These lines are read either before or after the three hundred procession of meals, passing in review as the seasons change from Spring to Summer, Summer to Autumn and Autumn to. Winter, has been an inspiring instrument of stability. Tt has, ever and anon, provided soothing answer to the nightmare of the preceding darkness. It has set the pace for the succeeding activity of the waking hours. Tt has composed and forti~ fled the mind against perturbation Jover the discouraging panorama spread by the newssheets before the joyes of an unquiet world. The posters may blare tragedy and sensation. The prophets may foresee doom. The mentors may Jdogmatize sadly on the weakness Jot humanity's position. Disaster may proclaim itself in the offing. What™ matter? The apple, the coffee, the porridge, the ham and foggs, the marmalade are there all the same. They eloquently assert the victory of the commonplace Jand the futtity of despair. Who ther Dictators spring up like mushrooms inthe night; or New Deals are dealt, with trumps jor without them; or Guides intrude to take the—Intel~ ligent Man (and Woman) through IChaos, the breakfast bell must sound and the best meal of the day eaten. Even if penury restrict the here limits of a erust and water, that meal, taken in the reali light of a yet unspotted day, gives comfort us well as sustenfnce, This, morning it takes an even more heartening significance, implies a clear riddance of a tradition which, after being established on the basis of 365. break-is, Is now dismissed for good and all. So this morning starts a celebration and affords a welcome breathing space.
What can be better than the spirit which enables the breaktast~ fed hero to get up from his repast fand decide to Tun about on his awful occasions with the joyous knowledge that he Is seeing. the last of that series of days comprised under the baneful heading the "Old Year"? 1934 was not all bane, Its breakfasts at least were merry enough at time:—even when they had about them the hale of the dog of some other animal of less repute. But, on the whole, no-one is disposed to waste bou-faults on the dying year. The Flower Shops in Shanghai will not "crowded with orders to. send wreaths for 1924. They are busy, it may be surmised, collecting befgonias, Illes of the valley, dahlias, fenrysanthemums and the rest 10 sive Young Nineteen Thirty-Five pleasant awakening. For the moment that interesting Man of the Future can be left enjoying his last fow hours of obscurity. His pre-Accessor still hangs about on the Stage and the problem is how to give him a decent exit. No flowers by request—that will be the consensus of opinion; but, still, common gratitude demands a little flourish for trumpets. And the best way of recognizing the services of a not {unfaithful friend, a not too inhospitable host, is to Tet the last day Ibe given to the homely joys which, despite the ponderous pronounce ments. of orators and politicians, are really the main business [worldly world. That is why bells Ting cut cheerily at midnight and why the light-hearted and serious dilke make resolves to be happy their common obligation as the strokes of twelve work themselves out to 1935.
If any"serious thought be given the twelve months finishing their groans. spell to-day, it may fitly exult
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.