THE LAND OF NO MORE WORK

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 2948, 13 October 1925, Page 4

THE LAND OF NO MORE WORK

A FRAUDULENT DREAM. Strikes! Strikes! Strikes! So tire tale goes on. Southampton, Durban, Melbourne, Sydney, Auckland, Wellington, Mount Morgan, etc. Mines, Railways, Shipping. It seems to matter little whether conditions' are good or bad. The well paid seamen of Australia are as prone to strike as the poorest paid labourers. In our ears forever are the cries of fresh demands. Eight hours a day —not content! Want seven, six. More ay, fewer hours, and the slack hand at work Strike! Strike! Strike! With these calls for less work, and still less, stirring through my mind I fell asleep. It is a long, long road that we see stretched out before us. My mate, Jack and I seem to have been tramping for ages. Ever the end seems near and yet recedes from us as we trudge on morning, noon and into the night. Our swags are up—“the curse of God” as Jack calls them —on our backs. “Looking for work?” Not much, we eertianly are not! We are on our way to the new country of which the Socialists have told us —the land' of “no more work.” There it is said everyone gets what he needs without trouble.

Though mighty tired we press on Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! On and ever on. “Say Jack, am I going silly. Is that a great wall down the roaid —look?” “My oath, it’s a wall,” replies Jack. “See what is written on it, ‘the citadel of hope — no more toil.’ ” With a rush we sprang forward and soon were facing a very large gate. This gate swung inward at our touch. With a cry of jubilation we stepped inside. Before us was a great city. Tall buildings, huge works factories, docks, ships, warehouses, loomed out in front of us. “Let us take 'this street,” said Jack. “We must go and have a feed first thing.” We marched down a broad street and then down a narrow thoroughfare What struck me as strange was the quietness of the place. Then we met’a group of men who somehow seemed very doleful in this city of freedom. In answer to my questions one of them told me he did not know where we could get a meal because everybody who could supply one was on strike.

He informed us that the great strike had started just a week before we came. As to who was in it, he quickly informed us that everybody had struck. “You see,” he said “ ‘the right to strike’ has always been recognised and now everybody has decided to put it into practice.” “This is the land of no more work,” I said. “Sure,” he replied with a grin—“hope you may like it.” So. everybody had struck. Capitalist and labourer, merchant, magistrate, housewife. We saw at a glance that all we could get we must take.

The next two days were certainly hell. It was just afternoon when the storm broke. Riot and plunder tame on the c-ity as an avalanche. There were no police and no military—at least they were strikers and forced by the same law as others to live by force. Quickly rapine lead to bloodshed and the (lames of: incendiarism were.added. “Let us get out of this damned city,” cried '.Jack, and needless to say I agreed with him. We miade together for the Wall. Looking up at it we saw written in letters of blood —“the City of Despair.” , After travelling round the base of the wall for some distance we at last found the gate. It was a great deal more difficult to open the gate from the inside than it had been from the outside. We remembered, however, that it is always easier to get into trouble than to get out. At length by almostsuper human efforts we got it open and rushed through, followed by a number of other poor wretches who were near this exit.. Jack was fairly demented with joy. “I’m off to find a job,” he shrieked —“no more strike mania for me.” As he ran down the road I could hear him singing:— Thank God for toil and blissful ease, With these I envy none who live. My feet on earth, the sun as heaven please, - Serving' I gain, and gaining still I give. Just then there was a mighty explosion and wheeling round I saw the whole city of “no more work” going up in flames. I staggered back and fell, hitting myself hard on the back of my head. So I awoke —and just in time. I saw a flame alright but it was due to the burning draperies around my bed which I speedily extinguished. The fact is I had gone to sleep in bed and left the candle burning whilst reading about strikes! strikes! and still more strikes. Contributed by the New Zealand Welfare League.)