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Chapter XXV.

Children at school are often puzzled to know the use of learning the row upon row of historical dates. As they advance they become interested in comparing dates, and in placing side by side the chief events of different nations happening on the one day. But when they leave school, this science of chronology becomes more interesting, and, indeed, to them more useful, as they compare the history and chief events of their own lives. It is to one of these private chronological tables that we have to refer in order to obtain the precise date on which the subject of this chapter took place. And it is very interesting, and not a little strange, to note that this subject, and the subject of our former chapter—namely, the wedding—took place on one and the same day, although, as you will learn hereafter, in a different town—or, more strictly speaking—in a different district. Shrink not back, oh reader, because I take you for a brief space of time into one of New Zealand's slums. It is well to know a little about the different phases of life. Wealth and respectability are habitations we would fain dwell in always; but it is a strange fact that in every human life there is a by-path that leads to an immediate connection with a slum of some sort. It matters not whether the person be on the highest pinnacle of social elevation, one has but to lift the trap door of Haughty Respectability, and he becomes aware of the dark vaults beneath, studded with its chalky sun bleached bones, its ashes, and its grinning toothless sculls. Close the door over these vaults as quickly as you can, for the stench of its page 302blue vapour in overpowering; and the heart decays, while pumping through it those basilisk draughts. It is well, nay, it is a divine plan, that, with highly strung natures, the trap-door of their own Respectability can cover those hideous vaults, else the poisonous, stifling vapour, which arises and floats upward, would kill them where they stood—would, perhaps, do worse—would drag them down to be an inhabitant of their own dark abode. Nay, I know of no greater torture the soul of a good being can be put to, than that of gazing, even for a brief moment, down into the slum vault of its own earthly life; the slum vault, hewn out by others, but deplored, agonised over by itself. Of course, there are slums and slums; some of infinitely more degrading characters than others; some of more respectable propensities than others. Neither are all slums the associations of filth and squalor—the visible associations I mean. Many are decorated in the gaudy guise of social appearances. This latter difference constitutes the distinction between the slums of London, and the New Zealand slums. We have not the degrading, grovelling poverty and wretchedness of our parent country, or, at least, we ought not to have. Land and climate forbid it. Men and women have no right to live in wretchedness in New Zealand. If they choose, they can all supports themselves and their families in the necessary requirements of life by the sweat of their brow. It is all rubbish for man to say, "There is no work." The whole Island or Islands, abound in work; the trouble is, will man work? Oh no, he cries to the government for work, when he should be searching for work himself. Perhaps, you say you have searched, and have not found. I answer, "Search again But see that you search in a right spirit; see that you do not confine yourself to the narrow way of, 'I would not do this,' and 'I would not do that,' as if you were the honoured one." I do not say that the government should not page 303provide work for the people, but I do say only a certain class of people would throw themselves upon the charity of the government—the Unfortunate and the Drones. There is a great hue and cry (and I daresay I am raising one by writing thus, but I speak not with offensive assumption, or with groundless proof. I have not disguised myself in working man's clothes, and filled working man's offices for nothing.) raised in these times about the working class, by that I mean the menial working class; we are unworthy of life if we do not all belong to some working class. But it is possible to ride a hobby horse, to death. Granting that the working man needs the most consideration, does not mean that the man, who devises ways and means for giving that man work, should be slighted. Then too, because a man is poor in purse, he gets all the compassion of the world, and the prayers of the church. The rich man is neglected, and perhaps he has the most need of your compassion and prayers. I do not attempt to unravel these social mysteries; they are best left to the public to unravel; but it seems to me that the upper class is not wholly to blame for the line of distinction between themselves and the lower class; and also that, if this spirit of scorning to "Render honour unto whom honour is due," be allowed to grow in our midst, New Zealand will suffer the same shame and loss Victoria is suffering at the present day. I was sitting in one of the upper stories, and looking out of the window of one of the largest shops in our main street. It was sometime ago, when the Governor visited our town. Many people came out to see him as he passed, but only one man had the courtesy and grace to raise his hat in dutiful obeisance. That to me was a striking illustration of that rebellious spirit. Did that dutiful subject, think you, lower himself, or step down from his dignity, by thus showing his respect for one spcially above himself? No. He raised himself infinitely page 304above his fellow men; and he marked himself as a capable master, by being a capable servant. And was the Governor elated by that subject's obeisance? No. He felt his own unworthiness to fill an exalted position; he was humbled by the weight of his responsibility—by his office of humanity he placed himself on a level with his dutiful subject. These are the kind of people we want in New Zealand, and these are the kind we will have. We want no Rothschilds, we want all Garfields. And what is to prevent us from having what we want? With New Zealand's