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October

The Mowing

A New Adventure in Contentment by David Grayson

TSCHWE

BAKING FIT TO W H I T E ABOUT

Write to your friends of your success in with G O L D M E D A L F L O U R . E v e r y home land requires good bread, biscuits, rolls and G O L D M E D A L F L O U R is the sure w a y to them. A l w a y s advise the use of^

baking in the pastry. secure

GOLD M E D A L FLOUR WASHBURN-CROSBY CO. COPVRIGHT

1910

WASHBURN

CROSBY

CO

MINNCAPOLIS

MINN

.

W a s h b u r n - C r o s b y C o . , Largest Millers in the W o r l d , General Offices, M i n n e a p o l i s , M i n n . T a b l e of C o n t e n t s oi

this N u m b e r on T h i r d A d v e r t i s i n g P a g e

T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE

TIFFANY & Co. Directory for Holiday Shoppers First Floor D i a m o n d s , precious stones, lavallieres, d i a m o n d and pearl collars, n e w platinum c o b w e b j e w e l r y with diamonds and calibre-cut onyx, plaque brooches, rings, bracelets, T i f f a n y art j e w e l r y and e n a m e l s , carved g e m s , semi-precious stones, watches, silver and gold table ware, F r e n c h , English, Russian, and Dutch s i l v e r w a r e ; toilet articles in silver, g o l d , i v o r y , shell, and e b o n y ; manicure sets, leather canes, umbrellas, opera, field and marine stationery, library requisites, s m o k e r s ' articles, traveling and b a g s , thermos bottles W a t c h and J e w e l r y Repair D e p a r t m e n t s

glasses; shopping

goods,

Second Floor Marble and bronze statuettes and g r o u p s b y leading Italian and French sculptors, animals b y B a r y e , R o s a B o n h e u r , E d w a r d K e m y s , Frederic Remington, and o t h e r s ; busts of musicians, authors, and s t a t e s m e n ; historical and allegorical statuettes, pedestals, andirons, hall, mantel, y a c h t , automobile, and c a r n a g e c l o c k s ; bronze, marble, and o n y x m a n ­ tel sets in period d e s i g n s ; T i f f a n y l a m p s and hanging" shades

Third Floor O p e n stock china dinner sets in R o y a l C o p e n h a g e n , Minton, R o y a l Doulton, C a u l d o n , C o p e l a n d , R o y a l and L e n o x ; vases and other ornamental pieces in C r o w n D e r b y , Delft, Lancastrian L u s t r e , R o o k w o o d , and other f a m o u s w a r e s ; T i f f a n y F a v r i l e glass, W e b b sculp­ tured glass, and cut glass in complete w i n e s e t s ; in r o c k - c r y s t a l effects; also vases, b o w l s , ice c r e a m sets, jardinieres, umbrella stands, m a h o g a n y afternoon tea tables, solitaire breakfast sets

Worcester,

glass

Fourth

Floor

Heraldic, Mail O r d e r , and Insignia D e p a r t m e n t s . Medals, badges, buttons, pins, and other insignia f o r colleges, fraternities, etc.; also f o r military, municipal, and social organizations

schools,

Basement

Sub-Basement

S i l v e r w a r e in cases

Safe Deposit Vaults

T h e Correspondence Department enables distant patrons to m a k e purchases w i t h as m u c h facility and satisfaction as w o u l d be afforded b y personal selection The Tiffany

Blue B o o k containing descriptions and prices will be sent upon request

Fifth Avenue & 37th Street New York When writing to advertisers please mention T h e

A m e r i c a n

Magazine.

THE

2

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

$

ThG305haftDrivG-FourCyMer-PricQ 3500 ThQ 48"M Hi^hlensionDual IgnitionSystem k

Standard equipment includes iop and demountablerims.Awide range of the latest body styles either with or withoutfrontdoors.canbe supplied TourincJ Baby Tonneau,Runabout Torpedo, Limousine and Landaulei Finished in any color scheme desired COMPLETE INFORMATION FURNISHED ON REQUEST

The Locomobile C o o f America NEW YORK PHILADELPHIA

Bridgeport Conn. SAN FRANCISCO

I . 1 C F . N S E U

BOSTON CHICAGO

U N D Ï

When writing to advertisers please mention T h e

American

Magazine.

The American Magazine P U B L I S H E D

M O N T H L Y

U N I O N President,

John S.

B Y

S Q U A R E

Phillips

T H E

P H I L L I P S

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Secretary,

N

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A.

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P U B L I S H I N G

Y O R K

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Boyden

Treasurer,

D.

A.

McKinlay

C O N T E N T S F O R O C T O B E R , 1910 A Prayer for All True Lovers . The Latest Portrait of Porfirio Diaz IfBarbarous Mexico The Betrayal of a Nation A

Illustrations b y

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William MacLeod Raine

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Illustrations b y C h a r l e s

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June in the Saddle Interesting People Joseph Fels

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Story

Thomas

R A U S C H E N B U S C H

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Sleep The Mysteries and Cruelties of the Tariff T h e

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Illustrated w i t h Portraits and

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The Theatre Rise

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M o r e Sayings of A b e Martin Justice. A Drama

T h e

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What a F e w Men Did in Pittsburg Illustrated

L Y N C H

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of the Theatrical

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Illustrated w i t h P h o t o g r a p h s

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I l l u s t r a t i o n s by M a y W i l s o n

M A R Y

Listen, M y Sister The Pilgrim's Scrip Letters.

Comments

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M R S .

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V A N R E N S S E L A E R

S51

s52 Confessions

In the Interpreter's House W e s t e r n A d v e r t i s i n g Offices 1 5 0 M i c h . B v d . , C h i c a g o . 111.

H E A T O N

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Copyright, 1910, by The Phillips Publishing Co. All rights reserved. Entered as Second-class Matter at the Ne-ui York Post Office, N. Y, Entered as Second-class Matter at the Post Office Dep't, Canada.

THE

C H A R L E S SCH W E I M R R

PRESS

T H E AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Is P E T E R ' S

myour school

Milk

Chocolate

basket ?

Digestible food and dessert combined When writing to advertisers please mention T h e

A m e r i c a n

Magazine.

THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE

5

WHY THEY ADVERTISE "I have often wondered why people advertise so much in the magazine," writes a reader in Centerville, Oregon. "They cannot know that I buy the things that are advertised in it. But it's a fact. I always buy everything that I need that is advertised in the magazine when I can get them, because I know they are the best. Here in Centerville there is no drug store. I was in Goldendale some time ago and I went into a drug store and asked for a shaving brush. Mr. E., the proprietor, waited on me. I said I wanted the Rubberset. 'Rubberset, I haven't any of them, but 1 will send for some if you want that kind, he said. I told him I did. "You know there are a great many things advertised that a person has to get at a drug store. The druggist knows that I read T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE and that I want just what I ask for. It's the same at the dry-goods store. When I want socks I ask for Hole­ proof or Shawknit, and so on with everything that I buy." 1

Why do they advertise? Because they know THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE is read by hundreds of thousands of just such people as this Centerville, Oregon, reader—people who know that the magazine is read and relied upon from cover to cover. And they, the leading advertisers of the country, keep faith by dealing honestly and fairly by these readers. They deserve your patronage. INDEX T O A D V E R T I S E M E N T S N o o b j e c t i o n a b l e a d v e r t i s e m e n t s of a n y kind are a d m i t t e d for p u b l i c a t i o n in T h e A m e r i c a n M a g a z i n e . We b e l i e v e that e v e r y a d v e r t i s e m e n t in T h e A m e r i c a n M a g a z i n e is t r u s t w o r t h y . In d e a l i n g w i t h a d v e r t i s e r s o u r r e a d e r s m a y b e confident t h a t t h e y w i l l be fairly and s q u a r e l y treated in e v e r y case. W e shall b e g l a d to h a v e r e a d e r s report a n y e x p e r i e n c e to the c o n t r a r y . A r c h i t e c t u r e

Building &

Craftsman, T h e Automobiles,

81-104 Accessories, etc.

C o l u m b i a M o t o r Car C o . Detroit Electric Hartford Suspension C o . Klaxon Horn . . . Leather Tiro G o o d s C o . Locomobile Co. . . • . Rausch & Lang Electrics Reo Motor Stevens D u r y e a W i n t o n M o t o r Car C o . . B a n k i n g ,

Financial

&

.

.

.

93 1(2

.

I n s u r a n c e

8 94 2 91 88 89 90

Construction

Educational

Hitchings & C o National Fire Proofing C o . Standard Sanitary M f g . C o . Y a l e D o o r Checks C a m e r a s

a n d Optical

80 125 127 57

Goods

Eastman Kodak

84

M a r t h a Washington Seminary M i s s Keller's School M r s . Hazen's School N a t ' l Salesmen's Training Ass'n P a g e D a v i s School . . . . Ransom, C. W Spraguc Corres. School of L a w . Standard Corres. School of L a w

30 30 30 28 28 30 30 30

C u t l e r y Food

A u t o Strop Safety Razor Gillette Safety Razor Griflen Cutlery C o

.

. 100 132-133 102

Educational

A m e r i c a n A c a d e m y of D r a m a t i c A r t s Bankers' Trust C o 85 Lissell College of P h o t o - E n g r a v i n g Equitable Life Assurance Society 124 Bureau of Navigation Fort Stockton Irrigated L a n d C o . . 84 Centenary Collegiate Institute . Hanauer Graves 103 ; Chicago School of Elocution Hartford Insurance C o . . . 121 Columbian Correspondence College International R e a l t y C o r p . 28 Cosmopolitan Educational C l u b Educational A i d Society Building & Construction Faelten Pianoforte School . Hamilton Institute for Girls Craftsman Houses 103 Illinois College of P h o t o g r a p h y D a h l s t r o m Metallic D o o r C o . . .56 International Correspondence School Genasco R e a d y Roofing . 3S Language P h o n e M e t h o d Grand R a p i d s Plaster . . . . S I

P r o d u c t s

A r m o u r ' s Extract of Beef . . . Baker's Breakfast C o c o a . . . Harrington Hall Coffee . Blue Label K e t c h u p . C r e a m of W h e a t . . . 3d Cresca Delicacies Cresco Grits & Barley Crystals D a v i s Fish C o . , F. E G o l d M e d a l Flour . . . 2d Grape N u t s Horlick's M a l t e d M i k . . . Jones Dairy Farm Sausages . K a r o C o r n Syrup Kingsford Corn Starch . . . . Liebig's Extract of Beef . Malt-Nutrine N a b i s c o Sugar Wafers . . . . N e c c o Sweets

13 7 .118 .115 cover 114 114 112 cover 33 .114 .113 114 1 1 0 75 122 129 115

6

THE AMERICAN

Food Products Pabst Extract Peter's Chocolate Postum Whitman's Chocolates . .

Stationery

Miscellaneous 42 4 4th c o v e r . .116

Heating and Lighting S y s t e m s American Radiator C o Best Light C o Crawford Ranges Jewel S t o v e s Jewell H e a t Controller Kalamazoo Stoves L i n d s a y Light C o

MAGAZINE

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

39 108 43 85 80 78 100

House Furnishings 55 52 83 99 50 78 105 78 79 77 77 77 88 73

B o r k e y & G a y Furniture C o . . B i g e l o w Carpet C o . B u r r o w e s Billiard T a b l e s C o m e - P a c k t Furniture . Cowan & Co., W . K. . . . C r e x Grass Carpets G l o b e - W e r n i c k e Elastic B o o k c a s e s H a r t s h o r n Shade Rollers L u n d s t r o m Sectional B o o k c a s e s Macbeth Lamp Chimneys . M i t c h e l l Furniture . . . . O s t e r m o o r Mattresses P i e d m o n t R e d Cedar Chest Vantine & Co., A. A. . . .

Household Supplies A u t o m a t i c V a c u u m Cleaner . . 74 Bon A m i Carborundum Co I Collette M f g . C o . (Mendets) . . 108 M a n n i n g - B o w m a n Coffee Percolator 7 6 N e w H o m e V a c u u m Cleaner . . 104 Pearline Sani-Tissue M Sapolio S c o t t Tissue T o w e l s 76 Self-Heating Flat I r o n . . . .114 Star A s b e s t o s P a d , T h e . . . .102 S t u r t e v a n t V a c u u m Cleaner . 41 1

2

6

1 7

Jewelry and Silverware C o m m u n i t y Silver . . .. .. . . Harris G o a r C o . . Howard Watch Works . . Loftis Bros. & C o . . . . L y o n & C o . , J. M . . . . M e r i d e n Britannia C o . . . . Tiffany & C o . . . . . .

. . . . . .

4

0

1

5

53 84 45 S3 80 74 1

Miscellaneous A m e r i c a n T e l e p h o n e & Telegraph C o . 44 Apenta 114 C h i c a g o Projecting C o 84 Congress Playing Cards . . . 83 D a v e y T r e e Expert C o . . . . 82 E v a n s , Victor J 114 Hallowe'en Favors 76 Ideal C o 108 Ketcham & McDougall . . . 95 Makaroff 106

Miller Treeing M a c h i n e , O. A . Morley Co National Casket C o . Oppenheimer I n s t i t u t e . Redding & C o . . T h o m p s o n , J. E d m u n d Tyrrell H y g i e n i c Institute United Shoe M a c h i n e r y C o . Utility I m p o r t & E x p o r t C o . Williams, B r o w n & Earle, I n c .

66 110 120 109 68 109 108 04 114 104

Office Equipments Esterbrook Steel Pens . . . , 85 G l o b e - W e r n i c k e Elastic B o o k c a s e s . 105 L u n d s t r o m Sectional B o o k c a s e s Neostyle Rapid Computer C o Stafford C a b i n e t W a t e r m a n ' s Ideal Fountain P e n Paints and Varnishes National Lead C o N e w Jersey Z i n c C o Pratt & L a m b e r t Varnishes . Sherwin & Williams

.

79 105 108 112 . 102

.

81 40 79 54

Pianos, Musical Instruments and Talking Machines Aeolian C o 36-37 A p o l l o Player P i a n o . . . . 48 National Phonograph . . 134-135 Steinway & Son 46 V i c t o r Talking M a c h i n e s . . 34-35 Publishers American Magazine 3-5-6-9 1 0 - 1 1 - 1 2 14- 1 6 - 1 8 - 1 9 - 2 6 Business M e n ' s P u b . C o 31 C h a u t a u q u a Institute 31 C o p l e y Prints 31 Cosmopolitan Magazine 27 Curtis P u b . C o . . . 23 D u t t o n & C o . . E . P. 17 Funk & Wagnalls 72 100 Hampton's Magazine 30 Nautilus, T h e 28 Pliilo, E . R . . . 107 Recreation 24 Scientific A m e r i c a n . 25 Scribner's M a g a z i n e 22 Sprague P u b . C o . 28 Stokes C o . , Frederick A 20-21 "Western N e w a p a p e r A s s ' n . 29 Sporting Goods Dupont Powder . Gray Motors Ithaca G u n s . . . M a r l i n Fire A r m s M e a d Cycle R e m i n g t o n Shotguns Smith & W e s s o n R e v o l v e r s U n i o n M e t a l l i c Cartridge . Winchester R e p e a t i n g A r m s

82 80 83 86 112 51 95 51

Old H a m p s h i r e B o n d W h i t i n g Paper Co W i g g i n s C o . , John B

.

.

.

.

98 29 104

Toilet Articles B l u e J a y C o r n Plasters . . .110 Colgate's R i b b o n Dental Cream . 118 Cuticura S o a p 112 Dioxogen 115 Ivory Soap 136 J o h n s o n ' s Shaving C r e a m S o a p . 117 L o u i s e n b a d R e d u c t i o n Salt . .110 M e n n e n ' s N a r a n g i a T a l c u m P o w d e r 70 Packer's T a r S o a p 32 Pompeiian Massage Cream . .119 Pro-phy-lac-tic T o o t h Brush . . 113 Travel Atlantic C i t y I n f o r m a t i o n Bureau . 110 Berkshire Hills Sanatorium . . 78 Clark's Orient Cruise . . . . 84 H a m b u r g - A m e r i c a n Line . . . 97 H o t e l L a Salle 94 Monon Route 96 Southern Pacific 86 Travelers' C h e q u e s 85 W h e r e - T o - G o Bureau . . . . 96 Typewriters Bennett T y p e w r i t e r Smith Premier T y p e w r i t e r Typewriter Emporium . . Underwood Typewriter . .

.

120 . 99 .112 . 82

.

.

. .

Wearing Apparel Adler-Rochester Clothes . A r r o w Collars Best & C o . ·. C h e n e y Silks C o o p e r ' s Underwear . . C r o s b y Frisian Fur D i a m o n d Fast C o l o r E y e l e t s D o u g l a s Shoes D u o f o l d Health Underwear D u o Lastic I n t e r l o c k R i b . Endless N e c k t i e C o Everwear Hosiery .'· , . . Faultless Pajamas Fownes Gloves G o k e y Shoes . . . . Hart, Schaffner & M a r x . H o u s e of K u p p e n h e i m e r . Iron-Clad Hosiery Kahn Tailored Clothes . Onyx Hosiery . . . . Porosknit Underwear . . Presto C o . R o g e r s , Peet & C o . . . . R o y a l Tailors . . . . Shachamaxon Silver B r a n d Collars . . Triangle 5-Ply Collars . . W a n a m a k e r , John

47 59 69 68 . . 70 83 . . 106 68 . . 60 . . 62 95 . . 70 63 71 . . 71 . . 128 130-131 69 . . 61 . . 103 . . 68 . . 101 . . 58 . .137 62 . . 65 . . 63 113

" Y o u are fortunate in advertisers. W e love them all from the sad-eyed lassie of 'Fairy S o a p ' fame to the smiling mammy w h o urges us to use ' B o n A m i . ' " M . M . , Rangoon, Burma. "Advertisements that are absolutely dependable."

C . N . N . , Norfolk, V a .

" Your advertising patronage I have found (through dealing with several of your advertisers) to b e honest, fair dealing and truthful." I. C . M c W . , Pasadena, Cal. " M y way of looking at advertising may b e original, but I know a number of others w h o have similar views, that if a manufacturer advertises, it is to a certain extent our duty to use his goods in preference to his imitators." F. H . B., N e w York City. " I must say a word about what is to me one of the real tests of a magazine—its advertising. Every advertisement should be exactly what it represents itself to be, and this is the case in T H E A M E R I ­ C A N M A G A Z I N E . T h e advertising pages are to me a purchasing directory in which each advertisement is so scrutinized that a purchaser can, without a second's hesitation, make his order, knowing that the management of T H E A M E R I C A N M A G A Z I N E stands back of every line." A . S., Philadelphia, Pa.

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

7

9

Baker s Breakfast Cocoa Has a Delicious Flavor and H i g h F o o d V a l u e A p a r t from its delicious flavor, which alone would make it a

popular beverage, B a k e r ' s

Cocoa possesses in a m a r k e d degree many other good qualities which contribute to its enormous value as a perfect food drink ;—it is absolutely pure a n d wholesome and it is easily digested ; made in accordance with our recipe it furnishes the body, as no other drink does, with some of the purest elements of nutrition combined i n proper proportion, and it has all the strength a n d natural rich, red-brown color of the best cocoa beans,

carefully

selected

and

scientifically

blended. The

success of B a k e r ' s Cocoa has been so

great that many unscrupulous imitations

have

been put upon the market, and consumers should see that they a r e furnished with the genuine article with the trade-mark of " L a Belle Chocolatière " on the package. A

handsomely illustrated booklet of Choice

Recipes sent free. Registered TJ. S. Patent Office

52 Highest Awards in Europe and America

WALTER Established

BAKER

1780

When writing to advertisers please mention

& CO. Ltd. DORCHESTER,

T h e

A m e r i c a n

MASS.

M a g a z i n e .

8

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

'0

THE TRAFFIC OFFICER S A Y S "THE

K L A X O N

IS M Y B E S T

FRIEND—

I CAN DEPEND upoBi IT t o KEEP p e o p l e OUT OF HARM S WAY—NO OTTER AUTO SIGNAL FILLS t h e BILL—T SEE THE KLAXON PREVENT ACCIDENTS AND SAVE LIVES EVERY DAY —THE LAW OUGHT TO COMPEL e v e r y AUTO TO CARRY A KLAXON. The

traffic

where ;

accident

insurance

ad­

justers the country o v e r ; 3 0 , 0 0 0 motoriats

You

squad —• every­

(thousands more each

auto;

k n o w the danger of tut

do

protection you;

the

you

realize

Klaxon

the the

affords

that it always warns, ra

time, hefore y o u are confused ; month) w h o w i l l trust no other signal—all, to a unit, pronounce the

K l a x o n the

only

warning

signal that positively protects.

lOVtll-McCONMtl

that it IS y o u r guarantee of safety; that the auto must have such a signal; that y o u have a right to demand its use ?

MFG. CO.

THt KLAXON COMPANY

MANUFACTURERS N E W A R K . N. J .

Sol. Dutriboton lor U S A . t M .i.vm Avenue. New York a

KLAXON T3he Public

Sapiiy

Signal

KLAXONET

When writing to advertisers please mention T h e

A m e r i c a n

M a g a z i n e .

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

THE EDITOR'S TABLE

I

the J u l y and August "Editor's expert guess was 8 0 0 . All say that T a b l e " we announced, in type of the results were extraordinary, and this size, and very simply, that that they prove that T H E A M E R I C A N we would pay $ 2 5 0 for the best 2 5 0 - M A G A Z I N E has a wonderful and sin­ word letter about T H E A M E R I C A N gularly lively following. M A G A Z I N E received on or before The moment the announcement of August 1 0 , and $ 2 5 the prize offer was made, letters be­ The Decision f ^ gan to flow in from every part of of the the United States, and, indeed, from best letters. N o other Judges is all parts of the world. Toward the announcement of the Ready offer was made than end the number of letters received that contained in the few inconspicu­ mounted to 1 0 0 a day, and, in the last three days, more than 9 0 0 letters ous paragraphs referred to. The judges we selected were: Nor­ came in. The biggest day was Mon­ man Hapgood, editor of Collier's day, August 8 . On that day 4 0 3 Weekly; Erman J . Ridgway, pro­ letters were received. On the 9 T H and 1 0 T H of August special delivery prietor of Everybody's Magazine; and William Allen White, the Kansas letters came in by the dozen, and two hours before the contest closed a 2 0 0 author and editor. We are ready to announce the word letter came b y telegraph. decision of the judges, but before doing so we shall relate a few facts U T more than anything in the about the contest which, we think, world we here in this office ap­ make interesting reading. preciate and value these letters because they indicate with wonderful clearness that an imN the first place the total number W f i a t mense and ever-inof letters received up to 5 o'clock People Like •, -, .. on August 1 0 , when the contest in This creasing body of good closed, was 2 , 5 7 8 . This tremendous Magazine people find in T H E outpouring of letters not only sur­ A M E R I C A N M A G A ­ prised and pleased Z I N E an expression of something that 2,578 Letters us: it amazed those they have longed for in the w a y ot Were who, through long journalism. This is not the place to Received experience in such attempt in detail a description of the matters, are in a po­ general characteristics which these sition to judge of the success of such our readers hold in common with a venture. A number of experts each other and with T H E A M E R I C A N whom we interviewed made guesses M A G A Z I N E . Something, however, is as to the number of replies we should drawing us all together, and is at­ receive from the kind of announce­ tracting fresh recruits b y the hun­ ment we had made, and the highest dred. And, in general, these charN

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THE

AMERICAN

acteristics seem to be: idealism, tempered b y great good humor; sen­ timent, of the finest grade; the acquisitive sense, not for money, but for new facts and ideas; curiosity, not about that which is unprofitable, but about that which is genuinely interesting; courage, not alone to fight, but to change your mind if the facts so direct; reverence, not alone for God, but also for the rights and feelings of your fellow-men. This is not a complete composite portrait of the average reader of THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE. Certainly there would be added touches to that imaginary portrait which would emphasize, v e r y strongly, love of life and love of fun. No, this does not pretend to be even a sketch for a portrait. It is nothing but a few impressions gathered by one who read the whole 2,578 letters, and felt a thrill because so many hundreds of scattered people should be writing with such fervor of D a v i d Grayson, " T h e Interpreter's House," J a n e Addams, R a y Stannard Baker, "Phoebe and Ernest," Hugh Fullerton, "Interesting Peo­ ple," " T h e Pilgrim's Scrip," Ida M .

MAGAZINE

Tarbell, W. J . Locke, Stewart E d ­ ward White, " B a r b a r o u s M e x i c o , " Dr. Rauschenbusch's Prayers, and such other things as set T H E AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

apart

from

all others.

O

F the 2,578 friends who have written us these splendid let­ ters, 11 win cash prizes, and 2,567 do not. T h a t is frequently the case in this world, but we will ven­ ture a guess that all of the 2,567 have been through more than one bat­ tle before, sometimes The Oregon coming O U T Victorious Lady is sometimes disCongratulated

.

By Ail

appointed. We can not imagine that any­ body will feel a pang of regret after he gets into the $250 prize letter, and senses its genuine quality. Indeed, we think that on the d a y when this news reaches the world, all of T H E 2,567, as well as tens upon thou­ sands of others, will smile with per­ fect satisfaction at the v e r y thought of the "Oregon l a d y , " as we here in the office have come with friendly feeling to refer to the winner.

WINNER OF THE FIRST PRIZE— $250

F

O L L O W I N G is the letter selected b y the first prize—$250.

" T o m e y o u are a living, breathing per­ sonality. Through you I a m recompensed for l a c k of e a r l y e d u c a t i o n a l a d v a n t a g e s . " T h r o u g h y o u I a m transformed from a c o m m o n p l a c e farmer's wife into a w o m a n t h i n k i n g t h e g r e a t t h o u g h t s of s u c h w o m e n as Miss Tarbell and J a n e Addams. " C o u l d I e v e r l o o k u p o n f a r m life a s d u l l a n d monotonous after reading dear D a v i d Grayson? W h a t is m o r e beautiful and p e a c e f u l t h a n t o t a k e y o u of a s t o r m y w i n t e r

the

judges as the winner of

evening and, sitting before the great oldfashioned fireplace, c o m m u n e w i t h the great m i n d s a n d h e a r t s t h a t p u t life, heart, soul and individuality into y o u r pages? Farm life i s i d e a l i z e d a n d e n n o b l e d f o r m e t h r o u g h such influences. "Of the thousands w h o will write brilliant a p p r e c i a t i o n s of y o u r d e a r m a g a z i n e , c a n one h a v e m o r e cause for tender feelings t h a n the little f a r m wife in the far W e s t , w h o , while raising her poultry, milking her pet

THE

AMERICAN

Jersey cows a n d attending the m a n y duties of life o n a f a r m , i s e n a b l e d t o b e c o m e o n e i n m i n d a n d h e a r t w i t h t h e g r e a t m i n d s of the d a y ? " W h o t h a t is t h e m o t h e r of b o y s w o u l d p a r t w i t h t h e m e m o r y of S t e w a r t E d w a r d W h i t e ' s s t o r i e s of l i t t l e B o b b y O r d e a n d h i s sweetheart, or the E r n e s t a n d P h o e b e stories?

MAGAZINE

T h e I n t e r p r e t e r , M r . B a k e r , a n d a h o s t of others educate m e religiously a n d politically. T i m e a n d space forbid m y mentioning all, b u t t h i s a p p r e c i a t i o n is s t r a i g h t f r o m t h e heart. T o paraphrase a Great Teacher: ' T o w h o m m u c h is g i v e n , t h e s a m e l o v e t h much."' M R S . J . T. M I L L E R , Yoncalla, Oregon.

WINNERS OF THE TEN SECOND PRIZES—$25 EACH

F

O L L O W I N G are the ten letters each of which wins a $ 2 5 prize. These letters are of equal rank; that is, no one of them is elevated above another. They are arranged in alphabetical order, according to the name of the author: "HONOR

AND CLEAN

MIRTH"

" D o y o u remember Kipling's tribute to W o l c o t t B a l e s t i e r , i n w h i c h h e s p o k e of h i s dead brother-in-law as walking among the ' g e n t l e m e n u n a f r a i d ' in 'honor a n d clean mirth?' " I hope y o u do, because that phrase—per­ haps not e x a c t l y quoted, for I h a v e n ' t the poem b y me—characterizes your magazine, I think. T h e r e i s p e r s o n a l i t y b e h i n d it, i n i t , a n d t h a t p e r s o n a l i t y is o n e of ' h o n o r a n d clean mirth.' " E a c h of u s i n t h i s w o r l d h a s h i s t r a d e a n d he should w o r k well a n d faithfully a t it. B u t t h a t does not m e a n t h a t he m u s t talk f o r e v e r of n o t h i n g b u t h i s t r a d e , a n d l i v e n o life a s i d e f r o m i t . Y o u r ' t r a d e ' , it s e e m s t o me, is w o r k i n g for true d e m o c r a c y , a n d y o u r labors in t h a t w a y are useful a n d wise. B u t y o u a r e not so obsessed w i t h t h a t ' m i s s i o n , ' or so s a t u r a t e d w i t h y o u r ' t r a d e ' t h a t y o u f o r g e t t h e d u t y of a m a n or a m a g a z i n e t o b e friendly, social, companionable at the club and in the home. '' I k n o w of ' u p l i f t ' m a g a z i n e s t h a t a r e a l l ' s h o p ' — a n d they are as wearisome as the m a n w h o is a l l ' b u s i n e s s . ' "THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

is,

I

believe,

doing its w o r k well a n d seriously, b u t not neglecting the social graces, which, in a m a g a z i n e , m e a n g o o d fiction, v e r s e a n d p u r e ' literature'—as distinguished from ' special articles' and news." HOWARD ARDSLEY, New York City.

LITERATURE

PUT

TO W O R K

FOR T H E

MANY

" T h e r e is a l w a y s a n a g r e e a b l e s e n s a t i o n of s u r p r i s e , o n o p e n i n g a n e w n u m b e r of T H E AMERICAN

MAGAZINE,

to

find

scholarship

a n d s t y l e e x p e n d e d u p o n m a t t e r s of p r e s e n t i m p o r t a n c e . A l t h o u g h e v e r y b i t of l i t e r a t u r e that survives w a s inspired b y the age that p r o d u c e d it, the schools h a v e e x a l t e d the past. T h e more general education, and g r e a t e r e c o n o m i c p r e s s u r e of t o - d a y , h a v e c o n s p i r e d t o m a k e p o s s i b l e t h e rise of a g r o u p of v i r i l e p e r i o d i c a l s d e v o t e d t o p r e s e n t - d a y ideals. Cheerfully willing to let literature ' g o h a n g ' for b r a v e r t h i n g s , t h e s e h a v e b e ­ c o m e the logical m a r k e t for such current writings as are likely to s u r v i v e . T H E A M E R I C A N is e s p e c i a l l y a l i v e t o t h i s o p p o r ­ tunity. Its contents are m a r k e d b y culture a n d taste no less t h a n b y v i s i o n a n d c o u r a g e . " F o r instance, D a v i d G r a y s o n voices our reaction from commercialism, but his v i e w ­ point a n d style are distinguished. H e diag­ n o s e s a p u b l i c ill, a n d c h a r m s u s w i t h h i s r e m e d y . I n d e e d , t h e b a s a l i d e a of t h e v i t a l w r i t i n g s of t o - d a y a p p e a r s t o b e i m m e d i a t e s o c i a l serviceableness. T h i s idea underlies M r . B a k e r ' s facts, M r . W h i t e ' s s t u d i e s of c o n ­ ditions and tendencies, M i s s A d d a m s ' mes­ sage. A l t h o u g h unique in her scope, M i s s T a r b e l l ' s p u r p o s e is t y p i c a l . W h e n o u r l i t ­ erary achievements come to be s u m m e d u p , t h e m o s t r e m a r k a b l e finding m a y w e l l b e t h a t c o n t e m p o r a n e o u s h i s t o r y g o t itself w r i t ­ ten authoritatively, secured wide publicity, and shaped events. Hitherto literature has

12

THE

AMERICAN

M y w a d of g u m I s a d l y c h e w e d , Existence seemed so hollow, Till, in October, I began Perusing the A m e r i c a n .

e m b e l l i s h e d life f o r t h e f e w . H e r e , w i t h o u t l o s s of b e a u t y , i t i s p u t t o w o r k f o r t h e many." MRS. FRANCIS BLAKE ATKINSON, C h i c a g o , 111.

' " A t once m y troubles fled a w a y , T h e c l o u d of g l o o m d i s p e r s e d b e f o r e me, I ate three hearty meals a d a y , A n d cocktails ceased to bore m e , A s , with recovered appetite, M y voice grew musical a n d bell-like; M y e y e shone bright, m y tread w a s light, M y gait g r e w quite gazelle-like; I felt a s y o u n g a s P e t e r P a n , Through reading the A m e r i c a n .

Cultured Taste More Valuable than Riches " T h e name A m e r i c a n w a s a happy in­ spiration—each successive number seeming t o feel t h e s t i m u l u s . H a d w e b e g u n l i k e t h e Hebrew Bible at the far end a n d worked backward, w e would have landed logically a n d n a t u r a l l y in the title. T h e a t m o s p h e r e is A m e r i c a n ; t h e a u r a i s A m e r i c a n . " A n d , c o r r e s p o n d i n g l y , t h e b r e a d t h of v i e w a n d t h e b r e e z i n e s s — f o u n t a i n s of i n ­ formation a n d v a l e s of restfulness—the s t r e t c h of m o u n t a i n s a n d prairie;—the c o o l shade and no malaria—provocatives to thought and wholesome sentiment—and, p e r v a d i n g all, t h a t subtle, m i g h t y thing, taste. A n d all this, homelike a n d — A m e r i c a n . " T h i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of g o o d t a s t e i n b o o k o r p e r i o d i c a l is a d e l i c a t e f a c t o r b u t a t h i n g of s u p r e m e m o m e n t a n d of p o w e r . I have an only daughter. I would rather l e a v e h e r t h e d o w e r of c u l t u r e d t a s t e t h a n a gold mine or a Carnegie library. What­ ever t h e other v a l u e s in a magazine, I w o u l d no sooner p u t in h e r h a n d one w i t h unre­ fined t e n d e n c i e s , t h e b l e m i s h of t h e u n t a s t e ful, t h a n I w o u l d p u t s l o w p o i s o n i n h e r lemonade. " W h e n y o u h a d solved that problem, real elevated a n d elevating taste, a n d embodied it like a gracious enthusiasm, y o u a n d y o u r magazine deserve an immortality. " B e f o r e writing this tribute, I jealously examined your advertising columns. I w a s t h i n k i n g of m y c h i l d a g a i n . Attractive philosophy a n d the belles-lettres m u s t not h a v e adulterated taste trailing in their w a k e for boodle. " Y o u r a c h i e v e m e n t h a s t h e o z o n e of t w o oceans blowing across i t . " L. P. B O W E N , Pocomoke City, M d .

"This Feast of Fact and Fiction" " F i v e years a g o , m y pulse w a s slow, M y eyes were dim, m y skin w a s yellow, A n d friends r e m a r k e d , w h o s a w m e s o , ' H e ' s breaking u p , poor fellow!' I h a d no appetite for food, A cocktail I could scarcely swallow, Continued

MAGAZINE

" N o w , m o n t h b y m o n t h , I t a k e m y fill (With no exception whatsoever) Of a r t i c l e s c o m p o s e d w i t h s k i l l , Of s t o r i e s c r i s p a n d c l e v e r , Of p h r a s e s w r i t w i t h verve a n d w i t , On glossy paper clearly printed, E m b e l l i s h e d i n a f a s h i o n fit W i t h pictures, plain or tinted; W i t h fresh delight I m o n t h l y scan E a c h p a g e of T h e A m e r i c a n . " T o all w h o m cruel F a t e condemns T o t a s t e t h e w a t e r s of a f f l i c t i o n , I recommend these verbal gems, T h i s f e a s t of f a c t a n d fiction; T h a t e a c h m a y find s o m e a n o d y n e T o pain, some fruitful s o u r c e of pleasure, Within this boundless m o n t h l y m i n e Of l i t e r a r y t r e a s u r e , A n d grow, like m e , ' a different m a n , ' B y reading T h e A m e r i c a n . " HARRY GRAHAM, London, England.

"Diffuses Optimism Instead of Preaching It" " I like y o u r m a g a z i n e . It always has something in it. I t is substantial a n d clean a n d well-flavored, like sound wheat, clear s p r i n g w a t e r , a n d ripe a p p l e s . " A f t e r reading it, things seem worth while—everyday things. I t diffuses o p t i ­ m i s m , i n s t e a d of p r e a c h i n g i t ; a n d l e a v e s the conviction t h a t this ought to b e a pretty g o o d w o r l d for t h e other fellow a s well a s for myself. " I t has bravery a n d force; speaks plainly a n d h i t s h a r d — b u t f r o m l o v e of j u s t i c e , n o t n

page

14

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

13

LEFT-OVER MEATS MADE APPETIZING Cookery Hints

That Enable You to Serve a Satisfying Hot

Dinner

Instead of a Cold

Lunch.

BY MARY JANE MCCLURE

M

A N Y h o u s e k e e p e r s l o o k helplessly at the c o l d roast beef, l a m b , e t c . , left after the first m e a l . T h e y k n o w t h a t t h e f a m i l y will n o t relish a d i n n e r m a d e f r o m its c o l d slices, but d o n ' t k n o w w h a t else c a n b e d o n e with it. T a k e a lesson f r o m the skillful a n d thrifty G e r m a n c o o k and provide yourself with a jar of A r m o u r ' s E x ­ tract of Beef. T h e n rejoice w h e n y o u r r o a s t is l a r g e e n o u g h to p r o v i d e for A second dinner, for without l a b o r y o u m a y serve a s a v o r y meat dish m o r e d e l i c i o u s

%

than

the

original.

R u b a t e a s p o o n f u l of b u t t e r a n d a t a b l e s p o o n of flour t o g e t h e r . i n a s a u c e p a n , a d d i n g a c u p of hot water a n d finally a quarter of a teaspoonful of the Beef E x t r a c t . U s e a light h a n d , f o r A r m o u r ' s E x t r a c t is the strongest m a d e , a n d it is e a s y t o

a

r

m

g e t in t o o m u c h . C h o p o r slice y o u r m e a t a n d d r o p it into this.' rich s a u c e a n d let it g e t t h o r o u g h l y hot. S e r v e with F r e n c h fried p o t a t o e s a n d see if your family d o n ' t vote y o u a veritable chef. A n y left-over m e a t is deli­ c i o u s s e r v e d in t h i s w a y . R o a s t beef, m u t t o n , l a m b o r veal, even chicken o r g a m e . Foreign c o o k s k n o w the virtue o f A r m o u r ' S E x t r a c t of B e e f a n d w o u l d n o t d r e a m of t r y i n g t o d o w i t h o u t it. It is o n e o f t h e secrets of setting an e c o n o m i c a l table while a p p e a r i n g lavish. It g i v e s r i c h n e s s a n d flavor t o the c h e a p e r c u t s of meat—saves b o i l i n g m e a t for s o u p s t o c k — is the basis of rich g r a v i e s a n d s a u c e s . R e m e m b e r that A little g o e s A l o n g w a y — i t is the concentrated beef e s s e n c e — the s t r e n g t h a n d flavor t h a t you cook out.

o

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s

Extract of Beef Four

times

as

strong as

the

ordinary

—the touch that g i v e s sauces, g r a v i e s s o u p s an i n i m i t a b l e "Popular

flavor.

Recipes,"

that t e a c h e s y o u the petizing cookery. cap, the and

or cap

the

after-dinner

spreader

S e n d for

cook

s e c r e t s of

Save

or

coffee

spoon

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butter

free—Wm. Rogers & Sons'

the

book

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can't buy

plate.

anything like

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p a p e r certificate

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c e n t s to p a y t h e c o s t o f c a r n a g e a n d

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certificate

get

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to

send

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cap.

only to those l i v i n g

U e p a b t m e n t

CHICAGO

to

Our

ten

dozen.

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offer

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six,

but fam­

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This in

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each will bear

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A R M O U R A W » C O M P A N Y

CHICAGO (82)

When writing to advertisers please mention

T h e

A m e r i c a n

M a g a z i n e .

14 s p i t e . I t is f a i r t o t h e s h a m s a n d f r a u d s a n d g r e e d s t h a t i t h a t e s m o s t . A n d it n e v e r ' s t a r t s s o m e t h i n g ' for m e r e circulation fireworks. " O f a l l t h e m a g a z i n e s it s e e m s t o m e t o c o m e nearest being a n expression in liter­ a t u r e of t h e r e a l A m e r i c a n c o n s c i o u s n e s s — t h e life of t h e b e s t a n d m o s t t y p i c a l A m e r ­ ican people—those who work and study and p l a y and appreciate, w h o love fair play, s a y their p r a y e r s , are true to their homes, a n d t r y to v o t e right. " O f c o u r s e i t is i n t e n s e l y i n t e r e s t i n g , a n d is real literature, w r i t t e n a n d p r i n t e d w i t h intelligence a n d taste. " B e s t of a l l , it h a s v i s i o n s . I t s e e s a n d i s endeavoring to interpret the spiritual m e a n ­ i n g of t h i s h u r r i c a n e of a c t i v i t y , t h i s w e l t e r of t h i n g s . I t sees t h e l i g h t o n t h e h i l l ; i t hears the Still S m a l l Voice. It dreams dreams that m a y come true when w e come i n d i v i d u a l l y to l o v e for ourselves justice more than unlawful power, and our brother m o r e t h a n ten per cent, d i v i d e n d s . " W I L L I A M H. H A M B Y , Meadville, M o .

The Difference " I h a v e w a t c h e d m a n y m a g a z i n e s for m a n y years. A l l , in fact, for the last forty. T h e y h a v e come recently to look m u c h alike, t h o u g h e a c h h a s its o w n n a m e a n d its Dif­ ferent but a l w a y s Desirable D a m s e l on the cover. " M a g a z i n e s n o w a d a y s g e n e r a l l y are a s l i k e a s o n e p o u n d of w o o d p u l p t o a n o t h e r pound similarly mitigated. Some require more postage; some more patience. But y o u c a n count on the ads., a n y h o w — u n i ­ f o r m l y p r o v i d e d b y a s y m p o s i u m of g r e a t authors, artists, and other manufacturers, a n d uniformly resistless. " Difference begins w h e n y o u get past the Outer Ladies, the name, the ads., a n d the w o o d pulp. I t begins in the stories, climbs in the articles, towers in the Policy. F o r the brains a n d soul arc w i t h i n — i f a n y w h e r e . " H e r e THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE begins to s h o w its heels. " I t ' s a n a m e not to be t a k e n in v a i n . It m u s t live u p to its m e a n i n g before the w o r l d — i t s m e a n i n g of y o u t h , h o p e , c o u r a g e , f a i r play, initiative, high ideals, ingenuity, neverlet-up; the fighting quality which, w i t h s a n i t y a n d m a g n e t i s m , spells L e a d e r s h i p . " C o o p e r a t i o n is t h e k e y n o t e of t o - d a y a n d the M o r r o w . N o other magazine w a s e v e r l e d b y s u c h a R a l l y of L e a d e r s a l r e a d y

b r e v e t e d for conspicuous c o u r a g e , conscience a n d skill, a n d u n a n i m o u s in t h e c a m p a i g n . A b i g p a r t of A m e r i c a n i s m i s G e t t i n g T o ­ gether for G o o d . S u c h l e a d e r s never i a i l of a F o l l o w i n g — a n d t h e b e s t . " C H A R L E S F. LUMMIS, Los Angeles, Cal.

Making People Better and Happier " O n e d a y a b o u t f o u r y e a r s a g o a fellow newspaper m a n said to m e : ' A l l the muckr a k e r s h a v e q u i t M c C l u r e a n d a r e g o i n g to h a v e a m a g a z i n e of t h e i r o w n . A n d t h e n he added enthusiastically: ' A n d I understand they're going to raise hell.' " B u t the best t h i n g a b o u t T H E AMERICAN M A G A Z I N E is t h a t a l l t h e t i m e i t h a s been r a i s i n g hell it h a s a l s o b e e n r a i s i n g corn. A n d a m o n g the choicest ears are D a v i d G r a y s o n , D r . R a s t , a n d B o b b y O r d e . A s for t h e o t h e r t h i n g s b e s i d e s c o m , w e l l , t h e r e is 'Barbarous Mexico.' " F o r t h e r a i s i n g of t h i s c o r n a n d f o r the r a i s i n g of t h i s h e l l t h e r e a r e t h o u s a n d s of b e t t e r m e n a n d w o m e n i n t h e c o u n t r y to­ d a y — b e t t e r Christians a n d better citizens. ' ' I b e l i e v e t h a t t h e m o r e c o p i e s of THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE there are sold a n d read t h e f e w e r i n s u r a n c e s c a n d a l s t h e r e w i l l be, fewer Pittsburg grafters a n d fewer P a y n e A l d r i c h tariffs. " I w o u l d n ' t w a n t a n y o n e to get the idea t h a t I t h i n k T H E A M E R I C A N M A G A Z I N E is a sequel to either the Old or t h e N e w Testa­ ment. I t isn't, t h a t is, a n y m o r e t h a n any p u b l i c a t i o n t h a t is honest, intelligent and m i l i t a n t , b u t i t is a m a g a z i n e t h a t e v e r y m a n a n d w o m a n w h o w a n t s to m a k e some­ t h i n g of t h e i r l i v e s s h o u l d r e a d . " E D W A R D A. M U S C H A M P , Narberth, Pa.

A Family Talk " L a s t e v e n i n g , after the d i n n e r dishes were c l e a r e d a w a y , I p i c k e d u p t h e J u l y AMERI­ CAN M A G A Z I N E . " ' M a r g a r e t , ' s a i d I , ' w h y i s i t t h a t we like the AMERICAN b e s t ? ' " ' W e l l , ' she said, 'there's W i l l i a m Locke and David ' " I shouted w i t h glee. ' " W h y d i d y o u a s k m e , t h e n , ' s h e said, indignantly. ' I s u p p o s e y o u t h i n k t h e r e is nothing m the whole m a g a z i n e but R a v S t a n n a r d B a k e r and that old "Interpreter's House."'

Concludedon page 16

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THE EDITOR'S TABLE—Concluded

" I hastened to mollify her. 'Don't mis­ understand me. It was simply that your r e p l y w a s so o b v i o u s l y w h a t I o u g h t to h a v e e x p e c t e d , a n d y e t , a s y o u s a y , so different from w h a t w a s running through m y o w n m i n d , t h a t it s t r u c k m y f u n n y bone. But I w o n d e r if b e t w e e n u s w e h a v e n ' t h i t u p o n t h e v e r y r e a s o n f o r t h e A M E R I C A N ? H e r e is B a k e r , t o u c h i n g t h e life of t h e N a t i o n a t s o m a n y points. S u r e l y no one in a n y branch of p u b l i c life i s d o i n g m o r e t o m a k e t h e N a t i o n k n o w itself, t o g u i d e i t t o a s a n e r , juster civilization. A s for the " I n t e r p r e ­ ter," he might h a v e died w i t h w o r k well done w h e n he wrote " R e l i g i o n in the C h u r c h a n d O u t , " o r a n y o n e of h a l f a d o z e n o t h e r s I could n a m e . H u m a n i t y — t h a t is the k e y ­ n o t e of t h e i r w o r k ; i t s e t s t h e t o n e f o r t h e whole magazine.' " ' Y e s , and D a v i d Grayson ' " B u t t h e r e , t h e t w o h u n d r e d fifty w o r d s a r e u p , so w i t h m a n ' s c o n c e i t w o m a n ' s w o r d m u s t b e left u n s a i d . " H. W. O L N E Y , Spokane, Wash.

The One Indispensable Voice " W e r e I a n e x i l e i n s o m e f a r c o r n e r of t h e seven seas a n d could get only one voice to tell m e w h a t m y p e o p l e a t h o m e w e r e t h i n k ­ ing, I should choose T H E AMERICAN MAGA­ ZINE. F r o m cover to cover—including the advertisements—its n a m e stands justified. '' C h o o s e a n y f e a t u r e : t h e s h o r t s t o r i e s — v i g n e t t e s of o u r l i f e ; ' I n t e r e s t i n g P e o p l e ' — s n a p s h o t s of v i t a l A m e r i c a n s of a l l s o r t s and conditions; ' In the Interpreter's H o u s e ' —pregnant comment on the passing show; t h e o u t d o o r a r t i c l e s — c o m p a c t of a p p e a l t o a n y red-blooded m a n . I n the better sense its editors h a v e their ear to the ground. C o u n t ­ l e s s p h a s e s of o u r life, w i t h i t s e x t r a v a g a n c e s , its sentiment, its b u o y a n c y , a r e reflected as in a mirror. "But THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE does m u c h m o r e t h a n reflect. I t v i t a l i z e s . W i t h ­ o u t c a n t o r s o l e m n i t y , w i t h m u c h of t h e s a v i n g g r a c e of h u m o r t h a t i s o u r s , i t s t r i k e s

v i b r a n t l y a n d a g g r e s s i v e l y t h e n o t e of t h e new A m e r i c a n i s m , which is, after all, only a v a r i a t i o n of t h e o l d . M o r e t h a n a n y o t h e r periodical it h a s h e l p e d t o f o r m u l a t e a con­ s t r u c t i v e p r o g r e s s — n o t a rigid o r p a r t i s a n p l a t f o r m , b u t a s o r t of w o r k i n g c r e e d g r o w i n g o u t of t h e c a u s e s a n d e f f e c t s i t h a s c o r r e l a t e d . M a n y a r e g r o p i n g f o r t h e t r u t h t h a t lies a t t h e b o t t o m of t h e p r e s e n t c r i s i s . N e w m o r a l a s p i r a t i o n s , a n e w sense of j u s t i c e , t h e feel­ i n g of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , a r e u p o n t h e p e o p l e . J u s t as R o o s e v e l t the m a n individualized t h e a w a k e n i n g , so T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE personifies the hopeful d e t e r m i n a t i o n to find t h e w a y o u t . " W. M . R A I N E , Denver, Colo.

The Soul of a Magazine " P e r s o n a l i t y is s u b s t a n c e a n d s o u l . S u b ­ stance is the b r i d g e on w h i c h soul crosses to other souls. M e n are personalities. S o are m a g a z i n e s . M e n a r e p o t e n t f o r w e a l o r ill. So are magazines. " T h e s u b s t a n c e of a m a g a z i n e i s p a p e r a n d t y p e . T h e s o u l of a m a g a z i n e i s t h e lit­ erature and art which its editors permit. T h e s u m o r t h e t w o — p l u s t h e c h a r a c t e r of the a d v e r t i s i n g — m a k e s the m a g a z i n e ' s per­ sonality. " T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE is a publica­ t i o n of p e r s o n a l i t y — a p e r s o n a l i t y d i s t i n c t , u n u s u a l , p l e a s a n t , r e m e m b e r a b l e , a n d po­ tent for w e a l . T h o s e w h o r e a d i t a r e lifted to higher levels, not b y didacticism but by wholesomeness. Its substance is well w r o u g h t a n d its soul clean. I t lives and g r o w s b e c a u s e i t is i n t e n s e l y h u m a n a n d v i t a l i z e d b y a n i d e a l . I t s flavor i s i t s o w n a n d t h o s e w h o t a s t e a n d g e t t h e t a n g of it bite deeper. " I h a v e a d v e r t i s e d in T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE a n d m a d e m o n e y ; I h a v e written for i t , o c c a s i o n a l l y , a n d m a d e f r i e n d s — g o o d friends. I s it a n y w o n d e r I l i k e it a n d cheer a bit w h e n the chance comes? " RICHARD WIGHTMAN, Saybrook, Conn.

A WORD ABOUT

H

THE 2 , 5 6 7

U N D R E D S of remarkable characterizations of THE AMERICAN MAG­ AZINE, are to be found in the 2,567 letters which did not win prizes. Brilliant phrases, sentences and paragraphs abound. Some of these will be reproduced in next month's magazine.

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Be sure to begin T h e Secret Garden in the November American Magazine. It is a romance of youth as unique and absorbing as Little Lord Fauntleroy. It is difficult to describe this wonderful story. It is a story of mystery. There are in it three wonderful children and a great woman. It shows the magic of nature working under strange and romantic circumstances. It narrates the reformation and upbuilding of a life. It is a buoyant, joyous, thrilling story of youth—youth idealized as we would like to have it. T h e Secret Garden is one of those universal romances unplaced and unplaceable, a delight for all that read, of any age.

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I n the

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S C R I B N E R Cascorra, The First Cuban Siege General Frederick Funston describes his first experiences w i t h the C u b a n Insurgent troops under fire. T h e s e articles are a re­ markable and fascinating contribution to the literature of adventure.

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OUR 120-PAGE BOOK FREE England has her Britannica, France her Larousse, Germany her Meyer and Brockhaus. Each of these National works are built upon the old style plan and are not suited to the needs of the American student or the seeker after knowledge. It remained for the United States, the youngest of the great nations, to produce a National Reference Work—

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PLAN The

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2L draper Jfor 2Ui Ctue 2Lotoet0 BY

W

W A L T E R

RAUSCHENBUSCH

E I N V O K E thy gentlest blessings, our Father, on all true lovers. We praise thee for the great longing that draws the soul of man and maid to­ gether and bids them leave father and mother and all the dear bonds of the past to cleave to each other. If e thank thee for the revealing power of love which divines in the one beloved the mystic beauty and glory of humanity, lie thank thee for the transfiguring power of love which ripens and ennobles our nature, calling forth the hidden stores of tenderness and strength in the young and overcoming the selfishness of child­ hood by the passion of self-surrender. We pray thee to make their love strong, holy, and death­ less, that no misunderstandings may fray the bond, and no gray disenchantment of the years may have poiver to quern h the heavenly light that now glows in them. May they early gain wisdom to discern the true value of life, and may no tyranny of fashion and no glamour of cheaper joys filch from them the peace and satisfaction which only loyal love can give. Grant them with sober eyes to look beyond these sweet days of friendship to the generations yet to come, and to realize that the home for which they long will be part of the sacred tissue of the body of humanity in which thou art to dwell, that so they may reverence themselves and drmk the cup of joy with awe.

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THE

LATEST

PORTRAIT

OF

PORFIRIO

DIAZ

Diaz is old and failing; and yet he conceals it. Y o u would not know from this picture that his memory is uncertain and that the iron will is relaxing. Mexico is quiet now; it is the calm before the storm

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VOL. LXX

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OCTOBER, igio

BY

RUDYARD

KIPLING

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on y o u ; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, A n d yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with T r i u m p h and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same, If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ' e m up with worn-out tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings A n d risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings A n d never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew T o serve your turn long after they are gone, A n d so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the W i l l which says to them: ' H o l d o n ! ' Copyright,

1110, by Rudyard

Kipling.

7 IO

THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with K i n g s — n o r lose the c o m m o n touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too m u c h ; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, A n d — w h i c h is more—you'll be a M a n , m y son!

Barbarous

Mexico

S this magazine appears the " R e p u b l i c " of Mexico is celebrating /—\ its Centennial of Independence. X A. All the nations with which Mexico entertains diplomatic re­ lations have been invited to send official representatives; many newspaper men, especially from this country, have been invited to attend, and to visit the principal cities of Mexico. Real palaces furnished most sumptuously have been acquired for the accommodation of the guests. Marvelous balls will be given, for one of which an appropriation of four hundred thousand dollars has been made. It is estimated that in the City of Mexico alone, four million pesos will be spent for the festivities. Thus the guests will obtain an idea of the wealth of the country, of its progress, of the peace it enjoys, of the happy harmony that reigns among its inhabitants. Everything will be covered with curtains, tapestries, carpets, so that the guests will see only what it is desirable they be shown. All the visiting commissions will be taken in charge by Mexican attaches who will never let them out of sight, lest they should look under the carpets or behind the curtains. Everything will be "disinfected" for the occasion, every­ thing will be bluff, lies, tinsel and extravagance, the more heartrending to behold as the people are hungry for freedom, and hungry for bread. The Diario of Mexico, in its issue for J u l y 7TH, reproduces the exact words of Sehor de banda y Escandon, Governor of the Federal District. "/ order that on the occasion of the Centennial Festivities all the beggars and vagrants that infest the streets of the city be rounded up and locked up in various institutions, in order to avoid the disagreeable sight they would present to the strangers that will visit us during the celebration of our patriotic fetes." That order elicited from El Dictamen, a Vera Cruz paper, the follow­ ing comment: " The beautiful words of the Governor of the Federal District have filled us with disgust and stupefaction. The sad truth is that it will all be a lie. They are going to exclude the people from popular festivities; they will deprive a certain class of people from the enjoyment of a national celebration, because, instead of being wealthy, these people are poverty stricken, because, instead of

BARBAROUS

M E X I C O :

B Y E . ALEXANDER

POWELL

7 1 7

wearing clothes tailored in Paris, they go about almost naked, their soiled tattered rags proclaiming their suffering and their misery." This celebration is to be made a glorification of President Diaz and the arrangements for this purpose have been made by President Diaz him­ self, not by the people of Mexico. B y "Independence" we usually mean the beginnings of a free and democratic state, but fairly stable republican government was not achieved until the time of Juarez in the late sixties. Then, and for ten years thereafter, there were liberty, political tolerance and a fair degree of peace—except for the disturbances made by Porfirio Diaz. When by military ability he made a successful revolution, that ended the period of personal and political liberty. This celebration, with its hymns of praise for Diaz, becomes therefore a gorgeous but tragic farce. Cuba in 1 8 9 8 , when still under Spain, had more liberty and a greater meas­ ure of self-government than Mexico has at this moment. Cuba, before we went to war with Spain, was not so wantonly mistreated and preyed upon by its governors as Mexico is to-day by Diaz and the " Científicos" —the oligarchy that controls the business and politics of Mexico. The following article explains some of the methods by which Mexico has been stripped by its rulers. The author was in Mexico just before the recent elections. He did not go to Mexico as a writer, but as an inveterate traveler who has been in many strange countries. Remember­ ing a previous visit, he felt favorably inclined to the powers that be and received many courtesies from persons of high office, including Diaz him­ self. B u t Mr. Powell penetrated the wall of pretense and got at some notable facts and truths, especially in relation to politics and business.

THE

BETRAYAL

OF

A

NATION

BY E.

A L E X A N D E R

ILLUSTRATED

S

W I T H

P O W E L L ,

PORTRAITS

AND

F . R . G . S.

