Untitled

Waikato Times, Volume II, Issue 94, 5 December 1872, Page 2

Tom (meeting Bob at 10 o'clock in the morning) : " Isayt Bob, is it too early for a drink ?" Bob : " Yes, my boy, far too early ; besides, I have just had a drink." Wendell Phillips says: "Put an American baby, six months old, on his feet, and he will immediately say, IMr Chairman,' and call the next cradle to order." They do business with despatch in Texas. A man in a certain neighbourhood who had.lost a valuable mare, received the following by telegraph: " Mare here; come get her. Thief hung." A PrzzLiXG Eelattox.—A .Pittsburg paper recently stated that a gentleman of the .name of Appleton, who nearly perished in a lire, was " the favourite grandson of his uncle." A lowa man recently died from swallowing a pocket knife and injurious medical treatment combined. He got along very nicely as long as the' knife We 3 closed but when the doctor gave him opening medicines, it killed him. Tee Close of the- Seaso>\ —Housemaid (to constant visitor) ; " Missis sends you this, and you needn't come again, for we're all going to the seaside on Saturday." Mendicant: "Tell the lady-I'm much obliged to' her, and I'm going to the seaside myself next week!" That man," said a wag, " came to this city-40 years ago, purchased a basket,"and commenced gathering rags. How much do von suppose he i&worth now!" We gave it up; " Nothing'" he continued, after a'pause, '' and -he awes for the basket."

finality. "Ah! Monsieur; tout est perdu!" whs r the witty reply of Dumourler to t.ho paLUptic (almost tearful) complaint of im old formalist at n Irr6.e. " Cct hommo li\ n'i». pits do boucles dims sea souliers." The omission of nti established etiquette was certainly an omen far from insignificant; find perhaps there is. scarcely anything, however really minute or apparently trifling, by which opinion cannot b->'modified or confirmed, and salutary warning suggested or enforced. As, then, to note such minutiae is wise, and practically useful, wherein lies the peril, the ridicule, and t.ho mischief of appreciation ? I answer, In ever allowing our minds to dwell on any human incident, great, or small, as iinal. The line burst of grief in " Othello " beginning, " Had it pleased Heaven," A>s., charms very many natures incapable of appreciating either its rhythms, its images, or its inellable tenderness. .For it is 0110 of the most common plaints of tho most commonplace minds, heard almost daily, "Had it be<ni this—or but tlnit—or had it been," &e. j " but, there, thorc\ where I had garnered up mv heart," &o. I have ofl been struck with astonishment, at the liberal presents maa*. oil Such occasions to Providence, to Destiny, or to Fortune (whichever you please) by natures far inferior in nobility and in passion to Othello. " Had it been any other lioi'Se, any other day, any ,other motion in the House, <fcc., but; this ; oh, dear," &c. " Sliure aiul it's unlucky I am,"' said Bridget, " the di*iJ a cup, plate or glass can I break that is not tho very one mo lmshtivss prefers to tho whole kitchcn.,, Tho error lies in the " garnering np," for nothing human has suflleient merit to monopolise the entire devot ion of the soul, or could be guarded with the necessary security if it had. " The prostration of despair caused by this morbid state of finality is seldom if ever witnessed with much sympathy, even by friendship. Grief and despair corrode the .mainspring of life, and tiie true cause of the death of the strongman is but a matter of transient, conjecture, cold, faint, and vague. Well said the sage, " The heart kiioweth its own bitterness," for who can sympathise with vexations consequent on the .overrating of that which he lias long deemed worf liliw-) ? Who could console Lord Ellenborough fo.i hi* chagrin at the acquittal of Hone ? Who cpuld pity his consternation because the keeper of a bonV stall had ■chanced to light, on a piu'ticuliw book, and to read therein a particular passage? Or who (except the haughty and tyrannical judge) could regard as " iinal" to bis tranquility and comfort, either the imprisonment'or tho impunity of a wretched pedlar, living from hand to mouth, who parodied for his bread a few compositions purely human, as men of high birth, wealth, and intellect had done ostenatiously before lie was born ? You may think differently) deem llono justly punishable. Be it so. But let not. his escape make the whole universe a blank to you. Was it iatuity'or irony that prompted the lines—

" Let, trade and commerce, art. and learning die, ! But us, still our old nobijty." -llow .many of these, finalities have Ave survived ? Tho Kelbrm Act of 1832, the abolition oT episcopalVigs, Catholic ' and Jewish free trade, (lie disestablishment j of the Anglo-Irislj Church, Royal marriage with a subject, and others far .too numerous for our'space, have, each a toil all, been iu its .turn tho buckles of ihunourier. And still I the feeling lasts, and will while man is num. | (1.) Woman's, educatipn. Shall they who can inherit | power for good or for evil be taught to think and' to count ? Shall they who can vote in the India llonse be allowed to vote in Victoria for the deliberations of a few hundreds ? Shall they who may hereafter be proved to possess the knowmay be thereupon permitted to wear tho badge ? " Ah, Monsieur ! Tout est perdu!" (2.) Shall large buildings bo used, when not otherwise wanted, by instructors of a different creed from their owners ? Shall those unsightly tubs called pulpits conceal sometimes a Baptist, sometimes a Weslcyan, if hearers request proprietor's, consent, and preachers be' Willing ? Shall a Clark eclipse the canary bird, or a Cairns talk broad Scotch in tho Eastern Hill Church when llandliold is "up eountry ?" And is it really true that the Dean of Melbourne has preached in the very elaborate structure in Collins street on which Burke and Wills so calmly turned their backs ? " llelas ! Tout est pcirdu'!" ' (3) Shall parents be compelled to do that which left undone fills our gaols? SJ'inll children be taught cleanliness, responsibility, and duty, without exacting from them metaphysical feats of mind, perceptions of the future, or judgments on propositions on which scarcely any ten of the wise and studious, among their adult seniors can be found to agree? Shall children be taught to read, write, count, and learn tho rudiments of a trade, yet remain umvarped by shadowy lears, and unpledged to join any one school of metaphysical ideality ? Shall that which is inconceivable by the human mind cease to be expressed or attempted by the English language? " lieu! lieu!" sighs mourning orthodoxy. "All is lost." (4) Shall the vile and clumsy practice of inhumation be or the safe, elegant, and salutary practice of cremation be adopted ? Our. burials are stiuicwhat hasty. And do what yon will, the resurrection-man plies his trade. But when tho llamcs ascend in the Vast open space, anil fragrant spices blend with material changes, and when tho elements receive component matter, then earth to'earth and air to air through flame, and all that is mortal passes to its kind. Then sculpture vies with sister art to perpetuate the loveliest looks the dead have ever worn. No sad misgivings, no pestilent exhalations, no ghastly tawdrinesses of monumental mockery, but hope and faith look forward to glorified ehaltation. [Such one day, we shall have, with wonder at tho long previous delay. But already I hear the anile of both sexes, "What! burn, not bury? Horror! All is lost."

