FOR YOUR SCRAPBOOK

Grey River Argus, 25 February 1942, Page 7

FOR YOUR SCRAPBOOK

THE TWO ROADS Young men, life is before you. Two voices are calling you—one joining out from the swamps of selfishness and force, where success means death; and the other from the hilltops of justice and progress, where even failure brings glory. Two lights are seen in your horizon—one the fast fading marsh light of power, and the other the slowly rising sun “human brotherhood. Two, ways he open before you, one leading to an even-lower and lower plain, where are heard the cries of despair and the curses of the poor, where manhood shrivels and possession rots down the possessor; and the other leading to the highlands of the morning where are heard the glad shouts of humanity and where honest effort is rewarded with y Xltgeld. SHADES OF KING CHARLES “So many failures in this war have , nromoted, decorated, elevated exiled with honour that the ißriifXbSre'"" production for use It is only in so far as the Em•L lose their predatory surplus value-seeking characters ancl begin ■ • their economies upon tne basis 0 pXtion for use, that they ean become organisms capable of peacefully living THE BETRAYAL OF AUSTRIA When we (Austria) were ulti--7 i defeated by Fascism, it was ma t niass revolt like those Si Italy and Germany which conoueJed our country, but a treachernurturing Fascist Government °Dolfuss-Schusnigg) which crpshe u? by the overwhelming weight of its armed forces^ Julius B raunthal. THINK FOR YOURSELF The only way in which one human being can properly attempt to influence another is the encouraging

him to think for himself, instead of endeavouring to instil ready-made opinions into his head. —Sir Leslie Stephen. THE SOCIALIST SEER, He said: “I see.” And they said: “He's crazy; crucify him.” He still said: “I see.” And they said: “He’s an extremist.” And they tolerated him. And he continued to say: “I see.” And they said: He s eccentric.” And they rather liked him, but smile t d at him. And he stubbornly said again: “I see.” And they said,: “There’s something in what he says.” And they gave him half an ear. But he said as if he’d never said it before: “I see.” And at last they were awake; and they gathered about him and built a temple in his name. And yet he only said: “I see.” And they wanted to do something for him. “What can we do to express our regret?” He only smiled. He touched them, with the ends of 1 his fingers and kissed them. What could they do for him? “Nothing more than you have done,” he answered. And what was that? they wanted to know. “You see,” he said, “that's reward enough; you see, you see.” —From “The Prophet,” Horace Traubel.

OFFENDER. I am Chang, a Chinese coolie, I wield a rebel pen, The slave I was of an Indian prince, I’m a hundred different men. I sweat at the Equator, I seek a living at the Pole, I sow the wheat, I weave and spin, Mould steel and mine the coal. I’m Chang, I’m Arnaud, Jean and Joe, I’m Ivan bold and free, I’m French, Italian, British, Greek, Mine all the land and sea. I sing now in a common tongue, At the gates of a city strong, I sing as I have never sung This international song: Russia is my better self, The enemy my worst, My face is to the future; The Fascist cause is cursed. Sad lives I’ve had to suffer Are gone—the new is here! I am the pulse of Leningrad; I’m a faith that knows no fear. —Q. in “Common Cause,” 10/1/42.