NOTES to HENRY from The Vag

Maoriland Worker, Volume 6, Issue 243, 13 October 1915, Page 4

NOTES to HENRY from The Vag

Henry, junior, was asked by his teacher: "Junior, if you had ten apples and you gave Billy Smith ninoeighths, what would ' you have?" Junior instantly replied: "I'd have m© blooming head read." Now, Henry, dear, if you would follow Junior's advice, you would havo your head read. Dou't sing out to "Maw" to get the strap, just quietly get your head read. There's something wrong with your napper. It's no good blaming Bill tho Jjuster. It's no good blaming our only baronet. It's no good blaming Mr. Liverpool. Tho fault lies with you, Henry. Every adult in this Dominion on ono day in every three years has equal power with tho gentlemen referred to. The gentlemen referred to know what they want and they voto for it. Henry Dubb knows what he doesn't want, and ho votes for it. If you vote for tho things you don't want, and get them—well, you ought to follow Junior's advice. The Canterbury Trades Council was recently addressed by a gentleman who knows what ho wants, and ho knows what tho workers don't want, but he wants tho workers to want tho things that they don't want, and Holy Miko keeps neutral, for blessed if he hasn't nearly persuaded Henry to come into another scheme and to put shackles on his own feet. There's never a worker jailed but what a. fellow worker builds the prison. There's never a worker shot but what a fellow worker fires the gun. OI workers of th© world, unite, unite. Four years ago the Canterbury Trades Council was waited upon by a little clique of gentlemen and advised to help them get 33 1-3 per cent tariff for this country. They told a nice little story. They told of how there would be more work for Henry—and Ql Henry ,worships that word "Work." A littlo group of Socialists sitting iv ono corner prevented that little confidence trick being brought off successfully. A year passod away, a.nd the same little clique, under a different title, got a section of the workers —tho iron workers —together, and tried thp same little gamp on. But that little band of Socialists, who never sleep, asked questions, brought down literature, and again the try-on failed. The war camo ou. 0, herq's a chance. Henry's a patriot. We'll get him tfiis time, and the same little' band of baton advocates got together. A meeting was called. Germany and German goods and everything made in Germany was damned by bell, book, 'and candle. Patriots all—of course. A Board of Trade's the game. It sounds nice, and Henry won't know what it means. It was brought down to the Trades Council, but" this time it got kindly but firmly dumped to Hickey's storeroom. But we must give our friends credit; they are sticking to their trenches. They covered their guns with beautiful flowers and sent ono of their generals along wivh a "white -flag." He is a clever nu.i; we lift our hats to him. He told his story iv a gentle, purring way. He agreed wo were right in turning down the other "gold brick" the con. men tried to sell us. He admitted jt wasn't eighteen carat, and he would not havo anything to do with it. But hero was a real gold brick; thero was no deception about this. It was twentytwo carat. Wo would try the acid on it. If it didn't fizzle to the acid test, then it must bo the real Mclyie. He didn't want to put) us to too much trouble. Ho would supply us with thp acid. All he wanted was to let every worker -havo a 'gold brick. And you could look around that audienco and pick the Dubb family easily. Gold bricks —that's the game. Why it's better than a "Tat."' It's .something for nothing. Wo'll givo it a go. Tho carats in this brick aro liko tho carrots hung oyer the donkey's head. Henry will never get tliem. Ifc remains to bo seen what the Council will do with this real, shiny, extra refined, beautiful gold brick. The City of Churches collects the house garbage and the road garbage. Every drunk when he has finished eating his crayfish drops the little claws and tho house the smelly fish lived in into the gutter, knowing full well that Henry Dubb, the City collector, wjll be around in the rooming to "gather them in." The City collector gets 9s. 4d. per day for doing tfiis work. Compared with the Governor ho ought to get nine pounds per /day. But that's another story, All 4 Baba. All this garbage is taken'to the City destructor. The destructor is in tho centre of the city. For years horses and drays have been used to cart this "microbious, germiferou." collection around and around. All day long thero is a steady stream of weary horses and weary men parading to and from the purifying furnace. One of the things this Vag. cannot understand is why our West End parasitic class allowed the destructor to be placed where it is. - "The wise men came from tho East," so the story goes; but they showed a lack of wisdom in going west and allowing all the smoke from the destructor funnel to settle on their lawn tennis courts. But, again, that is another story, 0 kingl What this Vag wishes to do is to move a vote of thanks to tho man who introduced tho electrio motor to carry the garbage to market. I can quite understand why the averago undertaker, with a beautiful box of polished wood with silver likes to go as slow as possible through the city. The procession is an advt. for his nibs. lt'3 a thing of j(sy. Everybody likes to sco a funeral. But tho, carting of tho remains of tho household cat, or tho cabbago and spuds aud things like that, is not a thing of joy, especially when it's carted from house to houso in a huge dray that a horso can scarcely pull along. Wo havo got an electric motor now. Whizz, bang, whiff!—and away she goes. Wo shall soon have an electrio broom for our streets. What did you say, Henry?