mild, and almost perfect, climate; with her rich fertilizing soil; her easy mode of transhipment; her accessibility, and ready communication with other countries; and yet her isolation, which forbids a too familiar intercourse; with all these, and a thousand other blessings, it becomes the infallible duty of every human being, be they man or woman, to so conduct themselves as to rise their country to an eminence on a level with the most advanced state recorded in the annals of every succeeding nation. To these who abuse these privileges, I include the dishonest statesman, who feeds himself and his relatives on the wages of his constituency; though for him a double punishment is waiting. In that time, when man must stand alone and despoiled of earthly garments, he must render his account unto God, and not unto his fellow man. There will be no filching of attributes, no party concealment then: to those, I say, who abuse these privileges by indulging in hollow shams and sinful practises, we assign no place in our island. Like the mountain fern that grows upon our hills, we burn them from the face of the earth, and in their stead plant a growth that will clothe and beautify the soil that nourishes them. Still, however, all this requires time to aid in its accomplishment; meanwhile, let us cast about among the rubbish, and, as is the case with the diamond, find gems of such rich and sparkling qualities as to put our page 305pure purged gold into insignificance. There in the midst of its dark slum surroundings it flashes out upon our wondering gaze. Well might we, as we mark its living brilliant lustre, shrink back and cry, "Strange! Strange! Strange!" In its rude neglected state it surpasses us, who, though purged and beaten and moulded, still remain dead cold polished gold. Costly and useful though the gold may be, it is eelipsed by the single diamond dug from out of the slums of evil influence; the diamond which stands forth in all its spotless brilliancy; and untempered, soars beyond the understanding of our tried faith: soars into a sphere, which like Moses, we stand on our Neboes, and view our Caanans from afar. But I feel that I am tiring you. What is a Colonial slum? In what parts of the country does it exist? And who are the inhabitants thereof? There are many such places; they are of various characters; they extend throughout the length and the breadth of the land; and they are inhabited by a composition of rich and poor, of wise and foolish, of men and women. The branch we wish to bring specially under notice, and with which our narrative has to deal is the "Racecourse." And let me explain, it was during the most important, and most dangerous act of that horse performance, that the diamond of self-sacrifice was forced to the surface of a living rubbish heap; revealing beneath, the existence of a treasure mine filled with noble thoughts, which had become hidden and almost annihilated by the accumulation of evil indulgences, and unsuppressed passions. Half the day had passed in the ordinary routine of a racing day. The excitement had been just sufficient to keep the people interested in the performance—for what is horse-racing but an outdoor theatrical performance.—The horses, the dramatis personæ; the gay coated jockeys playing a subordinate part; the onlookers filling the place of the audience; while the owners and backers of the horses page 306take up their position near the principal actors, in the enclosure reserved for the orchestra. For those whose minds are not troubled, and anxious about the issue of the performance, it is certainly a very interesting amusement to watch the movements, and note the different characters of the surging throng gathered on the racecourse. Well do I remember a similar scene in my own life, when, with quiet observance, I crept into a sheltered corner on the very highest place of that high grandstand, and drank in with childlike wonder, the endless variety of scenes enacted by that living seething mass of human actors. Child as I was, there were strange contrary currents of thought running through my mind. The ladies were dressed so beautifully, and the gentlemen so sprucely; and the people were so lively and full of fun; and the horses looked so sleek and nice; and through my young thoughts ran such a current of pleasure, such thankfulness to God for creating man. But suddenly a contrary current of disgust flowed past, and wrestled with the sweet waters of my shining ones: the beautifully dressed ladies were gambling, the sprucely dressed gentlemen were helping them, and all the lively funny people were mingling in the sister revelry of that sinful carousing before the Flood; while the horses, the poor deluded horses, were the only worthy actors of the whole scene. When my father, who was in the orchestra, returned, and announced the success of his part in the performance, his child calmly turned to him two grave wondering eyes, and exclaimed: "Oh, father, I am so sorry, I have been watching another play, and forgot all about yours." Nor is the stage of this outdoor theatre less attractive than that of its indoor brother. Looking at it from our elevation, one can hardly realise the existence of the great evil practised in the very heart of these New Zealand slums. The stage is carpeted with the identical covering which leads to the bridal hall; the page 307decorations are those that ornament the lover's bower. The music is the melody that lulls to sleep the idle dreamer beneath the farmer's sheaf; and the illuminations are those we shall dwell among for ever and ever when we pass away, and this world becomes nought.—Strange thoughts to be associated with a slum.—Well! life is strange. Should we be surprised at anything that comes beneath the range of human comprehension. But now for the practical part of our play. There are stalls filled with victuals, and attended by maids: there are bars filled with spirits, and attended by men: there are rooms superintended by both; and there are customers for all. There are private sweep, with their ruling priestess; the totalisator, sanctioned by order of the Government, and supported by the gambling dupes of both sexes.

