BY THE WAY.

Evening Star, Issue 19268, 5 June 1926, Page 2

BY THE WAY.

[By Q.V.]

** The time has conic," the VValru* said, '* io talk ol many thing*. *' ; We have always taken a friendly interest in the Bruce County roads, jHissii>jv because it lias been our hard lot to" travel over them on various occasions. In truth, they.are not good roads. Visiting motorists speak ol them with sorrow, with anger, with conj tempt, aj’ui with various other teelings, j mostly hostile, it may not bo the fault lof the Bruco County Council, which I has doubtless many troubles to contend j with, it would not be a human institu- | tion if it had not. Heaven forbid that iwq should add to its burdens. Rather I let us drop the tear of sympathy aud offer the cheery word of encouragement. Yet wo cannot agree with a county councillor, whose name has unfortunately escaped a ,treacherous memory—so little does the world remember of its great men—when bo recommended the inhabitants of Bruce to go back to the dray. It would lie a retrograde step; a slipping down the hill of progress. Where would the movement end? Soon another councillor would go ono better and advocate a return to the sledge—nay, even to the packhorse. It is improbable that Bruce would go back to more primitive conditions still, and that the traveller might see the lord and master striding on ahead carrying his stockwhip, while the lady of the house followed bearing a sack of oats on her shoulder. We think hotter of Bruoo than that. Wo would be sorry to see it take the downward path. As a last resort_ it might do a little more road repairing.

A typical example of the British habit of thought is reported in Ibo cables. In the general relief at the collapse of the universal strike or holdup of the community we are inclined to overlook the fact that tho coal miners are still “ out,” and announce that they have no intention of coming iu. la fact, what would once have been regarded as a “ gigantic upheaval ” is still in progress, Tho strikers rely first of all on tho immense losses they are inflicting on the owners, and. secondly, on the inconvenience caused to the public at large, to enforce their demands. The owners trust to hunger, to bring tho men to their feet._ “The sack is the sword of the capitalist, and hunger keeps it sharp,” says Bernard Shaw. A logical people, e.g., the French or Germans, would _ argue: “ Very well. We have only to sit tight. Starvation is on our side, and tho sooner it gets to work the sooner the men .will come back.” Not so the British. Tho coal pit owners are liberally supporting relief funds for the benefit of the strikers’ families, and incidentally for the strikers themselves. The starvation theory makes no appeal to them. It may not be logical, but it is a pleasing manifestation of the better side of human nature, and we venture to hope that it will bo counted for righteousness. The Maoris, another chivalrous race, supplied their enemies with ammunition when it ran short to enable them to go on killing each other. The coal pit owners are; supplying their industrial opponents with bread to enable them to continue the struggle should no bettor solution be found.

The first domesticated animal was the dog. Ho was the trusted assistant of man in the early Stone Ago. Black brother, who is in a corresponding stage' of civilisation, cherishes him. The virtues of the dog are in all literatures, save that of the ancient Hebrews, whose descendants now wander, homeless, over the face of the earth, devoting themselves to art, high finance, and Bolshevism. There was Argus, tho dog of Ulysses, who expired from joy on the return of that wily mariner. There was Hodain, “ the mightiest and the goodliest then on earth,” the hound of Tristram. There were the ungrateful dogs of King Lear • —Blanche, Tray, and Sweetheart. There was Gelert, which perished owing to an unfortunate misunderstanding for which his thick-headed master was solely to blame. There were the dogs of St. Bernard, that brought hope and brandy to exhausted Alpine tourists, and those of Newfoundland, whose specialty ivas saving the drowning. There were the Scots’ shepherd dogs, which accompanied their masters to church, and there are dogs ono may see at bucolic gatherings to-day with one paw tucked into their collars, for which may their masters bo grievously afflicted with rheumatism, toothache, aud ingrowing toenails. Toussenel says that man’s best qualities aro those ho shares with the dog. But the dog degenerates. Ho is. through long association, acquiring tiie nature of his master. It is not a mouth since a vagrant mongrel assaulted the terrier of the Brinco of Wales, and only last week an anarchist dog bit tho King of Norway. When dogs take to biting kings, Royalty had better prepare to go out of business. It is a sign of the times.

Although wo aro sceptical about motors bounding over tbo bumpy surface of Bruco County at sixty miles an hour, there is no doubt as to the fascination of speed. Even tbo fastidious and over-sophisticated Aldous Huxley says exultantly in one of his Italian travel essays that " the smaller Fiats ate our dust.” When, however, he came to the Alpine foothills'his 10 h.p. car had to relinquish its pride of place. Do you remember, long ago, When brightly shone your nickel plate, How silently went to and fro Your gears within their triple gate ? Do you I'enlemher how dlftte Was I that day? You surely must Recall our pride, our pomp, our state I The smaller Fiats ato our dust! You only wero a “ ten,” you know. And yet, by some good turn or fate. Although they were by no means slow, You left thorn all disconsolate. You could have given each ono a tow. My Sainted Aunt! They must have cussed To be thus made a holy show. The smaller Fiats ate our dust 1 True, this was in tbo valleys low— Good easy going, flat and straight; And where the mountain torrents flow. You had to much reduce your gait. Yes, truth compels me to relate Wo had to check our wanderlust. No longer at our pace sedate, The smaller Fiats ate our dust. ’Tis years since you hare pulled your weight, Your wheels are bent, and rod with rust. Yet ■ you can boast when others prate, The smaller Fiats ate our dust.

Clergymen, elderly maiden ladies, politicians during election times, and other innocents, have an idea that the farmer is a shy, simple person, the easy prey of any city shark who cares to taka him down. Wo have glanced through the report of the last day’s sitting of his Provincial Conference. The honest old agriculturists demand a conference with various interested parties (with the exception of the local consumer), with a view to getting better prices for their mutton. One gentleman recommended that “ the whole freezing works should bo reconstructed from top to bottom,” presumably with the same object. They want a' Commission set up to investigate the wheat question, present prices being considered un.remunoratiye J , Mr Fred

iM.P., cheerfully adding 1 list an increase of kl per loaf would mean only 7d a week to tho average family. The Department of Agriculture is requested to devote special attention to the spread of ragwort, and also mortality in lambs. The conference then expressed the opinion that Hospital and Charitable Aid levies on local bodies were excessive, and the farmer did not have any say in their expenditure. Magistrates were urged to be more severe on erring motorists, who seem to have few friends these days. Another Commission to look into’afforestation at tlio expense of tho country at large was suggested, likewise further legislation dealing with sheep stealing. As a final shot, the charges of land agents were, pronounced to be excessive. On the other hand, when Professor Strong made an appeal for, assistance in carrying out a scheme for broadening the life of the farmer’s wife, the conference said that if tliero was any money * available it might think about it. The farmer did not suggest that the city sharks should pay all agricultural rates and taxes, hut that was probably an oversight. One cannot think of everything.