The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1876-01-01 00:00:00

at fonlmn Cgruspoubtnt.
tWe deem it right to state that we do not at all times
,-7.entify ourselves with our Correspondent's opinions.)

It did not require the passing of Sir John Lubbock's
Bank Holidays' Act of 1871 to ensure the observance
of the most generally-kept holiday in the year—Boxing
Day. The custom of distributing Christmas boxes,
which gives its name to this particular date, although
not E 0 old as the celebration of Christmas itself, has
yet some pretensioni:to antiquity; and, more especially
by the juvenile portion of the population, its annual
return is regarded with great interest. Besides
the holiday while the hours of daylight last, which in
London is certainly not very long, there is the produc-
tion of pantomime at night, and from floor to -Ceiling
the theatres are crowded. Clown and Pantaloon,
Harlequin and Columbine are behind the 'footlights
again in all their glory, few of the spectators either
knowing or caring how these resplendent persons
have lived during the ten or eleven months during
which pantomime has had to give place to other
representations. It is always the custom of the
London papers to declare that no previous Bank Holi-
iay has ever been so generally observed throughout the
metropolis, as that whose incidents they then record.
But there is no doubt that, whether the cessation
from business be Easter-Monday, Whit-Monday,
the first Monday in August, or Boxing Day,
there is a very general suspension of the
ordinary avocations of life—the last-mentioned, from
its associations, being certainly the most lively of the
four. The people seem to adapt themselves to the
varying weather with wonderful equanimity, and
whether, under the blazing August sun, or the wintry
chill of a December day, contrive undoubtedly to
enjoy themselves.
When the Metropolitan District Railway sought
for Parliamentary powers for the extension of their
line from Blackfriars eastward, they proposed to con-
struct a station directly opposite the Mansion House,
so as to accommodate the enormous traffic which con-
verges on that point from Cheapside, Moorgate-street,
Threadneedle-street, Cornhill, Lombard-street, and
King William-street. So determined a resistance was,
howe-ver„offered by the City authorities, on the ground
that this new station would eclipse the architecture of
the Mansion House, that the scheme was defeated,
and the station had to be built at a considerable dis-
tance from the Lord Mayor's civic residence, although
within sight of it, and it is therefore called the Man-
sion House Station. But on spot where the Dis-
trict Railway Company proposed to erect their terminus
a different kind of structure now stands—one consider-
ably more massive and more calculated to overshadow
the Mansion House than a railway station, which
would have been low, light, and graceful, so far as
Alms possible to make it so. I speak of the store-
house of the National Safe Deposit Company, which
has just been holding its third ordinary general
meeting. This erection is of enormous strength, as
Indeed it should be to fulfil its purpose—that of
keeping securely such wealth as the merchant princes
of the City of London entrust to the care of the
directors. At present there are 5,000 safes in it, with
room for eight, ten, or twelve thousand more, as the
requirements of the business may demand. It appears
that the letting of even 2,000 safes would be quite
adequate to meet all the expenses of the Company,
including the debenture interest, that is, taking the
average of each safe at £5 or £6 per annum. And
the building is not one merely for the keeping of money
or valuables. Deeds, mortgages, wills, and other
legal documents are received; and, with respect to
wills, the safes of this undertaking are always acces-
sible to the testator, whereas this is not the case in a
Government department. In speaking of wills, I
may say that since the abolition of Doctors' Commons
as a place for the receipt of testamentary dispositions,
these are lodged in Somerset House, the particular
department being the terrace fronting the Thames
Embankment and overlooking the river.
It seems a singular time of the year to be talking of
cricket matches; yet, so popular is this game, that
even now it is not at all too soon to arrange the meetings
for next season, extending as it will far into the
autumn. The preparations for engagements which
are fixed for eight or nine months hence, require great
consideration and some degree of tact in endeavouring
to oblige all the county clubs in the kingdom which
are desirous of having their favourite diversion well re-
presented. Active secretaries who are anxious to
secure a great gun—a-good batter, a rare bowler, or a
splendid fielder—often find that others have been
beforehand with them, and have perhaps even got
Individual heroes of great name and fame. A man
cannot even be at Prince's and at Lords' at the same
time, any more than he can be simultaneously in York,
shire and Somerset Your local lights are all very
well, but it is undeniable that the receipts are mate-
rially increased if you can get a star cricketer to come
down from London, and show the country folk
to what a state of perfection this scientific
play is capable of being brought. The very name
of Lillywhite or Grace would attract people for
miles around; in fact, it would often prove a
better draw than the name of a distinguished states-
man. There is good reason to hope that the meeting
held in Christmas week at Kennington Oval was suc-
cessful in making fixtures, which upon the whole may
prove harmonious and satisfactory. The game is a
healthful and manly one, strengthening the muscles
and developing a quickness of eye which in life's
journey are often useful in other ways than in scoring
a "rare bit at leg," or in making a "fine catch at
point."