PHOTOGRAPHS

C A R C E t w e n t y men hold in their gained, control the affairs of the nation. A l l h a n d s the finances a n d the future of g r e a t financial deals in w h i c h the g o v e r n ­ M e x i c o . T h e local n a m e for t h e m is m e n t is interested p a s s t h r o u g h their h a n d s Cientificos, not, as a diplomatist assured a n d are m o l d e d b y t h e m , their friends a s m e c y n i c a l l y , because t h e y rob the people well as t h e m s e l v e s sharing in the profits of scientifically, b u t r a t h e r b e c a u s e t h e y are the these transactions. intellectuals of the M e x i c a n b o d y politic, for I t w a s their b r a i n s t h a t established the science, if y o u will consult y o u r W e b s t e r , is b a n k s a n d a national b a n k i n g s y s t e m , t h a t s y n o n y m o u s w i t h k n o w l e d g e . T h e all-power­ financed the r a i l w a y s a n d h a v e p l a c e d ful faction k n o w n as the Cientificos is c o m ­ M e x i c o in the unique position of h a v i n g a posed, then, of a g r o u p of w e a l t h y a n d edu­ surplus instead of a deficit. T h e a b s o l u t i s m of cated m e n — s o m e in office a n d some out— their p o w e r , since the v i r t u a l o v e r t h r o w of w h o surround the P r e s i d e n t , hold his confi­ the R u s s i a n g r a n d dukes, is p a r a l l e l e d in n o dence, a n d , b y the e n o r m o u s influence t h u s c o u n t r y in the w o r l d . A m o n g t h e m are n u m -

7x8

The American Magazine

governors, judges and o t h e r office-holders, t h e collection of taxes a n d t h e disposal of the national revenue. In what c o u n t r y , p r a y , be it autocracy, constitutional mon­ a r c h y or republic, can y o u find a n unofficial b o d y h o l d i n g such p o w e r a s this? T h e Cientifico par­ t y , r e m e m b e r , is in no sense of the w o r d an o r g a n i z a t i o n or even a p o l i t i c a l b o d y , the t e r m b e i n g popularly a p p l i e d to the some­ w h a t v a g u e l y defined clique of financiers w h o s u r r o u n d the P r e s i d e n t a n d direct, if t h e y d o not dictate, his a c t i o n s a n d poli­ cies. T h e leading spirit is a d m i t t e d l y Jose Y v e s Limantour,Minister of F i n a n c e and t h e Morgan -Harrim a n - R o c k e f e l l e r of M e x i c o . Others gen­ erally credited w i t h w i e l d i n g g r e a t influ­ ence in t h e councils of the p a r t y a r e R a m o n Corral, Vice-President of the R e p u b l i c ; E n ­ r i q u e C . C r e e l , Minis­ ter of F o r e i g n Affairs; G u i l l e r i m o de L a n d a y E s c a n d o n , Governor of the F e d e r a l Dis­ t r i c t ; J o a q u i n D . Casa s u s , l a w y e r , banker E N R I Q U E C. CREEL and one-time Mexican A naturalized citizen, who, in spite of law and custom, became A m b a s s a d o r at Wash­ Governor of Chihuahua. M a n y who commented on the illegality of ington ; Pimentel y his election suffered for their freedom of speech F a g o a g a , P r e s i d e n t of the B a n c o C e n t r a l ; b e r e d the presidents of the leading b a n k s of P a b l o M a c e d o , P r e s i d e n t of the B a n c o N a t i o ­ the republic a n d the foremost corporation n a l ; R o s e n d o P i n e d a , a d i r e c t o r of the B a n c o l a w y e r s ; b e t w e e n t h e m t h e y control t h e N a t i o n a l a n d a m e m b e r of t h e C h a m b e r of n a t i o n a l finances a n d the a v e n u e s of t r a d e ; D e p u t i e s , a n d l a s t l y a G e r m a n b a n k e r , H u g o the M i n i s t e r of F i n a n c e is himself their rec­ S c h e r r e r b y n a m e , t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of several ognized l e a d e r ; t h e y hold in their h a n d s the g r e a t E u r o p e a n b a n k i n g h o u s e s . T h e r e is one g r a n t i n g of all franchises a n d concessions, other, a n E n g l i s h b a r o n e t a n d a c o n t r a c t o r , of the m a k i n g of m u n i c i p a l , s t a t e a n d n a t i o n a l w h o s e e x a c t r e l a t i o n s to t h e ring I a m n o t quite loans, the a p p o i n t m e n t of c a b i n e t ministers, c e r t a i n ; his n a m e is S i r W e e t m a n P e a r s o n .

Barbarous M e x i c o : Bv E . Alexander Powell

7 T-9

T h e operations of the Científico group are carried on t h r o u g h the m e d i u m of the Compañía Bancaria de O b r a s y B i e n e s Raices, p o p u l a r l y k n o w n as the " Bancaria," a n d related to the g r e a t B a n c o N a cional, w h i c h , w i t h its fifty-seven branches, h a s been called " t h e B a n k of E n g l a n d of M e x i c o . " The "Bancaria" h a s p r o v i d e d a v e r y c o n v e n i e n t cloak for t h e g o v e r n m e n t g r a f t e r s , for b y its m e a n s they are enabled to conceal their i d e n t i t y a n d to t a k e g o v e r n m e n t contracts or obtain g o v e r n m e n t concessions w i t h o u t scandal a n d w i t h o u t undesirable p u b l i c i t y . L e t m e m a k e it clear — a n d this I a m s a y ing o n l y after due consideration — t h a t tod a y , so w h o l l y is the control of M e x i c a n affairs in the h a n d s of the Científicos, it is impossible for an outsider, p a r t i c u l a r l y a n A m e r i c a n , to obtain a g o v e r n m e n t contract or concession w i t h o u t p a y i n g tribute to t h e m or their agents. So well is this fact k n o w n to foreign concessionPhotograph oy F. L. Ctarke h u n t e r s t h a t no one of JOSÉ YVES LIMANTOUR t h e m d r e a m s of going Minister of Finance, the most powerful individual, next to Diaz, in to the N a t i o n a l P a l a c e Mexico. His power in Mexico may be conceived b y imagining unless he is a c c o m Morgan and Aldrich (on a smaller scale) rolled into one p a n i e d either b y Señor L i m a n t o u r, C o r r a l , C a s a s u s , P i m e n t e l or P i n e d a to help h i m urge his suit. I t is said in M e x i c o t h a t if a con- as t h e y are still—is as a c t i v e as it w a s once. cession seeker, h a v i n g a sound a n d business- E a c h d a y he leans a little more upon those like proposition to offer, will d i s r e g a r d the ring w h o surround him. H e r e is the fashion in w h i c h a concession, a n d go s t r a i g h t to P r e s i d e n t D i a z , he is v e r y likely to h a v e his petition g r a n t e d . T h i s w a s o b t a i n e d through the usual Científico c h a n truer ten y e a r s a g o , h o w e v e r , t h a n it is to- nels, w o r k s out. L e t us suppose t h a t y o u d a y . T h e P r e s i d e n t is a n old m a n n o w a n d w i s h to b u i l d a r a i l w a y from I g u a l a , the presneither his m i n d nor his m e m o r y — r e m a r k a b l e ent end of r a i l w a y c o m m u n i c a t i o n s in G u e r rero, through to the Pacific. S u c h a conces-

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sion, it is o b v i o u s , w o u l d s e r v e to open u p a rich b u t a l m o s t u n k n o w n s t a t e a n d w o u l d do m u c h to further the c o m m e r c i a l p r o s p e r i t y of the entire region. I s it, then, p r o m p t l y g r a n t e d to y o u on those g r o u n d s ? N o t a t all. Y o u go either to Señor C a s a s u s or S e ñ o r Pimentel or Señor P i n e d a , l a y y o u r proposition before h i m a n d retain his services for drafting the concession a n d t a k i n g it u p w i t h the President. M o n e y is not e v e n m e n t i o n e d —graft in M e x i c o is not as crude as t h a t . T h e President is a p p r o a c h e d a n d the concession duly granted. T h e n there ensues a long a n d a g g r a v a t i n g d e l a y in the m a k i n g out of the n e c e s s a r y p a p e r s . Y o u call on Señor C a s a s u s , or Señor P i m e n t e l , or Señor P i n e d a — w h i c h ever one y o u h a v e chosen to " a s s i s t " y o u — a n d inquire the reason for this d e l a y . " T h e G o v e r n o r of the state through w h i c h y o u r r a i l w a y is to p a s s , " y o u are told, " h a s been so m u c h occupied a n d worried in t r y i n g to t a k e care of a m o r t g a g e w h i c h is a b o u t to b e foreclosed on his h a c i e n d a t h a t he, poor m a n , h a s not been able to find time to g i v e a t t e n t i o n to y o u r m a t t e r . " T h a t is y o u r cue to c o m e forw a r d . " W h a t is the a m o u n t of this m o r t g a g e which is so troubling the G o v e r n o r t h a t he cannot a t t e n d to m y c o n c e s s i o n ? " y o u a s k . " T e n t h o u s a n d d o l l a r s " is the a n s w e r . " T h a t is soon s e t t l e d , " y o u r e p l y , if y o u k n o w y o u r business. " I will p a y the m o r t g a g e a n d t a k e it o v e r . I t need g i v e the G o v e r n o r no further concern. H e will then b e a t l i b e r t y , I p r e sume, to settle the formalities of m y concess i o n . " S o y o u p a y d o w n the ten t h o u s a n d dollars in b a n k - n o t e s — n o cheques here—to y o u r a d v i s e r , a n d p r o m p t l y the p a p e r s cons u m a t i n g y o u r concession are forthcoming. L a t e r on, the interest on the m o r t g a g e b e coming o v e r d u e , y o u find t h a t the " h a c i e n d a " on w h i c h y o u hold a c l a i m consists of a n a c r e or so of m o u n t a i n s i d e or arid desert. L a t e r on y o u will get a bill from y o u r legal a d v i s e r for " s e r v i c e s r e n d e r e d " t h a t will stagger y o u , a n d , as t h o u g h t h a t a n d the " h a c i e n d a " w e r e not enough, y o u will r e c e i v e a n i n t i m a t i o n t h a t if y o u r r a i l w a y is to run s m o o t h l y it w o u l d be well to grease the rails b y presenting a few b l o c k s of stock to certain gentlemen w h o s e n a m e s are g i v e n y o u . T h u s w o r k s the S y s t e m in the dominions of our southern neighbor. P e r h a p s the m o s t a u d a c i o u s , as it w a s the m o s t a m b i t i o u s , of the m a n y deals p u t t h r o u g h b y the Científicos u n d e r the g u i d a n c e of L i m a n t o u r w a s the g r e a t r a i l w a y m e r g e r of rooS, this s h r e w d s c h e m e professing to place the e x t e n s i v e r a i l w a y s y s t e m s of the R e p u b lic under g o v e r n m e n t control, the M e x i c a n

C e n t r a l a n d the M e x i c a n N a t i o n a l lines being c o n s o l i d a t e d under the title of Los Ferrocarriles Nacionales de Mexico. L i m a n t o u r , in his speech before the Congress presenting this p l a n , e x u l t e d over the f a c t t h a t it cost the g o v e r n m e n t nothing. T h e f a c t is t h a t L i m a n t o u r p a i d for the stock in b o n d s g u a r a n t e e d b y the g o v e r n m e n t . The t r a n s a c t i o n m e a n t t h a t s t o c k w h i c h p a i d little or nothing w a s secured in e x c h a n g e for bonds b e a r i n g a fixed a n d i n e x o r a b l e interest. F o r an undeveloped and tax-burdened c o u n t r y this is a n a s t o u n d i n g t r a n s a c t i o n . I t a d d e d a y e a r l y b u r d e n of o v e r $ 1 6 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 u p o n M e x i c o , m o r e t h a n she spends upon schools or courts or a n y d e p a r t m e n t except the a r m y . Y o u m u s t k n o w t h a t M e x i c o is already l o a d e d w i t h debt. I n t w e n t y y e a r s her bond issues h a v e i n c r e a s e d from f o r t y to four hundred millions. A n d this in spite of a n alleged y e a r l y surplus for m a n y y e a r s . E v e n a t this w r i t i n g ( m i d s u m m e r 1 9 1 0 ) L i m a n t o u r is in E u r o p e , o s t e n s i b l y for his h e a l t h b u t really to a r r a n g e for the c o n v e r s i o n a n d renewal of p a r t of the n a t i o n a l debt. A n d it w a s this m a n L i m a n t o u r , the great financial genius of M e x i c o , w h o a r r a n g e d with H a r r i m a n the c o m b i n a t i o n of M e x i c a n railw a y s a n d their p u r c h a s e b y the government. T h r o u g h their k n o w l e d g e of w h a t w a s going on a n d control of b l o c k s of s t o c k the Científicos a n d their A m e r i c a n a s s o c i a t e s are said to h a v e m a d e b e t w e e n ten a n d t w e n t y millions b y this t r a n s a c t i o n . A t the time of the c o n c e p t i o n of this plan H a r r i m a n a l r e a d y o w n e d a considerable a m o u n t of M e x i c a n C e n t r a l stock, b u t he w a n t e d more, for the M e x i c a n lines figured l a r g e l y in his d r e a m of a s y s t e m reaching not o n l y from ocean to o c e a n , b u t from the Great L a k e s to the I s t h m u s . If y o u will glance at the m a p of M e x i c o y o u will see t h a t the H a r r i m a n interests h a v e a l r e a d y p u s h e d their West C o a s t route nine h u n d r e d miles i n t o the heart of M e x i c o , this line, w h i c h is a b r a n c h of H a r r i m a n ' s S o u t h e r n P a c i f i c S y s t e m , being, w h e n l i n k e d u p w i t h the M e x i c a n C e n t r a l at G u a d a l a j a r a , the shortest r o u t e b e t w e e n California a n d the M e x i c a n s o u t h l a n d s . With this line a n d the t w o m e r g e d r o a d s in their h a n d s , the H a r r i m a n i n t e r e s t s w i l l h a v e a b solute control of all r a i l w a y t r a n s p o r t a t i o n in the R e p u b l i c . H a r r i m a n ' s o p p o r t u n i t y to secure control of the M e x i c a n C e n t r a l c a m e w i t h the panic of 1 9 0 7 , w h e n H . C l a y P i e r c e , of S t a n d a r d Oil notoriety, being hard hit financially, was forced into transferring a p a r t of M e x i c a n

Barbarous M e x i c o : By E . Alexander Powell C e n t r a l stock w h i c h he held to H a r r i m a n , $ 1 6 0 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 in g u a r a n t e e d general m o r t g a g e 4 % redeemable g o l d bonds. thus g i v i n g t h e latter a large interest in t h a t line. W i t h this s u b s t a n t i a l foundation laid, $30,000,000 in n o n - c u m u l a t i v e 4 % first pre­ H a r r i m a n sent one of h i s m o s t plausible ferred shares. - c u m u l a t i v e 5 % second agents, S a m u e l M o r s e F e l t o n , to talk D i a z 5125,000,000 preferred o v e r to t h e shares. merger p l a n . $ 7 5 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 in In time F e l t o n c o m mo n succeeded. shares. With F e l t o n If t h e g o v ­ advancing arernment does g u m e n t s on not p a y , t h e one side, a n d bondholders L i m a n t o u r , in can, a n d will, w h o s e finan­ foreclose. And cial j u d g m e n t just how t h e he trusted im­ g o v e r n m e n t is plicitly, urging going to p a y I , on t h e other, for one, do not a n d the great c l e a r l y see. H a r r i m a n T h e Mexican p o u n d i n g C e n t r a l and a w a y b y post the M e x i c a n a n d wire, i t is National a r e no w onder c h e a p l y built that Diaz gave roads and in a n d c o n ­ their r o l l i n g sented t o t h e stock is of in­ merger, a n d in ferior q u a l i t y . due t i m e t h e Their entire w o r l d w a s in­ mileage totals formed that under 5,400 t h e Mexican miles, y e t u n ­ Government der the g o v e r n ­ had accom­ ment merger plished a g r e a t they h a v e been Photograph by F. L. Clarke financial feat capitalized a t RAMON CORRAL b y securing the $615,000,000 W h o , because he may succeed Diaz, is the storm center ownership of gold, o r some z\ of Mexico's political disturbance. He is very unpopular its own r a i l w a y $ 1 1 2 , 0 0 0 per lines. T h e fact mile, a s t a t e of is, h o w e v e r , t h a t in addition t o distributing several mil­ affairs which looks suspiciously a s though t h e y lions of loot a m o n g associates of the Cientifico h a d been " w a t e r e d . " T h e M e x i c a n C e n t r a l is c a m a r i l l a , t h e merger o n l y resulted i n p l a c ­ t h i r t y y e a r s old, a n d y e t i t h a s n e v e r p a i d a ing H a r r i m a n in a position t o seize the roads p e n n y in d i v i d e n d s . T h e M e x i c a n N a t i o n a l a t some time in t h e n o t f a r d i s t a n t future. is o n l y five y e a r s y o u n g e r , y e t it h a s p a i d less I t is no secret t h a t w h e n F o r if t h e M e x i c a n G o v e r n m e n t h a d o b ­ t h a n t w o per cent. tained control of t h e r a i l w a y stock, H a r r i ­ L i m a n t o u r a n d his associates effected t h e man a n d his W a l l S t r e e t associates held merger t h e M e x i c a n C e n t r a l w a s in such a w h a t is infinitely m o r e i m p o r t a n t , t h e rail­ precarious condition financially t h a t in a n ­ other t w e l v e m o n t h i t w o u l d h a v e been w a y bonds. H e r e a r e t h e obligations fin gold) with reorganized. N o w if t h e r a i l w a y s c o m p r i s ­ which t h e M e x i c a n G o v e r n m e n t — a t the sug­ ing t h e m e r g e r h a v e been u n a b l e t o p a y d i v i d e n d s in the p a s t , h o w u n d e r the h e a v e n s gestion of M r . H a r r i m a n a n d w i t h t h e assent are t h e y going t o meet their e n o r m o u s l y i n ­ of M i n i s t e r L i m a n t o u r — h a s b u r d e n e d itself creased obligations 'in t h e future? W h e r e is as a result of this a s t o u n d i n g o p e r a t i o n : the $ 1 6 , 5 2 5 , 0 0 0 coming from each y e a r w i t h $225,000,000 in prior lien 4.^2% redeemable w h i c h t o n a v the interest on those b o n d s ? "old bonds.

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T h e g o v e r n m e n t can, a n d p r o b a b l y will, t a k e it from the national t r e a s u r y until such time as the roads h a v e been p l a c e d upon a p a y i n g basis—or until such time as there is trouble. When there is trouble! T h a t is where the bond­ holders come into their own. T h a t is the v e r y contingency which the shrewd H a r r i m a n foresaw. E v e r y revolution M e x i c o h a s h a d has seen a repudiation of part or all of M e x i ­ can obligations. W h e n D i a z dies the trouble will c o m e — a n d when the trouble comes the g o v e r n m e n t will refuse to p a y — a n d w h e n the g o v e r n m e n t refuses to p a y the b o n d ­ holders will a t t e m p t to foreclose—and if fore­ closure is resisted an A m e r i c a n a r m y , a t the instigation of the g r e a t c a p t a i n s of finance, will p r o m p t l y cross the R i o G r a n d e for the p r o ­ tection of A m e r i c a n financial interests, w h i c h , in this single instance, a m o u n t to close on four h u n d r e d million dollars. A n d t h a t is p r e ­ cisely w h a t H a r r i m a n foresaw a n d w h a t the bondholders are waiting and p r a y i n g for, for under the assured stability of an A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t or protectorate M e x i c a n r a i l w a y securities w o u l d rise like Orville W r i g h t ' s flying m a c h i n e . T h e Cientificos h a d their h a n d s in the rail­ road amalgamation, and when they withdrew t h e m a considerable a m o u n t w a s sticking to their p a l m s . T h e same is true of m a n y g o v ­ e r n m e n t operations, buildings of all kinds, a n d

great government undertakings, harbors, b r e a k w a t e r s , t e r m i n a l s . T h e y insist upon a share in these u n d e r t a k i n g s a n d even p l a y w i t h d u b i o u s s c r u p u l o u s n e s s w i t h friends. T h e P e a r s o n s , for e x a m p l e , h a d a profitable con­ t r a c t for the t e r m i n a l Avorks a t V e r a C r u z . W h e n this w a s realized the Bancaria com­ pelled P e a r s o n to g i v e u p the general contract w h i c h p r o m i s e d profits, a n d p e r s u a d e d him to t a k e some s u b c o n t r a c t s w h i c h turned out unprofitably. I n M e x i c o C i t y those who k n o w l a u g h c y n i c a l l y o v e r this episode. T h e Bancaria a n d a t l e a s t s o m e of the Cientificos a r e in e v e r y t h i n g . T h e y are offi­ cers or directors in e v e r y g r e a t undertaking. T a k e the big oil c o m p a n y of S i r W e e t m a n P e a r s o n . I t h a s p a i d no d i v i d e n d s so far as I can d i s c o v e r . Y e t there are ten members of the g o v e r n m e n t g r o u p w h o w e r e given stock in it w i t h a g u a r a n t y of ten per cent, a n d this special d i v i d e n d is p a i d w e e k l y though it is n e v e r earned. T h e other Cientificos s h o u l d look into this. T h i s o l i g a r c h y not o n l y h a s its hands on railroads a n d public w o r k s a n d the financing of the public debt, b u t t h e y a n d their im­ m e d i a t e dependents a n d p a r t i s a n s (said to include m a n y A m e r i c a n s ) o w n n e a r l y half of all the l a n d in the r e p u b l i c . T h e g r e a t territory of Q u i n t a n a R o o , larger t h a n the S t a t e s of N e w Y o r k , N e w J e r s e y , and

THE RURALES The national mounted police—loyal and

effective

n-iifi/i

by F. L.

Clarke

GENERAL

FRANCESCO

RAMEREZ

Chief of the Rurales, which are Diaz's most useful tool in carrying out

his

policy of suppression

P e n n s y l v a n i a p u t together, a n d the most promising l a n d in the republic, is o w n e d outright b y eight of them. G o v e r n o r Olegario M o l i n a of Y u c a t a n o w n s 1 5 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 acres of M e x i c a n soil a n d e x - G o v e r n o r T e r r a z a s of C h i h u a h u a 1 5 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 more, the holdings of these t w o men alone being equal to the area of all our N e w England States. M a d a m e Diaz and other heirs of the late R o m e r o R u b i o , V i c e P r e s i d e n t C o r r a l , G o v e r n o r T o r r e s of S o n o r a , G o v e r n o r E m i l i o P i m e n t e l of O a x a c a , G o v ernor E d u a r d o P i m e n t e l of C h i a p a s , G o v e r n o r C a r d e n a s of C o a h u i l a , G o v e r n o r A h u m a d a of J a l i s c o , G o v e r n o r C o s i o of Queretaro, G o v ernor L a n d a y E s c a n d o n of the F e d e r a l D i s -

trict, a n d the heirs of the late G o v e r n o r C a ñ e d o of S i n a l o a are all the owners of millions of acres of M e x i c a n l a n d . H o w did the M e x i c a n politicians g e t the l a n d a w a y from the M e x i c a n people? B y countless methods, chief a m o n g t h e m a l a n d l a w which P r e s i d e n t D i a z fathered. This law permitted any person to go out and claim any lands to which the possessor could not prove a perfect title, at the s a m e time so strictly defining a ' ' perfect title " t h a t it b e c a m e p r a c t i c a l l y i m possible for a small l a n d o w n e r , of limited resources a n d in a c o u n t r y of l a x l a w s , to o b t a i n one. N o w in M e x i c o possession h a d a l w a y s been regarded as nine points of the l a w a n d 723

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possession of land t h r o u g h m a n y g e n e r a t i o n s R u b i o , the P r e s i d e n t ' s f a t h e r - i n - l a w , formed as ten points. E v e n the most m e a g e r e d u c a ­ land c o m p a n i e s a n d sent o u t a g e n t s . T h e s e tion being the exception r a t h e r t h a n the rule, a g e n t s selected the m o s t d e s i r a b l e l a n d s in the the people h a d n e v e r been a c c u s t o m e d to re­ r e p u b l i c — a n d t h e y w e r e n o t m o d e s t a b o u t it sort to legal f o r m s in their p r o p e r t y transfers. e i t h e r — a s c e r t a i n e d t h a t the holders of them w e r e u n a b l e to When a m a n furnish t i t l e s possessed a pi~| which w o u l d home which hold under the his father held new law, "de­ before him, n o u n c e d " and a n d his g r a n d ­ d u l y registered father and t h e m in t h e great-grand­ n a m e s of their father b e f o r e principals and that, and then proceeded which had to e v i c t t h e b e e n in t h e o c c u p a n t s , in f a m i l y as f a r w h o s e families b a c k as t h e y t h e y h a d been had an}' held for generkn owl edge, a t i o n s . Sol­ then he con­ diers frequent­ sidered t h a t he l y h a d to be owned that called in when land, a n d all it c a m e to evic­ h i s neighbors tion, for after a considered m a n has been t h a t he o w n e d b o r n on a little it, a n d all the f a r m , a n d has governments g r o w n up on it, of M e x i c o up a n d h a s put to the time of the l a b o r of his Diaz tacitly o w n , a n d his recognized wife's, and his such owner­ c h i l d r e n 's ship. h a n d s into it Then c a m e SIR W E E T M A N P E A R S O N f o r a genera­ the D i a z l a n d Baronet, Member of Parliament, and president of S. Peartion, he is like­ laws, which I & Son, Ltd., a great English contracting firm that l y to m a k e c o u n t among has long had a strong hold in Mexico trouble for the the c r u d e s t s t r a n g e r who, a n d harshest m e a s u r e s t h a t a n y g o v e r n m e n t h a s forced h a p p e n i n g to t a k e a f a n c y to his l a n d , attempts upon its people; F o r sheer injustice t h e y t a k e to t a k e it a w a y from h i m b y the a u t h o r i t y of r a n k w i t h the R u s s i a n l a w s which d e l i m i t e d a n o u t r a g e o u s l a w . T h u s h u n d r e d s of thou­ the J e w i s h P a l e . I t is quite c o n c e i v a b l e t h a t s a n d s of s m a l l f a r m e r s h a v e lost their property. w i t h the economic progress of the c o u n t r y a T h u s s m a l l f a r m e r s a r e losing their property stricter land l a w m i g h t h a v e b e c o m e n e c e s s a r y , t o - d a y . P e r h a p s y o u d o u b t the t r u t h of this b u t in such a case it w o u l d seem t h a t the n a t u r ­ a s s e r t i o n ? I do n o t b l a m e y o u , for in this twen­ al thing for an honest g o v e r n m e n t t o h a v e d o n e t i e t h c e n t u r y a n d u n d e r the rule of a presi­ w o u l d h a v e been to send its a g e n t s t h r o u g h d e n t w h o m his b i o g r a p h e r s h a v e called " t h e the c o u n t r y to instruct the p e o p l e in the p r o ­ g r e a t e s t m a n in the W e s t e r n h e m i s p h e r e " it visions a n d w o r k i n g s of the n e w l a w a n d t o s e e m s too m o n s t r o u s a v i o l a t i o n of the most help them, b y registration of their p r o p e r t y , e l e m e n t a r y rights of m a n k i n d to b e true. to k e e p their h o m e s . B u t this w a s not done, R e a d , h o w e v e r , the f o l l o w i n g d i s p a t c h from a n d the conclusion is i n e v i t a b l e t h a t the l a w M e r i d a , Y u c a t a n , p u b l i s h e d on A p r i l 1 2 , w a s e n a c t e d solely for p u r p o s e s of p l u n d e r . IQO8, in the M e x i c a n Herald, a newspaper N o sooner h a d it been p a s s e d t h a n a n u m b e r w h i c h w a s at t h a t t i m e r e c e i v i n g a subsidy of p r o m i n e n t citizens, a m o n g t h e m R o m e r o from the g o v e r n m e n t :

Barbarous M e x i c o : By E . Alexander Powell

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" M e r i d a , A p r i l n . — M i n i s t e r Olegario M o ­ t a x rates, nor is there a n y court, b o a r d , or lina of the D e p a r t m e n t of F o m e n t o , C o l o ­ commission to which to a p p e a l unjust assess­ nization a n d I n d u s t r y , h a s m a d e a denounce­ m e n t s . T h e taxes of a district are a r b i t r a r i l y ment before the a g e n c y here of e x t e n s i v e fixed, a n d w h e n e v e r it is d e e m e d a d v i s a b l e territory l y i n g a d j a c e n t to his lands in T i z i - raised, b y a b o a r d consisting of the jefe m in partido. politico, the al­ T h e denounce­ calde (or m a y ­ ment was made or), a n d a local through E s t e merchant. b a n R ej o n This board G a r c i a , his adm a y charge one ministrador at farmer five that p l a c e . times as m u c h T h e action w a s per h e c t a r e as t a k e n on the it charges his ground that next-door those now oc­ neighbor, y e t c u p y i n g them he has no re­ h a v e no docu­ dress w h a t s o ­ m e n t s or titles e v e r , unless he o f ownership. is r i c h and T h e y measure p o w e r f u l , in 2,700 hectares which case he ( a b o u t 6,000 w i l l probably acres, or o v e r t a k e a train for nine square the capital a n d miles) a n d in­ tell the whole clude perfectly story to D o n organized Porfirio h i m t o w n s , some self. A l w a y s fine ranches, the small landincluding those own er must of Laureano pay, pay, pay, B r i s e n o and and if he c a n ' t Rafael Aguilar, p a y , b y a little and other juggling h is properties. farm is listed CLAY PIERCE T h e jefe poli­ among the An American who has large interests in oil and railroads tico of T i z i m i n properties b e ­ in Mexico, and who has recently incurred the hostility has n o t i f i e d longing to the of the government group the population =i—1 jefe politico or of t h e town, t h e governor.

a

the owners a n d laborers on the ranches, I h a v e h e a r d of case after case of l a n d o w n e r s a n d others on the lands, that t h e y will receiving absolutely no notice of assessments, be obliged to v a c a t e in t w o m o n t h s or be­ the first i n t i m a t i o n of their ruin c o m i n g like come subject to the new owner. T h e pres­ a t h u n d e r clap from a clear s k y in the form ent occupants h a v e lived for y e a r s upon of a notification t h a t their l a n d h a s a l r e a d y the land and h a v e c u l t i v a t e d a n d i m p r o v e d been sold for n o n p a y m e n t of taxes, it h a v i n g m u c h of it. S o m e h a v e lived there from gen­ been transferred, it is needless to s a y , to one eration to generation, a n d h a v e thought of the b o a r d of assessors. t h e m s e l v e s the rightful owners, h a v i n g in­ Of course such b a n d i t m e t h o d s as these w e r e herited it from the original " s q u a t t e r s . " M r . b o u n d to meet w i t h resistance e v e n from so R e j o n G a r c i a h a s also denounced other sim­ t h o r o u g h l y c o w e d a n d terrorized a people as ilar public lands in the E s p i t a partido." the M e x i c a n s , a n d so w e find n u m e r o u s in­ Still another m e a n s w h e r e b y t h o u s a n d s of stances in which whole regiments of troops homes h a v e passed from the h a n d s of small h a v e been called out to enforce the collection owners into those of politicians is in the per­ of unjust t a x e s or the eviction of protesting nicious s v s t e m of state taxes. I n M e x i c o landowners. T h e secret h i s t o r y of M e x i c o there is no such thing as u n i f o r m i t y in state for the p a s t t w e n t y y e a r s is red w i t h the

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stories of m a s s a c r e s w h i c h h a d their causes in this condition. H e r e is a case in p o i n t : A l ­ most in the center of the state of V e r a C r u z lies the little village of P a p a n t l a . M a n u e l R o m ­ ero R u b i o , father-in-law of P r e s i d e n t D i a z , d i s c o v e r e d hereabouts a rich t r a c t of l a n d w h i c h w a s being w o r k e d as small f a r m s b y s e v e r a l thousand M e x i c a n s , n e a r l y e v e r y f a m i l y h a v i n g held its p r o p e r t y for genera­ tions. A s c e r t a i n i n g t h a t their titles w o u l d not hold under the law, R u b i o " d e n o u n c e d " the lands a n d the owners were ordered to m o v e off. Quite n a t u r a l l y t h e y refused, a n d w h e n a squadron of rurales a p p e a r e d to e v i c t t h e m they a r m e d themselves a n d d r o v e the troopers a w a y . T w o d a y s later a b a t t a l i o n of i n f a n t r y , w i t h m a c h i n e guns, descended on the luckless c o m m u n i t y a n d the slaughter b e g a n . F o u r hundred seems to b e the esti­ m a t e generally placed upon the n u m b e r of men, w o m e n , a n d children w h o lost their lives defending their homes in the m a s s a c r e of Papantla. Scarcely a m o n t h passes t h a t reports do not come in from one quarter of M e x i c o or another telling of b l o o d y disturbances r e suiting from the confiscation of homes b y state or local authorities through the " d e ­ n u n c i a t i o n " method, on the excuse of non­ p a y m e n t of taxes or through one or another of the schemes which h a v e been devised b y the ruthless strong to rob the defenseless w e a k . A s late as A p r i l of last y e a r the M e x ­ ican p a p e r s reported the wholesale confisca­ tion b y the authorities of the S t a t e of C h i ­ h u a h u a of the lands of several score farmers living near the town of S a n A n d r e s on the usual excuse of n o n p a y m e n t of taxes. T h e farmers resisted eviction a n d , true to the usual procedure, t w o car-loads of troops were hurried to the scene a n d p r o m p t l y cleaned out the district, shooting some of the l a n d o w n e r s a n d chasing the others into the mountains. T h o u g h the g o v e r n m e n t care­ fully concealed the truth as to the n u m b e r killed, it is supposed to h a v e been in the neighborhood of t w e n t y . T h e fugitives s t a y e d in the m o u n t a i n s until their s c a n t y store of provisions w a s e x h a u s t e d a n d then, halfs t a r v e d , returned to the farms t h a t h a d once been theirs, begging for m e r c y . E v e r y m a n in that c o m m u n i t y a n d some of the w o m e n w e r e t h r o w n into jail, where a portion of t h e m still remain. I t is no e x a g g e r a t i o n to s a y t h a t b y such m e t h o d s as I h a v e m e n t i o n e d h u n d r e d s of t h o u s a n d s of industrious a n d p e a c e - l o v i n g M e x i c a n s h a v e been d e p r i v e d of their h o m e s a n d their m e a n s of livelihood. B y such m e a n s r

h a s the s m a l l f a r m e r b e e n d e s t r o y e d and the sullen, hopeless, a p a t h e t i c peon class in­ creased. T h u s h a s a n I n d i a n p o p u l a t i o n of six m i l l i o n s — w h o m no less a n a u t h o r i t y than E . H . H a r r i m a n once said w o u l d m a k e , if p r o p e r l y fed a n d t r e a t e d , a m o n g the best w o r k e r s in the w o r l d — b e e n d r i v e n to a con­ dition of a p p a l l i n g p o v e r t y , hopelessness and serfdom. T h u s h a s the M e x i c a n nation been s y s t e m a t i c a l l y d e g r a d e d , d e b a u c h e d , shorn of its strength a n d a m b i t i o n a n d transformed i n t o a s t a r v i n g a n d t a t t e r d e m a l i o n people. M u c h h a s been w r i t t e n of the increase of e d u c a t i o n in M e x i c o u n d e r the D i a z régime. A s a m a t t e r of fact, the e d u c a t i o n a l standard could not be m u c h lower. T h e flatterers and defenders of D i a z p r a t e u n c e a s i n g l y of the schools he h a s established, b u t I , for one, failed to find them. T h e y are mostly on p a p e r . I n the M e x i c a n r u r a l districts there are p r a c t i c a l l y no such t h i n g s as schools, while in the m o r e r e m o t e portions of the c o u n t r y t o w n s of m a n y h u n d r e d inhabitants h a v e no schools a t all. T h e schools in the rural districts of the S t a t e of M e x i c o , for ex­ a m p l e , h a v e been closed for three y e a r s or more, the G o v e r n o r h a v i n g withheld the m o n e y on the g r o u n d t h a t he needed it for other purposes. T h e f a c t t h a t there is no a d e q u a t e public school s y s t e m in M e x i c o is b e s t a t t e s t e d b y the m o s t recent census, which shows that but sixteen per cent, of the population are able to read or write. Compare this w i t h J a p a n , a n o v e r p o p u l a t e d country w h e r e the people are v e r y p o o r a n d where the opportunities for e d u c a t i o n s e e m i n g l y ought not to b e so good. N i n e t y - e i g h t per cent, cf J a p a n e s e m e n a n d n i n e t y - t h r e e per cent, of J a p a n e s e w o m e n can, n e v e r t h e l e s s , read and w r i t e . I n C u b a , w h i c h h a s b e e n freed from the stifling rule of S p a i n little m o r e than a decade, fifty-seven per cent, of the whole p o p u l a t i o n can r e a d a n d w r i t e , while in the cities it rises to e i g h t y - t w o p e r cent. I n the A r g e n t i n e R e p u b l i c there is one school to e v e r y 9 5 2 i n h a b i t a n t s ; in C u b a a school to ev­ e r y 1 , 0 2 4 i n h a b i t a n t s ; in C h i l e a school to e v e r y i , 2 o o i n h a b i t a n t s , b u t in the enlightened M e x i c o of Porfirio D i a z t h e r e is a school to e v e r y 1 , 6 3 1 i n h a b i t a n t s . T h i s disposes pretty effectually of the m y t h t h a t e d u c a t i o n under D i a z h a s p r o g r e s s e d b y l e a p s a n d bounds. F i g u r e s speak louder t h a n w o r d s . A f t e r D i a z , w h a t ? is the q u e s t i o n t h a t the Cientijicos are n o w a s k i n g t h e m s e l v e s . Can t h e y — t h i s little g r o u p of a b l e b u t rapacious m e n — m a i n t a i n t h e m s e l v e s ? T h e y h a v e great w e a l t h , g r e a t h o l d i n g s of l a n d s a n d stocks. T h e y control the financial i n s t i t u t i o n s of the

Barbarous M e x i c o : By E . Alexander Powell c o u n t r y . Y e t t h e y l i v e o n l y b y a n d through the p o w e r of D i a z to hold the c o u n t r y a n d the people in check. N o , there is one other source of s e c u r i t y for this b a n d — t h e i r alli­ ance w i t h foreign i n v e s t o r s a n d foreign in­ terests in M e x i c o . T h e y r e g a r d this as their insurance a n d s e c u r i t y . A n d quite rightly, the great debt of the c o u n t r y , n e a r l y half a billion, is held chiefly in the U n i t e d S t a t e s and Germany. B e ­ sides this, citizens of Great Britain, Ger­ man}-, and the United States h a v e i n v e s t m e n t s in M e x ­ ico a m o u n t i n g to o v e r a billion a n d a half, a n d sixty-five per cent, of this is American. H o w long, think y o u , would the g o v ­ ernments of Eng­ land, F r a n c e , a n d G e r m a n y permit a disturbance in M e x ­ ico which t h r e a t e n e d their interests or the lives of t h e i r sub­ jects? G e r m a n in­ vestments alone exceed a billion m a r k s — a n d how W i l l i a m the A m b i t i o u s w o u l d j u m p at such an excuse for obtaining that long-coveted foothold in the Western wi irld, w h i c h o n l y the firmness of a n A m e r i c a n P r e s i d e n t k e p t h i m from getting in Venezuela. H o w long, think y o u , w o u l d A m e r i c a n national sentiment p e r m i t such a defiance of the M o n r o e D o c t r i n e as w o u l d be b r o u g h t a b o u t , s a y , b y a G e r m a n intervention in M e x i c o ? B u t it is the U n i t e d S t a t e s , after all, which is most v i t a l l y concerned in the solution of the M e x i c a n p r o b l e m , a n d it is A m e r i c a n fin­ anciers w h o will bring a b o u t , sooner or later, an A m e r i c a n intervention. Y o u h a v e o n l y to be in M e x i c o a d a y or two to realize h o w irre­ sistibly the c o u n t r y is sinking into the p o w e r of the A m e r i c a n i n v e s t o r . If the M e x i c a n G o v e r n m e n t owns the r a i l w a y s , the A m e r i c a n financiers o w n w h a t is far more i m p o r t a n t , the r a i l w a y b o n d s ; large a g r i c u l t u r a l , c o m ­ mercial, a n d mining concessions in the re­ public are held b y A m e r i c a n s ; it is A m e r i c a n s w h o h a v e g i v e n M e x i c o light a n d p o w e r a n d heat a n d m e a n s of u r b a n c o m m u n i c a t i o n ; it is A m e r i c a n engineers w h o d r i v e the trains a n d A m e r i c a n m a n a g e r s w h o operate

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t h e m ; A m e r i c a n a r t e s i a n wells are i r r i g a t i n g t h e d r y c o u n t r y a n d A m e r i c a n s t e a m p l o w s are tilling it a n d A m e r i c a n h a r v e s t e r s are g a t h e r ­ ing the resultant crops; A m e r i c a n m a n a g e r s are found in charge of the b a n k s a n d m i n e s a n d mills a n d h a c i e n d a s ; it is A m e r i c a n pros­ pectors a n d pioneers w h o are opening up the w a s t e places of the republic to c o m m e r c e and c i v i l i z a t i o n . A n d still A m e r i c a n c a p i t a l comes roll­ ing in, r o l l i n g in, like an i n e x o r a 1) 1 e w a v e of fate. I n the history of the w o r l d there has n e v e r been so c o m p l e t e a n d suc­ cessful a commercial invasion of a nation. This i n v a s i o n has c o m e from the N o r t h , quietly, silently, w i t h o u t blare of b u g l e or r a t t l e of drum, but it is p r o v ­ ing far more inimi­ cal to M e x i c a n inde­ pendence t h a n did e v e r t h e m a r c h of the Conquistadores f r o m the S o u t h four hundred y e a r s ago. I t is the bondholders, when all is said a n d clone, w h o really order the future of a nation, a n d the bondholders in this p a r t i c u l a r case are to b e found for the m o s t p a r t in W a l l Street and Capel Court. J u s t a t present M e x i c a n securities s t a n d r e a s o n a b l y high, b u t t h e y are fluttering, a n d e v e r y d a y t h a t a d d s to the a g e of D i a z m a k e s t h e m flutter more. S h o u l d an insurrection or civil w a r follow the death of D i a z , w i t h a consequent undermin­ ing of the public credit a n d the enforced ces­ sation of i n d u s t r y , there w o u l d be a s l u m p in M e x i c a n securities. A n d it is j u s t such a s l u m p t h a t their holders—chief a m o n g t h e m the S t a n d a r d Oil a n d M o r g a n - G u g g e n h e i m in­ terests—are determined to a v o i d . I t requires no unusual a m o u n t of p e r s p i c u i t y to see t h a t if M e x i c o could be assured of a sane a n d stable g o v e r n m e n t after D i a z ' s death there w o u l d be no slump in M e x i c a n securities. W h a t , then, if the bondholders a n d conces­ sion o w n e r s could be a s s u r e d of a g o v e r n ­ m e n t as stable as that of the U n i t e d S t a t e s , and, a b o v e all else, a g o v e r n m e n t friendly t o A m e r i c a n interests? W h y , in such an e v e n t , M e x i c a n securities of e v e r y name a n d n a t u r e

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The American Magazine

w o u l d go higher t h a n an aeroplane. A n d t h a t is precisely w h a t those bondholders a n d con­ cessionaires intend shall h a p p e n . T h e y in­ tend not t h a t the g o v e r n m e n t of M e x i c o shall b e as stable as t h a t of the U n i t e d S t a t e s , b u t that it shall be the g o v e r n m e n t of the U n i t e d S t a t e s — a n d therein y o u h a v e the long a n d the short of it. P r e s i d e n t D i a z will p a s s a w a y in the fullness of his y e a r s ; C o r r a l will claim the p r e s i d e n c y ; the Anti-reelectionistas or the R e y i s t a s or some other faction will t r y to oust h i m ; u p ­ risings will start in the discontented N o r t h ; the u n s u b d u e d Y a q u i s a n d M a y a s will t a k e a d v a n t a g e of the general confusion to p a y their M e x i c a n m a s t e r s s o m e of the debts t h e y o w e ; the a n t i - A m e r i c a n feeling w h i c h exists from one end of the r e p u b l i c to the other will manifest itself b y the stoning of A m e r ­ ican houses, the destruction of A m e r i c a n p r o p e r t y , p e r h a p s b y the shooting of A m e r ­ ican citizens. A n d in all this the secret a g e n t s of the foreign financial interests will t a k e g o o d pains to w h o o p the M e x i c a n s on to their o w n undoing. A n A m e r i c a n " A r m y of P a c i f i c a ­ t i o n " will enter the c o u n t r y to protect A m e r ­ ican interests a n d to forestall a n y a t t e m p t a t E u r o p e a n i n t e r v e n t i o n ; an A m e r i c a n p r o t e c ­ torate or political d e p e n d e n c y or sphere of in­ fluence—call it b y w h a t n a m e y o u w i s h — w i l l be established, a n d a p u p p e t will be installed with all due c e r e m o n y in the presidential chair, w i t h a n A m e r i c a n political resident be­ side h i m to pull the strings a n d a n A m e r i c a n a r m y of occupation to b a c k his orders up. T h a t is a b o u t w h a t will e v e n t u a l l y h a p p e n

in M e x i c o , a n d m o s t intelligent M e x i c a n s k n o w it a n d d r e a d it, from the President down. In April last, during the course of a private conversation, General Diaz expressed the fear that upon his death exactly such a state of affairs as I have outlined would come to pass. F r o m the hints I h a v e g i v e n in this article y o u m a y e a s i l y c o n c e i v e the a p p a l l i n g condi­ tions w h i c h o b t a i n in M e x i c o t o - d a y : the m u r d e r e d t h o u s a n d s , the o u t r a g e d women, the stolen f a r m s t e a d s , the s t a r v i n g , homeless p e a s a n t r y , the m e n a n d w o m e n a n d little children i m p r i s o n e d in l o a t h s o m e jails; all the i n d e s c r i b a b l e hopelessness a n d misery and suffering of a n a t i o n . T o offset this the sub­ sidized w r i t e r s p r a t e of the lawlessness which h a s been c h a n g e d to l a w , of policemen made from b a n d i t s ; of r a i l w a y s a n d street-car sys­ t e m s a n d a s p h a l t e d streets a n d a n eight-mil­ lion-dollar o p e r a house. Of the t w o sides of the m e d a l — t h e one held u p to the glare of the c a l c i u m , the other k e p t c a r e f u l l y concealed in the s h a d o w — y o u c a n t a k e y o u r choice. Let it be p l a i n , I a m no " d e t r a c t o r of M e x i c o , " b u t I a m an accuser of those w h o h a v e be­ t r a y e d her a n d of those others (Americans, I regret to s a y , a m o n g t h e m ) w h o , from wholly selfish m o t i v e s , seek to u p h o l d , palliate, or e x c u s e their w r o n g - d o i n g . I c a n n o t help but feel t h a t , as s u r e l y as there is a hereafter, then j u s t so surely will the cruel jefe politicos and the r a p a c i o u s g o v e r n o r s , the c o r r u p t judges, a n d the d e g r a d e d politicians, a n d , a b o v e all, t h a t sinister old m a n w h o h a s p e r m i t t e d such things to be, h a v e a terrible indictment to a n s w e r to a t G o d ' s g r e a t j u d g m e n t seat.

N E W

A D V E N T U R E S

I T

W A S

A

IN

P E R F E C T

The

C O N T E N T M E N T

J U N E

M O R N I N G "

Mowing B Y

D A V I D

I L L U S T R A T I O N S

1

G R A Y S O N

B Y

T H O M A S

F O G A R T Y

Noiv I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to groiv in the open air and to eat and sleep ivith

the earth. "

J u n e the 30th. tranquillity. A n d in the b a r n y a r d back of H I S is a well-earned S u n d a y morning. the house Harriet's hens are cackling trium­ M y chores were all done long ago, phantly, they are impiously unobservant of and I am sitting down here after a the Sabbath day. late and leisurely breakfast with that I turned out m y mare for a run in the pas­ luxurious feeling of irresponsible restfulness ture. She has rolled herself again and again a n d comfort which comes only upon a clean, in the w a r m earth a n d shaken herself after each still S u n d a y morning like this—after a week of roll with an equine delight most pleasant to hard w o r k — a clean S u n d a y morning, with see. F r o m time to time, I can hear her gos­ clean clothes, and a clean chin, and clean sipy whickerings as she calls across the fields thoughts, a n d the J u n e airs stirring the clean to m y neighbor Horace's young b a y colts. white curtains at m y windows. F r o m across When I first w o k e up this morning I said to the hills I can hear very faintly the drowsy myself: sounds of early church bells, never indeed to be " W e l l , nothing happened yesterday." heard here except on a morning of surpassing T h e n I lay quiet for some time—it being 729

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S u n d a y morning—and I turned over in m y mind all that I h a d heard or seen or felt or thought about in that one day. A n d presently I said aloud to myself: " W h y , nearly everything happened yester­ day." A n d the more I thought of it the more inter­ esting, the more wonderful, the more explana­ tory of high things, appeared the c o m m o n do­ ings of that J u n e Saturday. I h a d w a l k e d among unusual events—and h a d not k n o w n the wonder of them! I h a d eyes, but I did not see—and ears, but I heard not. It m a y be, it may be, that the F u t u r e L i f e of which w e have had such confusing but wistful proph­ ecies is only the reliving, with a full un­ derstanding, of this marvelous life that w e now know. T o a full understanding this d a y , this moment even—here in this quiet room — w o u l d contain enough to crowd an eternity. Oh, w e are children yet—playing with things much too large for us—much too full of meaning! Y e s t e r d a y I cut my field of early clover. I should have been at it a full week earlier if it had not been for the frequent and sousing spring showers. A l r e a d y half the blossoms of the clover had turned brown a n d were shriveling a w a y into inconspicuous seediness. T h e leaves underneath on the lower parts of the stems were curling u p and fading; m a n y of them h a d already dropped a w a y . T h e r e is a current also in the affairs of clover, a n d if a farmer would profit by his crop, it must be taken at its flood. I began to watch the skies with some anxiety and on T h u r s d a y I w a s delighted to see the weather become clearer a n d a w a r m dry wind spring up from the southwest. O n F r i d a y there w a s not so much as a cloud of the size of a m a n ' s h a n d to be seen anywhere in the sky, not one, and the sun with lively diligence h a d begun to m a k e up for the listlessness of the past week. It w a s hot and dry enough to suit the most exacting h a y m a k e r . E n c o u r a g e d by these favorable symptoms I sent w o r d to D i c k Sheridan (by one of H o r a c e ' s men) to come over bright a n d early on Satur­ d a y morning. M y field is only a small one— about two acres—and so rough and uneven that I h a d concluded with D i c k ' s help to cut it b y hand. I thought that on a pinch it could all be done in one day. " H a r r i e t , " I said, " w e ' l l cut the clover to-morrow." " T h a t ' s fortunate," said H a r r i e t . " I ' d already arranged to have A n n Spencer in to help m e . " Y e s t e r d a y morning, then, I got out earlier than usual. It w a s a perfect J u n e morning,

one of the brightest a n d clearest I think I ever saw. T h e mists h a d not yet risen from the hollows of m y lower fields, a n d a'l the earth w a s fresh with dew a n d sweet with the mingled odors of growing things. N o hour of the whole d a y is more perfect than this. I w a l k e d out along the edge of the orchard a n d climbed the fence of the field beyond. As I stooped over I could smell the h e a v y sweet odor of the clover blossoms. I could see the billowy green sweep of the glistening leaves. I lifted u p a m a s s of the tangled stems and laid the p a l m of m y h a n d on the earth underneath. It w a s neither too wet nor too dry. " W e shall h a v e good cutting to-day," I said to myself. So I stood u p a n d looked with a satisfaction impossible to describe across the acres of my small domain, m a r k i n g where in the low spots the crop seemed heaviest, where it w a s lodged a n d tangled by the w i n d a n d the rain, and where in the higher spaces it grew scarce thick enough to cover the sad baldness of the knolls. H o w much more w e get out of life than we deserve! So I w a l k e d along the edge of the field to the orchard gate, which I opened wide. " H e r e , " I said, " i s w h e r e w e will begin." A n d so I turned b a c k to the barn. I had not reached the other side of the orchard when w h o should I see but D i c k Sheridan himself coming in out of the lane gate. H e had an old, coarse-woven straw hat stuck resplendently on the b a c k of his head. H e w a s carrying his scythe jauntily over his shoulder and whis­ tling " G o o d - b y e , S u s a n " at the top of his capacity. D i c k Sheridan is a cheerful young fellow with a thin b r o w n face a n d (milky) blue eyes. H e has an enormous A d a m ' s a p p l e which has a n odd w a y of m o v i n g u p a n d down when he t a l k s — a n d one l a r g e tooth out in front. His body is like a bundle of wires, as thin and mus­ cular a n d enduring as that of a broncho pony. H e can w o r k all d a y long a n d then go down to the lodge hall at the Crossing a n d dance half the night. A n d y o u should really see him when he dances! H e can j u m p straight u p and click his heels twice together before he comes down a g a i n ! O n such occasions he is marvelously clad, as befits the gallant that he really is, but this morning he w o r e a f a d e d shirt a n d one of his suspender cords behind w a s fastened by a nail instead of a button. H i s socks are some­ times pale blue a n d sometimes lavender and commonly, therefore, he turns u p his trousers legs so that these vanities m a y not be wholly lost upon a dull w o r l d . H i s full name is R i c h a r d T e c u m s e h S h e r i d a n , but everyone

T h e M o w i n g : By David Grayson

731

calls him D i c k . A good, cheerful fellow, D i c k , T h r e e or four more strokes and D i c k stopped and a h a r d w o r k e r . I like him. whistling suddenly, spat on his hands and with a lively " H e r e she g o e s ! " came swinging in " H e l l o , D i c k ! " I shouted. " H e l l o yourself, M r . G r a y s o n , " he replied. behind me. T h e clover-cutting had begun. A t first I thought the heat would be utterly H e hung his scythe in the branches of a pear tree and w e both turned into the b a r n y a r d to unendurable, a n d then, with dripping face and get the chores out of the w a y . I wanted to de- wet shoulders, I forgot all about it. Oh, there lay the cutting as long as I could—until the is something incomparable about such work dew on the clover —the long, steady should b e g i n , at pull of willing and l e a s t , to disap­ h e a l t h y muscles, pear. the still mind un­ disturbed by a n y B y half past seven disquieting thought, we were ready for the feeling of attain­ work. W e r o l l e d ment through vig­ back our sleeves, orous effort! It w a s stood our scythes a steady swing and on end and gave swish, s w i s h and them a final lively swing! When D i c k stoning. Y o u could led I have a picture hear the brisk sound of him in m y mind's of the ringing metal eye—his wiry thin pealing through the legs, one heel lifted still morning air. at each step and " It's a great day held r i g i d for a for h a y i n g , " I said. s i n g l e instant, a "A dang good glimpse of pale blue o n e , " responded socks a b o v e his the laconic D i c k , r u s t y shoes a n d heartily, wetting his t h r e e i n c h e s of thumb to feel the whetstone sticking edge of his scythe. from his tight hipI cannot convey pocket. It w a s good with any mere pen to have him there upon any mere pa­ whether he led or per the feeling of followed. jauntlness I h a d at that moment, as of A t each return to conquest and fresh the orchard end of a d v e n t u r e , as of the field w e looked great things to be for a n d f o u n d a d o n e in a g r e a t gray s t o n e j u g in world! Y o u may the grass. I had say if y o u like that brought it up with this exhilaration m e filled with cool w a s due to g o o d " water from the health and the ex­ p u m p . D i c k had a uberance of youth. w a y of swinging it B u t it w a s more than that—far more I can- up with one hand, resting it on his shoulder, not well express it, but it seemed as though at turning his head just so and letting the water that moment D i c k and I were stepping out gurgle into his throat. I h a v e never been able into some vast current of human activity: as myself to reach this refinement in the art of though we had the universe itself behind drinking from a j u g . us, and the w a r m regard and approval of A n d oh! the good feel of a straightened back all men. after two long swathes in the broiling sun! W e I stuck m y whetstone in m y hip-pocket, bent would stand a moment in the shade, whetting forward and cut the first short sharp swath in our scythes, not saying much, but glad to be the clover. I swept the mass of tangled green there together. T h e n w e would go at it again stems into the open space just outside the gate. with renewed energy. It is a great thing to K

' I T

W A S

A

S T E A D Y

S W I N G

A N D

have a working companion. M a n y times that day D i c k and I looked aside at each other with a curious sense of friendliness—that sense of friendliness which grows out of common rival­ ries, common difficulties and a common w e a r i ­ ness. W e did not talk much, and that little of trivial matters. " J i m B r e w s t e r ' s m a r e h a d a colt on Wednes­ day." " T h i s ' l l go three tons to the acre, or I'll eat m y shirt." D i c k w a s a l w a y s about to eat his shirt if some particular prophecy of his did not mate­ rialize. " D a n g it a l l , " says D i c k , " the moon's d r a w i n ' water." " S o m e t h i n g is undoubtedly drawing it," said I , wiping m y dripping face. A meadow lark sprang up with a song in the adjoining field, a few heavy old bumble bees droned in the clover as w e cut it, a n d once a frightened rabbit ran out, darting swiftly under the orchard fence. So the long forenoon slipped a w a y . A t times it seemed endless, and yet w e were surprised when w e heard the bell from the house (what a sound it was!) a n d w e left our cutting in the middle of the field, nor waited for another stroke. " H u n g r y , D i c k ? " I asked. " H u n g r y ! " exclaimed D i c k with all the elo­ quence of a lengthy oration crowded into one word. 732

S W I S H .

