“Without Dsfeat”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 183, 7 August 1935, Page 10

“Without Dsfeat”

A New Serial

(by

Oliver Black)

A Story with a Call to a Nation

Design for a Dinner. “'I met Tanner at lunch time. Mary,” said Oliver, as they returned towards the town. ‘‘He’s coming to dinner with me to-night. We’il have a party, the three of us.” ‘‘You’ve got to make your report,’’ pointed out Mary. “I have. To both of you. We’ll : combine business with pleasure; the report to Tanner with our own celebration. You’ll like him, Mary. 1 rather think I’d like him to marry us.” “So long as someone marries us soon, I don’t care who it is,” answered Mary. “And so say I. Seven o’clock at the hotel, then; I told Tanner to be there about seven.” “Then 1 must fly now. Good-bye, my darling Oliver.” They said good-bye; they said it several times. Oliver straightened his collar and walked slowly towards the hotel. Yes, things were certainly happening in Christchurch! And now they’d have to decide where to live. Oliver smiled to himself. Thank heaven, I needn’t go Home, he thought. We will retreat to a little house in my Maungaroas, and there I will continue to think —so far as Mary will allow mo to! A lorry came out of a side street. Oliver, who was meandering about in the middle of the road lost in pleasant speculation, leapt to one side just in time. The lorry pulled up and the driver put his head out of the window to enquire whether Oliver was hurt. Oliver, his mind forming suitably cutting sentences of reproof—for he knew that he was in the wrong—advanced upon the As he came up to it he saw that the head belonged to Alf. “By heaven’s, it’s Alf again!” shouted Oliver. “You’re covering the country all right! ” “Got sent down South a couple of days ago,” answered Alf.

“How are the books?” “Fine. You’re getting about a bit yourself! ” “Aha, Alf, my getting about days are nearly over. I’m going to be married. ’ ’ “No!” exclaimed Alf, in tones of amusement. “And why not? ” “No reason. New Zealand girl?” “She is.” “Then you’ll be all right,” said Alf confidently. Oliver had an idea. He asked Alf whether he was doing anything that evening. Alf signified by a non-com-mittal noise that he might be free. “Then I tell you what, come and feed with us at the United Hunts Hotel at seven?” “Oh, I couldn’t” protested Alf. “You certainly can. I’ll get a private room and we can have a talk. I want to hear-your adventures.” “I don’t have no adventures,” said Alf. “Still, I’ll be glad to come. Thank you. See you later, then!” “Till this evening!” called Oliver as the lorry drove off.

Another Invitation. As Oliver turned into the Square by the Cathedral a hearty voice hailed him. He looked round to see Mann, the farmer, whom he met the day before he reached Wanganui. He greeted Oliver warmly and insisted upon buying him a drink. “Well, well,” he kept saying, “I was hoping to run across you again. A great evening we had up at the club, eh? X es » I’ ve o^ ten thought about “Still an ardent supporter of Labour t” laughed Oliver. “Well, I’m not saying I am, and I’m not saying I’m not, returned Mann. Oliver said that seemed a pretty safe line to take. “You can’t be too safe these days,” said Mann darkly. “That’s, I suppose, why you joined the Labour Party!” replied Oliver. “Upon my soul, that’s the best thing I’ve heard for months—join the Labcur Party for ‘Safety First.’ ” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” complained the other. “1 haven’t done any such thing!” “Oh, no, it was someone else; you must excuse me,” said Oliver. “I’m a little light-headed; I’ve just got engaged. ’ ’ “Light-headed!” ejaculated Mann. “You must have been mad!” “You old cynic! "Wait till you meet my lady! I say, come and eat with us to-night. V/e’re having a little celebration.”

After considerable pressing Mann consented to come. “And mind you don’t put my lady off marriage,” laughed Oliver. Mann promised to be discreet. And. Another.

Oliver sank into an easy chair in the lounge of his hotel and strove to collect his scattered wits. He resolutely put Mary and all thoughts of the future from his mind; plenty of time for that after to-night. There would be an interesting dinner party, and afterwards he would make his report to Tanner. He went over in his mind once more what he would say. It all sounded very platudinous and vague but he couldn’t help that. Tanner had been right in that the country’s trouble was mental—psychological, if you liked. Ami mass psychology could not but consist of generalities. Be was certain enough of his facts, at any rate. . . . Yes, dinner promised to be interesting. If only he could seat Mann next to one of the business men from the lunch in Wellington! Not Crabbe; Mann and Crabbe would spend the whole time amicably slanging the Government. But if he only had, say, the old buffer who had taken the chair. . . As though in response to his thoughts, the door of the lounge opened and the old buffer who had taken the chair walked in. Oliver leapt to his feet. “Good afternoon, sir. We weren’t introduced, but I attended a lunch in Welling!on the other day at which you took Ihe chair. A. gentleman from here was the speaker.” The old gentleman looked at. Oliver sternly through his gold spectacles. “T remember you perfectly. You were the young man who made that . . . er . . . presumptuous speech afterwards.” Oliver bowed. “I feel I owe yon an apology. May £ ask you to show that you accept it by dining with me tonight?” “Well . . . er . . thank you, my boy; £ shall be delight ed. ”

