QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume XXXIV, Issue 4531, 23 February 1923, Page 1

QUEER SIDE OF THINGS.

THE HOUSE OF LABOUR. (By “Septimus.”) “We all realise it too late,” said Artemus. "Realise what top' late ?” I asked. . “The mistakes we make when attempting to achieve success,” he replied. ; Artemus was a succtessful man. Years ago, when I first knew Bum, he confided to me that he had discovered the panacea for all evils —work. Then I just listened. He perspired witn enthusiastic contemplation of his new “cure.” I cannot, remember all he z said, or .how I managed to reply in such a way as not to damp the ardour of his ambitious spirit. Artemus pressed on. He was a land agent in Pingpong town, and he “saw” possibilities. New lines of communication opened. In all directions lay new avenues for the development pit Arte’ mus and Co. Artemus became the controller of a large staff, and,, being human, and an egoist, the member?, provided splendid material fori conversion to th® “great cure.” Of course they could not expect any additional pay for the ever-increal&ing .’hours. Oh, no. It was an honour, etc., to have an opportunity of participating in the work of promoting the business of which Artemus was the dynamic force. He was a builder, engaged in the erection of a house of labpur in which he would one day find himself the sole occupant. Men came and went, for, said they, “it is well that we should work, but should we not also HVe. ?” Now, Artemus heeded not t,his “twaddle.” “Dive,” said he; “do I not live ?” and, 10, the house labour grew into’a mighty edifice, wherein was heard only the footfalls of the builder. Outside there was sunshine, where men lived and took from life the fruits of sufficient toil. Still Artemus clung to his ideal, and though I visited .many lands and lived among living things, I occasionally heard success coupled with the name of Artemus and Co. And when we again met, though I anticipated the failure of his success. I was unprepared for, what ihe said. "Mistakes,” I murmured; “sure—”

“Don’t.” he said, with ,a far-off look, as if he had for many years searched in vain for the “playground” ;h,e voluntarily deserted. “I know what you would say,” he continued. “You are right. I pave made work a viceclung to it desperately as the man does who is afraid to trust himself with idlp moments. It’s a. pity we can't see these things' at the time,” he said, hesitatingly. “From an enthusiast I. became an extremist. I saw nothing but work—toil, service, success. When any of my clerks wanted to get away on the tick of the clocks I despised l them as lazy, ambitipnless. I didn’t realise that human beings are lovable, or that, having done ‘a fair thing,’ they should wish to escape from the .house of labour and find what joy they could from the greatest source of human happiness—social intercourse. I know now, but—“Surjely success has repaid you,” I interrupted. ‘T|t would have,” hie replied, “if it had been honestly achieved.” "Honestly achieved,” I said, in surprise,’ for Artemus’ methods' were never questioned. “Yes, honestly achieved,” he repeated. “When I built my house of labour I stole time that should have been devoted to my fellow. men. I became intoxicated with thie effort of it all. Oh, yes,” 119 said, as I attempted to interrupt him, “it is quite true. For I made a god of work, and habit, like a huge octopus, has got me as securely as dope enslaves a dope fiend. I live in a house of labour.” “And wihat would you have ?” I asked. , “What would I have,” he replied. “I would have moderation. Toil to succeed, but not, all toil; drink to quench thirst, but not .all drink; the joys of life, but not all joy. Come," he added ,“I will show you.” We walked through the now mighty city of Pingpong. It was 5.30' p.m.. We came to the suburbs —cottages, gardens, the homes where people who had done a moderate day’s work turned their minds tp the acts and joys of living. At One home we stopped for a moment. Three children played on a lawn. “I discharged their father years ago,” s,aid Artemus. A young woman came but on the lawn and joined her children. A's: we retraced our steps 1 caught, a glimpse of Artemus’ meaning, and as we parted he confirmed' my impression. "We should live,” he said. “There are no pattering feet, no laughter, no life in the house of labour.”