S W I S H

A N D

S W I N G

So w e drifted through the orchard, and it was good to see the house with s m o k e in the kitchen chimney, a n d the shade of the big maple which almost hides the porch. A n d not far from the m a p l e stood the friendly p u m p with the moist boards of the well-cover in front of it. I cannot tell y o u h o w good it looked as w e came in across the hot y a r d . " A f t e r y o u , " said D i c k . I g a v e m y sleeves another roll u p w a r d and unbuttoned a n d turned in the moist collar of m y shirt. T h e n I stooped over and put my h e a d under the p u m p spout. " P u m p , D i c k , " said I . And Dick pumped. " H a r d e r , D i c k , " said I in a strangled voice. A n d D i c k p u m p e d still harder, and presently I c a m e up, gasping, with m y h e a d a n d hair drip­ ping with the cool w a t e r . T h e n I pumped for D i c k . " G e e , but that's g o o d , " said D i c k . A n d H a r r i e t c a m e out with clean towels, and w e dried ourselves, a n d talked together in low voices. A n d feeling a delicious sense of cool­ ness w e sat d o w n for a m o m e n t in the shade of the m a p l e a n d rested our a r m s on our knees. F r o m the kitchen, as w e sat there, w e could hear the engaging sounds of preparation, and b u s y voices, a n d the tinkling of dishes, and agreeable o d o r s ! A h , friend a n d brother, there m a y not be better m o m e n t s in life than these! So w e sat resting, thinking of nothing;

and

T h e M o w i n g : By David Grayson presently we heard the screen door click and A n n Spencer's motherly voice: " C o m e in now, M r . G r a y s o n , and get your dinner." Harriet had set the table on the east porch, where it w a s cool a n d shady. D i c k a n d I sat down opposite each other, and between us there w a s a great brown bowl of moist brown beans with crispy strips of pork on top, a n d a good steam rising from its depths; and a small mountain of b a k e d potatoes, each a little broken to show the snowy white interior; and two towers of such new bread as no one on this earth (or in any other planet so far as I know) but Harriet can m a k e . A n d before w e h a d even begun to eat our dinner in came the ample A n n Spencer, quaking with hospital­ ity, and bearing a platter—let me here speak of it with the bated breath of a proper re­ spect, for I cannot even now think of it with­ out a sort of inner thrill—bearing a platter of her most famous fried chicken. I m a y say in passing that A n n Spencer is more cele­ brated in our neighborhood by virtue of her genius in this regard than Aristotle or Solomon or Socrates, or indeed all the old bigwigs of the past rolled into one. Harriet had sacrificed the promising careers of two young roosters upon the altar of this important occasion. So we fell to with a silent but none the less fervid enthusiasm. Harriet hovered about us, in and out of the kitchen, and poured the tea and the buttermilk, and A n n Spencer passed the chicken upon every possible occasion. " M o r e chicken, M r . G r a y s o n ? " she would inquire in a tone of voice that would m a k e your mouth water. " M o r e chicken, D i c k ? " I ' d ask. " M o r e chicken, M r . G r a y s o n , " he would respond—and thus we kept up a tenuous but pleasant little j o k e between us. J u s t outside the porch in a thicket of lilacs a catbird sang to us while we ate, and m y dog lay in the shade with his nose on his p a w s and one eye open just enough to show any stray flies that he w a s not to be trifled with—and far a w a y to the north and east one could catch glimpses—• if he h a d eyes for such things—of the widestretching pleasantness of our countryside. I soon saw that something mysterious was going on in the kitchen. Harriet would look significantly at A n n Spencer and A n n Spencer, w h o could scarcely contain her overflowing smiles, would look significantly at Harriet. A s for me, I sat there with a perfect aplomb of confidence in myself—in my ultimate capacity. Whatever happened, there I sat ready for it! A n d the great surprise came at last: a S H O R T C A K E — a great, big, red, juicy, but­

733

tery, sugary shortcake, with berries heaped u p all over it. When It came in—and I am speak­ ing of it in that personal w a y because it radiated such an effulgence that I cannot now remem­ ber whether it w a s Harriet or A n n Spencer w h o brought it in—when It came in, D i c k , w h o pretends to be abashed upon such occasions, gave one swift glance u p w a r d and then emitted a long, low, expressive whistle. When B e e ­ thoven found himself throbbing with inexpres­ sible emotions he composed a sonata; when K e a t s felt odd things stirring within him he wrote an ode to an u r n ; but m y friend D i c k , quite as evidently on fire with his emotions, merely whistled—and then looked around evi­ dently embarrassed lest he should have in­ fringed upon the proprieties. " H a r r i e t , " I said, " y o u and A n n Spencer are benefactors of the human r a c e . " " G o ' w a y n o w , " said A n n Spencer, shaking all over with pleasure, " a n d eat your short­ cake." A n d after dinner how pleasant it w a s to stretch at full length for a few minutes on the grass in the shade of the maple tree and look up through the dusky thick shadows of the leaves. If ever a man feels the blissfulness of complete content it is at such a moment—every muscle in the body deliciously resting, and a peculiar ex­ hilaration animating the mind to quiet thoughts. I have heard talk of the hard work of the har­ vest fields, but I never yet knew a healthy m a n who did not remember m a n y moments of exquisite pleasure connected with the hardest and the hottest work. I think sometimes that the nearer a man can place himself in the full current of natural things the happier he is. If he can become a part of the Universal Process and know that he is a part, that is happiness. All day yesterday I w a s filled with a deep quiet feeling that I w a s somehow not working for myself, not for money, not for fear, not surely for fame, but somehow that I was a necessary element in the processes of the earth. I was a primal force! I was the necessary Harvester. Without me the earth could not revolve! Oh, friend, there are spiritual values here, too. F o r how can a man know G o d without yielding himself fully to the processes of G o d ? I lived yesterday. I played my part. I took m y place. A n d all hard things grew simple, and all crooked things seemed straight, and all roads were open and clear before me. A n d many times that day I paused and looked up from my work knowing that I had something to be happy for. At one o'clock D i c k and I lagged our w a y unwilling out to work again—rusty of muscles,

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with a feeling that the heat would now surely be unendurable a n d the work impossibly hard. T h e scythes were oddly h e a v y and hot to the touch, a n d the stones seemed hardly to m a k e a sound in the h e a v y noon air. T h e cows h a d sought the shady pasture edges, the birds were still, all the air shook with heat—and only m a n must toil! " I t ' s danged hot," said D i c k conclusively. H o w reluctantly w e began the w o r k a n d how difficult it seemed compared with the task of the morning! I n half an hour, however, the reluc­ tance passed a w a y and w e were swinging as steadily as w e did at any time in the forenoon. B u t w e said less—if that were possible—and made every ounce of energy count. I shall not here attempt to chronicle all the events of the afternoon, how w e finished the mowing of the field and how w e went over it swiftly a n d raked the long windrows into cocks, or how, as the evening began to fall, w e turned at last wearily toward the house. T h e d a y ' s w o r k w a s done. D i c k h a d stopped whistling long before the middle of the afternoon, but now as he shouldered his scythe he struck up " M y Fairy Fay" with some marks of his ear­ lier enthu­ siasm. "Well, D i c k , " said I, " w e ' v e h a d a good d a y ' s work together." THE D A Y ' S W O

" Y o u bet," said D i c k . A n d I watched him as he went down the lane with a pleasant friendly feeling of companion­ ship. W e h a d done great things together. I w o n d e r if y o u ever felt the j o y of utter physical weariness, not exhaustion, but weari­ ness. I w o n d e r if y o u ever sat down, as I did last night, a n d felt as though you would like to remain just there a l w a y s — w i t h o u t stir­ ring a single muscle, without speaking, without thinking even! Such a moment is not painful, but quite the reverse—it is supremely pleasant. So I sat for a time last evening on m y porch. T h e cool, still night h a d fallen sweetly after the burning heat of the d a y . I heard all the familiar sounds of the night. A whip-poor-will began to whistle in the distant thicket. Harriet came out q u i e t l y — I could see the white of her g o w n — a n d sat n e a r m e . I heard the occasional sleepy tinkle of a cow-bell, and the crickets were calling. A star or two came out in the perfect d a r k blue of the sky. T h e deep, sweet, restful night w a s on. I don't k n o w that I said it aloud—such things need not be said aloud—but a s I turned al­ most numb­ ly into the h o u s e , stumbling on my way to b e d , my whole being s e e m e d to c r v out: " t h a n k G o d , thank God." R K W A S D O N E ' 1

SLEEP BY

P A U L

/ pass between thy shadowy portals Fearlessly; I go, where, for a little space No echo of the world's tumult Shall awake The inward strife, The mantle of my trouble Is forgotten Though it wraps me still,

K E S T E R

The day s dissatisfaction Spends itself In one long sigh, Though I repeat no prayers, Childlike, I claim My portion of the sacrament; I seek The universal benediction Of repose.

THE

MYSTERIES OF

THE

AND

THE

CRUELTIES

TARIFF

PASSING

OF

WOOL

Farcical tariff duties which are making all wool exclusively a rich man's fabric— Congress and the President refuse to correct the injustice BY IDA A U T H O R

O F

" T H E

L I F E

O F

M.

TARBELL

L I N C O L N , "

I

S there no w a y to force the Congress of the United States to see and to feel that the great mass of the people of this coun­ try are p o o r ? T o feel it so poignantly that the fact will become the controlling thought in every vote it casts ? I know that, in the minds of the most of us, "the p o o r " in the United States are a negligible quantity. W e think of them as the frayed and falling fringe on our great fabric of "comfort­ able off" population—largely w h a t they are by their own indolence or inefficiency. B u t is this true? I s it not true, on the contrary, that the great majority of the inhabitants of the country, the great mass of hard-working, industrious men and women are poor ? T h e statistics of the distribution of wealth should be often set before those hopeful souls w h o , prosperous themselves, love to insist that, in this country at least, " a l l is for the best in the best possible of worlds." We have 90,000,000 people in the United States. P e r h a p s there are a few thousand millionaires among us, perhaps a few hundred thousand having an income of ten thousand dol­ lars or more. B u t in contrast to them there are millions of individuals whose w a g e is under a thousand. L o o k over the average yearly wages in our best-paid industries. T a k e the one which boasts of paying the highest wage—the United States Steel T r u s t . According to its

" T H E

A M E R I C A N

W O M A N , "

E T C .

own last report its 1 9 5 , 5 0 0 employees, including its foremen and clerks and managers, whose salaries in some cases are $ 1 0 , 0 0 0 , even $ 2 5 , 0 0 0 a year, w a s but $ 7 7 5 . I n 1905 the average yearly earnings of the men in the cotton industry was but $ 4 1 6 . I n 1907 the mule spinners in the Massachusetts woolen factories averaged $ 1 3 . 1 6 a week, the dyers a v e r a g e d $ 8 . 5 8 , the weavers $ 1 1 . 6 0 . When one comes to examine industries generally the surprise is not how much but how little the great body of w a g e earners receive. People must live on small earnings in this country, as everywhere. I n order to accumu­ late enough to provide against sickness and old age they are obliged to practise a thrift which frequently is hateful it is so cruel. M o r e o v e r genuine thrift requires so much training, intelligence and self-denial that comparatively few are prepared to practise it, even with the best of intentions. Humanizing

the " Ultimate

Consumer"

T h i s is the hard fact, and yet the Congress of the United States, y e a r after year, fixes taxes on the food and clothing a n d shelter of these people with no apparent consciousness of their condition. T h e y are the " u l t i m a t e consum­ e r s " — t e r m s in a problem—not suffering, strug­ gling men and women. I s there no w a y to 735

The American Magazine humanize the " u l t i m a t e c o n s u m e r , " to m a k e of clothing as general a n d as necessary in our him as real a person in the m i n d of a Congress­ climate as w h e a t is as an article of food. man as the manufacturer w h o employs him or B u t for twenty y e a r s this v a l u a b l e standard the campaign m a n a g e r w h o milks the m a n u ­ material h a s been every d a y receding farther facturer for the sake of the C o n g r e s s m a n ? If from the reach of the great m a s s of Americans. the Congressman could but once see all the " ul­ M a n y housewives the country over have timate c o n s u m e r s " whose daily lives are m a d e ceased b u y i n g woolen blankets, substituting easier or harder b y the taxes he p l a y s so care­ the cotton-filled puff or " c o m f o r t . " A mem­ lessly with, might he not continue forever to ber of the N u r s e s ' Settlement in N e w Y o r k told see them as he legislates ? m e last winter that in only one of 400 families W h a t a mighty procession they w o u l d m a k e ! in the E a s t Side which she h a d visited in three F r o m the factories of N e w E n g l a n d a n d the months h a d she seen a pair of woolen blankets, M i d d l e States, from the mines of P e n n s y l v a n i a a n d in this case there w a s a daughter ill of a n d the Rockies, from the cotton fields of the tuberculosis a n d the family h a d united in trying South a n d the farms of the Mississippi V a l l e y , to give her w h a t protection they could. from the tenements of N e w Y o r k a n d the stockyards of C h i c a g o , from hundreds u p o n hundreds of towns, from rivers a n d lakes a n d seaside ports, they w o u l d swarm—millions of souls. Six million women, m a n y of them with babies in their arms; thousands upon thou­ sands of children under twelve years of age, pale, narrow-chested, old in face; tens of thousands of young girls, their eyes on the future; twelve million fathers, wives a n d children clinging to them, w o u l d be in line—a mighty host of brave and patient hearts, the host that takes the earth's treasures into its strong and willing hands and from them m a k e s the country's wealth, the host without whose labor this land would turn into a wilderness, and men starve or become as the beasts. M i g h t it not be that if Congress w a s forced to look at intervals on such a procession it w o u l d finally be able to humanize the w o r d " c o n ­ s u m e r . " One would like to think so. O n e would like to think, for instance, that such an object lesson would prevent the tariff taxation which is taking pure woolen garments from a great body of the A m e r i c a n people, which has already placed them practically out of the reach of those w h o m a y be called " p o o r " — a startling fact which the iast Congress refused even to consider.

The "All Wool F arce Wool, the world over, has a l w a y s been a c ­ cepted as the poor m a n ' s special friend. It protects against cold a n d d a m p . I t w e a r s w e l l ; it looks well. T h e tradition of woolen garments as a lasting household possession, one of the things which belongs to the outfit of even the humblest, is very strong in every country. " A l l w o o l " is the housewife's boast of her blankets and shawl, the young girl of her win­ ter coat and gown, the laborer of his shirt. It is the assurance on which salesmen depend for winning customers. I t is a standard material

K n i t cotton under-garments are generally substituted for w o o l , a s a r e h e a v y knit cotton stockings for woolen. M a n y thousands know they cannot think of w o o l , a n d dismiss the idea. A friend of mine w h o meets weekly with a g r o u p of housewives from one of the tenement districts of N e w Y o r k a s k e d them for me how much wool they bought. " T h e y laughed at m e as if I h a d a s k e d them how m a n y diamonds they b o u g h t , " she said. " W h y , w e can't have woolen clothes," they replied. A n d itistrue;but so strong is the tradition of wool among the peo­ ple of cool climates, a m o n g R u s s i a n s , Ger­ m a n s , etc., that a s a l e s m a n in the shops of the tenement house district declares his slimsiest imitations " a l l w o o l . " N o t long ago I bought a variety of these " all w o o l " garments a n d submitted them to the test of boiling in caustic alkali. T h e experi­ ment is v e r y simple a n d quite conclusive of the amount of wool in a n article. If it is "all w o o l " the alkali m a k e s short w o r k of it, no residue is left after the boiling. Silk will also disappear. Cotton is untouched. A m o n g m y purchases w a s a b a b y ' s shirt for which I h a d p a i d 50 cents, with the solemn assurance that it w a s " e v e r y stitch wool." It w a s well-shaped, finished with a neat shell edge apparently of silk, a r i b b o n d o w n the front for the buttons, three r o w s of " s i l k " stitching around the sleeves. I cut the g a r m e n t into two pieces a n d boiled one for twenty minutes in a strong solution of the a l k a l i . T h e piece treated compares n o w v e r y f a v o r a b l y , fleecy lining, shell edge a n d all, with the piece untouched. T h e ribbon alone h a s d i s a p p e a r e d . There w a s not a thread of wool in it. A n o t h e r experiment w a s m a d e with a girl's sleeveless vest for w e a r i n g over the g o w n under the coat. I p a i d $ 1 . 2 5 for this g a r m e n t in an E a s t Side shop. I t felt l i k e w o o l a n d w a s sold m e for wool, but it c a m e out of the pot intact, a strong, d u r a b l e cotton yam vest w h i c h could h a v e h a d but a small fraction of wool in it in

T h e M y s t e r i e s a n d C r u e l t i e s of the T a r i f f : B y I d a M . T a r b e l l the first place if, indeed, it h a d any. Its real worth w a s not over 25 cents. T h i s same experiment will show similar adulteration in m a n y of the blankets and much of the dress goods and suitings sold to the un­ knowing as all wool. V a s t quantities of socalled "cotton w o r s t e d s " are manufactured annually. T h e amount of wool in these goods has been steadily decreasing in the last few years, falling from 50 per cent, to 25 p e r c e n t . , and from there to practically all cotton, immense quantities of the last being manufactured for boys' and men's w e a r . I t is from cotton worsteds and cheap shoddies that the $ 8 and $ 1 0 suits for women, the $ 1 0 and $ 1 2 suits for men are gen­ erally m a d e . T h e goods m a y be sold by the manufacturer for what they are, but at the counter the purchaser receives the express or implied assurance that they are all wool. T o such lengths has the adulteration gone that it m a y be laid down as a fact that people on small incomes to-day rarely if ever w e a r anything but cotton and shoddy mixtures.

Do We Need Woolen Garments? N o w , that things h a v e changed is not proof that they are worse. B e c a u s e a great number of us in the United States cannot get the woolen blankets, shawls a n d clothes which w e once h a d and which are still accessible at low prices to the E u r o p e a n laborer a n d peasant is not proof that w e have not a better substitute. M a y it not be that woolen garments, blankets and suits are a superstition? A r e w e not just as well off clothed in cotton substitutes? T h e r e is no doubt cotton knit goods are admirably cheap underclothing, most of them are well fitting and some of them are durable. Where light clothing is sufficient—and with the general heating of houses, factories and shops and cars, there is no longer the same need for m a n y people of heavy clothing as in the old days—they are adequate. T h e r e is no doubt the young girl's cotton worsted gown looks well at the start. T h e cotton w a r p " a l l w o o l " suit of the laboring man has a correct fin­ ish, color a n d style, better perhaps than of old, for finish and cut are demanded by the poorest and are achieved r e m a r k a b l y by the cheapest clothiers. B u t in two particulars the cotton substitute fails. It has not the warmth and it does not keep its appearance. T r u e , if a m a n puts on enough cotton garments he can get the same warmth. B u t he cannot get from cotton the same protection against storm and wet, the same safeguard where his labor subjects him to excessive perspiration. H e cannot get the same comfort at night. M o r e o v e r , his gar­

737

ment becomes shabby, loses its shape, in much shorter time. W o m e n can no longer m a k e over with satisfaction the gowns they once wore a series of winters. T h e m a n ' s suit is no longer respectable as " l o n g as it holds to­ gether." T h o s e of us w h o must buy cheap clothes can find them at the long established popular prices, but w e no longer get the w a r m t h or the satisfaction from them. T h e proof of this statement is not based alone on personal investigation a n d experience. D u r i n g the discussion of the P a y n e - A l d r i c h Tariff B i l l , evidence enough of it w a s laid be­ fore Congress. M r . N i c h o l a s L o n g w o r t h , for instance, read to the committee on W a y s and M e a n s a letter from a clothier in his congres­ sional bailiwick in which the m a n declared: "/ never handled cloth of so inferior a quality as I do now. Laborers, mechanics, and farmers who use ready-made clothing are receiving practically no value for their money." The National Association of Clothiers were strong in their protest to Congress. " S t a n d a r d win­ ter worsteds," their committee said, " w h i c h twelve years ago ranged from twenty-one to twenty-four ounces in weight per y a r d , have gradually been decreased in weight, so that they now range from fourteen to sixteen ounces per y a r d ; standard spring worsteds which ranged from fourteen to sixteen ounces in weight per y a r d h a v e gradually been decreased, so that they now range from nine to twelve ounces per y a r d . I n consequence, a deterioration of fully thirty-three and one-third per cent, in weight has taken place, in addition to the establish­ ment of a much higher range of prices for the same qualities of goods. T h e clothing manu­ facturer, therefore, through the inability of the cloth to stand ordinary wear, is largely deprived of the opportunity to produce garments upon which a good reputation can be b a s e d . "

Why is Wool Passing? B u t w h y should the materials which are used in our cheap clothing be unsatisfactory—why can w e not get durable cheap goods as it is cer­ tain w e once could? T h e answer is not con­ tained in a word. T h e r e is a l w a y s more than one reason for sweeping changes in standard articles like woolen goods. H o w e v e r , the chief reason in the present case, the one which is more powerful than all the rest, is the tax which the government levies on wool and woolen products. B u t why tax w o o l ? W e tax it to protect it from foreign competition. T h e argument of the wool-growers and manufacturers w h o per­ suaded Congress to lay the tax in the first

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The American Magazine

place w a s , to put it in a primary w a y , something like this: " W e cannot grow wool in the United States as cheaply as they can in other parts of the world. W e cannot manufacture woolen goods as cheaply. People are going to buy goods where they are cheapest. B u t w e w a n t to grow wool and w e want to manufacture woolen goods. Protect us for a time from the foreigners. Put a duty on all the wool and all the woolens which come into the country—a duty which covers the difference in the cost of production. T h a t will m a k e goods cost more, but that will give us a chance to get a start. W e will soon groui all the wool suitable for production here. W e will soon m a k e all the wool products we can consume. A s time goes on we believe w e can produce more cheaply than the foreigner. T h u s , in the long run, the people will be rewarded for the higher prices they must p a y because of this protective d u t y . " N o w , a tax laid on a whole people for the avowed purpose of making them pay more for goods than they would otherwise should certainly be simple, direct and easily understood. T h e tax on wool is anything but this. O n the contrary, it is tied up in an intricate technical jargon called a wool schedule which very few people pretend to understand, and which in all probability w a s never intended to be understood. E v e n so experienced a congressman as Senator Dolliver—twenty-one years in the body and a member of the W a y s and M e a n s Committee which prepared the D i n g l e y b i l l — had to confess last year when a certain cunningly concealed duty in this schedule w a s shown to him that he never had h a d a suspicion of it. " I had to read it four or five times before I could see the point where the proposition emerged," Senator Dolliver said. " I handed it to intelligent men and asked them if they s a w any distinction in that language between clothing wools and combing wools, and, one after another, bright men said, ' I cannot see a n y distinction.' If you will get the p a r a g r a p h a n d read it yourself, y o u will notice with w h a t delicacy of phrase, worthy of poets and artists, this distinction has been wrought into the very foundation of the wool tariff."

A Swindling Duty It is not the business of this article to attempt to penetrate this jungle. A l l that it is necessary for us to understand in the present connection are the duties which affect those grades of wool which the m a n of limited means w o u l d like to buy, the duties which explain w h y so much wool is now m a d e principally of cotton.

T h e first of these mischievous a n d deceiving duties is that on wool " i n the g r e a s e , " as wool is called when it is sheared from the sheep. T o prepare this wool for manufacturing it is first scoured until clean, a n operation which causes a shrinkage of from twenty to eighty per cent, in the weight of the wool. I n turning this clean wool into cloth there is a still further shrinkage. I n d e e d the total shrinkage from wool to cloth is such that it sometimes requires as much as five or six pounds to make a pound of cloth; a n d again it requires as little as two pounds. Of course the value of the wool varies according to the shrinkage, i. e., according to the amount of cloth a manufacturer can get from a given lot. It also varies according to the kind of cloth the wool will m a k e , i. e., whether it will m a k e a fine or coarse cloth. N o w all imported "grease w o o l , " suited for clothing regardless of its value, of the amount of dirt a n d grease there is in it, the amount it shrinks, the amount a n d quality of cloth y o u can get from it, has to p a y a duty of eleven or twelve cents a pound. If the A m e r i c a n wool-growers who secured this duty to begin with on the supposition that they w o u l d soon be able to produce enough wool to supply the home d e m a n d h a d been able to k e e p their promises it w o u l d not have been necessary to import wool, a n d competition might k e e p the home prices down. B u t the wool-growers h a v e not for m a n y years, if ever, produced even half of w h a t w e use. I know that it is customary to figure the amount as much larger. " S e v e n t y per cent, of the wool we use is produced at h o m e , " the wool boomers cry, but they do their figuring on grease wool and omit altogether the wool which comes in m a n u f a c t u r e d ! T h e r e is only one fair way to estimate the a m o u n t w e g r o w , and that it to find out w h a t w e get from it after it is cleaned of grease a n d dirt a n d c o m p a r e it with the clean wool, r a w a n d manufactured, w e import. D o this a n d w e find that w e really produce nearer 40 per cent, than 70 per cent, of what w e use. I n 1 8 9 0 — i n 1 8 9 5 — 9 ° ° — t h i s was the a p p r o x i m a t e proportion b y m y figuring. O n e of the leading wool authorities of the country m a k e s the relative proportion the same in 1906, i. e., 40 per cent, domestic to 60 per cent, foreign. F o r 1 9 0 9 , he figures it 37 per cent, domestic to 63 per cent, foreign. m

I

N o w , as said a b o v e , all of the wool imported must p a y a duty of eleven or t w e l v e cents a pound w h e n it is " i n the g r e a s e . " T h e American wool-grower in n o r m a l a n d prosperous times can charge more for his wool because of this duty. H e m a y not be able to a d d the full amount to his price—in fact it is p r o b a b l e that

T h e M y s t e r i e s a n d C r u e l t i e s of t h e T a r i f f : B y I d a M . T a r b e l l 739 he rarely does, but he certainly gets from us considerably more than he could if he were not protected.

disadvantage. Y e t each will p a y the same duty, $ 1 1 on a hundred-pound lot. W h a t this discrimination against those w h o use the heavy-shrinking wool amounts to is making wool too dear to b e p u t into the com­ An Experience in Wool-Buying mon grades of flannels, blankets a n d clothing T h e w a y the duty works is clearly illustrated materials. T h e manufacturer is forced to find Forty-three years ago, when the by a personal experience in wool-buying related substitutes. by R o b e r t B l e a k i e , of Boston, a manufacturer duties on the coarse grades of wool were first w h o has been m a k i n g woolen goods in this coun­ m a d e prohibitive, and the manufacturers were try continuously since 1 8 4 8 . M r . B l e a k i e ' s ac­ forced to find substitutes in order to m a k e count is of a purchase of wool he m a d e in 1897 cloths that the average m a n could afford to just before the D i n g l e y bill went into effect, buy, wool rags, wool waste, and carpet wools that is, when w e h a d free wool. H e h a d were resorted to. T h e y were wool, at least, a n d bought in Africa 223,684 pounds of wool at w a r m . 9ro cents a pound. B y the time h e got it to B e t w e e n 1867 and 1890 the annual importation Boston it cost h i m 1 3 f- cents a pound of shoddy rose from about 500,000 to 9,000,000 ($29,565.83 for the l o t ) . N o w , let us sup­ pounds. T h e n the cry went u p that it w a s dis­ pose M r . B l e a k i e ' s wool h a d not reached placing wool. Prohibitive duties were placed Boston until after the D i n g l e y bill h a d gone upon all kinds of wool substitutes. B y 1890 into effect, that is, until after the eleven cents duties so high were put on all the wool sub­ a pound had been placed on grease wool. T o stitutes that they could not be imported; that get his wool out of the customhouse M r . is, after taxing wool off o u r backs—the wool Bleakie would h a v e h a d to pay the tidy sum of substitutes were taken a w a y . D e p r i v e d of the $ 2 4 , 6 0 5 . 2 2 ; i. e., eleven cents on each pound. advantages which the inventions for using T h i s would h a v e m a d e the wool cost him, in­ waste gave, there w a s nothing left but cotton stead of twenty-nine thousand dollars, over for the bulk of the substitutes used in in­ fifty-four thousand dollars. B u t it w a s fine expensive goods, and cotton it h a s been ever wool, shrinking heavily in cleaning. A s a mat­ since. ter of fact he got out of the 223,684 pounds he T h e rapid absorption by cotton of the wool imported only 85,000 pounds which he could field has indeed been one of the most significant use. B u t note that he would have h a d to p a y changes in A m e r i c a n industry since the M c K i n duty on the entire lot, that is, to p a y it on ley bill of 1890. T h e latest tables, those of 138,684 pounds of grease a n d dirt as well a s 1905, show that while from 1 8 9 0 to 1 9 0 5 cotton on the 85,000 pounds of clean w o o l ! Of course increased in the manufacturing of clothing the duty simply shut h i m off from importing materials about 1 0 0 per cent., wool increased heavy-shrinking wool, a n d at the same time only about 25 per cent. O n e whole depart­ m a d e domestic wool of this kind too dear to buy. ment of manufacturing formerly classed under Now, there are two classes of wool manufac­ wool is n o w placed with cotton-hosiery a n d turers, k n o w n as carded woolen and worsted. knit underwear. T h e decrease in per capita T h e former, to which class M r . B l e a k i e belongs, consumption of wool shows still more strikingly finds a large proportion of the wool they need to the passing of wool. I n 1890 w e were consum­ be heavy-shrinking—the latter use mainly the ing 8.75 pounds apiece; in 1 9 0 4 , 6.22 pounds, light-shrinking wool. It is the carded woolen •—less than w e used in i 8 6 0 ! * manufacturer w h o m a k e s our heavy woolen I do not mean to assert that this astonishing clothes—flannels a n d blankets, the w a r m and change in the relative use of the two materials durable " a l l w o o l " goods of the poor m a n . is all due to the tariff on r a w wool. I t is not; M r . B l e a k i e ' s experience just quoted shows cotton is gaining the world over. T h e general w h a t the eleven cent duty on grease wool does tendency to lighter clothing, the d e m a n d for a to his business. I t takes the r a w material larger number of garments a n d so cheaper a w a y from i t — " s t a r v e s " it, as the manufac­ prices, the failure of the world's wool production turers s a y . A t the same time it gives his to increase and consequently its higher price— competitor—the worsted m a k e r — a decisive all have encouraged the change, but it is certain advantage for he uses m a i n l y light-shrinking that the great determining factor in the Linked wool. I t is obvious that if two manufacturers States h a d been this duty combined with a each import one hundred pounds of wool in second mischief-maker—the compound duties the grease a n d each p a y $ 1 1 duty on his on all products of wool imported. lot, the one which gets the larger number of pounds of clean wool will h a v e the other at a * S e e W r i g h t ' s W o o l - G r o w i n g a n d t h e T a r i f f , pages 0

294-293.

The American Magazine

740 A Second Legalized

Swindle

If the m a k e r of woolens h a d a sufficient supply of free wool—that is, if the price of his r a w material w a s not raised b y a duty— all the protection he could rightfully ask against his foreign rival would be the dif­ ference in the cost of production here a n d abroad. B u t his wool costs him more than his foreign r i v a l ' s . If he is to meet him on a level he must be protected against wool as well as production. T h e w a y this is done is to put two duties on cloth which is imported—one a duty to m a k e up for the higher price he has h a d to p a y for his raw material, the other for the higher price of manufacturing. T h e s e two duties v a r y with different grades of woolens. T h e schedule is highly c o m p l e x — a matter for experts only. Its results, however, are simple—and hard—enough, for w h a t they amount to is that the cheaper the blanket or the dress goods, the H I G H E R the duty! O n m a n y materials and articles suitable for the slender purse these duties are prohibitory, i. e., so high that none of the goods can be imported. On cloth, for instance, worth not more than forty cents a pound the duty averages over 1 4 0 per cent.; on cloth worth more than seventy cents a pound it averages about 95 per cent. We shall notice here but one item of the taxes which bring about this unjust discrimina­ tion, and that is the duty allowed to m a k e u p for the higher cost of the raw wool. T h i s duty— a compensatory duty it is called—is reckoned on the number of pounds of wool in the grease supposed to be used in making a pound of cloth. Where the goods are worth less than forty cents a pound three pounds are allowed; where they are worth more, four pounds. A s the duty on this wool is eleven cents, the compensatory duty on a pound of cloth is thirty-three or forty-four cents. T a k e the latter as an illustration, it a p ­ plying to the only grades imported in any quan­ tity. T h i s is an out and out swindle, for the simple reason that few of them contain this amount of grease wool. A y e a r ago last J a n u a r y , when the discussion of the wool schedule was going on in Congress, the Textile World Record, a r e m a r k a b l y able a n d fair-minded B o s t o n trade journal, published the result of a series of analyses of cloth which its editor, S a m u e l S. D a l e , h a d m a d e person­ ally, in order to discover the actual protection each w a s getting under the Dingley law. T h e estimate in each case w a s based on a large quantity, 10,000 y a r d s . H e r e are samples of the results. T h e first fabric w a s a worsted serge, weighing 1 1 , 5 0 0 pounds. M r . D a l e found that 2 1 , 9 4 1 pounds of grease wool h a d

been used in this piece of cloth. N o w , accord­ ing to a rational a n d honest application of the protective principle, one would expect the com­ pensatory . duty in case such a piece of cloth was presented for import to be eleven cents on each 2 1 , 9 4 1 pounds, or $ 2 , 4 1 3 . 5 1 ; but as a-matter of fact it w o u l d be $ 5 , 0 6 0 ! T h a t is, forty-four cents would be c h a r g e d on each p o u n d of cloth; as if four p o u n d s of wool had been required to m a k e it, while as a matter of fact less than two p o u n d s h a d gone into it. A cotton-warp dress goods w a s analyzed in which but a trifle over one pound of grease wool h a d been used for each pound of cloth. Mr. D a l e calculated the compensatory duty on the 1 0 , 0 0 0 y a r d s should be $ 4 9 6 . 6 5 . B u t that cloth actually receives $ 2 , 5 9 5 . 6 3 ! I n the case of a piece of cotton w a r p casket cloth made of cotton, wool a n d shoddy, the compensatory duty under the l a w is reckoned at $4,262.72, while actually it should be $ 2 , 2 3 8 . 1 5 , and so it went. B u t two of the eleven fabrics contained over half of the four p o u n d s on which the duty w o u l d be reckoned. I n addition to the compensatory duty of forty-four cents is the duty to protect from differ­ ence in the cost of production, which is 50 or 55 per cent, of the v a l u e of the cloth. There is probably no doubt but this duty is all out of proportion to the actual difference. Fortythree y e a r s a g o , w h e n practically the same duties now in force on wool w e r e wrested from an unwilling Congress by a combination of wool-growers and woolen manufacturers, all that the latter asked w a s 25 per cent, to cover difference in the cost of production. Amer­ ican labor has a d v a n c e d , but so has Euro­ pean l a b o r — a n d still more h a s machinery in­ creased the output.

$1.30 in New York; 75 cents in London Of course these high duties m a k e imported cloth very expensive, a n d enable American manufacturers to hold u p their prices. A s a matter of fact the duty m a k e s the American consumer of woolen goods p a y just about double w h a t his E n g l i s h cousin p a y s . Not long ago I w a s shown b y a gentleman who has for y e a r s been at the h e a d of one of the best of the wholesale cloth houses of N e w Y o r k a bundle of m a t c h e d samples of woolen goods— A m e r i c a n a n d E n g l i s h — w i t h carefully worked out statements of cost here a n d a b r o a d . T h e goods h a d been m a t c h e d b y one of the leading woolen experts of E n g l a n d . I w a s unable to detect any difference in quality, a n d only the slightest in finish. T h e r e w a s practically no choice, so slight w a s the difference. B u t note

T h e M y s t e r i e s a n d C r u e l t i e s of the T a r i f f : B y I d a M . T a r b e l l the price. F o r an A m e r i c a n serge costing $1.37-2 a y a r d the price of the matched English goods in B r a d f o r d w a s 67 cents. T h e English equivalent of an A m e r i c a n fabric costing S i . 5 0 w a s 78.05 cents. Beautiful blue light­ weight serges, such as are used for men's sum­ mer suits, cost in A m e r i c a $ 1 . 8 0 , in B r a d f o r d 8 1 . 2 cents. T h e mohair which is used so much in this country for w o m e n ' s summer traveling suits can be bought in B r a d f o r d for 2 7 ! cents; here it is wholesaled at 70 cents and costs at retail $ 1 . T h i s w a s the showing over a large range of goods. It amounted to this, that the English price w a s only about half the American. A n example of the difference in cost of woolen goods w a s given at a recent hearing in Boston, where the cost of living w a s being investigated. M r . D a l e , of the Textile World Record, was being questioned on the com­ parative costs of A m e r i c a n and E u r o p e a n goods. " Y o u can m a k e comparisons in two w a y s , " M r . D a l e answered. " F i r s t by com­ paring prices at which the same grades are sold, and, second, by comparing the grades that are sold at the same price. F o r e x a m p l e , here are two fabrics, one m a d e and sold in this country and the other m a d e and sold in E n g l a n d . T h e English fabric is sold at 3s. 6d. (84 cents) a y a r d , 55 inches wide. T h e American cloth is sold for 7 7 J cents per y a r d , 55 inches wide. So that the two are sold at approximately the same price. T h e difference is represented by the difference in the two fabrics. T h e English cloth is a fine worsted weighing io\ ounces per yard, 55 inches wide, the A m e r i c a n fabric is made with a cotton w a r p and a mixed cotton and wool filling. T h e cloth consists of 3 0 per cent, wool, 70 per cent, cotton. It weighs 9.6 ounces per y a r d , 55 inches w i d e . " T h e m a n a g e r of a leading N e w Y o r k selling house told a representative of this magazine last spring that he paid the manufacturers in A m e r i c a 45 cents for the serge he bought in H o l l a n d for 2 6 J cents. T h e serge costing 34 cents here he gets there for 1 1 , and he declares that in each case the H o l l a n d goods are vastly better in quality. " I t is notorious that the cost of all clothing has stead­ ily advanced under conditions m a d e possible by the tariff," this gentleman said, " w h i l e the quality has heen steadily debased. See how it w o r k s out. T o - d a y there are numberless places where a m a n can buy r e a d y - m a d e suits at from $ 1 8 to $ 3 0 . T h e cloth in these suits is the same which used to be offered in the cheap­ est places at $ 8 to $ 1 0 a suit. A very few d a y s wear will reveal w h a t these suits are m a d e of. T h a t is w h y so m a n y of the young clerks w h o

741

have paid enough money out to get a good suit of clothes look threadbare, and w a l k around with their collars turned u p . "

Fighting for an Industry Of course it is not supposed that duties which for over forty years h a v e been making the A m e r i c a n people p a y nearly or quite twice as much for woolen goods as they could get them for abroad, which has m a d e them so dear that the great mass of people have h a d to give them up and take cotton and shoddy substitutes; duties which have favored one class of m a n u ­ facturers a n d one class of wool-growers at the expense of another—it is not to be supposed that these duties h a v e never been contested. L a s t y e a r before the passing of the P a y n e Aldrich tariff bill there w a s a hot fight m a d e against the particular duties w e h a v e been talk­ ing of. T h e leaders in this fight were not the consumers w h o suffer most—they are too busy earning the great A m e r i c a n w a g e of a dollar or two a day—it w a s m a d e by the carded woolen manufacturers principally, those gentlemen whose business has been literally starved by the discrimination shown to the worsted m a k e r s . Incidentally, they were supported by the grow­ ers of light-shrinking wool and by the N a t i o n a l Association of Clothiers, whose slogan i s : " Y o u cannot do a satisfactory business with unsatisfactory materials." T h e carded woolen manufacturers, like m a n y other innocent Americans, took the results of the presidential election of 1908 as evidence that the tariff w a s to be thoroughly revised. " A t l a s t , " said they, " w e shall get relief." Soon after the election one of these gentlemen, M r . E d ­ w a r d M o i r , of Marcellus, New Y o r k , learning that there w a s to be a meeting of the N a t i o n a l Association of Wool Manufacturers and sup­ posing that the revision of the w ool schedule w a s to be discussed, presented himself at the gathering. T o his surprise he found that some weeks before the election, about the time, indeed, that M r . T a f t ' s promises of d o w n w a r d revision were most definite and vigorous, representatives of this association had met representatives of the wool-growers of the far West and the two had m a d e what they called a " s o l e m n com­ p a c t " to resist all changes in the wool schedule! T h e inequalities were to stand. T h e carded woolen mills were to be fed carpet wool and cotton if they could get them, the man on small income w a s to continue to w e a r cotton wor­ steds and sleep under cotton blankets, the wellto-do were to continue to pay $ 1 . 5 0 for cloth they could buy in E n g l a n d for seventy-five cents. W h e n M r . M o i r protested, he found he r

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The American Magazine

stood alone; i. e., he found that the National Washington, that the w o o l tariff "had been presented." Association of Wool Manufacturers appar­ fully T h e y telegraphed b a c k that they were on the ently represented the worsted industry. A little later, when the W a y s a n d M e a n s C o m ­ w a y . A r r i v i n g , they insisted, as w a s their mittee began its hearings, M r . M o i r found that right, on a hearing. " T h e i r reception would this same association w a s giving information on h a v e been a j o k e , " one of them has written of what the wool schedule needed a n d that it did the interview, " i f the issue at stake had not A s the case was pre­ not include help for him. Outraged, he went been so important. to work to organize the carded woolen men. sented . . . the m e m b e r s of the commit­ Over one hundred were soon in line, a n d tee, with one exception, sat silent a n d unrespon­ this body carried its grievance to the W a y s a n d sive. T h e one exception w a s Senator Smoot of M e a n s Committee. N o attention w a s paid to U t a h , w h o subjected the petitioners to a fusil­ it. A t the same time M r . William M . W o o d , of l a d e of interruptions, indicating plainly a the National Association ( M r . W o o d is the determination to discredit them before the T h e impassive president of the A m e r i c a n Woolen C o m p a n y , committee a n d the Senate. the combination popularly called the " Wool demeanor of the other m e m b e r s indicated as T r u s t " ) took the carded wool men to task for plainly a willingness that the carded woolen objecting to the duties. T h e new organization petitioners should be discredited in order that nothing might interfere with the execution of w a s not slow in declaring w a r . the settled purpose to l e a v e Schedule K un­ " T h e carded woolen manufacturers have appealed changed. T h i s farcical hearing had a fitting to the Ways and Means Committee for fair play in sequel in the interview b y appointment next vain," Mr. Dobson, the president of the Maine W o o l Manufacturers' Association,wrote in a public answer to d a y between the carded woolen manufacturers Mr. W o o d . " If the House of Representatives denies it a n d Senator Smoot, w h o appeared to have to them they will appeal to the Senate. If justice is re­ special charge of the wool a n d wool goods fused there they will appeal to the President of the Uni­ tariff. T h e manufacturers found it impossible ted States,who has proclaimed his belief in the theory of cost differences as the true principle of protection, who to m a k e a statement of their case to a Senator has announced his devotion to the square deal, and w h o insisted on talking a n d refused to listen. who, since his election, has declared that tariff revision L a t e r in the d a y , M r . H a m i l l , incensed by the must be honest and thorough, and intimated that a action of the Senator, e x c l a i m e d : veto awaits a dishonest bill. " I f he fails to give us the justice he can give if he will, then the carded woolen manufacturers will carry their case to the court that makes and unmakes Presi­ dents, Senates, and Houses of Representatives, the American people, confident that they sooner or later will strip from the tariff law the special privileges that are now giving the worsted spinners such great advan­ tages at the expense of the wool-growers, the carded woolen manufacturers and the consumers of the country."

Congress Turns a Deaf Ear

" ' W e l l , M r . Smoot, if y o u Senators don't revise the tariff in the interests of the people the country will go D e m o c r a t i c ' " T o which Senator Smoot replied: " ' L e t the country go D e m o c r a t i c ! Whatthe hell do I care if it does ? ' " T h e y h a d no better luck with another Senator w h o m they a p p r o a c h e d — P e n r o s e of Pennsyl­ vania. " Y o u better get into some other busi­ n e s s , " he told them.

A n d this is literally what they have done in Mr. Taft "Too Busy" the months which h a v e passed since they first took their case of obvious injustice to the W a y s T h e appeal to the President w a s all that was and M e a n s Committee of the House of R e p r e ­ left them a n d the time w a s short. But here sentatives. T h e y h a v e gone from tribunal to they expected help. H a d he not put his foot tribunal, from committee to House, from down for free hides ? W e r e they not asking much House to Senate, from Senate to President, and less, from the protectionist standpoint, since the unjust rates are still legal. it w a s merely an equalization of duties—not T a k e their experience with Senator H a l e of taking one off entirely? M o r e o v e r , was not Maine. In Senator H a l e ' s state there are the discrimination of which they complained some fifty-five carded woolen manufacturers, really doing the people of the country far who for years have seen their business greater h a r m than the hide d u t y ? Surely starved of raw material. T h e y decided to M r . T a f t w o u l d heed them. T h e y saw to appeal to the F i n a n c e Committee and asked it that their case w a s put before him, that the Senator to fix a date. T h i s w a s d o n e ; he h a d their printed statements. A trusted but a few days before they were to h a v e their go-between brought them encouragement, hearing they received a message from him assurances that the President w o u l d see them; saying that it w a s useless for them to visit but when they presented themselves word

J u n e in the S a d d l e : B y H . H . was brought back that the President w a s " t o o b u s y , " that he h a d important official en­ gagements for the d a y a n d could not consider their complaints. T h e r e w a s nothing more to be done. It w a s literally the last d a y for intervention. Discouraged, a n u m b e r of the carded woolen men left Washington at once. T w o of the committee, however, remained and, to drown their disappointment, went over to F o r t M y e r to see the Wrights fly. T h e y h a d not been there long before a stir in the crowd attracted their attention. It w a s President T a f t , whose pressing official engagements h a d prevented him from giving them a hearing. H e , too, w a s forgetting his troubles in watching the Wrights fly!

743

wool schedule of the D i n g l e y bill w a s reenacted practically as it stood. All that w a s left for the gentlemen w a s to carry their case to the A m e r i c a n people, which they are now doing. B u t w h y are they forced to do this ? H o w can it be that the members of the most influential committee in Congress will listen to a plain case of injustice "silent and u n r e s p o n s i v e " ? H o w can it be that a Presi­ dent w h o has a few months before aroused a people generally indifferent to him, to some­ thing like hopeful interest by his promises to put an end to exactly such wrongs will turn the wronged from his door with the message of " t o o b u s y " ? Flow can it be that a large body of serious men, with abundant evidence of a real injustice in their hands, should be rebuffed at every point in our governmenta m a c h i n e ? A n d , most serious of all, how can it be that the relation of this wrong to the health and comfort of the laboring people of the United States should be entirely ignored? T h i s is nothing less than a failure of the devices of democratic govern­ ment. R e p e a t e d often it means the end of democracy. A machine which must be re­ paired too often is certain to be discarded. H o w did it happen then? T h i s must be our next inquiry. 1

It would be wrong to leave the impression that their cause found no spokesman. P r o b a ­ bly the most telling speech m a d e in the whole course of the debate on the P a y n e - A l d r i c h bill was that of Senator Dolliver, dealing largely with the absurdities of the wool schedule. B u t all that speech brought from the M a s t e r of the Situation, Senator Aldrich, w a s the taunt that it w a s " D e m o c r a t i c t a l k " ! A l l of the wrongs of which they complained remained undisturbed in the P a y n e - A l d r i c h bill. T h e

The next paper in this series will deal vith " The Bulwark oj the Wool Farce"

JUNE

IN B Y

W

THE H.

SADDLE

H.

A T C H F U L eye alert for shying at the silent shadows lying Checkered on the turf beneath his eager hoofs that beat in tune, Loping on to take the fences, where the meadow-stretch commences Just beyond the lower pasture, daisy-pied and sweet with June.

Fly the rustic bars, and quiet with the curb that threatened riot; And excited rush that follows checked to canter slower still, Fretting at the bit he passes, knee high in the scented grasses, Over sun-warmed fields before us to the distant-looming hill. Gone are blossomed pear and cherry: but the tasseled elderberry, White with still unfading flower, hedges the ascending lane; Faint the creak and smell of leather in the humid, summer weather, Turning loosely in the saddle, empty stirrup, idle rein. Under satin skin the veining shows with Sweating to a higher summit, breasting Strive who will for gain and power, since Grant me, gods, the open country—and

his ambitious straining, now a cooler breeze, each man must have his hour; a horse between my knees.

INTERESTING

'Joseph

Pels

F

I V E minutes after meeting J o s e p h F e l s you know h i m ; in an hour you h a v e the illusion that you h a v e a l w a y s known h i m ; a n d then, next, y o u feel the certainty that you a l w a y s will know him. A n d the reason for this is that he is all there all the time. T h e r e isn't much of him physically. H e is just about five feet tall. " T h i s city will be bigger some d a y , " said a St. L o u i s j u d g e w h o w a s answering a speech by Fels. " Y o u yourself are bigger than y o u w e r e when you were born, aren't y o u ? " " N o t m u c h , " said F e l s . B u t this tiny body hasn't anything to do with his being. Q u i c k , nervous, eager, glad, his horse-power, so to speak, is that of Theodore Roosevelt. H e flies at his w o r k , like an insect; he is g a y about it. " I t ' s so e a s y , " he says. A n d he h a s humor and wit. H i s wit has been sharpened by the heckling he gets while campaigning in E n g l a n d , but it is founded on humor, and his humor is founded on his success in m a k i n g m o n e y ; soap, too, but principally money; very much money. " I t is so e a s y , " he laughs. " Y o u get a monopoly. T h e n you get a lot of people to work for you, a n d you give them as little as you please of all they m a k e . It's easy, as easy as stealing." I n his speech at the C h i c a g o City C l u b ( M a r c h n , 1 9 1 0 ) he said it w a s robbery. A d ­ dressing " t h e A r m o u r s " and other rich men he said: " W e can't get rich under present conditions without robbing somebody. I ' v e done it; y o u are doing it now a n d I still a m doing it. B u t I a m proposing to spend the damnable money to wipe out the system by which I m a d e it." A n d he invited all men to match him dollar for dollar in the fund he has established (to " the extent of his s w a g , " as he put it) to " a b o l i s h p o v e r t y . " A n d he l a u g h s ; not maliciously, but with amusement; a n d some wonder. " I s n ' t it s t r a n g e ? " he says. " T h e y don't see that. T h e y don't think it is robbery; they don't believe I m e a n w h a t I say. A n d yet, 744

PEOPLE

the fact that I h a v e m o n e y gives me a certain authority, a n d so m y statement has the sensa­ tion of news. T h e truth I utter is old, but it's news because a rich m a n says it." A n d poking y o u in the ribs, he puts you in the c r o w d a n d l a u g h s at y o u . F o r he knows that you also think a little more of what he says because he is a rich m a n . H e can see it. A n d that's the point about Fels. H e sees. H e has imagination: he sees the machinery of life as vividly as a m a t h e m a t i c i a n sees a geo­ metric figure, or an astronomer a constellation. M o s t men see stars. " O r b r e a d , " said Fels, helping out the expression, " o r s o a p . " Fels sees the economics of soap-making, breadm a k i n g and h u m a n exploitation. " M o s t J e w s d o , " he says. " T h a t ' s why we succeed so well in business. W e see it as a system, as a d i a g r a m . A n d that's w h y we hate so to w o r k for w a g e s . W e can see that that's no w a y to m a k e m o n e y . T h a t is the way to m a k e soap all right, a n d b r e a d . B u t the way to m a k e money is to get hold of land or a fran­ chise; water, gas, transportation; or, a food m o n o p o l y ; a n y privilege that men must have the use of, and then—then hold 'em up to get the use of it. A n d most m e n don't see it; they w o n ' t see it; they w o n ' t see it when you tell them. W e l l , w e see it, w e J e w s , and—some others." I t ' s because F e l s ' friends see w h a t Fels sees that they k n o w him so well. A n d they know him so quickly, because with his quick, sharp, explosive sentences he has learned to present his point of view, his philosophy, his vivid pic­ ture of the w o r l d completely and instantly. A l s o his feelings about it all. F o r F e l s cares. H e is deeply concerned about the facts he l a u g h s at. " I didn't use to b e , " he said once. " I ' v e been a Single T a x e r ever since I read George's books. I ' v e seen the cat for years. B u t I didn't do m u c h till I w a s converted. And, strange to s a y , I w a s converted by a Socialist. Single T a x e r s a n d Socialists don't agree; too often they fight. B u t it w a s K i e r H a r d i e who converted m e to the Single T a x or, as I prefer to call it, Christianity. I c a m e home on a ship

JOSEPH

FELS

Photosrcph

by A . D. Cook

A restless little man of fifty-five who devotes most of his time to furthering liberal causes in England and America. right to so much money.

After making a fortune he took time to think and decided he had no N o w he is trying to spend it in the wisest wav for the general good

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T h e A m e r i c an M a g a z i n e

with him once a n d I noticed that he never thought of himself. W e were together all the time, all those long days at sea, and we talked about E n g l a n d , A m e r i c a , politics, business— everything; and I talked and I thought of my­ self. B u t Hardie didn't talk of himself, a n d I could see that he never thought of K i e r H a r d i e . H e was for men." Fels paused, recalling those days evidently. T h e n he resumed: " W e l l , that did for me. I saw that I was nothing, a n d that 1 w a s doing nothing, com­ pared with a m a n like that. H e s a w and I saw, but he worked. H e did things, and I saw that that made him a man, a happy m a n a n d a servant of mankind. S o I decided to go to work, forget myself and get things done. A n d , " he laughed again, "that's easy too. N o t so easy as making money; giving it away is harder than getting it. But by careful m a n a g e ­ ment I believe it can be given back without doing much h a r m . " A n d that is where J o s e p h F e l s m a y achieve his distinction among rich men. H e m a y prove to be the most successful of the givers of "tainted money." I t ' s a business. R o c k e ­ feller has found that out; a n d Carnegie—they all have discovered that it is harder to redis­ tribute than to collect money. A n d most of them really fail at it. Naturally. T h e y don't know how they take money. They think they make it. Fels knows that he doesn't m a k e it, that it is made for him. H e gets it, a n d he knows how he gets it, and he sees that the sys­ tem which makes the rich rich makes the poor poor. Seeing that, therefore, he does not at­ tempt to alleviate the misery he helps to cause. He gives not a penny for relief, either of indi­ viduals or classes. H e poured out thousands in L o n d o n to put the unemployed on vacant lands held for the rise, but his mind w as not on the destitute; it was on the land. H e saw no use in feeding empty stomachs; he w a s trying to fill the vacant heads of the poor and the over­ crowded heads of the rich with the sight of what men could do for themselves if they could but get access to wasted land; land that w a s owned but not used. A n d he succeeded in part. T h e land is an issue in English politics now, and F e l s financed the agitation which m a d e the land tax in the B u d g e t the question of the day. Which is what he is up to in all countries. H e is giving in E n g l a n d $25,000 a y e a r ; in D e n ­ mark, $5,000; in C a n a d a , $5,000, and so on—• altogether $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 a year. A n d he is offering to give $25,000 for more) a year for 5 years (or longer) in the United States on condition that Americans who see the " l a n d cat" will match r

him dollar for dollar. T h e money is to go into a fund which is to be spent to finance movements which seem to be m a k i n g most directly toward the cure of the causes of poverty. " I want to m a k e m e impossible," he says. " I want to spend m y fortune to m a k e such fortunes as mine impossible. A n d that's a ser­ ious, worthy, h a p p y occupation for a m a n of executive ability." Once when F e l s h a d been stating his propo­ sition at length a listener w h o w a s impressed by the genial humor, the profound kindness and the serene w i s d o m of this little J e w turned to him quietly and said: " F e l s , the J e w s call themselves the Chosen P e o p l e ; the world has acknowdedged the title, a n d I , for example, a m willing now, in your presence, to admit that they a r e indeed the chosen. B u t w h a t are they chosen f o r ? " " T h e J e w s ? " said Fels, with a careless wave of his arm. " T h e J e w s were chosen to introduce r

Christianity."

LINCOLN

STEFFENS.

George J . Kindel ik L L through the R o c k y Mountain re/ % gion G e o r g e J . K i n d e l is known as / V " t h e rate-buster." H e h a s earned the title b y twenty years of implac­ able fighting against unjust freight discrimina­ tion. T h e mention of his n a m e to the traffic manager of a n y r o a d west of the Missouri is like shaking a red r a g at a bull. F o r Kindel has m a d e the rate-fixers more trouble than any twenty men in the country. H e has sacrificed his time, his money, a n d his business to carry on a single-handed fight against transportation companies for equitable rates. K i n d e l is distinctively of the Western type. A big, profane, fearless m a n of one idea, his manners would never be popular at a pink tea. H e is a born fighter. H e hits like the kick of a mule, a n d he never quits. I n his face there is something grim, something of the look of a bulldog that h a s been through the wars. In a recent pamphlet, showing that Denver had lost more than twenty manufactories by means of unjust transportation rates that h a d put them out of business, he p a i d his compliments to the C h a m b e r of C o m m e r c e a n d referred to it as " a feeble-minded, c o w a r d l y , grafting jelly­ fish" because that body h a s shown itself so flabby in the matter of dealing with the rail­ roads. T o call him fearless does not quite express the quality of his courage. T h e r e is an energy and virility about it that m a k e him unique. Committed to jail half a dozen times for con-

GEORGE

J.

KINDEL

An untiring fighter against unjust railway freight discriminations. At the recent city election in Denver, in which both of the party machines were swamped by the Citizens' party, Kindel was elected Supervisor on a reform ti< kei

tempt of court or because he refused to give the y a r d s to protect the property of the road, bond, newspaper men would find him in his whose rates he afterward attacked. Injustice cell surrounded by charts and pamphlets, sets him off like a torpedo. At the drop of the score of which have been issued by him, hat he is ready to light for his own rights or cheerfully planning a new attack before the those of others; railroad commission. Y e t he is no hater of N o r do the odds matter at all. Appointed railroads. W h e n strikers on one occasion took by the Supreme Court a watcher to prevent to dynamiting the property of the Denver & election frauds, he went down alone into the R i o G r a n d e system K i n d e l w a s chairman of worst precinct in the city and stayed there all the citizens' vigilance committee that slopped day in spite of the threats of a score of thugs. it. H e went out with his shotgun and patrolled So effectual w a s his work that the notorious 747

Interesting People Billy G r e e n and two others went to prison for six months on his testimony as to the frauds committed. T h e same spirit animated him when he appeared alone before the Interstate Commerce Commission at Washington and fought his case to a victorious finish against the best lawyers and traffic experts of the roads involved. On one occasion he made more than fifty railroads a party to his suit. At the Trans-Mississippi Congress he forced a hearing for himself after Harriman had fin­ ished speaking and demanded an explanation of why Colorado was discriminated against in rates.

749

M r s . Burnett laughingly relates how, when she sent her first manuscripts to a magazine publisher at the tender age of twelve, she slipped a bit of paper into the envelope bear­ ing the stern young warning: " M y object is remuneration!" T h e manuscript w a s accepted (nothing that M r s . Burnett has ever written has not been accepted! M a r k this, thou poor struggling scribbler!), and if her object at twelve was remuneration, she certainly has achieved it all along the line, in recognition among the elect, in popularity among the masses, as well as in good gold coin.

Wherever he goes, picturesque anecdotes In the seventies her first great novel, " T h a t are strewed in his w a k e . T h e J e s s e J a m e s L a s s o' L o w r i e ' s , " placed her in the front rank circular and its results illustrate the temper of among novelists; " E s m e r a l d a , " first played in the man as well as any other incident. Believ­ 1880, won her immediate success as a play­ ing that the E q u i t a b l e Life had cheated him in wright; and her dramatization alone of the settlement of a tontine policy, he got out " L i t t l e L o r d Fauntleroy," in 1886, netted her a circular with a cut of H y d e between those of no less than $ 1 5 0 , 0 0 0 — a fortune in itself—the the notorious outlaws J e s s e J a m e s and Soapy greater part of which w a s spent in the heart­ Smith. T h i s was before the insurance exposures, breaking battle with the last illness of her and the circulation of seventy thousand copies eldest son, Lionel. of such a sheet w a s then held to be almost leseH e r dramatization of " T h e D a w n of a T o ­ majesty. Suit w a s brought against K i n d e l for morrow," which has already run for two criminal libel. H e insisted on defending his seasons and bids fair to run as many own case against the advice of the judge. more, brought her in royalties of between one " Y o u umpire the g a m e and see fair play. and two thousand dollars a week. T h a t ' s all I ask, J u d g e , " he said. T h e royalties on the first three months' T h e jury box was filled with veniremen. sale of the American edition alone of " T h e He glanced them over and refused to challenge. S h u t t l e " were $38,000. Without counting its " I guess you're all square. Y o u look good to sale serially, she has already received more m e , " w a s his only comment. After the evi­ than $50,000 from " T h e Shuttle," before dra­ dence was all in, he spoke in his big, brusque matizing it, which she intends to do. way and advised them to send him to jail if he T h e splendid place which M r s . Burnett has had not told the truth. T h e jury w a s out lately acquired on L o n g Island was bought seven minutes. When the foreman gave the solely with the proceeds from " T h e S h u t t l e " verdict of " N o t g u i l t y " the judge had to r a p —a beautiful bit of land sloping by terraces for order several times. and stairways to the shore of Manhassett A manufacturer of mattresses by business, B a y , on which she has built a large stucco it is characteristic of him that while serving house in the Italian style of architecture. on a grand j u r y he once tried to have himself Although M r s . Burnett is an amazing indicted for making shoddy mattresses. It worker, as one must readily realize in glan­ w a s his hope to have the subject investigated cing over the long list of her works, yet she b y that he might show the freight conditions no means confines her activities to writing. against which a dealer in this section must She is interested in a multitude of things. contend. With K i n d e l all questions come She is an omnivorous reader; is fond of the back ultimately to the one of freight rates. social amenities of life; is an enthusiastic W I L L I A M M A C L E O D R A I N E . gardener, a devout lover of every bulb a n d shrub and tree that grows. She is the most feminine of her sex. A misguided lady once Frances Hodgson Burnett commenced an appeal to her on some question E W names of authors are so consis­ with the words " N o w , M r s . Burnett! Y o u tently associated with success through­ w h o are a sensible w o m a n , " etc. M r s . B u r ­ nett refuses to answer to such a definition. out a long career as that of F r a n c e s M r s . Burnett refuses to be classed among Hodgson Burnett, whose new serial sensible women. story, " T h e Secret G a r d e n , " will begin in the She has the head and forehead of a phiN o v e m b e r AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

F

losopher and a philanthropist, or whatever is most masculinely wise and good—but these she painstakingly conceals under a halo of fluffy, wavy hair. All the qualities of mind and character which make her the writer of genius that she is she smuggles out of sight under an enchanting display of very sincere interest in frocks and frills. In these her taste is anything but severe. She loves soft, clinging, trailing chiffon things, "with miles of lace on them." She has a great gift in household decora­ tion. Turn her into a dungeon deep and she would make shift to transform it into some75°

thing more than inhabitable,—luxurious. Her taste expresses itself in everything that makes for downy coziness and cheer. She is a most tender mother, a most faith­ ful and loyal friend, the kindest and most generous of women. Still, the same may be said of other women of one's acquaintance; but how many, may one ask, are capable of holding the public attention and interest for more than thirty years, and of earning, single-handed and by sheer power of brain, far over a hundred thousand dollars, as Mrs. Burnett has lately done, in less than two years?

