Symud i'r prif gynnwys
Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

10 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

- ltp anb goton: the Coast


ltp anb goton: the Coast NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. CORRESPONDENT."—You send a letter marked urgent. It contained a para- graph a week old. You see? U A VOTER."—I am not particularly anxious. As long as the people have the oower to make their own laws and to elect their own rulers nothing very serious will happen. Let the people make mistakes. cfCAR.NARVON.It was not for me to teach the lesson, Why should I intervened Presumption is a very dangerous thing. "RATEPAYER."—Public life is important. To elevate it is worth all it costs. 1 know what public life entails in loss and suffering. 4cA FRIEND."—It, is no use saying what you would do or would not do when you have never had opportunity. Silence is the only wise course under the circumstances. "M.M-"—I have often found that it saves a lot of trouble to take a very vain person at his own valuation. U PARENT —The condition of many elementary schools is scandalous. I have known this in detail since the year 1888. AN A PFEA It A N CE It appears to me that as far as the House of Peers is concerned the best thing for the hereditary peer to do is to dis- appear. ABOUT LIVING. I am net going to ask whether or not life is worth having, nor am I going to find fault with unalterable conditions of human existence. That is a subject altogether beyond me. My desire is to make clear to my friends the course pursued by me in order to make the best I could of life as I found it. One of my early important discoveries was that individual fulfilment depends on being one's own self. This means that dominating desires, conditions, and environments must be avoided, but it does not mean that there shall not be obedience, service, compliance, and even personal surrenders. It is quite possible for a person to be his own best possible self without wealth, or high place, or great power over others, and very often the grandest things in life are missed, or lost, or destroyed in obtaining that which has little to do with the individual. Freedom is by far the greatest and most necessary possession, it seems to me, for the human creature to obtain if he is to make the best of life. I mean physical freedom, mental freedom, spiritual freedom. He must not be dominated by fear of death, or poverty, or rivalry, or the consequences of his own failures. He must face whatever there is to face and most be able to exist fully in the present moment. A man should have no ghosts, no terrors, no concealed burdens, no un- admitted responsibilities. It is not possible to live up to counsels of perfection, but it is always possible to avoid shaping life according to somebody else's standard of desirability. To be free to think and to have power to live con- sciously in the present moment is far better than to be a millionaire, or an arch- bishop, or a cabinet minister, or even a king. I know there are many people who are always running away from the present moment. I am sorry for those unhappy creatures, for they will never really live at all. There are many things that I would like to have had, and some that I would still like to have, but their cost is too high, not only in money—many of them have no money cost—but in other ways. What I shrink from most is inter- ference with me. I do not want what is called distraction. It does not give me pleasure to see a person with a painted face and false hair pretending to be a warrior. The mental and epiritual world in which I live is full of all sorts of inter- esting conditions, and problems, and mysteries. To take me out of that world is in a sense to bereave me and to bring me face to face with unrealness—artifi- ciality. My world is so full of enter- taining and fascinating things that I never lack company. There could not be such a thing as solitary confinement for me. To a large extent human beings like to. live in crowds—so do sheep. I have no objection to crowds or to personal relation- ships, or to company. "What 1 am trying to make plain is that the crowd should not in any case dominate the individual. There are few things more interesting to me than to be one of a large gathering— to be in sympathy with a swaying crowd— to have a share in the hopes and aspira- tions of a community or a nation. Obscurity is often worth more than notoriety as far as personal freedom and mental and spiritual enjoyment are con- cerned. I often think, with something akin to envy, of the old monkjs who walled themselves in from the world and wrote books and illuminated them, and worked in gardens, and talked about the mysteries of the universe without troubling themselves more than could be helped about local difficulties and worries. The monks lived each moment and it did not matter to them who ruled, or who won or lost: they just lived. I am alive—very much alive—and I do not care a brass farthing for nineteen- twentieths of the things other people prize. I do not want, for instance, to win a foot- ball match. Nor do I hanker after the fame