1:001::k

Within a few days of each other, the Directors of
two great Palaces of amusement in London have issued
their reports, which show conclusively how the people
of the metropolis are enamoured of a novelty. In the
first six months of its opening, from May to November,
more than thirteen hundred thousand persons visited
the Alexandra; while in twelve months those who
went to Sydenham were a little over a million. Yet
the Crystal Palace is a magnificent place, and the
view of the surrounding counties from the central
transept on a fine summer day is picturesque and
varied. The immense coat of construction in the first
instance has, it is understood, always hung like a mill-
stone round the neck of the Directors, who have striven
earnestly for twenty years to provide sound and whole-
some recreation for the people. The company has
arranged with the railways running to the palace, for
a reduction of fares, and look forward to a better time
next year. In the meanwhile the Westminster Aqua-
rium and Winter Gardens is being pushed on, and
will soon be opened. If it approaches in any degree
the famous Aquarium at Brighton, both the Alex-
andra and the Crystal Palaces may look out for a
very formidable competitor.
The destruction of a training ship in the Thames,
within two days of Christmas Eve, with a sad loss of
life, kept up the character of the old year as one of
misfortune and disaster in a more than ordinary

follows a restless week is enjoyed as a time of
hallowed peace and rest; even the first sight of the
new moon, although so often presented to us, is
regarded, with a kind of superstition. But of all
the periods into which human existence is divided,
there is none so interesting sr that which is
marked by the -close of one yeaOnd the.cesnmence-
meat of another. For what, after all, is a year? Why,
it is the measure of ages, the standard by which we
chronicle the onward march of centuries. We often
speak of epochs, and cycles, and generations; but it is
the year by which the progress of the world is registered.
We speak of Eighteen Hundred and Seventy Five, mean-
that just that number of years have elapsed since
the Redemption of mankind. In a day_we merely com-
Lplete a revolution of the earth upon its own axis; in a
lth the moon has repeated to us the story of her
birth; but in a year we have put a girdle round
the mighty sun, lighting as it does many another
world besides our own, and have travelled
seveial hundred millions of miles through the
illimitable regions of space. Accordingly it is.
the year which is so familiar to all of us As re-
cording the deeds of the past—deeds which; with
the advance of time, gradually fade into indistinctive-
ness, and disappear before the progress of the con-
stantly-recurring events of the present.
There is no doubt that with many of the population
it is supposed that there is a necessary connection
between any particular year and the misfortunes
which, during its passage, have happened to them
personally. They are thankful when it has 'gone,
and Imagine that a new period of time will bring
better things. The practical astronomer, who is
simply bent upon calculating whether this or
that rlanet is like unto our own with conti-
nents and islands, and glittering seas, looks
upon such an idea as embodying an unmeaning super-
stition. Yet the moralist sees in it something which
to him is real and substantial. Let him have an.annus
mirabilis, a year of grief and misfortune, land he is
anxious for the time to arrive when he is no more
called upon ,to write its date in his daily communica-
tionkwith the rest of the world. When it has gone,
he 'anticipates better times and more cheerful days.
Only let it _turn its back upon him, and he is quite a
different man. This hopefulness, being instructive, is
everywhere found amongst the animated masses of all
civllisednations,l Men seem Ito trample joyfully upon
theigrave of the departed 'year, and hail with bright
acclaim the arrival of the new. Those church bells
send forth the old one with a melancholy
sound resembling the tolling of fa knell for the dead,
while with merry peals they tell ahe world of the
existence of its successor. "Welcome the coming—
speed the parting guest ! " And who can find fault
with such a sentiment? No year which has ever
passed over the heads of any of us has been one
of unmingled pleasure, or of unalloyed happiness.
