MULTAN IN PARVO.

Otago Witness, Issue 2714, 21 March 1906, Page 74

MULTAN IN PARVO.

FEOM D.LF.-DOM. The following are the remainder of my extracts from the papers at the last open meeting — This paper is an account of a sham fight on a. small scale which took place at a camp ot th« -Brtice Rifles shortly aiter I Joined them, which was nearly six years ago Colonel Rcbin was inspecting the company on the evening in question, and suggested a little variation from the ordinary round of drill. Accordingly 20 rounds of blank ammunition per man were served out, and the corps was marched into a large grass paddock adjoining the camping ground. . . . About a quarter of an hour after the sentries were posted the captain ssid to me, "' Come along, bugler, and we'll pay the sentries a surprise visit." We set off, and presently came to sentry No 1, who met us with the sharp soldierly challenge, "Halt! Who goes there'" "Friends," answered the captain. "Halt, friends, advance one and give the countersign." The password was given, and we passed on. . . . I was following to see the iun, when Colonel Robin said. "Wait on, bugler; we may want you here." I clicked my heels together, saluted, and retired to my position. There •was a tremendous banging for a few minutes, and some shouting . . . The seigeant's lepoit was as follows. "We repulsed the ■brutes, skipper, and captured one of them. I thing he's an officer, for he had a sword. We took it off him. "... The captain smiled and said, " Getting rid of their cartridges, colonel." Whereat the colonel frowned slightly, and said to me, " Keep on b'owmt; 'Cease fire' and 'Assembly' till they stop." Noihing loth. I started charming the valley with the aforementioned calls, and lrany others, for the officers were busy talking, and payed no attention to what I was blowing . . We marched back to camp to the tune of "Cock o' the North," whistled by the whole company. As we swung into the camp and mere dismissed, we saw the welcome sight of Cooky and his mate carrying a husje canteen of steaming coffee into the shed where we had our meals. After a hearty supper of coffse, biscuits, and cheese, we adjourned to our tents, wheTe "sing, recite, or tell a yarn" was the order of the hour. — " Volunteering." by Texas Jack. The two greatest educating powers in the aiicient world were pictures and poetry , the two greatest educating powers are pictures and poetry still, and pictures and poetry blended in an interesting manner is the interded educating feature of this Pleasant Learning Land . . Many pictures, particularly portraits, by bringing up reminiscences, are a great ecuice of consolation. In millions of houses the most beloved and treasured possession is the photographic album, containing the likeness of dear absent or departed friends. . . . Even in the pcoiest house pictures must always be a blessing. Many a poor man's cheerless home would be made much more comfortable and endurable if a few shillings' worth of good pictures were pasted or hung leund its bare walls. . . Always choose life-speaking pictmes that will interest and instruct — "Pictures," by Scribbler. The evening- was the most perfect I had ov<;r seen, and the sur sinking behind the western hilltop told too plainly that another day was done ... In front of me ran a zig-zag bride track overgrown with ferns and undergrowth. As I had seated myself an aged man, whom I soon recognised, came in sight. " Good evening," he said, in a =ad voice, and glancing up at him I returned his compliment, much puzzled at his «ad tone. I ask-ed him to sit down a while and re=t himself He did so. much to my satisfaction, and after a while began to speak "Ah. it is a lovely evening, but it seems to fill m<" with sadness, for recollections of bygone days are fre=h in my memory to-night Would you like to hear a story'" I replied with much eagerness that I would, much puzzled at his strange mood. "This is February 2," ho said, "and just such another evening had this day in February five and thirty years ago. I was- then a young man just landed on these shores from Scotland, and my mate — Dave Duncan — and I left the nort for the rush at the Notown goldfield. I." '. . What a merry companion young Dave i was' He was the pet of us all, and more j than a brother to me. When our days' toil was done he would sit at the door of our