[ (5) Trial by jury is our'palladium—"Unanimous, sir!" j 1 "hall wc ever be content with a majority, under certain judicious regulations as to time? For not a few of the reflecting are ceasing to adore trial by jury at all! The number is not either small or insignificant of tlioso who avow their preference of the judgment of one well-chosen judge of merit and independence to the casual and precarious verdict of a jury, even on matters alloc,ting liberty, property, or still greater. "Trial by jury ever modified or abolished" —I already fear that my reader praises my courage at the expense of my judgment, and recoil frightened at my own fcemererity. " All is lost" if trial by jury be modified. Many calamities which appear final 111 the distance, nevertheless, cause on their arrival an odd surprise that they are not. "lam " (say's Duneombe in Robertson's " M.P.")," I am now ruined. An odd thing to be ruined. Ido not feel it rery bad. My heart, liver, lungs, stomach, arc nowise the worse. For some years I have expected it; now lam simply free from suspense, land sleep very sotadly)." He would not barter his sound stomach, well-toned nerves; and inherent self-possession even for tHc restitution of his'estate ; why then mourn despairingly the loss of that, while possesions yet remain your own, of avowedly very far superior value s Johnson accompanied Boswell to Harwich, leaving his favourite London to sec bis friend aboard the packet for Utrecht. "My revered frecn," mouthed the obsequious Jamie, "it would be sair an awfu' thing, gin ye were to bo detained 24 hours in sic a dull place as this Harwich." "Do not, sir," said Johnson, "accustom yonr-elf to use big words, when, if you do not know them to be unapplied, you stamp yourself tu a fool, sir. It would not be an 'awful' thing even if I were detained a day in Harwich." 1 have glanced at the negative side of the question, the proneness of some, and the folly of such proneness, to dwell on any one incident as containing in itself all that man r "I desire, or as representing all he can achieve. The positive side of the question presses our at' Let me glance at the pleasures of youth and imagiii at the eS'ects of finality on the domestic affeetii ns. (1) In old age it is not our past youth, but l'h life just departed that we lament. To the loss of yo

have been long rcconcilcd —nay, it is already an era thi. takes the dignity of history. The feats of my youth are in some sort my own property. I mourn not that the steed, the chasc, tlie blooming maid have ceased to enthral, to fascinate me. Let them go —cvon the wiry step that knew not distance, and that mocked fatigue. But where is thepage of Byron and of Shelly ? "Why can I now, as formerly, linger entranced over these sons of genious till life's sordid realities become the dream, and their lofty idealities the truth. I indeed discern the wondrous artist and rare scholar in Tennyson and Shelly; the eloquence and power, the wit and pellucid clearness of Byron still remain. But the Godhead has departed ; they are mortals, even as myself. The time was when I "would have braved storm or cold to see a Chynsborough or a Wilson, now I would not endure the dust clouds ol a northern wind to sco the finest efforts of Reynolds, of Thorwaldscn, or of Dannaecker. " Those joyous' transports are for ever flown." Yet let them go T There remains much appreciation of common things in common life, which were overlaid or eclipsed in the flush of youth. Grone are youth's powers, gone irrevocably imagination's glories, yet " all is not lost." My sober-hued solaces have the gusto and freshment of novelty. So. when tho mighty sun sinks low, the cold, glear, littlestars, hitherto oelipsed, shincforth. to cheer, though not to warm or dazzle. (2) W hen we bend over what but yesterday "wasjthe object of pur affection, our hope, and of our trust, for a while life seems palsied, and earth but one vast tomb. If Remorse make her fangs felt for past injustice or unkindness, tho sharp pain serves by its very agony to quieken life, "Senseless is the breast and cold, Which relenting love would fold ; Bloodless are the veins and chill, Which the p&ls&'of pain did fill; Every little- living nerve That from bitter words did swerve Round the tortur'd lips and brow, 'Are like sampless leaflets now Frozen upon December's bough.,, ■ • —Shemt.. Every good trait now vises to memory, every passed kindlyword or action seems to burn and glow, every weakness or errorto recoil with reproach on our own hearts. We.ieel that, likeTennyson, we could dedicate whole lustrums to the embaltii-* ing of the mqmory of the dcatL Life ia henceforth, a hlnnlv,

A light hath passed out. Let sorrow the liour. Let pride, aU'eetion, duty pay their tribute. Be the memory hallowed ; the bust crowned. But learn that grief is a for to be expelled irom the heart, that life claims you for duty, and Lhat " all is not lost." "To-morrow to fresh fields and pastures new." —Milton.