Interesting People

Thomas A. Daly

751 CARLOTTA

J

O H N S O N h a d his B o s w e l l , S a m u e l L . C l e m e n s his A l b e r t B i g e l o w P a i n e , and T h o m a s A u g u s t i n e D a l y [cries of " T r e a s o n ! T r e a s o n ! " ] w a s born in P h i l a d e l p h i a in 1 S 7 1 . If this be treason, m a k e the least of it. T o m D a l y is w h a t the sporting p a g e w o u l d call S o m e P o e t . F o r o v e r ten y e a r s he has been writing a w e e k l y d e p a r t m e n t of verse and j o k e s for the Catholic Standard and Times, a n d in this column h a v e a p p e a r e d n e a r l y all those verses t h a t e v e r y e x c h a n g e editor a n d most n e w s p a p e r readers are so familiar w i t h . I t w a s in the Standard and Times, of which D o c t o r — F o r d h a m College conferred a L i t t . D . on him last J u n e — D a l y is general m a n a g e r , that his I t a l i a n dialect v e r s e s first appeared. A n d w h a t e v e r else he writes, he will a l w a y s be k n o w n as the m a n w h o does " t h o s e D a g o things."

MIA

Giuseppe, da Barber, ees greata for "mash," He gotta da bigga, da blacka mustache, Good clo'es an' good styla an' playnta good cash. W'enevra Giuseppe ees walk on da street, 1 )u peopla dey lalka " h o w nobby! how neat! How sofla da handa, how smalla da feet." He raisa hees hat an' he shaka hees curls, An' smila weeth teelha so shiny like pearls; ( ) ! many da heart of da seelly young girls He gotta, Yes, playnta he gotta— B u t notta Carlotta! Giuseppe, da Barber, he maka da eye, An' lika da steam-engine puffa an' sigh For catcha Carlotta w'en she ees go b y . Carlotta she walka weeth nose in da air, An' look through Giuseppe weeth far-away stare As eef she no see dere ees som'body dere. Giuseppe, da Barber, he gotta da cash, He gotta da clo'es an' da. bigga mustache, He gotta da seelly young girls for da " m a s h , " But notta— Y o u bat my life, notta— Carlotta. I gotta!

B u t n e v e r think t h a t it is T o m ' s L i t t . D or his verses t h a t g i v e him a m o n t h ' s card to the Interesting P e o p l e C l u b . N o . H u n d r e d s of persons h a v e h o n o r a r y d e g r e e s — e v e n Wil­ B u t the D a l y verses are not all in I t a l i a n liam Allen W h i t e h a s n ' t e s c a p e d — a n d thou­ sands write verse. B u t there is only one dialect, as y o u m a y know. H i s I r i s h dialect poet's f a m i l y in the w o r l d like t h a t of D a l y lyrics are r e m a r k a b l y fine a n d his " s t r a i g h t the T r o u b a d o u r , a n d if y o u will glance a mo­ stuff" is poetry. T h i s , for instance: ment at the contiguous half-tone y o u will TO A TENANT see nine Interesting P e o p l e , all members of Y o u found this house, dear lady, overrun this club. With noisome things that wail upon decay, T o m is the m u s t a c h e d one, the one w i t h All pent within it moldering in the gray, the hideous tie. M r s . D a l y , N a n n i e B a r r e t t Sick gloom of long disuse whose webs were spun that w a s , is sitting beside him. S h e is far Through all its halls. Y o u entered, and, the sun And God's air coming with you, swept away better-looking t h a n the p h o t o g r a p h e r w o u l d All ugliness and squalor, on that day h a v e y o u think, w h i c h m a k e s the per c a p i t a When first your life-long leasehold was begun. pulchritude a b o u t e v e n , as D o c t o r D a l y is Y o u tell me now your house, this heart of mine, not n e a r l y so h a n d s o m e as a p p e a r s . L i t t l e Is warm and ever-beautiful and fair, T o m , the one d o w n in the S. F . corner, likes And call me benefactor, nor divine to tell inquiring visitors to the D a l y h o m e How little debt you owe, how much I bear in G e r m a n t o w n , P a . , t h a t " w e ' v e got seven 'ID you who made this shabby place a shrine On that sweet day when first you entered there. in the f a m i l y a n d w e ' r e w a i t i n g for a ball team." T h i s , according to the manager, is T o m D a l y is a true poet, a fine h u s b a n d the line-up: and father, a real friend, a great story-teller, C — L e o n a r d Barrett Daly, at bat Mar. 30, 1 8 9 7 . one of the best of all dinner-speakers, a firstP.—John Anthony " " " Sept. 1 1 , 1899. class working humorist, a star second-base­ 1 B.—Thos. Augustine " " " July 8, 1 9 0 1 . man, a n d an excellent business m a n . And 2 B.—Anne Elizabeth " " " Apl. 1 3 , 1 9 0 3 . SS.—Stephen Barrett " " " Dec. 1 9 , 1904. perhaps he has other faults. 3 B.—Brenda Rutledge " " " L. E.—Frederic Rutledge " " " GAME CALLED.

May 1 2 , 1907. Nov. 5, 1908.

F R A N K L I N P. ADAMS.

o

Dean

West

of

Princeton

A s has been said, e v e r y b o d y has read the R D I N A R I L Y the big outside w o r l d D a l y v e r s e s . B u t unless y o u h a v e heard this knows little and cares less a b o u t strong, s w e e t m a n recite them y o u h a v e n ' t the questions w h i c h a g i t a t e the e x t r a c t e d their full meaning. I t is a fine small and (supposedly) peaceful thing to hear the a u t h o r recite: world of learning. During the p a s t y e a r ,

A N D R E W OF

THE

F.

P R I N C E T O N

WEST G R A D U A T E

A scholar, a fighter, a financier—and a humorist

SCHOOL

Interesting People h o w e v e r , the c o n t r o v e r s y w h i c h inflamed P r i n c e t o n after the offer a n d w i t h d r a w a l of half a million dollars for e n d o w i n g the g r a d u ­ a t e school b e c a m e so hot t h a t it boiled o v e r the a c a d e m i c walls. D u r i n g the e x c i t e m e n t all w h o h a d a n y t h i n g to s a y — a n d m a n y w h o h a d n o t — w e r e h e a r d from, e x c e p t the m a n a b o u t whose h e a d the b a t t l e w aged, the D e a n of the g r a d u a t e school himself, Professor Andrew Fleming West. r

A n d so, a l t h o u g h a g r e a t deal has been told a b o u t D e a n W est's g r a d u a t e college idea, which after fourteen y e a r s ' p a t i e n t effort he is to realize a t last, v e r y little is k n o w n a b o u t this interesting figure himself, e x c e p t t h a t he is a distinguished scholar, a d e v o t e d a l u m n u s , and has raised more m o n e y for his a l m a m a t e r t h a n all the other a l u m n i c o m b i n e d — barring M r . M . T a y l o r P y n e . Professor W e s t , a large j o v i a l person w i t h simple m a n n e r s a n d a sense of h u m o r , is a m a n y - s i d e d m a n . I t h a s been said at other universities t h a t he h a s done more t h a n a n y other e d u c a t o r in this c o u n t r y for c h a m p i o n ­ ing the cause of classical studies; and it is well k n o w n a t P r i n c e t o n t h a t he h a s an in­ curable h a b i t of writing nonsense v e r s e . H i s famous d e b a t e w i t h P r e s i d e n t E l i o t o v e r the elective s y s t e m will be handed d o w n in the annals of A m e r i c a n e d u c a t i o n ; a n d a series of his L i m e r i c k s will be h a n d e d d o w n in the columns of Life—one of his y o u n g e r friends h a v i n g surreptitiously s u b m i t t e d them. He has been p r o n o u n c e d " o n e of the few born teachers in A m e r i c a " ; a n d he is as fond of horseplay as a n Oxford don. H e is the m o s t indulgent of c o m p a n i o n s , b u t the most cut­ ting of satirists. H e considers it a d u t y to haze superdignified y o u n g professors j u s t b a c k from G e r m a n y , suffering from ingrow­ ing scholarship a n d w e a r i n g their b r a n d new doctors' degrees like h a l o s ; b u t when t h e y fall ill he considers it a pleasure to turn his house into a hospital a n d nurse t h e m w i t h his o w n h a n d s . H e is l o v e d b y those w h o u n d e r s t a n d h i m ; detested b y those w h o d o n ' t . T

753

d e v o u r cuiturine. T o those whose ideal of a college professor is d e r i v e d from books he is a s a d d i s a p p o i n t m e n t ; a n d y e t his passion is m e d i e v a l L a t i n , a n d his edition of R i c h a r d de B u r y ' s Philobiblon m a d e a sensation through­ out the scholarly w o r l d ; a n d in recognition of his erudition a n d in acknowdedgement of his c o n s t r u c t i v e ideas in education, Oxford g a v e him a c o v e t e d D . L i t t . — o n e of the few men in all A m e r i c a . T h e d r e a m of his life h a s been a residential g r a d u a t e college for P r i n c e t o n . W h e n the M a s s a c h u s e t t s I n s t i t u t e of T e c h n o l o g y urged him to a c c e p t its presidency the president and b o a r d of trustees of P r i n c e t o n b e g g e d him to remain a n d " p u t into operation the g r a d u a t e college wdricb he conceived a n d for which it [the board] has p l a n n e d . " T h a t w a s four y e a r s a g o . H e is at last in a position to a c ceed to this request. I t has taken fifteen harassing y e a r s to m a k e this d r e a m come true, and then o n l y after a n i g h t m a r e . I t h a s been a t t a c k e d in public b y some of those w h o h a d v o u c h e d for it in p r i v a t e a n d commissioned him to p u t it through. I n the heat of c o n t r o v e r s y the p u b ­ lic w a s led to believe t h a t something u n d e m o ­ cratic inhered in this p l a n for p r o v i d i n g a h a b i t a t i o n for g r a d u a t e students, a provision w h i c h seems not unreasonable in P r i n c e t o n , w h e r e boarding-houses are i n a d e q u a t e . T o be sure, M r . P r o c t e r ' s offer, which raised the row, w a s chiefly to endow a teaching staff; three y e a r s p r e v i o u s l y a fund h a d been left for the building, a n d accepted without question. M o r e o v e r , if it were d e m o c r a t i c to repel the P r o c t e r gift w h e n offered on its original terms, it is h a r d for the c y n i c a l public to see how? it is more democratic to accept the same a l u m n u s ' gift when offered a g a i n upon precisely the s a m e terms so far as t h e y affect the plans, site a n d ideals of the g r a d u a t e college. P e r h a p s it seems a little less so, for in the m e a n w h i l e the W y m a n fund of no one k n o w s how m a n y millions h a d been accepted w i t h universal rejoicing for the s a m e long-deferred project.

H e s m o k e s too m u c h , is g i v e n to sleeping late in the morning, a n d is prone to p r o c r a s ­ T i m e alone can p r o v e w h e t h e r or not the tination. B u t he is a p t to w o r k all night, late G r o v e r C l e v e l a n d , w h o k n e w an un­ a n d c a n s t a n d a s t r a i n — h e h a s r e c e n t l y done d e m o c r a t i c proposition w h e n he s a w one, w a s s o — w h i c h w o u l d d r i v e m o s t men to a sani­ right in stating bis " a b s o l u t e c e r t a i n t y t h a t tarium. H e is a d d i c t e d to slang in his con­ such an establishment as our g r a d u a t e school versation, b u t Ills formal presentations of will conserve the a d v a n c e scholarship w h i c h candidates for h o n o r a r y degrees are cameos o u r nation needs in e v e r y b r a n c h of useful of beautiful E n g l i s h . H e is b e l o v e d b y the a c t i v i t y . I h a v e n e v e r been enlisted in a poor of his t o w n , b u t loses his patience with cause w h i c h has given m e more satisfaction s t u p i d i t y in the f a c u l t y . H e is perplexing to or a b e t t e r feeling of usefulness." those w h o y e a r n for c u l t u r e — a n d w h o b l a n d l y JESSE LYNCH WILLIAMS.

A S T O R Y OF A H A L F - C E N T U R Y OF F A I T H

Dan Donahue BY

E D W A R D

I L L U S T R A T E D

Y

H U N G E R

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O U can measure the entire railroad his­ tory of the city of T r e m o n t b y D a n Donahue. W h e n he arrived there, more than half a century ago, a clearhearted, blue-eyed Irish boy seeking his fortune in a strange land, there were no street railroads. H e took a deliberate choice between going to work as a stone mason's helper or driving on the stagecoach line that ran the entire length of State Street. H e took the stagecoach j o b a n d he stuck to it for m a n y years. After all those years had come to pass, D a n D o n a h u e w a s still at the f o r w a r d plat­ form of a cable car that r a n through W a s h ­ ington A v e n u e . H i s hair w a s silvered, but his eye w a s clear and his grasp of his handles as steady as it had been when first he stepped upon a c a r platform. F o r t y y e a r s of hard work and plain life, life in the sunshine a n d storms of the open, do not age a man. T h e y had tests now for the men—they were getting quite new-fangled and systematic— and old D a n D o n a h u e met those tests like a farmer's boy who has yet to vote. T h e y w o u l d m a k e him breathe and put their wise medical heads against his chest and then w o n ­ der what it did. T h e y would m a k e him read fine print and big, try to catch his loyal old ears napping, and he would only laugh b a c k at them when they were done. It is a fine thing to be sixty y e a r s young, thought D a n Donahue, and that thought he confided to M a r t i n M a l o n e y one d a y in the c a r barn. " T h e r e ain't a n y use of w o r r y i n ' 'bout gettin' old, M a r t i n , b o y , " said D a n , " n o t till y o u get kind of shoulderin' u p against the century mark, a n y w a y . " M a r t i n M a l o n e y did not agree with the gripman. H e w a s a sepulchral y o u n g m a n , painfully thin a n d with deep-sunk eyes. " I ain't thirty yet, a n ' sometimes I feel s o

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old that I think a n ' get thinking for a long timethat I ' m r e a d y to die—fact is I ' d like to die." D a n showed small s y m p a t h y with such sentiments. " W e l l , y o u ' d think so if y o u had my j o b , " w a s M a l o n e y ' s defense. M a l o n e y ' s j o b lay within the red brick powerhouse. F o r eight long hours he sat in a greasy pit at the edge of the engine room a n d kept his eye fixed u p o n the slimy, sliding cable as it left the place for its long course under the streets. T h e push button of an electric bell w a s beneath his finger tip, and it w a s M a r t i n M a l o n e y ' s business to watch the cable in search of loose strands. If he saw a b r e a k in the monotonous thing he pressed the bell a n d the big engine stopped before the d a m a g e d part could be out of the room. It w o u l d be repaired there a n d the substitute cable set in motion. " Y o u ' d hate life, M r . D o n a h u e , " began M a r t i n again, " e f you h a d to stay perched in that hot hole a n d not take y o u r eyes off that old cable. E v e r y thirty-seven minutes and a half w e get the splice, a n d it's as much as my life is worth to let that run b y without my seeing that those ends ain't featherin' out." D a n D o n a h u e , as h a d been his w a y always, comforted him. " Y o u r s is a big j o b , me b y e , " he said, the kindness glowing in his blue old eyes, "yer w h a t they call a responsible man. L e t them loose strands get tangled up in one of the grips a n ' then w h e r e ' d w e be ? " M a l o n e y ' s dull eyes glowed. " T h e r e w a s a n accident of that sort on the B r o a d w a y c a b l e r o a d u p in N e w Y o r k last m o n t h , " he said. " G r i p m a n got snarled in the c a b l e a n ' s m a s h e d right a n ' l e f for about four miles. S o m e folks w a s killed an' a lot more hurt."

Dan Donahue: By Edward Hungerford " T h e y use a different kind of grip up there," D o n a h u e said, " b u t you keep y o u r eye peeled on that cable just the s a m e . " " I ' v e been on this j o b now four years come N o v e m b e r , " said young M a l o n e y proudly, " a n ' I never once missed the splice." H i s eye caught the time on the clock over the car barn and he stopped himself to go to his task. " I ' m sick o' the j o b , sick as death o' it," w a s his final thrust as he moved a w a y from the veteran gripman. D a n said nothing. H e just looked at the

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boy under his shaggy eyebrows and shook his head after he w a s gone.

M a r t i n M a l o n e y remained at his j o b in the inspection pit. H e made several unsuccess­ ful attempts to get a w a y from it. T h e j o b was hard to fill. N o one wanted it. B u t they did not tell him that. " Y o u ' r e a responsible man and we can't afford to let you g o , " was what they told him, with a slap on his back. Martin M a l o n e v shook his head dubiously.

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The American Magazine T h a t w a s not quite his idea of a responsible job, just watching a tireless, endless, slimycable. B u t one night w h e n he sat in the little brick pit, watching the monotonous b l a c k strand sweep under the powerful scrutiny of a shaded incandescent a n d off to the street and its great w o r k , he began thinking of w h a t would be the big accident in T r e m o n t some day. Would one of the grips smash into one of those new trolleys that M r . C o n n a u g h t o n w a s just then putting into State S t r e e t ? W h a t a smash that w o u l d b e ! M a r t i n M a l o n e y shuddered at the very thought of the thing. . . . H e put his hands over his eves for an instant and cold thrills ran up and down his back. . . . H i s hands dropped from his face. H e g a v e a little cry. . . . T h e splice! . . .

" I ' m the oldest m a n now, m o t h e r , " he said, with a little tone of pride in his voice. " H o w is that, D a n ' l ? " she asked. " O l d Sholter is d e a d , " he said quietly. " I think he died of a b r o k e n heart. H e couldn't stand the tests. H e k n e w he couldn't an' he staved them off as long as he could. The rest of us went through near a y e a r ago; he dodged them till l a s ' w e e k . T h e n they told the old fellow that he w asn't safe no longer to m a k e his run. T h a t ' s w h a t killed Sholter, mother." r

M r s . D o n a h u e said nothing more. She w a s thinking h o w different it w a s with her D a n . W h y , he w a s n e a r l y as old as Mr. Sholter—there w a s only a w e e k ' s difference in their service r e c o r d — a n d he had stdod all their tests that time like a b o y of twenty. She w a s p r o u d of D a n . H e was all she had. T h e r e h a d been other little Dona­ hues, but they seemed so h a z y and so far back now that it seemed as if she h a d read of them in a story-book, h a d never h a d the pangs and j o y s of motherhood for her very own.

One of the oilers heard him and c a m e over to him, smelling an accident. M a r t i n M a ­ loney only smiled w e a k l y at the oiler to show that all w a s well. H e could not talk. He could not think to m a k e speech. H i s thoughts were far a w a y from the powerhouse, traveling with the splice through the streets of T r e m o n t . D a n D o n a h u e thought of Sholter the next Once he thought that he would signal to the engineer to stop the cable and bring the splice d a y as he took his c a r out on his morning run. back into the house. . . . T h e n he dis­ I t g a v e him little thrills of pride as he handled his grip levers to think that he w a s the senior missed the idea. Thirty-seven and a half minutes M a r t i n m e m b e r of the platform force. His hair was M a l o n e y sat there in the greasy pit, his soul snow white, but no person passing on the in hell, his heart with that slender w e a v e of street and seeing the r u d d y color, the clear steel cable that m a d l y rushed through the blue eyes a n d the erect stature of the gripman streets of T r e m o n t , up over the hill, past the might even i m a g i n e that he h a d piloted street pleasant houses of the Heights, around the cars on the h i g h w a y s of T r e m o n t since the > turn at the ball park, b a c k downtown a n d v e r y beginning of the things. over the hill again, through the shopping dis­ H e handled his levers with the skill of tricts, over the sheaves at the sharp curves at years, r a n g his g o n g with the j o y of the sum­ the South Union and the foot of D o c k Street mer morning in his heart, piloted his car and b a c k again into the great engines of the round those d o w n t o w n c u r v e s with the art powerhouse. T h i r t y - s e v e n a n d a half min­ that h a d come to him of long practice. Once, utes it took to m a k e that trip, and that might w h e n he h a d r o u n d e d the foot of D o c k Street have been thirty-seven and a half hours to the a n d w a s headed straight uptown again, a soul of M a r t i n M a l o n e y . . . . H e g a v e small insect flew straight into his eye. It another little cry, of relief this time, as the smarted b a d l y for an instant, and D a n let his splice c a m e under his eye, prompt on its hand go to the relief of the injured member. schedule, and the oiler c a m e again and stood H e w a s blinded for the moment, and he close to the pit for a moment. s t a m p e d furiously upon his gong as he let After the first time it is never so h a r d the loose of the cable. second. After the second time the third w a s still easier and more like a matter of routine. After that it w a s time for M a r t i n M a l o n e y to D a n D o n a h u e stuck manfully to his levers, pray that he should shake his habit of missing but through his heart a n d soul and brain the splice. there swept the torments of the damned. In that single brief instant that the insect had swept into his left eye he discovered a fact ' D a n D o n a h u e d r o p p e d his evening p a p e r new to him—his other eye w a s almost blind. and looked across at his wife. I n the few m o m e n t s that it took to get his left

Dan Donahue: By Edward Hungerford eye b a c k he w a s virtually a blind m a n — a blind man bringing a carload of precious human lives through the c r o w d e d center of a great city. H e caught his breath slowly, closed his left eye again and again and again. T h e other eye told him the same story—the vista of a city street in cloudy outlines, people crossing

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A n hour before he had been thinking of Sholter and how he had failed on the tests. What show would D a n D o n a h u e stand on the tests with a cataract forming on his eye ? M r . Connaughton could not afford to have halfblind men bringing his cars through the streets. D a n D o n a h u e knew that. H e could

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in front of his c a r as moving, blurred, indis­ tinct things. H e saw dimly from that eye, but he saw the future instantly with the cleared vision of a young child. H e knew what the trouble w a s , his father had suffered with a cataract when he w a s sixty—that seemed to be one of the penalties of old age in the clan D o n a h u e .

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not keep his mind from it. H e missed pas­ sengers w h o hailed his car—irate old ladies who w a v e d their parasols at it as it passed without slowing, and puffy old gentlemen w h o made up their minds that instant to write to J a m e s Connaughton and complain of the carelessness of his gripman—he neglected the signals from his own c a r until the conductor

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c a m e to him and asked him to p a y attention. T h e y were carrying their passengers past their destinations. D a n took his scolding with a nod of his head and afterwards p a i d better at­ tention. . . . W h e n they ended that trip he told the depot master that he w a s not feel­ ing quite himself, and he a s k e d to be relieved. A young skit of a g r i p m a n took his place at the levers of 419. H e found his w a y to a quiet place in a cor­ ner of the car y a r d and m a n a g e d to a v o i d M a r t i n M a l o n e y , w h o w a s coming to him to tell him of his troubles. . . . H e did not want to talk of other troubles now. H e had a plenty of his own. . . . H e w a n t e d to be alone. He wanted to be alone, for he had to fight a battle, a battle with himself. . . . It was going to be a hard fight. . . . T h e tests were all over, it might be m a n y months, even years, before they were repeated. H e had passed. T h e r e h a d been a big " O . K . " stamped on his record a n d D a n k n e w it. He needed the money, too. H e h a d been compelled for y e a r s to take his weekly dole, and it had hardly more than kept his wife a n d himself in a degree of comfort. N o w , with a closer w a y of living, he w a s beginning to see his w a y out. T e n y e a r s more w a s not too much of an opportunity to be granted to a man to stand at his levers. I n ten y e a r s he would be so fixed that Mollie and he would be out of w o r r y for the rest time. T h e n , on the other side, the problem ranged itself as a matter of right. H e had no right to run a car any longer. T h e tests that they made for the men were proper. If there w a s any place that demanded a m a n of stout body, seeing eyes and hearing ears, that place w a s the front platform of a car that daily threaded c r o w d e d streets. D a n D o n a h u e saw the right of that. If he yielded to the right and wrote to the superintendent asking for another test he did not doubt what would become of him. The Washington A v e n u e road w a s no charitable institution. Its officers were just men, but they were hard men. A l l street railroad offi­ cers were. H e might h a v e thrown himself upon his old acquaintance with C o n n a u g h t o n , but that w a s not his w a y . D a n k n e w that when the test w a s m a d e he would be dropped. H e expected nothing more. . . . F r o m that he turned b a c k to Mollie, M o l l i e w h o w a s g r o w i n g old a n d w h o needed protection and comfort. It w a s a hard question. H e sat there for hours in the quiet corner of the c a r y a r d a n d fought it out wdth himself.

W h e n the battle w a s over he went into the depot master's office a n d a s k e d for pen and paper.

I n the morning w h e n he reported at the c a r b a r n for his run, in the s a m e regular man­ ner that he h a d reported y e a r in and year out, he glanced furtively at the mail rack, half thinking that his order to take the fatal test might have come. T h e n he realized that it w a s far too soon for it, a n d he w a s quite him­ self a g a i n until a s u m m o n s c a m e to him to report at the depot m a s t e r ' s office. That troubled him once again. P e r h a p s there were complaints of that run of yesterday coming in. H e m a d e his w a y uneasily t o w a r d the depot master. M o r t i m e r , w h o w a s d a y depot master, greeted D a n with a s h a r p glance. " F e e l i n g b e t t e r ? " he snorted. " T h e y said y o u were a little u n d e r the weather yesterday." " I ' m r e a d y for m y run t o - d a y , " D a n said in a low voice. " I ' m not going to put y o u on it," said M o r t i m e r , a n d D a n b e g a n to be alarmed. T h i s looked like the beginning of the end. B u t his fears were r e m o v e d . " I w a n t you to m a k e a special run to-day," explained the depot master, and he led Dan through the long a n d s h a d o w y sheds to the shops where a bright n e w car, of a distinctly different type stood over a track pit. " Get under there, D a n , and look at her g r i p s , " said M o r t i m e r . W h e n the old g r i p m a n c a m e out from un­ der the car, M o r t i m e r d e m a n d e d his opinion of it, explaining that the new catch was a device that h a d c o m e d o w n from N e w York. " I ain't much for it meself, ef ye want me honest with y e , M r . M o r t i m e r , " said Dan. H e never dissembled for anyone. " I should say meself, without p e r h a p s knowin' much about it that it fitted the cable a little too close." " T h a t ' s just the point, D a n , " beamed M o r t i m e r . " M r . C o n n a u g h t o n has come to the conclusion that that old grip of ours isn't all that it might be. W e ' v e h a d several re­ ports lately about c a r s slipping on their clutches on the hill a n d the big boss began to worry. S a i d he didn't w a n t to drop a train into F e r r i s s ' s drug store some night about supper time. . . . W e ' r e going to give this fellow a run and y o u ' r e to. take her out now. Y o u ' r e our senior m a n , you know, our star p e r f o r m e r . " D a n w i n c e d at that but said nothing. . . · H e stepped upon the front platform, an extra

Dan Donahue: By Edward conductor hopped on the rear, the little dummy locomotive that carried them out to the street and the cable gave them a sharp push. . . . Mortimer said that he would wait for Connaughton and they would m a k e the next run with D a n . . . . T h e gripman fumbled with the levers. T h e y were only a little different from the rest of the equipment, and he caught the cable without difficulty. T h e grip seemed to be all that its promoters had promised. D a n had little trouble up over the hill and back all the way downtown again, dropping the cable and catching it at will and under signals from the conductor and the traffic policemen. . . . H e caught the " r o p e " before they swung upon the sharp curve that led to the terminal loop in front of the South Union station and made that curve easily. I n front of the big station there w a s a starter, and the cars laid there for a moment waiting for his whistle signal before starting uptown again. That was the rule that Connaughton had made for the proper spacing of his cars. Dan Donahue, the rule a l w a y s in his mind, pulled his lever b a c k to release the cable in his grip. It caught for a moment, and be re­ versed it once and tried again. It caught again and D a n D o n a h u e began to thiak things about that new style grip that had come down from N e w Y o r k . H e put new energy into his levers—still the grip stuck fast to the cable. It was evident to the gripman that they were not going to stop at the terminal loop. He leaned out from his platform to catch sight of the starter and yell the word of danger to him. But the starter had chosen that par­ ticular time to go within the railroad station and he was not in sight. T h e car rounded off the terminal loop without his authority, he saw it as it was far beyond him and made a note of its number so that Mortimer could give that gripman just what was coming to him. T h e y made the second curve, the third and turned into D o c k Street, then D a n Donahue made frantic attempts once again to loosen the grip. N o use. T h e N e w Y o r k grip w a s certainly going to hold fast from the begin­ ning. T h e color went out of D a n ' s face, the beat out of his heart for a moment. " N o w we're in for it," he said to himself. " I t ' s a g a m b l e that we're snarled in the splice." F o r a single instant he thought of M a r t i n Maloney, for the next instant he meditated flight—then—well he knew that it was his business to guide that car up through the

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heart of the town. When they got to the barns where the cable sunk deep into the earth to enter the powerhouse it would drag the grip out from the heart of the car—that would be the end of it. B e t w e e n the station and the barns lay a long stretch through the busiest street in all busy T r e m o n t , and D a n Donahue knew that it w a s his duty to stick by the big new car, onrushing and resistless through that tangle of traffic. H e gritted his teeth and stamped furiously upon his gong.

T h e newsboy who all day m a d e his head­ quarters around the steps of the Continental Hotel saw old D a n in trouble on the front platform of his car. D a n in front w a s stamp­ ing briskly on his gong, the conductor on the rear w a s idling on the platform, deaf to it, taking in the warmth and brisk beauty of an early summer morning in the city, rejoicing that there were neither passengers nor fares to trouble him on this special trip. T h e newsboy divined trouble, but did not go to D a n ' s aid, at least not until he had seen the corner of the c a r catch an Italian peddler's cart that crossed its path too quickly. T h e cart went over on its side and dozens of oranges poured out upon the street. The Italian swore in two languages and the news­ boy ran to profit b y the accident. B u t the cable c a r never slowed, and if the boy had not been so intent on making w a y with an armful of the oranges he might h a v e seen that there w a s a deal of trouble. He might have looked long enough to see the mad c a r rip the tailboard and step off a big ice-wagon, nearly turning it, too, upon its side. T h e folk along the streets began to notice. T h e y yelled at the car and ran streaming after it, but the motorman only stamped his gong. T h e conductor woke from his reverie on the back platform. H e became conscious that something w a s wrong—they were leaving wreck and ruin in their track—and he ran forward toward D a n .

D a n knew that the whole history of that run would be finished in eight minutes. Within that time the splice would be b a c k in the powerhouse if no one stopped the engines. In eight minutes the story would be told. . . . H e looked ahead around the base of the tall monument that raises its head in B a t t l e Square, and saw the usual press of traffic there, trucks, cross-town trolley lines, car­ riages, wagons. H e knew that he would never get that c a r through Battle S q u a r e .

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A policeman c a m e running out from the curb and D a n shouted to him to telephone the powerhouse to stop the engines, but the policeman w a s one of the sort that has to hear a thing three times to h a v e it penetrate, a n d he only joined the yelling rabble at the rear of the car. . . . J u s t a h e a d of them w a s another car, one of the open-bench sort, a n d its passengers were standing in the seats, won­ dering what all this commotion behind them w a s about. T h e open c a r w a s poking its w a y up the street, making m a n y halts a n d stops, and D a n saw that they were going to c a r r y it before them. " C l e a r o u t ! " he shouted at the top of his voice; " I ' m running a w a y ! " T h e passengers in that c a r needed no sec­ ond hint. T h e y piled out over the running boards on either side in m a d confusion, shrieking and yelling, sprawling u p o n the dirty pavement. T h e crew took no risk, and it j u m p e d too. D a n D o n a h u e s a w it all. " B l a m e d f o o l s — c o w a r d s , " he muttered. B u t the conductor of the open c a r w a s not so much of a fool after all. W h e n he had picked himself u p from the p a v i n g stones he began to run toward the sidewalk. T h e thick-headed policeman thought he w a s try­ ing to escape arrest because of the accident and sought to stop him. T h e conductor sent the policeman sprawling with a blow in the face, and before the outraged L a w could re­ cover his balance w a s at a telephone, gasping at Central to give him the Washington A v e n u e power station in two seconds. "W hat n u m b e r ? " asked Central. " N o n e of your b u s i n e s s ! " shrieked the con­ ductor. " T h e r e ' s a r u n a w a y c a r b o u n d up Washington A v e n u e and there'll be the deuce to p a y in less than two minutes." " I don't k n o w the n u m b e r , " said Central sweetly. " I ' l l give you Information." A n d the man at the telephone receiver w a s speechless in his rage. T

T h e y were close enough now to the monu­ ment (which, as e v e r y b o d y knows, is the focal point of T r e m o n t traffic) for D a n to see that it w a s as closely congested as ever about it. H i s conductor m a d e one move as if he w o u l d j u m p from that platform. " T h e r e isn't a n y u s e , " he moaned. "What can we d o ? J u m p , Donahue." " G e t on to the front platform of that c a r , " said D a n quickly—they were c a r r y i n g the a b a n d o n e d open ahead of them n o w — " a n d get that gong g o i n g . "

T h e conductor winced. " I w a s j u s ' m a r r i e d l a s ' w e e k , " he began. " D o you w a n t to be fired n e x t ? " snapped Dan. " S e e if t h e y ' v e got a d r a w b a r there a n d get it b a c k to m e . " T h e conductor w a s a lithe fellow, and he m a d e the platform of the front c a r in a jump. H e bent over a n d d r e w forth a long six-foot d r a w b a r — u s e d for coupling a single-truck grip to a single-truck trailer. D a n took it and started for the center of his c a r . . . . He knelt on the floor of the c a r a n d pulled up the trapdoors there. H e c o u l d hear the cries of the c r o w d about him. I t w a s pressing as close to the sides of the r u n a w a y as it dared. S o m e b o y s w e r e throwing things at the car. It w a s one c h a n c e in a hundred—one in a thousand, perhaps—but it w a s a chance. The m a n at the grip handles h a d been praying throughout all of the r u n a w a y ride, and a definite p l a n h a d c o m e to him because of his praying.. . . . T h e cable grip consisted of three plates of B e s s e m e r steel, placed end to e n d — v e r y thin plates, each of them, so as to p a s s through the n a r r o w slot. It had come to D a n in all his misery that thin Bessemer steel w a s powerful but v e r y brittle. If he only h a d a sledge-hammer. T h a n he thought of the heavy drawbar. . . . H e raised himself above the grip and threw it over his shoulder h a m m e r fashion; it broke a window? as he swung it and sent a rain of b r o k e n glass o v e r him. . . . He did not notice. H e was calculating. There w a s a n a r r o w space of five inches between the truck castings a n d the grip plates. It was like that new-fangled game—golf—that they were playing out b y the ball p a r k . D a n D o n a h u e shut his eyes and prayed for a s u p e r h u m a n strength in his stout old arms. I t must h a v e come, for when the d r a w b a r descended it c a m e clean, there was a crackling sound, a little crash and the snarled splice no longer held D a n ' s c a r in its power. H e went reeling with the recoil of his blow upon the floor of the car, lay there for an in­ stant. B u t only for an instant. Then he w a s u p o n his feet again, watching the open c a r pull a w a y from the r u n a w a y . . . . " T h a t b r o k e n grip will foul her," was his next thought. H e g r a b b e d up his heavy d r a w b a r a n d started after it. T h e crowd pressed closely about him. I t w a s beginning to realize that D a n D o n a h u e w a s the savior of the situation. I t tried to g r a b his hands. " F o r G o d ' s s a k e give m e r o o m ! " yelled D a n ; " t h e trick isn't done y e t . " T h e c r o w d fell b a c k a little, a n d Dan, run­ ning like a slip of a b o y — s i x t y years is as

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nothing to a m a n w h o has kept his health— p a s s e d it, p a s s e d it with a blue ribbon. He overtook the open car, half leaped, w a s half stays with this property as long as he lives. pushed aboard it. S o m e one shoved the D o y o u hear m e ? " d r a w b a r after him. D a n ' s feverish h a n d s tore a w a y the trap in its floor. T h e c r o w d kept shouting encouragement to him all the A l l that w a s fourteen y e a r s ago, and Dan while. H e did not hear it. H e w a s not D o n a h u e n o w handles the little d u m m y en­ hearing. H e w a s seeing. B a t t l e M o n u m e n t gine that pushes the c a r s out upon the w a s less than half a block a w a y . T h e r e w a s tracks a n d pulls them in a g a i n into the barn. the regular congestion about its base, teams J i m C o n n a u g h t o n s a y s that he is going to rip and cars gathered in their path. Once more out the c a b l e s on the eight-per-cents and put he raised his d r a w b a r over his shoulder, more his n e w four-motor electrics u p the hills. So of an effort this time, for he w a s vastly wearied D a n D o n a h u e will h a v e to h a v e a new job. b y that other blow. Once more he p r a y e d , H e will h a v e it. J i m C o n n a u g h t o n says, by once more that h a m m e r p a i d its tribute to thunder, he will h a v e it if Consolidated T r a c ­ sixty years of honest living, once more the tion h a s to build a line to give D a n Donahue grip plates split asunder and D a n D o n a h u e , a j o b . J i m C o n n a u g h t o n does not forget in reeling, fell to the floor, only conscious that fourteen y e a r s . his conductor, w a s setting the b r a k e s and that O n e thing m o r e . W h e n D a n finished his the danger w a s over. fiftieth y e a r in the service J i m Connaughton took M o l l i e a n d him on a little pleasure jaunt up to N e w Y o r k . N e i t h e r h a d ever been A month later J i m Connaughton's superin­ there before, and, for the time, J i m Con­ tendent c a m e to the big boss with a puzzled naughton w a s not the boss, just his biglook on his brow. H e held a report in his hearted old-time friend. T h e y stopped in a hand. showy hotel, so swell a n d so big that it took " D a n D o n a h u e , " he said. " W e can't a w a y their appetites, a n d at the end of a week afford to have him on a c a r any longer, H e ' s both agreed that there w a s nothing in New gone blind in one eye. H e isn't safe." Y o r k that they h a d not seen. Connaughton frowned angrily. N o r w a s that all. D a n c a m e to his wife " Y o u ' v e a quick forgettery, J a s p e r , " lie said the last d a y that they were in N e w Y o r k , " I f y o u think e x t e n d e d his t h a t we c a n | closed hand, afford—" the suthen opened it perintendent be­ and s h o w e d a gan. T h e n he gold watch rest­ h a l t e d , for he ing there. His saw that the gen­ wife g a v e a little eral m a n a g e r g a s p of pleas­ was in no mind ure. for long-winded " ' F o r a half explanations. c e n t u r y of " Y o u know w e faith,' it s a y s , decided that the m o t h e r , 'for a tests would rule half century of absolutely. T h e loyalty.'" tests " M r s . Dona­ Connaughton hue said noth­ interrupted him ing. She knew with a bang up­ t h a t to e v e r y on his desk. h a r d day there " D o n ' t be a must come a fool, J a s p e r , " he sunset f u l l of ' F O R A H A L F C E N T U R Y O F F A I T H . snapped. " D a n w a r m t h and I T S A Y S " Donahue's h a d love and happi­ h i s t e s t . He's ness.

THE A

S T O R Y

BY AUTHOR

FINAL

O F

T E R R I B L E

L I N C O L N OF

SCORE

"SAVING

ILLUSTRATIONS

C O L C O R D

FACE,"

BY

T

" " ^ H E sea is a primitive place, and following the sea is a man's busi­ ness. P o w e r rules on shipboard, through the medium of fear; as it w a s in the beginning and a l w a y s shall be. T h e failure of this natural law brings death to many, a n d works ill until the final score is paid. Witness the story of C a p t a i n B r a y .

THE moment that C a p t a i n B r a y set eyes on him, he decided that Gilfoy w a s a rascal. E v i l w a s m a r k e d across the m a n ' s face like a scar. B u t the Pathfinder w a s ready for sea, her second mate h a d disappeared, and time was money. S o he w a s shipped without

R E T R I B I J T I O N

" A N JE R . "

ARTHUR

FTC.

COVEY

question, on the strength of several second mate's discharges from English vessels. A n d for the first month Gilfoy put his best foot forward. H e knew his work, and was not afraid of it. Captain B r a y watched him with approval, and congratulated himself on having secured a valuable officer. B u t in spite of this, he could not help disliking the man. Something in his voice, in the w a y he used his eyes, betrayed the b a d blood that lay beneath. One day Captain B r a y discovered that Gilfoy w a s becoming familiar with the crew. H e had seen him forward at the fore­ castle door during his watch below. It is difficult to explain to anyone who has never followed the sea the heinousness of this offense. A n officer who hobnobs with his

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men commits an outrageous breach of disci­ pline. T h e whole sentiment a n d experience of the quarter-deck is against it. T h e line between the cabin a n d the forecastle must be tightly drawn. R a t h e r than cross this line, it is better to err in the other direction. T h i s is the law of the sea. Some men breed trouble as if they carried with them the germs of a pestilence; a n d G i l foy was one oi these. Insubordination w a s his creed and aim. When he shipped on a vessel, he instinctively turned against the c a p ­ tain and toward the crew. H e w a s a h e a v y , raw-boned Scotchman, some six feet tall, young, active, and powerful. Small, glitter­ ing eyes looked out from under black eye­ brows, and lent a sinister cast to his squarejawed face. H e had the reputation of being a brutal fighter. Strength, to him, w a s as a red flag to a bull; and at the beginning of the voyage he had recognized in Captain B r a y a strong man. T h a t evening Captain B r a y resolved to have it out with Gilfoy alone. H e w a s wait­ ing aft for the close of the dog-watch. The Pathfinder w a s across the line a n d well into the southeast trades, sliding down the coast of South A m e r i c a at a ten-knot clip. A s he paced his private c o n e ' of the quarter-deck he went over the case from start to finish. A hard life had robbed him of humanitarian il­ lusions; he knew the man of old—the type w a s a familiar one on the sea. Well, it had to be settled, that w a s all. H e h a d fought his w a v up through m u c h adversity, a n d stood on his own feet too long to consider in advance such a thing as personal safety. H e feared noth­ ing human, and hesitated at nothing that came to him in the line of duty. M e n called him severe but just; he w a s a typical sea c a p ­ tain of the p a l m y days. H e glanced forward as he- turned b y the after house, a n d his eye fell on the first mate standing in the port alleyway. T h a n k G o d , he could be sure of one officer! D i c k A m e s had grown up on the Pathfinder under his in­ struction. T h e y c a m e from the same town in N e w E n g l a n d , and Captain B r a y h a d a l w a y s known the A m e s family. H e remembered the day that he took the boy a w a y ; the W i d o w A m e s had been g l a d to place D i c k in such good hands. " I f he's got to follow the sea, C a p t a i n , " she h a d said, " i t ' s a comfort to have him with some one I k n o w . " " M a d a m , I'll do my best for h i m , " C a p t a i n B r a y h a d answered, thinking of all that this w o m a n h a d seen a n d suffered. " T h a t ' s w h a t I h a v e tried to d o , " she had told him. H e never forgot

that view of Iter, sitting quietly with folded hands in the little parlor. " O h , take care of him, C a p t a i n , for my s a k e ! " she h a d cried suddenly. " I ' v e lost four boys already-—at sea." E i g h t strokes sounded from the wheelhouse, a n d were taken up by the big bell for­ w a r d . T h e w a t c h w a s set, the wheel relieved, a n d the two officers stood for some minutes talking in the weather alleyway. Presently the mate went below. Gilfoy seemed to have disappeared forward. C a p t a i n B r a y stopped his methodical pacing, a n d went down the a l l e y w a y to the end of the house, his clenched hands h a n g i n g behind his b a c k . T h e Path­ finder's poop broke flush with the after house, a n d a pair of steps at the end of each alley­ w a y dropped to a long main deck running fore a n d aft the ship. " M r . G i l f o y ! " said the captain sharply. T h e r e w a s no answer. " M r . Gilfoy, are y o u f o r w a r d ? " " Y e s , s i r , " c a m e a voice from the direction of the main hatch. " C o m e aft here!" s n a p p e d Captain Bray. " I want to speak to y o u . " A s he waited at the h e a d of the steps, he imagined that he h e a r d a smothered laugh along the deck. Suddenly the second mate appeared out of the darkness below him, leaped u p the steps, a n d jostled against him, with a pretense of surprise. Captain Bray w a s not a large m a n ; but he stood his ground, and forced Gilfoy to halt at the break of the poop. " W h a t w e r e y o u doing forward t h e r e ? " he asked in a low tone. Gilfoy hesitated for the fraction of a second. " T a l k i n g to the carpenter," he answered boldly. " Y o u r place is on the quarter-deck at night," said C a p t a i n B r a y through closed teeth. " Y o u can leave y o u r conversations with the carpenter till m o r n i n g . " " I k n o w m y place as well as you do," re­ torted Gilfoy. " I can look after the ship all right from the main d e c k . " T h e i r voices h a d risen. " W e won't have any words about it, M r . G i l f o y , " Captain B r a y r a p p e d out, keeping his eye alert for any movement on the part of the second mate. " Y o u stay aft in the future, a n d mind your own business. I s that plain e n o u g h ? " Gilfoy took a step aft, trying to reach the open alleyway, but found himself blocked by the captain's b o d y . T h e i r shoulders brushed together. " I ' l l go where I d please!" he snarled, in a sudden flash of insolence. F o r answer, he received a blow full in the

T h e Final Score: B y Lincoln Colcord face, which sent him flying over the break of the poop. H i s head collided with the pin-rail as he fell; he rolled into the scuppers, and lav still. M e n c a m e running aft at the sound of the scuffle. " W h a t is i t ? W h a t is i t ? " cried half a dozen voices. C a p t a i n B r a y did not m o v e from the top of the steps. " G o f o r w a r d ! " he shouted. " V a ­ moose, or you'll get hurt!" " W h a t ' s the trouble, C a p ' n ? " asked M r . Ames from the main deck. H e h a d run out in his underclothes. " N o t h i n g ! N o t h i n g ! " answered the im­ perturbable figure on the b r e a k of the poop. " S e e that those men stay forward. B r i n g M r . Gilfoy u p here in the alleyway, and tell the steward to throw some water on h i m . " Gilfoy came to slowly, and attempted to sit up. H e w a s alone in the weather alleyway. Aft he could m a k e out the captain pacing in his old beat. T h e sound of voices c a m e to him from the main deck, and he heard the mate give a sharp c o m m a n d . H e rose dizzily to his knees, and crawled along the deck to­ ward the steps. Before he had traveled a dozen feet, a form blocked his w a y . " C a n vou get u p ? " asked C a p t a i n B r a y . "Yes." "What!" T h e w o r d c a m e like a rifle-shot. " Y e s , sir!" " G e t up, then." T h e C a p t a i n was breath­ ing hard. " G e t u p ! A n d don't leave this deck till eight bells, whether you d please or not. Y o u ' l l do w h a t / d please, or I ' l l break every bone in y o u r b o d y ! N o w , look out for yourself! I give you fair w a r n i n g . " i He turned a n d went aft without another glance at the m a n kneeling on the deck. Gil­ foy pulled himself up, and hung to the mizzen egging-

"D y o u r soul!" he muttered. "This ain't the end, b y a long shot!" Captain B r a y , pacing silently b a c k and forth beside the wheel-house, k n e w that it was not the end. II T H E Pathfinder had run across the I n d i a n Ocean in the Westerlies, swung north at about 90 degrees east longitude, and entered the last stretch of the v o y a g e . T h e night w a s brilliant with stars; the ship sailed steadily, heeling at a slight angle. C a p t a i n B r a y expected to sight Christmas I s l a n d the following d a y and verify his chronometer. When he went below that evening he did not turn in. L a t e l y he had found it impos­

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sible to sleep during the second mate's watch on deck. T h e voyage had been a trying one, and he w a s growing very nervous under the strain. H e wandered about the cabin hunt­ ing for something to take up his mind, bent over the chart for a while, filled a pipe, and fell to cleaning his revolver. H e left it lying on the desk beside his bunk. T h e hours dragged on: eight bells struck at midnight; he heard the mate come aft and the second mate go forward. T h e n he went to bed. Some time after he woke up suddenly with the echo of a cry in his ears. H e listened, but heard nothing. T h e very silence of the ship must have disturbed him, he thought. T h e mate had evidently gone forward—he knew that M r . A m e s never sat down when he was keeping watch. P e r h a p s they had sighted something. T h e responsibility that hung over him d a y and night prompted him to go on deck. T u r n i n g out in his pajamas, as he frequently did in w a r m weather, he pattered up the companion-way in a pair of Chinese slippers. T h e night had grown darker, and the after part of the ship seemed strangely quiet. H e stepped to the wheel-house door. T h e next instant he leaped b a c k and looked behind him. T h e man at the wheel w a s gone! I n a flash he knew what was in the wdnd. M u t i n y ! His first thought was of his de­ fenseless condition. I n a dozen steps he w a s down the companion-way and b a c k again with his revolver. H i s feet were bare now, his p a j a m a jacket unfastened as he had thrown it open in the heat of the night. Vault­ ing to the top of the house, he ran forward past the boat on the port side. T h e after house of the Pathfinder rose a clean eight feet above the main deck and faced it like a wall. F r o m his elevated posi­ tion he made out a confused mass of men struggling toward him, with one or two figures in the lead. A great uproar suddenly broke out. H e halted an instant, trying to get his bearings; and at the same moment a form de­ tached itself from the crowd and fought its w a y aft. T h e } ' were directly beneath him now. " H e a d him off! D o w n h i m ! " yelled a voice. " D o n ' t let him get into the c a b i n ! " " B a c k up against the house, M r . A m e s ! " shouted Captain B r a y . " I ' m coming!" H e chose his ground as well as he could in the darkness, leaped out from the after house, and struck among a group of men w h o were closing in on the mate. T h e onslaught threw them off their feet. I n the confusion the two officers cleared themselves and gained the pro­ tection of the house, where they stood at b a y .

T h e Final Score : By Lincoln Colcord While they were waiting for the attack, the mate spoke close to the captain's ear. " T h e y got me forward to look at a light," he said. " I ' m stabbed!" " W h e r e ' s the second m a t e ? " " G o d only k n o w s ! " T h e r e was no more time for words. M e n rolled aft on them like a w a v e — a crew of twenty-five ruffians in open mutiny. Captain B r a v fired at the solid front of them, and a yell told that his shot had gone home. He fired again, and was startled to hear another revolver answer from somewhere to wind­ ward. A bullet hit the w o o d w o r k near his head. H e glanced at the mate, and s a w that he had no gun. Gilfoy! B y the next flash he tried to locate the man, but darkness closed too suddenly. In the face of the overwhelming onset they were forced to change their position. Cap­ tain B r a y clashed through an opening, felling a man as he went, and reached the weather bulwarks. H e had two shots left, but held his fire until he could locate the mate. B y a sudden piling up of the men at his right, he knew that M r . A m e s had gained the corner made by the b u l w a r k s and the poop. Then he emptied his revolver straight ahead. Simultaneously with his last shot a gun spoke again across the ship, and the men seemed falling b a c k in confusion near the mate's corner. C a p t a i n B r a y threw a w a y his gun, and commenced fighting with his bare hands. After that he lost track of time. Men pressed upon him, and he fought. H e w a s naked now. H e fought like an animal, hit­ ting for their heads; he felt j a w s crack before his blows; he threw off men like feathers, two and three at a time; he answered their cries with wild, meaningless shouts, and leaped among them when they drew a w a y . A m a n slashed him across the breast with a sheathknife; he took the knife, and sunk it in the man's body. It was kill or be killed on that deck. A third time some one fired from the crowd, and a man who had closed with him grew limp in his arms. Whoever it w a s meant for, the bullet h a d found its mark. He picked up the lifeless figure a n d threw it bodily among them. It cleared a path across the deck amid fearful cries. T h e n , as suddenly as it h a d started, the mutiny was over. H e w o k e up as if from a dream, and there were no more men to fight. T h e y were gone. H e had conquered! H i s foot touched the discarded revolver, a n d he snatched it from the deck. A man approached him, and in the dim light of the d a w n that

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h a d come on them unawares, he m a d e it out to be Gilfoy. " D r o p y o u r g u n ! " he cried, covering the second mate. " I ' v e got you now! S o they left you in the lurch " " i t ' s e m p t y , " said Gilfoy calmly, tossing the gun overboard, and playing his last card. " W h a t do you want to fight me for, C a p ' n ? " Captain B r a y looked at him. It was no time for parley, but he knew that the cham­ bers of his own gun were empty. "Fight y o u ? " he cried. " T h i s is pretty work for one night! I'll string you u p to the y a r d a r m , that's what I'll d o ! " " Y o u ' r e out of your mind, C a p ' n , " said Gilfoy. " D o n ' t do anything you'll be sorry for. Y o u ' v e killed the mate a l r e a d y ! " "Me? . . . Mr. Ames . . . dead? Y o u lie!" " L o o k there." Gilfoy pointed to a figure lying in the scuppers. Other men lay on deck-—seven of them'—but they were all clear of the bulwarks, fallen on the attacking side. A quick glance told Captain B r a y that this w a s indeed the mate. T h e bodv lay face d o w n w a r d in a pool of its own blood, unmis­ takably dead. Before he had time to think the second mate spoke again. " Y o u shot him the first time you fired from the b u l w a r k s , " he said. '' I saw the whole thing." " I fired toward the hatch'——" " H e crossed the deck behind you. I was fighting over there, and you took me for him. When you hit him, he pitched ahead the w a y he w a s g o i n g . " " S t a n d where y o u are, a n d let me t h i n k , " said Captain Bra}". It w a s impossible! H e kept his eyes on Gilfoy, still on his g u a r d . I m p o s s i b l e ? Anything might happen in such a time. W h a t if it were true? H e tried to collect his wits, but his brain w a s n u m b . He began to feel very sick. " W h a t w a s it all about, s i r ? " asked Gilfoy. " I came on d e c k — — " " Y e s , where were y o u ? W h a t were you doing ? What have you got to say for your­ self?" Captain B r a y spoke with a rush, as the fixed idea came back to him. " I was fighting, sir, I tell you. I g r a b b e d m y gun and ran out when I heard, the racket, and you j u m p e d from the house-——" " Y o u shot at me, you liar!" "No, sir! I came near hitting you, but I didn't see where you were. I thought you were on the other side o' that gang. A n d then you hit M r . A m e s ! " T h e captain's eye wandered, and he found himself muttering incoherently. " Y o u shot at me a g a i n ! " he cried suddenly.