Suddenly up a narrow flight of steps which lead to the platform of a small stand near the business part of the course, lithely runs a man, and the sharp ring of a bell proclaims his purpose. The ladies straighten themselves and shake out the folds of their flowing, silken gowns. The gentlemen fling away their half-finished cigars, and turn their steps to the saddling-paddock. A feeling of suspense hangs over all, for this is the most important event of the day. Even the children know better than bother their parents with their trivial chatter. The horses will have to exercise their skill, not only in fleelness, but also in power and firmness, for they have to clear several fences in their journey round the course One after another those chestnut, and bay, and black and dappled quadrupeds file through the narrow alley and perform their steady, graceful preliminary. How sleek and noble they look as they canter past the attentive crowd, their fiery spirts held in check by the firm, familiar hand of their Joseph-coated riders. How they stretch their long, wiry limbs, and arch their proud necks. How their page 308nostrils extend as they toss back their flowing mane and utter their low, pleased neigh. It is a worthy sight to view, with honest eyes, the shining grand competitors of a steeplechase contest. And of the riders. Can it be that there is no fear in the hearts of those pale, emaciated youths, who for the past few weeks have done their very best to destroy the robust constitutions God had given them, in order that they may be the desired weight? Again we are tempted to turn aside from leading facts, and spend a few minutes contemplating this accursed habit. Youths, who might be growing into fine strapping men, I have seen stalking about during the very heat of the day clad in thick, heavy top-coats, and smothered in enormous woollen mufflers. I have known them to live for days on nothing but bread and water, to deny themselves all indulgences in fat-producing food, and to sit for hours with the sweat streaming down their poor, thin faces, during the sweating process. In less than three years afterwards, I have seen the same youths—youths no longer—and instead of enjoying robust prime, they are shrivelled and stunted old men, shrinking with dread from all that is bracing and manly—a laughing-stock for the very men for whose benefit they had ruined their lives. This inhuman practice should not be allowed, and man should have more regard for his fellow man. Believe me, this is no imaginary picture. For New Zealand's posterity, I wish it were. If you doubt its reality, go and inspect the stables for yourselves; or, perhaps, what is better, keep your eyes open during the training seasons. If still unsatisfied, question the miserable, puny man who passes your door, and learn from him the cause of his ill-health and untimely grey hairs. To return to our race. Those who have had anything to do with the working of these slums well know the dishonesty that lurks behind the passive exterior of these visible farces; and many a daring rider has, for several nights after-page 309wards, entertained his eager, listening associates, with tales of his clever deceptions, practiced, either on his master, or his master's rival. Our hearts sicken at the thought of what might be the intentions of these reckless riders as they spend, for aught they know to the contrary, their last hours on earth. It is terrible to think that they might he ushered into the presence of God, clutching in a close embrace a treacherous and deceitful heart.

