Part 24

In the United States the Government is paternalistic toward banks, railroads and manufacturing interests. It loans its credit to the national bankers at most advantageous terms, but has persistently refused to favor other classes in a similar way. In New Zealand, however, in 1894, there was established a Government loan office which lends public funds to farmers, laborers, business men, etc. at low interest, and on easy terms. The security taken is on freehold, or leasehold, interest clear of incumbrances and free of any breach of conditions. The loans are on first mortgage of land and improvements. No loan is to be less than $125, or more than $15,000, and the sum of the advances to any one person must not exceed $15,000. There are two kinds of advances, fixed loans and installment loans. The first may be for any period not exceeding ten years, and the principal is due at the end of that term. The second is for 36½ years, and part of the principal is to be paid each half year. Interest in both cases is at 4½%, if paid within fourteen days of the time it is due (5% if payment is not prompt); and in the case of an instalment loan, 1% more is to be paid for the reduction of the principal.

Passing over the chapters devoted to the labor department, the state farm, the factory laws, the shop acts, the 8-hour day, industrial arbitration and co-operation, all of which are of intense interest, but of such a nature as to preclude brief statement, we come to the Government ownership and operation of the railways. The year 1894 Prof. Parsons calls “the glory year of land resumption. Government loans to farmers, nationalization of credit, labor legislation and judicialization of strikes and lock-outs.” It was in this year that another important move was made through a vital change in the national railway policy. In 1887 a commission system was inaugurated, under which the roads were put in the hands of commissioners appointed by the Governor, with the assent of Parliament. This did not prove satisfactory to New Zealand. The commissioners managed the roads with a view to making a good financial report. They were looking for profit. In the Parliamentary debates it was charged that rates were so high that firewood went to waste in the forest, and potatoes rotted in the fields, while the people in the cities were cold and hungry in the years of depression; that goods were frequently hauled more cheaply by wagon than by rail; that while rates were reduced somewhat now and then, it was done by reducing wages; that the pay of the men was cut while the salaries of high-priced officials were increased, and so on. This is a striking parallel to conditions in the United States today.

Prof. Parsons admits that the commissioners were honest, but they were simply railroad men, running the roads to make money for the treasury. Finally public indignation became intense. The air was full of complaints, and in 1893 the abolition of the commission was made an issue in the campaign, and the people, by an overwhelming majority, elected representatives pledged to put the roads under direct control of the Minister of Railways and the Parliament, and to bring the railroads within speaking distance of the people.

The result of this change is that the roads are no longer run primarily for profit, but for service; and the men are treated with the consideration due to partners in the business. It is announced that the definite policy of the Government shall be that all profits above the 3% needed for interest on the railway debt shall be returned to the people in lower rates and better accommodations. This is in striking contrast to the facts brought out in the letter of Engineer William D. Marks to Hon. Wharton Barker, recently printed as a public document at the instance of Senator Tillman of South Carolina, in which it is shown that the people of the United States are today paying interest on a fictitious railway capitalization of something like $7,000,000,000.

In 1899 the Minister of Railways announced a reduction of 20% on ordinary farm products and 40% on butter and cheese, etc. These concessions, Prof. Parsons declares, amount to one seventh of the receipts—equivalent to a reduction of $150,000,000 on the yearly freight rates in the United States. That alone would be a yearly saving of almost $2 a head for the people of the United States. In 1900 Mr. Ward, the new Minister of Railways, announced a general lowering of passenger fares as the first fruits of his administration. “The announcement was received with cheers by the audience—stockholders in the road.” Care is taken in New Zealand that small men shall not be put at a disadvantage. The State roads carry 400 pounds at the same rate as the ton rate, or the train-load rate, and one bale of wool goes the same rate as a thousand. No such thing is known in New Zealand as the lowering of rates to a shipper because of the great size of his shipments. All the rates are made by the management openly. There are no secret modifications of the tariff. There may be a variation on scheduled rates to equalize a long haul, or enable a distant mine or factory to reach the market in condition to compete with nearer rivals, but the total charge is never lower than the rate that is given to others for the same service.

The State roads are used to advance the cause of education. Children in the primary grades are carried free to school. Other children pay $2.50 to $5, according to age, for a three-months season ticket up to sixty miles. This gives them a possible 120 miles a day for 3 to 6 cents in round numbers, or 20 to 40 miles for a cent. A child who goes in and out six miles each day rides 12 miles for 3 cents.

It is impossible in the limits of this article to more than touch upon many of the other advances made in New Zealand. The Referendum is now used to a considerable extent in local affairs, and its use is being extended. Old age pensions are in force, being a much better method than maintaining poor houses. Immigration is carefully guarded. The State is now opening coal mines and engaging in the business of furnishing fuel to the people. Many other innovations of this character are being considered and put in operation from time to time.

