Part 6

We again went on deck and, glancing beneath us on the lower deck, we saw long rows of reclining figures in white, like so many mummies, with one or two sitting up talking volubly and gesticulating. They were Turks and Arabs bound for Bagdad and Mecca. There were long-bearded Greek priests, Armenians, Italians, and Russians, all en route to Jerusalem or Damascus, the majority for Jerusalem. They would return as Hadjes, a title which is borne by those who have visited the Holy Sepulchre.

We were up very early to see the first beams of Aurora, and we were well rewarded, earth and sea combining to make one feel how beautiful it is to live. The mysterious beauty of the misty mitre-peaked hills on the land side of us, rosy in the gilded dawn, filled our minds with imagination. On the other side, gleaming like the facets of an emerald, lay Samos, noted for its vintage, its figs and oil, the dark olive mounts, showing against the tender foliage of orange and lemon groves. On we went until we came to Rhodes, with its great harbour, once famed for its colossus erected to Apollo, but long since levelled to the ground by seismic agencies. It must have appeared like a mighty janitor watching down the centuries, worshipped as a deity by the wonderful race who lived there.

We chummed with five young Russian ladies, who, with their chaperon, were journeying to the Holy Sepulchre, and we were shown the presents of silver and crosses which they were to lay on the shrine. We extracted much pleasure from their company, and we would not like to disclose how many cups of tea we consumed from the ever-boiling samovar, which these ladies dispensed every time they could induce us to visit the cabin de luxe reserved for their special use. They will always hold a place in our memory.

On leaving Rhodes, we steamed away from the coast and we turned in towards Cyprus, passing the Gulf of Adalia. The Island of Cyprus is noted for its ancient copper mines, its magnificent temples, statues to the deities, and frescoes covered with the dust of centuries. From there we made for the mainland, remaining at the small town of Alexandretta but a few hours. Everything was extremely Oriental. We saw a number of Mohammaden women, attended by an eunuch, walking along, their yasmaks now and again lowered, and a pair of laughing young eyes disclosed. How the dark eyes, some very dreamy looking, of these wise children of the East (some of them the Bedouin Arabs, the descendants of Ishmael) have been, century after century, centred on these Eastern nights of splendour, watching the heavens--wiser than we in things pertaining to nature.

We next come to Tripoli, with its long-robed bearded priests and sheiks, and veiled women, and the dogs, those scavengers of the east, the bazaars, and beautiful foliage.

When we came to Beyrout there was a great stir, so many persons disembarking, some for Beyrout, but more bent for Damascus, beyond the Mountain of Lebanon, and some crossing the Syrian deserts for Bagdad. We bought some immense bunches of pink, blue and white double violets which came from Sharon.

Damascus, the oldest city in the world, is famed chiefly for its finely wrought steel instruments in the shape of swords, daggers, knives, stilettos, some of them magnificent specimens of artistic skill, and often encrusted with jewels of great value.

After leaving Beyrout the weather began to get very stormy, the waves grew mountainous, and soon we were in the throes of a great gale. Just about here we were told the currents are very dangerous, and very fierce storms rage at times. We were ordered below, and we could hear glass and crockery breaking at intervals--during a lull of the tempest.

When morning broke we were some miles from Joppa or Jaffa, as it is called to-day. As we slowly neared the port, rolling heavily, we saw that ancient city built on a rock rising sheer out of the water, with practically no harbour, and in that great gale, swarms of caiques manned by dexterous men of divers nationalities coming towards us--one moment lost in the waves, the next high up on the crest of another. It was of no use, we could not cast anchor, and were doomed to disappointment, for had we not dreamed of traversing that long, white, chalky road which some forty miles away shows the Zion of the elect. And our Russian ladies were greatly excited at having to wait until the return voyage to descend and attain their heart’s desire--to say that they had seen Gethsemane, Calvary, and all the places which must, in these modern times, have lost (except the Holy Sepulchre) much of the beauty depicted in holy writ.

