THE WISDOM OF THE MOUNTAINS.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 230, 28 September 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE WISDOM OF THE MOUNTAINS.

CWinuing entry by H. Sutcliffe, 0.5.8.) It was the Lour of sunset—the hour of the passing of day and the advent of night. When the white light of the sun became divided into the beautiful lues of the rainbow, when the passing clouds ceased in their travels to catch and reflect back to the earth those tints of Tose and pink, purple and gold, truly reflections from the Gateway of Paradise. And, with this glory of nature dwarfing into titter insignificance the radiance cf man-made wonders, I climbed up the mountain track. The way was steep and slippery. Many times did I fall, to narrowly save myself by clutching a tuft of grass, or the overhanging branch of some tree. But, though the way was long and my breath Vas coming short and" fast, and my legs aching, I kept climbing, for I knew that once at the top, at the summit, where my goal lay, I would have my reward. The birds in the trees were chattering and squabbling as they prepared for rest. Then, as the glitter of the sunset ■became a more sombre shade, as the shadows became a deeper purple and the mists on the far away hills began to look cold, the noise- quietened and nought could be heard save an occasional "cheep, cheep," as some mother bird Bang a lullaby to her young. ? At last I came in sight of the Hermit's house —a little thatched cottage, with a blue smoke curling from its iron chimney, and a welcome light twinkling through the little window at the back. Soon I was inside and seated opposite the Hermit, with a plate of hot stew and fresh fried scones as a welcome. The Hermit was a man past the age of three score and ten, with silvery white hair, a gay, twinkling light in his eyes and lips that ever seemed to curl 111 smile. Why or how he had come to live in this lonely manner I did not know, nor vet cared. He was a man who had seen life in all its phases and who ofttimes thrilled me with stories of one or other of Ms hosts of experiences. And, injected into these, was always some morsel of wisdom, something which had, perhaps, taken a lifetime to acquire. This night, after the table had been cleared and the dishes put away, we sat in front of the little stove and felt a warm appreciation of the fact that we Siad a roof to shelter us from the chill of the night and a homely fire to sooth iis. "Young man," the Hermit broke the silence, still puffing at his old 'briar pipe, "young man, it strikes me I've never told you about Bill Southern, have I now?" "No, I don't remember you doing so," I replied, "anyway —but wasn't Southern the man, who, on the night of his big chance, threw the game away, went out in the first round and disappeared afterwards?" "Yes, sonny, that's him. But before I tell you about him, do you know any more about him?" "Well, only that he didn't turn up again. He sort of disappeared for good. j\j K i—by jove! wasn't Mellock, the man !he met then, found one night with a ibroken nose, black eye, split lips, broken teeth and goodness knows what outside his house?" "Exactly. But I'll tell you about it. .You're a young fellow who has little time for boxing, aren't you now? I've [heard your views time and time again,' and, in part, I agree with you. Boxing is necessarily a brutal sport, that is when it is taken up in a professional manner. A knowledge of the rudimentary principles of boxing is very useful when used for the purpose of selfdefence. However, the meeting of two mien for the purpose of battering each other to pulp to satisfy the animal in-> stincts of fight devotees and for the paltry reward of a few pounds, is something that savours too much of the uncivilised for my liking. Of course, this is my personal opinion—a great number ■ will not agree with me. But to get to rthe yarn. "Southern was a healthy young fellow Jwho always had a leaning toward the fpugilistiu and by the time he was IS he |was well in the run for the champion--1 ship belt of his weight. "Then, in a series of'brilliant fights, he swept aside all otlier aspirants and stood challenger to the champion. The fight was to take place in the biggest stadium in the country and public interest soared "when the meteoric rise of Southern was realised and shouted from every newstoa.rd in the-place. "The night of the fight was a wild ©ne. A driving rain swept the streets,

"The fight was billed to commence at nine. Southern was away at a place some distance from the city and caught a train that was scheduled to pull into town at six o'clock. At 4.30 the bridge at the junction of the two rivers -was swept away and the train speeded full pelt to destruction. ".Southern came out of.it sound—in body, that is. To my mind his brain must have suffered some dislocating shock with the horrors such a catastrophe would bring about. Anyway, they hurried him from the scene that he might satisfy the jaded appetites of the pleasure seekers. "He went into the ring looking very white and shaken. It was evident that he was not himself from the start. The champion-attacked him fiercely, giving him a regular pounding. His weak defences were beaten down, he could not parry one blow. Sixty seconds from the gong he was counted out.

"Of course, you know what that meant. Utter disgrace in the eyes of the world —mud flung at a, man who was not to blame. I was his greatest friend, and I knew that the smash up had shattered his nerve. However, no consolation I could give him could ease him, and one day he was found missing. "Afterwards I learnt that he had gone Up into the mountains. To find himself in the glorious grandeur and solitude of heaven's sentinels, where the wind blows wild and free, untainted, fresh "and pure. Where the mountain lakes mirror God's own playground, where earth near touches heaven, where the glacier moves slowly and the river tosses and boils with a frantic untrammelled freedom that is joyful and seeks expression, where the deer play, and the pines, those solemn sentinels, look down from their white paradise on a world that burrows deep into the ground, striving with all its might to forget that high above the snowline dwells a peace and purity tha.t passeth all understanding. "It was there that my friend regained his lost courage, his will. And through that he came back to the city to iind his one-time opponent and vindicate himself. "He came to me first of all.

"'Pal,' he said, I've come back, but I'm not staying. 1 don't want people to know I've come back. But Ido want to beat up Mellock, if only to regain my self-respect. Up there in the mountains I found something, pal, and I'm "going back there. If ever the world turns upside down for you, chum, go to the mountains and they will teach you how to set it right.' "That night he went oux and beat up Mellock. He met him in the street outside his place. With the assurance of a conqiierer Mellock ventured some insulting remaik—and the sparks flew. "Southern tame back to me, told me about it, then left me forever.. He was satisfied, he said, he didn't eare what the rest of the world thought. He had justified himself in his own mind and, he confided, the mountains had taught him—that was all that mattered. "I have never seen him again. But when the world did turn 'upside down' for me, I remembered, and became, the Hermit,.as folks call me. But, sonny, believe me,, the mountains are nearer to God than the cities, and their wisdom is beyond the reasoning of man. Someday I'll tell you my own reasons, my own story of why I came to them, but — the fire is almost out and the blankets r invite. What do yon *ayj"