BY THE WAY

Evening Star, Issue 22893, 26 February 1938, Page 3

BY THE WAY

EBy X.Y.]

" The time has ecme,” the Walrus said, ‘I To talk of many things.’!

As I have never seen Herr Hitler except in photographs, which usually show him standing on tiptoe and holding one arm aloft, I am not sure in my own mind whether he is a small or a medium-sized man. As far as I can gather, however, the general opinion out here is that he is a smallish man. Whether or not this is because people seize on a similarity in moustaches as an excuse to associate him with Charlie Chaplin is not quite clear. _ If, indeed, the stature of Herr Hitler is not great, one might be justified in putting the question: “ Little man, what now?” _ Whenever the Fuhrer feelri that his power is on the wane he does something “ in the interests of Germany ” which sets his followers cheering and parading and strutting. This display of exuberance carries the Nazis on until the people again become restless under the yoke, and another diversion by way of a coup or a big policy speech becomes necessary. It’s a shrewd game Hitler is playing, but it is being so constantly reiterated that it is a wonder the people cn masse have not seen through it long ago. It has been truly said that the Germans, politically, are children. The same juvenile attitude towards Fascism can be discerned in. the Italians. . Perhaps it is this common frailty that has made possible the establishment of the Berlin-Rome axis.

Great Britain, steadfast to democratic principles, laughs at her Fascists. Sir Oswald Mosley, who may fancy himself as a coming Fuhrer or Duce, is regarded only as a clown and one of the temporary sights of _ London when he and his cohorts decide to march. On© author of a hook which I read recently compares-a Fascist leader with a monkey on a stick. We can appreciate his point when he remarks that, while we can laugh at a monkey as long as he does not become more than mischievous, we somehow lose our sfense of humour when he starts shying cocoanuts at us or playing with bombs. Britons can still dismiss their own Fascist-monkeys lightly, but the rest of the aggressive brood are going to take a power of watching.;

Of course, an indictment : 'of Fascism should not necessarily be interpreted as a pat on the back for the Bolshevists, who, in a less blatant way, are probably more dangerous than the lads revolving on the Berlin-Home axis. In fact, if there had been no Bolshies there might have been no Fascists. I have already remarked ' that Hitler is playing a shrewd game. But his antics are the soul of. ingenuousness compared with the schemings of Karl Marx’s budding beauties. 1 think that if we go back far enough we shall find that the trouble in Spain has been cleverly started by the Reds with their insidious propaganda. Leastways, their activities have given opposing camps a good excuse to break loose. France might have gone the same way as Spain if Great Britain’s example as a successful democracy and her encouraging influence had nqjt been the means of keeping the democratic system there on a more or less workable basis.

Despite Cabinet dissension, from which she will no doubt make her cus.tomary recovery, old Britain is getting along quite well, thank you. She doesn't need any pact with Soviet Russia to give her a guaranteed security. There would not be much of a guarantee about it, any way, Soviet agents are quietly having a wonderful time in most European countries—gradually getting foreign affairs shaped much to their own liking, in fact. What is puzzling them for the moment, however, is how to work up a stranglehold on the British Empire and the United States, the two 1 great Powers which are the final barrier between Russia and her ambitions. Must be tantalising to observe some of our people coming over all pinkish, but no more. Possibly the Soviet thinks its chance will come if it can set the Fascist countries and the democracies fighting each other. Mr Chamberlain may be right. In view of what lurks in the background, it may be important to preserve Anglo-Italian relations at all costs. •.* • * When nations did unpleasant things, We used to lay the blame on kings. If every monarch’s reign should cease, Behold (we said) the Dawn of Peace! Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And Majesties be democrats, With walking sticks and bowler 'hats. So Manoel to Lisbon said “ Adios,” packed his bag, and fled. Murad forsook the Golden Horn, And Wilhelm sidled off to Doom. Princes and courts ~ Of divers sorts Decamped precipitately, banned From reigning in the Fatherland. Vienna, with a wrathful snarl, Administered the boot to Karl. Unlucky Nicholas was slain; Alfonso found the air of- Spain Too warm by far, Cranked up his car, And went before the torrid breeze, Beyond the snowy Pyrenees. While—as for Vic. Emmanuel, No intellect on earth can" tell Exactly what he does at Rome, Except to warble ‘ Home, Sweet Home.’Well, I suppose 111 Duce knows; But no one else can guess, I’m sure, What Mussolini keeps him for. So now (except for peoples such As Scandinavians, Belgians, Dutch, Who still, for reasons of their own, Retain the Sceptre, Crown, and Throne) All Europe should , . (Be kind and good. At any rate, it seems to me That that is how it_ ought to be. If war should come, I wonder how We’ll find a set of scapegoats now ? Dictators look the likeliest ones, Or folk who make the bomlbs and guns; For who’d proclaim That any blame Could rest—for all this gory mess, On man’s inherent cussedness ?

