HAPPINESS

Southland Times, Issue 20538, 14 July 1928, Page 10 (Supplement)

HAPPINESS

—First Prize.— “It takes so little to make us glad Just a cheering clasp of a friendly hand Just a word from one who can understand;” It is rather difficult to describe happiness for everyone experiences it in a different way. The best way is to think of all the little happinesses that help to make one absolutely happy. There is the Happiness of Beauty. That glorious uplifted feeling when the sun is finding a million sparkling diamonds in the grasses in early morning and the thrushes are pouring out their rapturous melodies on fresh, scented air. There is, and although this is a totally different feeling, still it belongs, the Happiness of Things Accomplished, when at the end of a hard and busy day there is a big armchair in front of a cosy fire and leisure to reflect, and that lovely feeling of “something accomplished, something done, has earned a night’s repose.” That is contented happiness. With this fits in that warm little feeling round the heart if you have chanced to help someone. There is the Happiness of Perfect Comradship, of Music and Adventure. Then, there are two other very tiny ones which really shouldn’t come in at all, but the first one being what he is, naturally brought the other one along. I mean, the Happiness of Being Thoroughly Naughty and the Happiness of Enjoying One’s Meals. The first one we really all know but I only found out his name when I saw it in “The Blue Bird.” Perhaps we enjoy it most when we are very young, but his brother is rather nice I think. I wonder if I should have mentioned these two. Still there are really hundreds of different ways of being happy. There is that wonderful happiness that comes so seldom, but when it does makes up for everything. It sometimes takes so little to give but when it comes, a blithe ecstacy of undiluted joy and sheer happiness one remembers all past gladness, the present is delightful and the future beckons with rosy and alluring finger. It may last but one minute or all day but that is what I call Happiness. Yet I dread it, sometimes for it is such a long, long way above Ordinary Things and the fall can be sudden and swift, and everything is so flat after the rosy heights. Yet all true Happiness has this lurking fear. A mother’s happiness is centred round her children yet there is always that dread that some hurt may come to them. There are simply hundreds of small Happinesses but the one I called true Happiness stands out alone. Still it does not do to wait for it may come so seldom, but if you are determined not to complain when things won’t go right and always see the funny side, then the world will be a happy place for you and you’ll find that Happiness is not the nimble, elusive sprite she is sometimes supposed to be. 5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Daisy Ward (17), Awarua Plains. —Second Prize.— A happy day, A restful night— Ungracious way, Unhappy day. Now won’t you say, “Just do be bright!”— A happy day, A restful night. “I am happy, tra-la-la-la-la!” sang the bird as he carried a worm to his young, “for I am busy.” “So am I—and I—and I!” chorused the cat, the dog and the hen as they looked after their young, “for we have work to do!” “What is happiness?” drawled the lazy donkey, as he refused to move. No wonder he was unhappy for he had to suffer hunger as he would not work. Happiness wil’ not come through laziness. Work and sing like the bird and, perhaps, you will be happy. No miser is lazy. He works, works, works for gold, gold and more gold. He sings and croons over it; but he is not happy. He is nervous and afraid some one will come in the night and take it. He cannot sleep. Happiness does not come with selfishness or wealth only. But a man is wealthy—and happy. He gives, and he is not extravagant, for who has seen a man happy when he is gambling, wasting and spending money on things that are to end in another’s, or perhaps his own ruin? No one. “Have you ever heard or seen a person who is happy? Is he honest?” “Yes! yes!” cries the Happy Fairy, who guides and will lead us all to Happiness, if we at least try to be busy and sing like the bird, unselfish, inextravagant, content in the right way and honest. But let us never be like the donkey, for lazy people will not and cannot be happy. 2/6 and J marks to Cousin Isobel Strang (14), Alma street, Wyndham.

