RAINBOW GOLD.

Otago Witness, Issue 2650, 28 December 1904, Page 65

RAINBOW GOLD.

Have you forgotten the dear old fairy story of "Rainbow Gold 1 '? Forgotten the little dreamer who never saw sunshine so fair as that on the far-off hills that bounded Iho dull plain, which was all tHe world she knew. Let us recall it. The little oldworld hamlet, tlie few poor cottages, .the life of labour and frugality, the everyday duties, the round of one year with its varying .seasons repeated by the round of the next. Far away, beyond the blue rim of the hills, lay the great glittering sea — so travellers said. On clear, still days, soft echoes of musical carillons floated from the diVtant cathedral city, and the thin whistle of trains whose long trail of smoke lay low on the plains, told of cities and of wanderers, and woke vague wonderings at what might be the possibilities of life in the great world beyond the "village lanes ; beyond the hanging wjods that sheltered the old Manor House on the south ; bayond Farmer Grimby's farthest fallow field on the north. Sunshine gleamed through the rain showers on those distant hills in spring and early summer : fine wavering mists drifted across the strong golden lights of their lower slopes in windless autumn, so that it 1 was natural the blue rim of the plains should seem to Mary the actual horue and dwelling place of the rainbow. Some one had told her its promise, and how it was the radiant proof of a comforting bond between the Heavenly Father said the earthly children ; and on winter nights, when, the river ran high between its osier-clad banks, the hoarse roar of its angry waters mingling with the hissing of the rain upon the attic window, Mary remembered that it was only a day oi two since she had seen "the ' bow set in the heavens,"' and turned again to sleep the sweet sleep of childhood. It was a very real thing to her that promise of safety from engulfing "floods of many waters," for their cottage stood so close to the river "that on great occasions the swollen waters lapped against the old walls, and the children passed hours of delicious excitement, from which the promise of the rainbow had extracted all sting of fear. But there was another story concerning that seven-hued glof^- which needed no flood-peril to point out its charm. Weird, fascinating, full of stimulating excitement, yet linked to the stern needs and comixioii desires of life by the practical knowledge of life's needs, which is the heritage of even the youngest among the po*or, it was a (Ling to ponder over and dream about in the piivses of work and of play. She had never seen a sovereign, this little dreamer, and as she pictured the pots of gold that the old wives told her were

