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.