We are, fortunately, a very law-abiding nation—which is one of
the evidences that we are a real democracy, a community governed by its own consent. Two incidents of very different kinds have brought that home to me in the last few days. One is the end of the press censorship, and the testimony by the Chief Censor to the loyalty with which the Press of the country has observed for six years restrictions which must often have seemed vexatious—so loyally, indeed, that the submission of articles to the censor remained voluntary to the very end. The other incident was on a bus. A crowd had got on at a stopping-place, and most of them went on top. I looked up the stairs and remarked to the conductress—a mere slip of a girl—" There doesn't seem much chance up there." " There doesn't," she answered, " I'll go and rake some of them off." Up she went, proclaimed, " No standing on the top deck," and down half a dozen able-bodied men obediently streamed. A small matter, but, like the queues, symptomatic of much. The queues are a pestilence, but no one (or very few) thinks of breaking the rules and creating chaos. Orderliness and a sense of justice prevents that. * * * *
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