' T U R N

O U T ,

Y O U

D U T C H

R I N G E R ,

A N '

T A K E

I T

L I K E

A

M A N ! '

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" I killed a m a n you were fighting with, big chair beside the body, he reviewed the C a p ' n , " answered Gilfoy. " F o r G o d ' s sake, fight. W h y h a d Gilfoy thrown it a w a y ? give the devil his due! H a d n ' t you better go T h e impulse of the moment ? A v e r y con­ below, sir, and get some clothes on—and venient impulse, on the face of it. H i s m i n d think this o v e r ? " j u m p e d unerringly to the conclusion. If the Captain B r a y hesitated. H e w a n t e d to see second mate's gun w a s a . 3 2 , he h a d admitted the men before Gilfoy h a d a chance to get at his guilt by throwing it o v e r b o a r d — a n d that them; but more than all he w a n t e d to l o a d his meant the whole mutiny. If it w a s a different revolver. W h a t e v e r transpired, he must keep caliber— C a p t a i n B r a y got up. It w a s his duty to find out the truth, at any cost. He the whip hand now. " Y e s , I'll go b e l o w , " he said at last. " W a i t looked into the forward cabin. T h e steward w a s gone; Gilfoy w a s on deck. Without hesi­ here for m e . " Left alone, the second mate darted forward. tation he went to the second mate's room a n d T h e remnant of the crew sat huddled in the lifted u p the cover of his desk. A few scattered port forecastle, their courage utterly gone. cartridges lay at the bottom beneath a pile of When he broke in a m o n g them they started books. T h e y were all .32's. up in terror. H e regained the after cabin, s a w that his " S i t still!" he cried. " T h e O l d M a n revolver w a s loaded, laid it on the forward thinks he killed the mate. I ' v e got him just cabin table beside a pair of handcuffs, a n d where I want him. He'll call you aft a n d went to the main deck door. T h e second make you tell y o u r story. Y o u stick to it mate w a s standing just outside. that the mate started a row in his watch, and " M r . G i l f o y , " said the captain, " I ' w a n t to leave me out of it! I'll clear y o u all. I ought see you. Sing out for the steward, a n d to let you go, for a gang o' chicken-hearted come i n . " cowards, but I ' m not that k i n d of a man. W hen Gilfoy entered the forward cabin he I've got to get aft now before he comes out. found himself looking into the barrel of the Remember! Stick to your yarn!" captain's gun. " M r . Gilfoy, y o u ' r e going to be put in An hour later, C a p t a i n B r a y entered the irons," said Captain B r a y . " I f you move, after cabin. H e h a d learned nothing from I'll let daylight through y o u ; so keep still. the crew. T h e body of M r . A m e s l a y on the I ' d kill you a n y w a y , if I w a s dead s u r e . " starboard couch, where the light from the "W hat do you mean by t h i s ? " demanded window struck across it. H e went in softly, the second mate. and stood looking down at the quiet face of " J u s t what I say. I mean that y o u shot the young man. T e a r s c a m e into the cap­ M r . Ames, and you know? it. I mean that tain's eyes. L y i n g there dead, D i c k seemed y o u ' r e responsible for this mutiny. I'll iron only a boy. "Take care of him, Captain, for you now , a n d later I'll have you put where my sake—I've lost four boys already at sea!" you can't get in any of y o u r dirty w o r k for a . . . H e could see her sitting in the same long time." " Y o u ' l l suffer for this! Y o u ain't got any chair, still and silent, when the news came. " Suddenly his own affection gripped him, for proof " P r o o f enough for me. S a v e that talk for until now he h a d not realized how m u c h he theconsul. Steward, put the ironson that m a n . " thought of the lad. " D i c k , D i c k , my boy, I didn't do it! I Ill didn't do it!" he cried, kneeling beside the body and clutching the lifeless hand. " M R . W I N G A T E , look at the facts of the T h e act loosened the mate's coat, a n d some­ thing fell on the floor. It w a s a .32 caliber c a s e ! " " I have looked at the facts of the case, bullet, slightly flattened where it h a d touched a bone. Captain B r a y ' s revolver w a s a . 3 2 ! Captain B r a y . A s it appears to me, the facts H e picked the bullet up, and gazed at it a are very much against you." Wingate, the American consul at B a t a v i a , long while without moving. T h e shock stunned him. T h e n he rose irresolutely, a n d leaned back in his chair and returned the H e had always desired a put it in his pocket as if to hide it from his captain's gaze. chance to score a sailing-ship captain. Ever soul. " I wish it was in m y own heart!" he groaned. since reading a book called " T w o Y e a r s B e ­ All at once he thought of the gun that G i l ­ fore the M a s t " he h a d deplored the atrocities foy had thrown overboard. If he only knew of the merchant marine. H e hailed from the the caliber of that gun! Sitting down in the depths of N e b r a s k a , where he h a d edited a r

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newspaper previous to his appointment to the consulship at B a t a v i a , J a v a . " Y e s , C a p t a i n , " he went on with evident satisfaction, " e v e r y t h i n g is against y o u . B y y o u r own admission, y o u ' r e in the habit of mistreating y o u r men cruelly. Y o u p r o v o k e d this trouble yourself; a n d for purposes of y o u r own you choose to elevate it to the dignity of a mutiny. A s for M r . Gilfoy, y o u r second mate, you have no case against him at all. H e seems to be a good sort—tells me that y o u ' v e hounded him all the passage. I ' v e been inquiring among y o u r men, too, and find that you h a v e a reputation for brutality on the s e a . " Captain B r a y clutched the edge of the desk in an effort to control his temper, a n d his voice shook with passion. " Y o u forget that I ' m the c a p t a i n , " he said slowly. " I ' m sup­ posed to be a man of honor, or I wouldn't have the job. I tell you that they executed a planned mutiny; the m a n h a d deserted the wheel, and M r . A m e s told m e during the fight that they h a d drawn him forward b y means of a ruse and stabbed him. I tell y o u that this man Gilfoy shot at me twice, a n d killed M r . A m e s , the mate. It's preposterous to say that I did it; I wasn't firing in the right direction. W h y did he throw his gun over­ b o a r d ? I ' v e shown you that it w a s a . 3 2 , like mine. Y o u don't understand the situa­ tion, M r . W i n g a t e . " " I understand it perfectly," answered the consul. " I t ' s the same old story, a n d it won't help y o n to bluster about it. I ' v e al­ ready m a d e u p m y mind. C a p t a i n or sailor, y o u are all men before the b a r of justice; and, speaking frankly, the crew tell a better y a r n than you d o . " " O f course!" cried C a p t a i n B r a y hotly. " I ' m telling the truth, a n d they're telling lies. A sailor will swear to anything, M r . Wingate. Y o u don't know the b r e e d . " " Y o u ' r e a curious m a n , C a p t a i n , " said Wingate, examining him critically. " Y o u ' v e murdered half a dozen sailors in the last few days, and, by heavens, you aren't satisfied yet! I suppose y o u ' d like nothing better than to take a revolver a n d shoot the rest of them down!" Captain B r a y looked at him for some sec­ onds, absolutely speechless. Suddenly he struck the desk a blow with his clenched fist. " Y e s , a n d y o u too!" he said s a v a g e l y . " W h e r e in hell did they find y o u , a n y w a y ? " T h e consul flushed a n d sprang to his feet. " D o n ' t you dare to insult m e ! " he cried. " D o n ' t you dare to threaten m e ! " " T h r e a t e n y o u ? Y o u aren't worth touch­

ing! D o y o u m e a n to tell m e that you're go,ing to let those men go f r e e ? " T h e captain pointed with a s h a k i n g finger to the line of sailors in the b a c k of the room. " Y e s ! A n d w h a t ' s more, I h a v e a good mind to bring y o u to an account. If anyone deserves punishment for this affair, it's you. Y o u ' r e a disgrace to y o u r country, sir!" " S t o p ! N o t another w o r d ! I won't stand it!" C a p t a i n B r a y w a s beside himself with anger now. " T h i s will be y o u r finish in the consular seiwice, y o u n g m a n . I'll take it to the President of the United States before I drop it! A n d if y o u d a r e to institute any pro­ ceedings against me, I'll look you up some time a n d hurt y o u , badly. Y o u look like a soft specimen. Y o u ought to get out and b u c k u p against men a w h i l e ! Y o u wouldn't take so m u c h stock in brotherly love after that. G o o d d a y , s i r ! " W h e n he reached the street, he halted to collect himself. W h a t w a s the world coming t o ? he a s k e d aloud. N o justice-—and the same old single-handed fight stretching ahead. I t w a s time to quit the sea. A man c a m e u p behind him, a n d a familiar voice spoke over his shoulder. " W h a t do y o u think of it n o w ? " asked Gilfoy sneeringly. C a p t a i n B r a y wheeled on him-—but his hands fell to his sides. W hat w a s the use? A street b r a w l , a scene in court, perhaps the jail. H e h a d indeed learned a lesson. " Y o u ' r e safe-—for a w h i l e , " he said, thrust­ ing his face so close to G i l f o y ' s that the man shrank a w a y . " N o w clear out! A n d if you ever cross m y p a t h a g a i n , I ' l l kill you, so help me G o d ! " ?

L a t e r the true story c a m e out. Drink loosened a m a n ' s tongue, and he boasted of the mutiny to some companions along the beach. I n a w e e k it w a s c o m m o n talk in the shipping circles of the E a s t . Captain Bray heard of it w h e n he arrived in Hong Kong. B u t b y that time Gilfoy h a d vanished, and the c r e w h a d scattered. M r . Wingate re­ mained at B a t a v i a in his official capacity, owing to the influence of the Congressman from his district in N e b r a s k a . IV Y E A R S passed, the d a y of sailing-ships went by, a n d captain B r a y left the sea. He might h a v e stepped from the quarter-deck to the bridge, but steam did not appeal to him. At the age of fifty, how ever, he w a s still too active a m a n to think of retiring. H e obtained a r

T h e Final Score: By Lincoln Colcord position as port captain for a line of steamers in N e w Y o r k , a n d settled d o w n to learn a new order of things. About four o'clock one s u m m e r afternoon he found himself crossing N o r t h R i v e r on the 129th Street F e r r y . H i s firm had chartered the E n g l i s h t r a m p Antiope for a trip to C u b a , and he w a s bound for Edgewater, where she was lying, to hustle her d o w n river into a loading berth the following morning. At supper he and the captain of the steamer were alone in the saloon. " W h e r e ' s your m a t e ? " asked C a p t a i n B r a y , toward the close of the meal. Captain Holstein, an old and brokenspirited G e r m a n , laid d o w n his knife and fork with an expression of despair. " A c h , m y mate!" he exclaimed. " W h e r e is h e ? I don't know. A s k me what is he, and I will tell y o u : drunk! Since noon with the second mate he goes to N e w Y o r k . B y and b y he comes b a c k — y o u shall s e e . " " W h a t do you m e a n ? W h y don't y o u get rid of him ? " " C a p t a i n , you ain't go to sea now. I keep him—because I a m afraid! H e and the sec­ ond mate take charge of this ship, not I . With these E n g l i s h laws, I c a n do noth­ ing. T h e w o r d of a sailor is above the word of a captain. A l l the passage they bully me. T h e y call me d a m n e d D u t c h m a n , and say I take the bread out of E n g l i s h mouths. I am poor, a n d o l d — I must hold my j o b . T h e mate struck me once. Y o u shall s e e . " " H a v e things got as b a d as t h a t ? " mar­ veled C a p t a i n B r a y . " I t reminds me of a time I h a d , " and he told the story of the mutiny on the Pathfinder. T h e best the Antiope could offer a visitor in the w a y of accommodation w a s a lounge in the captain's room. T h e y went to bed at midnight; C a p t a i n B r a y stripped to his un­ derclothes, and prepared to pass a n uncom­ fortable night. C a p t a i n Holstein had hardly turned down the light, when they heard sounds at the end of the corridor outside. " C o m e o n , " said a thick voice. " L e t ' s haul the ol' b e g g a r out o' bed an' give 'im 'is medicine!" A second voice answered with loud laughter. " W e ' l l give 'im all that's comin' to ' i m ! " " T u r n out, you D u t c h ringer, a n ' take it like a m a n ! " T h e panels of the door rattled under a succession of h e a v y blows. Captain Holstein j u m p e d out of bed, and stood trembling in the middle of the room. At last he screwed up his c o u r a g e to the point of answering through the door. " G o a w a y , "

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he said in a conciliatory tone. " G o to bed. Y o u ' r e drunk." " D r u n k nothing! W e ' l l show you how drunk w e a r e ! " T h e heavy voice launched a stream of oaths and insults at the shrinking captain, to an increasing accompaniment of blows. C a p t a i n B r a y sat u p and listened. With the man's voice in his ears he harked b a c k into a past of m a n y battles, and wondered where he had heard it before. T h e n , more an intuition than a memory, the answer c a m e to him. Gilfoy! H e leaped to his feet with a smothered cry. Y e s , it w a s like Gilfoy, this persecution of a helpless captain. Suddenly the years fell a w a y , and all the hatred that had lain halfforgotten in his heart revived as if they stood again on the deck of the Pathfinder. " H a v e you got a g u n ? " he whispered, touching the old captain on the arm. " N o ! I ain't d a r e — I might use it!" " Y o u fool! Y o u r mate's a b a d m a n ! I know him w e l l . " B l o w s rained on the thin panels; the bolt sagged as they hurled their bodies against the door outside. While he waited for it to fall, a thousand thoughts went through C a p t a i n B r a y ' s mind. H e recalled the day of his re­ turn from that voyage, when he told D i c k A m e s ' s mother the story of her son's death. She, too, w a s dead n o w — a n d this man still lived! Surely G o d had not intended it that w a y ! T h e n , with a sort of fierce delight, he thought of the fight that w a s coming, and his muscles stiffened as he crouched behind the weakening door. H e planned to strike the other man first— Gilfoy would be the toughest proposition. A s luck would have it, when the door fell the second mate of the Antiope sprang through the opening in the lead. Captain B r a y gath­ ered all his immense strength into one swing­ ing blow, and struck him on the point of the j a w . H e felt the bone slip sideways, dislo­ cated. Q u i c k l y he followed with a left that crushed the m a n ' s face shapeless. T h e sec­ ond mate fell like a stone. C a p t a i n B r a y barely had time to recover himself, when Gilfoy w a s upon him. T h e n commenced a fight that South Street will remember m a n y years. A t the first blow Gilfoy realized the power of his adversary, and knew it could not be the old, decrepit captain. T h e drink left him, to be suc­ ceeded by the lust of battle. T h e y fought blindly, in grim silence; the gloom precluded any science in their method. Captain Bray hugged the deck, and felt for G i l f o y ' s b o d y

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beneath his guard. H e had never been more confident. H e was fighting for an idea, for a memory. G r a d u a l l y his attack grew stronger; he began to break through the tall m a n ' s guard. T h e blows that he himself received passed unnoticed. Nothing could touch him —nothing could have stood before him. G i l foy suddenly w e a k e n e d ; a terrific blow struck him full in the face; he staggered, and before he could recover another followed. H e felt the room slipping a w a y , and struck out m a d l y into empty air. B l o w upon blow beat against his face like the strokes of a battering-ram. H e fell with a wild cry, and a form leaped upon him out of the darkness and held him to the deck. " D o you know w h o I a m ? " T h e voice seemed to come from an immense distance. " L e t me u p ! Oh, G o d ! I ' v e h a d e n o u g h ! " " D o you know w h o I a m ? " "No!" " D o you remember the mutiny on the Pathfinder?" T h e word struck fear into G i l f o y ' s heart a n d galvanized his beaten body into action. H e knew now who he h a d been fighting with. H i s struggle w a s useless; Captain B r a y ' s a r m s encircled him like bands of steel. " I said I ' d kill you, a n d now y o u ' r e going to d i e ! " went on the relentless voice in his ear. " Y o u ' v e done enough. It's time you were d e a d ! "

THE

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F

T w o policemen bent a b o v e the body in the captain's room. While they were making a hasty examination they s p o k e wonderingly. " O n e m a n against t w o — a n d him the smallest!" " L o r d , what a sight!" " A n d he did it with his b a r e h a n d s ! " C a p t a i n Holstein tapped one of the officers on the shoulder. " W h a t will the law s a y ? " he asked. " W i l l he go c l e a r ? T h e y would h a v e killed m e ! H e s a v e d m y life!" " C l e a r ? Of course he'll get clear! He's got a straight case of self-defense. H e says this m a n h a d a b a d record, a n y w a y . If he can prove that, it's e n o u g h . " T h e officer paused a n d p u r s e d u p his mouth in a silent whistle. . . . " W i t h his bare hands!" he repeated. C a p t a i n B r a y h a d gone on deck for air. Standing b y the b u l w a r k s , he gazed off across N o r t h R i v e r with unseeing eyes. T h e night w a s still a n d clear; far out on the river a few lights traveled silently, green and red and white; a faint breeze fanned down from the land, bringing the odor of flowers. His glance fell, a n d he found that he was naked to the waist. B l o o d covered his chest and dripped from his arms as they hung by his sides. H e flung out his hands with a sudden motion, as if invoking the powers-of the air. " D i c k , m y boy, I ' v e paid y o u r score!"

H A R R Y

GREAT

LAKES

K E M P

I V E - B O S O M E D and immense are we and our far shore and line Goes on and on, begirt with trees, or cities great that shine In sudden glimpses of the sun, and thronged with ships are we, And we'll neither vail nor yield a rood to any sailed sea; Our isles are fair, our bays are white with leaning yachts that go Along the mirrory water with a phantom fleet below; Our passengers are strong and huge and whip us into snow. Men think we sleep and then we wake; They think we wake, we sleep. . . . We'll treat you to as black a blow as ever plowed the deep, And when we hurl in lifting heights and long green hollow form, Why, you can't hold to your steering-gear and weather out the storm; For here is land and there is land and lights are all about, And you've got to be a sailor if you live our tempests out. . . . In the winter we push gray and vast, our miles of moving ice, And we'll toss your daring steamers as a gambler losses dice; 'Tis then we would commune alone with God and Night and DawnSo you'd better keep your ships in port until the thaw is on. This is the Song the Five Lakes sing, the fairest lakes thai be, Which neither vail nor yield a rood to any salted sea.

THE NEW MIND CURE I N C L U D I N G W O N D E R F U L

CASES

S U P P L I E D

BASED ON

S T O R I E S

W H E R E

W I T H O U T

S U R G E R Y

OR

OF

R E L I E F T H E

SCIENCE

A I D

HAS

B E E N

OF

M E D I C I N E

B Y H.

A D D I N G T O N

A U T H O R

O F

" B E N D I N G

I

A M not going to write about Christian Science, the N e w T h o u g h t , or the E m ­ manuel M o v e m e n t . I am not going to write about any " f a i t h - h e a l i n g " move­ ment whatsoever. I am going to write about something like all of these, but something, it seems to me, of far greater significance—a men­ tal healing system that the doctors themselves are taking u p a n d that is bound to p l a y an in­ creasingly larger and larger part in the treat­ ment of disease until at last it revolutionizes the practice of medicine. F o r the past quarter of a century a little group of scientists, including some of the most eminent psychologists and physicians of America and E u r o p e , h a v e been hard at work trying to ascertain to just w h a t extent mental healing, or psychotherapy, is actually advis­ able in the treatment of disease; a n d they have proved, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there are m a n y diseases which can be cured by mental means alone, and some which can be cured by no other means. A s a result of their investigations there has come into existence a new science—called psychopathology—whose purpose is the es­ tablishing of a scientific system of psycho­ therapy based on thorough knowledge of the part p l a y e d by the h u m a n mind in relation to the health of the body. A l r e a d y such progress has been made that scientific psychotherapy is being daily prac­ ticed by reputable physicians, here in our own country as well as abroad, with results that outmatch the most marvelous cures reported by faith healers. Scientific psychotherapy is an unfailing instrument of cure in many maladies that h a v e hitherto baffled medical skill, and it is especially adapted to the treat­ ment of mental and nervous diseases.

B R U C E THE

T W I G "

Insanity Rapidly Increasing When you realize the appalling rapidity with which mental and nervous diseases are increasing throughout the civilized world, a n d perhaps nowhere more rapidly than in the United States, this new system of curing is particularly significant. T h i r t y years ago the insane asylums of this country had only forty thousand in­ mates. T o - d a y this number has increased to two hundred a n d fifty thousand. Here are some figures, compiled by the Census Bureau: Population of asylums, 40,492 in 1 8 8 0 ; 74,028 in 1 8 9 0 ; 1 5 0 , 1 5 1 in 1 9 0 3 , the time when the latest census of institutions for the insane w a s taken. Or, an increase by 85 per cent, from 1 8 8 0 to 1 8 9 0 , and by more than 1 0 0 per cent, from 1890 to 1 9 0 3 , as against an in­ crease b y less than 30 per cent, in the total population of the United States during the same thirteen years. Moreover, the census of 1 8 9 0 enumerated no fewer than 32,457 insane w h o were not in­ mates of asylums, but were cared for at home by relatives and friends. N o attempt w a s made in 1 9 0 3 to ascertain the number of nonasylum insane, but the ratio of increase in this class cannot be much less than among the asylum insane. Consequently it would not be at all sur­ prising were the census of 1 9 1 0 to reveal the presence in the United States of close upon half a million insane persons! N o w the psychopathologist frankly admits that his methods cannot cure true organic in­ sanity—that is to say, mental disease that has involved destruction of the brain cells, for the restitution of which medical science as yet 773

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possesses absolutely no remedy. B u t when­ subtle influence of subconscious mental action; e v e r , as is now k n o w n to be frequently the a n d that w h e n this is the case, unless the re­ case, the supposed lunatic is in reality merely sultant m a l a d y has reached the stage of cellu­ the victim of a functional mental disturbance, lar destruction, it is i n v a r i a b l y curable with­ psychopathology offers a certain cure. T h i s , out drugs, without the surgeon's knife, with too, for all functional disturbances of the nothing but the use of skilfully applied sug­ nervous system, such as hysteria, neuras­ gestion. thenia, etc. How Epilepsy is Cured Psychopathology is the outgrowth of three discoveries, all made within recent y e a r s . T h e r e w a s brought to the office of an First, that through " s u g g e s t i o n " it is possible to exercise a tremendous influence over the A m e r i c a n psychopathologist, D r . B o r i s Sidis— whole bodily organism; second, that m a n y the father of that r e m a r k a b l e eleven-year-old maladies, physical as well as mental, take H a r v a r d student, W i l l i a m J a m e s Sidis, whose their rise in mental states; third, that the intellectual a c h i e v e m e n t s w e r e described by mental states which most seriously influence m e in a recent n u m b e r of this magazine *— health belong not to the ordinary conscious a y o u n g m a n suffering from w h a t were sup­ life of the individual but to a deeper, hidden posed to be attacks of that dread disease, " s u b c o n s c i o u s " life of which he usually epilepsy. H e w a s a typical product of the slums, gaunt, hungry-looking, undersized. knows nothing. T h e s e discoveries h a v e all resulted from B o r n of parents of the lowest social strata, he scientific study of the much-abused, m u c h - h a d been treated from infancy with harshness despised phenomena of hypnotism, which, a n d brutality. H e h a d h a d no schooling, and after a century of neglect and misunderstand­ could neither r e a d nor write. E x c e p t for the ing, w a s for the first time m a d e the subject of names of the President a n d a few w a r d poli­ serious investigation by certain F r e n c h scien­ ticians, he k n e w nothing of the history of his country. A l l his life he h a d known only tists about forty years ago. poverty a n d hard w o r k . T h e i r experiments left no doubt of the A n d now it seemed that even the chance of genuineness of the hypnotic trance and of earning a m e a g e r living b y hard work was hypnotic cures of disease. about to be taken a w a y from him. " I h a v e such fearful shaking spells," he The Mind Under Hypnotism told the doctor. " T h e y come on me day and I n the experiments it w a s found, among night. I shake all over, m y teeth chatter, I other things, that during the hypnotic state feel cold. T h e n I fall to the floor and lose there w a s an almost incredible quickening of m y senses. Sometimes m y fits last three the whole memory, the subject readily recall­ h o u r s . " " H a v e y o u h a d them l o n g ? " ing, in most vivid detail, events that h a d com­ " Y e s , almost since m y boyhood. B u t they pletely disappeared from his w a k i n g memory, events sometimes connected not with his re­ are getting worse all the t i m e . " After a careful examination and the ap­ cent past but with his early childhood. This pointed unmistakably to the existence of an plication of the most rigid tests had revealed amazing " u n d e r g r o u n d " m e n t a l life—a strange no sign of organic trouble, D r . Sidis suspected " s u b c o n s c i o u s " realm with powers transcend­ that the convulsive attacks might be nothing more than the o u t w a r d , physical manifesta­ ing those of the ordinary consciousness. It seemed possible, therefore, that in every­ tion of some deep-seated psychical disturb­ day life mental experiences might at times ance. H e questioned the y o u n g man closely: " C a n you r e m e m b e r just when these at­ similarly acquire an irresistible suggestive force resulting in the appearance of all m a n ­ tacks b e g a n ? " ner of unpleasant mental a n d physical con­ "No." ditions, which might in turn be overcome by " D i d v o u h a v e them w h e n you were a suggestion. child?" T o - d a y it is known that a multitude of " I don't think s o . " maladies are caused in precisely this w a y — " W a s there anything that occurred during that grief, worry, anxiety, a sudden fright, a n y y o u r childhood likely to l e a v e a particularly emotional disturbance of a profoundly dis­ disagreeable impression on you ? " tressing character, occurring sometimes v e a r s " W h y , " he replied, " I h a v e been unhappy before the appearance of any specific disorder, all m y life. A s a boy I w a s beaten and kicked m a y be productive of disease through the " Bending the T w i g , " March, 1 9 1 0 .

T h e N e w M i n d C u r e B a s e d on S c i e n c e : B y H . A d d i n g t o n B r u c e 7 7 5 and cursed. B u t I don't think of anything special." " W i l l you let me hypnotize y o u ? " " Y o u can do anything you like to me, doctor, so long as it will help me get w e l l . " B u t it w a s found impossible to hypnotize him—he w a s in too agitated, too excited a state. N o w , psychopathologists long ago discov­ ered that not everybody w a s hypnotizable; and, moreover, that m a n y persons would not permit themselves to be hypnotized. S o they have been obliged to devise other means of " t a p p i n g the subconscious." A m o n g these is a method k n o w n as h y p noidization. It results in putting the patient into a half-dozing, half-wakeful condition, in which long-forgotten memories crop up in the mind. M a k i n g use of this method, D r . Sidis soon had his patient in a quiescent state—in fact, to all appearances asleep. " N o w , " said he, in a low tone, " t e l l me what you are thinking about." At first there was no response, but presently the young man began to talk. It w a s evident that he was recalling memories of his child­ hood—sordid, pathetic, almost tragic scenes. H e spoke of a " d a r k , d a m p c e l l a r " in which, when a very little boy, he had been forced to sleep, a n d where it w a s bitterly cold. He spoke of the terror it h a d inspired in him, and how he h a d been afraid to go to sleep, lest he should be g n a w e d by rats. T h e n , with startling suddenness, he leaped out of his chair, shaking in every limb, teeth chattering, speech paralyzed. H e w a s in the throes of one of his attacks. T h e doctor nodded his head understandingly. It w a s not an epileptic case. It was a typical instance of a seemingly purely physical malady having its origin in a psychic shock. Consciously the sufferer had forgotten all about the nights passed in the cellar so many years before. T h e y had utterly vanished from his w a k i n g memory. B u t subconsciously he remembered them as distinctly as though they were not past but present experiences— subconsciously he was continually living them over again, to the g r a d u a l breaking down of his nervous system, of which the convulsive attacks were symptomatic.

A few weeks of suggestive treatment directed to the complete blotting out of the diseaseproducing memories, and he w a s permanently freed from his terrible affliction.

Afraid

of the Dark

M o r e frequently, in " d i s s o c i a t i o n a l " cases, as these are technically termed, the symptoms are wholly mental. H e r e is a characteristic example, likewise taken from the experience of D r . Sidis, w h o , it m a y incidentally be said, shares with D r . M o r t o n Prince, of Boston, un­ questioned preeminence among the few psy­ chopathologists w h o m A m e r i c a has as yet produced. A middle-aged gentleman resident in a N e w E n g l a n d town, highly educated, successful in business, and generally regarded as a m a n of great intellectual keenness and strength of will, called at his office one d a y and announced: " D o c t o r , I have come to see you about a matter which m a y seem absurd, but which is making life a perfect hell to me. P u t briefly, the trouble is that I a m afraid to go out nights." " B y that you mean ?" " I mean that as soon as darkness sets in, I become a coward. I dare not stir from the house. N o matter what imperative demands m y business m a y m a k e , no matter what social engagements I should keep, I simply do not dare to go outdoors. " I do not know what it is that I a m afraicl of. It is just a vague, haunting, overpower­ ing d r e a d . that seizes me as soon as night comes. M y relatives h a v e argued with me, I have argued with myself. I know it is ab­ surd, but I simply cannot shake it off. A n d , doctor, I tell you it is killing m e . " Putting him in the hypnoidal state, D r . Sidis, note-book in hand, jotted d o w n every word that fell from his lips. M e r e fragments of ideas they were, like the swiftly changing fancies of a dreamer. All at once he muttered: " T h e y will kill me! What a blow that w a s ! I can never get h o m e . " T h e psychopathologist bent forward, listen­ ing eagerly. " H o w dark it is! H o w m y head hurts! Y e s , they got all my m o n e y . " A n d now, piecemeal but in graphic detail, he rehearsed an experience of his youth—an I n fact, it w a s found that they could be attack made upon him one night by two high­ brought on simply by uttering in his hearing w a y m e n , who had beaten him into uncon­ the words " d a r k " a n d " d a m p , " which seemed sciousness. to act as psychic triggers exploding the mine In that attack lay the clue to his seemingly of horror memories in the depths of his sub­ irrational fear. conscious being. H e had apparently recovered from its ef-

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A l l this w a s r e v e a l e d through hypnoidizafects, no physical h a r m h a d resulted. H e had long since dismissed it from his mind. Y e t tion, a n d a complete cure speedily effected, subconsciously he had never forgotten it; s u b ­ the baneful m e m o r y - i m a g e s being rooted out consciously he w a s haunted b y the idea that of her subconsciousness, or, to speak more ac­ if he went out at night he w o u l d again be at­ curately, being " r e a s s o c i a t e d " with her upper consciousness. tacked by footpads! H e w a s like a m a n tormented by a per­ petual nightmare, a n d , like the victim of a The Result of Fright on a Child nightmare, he a w o k e to a full realization of Sometimes " d i s s o c i a t i o n a l " disorders re­ the folly of his terror a n d w a s able to over­ come it as soon as it w a s presented in its true sult not from a single emotional disturbance but from a succession of psychic shocks, giv­ light to his w a k i n g consciousness. ing rise to the most complicated symptoms. I h a v e in m i n d a recent striking case of this Hallucinations That Are Curable sort, in which, after years of indescribable Precisely the reverse w a s the case of a suffering, a w o m a n of sixty w a s by psychow o m a n w h o feared to leave her house not at pathological treatment cured of lung, stomach, a n d kidney trouble, to s a y nothing of an ex­ night but in the daytime. I n the normal, w a k i n g state she could give treme nervousness a n d a n insistent fear that no explanation for this obsessing fear, but put she w a s becoming insane. W h e n she applied for treatment she pre­ into the hypnoidal state its explanation w a s sented a pathetic a p p e a r a n c e . She was hag­ soon forthcoming. Y e a r s before there h a d come into her life g a r d , emaciated, a n d w e a k , her skin dry and one of those domestic tragedies of all too com­ crackling, her h e a r t ' action irregular. She mon occurrence. She h a d discovered that her h a d a r a c k i n g cough, a n d occasionally, she husband w a s unfaithful to her, and that he said, suffered from convulsive attacks during which she b e c a m e unconscious. B u t most of had become infatuated with another w o m a n . L i k e m a n y another wife she h a d kept her all she complained of sensitiveness of the sorrow to herself. B u t the shock h a d so' un­ stomach, of kidney trouble, and of nervousness. " W h e n the nervous spells are on me," she nerved her that she began to imagine that everybody she met in the street k n e w of her declared, " I suffer death agonies. I cannot troubles and w a s talking about them. Soon sleep, I cannot eat, m y head feels as though it T i m e a n d again I have been on she could not bear to go outdoors, and became w o u l d burst. almost a recluse, appearing in public as little the verge of committing suicide. as possible. " T h e n , too, I feel as though I must be go­ After a time, however, there h a d been a ing crazy. T h o u g h I c a n read and study and reconciliation, and she became, to all outward take u p a n y intellectual pursuit without the seeming, h a p p y a n d light-hearted as before, slightest ill effect, if I attempt, for instance, to going everywhere, entering freely into social buy a dress for myself, m y brain gets on fire amusements, a n d apparently being in perfect a n d I w a l k the floor in a frenzy of excitement, health. Nevertheless, the bitter experience quite unable to decide w h a t choice I should through which she had passed h a d left a deep m a k e . Y e t I experience no difficulty in mak­ psychic w o u n d that never completely healed. ing purchases for other people, and my judg­ Without realizing it, she w a s constantly tor­ ment is considered so good that my friends mented subconsciously by the old idea that often ask me to help them in their shopping. everybody she met w a s talking about her. A n d I cough, d a y a n d night, sometimes for F r o m this, years aftenvards, developed the hours together." seemingly inexplicable fear of going outdoors A thorough examination, however, failed to in the daytime. disclose a n y indication of organic lung dis­ A s k e d , while in the hypnoidal state, w h y ease, nor of kidney or stomach disease. Be­ she w a s not afraid to go out after d a r k , she sides which, unlike the y o u n g man with the promptly replied: " e p i l e p t i c " seizures, the patient w a s found to " B e c a u s e in the d a r k no one can recognize h a v e a n excellent family history, from the me." medical point of view. B o t h her father and her mother h a d been of r u g g e d constitution Subconsciously,in other words,the sorrow a n d the dread a n d the bitter thoughts of the period a n d h a d lived to a good old age. "Dissocia­ of alienation from her husband w e r e still pres­ t i o n " w a s at once suspected, and she was ent experiences to her—were still as real a n d hypnoidized. painful as at the time of their actual occurrence. A l m o s t the first statement she made in the

T h e N e w M i n d C u r e B a s e d on S c i e n c e : B y H . A d d i n g t o n B r u c e 777 hypnoidal state related to a long-forgotten in­ cident of childhood that h a d been the startingpoint of all her troubles. At the age of five—fifty-five years before she sought psychopathological aid—she h a d been frightened into a n hysterical attack by the sight of an insane w o m a n in a maniacal state. For months afterwards the image of that w o m a n never left her mind, a n d she kept asking her­ self, " D o little girls go i n s a n e ? " And even after the image faded from her waking memory it remained as vividly as ever in her subconsciousness—as w a s shown by the fact that, although before being hypnoidized she had stated that she never dreamed, in the hypnoidal state she remembered that she fre­ quently dreamed an insane w o m a n w as stand­ ing near her bed, bending over her. T o this subconscious memory-image, per­ sisting all unknown to her for more than half a century, w a s due her unconquerable fear that she would herself some day become insane.

at last the entire complex of symptoms had disappeared. Here, then, we find subconscious mental action responsible for the production of seem­ ing insanities, delusions, irrational fears, and, in the case of this unhappy w o m a n of sixty, even causing the appearance of symptoms re­ sembling those of true organic disease.

Seeming Miracles

T h e early investigators of the phenomena of hypnotism found that it was possible through suggestion to cause burns, blisters, swellings, paralyses, and other amazing modi­ fications of the physical organism. In large part their experiments were made on inmates of the Salpetriere, that great house of refuge for the sick and destitute of Paris. It w a s observed that the subjects most readily responding to suggestions affecting the bodily processes were hysterical patients. It seemed possible, therefore, that hystericals were naturally more suggestible than other people, and that suggestion w a s itself at the A Combination of Nervous Shocks bottom of their troubles. Another horror memory that h a d affected It was found that hysteria, which h a d her whole after-life w a s connected with an oc­ hitherto been one of the most baffling diseases currence of her early girlhood. A t the age of known to the medical profession a n d h a d eleven she h a d been frightened into insensi­ usually been regarded as due to some organic bility by the action of a girl friend in dressing disorder, w a s emphatically a disorder of the up as a " g h o s t " a n d darting out upon her in mind; and that, no matter how varied and a dark room. I n her w a k i n g state she re­ complex its symptoms might be, they were membered nothing of this; hypnoidized, she one and all rooted in disquieting mental states. recalled it vividly. Positive proof was obtained that by sub­ When eighteen, having become a school teacher, she h a d worried greatly because of conscious self-suggestion an hysterica] patient failure to secure promotion. F r o m this period could cause the appearance of the symptoms dated her headaches, as well as her first serious of almost any disease—could m a k e himself blind, deaf, or d u m b , could cause his legs or nervous attack. But the culminating shock—the experience arms to become paralyzed, could cause swell­ to which her physical ills were chiefly due— ings resembling tumors to appear in any part was sustained in middle life, when her only of his body, could simulate the symptoms of daughter, after growing u p to w o m a n h o o d , fell the most dread organic diseases. a victim to consumption. T h r o u g h o u t the Unnecessary Operations weary w eeks of her daughter's illness she watched in anguish at her bedside. T h e dis­ D r . Pierre J a n e t , the world's foremost au­ tressing cough, the gastric disturbances, the loss of appetite, the nausea, the inability to thority on hysteria, in an address delivered by retain food—every s y m p t o m seared itself into him to the students of the H a r v a r d M e d i c a l the mother's subconsciousness, never to be School, m a d e this statement: " H y s t e r i c a l affections are uncommonly forgotten and eventually to be reproduced, by the strange power of subconscious mental ac­ similar to all kinds of medical or surgical af­ fections, for which they are easily mistaken. tion, in the mother herself. Caused by the mind they were curable by Contractures, paralyses, anesthesias, various the mind. One by one the psychopathologist pains, especially when they are seated in the attacked and eradicated these deadly subcon­ viscera, m a y simulate anything; and then you scious memories, and wdth their blotting out have the legion of false tuberculoses of the the patient's health constantly improved, until lungs, of false tumors of the stomach, of false T

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intestinal obstructions, and, above all, of false uterine and ovarian tumors. " W h a t happens as to the viscera also exists as to the limbs a n d the organs of the senses. Some hysterical disturbances are mistaken for lesions of the bones, of the rachis, for m u s c u l a r or tendinous lesions. T h e n the physician in­ terferes, frightens the family, agitates the p a ­ tient to the utmost, a n d prescribes extraordi­ nary diets, perturbing the life a n d exhausting the strength of t h e ' s i c k person. F i n a l l y the surgeon is called in. " D o not try to count the n u m b e r of arms cut off, of muscles of the neck incised for cricks, of bones broken for mere c r a m p s , of bellies cut open for phantom tumors, a n d es­ pecially of w o m e n m a d e barren for pretended ovarian tumors. H u m a n i t y ought indeed to do homage to Charcot for having prevented a greater depopulation. " T h e s e things no doubt have decreased, but they are still being done every d a y . " T h e y are still being done every d a y !

A Case of Imagined Hydrophobia Only the other d a y a case c a m e to my knowledge in which a painful a n d wholly un­ necessary a n d useless operation w a s narrowly escaped owing to the lucky chance that took the sufferer, a young w o m a n ot Providence, R . I., to a neurologist, D r . J o h n E . D o n l e v , who had made a special study of psychopathology and psychopathological methods. She had been sent to him by her physician to determine what particular nerve in her hand ought to be " r e s e c t e d " to relieve a semiparalysis from which she h a d been suffering for some time. A y e a r or so before she h a d been bitten in the hand by a pet cat. A t first she h a d felt no ill consequences, the wound healing nicely. B u t after a time a pain h a d set in, g r a d u a l l y extending up the a r m , which h a d become a l ­ most helpless. I t w a s her physician's opinion that some nerve h a d been caught in the scar of the wound, a n d that a n operation, which she greatly dreaded, would be necessary to restore the a r m to usefulness. Before examining her hand D r . D o n l e y de­

cided to m a k e a p s y c h o p a t h o l o g i c a l examina­ tion as to her general n e r v o u s condition. T h e discovery immediately followed that the pa­ ralysis of her a r m w a s nothing more than an hysterical disturbance. H y p n o i d i z i n g her, he found that the attack m a d e on her by the cat h a d c a u s e d a profound psychic shock. S h e h a d been almost panicstricken with fear, insisting that blood poison­ ing w o u l d surely result; a n d , although the w o u n d h a d healed as her p h y s i c i a n predicted it would, she still subconsciously clung to this idea. W h a t she required w a s not the surgeon's knife but treatment b y suggestion. Only a few such treatments were needed to work a complete cure.

" True Mental Healing " B u t — a n d this is a point that cannot be em­ phasized too s t r o n g l y — e v e n suggestion would in all probability h a v e failed h a d not the neu­ rologist been able, by the methods of psycho­ pathological diagnosis, to get at the exact cause of the trouble a n d a p p l y precisely the suggestions needed to meet the situation. T h i s it is that most sharply differentiates scientific p s y c h o t h e r a p y from the psycho­ therapy of the faith healer. Both the scientific psychotherapist and the faith healer m a k e use of suggestion to attain their ends. B o t h get results, for the reason that suggestion, even w h e n utilized by an un­ trained practitioner, is frequently powerful enough to bring about seemingly miraculous restorations to health. B u t whereas the non-scientific psychothera­ pist, with few exceptions, uses suggestion in hit-or-miss fashion, a p p l y i n g it indiscriminately to all m a n n e r of diseases, the scientific psycho­ therapist recognizes that it is by no means a cure-all, a n d that even in cases where it is bene­ ficial a thorough, accurate diagnosis is often indispensable to a perfect cure. A s between these two types of psycho­ therapy can there be a n y doubt which is the " t r u e mental h e a l i n g " — t h a t which takes its stand on blind faith, or that which depends on the proven facts of scientific experiment and observation?

A

S T O R Y

O F

T H R I F T

A N D

S U C C E S S

Tombstones BY

WILLIAM

ILLUSTRATED

BY

JOHNSTON

WALTER

JACK

DUNCAN

F

I F T E E N thousand profit the first R i g h t gladly I welcomed his inclination to year, starting on a shoestring, isn't talk, and quickly responded: bad, is i t ? " " S u c h success the first year is remarkable, H e and I were the only occupants and ought to satisfy any man. T e l l m e a b o u t it." of the sleeping-car smoker. F o r an hour w e A n d this is the story J o h n R y a n told me that had sat at the opposite ends of the leather sofa, night in the smoker, the story of his fighting life, he with pencil and paper apparently making a true story. I have his card before me as I write. calculations of some sort, I ostensibly read­ It has the name of his company and the number ing a book, but in reality studying the face of their office on Fifth Avenue, and in one cor­ of my companion, curiously wondering what ner are the w o r d s : " J o h n R y a n , President." manner of man he was. " T o begin at the beginning, I never had T h e r e w a s nothing distinctive in his garb to much education," he explained, though until betoken his calling. H i s clothing showed only he got well on in his story and lapsed into the that he had means enough and taste enough to homely phrases of his youth there w a s nothing employ a good tailor. H e wore no jewelry in his speech or manner to deny him a univer­ save a scarab in his carefully arranged tie, and sity diploma or a chair in the club window. a fine gold chain across his waistcoat. H i s " M y father died when I w a s nine years old. hands—big forceful hands they were—tapered W e were tenement people, and that means that into the long graceful fingers of the artist type, and there w a s nothing put b y beyond what the yet there w a s a bigness of knuckle a n d a sugges­ funeral cost. A week later I went to work. I tion of toil scars, accentuated perhaps b y the care­ had to. fully manicured nails, that bespoke an intimacy " I got a job n a stone-yard where a friend with labor more arduous than paint and canvas. of m y father worked. T h e y paid m e three His face—it w a s that which had first attracted dollars a week at the start. I w a s big for my I me to him—thrust itself at y o u from beneath age, but I never had been to school much. a thatch of prematurely whitening hair, from could read a little and I could write my own behind a carefully trimmed military mustache, name, and that was-about all. I stayed in that as the countenance of a m a n w h o had accom­ stone-yard until I w a s nineteen, working nine plished—what? T h e eyes—honest Irish gray hours a day, six days a week. Half-holidays —twinkled intelligently in their deep-set sockets. had not been invented yet. When I quit I w a s T h e nostrils were those of a big-lunged, pow­ getting three and a half dollars a day and could erful animal, a m a n w h o could do much and cut stone with the best of them. endure much. I n the lips w a s just a suggestion " I quit for a better j o b , five dollars a day as of—hardly sensuality—call it rather a sternly an expert stone-cutter. I remember when I repressed inclination toward pleasure and ease. first got that job how self-satisfied I felt. W h a t more could any It w a s his chin, though, that dominated the Five Dollars a Day! whole face, the whole man. A square, clean- m a n want than that? I thought I had just cut, fighting chin, thrust forward in all its about reached the limit. aggressive strength, m a r k e d its owner as a man " W h e n I w a s twenty I married—a good, of power, of determination, of dogged grit—a sensible, educated, religious girl. B y the time fighter of destiny. I w a s twenty-four I had three children. F i v e ;

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dollars a d a y didn't look as big as it used to. A b o u t that time w o r k in the stone-yard got a little slack and two of the stone-cutters w e r e laid off. T h e y both h a d been good men in their day, but now they w e r e too old. It c a m e to m e all of a sudden that some d a y I would be too old a n d w o u l d be laid off just as they h a d been. I could earn m y five dollars a d a y now easily enough in a n y stone-yard, but w h a t about the future? " T h e more I thought about it the more it seemed to m e that if I w a s going to better m y ­ self in life the one thing I needed most w a s education. I had lived long enough without it to feel the lack of it. W h a t kind of education would be most useful to m e ? It did not take me long to decide. T h e one thing I especially needed in m y business w a s drawing—architec­ tural drawing. I went home that night a n d said to m y wife: " ' M a r y , I ' m going to start to night school.' " She laughed at me. " ' J o h n R y a n , ' said she, ' y o u ' r e crazy. T h e idea of a grown m a n with a family going to school. What would the neighbors think of y o u ? ' " I ' v e not a word to say against m y wife. She has been a good, loving wife to m e for nineteen years and has stood by m e through thick and thin, and there h a v e been m a n y times when the troubles c a m e thick a n d the purse got thin. S h e has been a good mother to m y children, too, and a m a n can ask for no more than that. B u t women h a v e a different w a y of looking at things from men. There never w a s a time that I proposed anything new or m a d e any kind of a change but w h a t she was against it. " S h e tried her best to ridicule m e out of going to school. W hat w a s I thinking of study­ i n g ? W a s it F r e n c h or d a n c i n g ? S h e w a s n ' t going to h a v e me a w a y from home every even­ ing, either. A n d the idea of a father disgracing his children by going to school. " H e r talk m a d e no difference. I went to school—to night school. F i v e nights a week for three y e a r s I studied architectural drawing. T h e teacher of the class didn't w a n t to let m e in at first. I hadn't graduated from any school. I h a d n ' t enough education. T h e teacher sent me to the principal. T h e principal sent me to the superintendent. T h e y none of them wanted to let m e in, but I kept at them till I m a d e them take me. " T h e n trouble began. Gossiping neigh­ bors got to talking to m y M a r y . T h e y poohpoohed the idea that I w a s going to school nights. T h e y tried to persuade her that I w a s running around with other w o m e n all the even­ ings I w a s a w a y from home. S h e w o u l d n ' t T

listen to them at first, but they kept at her till she almost got to believing it, for that's one thing a good w o m a n w h o really loves her husband c a n ' t stand for. N a t u r a l l y she taxed me with it, not once, but often, nearly every night. It did not m a k e it a n y easier, w o r k i n g all day in the stone-yard a n d all evening in the school, to h a v e this to contend with, but I kept on just the same. I n spite of m y denials I could see that the talk of the neighbors kept up the mis­ trust in her mind. It went so far that a few evenings she followed m e a n d s a w that I really went to school a n d a couple of times she posted her brother to see w h e n I c a m e out and if I c a m e straight home. " I t w a s n ' t till the second y e a r , when I got a prize of a book for a d r a w i n g I ' d made, that she w a s really convinced that I h a d been going to school all the time. T h a t b o o k — I w a s as proud of it as a child with a n e w toy. I , the father of a family, r e w a r d e d with a pretty book at school—think of it! T h e third y e a r I finished the course. M y wife went with me to the closing exercises a n d a p r o u d w o m a n she was to see the d r a w i n g s I ' d m a d e hanging on the wall before all the visitors. A n d still I was w o r k i n g in the stone-yard at five a day and seeing no c h a n c e of bettering myself. " T h e r e w a s one winter I didn't work in the y a r d . Without notice every y a r d in the city shut d o w n a n d there w a s n ' t a stone-cutter's job to be h a d a n y w h e r e a n d no prospect of one for months. I r e m e m b e r w a l k i n g home that night wondering w h a t I w a s going to do. There were four little ones at h o m e n o w a n d all I had put b y w a s less than a hundred and fifty dollars. I w a s still thinking about it, wondering what w a s going to b e c o m e of us, wondering how I w a s going to break the n e w s to m y wife, when I turned up m y o w n street. T h e r e was a man going through it with a horse and wagon, selling vegetables from house to house. I stopped a n d w a t c h e d him a while. ' " I f he can m a k e a living that way, I can,' I said to myself. " T h a t v e r y night I went out and arranged to b u y a horse a n d w a g o n with what little money I had. M y wife w a s against it, of course, but the next morning I got up and went down to the m a r k e t a n d bought a load of vege­ tables. I took with m e the m a n on the corner from w h o m I h a d been b u y i n g m y vegetables for the house. H e showed me what to buy and w h e r e to b u y it. I w a s that ignorant at first that I didn't k n o w the difference between a half-peck a n d a small measure, but the first w e e k I m a d e forty dollars clear. It was hard w o r k . I h a d to get u p at four o'clock in the morning a n d I rarely got h o m e before nine or

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ten o'clock at night, but all that winter I kept thirty to forty dollars coming in each week. I n the spring when the stone-yards opened I sold m y outfit for about w h a t I p a i d for it a n d went back to m y trade, and for a couple of years more I cut stone. " N o w on the ground floor of the house where I lived was a drugstore and often I ' d drop in there evenings. I never w a s much of a h a n d for saloons. I used to drink a little beer be­ fore I w a s married, but I did not k n o w the taste of whiskey till after I w a s thirty, a n d all the distilleries now would close u p if nobody drank any more of it than I do. I n the drugstore there were generally three or four traveling salesmen who lived in the neighborhood. T h e y ' d be telling of their experiences, a n d night after night I ' d stand there listening to their stories of the cities they h a d visited, the shows they h a d seen, the trains they h a d traveled on and the hotels they had stopped at. " I t seemed to me it must be the very grand­ est thing in the world to be a traveling sales­ man. H e r e were these fellows w h o h a d been everywhere and seen everything a n d here w a s I who had never been outside of m y o w n city in m y life, w h o h a d never eaten in a hotel, never ridden in a sleeping car. I remember yet the first time I ever did ride in one. I l a y a w a k e the whole night long just thinking how nice it w a s and how grand it w a s that I w a s doing it at last. I ' v e h a d enough of them since. B u t as I thought over these traveling men's talk it came to m e : " ' I f these men can m a k e a living selling things, I can, too.' ' ' I went home and told m y wife what I had in mind. I a l w a y s tell her everything. I t i s n ' t a b a d habit, even if she doesn't agree with you always. ' " J o h n R y a n , ' said she, 'if y o u ' d m a k e u p your mind to stick to y o u r stone-cutting, y o u ' d get along better. Y o u a traveling s a l e s m a n ? What do you know about such business? What would you be s e l l i n g ? ' " ' T o m b s t o n e s , ' said I . " A l l along I had been wondering w h a t kind of goods I could sell. H e r question brought it to m e all of a sudden. T h e one thing I k n e w all about, or thought I did, w a s tombstones. I ' d sell tombstones. " F o r weeks w e kept talking about it, she against it and I for it, till one S u n d a y w e went up to the cemetery to look at a monument I h a d cut. I saw the sign of a place near b y where they sold monuments a n d went in. When I c a m e out the proprietor of the place had promised to p a y m e five per cent, com­ mission on all the tombstones a n d monuments I sold for him.

" I started in by looking over the papers in the evenings after I w a s through at the stoney a r d . I ' d read all the death notices and make out a list of all that were a n y w h e r e within twenty or thirty blocks of where I lived. I'd wait until a d a y or two after the funeral a n d then I'd go in the evening a n d try to sell a tombstone or a monument. I spent w e e k s a n d weeks of w e a r y walking without getting a n order, but I kept at it. I could not afford even carfare, for w e ' d h a d sickness at home a n d a doctor and an operation. " T h e r e c a m e a time when I w a s flat stone broke. W h a t with the doctor coming twice a d a y for w e e k s a n d with medicines and all, our savings were exhausted a n d even m y wages at the stone-yard w e r e d r a w n in advance. I c a m e home from m y w o r k one Saturday night a n d m y wife—just u p from a sick-bed she was — s a y s to m e : " ' J o h n , h a v e y o u brought home any money?' " ' I ' v e got just five dollars I borrowed from the boss—that's every cent.' " T h i n g s looked b a d . I t takes a lot to feed the little mouths a n d the rent w a s overdue. While w e were talking it over and I was trying to comfort her, with no comfort in m y own heart at all, the p o s t m a n ' s whistle sounded. I went d o w n a n d there w a s a letter with a check for forty dollars in i t — m y first commission for selling tombstones. I h a d k n o w n it was com­ ing to me, but I didn't k n o w just when, so I had said nothing to m y wife about it, but if ever money w a s a godsend that forty dollars was. T h e next w e e k another check of a hundred dollars c a m e in. M y wife quit objecting then to m e being a salesman. " A t the end of the y e a r I h a d m a d e over $600 in commissions, just w o r k i n g nights. I got to thinking that if I g a v e all m y time to it maybe I could do better than b y working in the stoney a r d . T h e longer I thought about it the more I m a d e u p m y m i n d to give up the stone-cutting. M y wife, of course, w as opposed to it. ' " Y o u r w a g e s in the stone-yard are sure,' said she, ' b u t y o u r commissions are uncertain. O n e w e e k y o u ' l l get a big check and then for a couple of m o n t h s y o u ' l l get nothing at all.' " T h i s w a s true enough, but it didn't sway m e from m y intention. T h i n g s went on as they w e r e till one d a y the foreman criticised a piece of w o r k I w a s doing. I didn't think he w a s right then nor do I think it now. We had some w o r d s a n d he w a l k e d a w a y . I gathered u p m y tools—they w e r e m y o w n , over a hun­ dred dollars' worth of them—and I walked over to the river a n d I threw them all in. I c a m e b a c k to the foreman a n d I said: r

' " I ' m through cutting stone. G i v e mem y time.'

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' " J o h n R y a n , ' says he, ' y o u ' r e crazy. A m a n with a family can't afford to throw up a good job just because of the few words w e had. G o on back to your w o r k and forget it.' " ' I ' m through cutting s t o n e , ' s a i d I . ' I ' v e thrown all m y tools in the river. I'll never cut stone again for you or a n y other m a n . ' " ' N o w I know y o u ' r e crazy,' says he. ' H e r e ' s your money, but you'll be b a c k here next week looking for a j o b . ' ' " I ' l l never ask y o u nor a n y other m a n for a job of stone-cutting. I ' m through with it for­ ever. T h a t ' s why I threw m y tools a w a y . I t w a s n ' t because of the words w e had. I'm just through being a stone-cutter.' " A n d I never have cut stone for any m a n from that day to this. " T h a t very afternoon I went downtown to a monument firm and got a job selling tomb­ stones at ten dollars a week. A t the end of a month I w a s raised to twenty-five dollars a week. I stayed with them for nine years, a n d when I quit them I w a s getting seventy-five dollars a week and all m y expenses, a n d travel­ ing from M a i n e to Georgia. I w a s riding in sleeping cars a good deal more now than I wanted to. T h e r e h a d been a time when I thought I knew all there w a s to k n o w about tombstones, but I h a d begun to realize how little I did know. I bought some books on the subject and began to read them. Sometimes I ' d be two weeks reading three lines. E v e r y other word would be one that I didn't k n o w the meaning of. I bought me an encyclopedia and a dictionary a n d kept on reading. When I ' d get through with three lines I ' d know what every word of it meant. Sometimes to find out I ' d have to go back to the L a t i n a n d the G r e e k , so before I w a s through studying up on tomb­ stones I found myself studying L a t i n and Greek. " I had to learn lots of other things too. I wasn't content with knowing w h y they put a pot and a snake on a doctor's monument. I kept at it until I learned that that w a s the em­ blem of the G r e e k god of surgery, Aesculapius. T h e n I had to find out w h y that w a s the em­ blem. What w a s the snake doing there ? T h a t ' s the w a y I studied everything about the busi­ ness. I got to k n o w all about crosses, G r e e k crosses, D r u i d crosses, Aztec crosses. T h e r e isn't a man in m y business to-day w h o knows more about the history a n d significance of cemetery emblems than I do. " B u t going back to the business side of it. Seventy-five dollars a week a n d expenses once would have looked big to me, but no traveling m a n can ever m a k e his expense account fit w h a t he actually spends. It seemed to me that I w a s making a lot of money for m y firm with­

out getting m y share. If I could get business for the firm w h y couldn't I get it for myself. T h e upshot of it w a s that I quit traveling and last J a n u a r y started in business for myself. A friend of mine w h o h a d saved up about as much m o n e y as I h a d went in wdth me. He looks after the office end of things a n d I go out a n d get the business a n d superintend the work. W e started on a shoestring a n d it was a hard pull. H e h a d a wife a n d two children to keep a n d I h a d a wife a n d four. While we got some orders in the first few months not a cent of m o n e y c a m e in until the fifteenth of June. T h e r e c a m e a time w h e n w e h a d to have some. I went to a m a n a n d borrowed five hundred dollars on m y note for thirty days. When the thirty d a y s w a s u p there w a s no money in sight. I w e r t to another m a n a n d borrowed five hun­ dred for thirty d a y s a n d p a i d the first. When that thirty d a y s w a s u p I went to a third and got still another five hundred and paid the second. T h e n " — a n d R y a n smiled at the thought—" I w o r k e d the triangle all over again, going b a c k to the first for five hundred and by that time w e h a d some m o n e y of our own com­ ing in. B e c a u s e I h a d kept m y word I had no trouble in getting it. I n d e e d I ' v e found that a man w h o a l w a y s keeps his w o r d can get most anything. " W i t h an order I just got to-day for a fortythousand-dollar monument I w a s just figuring up that at the end of the first year m y partner a n d I will split thirty thousand dollars—the profit on over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of business, less our running expenses. We'll put part of it b a c k into the business, of course, but it isn't b a d for a man of thirty-nine who is just starting out for himself. " T h e r e ' s one thing m o r e , " said R y a n medi­ tatively. " W h a t e v e r I h a v e done I have done b y myself. I n all the y e a r s I ' v e been climbing up there h a s never been a hand stretched out to help me. It m a k e s m e sore when I hear young fellows to-day kicking because they have no chance. W h a t chance did I have except what I m a d e for m y s e l f ? I hear them talk, too, that they h a v e n ' t enough education for this or that j o b . W h a t education did I ever h a v e except w h a t I got for myself ? I heard a m a n s a y the other d a y that he could get on if he w a s n ' t h a n d i c a p p e d b y a wife and babies. A wife a n d babies handicaps! T h e y ' r e anything but that. I t ' s for his family, his children, that a m a n strives a n d climbs and accomplishes. Without mine, without m y wife and my chil­ dren, I ' d never be w h e r e I a m to-day. " N o , sir! A loving wife is never a handicap. A n y m a n can do w h a t e v e r he wants to do, if he only w a n t s it b a d e n o u g h . "

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E L L , I k n o w one thing," E r n e s t said. ' ' A fellow never has to tell lies."

" W e l l , I k n o w another thing," Phoebe said. " A girl has to tell lies all the time." T h e argument started early one S a t u r d a y morning. E r n e s t h a d asked c a s u a l l y and all by w a y of m a k i n g conversation, " G o i n g to the High School dance, P h o e b ' ? " A n d P h o e b e had answered with the preoccupied indifference of an acknowledged belle. " D o n ' t know. Nobody has asked me y e t . " A little later, as E r n e s t still dawdled in his room, cleaning a gun, P h o e b e ' s half of a tele­ phone conversation floated up to him: " O h , hullo, T u g ! " . . . " O h , the H i g h School dance! T h a t ' s awfully good of y o u , T u g . I ' m sorry I can't. B u t you see I ' m going with somebody e l s e . " . . . " O h , I ' d go if I were you, T u g . Y o u ' l l h a v e just exactly as good a time. W h y don't you ask Florence M a r s h ? " . . " Oh, well, of course if you don't want to." . . . " O h , I ' d love to. T h i s after­ noon at four? . . A l l right. I ' l l be r e a d y . " When P h o e b e ascended the stairs, E r n e s t tackled her on the landing. " S e e here, P h o e b ' . I heard that spiel of yours on the phone. E i t h e r you lied to me or you lied to T u g . " " I didn't lie to y o u . A n d I didn't lie to T u g . T h a t is—not exactly. I t isn't w h a t I call a lie. M a y b e it's a white lie—a fib. See here, E r n M a r t i n , I ' d like to k n o w what right you've got butting into m y affairs. I t ' s none of your business a n d you c a n just cut it out." " B u t nobody h a d a s k e d you to the dance. Come'" "No—but " " G e e , how I hate people who^don't tell the truth! I wouldn't lie for a n y t h i n g . "

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" Y e s , and many a time w e ' v e nearly died of mortification with you telling the truth on the least provocation, the w a y you do. A s k M o t h e r M a r t i n if you aren't a l w a y s embarrass­ ing her most to death by telling people just what you think of things when they ask y o u . " " J u s t the samee, I don't believe a n y b o d y ' s got to tell lies." " W e l l , you be a girl for twentv-four hours and get through without telling a young billion of white lies a n d I ' l l see that you get a Carnegie m e d a l , " Phoebe declared with heat. " G i r l s are a l w a y s up against the queerest propositions. N o w , take the High School dance. Of course I knew T u g would ask me—he a l w a v s does. B u t I didn't want to go with him. I k n e w somebody else w a s going to ask me, and I did want to go with him. He hadn't said that he was—but I knew it just the same. Well, T u g asks me first. D o you think I feci any obliga­ tion to go with him under those circumstances ? Certainly not. A n d yet I wouldn't for the world hurt T u g ' s feelings. W h a t w a s there for me to do but to tell a white lie? If you c a n show me any w a y out of such a situation, I shall be infinitely obliged to you. A n d if vou think, E r n Martin, that all the M a y w o o d girls don't have to do this, you are much mistaken. E v e r y girl in this town is up against it whenever a dance is given. A n d the only w a y out of it is to fib and fib to the wrong ones until the right one asks y o u . " Ernest w a s not at all impressed with this harangue. " I wouldn't have expected it of you, P h o e b ' ! " he said. Half an hour later, the telephone rang again. A g a i n , P h o e b e ' s talk drifted to E r ­ nest's ears. " O h . M r . Eliot. G o o d m o r n i n g ! " . . . " Oh, thank you so much, M r . Eliot. I shall be

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" ' Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Eliot. I shall be perfectly delighted to go. It's awfully good of y o u ' "

perfectly delighted to go. I t ' s awfully good of y o u " . . . " Y e s , eight o ' c l o c k " . . . " W h i t e a n d y e l l o w . " . . . " O h , that's so thoughtful of you. I don't want white—it's so bridey. I should prefer a yellow flower, though I can't seern to think of anything but roses. A n d I ' m so tired of r o s e s . " . . . " Oh, orchids w o u l d be perfectly ducky. I ' v e never w o r n them before. T h a n k y o u ever a n d ever so m u c h . " " A n d you mean to tell m e y o u ' d throw T u g d o w n for that w i n d - b a g of a P a g e E l i o t , " E r n e s t threw out to his sister as she passed. Phoebe stopped, her slim length framed in the doorway. " N o , I ' m not throwing T u g d o w n at all. I ' v e been to a million dances with T u g . I just happened not to w a n t to go to this dance with him. A g a i n , m a y I request that y o u stop dis­ cussing what doesn't concern v o u , M r . B u t t i n ­ ski?"

