THE WEEK.

Otago Witness, Issue 3111, 29 October 1913, Page 65

THE WEEK.

Trafalgar Day was celebrated with due enthusiasm and solemnity on October i - 1 say solemnity advisedly, f° r always a serious note running through the proceedings. We celebrate not in any spirit of triumph over a fallen enemy, but as a thanksgiving or national existence, and a reminder o responsibilities of that existence, interesting, though entirely futile, as speculations always are, to specu P what would have been our P° sltl °" n 0 if Nelson had not broken the ° the French sea-power, over a century ago. You have only to read the accounts ol Nelson’s departure on his mission, and how the people called on him as their saviour, to see how serious the state of affairs was considered in those days. Fro bably, if we had come temporarily under Napoleon’s heel we should not hav ® ‘ mained there long. Nevertheless every new light thrown on the history of that time shows more clearly the importance, not only to us, but to Europe generally, of Nelson’s victory. Hence the seriousness of our thanksgiving, eepen as it is by the note that is struck always by the reproduction of Nelson s signal. Nelson saved us once, in the past and we can only save ourselves in the future by each doing our duty. That is wha speaker after speaker stated, and restated. Can we live up to it? It makes one want to live to be a hundred, so as to see what is going to happen bhould there come another Waterloo or Trafalgar, will it be to us a day of humiliation, or another day of thanksgiving? lime alone can show; but we can at any rate o what we are told England expects us to do, and do it cheerfully, not forgetting in our prayers for the future our thanksgivings for the past. As a nation we are not very good at saying “thank you.” We have always had rather much of the spirit exemplified by the modern youth, depicted recently, 'who demands of his sister, “What were you saying to that old man?” And on receiving the reply, “I was only thanking him for picking up my bag,” stalks on, with tne disdainful remark, “Well, yon shouldn t be so beastly grateful 1 It isn t done nowadays.’’ As an antidote to this feeling, I am reminded of what a preacher who has been visiting Dunedin said the other day. He remarked that he often surprised people who came to him with their spiritual troubles by telling them_ to leave off saving their prayers for a week or so—and to say their thanksgivings instead. Just try it. It works surprisingly well.

Dr Golquhoun is always endeavouring to keep the public mind aware of the danger of tuberculosis, and the best means of combating it. He lately protested, though largely as a matter of form, against the installation of a heating apparatus in the new Technical School, declaring that it robbed the air of certain beneficial qualities, and if the windows were kept open, and the pupils warmly clad, much better results would be obtained. I am afraid neither the pupils nor the teachers would altogether relish the prospect, nor. is it the least likely to be put into execution. The doctor himself realised that. He was chiefly anxious to draw attention to the necessity that exists in this country lor more open air in the schools, a necessity emphasised by another doctor at the meeting of the Hospital Saturday Association. It stands to reason that herding children together in over-crowded rooms—for far too many of them are overcrowded—cannot be conducive to a good state of health. The results obtained from open air schools show the difference. I came across a short article in an English paper the other day, giving an account of the beginnings of this movement. The Germans were the originators, the first school of this kind having been established at Charlottenburg, near Berlin, in 1904. It was meant for delicate children, and the work was done almost wholly outside, under the pine trees. The results were so satisfactory, both from the point of view of health and school work, that other German towns soon followed suit, and presently the London County Council established a similar school at Bostall Woods, and others are being erected all over the country. If, argue the openair enthusiasts, such good results can be obtained from delicate children, what might we not expect from healthy ones? We cannot, however, do things all at once. The healthy children must wait a while. But something of the kind is an absolute necessity if delicate children are to be fitted to take their place in the world. If we begin with them, the rest will follow, and we will probably find the schools of the future built with moveable walls, so that the sun and air can be admitted, and the wind shut out, as desired, and each surrounded by enough ground to enable the classes to be carried on entirely in the open air if necessary. I should like to think, too, that we shall have open-air churches before very long. I cannot understand why they are still built with windows that will not open. I suppose the idea that the worshipper should not be distracted by glimpses of the outside world is at the bottom of it; but no sight of blue sky and waving trees, and even of housetops, could be half so distracting as the frantic longing one has at times to break the coloured glass and get a breath of real air. I am convinced that this is one of the many reasons for the decline in ehurch attendance, which is so distressing the churches. Clergymen cannot, or, at least, they should not, expect people who have been shut in shops and offices ail the week to spend even an hour and ahalf or two hours out of their only free day on an atmosphere of oppressive stuffiness. It is their duty, say the clergy. Perhaps; but public worship was meant

to be a joyful duty, not a penance. The passion for freedom, liberty, and open air is a thing that must be reckoned with. Ministers, open the windows! ELIZABETH.