WAIKATO LETTER.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 256, 4 May 1910, Page 3

WAIKATO LETTER.

Hamilton, Tuesday. While busily engaged in dodging a creditor . the other day, I met an individual who curiously enough was performing the same feat. In the course of a conversation, which took place on an adjournment to a convenient .tea dispensary, he gave me some curious ideas about the struggle for existence in which we are engaged while vegetating on this earthly abode. I am not going to bother you with a lot of the woes my friend had been afflicted with during the forty years' experience of the life that failed, but he said that the only thing he was thankful for was the comradely law that allows a man to go through the bnakruptcy court with the easy grace of a Grecian goddess, and with a similar retention of moral character. He had, he avowed, been forced, to avail himself of the beneficient public measure on two previous occasions, and was complacently considering whether the fates would be kind to him if he again sought that shelter which the Bankruptcy Court grants. He asked my opinion. "Man," I said; "man, it matters not one iota to me what you do. You are only a mere blot on the face of a Christian community; I am another blot not so inky, nor so aggressive, but still a blot. We are both victims of a huge credit system, whose house is constructed on a paper foundation. You have not the moral courage to refrain from buying a box of choice Havanas when an ounce of rough-cut would meet your bodily requirements. I "confess I am more partial to purple and fine linen than to ordinary dark homespuns. You, my dear friend," I continued, "are not above looking upon the wine when it is ruby in the chalice, and possibly neither am I. I will not mention the flesh-pots of Egypt for reasons which may be apparent on the face of it. We are creatures of circumstances, little bits of straw being whipped into every nook and cranny at the whim of a prevailing current. For my life here, I do not care one jot. It is part of a big universal plan—for a larger than even that of compulsory military training or the question of land tenure. For my own part, I only trust that my cheque will not be dishonoured when I seek admission at the White Gates. I believe it is to be a cash transaction there." "Brother," he murmured, "I agree with you. Can you lend me a shilling on account?" But in the language of the Divine William, "Let's talk of graves, and worms and epitaphs." Incidentally, I might menton funerals. The subject was one that caused a deal of discussion at the meeting of the Wajkato Hospital and Charitable Aid Board last week. The tenders of our local undertakers were under review for the burial of pauper patients. One firm offered to do the job for nothing, another asked the modest sixpence for children's funerals and one shilling for adults, the third offered a bonus to the Board of £2 5s for every case, at the same time making a charge of ss. This practically means that the Board gets a present of £2 for every funeral. This entertaining offer proved too enticing to be missed and the tender was accepted. There was a good deal said of the methods employed of securing business on the part of those in the line, but of this creepy, subject I am not going to write. The plain facts are written above, and I leave my readers to draw their own conclusions. Personally I believe in cremation and the abolition of funerals altogether. I believe that it is not meet that we should parade the dead in dumb show through the public streets. Years ago, it was tolerable. To-day we have moved beyond such practices. Grief should no longer be placedon exhibition. Grief is an honourable and humane thing; it is one of the most striking tributes to those who are called away. But sorrow is held in secret. Tears should be shed in the privacy of one's own room. The world demands a smiling face, and we are the most loyal to our absent dear ones when we force ourselves to smile and so hide our broken hearts. The sunshine of life is symbolic of a cheerful countenance. Let us wear the glad, gay blossoms of spring rather than the sombre cypress branches. But, apart from this, it is really quite niee to think that our paupers are at last to be put to profitable use. Each one can now boast that he is at least worth forty shillings. Its a poor heart that never rejoices. The present reminds me of an advertisement that once appeared in the columns of a certain country newspaper, whose contemporary asked for tenders for cutting grass in the local cemetery. The contemporary (it may have been published either in Invercargill, Tuakau, or the Bay of Islands, I really forget which), in remarking on the advertisement, said that it is "really re-assuring to know that our dead at last are earning their living." To my mind this was the most unkindest cut of all. .