THE IVORY TEMPLE.

FOR AUSTRALIAN WOMEN.

No matter to what status of society we belong we nearly all have little idiosyncrasies, little mannerisms, and, in the majority of cases, they are caused by self-consciousness. Many great speakers, at times, show it in a marked degree. Actresses, too, suffer from it, not to mention singers; but in the latter cases it is termed stage fright. And it is not vanity, it is hyper-sensitiveness; it is not unpardonable, but is often adversely criticised.

And how often are we prone to criticise our friends in their absence; when they are not present to refute any unkind thing said of them, merely because they are misunderstood. The things said may be very trivial, and a look or an innuendo will ban more than words. How often are long and valued friendships broken through these things, or rather these habits of running each other down!

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?

Have any of you ever gazed with tear-dimmed eyes upon a little waxen figure, robed in its last fairy whiteness, noted its angelic expression, its beautiful immobility, and not felt the sublime majesty of death! How near the infinite it has brought us! How kind we would be if we could feel that pulse beating with life once again!

If Australia is to grow into a great nation we must advance with the times, and train those tenderest of plants, “the souls of little children,” and inculcate in them the heroic spirit of that older Greece in this reincarnated new Greece of southern seas. First, must we teach the marching army of intelligent women how to love so that--“a little child shall lead them.”

MUSIC.

ITS MAGNETIC CHARM.

AUSTRALIA A MUSICAL COUNTRY.

What magnetic charm, and what wonderful effect has music upon human beings--even upon persons who prefer to be indifferent to harmony. It also has a marked influence upon animals and reptiles--as is well known. Hence, the prancing of a well-bred horse at the sound of martial music, especially if it bear a pronounced strain of Arab blood. The snake charmers of India gain their livelihood by charming the reptiles from their haunts. Dogs also display an intense dislike for some kinds of music by whining dolorously. Cats and big domestic birds manifest the same traits. But it is the ear of the “genus homo” which is the most divinely sensitive to melody. Without possessing much special musical ability, in classical music, we may follow the story without words. If we are but the least little bit imaginative in the valse we may see the grand ball-room, lovely faces of ladies, in powder and patches, courtly men, beautiful and bizarre costumes, regal forms, flashing jewels, coquettish glances, languid grace, the poetry of motion in the magnificent figures--and mentally follow every phase of human emotion: love, hope, sigh, remorse, jealousy, despair. All these are faithfully depicted. Again, in dramatic music, without seeing the performers we feel the revelation of pent-up passion, the force of accusative and declamatory speech. How realistic it all is; and it appeals to our deepest feelings, as we follow the vibrating notes, now raised in shrill tones of invectives, or lowered to tense, nerve-straining anathemas, or terror-stricken moans. And so breathlessly we follow the music, sympathetically, or revolting at the intensity of love or hate in the drama. Then the final death-scene brings us back to our normal selves.

But more tranquilly beautiful is the pastoral theme--each kind of music has its own individuality. We imagine the sylvan scene, the sleek kine, the woodland, the silver stream, the soft zephyrs, the rustic lover and the maid, the cattle knee-deep in herbage. Then a stillness. Again the wind stirs the leaves We can almost hear them falling. Then the patter of rain-drops, and the rising of the tempest; and at last birds trilling their lays--and then the sun shining through the clouds.

Again, the “Dead March in Saul” has a deep effect on us--that beautiful march which now and again we hear in Brisbane streets, at some military funeral. So sad. The riderless horse--the first notes so infinitely pathetic. The place which has known us will soon know us no more for ever, it seems to say, and makes the most callous of us sob. Then the sublime triumphant notes ring out telling us that the soul has discarded the veil of flesh, and has assumed its immortal garb. So does music speak.

