CHANGES IN LEICESTER SQUARE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 31, 6 February 1937, Page 7 (Supplement)

CHANGES IN LEICESTER SQUARE.

Tho greatest natural divers in the world aro Polynesians from the Paumotue. Without any more gear than they were, born in. tlieee powerful men of 'tho atolls of the North pick black lip shell off tho bottom sometimes as f<ir down as Soft, and do it day in and day out as long as the season fasts. No other "skin" divers in tho world work as untiringly. Many Paumotuans die at their work. Where Pearls Are Lustrous. A close second are tho men of Tongarevn. This island has been called tho most perfect coral atoll in the world. The lagoon is very deep and produces tho most lustrous pearls to be found. In small beds on upshooting coral pinnacles aro fished email shailed called the "pi pi." From tins flowery pink oyster comes a magnificent pink or golden jewel now gaining favour among those who buy them. The "culture" pearl makers of Japan cannot imitate artificially the "pi pi," and what was once called" the ugly duckling because of its unusual colour is now sought in the Parisian market.

farewell to, Bohemian Gaiety. FAMOUS TREES THREATENED WITH AXE

too—less glittering and less splendid than that of the Empire. There was ballet there, too. Perhaps the best remembered one would be "Fcmina. One of London's first reviles, "By George," was staged at the Empire, after Gcnce had left. Rapid Changes. The Queen's Hotel, once the resort of all the racing men in London, where you could meet all the famous jockeys,

Wo went down into the lagoon at Tongareva to try a trick told to ua by Philip Woonton, the resident agent o*f the island. The idea was to descend carefully until just over the lagoon floor. If you go down quietly without waving your arms and with no more than just enough escaping air, the shell in the bed remains open until you got a good look at it. In man}' cases the

diver sees his pearl before the shell is brought to tho surface and opened. Of course, when you first see a pearl nestling within a shell your cyc3 pop and you wonder whether you haven't found that "baby." You carefully pick out your shell and send it up to those waiting in tho boat. Excitedly, you climb up your lifeline hand over hand and impatiently watch your tenders taking otr your "helmet. Much to your disappointment the "baby" is very little larger than a seed pearl. The magnifying powers of deep water fooled you. But pearls don't come easily. Four of us opened shell for eight hours once at Penrhyn Island in a splitting sun. Xot a pe"arl came to light. We saw a native boy open three dozen oysters and get threo fair-sized white pearls of exquisite sheen. With renewed hope wo went to work again, but found not ono that week. Later wo began to find them, one by one, until our cho-mois bag beirau to have a Jittle bulge at the bottom^ Tho pearl market of the world remains Paris. The shrewdest buyers travel out to the atolls with unlimited

trainers, and professional backers, has been transformed into a news reel theatre. The words "Hotel de Provence" still adorn the brickwork of a building opposite. It is now a respectable restaurant and tea shop. In the 'nineties and

money behind them. Many go out with definite orders to buy certain shapes, colours or weights. These are for unfinished necklaces, for which proper matching may take several diving

In the Faumotus, wliere pearl diving means lifo to the skin-diving native, a law prohibits the use of foreign diving gear except during a few unproductive weeks each year. This protects the native diver 'and keeps the beds from being swept clean. Most pearl diving in all the beds of the world is still done without manufactured gear. Some natives use nose clips, some do not, but almost all of them use tight-fitting goggles, which they make themselves, to seal water away from the eyes. Technique of Diving. The most accepted method of skindiving is "half a lungful of air, a descending stone and a sense of direction when you're on the way up!" Pacific divers work from dugout canoes. They have one assistant, who keeps to the puddle and manoeuvres the boat so that it always remains over,the diver. In preparing for a dive the swimmer takes several deep draughts of air, then blows out all but half. If he kept his lungs full he would never get down as far as be does. When ready, he releases a heavy stone from the side of the canoe, holds on to it and is on the bottom quickly. This gives him working time and hasn't cost him the effort of swimming down. He may remain on the bottom two and a half to three minutes. At the end of that time he makes a dash for the surface. Sometimes the Paumotuan stays down too long in the excitement of a rich basketful of shell. Then he may swim off at right angles—horizontally—losing his way to the surface. He has little or no flotation at the end of his time, and in ninety feet of water can die in aii instant. ' Then comes the helper's turn. He must dive in, swim to his partner, lead him to the surface. Often dying when he reaches the top, this lost one bleeds from eyes, mouth, ears and nose. He may live, but chances are he will be paralysed for life. "Yes," said Leigh, "whisky has turned the trick on many a good diver." It was off the coast of Xew Zealand that they were working. There were four divers on the job. The sunken hulk beneath the diving tender was supposedly full of silver in coin. One diver went down. He came up complaining of the depth and the strong current, which made it impossible to keep his feet on the bottom. In an hour he was dead. Bends. Another went down and was dragged up. Dead. Another came up feet first with his head and shoulders jammed through the side of his suit. Dead. Leigh went down, worked an hour, brought up four boxes of silver. They all, said Leigh, had had their little snort before going down. It was in twenty-eight fathoms and cold, and any expert will tell you what liquor does to the blood under pressure.

