SOCIAL TOPICS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1986, 17 March 1892, Page 43

SOCIAL TOPICS.

By Cigarette.

GIANT DISCONTENT.

11 Where would you like to live ? " There is a confession album lying on the table, and this is the question that has the greatest variety of answers. As the Irishman said of his children, " There are no two of them alike, and every one of them is different ; " but most of the contributors to the pages of this interesting volume appear to have been discontented folks, for in answer to the question, " Where would you like to live ? " ; not one has answered "at home." All sorts of out of the way places are mentioned — such as " India," " Japan," " Central Africa," " On board ship," "In a house boat," "In a cara-, van," "On a desert island," "At Jericho," "In a tub," &c, &c. Perhaps the writers, were trying to be facetious. Who can tell ? There are a few who appear truthful; girls in their teens, no doubt, who, when asked where they would like to live, have written in an unformed school-girl hand, " With those I love," and, " With my dearest friend." Some other answers are, " Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest," "Anywhere but here," "Never long in one place." Discontent is apparent in all these remarks.

How is ib that none of us are satisfied with our lot ? For even those who appear contented have always one nnf ulfilled wish — something denied them which they are for ever striving after, and which 'if they had would cot make them perfectly happy; for we are all like the child who cried for the moon— it is the things beyond our reach that we long for most. How delightful travellingjseems to people who are obliged to stay at home ; but yet those who are obliged to travel are constantly affirming that " there is no place like home." People who live in the country complain' about its dulness ; t while those who live in town long for conntry air. Discontent hovers, like a bird of ill omen, over every head, waiting an opportunity to settle down upon the hearts of its victims. None of us need envy our fellow v creatures, for kingly heads and laurel-crowned brows are alike shadowed by the black wings of discontent. Shakespeare tells us that " there is some sort of goodness in things evil, would men observingly distil it out "; and perhaps there is some good reason for this state of dissatisfaction which prevails in every class. For none of us are quite contented with our lot. No doubt the parsons would tell us that this universal discontent is sent to turn our thoughts from earth to heaven ; but they have a marvellous knack of making everything suit their own ends like the old woman who emptied her slop pail into the sea to help make a high tide to bring her son home.

But discontent with our life does not make us more anxious to quit it. On the contrary we want all the more time to try and improve it, and in this way discontent proves beneficial to a great many. Anything that is the cause of bettering existence cannot be altogether bad. A true artist is always discontented with his .work, and however beautiful it may appear to others, to him there is always something wanting in it, and it is the fact of his ideal being always just beyond his reach that causes his work to grow in strength and beauty. The beauty in the artist's mind surpasses _ his power of expression, even though he paints a masterpiece, for genius has always its ideal flitting like a will o' the wisp just out of reach, yet near enough to inspire the pursuer with a hope of reaching if. But the man who is content with his work keeps it at a stand: still. Smug satisfaction bars the way to progress, and self-conceit is the sheetanchor of mediocrity. The men who have accomplished most in the world are those who have been discontented with their surroundings and by their own efforts escaped from them. Look at Shakespeare, look at Napoleon Bonaparte, look at Stanley, to say nothing of Dick Whittington and his cat. All serve to show that all things are possible to us, provided

we are not content to fold our bands and cry with the fatalists, "Che Sara Sara." So after all the giant discontent, like somebody else, is not quite so black as he's painted, and if we were asked no doubt we should be very sorry to part with him, for there are many people who could no more exist without their pet grievance than our churches could exist, without the devil. Besides, to quote Gilbert and Sullivan : Wouldn't the days be dark and long If all went right and nothing went wrong ; And wouldn't the world be nwfully»flat If we'd nothing at all to grumble at.