Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1936-07-23


Arthur Brisbane of the Atlantic.
Here working men and women,
thousands of them, ride to and
from work, ten to thirty abreast,
depending on the width OF the
street.
They have the right of way, prop
erly, in democracy.
So it used to be in America,
when automobiles were new, small
bovs shouted "Get a horse" and
New York state law compelled the
automobile driver to stop his car
and engine, while farm wagon
passed, if the farmer raised his
hand, or even lead the farm team
past his machine if the farmer re-
ouested it. Here the car stops,
while bicycles circulate around it
on both sides. Similarly, you stop,
later, meeting flocks of sheep, on
roads across the salt marshes Of
the Vendee.
France is a land of bicycles, of
many political parties, and, at the
moment, land of strikes. Like all
other European countries, it is a
land of permanent war scares.
America looks upon war as a dis
tant, improbable possibility, and
when it comes spends billions on
airships that do not fly, ships that
never 60 to sea, and similar evil
dences of patriotic dollar-a-year eff
fciency. Europe's nations live in
state of fear, as an American
family might live if it knew that,
at any moment, well-equipped
gangsters from next door might en-
ter, shoot up" the household and
set fire to the house.
American travellers leaving the
boat by railroad, descending in
Paris at the Saint Lazare station,
were surprised to find crowds fight
ing each other, not waiting for
Germany, crowds made up entirely
OF Frenchmen of different political
opinions.
Some wore ribbons with the red,
white and blue colors of the French
nag; others, more numerous, wore
the plain color red. One side sang
the "Marseillaise," national hymn
Oh France since the revolution.
Others wearing small red flags
sang the "Internationale,' official
song OF the Communists the world
over, from Moscow to Harlem.
crowds grew bigger, the French
men sang the two hymns at each
other, more and more violently,
wiln excellent voices, not one out
OF tune, all knowing the words of
Inelr respective hymns. The MAR
Sellalse" says, "Let us go, chill
uren OF the fatherland, the day of
glory has arrived; the other says,
arise We prisoners of starvation;
arise, We wretched of the earth"
|. was a scene never to be de-
Scrloed, now that Dooley is dead,
ana Artemus Ward. Nobody both
ered the descending foreigners
from across the water. A few
frenchmen hit other Frenchmen,
not hard, then agents OF the
Snurete, whom we should call po-
ncemen, gradually dispersed the
s ~. that met and sang at each
Tuner Tuner again the next day. They
1--WE IN the suburbs and work in
rariS, or vice versa, and, meeting
~ tne railroad station, it enrages
niem to encounter those that sing
u ule wrong hymn and wear the
wrong colors.
nose singers have chests like
utulns, compilations that reveal
.Ountless billions of red corpuscles
o,iu voices that could be heard, al
M Os!' from Los Angeles to Santa
one OF them broke off at the sad
~ord starvation" and said to your
uiIllator' who had politely congrat-
tat t'eo him on his vigor: "Tenez,
s sare1 mon bras, ct j'ai soixante
Uep' ans"-meaning, Here, feel
years DID,"
q small melon.
10 .e DUTY of a visiting foreigner
co, " observe, describe and not
ssO On but this writer, had he
tho pted the invitation to speak at
~ e american club in Paris recent
F =, would have suggested that the
sesai cn' whose only earthly pos
fSe 'S is France, should be care.
es , NOT 10 tear that property apart,
ssstteeclally with Germany ready to
e''ner up the pieces.
I. ms crosses the water by mail.
see 0s new, and not news, when you
m;rt ~ Only heaven knows what
happen in a week.
ns Features Syndicate, Inc.
"Nu Service.