nineteen hundreds, downstairs nt tin l'luveneo was a sight indeed. It was n step lower than the Cufo de l'Kuropo. Xo such sight im.hl ho seen anywhere in London to-night. The Cavour is no more. It has "on" smart, and is called the Cafe Anglais Yet its clientele has changed little, li still retains .1 Bohemian atmosphere, beeanao the Stage Golling Society i> upstairs. One by one the old buildings are going. The south side of the Square has changed entirely. The west side is changing rapidly. Last Bit of Gay London. The room in which I worked for seven years has gone altogether, with the building in which it stood. It has been absorbed by the Automobile Association. From that window I looked across those ! trees which they now want to tear down. I have seen the wood pigeons building their nests in them. Ju the spring and autumn when the birds are migrating, I have seen feathered visitors in those trees which one would only expect to meet in the depths of the country. I have watched the moon sail across the sky behind the domes of the Alhambra, before neon lights made it seem pale. liig hats, and long skirts swept the pavements. Men wore tall hats and carried walking sticks, hansom cabs stood on the ranks, the "pubs" were open all day long. There were no milk bars—there is one now. at the edge of Leicester Square. Leicester Square was not respectable then, but it was gay. This generation demands electric signs for brightness—we made the brightness table, and, by a paradox, is lining its character. But whilst those trees stand it will still retain the look of the Leicester Square we knew and loved. If they go—and Rod forbid that they should— the last bit of gay London—the London that belonged to us and had not become Americanised, will indeed be gone, and it won't be brightened—it will just he dull.—W. Maequeen-Pope in "The Sphere."

When General Yen Hsi-Shan, of North China, goes to the official barber, four highly paid members of his special bodyguard keep watch to see that the razor doesn't "slip." So terrified is the barber that shaving the illustrious general takes double the normal time, and the soldiers are paid a special fee for their attendance. If attention to duty is a cause for payment, then the armed soldiers earn their fees, for each stands with a loaded pistol pointed at the head of the perspiring barber. And while the General sits in terror of the slipping razor, the barber stands in equal terror of the slipping trijger! Why the General doesn't filinvo himself and save his peace of mind and his pocket is one of those mysteries many people think—but none dares ask!

SUXNY Alherta lies in such a faraway corner of the map of Xorth America that it scarcely seems to matter. In summer its endless miles of ripening grain toes and blow in the prairio breezes. Winter grips it into black silence. But the soft spring winds from the. mountains atone for it with April tears of repentance. Too far away to matter. Yet even an Alberta straw may show the direction of the coming continental wind.

History the province never had. The early explorers walked over it and past it, looking for something else. Vast herds of buffalo moved up and down in their season from somewhere to nowhere and back again. The Hudson's Bay Company posts were as rare and lonely as solitude itself; the Indians so few that you could ride iiOO miles—so wrote Lieutenant Butler in IS71 —and never

The settlement of t"ie province, for those of us over fifty, ie not history; it's just yesterday. We can remember every atop—the plains, the unknown Kockies, the Canadian Pacific Railway, tlio Mounted Police the hoom, the American invasion, the hust. . . .

Nor has the province, in a eense. any geography. The P>ocky Mountains, darkening the sunset, are not Alberta, but the end of it; not the picture, but the frame. The valley of tfie River of Peace, varied and undulating, God's last country, has too few people yet to count. The Alberta of the Social Credit and the Prosperity Certificate lies out on the great flats, once prairies, now grain. It is all cut up in the rectangular pattern of the western survey into sections and townships and ranges. - There- is no geography in that. A European peasant may carry through life the love of his valley and his mountains; but the Alberta farmer cannot cry over his meridian. A country cut like cloth and sold by the square yard lias no geography.

j More than that, the province is short ■, —or rather, overlong—on nationality. All the Albertans talk English, or think they do; they do attend the public school and the college, and get an education as ; standardised as the make-up of a motor car. Their heads, if damaged, can be , duplicated in five minutes in the. East. A Ready Field. In its education and in its professions, j Alberta is as much the child of Ontario ;': as Michigan is of -Massachusetts. They ' have Rotary Clubs, Canadian Clubs and . Thanksgiving Day end .Santa Clans and 1 even Hallowe'en and haggis. But trace .' out where they came from, they and X their parents, and you find that the province of 750,000 people has pot in it I <;:!,000 Ukrainians and (50.000 Germans. I Of people whoso parents' speech was j not English and not American, there ; are no le=s than 270,000. j Then take away the Americans who '■& came in during the great invasion of 3 1001-11, and what's left! A community ) in the making, but not yet made. ; ; Alberta, in other words, is what used to ? be termed, in a favourable sense, n I "melting-pot." The province not being •' metallic or industrial, the metaphor ? doesn't <|iiite lit; call i< a stock farm— \ t,till in tin; favourable sense. ■J Now, a province that has no particular "| history or geography or nationality and '.] a 'ready field for social experiment—

especially i£ it goes "bust" and is reckless enough to venture anything. Ann Alberta, to its own great surprise, went '•bust" not long after the Great "War, first gradually and then with a smack.

