NOTES TO HENRY

Maoriland Worker, Volume 10, Issue 447, 1 October 1919, Page 3

NOTES TO HENRY

from' TT^eiVag:

Dear Henry,—lt is said that Lord Nelson, the gentleman that won the battle of Waterloo, and whom the profiteers use when they want the Dubbs to work harder, owed all his success in life to the instructions given him by lis mother. Being a. bit ambitions and longing to follow in the footsteps of those great men who Lave done things and never been caught, I read and re-read the life of Nelson by Bernard Shaw, but. I never could find out what great instructions wore given by Nelson's mother. The nearest approach I ever got to some good advice (and I must admit it was helpful) was one pretty paragraph in a school book they nsed in one of the high-class schools of England, where I received my education. I am not going to mention the name of the school, because I don't want to do it an injury. Anyhow, I remember this paragraph, and I remember the pretty picture of the grey-haired old lady talking to a young boy of thirteen or fourteen years of age, and giving him parting advice. And this is what made a man or Nelson. "Horatio," said his mother, "you arc going away thousands of miles. You will not have your mother to sew on buttons and to mend the scats of your nicks. But, Horatio, there is one piece of advice that I want, to impress upon your youthful mind. No matter how you arc tempted, no matter in what company your lot may be cast, Horatio, remember my last words are— always wash the back of your neck." Now, Henry if a man can become great on a piece of advice like that, then I think the time has come when I should offer you a piece of advice. Henry, here it is—Get on the roll. Don't get a roll on, get on the roll. For many moons you have been blaming poor old Bill for all your troubles. It has not troubled poor old Bill a bit. Poor old Bill has been dining with Lords and.Dooks and Dookesses. It's no good blaming poor Bill. Bill has been very busy winning the war. The war is won, and they would have knighted Bill, but you see a knight has to wear knee breeches, and Bill's feet, are too big to go through a pair of knee _ ants. Now, for many moons Henry, you have been blaming poor Bill and Joe for all your troubles. Time's up, Henry, and you will have to lift the heel of your hoot off your own toe or you will still think someone else is hurting you. Get on the roll, Henry Dubb. Get on the roll and then send mc a sub. to pay the election expenses. Bill and Joe arc both Irishmen. One believes in an Orange God, the other in a Green God, but when it comes to fooling you they are color blind. Get on the roll, Mike. Get on the roll, Henry Dubb. The cop. on the corner is on the roll, Henry, old Grabitall and all his family are on the roll. Put Henrietta on the roll. Tell her she is entitled to a place in the sun, and you won't have to dodg&- the rolling-pin. Tell her that you are going to have her name in the society gossip, the same as Mrs. Jellicoe. Think, Henry, how nice it would be to open up your paper tomorrow and find it noted: "Lady Henrietta Dubb danced with Lord Grabitall. Lady Henrietta wore a beautiful thingamybob, made of ninone over noneon, with a flesh-colored foundation." Wake up, Henry, you can't expect Bill and Joe to do the things for you that you ought to do for yourself. Bill and Joe arc both Irishmen. Lovable fellows, and would he decent,, hard-working chaps, if you would give them a chance. You, Henry Dubb, remind mc of the two moonlighters that were waiting behind the hedge with loaded guns waiting for their landlord. One of them was on one side of the track hid in the bush, the other on the other side. They had waited a long time with their guns loaded and ready, but the landlord didn't show up. "Pat," gently called Mick. "What is it?" said Mick. "He's a long time coming!" "Yes," says Mick; 'I hope nothing's happened to the poor fellow." Now Henri', old man, for four years you have been squealing like a scalded cat. You have growled about the cost of living, you have growle.l about the ever-rising rent bill. You have sat there with your gun loaded for four years waiting for Bill and Joe. Say, Henry Dubb, are you now hoping nothing has happened to the poor fellows? Are you, Henry Dubb? Are you going to put the Liberals back for fear the Reformers will get in? Are you, Henry Dubb? Say, old man, lift your heel! It's your own toe you are standing on. Lift your heel. Come, come, Henry Dubb, they have got the candle in the same old scooped-out turnip to frighten you. They used to label this bogie, Socialism, now they call it Bolshevism. Say, Henry, lift the cloth it's only a turnip. Last month I was down at Timaru, and a little lady was telling mc about an incident that occurred at a hash foundry where she lodged. Only young ladies and young gentlemen lived at this particular chop factory. They used to be very polite to one another. The question under discussion was the shortening of hours for shop assistants. One young gentleman, who was a shop assistant, and bitterly opposed to unionism, was holding forth. "Ah, Miss Brown, I reckon these beastly union agitators are ruining the country. They cannot expect our employers to pay us wages unless we work all hours! How could they make their business pay?" And he looked around the table with that

economic smile which he used when he was explaining that the high price of silk -was caused through the "g. slow" policy of the silk worm. But one of the shop assistants at the table had been a reader of The MaoriU.n.l Worker. "Oh, go on," says she "we would have had shorter hours years ago if it hadn't been for the Dubbs." A returned soldier at the end of the table looked up and said, "Who is this Henry Dubb that causes so much trouble? lam always hearing about this Henry Dubb. I heard about him in the trenches, but I can never meet him." And the young lady looked at him for a moment and said, "And you fought and bled for your country for five shillings a day, and you never met Henry Dubb? Well, well, that's strange." That's the tragedy of this comedy, Henry, that so long as you remain a Henry, you don't know you arc a Henry. Bill and Joe knows the Henries all right. They know the dop_ that catches Henry. A little bit of "red, white and blue." A sob or two when the word Empire is mentioned. Their eyes turn upwards when they speak of a righteous war. Oh, yes, they know the Henries all right. Saw a soldier the other day who had lost an arm and was in a bad way financially, salute a gentleman that had won the war sixteen thousand miles away from France. You see, Henry, this soldier with the one arm had stopped a bullet. The other gentleman had stopped an 0.8.E.. The bullet had taken the soldier's arm, the 0.8. E. was right over the gentleman's heart. Oh, yes, it takes some pluck to stop an 0.8. E. decoration. But cheer up, Henry, we are a long time dead, and the sun's shining and there is plenty of work and a Dubb's a Dubb for a' that.—THE VAG.