bplemlKl. I have one or two other friends coming . . . seven o’clock. I 'll tell them in the office fee let you know which room, Mr. . . or ‘ ‘ White. ’ ’ “‘O frabjious day! Callooli! (al Jay!” sang Oliver as he went down to see about dinner. Dinner for Six. Oliver surveyed the dinner table laid by the window of a private sitting room, li looked all right. Indeed, it showed signs of considerable care and trouble on the part of the management at short notice. Even flowers had not been forgotten. Oliver pottered aimlessly round the room fidgeting about with odds and ends. He felt nervy and on edge as though thunder was in the air. He reflected that it was an odd mood for a man who had just become engaged to be married. As he was lighting another cigarette Tanner arrived. Oliver told him about himself and Mary. “My dear boy! How splendid! And she’s coming this evening?’’ “Yes. Look here, Tanner; we’ve got a curious party here this evening.” Oliver explained who was coming. “After dinner you can tell them about how you and I met, anil of the reason for my trip to Auckland. I will then tell you all the conclusions at which 1 Lave arrived. I thought it would be interesting to watch their reflections.’’ Tanner assented, adding that he could not stay late. “Easter Sunday’s a heavy day fo»us parsons,’’ he added. “Afid 1 want to go through the notes of my sermon again before I go to bed.”

Mary, her hair a deeper and mpre gleaming copper than ever under the lamplight, came in and Oliver intro duced Tanner. The others followed quickly. The few moments before dinner was served hung badly in spite <•(’ Tanner’s geniality and Mary’s charm. Alf, Mann and White were ill at eium and a little suspicious of this unusual party and it was a relief to everyone when dinner was announced Oliver, a malicious gleam in his eye, motioned Mann to the seat next to White and awaited developments. He waited in vain. As his guests mellowed under the influence of good food, they chatted cheerfully of trivialities. White and Manu discussed the prospects of the New Zealand contingent at Wimbledon with animation. All’ confined himself to his food.

Oliver pushed back his chair, and looked at the four men. “Apart,” said he, “from the fact that you are my friends (L hope that, after to-night £ may include Mr. White), there are two reasons why I have asked you to come here to-night. The first is to celebrate in a small way my engagement.” He smiled at Mary who threw him a kis. u . “Hurray!” said Alf. “Thunk you,” wont on Oliver wav-

ing a hand. “The second is quite another. Tanner, you explain.” “What happened was this,” replied Tanner looking at the others. He outlined his meeting with Oliver. “Nobody who thinks can doubt that all is not well with our country. She is sick somewhere, sick in her soul. 1 suggested to Oliver that as he went about tho country he should keep his eyes and ears open. He had done so, with what success he will tell you.”

Oliver took up the tale. “I’ll'try to tell you of my experiences. It’s no good anyone protesting, or saying that people don’t talk like that, because I have heard them ’Hid 1 know they do. Now then.” He began at the beginning and told them the story of his travels, his meetings and the upshot of what he had seen and heard. “You’ve got the fanners taped, my boy,” said White, as Oliver finish 3 J speaking. “My goodness, you told the business crowd at Wellington off,” said Mann. Oliver Concludes “And now, Tanner,” said Oliver, “now for the conclusions. Mind you. they’re only generalities but 1 can’t help that. In the first place, of the fineness and greatness of the spirit of New Zealand there can be no, question Look at the self sacrifice and generosity you see on every side of you. Look at the children’s home they’re building near Wellington by voluntary labour. ...”

