We wear the mask of what we call good-breeding, which makes us unnatural to the detriment of our real selves. We murmur conventional phrases with our lips, give a frozen smile: shake hands in the fashion of the moment and pass on, thinking we have done our duty to society. And yet some of us would give worlds for an earnest sympathetic pressure of the hand, creating a bond of good feeling which is of the greatest value and cannot be too much prized. Do let us be natural and unaffected. It sits badly on young or old to pretend to be what we are not. Our real selves do not seem to be reflected in the mirror of life; we are hidden, distorted, just as when one looks into a common mirror. Let us hope that physical culture and plenty of outdoor exercise will make our coming young Australian citizens, with their finely developed bodies, a self-reliant, broad-minded and generous race. There is no need to be mannish: and this rubbing up against each other will make speech less acrimonious. We can be gay at work or pleasure in this exhilarating climate; and we must be a little serious too sometimes.
We should be neither proud, pandish, nor too modish. We can be a modification of prevailing fashions, leaving extreme modes to the very rich. Madame la mode, you know, is an expensive jade; and never mind Mrs. Grundy, or her prototypes. Do what your conscience dictates, and be as refined as you can; and also as kind as you can, and think of beautiful things. The effect is wonderful. It is like studying beautiful pictures; it gives us higher ideals; it is like walking in a lovely garden, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers or admiring a verdant landscape. It affects both mind and body most agreeably.
The classical beauties of ancient times always placed the finest statuary in the apartments in order to inspire a sense of the beautiful in themselves and, in turn, to their children. Likewise beautiful thoughts will reflect themselves in our eyes, which are the mirrors of our mind, even though we may not all be visions of beauty from an artistic standpoint. Cultivate our minds, and care for the beautiful “ivory temple” we call our bodies—and we shall be happy.
THE LITTLE CHILDREN.
MAKING GOOD CITIZENS.
I wonder how many people in this world are proof against the charms of little children. They may be small brothers and sisters of our own, the children of our friends, or other people’s children; but we cannot fail to love them. These darlings of the home, these small despots, claim old and young as their vassals and worshippers. Tiny kings and queens they in verity are, and their rule is truly autocratic. They are at once the despair and the pride of their parents.
To hear that sweet “mummy and daddy,” inevitably the first words framed by these adorable lispers, is to listen to the most melodious music. But when we think of the many darlings—not the happy ones of our beautiful Australia, but the unhappy little beings of the densely populated cities of the older world—beaten, starved, neglected, born of women to whom the real meaning of the sacred name of mother is unknown, it provides us with food for reflection.
When Australia attains a population of many more millions it will—unless, with advancing science, conditions of poverty are ameliorated—be the same thing here. “The poor will be with us always,” but we hope not the unkindness of ignorance.
Think of it! These children teeming with potentialities for good or evil and it behoves us to think of it, though it pain us. We, in Australia (with the exception of those who have travelled in Europe), know nothing of the grinding poverty of parts of this planet designed by the Creator to furnish us with abundance of all that is necessary for our subsistence.
But I am digressing. There is no doubt that formerly children were brought up too strictly. But nowadays it is the reverse. The children of to-day are frequently asked what they would like; not told what they may have. A child should be treated very gently, yet firmly. And above all things never promise a child a certain thing and then break that promise. If we could only realise the after-effects of a broken promise! Children lose their beautiful faith for ever. They have marvellous memories, and often they become our inquisitors.
These little entities have their rights, and we should endeavour to answer, and not evade their questions. We must never crush the sap of knowledge in their little minds. Then, how often has the troubled look on a child’s face stopped a hasty word—and the child proved the unconscious peacemaker?