Italy was formerly producing nearly all the stars of great magnitude, and now Australia, which is, by reason of climatical conditions, naturally musical, is giving to the world many beautiful singers, some of whom have added lustre to the Southern Cross. And note when a squad of our defenders march at night from the barracks--how the pedestrians quicken their steps in response to the inspiring music.

Vivacious music is necessary in this climate. It takes the gray colour from our lives and elevates us by filling our ears with beautiful sounds.

MAN AND HIS DRESS.

Man may consider himself unfortunate in having to endure more pain than pleasure during the natural term of his existence on this little planet which mortals call earth.

But he cannot get away from the fact that he reigns supreme as the king of animals, and the highest of all things yet created--a beautiful casket of mind and matter, made in the likeness of his Maker. He is endowed with the electric unquenchable spark of immortality which can never die. He is half animal, half spiritual and emotional, with a love for beauty, ever longing for protection with idealistic visions of to what he may attain--one moment plunged into transport of joy and the love of living; the next into a vortex of despair, impotent to combat some unexpected blow of fate, yet withal, possessing the most marvellous courage and capacity of endurance. And amidst the vast empire of the animal world, he stands clothed with reasoning, power, and crowned with the majesty of knowledge, of good and evil. He alone can, of all animals, survey the infinitude of space.

We know that a great gulf divides man from the lower animals, and that between civilised man and the savage of New Guinea there is a difference of intelligence due to environment. But, nevertheless, the savage is a noble man in the eyes of his Creator.

The intelligence of a man and a lower animal differs to a tremendous extent, although the anatomatical structure may be similar. The brain of a man is heavier than that of an animal. Man’s superiority depends upon his being able to express himself by the glorious gift of speech, by which he may exchange his thoughts and wishes, obtain the comforts necessary to his mode of living, and build his dwelling according to the climatic conditions of the country in which he has chosen to dwell. With this comes another train of thought. Why, in our fair Queensland, will the average man continue to suffer discomforts sooner than effect any radical changes in his attire? On these days of torrid heat men are seen in town and country wearing the conventional heavy dark coat and waistcoat with stiff front and stiffer collar, trying to appear at ease--while they are miserable. They will chide women for wearing clothing which is too diaphanous, but themselves go to the other extreme by wearing the same thickness of clothing all the year round.

In the early history of our race, when we ourselves were savages, we wore iron and brass collars in token of serfdom. Then, surely, it seems a relic of barbarism to allow a stiff collar and ugly clothes to induce a man to a state of misery for the sake of a custom which would appear to be inexorable as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

A bishop does not mind being seen in his distinctive dress and gaiters. Why then should the average man be less brave in the matter of a rational suite? It only needs one or two persons of influence to start the mode and other classes would soon follow suit, to the comfort and pleasure of all concerned. At least visitors to our shores would not then have to discuss the martyrdom of man in the antipodes.

SO LONG AGO.

[TO C----. THOMSON.]

It cometh in my dreams that long ago, When all the world seemed bathed in golden light, And when you told me that you loved me so The hours were burnished suns; there was no night, So long ago.

Thy voice alone could calm my latent fears, And thou alone my every thought expressed. Thy presence stayed my unrestrained tears, Thy soft arms held me close against thy breast, So long ago.

Thy dear lips spoke the tender words so sweet, It was thy hand which sought to guide the way Along life’s road, and set my faltering feet Upon the narrow path which leads to day, So long ago.

So long ago; I see thee, heart of gold. Just as of yore, thou pure, fair spirit--yet, Though o’er thy grave the flowers their buds unfold I mourn thee still with passionate regret, For long ago.

It cometh in my dreams, that olden grace, And grave, sweet look, but lo; upon thy brow A soft light shines. And, Oh! thy gentle face Presses my tearful one as closely now As long ago.

Dear eyes which shimmered in a silver mist, I see them now as in the dim, sweet past Smiling on me, ere death had softly kissed And sealed them, but to ope in Heaven at last As long ago.