Prof. Parsons summarizes his study of New Zealand in some sharp contrasts and conclusions, from which we quote in part:

“The United States is in form a Republic, but ... an aristocracy of industrial power. New Zealand is in form an Imperial Province, but in fact it is substantially a Republic. The will of the great body of the common people is in actual control of the Government.

“In America, farmers organize for agricultural needs, and the working-men organize for labor purposes, but they do not join forces to take control of the Government in their common interest, as is the case in New Zealand. Not only have our farmers and workers failed to get together, but neither group has learned to use the ballot for its interest in any systematic way. The farmers divide at the polls and organized labor divides at the polls. In New Zealand the small farmers are practically solid at the ballot box, and organized labor is solid at the ballot, and the two solids are welded together into one irresistible solid.”

C. Q. D.

=BACK HOME. By Eugene Wood. S. S. McClure Co., New York.=

It isn’t often that an author writes a real review of his own book. Well, maybe he does, too, but it seldom happens that he writes it as a preface to the book itself, very seldom that it is an interesting one, very, very seldom that it tells you what to expect to find in the book, and very, very, _very_ seldom that he isn’t too much wrapped up in his own private idea of his story to write a fair one from our point of view. However, Eugene Wood, being unconventional and other pleasing things, has done all this in the preface to his “Back Home.” When you have read the preface, you are glad you did, instead of feeling sorry you wasted time on it and fearful lest a book by the same author of that preface will be something of a bore. After Mr. Wood’s preface you know Mr. Wood and about what to expect in Mr. Wood’s book. You like one, and you know you are going to like the other.

It would be the easiest thing in the world for the reviewer to sit down and write reams of “copy” on “Back Home” and the good things therein, but it is much more to the point for him who reads to listen to Mr. Wood himself. If you are human instead of petrified, you will enjoy both the preface and the book. Both reach for the heart-strings, and the terms—the term is good.

Here is the larger part of the preface:

“Gentle Reader:—Let me make you acquainted with my book, ‘Back Home.’ (Your right hand, Book, your right hand, Pity’s sake: How many times have I got to tell you that? Chest up and forward, shoulders back and down, and turn your toes out more.)

“Here’s a book. It is long? No. Is it exciting? No. Any lost diamonds in it? Nup. Mysterious murders? No. Whopping big fortune, now teetering this way, and now teetering that, tipping over on the Hero at the last and smothering him in an avalanche of fifty-dollar bills? No. Does She get Him? Isn’t even that. No ‘heart interest’ at all. What’s the use of putting out good money to make such a book; to have a cover-design for it; to get a man like A. B. Frost to draw illustrations for it, when he costs so like the mischief, when there’s nothing in the book to make a man sit up till ‘way past bedtime’? Why print it at all?

“You may search me. I suppose it’s all right, but if it was my money, I’ll bet I could make a better investment of it. If worst came to worst, I could do like the fellow in the story who went to the gambling-house and found it closed up, so he shoved the money under the door and went away. He’d done his part.

“And yet, on the other hand, I can see how some sort of a case can be made out for this book of mine. I suppose I am wrong—I generally am in regard to everything—but it seems to me that quite a large part of the population of this country must be grown-up people. If I am right in this connection, this large part of the population is being unjustly discriminated against. I believe in doing a reasonable amount for the aid and comfort of the young things that are just beginning to turn their hair up under, or who rub a stealthy forefinger over their upper lips to feel the pleasant rasp, but I don’t believe in their monopolizing everything. I don’t think it’s fair. All the books printed—except, of course, those containing valuable information; we don’t buy those books, but go to the public library for them—all the books printed are concerned with the problem of How She got Him, and He can get Her.

“Well, now. It was either yesterday morning or the day before that you looked in the glass and beheld there The First Gray Hair. You smiled a smile that was not all pure pleasure, a smile that petered out into a sigh, but nevertheless a smile, I will contend. What do you think about it? You’re still on earth, aren’t you? You’ll last the month out, anyhow, won’t you? Not at all ready to be laid on the shelf? What do you think of the relative importance of Love, Courtship, and Marriage? One or two other things in life just about as interesting, aren’t there? Take getting a living, for instance. That’s worthy of one’s attention, to a certain extent. When our young ones ask us: “Pop, what did you say to Mom when you courted her?” they feel provoked at us for taking it so lightly and so frivolously. It vexes them for us to reply: “Law, child! I don’t remember. Why, I says to her: ‘Will you have me?’ and she says: ‘Why, yes, and jump at the chance.’” What difference does it make what we said or whether we said anything at all? Why should we charge our memories with the recollections of those few foolish months of mere instinctive sex-attraction when all that really counts came after, the years wherein low passion bloomed into lofty Love, the dear companionship in joy and sorrow, and in that which is more, far more than either joy or sorrow, “the daily round, the common task?” All that is wonderful to think of in our courtship is the marvel, for which we should never cease to thank the Almighty God, that with so little judgment at our disposal we should have chosen so wisely.

