OUR VOCATION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2507, 9 April 1902, Page 61

OUR VOCATION.

Theie .tie ceitam illusion's upon tlie subject of oin vocation which are common to youth tli it they almost lank with mea^le^ <>i chicken pox! The boy ■who fce 1^ and knows th.it he is bo in for A hiV on the ocean wave, A home on the idling deep! X as common .is the j>n\ who leco^ni-e* within litiself the tn^ic geniu*- of .i San Bemhaidt. the v ins.ome cluini of .in Klkn Teny, the still foice of an Kleanoia Duso. The bciv pictuies himself the heio of a hunuied thrilling adventure 1 - in strange lauds and lonely seas. The breath of the sea tingles in his nostrils, tlie spiay of the racing billow s whips his fancy to \\ lid dreams of a life whose deepest charm lies in his ignorance of all the realities that lie hidden behind the changeful, mysterious <tae ol the s&a W&k iin^kkJaamjiL

the solitude, the haidships, the coarse taie, the danger, and the loneliness which make the Kcmibiandt-like shadows of the lite that the <■ nlor loathe:-, yet cannot !ea'-e? L< thin nothing; <<n<l lie sees here hi.s \oc.ition, "v, ags ' school, and spends long hums lunging about the gieat »\a\e-wo:n ••iiips with thur strange crews, discharging i.nd taking in cargo On all fouis, too, with the sea and the 'tagc as ,i vocation in our salad days n ins f.uivmg. Tlip boy who does, not long for "a life on the ocean wave"' hungeis and thirsts to "go on to the land" — to be .; tanner; to have done with Latin do-don-ions and turn Ins back on "swaL" ; to we.v old clothes and be untidy ; to be out of door-, all day, and every day "among the stock." riding over the hills and fai away ; to plant ttees . . . and hew them down: an earthly puradi^-e indeed! What does he know in these succulent salad days of good seasons, whose only outwaid and visible sign is a pioportionate fall in price, due to the glut in the market caused by everybody's good crous ; of b'td seasons when the high prices fail to compensate for the wretched crop ; of poor l.imbings and late, wet springs ; of a fall An w 001, an outbreak of anthrax in the herd, or green fly in the turnip ciop? Ignorance is indeed bliss, and the average boy see» his dreams of "going on to the land" vanish into thin air as he himself, placed at bank, office, or shop, enteis the- narrow limits of his uncongenial lile with the grudge of one who feels he has nn.ssed his- true vocation. If we look far and wide, in all the range of our personal expeiience, how few instance^ we find of either men or women following an entiiely congenial profession — it is hfcie tnat we most realise the lesi.stkss powei of circumstance in shaping the aveiage life. Eveiy day we see Nature laughing in her sleeve at the embodied ironies she forces upon us ; the young boundary lider, oi the modest clerk." with the physique and bearing of a king among men — -the King himself a poor, puny mannikin, like he of all the Russias ; and the bluest-blooded nobles of the Court, perchance, mean and insignificant-looking to the point of contempt. Circumstance is no win i kinder — it is only at raie intervals tlu.t one is born able to aftiim, like Napoleon at the height of Ins fame, "Circumstam.s' I make circumstance^." For iiw'-i of us our vocation is settled by ciicum^tance : how r.uely with any great amount of success, the average life testifies. We all know piofessional men whose scanty allowance of ability, utter lack of manner, and .vpii-'tle-s plodding disposition destined them to fill congenially some modest clpikship or inesponsible assistant's billet; lneehan'c.- and artisans \\ ho<-e active biains, originality of thought, and keen ambition would have made them hiilliant <.Hcces>ein whatever profession they had been n? ; labourer with the inborn' gentlenesh and courtesy of noblemen; gentlemen wlt h the low tastes of uiminals and prize-fighteis. In othu words. t ,H round u> the sqnaie pe.r gimds through life in the round hole Man. dnven by cncumstance. tiles to fashion a silken purse out of what will ere>- remain a *ou's ear ; The exact oppo Mte of what he l^. is usually what a man de-iied to be. The university piofessoi wis'.ps he were a, -quattci ; the law\c-i would be a luterateui ; the ploughman', a poet ; tli" [tar-on, a soldier; the poet, a painlei ; the panitei ''. — ah. he but deques I'owci to lealise the perfection of Indrc im-. Vet jll. piofe— or. lawyei, ploughman, jtoet. lound pegs in square hohs. le^tle-s mortals, longing after diffeient lives and diffeient sin rounding", each lips a suie vocation of which neithei circiun-i mces noi fate can >-ob him. Oui vocation i» to live otu live 1 - «i-ll and faithfully. It is the fashion nowaday 0 either to deploie the unkind fate which has depmed us of a vocation, or eKe. being stiontrer-Hbic-d. more enetgetic, oi coaisei in the grain, to teai ourselves free fiom the trammel-, of life as cncumstances have oidered it. and choose a vocation for oui selves •Sometimes we call it a "Careei," and spell it with a capital C. Browning has <. O m»> lines — T tliink they weie meant for the people who have no voc ition but to live then live* : Cod give- e.ith man one Lm;, like a lamp, then «ryeT!i?t lamp duo measuie of oil; lamp lighted, hold high, wave-wide, lt-> comfort foi otberfe to shaie. In these lines lies the gospel for the ordinary hfe — the commonplace, average existence ; ami in living a life according

a tissue of good deeds and high influence as any marvellous dream-bright fabric tln-t evet left the looms of the Ea«t.

Just to be oneself, you say? How poor and commonplace among those freer, moie adventitious spirits who elect to be a definite something, occupying a definite niche in tlie world, even if the niche be hut a typew i>ter's stool in a du<-ty office. "Each niin." sa\ s Maeteihnck, "lias to •>cek out his own s-pecial aptitude for a higher life in" the midst of the humble and inevitable reality of daily existence. Than tins there can be no nobler aim in lite. '

'J ii;:«-. no matter whether our occupafons are congenial or not, no matter even if we know for a surety that, failures in this profession or calling, we might have won name and fame in that love's labour w hich was, we know, '"our voc ition." we still aie masters of oui fate. It lies with us. and with us alone, to make each day of toil or each night of watching, each word or each silence, each work and each waiting beautiful. In our unselfishness, in our unspotted honour, in our faithful service, we may n-nder our lives so full of harmony, so helpful and restful to others, that itshall seem to them, no matter how insignificant our calling is, that it is our tiue vocation.

Herein lie? the true victory over circumstance-, and thus may each of us laise up the Pieal to the Ideal.