home > books by FWB > 1914, Mountains In The Mist

BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION

MANY a time, in nearing these Australian shores, or in cruising about the rugged and splintered coast of New Zealand, I have seen, as the first glimpse of land, the ghostly summits towering above filmy banks of cloud. The foreshore was hidden in the haze, and those spectral peaks were alone visible I have afterwards chatted with other men, who, never having seen those massive mountains, could nevertheless discourse quite learnedly about them. Geographers could tell me their names, their altitude, and the historical circumstances surrounding their discovery. Meteorologists explained to me their immense climatic importance. Botanists dilated upon the shrubs that draped their graceful slopes and upon the herbs that flourished in their thickly wooded valleys. Geologists unfolded the wondrous secrets of their strata. But, knowing nothing of this learned lore, it is something to have actually witnessed the wonder of the mountains and to have carried the impression of their grandeur in my heart for ever afterwards.

Other things too, I have seen, much as I saw the mountains in the mist. With their precise theological, philosophical, and scientific significance I am not concerned. They have simply loomed up grandly against the sky-line, and I have tried to set down here the impressions that those hazy visions have created.

Frank W. Boreham.
Hobart, Australia,
Easter 1914.

CONTENTS

PART I

Essay Number Title Page Number
I. THE PAGEANT THROUGH THE BUSH 11
II. ON FRIGHTENING TIMOTHY 21
III. THE MINOR MINOR PROPHETS 30
IV. THE PASSING OF THE IMPOSSIBLE 38
V. LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 49
VI. A BUSH PHILOSOPHER 58
VII. SPECTRE AND SONG 68
VIII. THE PIONEER 75
IX.  THE EXHILARATIONS OF LIFE 87

PART II

Essay Number Title Page Number
I. THAT BLESSED WORD — ‘WHICH ?’ 99
II. THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE 108
III. THE DAINTIES IN THE DUNGEON 120
IV. ETIQUETTE 131
V. CHRYSANTHEMUMS 141
VI. THE BRANCH ON THE BREAKERS 151
VII. THE BABY 160
VIII. THE DOCTOR 171
IX. THE ANALYST 182
X.  THE SCAVENGER 191

 

Yes, there is a time when it is right to pray. We must teach the people that. But there is a time when it is wrong to pray. And we must teach the people that. I have no right to pray unless, by sweat of brain and brow, I am doing my utmost to compass the end for which I pray. I confess to a fondness for that fine story which General Booth was so fond of telling. The General knew of a little girl who worried herself into a fearful state of agitation concerning the birds that became entangled in her brother’s traps. One evening, at her mother’s knee, she prayed about it. ‘O Lord,’ she prayed, ‘don’t let the little birds get into Robbie’s traps! Please don’t let them!’ And then, to her mother’s astonishment, she added exultingly, ‘Oh, I know they won’t! They can’t. Amen.’ ‘But, Dolly’ remonstrated her mother, ‘what makes you so sure that God will answer your prayer for the birdies?’ ‘Why,’ exclaimed Dolly confidently, ‘cause, before I prayed, I went out into the garden and smashed the traps!’ There is a world of very sound philosophy to be gleaned at that point.

PART III

Essay Number Title Page Number
I. GRANNY 203
II. ‘WULLIE’ 211
III. A CANARY AT THE POLE 219
IV. HAIRBREADTH ESCAPES 225
V. ESCAPES — NOT HAIRBREADTH 236
VI. PRAYING FOR CARLO 244
VII. MOUNT DISAPPOINTMENT 254
VIII. SECOND-CLASS PASSENGERS 265
IX. THE POPPIES IN THE CORN 274

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