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" G e e , I hate g i r l s , " w a s E r n e s t ' s final shot. " I ' l l never believe anything they tell me." T h i n k i n g the matter o v e r in the few minutes before he dismissed it for more important things, E r n e s t g r e w , a s he w o u l d have ex­ pressed it, " s o r e r a n d sorer." F o r E r n e s t did not like P a g e Eliot. P a g e w a s staying with F r e d Partland. They h a d been c h u m s a n d r o o m m a t e s in Paris. In fact, P a g e h a d lived most of his life abroad. H e h a d j u s t returned from a five years' stay. Fie w a s one of those masculine meteors who, flashing suddenly into a small community, put the entire feminine half into a flutter—always to the bewilderment of the masculine half. _ It w a s not his popularity with the other sex which irritated E r n e s t . I t w a s — w e l l , they were nat­ urally antagonistic. T h e r e w a s something in E l i o t ' s gait, something in his manner, some­ thing in the v e r y w a y he w o r e his clothes, which

T h e C o d e s of P h o e b e a n d E r n e s t : B y I n e z H a y n e s G i l l m o r e rubbed E r n e s t the wrong w a y . I n conversa­ tion it w a s the same. It w a s not so much what P a g e said, it w a s his whole Gallicized point of view. T h e n P a g e had a w a y of seem­ ing to belittle E r n e s t ' s achievements. A g a i n it was not what he said. It w a s w h a t he did not say. In P a g e ' s presence. Ernest felt like the human equivalent to a large, affectionate, g a m bolsome N e w f o u n d l a n d pup, r e m a r k a b l e for intelligence. Whenever he spent a n evening in a crowd of which P a g e formed a member, he was conscious a l w a y s of a boiling inner tumult. And yet P a g e h a d a n interesting side, too. H e was not without accomplishments, though they were rather of the parlor order. He played better billiards than a n y b o d y in M a y wood. At bridge he w a s fairly brilliant. He could drive any kind of motor. H e fenced well. H e w a s a good talker. E r n e s t found himself occasionally drinking down his narra­ tives. Duelling, bull fights, pelota, j a i alai, jiu jitsu—it was extraordinary what he had p i c k e d up. A n d once he had held E r n e s t spellbound for the half hour in which he described a sport­ ing event held in F r a n c e in which a third-class American " p u g " had pounded to pieces a first-class F r e n c h savatier. In the last analysis, E r n e s t ' s most scorching criticism of P a g e w a s that he was a " f u s s e r . " Ernest half suspected that he lived by women's standards rather than men's. H e had an idea that P a g e skulked behind petticoats, that he would not come out into the open and take pun­ ishment like a man. Ernest emerged from these thoughts to the realization that his hands were fists. T h i s always happened when he thought of P a g e Eliot. He had experienced the same sensation in regard to others. Suddenly it flashed across him what it all portended. " G e e ! " he said to himself, • ' I ' v e got to lick that son of a gun before he leaves M a y w o o d . " T h i s resolution brought its inevitable b a l m . As if released from mental clutches, the whole matter slipped automatically out of his con­ sciousness. Phoebe, on the other hand, furiously dusting her room, w a s considering the situation from a viewpoint essentially feminine. Phoebe thought P a g e Eliot very fascinating. He was a tall, dark youth, thin to the point of emaciation, a n d yet with a suggestion, not un­ becoming, of latent muscularity. H i s hair w a s a little—but only a little—too long. It lay, thick and dense, close to his head. H e parted it in the middle a n d then brushed it straight back. When he removed his hat, the circle that its rim m a d e lay indented on the smooth, shining brownness. P h o e b e h a d observed the

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same phenomenon in the case of handsome young leading men. P a g e bore about him a n atmosphere, faint, unanalyzable, but definite, of dissipation. I n common with the rest of nubile M a y w o o d , Phoebe found this thrilling. He smoked a cigarette with grace a n d abandon. H e danced well. Pie would have been spectac­ ular if his clothes h a d not been correct rather than picturesque, and if the mocking light which never left his eyes h a d not seemed to in­ clude P a g e Eliot himself among the things at which it laughed. Conversationally, he h a d all the c h a r m s of frank impertinence. H e exulted in the e x p a ­ triation which allured even while it shocked Phoebe. H e c o m p a r e d A m e r i c a n girls with Parisiennes to the disadvantage of the former. I n particular, he disliked the A m e r i c a n voice. H e w a s witty. H e w a s articulate to a degree almost feminine. H e could appreciate a hat or a gown. Moreover, in Phoebe's desk there w a s a list of the F r e n c h phrases that he threw out casually—fait accompli, faute de mieux, en veine—it grew daily. I n argument, he often introduced the phrase à la bonne heure, a n d always with a faint shrug of his shoulders. Phoebe considered this the deftest of conversa­ tional feats. A n d when he left her he a l w a y s said, "Au 'voir" instead of "Au revoir" as Phoebe would have academically remarked. P e r h a p s all this would not have been enough to rouse the spirit of conquest in Phoebe. F o r with the clarity of vision which characterized her neat, clear, efficient mind, she knew that she did not really like P a g e Eliot, however much she w a s fascinated by him. M e n t a l l y they did not click. A great deal of raillery and laughing badinage covered this absence of a real sympathy. A n d yet some mysterious l a w of her sex impelled her to subjugate him. It seemed to her that it would establish that belledom of which it was the sign a n d seal. F o r there w a s another complication—Miss Follis. M i s s Follis was a guest of the M a r s h e s . She had been educated in a F r e n c h convent. She, too, had lived much of her life abroad. In fact, she had known P a g e Eliot in P a r i s . Florence M a r s h had once confided to P h o e b e that M i s s Follis left her native shores labeled L a u r a . She returned Laurette. J u s t as P a g e Eliot had enslaved feminine M a y w o o d , so L a u r e t t e Follis had taken masculine M a y w o o d by storm. According to P a g e Eliot, she possessed a beauté troublante. B u t Phoebe said, after her first glimpse of her: " M o t h e r , she's the chicest girl I ever saw in my life." B l a c k and straight and moist of hair, black

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and long and oblique of eye, the pallor of her skin w a s the dead whiteness of the lily petal, the red of her lips that of the cherry. She in­ tensified this curious coloring by the u n v a r y i n g black and white of her costumes. " I never saw such red lips, m o t h e r , " P h o e b e said again and again. " H e r mouth looks like a flower dropped on to her f a c e . " M r s . M a r ­ tin's lips a l w a y s tightened peculiarly on these rhapsodical occasions. A n d later P h o e b e understood why. M i s t a k i n g L a u r e t t e ' s room for the general dressing-room at M r s . M a r s h ' s dance, she c a m e upon M i s s Follis in the act of transferring from a small alabaster box to lips perfect but colorless what looked like a cerise salve. Undaunted by this artificiality, a n d still ut­ terly fascinated, Phoebe did her best to m a k e an intimate of her. B u t it w a s like scaling a high polished glass wall. I t w a s not that M i s s Follis objected to Phoebe personally. " S h e ' s the kind of girl, mother," P h o e b e confided to her chief confidante, " t h a t goes to sleep the moment the men leave the room a n d w a k e s up the instant they come back. N o t that she's catty—I don't mean that. I ' v e never heard her say a single spiteful thing. I t ' s only that she's just bored to death with women, a n d that's all there is to it. It is something marvel­ ous the w a y she just m a n a g e s to keep every m a n in the room nailed to her side. If one of them starts to break a w a y she pulls him b a c k as quick. She wants to be surrounded. She isn't a twosing type at all. Y o u never catch her tete-a-teteing in a corner. A n d the w a y she tries to use T u g against P a g e and P a g e against T u g — m o t h e r , you never s a w anything like it." Whenever, in private, Phoebe recalled the blandishments that Laurette Follis threw in T u g ' s direction, she a l w a y s smiled compla­ cently. B u t when she thought of L a u r e t t e and P a g e , she frowned. Phoebe k n e w , as did all M a y wood, that when P a g e Eliot w a s not taking her about in the P a r t l a n d machine or beating her at tennis, he w a s doing the same things with Laurette Follis. Somehow that thought irritated her. Phoebe w a s not a flirt. She w a s too forth­ right, too single-minded. P e r h a p s also it w a s that she w a s too pretty to need extraneous as­ sistance. B u t even h a d she lacked her spirited comeliness, she w o u l d h a v e attracted attention anywhere just by being P h o e b e . I n point of fact, Phoebe did not enjoy flirting, did not a p ­ prove of it. A n d yet, at the M a r s h dance, two weeks before, she h a d coquetted openly with P a g e Eliot. She felt a surge of s h a m e every time that she looked b a c k u p o n it. I t seemed to her that she had gone a little w a y over w h a t

constituted her line of girlish, reserve. Some­ how, it seemed to increase her half-intuitive, half-temperamental dislike of P a g e . A n d yet, following that mysterious law of her sex, she determined that he should escort her to the H i g h School dance. A l l the other dances of the winter h a d been invitation affairs, given in houses. Y o u went alone, or with y o u r brother. B u t in this case P a g e w o u l d have to fly his colors. P h o e b e k n e w that, once he had paid her the compliment of choice, she would not c a r e a r a p w h a t he did for the rest of the season. E r n e s t brought the core of their discussion to the table that night. " M o t h e r , " he b e g a n , " d o you think there's ever a n y excuse for a person's telling a l i e ? " P h o e b e immediately took up the gauntlet with a " F a t h e r , don't you think girls just have to tell white lies sometimes, so's not to hurt peo­ ple's f e e l i n g s ? " " I don't k n o w w h a t they have to do, but I k n o w w h a t they do d o , " M r . M a r t i n responded promptly, while still M r s . M a r t i n studied the problem. " W h y , F a t h e r M a r t i n ! " P h o e b e exclaimed, veering immediately. O n l y Phoebe could ar­ gue on both sides of the case without weaken­ ing her original contention. " I ' m ashamed of you. Y o u k n o w M o t h e r M a r t i n never told a lie in her life." " O h , are y o u talking about your mother? T h a t ' s different," admitted M r . Martin. " W e l l , if every m a n is going to say his wife's different, w h a t becomes of the argument, I'd like to k n o w ? T h a t ' s the k i n d of talk, father, that m a k e s suffragettes of w o m e n . " " N o w don't y o u try to threaten me,Phoebe," M r . M a r t i n rejoined, still jocular. " I should like nothing better than to see you president of the United S t a t e s . " " P h o e b e M a r t i n for president! Gussie P u g h for vice president! Wouldn't that be a k n o c k - o u t ! " E r n e s t exclaimed, in a voice full of falsetto admiration. T h e s p a r k s in the depths of Phoebe's eyes burst their surface softness, spread to a flash. " T h a n k y o u , gentlemen," she retorted. " Y o u couldn't force the j o b on m e . " H a v i n g darted into the very camp of the enemy, having in fact fought at his side, she returned unscathed to her original position. " W o m e n do h a v e to tell white lies sometimes, don't they, m o t h e r ? " " T h e y d o , but they don't h a v e to, do they, mother ? " E r n e s t insisted. M r s . M a r t i n , still considering the problem, looked troubled. " T h e ' L a d i e s ' H o m e G u i d e , ' " Phoebe went on, " s a y s that if people call and you don't want

T h e C o d e s of P h o e b e a n d E r n e s t : B y I n e z H a y n e s G i l l m o r e to see them, it's perfectly proper to say ' N o t at home.' N o w , w h a t is that but a white lie, I ' d like to k n o w ? " P h o e b e paused. H e r mother did not speak. " M o t h e r doesn't agree with you, E r n , because she can't," she pointed out triumphantly. " I t isn't exactly that," M r s . M a r t i n said. " I don't k n o w just w h a t to say, for I don't know how to put it. I n a w a y , I agree with both of you. I don't tell falsehoods outright any more than E r n i e does. I can't. Ernie gets that from me. Something inside prevents me. B u t I don't like to hurt people's feelings any more than you do, Phoebe. A n d so I just keep quiet about a whole lot of things. I guess sometimes I sort of evade answering. A n d all my life it's troubled me. I've wondered if that wasn't one w a y of telling falsehoods."

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continued at intervals for two weeks. R u n n i n g out of self-made arguments, the disputants h a d recourse to authority. T h e Scriptures were consulted, dictionaries searched, history ran­ sacked. E v e n verse, fiction, d r a m a a n d the press contributed special incidents. One d a y the force of argument seemed to lean to Phoebe's side, the next, Ernest overpowered his sister with a fresh presentation of his case. M r s . M a r t i n , half-troubled, very much inter­ ested, followed the fortunes of this argumenta­ tive w a r with great seriousness. M r . M a r t i n , wholly amused, deftly fed the flames of con­ troversy by injecting questions of a subtly mis­ leading nature at the psychological moment.

I t w a s not coincidence entirely that the con­ troversy a l w a y s raged hottest just after E r n e s t met Phoebe in c o m p a n y with P a g e Eliot. F o r ' A n d to think that for twenty-five years I've after passing the two, E r n e s t invariably found been living with the B a r o n e s s M u n c h a u s e n a n d himself walking at an accelerated pace, his never suspected it," M r . M a r t i n interpolated clenched hands swinging and his shoulders hunched forward. Conversely, his biceps lightly. " F a t h e r , I do wish y o u ' d be serious," P h o e b e never hungered so desperately for action as said. " I consider this a very important dis­ when, immediately after an argumentative bout cussion. I t ' s the sort of thing that might with Phoebe, he found himself forced to fra­ make a great deal 0} difference in your after ternize with P a g e . life." T h e night of the H i g h School dance, a selfM r . M a r t i n accepted his rebuke gracefully. constituted escort to his mother, he left the He became as serious as the twinkles in his house early in order to avoid meeting his sister's escort. M r s . M a r t i n , M r s . Warburton and eyes would permit. " W e l l , it may be all right for a w o m a n , " M i s s Selby were the matrons of the occasion. Ernest broke out excitedly. " A girl hasn't any Ernest busied himself running innumerable more backbone than a quahaug, a n y w a y . B u t errands until the dance w a s well under w a y . with a fellow it's different. If you begin to lie, Returning from a talk with the caterer, he w a s you get all balled up. I've tried it once, and I witness to his sister's entrance. Phoebe wore a know. I t ' s a fierce bother remembering what gown that, for tenuity, might have been sea you said. N o , sir, I don't care a darn about foam—all white except where a coil of yellow anybody's feelings. A n y b o d y asks me a ques­ velvet separated the w a r m marble of her neck from the cool fluffinessof her gown—one yellowtion, I ' m going to answer it." "Goodness!" P h o e b e returned in her most white orchid in her gold-shot brown hair, a scathing accent. " L i v i n g in the house with mass of them fluttering at her waist. Straight, you is going to be one grand sweet song, is it not tall, very elegant, very distinguished, P a g e im­ mediately drew her into the pretty dance in —it is not." " I shall never tell anything but the truth'to which they were the most notable pair. I n the first pause that the music made, L a u ­ a n y b o d y , " E r n e s t reiterated obstinately. M r . M a r t i n laughed suddenly. " D o n ' t you rette Follis made an entrance even more effect­ be so sure, m y son. It's all right when you're ive—for this time the black of her costume w a s steering a straight course alone. B u t wait till dazzling with embroidery of silver sequins. A you get mixed up in some social game a lot of great poinsettia made a j a g g e d , blood-red women are playing. If you tell the truth, the splash close to her bare shoulder. whole truth and nothing but the truth then, Laurette's cavalier, it transpired, w a s T u g . why, you'll deserve to be canonized." E r n e s t ' s start of surprise w a s reflected—he s a w " He'll probably be lynched," Phoebe proph­ it plainly across the room—in the sudden j e r k of Phoebe's delicate eyebrows. esied. E r n e s t ' s morose mood of the last two w e e k s B u t ' J u s t you wait a n d s e e " w a s all E r n e s t persisted. H e danced only twice. T h e n he said. T h e r e the matter ended, but only for that gave himself moodily up to watching the show. T h e hall of the M a y w o o d H i g h School repre­ day. T h e next morning discussion broke out afresh between P h o e b e and Ernest. It w a s sented the last cry in artistic decoration. W a l l s

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tinted a cool, d a r k green formed the background for huge framed photographs of masterpieces of R e n a i s s a n c e art. A n d the dancers surged and s w a y e d under the plaster gaze of statues, heroic in size, of G r e e k a n d R o m a n gods. With the aid of p a l m s a n d potted plants, the committee had established tête-àtête places here and there about the pedestals. L o u n g i n g sulkily in one of these, his b a c k against the wooden block wdiich supported a h u g e Minerva, Ernest became conscious of a conversation going on at the other side. It was Page Eliot and Laurette Follis. H e started to l e a v e . Then Phoebe's name suddenly l e a p e d out of their talk. Involuntarily, h e listened.

streaks stopped w'-filing, resolved themselves into units that were rainbow-colored girls and men sharply defined in black and white. " S a y , E r n e s t , how pale y o u a r e ! " Molly T a t e said in passing. " Y o u must be dizzy." E r n e s t only stared at her. F r e d P a r t l a n d , w h o h a d been dancing with P h o e b e , left her with a bow, humorously elaborate. E r n e s t w a l k e d over to his sister's side, " I ' v e just heard a conversation that concerns

" O h , your gown is charming, L a u rette," P a g e w a s saying. " A little chargée, perhaps. N o w tell me why did you refuse to c o m e here with Ernest became conscious of a conversation going on at the other side. It me t o - n i g h t ? " T h e n Phoebe's name suddenly leaped out of their Miss Follis laughed. " O h , I don't exactly know, she said languidly; you, P h o e b e , " he said. " I didn't mean to " c a p r i c e , I suppose." listen. I got into it before I realized it. It " O h , come, I k n o w you better than that, w a s P a g e E l i o t a n d M i s s Follis. H e asked her Laurette. See here; if I danced too often with to go to this dance first. She threw him down, the little M a r t i n at the M a r s h affair, it w a s only a n d that's w h y he a s k e d you. H e told her that because you drove me to it. A n d then, let's be he k n e w y o u expected him to do it. He experfectly frank with each other, she roped me plained to her that the reason w h y he flirted so into it." with you at the M a r s h dance w a s because you " ' T h e w o m a n tempted me and I did eat.' roped him into it." Y o u seem to enjoy your apples of E d e n . " E r n e s t bit off the last w o r d abruptly. He " O h , well, when you threw m e down, w h a t left his sister's side. else w a s there to do ? A n d then I k n e w she expected me to ask her. L a u r e t t e , w h a t ' s the F o r the rest of the evening, Phoebe was the use of all this? Y o u don't care a sou marquee gayest of the g a y . She chatted till she was for W a r b u r t o n . " breathless, a n d then her laughter took up the " A n d how do you k n o w ? " L a u r e t t e caught fight with silence. S h e danced with what, him up. " I liked him enough to ask him to for P h o e b e , seemed almost a temperamental go " fervor. A flush, wine-red, velvet-soft, fitT h e intrusion of another n a m e brought ful at first, grew permanent as the evening Ernest to his senses. M e c h a n i c a l l y , he slid out w o r e on. of earshot. M e c h a n i c a l l y , he stopped a n d P a g e E l i o t b e g a n suddenly to ply her with watched the dancers. T h e y fused before his compliments. O n l y w h e n she answered him eyes and ran m a n y colors, like layers of tinted did her m a n n e r change. T h e n a certain sand in a revolving bottle. Suddenly the sphinxlike look c a m e into her eyes: it was as :

T h e C o d e s of P h o e b e a n d E r n e s t : B y I n e z H a y n e s G i l l m o r e if a cool, d a r k curtain rolled down over their soft, smoky g r a y . She did not thrust or p a r r y according to her habit with him. Once or twice she smiled enigmatically. Ernest did not dance again. H e disappeared to sanctuary the moment the music began. B u t the instant it stopped he reappeared, his eye finding and following P a g e Eliot. T h a t gen­ tleman seemed unusually hilarious, unusually busy. Not until the intermission, when he hurried

was Page Eliot and Laurette Folli: talk. Involuntarily, he listened"

He started to

to get some ice-cream a n d c a k e for Phoebe, did Ernest get a chance to speak with him. " C o m e o n outside a moment, E l i o t , " he said, gripping P a g e ' s shoulder. " I ' v e something im­ portant I w a n t to tell y o u . " I n point of fact what E r n e s t told P a g e w a s not at all important. B u t it cannot be set down here. Thereafter, E r n e s t disappeared from the hall. B u t never had P a g e been more in evi­ dence. H e danced, as w a s fitting, more often with P h o e b e than with a n y b o d y else. H e did not approach L a u r e t t e Follis. T h e instant the last note of the final waltz sounded, P h o e b e turned to him. " P l e a s e take me home at o n c e , " she said. " I have a dreadful h e a d a c h e . " Eliot conducted her to his machine, cranked up, a n d deposited her at her father's door in an incredibly short time. T h e speed of their progress accounted, per­ haps, for the entire lack of conversation be­ tween them. H a v i n g w a t c h e d P h o e b e safely indoors,

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P a g e j u m p e d into his auto, drove b a c k to the garage and left it. T h e n he strolled briskly in the direction of the M a y w o o d C o m m o n . Half­ w a y across the green, a black shape arose from a bench a n d intercepted him. " B e t t e r wait a w h i l e , " it said briefly. It was Ernest. T h e width of the bench between them, they sat for several minutes without speaking. O v e r h e a d the moonless a u t u m n s k y sagged under a heavy weight of stars. A b o u t them, trees and bushes were as move­ less as petrified things. B u t a feverish excitement sluiced through the streets radiating from the C o m m o n . Auto­ mobiles, head-on, seemed to boil through the air, seemed to inject conelike floods of light onto lawns and into windows. Passing, they tapered to a sigh a n d the pin-point red of their tail-lights. G r o u p s w a l k ­ ing in various directions, a n d singing as they went, plunged finally into darkness, distance and silence. A t last there remained not a sound but the soft stir with which E l i o t blew smoke rings, not a movement but the silent red arcs which his cig­ arette made. ' 'All right now, I g u e s s , " Ernest said. T o g e t h e r they emerged from the M a y w o o d C o m m o n . T o g e t h e r they leave. walked to the M a r t i n house. B u t they did not go in. Instead, tiptoeing through the shadows, they m o v e d over to the stable. Ernest opened the door the width of his body. Eliot followed him in. T h e door closed, Ernest went about lighting the stable lanterns. T h e r e were several of these. T h e y gave a good light. P a g e began rapidly to unpeel himself from his dress clothes. With an alacrity even greater, E r n e s t followed suit. T e n minutes later, Ernest w a s s w a b b i n g P a g e ' s white, blank face with the stable sponge. W h e n finally his eyes opened, they were quite void of their usual mocking glint, a n d he stared at Ernest under faintly puckered brows. " W h a t did you hit me w i t h ? " he inquired stupidly. " I crossed you with m y right," E r n e s t ex­ plained. " I ' d been holding that punch until you got careless about guarding your j a w . G e e , but "you're a whirlwind, all r i g h t ! " " I thought the rafters were coming in on m e , " P a g e said. H e relapsed into silence, closing his eyes an instant. E r n e s t did not speak. H e w a s struggling with an emotion that he h a d experienced on

The American Magazine similar occasions. N o matter how you hated a m a n . A n d L a u r e t t e — w e l l , I guess that's all J fellow, you began to like him the moment y o u w a n t to s a y . " licked him. E s p e c i a l l y w h e n he put u p so " O h , that's all r i g h t . " E r n e s t was pain­ plucky a fight as P a g e . E r n e s t h a d w o n fully e m b a r r a s s e d . longer fights, but never before such a h a r d one. B u t , curiously enough, now he could talk, and P a g e might be a fusser, but he w a s g a m e . did. I n fact, after they left the barn, following All E r n e s t ' s sense of a sore antagonism h a d an inexplicable impulse, he w a l k e d a little way vanished. H e felt as free a n d clear a n d h a p p y with his late enemy. W a l k e d until suddenly, as if somebody h a d given him a present. It under the electric light at the entrance to the passed vaguely through his mind that if y o u M a r s h place, they ran into M r . M a r s h , father made out a list of the fellows y o u liked, the of Florence. classification would h a v e to include, some­ " W h a t the—what are y o u two young bucks where and somehow, the ones with w h o m y o u doing out at this hour of n i g h t ? " he inquired had fought. A n d yet he w a s conscious of a genially, stopping them. T h e n he started. kind of embarrassment, too. H e would h a v e H e burst into c a c k l i n g laughter. " W e l l , I will liked to talk to P a g e , but he could not think of be h a n g e d ! W h a t h a v e you been fighting anything to say. H e used his bleeding nose as a b o u t ? O u t with it, E r n e s t ! " an excuse to souse his head repeatedly in a pail E r n e s t , following the line of least resistance, of water. started to " o u t " with it. " I heard P a g e say something about my " Eliot arose. H e began to dress. " I guess I ' l l tell y o u something about this " A u t o m o b i l e ! " P a g e interpolated swiftly, business," he said suddenly. " Y o u had a with a steellike clutch at Ernest's arm. license to get sore if ever a m a n had. B u t the " T h e n E r n e s t got g a y a n d c a m e through with truth of the matter is that I ' v e been engaged too m u c h lip. I replied with my best. After to L a u r e t t e F o l l i s ' f o r three years, on a n d off. the dance, w e h a d it o u t . " She's broken it off several t i m e s — a l w a y s with­ " W e l l , y o u two f o o l s ! " old Marsh com­ out reason, it seemed to me. Of course I mented. H e looked at them, not an atom dis­ should not have said w h a t I did about y o u r — turbed. T h e r e w a s even a suggestion of envy what you overheard. A n d I apologize now. in his fattish, white, blue-eyed, silver-whiskered B u t these girls can p l a y the very devil with a face. " W h y , I h a v e n ' t h a d a feeling like that

" ' W e - e - e l l ! ' M r . Martin greeted his son at breakfast the next morning. hung the lamp on y o u ? ' "

'Who

for forty y e a r s ! T h a t ' s right, fight it out when you can. T h a t ' s what it means to be young. I used to fight at the drop of the hat. W h e n I began to wonder whether it w a s u p to me, I knew that I w a s growing o l d . " " W e - e - e l l ! " M r . M a r t i n greeted his son at breakfast the next morning. " W h o hung the lamp on y o u ? " " I s n ' t it a p i p p i n ? " Ernest said lightly. " P a g e Eliot and I got into a discussion about automobiles last night and w e settled it after the dance. T h a t ' s a l l . " " O h , E r n i e , " M r s . M a r t i n ' s tone w a s heart­ broken, " I thought when y o u fought with Horrie T a t e it w o u l d surely be the last time. Why will y o u keep getting into trouble ? If you should get any of y o u r teeth k n o c k e d out— I ' m so p r o u d of them. N o w c o m e right up in the bathroom with me and I ' l l see what I can do about that e y e . " Phoebe did not come down to breakfast. B u t later, when E r n e s t went u p to his room, she

arose from the telephone, presenting to him a white, w a n face that had not k n o w n sleep. " I saw you and P a g e go into the b a r n , " she said in a dull voice. " I sat up and watched for you to come home. I ' v e just called T u g up on the phone and told him about last night from beginning to e n d . " " W e l l , I ' v e got one thing to say to y o u , P h o e b e , " Ernest said listlessly. " Y o u were right about that proposition of telling the truth. T h e r e are some times when a m a n ' s got to l i e . " N e v e r h a d words so simple produced an effect so complex. P h o e b e ' s head dropped to the telephone-table. She burst into a frenzy of weeping, the more terrifying because it w a s silent. " O h , E r n , " she begged when the sobs c a m e far enough apart to let the w o r d s out, " d o n ' t say that! B e c a u s e it m a k e s me feel I ' v e been such a b a d influence over y o u . P l e a s e keep on just the w a y you were. I see now that it's up to a w o m a n a l w a y s to tell the truth. I shall never tell another lie as long as I l i v e — never—never—never!"

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L I V E R Y

THE RICH

I N

A M E R I C A

SNOBBERY

OF

AS

IN

S H O W N

SERVANTS'

BY

JESSE

THEIR

C L O T H I N G

L Y N C H

I L L U S T R A T I O N S

T H E

B Y

WILLIAMS R.

M .

C R O S B Y

"/ remember ivell our first tualk to see the totvn—the people, although they must have belonged to very dif­ ferent stations in life, looking surprisingly alike infeature and expression as ivell as habit; . . . . no liveried coachmen or servants . . . "—Carl Schurz's comment on New York in 1 S 5 2 . From his "Reminiscences."

S T O N I S H I N G if true. L e t us hope that G e n . Schurz w a s mis­ taken. L i k e so m a n y idealistic foreigners, he c a m e to A m e r i c a keen for signs of democracy. H a v i n g early acquired the habit of risking his life for the cause of h u m a n liberty he m a y not have given that c o m m e n d a b l e attention to servants which en­ ables some of our modern writ­ ers to tell a second man from a footman at a mere glance—• even a parlor maid from an upstair servant —with the accuracy and thoroughness of welltrained butlers. B u t let that pass. G e n . Schurz meant well by this nation and helped to preserve its union. E v e n if this chapter r a k e d u p from its chief city's past be true, w e h a v e b r a v e l y lived it down. F o r a simple democracy where all men are born free and equal w e are now doing pretty well in the w a y of livery, and improving every year. O n e firm alone, in N e w Y o r k , has a list of nine thousand different purchasers thereof. N o r are they all N e w Y o r k customers. The " p r o v i n c e s " are coming on. T h e civilizing touch of livery has penetrated the wilds, and will soon m a k e the desert streets to bloom like circus day. T h e time is not far distant w h e n " s m a r t e q u i p a g e s , " surmounted b y g r a v e visaged coachmen and grooms in boots,

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breeches and properly-cut b o d y coats, will reach across the land of the free and the home of the b r a v e in one unbroken line, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. A w a l k up Fifth A v e n u e already presents a sight to thrill the heart of every true patriot, and even Thack­ e r a y ' s J e a m e s Y e l l o w p l u s h would find much to praise a n d little to criticise. Unliveried coachmen are now as rare as liveried ones used to be, and in such a large number of cases they h a v e grooms beside them. T h e r e on that b r o u g h a m he could see the old familiar plumcolored livery of the ancient house of Vandalplunks (railroads). " T h a t has always been the family color of the V a n d a l p l u n k s , " I was reliably informed b y a l a d y w h o ought to know. T h e r e on that limousine, rapidly passing the V a n d a l p l u n k s , w e see the steel blue of the well k n o w n Steal family (Pittsburg). Here comes the irridescent green of the G u s h e r s (oil), the claret of the Achliebers, and passing on the other side, more gorgeous than any of them, we behold the b a b y blue, with white pipings a n d white boot-tops, of a l a d y whose family we won't mention. T h e y might not like it. Scarlet w o u l d p e r h a p s be more symbolic than b a b y blue, scarlet livery with a device of prim­ roses in the crest on the buttons and harness. B u t it indicates that nothing is lacking to make o u r s h o w complete, a n d that J e a m e s would find almost as m a n y varieties of liveries as in his beloved L o n d o n , with the possible exception of s h a b b y ones. M o s t deplorably old and faded liveries on vehicles d i n g y and archaic m a y b e seen every d a y over there, as for in-

L i v e r y in A m e r i c a : B y J e s s e L y n c h W i l l i a m s stance, that of the D u c h e s s of S o - a n d - S o , who somehow seems quite unconscious and uncon­ cerned over her shabbiness as she swings around H y d e P a r k corner. N o w , ours, it is pleasant to observe, are almost invariably smart and new—the w a y liveries, surely, ought to be. I once asked an authority on such matters what a family does when, b y chance, it has no old family color. " W h y , they get o n e , " w a s the prompt reply. It is perfectly simple. Well, it is only just to add that most of ours are rather modest, quiet colors, thus paying a delicate compliment to the taste of the ancestors who might have chosen them had they not been too busy tilling the soil or selling things over the counter. T r u e , trifling mistakes occasionally creep in. For instance, cockades are sometimes sported on the otherwise correct silk hats of coachmen and grooms in families not of the A r m y , N a v y , or (as yet) the diplomatic service—not from any craven desire for illicit glory, but simply from the worthy motive of doing one's best, regardless of expense. Sometimes the coach­ men themselves are compelled to elucidate these subtle distinctions to their mistress. (Servants in the new A m e r i c a find so many demands upon their tact.) B u t in one case I know they wouldn't tell. T h e y liked the cock­ ade. It g a v e them distinction in the waiting lines of other carriages. T h e y gloried in their fictitious fame u n t i l unfortu­ nately one day t h e i r mistress happened upon some advertisi n g literature published by a clothing store, which enlight­ ened her. T h e n she understood w h y her neigh­ bors s m i l e d and, blushing, o r d e r e d the c o c k a d e s re­ moved. W e live and learn.

faux

Such pas, it is a mat­ ter of national p r i d e to add, are becoming rarer every year. W e are a great people. One of our notable traits is adaptability. O u r women especially are fam­ ous for it, and it is usually the wives who attend to these important matters, just as

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they do to the adorning of their own per­ sons, also in more or less splendidly barbaric colors, both thoughtful efforts reflecting credit upon the eminent solvency of the man who pays the bills. Such w o r k is the true function of women, her sphere being the home. A l l that makes the home more beautiful and gracious is worthy of her attention. And so when she drives out from her sphere it is only right that she should have two men on the b o x in white breeches, top boot and appropriate b o d y coats in the old family colors; one of them to look respectful and drive, the other to look respect­ ful and j u m p lightly down occasionally to open the door. E v e n the most expensive carriage doors are sometimes hard to open, and no man with a spark of manhood in him wants his wife to work. W o m e n are m a d e for the beautiful and easy things in life, like child-bearing. B u t it must not be assumed b y the vulgar and inexperienced that liveries in A m e r i c a always come easy. N o t yet. I t has been a long hard fight to eradicate the lingering taint of Jefferson and the influence of the F r e n c h Revolution. T h e effects of the blight are still felt occasionally. F o r instance, quite recently there w a s a certain impudent A m e r i c a n coach­ man w h o told his mistress that he would be damned if he'd put his legs in " t h e m t h i n g s " —referring to a perfectly proper and quite ex­ pensive pair of "leathers "—that his legs would not take this civ­ ilizing step even for the sake of the F o u n d e r of this civilization which w e delic a te1y call Christian. F o r another lady there was once a s c e n e even more tire­ some because more p u b l i c . She had kindly led her chauf­ feur into a shop to be measured for a really fine livery, w h i c h ought to have pleased him. It cost enough. " D o you expect me to dress like that, m a d ­ am ? " he asked respectfully. " Y e s , J o h n , all the best people's feurs " B u t J o h n had started for the door.

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" W h e r e are you going, J o h n ? " " T o find you a new chauffeur, m a d a m e . " T h e r e w a s nothing to do but w a l k out, telling the salesman that she w o u l d " c a l l again." T h e chauffeur is an a n o m a l y and therefore a perplexity. H e is a more or less skilled mechanic and comes of a different class from the c o a c h m a n and groom. I n fact, he is creating a new class of his own, a n d is more difficult to adjust in the economic and social scheme than the captain of a yacht. T h e latter can stay on board his metier, but a chauffeur cannot be housed and fed in his car. H e is threatening the do­ mestic s o c i a l equilib­ rium, just when w e were getting things nicely bal­ anced in A m e r i c a . W e need some competent au­ thority like Y e l l o w p l u s h to give an expert opinion on this. H e would not countenance their sitting on the stone balustrade in front of a " f a s h i o n ­ a b l e " h o u s e , swinging his legs and s m o k i n g cigarettes, and yet such scandalous procedure has been tolerated b y their masters (or perhaps we should say, employers) because they were such v a l u a b l e servants (or employees). T h e r e is more trouble ahead when flying machines become a fashionable necessity. T h e panic of 1907 for all its inconveniences, had this good effect,—it taught m a n y a forward servant his place. S o anxious were they for work that more than one independent A m e r i c a n coachman became willing to w e a r " l e a t h e r s , " or even no breeches at all, in order to sup­ port his family; more than one scientificallyeducated chauffeur meekly learned to dress like a R u s s i a n prince to keep from starving. T h e panic was b a d , but there are gains for all our losses. T h e s e fellows c a n be relied upon not to vote for reform measures after this. T h e y will " l e t good enough a l o n e . " O u r advance in true civilization since the d a r k ages which C a r l S c h u r z r e m e m b e r e d , half a century ago, is m a r k e d not only b y beautiful out-door liveries, but b y in-door liveries even more beautiful. I n a g r o w i n g n u m b e r of our old established houses m a y be seen a double row of well-matched footmen in short clothes, or " c o u r t liver­

i e s " ; just as fine ones as y o u m a y see a b r o a d where they h a v e courts—silk stockings, silver buckles, plush breeches, and long-tailed, many-buttoned, much-braided coats in the family color, the color the house has always had. B y house is meant old family, not new hotel. T h e r e is a peculiar satisfaction in know­ ing that the good J e a m e s would approve of this. H o w his appre­ ciative eye would brighten at a glimpse of his be­ loved plush at the en­ trance of one of our ven­ erable Venetian palaces or fine old X V t h century châteaux. T h e y are ex­ cellently made, of the b e s t i m p o r t e d livery cloth, well cut and well filled as to the stockings; for these r e t a i n e r s are c h o s e n (from the best looking of the younger peasantry on the ancestral estates) on somewhat the s a m e principle, as simi­ larly decorative choruses for comic opera, except that they are not supposed to sing or d a n c e , any more than the wax-works at the E d e n M u s é e . In some of our especially noble houses, these fellow h u m a n being of ours are required to sprinkle their heads with powder, though this is stated on hearsay. O n the rare and memorable occasions when the services of a s q u a d of such able-bodied men have been detached to g u a r d a n d guide me up on perilous j o u r n e y s of several y a r d s past other valuable interior decorations, I have been far too m u c h impressed to notice. B u t it really doesn't matter. F o r at the present rate we'll c o m e to it in a n y case. A n d w h y not ? They are quite expensive. J u s t give us time. See what splendid strides w e h a v e already made in that direction; a n d w e a simple young de­ m o c r a c y with a h e a v y h a n d i c a p of virginal ideals. II N o w let us e x a m i n e in detail a few of these more interesting liveries, h o w they are made, w h e n and where they are worn, a n d how much they cost—which is a l w a y s a n unfailing source of interest to us A m e r i c a n s . T h i s is not a matter of mere idle curiosity, but a subject of deeper personal interest to us

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all than appears at first glance. W e m a y deceive ourselves b y assuming a benign and lofty objectivity like Prof. T e u f e l s d r o c k h in " Sartor Resartus," but as a matter of fact our children or our children's children m a y all be buying livery, or wearing it. S o it is well to be informed. Unless, that is, they decide to change a few things which m a n y good and worthy men still naively believe right and immutable— perhaps for the same reason that all physicians over forty years of age at the time of H a r v e y ' s discovery poo-poohed his theory of the circulation of the blood.

that I have gained much of m y inspiration and material for this important monograph, F r o m a careful research in this volume a n d other authorities it appears that for a coachman wearing trousers the body coat should reach a point about three inches above the knee, " j u s t long enough, as he sits down, to allow the skirts coming to the knee-cap without falling over." W h a t would happen if they fell over is not stated, F o r the groom, however, the correct length is "five inches above the k n e e . " Y o u m a y think this difference of two inches a mere arbi-

First a few general principles. I n all that concerns the stable, be it understood, E n g l a n d has the first say, a n d the last. I n regard to the chauffeur, the rapidly accruing body of tradition still shows the dominating influence of France, for F r a n c e happens to be the country which first developed the automobile, and hence has given us much of its nomenclature— chassis, chauffeur and automobile itself, though in the latter case the E n g l i s h term " m o t o r " is rapidly supplanting it, because it is shorter or because it is English. T h e F r e n c h influence is occasionally shown in our house liveries, too, notably in the case of some of our clubs. A recently completed and very beautiful club for women (both suffrage a n d anti-suffrage) is a good case in point. B u t the vast pre­ ponderance of our ideas in livery like most of our livery-cloth is i m p o r t e d from E n g l a n d — w i t h this difference, that a duty is imposed upon the cloth, whereas the ideas are un­ protected, thus illustrating the excellent principle that it is better to encourage material production than the production of ideas. " F i r s t in g e n e r a l im­ portance is the body-coat, a coat that rightfully should vary in length according to whether it be worn with trousers or breeches; that must be longer when worn by coachmen than b y g r o o m s . " T h i s is from a chapter dealing with " S u m m e r and Winter D r e s s L i v e r y for C o a c h m a n and G r o o m " in a standard work on the subject, published b y a well-known clothing store and distributed free of charge. It w a s from this source that the l a d y referred to learned to take the cockades from her coachman's hat, and

trary w h i m of T y r a n t Fashion. Nothing of the sort. T h e theory is that since it is the groom's duty not only to fold his arms a n d sit up straight, but to unfold them a n d j u m p down to open the door, he must not be unduly impeded in his life-work. So much for the trousers aspect. N o w let us consider the coat from the point of view of the breeches, so to speak. When breeches are w orn (light stockinette, heavy stockinette, or " l e a t h e r s " as the old orthodox buckskins are called) " t h e length of the coachman's coat is arbitrarily determined b y dropping his arm full length by his side and marking the spot touched by the third, or longest finger. T h e groom's c o a t , however, should be just two inches above the point m a r k e d by the third, or longest finger," when his arms are dropped full length at his side. I n case of an abnormally long armed or short b o d i e d man, discharge him. Y o u r coachman, it need hardly be added, must be larger than the groom-— though not too large either; he should be trim and dapper, except wdien grand carriages are needed. T h e n he should be fed up con­ siderably. " C u r i o u s l y e n o u g h , " to quote again, " y o u m a y or­ nament body-coats w i t h collars of plain velvet in colors such as y o u r taste indicates; but fancy collars and cuffs are in the worst possible form, A g a i n , while the Valentian sham vest must always be worn, real shoulder knots haven't yet been invented." T h a t makes the problem of shoulder knots somewhat difficult, T h e groom-—this is important—has six buttons on the back of his coat, while the r

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The American Magazine

coachman has to get along as best he m a y with four, two at the waist line, a n d two near the bottom of the skirt. T h e middle pair, seen on the groom's coat when he j u m p s down, is omitted from the c o a c h m a n ' s , perhaps because they would scratch the seat-box. B u t this omission is not noticed, even by our novelists, because the coachman does not j u m p down and hence does not expose that portion of his costume. So it really does not matter m u c h about the lack of buttons. Nevertheless this is fre­ quently made u p to the c o a c h m a n by giving him six buttons in front, against only five for the poor groom. B u t there is a growing ten­ dency among certain schools of thought on the subject to give them both impartially six buttons in front. T h e r e is one m a r k of dis­ tinction, however, enjoyed by the c o a c h m a n to which the groom will never attain so long as he is a groom-—FLAP POCKETS. NO, he l a c k s flaps. Indeed for that matter he has no pockets at all. It goes without saying that the boots should be made of stiff calf-skin, or better, of imported enamel leather a n d must be kept in trees when not worn. Nothing is worse than accordion­ like boots which fall down a n d disappear, thus wasting twenty-two dollars worth of perfectly good conspicuous waste-—or, if both the coach­ m a n ' s and groom's sink from sight, forty-four dollars worth. T h u s it is the truest economy to buy two pairs of boot trees at nine dollars a pair. T h e boot tops s h o u l d be tan, white, pink or what y o u please, except w h e n the men a r e grieving over the demise of their master, their mistress or other d e a r ones in the family—the mas­ ter's family, nat­ urally; to mourn visibly for t h e i r own d e a d would be s u c h an un­ warrantable l i b ­ e r t y t h a t it is * doubtful if a case ever c a m e up for a decision. T h e boots should be of a height to show, a b o v e the tops, exactly three buttons of the breeches. Well, the rest of the livery is quite as im­ portant a n d complicated, so much so that there

is not space in this m a g a z i n e to g o into all the interesting esoteric details of hats, dress hats a n d undress hats, town dress hats and summer dress hats, b a d weather cassimere hats and undress coaching hats; of gloves, of neckscarfs or plastrons, of scarf-p>ins which must be horsey a n d symbolic, of Selby coats, of sham waistcoats a n d d u m m y greatcoats. A word, however, about greatcoats. F o r though you should " n e v e r use greatcoats unless absolutely necessary on account of the weather (body coats are so m u c h s m a r t e r ) " all the same it is good to k n o w that " m a n y of the same general rules that govern the body coat apply to the overcoat, particularly so in the case of buttons, flap pockets a n d shoulder k n o t s . " T h e ques­ tion of length is a l w a y s interesting. Let us quote. All these quotations h a v e been verified. " A s to length w e might s a y that when worn by a c o a c h m a n it should fall to about three inches a b o v e his shoe tops, except when wearing breeches, in w h i c h case it should not come lower than the middle of the boot tops; the reason for this being that if wearing boots and driving without a robe, his well-polished and perfectly fitting boots must be in full view." T h a t seems reasonable, a n d leaves nothing to be said. A s to the groom's greatcoat, five inches below the knee is long enough. Gener­ ally speaking, this length is about the same whether worn with breeches or trousers. Great­ coats, t r i m m e d with P e r s i a n l a m b and heavy silk frogs in the R u s s i a n style; English box cloth, black, blue, green or claret, $ n o . Two for two twenty. With a disquieting sense of having done scant justice to the matter of dress carriage liveries w e now pass r a p i d l y over the topic of undress c a r r i a g e liveries a n d proceed to the second g r a n d division of our subject, Indoor L i v e r i e s , p a u s i n g only to remind the gentle reader that " u n d r e s s livery is merely another n a m e for w h i p c o r d , whether m a d e up as jacket suits or with real coats having flap pockets," jacket being used in the familiar English sense, •—"sack c o a t " it is v u l g a r l y called by some of our compatriots. A s to length there is no rule of t h u m b , nor of " t h i r d or longest finger" -—smart a n d short is the general principle. B r e e c h e s a n d leggings—especially box cloth leggings, are smarter a n d are generally pre­ ferred b y c o a c h m a n to trousers.. Strictly speaking, undress livery is for the country, a n d for the s u m m e r , except at fash­ ionable resorts w h e r e dress livery is necessary b e c a u s e b r o u g h a m s a n d victorias are used, but in s o m e of our middle Western cities many per­ fectly rich people are unfortunately still a little timid a n d rather tentative in these matters, so

L i v e r y in A m e r i c a : B y J e s s e L y n c h W i l l i a m s they use whipcords even on broughams and victorias for fear of being laughed at by their uncouth neighbors. S o m e of the same people, however, have a chance to show what they can really do when they attain to N e w p o r t in the summer, thus producing one of those curious inversions of tribal taboos which ethnologists delight to discover: country livery in the city —city livery in the country! 2 dress body coats (without velvet collars) 2 pair leathers 2 Russian greatcoats 2 pair boots, including tops 2 silk hats Accessories—vests, bootjacks, boot-hooks, boot-trees, mackintoshes, gloves, collars, frieze waistcoats, plastrons, breeches trees, etc. . 2 whipcord suits, cutaway coats with breeches and leggings 2 top coats 2 undress hats 2 pair shoes Total for two men

JF O o . o o 80.00 2 20.00

44.00 12.00

i 74.00 81.00 60,00 6.00

7.00 $744.00

799

T h e footmen's court liveries already referred to are normally the only highly-colored ones we can boast of in A m e r i c a n houses. I n d e e d for that matter few of our contemporaneous plutocracies, whether constitutional monarchies or not, can boast of m a n y more varieties in their home-sweethomes, except in the a b o d e s of k i n g s , and we haven't any kings here, though our stal­ wart captains of industry o f t e n buy princes for their daughters because nothing is too good for them.

The s e c o n d man is a liveried servant, to be sure, but his long trousers, with mere pipings on them, and a high-cut, striped waistcoat, make him look quite simple and butleresque alongside of the silver buckled, kneebreeched, plush covered brethren. Still, he is rich in bright buttons, both fore and aft. T h e n there is the page who has so many he is called "buttons"'—he surely ought to qualify as a liveried servant'—and in some very smart households an E a s t Indian or an E g y p t i a n is inserted with native turban and inscrutable face, perhaps in order to v a r y the color scheme. It is quite smart to have some thing of this sort to appear, noiselessly, as a sort of special personal servant at the table, or as a valet. English families often become so at­ However, with the outfit carefully estimated tached to native servants while living in above you can get along quite decently so far I n d i a that they bring one or two home, like as these two men go. B u t stable b o y s ' and sandalwood fans. T o be sure, w e have no ordinary grooms' whipcords are cheaper, cost possessions in India, but what of i t ? little more than y o u r secretary's clothes. In fact Nurse-maids show some variety in their you can save money and still be decent by costume, generally according to their nation­ substituting, for instance, light stockingette ality, from the characteristic English nurse­ ( $ 1 8 ) or heavy stockingette ($20) for leathers maid bonnet with the white strings, to the ($40), and jacket suits for coat suits in the often gorgeous attire of the warranted wetundress list, not to speak of cutting down in nurses imported from F r a n c e or Italy. B u t overcoats. T h e one hundred a n d ten dollar all the other maids are likely to be uniformly ones are not absolutely necessary. Some clothed, in some houses all in white, but gener­ seasons they are not worn a half dozen times. ally in plain black, with slight variations from Chauffeurs' outfits m a y be less, though they year to y e a r in their white caps a n d aprons, can be more, expensive. B u t even now before thus maintaining the balance between the two pricing indoor livery it is not difficult to under­ sexes; in the master's family the ladies w e a r stand why the livery business fell off during the colors and complications; among the ser­ the panic and why T h e o d o r e Roosevelt is so vants, the men. T h i s compensating arrange­ ment appeals to one's sense of sex justice. properly detested. Of course you can get more expensive shoes for them than that last item if you insist, and a few more hats a n d so on, not to speak, indeed of an entire additional livery or two, a silver gray one, for instance, appropriately smart for modulating your process of mourning, from black to colors. T h e n too, you really ought to invest in crest dies so that your livery buttons m a y appropriately show the arms your ancestors bore upon their shields at Bunker Hill and B r a n d y w i n e . D i e for large buttons, $ 2 5 , for small, $ 2 0 ; buttons per dozen $3.50. Also, some of our best people have their livery cloth m a d e to order in a special weave a n d colored in a special dye which has been kept a secret in the family no one knows how long.

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w o m e n must be housed a n d served, should not their homes a n d servants be built and decorated according to the best traditions handed down b y those w h o h a v e been on the job through the centuries? T h e master of the house can hardly be expected to invent new livery or a new architecture. H e leaves such frills to w o m e n and architects—neither of whom if too radical is likely to be kept in his employ;—he is too b u s y downtown in an American sky­ scraper, the only architecture he has influenced to express his o w n a g e , aspirations, and indi­ viduality. U p t o w n the livery goes very well with his L o u i s X V d r a w i n g rooms, his Beauvais tapestries, his imported ceilings—better, indeed, than his o w n plain "business suit." B u t though he is not there enough, as a rule, to hurt anything, y o u could hardly expect him to m o v e out entirely, because he pays for it. N o r could y o u expect him to go downtown, to earn the m o n e y for all this a n d other civilizing processes, dressed like a doge. T h e sleeves w o u l d catch in the ticker. H e m a y be the only one out of the uptown picture, for his wife and daughter blend in better, but, y o u see, he owns the picture. H e is a patron of the arts. Often, he can tell the names, dates a n d prices of old masters. I n the case of more than one of him he can appreciate their excellence with­ out appraising their value. I n any case it is Ill well to h a v e wives a n d other dependents so A T first glance this tendency t o w a r d F l u n k y - decorated that they c a n do no productive labor ism m a y not seem consistent with the ideals a n d so displayed as to prove it, thus practising what s o m e economists which brought a b o u t call " v i c a r i o u s leisure" the e x i s t e n c e of our for the busy man, ac­ nation. It is as yet cording t o t h e con­ merely a tendency, to be sciously or unconsciously sure, a n d has reached f o l l o w e d i d e a l s of its full flower only in "honorific w a s t e " in the E a s t e r n edge of the our g r e a t pecuniary c o u n t r y , and t h e r e culture. merely in sporadic cases. B u t the seed spreads Not that all this should rapidly on rich ground, be put down to vulgar a n d w e are notably rich. display or the aping of It has blown westward. foreign customs. Sup­ It is flourishing here. It pose he is not in the has taken root there. least vulgar, and does T h e home of l i b e r t y not care a hang about wdll soon be the home a p i n g a n y b o d y ? For of livery. there is a far less con­ N o w , to some people scious a p i n g in this imported s e r v a n t s in country than many of " c o u r t " liveries m a y never look at home in o u r satirists, both of home talent and foreign, an A m e r i c a n house. B u t the s a m e incon­ w o u l d h a v e us believe, and even among the ex­ gruity might be urged against the house a n d tremely rich there are extremely interesting and its anachronistic architecture—one of those intelligent persons. It has been known to hap­ spacious Italian palaces or ornate F r e n c h pen. W h y it is that some of these, unstrenuous chateaux. A n d yet, so long as men a n d men a n d w o m e n with the simple manners and T h e present smart tendency to put butlers in dinner jackets—or " T u x e d o s " as some call them—in the morning has much to c o m m e n d it. F o r in plain sack coats or c u t a w a y s with gray trousers they look entirely too much like gentlemen. Afternoon is the only time you can be sure they are not distinguished guests. Y o u can get a fine p a i r of house footmans' plush breeches for twenty-five dollars, buckles included, a n d a court coat for twenty-eight, plush waistcoat, twelve; shoes with buckles, five fifty; silk stockings, four; total $74-5°· Y o u would hardly want more than four, six or eight or a dozen of these. L i k e indetermin­ ate equations in higher mathematics, footmen in high life " e n t e r in pairs, if at a l l . " A second m a n ' s house livery is considerably cheaper. A butler's dress suit can be less or more than the second m a n ' s livery; his morn­ ing suit, less. P a g e ' s , porter's a n d similar liveries come at bargain prices. S o does, in­ congruously, the uniform of that supremely important and sometimes temperamental artist, the chef. F o r nothing more elaborate has been designed for him than the simple but immaculate white cap, jacket a n d apron. B u t he is not exhibited. T h e test of his pudding is in the eating.

L i v e r y in A m e r i c a : B y J e s s e L y n c h W i l l i a m s low voices of more than one generation of breed­ ing, people of tact, taste and even humor, who have nothing to gain by being impressive a n d are not impressed by what they have gained (by work or inheritance)'—why in the name of common sense and comfort should such as they s u r r o u n d themselves with an atmosphere w h i c h does not contribute to the beauty, dig­ nity nor true " e l e ­ g a n c e " of life, as the worthy Victor­ ians phrased it ? A retinue of lazy ser­ vants, dressed like monkeys, a p p e a r ­ ing and disappear­ ing like automatons, watching w i t h ex­ pressionless e y e s , listening with alert ears, gossiping with vicious t o n g u e s , m a k i n g mischief, g e t t i n g fat, being discharged and sometimes unpleasantly for b l a c k m a i turning up again or rather as witnesses in divorce suits—it does seem stupid

801

custom we might not altogether approve of. It is easier to drift with the current in unim­ portant matters than to row against the stream, and a smiling tolerance of much that is comic in life is necessary in order to have time and e n e r g y to do our own w o r k in the world. All that has been said of collars ap­ plies of course to liveries, the expense of one b e i n g in some cases no more, relatively, than the e x p e n s e of the other. M a n y A m e r ­ icans who can af­ ford a great menage have not gone in for a complex domestic ritual ( a s y e t ) . " W e have only half a d o z e n servants'— enough for comfort and decency." M a n y other A m e r ­ icans who can af­ ford collars and cravats still consider them effete. T h e y wear only enough clothes " for comfort and decency." B u t give both kinds of and unnecessary for all who, unlike mon- Americans time. T h e conscious luxuries of archs, are not compelled by the common peo­ one generation become the (more or less) un­ ple thus to encumber themselves, and w h o conscious necessities of the next. It is easv might just as well enjoy the true luxury of to tie a cravat or give orders to footmen when simplicity, the real dignity of privacy, which y o u ' v e learned how, and habits once acquired nearly everyone wants—like monarchs'—and are hard to break. T h o s e who smile at their for which homes are supposed to exist. more prosperous neighbors' pretentiousness in putting a previously unnecessary servant in T h e n w h y do they put up with it ? Some more or less expensive English clothes upon because they are accustomed to it, others be­ the box of an American carriage, may not have cause they want to be. B u t in neither case, smiled at themselves for putting an unnecessary after all, is it much sillier to surround one's and more or less expensive plate upon the person with such things than to surround one's dinner table at each person's place between neck with a stiff, starched collar. A n d yet not courses-—only to be whisked a w a y again before a few of us do so, even in August, whether w e receiving even the contribution of an olive seed. have liveried servants or not. Such irrational encumbrances of linen and starch may not be All such customs, whether beautiful or not, particularly beautiful or comfortable, and they are likely to be followed, soon or late, by those are put on probably not with a snobbish motive who can afford them. T o display that fact of aping the style of E n g l a n d where the collar m a y not always be the conscious motive, though was either made or designed. It is simply that amusing idea is usually found at the that the wearing of this absurd thing happens origin of the custom'—influenced by utilitarian, to be the custom in many places, and in most esthetic, or moral motives. F o r the pecuniary cases we bend the neck to custom without canons of taste seem to affect us all more or thinking or caring much about it. What would less, whether in a money-getting line of en­ be the u s e ? T h e slight gain in comfort by deavor or not, and their adventitious ideals " l e a d i n g our own l i v e s " (which no one does affect our inherent ideals whether w e approve or can do) would hardly compensate us for of them or not. It w a s so in R o m e , it has been the added inconvenience of defying every so in other civilizations, a n d will be so in all

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The American Magazine

Therefore, livery should be studied seriously, civilizations a r r a n g e d by l a w for r e w a r d i n g the worthy acquisitive talent with the ultimate whether y o u belong to the oligarchy at the control of all other worthy talents—which, it top, w h i c h keeps the p o w e r to rule in the m a y be discovered too late, are also necessary hands of a few trusted men, or to the och­ locracy at the bottom, w h i c h does not al­ for the empire a n d the race. L i v e r y m a y not seem to be in accord with w a y s think well of " l e a v i n g good enough those ideals a n d institutions w e boast of a b r o a d , a l o n e " ; or to the disturbed a n d distributed or perspire over at home on the F o u r t h of J u l y middle, w h i c h h a s v e r y little time to think at — w h a t e v e r w e m a y do the other 364 d a y s of the all in performing the modern romantic feat of y e a r in the w a y of cultivating democratic sim­ maintaining a family a n d a sense of humor plicity, when w e h a v e to. B u t livery a n d all at the s a m e time. T h e r e is no country which the rest are quite in accord with . needs livery so badly as our the ideal w e worship as a people, own. Class distinction of birth a n d with the institution we pro­ a n d breeding doesn't work here. tect as a nation beyond all other N o b o d y p a y s a n y attention to modern n a t i o n s — t h e ancient it, except those who have it, ideal of possessing wealth, the and there aren't enough of them long established institution of to m a k e a class. Besides, such P r i v a t e Property. F o r livery is distinctions are un-American a mere corollary of property'— a n d unnecessary. Why have when y o u ' v e h a d it long enough. caste distinctions when you can It does not matter what your h a v e c a s h distinctions? Much father's ideals m a y h a v e been. more A m e r i c a n . A n d livery is Plant property, a n d in time the proper w a y to show these livery, a n d all that it connotes, distinctions, for liveries are ex­ will sprout, flourish a n d exfoli­ pensive a n d conspicuous. They ate like the G r e e n B a y tree. m a k e a splendid and effective Call the s o i l " democratic,'' if y o u medium through which money enjoy the illusion, but it makes can talk. not the slightest difference.