A Paradise of unbroken delight can never be the lot
of any human being. What old year, then, would any
being endowed with reason wish telive over again?
A single twelvemonth—one journey out of many
round the sun leaves with numbers sad and
unpleasant memories of perished hopes, lost loves,
broken friendships, and—alas! too often— of
death bereavements. To others there are painful
recollections of humbled pride, disappointed ambition,
chilled affection, and wounded self-love. There can
be nothing of this in the contemplation of the New
Year lying before us. It is a blank truly, but one
which is better than a miserable and gloomy record of
past and actual sorrows. Moreover it is a blank
which we like to fill up with hopes and visions and
prospects of the good times which are to come. That
is why we rejoice at its approach, and welcome it
with songs and praises. This is not only the case
in Christian lauds; but even in that realm of
mystery, which until recent times was shut up
like a sealed book from the rest of the world—the
empire of China—the customs of theseason were found
to be strictly ana.lagous with those of Europe of
the nineteenth century. Centuries ago the celestials
exchanged bows, visits, compliments, gifts, and good
wishes on New Year's Day, just as we do now; it was
also a season for the settling of accounts, for the very
atheist to present himself at the temple of religion,
for people to clothe their faces with smiles, and their
limbs with new garments. The people sat up to watch
the New Year in; and, as our custom is to-day, they
resolved to be good and kind to each other during its
continuance.
Although in England Christmas is made more of
than New Year's Day, there are ways and customs
associated with the last-mentioned season which cause
it to be held in grateful remembrance by many. In
some parts it is not devoted merely.to conviviality
and family re-unions, but likewise to works of
charity. Deeds of kindness and mercy are performed,
thoughtful little gifts pass and repass. Still
it is in its character as a boundary line in
life's chequered journey—a resting 'place where a
brief halt is made during an existence which at its
longest is as but a grain of sand in an ocean of
sternity—that the New Year commands the greatest
amount of interest and attention. Our world flies through
space just as it has done since the Creation, never tiring,
never ceasing even for a moment, but fhase upon its
surface stand still, if only for a short time, to ponder
and to think. It is true that our senses receive no
special impression, when at midnight on the last day
of December the earth has finished another of her
voyages round the great globe of light, any more
than the mariner knows by actual sensation when
his ship is passing across the imaginary line
known as the equator. But our spirit is cer-
tainly awake; we feel as if we had approached a
landmark, arrived at a stated point, or reached a given
stage. Or, to vary the simile, we seem to have come
to the bottom of a page in the volume of life's story,
and are now about to "turn over a new leaf ! " How
familiar to all is that comparison—to turn over a new
leaf! At such a time as this man in his imagination
looks back upon the paths which he has traversed.
Some of his ways have been narrow and tortuous;
others stand out broad and clear before the mental
vision. He surveys as though from a lofty
eminence the region travelled by him during his
walk through the dusty vale of life. Portions of
that life stand out like dark patches upon the
landscape, and the memories which cluster around
them he would willingly blot out. Others show
like little green oases in the midst of a sterile wilder-
ness. The mind dwells upon these with pleasure, 01
the more because they, in comparison with the °thefts,
are so rare. How will he fare during the year whose
dawn civilization 'celebrates? Will the dark patches
or the little bright spots preponderate? He cannot
tell, but it is unquestionable that "Hope springs
eternal in the human breast," and the beginning of the
year is always more a time for trusting hope rather
than for gloomy apprehension or for passive despair'
Even when a man's outward circumstances are under-
going a decline, his heart is now disposed to be buoyant.
Hope naturally grows out of disappointment, and
there are few cases in which, whatever may have hap-
pened, it may not be said : "Well, after all, it might
have been worse!"