tent and play his violin to all the miners, and no mu°ic ever sounded so sweet as those tunes poor Dave played for us on that old violin . . After we had been a few months there, one evening Dave, taking his axe, said he would go and get some firewood, for he was going to do some wonderful cooking on the morrow . . . Soon I heard a cry, and lushing out in the direction Dave had proceeded, there was poor Dave lying lifeless by the side of a tree he was in the act of felTing, his hands clasped over hi"? forehead . . A decayed branch had fallen from the top of the tree he wa= felhngr. and striking him on the forehead, had killed him instantly . . . We carried him home to our tent, and then prepared foi fhe saddest of funerals There were r-o cemeteries then on the coast, so we picked a little plot 'neatli the shelter of a large pine and there due; his lonely grave " He nau =cd for a lrnmeni to wipe away the flood of warm tears from Ins eye, and then continued " I scarcely believe I lived for week 0 afterwards v hen thinking o f Dave's relatives at hnnip T knew I would have io fell them all that happened So one dnv I did though it took me h< nr^ to do it, but with a heart b^wed down v ith grief I f <ucceeded in perfonnii)" mv ta='c . After paving good-bye to his lonely siave I wandered alone all over Ibe Wpotland and Ota^o goldfields. never once foi7Pf.'n° ix>or Dave, nor did I ever find a-r^+Vor friend and brother like him . . . He i-o=i> slottlv, and T thanked him very much foi such a that will for ever be lmprirted or mv miiid — "Slirv of a Wc«t Coast Go!dh>ld by Mom ta n Hambler Svuipatln is the master-key fhftt unlocks the hearts of men. Secrets may be won from the unwilling by threats or bnbe = , confidences forced under moibid influence* but to tnc t/mch of wmjjath^ alone clo-es tie delicate

chord of a man's innermost natuie respond. . . A strange intangible quality it is, apparently lacking in some, latent in n^ar.y mere, until keen suffering aw.ikp<» theii need and revea's tc- them "the healing cheer one heart can to an ither tjiing," sind this in its turn evokes a responsive thnl 1 within themselves. . . I. is right r.'-d kind, of course, to express sjmpathy with an acquaintance who has lost v friend or met with some jtisforturs P'tj so'tens the blow and soothes wtunde-i feeJ.rgs, but the word sympathy is cut of place here . . Someone has said that an ounce o" sympathy >s worth a bushel of ad\ ie, and there js mu:h truth in the faying . None but be who has himself goi.e through deep waters can really have fellow feeling with those who are struggling against the wpves. . . Sympathy is one of tho best r ei.tini«'its of the human race. It is very gentle, and undemonstrative, easing life everywhere from some of its burden. Sympathy is often evidenced by silence that would be impossible where human trust was less deep and sure . . . Surely in this workaday world of worry and toil it is the duty of everyone tc spread around bin? thd sunshine of sympathy in his daily life . . . We may not be able to help each other materially m many ways, but never is it too late to give the cne thinj, in our power — never can it fail to lighten the load — never dare we withhold that cup cf cold water that slakes tho sore thirst ot the sorrowing and suffering — <he water rf sympathy. Then let us cherish sympathy, which halves the sorrows and doubles the joys of life, Bnd, by spreading stin&lain-^ ai'ound tile <ia-ily patli of duty, add our share to the brightness of the world " Sympathy," by LalLe 11. We smite when we hear of a man being hen-pscked ; we pity him after a fa&hion, and lcok upen I'im as a bit of a silly. But it is dcubtful if we should smile, and it is questionable if a hen-pecked man deserves our sj-mpathy, for, d 3 far as oi'e can see, he is generally entirely happy, and lives a life of comparative comfort . . The henpecked man has a good time of it at home; he has nothing to do with conducting the household; las wife won't allow it, nor will she i.trmu linn to pay debts . . . Cert&mly she bulhcs him evotv now and then: but lie has quit- a muubar of compensations, fcr, strange to say, she gives him arrat attention. She makes him work hard and earn a decent salary, but she is no fool, she knows that if he ii to do this 'atter he must be well fed his meals must be legular and will tJ'ik-ed, and