OBSERVATION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2254, 13 May 1897, Page 45

OBSERVATION.

ITS RICHES AND PLEASURES.

Now when, some short i.ime fcince, wo talked of " Poverty," it might have been well had there been time to glance at the , pleasures and riches which are the unalienable right of the poorest amongst us. But no " time limit " is more inexorable than the limit imposed by the column of a paper, and when that limit is reached the most brilliant imagination must fall flat for lack of an audience.

One of the greatest sources of pleasure, amusement, and education is the use of our powers of observation, and it is a source that of course is free to the poorest amongst us. It sounds not " much of a privilege to make a fuss about," you say. The very phrase seems dry, — "if that is all the riches and pleasures we are to share with the ricb." Yet wnit a moment while we consider what these riches and pleasures consist in.

First, there is "the harvest of a quiet eye." Some artistic sense, some joy in colour, delight in form, must be inherent if we are to realise the full benefit of this sort of observation, it is true, and for this reason a taste for the beautiful oannot be cultivated too early in a child's life. Long before there can be any lessons iv the ordinary sense of the term the children arc learning, learning. Every child has an instinctive admiration for colour, which shows itself more or less decidedly even in babyhood. How the blue eves fix themselves on

a bit of scarlet or the golden diec of an orange; how the dimpled fingers grasp ati the flash of brilliant colour. I have seen a baby lie ever so long contentedly cooing ato the glowing crimson flake of sunlight that fell through a stained glass window.

It is clear therefore that, the instinct for colour is there even in those baby days, and it is so easy to cultivate it as the children grow older — this one with her doll's clothes, that one with bis little paint "box, and a third with his email garden ablaze with his favourite flowers. Wby, here on these long wet days, when the square of my window has been my only outlook, what do you think has been my joy 1 Just the vivid glow of a scarlet geranium which grows amid a tangle of ferns, and is overshadowed by the broad foliage of a tall oanna. You can imagine how in the rain-wet atmosphere these scarlet blossoms glow against tha dark gresn background. Bat colour is only one channel for observation. Form and general effect give us rich results, as in a moonlit landscape. What subtle charm is here ! yet there is no colour, for the magic of the moon changeth all the colours wuich she does not entirely steal. But the mystery and unreality of the moonlight tttm waste places into quaint " pleasaunce," cluinpa of huge docks into tropical foliage plants, and a patch of straggling moon daisies growing beside the neglected tangle of a blackberry into some rare pala creeper spangled with silver stars. The mists of morning through, whioh the masts of the shipping show all delicately, the glow of evening which flashes ail the sky with tender warmth and floods the earth with a strange radiance in which all colours acquire an unearthly brilliance — these are joys for all of us. For yoa, my rich sister, if you will 100k — but I fancy you are paying your last oall, sipping your last instalment of afternoon tea, making mental notes about Mrs Brown's new drawing-room curtains, and " that old crepon dreas done up with a, yard or two of cheap silk " which your hostess we&rs, grumbling the while at the dulness of town and the unending expenses of the children's education. For you, my poorer sister — but I fear you are busy getting the children's tea and darning tha sooks "in between whilea." Yet spare a moment both of you.

You, rich woman, lift your heart and train away from the toil and moil of your little social " set," which is so small- if you only knew it, and draw some peace and purity from the exquisite beauty of Nature. If the Creator himself " saw that it was very good," how much more, sweet; friend, may we ? You, poor woman, tpare a moment to go with the children out into the evening air. Show them the fairy fleets o£ cloud boats, all vosy rod and gold, that float in the sunset sky. Show them the pink flush on the hills, the richer green on the pasture land, the strange glow on the nasturtiums and geraniums in the garden. Teach them .to notice all these things, and everything else that seams to you beautiful, curious, or interesting. In shor!:, cultivate their powers of observation, aad yoa will give them a lifolorg source of pleasure. Lai them gather the autumn leaves and berries ; Ist them bring homo ferng and tnosß. What if it dees make a litter 1 It ia a little provoking, I know, but the russet; and gold, lha ortmaou and purple splendour o£ the aawimn leaves and berries, the delicate beautiea of 3hel3s and seaweed, are teaching them colour and form, aharpenicg their observation, widening their interebts. Teach thorn, too, to wonder at the intelligence of amraslF, to laugh at their drolleries, pity their sufferings, make their own observations ou their nMtvelloua instinct and interesting habits. la fact, spare no trouble to firmly 'establish a habit of observation, j>.ud the" ears will never ba deaf or the eyc3 blind ; all the chords in the great diapason of Nature wiil sound for thero, all ths baanlie* of Nature'a treasure housa gladden their eyes. The. child who in hia childhood observes birds beaals.^aml flowers, as he grows into boyhood will observe machinery and inventions, and will enrich his mind and experience with whatever examples of arb, literature, and science come in his way. as he attains manhood.

A. man or woman of keen observation can never be dull, never be bored, never bo narrow-minded. Of course there will always be a tendency to extend the field of observation in the direction meet congenial to the fraetes or employment of the observer, but that is a mere detail; the real objaofristo firmly establish the habit of observation. Wbafe are all tha wonderful inventions which have revolutionised the world but tha frnifc oE observation in the first place 1 Think o£ Newton and the apple, of Stephenson and his mother's tea kettle. The difference between an observant and a non-observant peraon is the difference between a blind man and one who see?, a deaf man and he who hears. The world of Nature— God's world — has something whereof the soul may take cognisance and draw cheer and comfort day b7 day through all life's years. The world of Arb and Science — man's world — teema witk the accumulated riches of centuries of endeavour in art. lifcarature, the marvels o£ invention, the fairy tales of science, crystallised into such realities as these latter-day triumphs' of machinery and marvels of invention.

Nor is this all. There still remains another field of observation, one that is to the great majority of people the richest and easiest to cultivate : tha study of mankind. We may not be artistic, we may find it hard to feel more than a passing interest m the beauties of Nature ; such things are largely a matter of temperament. We may not be very intellectual, and the acquisition of book knowledge may be difficult and wearisome : the " classics " of ancient and modern literature may be " over our heads," and really high-class music may be utterly incomprehensible to us, because we only understand 11 something " with a tune in it, but we can all study human nature. We need not be curious or inquisitive — Heaven forfend I We need not be prying or meddlesome. Our observations must not open the door to illnatured remark or personal criticism. Pur« sued generally with good nature, a sense of humour, kindliness, and discretion, the study of human nature is a beantiful and endless book whose every page is rich in illustration. We cannot reproduce what we see in Phil ] May's brilliant caricature or Da Maurier'eri elegant studio; we cannot " bring down th«d

house," like Sheridan, Toole, or Lonnen with our clever reproductions of the types' that amuse us, but we can store up a hundred quaint and laughable incidents as food for merriment. The glimpses of tragedy, the flashes of comedy, the glistening of sad tears, the smothered moan of hopeless endurance — all these, which make up the sum of life all round us, are our lesson book if w« use them rightly. Sharing the laughter, or, if w« may not share it, still " heartened " by its jocund sound, moved by the tragedy, striving to take the bitterness from the tears and lighten the burden of endurance, making observation the handmaid of sweet charity and helpfulness, so we may find riches indeed and pleasures abundant in the study of ♦ur kind.