EXIT : 1928

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 550, 31 December 1928, Page 8

EXIT : 1928

BECKONED from the stage, the year 192 S to-night, makes its final bow, and' with sounds of jollity and carousal beating about its bewildered head goes down to join Time’s leaguers who have brought so much joy and misery to the peoples of the earth. The death hours of a year, although speeded joyously, bring a flood of solemn thoughts with them, and each one of us seems forced to make a little stock-taking as the minutes fly round. Has anything of worth been accomplished? Have we kept faith with ourselves and each other ? And what of those brave resolutions we made so confidently a year ago ? These are the questionings that halt the mind as the old year dies. Some are glad to see the stricken one go, while others, viewing complacently successes achieved, and profits gained, have dread in their hearts that the infant about to be born will be less kind to them. . But for the uncertain there is always this comfort: years will never be entirely bad, and the rhythm of the universe ordains that some years will never be entirely good. There is no melancholy philosophy in this; for if there were nothing but joy, humanity would soon be surfeited by the monotonous comfort of existence: there must be little reverses that sharpen the appetite, and make us readier to recognise the joys as they fly to us, gallant-pinioned on the breeze. Joy is winging everywhere, and the art of life is in recognising the sweet bird .as it goes by. The crows of wretchedness are easily seen and heard, for we are ever aware of their cawing; but the great effort should be to make the ear as sensitive to the richer and more subtle music. There is no reason why the death of a year should bring melancholy Teflections with it, and the Scots are certainly right when they make the New Year their time ©f rejoicing. What has happened in the old year is unalterable, and the wisest man forgets the stings that afflicted him as soon as he can. It is well, too, to remember that little triumphs gained are frail wonders dropping quickly to decay. It is to the New Year that we should look with bright hopeful eyes. It has the charm of the unknown; all the delicious uncertainties of the future. So many fields are to be reaped; so many harvests to be stored. As the midnight hour strikes to-night, and the bells splinter the death silence, and the revellers acclaim the New Year, we should put our sober thoughts aside and join with the laughing throng. New Zealand has no reason for looking askance at the infant year, 1929; its sire has brought us to a degree of prosperity, and the child is going to bear the Dominion farther down that happy way. Our economic troubles are vanishing, and the difficult days that afflicted us have now gone, leaving nothing but the scars of healed wounds. Only national disaster can cheat the country of a succession of prosperous years of which 1928 was a cheery-faced forerunner. It will be a prosperity in which all may share if thrift and wisdom keep check on recklessness. New Zealanders, working together for the common good, should, in future days, have kind thought of the year that bows to-night, and remember it kindly as the begetter of golden days.