FOR THE INNOCENT

Taranaki Daily News, 6 December 1930, Page 1 (Supplement)

FOR THE INNOCENT

BEWARE THE PITFALLS

(By

“Michael.”)

The headmaster was not exactly a modern Pierre but nevertheless he knew his world. So well did he know it, in fact, that few people suspected this knowledge and therein lay his greatest advantage over his contemporary principals. Before proceeding further it must be explained that he was head of a great school which each year on to a flooded employment market a*horde of boys whose destinies had been primarily shaped by the stem laws of good tradition and the dictatorship of a wise and kindly chief. To all intents and purposes this headmaster was a successful man —he was visionary enough to satisfy even parents at prizegivings and stern enough to shake even the boldest of his young charges by breathless tirades after prayers in the evening. But he himself was not satisfied, for was he not a man of the world? During the terms of the school year he was of course completely absorbed ’in the affairs of the little realm he ruled. But, once a year about the middle of the festive season, he. slipped away to a busy centre to keep a pledge made in his university days. This was, in short, a reunion with three ( staunch friends. For thirty years the four /had met regularly; thirty times each had thrust aside the cloak of professional reserve-and recounted the trials and joys experienced in their search for the myth, success, which,, with the ambitious determination of healthy

youth they had each set out to capture in different calls of life. Year by year these conferences had become more interesting, as was only natural with the development of talents and the greater scope of their riper wisdom. The acceptance of responsibih-. ties, marriage and advancement in their professions and the influence and impressions these had exerted "upon them, had been discussed as the years rolled by. There was no reserve, ‘but the secrets that, wererevealed at the meetings were religiously respected ,by each of the four, so .the head master had no qualms in speaking as he did at their thirty-first reunion. .. / -■

The four were seated in a comfortably furnished, private sitting-room at the hotel where. they were staying. Preliminary greetings had been exchanged the night be fore and the room was full of smoke and good cheer. The headmaster was speaking.. . • t '/• . ( _ “Thank the Lord I can be frank with you fellows,” said our worldly head, and his friends grinned their appreciation of the promised confidence. “I have just finished with the breaking-un ceremony and the gushing of gratified parents. In a month I shall have to soothe the pre monitions of more parents who will experience' the same old last minute fears invariably associated with the farewclling of a son whom they probably won’t see for another three months. After 30 years one begins to know what is coming. Fifteen prize-givings as head have taught me exactly how to trace the years progress in a manner which shows the' members ot the board what really, fine fellows they are and the parents what wonderful sons they have—and all in the shortest and pithiest speech possible. It has become a habit, and I have become the figurehead of a solid and thoroughly respected institution. Sonletimes I feel like breaking that habit; I feel as if I would debght in pointing out to parents just how human their sons are. ■ •'■ ■ ,

“In addition io reiterating the reejuest te remember the ‘old school and play the game when I have my farewell chat to the boys, I would like to give them a really heart to heart talk on other things besides pitfalls. Or rather, perhaps I should say, give them a more intimate insight into tlie nature of those pitfalls, they hear so much about and which, sure, merely incite -their curiosity and lead them there with unfailing precision. There are some boys who, of course, will never ‘go wrong’ but they are not the excitable and impressionable boys for whom I have such a soft spot. I know, when I farewell these lads, that disillusionment, must he before many of the more idealistic of them. . ; ■

“I would like to show them how to take their liquor and to let them see for themselves, in seclusion from- the gossip of the outside world, the dire effects’ of, 'mixing? Think hdw much more at ease the boy who knew this would feel when asked to 'come and have a spot’! He would ’have no occasion to approach the bar with trepidation. He would have no need to rack his brains to recall the name of some drink to order when the barman turns tq him, nor would, he be forced to order a port and brandy just be cause his companion does so. He would bo wise enough, then,, not to call for a medium beer for his second one just because the former tasted queer and he heard someone on his left voice that requtjst. He would be spared the feeling that >his friend, if such he can be called, was secretly laughing at either his unsteady gait on leaving the hotel or the fact that he had, in his delightful ignorance, tendered Is for a couple of whiskeys instead of the horbitant Is 6d. But could I teach the boys all this and maintain my position/No. If I did I would be accused of being the .initial cause of every drunkard who at some time or other was i good and'innocent boy at my school. ,

“Again, in the matter of selecting board in a strange city, I <„ould give the boys some invaluable information. For instance, in perusing the replies to the advertisement,'l could warn them to chuck out those from ‘young widow with charming home and only ten minutes, from tram, and also those conveying the information that the writer has ‘two daughters aged 19 and 21.’ How many yoaths.scenting romance, have stumbled upon lodgings owned by proto-types of the two quoted? I pould tell the boys always to call on the address they consider likely at lunch time on a hot day. That often saves the effort of walking up the path for ”:e wave of hot air heavily laden with the unmistakeable smell of cooking cabbage which wafts even unto,the road is enough to deter the most impetuous ’Varsity boy. • Now, if they were to know all this, think of the taxi fares and the trouble of packing and moving that they would be spared? Ah, I wish someone had taught me all this. And yet, I suppose, even if I had known it alt, I would still have had to ‘see for myself.’ ” • ■ .

(But I fell on my knees beside Bill and implored him not to die. He moved and I heard a groan. Frantically we cleared a space, then tenderly lifted him: away from that sinister tree. From the town twenty miles away, 1 sent a doctor hurrying with splints and bandages while I attended to some business and impatiently awaited his return. He came at last and bucked me up wonderfully with the verdict—“just 'a few broken ribs and slight concussion. That man was lucky.”