No. 9
It was a lovely river. It was wide and full of water in both summer and winter. In summer the water was usually blue, and its never-ending movement towards the sea was so peaceful that it could not be seen except by the most careful observation. In winter the water often ran more quickly and the colour became blacker, but even so it continued to be a good river. It kept well within its high banks, it was clean, and it did not have places that were dangerous for the little sailing ships that used it as a playground.
Not all rivers are so kind to those who live near them. People used to live near or right on the banks of rivers because they required clean water for the many purposes of life. Today water can be brought to people over considerable distances, and it is not necessary to live near a river to exist. In these days people like to live near rivers because they like to look at them or to sail on them. There are very few of us who do not find happiness in sitting and watching a large body of water. Houses that have good views of a river or the sea or of any other mass of water can usually be sold at a high price. There is always a demand for houses in such pleasing situations.
High Point was such a house. It was one of a small number of large houses built on a piece of land some 200 or 300 feet above the river and the little town through which it passed. A young woman sat at a wide window of High Point, reading a book. The evening light played on her golden colouring, and she was beautiful. She put down the book and looked out over the well-kept grounds of the house and down to the river.
“How lovely and peaceful it is here, she thought. “There is still enough light for me to have an hour on the river in Flying Sails before the day quite dies. We have so few of these lovely days that we may as well make the best of them when we have the opportunity.”
Perhaps she did not use just those words but her thoughts were along those lines as she got up and moved away from the window and towards the open door.
“Penny!” she cried. “Penny!”
“Yes?” came a distant answer.
“what about an hour’s sail on the river before we go to bed ? It is such a waste to go early to bed on a night like this!”
As she was speaking she had run up to her friend’s bedroom. Usually Penny would have come running out of her room very quickly at the thought of going on the river, for she dearly loved sailing, particularly in the evening or early morning when the lights on the water gave her wonderful ideas for her water-colour paintings. Young as she was, she was quite an expert in this art. She loved to spend a week or two at High Point, not only because she liked the company of her golden friend, whom she thought was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, but also because there were wonderful views from the houses on all sides. To the south there were the grounds failing away to the river, from the north were miles and miles of English countryside at its best. To east and west were large houses in beautiful grounds which, with little changes here and there, made good subjects for her pictures. Yes, she liked spending time at Hgh Point with the Weeks family. That evening, however, Penny did not come running from her room. She sat at the table looking with no pleasure at all at one of her paintings.
“What is the matter, Penny? Have you got the colours all wrong?”
“Oh no, the painting is good enough. It will do.”
This remark greatly surprised her friend because with penny paintings did not just “do.” They had to be good, very good. “No, she said again, “the painting will do. But I am not coming out.”
She looked so different from her usual happy self that her friend went across the room to her. “What is it?” she asked.
Penny put her head down and cried. “It is your brother,” she said. “He is so wonderful, so much like you ---and he did not even speak to me or look at me before he want away this morning.” And she cried again.
No. 10
It is regrettable that we so often hear it said that young people get themselves into situations of trouble and difficulty simply because they do not know how to spend their time usefully and happily. This is very poor state of things when we consider for a moment how many useful and pleasurable things there are for us to do today. There are many happy ways of passing the time, both at home and out of doors: there are things we can do to help ourselves and, equally important or even more important, there are many things we can do to help others.
When I was growing up there was no TV but we had a radio set and, of course, we had records. These were old kind of record now known as 78, and one side of a record played for about two and a half minutes. My mother liked all of the family to be at home on Sunday evenings; she did not like us to go out but we were free to ask to the house any of our friends. The number of young people who sat down at table for the evening meal was sometimes 20 and was always more than 12, so we were a large and happy party. It became our custom, when the meal was at an end, to continue to sit round the table for an hour or two-while records were played. The machine was not of the electric save-you-trouble kind that we now use but had a motor that required attention at the end of each side of a record, and, of course, it played only one record at time. This meant that one of our number had to take on the responsibility of keeping the machine going and putting on the records. My father used to bring home a new record most weekends, so that we had a good many. People used to call out for a record they desired to hear, and no one seemed to want to talk while the record was playing as it done so often now. Therefore, we were able to hear the records in peace, and we got to know every detail of them.
We all loved this hour or two of record-playing very much, and I know that it lives in the memories of all who were present on those evenings. We had a very good time at very little cost, and no one had the smallest desire to go out and make life difficult for some other person. On the Saturday evenings we generally had a party also, but they were much more free and easy, and were certainly not planned with the idea of having a peaceful time. We always asked “the people next door” to come to the parties so that they would not be upset by the sounds that without doubt issued from our house. What a good time we used to have! And it was a good time in which the whole family and any of their friends who wished to play a part. I expect my mother had to work hard on Fridays, but we all did something to help, and there is no doubt that everyone seemed to like those weekends.
Then came Monday morning, and I am sure that no one got out of bed a moment sooner than was really necessary----particularly when it was cold! A week of hard work was before us. Day school and home work, office and evening school, took up our time, and there was almost no time at all for play. Life was serious, and we really worked hard. Our life at that time was made up of working hard throughout the week and playing hard at the weekend. And it was a good enough way of growing up. Never for one moment did any of us ask ourselves what on earth we could do next. There was always something waiting to be done, even if it was only ironing a dress or making a new one.
I grew up with the radio but no TV, the motor-car but few planes. My mother grew up without, TV, the radio, the moving picture, or the motor-car. People walked along distances in her days, but those who had enough money could keep horses. People had to make their own pleasures because very few ready-made pleasures existed.
What we can be quite sure of is that in my mother’s day young people did not take up wrong-doing as a way of passing the time because they could not think of anything good worth doing. Wrong-doing was at that time thought of in connexion with people living in very poor or bad conditions and without much hope in life. Living conditions are better today, and endless opportunities for a happy and successful life present themselves to young people who are willing to be good and to work hard. I hope that my readers are not numbered among those who can think of nothing worth while to do in their free time.