There is this great advantage in a yearly retrospect
—that the judgment is not liable to be warped by those
innumerable small details which vexed and harassed
us scores of times during the progreee of the twelve
months now brought to a close. As each passing year
is full of history to the nations, so it is fraught with in-
cidents of importance in the career cst every single
human being. How often, during the occurrence of
an event, does it assume a magnitude which
looks altogether transcendent ? It seems as
though it must be one of the written troubles
of the brain for years to come, to fix itself
upon the memory as the giant rock is fastened to the
sea-shore, and upon which the stormy waves throw
themselves in vain. For the time it is of an all-absorb-
ing interest. By-and-bye other events transpire—
they even follow each other in rapid succession, and
that which, a little while ago so impressed you, and •
which you then compared to a solid rock, so lasting
did it appear, is now likened to the foam of the
white-crested billows which, beating upon that rock
have but an evanescent existence, and are gone. The
eddies disappear, and we see nothing but the majestic
flow of a wide and ample stream. There is indeed
something elevating to the mind in these New
Year's reflections—that they conduce to loftiness
of thought as well as to kindliness of character, and
that they minister to that divine flame of hope which
bumf; brightest in our bosoms. A year is but a short
space in the division of many a human
,life, but were
It not for these little lines of demarcation, what a
dreary expanse would our existence be! It is good,
then, to hail the New Year, to turn our faces towards
the rising sun, to push forward anew upon that journey
upon which we have briefly paused for these reflec-
tions, to feel ourselves refreshed by the rest thus taken,
and to trust that, when the time shall come for its
departure, joys shall more than counterbalance sorrows
in the histories of the myriads over whose heads it is
about to pass. May its pleasant memories long
dwell in the minds of those who survive it, and may
any uncomfortable recollections be as transitory as are
the deepest impressions upon the land when it is
coveredby therising tide. As the waters of the great deep
not only fill the mammoth caves of ocean, hut penetrate
as well into the minutest hollows of the rocks, so the
events of a year, whilst often working mighty changes
in the destinies of nations, are fraught with incidents
of weighty import to the units who compose them. To
the peoples, then, we wish peace and prosperity, and
to all our readers

DEAN STANLEY ON THE BURNING
OF THE "GOLIATH."
Tuesday (28th) being Innocents' Day, Dean Stanley
delivered, in Westminster Abbey, in the afternoon,
his customary address to children.- Taking as his
text Chap. 16, Ist Samuel, 11th verse, "There re-
maineth yet the younotst, an , beheldeth he keepeth
the sheep," the Dean said he proposed to set before
them a few examples of what might be expected from
children—from little boys and girls—in order to show
what good they could sometimes do to those about
them. We were too often inclined to think that
children could accomplish very little; but that was a
mistake. He would go back to old examples. There
was the boy David, who, when first Samuel came to
his (David s) father's house, was on the hills tending
sheep, littl thought of by his kindred; yet when the
mighty Goliath defied the armies of Israel, was it not
the little shepherd-boy who slew him with a single
stone? This ias a`stbry they could all believe; for
was not such youthful heroism repeated among the
early Christian Martyrs? Looking at their own his-
tory, they had Edward VI., and that admirable
young Prince Henry, son of James I. After citing
other instances, the dean went on to say that although
most of.them had died young yet they had lived long
enough to show of what stuff they were made. But
some of the parents and children present might
'say • these were princes, having every advantage of
birth and education, and besides . long ago is very
different from to-day. Let him however, give them
an example of what had occurred, not two or three
thousand years ago, but only last Wednesday, on the
river Thames. It was of little boys, thirteen, twelve,
eight, and seven years old—little English boys, with
few advantages of birth or education, taken from the
rough schools of the workhouses of this metropolis to
be trained as sailors on board the great ship called
after the giant David slew—the Goliath. This great
vessel, a little before eight o'clock on Wednesday
morning last, when it was hardly light, was found to
be on fire from one end to the other. There were
500 young boys on board. Did they sink at the
sudden surprise, the sudden and terrific danger,
the flames around them and the dark cold water
beneath them—did they scream or cry out, or
was there confusion? No. They ran to their
proper places. They all, as the captain said,
behaved as men. They stood to their posts to the last,
and then, when it was found impossible to save the
ship, those who could swim jumped into the water and
swam for their lives. Some of the smaller boys then
became frightened and wished to get away as best they
could, but one little boy, much beloved by his com-
, rades, said, "No ; we must stay by and help our
mates." He remained by the ship until the last
moment, and was the means of saving many lives.
