THE GARLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3212, 6 October 1915, Page 80

THE GARLAND.

FOR THE QUIET HOUR. No. 110. By Duncan Wright, Dunedin The Happy Man—Who Is He? j Who drives the horses of the sun Shall lord it but a day; Better the lowly deed were don© And kept the humble way. The rust will find the sword of fame. The dust will hide the crown; Ay, none shall nail so high his name, Time will not tear it down. The happiest heart that ever heat Was in some quiet breast That found the common daylight sweet, And left to heaven the rest. British Weekly. Is this the dream of a poet and nothing more? Who is the happy man? The busy man or the idle man—which ? Many a homely woman and many a hard-working man will with tears recall the dear old clachan among the bonnie hills of Scotland. where first .they were taught to repeat and sing the words ;—. O happy ia the man who hears Instruction’s warning voice. And who celestial wisdom makes His ear'y, only choice.

For she has treasures greater far Than east or west unfold, And her rewards more precious aro Than all their stores of gold! Good old paraphrases! How sweet and hallowed are the memories of childhood’s sunny hours!

0 treasure the thoughts of your early years. Treasure them as they flow, For, aJi unmarked, in these thoughts appears The path where you soon must go. JOHN BUSKIN SPEAKS.

“Gradually, thinking on from point to point, we shall come to perceive that all true happiness and nobleness are near us, and yet neglected by us, and that till we have learned how to be happy and noble we have not much to tell, even to' Red Indians.

“The delights of horse-racing and hunting, of assemblies in the night instead of the day, of costly and wearisome music, of costly and burdensome dress, of chagrined contention for place and power, or wealth, or the eyes of the multitude, and all the endless occupation without purpose, and idleness without rest, of our vulgar world, are not, it seems to me, enjoyments we need be ambitious to communicate. And all real and wholesome enjoyments possible to man have been just as possible to him since first he was made of the earth, as they are possible to him chiefly in peace.

“To watch the corn grow and the blossoms set; to draw hard breath over ploughshare or spade; to read, to think, to love, to hope, to pray, —these are the things that make men happy; they have always had the power of doing these; they never will have the power to do more. . . . And I am Utopian and

enthusiastic enough to belive that the time will come rvhen the world will discover this. It has now made its experiments in every possible direction but the right one; and it seems that it must at last try the right one in a mathematical necessity. ’ ’ Now let us be practical. May John Kuskin be called pessimistic ? Or optimistic ? Not a narrow or cold faddist? Has the hustling, bustling, fussy tveidicth century time to pause, to third., o read and digest these wise, golden sentences by a true seer ? What do you think ? Has the catchy phrase “the simple life” any real meaning, or is it another sham, a delusion, a snare? On oath let an intelligent jury return a true verdict, not. of sentiment, necessarily, but upon the facts of the case, and a good conscience.

It is both conceivable and possible that many readers —men and women—will follow and endorse the words of Cowper when he says :

He is a happy man whose life, e’en now, Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; Who, doomed to an obscure but tranquil state. Is pleased with it, and wore ho freo to choose, Would make his fate his choice; whom peace, the fruit Of virtue, and’ whom virtue, fruit of faith, Prepares for happiness; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must

Below the skies, but having- there his home; The world o’erlooks him in her busy search Of objects more illustrious in her view; And, occupied as earnestly as she, Tho’ more sublimely, ho o’erlooks the world. She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them

not; He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain

Some years ago a shrewd, gifted woman,

when speaking to me about the Scottish metropolis, said : “In the grand old days of long ago the merchants and business people of Edinburgh, in many cases, lived above their shops—but nowadays most of them live above their income !”

In this connection it would, I think, bs quite relevant to quote Franklin, who was a wise and cautious counseller .

