FROM MY WINDOW.

Shannon News, 3 October 1922, Page 4

FROM MY WINDOW.

No., XXVI. “MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB.” (By “ETERA.”) “Love makes people believe in immortality, because there seems to be not room enough on earth lor so great a tenderness.”

This little Mary ui pet lauil) fame oume to me lately wiln tears m her eyes and lace lull or woe.

“Have you forgotten me, that you should Introduce those, ten little nigger boys to your Mends, and leave me out in the cold? Don’t you love me any more?” “Oh, Mary, Mary, quite contrary, 1 answered, “you will ever stand first m my ailections. As lor those ten little niggers, 1 will explain the situation in a lew moments. First let me remind you of the length ol our iriendship. Were you not one ol the half-dozen pictures on rny nursery wall-paper, and did I not gaze at each repeated representation ol you m see which was the best? You were a dear little body in Kate Greenaway costume.”

‘‘And did I look pretty?” site asked, smoothing her curls. “Yes, but alas!” I replied, “the prinierman, in describing your lamb in the accompanying couplet beneath the picture, uttered a lihel against his good looks.” “Oh!” she cried, hastily placing her hands over the lamb’s ears. “Please speak gently, my lainbie is so sensitive.”

And “lambie” looked it; that is to say, if your gaze did not reach his woolly tail, which had a wicked little frisk in it. His face, like that of 'he “Heathen Chinee,” was child-like and bland.

“You speak of pictures,” she continued. “Was there more than one of me?"

“Oh, yes, Mary,” I said. “You shared the mural honours with half a dozen other nursery rhymes, and when the design was completed, it began again; but the printer made tne same mistake every time by wriling—“Mary had a little lamb, Its fleac was white as snow”

Mary: down on the floor she subsided next to “larnbie,” who thought it a new kind of game, and began to frisk in earnest.

I hastened to explain that two little girls effected a remedy with two lead pencils as lar as they could reach, and a dado of New Zealand polished wood simplified matters by covering the lower half of the wall. This explanation assuaged her grief, and, turning to the lamb she said “Thank the little girls 1” And the lamb came towards me with such fervour that I beat a hasty retreat. “And now about those little nigger boys,” site reminded me. “The fact of the matter is, Mary, they came to me in the middle of a wakeful night, and- said in unison ‘Write about us!’ At first I took no notice; but they became so importunate, holding out their twenty little hands in supplication, that at last I had to say, |Oh, very well; now run away quietly.’ And off they hurried on their hundred little tip-toes and left me in peace. So now you understand my equivocal position, do you' not?”

Mary said she understood alj but that funny word near the end, but that if things were as bad as that sounded, she fully forgave me all; and now would I introduce her? So here she is:—

“Ladies and gentlemen—Mr i'rienu Mary and lier inue—” But how superfluous tins is, lor 1 see you know and love them as well as 1 do! I mav just as soon say, “Lome, 1 shall teach you a new song,” and hrmg i'orwaru "Swaunee Liver.”

11 you were asked on the spur oi the moment to quote a piece ol poetry, you would instinctively commence, “Mary had a .” And il someone said suddenly, “Let us sing a chorus

song. 1 think you would find without exception that “Swunnee River” would he chosen.

How is it that these two homely little poems have made for themselves 1 such a position in our British literature? Lor I think they come first in our standard classics—notwithstamlShakespeare, Milton, Scott, Burns, Moore, etc. I; is because they both tell ol love in such simple and direct language that a child may understand; and we are all children at heart, or should he, for oi such is the kingdom of heaven, it is love that makes the world go round—love of home and country and dear ones, us taught by “Swanned River,” and love of fellow creatures as taught by “Mary.” You imagine in “Swaimee River” a loneJy wanderer at the end of bis working day, seated in front of his j open memory-box. lie takes oul a

stout brown paper parcel, ami unwrapping it, finds a, picture of his homeland. There by the river stands his cottage home with door open in- ! vitingly, smoke issuing from the chimney; a delicious odour of fatted calf ; pervading the atmosphere. lie he- ' comes a child again and wanders in !

thought around'the little farm. He then opens a finer brown paper par-

cel and linds childhood reminiscences; these he turns over as one who reads a book, gazing at each page with a sigh or smile. Another parcel contains friendships, the covering oi this is of fine white paper; and on opening it he remembers the games he and his brother enjoyed it together. Last of all lie opens with reverent fingers-a white tissue paper parcel that is tied with pansy blue ribbon. Here is enshrined the memory of mother and father. At sight of it—‘The worldly hope men set their hearts upon Tunis a-slies.” He lorgets ambitions and attainments mr the moment, and iins lonely soul gives vein to tne one cry, ‘•on, take me to my dear old motner, mere tel me live and die.”

The writer of this song little guessed what a structuie ne was rearing tor posterity. He huiiued better than ne knew.

‘‘And everywhere that Mary went, The iamb was sure to go.” bitch puitii statements need no explanation. They form a dainty piouue oi reciprucaied affection.

“It followed her to.school one day, it was against the rule.”

In my eany days I always imagined trie lamb looking bored and leaning aganist a large black roller ruler similar to ilie one we were allowed lo use when lather opened his desk. You probably know the kind: it was a loot in length, as round as a lead pencil, and. made oi heavy ebony. 11 you hau the luck and skill you could make it guide your pen in the marking ol two straight Lmes under any written word on me page; hut if your luck happened to he “out,” you made fitly all over the page. For it had an uncanny way of abstracting ink from the pen on to its own side, then roiling promiscuously about the white sheet of paper, push.ng ihe blotting paper on one side to facilitate progress. This is the kind of hoard ruler I imagined the bored lamb to be leaning against, the while ft broke a Board rule.

“It made the children laugh and

play To see a lamb at school.”

At one time to -laugh and play in schooitiiue was considered almost a crime; hut we have changed ail that, and children learn by playing. Nowadays the teacher would probably t ake class and lamb out on to the grass playground, utilising .the lamb lor a nature lesson. But in this case the lamb was banished.

“And on the grass it played about, Till Mary did appear.” What mattered it to the lamb whether grass came under the botanical heading of monocotyledons or dicotyiedons, phanerogams or cryptogams? ile was con tent to find it good to play upon, also to nibble; lie did not even know that it was rich in vilamines.

Some day our students will be allowed to learn less and understand more, when the present system oi cramming- ior examinations with unessential knowledge is eliminated and individual mental development is encouraged. It is comforting sometimes lo read that many a man who has made a name ior himself and left the world belter for his having lived in it, had proved rather a duffer at school. Many a pedagogue must have looked over his glasses and predicted a dreadful future, who afterwards felt proud to be able to say: “I taught him the three R’s.”

“ ‘What makes the lamb love Mary so?’ The little children cry.” ‘Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,’ The teacher did reply.” The teacher was a discerning person, who struck at the root of the matter; for love begets love, and perfect love casteth out fear. “Love took up the harp of life, And smote on ail its strings with might, Struck the chord of Self, that, trembling, Passed in music out of sight.”.