DANNY B Y

O' S H A N E

H E L E N

L A N Y O N

Danny O'Shane was a farmin' lad Danny O'Shane, ivhen the nights was warm, Brought by my da from a hirin' fair; An' the young stars climbin' over the hill, The one luck-shillin' was all he had, Would gather the lads from field an' farm No shoe to his foot, no hat to his hair. An' sing to them in the evenin' still. But he'd sing like a bird in the face 0' dawn, An' I'd creep to the door like a secret thing, And he'd sing at his work in the glowin' noon, An' liftin' the latch without a noise, And he'd sing when the yellow dusk was drawn Would stand at the crack to hear him sing, Over the light 0' the risin' moon. As he sat among the farmin' boys. When Danny O'Shane had milked the cows An' stabled the ass in the wee ass-byre, He would come singin' up to the house With a creel 0' peat to mend the fire. An' stoopin' his head to the lintel Iovj In the name 0' God he would wish me well; An' his voice would come ringin' rich an' low, An' swing in my heart like a silver bell.

Danny O'Shane has traveled West Overseas to the stranger's land, To sing the heart out from their breast, And the yellow money out 0' their handBut I cannot spin nor sew a seam, My work is spoiled for thinkin' long; An' Danny O'Shane comes into my dream, An' steals my soul with a simple song.

'MAY

I

ASK,

THE

MY

DEAR

FIELD

SIR,

OF

WHO

HIS

ARE

YOU?"

FAME

BY

GEORGE A U T H O R

OF

" E M M Y

L O U . "

MADDEN " L E T I T I A ,

I L L U S T R A T E D

M

B Y

R. J . Q, MANN, Joshua Quincy Mann, paused in the doorway leading from the main body of the world-famous Art Gallery, of which he was a director, into its rotunda. He had been attending a board meeting made memorable by the formal gift from himself of a certain Dutch painting long lost to the world in a private English collection. It detracted noth­ ing from the occasion that London was gnash­ ing its teeth over the securing of the picture by an American. As he drew on his gloves and snapped home the clasp buttons of the same, he glanced around. That he was a person of con­ sequence the manner of his glancing betrayed. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a closetrimmed grizzled beard, his smiling blue eyes looked out from the face of a robust, con­ tent and well-preserved man of affairs and the world. • His was the genial affability of one who can afford to be patron, benefactor and friend. His glance having found what it sought, a quiet and pleasant-looking young woman busying herself over a table of cata­ logues and pamphlets at one side of the ro­ tunda lobby, it then lifted to the face of the stone dial with the gilt hands above the door of exit. Yes, this gave him five minutes to the good, and Mr. Joshua Quincy Mann, many times millionaire, dominant factor in the manufac­ turing history of the day, director in a dozen big industrial concerns, clubman, yachtsman, patron of art, all around good fellow and altru­ istic citizen, crossed the lobby in his smiling and personable way to speak to Miss Maur­ ice, the lady behind the table of catalogues. He had been one of her sponsors at the time of her application for the position, and it keeps the indorser in humor with the person thus answered for when he or she does him entire and laudable credit.

J.

MARTIN

N U R S E R Y

S C O T T

C O R P S .

U.

S.

A. .

W I L L I A M S

He shook hands with her, chatted a smiling moment about routine matters and accepted her pleasant felicitations on his munificent gift of the Dutch picture. Then he graciously asked about her own private affairs. "And your sister, who opened a studio on leaving the Art School, or was it after her re­ turn from a year in Paris—yes, that was it— does she prosper?" Miss Maurice laughed with a certain quaint dryness. "She letters and illuminates prayerlets and verselets for a firm which floods the Christmas and Easter markets with printed thousands of them, or she would be a studioless, even hungry martyr to the cause of Art. Perhaps you would like a verselet, say a Ste­ venson optimism, done all for yourself, to hang above your desk as a daily uplift and re­ minder? Say the word and I will have my sister make one for you." Mr. Mann smiled, buttoned his top-coat, even laughed, his teeth gleaming pleasantly be­ tween his ruddy lips within the grizzled beard. Then he lifted his silk hat to Miss Maurice, laughing too, and went. "The Civic Commission Building," said he to his chauffeur as he entered the big car wait­ ing at the curb. He had a meeting there of the Board of Federated Charities. .He was back from Washington only this morning, where he had been in the interests of the manufacturers in regard to the tariff schedule, having stopped there on his way East from the National Educational Conference in Indiana, toward the expenses of which he was a large annual contributor. Mr. Joshua Mann was looming large in the affairs of to-day. This recent matter of the Dutch painting was bringing his name consid­ erably to the fore on both sides of the Atlantic. A man of such parts in the full exercise of his 803

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805

powers, especially if the trend of these be altruistic, is to be pardoned for the pleasurable g l o w resulting from such exercisings. A different path was that chosen by his only and moth­ erless son. At that age when he, Josh

Mann then, was a clerk in a retail store in his native town, following a common-school ed­ ucation, his son en­ tered West Point. It had been the boy's d o g g e d l y maintained desire. He, the father, had been of the opin­ ion that Quincy would tire after the four years, by then preferring freedom and his own pur­ suits. But not so. The " ' She letters and illumi nates prayerlets and verselets for a firm which floods profession contin­ the Christmas and Easter markets' " ued to hold the boy. Well, there was time enough for the abandoning of it later. The genuously and patently honest, which is to training would not come amiss in the part say so himself, and thus so ridiculously lova­ ble, his attitude of rejection would have been he presently would have to play. Right now Quincy, advanced to a first lieu­ irritating. Not a man colleague on that trans­ tenancy, was on the eve of sailing from San port journey out, unless the fact were known Francisco for his initial service in the Islands. at the start, would leave ship at the other end True enough, it was literally the eve of his aware that young Mann was the son of the sailing. Mr. Joshua Mann had allowed the date Mann, Joshua Quincy Mann! From the board-meeting of the Federated to slip him! He would wire him as soon as he Charities, which held him half an hour, Mr. reached his own office. Care of the Presidio, was it, or the St. Francis? In the telegram, Mann was whisked back to his own office. An he would open up his proposed plan to follow hour given here to dictation would bring it to him out shortly, and the two spend the boy's five o'clock. It was his program then to go home, dress, dine at the Dilettante Club, and leave together in Japan. There had been an indefinable but mourn­ attend the opening performance of the new ful note in Quincy's letters, dutiful missives as opera. A genial and affable attitude toward they were, during the last of his stay at the life was Mr. Joshua Mann's. But first he would wire Quincy. The Crook, Southern seacoast post from which he was ordered to the Islands. Good old ingenuous or was the transport The Crook? Yes, The Quincy, with his shock blonde head which the Crook it was, would sail at 6 a. m. to-morrow. four years of West Point grooming could not And Mr. Mann, having permitted his secre­ tame or subdue; whom money apparently tary to relieve him of his hat and coat, ap­ could not spoil; or that prominence entice proached his desk, piled with the opened mail and memoranda accumulated for his inspection which might be his in his father's world. If this big son of his had not been so in- since noon.

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The American Magazine

Ah, as he glanced at the same, here was Quincy anticipating him by a wire. Good, dutiful old Quincy. What? What? What was this? "Engagement consummated this a. m., with Miss Eliza Tombigbee Calhoun, of Little Calhoun, S. C , at present guest at Presidio. Married to same this m. Sail with same to­ morrow a. m. Kindly make our peace with only immediate relative of same, Miss Eliza Tombigbee, aunt, Little Calhoun, S. C. Par­ ticulars to follow by letter from Honolulu." It is a curious thing that when Mr. Joshua Mann recovered himself sufficiently from his indignation, outrage, wounded parental sensi­ bilities and a few other things, to think at all, paramount in his consciousness should be a lively and positively unreasoning animosity to­ ward the said Miss Tombigbee, aunt, of Little Calhoun, S. C. He could not have explained it even to him­ self, and did not try to. He was content to harbor it, and indulge it. It grew with the pas­ sage of the hours to a deferred bedtime, it deepened with a bitter consideration of it over­ night. It was most unreasonable and ridicu­ lous, but eminently comforting. It was past noon of the ensuing day however, when he found his thoughts repudiating the mass of business waiting before him, and for­ mulating a possible letter to this lady. "My dear Madam,"—it was somewhat in this fashion the thoughts of Mr. Joshua Mann phrased themselves,—"You will be good enough, I trust, to supply me with any data you may be in the possession of concerning the matter on which I write. I refer to the mar­ riage of Miss Eliza Tombigbee Calhoun, who I am instructed is your niece, to Mr. Quincy Mann, of the U. S. Army, who is my son. "If there be seeming bluntness in the asking you will lay it, I trust, my dear madam, to the entire ignorance on my part concerning this young lady prior to the receipt of my son's tele­ gram of yesterday, and also to the natural con­ cern of a parent in the affairs of his only child. "May I, therefore, with all courtesy and the sincerest of motives for doing so, ask some­ thing of the status and condition of'Miss Cal­ houn, your niece, now the wife of my son? And also something of the whereabouts of Little Calhoun ? "Anything further you many see fit to com­ municate will be received with—" Mr. Joshua Mann had gotten thus far in the formulating of a possible letter to the lady in question, when a clerk entered with the mid­ day mail, and laid it, open for his consideration, before him. It included a notification from the board of

the Art Gallery of the hour for the formal acceptance of his gift; a report from the secre­ tary of the Board of Prison Reform, of which he was the chairman; a letter from a magazine editor relative to a proposed sketch of himseif in connection with capitalized philanthropy; some promised statistics from Washington; an acknowledgment of his check for the endowed theatre movement; reports, communications, appeals, hours for meetings from institutions, corporations, his church vestry; and—a letter closely written in a flowing feminine hand on plain stationery. The heading to it caught his eye—"Little Calhoun, S. C." And Mr. Joshua Mann drew it sharply forth, as he found himself anticipated from that quarter as it were, tapped its folds to flatten it, put his eye-glasses astride his person­ able nose, resettled himself in his mahogany and leather desk-chair, and read:

Mr. J. Q. Mann,

Little Calhoun, S. C. ' M a r c h

2 I s t

T h e M a n n T o w e r Building, Metropolis.

M y dear Sir: When a c o m m o n calamity falls equally upon two people, however remote from any previous knowledge of each other, each has a right to such information as the other is possessed of, before making any move toward readjustment to the new condition. I allude to the marriage--of Miss Eliza Tombigbee Calhoun, my niece, for some time past a guest in the house of General Cyrus Pickens in San Francisco, to one Lt. Quincy M a n n of the TJ. S. Army, lately resi­ dent in the post in this community, and reported by himself in his telegraphic communication to me a few hours since to be the son of yourself of the above ad­ dress. I will not conceal the fact that while my indignation is great toward any man who would urge a young girl to such a step, my dismay is no less pronounced toward my niece, that a representative through direct lines of descent from so much, nay most, that has made this section significant, could betray that blood by so unrestrained a step. Perhaps you will say that your son was counte­ nanced, in that he was accorded some degree of wel­ come in my house, even to staying as a guest beneath my roof, the T o m b i g b e e estate being twenty miles up the river from the post where he was stationed. T o this I will reply that he came properly introduced by those young gentlemen of this community with w h o m my niece has been associated from her child­ hood. A n d that in this section, such introduction is re­ garded as a virtual noblesse oblige on the part of the introduced. It seems to me, my dear sir, that your son has illrequited the hospitality of a section not prone to throw its doors and its cordialities wide to the casual comer, or to the unknown and unidentified world at large. Having made clear to vou my rights to a sense of great injury, outrage and grievance toward your son, who has persuaded a young girl to marrv him while removed from the guardianship of her accustomed environment and her own people, I further ask the right to certain information from you.

" The gesture with which Mr. Joshua Mann lifted his hand to his brow, succeeding the of reading this epistle, was almost feeble " In other words, Mr. J. Q. Mann, in that I have en­ deavored by implication to make clear who myself and my niece are, may I ask, my dear sir, who are you ? I remain yours to command in the present matter, E l i z a

C h e r a w

T o m b i g b e e .

Tombigbee Hall.

The gesture with which Mr. Joshua Mann lifted his hand to his brow, succeeding the shock of reading this epistle, was almost feeble. Then he straightened in his chair, but only to pass his hand, in dazed fashion, across his brow again. An august assemblage was gathered in the central gallery of the Art Building that after­ noon, the occasion being the formal acceptance of the recent gift of Mr. Joshua Quincy Mann, director and liberal patron of its welfare. Mr. Mann himself was almost the last to arrive. And even so, when he did appear in the big entrance doorway, he crossed the lobby to speak to Miss Maurice behind her table of cata­ logues, before going upstairs.

shock

Immaculate, even a bit pervasively imposing, his grizzled beard carefully trimmed, his blue eyes clear, top-coat on arm, silk hat in hand, he paused before the railed-off table of the lady. Was it possible there lurked a comical chagrin in the expression of this estimable gentleman? A twinkling yet unmistakable deprecation ? "Miss Maurice," said Mr. Mann briskly, " I find I have a commission for your sister after all, in the line of which you spoke. I speak of it now, because I am leaving for the South to­ night. An odd matter is calling me there, quite. You would appreciate it if I were free to give you the gist of it. I am going to endeavor to establish the credentials and qualifications of a man, what man being the point you would appreciate, my dear Miss Maurice. As to the commission in the motto line, I would prefer it on parchment, under glass and properly framed for a man's private office. The words to be emblazoned are,—perhaps you had better make a note of them upon your memorandum pad,-—' May I ask, my dear sir, who are you ? ' "

W H A T A FEW M E N D I D I N A

T R U E

D E T E C T I V E

S T O R Y

BY

J A Y

A L B E R T

ILLUSTRATED

W I T H

O F

PITTSBURG T O - D A Y

N O C K

P H O T O G R A P H S

A S you scan this drama, do not forget / \ that it took place in Pittsburg. / \ Pittsburg, the great industrial capital, the home of immense in­ dustrial fortunes, the incubator of million­ aires, the scene of luxury and extravagance almost unparalleled; the seat of magnificently equipped schools, museums, noble temples of religion, literature, art and music; Pittsburg, finally, the pious, church-going city, the focus of stanch, uncompromising North-of-Ireland Presbyterianism for the whole United States. Pittsburg is very proud of all this. Pittsburg, again, the citadel of the protec­ tive tariff; the obedient creature of the Penn­ sylvania bipartisan political machine; the pocket borough of Magee, Flinn, Bigelow; robbed right and left by its own city councils; every grain of its earth and breath of its air charged with misery for a huge army of in­ dustrial workers who exist under conditions of unspeakable hardness and hideousness, until they die of typhoid, accident, or overstrain. And for these things very few people in Pittsburg have seemed to care. Why? The working people are too tired to care about anything. They have to work so hard to hold their jobs that they have no spirit or strength for interest in anything else. Some of the others do care, really, but they have not seemed to care, for the simple rea­ son that the economic situation underlies every­

hand laid on the Pittsburg city machine is instantaneously felt at Harrisburg, at Wash­ ington, and the current flies around the cir­ cuit back to the big offices in the Carnegie Building. There is a trunk nerve running from the city machine through the county machine, the State machine, to Penrose, Oliver, Knox, Dalzell, to the protective tariff— and there you make automatic connection with Pittsburg's pocketbook and industrial supremacy, and secondarily with the libraries and museums and trade schools and all the rest of it. Pittsburg's good people have winked at their municipal evils and put up with them as a bargain for the integrity of the protective principle. Quay, Penrose, Oliver, Knox, and the rest cost a good deal in terms of honor and decency, and cost a little money too, indi­ rectly—that is, it should be passed up to the taxpayers—but we had to keep them in their places or endanger our chances for getting very rich, and putting Pittsburg on the throne of industrial supremacy, and having the schools, libraries, art galleries, churches, and all the good things that flesh is heir to. The great theatre in Copenhagen bears the legend, "Not for Pleasure Only." Read this as a detective story by all means; but think at least once or twice of the economic condi­ tions that it indicates.

thing.

Something over a year and a half ago a loose-tongued reporter, chatting with a Pitts­ burg councilman, took a roll of $ 2 5 0 out of his pocket and remarked: "Well, they have divided the bank swag —here's mine!"

It underlies the industrial system, the schools, art galleries, the social life, the Scotch Protestantism, and the municipal politics. "Turn the rascals out!" is easy talk; but a 808

W h a t a F e w M e n D i d in P i t t s b u r g : B y A l b e r t J a y N o c k

Photograph T.

D .

hy Evans

H A R M A N .

F O R M E R

P R E S .

B O A R D

O F

809

Photograph P U B L I S H E R .

G E O R G E

P I T T S B U R G

T O R N E Y .

T R A D E

S E R V r C E

R.

W A L L A C E ,

P R E V I O U S

A T -

C I V I L

C O M M I S S I O N E R

F.

R.

P R E S .

B A B C O C K .

P I T T S B U R G O F

by

Evans

L U M B E R M A N . C H A M B E R

C O M M E R C E

Five of the men who carried on the extraordinary campaign against graft in Pittsburg. All of these had close connections of some kind with the men who were caught in the investigations. In no case, however, could they be deterred from prosecuting to the full extent of the law

"How in the world do you come in for Not many honest men were in the Pittsburg that?" the astonished councilman inquired, councils just then, but he was one of the few. Blind luck had put into his hand the first as soon as he could find his tongue. "Don't know," replied the budding jour­ piece of direct evidence that bribery was nalist indifferently, "because I'm a good responsible for the iniquitous bank ordinance fellow, I guess"—and putting the roll back of 1908—the ordinance that he himself with a few others, a scandalously small minority, in his pocket, he lounged away. The councilman happened to be honest. had contested bitterly.

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The American Magazine

He lost no time getting up to an office on Guthrie to make contracts with them on their the eighth floor of the Frick Building where agreement to pay two per cent, interest on half a dozen men had gathered to hear his the deposits. But five other banks of equal responsibil­ story. There was nothing remarkable about these men. They were not rich as Pittsburg ity had also applied for appointment, offering lists its wealthy citizens, nor faddists nor to pay two and one half per cent. Why not appoint them? professional re­ It was a matter formers. T h e y of straight busi­ were only a ness for the city handful of hon­ to get the best est, solid men bargain it could. who were will­ One half of one ing to risk some­ per cent, is five thing to he 1 p mills on the dol­ their town. lar; not much, They w e r e of b u t on a mil­ the s o r t that lion and a half of makes s t r o n g dollars it counts and p a t i e n t up $7,500, and lighters w h e n any thrifty pub­ put to it; coollic servant h e a d e d , farmight see that sighted, deter­ t h e difference mined, and was worth knowing h o w pocketing. It to hold their was enough to tongues. Their pay the mayor's leader was per­ salary, for in­ haps the most stance, and a unusual figure little more. among them. A. Leo Weil is a Mayor Guth­ corporation rie vetoed the l a w y e r and a ordinance at J e w . He has once and used practiced h i s up a scholar's profession f o r vocabulary twenty-two t w i c e over in Photograph by Jarrett years in Pitts­ telling the counburg — and be­ H. D. W. ENGLISH c i 1 s what he yond a living, All around, the most influential man in Pittsburg. He was thought of it. he cares noth­ The councils largely the brains and balance-wheel of the proceedings ing w h a t e v e r w e r e not imagainst the banks and councilmen. He holds many positions for money. p r e s s e d , not of responsibility in the movement for civic welfare, but always even interested. To get at what keeps his own activity out of sight T h e y simply these men were doing, we must understand that Pittsburg's sailed the measure over his veto at top speed, deposits of city money amount to about stood pat, and told the mayor-that the next $ 1 0 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 a year. Divided among, say, six move was up to him. banks, it comes to $ 1 , 6 0 0 , 0 0 0 apiece—a very Bribery! The thing was perfectly obvious. neat little plum even for banks that think in Enough councilmen had been bribed to turn millions as the Pittsburg banks are supposed the ordinance in favor of certain banks, so that to. Hence every four years, when the de­ they could get their appointment at a cheap positories are elected, there is not perhaps a rate at the city's expense. Everybody knew scramble exactly, but a kind of unmistakable, it, but who could prove it—prove it, that earnest motion among the Pittsburg banks to is, with the kind of proof that would pass get appointed. In the spring of 1 9 0 8 the muster against political influence in a court, councils passed an ordinance naming six a Pennsylvania court, and an Allegheny banks as depositories, and directing Mayor Countv court?

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It was a tall order and Mayor Guthrie Here was the problem that faced them: could not rill it. He did his best. The First, to secure unshakable evidence police and city detective force under his that the Pittsburg city councils could be command groped around a while perfunc­ bribed. torily, with' one eye closed, got tired and Second, to secure unshakable evidence reported failure. The mayor was helpless. that they had been bribed in the bank or­ Then the men dinance affair. in the F r i c k They decided Building took t h a t the best hold. They had way to find out already had whether countheir eye on the cilmen were ap­ situation a long proachable was time, but they to a p p r o a c h were not the them; and that kind to precip­ the best way to itate t h i n g s get incriminat­ prematurely ing e v i d e n c e and make a mess about the bank of them. Chance, ordinance deal pranking be­ w o u l d be to tween the re­ get it from the porter and the councilmen honest council­ themselves. Ac­ man, had crys­ cordingly, they tallized their laid their plans indefinite suspi­ in such a way as cions and given to make the one them a s t a r t , thing lead up and now they naturally and determined to i n e v i t a b l y to go to work and the other. do the thing that T w o detec­ had been offi­ tives c a m e in cially declared from o u t s i d e impossible. And and posed as they did it. It agents from a cost them nine­ wood-block teen months of A. L E O W E I L , — P R E S I D E N T OF THE paving concern. hard, nervous VOTERS' LEAGUE To all appear­ work—the kind M r . Weil prepared the ammunition and fired all the guns in the ances they were of work t h a t campaign for a clean city. For twenty-two years he was a per­ good, lively bus­ saps a man, sonal friend of E. II. Jennings, the convicted banker, and he iness men, highthat m a k e s had very close business connections with many others whom grade salesmen, his head ache, he put under indictment fully in the con­ that makes him fidence of their tired at the end of a year. It cost them employers, and with the wood-block situa­ money, ' business, antagonisms, miserable tion at their tongues' end. They considered misunderstandings, the stress of resistance Pittsburg carefully, looked up what was to golden temptations. Before they got doing in the line of new pavement, made through, it cost them the bitterness of see­ acquaintances in the way of business, and ing some of their best and oldest friends all told, behaved as good missionaries should. crushed in the machinery of the law that Occasionally they met a councilman or two they had set in motion. Patriotism in in the Duquesne or Union Club, invited Pennsylvania comes high, and civicism in a couple of them to dinner once or twice, Pittsburg comes especially high; but these but made no especial point of cultivating When wood-block pavement came men resolutely charged off every costly per­ them. sonal item to profit and loss and stood up in conversation, as of course it some­ times would, it came casually and naturally through to the end.

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and never reached the point of propositions or particulars. The councilmen did all they could to show that they were hospitable toward the wood-paving idea, throwing out hints here and there that wood-block might be made to look like a good thing for Pitts­ burg if handled in the proper way, that there were means of getting such things convin­ cingly represented to the councils, and so on; but the salesmen-detectives did not take the cue. The city fathers, used to a more straightahead style of bargaining, impatiently put these men down as backnumber salesmen, •who ought to be handling Sunday-school books for the Y. M. C. A. instead of selling wood-block to a municipal council. Indeed, John Klein, the councilman who first turned State's evidence, afterward spoke of this phase of the investigation with plaintive disgust. "Those fellows never mentioned money," he said; "all they did was to buy us fine dinners, and set up asparagus tips. Now, what the hell do councilmen know about asparagus tips? " The missionaries disappeared presently, and for some time nothing more was heard of wood-block. The councilmen let the incident drop out of mind as a good chance lost through the stupidity of salesmen who were not up to date. Meanwhile, the men in the Frick Building had been in correspondence with a very remarkable man by the name of Robert Wilson, of Scranton. Very little is known of Wilson up to the time he appeared in Scranton, except that he had a trade—machinist—that he had worked as stoker, engineer, and roustabout on long sea voyages, and had been in about every country in the world. Fie drifted into Scran­ ton as an itinerant preacher, and nightly harangued considerable crowds from the tail of a wagon. His preaching had some de­ gree of power, and a good many who had listened out of curiosity got under conviction and remained to pray. Wilson worked at his permanent constituency until he judged he had them in shape to join a church, and then in the true democratic spirit took a vote on what church they should join. The majority declared for Presbyterianism, so the next Sunday morning W ilson marshaled his whole congregation to the nearest Presbyterian church and turned them over to the pastor. Although Wilson had thus worked himself out of a job for the time being, he had at­ tracted attention and won respect; and when Scranton decided to clean up its evil munici­ pal conditions, and the Municipal League was formed, Wilson somehow gravitated to r

the head of the movement, carrying his re­ ligion with him. He never makes an im­ mediate decision in any matter of impor­ tance, but goes to his room, gets down on his knees, and prays for light—and usually gets it. When some one asked him what methods he used in his new business of detective workevidently thinking that bis brilliant success was due to some new psychological theory he said: " Suppose, now, I am on a graft case. I take my Bible and concordance, go up into the garret, say my prayers, and look up every reference in the Bible on the subject of graft. I read them over and over till my mind is full of them, and then I go down to the city hall and hunt a grafter." It is not cant—it's all real. This survivor of the Ironsides soon became the terror of lawbreakers in Scranton. No one knew where he was going to turn up next. He flitted about like a fiesh-and-blood ghost—but he always was on hand at the right time in the right place. He had no end of adventures: his life was often threatened, and once or twdce attempted at long range. Once he caught a number of men in a gam­ bling house, arrested them all single-handed, and close-hercled them down the street to the lock-up. They were enough of them to have eaten him alive, but it was Wilson, and they felt it would be cheaper in the long run to let him have his own way. A big man who reads the Bible for light, and says his prayers, and can fight like a grizzly bear in the con­ sciousness that he is right, is a very, very hard man to interfere with. And this was W'ilson. The men in the Frick Building wrote to him explaining what was wanted, and asked him to come over to Pittsburg and help them out. Before he left Scranton he arranged wdth a wealthy lumber­ man there named Dolph to borrow his name for use in Pittsburg. The two men—Wilson and Dolph—look a good deal alike, so that Wilson might make a fair go of the impersona­ tion under almost any circumstances. Tak­ ing a few assistants he slipped quietly into Pittsburg one night, and next day his assist­ ants opened an office as agents of the old familiar game—wood-block pavement. The trap was laid with splendid skill. Wilson went to live at the Fort Pitt Hotel, choosing a quiet room in a remote part of the building, where he improvised a kind of whispering gallery. He bored holes in the doors that led into adjacent rooms, fitted small megaphones into some of them, from the opposite side, and reamed out others until the wood around them was thin as

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paper. An eye laid against these holes would until it had tried his line. Now, it had 0 0 command a clear view of everything taking curred to him that while the city might be place in his own room, and an ear at the conservative about trying it on any large megaphones would hear every sound. scale at first, it would perhaps consent to Meanwhile his associates had interviewed test it on some short street. A little influJohn Klein and William Brand, the council- ence would be very convenient in getting such men who long ago had dined with the guile- an ordinance through, and he had been given less wood-block missionaries at the Duquesne to understand that Brand and Klein were Club. T h e y said v e r y influential in they were represent­ the councils. . . . ing the United States So he thought it Lumber Co., and might be well to in­ would like to do some quire whether they business in Pitts­ could be interested, burg. In fact, the and p e r h a p s they house was so desir­ might be able to tell ous to start some­ him whether such an thing in the woodordinance might not paving line that they somehow be slipped had p r e v a i l e d on through. . . . Mr. Dolph, one of ' ' S u r e , it'll go their retired direc­ t h r o u g h , ' ' said tors, to give the mat­ Brand, tired of beat­ ter his personal at­ ing around the bush. tention. Mr. Dolph "Sure thing!—if you wanted v e r y much put steam enough to see some men behind it." who had influence in A happy smile of the councils, and he mutual understand­ was now at the Fort ing and indirection Pitt Hotel. Would vanished. Wilson they go and talk it agreed to furnish over with him? steam; K l e i n and Photograph fiy National Photograph Co. Brand to furnish or­ Klein and Brand WILLIAM A . BLA K E L E Y dinances as long as agreed. This was W h o , as District Attorney, was in charge of the the steam held out. something l i k e . prosecutions. Shortly before these were begun Then they sat down Here, e v i d e n t l y , William Brand, the councilman whom he after­ to talk it over, and were men who were ward convicted, saved him from probably a fatal their plans and pro­ up to d a t e , and accident while riding in a train jects r a n g e d far ready to talk about a f i e l d . They besomething more animating than asparagus tips. They con- came optimistic, enthusiastic. Pittsburg's sented with alacrity, and were on hand street mileage was nearly one third woodat the Fort Pitt Hotel at the appointed block by the time the interview was over, time. And that was all for the day—duly noted by Wilson was on hand, too,andfourother men the hidden witnesses, were concealed in the adjacent rooms. Two Wilson himself did not realize how cornstenographers were at the megaphones, and pletely he had taken these men in, nor the the others at the eyeholes. Wilson received lengths they were prepared to go. After anthe councilmen with bland urbanity as be- other interview or two, Klein and Brand came a retired director lending the weight of seemed to think they ought to do something his dignity to get the house a fat contract, to show their confidence in Wilson's intenand the councilmen rested at ease. This, at tions, though he had not yet given them a last, was the real thing in wood-block. dollar of real money or offered a definite After a few polite preliminaries, Wilson bargain. One day, to the utter amazement broached the matter of wood paving and of Wilson and his associates—none of them talked about it most impressively. Pittsburg dreamed of such a thing—Klein and Brand needed it, ought to have it. Pittsburg really rushed an ordinance through the councils could not know what good pavement was directing that Fourth Avenue should be

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paved with wood-block. Fourth Avenue! one of the main commercial thoroughfares of Pittsburg! Klein came back to Wilson in high feather. " That's how we do things, you' see," he said. "One of us introduces it—then a motion to suspend the rules, bang!—then it goes through on first and second reading, bang! bang!—then finally it passes, bang!" The men in the Frick Building had solved the first half of their problem. The Pitts­ burg councils could be bribed. Now for the second half—to prove that they had been bribed in the bank-ordinance affair. Wilson was now so far in the confidence of Brand and Klein that he might easily have gotten them to talk about theif past trans­ actions in the councils. But grafters are kittle cattle, their suspicions are restless, and he judged it well to be on the safe side. So he ex­ pressed himself delighted with the Fourth Avenue ordinance, and divided up $ 1 , 3 6 0 be­ tween Brand, Klein, and Joseph C. Wasson— all in the presence of the hidden witnesses. Wilson's standing as a friend of crime was now settled beyond question. But he wanted more ordinances. He wanted lots of them and was walling to pay for all he could get. Klein and Brand had been very kind to give him the Fourth Avenue ordinance on credit, though of course they knew he was a gentleman and would pay. Still, for the future, it would be more businesslike to ap­ point a stakeholder. If they could recom­ mend a good responsible banker, he would make a deposit, and then when any little paving job went through the councils, they need only step up and take the money. The banker, however, should be some thoroughly trustworthy person—that is, some one who had acted in a similar capacity before, or one, at all events, that they had enough hold on to be sure he would not betray them. They said that in William W. Ramsey, president of the German National Bank of Pittsburg, they had the very man. Ramsey was safe, because they had him tied up in the bank-ordinance deal. Here was the longsought opportunity. Wilson was politely interested in the men­ tion of the bank ordinances, and inquired about them. The councilmen told the story freely, proudly. Sums aggregating about $ 2 5 , 0 0 0 had been collected from certain fa­ vored banks for distribution among councilmen. Klein himself did most of the dis­ tributing, as usual. He said that whenever any grafting measure was put through, "they all waited for the angel of charity to ivalk—and I was the angel of charity." Klein produced

a list of the councils and checked off the men who did not participate; there were so few of them, he said, that it was easier to check them than to check the crooked ones. Most of the amounts were small. The councils, in Klein's opinion, were pretty cheap—"a btrrt affair," he called them. "Some could be bought for a suit of clothes or a five-dollar bill, and some with a postage stamp; others had to have more." Was this evidence enough? Here were Brand, Klein, Wasson, and a bank president all caught absolutely with the goods on them. Here was the testimony of t w o witnesses, sometimes three, who had looked on through the eyeholes at each interview that had taken place in Wilson's room. Here were two stenographic reports of an immense amount of incriminating history. Surely this must be evidence enough for anybody. For anybody, yes; but not for the men in the Frick Building. They had cut their eyeteeth. They had been in Pennsylvania courts already and knew the sort of work cut out for anyone Avho tries to match law and justice against Pennsylvania politics. A few months before, they had prosecuted a few of Senator Penrose's high-priced hired men for issuing fraudulent tax receipts. The evidence in those cases, too, they thought was plenty good enough for anybody, and so indeed it was, but it did not convict—some of it did not even get in. One witness was railroaded out of the courtroom in open daylight, taken across to Allegheny, and kept in hiding until after the trial was over. The judge, furthermore, seemed to have his mind rigged with bulk­ heads for the occasion. Sometimes he gave signs of knowing a great deal about due proc­ ess of law, and sometimes, again, he appeared not to know anything about anything—and the men in the Frick Building always lost out by these aberrations. One such experience was enough. They determined that in these investigations they were not going to raise the alarm until they had every exit safely blocked and the skylight spiked down. By a happy inspiration it occurred to them that if the banks had given the councilmen $ 2 5 , 0 0 0 , their books might show traces of a yellow-dog fund. If a posted examiner should come down on them unexpectedly, suddenly, and hold a special examination, he might find items that would establish a valuable line of collateral evidence. In this hope Mr. Weil went to Washington and laid the matter be­ fore President Roosevelt. The President had just come in from a game of tennis, and was feeling particularly

W h a t a F e w M e n D i d in P i t t s b u r g : B y A l b e r t J a y N o c k

GROUP

OF

INDICTED

COUNCILMEN

AT

CENTRAL

STATION

Mr. A. Leo Weil is the fifth man from the right standing before the magistrate's desk. councilmen are seated directly in back of him

fit and vigorous that morning. During Mr. Weil's recital he gritted his teeth, slapped Mr. Weil on the back at fairly merciful intervals —Mr. Weil is a small man—and called in the Comptroller of the Currency. Mr. Weil gained his point and they reached an agree­ ment, rather reluctantly on the part of the government, and the special examination was ordered. The President threw the entire responsibility on Mr. Weil and threatened him with frightful retribution in case the examination turned up nothing but a mare's nest. "If nothing comes of this." he cried, punctuating his warning with slaps on Mr. Weil's back, "somewhere—somehow—some­ time—I'll get you!" Thereupon he abruptly terminated the interview, gritting his teeth with great ferocity. It seemed to Mr. Weil a rather unnecessary display of excitement, as he was perfectly willing to take any amount of responsibility.; but he was satisfied to accept his success with almost any kind of accompaniment. The guess was a capital one. Almost at once the special inspector found convincing evidence on the books of the German Na­ tional Bank of Pittsburg. Pressed for an ex­ planation, the president and cashier made a full circumstantial confession of their guilt; but—the transaction had been between them­ selves and the councilmen only, and none of the other directors of the bank knew any­ thing about it.

815

The accused

Such disproportionate differences in life are made by the little huts and provisos and un­ foreseen conditions that Fate lays down. This little unguessed circumstance made a crucial difference to the men in the Frick Building. They were not yet ready to come out into the open and enter prosecutions—far from it. /They had Brand, Klein, Wasson, and the two bank officials, but what was that when there were so many councilmen and men higher up involved, and they wanted to get all of them? They were so near hav­ ing them all, so very near, and yet they dared not risk further prosecutions on the strength of the evidence of Wilson, and his stenographers. The Comptroller of the Currency rightly insisted that the other directors must be in­ formed at once, and the directorate was so large that our men knew this meant making the news public property. Detective work was at an end. The directors were informed on Saturday7and informations against Brand, Wasson, Klein, and the two bank officers were made on the Monday following. The stroke fell from a clear sky. From the day the young reporter distinguished himself until the Monday when the five men were taken into custody, not four persons in Pitts­ burg outside of those immediately concerned knew that anything was going on. The police

did not know it, the city and county detec­ tives did not know it, nobody knew it. When

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The American Magazine

in the course of the prosecutions the masterly this idea that men sprung from Pittsburg's detective work of Wilson stood revealed, the loins should show themselves capable of Superintendent of Police said to Mr. Weil: disinterested sacrifice for the public good. The storm beat on. Our men were silent, " 1 don't mind being beaten at my own game if I know it, but I must say it is a little hard discouraged, indeed, but not despondent. to have a thing like this going on under my They knew the five who were on trial would nose for all these be convicted, months, a n d I but knew equal­ n e v e r getting ly well that they wind of it." would take their dose, seal their But there was lips, and shield no more secrecy their associates. now, and the One chance, a men in the Frick slender one, re­ Building were mained, and our driven out of men took it. shelter into the It centered in wild excitement Klein; K l e i n , of the town. the ringleader They were who knew everya b u s e d and thing, remem­ maligned by the bered e v e r y ­ p e a c e-a t-a n ything with the price kind of trained, clearpeople for help­ cut, photograph­ ing give the city ic memory of a a bad name— riverman (which t h i n k of it ! he was): Klein, They were w h o had per­ threatened and sonally distrib­ plotted against uted most of the by the criminal money among element, and his associates, worst of all, mis­ and could give understood by off-hand the the tariffday, date, place, trained, goldhour, the small­ besotted con­ est detail of sciousness so Captain John Klein (on the right) on his way to prison in every transac­ long dominant charge of a deputy. Klein's confession supplemented b y tion and the in P i t t s b u r g , others made b y his fellow councilmen resulted in 168 indict­ words of every that thinks of ments involving 116 persons conversation. p o l i t i c a l and civic interest only in terms of what one can Had they not seen the proof of his marvelous get out of it. Press and people—the press memory on the stenographers' record of his covertly and suggestively, the people openly imaginary collusion with Wilson? If Klein —impugned their motives. "What do these could only be gotten to confess; if he could fellows want?" was the continual question. somehow be induced to speak and make pub­ "Does Weil want to be judge? Well, let's lic what he knew! elect him and stop this mess; it's ruining the Appeals had been taken in some of the town." "Does Blakeley" want to be governor? cases, and Klein was frequently brought into Well, let's give it to him and cut all this stuff court as a witness. Delicately, with Italian out; it hurts business." This kind of thing patience, the men in the Frick Building was heard day in and out, and you hear it worked on him, titillated his weaknesses, en­ yet. There are people in Pittsburg now who couraged his vanity, exasperated him with can't get it into their heads after nineteen adroit little taunts about his willingness to be months' experience, that the men in the a scapegoat, ridiculed the foolishness of his Frick Building want nothing but a clean town. impossible loyalty. Suggestion, continuous, To some it seems almost unconstitutional, pervasive suggestion surrounded him every-

W h a t a F e w M e n D i d in P i t t s b u r g : B y A l b e r t J a y N o c k where. It assailed him in the solitude of his prison. He gave no sign of its prevailing— he was jaunty, witty, apparently quite un­ moved; but beneath the surface this persis­ tent suggestion kept working until suddenly it reversed the whole current of his intentions. Late one night a mysterious, unkempt mes­ senger handed in a note addressed ^-1. Leo Weil. Personal, confidential

and private.

Mr. Weil

broke open the note and the burden of anxiety fell from his strained and tired mind. Klein would confess. Confess he did next day. By arrangement he was removed from prison, taken to the Frick Building, and there from two o'clock until eleven at night two stenographers were working at full speed upon his story. He spoke his whole memory out, shielding no one and favoring no one. Then he was taken back, and with a sense of immense elation and relief our men went about the completion of their task. They had won. Immediately they sent for six or seven guilty councilmen, weaker brethren, as they judged, and most likely to be frightened into corroborating Klein's story, and taking them one by one, broke the news that Klein had confessed. They assured each man that they knew every tack and turn of his dealings with the "angel of charity," and gave liberal samples of what they knew—telling such items as, for instance, the several amounts he got, the denomination of the bills, the pre­ cise hour, place, and incidental circumstances of his meetings with Klein, and so on—little matters that could not possibly be known un­ less Klein had told them. There was no resisting it; one after another the men broke down, confessed, and consented that their confessions should take record along with Klein's. Then the scene shifted for the final act which was to take place in the court room where the appeals in the cases of the original five were being heard. Numbers of guilty councilmen were among the spectators in the crowded court. The place had an unhealthy fascination for them. There was no terrifying appearance on the surface of the proceedings, no sign that they were in any danger, but the air was charged with a spirit of uneasiness and apprehension that quickly found its way from man to man. The District Attorney, obtaining permission to make a public announcement, stated that several of the councilmen implicated with the prisoners had already confessed; if others present desired to do likewise, one of the court would sit as a committing magistrate to hear them and every possible leniency, even

817

to the suspension of sentence, would be granted; but those who did not avail them­ selves of this privilege at once would be in­ formed against, and the law would take its course. The murky silence of despair settled over the. court room, and confession after confes­ sion began to creep in. A change of heart overnight brought more in next clay. The hearing adjourned early, and one councilman, fearing the day of salvation would pass him by, pushed forward to tell his story just as the adjournment was announced. The judge told him with feigned indifference that he had no time to hear him then—he might manage it to-morrow maybe, or the day after. None of those who were holding out had any idea how many confessions really had been made, and the effect of this simple ruse on the part of the judge was marvelous. There were so many confessions already in then that the court and prosecutors did not care whether any more came in or not. For the next few days the councilmen, stampeding for the indefinite safety of a suspended sen­ tence, besieged the committing magistrates in shoals. The men in the Frick Building had done their day's work. There are two separate sets of statistics showing what it all came to at the end of nineteen months. On the dockets and prison registers you may read of one hundred and eighty-six indictments and informations in­ volving one hundred and sixteen persons, three of them bank presidents, several of them worth many millions. And of all this the end is not yet. But on the saddened faces of the men in the Frick Building you may also read that Mr. Weil is a life-long friend of one of the jailed millionaire bank presidents, and for years his personal attorney; that he is an intimate friend of the jailed vice presi­ dent of the same bank; that he has lost $150,000 worth of business by his connection with these prosecutions; that W. K . Shiras has a valued client among the convicted men; that F. B. Babcock has a brother on the direc­ torate of the Columbia Bank; that Willis F. McCook is vice president of the Workingman's Savings, personal attorney and valued friend of the aged president who confessed to bribery and is now out on bail. It comes high indeed! But these men are not deceiving themselves with the idea that a city can be regenerated by putting people in jail. They know that no town can purify itself until it takes on an enr

The

8i8

American Magazine

tirely new philosophy of civic life and is edu­ cated into the saving graces of a new civic spirit. They have undertaken to represent this philosophy in Pittsburg and bear the pains of pioneering in the educational cam­ paign; and right well, when all is said and done, is the city falling in with them. Pitts­ burg is not cleaned up yet by any means, but as a whole, it is unquestionably lifted a little out of the old bad ruts of thought. More and more the workaday world of Pittsburg is doubting the orthodox social philosophy; and many a man there has definitely broken with the old standard doctrine that good law, good politics, or even good business means always and necessarily and exclusively something that one can make money out of.

Is it worth having at the price of an indus­ trial civilization of the kind prevailing in Pittsburg, Homestead, Braddock, and all that type of towns that William Cobbett called

Hell-holes?

Is industrial supremacy worth having when overstrain exhausts the whole working population into abject apathy? Are the great endowed technical schools worth having if they only train the next batch to a greater industrial "efficiency" than the present? Are the magnificent libraries, art galleries, churches, and music halls worth having if the people they serve are too enervated to look or listen? Is the iron-clad militant Protestantism of Pittsburg worth having if the city has to feel Is any amount of tariff protection worth its way toward elementary social Christian­ having at the price of Penrose, Dalzell, Oliver, ity under the leadership of a Jew? Ten years ago questions like these were and the State, county, and city machines? Is it worth having at the price of such civic never heard in Pittsburg. They are being asked now. Before long they will be answered. conditions as exist in Pittsburg?

M O R E

S A Y I N G S

OF

A B E

M A R T I N

T

A K E N from "Abe Martin s Brown County Almanack," which the author, Kin Hubbard, dedicated—"to my baby daughter, Virginia, who has lust found her toes."

HPIL MOOTS has put his garden all in, an' r p V E R girl has an age when she can't decide *~ says he expects t' raise ever'thing usually *-* whether t' try t' git married er to be a seen on a fust-class spring hat. trained nurse. T^vON'T a feller feel good after he gits out of a 'HpHER'S entirelv too many people in this ^ store where he nearly bought something ? A country lookhi' fer light employment. HTH'

feller that eats hash at th' New Palace q q M E folks pay a compliment like they went Hut-tel don t know what he's missed. 5 D O W N

RAGGED, broken-down feller passed th' A pustoffice this mornin' an' Pinky Kerr said: "You wouldn' think from lookin' at him that he played an elegant game o' billiards ten years ago."

CHEER likes.

I N

T H E R

P O C K E T

F E R

I T

. „ . . , . „„ ] \ T O T H I N ' L L stop some people but a small admission tee. T

n

T

T

T

T

1

T

T

"pOOD fer thought will remain on th' free list.

up—ther' hain't no one everbuddy - p X P E R I E N C E is a dear teacher, but he *~ delivers th' goods. t

C O M E women take great pride in ther hair ° and others never take ther' hat off till th' HTWO kin live cheaper than one—but not as curtain is nearly up. long.

A

STORY

O F GUILTLESS CRIME,

TERRIBLE

PUNISHMENT A N D

FAITHFUL

LOVE

Justice B Y

J O H N A U T H O R

I L L U S T R A T I O N S

G A L S W O R T H Y OK

BY

PERSONS Tames

H o w

/

' S T R I F E . "

J.

SCOTT

OF T H E

, • •,

V,, ,T ;· - solicitors W a l t e r H o w , tits son \ R o b e r t C o k e s o n , their managing clerk W i l l i a m F a l d e r , their junior clerk S w e e d l e , their office-boy W i s t e r , a detective C o w l e y , a cashier M r . J u s t i c e F l o y d , a judge H a r o l d C l e a v e r , an old advocate

ETC.

W I L L I A M S

PLAY

a young advocate V . C , a prison governor T h e R e v . H u g h M i l l e r , a prison chaplain E d w a r d C l e m e n t s , a prison doctor W o o d e r , a chief warder H e c t o r

F r o m e ,

C a p t a i n

D a n s o n ,

M o a n e y

)

C l i p t o n

[ convicts

O ' C l e a r y

)

R u t h

H o n e y w i l l ,

a woman

SYNOPSIS O F ' A C T S I A N D I I : — T o escape from her husband, who drinks and ill treats her, Ruth Honeywill goes to William Falder, whom she loves and who returns her affection, and asks him to run away with her. Falder, who is only twenty-three years old, is employed in the law offices of James and Walter How as junior clerk. Pressed for funds with which to pay the expenses of the journey Ruth urges, Falder alters a check drawn by his employers, from nine pounds to ninety pounds, and pockets the difference. He is detected, arrested, and confesses; he is then prosecuted and sentenced to penal servitude for three years.

A C T

I I I — S C E N E

I

T h e

G o v e r n o r .

{With curiosity] H a d he any set

plan?

A prison. A plainly furnished room, with two large barred windows, overlooking the prisoners' ex­ ercise yard, where men, in yellow clothes marked with arrou's, and yellow brimless caps, are seen in single file at a distance of four yards from each other, walking rapidly on serpentine white lines marked on the concrete floor of the yard. Two ward­ ers in blue uniforms, with peaked caps and swords, are stationed amongst them. The room has distem­ pered walls, a bookcase with numerous official-look­ ing books, a cupboard between the windows, a plan of the prison on the wall, a writing-table covered with documents. It is Christmas Eve. The G o v e r n o r , a neat, grave-looking man, with a trim, fair moustache, the eyes of a theorist, and grizzled hair, receding from the temples, is standing close to this writing-table looking at a sort of rough saw made out of a piece of metal. The hand in which he holds it is gloved, for two fingers are miss­ ing. The chief warder, W o o d e r , a tall, thin, military-looking man of sixty, with grey moustache and melancholy, monkey-like eyes, stands very up­ right two paces from him. Q u e e r - l o o k i n g affair, M r . W h e r e did y o u find it? W o o d e r . In his mattress, sir. Haven't come across such a thing for t w o years n o w . T h e

Wooder!

G o v e r n o r .

W o o d e r . H e ' d sawed his w i n d o w - b a r about that m u c h . [He holds up his thumb and finger a

quarter of an inch apart] T h e

What's think?

G o v e r n o r .

his n a m e ?

I'll see him this afternoon. M o a n e y ! A n old hand, I

Y e s , sir—fourth spell of penal. Y o u ' d old lag like him w o u l d have had m o r e n o w . [With pitying contempt] O c c u p i e d he said. Breaking in and breaking out— they think about. T h e G o v e r n o r . W h o ' s next h i m ? W o o d e r . O ' C l e a r y , sir. T h e G o v e r n o r . T h e Irishman. W o o d e r . N e x t to him again there's that y o u n g fellow, Falder—star class—and next old Clipton. T h e G o v e r n o r . A h , yes! " T h e P h i l o s o p h e r . " I want to see him about his eyes. W o o d e r . Curious thing, sir; they seem to k n o w when there's one of these tries at escape going o n . It makes them restive—there's a regular wave g o i n g through them just n o w . T h e G o v e r n o r . [Meditatively] O d d things— those waves. [Turning to look at the prisoners ex­ ercising] Seems quiet enough out here! W o o d e r . T h a t Irishman, O ' C l e a r y , began banging on his d o o r this morning. Little thing like W o o d e r .

think an sense b y his mind, that's all

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The American Magazine

S20

T H E GOVERNOR. A n d not much after­ wards, I ' m afraid. G r o u n d too hard for golf?

:

T H E GOVERNOR.

[Holding up the saw]

that's quite enough to upset the whole lot. T h e y ' r e just like d u m b animals at times. T H E G O V E R N O R . I ' v e seen it with horses before thunder—it'll run right through cavalry lines. The prison C H A L A I N has entered. He is a darkhaired, ascetic man, in clerical undress, with a peculiarly steady, tight-lipped face and slow, cul­ tured speech. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Holding up the saw] Seen this, Miller:T H E C H A P L A I N . Useful-looking specimen. T H E G O V E R N O R . D O for the M u s e u m , eh! [He goes to the cupboard and opens it, displaying to view a number of quaint ropes, hooks, and metal tools with labels lied on them] T h a t ' l l d o , thanks M r . Wooder. W O O D E R . [Saluting] T h a n k y o u , sir. [He goes out] T H E G O V E R N O R . A c c o u n t for the state of the men last day o r two, M i l l e r ? Seems going through the w h o l e place. T H E C H A P L A I N . N O . I d o n ' t k n o w o f anything. T H E G O V E R N O R . B y the w a y , will y o u dine with us on Christmas D a y ? T H E CHAPLAIN. To-morrow. T h a n k s very much. T H E G O V E R N O R . W o r r i e s m e to feel the men discontented. [Gazing at ihe saw] H a v e to punish this p o o r devil. C a n ' t help liking a man w h o tries to escape. [He places the saw in his pocket and locks the clipboard again] 1

T H E C H A P L A I N . Extraordinary perverted will­ p o w e r — s o m e of them. N o t h i n g to be d o n e till it's broken.

W O O D E R comes in again. WOODER. Visitor w h o ' s b e e n seeing Q 3007 asks to speak to y o u , sir. I told him it wasn't usual. T H E GOVERNOR. What about? WOODER. Shall I put him off, sir? T H E GOVERNOR. [Resignedly] N o , no. Let's see him Don't g o , Miller. W O O D E R motions to some one without, and as the visitor comes in withdraws. The visitor is C O K E S O N , who is at­ tired in a thick over­ coat to the knees, woolen gloves, and carries a top hat. Seen this, Miller? " C o K E s o N . I'm sorry to trouble you. I've been talking to the y o u n g man. T H E G O V E R N O R . W e have a g o o d many here. C O K E S O N . N a m e o f Falder, forgery. [Producing a card, and handing it to the GOVERNOR] Firm of James and W a l t e r H o w . W e l l known in the law. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Receiving the card—with a faint smile] W h a t d o y o u want to see me about, sir? C O K E S O N . [Suddenly seeing the prisoners at exercise] W h y ! what a sight! T H E G O V E R N O R . Y e s , w e have that privilege from here; m y office is being d o n e up. [Silling down at his table] N o w , please! C O K E S O N . [Dragging his eyes with difficulty from the window] I wanted to say a tvord to you; I shan't k e e p y o u long. [Confidentially] Fact is, I oughtn't to be here b y rights. His sister came to m e — h e ' s g o t n o father and mother—and she was in some distress. " M y h u s b a n d w o n ' t let me go and see h i m , " she s a i d ; " s a y s he's disgraced the family. A n d his other sister," she said, " i s an i n v a l i d . " A n d she asked m e to c o m e . Well, I take an interest in h i m . H e w a s our junior—I go to the same c h a p e l — a n d I d i d n ' t like to refuse. A n d what I wanted to tell y o u was, he seems lonely here. T H E G O V E R N O R . N o t unnaturally. C O K E S O N . I ' m afraid it'll prey o n m y mind. 1 see a lot of them a b o u t w o r k i n g together. T H E G O V E R N O R . T h o s e are local prisoners. T h e convicts serve their three m o n t h s here in sepa­ rate confinement, sir. C O K E S O N . B u t w e d o n ' t want to be unreason-

Justice: B yJ o h n Galsworthy able. H e ' s quite d o w n h e a r t e d . I wanted to ask you to let him run about with the others. T h e G o v e r n o r . [With faint amusement] R i n g the bell—would y o u , Miller. [To C o k e s o n ] You'd like to hear what the d o c t o r says about him, perhaps. T h e C h a p l a i n . [Ringing the bell] Y o u are not accustomed to prisons, it w o u l d seem, sir. C o k e s o n . N o . B u t it's a pitiful sight. He's quite a young fellow. I said to h i m : " B e f o r e a month's u p , " I said, " y o u ' l l be out and about with the others; it'll be a nice change for y o u . " " A month!" he s a i d - - l i k e that! " C o m e ! " I said, " w e mustn't exaggerate. W h a t ' s a month ? W h y , it's nothing!" " A d a y , " he said, " s h u t u p in your cell thinking and b r o o d i n g as I d o , it's longer than a year outside. I can't help it," he said; " I try— but I'm built that w a y , M r . C o k e s o n . " A n d he held his hand u p to his face. I could see the tears trickling through his fingers. It wasn't nice. T h e C h a p l a i n . H e ' s a y o u n g man with large, rather peculiar eyes, isn't h e ? N o t Church of England, I think? C o k e s o n .

No.

I know. [TO W o o d e r , who has come in] Ask the d o c t o r to b e g o o d enough to c o m e here for a minute. [ W o o d e r salutes, and goes out] Let's see, he's not m a r r i e d ? C o k e s o n . N o . [Confidentially] B u t there's a party he's very m u c h attached to, not altogether com-il-fo. It's a sad story. T h e C h a p l a i n . If it wasn't for drink and women, sir, this prison might b e closed. T h e

T h e

C h a p l a i n .

G o v e r n o r .

C o k e s o n .

[Looking at the

C h a p l a i n

over his

spectacles] Ye-es, but I wanted to tell y o u about that, special. H e had hopes they'd have let her . come and see him, but they haven't. O f course he asked me questions. I did m y best, but I couldn't tell the poor young fellow a lie, with h i m in here— seemed like hitting him. But I ' m afraid it's m a d e him worse. T h e G o v e r n o r . W h a t was this news then ? C o k e s o n . L i k e this. T h e w o m a n had a nahsty, spiteful feller for a husband, and she'd left him. Fact is, she was going away with o u r y o u n g friend. It's not nice—but I ' v e l o o k e d over it. W e l l , when he was put in here she said she'd earn her living apart, and wait for him to c o m e out. T h a t was a great consolation to him. But after a m o n t h she came to m e — I d o n ' t k n o w her personally—and she said: " I can't earn the children's living, let alone my o w n — I ' v e got no friends. I ' m obliged to keep out of everybody's way, else m y h u s b a n d ' d get to know where I was. I ' m very m u c h r e d u c e d , " she said. A n d she has lost flesh. ' T i l have to g o in the w o r k h o u s e ! " It's a painful story. I said to her: " N o , " I said, " n o t that! I ' v e g o t a wife an' family, but sooner than y o u should d o that I'll spare you a little myself." " R e a l l y , " she said—she's a nice creature—"I d o n ' t like to take it from y o u . I think I'd better g o b a c k to m y h u s b a n d . " 'Well, I know he's a nahsty, spiteful feller—drinks—but I didn't like to persuade her not to. T h e

Surely, no. Ye-es, but I ' m sorry n o w ; it's upset

C h a p l a i n .

C o k e s o n .

821

the p o o r y o u n g fellow dreadfully. A n d what I wanted to say w a s : H e ' s got his three years to serve. I want things to be pleasant for him. T h e

C h a p l a i n .

[With a touch of impatience]

T h e L a w hardly shares your view, I ' m afraid. C o k e s o n . B u t I can't help thinking that to shut him up there b y himselfil turn him silly. A n d n o b o d y wants that, I s'pose. I don't like to see a m a n cry. T h e C h a p l a i n . It's a very rare thing for them to give w a y like that. C o k e s o n .

