MUNDANE MUSINGS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 4, 26 March 1927, Page 5

MUNDANE MUSINGS

’UMILITY AND SUCH

When I’ve got a specially vexing problem, I take it to the man with an Irish grandmother, and he, poor worried mortal, generally solves it for me. T’other day, I sat thinking, and suddenly a thought came into my brain, hovered round a while, and decided to stay. It was all about meekness, and humility, and things of that ilk. I hied me away to my near-irishman, and demanded to know: “Does meekness pay?” “It depends upon what you understand by meekness.” he grunted, and closed up like an oyster. He was right again. What do we mean by meekness? Since meekness is a virtue, there must be some good in it. So, if you don’t admire meekness, it must be that you’ve got the wrong notion as to what constitutes it. Certainly, no one could admire the awful thing that Dickens makes Uriah Heep call meekness or humility. Uriah was a loathly worm that turned quickly into a spiteful a-id poisonous snake as soon as the chance came his way. So his kind of meekness couldn’t have been the right variety to earn our admiration. Myself, I think meekness of the lovable kind is that of the strong giving way to the weak. Watch a huge St. Bernard dog, with an impertinent kitten, and you’ll see meekness that is lovable. Does it “pay” to be meek? Uriah Heep found his kind of detestable, cringing “ ’umility” pay right well. But—does it pay the St. Bernard to submit to the will of the kitten? That’s only asking a question that everyone must answer for herself or himself. What is the payment that we look for in life? Is it being “top dog,” the head of affairs, being held in awe by others 0 If that is our ambition, then it’s pretty certain that meekness won’t be a paying proposition. Those who stand in high places, or at the top of the ladder, often have to be the reverse of meek and gentle to get there. Not always, of course, but often, more often than not. Yet Moses was a great man, surely, and it is said of him that “the man Moses was the meekest of men.” Apparently, if there’s something behind one’s meekness, one will arrive all right. A wise writer, whose works I have been reading lately, avers that white is not just an absence of colour, but something vivid and positive and dazzling. Perhaps that’s the kind of thing that applies to meekness—it’s rather strength held in check.

That great man with the mean, fussy wife —need we sneer at him because he tolerates and indulge® her? We would have been loud in our condemnation of the St. Bernard if it slew the kitten. Perhaps the great man knows how small and weak is the foolish little woman to whom he is yoked, and, knowing that, forbears with her, and never lets her feel the strength she abuses Can you laugh at him for not leaping upon her and smothering her with one of her own tiresome “cushions that mustn’t be sat on”? No one knows what payment he desires, so no one can ever say whether his forbearance and patience are lost or not. It is not a question one can ask him, and such things do not depend on results that can be seen. Probably the big man knows that, were he to retaliate fury with fury, terrible things might happen; as long as he is meek and gentle there is at least some sort of ouU ward peace, and a chance of a return to lost and better days. And. after all, in many ways, in payment that is not of gold, meekness is rich. H.M . MY BED-SEWING ROOM The room is required chiefly for a sewing-room but, being short of space, I have arranged it so that it can be turned into a spare bedroom for a guest when necessary. Walls and woodwork of a neutral grey-green, with furniture painted the same colour, make for a restful atmosphere, and this scheme has been chosen for the “bed-sewing-room.” A comfortable box-sofa, with a cushion or two, not only does duty for the guest’s bed, but serves as a receptacle for unfinished pieces of sewing. A packing-case, set on end, stained brown and fitted with cover and curtains of cretonne, is used as a cupboard for the sewing machine. This, with a mirror hung above it and a few toilet appointments placed u*>on it, serves as a dressing-table when required. The book-case is very useful! Its shelves hold innumerable boxes containing necessary odds and ends: when a guest is expected, these are removed and books are substituted. Two easy chairs make for comfort in the bed-sewing-room. They are old, shabby, cosy chairs, which have been renovated by means of homemade cretonne covers, finished with deep frills. There is also a cuttingout table of generous proportions—a large kitchen table, painted to match

the woodwork, serves the purpose admirably. The long mirror, set in the door, is as useful to my guest as it is to me when fitting on home-made garments. Upon the polished floor is a goodsized washable rug. Built in under the eaves of the sloping ceiling are long, capacious drawers that hold dress materials, trimmings and remnants of all sorts. This improvised chest is very much appreciated by the visitor for storing away her lingerie and hats. A few flowers, a good coloured print, and a pretty lamp shade complete the furnishings of a room that is really invaluable.