“If you, Gentle Reader, found your first gray hair day before yesterday morning, if you can remember, ’way back ten or fifteen years ago—er—er—or more, come with me. Let us go ‘Back Home.’ Here’s your transportation, all made out to you, and in your hand. It is no use my reminding you that no railroad goes to the old place. It isn’t there any more, even in outward seeming. Cummins’s woods, where you had your robbers’ cave, is all cleared off and cut up into building lots. The cool and echoing covered bridge, plastered with notices of dead and forgotten Strawberry Festivals and Public Vendues, has long ago been torn down, to be replaced by a smart, red iron bridge. The Volunteer Firemen’s Engine-house, whose brick wall used to flutter with the gay rags of circus-bills, is gone as if it never were at all. Where the Union School-house was is all torn up now. They are putting up a new magnificent structure, with all the modern improvements, exposed plumbing, and spankless discipline. The quiet, leafy streets echo to the hissing snarl of trolley cars, and the power-house is right by the Old Swimming-hole above the dam. The meeting-house, where we attended Sabbath-school, and marveled at the Greek temple frescoed on the wall behind the pulpit, is now a church with a big organ, and stained-glass windows, and folding opera-chairs on a slanting floor. There isn’t any “Amen Corner,” any more, and in these calm and well-ordered times nobody ever gets “shouting happy”.

“But even when “the loved spots that our infancy knew” are physically the same, a change has come upon them more saddening than words can tell. They have shrunken and grown shabbier. They are not nearly so spacious and so splendid as once they were.

“Some one comes up to you and calls you by your name. His voice echoes in the chambers of your memory. You hold his hand in yours and try to peer through the false-face he has on, the mask of a beard or spectacles, or a changed expression of the countenance. He says he is So-and-so. Why, he used to sit with you in Miss Crutcher’s room, don’t you remember? There was a time when you and he walked together, your arms upon each other’s shoulders. But this is some other than he. The boy you knew had freckles, and could spit between his teeth, ever and ever so far.

“They don’t have the same things to eat they used to have, or, if they do, it all tastes different. Do you remember the old well, with the windlass and chain fastened to the rope just above the bucket, the chain that used to cluck-cluck when the dripping bucket came within reach to be swung upon the well-curb? How cold the water used to be, right out of the north-west corner of the well! It made the roof of your mouth ache when you drank. Everybody said it was such splendid water. It isn’t so very cold these days, and I think it has a sort of funny taste to it.

“Ah, Gentle Reader, this is not really ‘Back Home’ we gaze upon when we go there by train. It is a last year’s birds’ nest The nest is there; the birds are flown, the birds of youth, and noisy health, and ravenous appetite, and inexperience. You cannot go ‘Back Home’ by train, but here is the magic wishing-carpet, and here is your transportation in your hand all made out to you. You and I will make the journey together. Let us in heart and mind thither ascend.

“I went to the Old Red School-house with you. Don’t you remember me? I was learning to swim when you could go clear across the river without once ‘letting down.’ I saw you at the County Fair, and bought a slab of ice-cream candy just before you did, I was in the infant-class in Sabbath School when you spoke in the dialogue at the monthly concert. Look again. Don’t you remember me? I used to stub my toe so; you ought to recollect me by that. I know plenty of people that you know. I may not always get their names just right, but then it’s been a good while ago. You’ll recognize them, though; you’ll know them in a minute.”

A. S. H.

_The Easter Hope_

BY CORA A. MATSON DOLSON

We look across the days of March, Of knife-keen winds, and barren hills, To where the skies of April arch Above the beds of daffodils.

Oh, hearts of Hope! The hours are long, While melting drifts o’erflood the rills; Yet do these winds blow, keen and strong, Toward those beds of daffodils.

The Easter promise cannot fail! The stone will move when God’s hand wills, And we again our loved ones hail, Who sleep, as sleep the daffodils!

_Explained_

MRS. GIVEM—Why are you out of work?

WEARY WILLY—I was a life-insurance president and made so much money I had to resign.

