THE PROUD HAND.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 13980, 16 August 1909, Page 2

THE PROUD HAND.

\\ \=;PECT OF THE INDUSTRIAL " " " PROBLEM. (By Harold Bcgbie.) She pushed her way to the hus stair, and ascended to the top. carrying in her hand a. paper parcel,, which contained her dinner. Something in the conductor's manner, when he came for her fare, made this girl thoughtful. She glanced for a moment, with a measuring contemplation, at his petulant face, anil took the ticket, which he thrust at her with a deliberate slowness. When he had passed on she turned her gaze to the shops, houses, and pavements on the side of the road nearest to her, and reflected.

She thought to herself, •• What a lot of people there .are in London who get their bread without making anything for sale. This conductor does nothing but collect pennies. If ah invention were made for taking bus-fare* it would not render the nation any poorer. I am one of the producers. I make things. I help to keep the country rich. All these other people could not live if it were not for me." "NON-PRODUCERS." . Then she amused herself by noticing as she went along all the various men and women who are carried through life on the backs of the producers. To begin with, there was this illmannered bus-conductor; just ahead of her was the driver. She looked forward and saw that the great road was filled with drivers of vehicles—motorcars, huses, vans, carriages, pcst-office carts, market-waggons, trams, and cabs —aii endless tide of wheeled movement controlled by men who contributed nothing to the wealth of the country. "There must he thousands of them, thousands," she thought. Then she observed policemen, roadswee[>crs, postmen. They were handsomely clothed. They looked comfortable and well-fed. She was conscious of their superiority. None of these produced anything. If all such people in England were added up r they would represent quite a little army. Next to her was a clerk, reading.his morning paper and smoking his pipe. He was well-dressed. He lived'better than she did. He produced nothing. There must be thousands and thousands of clerns.

The bus stopped at a corner of the street. She looked into the windows of a large hotel. What a lot of servants must be necessary for so huge an establishment! She began to think of all the cooks, parlourmaids, housemaids, butters, footmen, waiters, hall porters, liftmen, and window cleaners employed in London, employed in all the great towns, employed all over England. What a multitude! What an army! And this great host could not exist if it were not for the producers. They themselves added not a penny to the wealth of the nation. Millions lived in that fashion. MORE OF THEM, s As the bus moved forward she looked into the windows of endless shops. The doors were just opening. The assistants were pouring in like a crowd at a theatre. The girl was amazed at the-thought that all these thousands of men and women did nothing for the wealth of the country. They displayed what the producers had made, received money for it, and there ended their usefulness. They contributed nothing. In a sense they were ju.st a.s much drones as the idle rich. And what an uncountable host they represented ! She supposed that several millions of men and women got their living in this way. The .shops of London alone accounted for a multitude, but in all the cities, towns, villages, and hamlets there were people earning daily bread by standing behind a counter. Millions of them! A couple of sailors, liberty men, came walking down the middle of the pavement. They were smiling cheerfully, glancing at each other every now and then as they talked together. Behind them came a soldier. AS ell, these jolly fellows were also carried on the hacks of the producers. They seemed to thrive well enough. They looked hearty and hale. She thought it must be nice for a man to be a sailor, a soldier, a policeman, or a postman—they certainly appeared more respectable and cheerful than the workers, the producers, who seemed to have grey skins and a settled melancholy in the eyes. There were hundreds of thousands of such happy people. She thought of hundreds of thousands of pensions. She noticed a theatre and thought of the actors and actresses who live like princes and princesses. She thought of all the servants engaged in a theatre. Then she noticed a newspaper office. She thought to herself, ".1 suppose a few thousands of people get their living that way. Tliey are like actors, and the cabmen, and the servants. They don't help to make a country rich." The bus passed under a railway bridge. '"' Why," she thought, "how many men earn wages on the railways of England:-'—it must he hundreds and hundreds of thousands! And not one of them does what 1 do: not one of them manufactures.''

She smiled quietly to herself. In her slow and quits simple brain this thought was working with increased force. .->he sat up.. straightened her young hack, squared her shoulders, and Idled hi r lunns with air. She had become proud. "It seems to me," she thought, chesrfully, " that i urn the only one in the streets to-dav who is a real worker. I support Jjbndon. I make England. If it was not for me none cf these people could exist. Merchants and clerks —what do they do?—bankers, solicitors, judges, barristers, insurance folk, shop-keepers, clergymen, writers, painters, actors, servants, drivers, railway men, politicians, soldiers, sailors, cabmen, policemen, postmen, newspaper boys, servants —what are all these but crossing sweepers taking money from the manufacture? It is not they who make the British Empire. They've nothing to do with it. They only sponge on those who do. If we could invent machines to do their work we should save a lot of money. I d like to tell them what I think of theui '." THE AWAKKXING. She got down near St. Paul's Cathedral. As .she passed the bus conductor she said: " Cheer up, mate. I don't mind keeping you and giving yuw your wages. You're only one of thousands who live on me." ''What are you talking about?" lie demanded. She laughed and. walked on. He called after her, as he pulled the bell. "Pity you didn't go to school and learn how to behave yourself." She thought. " I forgot the schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. There must be a. few hundreds of them. CJond Heavens, what a lot of people 1 keep!" The class that most interested her present mood was the domestic servant. It seemed to her that, there must be millions of them scattered about the houses of the nation. Millions of servants! If only they produced .something useful, something that could be sold, Low rich the country would be. These servants called themselves workers. But the manufacturer paid their wages. They did nothing for the nation.

"When she reached the door of the faef>rv -he said to herself. " Here's where the work of England is done! Here's the place that pays all the wages oi these millions of useless people! :Uy place in the world! Mine. I'm Britannia herself." She was stopped in the entrance. A few words sent her thoughs into si di'erent channel. Work was slack. She and some thirty other hands were discharged •Vs she walked away with one ol her friends she said. '•Well. I've got to no something- There's mother ami three younger ones depending on me. 1.1 try and get them to lake me on at Savory's." ••You needn't fret yourself that von'll starve." said her friend. '• I shall if I can't get corset work, replied the girl. ••YVhv:-" •• Because T can't do anything else. '•There's something every girl can do to get a living," said the friend. •' What do you take me I'qrr" '• You can go as a servant."