“I know,” interrupted Tanner. “Men are giving up their holidays to spend them entirely in working on that home. ’ ’ “I could give you dozens of instances. But when you come to public life there is a big difference. As soon as you get to that, people seem to lose ail sense of proportion. To begin with, as soon as a man goes into public life, lots of otherwise decentthinking people at once begin to attribute to him the must dishonourable notices for everything he does of which they don’t approve. Then, and most serious of all, for too many people seem incapable of looking at. a broad question without their view being coloured by the consideration of what immediate financial advantage they’re going to get. out of it. If this Government had given Mann here a gua rant ecd price of 5s for butterfat lie’ll think the were the most won derful Government in history. And so would White if they abolished the income tux on earnings from secondary industries and piled the balance on to the farmer. 'l'lio spirit of the old pioneers of pulling together has gone, so far as the country as a whole is concerned. Parochialism has taken its place. People can think in terms of Wellington, or Auckland or Christchurch or IDuncdin to a limited extent, hut they don't seem able to think in terms of New Zealand. Everyone is pulling a different way and expecting the Government to steer the boat straight. The boat’s only gone as straight as it has because the hand on the tiller has been so frm and sure. ] am convinced that if the spirit of New Zealand could lie roused to a great national effort, an effort of mind it is really, this country com'.l ride out anv depression and ('OlllO through any economic storm tin sca t lied. ’ ’ White looked nt. (diver inlenllx. “But people disagree about everywhere. And even if you're right, it’s a disease not confined to New Zealand. ’ ’ “It’s not disagreement that I’m speaking of; it’s the eternal grouuig and complaining, the assumption that the Government is not doing its best, the frame of mind that won’t, try to 'help itself. And of course, it’s not, confined to ‘ l,: ■ rv but ‘h-it ’< :i -

reason why a oung a:. . »• ■ ! like t his shouldn't lea I .u ■ vay for | once and show the light to the, 1 id 1 World. It can be done—KiHsia's (loin , il. And if Kus.-ia can rou.-e her mi! I dons to a national effort ileni. .ding i actual deprivation in the _4Tou, o en | sure the success of her Pi-e , Yeai ;! Plan, llit'ii thi' people < i New Zeala [can make an effort Io stop |jaticlling

uid can cultivate their, al prc.-eal., lost virtues of faith and discip .ne; fail!? 1:1 their country and the futur’; ■inc *>y choosing their leude.s and then backing them up instead of 1. 1 sing and hinderng them all ifi-3 line.’ 1 ■’Like in the army,” suggested Alf sudden i-y. •‘Like in the army.” smiljd '..ivtr, '‘but, with this difference, lh.it the people arc free to chuosc their own ioacTers. ” There was a dead silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the, mantelpiece. Then While spoke. “You’re an idealist, young man. I'm sorry lor you; you’ve, got so many Illusions to be shattered by real life.” He got slowly to his feet. “I must arouse myself. 1 have tu thank you for a very interesting evening.” He. said good-night and withdrew. Tanner stood up. “So you found the spirit of New Zealand, Oliver?” “I found that it’s there plain enough for anyone to see, in the grandeur of the mountains, in che gladness of the sunshine,' in the kindliness of the hearts of the people; if only you could find a—sort of Joan ;>f Arc — someone or something to bring that spirit up to the surface. . “And where is the Joan of Arc, Oliver?” asked Tanner. “That’s not my province. All I have done is to accept your suggestion that i should keep my eyes and ears open. That I have done, and you know «-he result. I’ve also offered you some general remarks founded on the facts that 1 have collected. But 1 will make one suggestion.” “And what is that?” Oliver smiled at Tanner. “ ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.’ Good-night Tanner. I shall look forward to your sermon tomorrow with great interest.” Faith and Discipline? Tanner walked slowly back to the house at which he was staying, deep m thought. Oliver’s account of his travels, heard largely for the second time, had stirred him deeply. But was O.iver, with his passion for mountains, making one out of a molehill? Were they both making a fuss about uotning? No, thought Tanner, not nothing; for Oliver’s experiences showed a lack of the true .Christian spirit, and surely the Christian spirit was just as important in dealing with public affairs, questions affecting the nation at large, as it was in the little things of everyday life—if not more' so? Wasn’t there a tremendous opportunity fur a real spiritual leadership which should rouse and direct the dormant spirit of the country? He turned into his lodging. His host had gone to bed and Tanner went up to his room. Faith and discipline! Faith and discipline! The words rang in his ears. 11c took out his notes for to-morrow’s

sermon and went through them. He found them very dissatisfying. He thought of the text which he had chosen: “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” What great words they were! How many clergymen in how many pulpits to-morrow throughout the world would be trying to convey a glimmering of their stupendous meaning? Thousands, anyway. And wit'i what success? He glanced at his notes again. Faith and discipline. If only someone could do something to bring home their lesson!

Tired and depressed, Tanner threw open his window and drank in the fresh night air. Faith and discipline! Y’es, Oliver was right. Ho thought of his war service. . . curses and oaths of men warned to parade at six a.m. . . but they turned up . . . and no curses then . , . and if a job of work was ahead it was done . . . orders obeyed willingly . . . trust . . . faith and discipline. And that was the one lesson above all others that the war should have taught . . . and it hadn’t . . . but then the war meant little more than the Crimean war to millions of people to-day. (Finis.)