THINGS THAT HAPPEN.

Maoriland Worker, Volume 1, Issue 4, 15 December 1910, Page 16

THINGS THAT HAPPEN.

Dear Editor, —Here I am ! The fates have decreed that I should remain here ! What an outburst of laughter amongst my friends ! For, he it understood, I said good-bye to kind friends. I can hear those gentle ladies exclaim, "What will happen next?"' "Those foreigners are all the same." Yes, they are ; that is why I am still here, and will remain. It think it's lovely to do just the opposite to what you intended doing. In fact, we foreigners have still in our veins a spark of romanticism — nothing of that puritanical preciseness which characterises John Bull and Co. I wish the workers would just do the opposite to what they intend doing. Things would go then. We would not see then the whole show disorganised, may I say rather reorganised. What a pitiable show it is! Think of it; consider for one moment this glorious civilisation of ours. How much energy waited ! How much hypocrisy created day by clay ! And yet there is Dr Henry touring this country telling the people about the Anglo-Saxon race. We ought to go about in sackcloth and ashes for the things we have done. I see the people stupefied, their lives dull, only occasionally enlivened by some artificial movement called Jingoism. Then they are. like babes, requiring toys to look upon, Dreadnoughts, crowds, soldiers with glittering uniforms. In fact, they love the golden calf. Their houses are inartistic, their dress is colourless, their music is vulgar, poetry they have none. In fact, their environment makes them what they are. What a world to live in ! and yet I have decided to stop. I already had booked my passage homewards, even spent a night on the steamer from Lvttelton to Wellington, and

then comes Robert. "You must stop: you can't go away." He even goes to the steamer, and sees that ray belongings are hauled out from the cabin. The steward whom I have promised something to look after rue gives mc an inquiring look at leaving. I can hear this white-dressed slave exclaim. "Oh, these foreigners are always changeable. ,5 Now, Robert, it is your doing. The charge is upon your shoulders, through you I am remain ins in " God's Owa. Country." And what a country re is, where the labour leaders are supposed to bark like dogs. Personally, the bark of" a dog is a sign of discoutentedness. Then go on, you gentle creatures ! Bark on ! Frighten the intruder who has got all the meat whilst you toilers have the naked bones. Bark on till your voice is heard throughout the land. Awaken the democracy that is asleep, and. as I am remaining- here (for, after all. I am a roaming agitator, who has no country because somebody else has it), 1 will help you too.—Yours, etc.. Feilding, 1/12/1910. J. I. FOX.