HERE AND THERE.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 8, 7 May 1920, Page 11

HERE AND THERE.

Good nature is often mistaken for virtue, and good health sometimes passes for genius. Anger hlows out the lamp of the mind. Candour is the courage of the sonl. Iife is a shadowy, strange and- winding road on which we travel for a little way — a few short steps — just from the cradle with its lullaby of love to the low and quiet wayside inn, where all at last must sleep, and where the only salutation is — Good night. No one should throw away his reason — the fruit of all experience. It is the intellectual capital of the soul, the only light, the only guide, and without it the brain becomes tlie pal.ace of an idiot king attended by a reiinue of thieves and hypocrites. The superior man is strength for the weak, eyes for the blind, brains for the simple; he is the one who helps to carry the burden that nature has put upon the inferior. Liberty is making the tour of the world. The idea of non-resistance never occurred to a man who fead the power to protect himself. This doctrine was the child of weakness, born when resistance was impossible.

Elverytliing is right that tends to the happiness of mankind, and everything is wrong that increases the sum of human misery. Every virtuous deed is a star in the moral firmament. Happiness is not a reward — it is a consequence. Suffering is not a punishment — it is a result. -There is this rainbow on the darkest human cloud — the worst have hope of reform. I have tried to take from the coffin its horror, from the cradle its curse, and put out the fires of revenge kindled by the savages of the past. Everything in nature tells a different story to all eyes that see and to all ears that hear. Mrs Caller : ' 'I suppose you find your daughter very much improved by her two years' stay at College ?" Mrs Proud Mother : "Oh, yes, Mary is a carnivorous reader now, and she frequently impoverishes music. But she ain't a bit stuck up, she's nnanimous to everybody, and she never keeps a caller waitin' for her to dress; she just runs in nom de plume, and you know that makes one feel so comfortable. — "N.Z. Bulletin. " A human scalp, with a segment of skull attached, and some splinters tangled in the hair, was recently picked up in Vallejo, and exhibited for identification at the office of a local newspaper. For several days nobody came forward to claim it, but at last it attracted the attention, of a passing lady, who on being told the circumstances of its discovery, explained to the editor that she though t it was the melancholy remainder of her husband. "Has he been in Vallejo recently?" asked the compassionate editor. "No, he lived in Benicia." "And why do you think it is his, madame ?" "Well, when I left him last Wednesday, he had a pinch of snuff in his fingers, and he was a sneezer from Bitter Creek, poor man ! I think I had better go home now and repair the proof." And successfully expelling a tear the afflicted relict turned away without making any- arrangements for the funeral or even leaving the name of the deceased. He was respected by all who knew him. THE MESSAGE. The dull, grey day was wearing to its close, And still the rain streamed down. And on the wet and leafless elm tree branch A thrush, all dappled brown, Sang all his song, nor asked for sun, or flower ; But felt his duty clear To tell the world in spite of cold and rain, That spring would soon be here again.