It fell, a first victim to the specialism and mechanisation of industry that is niiiking many a country as lopsided as a lobster with one claw. When Adam Smith taught the world the wonder of making pins all day by machinery, he forgot to say what you were to do with the pins. In Alberta, when they first raised wheat with vast gang ploughs that disappeared over the horizon and enmo back as threshing machines, all life was a shout. Then came the question, who was to eat the wheat? And the world wheat market broke, and Alberta was underneath it when it came

Oh, Yes, Very Wicked. The farmers fought hard; they ■pooled' themselves to get gicater economic: power; but pooling poverty is no fun. They "held" their .r-rain; the more they held it, the less it was worth. They drove out the older parties—Liberals and Conservatives—and set up "farmers' parlies." They looked over the horizon toward "the East" and shook their fists at the capitalists and banks and the tariff industries of Montreal. The banks they saw as instruments for coining credit by putting a farmer under a press and turning the handle; a.tariff is how his belt is tightened to make him eat less; and what the banks call their capital is what he calls his debts. All wrong, of course! Oh, yes, Tery wicked! In such distress all kinds of new winds of doctrine blew like thistledown in the breeze; and one especially seemed to blow sis sweetly and as softly as the Chinook wind that melts away the winter—the doctrine of Social Credit! They recognised it as soon as they hoard it: "Social"—that's us; "credit"— our own idea; and 23 dollars a month each—our own thought! Took It As "Religion." The basic thought of "Social Credit" is absolutely sound: it starts from the fact that each of us at birth owns his

share of the earth and the right to live. It is the converse of the doctrine of indefeasible property of a hundred years ago—of the days of Lord Eldon and the Court of Chancery. It has a million applications—theoretical or practical, dry or wet, statistical or emotional. "But its new prophet, Mr. William Aberhart, of the Prophetic Bible Institute of Calgary, took it as religion: and that in polities and government means a home-run every time. Ask Mahomet. The new prophet struck the desk and said, "In Canada money lias too much and men too little!" It was like Brvan'a "crown of thorns'" and "cross of gold!" It carried Aberhart and his retainers into power in August, 1 ().'!."), with sti of them in a legislature of 03. Some People Think It's Done. The next item: Alberta Honey! Prosperity scrip! It looks like the stuff the villain uses ill the melodrama to lead the girl astray! The front is all covered with dollar marks; the back (von don't need to look at it) all ready for stamps. What will it buy? Pretty well anything in the country store at Wetaskawin or lied Deer; nothing at all in a big departmental store at Edmonton; no good for railways, telegraphs, express, post office and all the things belonging to the accursed capitalists of the East. Payments to "foreign" companies (foreign means Canada):_ Yes, thev take a percentage of pay in it, to act" business. Some won't touch it. But the unemployed eat it up. And Government employees get "doees" of it, as Mrs. Squecre dosed the boys in her husband's school.

Last comes social credit, the biggest thing of the lot—the £5 a month. "It will take IS months to get it working," said Mr. Aberhart. This autumn hie provincial treasurer, his rtglit bower, said, "We may do it in 13." In fact, some people think it's done. Aberhart's Legislature passed an Act "To Provide the People of Alberta with Additional Credit' (September, 1030) that is meant to "implement Social Credit." In reality it d'oes nothing of the sort. It's just an act for setting up a provincial credit board to make loans to those who need them —nothing in or of itself more revolutionary than the housing acts and relief acts of a dozen places. Moreover, it lias been announced that there can be no "Social Credit" except for people who "register." When you register you sign a document that covers a page, that pledges you to Alberta money, that pledges your support to Social Credit, that" cut's you out of individual buying and selling, that governs your "production" on tho farm. In short, no man with solid property and any vestige of self-help will sign at all. "If they won't sign," said Aberliart, "then I'm sorry, for we can't have Social Credit!" "Now then," he said just the other day, "there must be no mutiny! If there's mutiny wo can't go on."

In other words, it's not hard to make a forecast: all great leaders and prophets go stale on their job or return to the wilderness, llnhomet went to his cave! Charles V. went into a monastery. Mr. Aberhart may go up into the Rockies.

The courts, of course, are sitting on all this; but the courts with us in Canada mean ultimately the King's Privy Council in Kngland—in other words, Jarndyco and Jarndyee. By the time they get finished no one will remember what it was about.

Before that time the "experiment" will bo over. Capital is running away from Alberta. People with real property are trying to sell it. Values arc collapsing, f-crip is slithering. Night is falling. Winter's coming. TheTe will he a general election; the "Conservatives," under some new name, will come back. When that happens, the "scrip" will lie swept up and burned. But the public debts and the municipal debts will never come back as they were—no, never! unto us and the burden of them is intolerable. , - That prayer of the- tabernacle at least will lie answered. The Social Credit experiment in Alberta is a warning to all other places to set their houses in order, or else a bogy Aberhart will tap some night at the window.