BY THE WAY

Evening Star, Issue 20666, 13 December 1930, Page 2

BY THE WAY

[By Q.V.]

“Tho time liae come,” tlm Walrus said, “To talk of many things.” Wo are assured that many farmers in this fertile land work twelve to fourteen hours daily for a reward of two or three pounds a week, and some there are work for nothing. It is mainly because these hardy persons are willing to undergo this drudgery that the townsman can lay down his tools at 5 p.m. or so and spend his. evenings at the pictures in peace. We do not guarantee these statements, but we Mow that tho farmer’s wife, when he has one, rises early tad retires late, while she works like a beaver in between, frequently for nothing at ail but her bare food and a minimum of clothing. What upholds the farmer and his wife in. their toil? What dulls the pain of their aching muscles ? We fancy that it is mainly the sense of freedom—an illusory sense, no doubt, but still it is there. They feel.that they arc their own masters, that they need not call anyone lord till the interest on the mortgage falls duo. Someone —it may have been Dean Inge or another —tells of a coal miner who went out on strike in Wales on a question of hours. Being an energetic iiu,.i he discovered a market for coal in a neighbouring village, and cheerfully put in twelve hours a day collecting stray pieces from the pitheads and selling theiii. He was then no “ wage slave,” but his own master, and the extra four or five hours of daily work was as dust in the balance. So the farmer. He claims that he is the backbone of tho country and we are but parasites upon him, and he clings to his land with all that it entails rather than accept a lower status. It is good for us that he does so.

« * ♦ ♦ Results of tho butchers’ strike in Australia—£32,ooo loss in wages, £200,000 loss to owners. ' While other fellows scratch around For work, however humble, And, when a billet can’t be found, Quite pardonably grumble, When crowds of hungry unemployed Indulge in demonstrations, And harassed mayors are much annoyed By noisy deputations, When firms (which possibly were known As prosperous, last summer) Are getting somewhere near the bone, And looking glum and glummer, When wool and butter both aro low, And everywhere Australia Is coming more and more to Mow Tho bitterness of failure, ’Tis then the butcher finds it good, To try his hand at striking; His job, ho swears by bones and blood, Is scarcely to his liking. The pay he deems unduly short, Tho hours too long to please him; And thinks the owners should be brought To soothe him and appease him.

And so ho strikes, great Ckesar’s ghost! His gory blade lies rusting; And lives at other people’s cost (Tho public aro so trusting!) The lambkins gambol, safe and free, Tho oxen browse in quiet; And they—as far as I can see—■ Aro all who profit by it.

Tho hungry unemployed, who grabs ' His billet (who will blame him I) branded with the name of sc—b, ,To stigmatise aud shame him; i And, while the butcher takes his rest, Ho sees, unfortunately, Some thirty thousand pounds go west Which might have helped him greatly

Tlio companies are losers, too, Who deal in beef and mutton; Their other hands are (not a few) Put off, instead of put on. So who’s the better for this whole Confounded Labour battle, Except an undistinguished shoal Of silly sheep and cattle ? *»* , * During the interview between Mr Bryan O’Donnell’s unemployed deputation ana His Wcujhip the Mayor it transpired that a member of tho deputation had been refused assistance because ho had been seen at the races. In a spirited defence Mr O’Donnell maintained 'the right of any free man to visit the “ trots ” if he wished, and more so as in this particular case the sportsman went in on a complimentary ticket. Without questioning Mr O’Donnell’s logic, wo Would not personally choose this method of trying,to forget our troubles. It is one which seems more calculated to enhance them. Did not one of our own p-ots say something about a sorrow’s crown of sorrow being to remember happier things? There, wo would say, are the silken-coated horses; there the same old laughing, well-dressed crowd. There stand the totes, in which wo w. wont to back our fancy in the good old days. How the scene would recall the tip we overheard in a barber’s shop which procured us a . soven-ponnd-ten div. How wo remember drawing the cash and tho aftermath thereof! Such might bo our reflections if we were a member of the unemployed visiting tho races “ on the nod,” although we might also fcol that wo had gone to windward of tho capitalist to tho extent of an afternoon’s sport. Wo notice that in Nelson some of the unemployed gob rid of their sorrows temporarily in the old-fashioned way. In Christchurch they heckle the mayor and aro assaulted by tho police. Each to his taste. *