his heal'h must lie attei.ded to generally . One thing must not be lost sight of — a hen-pecked man gets a lot of sympathy, if he 's ever in male company he is the one selected for honour. " Poor fellow, his friends agree, "we must make his life tolerable , let us be kind to him," and so on, and the henpecked man pulls a long face, accepts the kindness, and is happy. . . . He is a bit of a hy-pocnte, is a hen-pecked man; but looked at from a diifeient point of view, it a m in allows his wife to rule him, and to take ihe reins of government out ot his hands, is it not light that he should fuffer somewhat V It certainly is, and the pity is that the henpecked man suflojs so little, for, look at the man with a "simple" wife, he has his hands full, hi has to do r.lmost everything fcr hei, she is too fragile to attend to the haisher things of life. . . . "No, no,' says he. " let Maria attend to all bothersome things In short, the hen-pecked man is a triner, an idler, and belongs to the branch of the born-^enii-tired family, he wants to live :n peace, undisturbed by the duties which a man ought to perform in a home.—" The Happy Man Whose Wife is Master, bj Violet Rose. Love' What is love > Love means to repaid with ''end aft'oction. What an aimless life it would be if we weie not Joyed by somebody . People who <hmk their wisdem" ar.d knowledge unsurpassed always argue ihnt they are saved much disappointment by cultnating tins cold-blooded system, of thengreat less they entertain not the faintest idea. If they were only to look aiound them, they would ?ee that much of the sorrow and happiness in this world arose not from loving too well, but from loving too htt'e. . . Cold looks and misunderstandings have often driven many sorrow-stricken ones to seek a suicide' 3 giave, or have caused them to wreck their lives in some similar way. . . . Affection is never wasted. Like biead cast, upon the waters, it returns after many dayE—mayhap to enrich the heart of the giver, so that the only poverty-stricken being in the world is the cne who has no love to give to any living creature. Some say there is ho pucli thing as love— they say 'tis only jealouiy Well, must we not love to be jealous > — " Love," by Camellia I. Happiness! Oh 1 the very word itself carries a woild of meaning m it. It bespeaks joy, brightness, and contentment Without contentment we would not be hai^py, yet contentment alone does not gne happil ess Many, indeed, have had their cup of joy full to overflowing, and it has been dashed from them, leaving only lost hope and darker despair. . . . True happiness lights up the whole face, brightens all else, and when the heart is light and free from care happiness is ouis. . . . Though it is not in all cases a smiling face shows a | happy, contented mud, for often a smiling face hides a breaking heait. . . . Fame and wealth alone will not give happiness, for what is fame '—a world of unsatisfied longings and hopes It is a shadow that brings only sorrow. The possessor may hold it to-day and be envied by thousands ; to-morrow it may be gone, and he is forgotten. . . . Happiness does not belong exclusively to the rich , and no true love is counted by the money a man has, so without true love we are minus happiness. . . . The person with the light heart and contented mind going around through sunphine or ram singing all the while, making others h.ipp.er by his bright face and encouraging words,, is indeed the luckiest of men he is making others happy and so bringing happiness to himself.—" Happiness," by Rcgue 11. Winter is gone' The warmth and vigour of spring are with us again, rousing up all dormant feelings. . . Our resolution is higher and nobler, and over us peace and contentment throw their magic spell. Before us lies a goal, winch must be reached, and towards it all oui eneigios arc extended. . . . Slowly, as a flower opens, showing one by cue its petals, God's wonders are revealed to ! us. We aie spell-bound. Gradually we sep *he piup r ""-' °f 'he Creator's woiks, and man el j that nothing >vas created without a purpose E\en the 'malle=t flower, the tiniest inject, h?.= its work to do r.nd man, realising this, is stimulated to action Hi 5 - own purpo=e may l'o* be revea'cd to him but he is conscious of its exi--tei!C'\ and norU with an iron will. Spnns ' bj A Mother's Lass. That's all. TIC