The A.B.C. of Profit and Rent.

Maoriland Worker, Volume 3, Issue 44, 12 January 1912, Page 11

The A.B.C. of Profit and Rent.

_ + By E. R. HARTLEY.

.fohn Fvergreeu took his wife and her mother to Loudon, and learned several lessons. John was a somewhat bitter anil-Socialist. When he had been spenking strongly against the Socialists one day, his wife asked him:

■■What- is this Socialism that makes you s<» angry!-'"

"Oh!" said John. "I don't know exactly. It appears as if they wanted to share things out. I supiioso if they divided all the wealth to-day, in a few mouths the wastrels, when they had spent their share, would want to redivide. | don't believe in the idlers being as well off as (he workers. If ■.you Id In> a cruel wrong to allow people who never will work to take part oi the earnings of those who work." "Yes, 1 suppose so. It was thai which made you so angry when Lord llilloughby put another i'o a year on your rent, after you had broken up and enclosed those three acres of moor, wasn't itr Js Lord Hilloughbv a Socialist:-"'

"Not likely! He's vice-president of tho Anti-Socialist Union. He sent mc a circular inviting mc to join; that is why I sent a .subscription."

"f don't understand, John! He only knocked off ."is. from the shooting rents lor that piece of moor, and he charged yon p,."i for it as farm land. Yet yon did the work. I remember bow many months of hard labor you put into those three acres, yet yon only get more work. \\V didn't'get £C> for the cropx off those three acres, neither last year nor Ihe year before, and Lord l'ilhioghby had P. 9 10s of it,"

"Steady, lass, steady! My greatgrandfather had this farm, and more than -10 of the (ill acres have been broken up and enclosed from the moor by members of our family. My grandfather built that barn, almost with his own hands. Crandmothcr helped as much as she could, but with four children and ten cows she was fairly busy. And my father was only a lad of 12. though they were as proud of their .share of the work a.s grandad himself." "That is what I want you to explain. When you said last night you would hang all these Socialists if you had your way, I woke up just before daybreak thinking about it. You wouldn't hurt- a dog, John. Yet you threatened to hang men." "I'm sorry, my dear," said .John, taking her little hand between his two great horny palms. "I didn't really mean I'd kill them: but my patience gives way when 1 think of these men wanting to take- the result of other men's work." "That is just what 1 want you to explain. Your great-gnt-ndfather took this farm from Lord Hollougliby's grandfather. Mow much rent did he pay:-'" "Oh! the farm was only 18 acres then, with the land in very poor fettle, and very poor buildings. The rent was only £•_'•"> a year in tlu-m days." "How much is it now'r" '•Jin paying .£l2"> now, but shouldn't wonder if they ask more. There is a demand for farms about this size and kind." "Mut if it was only worth £2o then, ivliy is it worth £120 now:-" ''lb-cause then- are a good GO acres of useful land and as fine a lot of farm buildings as you will lind within of) miles." "That is exactly what I want to understand. You and your fathers put up all these new buildings:-" ''Yes." interrupted John, "but his lordship.allowed,us to get the stone from his quarry, and most of the timber came from the estate. All that we found was the slates and a few bricks and the mortar." "And the labor." iiitorrupte.d his wife. "Of course," said John, "you could scarcely expect either Lord Billoughby or his steward to do the work." The very thought made John laugh, but his wife only smiled very faintly.

"Excuse mc, dear, but I cannot understand it all. You and your fathers took a farm which was only worth £25 a year. Ry hard work, and many years of patient toil you have enclosed nearly -13 acres of land which before were only barren moorland. You have put up a goodly set of buildings, and all you have got is the privilege of paying £100 a year more rent for what, after all, is but paying rent on the work you have done. It appears lome, John," she said, very shyly, "that his lotdship and his father before him have for a long time being dong the very thing you" said the Socialists were wanting to do." "Why, what's that?" said John eagerly. "People who never work, taking part of the earnings of those who work." "Oh, come! His lordship would never do that. He's a gentleman." "Aren't you a gentleman, Jolin?" "Oh, no. I'm a yeoman." This he said proudly. "What is a gentleman, John." "Well, I can't quite tell you that offhand." "Shouldn't it mean a man who is yen-tie, good-mannered, well-behaved, and kind?" "Yes, I suppose it should mean that." "Then," with a bright blush, "I should call you a gentleman, John." •'I hope I'll always be kind and well-behaved, my dear, but you cannot call mc a gentleman." Here John stood np and looked at his farmer's boots and clothing. "Would you say our landlord was a gentleman?" his wife persisted. ''Certainly." said John, with eiupha81*.