Lord Barnby, who is taking a friendly interest in our affairs, advocates drastic reductions, presumably in wages, this being the readiest method of economising. It seems to us, though heaven knows we do not pose as an economist, that according to this theory the lower the wages |he more prosperous the lahd, so that a country where wages are a shilling a day ought to be twenty times better off than one where wages are a pound a day. However this may bo in theory, in practice it does not pan out. Both high and low wage countries have got it ‘‘in the neck ” most impartially. Even Russia, where the bloodsucking capitalist has been practically eliminated, doesmot seem in any better case. Some critics say that the present hard times have been brought about by a sort of gigantic conspiracy pf “ capitalists ” with a view to a universal reduction of wages. Apparently the capitalist, like Samson, does not mind perishing himself so long as he buries a sufficient number of his enemies in the ruins. This seems very far-fetched. Quito possibly the “ capitalist ” would be glad enough to see wages come down, but that he would damage his own interests to effect this end is unthinkable. Some Christian Scientists affirm that if we only believe hard enough, things will improve. This seems a cheap and c: sily-applied remedy, but cheap things are usually worth very little. “ Patience and shuffle the cards, as Sancho Panza said. Luck may turn sooner than we think. * * * * After his hectic experiences at the Imperial Conference, Mr Forbes is cooling donui, as it were, on the battlefields of France, for which it is said (wo believe untruly) our gallant and thrifty allies charged us rent. He will see with his own eyes the stage on which one of the greatest dramas of history was played. He will taste with his oWn palate the insufficient meal which in France passes for breakfast. He will handle with his. own hands, though at our expense no doubt, the flimsy pieces of paper which pass for currency in these parts, and will learn that a twopenny tip is accepted with gratitude by a frugal race which, unlike ourselves, does not disdain small change. We think that Mr Forbes will enjoy himself. At the worst he will learn that tho British are not the only people in the world; that there are other towns than Wellington, and other standards of life than our own. But here au awful thought obtrudes. Mr Forbes must not stay away too long. ‘‘The dead go quickly,” and the absent not far behind them. Everybody likes to consider himself indispensible, though no one really cannot be done without. Even Mr Forbes could be replaced, and a number of men would not object to replacing him. The sooner he leaps into his old chair, calls for the morning Xiapers, and has a nap till lunch time, the better for Mr Forbes. * * * * The companionate marriage scheme has not yet, we believe, been tried out among English-speaking folks, though it is popular in Russia. Under this plan, the parties sign on for a fixed period, instead of for the complete voyage, as is customary here. One Bishop Manning, of the Church of St. John the Divine, of New York, is no believer ’ in the companionate business, and preached against it. A Mr Lindsey, an ex-judge, arose in the body of tho church and denounced tho Bishop. Mr Lindsey seems to be more of a freetrader than Bishop Manning, but the audience, or congregation, supported their pastor. Tho scene which followed the interlude might have been modelled on' au interview between the Mayor of Christchurch and the more Communistic of his citizens. From the male point Of view, the companionate theory has its attractions. 1 Some timo before, Christmas the male, we hesitate to say the senior partner—looks up from hut paper at breakfast and says “ Dear, don’t forget that our contract runs out on January 1. I suppose I had better see about putting in the usual advertisement disclaiming responsibility fot your debts,” and his lady replies: “I had not overlooked tho matter. In fact, I ordered quite a lot of things at the end •of last month. You will get the bills in a day or two, and of course they come under the old arrangement. . f.. Where do you think you will go after the 1st?” and the part-time hubby may propose a renewal of tlie agreement or ho may not, according to circumstances. What happens to a companionate lady when her term expires we know not. She may revert to her original condition, or she may take the status of a sort of widow. Nor do we know whether a probationary period would enhance or depreciate her future matrimonial value. Much could be said on either side. Personally we still believe in the present system,, despite its pitfalls for both parties. . ,

In the days of Maiideville and Marco Polo, Thq world was full of wondrous men and things; Of strange and fearful places, And weird, uncanny races; There were unicorns and basilisks with wings. You might be chased and taken By a fire-drake of a kraken; Or a mentiaid might beguile you with her soJig; You might have a fine adventure With a cockatrice or centaur, Or spear tho great sea serpent with a prong. And the tales of all those olden-time explorers Lost nothing in the tolling, when they came, Describing to their nation Tho WoMders of creation, With illustrative comments on tho same; And they swallowed, holus-bolus, Every tale of Marco Polo’s. And never treated Mandevillo with doubt. They’d have thought it wicked—very To oppose a flippant query To the man Who’d been and gone and found it out. Bub the modern mind is. sceptical and chary Of travellers and all the tales they tell; And everything narrated Must be substantiated, And verified and guaranteed as well. We caught De Rougcmont lying, When he told of wombats flying, Although ho had it printed in a book; And the public merely snorted, When they heard the tale reported ; Of the finding of the Pole by Dr Cook. Tho latest tale of travel that has reached us, That someone has discovered, it appears, Some Chaldeans and soothsayers, In the haughty Himalayas, Who live beyond the common span of years— For truth perhaps, you’d match it With the cherry tree and hatchet, And Washington (who never told a lie); Bilt still, it’s such a rum thing, I’d like to know of something More definite to test the story by.