“There are two ways of being happy — we may either diminish our wants or augment our means; either will do. The result is the same ; and it is for each man to decide for himself and do that which seems to be easiest. If you are idle, >'r poor, or sick, however hard it may be to diminish your wants, it will be harder to augment your income. If you are active and prosperous, or young, or in good health, it may be easier for you to augment J °ur means than to diminish your wants. But if you are wise you will do both at the same time, young or old, rich or poor, sick or well; and if you are very wise you will do both in 'such a way as to augment the general happiness of society.” Would you be happy ? Be the thing you seem, An<l sure you now possess the world’s esteem; Not yet to others too much credit give, But in your own opinions learn to live; For know—the bliss in your own judgment lies, And none are happy but the good and wise. Horace. From Robert Burns, too, we may get not only instruction, but inspiration. Listen : It’s not in titles nor in rank. It's not in wealth like London Bank, To purchase peace and rest, It’s not in makin’ muckle mair, It’s not in books, it’s not in lear, To make us truly blest. If happiness have not her seat And centre in the breast, He may be wise, or rich, or great. But never can be blest. Lord Lytton writes :—“Happiness is a word very lightly used. It may mean, little, or it may mean much. By the word happiness I would signify not the momentary joy of a child who gets a new plaything, but the lasting harmony between, our inclinations and our objects. Without this harmony we are a discord to ourselves ; we are incompletions, we are failures.” “I have grown to believe,’’ says another writer, “that the one thing worth aiming at is simplicity of heart and life; that one’s relations with others should be direct, and not diplomatic, that power leaves a bitter taste in the mouth; that meanness and hardness and coldness are the unforgivable sins; that conventionality is the mother of dreariness; that pleasure exists not in virtue of material conditions, but in the joyful heart; that the world is a very beautiful and interesting place; that congenial labour is the secret of happiness; and many other things which seem, as I write them down, to be dull and commonplace, but are for me the brightest jewels which I have found beside the way.” WHERE MAY WE FIND IT ? How many are, to-day, asking the question. Where shall we find happiness—where shall we find rest and peace ? And some of us would reply, “There is no happiness, no peace, no rest of an abiding character away from God and away from His Son, Jesus Christ.” “The only way to get happiness,” says another, “that is worth while is to live a straight, clean, honest, useful life. There is no power in the universe that makes a human being happy along any other lines. Straightforward, honest work, a determined endeavour to do one’s best, an earnest desire to scatter flowers instead of thorns, to make other people a little better off because of our existence—there are the only recipes for real happiness. “No man can be happy when he despises his own acts, when he has any consciousness of wrong, whether of motive or act. No man can be happy if he harbours thoughts of revenge, jealously, envy, or hatred. He must have a clean heart and a clean conscience, or no amount of money or excitement can make him happy.” Would’st thou bo wretched? ’Tis an easy way; Think of but self, and self alone, all day; Think of thy pain, thy grief, thy loss, thy care; All that thou hast to do, or feel, or bear; Think of thy good, thy pleasure, and thy gain, Think only of thy sell, Twill not be vain. Would’st thou be happy? Take an easy way: Think of those round thee —live for them ■each day; Think of their pain, their loss, their grief, their care; All that they have to do, or feel, or bear; Think of their pleasure, of their good, their gain; Think of those round thee, ’twill not be in vain. Perhaps it would be a wise thing for every reader to ponder over the wise words of CANON LIDDON, wh o asks : “Why does the human intellect crave perpetually for new fields of knowledge? Ho answers : Because it was made to apprehend an Infinite Being; it was made for God. Why does the human heart disclose, when we probe it, such inexhaustible capacities for love, and tenderness, and self-sacrifice ? It was made to correspond to a love without stint or limit; it was made for God. Why does no employment, no success, no scene or field of thought, no culture of power or faculty, no love or friend or relative, arrest definitely and for all time the onward craving, restless impulse of our inner being? No other explanation is so simple as that we are made for the Infinite and Unchangeable God, compared with Whom else is imperfect, fragile, transient, and unsatisfying- ’’ “Is the boy happy?’’ asks an old divine. “He will be when he becomes a man. Is the man happy ? He will bo when he

become rich. Is the rich man happy? He will be when he becomes ennobled, la the nobleman happy ? He will he when he becomes a king. Is the king happy ? Listen for one who is speaking —0 that I had wings like a dove, then I would flee away and beat rest.’’ “But give us God are at rest.”