SUNDAY COLUMN.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXI, Issue 57, 21 October 1911, Page 3

SUNDAY COLUMN.

(By J.L.R.) THEORY AND PRACTICE. One, two, tJiree, . . . twelve! i closed my book with a hang. Outside the wind howled angrily, and the ran beat in spiteful pats against my study window. 1 looked out on a rainwashed and wind-swept street, lighted by the hti'ul glare of a gaslainp. A belated traveler made his way with difficulty against the storm. 1 watched him till he disappeared in the darkness, and then sought the soothing comfort of my easy chair—the only luxury I allow myself in these Spartan days of ..study.■ I was a student “an indifferent one, it is true, who with infinite pains and diligence had ■ w;on an indifferent degree. My mind wandered back over the years of studious questions that I recalled mahy knotty questions that had obtruded themselves oil my reflection. They were past 'now, and 1 had come to what ! thought a solution of their ’mysteries!) - , 1 fought my way again’ tlfrdn'gh the differential calculus, and traced my mental path through the intricacies of the binomial' theorem. » Yes, these wore past, and 1 was content to leave them to a younger and more enthusiastic generation. But as I sat and gaged into the dying embers the demands of my intellect—never too nimble—began to seek a relation between the things f had learned, the knowledge 1 had .inquired," and the "rent seething world beyond. I knew 1 could not for ever iiijoy the quiet and the stillness and the mental otimulus hours, i knew tlia'f) .in tjiq' great strain of life I would'have to he ; a, strong-, swimmer against the tide.) iVJy - whole being thrilled' at ( prospect cf the eu•ounter. I remeßiberejlqlhe words : I was ever'' a ( fighter, so one fight more, the 'best,,and the.last.' f would hate, that death bandaged my eyes and forbore, And bade me icreep past. But 1 had little, kuowledgo of the outer world. True,: I had lived among oum and moved in the same spheres, and yet had always’the feeling that 1 was a mental outcast, jl did not think their thoughts; 1 did not realise their ambitious,; 1 did not apprcciite their •problems! Nevertheless, I felt instinctively that it was in and irnong this same life, in which 1 felt myself sornethng of an outcast, that [ was.'to realise my destiny. How was it to be alone? My education had been purely academic. 1 had a fair working knowledge,.of the classical authors in >oth Greek and Latin; 1 could understand some of the subtle niceties of and had become somewhat practised in the art of psychological uialysisi 1 had aimed at culture, and in a certain indefinite way 1 had got it. 1 believed that’ the aim cf i university was to give culture, and vet I could not rid myself of the idea thaiPi was born primarily, ao« hat the world might.feed and a d and warm me, but that I might feed and aid and warm the world. That ide i had begun recently to obsess my thoughts,,and my ambitious,' but from the standpoint of my equipment I could not see how it could be' carried out. What .was the use of it all then—cliis study? Looked at from the viewpoint of practical utility, it seemed to me a failure. I could make nothing ifjt. Hp\y my education was to fit |ue, for the, great duties of life 1 was miiihlo tp,. conceive. Yet there must bo, a point of contact somewhere. ■ Where was it?t m.iS,-_ i..ti I Lpoked the smonbhwing embers into a reluctant blaze, and tucked my nig more closely round me. I thought and thought, while the wind moaned up the chimney, or howled with- renewed fury against the window panes. Presently I became aware that .1 was not alone hr my study. A presence was there, but yet apparent.; It seated itself opposite me and looked straight into rny eyes. I felt no fear. Although 1 did not know my guest, I fancied in some dim way that, he was not. altogether unexpected. “Who or what are’you?” 1 asked at length. " Tiie Presence immediately assumed a onk of intense earnestness. “I -am Demos, the spirit of the leopld,” he replied. “I am come b assist you to a solution of the irohleins that arc troubling you. I in here to toll you the people’s needs nd how you can satisfy those needs.” “Then you are welcome,” I said, for, try as I will, I have not been ble to come to any conclusion. How •m I, with flic equipment I have, ho f any service to the people?” “What the people want,” ho roamed, “is men with ideals. The real surging inass of society is movig onward .towards, a goal of selfealisation. Only indefinitely does it calise that ''goal. Apparently, it is aoving blindly, in obedience to nn■aioivn and unseen forces ; many times lirongh disastrous failures and scenes >f blood. N'svoVthcfle'ss 1 the whole ody politic?; is being, lifted forward—inward, alwiiys'enwiiVd—though there re many rtiistades othat oppose its ■rogress and .resist :.it,s; movement. What is wanted is men vyljo will hold igh the tprph -,tl}gt jjigh.ts up the ray along winch ,this, great forward aoveinent must, bp ; carried out.” “That is very well,” I answered, ‘hut is it not supremely necessary hat the torch-hearer should underhand the difficulties of the way along .■Jiich society lias to travel ? If a map s to be a guide, should he not know he road?” “it is not. given to man to sec ight to tho very end,” said the Presume. “The destiny of mankind is >f divine appointment, and the great livine purpose you may not fully imierstaml. Mankind is engaged in ,'crking out a mighty task, and you aust assist it by holding up to it the ight of the ideal “Tliq • liglit of the ' ideal !” I interrupted. “What is that?”: • “The reign of ‘righteousness and i.rnth,” came the .answer, quick as bought. “That is the ideal for man. iou must teach man that truth and equity and justice,, sincerity,!of life, and character, honesty of purpose ami peace among men, are the qualities they must exalt. , Yon must sock to kill within them the spirit of selfinterest and personal, aggrandisement. You are lilted to undertake this task, ton have been privileged to unlock some of life’s great secrets. It is given to yon to bring a calm reflective mind and critical judgment 1 to bear on the individual and collective ■ spirations of men. You must act as a stimulus or corrective; you must, in short, hold high the torch.” I turned uneasily in my chair. This was a now aspect, and 1 was not sure of it. Was 1 fitted for this great task? I know the call had come to work among men. Was this tho office I was to perform, the mission I had to fulfil? “There have boon men who have not guided the people well,” continued the Presence. “They have been men of narrow vision and scanty foresight. They have sought to solve every difficulty hy appeal to the Legislature. The aims of mankind are not merely economic; thci aie moral, ana they arc spiritual. They cannot all

bo settled by legislation. '1 boro is another, a •grander goal. Reach that goal and political problems will solve themselves.” “Oh, do yon not see?” lie went on with fervour. “My people! My people! '1 iicy are being exploited by men of unscrupulous aims who are actuated by self-interest. Their minds are being perverted from their one true purpose . They are being filled with an insatiate greed of gold, for the lust of office, the spoils of power. i want true men, sincere men, purposeful men, who are willing to submit to divine guidance. Tnose alone can guide tne people aright. Arc .you williim to undertake this glorious work?” . l He looked at me with great pleading eyes, his hand outspread in supplication. Could i resist? 1 felt my utter incapacity, my lack of the great 1 qualities necessary to the successful carrying out of the task. Hut the call was imperative. Had 1 the right to refuse ? 1 rose to signify that 1 accepted the task. The Presence advanced a step and placed one hand on my forehead. IMy being thrilled at his touch. “Yes, | f ‘will go. I will do this work, God helping me.” The clocK on the mantelpiece struck “one.” 1 rubbed my eyes and looked about me. I was still in my easy chair. The fire had-died almost into coldness. The chair opposite me was empty. I had dreamed. I took my lamp and retired to my bedroom. The storm still howled angrily, but 1 had made a great resolve.