TWO SHEEP STATIONS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 20, Issue 505, 25 February 1949, Page 5

TWO SHEEP STATIONS

Sir,-"Sundowner’s" articles have a particular appeal to me ‘as my own interests, on a more provincial level, take me into odd corners of this district whenever opportunity cffe's. His recent account of visits to two Canterbury sheep stations happens to parallel a similar kind of visit.I have just paid to a sheep station, not so famous, perhaps, but equally historic. I find myself amazed by the contrast in our mental states and, may I confess, frankly prejudiced in my own favour?

Why on earth should a grown man visiting anyone for information have such reservations in his mind as he describes? Furthermore, why on earth the naive surprise that a family who have lived in a place for a long time should be proud of it and interested in it? My own experience tells me to expect that my interest will be shared or at least appreciated, and this does not only apply to farming but even in the destructive atmosphere of sawmi'ling. And after all every serious farmer must be something of a naturalist, for farming is essentially applied natural history. The answer perhaps is in "Sundowner’s" reference to Tutira-I get the impression of a slightly bookish flavour, as though knowledge were not real until it is in print. If my aim were merely to express surprise this letter would not be worth writing. The difference in our attitude of mind rings a bell in answer to a question that has been in the back of my mind for some time, and particularly since reading Professor Lipson’s book on the working of democracy in New Zealand. His contention is that equality is the predominant driving force of democracy. I think he makes his case -we are. impelled rather by a hatred of injustice than by a sense of brotherhood, and one feels the lack of that sense of fraternity that makes the co-operative movement for example such a- power in the North of England, in contrast to its struggle for existence here. What I am concerned about is this, that too much brooding over possible injustice makes neighbourliness, in fact, impossible, so that while the traditional greeting remains "Good-day, mate," the unvoiced attitude becomes "I wonde1 where this joker has got the edge on me." And so in building the classless society,we re-erect the barriers in our own mind as fast as we break them down, and become, so to speak, internally class-ridden. This may offer a clue as to why our new world seems to be turning sour on us, and "Sundowner’s" article has helped me to understand the reasons, » There are no two ways about it. Either all men are brothers or al] men can be pigeonholed by race, language, occupation, or pol.tics. May I tell of an incident which showed me clearly at the time which side of the fence I was to come down on? A party of New Zealanders, abandoned on the French railway system, have sighted an unattended case of army rations lying cn Etaples platform. As they are in the act of helping themselves they suddenly find a _ large bearded French soldier looming over them. For a moment the situation looks awkward, but the combined resources of the party eventually solve the language problem. No, he is not the owner, but could we spare him a tin of bully? It is a trivial story perhaps, but something clicked in my mind then that has served me ever since in different parts of the world-that all men are brothers.

ERITA

(Havelock North).

CRUELTY TO ANIMALS Sir,-I do not wish to be abusive, but I would like to say, "enough of this sentimental twaddle about dogs!" The truth of the matter is that we New Zealanders are more hygienic than the English, not more cruel. I lived in England for nine years. While living in Wallasey ("the bedroom of Liverpool") I was revolted by the common practice of dog lovers. Almost every little suburban home had its pet dog, who slept inside, But in these blocks of houses with their tiny backyards a problem arose: where could the animal satisfy the major call of nature? Quite simp’e. Each morning it was taken for a walk and the pavement, preferably in front of a neighbour’s house, was used for the purpose. It was almost impossible to walk along the pavements without slipping and becoming befouled. And now to a loftier scene. I have walked along the main street of Cambridge and seen a haughty young lady calmly stand untij her large dog (on its lead) had left its disgusting deposit on the pavement (not in the gutter). Then with superb insouciance she walked away. I have stayed at a boarding-house in Cornwall where the huge hound of a fellow guest fed noisily from his masier’s plate on the floor beside us. The plate was then replaced on the table to be washed with the common stock. / , Truly their ways are not our ways, and in those respects I hope they never will he.

ETHEL M.

DUFF

(Christchurch).