P. A. Features—Page 3 y of Mr. Hangers SEVERING THE GRIP. e Philosop By H. W. . HANGERS’ Adam’s a and then jutted boldly -as he squinted through ¢ Se uld. regognize. a generality. , dike these ‘here soaps and is they blat for on the radio, said. “I’other one percent she wee grain o” truth the clings around. Like that e’—he glared disdainfully the empty bobbing on the res — “Ali beér contains er—so does that, an’ it’s ; about as close as itll ever te the real thing!’ e waved aside the offer of jther pint and sittmge down san upturned skiff commen- to untangle: a fish-Jine. I ied half-a-dozen caps at the de, and waited for him to goings. That there beer reminds me our current and continual tical propaganda,” he com- ~@iced.-. “Pack enough of it md one ‘tiny bit kernel 0’ hh, an’ to the undiscriminat- it’s all truth. Hitler knew 8, an’ so do others!” he con- v@ied with. dark portentous- 3. Such as?” Well, take the CCF. Now + tell you don’t want them at’s old even for you. But + they know it? If they percent pure . . . bunkum!”. an’ nothin’ | heip ’em Coldwell, they’d be about as popular as the WCTU at Mulvaney’s wake! But do they?” . oe eit If they know Jew baiting and Red baiting go gether they don’t say so, . they do know one way o” win- ning votes is to bait somethin an’ they seem to want votes.” “You a Red?” I asked inno-- cently. “Gnily when I listen to Angus Mecinnis an’ others. Of course, they don’t come down to the club I belong to very often, an’ glory be to God you can always turn the radio off! | But they musta learned from [Hitler too. Tt’s like him, ye caw judge ’em best, not by what they say, but by what they don’t say.’ “Great gosh! Don’t they say enough?” T ejaculated. “They talk enough. But they don’t say what makes up their socialism.” “Now, down in Saskatchewan they had umpteen socialist plans. Here they have at least as many—one for Harold Winch, bless his raven locks, one for Gretchen, another for Colin Cameron, an’ so on—just so the non-discriminating voter can say, well, that’s all right, Harold Winch can have his own opinion, but Steeves expresses the real principles of the CCE’, an’ vice versy. It’s great politics maybe, but it aint socialist poli- tics.” M-=-155 GER" PEER qRUG Frank un FoR OW "WE JUST DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO YOU WHILE YOU'RE HOME ON FURLOUGH!” tossed it into the saltchuck, told the truth, the whole truth, but the truth;*.so. but in the swells of an ontgoing freighter, SO “ig6 just express- unions in general! D’ye think the boys don’t See it just be- eause they’re too polite to yam- mer back at him? “Of course, contempt is a healthy attribute sometimes, though apt to be supercilious,” I baited again, and he cocked a shrewd eye at me and brought the left point of his silky mous- tache almost up to meet it. “Healthy, ye say? Wiho for? "Tis never healthy. Lf it makes for -underestimatin’ yer ene- mies, it’s damn foolishness and maybe worse: If it means lead- in’ yer mates the way a Judas goat will be leadin’ the sheep to the shambles, it’s black treachery. *taint funny either—not very funny, anyway, no funnier than the CCF linin’ up with Manner- heim to blackeuard Russia.” He commenced to pluck at the knots with stern concentration. A long loop came away, and he pulled yards of the cord through it. When no more came he still had knots, and he glar- ed malignantly at_the tangle while gutteral Chinook profan- ity blasted the Indian Summer breeze. Then he snatched up a knife and cut the line. “Tt’s lone enough for catch- in’ dogfish around the float, an’ yer silly ideas make me impa- tient anyway,” he explained, and then complained indigant- ly, “Why don’t ye join the CCF if ye think so much o’ them?” “You're not much of a sales- man for them,” I pointed out. *“T)’they need sellin’? Maddie, any, time an’ outfit provides red- baitin’ fer jew-baiters, social democracy fer the fascists, pri- mitive Christian communism fer the church, an’ revolution fer the Trotskyists an’ intellect- uals,.it don’t need any salesmen. D’ye know what it needs?” “What?” I asked. “Tt needs history books! Piles on piles o’ them, in every language — Finnish, German, French, Chinese, Spanish—his- tory books written in the best blood, the young and brave blood, of all those boys who died to fight fascism, in this war an’ before!” He paused a moment, reflec- tively.’ “Bot I doubt they can read, anyway,” he concluded. A's usual, he had the last word. pell-binders