It must be encouraging for office workers to note that their new award makes the stipulation that in offices where six or more girls are employed a couch must be provided “ in case of temporary indisposition.” The inference, of course, is that the couches are to be used by the girls only, but, Judging from developments in our social legislation, which is perpetually seeking something more, I should think it will not bo long before couches are provided for everybody, including the office boys. From that it is only a step to the inauguration of the good _ old Spanish custom, the hour of the siesta. I must confess to more than a sneaking fondness for the idea of the siesta.

That afternoon nap, when we can get it without disturbing the conscience, is good, for us and most refreshing. A cup of tea after it and' we are fit for many hours of concentrated and redoubled energy. The adoption of the hour of the siesta, in summer at any rate, might be better for the Dominion than the forty-hour week. 1

Sleep at times is a _ tricky, evasive state. You never quite know when you are going to taste its soundest qualities. Take too much supper and you find that dreams, and possibly nightmares, effectively bar the way to sweet repose. Neglect to take a satisfying supper if you are in the_ habit of having something, and you quickly feel conscious of an aching void which makes it difficult to get wafted over into unconsciousness at all. Some men I know declare that while they always feel the desire for an afternoon 40 winks they do not easily woo sleep at night. “ Most annoying ” is the general verdict. As a matter of fact, I think it is this feeling of annoyance that encourages insomnia. When persons can’t sleep they grow irritable and begin worrying about the next day and the dreadful time they expect to have ploughing through their work in a weary and mentally fogged condition. One friend of mine goes for a walk every night of his life just before turning in. He finds that for him this simple remedy does the trick. For the benefit of others not so easily benefited by a walk I feel impelled to throw out reminder of Dubois’s advice: “ Don’t look for sleep; it flies away like a pigeon when one pursues it.” In other words, the best way to learn to sleep is not to care whether you sleep or not. Attention to anything keeps the mind awake and, most of all, attention to sleep. The fact is that we do nof need unconsciousness so much if wo manage to lie calmly and contentedly and relaxed in mind and body, believing, as we have every right to do, that Nature, minute by minute, is restoring us for another day.

The evidence in favour of Dunedin getting a haircut, a shoeshine, and a general overhaul of its outward appearance is piling up. No visitor can come here nowadays without giving us a critical opinion of our streets and tramcars or without urging us not to rely on Mother Nature to furnish us with our only beauty spots. Within the city walls, too, are many residents who are not sure that all is being done that could be done to keep the place up to a desired standard of cleanliness. Without a doubt the main street pavements, in particular, do not see enough water. Shopkeepers are still encouraged to do part of the City Corporation’s work for it by making the dust fly early in the morning, inevitably when there are passers-by. It is a primitive procedure this, much in keeping with the ash bin policy of the corporation. What is badly needed is a hearty search for a formula (formulas are all the rage in Europe just now) to make the City Council do its duty. _ If the electors have any sense they will find a formula very soon. # # * ,

A Democratic coat, I may assert, Is on my back. I would not change it for a fancy shirt, Red, brown, or black, The Stalin-Hitler-Mussolini kind I must condemn, Though Continental folk may feel inclined To worship them. It’s glorious to be a Democrat, By which is meant Possession of a right to grumble at The Government; To criticise in detail and at length What they’re about; And gather up sufficient voting strength To turn them out.

So, when election time is drawing near. In every place Diverse and various candidates appear To state their case. It seems quite reasonable, by the way, That folk should -bide ! _ Till every candidate has had his say, And then decide. But here Democracy, one must confess, Is very weak, Through mere vociferous unwillingness To hear men speak. A hearing is the right of every man, And yet—with some— Unthinking asses promptly start a panDemonium. A meeting’s advertised, to be addressed By A or B. His friends arrive, together with the rest Who disagree. The former, consequently, aren’t allowed To hear his views, Which same are stifled by the latter crowd * With yells and “ boos.” If this, of course, were done by either side, • It might be checked. Some compromise would probably be tried To good effect. But thus it is—though Reason sheds no light On “ why ” and “ how ” It always' is the Left and not the Right Who make the row. A reasonable man, however bored,. Will keep his seat, And, if he’s unimpressed, will not applaud With hands or feet. Ho counts the interjection, yell, or roar Not worth a rap, And registers dissent by voting for The other chap. So if by chance a Labour seat is wooed By Adam’s side, And all the audience listen, quite subdued And petrified, You’ll know that they are not inclined to change; But, likewise, that Your Labour man’s becoming (which is strange) A Democrat!