* buried where tht rainbow touched the earth. I think she planned each golden guinea the size of a five-shilling piece. And there weie pots of them ! Why, sometimes when firing was scarest — and food never was as plentiful as the appetite to eat it, — Alary forgot her work to dream of it — lay awake at, night on purpose to count the rainbow gold. But you all know the story? It is such an old one that we had forgotten it, that is all. Now we remember how, when Mary's father was long ill, and things were at their worst in the little cottage, she saw an especially splendid rainbow, and marking the exact pla^e on the foothills where the blight glory seemed to rest, set off to find her rainbow gold. She was not missed till evening. Truth to tell, the dreaming child was iuot much help or comfort to her weary, hard-worked mother. Xever at hand when she was wanted, full of good intentions, but fuller of vague dreams, all the other little village maids were chosen for "motheis' helps" before Mary. You remember the child's simple adventures as she toiled on day after da 3~ — so absorbed in her dreams of ail the peace and plenty she would buy for those at home from her rainbow gold that she never thought of her own work left undone, or the burden of a new anxiety cast on the sad mother. To all who fed her, questioned her, housed -her, on her quaint journey, she gave the same answer. When at last the sunny slope of the. foothill was reached, wearied out, the little maid sank on the soft grass, arms thankfully outspread upon the spot that covered her treasure — and slept. She dreamed that all the zainbows in the world werj dead but one, and looking back across the pla^n, she saw that, one, radiant and seven- hued, its arch springing from the very place where her home lay hidden among the pollard willows. Awakening, she began her hurried task. The pot Was easily found, and Avas brimful of — stones ! It whs the fairy of the rainbow who soothed her heart -broken sobs — the pitiful cry of •'"Oh, mother! mother!"' who laid on the little hot hand a black bean and told her 1 to wish herself at, home once more, for there was the true gold of life and love, instead of the rainbow gold of dreams and defire. It was only, a sad little story to us in those far-brvck childish days when we loved a sad stoiy and a sad song to set the ed^e of our happiness'«more keenly. Now we realise how much of our own lives may be spent in the pursuit of "Rainbow Gold" ! The every day that we know so well — how can we weave silken flowers of fancy into its dull, hodden grey? The monotony of working just at home, where for all our labour we get — not always thanks. How the rainbow gold of a salary and. an independence beclions us from the dissembling distance !\ But jwhen. we have broken away from the dull, unpaid duties of home, we find all too scon that the paid duties are no less monotonous — for all regular work is monotonous : and that to surrender the dependence of home does not necessarily mean acquiring the independence of strangers. On the contrary, it really seems as though, instead of the "ties of home," yr-e should have considered the freedom* of home. The money we are making is the nicest money we ever handled, only because we are earning it. Yet for that pleasure we have had to" surrender a score of daily delights, delicate, intimute, that made the little personal privileges of home, the individual rights and xeserves. Now only remains'-the sacred solitude of soul — all our other rights have been bartered for the rainbow gold of "independence." The girl or man who aims at attaining social popularity has almost as long a journey ?rid as sad a final awakening before him or her as Mary, with her dreams of rainbow eo)d, -and reality of iron pot and flinty stones. For to be designedly popular one "must be content to i*enounce the devotion of the few for the admiration of the many ; in proportion as one becomes indispensable abroad must become unnecessary at home. Life's inexorable command is, that we can only gain at the price of loss. Out bunds can but hold a certain amount, and to grasp fresjfc. treasures means, for most of us, casting away the old. When our place' has been voluntarily vacated at home, it 5s doubtful whether we can ever again find ii, even though we turn from the rain- ; bow gold of popularity, discerning, aye, j through the -mist of tears, the true gold of ' home love and home life. The, flame of notoriety, the heady wine of ambmon, the greed of Mammon, the pride of position — how apt they all are to become phantoms as elusive as the rainbow. Alluring because unrealised ; deceptive because distant. , One reason for undervaluing what we i have, 'ies in the fact that we cannot of necessity realise the drawbacks of what we have not. We might traverse the universe and gain nothing but rainbow gold unless we cany our happiness with us ; the little homely pinch of salt, " the thankful heart, jnustbe there, or the finest dishes are tasteless. The rainbov gold, the treasure of dreams and desire, the rose without a thorn, the smile that has no echoing sigh, the perfect song, the dream that is fulfilled in the awakening — these all lie over the rim of the distant hills, over the -flashing pathway of ocean, on the peaceful plains, where ' WE ARE NOT. Here in daily faith, in much-tried love, in oft-belrayfd trust, in hope that fades to revive again, in desire that is denied"; here, amid all these elements of everyday life, lies the real gold, the tiue happiness. For of a truth — To enjoy rest, we must work. To appreciate happiness, we must hay© known sorrow. To be loved, we must love. To get, we must give. To be conquerors, we must fight. I Be — In our strength, gentle. Of o^ur pride, humble. Of our soul, silent. In our prayer*, constant. What we dr.iv/ fiom the crucible of Lile depends on what we cast in Most of us,

sooner or later, realise the truth of a sons, that is now old-fashioned : Let thy gold bs cast in the furnace. % Thy red gold, precious and bright; Do not fear the hungry fire, With its caverns of burning light; And thy gold shall return more precious, Free from every spot and stain ; For gold must be tried by fire, As a heart must be tried by pain! Too serious an ending, you say, for what promised to be but the fairy tale of "Rainbow Go'AV , '