A VOICE FROM THE VILLAGE.
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.]
51a,—In our village the cry of want of houses is still heard, though I am glad to say not quite so loudly. Council houses, ugly and gaunt, or with sham ornament, stand outside most villages. What do their inhabitants think of them ? I suppose the rules governing occupation have a good deal to do with the question. A friend of mine who lives in one of these Council houses tells me that chickens are not allowed in the garden or pets in the house. Bumbledom at the District Council (with a strong Labour Party to help) apparently considers itself a complete Providence and its buildings to be mouseproof, but my friend, greatly daring, prefers the security of a cat. I am glad to say that until now puss has flourished her tail and whiskers in the face of officialism with sufficient discretion to retain her hearth undisputed. Another group of Council houses possesses a different set of rules, and in these only on specified occasions are you allowed to celebrate washing day. When you can hang out your clothes I don't know, but the by-laws lay down the day of the week when it is permitted to dry your clothes on a line in the garden. As it is useless to hang out clothes to dry on a wet day Mr. Bumble must have entered into an alliance with the Clerk of the Weather. Whit, I should like to know, would have been the commotion raised in the "bad old times" in a "Squire-ridden" village if such rules and regulations had been put into force.
One of the great difficulties of houses in a village is this. The labourer naturally wants to live near his work, he also wants to be able to change his employer without having to change his house. How is this to be done without a magic carpet ?
Why, I wonder, do so many farmers complain that they can't get good workmen and then make the conditions of life as impossible as they can. I know a farm where the men are always changing and often are not of the best type. Has not the following something to do with it? The farm stands at too great a distance from the villages for the men to go home to dinner. One would think that in this case the farmer would see that there was some place where the men could have a fire to sit by and dry their clothes in wet weather. Nothing of the kind is provided, and so the dinner hour in winter is a discomfort of cold and wet, with the natural desire to get a better job as soon as possible. Valuable stock are, of course, carefully housed. Not all farmers are so callous, some do consider their men, but by no means all.
The Spectator makes our mouths water with rose-coloured schemes of insurance. Could they be carried out the village would be almost Utopia. Would it be possible to abolish the Poor Rate ? Without this the 2s. 6d. a week paid by the employer will be a heavy tax. Hitherto Old Age Pensions, Insurance, &c., seem to have made very little difference to the rates in their soaring flight. Another thing—is a man to be forced to do no work after 63 ? If this is the case I hope I shall not be in the scheme.
An old man in this place has just left off doing part-time work as a gardener at the age of 84. He was not in need, but he thoroughly enjoyed making use of his skill, which was great. He cut a stick, put in a post, or-shifted a heavy weight like an artist. Would he for twenty years be prevented
from using his skill ?—I am, Sir, &c., A VEGETAELE.
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