Along the Road

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20492, 7 May 1938, Page 15 (Supplement)

Along the Road

(By the Swagger)

THE OTHER EVENING the skies were a mass of dull grey cloud?, but towards the east there was a wonderful bank of gentle colour. I was so surprised that I at once turned and looked towards the west, but there everything was dull and drab. The only touch of colour in the sky was in the east. One might have thought that the sun was rising, but the colour was too gentle. The pink of the morning sky is usually glowing, while that of evening has a softness which seems fitting, for it is the Last Touch of the Dying Day. Those lovely clouds must have been floating high above the earth. Below them all was cold and colourless but they sailed in a serene sky, warmed by the light of the setting sun, and adding a wonderful beauty. H'ad I been free I should have watched that mass of colour until it, too, had faded. Perhaps the dull clouds beneath would have looked equally lovely if the light had played upon them, for the beauty that I saw was due solely to the light. It added the colour. On many occasions I have made mention of that fact, because it always leads me to wonder if lives that seem drab would not be made beautiful if only the right light were to shine on them—the light of friendship, or of affection, or of service. Perhaps the word “wonder” is not exactly what I mean. I know that the lights I have mentioned can, and do, make a wonderful difference. The lad sometimes favours me with a verse of song—it seems to be the only verse he knows, for I have not heard him attempt any other—and it ends with the words “the sunshine of your smile.” That is a most pleasant sunshine. Years ago I received a note from a little friend, in which she said that she missed my “slow smile.” I thought that a rather strange description, so when later on we were chatting, I mentioned the matter, and suggested that she had used the wrong word. But she would not have it for a moment. When she said slow, she meant slow, and she proceeded to explain why she had used the word. I have seen smiles pass like a flash, but they indicated a lot. Some people have eyes that smile, and one can usually tell when they are joking because, although their words may seem serious, the smile in the eyes betrays them. They may be able to control the face musa thing I could never do—but they find it impossible to keep that wonderful smile, a twinkle, out of their eyes. Well, in a sen«e, a smile is a light—a light of goodwill—that can make lives happy. One sometimes hears people say that somebody has “a pleasant smile,” and that others always “loPk happy.” It is no mean thing to go through life radiating happiness. I suppose everybody we meet leaves some Impression, although as a rule we do not take note of the fact. In the

AN OCCASIONAL COLUMN

course of a conversation a name is mentioned. Perhaps we met the person weeks, months, it may be years ago, and although we may not be able to recall anything he said. still we received an Impression of a Personality and if that is pleasant then for a second a happy light shines. But if that person radiated happiness and good cheer then faces light up and anyone can see the very real pleasure it is to recall that memory. Often it forms a link between people. They share the friendship of some courageous and happy soul. The discovery of that fact is often a surprise. One hears a person say: “Oh, do you know so-and-so?” and that forms a bond between them. That would not be the case if the recollection were unpleasant for one tries to keep the memory of the unpleasant out of the conscious mind. Yes, friendship is a light. Through whatsoever Ills betide. For you I will he Brent and spend. I*ll stand forever by your side And nought shall you and me divide, Because you are my friend. On other occasions I have expressed my views of the wonderful light that affection throws on the lives of people. In its warming, creative influence they find strength to grow, power to face the struggle of life and consolation wheg the road is hard. There was that old character who, getting near the end of the journey, said that his life seemed a poor thing, but he hoped that the Judge of all would deal gently with it because of the light that shone upon it. Surely it must be a fine thing, well worth the doing, to shed a light on other lives that will make them seem more beautiful, and their little store of deeds and thoughts more worthy of that kindly “ Well done.” But the abiding thought that I gained from that mass nf colour, floating serenely above the mists and drabness of the lower altitudes, was that we can have the same thing in life. “ Beyond the pain, beyond the broken clay, a glimmering country lies.” Far above the turmoil of the daily round there can shine that Unfading Light of the Spirit. I once read a book of a man’s impressions of the war. He related a conversation between two men. One said that “those Salvation Army chaps had something,” but apparently he could not define it. My belief is that the man sensed that some mates in the battalion, who belonged to that world-wide organisation, had caught a gleam of that higher life. It is there beyond the clouds of life. Bunyan’s Pilgrim spoke about it and many another has caught the vision splendid. It is one of the many things that adds a joy and a purpose to life itself.