to view and we are exposed to a universal howl of derision and triumph. These moral gardens are a lot of trouble, and they take a lot of looking after; and no matter how choice the plants are we sow, yet some one will call them weeds. Still we should only try and cultivate to please ourselves and not the party over the fence, and then we shall have lime to have lots of fun counting the weeds in our neighbour's garden. People who follow these lines seem to be very scarce, and fault-finding seems to be as catching as the itch. It is a pity the remedy for that disease is so simple. Then if more people had it they would be more absorbed in their own personal affairs and less in other people's. They would be so engrossed in their own ailment that they would not have time to search out and prescribe for other people's maladies. However, such is life— as we make it; and if it be true that this life is only a preparation for the future, then there are many of us who in that future will not be trusted with any musical instrument whatever — unless it be a big drum, for if there be any touch of mortality left in the bandmaster he would throw up his situation in disgust at the discords we would make in the choir.