The course is cleared. The horses draw up in a close, even line; their expanded nostrils and panting flanks declare their impatience at the delay. The flag drops; the horses respond to the signal; they bound forward; are checked by the hand upon the rein; and in a steady, moderate pace, the great race begins. In almost one body the horses vise to the first hurdle. "Over!" The cry rings out from half a hundred throats. Up to the grand-stand the excited audience rush; on every conceivable elevation they post themselves. The ladies rise from their seats and view the scene with abated breath; their husbands' cheeks are slightly paler than before the race began. How closely the horses keep together; you can scarcely see which is leading. Some are lagging a little. On, on, they gallop; the second, the third, the fourth obstructions are passed. There has been no serious mishap—a hurdle struck, a rider unseated, a cap blown half way across the field, but that is all. On, on. "Over. Over." How the onlookers shout! How they declare first one horse to be leading, then another, and another. Oh what a clang, what a deafening clatter. We put our fingers into our ears to deaden the dissonant din. Our efforts are unsuccessful; the excited voices of this multitude of pulsating people rend the air for miles around. For once the "C'rect card o' the races; age, weight, the colours and the riders," forget their incessant cry, and stand open-mouthed. On, on those flying figures speed, but it is not a moderate pace now. The test is page 310coming, is at hand. One more hurdle, a few yards straight running, and what? That which, for many months past had been the object of so much thought. So many plans, plots, would be decided, and the performers would lake themselves from the stage, either lamenting or rejoicing. But hush, the horses are rounding the bend, they are facing the last hurdle. The audience is silent now—there is the stillness of death in the air. Suddenly two horses single themselves out from the rest of the company and take the lead. No one speaks—amidst the dust and excitement the horses are not known; and the owners stand and wonder who are the leaders. Now their heads appear above the hurdle; now they rise. "Over." A shrill cry—one alone appears in the straight. The laggards dash through the breach (many adding to the heap of confusion), and gain upon the solitary leader. On, on they dash, spurring, whipping, flying. Faster, faster. They sweep past the judge's box; they rein in; those panting sides white with foam The red-coated conductor rides out, and returns between the two. And a mighty shout rends the air, "Dead heat!"

Away triumphant! Away victorious! Wear your wreath of laurels. Boast of your success. Pocket your gain. But in your rejoicings forget not to be pitiful toward the unfortunate.

Our attention is now turned in the direction of that confused heap. A shrill cry rings in our ears. The pale-faced owner leaves our side and hastens toward the mass of fallen. He is a poor man, and a great many castles were built on the tottering foundation of that hoped-for successful race. He has a faint, fearful suspicion now as to which was the second leading horse. Slowly, and with difficulty, each of the fallen extricate themselves and make their way toward the weighing-room. One, alone, remains immovable. A crowd of spectators flock round to see the cause of this page 311inactivity, and to render assistance if needed. The white-faced owner is deathly now. His castles have crushed him. Half an hour afterwards a sharp pistol shot announces the solemn truth that the pride and favourite of the course lay a heap of quivering rubbish; and the same sound also seals the last appearance of its owner upon the Racecourse Stage; while at the same time a close cab draws up in front of the cool hospital door. Four men alight; gently lift out a still burden; quietly proceed into a private ward; and tenderly lay a mangled form upon a soft white bed.

And on the racecourse the spectators continue to applaud, giving but an indifferent glance to the awful tragedy enacted in their midst but half-an-hour before.

Brief and exciting has been this racecourse performance, and variable have been the results. Such also are the characteristics of our racecourse life on earth. Each one steps upon the platform with the same object of happiness as the great and final end. In our hearts similar hopes and aspirations rule, and point us to a similar end—similar hopes and aspirations; but different modes of working those hopes and aspirations. As we rush across the racecourse span of birth and death we separate. Some lag behind; some shoot ahead; some fall and rise again; some continue in a steady, fearless gallop; and some fall, to rise no more, of their own free will. By the compassion of One, who is all compassion, many of those fallen are borne off the course, and placed in His private ward; there to receive upon their mutilated conscience the nard of forgiveness; finally to be ushered into the Mansion where no more nard is needed, and no more mutilation takes place. And those who run the race in a steady, fearless gallop, and those who fall and rise again, may both pass the judge's box with a triumphant "Dead heat!"

It is well for the human race that the prize—the prize of completed happiness—is not awarded until the end is reached, page 312else would not many pause half way, satisfied with the vapoury result—the vapoury present. Push on, push on, faster, faster; the winning-post is near, is at hand—the winning-post which is the consummation, the reward.