They could be proud that this was a Westminster
boy, William Boulton. He kept the boat alongside
as long as possible, and was the means of saving more
than a hundred lives. Others in the ship, when the
flames were spreading, were standing beside the good
captain who had been so kind to them all, and whom
they loved so much, and these at that moment
thought more of him than of themselves. One of
them threw his arms around the captain's neck, and
said, "You will be burned, captain, save yourself."
The captain gave them the best of all lessons when he
said, "This is not the way at sea, ray boys." The
captain meant to say the way at sea was to -pre-
pare for danger beforehand, to meet it manfully
when it came, and to look to the safety not of oneself
but of others. This the captain had learned not
only himself, but had taught to those under his charge.
Consider what was to be learnt from the story of the
good conduct of the boys on the ship Goliath. First,
what an encouragement it was to parents and teachers
and all who had anything to do with children, as show-
ing that their labours were not spent in vain. These
boys were taken from a rough neglected class, which,
before that time, had been a trouble and vexation to
all about them, and through the farsighted policy of
the Minister of State, who b gan this system of train-
ing ships were placed under the care of a good
captain, 113 good wife, and good daughters. It was
from their kind words and kind looks to these poor
little boys, making them feel their training-ship to be
their home, instructing them in habits of order, duty,
and religion, that they were trained to be the servants
of their country in the honourable profession of an
English sailor. Suddenly put to trial by this great
calamity, all this education and training were seen at
work, and had shown what school and education could
do. That was what could be done by making a
good beginning. All knew that a good begimaing
might have a bad ending, and that even these little
heroes as they might be called, of the ship Goliath
might, many of them, be spoilt by foolish flattery or
might meet with wicked companions, and might turn
out very differently from what they were shown to be.
Within the last month there was a dreadful example
of one who began school as a charming, enterprising,
intelligent, and religious boy, but who, having gone
into evil courses and among bad associates, ended by
committing a horrible crime, and died last week under
the infamy of having been convicted as a selfish, hard.
hearted murderer. Such bor, lie hoped, were the ex-
cept on, and that the results were more usually ac-
cording to the good beginning. The lesson taught by
the Goliath training-ship was to be ready to do
what was right even at a moment's notice.
Those boys had no idea what was about to
occur; but they were ready to do their duty,
and they did it. There was an old Scotch motto,
"Ready, aye ready." Let that be their motto, and
when danger came upon them they would not run
about and lose their senses, but would be calm and
quiet, and might be the means of saving their brothers,
sisters, their father and mother. Those boys of the
Goliath, when the flames were raging around them,
were as calm as the three children of whom they read
in the book of Daniel, walking in the burning fiery
furnace. Let them remember also the little mate who
stood by the ship, and, when tempted to do wrong,
let them have the courage to say "No." Even if the
burning masts of the ship had fallen on those boys
and killed them, they had better have died doing their
duty, and have been buried with the little boy who
was that day laid to rest in the village church-
yard of Grays, where his body was washed up,
rather than have been weak and foolish, and given way
and shown the white feather, ol‘ failed in one atom of
their duty. Let them think of what reward they gave
their parents and friends by their conduct. When
that little boy threw his arms around the captain's
neck, did they not think that moment must have'
made up to the captain for all the trouble and
pains he had spent on the boys, tc see how they
loved him and how they would have given their live.
for his. Let them remember also that short speech
of the captain when they asked him to leave them,
"That is not the way at sga, my boys." Let them not
leave their companions in the lurch by taking the best
places for themselves and avoiding risk and danger for
the sake of their own profit or pleasure. That was
done by many children and many men, but "That is
not the way at sea, my boys." It is the way of the
world, it is the way of cowards, and spendthrifts, and-
scoundrels, and spoiled children, and selfish men, but
it is not the way of English sailors, it is not the wayl
of Englishmen, it is not the way of noble lives
and glorious deaths. Let them jump into the way of
danger rather than fly away in dishonour. Let them
work calmly, carefully, manfully, to do as much as
they could whilst life and health were left to them.
That was the way at sea, that was the way of English
sailors, that was the way on this burning ship, that
was the waty of Commodore Goodenough, of immortal
name. That was the way of good children, gallant
boys, and men; that was the way of Christian heroes
and Christian martyrs, that was the way he trusted
this day would teach them to walk from heneeforth,
until the latest hour of their lives.
The Abbey was much crowded; standing room was
I hardly to be obtained.

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