"W w tb*t why yow wer* «« ainiauN t.r» si'tut the door when he, stumbled over bis dog last time he wan h«»rer lIU litiigii*g>» was none too roll nod, nod I *omotirinM think I can still hear the poor dug's crins y«t: iio whipjwd her so i-ru-eily." "Well, my dear. h« has the. It.illougliby temper, you know, and his mother was a very cruel woman, they say." •'lint, isn't th:tt saying he is nob a gentleman r" 'Nay, nay! Mc wan boriJ a gentlenimi." 'Thai is another thing I cannot understand. No matter how rough and cnud :t man is. we say he vra.s horn gentle, then describe itiui as a gentleman." Mrs- Fvcrgrcoti sighed, then said, "'l'm glad you're not one of those ■genf lemon,' .John." ''What kind of a bee have you got into your honied flu's time, little woman!'" said .John, cheerfully, rising to go out to his work. "Nothing, except thankfulness that you aiv» only a yeoman ami not a 'real gentleman.' If you were, you might have a cruel temper, indulge in vile language, and take every war a bundled pounds, the earnings of other men, and the result-of other men'.s previous work."

Wben John got out- on the farm he was thinking of hi* wife's words.

'■She's a dear little woman, and a It-ensure in the house, but she does get some queer Millions. I hope she's not becoming a Socialist." And John laughed aloud at the thought, turning very hot a moment later when he thought of -his wish to hang all the Sociiilists.

His wife's ideas kept coming to his mind, ami when a few days later the steward'rode over to see him, and during their talk told John what a lot of applicants there had been for a farm which had jiiit been let, he could only think that this was a hint that- his rent would be advanced. "I'll not stand it again.'' In- said, grimly, through his clenched teeth. Yet in his heart he knew he would be forced to submit.

A few weeks laler John and his wife went for v visit to Loudon, and though John couldn't- forget, he was so busy that lie tmt the curious notions of his wife on one .side. They hail a good time in London, and Mrs. Evergreen was greatly amused and instructed by their visits to the various hotels and catering establishmenth. They had many visits to the Exwiseheads and Tigeranco establishments, where the business-like way in which many thousands of people wore fed and by such a small number of attendants filled her with delight. "Why. John!" she exclaimed, "one place like this could prepare the meals for all our village, when, in addition to the saving of time for all the women, there .should be a great saving in cost." "I don't think there would he much s.-iving in cost," said John . "Oli, yes! The rent of this place is twice as much as our farm. "Twice as much! Are you sure?'' "Yes: it- was in the papers when it was opened. It is (J'Joll a year." John looked round. ''Why, J could enclose a piece of laud as big as this from the moors in a month, and it's no bigger than that now byre, I built last year. Three hundred pounds a year!" He whistled. "Hut 1 don't think it- would pay." he said, after considering a little. "My ihe way, who's the landlord." ■'1 believe his name is Billotighby." answered his wife, with something like a twinkle in her eye. John coughed, hut, with man-like pert.iiia.chy, said, "Well, I don't think it would pay!"

"Why shouldn't it- pay? Listen to this report from the newspa|>ors: 'The managing director said, "They had been very successful. After opening and furnishing several new branches, paying the working expenses and the directors' fees, etc., they were able to pay 2o per cent, to the shareholders and put a nearly equal amount fo the reserve fund. For 12 years the shareholders had averaged 2"> per cent., and looked like- keeping the dividend up with ihi> loyal co-operation of the workpeople and the shareholders." ' Oh. John! wouldn't pay? Why, it would more than pay." "I don't think so." "Hut, John, if flu-re was nothing to pay to these idle shareholders, how easy it would lie." "Not so easy as you think. These idle shareholders, as you call them, not only lend their money, but lend their brains as well." "Do they, John? 1 thought the directors managed i\t<_' business." "So they do." ''Hut they are well paid for that, in addition to any dividend on their shares. There's a nice little sum down here for directors' foes. I don't think the shareholders supply many brains for the running of the business." "Well. I wish I had some shares, that's all." "Would you put some brains in as well as money, John?" And again the bright eye* seemed to twinkle. "I should get my 2o per cent, anyway. "Do yon remember what you said. John, a few weeks ago?" "What about?" "That it- would be a cruel wrong to allow people who don't work to take part of the earnings of those who work." '•YO3. I believe it would lie." "Rut that is exactly what you would be doing." "Nonsense," said John, almost angrily. "John, the Vicar's wife told mc her husband had a thousand pounds invested in 'l/KWis&heads. If he's had 25 per cent, tin that for VI years be will have had £.1000 iv dividend in I*2 years, and he still lias bw ClOfW Invested. John, elm. you tell rue what work the