CHILDREN.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3244, 14 June 1911, Page 7

CHILDREN.

AN AMERICAN VIEW OF AUSTRALIA. 5

Two years ago- the Rev. Silas Migruth, of Way Gross, Georgia, U.S.A., travelled through Australia and spent some weeks in each of the capital cities. Since his return home, lie has been preaching to bis congregation on his observations., A Georgia paper receivedby the last- mail gives -a verbatim report of one of these sermons, and if not flattering to Australian pride, it is ! extremely interesting. It reads:— The rev. gentleman selected as l his text I. Corinthians, 13, xi.—“ When I was a. child, I spoke as a child; I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things.” He said:—“lt is a grand thing, my Christian friends, to retain the enthusiasm, the freshness of spirit, the simplicity of heart usually associated with youth until one has reached the years of maturity. Some of our greatest and most serious workers, many of the men who have done the most'for humanity, have kept their boyish cheerfulness and optimism intact until their heads were ba’d and white and their steps were feeble with age. I know no character so lovable 1 as that of the 'old boy’ Yet there is another side of the picture. In the great southern land from which I recently returned to your midst, and of which- 1 have already, spoken to you, not one man in twenty ever grows old except in. years. Alas, his long,-maintained youth is not that of the master mind, prolific in thought, stored with wisdom, whose healthy cheerfulness of view has not been corroded by the cruel experiences of a. sordid world. The Australian, even in middle and old age, speaks as a child, thinks as a. child, understands as a child. Hd arrives at man’s estate, vet he never puts away childish things. * Day after day. I have mixed and conversed with —in the aggregate —many thousands of these happy men, and I have rubbed my eyes tp make sure that I was awake, as Gulliver did amongst the Lilliputians.. In the streets, in the trams, in the trams, at their thousand and one sports grounds I and entertainment balls always thronged— have mingled with them and, listened to their talk. They spoke as children of ball games, race games and I heaven knows how many other kind of games, with the intensity and enthusiasm. of schoolboys. I have seen middleaged' men—the fathers of families—not in dozens, but in hundreds, carrying their balls and clubs day after day to amuse themselves for four, six or eight hours together on their public playgrounds ■, I have seen two old men. with not two teeth between them, come to blows through a dispute as to- which of two middle-aged players could kick a ball the -further. Evening after evening I have seen the village greevs crowded with old men, not one of them under 40 years of age, excitedly rolling balls over the grass, and uttering strange excited noises as they rolled. ' “I mention these facts to you, my friends, not as idle travellers’ tales. They are inltended -to illustrate the views I have -frequently expressed to you regarding the- serious duties of tins life. To each one of you have been given certain talents —to one five, to another two, and to another one and they impose obligations upon each of you too sacred to be frivolled away in childish • pleasures. When I looked upon these butterfly Australians, chasing dav by day and night by night after childish pleasures, which could give no comfort, no joy of performance, no glorious sense of achievemnt-, no profit, either in this world or the next, nothing but the dull despair cf time misspent, my mind turned to some of the great self-helpers in the British people’s history. I thought of Elibu Buritt working his double shift at the blacksmith’s anvil to gain a few shillings with which to buy books to equip himself as one of the mental: ornaments of his race I thought of Dr Alexander Murray, the illustrious scholar, minding his sheep on tire hillside, earning his sixteen shillings for a -whole winter’s work, sighing in vain for books in preference to bread. I thought of the great Dr. Johnson, walking the streets because lie could not afford a bed, but still finding opportunity to mahe his mind the wonder of the ages. I thought of James A. Garfield lying at- midnight on the earthen floor of his log cabin, studying his Latin grammar by the firelight- because the family was too poor to buy candles. Look at these noble self-helpers! They came forth from the workshop, the carpenter’s shed-, the.’smithy, tlie factory; they came from the field, the mine, the sheepcote; they laid aside the hammer the saw, the chisel, the awl; they left the forecastle and the barrack and the servants’ hall; no matter what position they occupied at first, they came out of it, left it far behind, rose to a. new life, moved in a new world, were elevated. to an altitude which they never anticipated, and were blessed with- an immortality for which they had never dared to hope. Let me refer to tlie lives of Hugh Miller, George Stephenson, Dr Alex. Murray, James Brindley, Dick Arkwright, Linnoeus. Parmentier, Heyne. Lindsay, Elihu Burritt, Jas. Hogg. Robert Bloomfield, Pasteur, Humphrey Davey, - Gifford, Coram, and a hundred others. Oh! that I could have- driven home the serious lesson of these noble lives to my childish friends in Australia. Oh, that I could have taught those men in that happy land to work, to do, to dare, to suffer and 1 to achieve like these.