of a billiard player. It would give me no pleasure to be a crack shot, and I do not envy the man who takes the chief prizesi for pure bred dogs, or pigs, or pigeons. Everybody is quite at liberty to do as he pleases. All I want is to be left alone so that I can enjoy my life without meddlesome interference. HOW DEATH IS MET. I often write about death, not to the delight of my friends. To me death is fascinating in many of its aspects. The "Hospital," in an article about death, says "that in the vast majority of cases life ebbs away as quietly as if the patient were falling asleep. Very rarely indeed is there any violent struggle, and not once had an experienced nurse seen any sign of the death agony in the description of which some novelists seem to level. Now and then there came into the eyes, at the very last, a wonderful look, as if they were witnessing something inexpressibly beautiful. When this had been the case the dead face, even when it was that of an old man or woman, or one who had suffered long and severely, retained a radiance rarely seen in the face of any living being." The other day I was in the lanes. On a little branch there were a score or more of small orange-tinted leaves. I wanted those beautiful leaves, but as soon as I touched the branch every one of the leaves fell off they were dead, but death had not caused them to fall and had greatly increased their beauty. People do not care nearly as much about death as they are believed to care. Everybody who enters the army and navy takes an extra chance of death. People who drink or smoke and are told that they imperil, their lives, go on smoking and drinking. People will risk death to catch a train. Death is faced every day by millions of people who are quite indif- ferent whether it comes or not. Old people of seventy, eighty, ninety, or more, are not afraid of death. A man who has fainting attacks asked a doctor what difference there was between fainting and dying. The doctor said there was prac- tically no difference. except that when a person fainted lie recovered, and when he died he did net recover. Then, said the man to. the doctor: "I have died scores of times." "Yes," replied the doctor, "if you have a mind to put it in that way." I think people would be much happier in ;Ife if they were wise enough to familiarise themselves with death. The timid die every day. OBSERVATIONS. Love often dies of satiety. If there is anything of which a man has no right to bs proud it is the ncble doings of his ancestors. Did God create the male and female of other creatures than man without after- thought ? Fame and approbrium are more often clue to inherited qualities and conditions than to personal effort and sacrifice. Universal ignorance entails no stigma upon the individual. It is when know- ledge is almost universal that ignorance becomes a reproach. The judgment of a thousand or ten thousand people is something quite apart and different from the judgment of each individual. It is from outsiders- that people learn they have become old. A person of four feet ten does not feel any smaller than one of six-feet four. Personality doei not depend on bulk. One of the dismal facts of being a peer of the realm is to have always before you a long list of departed ancestors. The vain person always has a reasonable chance of being taken at his own valuation, and so has the lowly person. WHERE ARE THEY? What has become of the three members for Treorky ? There is the Member for Treorkv who betrayed Wales. Then there is the Junior Member for Treorky who used to write articles for the Cardiff Conservative paper, and then, of course, there was the Senior Member for Treorky who never did any- thing or said anything as far as I can learn. The betrayal of Wales by the Member for Treorky was a. sad event. Why did he do it, and how ? Where are the three members? QUESTIONS. I wonder why God made this world so sad- So full of wrong and shame and agony. Why does one creature on another feed, And why is nature red in tooth and claw, Till earth is ju&t one bloody slaughter house, Full of mad hate and greed and savage- ness? What is the meaning of the endless woe, The war of nations, strife which churches nurse, The misery that comes of ignorance, The fierceness that is born of appetite, The madness which the creature cannot help, The curse of malformation, cruel death. Is there behind this ruthless., seething hell A God of love who sees the ill unmoved- A Gcd to whom mere agony is naught- A God who sees earth's hameless wrong go on Age after age as if wrong did not count, And love divine were just a dreary myth. I see the dreadful puzzle of the world, But what it means I have no power to grasp. If this is love, then tell me what is hate, If this is Godlike, what is born of hell, If I am banned and cursed, why am I blamed ? One joy is mine. I did not make the world. And what life gives and what death takes away Is no concern of mine, let come what may. CURIOUS. There are many curious things in news- papers which people do not see. The other day, in a London paper, the follow- ing three advertisements appeared:-









Family Notices