—Highly Commended. — There is a glad-eyed nymph in this world whom I think is a friend of everyone. Sometimes her eyes are blue, but when her cheery smile appears they turn almost brown and twinkle. Her smile —so alluring, sets our pulses racing, and her hair, like ripened corn waves round her dimpled face. Just one glimpse of her, that roguish fun loving imp, makes us smile, our eyes sparkle and we feel as if gloom were miles away. Happiness has dancing feet, just one moment she stands by us and then she glides to the next one, chasing sad faces away. She brings laughter to our lips, and makes babies coo,’ and gurgle with delight. The old folk quicken their steps, the gay youths whistle and sing on their way, and the young maid steps out brightly her cheeks aglow with rose bloom hue. Ah, what gladness that dear nymph brings, what a world ’twould be without her! Truly I will say to you: No life is complete without the sweet kisses of happiness which surely came to all. And so, dear people, when you see that lovely nymph dancing towards you, do not turn away, just wait and she will push all gloom afar before dancing on again. —2 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright (16), Makarewa.

—Highly Commended.— “Happiness!” rings out a vibrant voice. “Happiness!” a multitude of silver bells ring out. Like a stream of silver water rippling over tinkling bells, Happiness enters the world. Sweet, radiant, lovely she flies over the earth! An airy, divine spirit. Down she floats to where a sobbing child lies on the grass. She kisses his cheek and resumes her flight. A singing and glorious warmth enters the child’s body. Happiness! Sister of Love stay with us always! Wrap us in your silver cloak of joy and play on our heartstrings till we sing and laugh and dull sorrow is forgotten. Stay! Oh, stay! Happiness, where are you? Care and sorrow are here. Come back! Happiness . . . .! —2 marks to Cousin Mollie Burn (15), 94 Duke street, Gladstone. —Highly Commended.— Happiness—the most blessed word in our language, the world that means everything or nothing—what is it after all ? It is when we come to analyse it, define its meaning, that we find it is an intangible something, an uplifting of the spirit, a riotious, mad beating of the pulses, or a calm, peaceful feeling of contentment. The

most wonderful emotion, if emotion it can be called, that there is in life (and there is not too much of it) it is something we vaguely strive for here, and hope for in the next world where there is no death. There are many forms of happiness. It is strange that it most often comes to those who have made some sacrifice, done something to help bring happiness to others —a feeling of tranquil peace, a knowledge that good has been done, and that in itself is sufficient. Happiness is an elusive thing. It cannot be bought or forced. It comes only to those who have sought it, earned it, and eventually won it through real service. No wrongdoer with an unrepented sin upon his soul, can ever be truly happy. He may think at times he is, for a moment he may feel its peace in some beloved pursuit or presence, but it will be an elusive happiness, tantalizing him with its promise for a moment, then fading away to leave in its stead a feeling of unrest, vague anger and disappointment—what some call “the pricking of conscience.” —2 marks to Cousin Eileen Mclntosh (17), 40 Princes street, Enwood. —Highly Commended.— Happiness is a very beautiful palace where innocent children and people of strong and loving character may stray; but the ways to that temple are many and various, and a fettered nation may strive and never catch a gleam of the shining spire, or feel a breath of the soothing incense. Once on the beach when the sun had sunk to his eastern bed, and a purple glow lingered caressingly over the drowsy water, when the rocks stood black and cool and the air was sweet and mild, I saw that palace, Happiness, silent and restful in the twilight. It was white and gleaming, with long cool windows, and a door flung open wide. A lingering fragrance clung around it. I wandered inside and stood gazing at the interior. The walls were covered with seashells and the room was filled with Nature’s singing. Children with glass-balls played in the sunshine that filtered in and I joined their frolic, and let the hours slip away unheeded. Memory of tasks undone, and the sound of fret and quarrel made the vision, and all it held fade away. If you want to go to the temple of happiness, take the road of Duty and it will

lead you to find that elusive gift which we all strive to enjoy. —2 marks to Cousin Catherine Thomson (16), 37 Reuben Avenue, Brooklyn, Wellington.