“It is often said that time is money. George Gissing turned the saying upside- down and said that money is time —time to perfect ou-r lives, to improve our minds and to bring ourselves nearer to God. Until- I visited Australia. I thought with George Gissing. In that country I found that the great- majority of men, rich and poor, had much more time on. their hands than they knew what to do with. They exhausted the almost inexhaustible round of frivolous, -brainless entertainments, which -beset them at ever-y corner to the verge of boredom, and then idled about- the streets, the clubs, the billiard rooms and the saloons. Forty-eight- hours is supposed to represent the week’s work. In some trades it is 44 but allowing for the extraordinary number of public .holidays, the average throughout the’year must be less than 40—40' hours out of 1G8! that not one man out of forty doos'’a hand’s turn beyond his 40 hours; and -after leaving the children’s primary schools, which impart tlie mere shadow of a' literary education, not one youth or man in every hundred ever looks into a book with a- pu-rpose more serious. than to kill one or two of the numberless idle hours. Over and over again I have heard an Australian -young man bemoan- his lack- of,-oppor-tunity to get on in the world. A few moments later I have seen the same youth spend on idle entertain ment, sport or mere folly sufficient to buy him a fine library or to pay his school or university fees for. a full term. Talk of Elihu Burr-itt and James Garfield. Some of these Australian workmen squander in childish folly during one week almost as much as it cost

--yrt'ner- or; tne _ great men- to obtain a. liberal education. In the case of the latter, however, the will, the pluck, and the thirst for knowledge were there. With the Australian- —speaking generally—these qualities are woefully lacking. . “Notwithstanding the amount of tune which 99 out of every 100 Australians has to spare, the demand is for shorter and shorter hours. The politicians plead for better opportunities for the workmen to improve their 00-ndtion. Only give them still more time and their success in life will be assured. Opportunities Just think of them. I saw them everywhere to be had tor the asking or even without the asking. In every village I saw splendid public libraries, literally choked with the finest and most instructive literature of all countries—science, history, biography, theology, philosophy and poetry. These books were> often covered with dust a-nd cobwebs. Their pages were often uncut. Anybody ca.n have the use of them for nothing or a penny or two a week, yet those in search of educational opportunities have not yet looked into them. On the other hand, the books on shelves labelled. “Fiction, Sport and Amusement, were torn and’ spoiled from, much use. There are superior literaary and technical schools everywhere to which admission can be had for a shilling or two a week, yet the children only-—not the grown-up children —attend them. Tuition in almost any subject can be obtained at any time or anywhere for less than the Australian who deplores liis lack of opportunity spends on cigarettes. Is it anv wonder that the teacher is the most sweated worker in the community Wisdom crietli aloud in the streets, and no one hearkens unto her voice. When I was in tlie country, one of tlie problems being discussed in the press was the best means of forcing youtlis and young people to accept valuable tuition for nothing. Yet, would you believe it, friends, so gulled are these young people by a certain class of politicians who p!.av upon their weakness for frivolity an-d idleness, that they actually believe that ian unknown class of oppressors is determined to prevent them from ini-; proving their social status. “I told you recently' about the Australian system of old age pensions, under which the State supports life’s failures, failures, I say, with all charity, that are due in numbers of oases to the Shiftless, thriftless, pleasure-seeking modes of existence I have already indicated. The fashionable method of advancement with Australian workmen is success in polities. A political career in that country requires little reading, no study, no education. A workman joins bis political union, manages to secure selection as a candidate, and_ thereafter no bounds can be set upon his political progression. He -may be a Minister of tlie- Crown and yet be a stranger to the elementary rules of English grammar. I have heard leaders of parties lecturing uporr-the problems of government, and in every sentence displaying their ignorance of the most common words in the language. I cannot help thinking, that in this fact is to be found an explanation—perhaps not complete—of the contempt for education shown by even the workmen who are ambitious. They see Jones, say. drawing 8000 or 10,000 dol. a year as a Minister of the Grown, and their reasoning is easy—'You talk about education. Rot. What’s the wood of it. Look at Jones. He’s a Minister, and lie can hardly read and write.’ They are determined to imitate Jones. Of course I need not point out to you that the whole aim and purpose of education is thus misunderstood. ' “In this brief dissertation one thought has been well within my mind. It has led me to speak of the strange, childish people over the seas "with all charity and goodwill. To their virtues I have been ever kind, and to their faults a little blind. I refer to these light-minded holiday makers to point the lesson I have so often tried to impress upon you—the necessity in private, as in national life, for honest, healthy, satisfying industry. No men and no people ever became more than mere cumberers of the ground by dodging work. As Carlyle so finely says — 'There is a perennial nobleness and even sacred ness in work. Were he never so beighted-, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works; in idleness alone is there perpetual despair., Work, never- so Mammonish, mean, is in communication with nature; the real desire to get work done will lead one more and more to truth, to nature’s appointments and regulations, which are truth.’ Remember these poor, misguided Australians in your prayers, my friends, that their eves mav l>e opened to the light ere it is too late”