Clark Howell’s politicians and newspaper supporters over the state are sending up a unanimous wail because TOM WATSON, a Populist, manifests some interest in Georgia politics. They swear he is trying to break up the Democratic party and gain control of the state. Well, what about Major J. F. Hanson, the Republican president of the Central Railway? He has been active in state politics for a long time, and wields more influence than a thousand ringsters who are “cussing” TOM WATSON. If it is a high crime for Populist Watson to take a hand in Georgia politics, what kind of crime is Republican Hanson guilty of when he joins Hamp McWhorter and Sam Spencer in a prolonged struggle to dominate the public policies and politics of Georgia? Will some of the political time-servers please answer?—_Newnan (Ga.) News._

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The fact that Mr. Howell has never replied to the question why he was so anxious for Watson to call and see him, leads us to believe that he was after the same thing he accuses Smith of—attempting to get what honey he could out of the Populist beegum.—_Washington (Ga.) Reporter._

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The latest proposition is to put the Quay statue at Harrisburg in a niche. That would be a good plan provided they wall up the niche afterward.—_Broken Bow (Neb.) Beacon._

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The railroad rate bill was passed by the House by a vote of 346 to 7, last week Thursday.

The bill is now up to the Senate. It may stay there for some time before it passes, if it is passed at all.

The corporation-ridden Senate is a disgrace to a people who are said to elect their public servants. The men who made the Senate so far from the touch of the common people either were short-sighted, or defrauded the real American citizen out of one of the most necessary needs in this age of graft and political corruption.

The Grange favors the direct nomination and election of our United States Senators, and in due course of time we, the people, shall be electors in deed and action. By direct vote of the people, making the senators responsible and answerable to the masses, alone can we inject purity into our elections and accomplish reform in public affairs.—_Sandusky (Mich.) Salinac Farmer._

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Up to January 16 the _Congressional Record_ contained 2,300 columns of speeches made so far by congressmen, but it has to record only one important bill passed.

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William Jennings Bryan’s costume in the honorable position of a “Datto” of Mindanao consists of a high hat and a black silk apron. In cold weather he is permitted to varnish his legs.—_McEwen (Tenn.) New Era._

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The members of the lower house of Congress are debating the railroad rate bill this week. At the end of that time the public will know which ones are entitled to railroad passes under the new regulation of the companies that only employees are to receive them.—_Matthews (I. T.) News._

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We admire patriotism but we don’t like toadyism. It makes us tired to see how quick some editors sneeze when a high official takes snuff. And when the snuff is taken purely and solely for political effect it makes it all the more disgusting.—_Marshville (N. C.) Our Home._

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“This is the time,” says Senator Platt, “when little bosses will find their level.” And it is also the time when some great bosses are finding rock bottoms.—_Stanberry (Mo.) Owl._

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What’s the difference between a street curb boodler and one that sells out for a promise of an appointment? Ans.—One gets his money before voting while the other gets it afterwards, if he does not get left—principle same.—_Batavia (O.) Democrat._

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Why are all the candidates opposing Hoke Smith? There must be some reason for it. Everyone had faith in him, believed him far superior to a majority of other people, until he got into the race. Why this change? Why so many attacks upon him? Is it because he is advocating reforms which have already been adopted by several of the other Southern states? It must be because he stands for something, and is not ashamed or afraid to tell what it is.—_Marietta (Ga.) Courier._

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With Clark Howell devoting most of his time to “cussing” out TOM WATSON, Hoke Smith is sailing smoothly on to the gubernatorial chair.—_Dalton (Ga.) Citizen._

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The New York Sun puts it this way: “If John Mitchell’s statement at the miners’ convention is not a bluff, there will be either an enormous increase in the coal bills of the American people or the most costly and disastrous strike the country has ever seen.” But what do the mine owners and the striking mine workers care about that, so long as the people who buy the coal are willing to bear their suffering in silence—paying without a murmur any price the coal barons put on their product; and feeling well assured that nothing will be done by the suffering people to change the laws by which these barons are enabled to inflict this suffering.—_Waterbury (Conn.) Examiner._

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During the last ten years stocks and bonds amounting to $12,500,000,000 have been floated in this country. This additional capitalization of the industries and railroads of the country is about equal to the total value of all grain crops raised by the farmers during the same period. It is one-third more than the total value of the products of all mines in the country for the same period. It is equal to one-eighth of the total wealth of the United States in 1900. That is the way the “great” financiers absorb the wealth produced by the toilers of the nation. After studying the above statistics you may realize the force of Gov. Johnson’s statement that fictitious valuation and the consequent tax on the producers is the great curse of this country. Ignatius Donnelly used to tell a story about a hen that laid an egg in a nest fitted with a false bottom. The egg disappeared, and the hen laid another, continuing in her vain effort to have an egg show up in the nest until there was nothing left of her but the feathers. The fictitious capitalization is the false bottom that takes the products of the laborer, leaving him nothing to show for his efforts.—_Willmar (Minn.) Tribune._

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The Hepburn rate bill now pending in Congress is nothing more nor less than the Hearst bill with a few loopholes in it for the convenience of those railroad companies that may desire to side-step its provisions.—_Globe (Ariz.) Register._

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