lasses, brought fresh colour at the once drab streets. The assessment committee are not taking advantage of this improvement (?).

The village boasted two canteens, and both enjoyed the shelter of sacred edifices. The educational authorities had strict supervision over the children's dietary; the adult canteen enjoyed a cosmopolitan patronage, and worked under the supervision of a committee, which pleased itself as well as everybody attending it - and the programme instituted by its entertainment committee.
This latter canteen had an awful "bust up" - something over a gibbon. To settle the breach in the harmony required the services of the vice-president of the South Wales Miners' Federation. He first consulted the committee, and found they were properly in the "stew," almost afraid to "stir." They told him the men complained of the menu. A mass meeting was at once proclaimed and the Old School Yard was the scene of the conflict. The complainants were two stout hillmen, and the defendants the whole committee. The Vice-President opened the "Assizes" by declaring that Fochriw was not alone in its canteen squabbles, and he instanced neighbouring places where Cook had had his meet. After outlining how a canteen should be governed, he urged that obedience to the committee was essential - "we must have discipline to carry on the good work." The question of non-unionists being allowed in the canteen altered the phases of the proceedings a little, and the poor non-unionists in the audience quaked in their shoes. The speakers oratory here was magnificently full of time worn acrimonious bitterness, and at last the non-unionists were informed that they were privileged to attend the canteens, but under no consideration whatsoever were they to hold office. "The Communal Kitchens are entirely under the control of the Federation, remember that!" "Although money is being subscribed by the public at large, it is the Federation who are in control, remembah!" (The facial contortions over the word "remembah" will never be forgotten). Patience being a virtue that the two hill-men didn't possess was the cause of a good many interjections being made; and the situation became as delicate as a cornflour blancmange. The worthy chairman of the canteen then explained the grievances, and being too week-kneed to withstand epithets hurled at him, the vice President of the Federation again took command of the situation. The controversy was based on a genuine grievance, and it was soon learned that the only method to cool the broth was by blowing up the Fochriw populace as being the most generous flock. "We in Merthyr and Dowlais were put to the trouble of purchasing kitchen equipment, but at Fochriw they had no difficulty in borrowing boilers, kettles, etc." ...... Needless to say, the meeting ended in chaos. The only satisfied persons were the two dissentients who were initiated into the clique, and they all lived happily ever after. Few will forget this episode of communal kitchen boilers, and artiste as the vice-president of the Federation is, we feel sure that he wore a Broadway smile when automobiling over the Fochriw mountain that night.
One thing goes to the credit of this communal kitchen canteen. They patronised the local gardeners by purchasing home grown potatoes and vegetables. True, it is, that they bought murphies from Bargoed at so much per ton, and there were no checkweigher's ballots over this stunt. ......... This strike has had its advantages and disadvantages, Mr. Editor, but despite the vigilance of the local Council of Action, no one can say that the good old Merthyr Express didn't turn up.
The strike gave us a carnival or two, umpteen eisteddfods, umpteen whist drives, umpteen competitive concerts, no stop trucks, ridding of packmen, soccer and general sport, cheaper billiards, a drama or two, free coal and herb tobacco, a slight knowledge of what the Miners' Federation of Great Britain never did, a workable knowledge of the greatest Government of modern times, E. P. A. and what it means to abuse it, police in galore, the art of gratitude to those who suffered for us, the jazz note, a few visits from our dear M. P., the theory of intimidation  put out of practice, 8 hours - and to most of us - a pay before Christmas after all. Let what may come after may we say. Yours, etc.,   Pips, Squeaks and Whistles.