A VILLAGE ORACLE

Dominion, Volume 8, Issue 2285, 20 October 1914, Page 6

A VILLAGE ORACLE

GOOD WEATHER FOR THE WAR. If you want patriotism of fho good, quiet, obstinate English sort, you should come to "our village," says an English, -writer. If you desire patriotic deeds you will find them best in the harvest fields, where boys and-women are working along with the men til! the. stooks that were golden in the sun stand black and as stiff as sentinels under the evening star. If, on the other hand, you waoit words, como to the snug, reposeful parlcur of- the Shoo and Pheasant. In these days to witness their patriotic sense our village wjseacres, being patriotic, drink less hut talk a great deal more in the club parlour. One regular visitor, generally known as Old George, makes both his glass of beor and. his pipe last just as long as usual, but no has said rather less if anything. He is not one of those to be hurried, and , would hear of Armageddon without an increased heart-beat. A slight deafness assists his serene manner and quiet thoughts. The younger members are loss oajm. Two nights ngo they were imparting and discussing all sorts of strange, fantastic rumours, especially about our Expeditionary Force, when . someone turned round to Old George and asked him what he thought about tho war. "What war?" he asked. "I reckon them foreign wars don't make much difference to such as we." ■ The whole company turned on Old George and shouted details at him. Seven nations were fighting. Tho Meusy River was-running with blood. Our soldiors were off abroad. The militarywere camped on the common. A tremendous battle was being fought and , they did say you' could hear the guns from Margate. But if tlhe excited company hoped or expected to disturb O'ki George's serenity they wore to be dis-. appointed. Ho was not altogether unmoved, for he took his pipe from his mouth, which he eeldom does except to put tho glass in its place; but all that ho said was: "Well, anyway, they've got good , weather for it." You need good -weather for the harvest or & beanfeast or Sunday, why not for that other event, the war, that was how he felt; and why not? This is not a mado-up tale. Old George said these wise words in a homely little village inn just twenty-eight miles from London. Certainly there are hundreds liko him; scores who do not know, and perhaps thousands who do not realise, that England is at war and fighting for her life. "It is fino weather, anyhow."