[Looking at him—in a tone of sudden

dogged hostility] I k e e p dogs. T h e C h a p l a i n . Indeed? C o k e s o n . Y e - e s . A n d I say this: I w o u l d n ' t shut o n e of them u p all b y himself, m o n t h after month, not if h e ' d bit me all over. T h e C h a p l a i n . Unfortunately, the criminal is not a d o g ; he has a sense of right and w r o n g . C o k e s o n . B u t that's not the w a y to m a k e h i m feel it. T h e C h a p l a i n . A h ! there I ' m afraid w e must differ. C o k e s o n . It's the same with dogs. If y o u treat ' e m with kindness they'll d o anything for y o u ; but to shut ' e m u p alone, it o n l y makes ' e m savage. T h e C h a p l a i n . Surely y o u should allow those w h o have had a little more experience than yourself to k n o w what is best for prisoners. C o k e s o n . [Doggedly] I k n o w this y o u n g felIow , I ' v e watched h i m for years. H e ' s eurotic—got n o stamina. His father died of consumption. I ' m thinking of his future.i If he's to be kept there shut up by himself, without a cat to keep him c o m p a n y , it'll d o him harm. I said to h i m : " W h e r e d o y o u feel i t ? " " I can't tell y o u , M r . C o k e s o n , " he said, " b u t sometimes I c o u l d beat m y head against the w a l l . " It's not nice. r

During this speech the D o c t o r has entered. He is a medium-sized, rather good-looking man, with a quick eye. He stands leaning against the window. T h e G o v e r n o r . T h i s gentleman thinks the separate is telling on Q 3007—Falder, y o u n g thin fellow, star class. W h a t d o y o u say, D o c t o r Clem­ ents? T h e D o c t o r . H e doesn't like it, but it's not d o ­ ing him any harm. C o k e s o n . But he's told me. T h e D o c t o r . O f course h e ' d say so, but w e can always tell. H e ' s lost no weight since he's been here. C o k e s o n . It's his state of mind I ' m speaking of. T h e D o c t o r . His mind's all right so far. H e ' s nervous, rather melancholy. I d o n ' t see signs of anything more. I ' m watching him carefully. C o k e s o n . [Nonplussed] I ' m glad to hear y o u say that. T h e C h a p l a i n . [More suavely] It's just at this period that w e are able to make some impression on them, sir. I am speaking from m y special stand­ point. - C o k e s o n .

[Turning bewildered to the

G o v e r n o r ]

I don't want to be unpleasant, but having given him this news, I d o feel it's awkward. T h e G o v e r n o r . I'll make a point of seeing him to-day.

The American Magazine

822

C O K E S O N . I ' m m u c h o b l i g e d to y o u . I thought perhaps seeing h i m every d a y y o u w o u l d n ' t n o ­ tice it. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Rather sharply] If any sign of injury to his health s h o w s itself his case will be reported at o n c e . T h a t ' s fully p r o v i d e d for.

COKESON.

[Following

[He rises.] his own thoughts] O f

course, what y o u d o n ' t see d o e s n ' t trouble y o u ; but having seen him, I d o n ' t want to have h i m o n m y mind.

O ' C L E A R Y . [Unseen—in

an Irish

voice] Little

d o u b t o ' that, sirr. I N S T R U C T O R . [Gossiping] W e l l , y o u ' d rather have it than nothing, I s ' p o s e . O ' C L E A R Y . A n ' that's the blessed truth.

Sounds are heard of a cell door being closed and locked, and of approaching footsteps. INSTRUCTOR. [In a sharp, changed voice] Look alive over it!

He shuts the cell door, and stands at attention. The G O V E R N O R comes walking down the corridor

T H E G O V E R N O R . I think y o u m a y safely leave it to us, sir. C O K E S O N . [Mollified and apologetic] I thought y o u ' d understand m e . I ' m a plain m a n — n e v e r set myself u p against authority. [Expanding to the C H A P L A I N ] N o t h i n g personal meant. Goodmorning.

followed by W O O D E R . T H E G O V E R N O R . A n y t h i n g to report?

As he goes out the three officials do not look at each other, but their faces wear peculiar expressions.

THE G O V E R N O R . T h i s is o u r maker of saws, isn't i t ?

T H E C H A P L A I N . O u r friend seems to think that prison is a hospital.

He takes the saw from his pocket as WOODER throws open the door of the cell. The convict M O A N E Y is seen lying on his bed, athwart the cell, with his cap on. He springs up and stands in the middle of the cell. He is a raw-boned fellow, about fifty-six years old, with outstanding bat's ears and fierce, staring, steel-colored eyes.

COKESON.

[Returning

suddenly

with an apol­

ogetic air] T h e r e ' s just o n e little thing. This w o m a n — 1 suppose I mustn't ask y o u to let h i m see her. I t ' d be a rare treat for them b o t h . H e ' s think­ ing about her all the time. O f course she's not his wife. But he's quite safe in here. T h e y ' r e a pitiful couple. Y o u c o u l d n ' t m a k e an e x c e p t i o n ? T H E G O V E R N O R . [Wearily] A s y o u say, m y dear sir, I couldn't m a k e an e x c e p t i o n ; he w o n ' t be al­ lowed another visit o f any sort till he goes to a c o n ­ vict prison. C O K E S O N . I see. [Rather coldly] Sorry to have

troubled you. [He again goes out.] T H E C H A P L A I N . [Shrugging his shoulders] T h e plain man indeed, p o o r fellow. C o m e and have s o m e lunch, C l e m e n t s ? [He and the D O C T O R go out talking.]

T h e GOVERNOR, with a sigh, sits down at his table and takes up a pen. The curtain

falls.

Part of the ground corridor of the prison. The walls are colored with greenish distemper up to a stripe of deeper green about the height of a man's shoulder, and above this line are whitewashed. The floor is of blackened stones. Daylight is filtering through a heavily barred window at the end. The doors of four cells are visible. Each cell door has a little round peep-hole at the level of a man's eye, covered by a little round disc, which, raised upwards, affords a view of the cell. On the wall, close to each cell door, hangs a little square board with the prison­ er's name, number, and record. Overhead can be seen the iron structures of the firstfloor and second-floor corridors. WARDER

I N S T R U C T O R , a bearded

man

[Saluting]

Q 3007 [he points to a He'll lose marks

The G O V E R N O R nods and passes on to the end cell. The INSTRUCTOR goes away.

W O O D E R . C a p off! [ M O A N E Y removes his cap] O u t here! [ M O A N E Y comes to the door.]

T H E G O V E R N O R . [Beckoning him out into the cor­ ridor, and holding up the saw—with the manner 0} an officer speaking to a private] Anything to say about this, m y m a n ? [ M O A N E Y is silent] Come! M O A N E Y . It passed the time.

THE

GOVERNOR.

[Pointing

into the cell] Not

e n o u g h to d o , e h ? M O A N E Y . It d o n ' t o c c u p y y o u r mind. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Tapping the saw] Y o u might find a better w a y than this. M O A N E Y . [Sullenly] W e l l ! W h a t w a y ? I must k e e p m y h a n d in against the time I get out. What's the g o o d o f anything else to m e at m y time of life ?

[With a gradual

SCENE I I

The

INSTRUCTOR.

cell] is b e h i n d with his w o r k , sir. to-day.

change to civility,

as his tongue

warms] Y e k n o w that, sir. I'll be in again within a year o r t w o , after I ' v e d o n e this lot. I don't want to disgrace meself w h e n I ' m out. You've got y o u r pride k e e p i n g the prison smart; well, I've

got mine. [Seeing that the G O V E R N O R is listening with interest, he goes on, pointing to the saw] I must b e d o i n ' a little 0' this. It's n o harm to any one. I w a s five w e e k s m a k i n ' that saw—a hit of all right it is, t o o ; n o w I'll get cells, I suppose, or seven d a y s ' b r e a d and water. Y o u can't help it, sir, I k n o w that—I quite put meself in your place. T H E G O V E R N O R . N o w , l o o k here, Moaney, if I pass it o v e r will y o u give m e y o u r w o r d not to try it

on again? T h i n k ! [He goes into the cell, walks to the end of it, mounts the stool, and tries the win­ dow-bars] THE

G O V E R N O R . [Returning]

Well ?

in

M O A N E Y . [Who has been reflecting] I've got an­

blue uniform, with an apron, and some dangling keys, is just emerging from one of the cells.

other six w e e k s to d o in here, alone. I can't do it and think 0' nothing. I must have something to interest m e . Y o u ' v e m a d e me a sporting offer, sir. b u t I can't pass m y w o r d a b o u t it. I shouldn't like

INSTRUCTOR. [Speaking from the door into the cell] I'll have another bit for y o u w h e n that's

finished.

to deceive a gentleman.

[Pointing

into the cell]

Justice: B y j o h n Another four h o u r s ' steady w o r k w o u l d have done it. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y e s , and what then ? Caught, brought b a c k , punishment. F i v e weeks' hard work to make this, and cells at the end of it, while they put a new bar to y o u r w i n d o w . Is it w o r t h it, Moaney ? M O A N E Y . [With a sort of fierceness] Y e s , it is. T H E GOVERNOR. [Putting his hand to his brow] O h , w e l l ! T w o d a y s ' cells—bread and water. M O A N E Y . T h a n k ' e , sir.

He turns quickly like an animal and slips into his cell. The G O V E R N O R looks after him and shakes head as W O O D E R closes and locks the cell door. T H E G O V E R N O R . O p e n Clipton's cell. WOODER opens the door of C L I P T O N ' S cell. CLIPTON is sitting on a stool just inside

his

the

door, at work on a pair of trousers. He is a small, thick, oldish man, with an almost shaven head, and smouldering little dark eyes behind smoked spectacles. He gets up and stands motion­ less in the doorway, peering at his visitors. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Beckoning] C o m e o u t here a minute, Clipton. CLIPTON, with a sort of dreadful quietness, comes

into the corridor, the needle and thread in his hand. The GOVERNOR signs to W O O D E R , who goes into the

cell and inspects it carefully. T H E G O V E R N O R . H o w are y o u r e y e s ? CLIPTON. I d o n ' t c o m p l a i n o f them. I d o n ' t see the sun here. [He makes a stealthy movement, pro­ truding his neck a little] T h e r e ' s just one thing, Mr. Governor, as y o u ' r e speaking to m e . I wish you'd ask the cove next d o o r here to k e e p a bit quieter. T H E G O V E R N O R . W h a t ' s the m a t t e r ? I don't want any tales, Clipton. CLIPTON. H e keeps m e a w a k e . I d o n ' t k n o w who he is. [With contempt] O n e o f this star class, I expect. O u g h t n ' t to b e here with us. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Quietly] Q u i t e right, Clipton. He'll be m o v e d w h e n there's a cell vacant. CLIPTON. H e k n o c k s a b o u t like a wild beast in the early morning. I ' m n o t used to it—stops m e getting my sleep out. I n the evening t o o . It's not fair, M r . G o v e r n o r , as y o u ' r e speaking to m e . Sleep's the comfort I ' v e g o t h e r e ; I ' m entitled to take it out full. WOODER comes out of the cell, and instantly, as though extinguished, C L I P T O N moves with stealthy

door is closed and

locked. T H E G O V E R N O R . W h i c h is the m a n w h o b a n g e d on his door this m o r n i n g ? WOODER. [Going towards O ' C L E A R Y ' S cell] T h i s one, sir; O ' C l e a r y .

He lifts the disc and glances through the peep-hole. T H E GOVERNOR. Open. WOODER throws open the door.

O'CLEARY,

who

is seated at a little table by the door as if listening, springs up and stands at attention just inside the doorway. He is a broad-faced, middle-aged man,

82-

with a wide, thin, flexible mouth, and little holes under his high cheek-bones. T H E G O V E R N O R . W h e r e ' s the j o k e , O ' C l e a r y ? O ' C L E A R Y . T h e j o k e , y o u r h o n o r ? I ' v e not seen o n e for a long time. T H E G O V E R N O R . B a n g i n g on y o u r d o o r ? O ' C L E A R Y . O h ! that! T H E G O V E R N O R . It's w o m a n i s h . O ' C L E A R Y . A n ' it's that I ' m b e c o m i n g this two months past. T H E G O V E R N O R . Anything to c o m p l a i n o f ? • O ' C L E A R Y . N O , sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u ' r e an o l d h a n d ; y o u o u g h t to k n o w better. O ' C L E A R Y . Y e s , I've b e e n through it all. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u ' v e g o t a youngster next d o o r ; you'll upset him. O ' C L E A R Y . It c a m ' over me, y o u r h o n o u r . I can't always be the same steady man. T H E G O V E R N O R . W o r k all right? O ' C L E A R Y . [Taking up a rush mat he is making] O h ! I can d o it o n me head. It's the miserablest stuff—don't take the brains o f a m o u s e . [Working his mouth] It's here I feel it—the want of a little noise—a terrible little w u d ease me. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y O U k n o w as well as I d o that if y o u were out in the shops y o u w o u l d n ' t b e al­ l o w e d to talk. O ' C L E A R Y . [With a look of profound meaning] N o t with m y m o u t h . T H E GOVERNOR. Well, then? O ' C L E A R Y . B u t it's the great conversation I'd have. T H E G O V E R N O R . [With a smile] W e l l , n o more conversation on y o u r door. O ' C L E A R Y . N o , sir, I w u d not have the little wit to repeat meself. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Turning] G o o d - n i g h t . O ' C L E A R Y . Good-night, your honor. He turns into his cell. The G O V E R N O R shuts the

door. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Looking at the record card] C a n ' t help liking the p o o r blackguard. W O O D E R . H e ' s an amiable man, sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Pointing down the corridor] A s k the d o c t o r to c o m e here, M r . W o o d e r . W O O D E R salutes and goes away down the corridor. The G O V E R N O R goes to the door O / F A L D E R ' S cell.

He raises his uninjured hand to uncover the peep­ hole; but, without uncovering it, shakes his head and drops itis hand; then, after scrutinizing the record board, he opens the cell door.

ing against it, lurches

suddenness back into his cell. WOODER. All right, sir. The G O V E R N O R nods. The

Galsworthy

F A L D E R , who is stand­

forward.

T H E G O V E R N O R . [Beckoning him out] N o w tell m e : can't y o u settle d o w n , F a l d e r ? F A L D E R . [In a breathless voice] Y e s , sir. . T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u k n o w what I mean ? It's no g o o d running y o u r head against a stone wall, is i t ? F A L D E R . N O , sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . Well, c o m e . F A L D E R . I try, sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . Can't y o u sleep? F A L D E R . Very little. Between two o ' c l o c k and getting u p ' s the worst time. T H E G O V E R N O R . HOW'S that?

The American Magazine

824

F A L D E R . [His lips twitch with a sort of smile] I k n o w , SIR. I was always nervous. [Sud­

DON'T

denly voluble] E v e r y t h i n g seems to get such a size then. I feel I'll never get out as long as I live. T H E G O V E R N O R . T h a t ' s m o r b i d , m y lad. Pull yourself together.

F A L D E R . [With an equally sudden dogged resent­ ment] Yes—I'VE got to THE G O V E R N O R . T h i n k of all these other fellows? F A L D E R . T h e y ' r e used to it. T H E G O V E R N O R . T h e y all had to g o through it o n c e for the first time, just as y o u ' r e d o i n g n o w . F A L D E R . Y e s , sir, I shall get to be like them in time, I suppose.

THE

GOVERNOR.

[Rather

taken

aback] H ' m !

W e l l . T h a t rests WITH you. N o w , come. Set your m i n d to IT, like a g o o d fellow. Y o u ' r e still QUITE y o u n g . A man can m a k e himself what he likes. F A L D E R . [Wistfully] Y e s , sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . T a k e a g o o d h o l d of yourself. D o y o u read ? F A L D E R . I d o n ' t take the w o r d s in. [Hanging his head] I k n o w it's n o g o o d ; but I can't help thinking of what's going o n outside. In m y cell I can't see out at all. It's thick glass, sir. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u ' v e had a visitor. Bad news ? FALDER. Yes. T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u mustn't think a b o u t it.

T H E D O C T O R . W e l l , I d o n ' t think the separate's d o i n g him any g o o d ; but then I c o u l d say the same of a lot of t h e m — t h e y ' d get o n better in the shops, there's no d o u b t . T H E G O V E R N O R . Y o u m e a n y o u ' d have to rec­ o m m e n d others? T H E D O C T O R . A d o z e n at least. It's on his nerves. T h e r e ' s n o t h i n g tangible. T h a t fellow there [pointing to O ' C L E A R Y ' S cell], for i n s t a n c e feels it just as m u c h , in his way. If I once get a w a y from physical facts—I shan't k n o w where I am. Conscientiously, sir, I d o n ' t k n o w how to differentiate him. H e hasn't lost weight. Nothing w r o n g with his eves. His pulse is g o o d . Talks all right. T H E G O V E R N O R . It doesn't amount lo mel­ ancholia? T H E D O C T O R . [Shaking his head] I can report o n him if you like; but if I d o I ought to report on others. T H E G O V E R N O R . I see. [Looking towards FALDE R ' S cell] T h e p o o r devil must just stick it then.

As he says this he looks absently at WOODER. WOODER. Beg pardon, sir?

For answer the G O V E R N O R stares at him, turns on his heel and walks away. There is a sound as oj beating on metal. T H E G O V E R N O R . [Stopping] M r . W o o d e r ? W O O D E R . B a n g i n g o n his d o o r , sir. I thought w e s h o u l d h a v e m o r e of that. [He hurries for­

ward, passing the G O V E R N O R who follows closely].

F A L D E R . [Looking back at his cell] H o w can I The curtain

help IT, sir?

falls.

He suddenly becomes motionless as W O O D E R and the D O C T O R approach.

The

G O V E R N O R motions to

S C E N E III

him to go back into his cell. F A L D E R ' S cell, a whitewashed space thirteen feet broad by seven deep, and nine feet high, with a rounded The floor is of shiny blackened bricks. The T H E G O V E R N O R . [To the D O C T O R ] Just g o in ceiling. barred window of opaque glass, with a ventilator, is and see him, Clements. The D O C T O R goes into the cell. The G O V E R N O R high up in the middle of the end wall. In the middle pushes the door to, nearly closing it, and walks of the opposite end wall is the narrow door. In a corner are the mattress and bedding rolled up {two towards the window. W O O D E R . [Following] Sorry you should b e blankets, two sheets, and a coverlet). Above them is troubled like this, sir. V e r y contented lot of men, a quarter-circular wooden, shelf on which is a Bible and several little devotional books, piled in a sym­ ON the w h o l e . metrical pyramid; there are also a black hair-brush, T H E G O V E R N O R . [Shortly] You think s o ? W O O D E R . . Y e s , sir. It's CHRISTMAS d o i n g it, in tooth-brush, and a bit of soap. In another corner is the wooden frame of a bed, standing on end. There MY o p i n i o n . is a dark ventilator under the window, and another T H E G O V E R N O R . [TO himself] Q u e e r , that' over the door. F A L D E R ' S work ( a shirt to which he W O O D E R . Beg p a r d o n , s i r ? is putting button-holes) is hung to a nail on the wall T H E G O V E R N O R . Christmas! He turns toward the window, leaving W O O D E R over a small wooden tabic, on which the novel "Lorna Doone" lies open. Low down in the corner by the looking at him with a sort of pained anxiety. W O O D E R . [Suddenly] D o you think we m a k e door is a thick glass screen, about a foot square, There is also s h o w ENOUGH, sir? i f y o u ' d LIKE us to have m o r e covering the gas-jet let into the wall. a wooden stool, and a pair of shoes beneath it. Three HOLLY? bright round tins are set under the window. T H E G O V E R N O R . N o t at all, M r . W o o d e r . In fast-falling daylight, F A L D E R , in his stock­ W O O D E R . Very GOOD, SIR. The D O C T O R has come out of F A L D E R ' S cell, and ings, is seen standing motionless, with his head in­ clined towards the door, listening. He moves a little the G O V E R N O R beckons to him. closer to the door, his stockinged feet making no T H E GOVERNOR. Well ? He stops at the door. He is trying harder T H E D O C T O R . I can't m a k e anything m u c h o f noise. and harder to hear something, any little thing that is him. He'S NERVOUS, of COURSE. He springs suddenly upright— T H E G O V E R N O R . Is THERE any sort o f case to re­ going on outside. as if at a sound—and remains perfectly motionless. PORT? QUITE FRANKLY, D o c t o r . F A L D E R . [Quick and low]

head, sir.

I ' m quite right in

[He goes back into his cell.]

my

Justice: By John Then, with a heavy sigh, he moves to his work, and stands looking at it, with his head down; lie does a stitch or two, having the air of a man so lost in sad­ ness that each stitch is, as it were, a coming to life. Then, turning abruptly, he begins pacing the cell, moving his head, like an animal pacing its cage. He stops again at the door, listens, and, placing the palms of his hands against it with his fingers spread out, leans his forehead against the iron. Turning from it, presently, he moves slowly back towards the window, tracing his way with his finger along the top line of the distemper that runs around the wall. He stops under the window, and, picking tip the lid of one of the tins, peers into it. It has grown very nearly dark. Suddenly the lid falls out of his hand with a clatter—the only sound that has broken the silence—and he stands staring intently at the wall where the stuff of the shirt is hanging rather white in the darkness—he seems to be seeing some­ body or something there. There is a sharp tap and click; the cell light behind the glass screen has been turned up. The cell is brightly lighted. FALDER is seen gasping for breath. A sound from far away, as of distant, dull beating on thick metal, is suddenly audi­ ble.

F A L D E R shrinks

back,

not able to bear this sudden clamour. But the sound grows, as though some great tumbril were rolling towards the cell. And gradually it seems to hypnotise him. He begins creeping inch by inch nearer to the door. The banging sound, travelling from cell to cell, draws closer and closer; F A L D E R ' S hands

are seen moving as if his spirit had already joined in this beating, and the sound swells till it seems to have entered the very cell. He suddenly raises his clenched fists. Panting violently, he fimgs himself at his door, and beats on it. The curtain ACT

falls.

IV

The scene is again C O K E SON'S room, at a few min­

utes to ten of a March morn­ ing, two years later. The doors are all open. S W E E D L E ,

825

Galsworthy

S W E E D L E . [Suddenly seeing her, and dropping the lid of the washstand with a bang] Hello! It's you! RUTH. Yes. S W E E D L E . T h e r e ' s o n l y me here! T h e y d o n ' t waste their time hurrying d o w n in the morning. W h y , it must b e t w o years since w e had the pleasure of seeing y o u . [Nervously] W h a t have y o u been d o i n g with youreslf? R U T H . [Sardonically] L i v i n g . S W E E D L E . [Impressed] If y o u want to see him [he points to C O K E S O N ' S chair], he'll be here directly — n e v e r misses—not m u c h . [Delicately] I h o p e o u r friend's b a c k from the country. His time's been u p these three months, if I remember. [ R U T H nods] I w a s awful sorry about that. T h e g o v e r n o r m a d e a mistake—if y o u ask m e . R U T H . H e did. SWEEDLE. H e o u g h t to have given him a chanst. A n d , / say, the j u d g e ought to ha' let him g o after that. T h e y ' v e forgot what h u m a n nature's like. W h e r e a s we k n o w . R U T H gives him a hon­

eyed smile. S W E E D L E . T h e y come d o w n o n y o u like a cart­ load of bricks, flatten y o u out, and when y o u d o n ' t swell u p again they c o m ­ plain o f it. I k n o w ' e m — seen a lot o f that sort of t h i n g in m y time. [He

shakes his head in the plcnlitnde of wisdom] W h y , only the o t h e r d a y the g o v ­ ernor But C O K E S O N has come in

through the outer office; brisk with east wind, and decidedly grayer. COKESON.

[Drawing

off

his coat and gloves] W h y ! it's y o u ! [Then motioning S W E E D L E out, and closing the door] Quite a stranger! M u s t b e t w o years. D ' y o u want to see me ? I can give y o u a minute. Sit d o w n ! Family w e l l ? R U T H . Y e s . I ' m not liv­ ing where I was. C O K E S O N . [Eying her askance] I h o p e things are m o r e c o m f o r t a b l e at home. RUTH. I c o u l d n ' t stay with Honeywill, after all. He suddenly raises his clcnclied fists. C O K E S O N . Y o u haven't Panting violently, he flings himself done anything rash, I h o p e . at his door, and beats on it" I should be sorry if y o u ' d d o n e anything rash. R U T H . I ' v e kept the children with m e . the lid, and looks at

now blessed with a sprouting moustache, is getting the of­ fices ready. He arranges papersonCoKESON'stable;then goes to a covered washstand, raises COKESON. [Beginning to feel that things are not himself in the mirror. While he is gazing his fill Ruth Honeywill comes in through the outer office and so jolly as he had hoped] W e l l , I ' m glad to have seen stands in the doorway. There seems a kind of exul­ y o u . Y o u ' v e not heard from the y o u n g man, I s u p ­ tation and excitement behind her habitual impasivity. p o s e , since he c a m e o u t ?

The American

826

R U T H . Y e s , I ran across h i m yesterday. C O K E S O N . I h o p e he's well. R U T H . [With sudden fierceness] H e can't get any­ thing to d o . It's dreadful to see h i m . H e ' s just skin and b o n e . C O K E S O N . [With genuine concern] D e a r m e ! I ' m sorry to hear that. [On his guard again] D i d n ' t they find him a place w h e n his time w a s u p ? R U T H . H e was only there three w e e k s . It g o t out. C O K E S O N . I ' m sure I d o n ' t k n o w what I can d o for y o u . I d o n ' t like to b e s n u b b y . R U T H . I can't bear his being like that. C O K E S O N . [Scanning her not un prosperous figure] I k n o w his relations aren't very forthy a b o u t him. Perhaps you can d o something for h i m , till he finds his feet. R U T H . N o t n o w . I c o u l d h a v e — b u t not now. C O K E S O N . I d o n ' t understand. R U T H , [Proudly] I ' v e seen him again—that's all over. COKESON, [Staring at her—disturbed] I'm a family m a n — I d o n ' t want to hear anything un­ pleasant E x c u s e m e - I ' m very busy. R U T H . I ' d have g o n e h o m e to m y p e o p l e in the country long ago, but they've never g o t over "me marrying H o n e y w i l l . I never w a s w a y w i s e , M r . C o k e s o n , but I ' m p r o u d . I w a s only a girl, y o u see, w h e n I married him. I thought the w o r l d o f him, of course . . . he used to c o m e traveling to our farm. C O K E S O N . [Regretfully] I did h o p e y o u ' d have got on better, after y o u saw m e . R U T H . H e used m e worse than ever. H e c o u l d n ' t break m y nerve, but I lost m y health; and then he began k n o c k i n g the children about. . . . I c o u l d n ' t stand that. I w o u l d n ' t g o b a c k n o w , if he were dying. C O K E S O N . [Who has risen and is shifting about as though dodging a stream of lava] W e mustn't b e violent, must w e ? R U T H . [Smouldering] A m a n that can't b e h a v e better than that [There is silence.] C O K E S O N . [Fascinated in spite of himself] T h e n there y o u were! A n d what did y o u d o t h e n ? R U T H . [With a shrug] T r i e d the same as When I left him before . . . m a k i n g skirts ·. . . cheap things. It w a s the best I c o u l d get, b u t I never m a d e m o r e than ten shillings a w e e k , b u y i n g m y o w n cotton and w o r k i n g all d a y ; I hardly ever got to b e d till past twelve. I kept at it for nine months. [Fiercely] W e l l , I ' m not fit for that; I wasn't m a d e for it. I ' d rather die. C O K E S O N . M y dear w o m a n ! W e mustn't talk like that. R U T H . It w a s starvation for the children t o o — after what t h e y ' d always had. I s o o n g o t n o t to care. I used to b e too tired. [She is silent] C O K E S O N . [With fearful curiosity] W h y w h a t happened then? R U T H . [With a laugh] M y e m p l o y e r h a p p e n e d then—he's h a p p e n e d ever since. COKESON. Dear! a thing like this.

O h dear!

I never c a m e across

. R U T H . [Dully] H e ' s treated m e all right. But I ' v e d o n e with that. [Suddenly her lips begin to

quiver, and she hides them with the back of her hand]

Magazine

I never thought I ' d see him again, y o u see. It was just a c h a n c e I m e t h i m b y H y d e P a r k . W e went in there and sat d o w n , and he told me all about himself. O h ! M r . C o k e s o n , give h i m another chance. C O K E S O N . [Greatly disturbed] T h e n you've both lost y o u r livings! W h a t a horrible position! R U T H . I f he c o u l d o n l y get here—where there's nothing to find o u t a b o u t h i m ! C O K E S O N . W e c a n ' t h a v e anything derogative to the firm. R U T H I ' v e n o o n e else to g o to. C O K E S O N . I'll speak to the partners, but I don't think they'll take h i m , u n d e r the circumstanecs. I d o n ' t really. R U T H . H e c a m e w i t h m e ; he's d o w n there in the street. [She points to the window]. C O K E S O N . [On his dignity] H e shouldn't have d o n e that until he's sent for. [Then softening at the look on her face] W e ' v e g o t a v a c a n c y , as it happens, but I can't p r o m i s e anything. R U T H . I t w o u l d b e the saving o f him. C O K E S O N . W e l l , I'll d o what I can, but I ' m not sanguine. N o w tell h i m that I d o n ' t want him here till I see h o w things are. L e a v e y o u r address? [Repeating her] 83 M u l l i n g a r Street? [Pie notes it on blotting-paper] G o o d - m o r n i n g . R U T H . T h a n k you.

She moves towards the door, turns as if to speak, but does not, and goes away. C O K E S O N . [Wiping his head and forehead with a large white cotton handkerchief] W h a t a business!

[Then, looking amongst his papers, he sounds his bell. S W E E D L E answers it]. C O K E S O N . W a s that y o u n g R i c h a r d s coming here to-day after the clerk's p l a c e ? SWEEDLE. Yes. C O K E S O N . W e l l , k e e p h i m in the air; I don't want to see h i m yet. S W E E D L E . W h a t shall I tell h i m , sir? COKESON. [With asperity] I n v e n t something. Use y o u r brains. D o n ' t s t u m p h i m off altogether. S W E E D L E . Shall I tell h i m that w e ' v e got illness, sir? C O K E S O N . N o ! N o t h i n g untrue. Say I'm not here to-day. S W E E D L E . Y e s , sir. K e e p h i m hankering? C O K E S O N . E x a c t l y . A n d l o o k here. Y o u re­ m e m b e r F a l d e r ? I m a y b e having him round to see m e . N o w , treat h i m like y o u ' d have him treat y o u in a similar position. S W ' E E D L E . I naturally should d o . C O K E S O N . T h a t ' s right. W h e n a man's down never hit ' i m . ' T i s n ' t necessary. G i v e him a hand up. T h a t ' s a m e t a p h o r I r e c o m m e n d to you in life. It's s o u n d p o l i c y . S W E E D L E . D o y o u think the governors will lake him o n again, s i r ? C O K E S O N . C a n ' t say anything a b o u t that. [At

the sound of some one having entered the outer office] W h o ' s there? S W E E D L E . [Going to the door and looking] It's F a l d e r , sir. COKESON. [Vexed] Dear me! T h a t ' s very naughty o f her. T e l l h i m to call again. I don't want •

Justice: B yJohn He breaks off as F A L D E R comes in.

F A L D E R is

thin, pale, older, his eyes have grown more restless. His clothes are very worn and loose. S W E E D L E , nodding cheerfully, withdraws. COKESON. G l a d to see y o u . Y o u ' r e rather pre­ vious. [Trying to keep things pleasant] Shake hands! She's striking while the iron's hot. [He wipes his forehead] I d o n ' t b l a m e her. She's anxious. F A L D E R timidly takes C O K E S O N ' S hand and

glances towards the partners' door. COKESON. N O — n o t yet! Sit d o w n ! [ F A L D E R sits in the chair at the side of C O K E S O N ' S table, on which he places his cap] N o w y o u are here. I ' d like you to give me a little a c c o u n t o f yourself. [Looking at him over his spectacles] H o w ' s y o u r health? F A L D E R . I ' m alive, M r . C o k e s o n . COKESON. [Preoccupied] I ' m glad to hear that. About this matter. I d o n ' t like d o i n g anything out of the ordinary; it's not m y habit. I ' m a plain m a n , and I want everything s m o o t h and straight. But I promised y o u r friend to speak to the partners, and I always k e e p m y w o r d . F A L D E R . I just want a chance, M r . C o k e s o n . I've paid for that j o b , a thousand times and more. I have, sir. N o o n e k n o w s . T h e y say I w e i g h e d more when I c a m e out than w h e n I went in. T h e y couldn't weigh me here [he touches his head] o r

here [he touches his heart, and gives a sort of laugh]. Till last night I ' d have thought there w a s nothing in here at all. COKESON. [Concerned] Y o u ' v e not g o t heart dis­ ease? F A L D E R . O h ! they passed me s o u n d e n o u g h . COKESON. But they got y o u a place, didn't t h e y ? F A L D E R . Y e s ; very g o o d people, k n e w all about it—very kind to me. I thought I w a s g o i n g to get on first rate. But one day, all o f a sudden the other clerks got wind o f it. . . . I c o u l d n ' t stick it, Mr. Cokeson, I c o u l d n ' t , sir. COKESON. Easy, m y dear fellow, easy! F A L D E R . I h a d one small j o b after that, but it didn't last. COKESON. HOW w a s that ? F A L D E R . It's no g o o d deceiving y o u . M r . C o k e ­ son. T h e fact is, I seem to be struggling against a thing that's all round m e . I can't explain it; it's as if I was in a net; as fast as I cut it here, it g r o w s up there. I didn't act as I ought to have, about references; but w h a t are y o u to d o ? Y o u must have them. A n d that m a d e m e afraid, and I left. In fact, I ' m — I ' m afraid all the time n o w .

He bows his head and leans dejectedly silent over the table. COKESON. I feel for y o u — I d o really. Aren't your sisters going to d o anything for y o u ? F A L D E R . O n e ' s in c o n s u m p t i o n . And the other COKESON. Y e . . es. She told me her hus­ band wasn't quite pleased with y o u . F A L D E R . W h e n I went there—they w e r e at sup­ per—my sister w a n t e d to give m e a kiss—I k n o w . But he just looked at her, and said: " W h a t have you come f o r ? " W e l l , I p o c k e t e d m y pride and I said: " A r e n ' t y o u g o i n g to give me y o u r hand, Jim? Cis is, I k n o w , " I said. " L o o k h e r e ! " he said, "that's all very well, but w e ' d better c o m e to

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an understanding. I ' v e been expecting y o u , and I've m a d e u p m y mind. I'll give y o u fifteen p o u n d s to g o to C a n a d a w i t h . " " I s e e , " I said— " g o o d riddance! N o , thanks; keep y o u r fifteen p o u n d s . " Friendship's a queer thing w h e n y o u ' v e been where I have. C O K E S O N . I understand. Will y o u take the fif­ teen p o u n d s from m e ? [Flustered as F A L D E R , regards him with a queer 5/»/Yc]Quite without preju­ d i c e ; I mean it kindly. F A L D E R . I ' m not allowed to leave the country. C O K E S O N . O h ! ye . . es—ticket-of-leave ? Y o u aren't looking the thing. F A L D E R . I ' v e slept in the Park three nights this week. T h e d a w n s aren't all poetry there. But meeting her—I feel a different man this morning. I've often thought the being fond of her's the best thing about m e ; it's sacred, s o m e h o w — a n d yet it did for me. T h a t ' s queer, isn't it ? C O K E S O N . I ' m sure we're all very sorry for y o u . F A L D E R . T h a t ' s what I've found, M r . C o k e s o n . Awfully sorry for me. [With quiet bitterness] But it doesn't d o to associate with criminals! C O K E S O N . C o m e , c o m e , it's no use calling your­ self names. T h a t never did a man any g o o d . Put a face on it. F A L D E R : It's easy enough to put a face o n it, sir, when y o u ' r e independent. T r y it when y o u ' r e d o w n like me. T h e y talk about giving y o u y o u r deserts. Well, I think I've had just a bit over. C O K E S O N . [Eying him askance over his spec­ tacles] I h o p e they haven't made a Socialist of y o u . F A L D E R is suddenly still, as if brooding over his

past self; he utters a peculiar laugh. C O K E S O N . Y O U must give them credit for the best intentions. Really you must. Nobody wishes y o u harm, I ' m sure. F A L D E R . I believe that, M r . C o k e s o n . N o b o d y wishes you harm, but they d o w n y o u all the same. T h i s feeling [He stares around him, as though at something closing in.] It's crushing me. [With sudden impersonality] I k n o w it is. C O K E S O N . [Horribly disturbed] T h e r e ' s nothing there! W e must try and take it quiet. I ' m sure I've often had y o u in m y prayers. N o w leave it to me. I'll use m y g u m p t i o n and take ' e m when they're jolly.

As he speaks the two partners come in. C O K E S O N . [Rather disconcerted, but trying to put them all at ease] I didn't expect y o u quite so soon. I've just been having a talk with this y o u n g man. I think you'll r e m e m b e r him. James. [With a grave, keen look] Quite well. H o w are y o u , F a l d e r ? W A L T E R . [Holding out his hand almost timidly] Very glad to see y o u again, Falder. F A L D E R . Who has recovered his self-control, takes the hand] T h a n k you, sir. C O K E S O N . Just a w o r d , M r . James. [To F A L D E R , pointing to the clerks office] Y o u might g o in there a a minute. Y o u k n o w y o u r w a y . O u r junior w o n ' t be c o m i n g this morning. His wife's just had a little family. F A L D E R goes uncertainly out into the clerk's office. C O K E S O N . [Confidentially] I ' m b o u n d to tell y o u all about it. H e ' s quite penitent. But there's a

828

The American Magazine

prejudice against him. A n d y o u ' r e not seeing him to advantage this m o r n i n g ; he's under-nourished. It's very trying to g o without y o u r dinner. J A M E S . I S that s o , C o k e s o n ? C O K E S O N . I wanted to ask y o u . H e ' s had his lesson. N o w we k n o w all about h i m , and w e w a n t a clerk. T h e r e is a y o u n g fellow applying, but I ' m keeping him in the air. J A M E S . A gaol-bird in the office, C o k e s o n ? I don't see it. W A L T E R . " T h e rolling of the chariot-wheels of j u s t i c e ! " I ' v e never g o t that out of m y head. J A M E S . I've nothing to reproach myself with in this affair. W h a t ' s he been d o i n g since he c a m e out? . C O K E S O N . H e ' s h a d one o r t w o places, but he hasn't kept them. H e ' s sensitive—quite natural. Seems to fancy e v e r y b o d y ' s d o w n o n him. J A M E S . B a d sign. D o n ' t like the fellow—never did from the first. " W e a k c h a r a c t e r " is written all over him. W A L T E R . I think w e o w e h i m a leg u p . J A M E S . H e brought it all on himself. W A L T E R . T h e doctrine of full responsibility doesn't quite h o l d in these days. J A M E S . [Rather grimly] Y o u ' l l find it safer to hold it for all that, m y b o y . W A L T E R . F o r oneself, yes—not for other p e o p l e , thanks. J A M E S . W e l l ! I d o n ' t want to b e hard. C O K E S O N . I ' m glad to hear y o u say that. He seems to see something [spreading his arms] r o u n d him. ' T i s n ' t healthy. J A M E S . W h a t about that w o m a n he was m i x e d u p with ? I saw s o m e o n e u n c o m m o n l y like her outside as w e c a m e in. C O K E S O N . That! W e l l , I can't k e e p anything from y o u . H e has met her. J A M E S . Is she with her h u s b a n d ? COKESON. N O . J A M E S . Falder living with her, I s u p p o s e ? C O K E S O N [Desperately trying to retain the new­ found jollity] I d o n ' t k n o w that of m y o w n knowledge. ' T i s n ' t m y business. J A M E S . It's our business, if w e ' r e g o i n g to engage him, Cokeson. C O K E S O N . [Reluctantly] I ought to tell y o u , per­ haps. I ' v e h a d the party here this m o r n i n g . J A M E S . I thought s o . [To W A L T E R ] N o , m y dear b o y , it w o n ' t d o . T o o s h a d y altogether! C O K E S O N . T h e two things together m a k e it very awkward for y o u — I see that. W A L T E R . [Tentatively] I d o n ' t quite k n o w w h a t we have to d o with his private life. J A M E S . N o , n o ! H e must m a k e a clean sheet o f it, o r he can't c o m e here. W A L T E R . P o o r devil! C O K E S O N . W i l l y o u have him i n ? [And as J A M E S nods] I think I can get h i m to see reason. J A M E S . [Grimly] Y o u can leave that to m e , Cokeson. W A L T E R . [TO J A M E S , in a low voice, while C O K E S O N is summoning F A L D E R ] His w h o l e future m a y d e p e n d on what w e d o , d a d . F A L D E R comes in. He has pulled himself and presents a steady front.

together

J A M E S . N o w l o o k here, Falder. M y son and I w a n t to give y o u another c h a n c e ; but there are two things I must say to y o u . I n the first place: It's n o g o o d c o m i n g here as a victim. If you've a n y notion that y o u ' v e b e e n unjustly treated—get rid o f it. Y o u can't p l a y fast a n d loose with mor­ ality a n d h o p e to g o scot-free. If society didn't take care o f itself, n o b o d y w o u l d — t h e sooner you realize that, the better. F A L D E R . Y e s , sir! b u t — m a y I say something? JAMES. Well? F A L D E R . I h a d a lot o f time to think it over in prison. [He stops.] C O K E S O N . [Encouraging him] I ' m sure you did. F A L D E R . T h e r e w e r e all sorts there. A n d what I mean, sir, is, that if w e ' d b e e n treated differently the first time, a n d put u n d e r s o m e b o d y that could l o o k after us a bit, a n d not put us in prison, not a quarter o f us w o u l d ever have g o t there. J A M E S . [Shaking his head] I ' m afraid I've very grave d o u b t s of that, Falder. F A L D E R . [With a gleam of malice] Y e s , sir! so I found. J A M E S . M y g o o d fellow, d o n ' t forget that you began it. F A L D E R . I never w a n t e d to d o w r o n g . J A M E S . P e r h a p s not. B u t y o u did. F A L D E R . [With all the bitterness of his past suffer­ ing] It's k n o c k e d m e out of time. [Pulling himself up] T h a t is, I m e a n , I ' m not w h a t I was. J A M E S . T h i s isn't e n c o u r a g i n g for us, Falder. C O K E S O N . H e ' s putting it awkwardly, Mr. James. F A L D E R . [Throwing over his caution from the intensity of his feeling] I m e a n it, M r . Cokeson. J A M E S . N o w , lay aside all those thoughts, Fal­ der, and l o o k to the future. F A L D E R . [Almost eagerly] Y e s , sir-! but you don't understand what prison life is. It's here it gets you. He grips his chest. C O K E S O N . [hi a whisper to James] I told you he w a n t e d nourishment. W A L T E R . Y e s , but, m y dear fellow, that'll pass away. T i m e ' s merciful. F A L D E R . [With his face twitching] I hope so, sir. J A M E S . [Much more gently] N o w , m y boy, what y o u ' v e g o t to d o is to put all the past behind you and b u i l d yourself u p a steady reputation. And that brings m e to the s e c o n d thing. T h i s woman you w e r e m i x e d u p w i t h — y o u must give us your w o r d y o u k n o w , to h a v e d o n e with that. There's no c h a n c e o f y o u r k e e p i n g straight if you're going to begin y o u r future with such a relationship. F A L D E R . [Looking from one to the other with a haunted expression] But, sir . . . it's the one thing I l o o k e d f o r w a r d to all the time. And she too . . . I c o u l d n ' t find her before last night. During this and what follows C O K E S O N becomes more and more uneasy. J A M E S . T h i s is painful, F a l d e r . But you must see for yourself that its i m p o s s i b l e for a firm like this to close its eyes to everything. Give us this proof o f y o u r resolve to k e e p straight, and you can c o m e b a c k — n o t otherwise. F A L D E R . [After staring at J A M E S , Suddenly stiffens himself] I c o u l d n ' t give her u p . I couldn't!

Justice: B y J o h n Galsworthy Oh, sir! I ' m all she's g o t to l o o k to. A n d I ' m sure she's all I ' v e got. J A M E S . I ' m very sorry, Falder, but I must b e firm. It's for the benefit of y o u both in the long run. N o g o o d can c o m e of this connection. It was the cause of all y o u r disaster. F A L D E R . But, sir, it means — having g o n e through all that—getting b r o k e n u p — m y nerves are in an awful state—for nothing. I did it for her. J A M E S . C o m e ! If she's anything of a w o m a n she'll see it for herself. She w o n ' t want to drag you down further. If there were a prospect of your being able to marry her—it might b e another thing. F A L D E R . It's not m y fault, sir, that she c o u l d n ' t get rid of him—she w o u l d have if she c o u l d . That's been the w h o l e trouble from the beginning. [Looking suddenly at W A L T E R ] . . . I f any­ body would help her! It's only m o n e y w a n t e d n o w , I'm sure. COKESON. [Breaking in, as W A L T E R hesitates, and is about to speak] I d o n ' t think w e need c o n ­ sider that—it's rather far-fetched. F A L D E R . [TO W A L T E R , appealing] H e must have given her full cause since; she c o u l d p r o v e that he drove her to leave him. W A L T E R . I ' m inclined to d o what y o u say, F a l ­ der, if it can be managed. F A L D E R . O h , sir!

He geos to the window and looks down into the street. COKESON. [Hurriedly] Y o u d o n ' t take m e , M r . Walter. I have m y reasons. F A L D E R . [From the window] She's d o w n there, sir. Will y o u see h e r ? I can b e c k o n to her from here. W A L T E R hesitates, and looks from C O K E S O N to JAMES. J A M E S . [With a sharp nod] Y e s , let her c o m e . F A L D E R beckons from the window'. COKESON. [In a low flutter to J A M E S and W A L T E R No, M r . James. She's not been quite what she ought to ha' been, while this y o u n g m a n ' s b e e n away. She's lost her c h a n c e . W e can't consult how to swindle the law . F A L D E R has come from the window. The three r

men look at him in a sort of awed silence. . F A L D E R . [With instinctive apprehension of change—looking from one to the other] T h e r e ' s nothing between us, sir, to prevent it . . What I said at the trial w a s true. A n d last we only just sat in, the Park.

some been . . night

S W E E D L E comes hi from the outer office. COKESON. W h a t is i t ? S W E E D L E . M r s . H o n e y w i l l . [There is silence.] J A M E S . Show her in. R U T H comes slowly in, and stands stoically with FALDER on one side and three men on the other. No one speaks. C O K E S O N turns to his table, bending

R U T H . Y e s — o n l y yesterday. J A M E S . H e ' s told us about himself, and w e ' r e very sorry for him. I've promised to take him b a c k here if he'll m a k e a fresh start. [Looking steadily at R U T H ] T h i s a matter that requires courage, m a ' a m . R U T H , who is looking at F A L D E R , begins to twist

her hands in front of her as though prescient of dis­ aster. F A L D E R . M r . W a l t e r H o w is g o o d enough to say that he'll help us to get y o u a divorce. R U T H flashes a startled glance at J A M E S and WALTER. J A M E S . I d o n ' t think that's practicable, Falder. F A L D E R . But, sir ! J A M E S . [Steadily] N o w , M r s . H o n e y w i l l . Y o u ' r e fond of him. R U T H . Y e s , sir: I love him. She looks miserably at F A L D E R . J A M E S . T h e n y o u d o n ' t want to stand in his way, d o you ? R U T H . [In a faint voice] I could take care o f him. J A M E S . T h e best w ay y o u can take care of him will be to give him up. F A L D E R . N o t h i n g shall m a k e me give y o u u p . Y o u can get a divorce. T h e r e ' s been nothing be­ tween us, has there? R U T H . [Mournfully shaking her head—without r

looking at him]. N o . F A L D E R . W e ' l l keep apart till it's over, sir; if you'll only help us—we promise. J A M E S . [TO R U T H ] Y O U see the thing plainly, d o n ' t y o u ? Y o u see what I mean ? R U T H . [Just above a whisper] Y e s . C O K E S O N . [TO himself] T h e r e ' s a dear w o m a n . J A M E S . T h e situation is impossible. R U T H . M u s t I, sir? J A M E S . [Forcing himself to look at her] I put it to y o u , m a ' a m . His future is in y o u r hands. R U T H . [Miserably] I want to d o the best for him. J A M E S . [A little huskily] T h a t ' s right, that's right! F A L D E R . I d o n ' t understand. Y o u ' r e not going to give m e up—after all this? T h e r e ' s something [Starting forward to J A M E S ] Sir, I swear sol­ emnly there's been nothing between us. J A M E S . I believe y o u , Falder. C-jme, m y lad, be as p l u c k y as she is. F A L D E R . Just n o w y o u were g o i n g to help us. [He stares at R U T H , who is standing absolutely

still; his face and hands twitch and quiver as the truth dawns upon him] been •

Y o u ' v e not

W A L T E R . Falder! J A M E S . [Hurriedly] T h e r e , there! That'll d o , that'll d o ! I'll give y o u y o u r chance, Falder. D o n ' t let m e k n o w what y o u d o with yourselves, that's all. F A L D E R . [As if he has not heard] R U T H ? R U T H looks at him; and F A L D E R covers his face

over his papers as though the burden of the situation were forcing him back into his accustomed groove. with his hands. J A M E S . [Sharply] Shut the d o o r there. [SWEE­ DLE, shuts the door] W e ' v e asked y o u to c o m e up because there are certain facts to be faced in this matter. I understand y o u have only just met Falder again.

W h a t is i t ?

There is silence.

C O K E S O N . [Suddenly] T h e r e ' s s o m e o n e out there [To R U T H ] G O in here. Y o u ' l l feel better b y your­ self for a minute. 1

He points to the clerks' room and moves towards outer office.

F A L D E R does not move.

R U T H puts

8 o 3

The American

Magazine Again

there is

silence.

W A L T E R and C O K E S O N steal glances at J A M E S , who stands

staring steadily at the detective. COKESON. [Expansively] W e ' r e very b u s y at the moment. If y o u could make it convenient to call again we might b e able to tell you then. JAMES. [Decisively] I'm a servant o f the L a w , but I dislike peaching. In fact, I can't d o such a thing. If you want him y o u must find him without us.

As he speaks his eye falls on F A L D E R ' S cap, still lying

on the table, and his face con­ tracts. W I S T E R . [Noting the ges­ ture—quietly] Very good, sir. I o u g h t to warn you that, having b r o k e n the terms of his license, he's still a c o n v i c t , and sheltering a convict J A M E S . I shelter no one. B u t y o u mustn't come here ! He's safe ' Cokeson. N o one'll touch him n o w ! Never a and ask questions which it's with gentle Jesus! " not m y business to answer. W I S T E R . [Dryly] I won't out her hand timidly. He shrinks back from the trouble y o u further then, gentlemen. touch. She tarns and goes miserably into the clerks' C O K E S O N . I ' m sorry w e c o u l d n ' t give you the room. With ; brusque movement he follows, seiz­ information. Y o u quite understand, don't you? ing her by the shoulder just inside the doorway G o o d - m o r n i n g ! C O K E S O N shuts the door. W I S T E R turns to go, but instead of going to the J A M E S . [Pointing to the outer office] G e t rid o f door of the outer office he goes to the door of the clerks' that, w h o e v e r it is. room. S W E E D L E . [Opening the office door, in a scared C O K E S O N . T h e other d o o r . . . the other voice] Detective-Sergeant Wister. door! The detective enters, and closes the door behind W I S T E R opens the clerk's door. R U T H ' S voice him. is heard: "Oh, dot" and F A L D E R ' S : " / can't!" W I S T E R . Sorry to disturb y o u , sir. A clerk y o u There is a little pause; then, with sharp fright, had here, two years and a half a g o . I arrested R U T H says: "Who's that?" W I S T E R has gone in. him in this r o o m . The three men look aghast at the door. J A M E S . W h a t a b o u t him ? W I S T E R . [From within] K e e p b a c k , please! W I S T E R . I thought perhaps I might get his He comes swiftly out with his arm twisted in whereabouts from y o u . [There is an awkward F A L D E R ' S . The latter gives a white, staring look

GAM

silence.] C O K E S O N . [Pleasantly, coming to the rescue] W e ' r e not responsible for his m o v e m e n t s ; y o u k n o w that. J A M E S . W h a t d o y o u w a n t with h i m ? W I S T E R . H e ' s failed to report himself this last four weeks. W A L T E R . HOW d ' y o u mean ? W I S T E R . T i c k e t - o f - l e a v e w o n ' t b e u p for another six months, sir. W A L T E R . H a s he to k e e p in t o u c h with the police till t h e n ? W I S T E R . W e ' r e b o u n d to k n o w where he sleeps every night. I dare say w e shouldn't interfere, sir, even though he hasn't reported himself. But w e ' v e just heard there's a serious matter o f o b t a i n ­ ing e m p l o y m e n t with a forged reference. What with the two things together—we must have h i m .

at the three men. WALTER. WISTER. FALDER. Flinging

L e t h i m g o this time, for G o d ' s sake! I c o u l d n ' t take the responsibility, sir. [With a queer, desperate laugh] Good! a look at R U T H , he throws up his head,

and goes out through the outer office, half dragging W I S T E R after him. W A L T E R . [With despair] T h a t finishes him. It'll g o on for ever n o w . S W E E D L E can be seen staring through the outer

door. These are sounds of footsteps descending the stone stairs; suddenly a dull thud, a faint " M y God!"

in W I S T E R ' S

voice.

J A M E S . W h a t ' s that ? S W E E D L E dashes forward.

behind him.

The

door swings to

There is dead silence.

W A L T E R . [Starting forward T h e w o m a n — s h e ' s fainting!

to the vmcr room]

Justice: By John

Galsworthy

831

He and C O K E S O N support the fainting RuTH/rom the doorway of the clerks' room. COKESON. [Distracted] Here, m y dear! There, there! W A L T E R . H a v e y o u any b r a n d y ? COKESON. I ' v e got sherry. W A L T E R . G e t it, then. Q u i c k !

He places R U T H in a J.AMES has dragged forward.

chair—which

COKESON. [With sherry] H e r e ! It's g o o d

strong sherry. [They try to force the sherry between her lips.] There is the sound of feet, and they stop to listen. The outer door is reopened—WISTER and SWEEDLE are seen carrying some burden. JAMES. [Hurrying

forward]

W h a t is i t ?

They lay the burden down in the outer office, out of sight, and all but R U T H cluster round it, speaking in liushcd voices. WISTER. H e j u m p e d — n e c k ' s broken. WALTER. G o o d G o d ! W I S T E R . H e must have been m a d to think he could give me the slip like that. And what was it—just a few m o n t h s ! W A L T E R . [Bitterly] W a s that a l l ? JAMES. W h a t a desperate thing! [Then,

in a voice unlike

his own] R u n for a

doctor—you! [ S W E E D L E rushes from

the

outer office] A n ambulance! W I S T E R goes out.

On R U T H ' S face

an

expression offear and horror has been grow­ ing, as if she dared not turn towards the voices. She now rises and steals towards them. W A L T E R . [Turning

suddenly]

The three men shrink

Look!

out of her way,

one by one, into C O K E S O N ' S room.

RUTH

drops on her knees by the body. R U T H . [In a whisper]

not breathing. My dear!

W h a t is i t ? H e ' s

[She crouches over him]

M y pretty!

" R U T H stands as tliougli turned to stone" In the outer office doorway the figures of men are seen standing. R U T H . [Leaping to her feet] N o , n o ! N o , n o ! C O K E S O N . N O one'll touch him n o w ! N e v e r He's dead! [ The figures of the men shrink again! l i e ' s safe with gentle Jesus! R U T H stands as though turned to stone in the back] COKESON. [Stealing forward. In a hoarse voice] doorway staring at COKESON, who, bending humbly before her, holds out his hand as one would to a There, there, p o o r dear w o m a n ! At the sound behind her R U T H faces round lost dog. The curtain falls. at him.

THE END

T H E

T H E A T R E

THE RISE AND THEATRICAL

F A L L OF T H E SYNDICATE

BY W A L T E R

llllllllW

PRICHARD

E A T O N

MIMIIHilJlIliljl

T

HE so-called Theatrical Syndicate, which for nearly fifteen years has, according to its own statement, controlled more than ninety per cent, of the better class theatres in America, greatly to the pecuniary profit of the gentlemen composing it and greatly to the detriment of the art of acting, of playwriting, of play-producing, of public taste, is a thing of the past. It no longer controls even a bare majority of the theatres of this country. It is shorn of its power and very considerably of its profits. We once more have a free stage in America. What this means to authors, actors, young and ambi­ tious managers, the owners of small theatres and, finally, to the public, is of great impor­ tance. The Theatrical Syndicate was formed in the season of 1 8 9 5 - 6 by Nixon and Zim­ merman of Philadelphia, Charles Frohman, Al Hayman and Klaw and Erlanger of New York. Hayman already had gained control of many theatres in the West. Froh­ man, a large producing manager, controlled many in cities like New York and Boston. Klaw and Erlanger had secured a number on the route from Washington to New Or­ leans. Nixon and Zimmerman controlled Philadelphia and houses through Pennsylvania and Ohio. With this nucleus of theatres, they could arrange a considerable tour for a mana­ ger from their New York office. It appeared to save him trouble and it appeared to guaran­ tee the theatres a steady run of attractions; and, as the Syndicate refused to "book" a play in any of its houses which played in any oppo­ sition theatres, and as it refused to "book" a theatre which played rival attractions, it soon held the whip hand in the situation. •This iron-clad refusal to sanction competition was always the chief weapon—as it was one of 832

the greatest curses—of the system. Of course as the Syndicate rapidly secured control of more theatres, it became more difficult to stand out against the monopoly. The scheme in its main workings was a sim­ ple one. A play, no matter how successful in New York, if it is to make any money on the road must have its tour so booked that a per­ formance can be given every evening at a town where the receipts will pay the railroad fares and leave something over. It does little good if you can play, after New York, in Boston, Washington, Chicago, St. Louis, Denver and San Francisco, if you cannot play in the smaller towns between to pay your hauling charges. The Syndicate, either by leasehold or by promises to the local theatre managers to give them an uninterrupted season of attractions, rapidly controlled the approaches to the big cities, even when independent theatres were left in the cities themselves, and thus it con­ trolled the theatrical situation in America. A play manager no longer arranged his tour with the managers of the theatres. Neither he nor the theatre manager had anything to say about it. He went to the office of Klaw and Erlanger in New York, who were made the booking agents of the Syndicate, and they ar­ ranged it for him. The charge was 5 per cent, of the receipts of the play. Nominally this charge was made on the theatre; that is, every theatre in the country booked by Klaw and Erlanger had to send 5 per cent, of its nightly takings to these gentlemen in New York, who did nothing whatever in return for it except to hold the club of power. Actually, however, the owner of the play equally suffered, for his share was proportionately diminished. It lay within the power of Klaw and Er­ langer to refuse to book a play, if they so chose, and no theatre in America, under their control,

Phiitotrapn

G KRT R II) E

l'y FouUImm

&• DciulUlU

E L LIO T T

Sister of Maxine Elliott, who, in " T h e Dawn of a T o - m o r r o w , " will be starred this winter by L i e b l e r & G o . , a theatrical management tinder the direction of ( leorge W . Tyler, which over a year a g o broke with the Syndi­ cate and became affiliated with the Shubert Brothers, the leaders of the independent managers

834

The American Magazine

dared house it then. It further lay within their power so to arrange a tour that the mana­ ger could not possibly make a profit, to keep him out of New York or Chicago, to jump him hundreds of miles between performances—in short, to ruin him. However, nobody enjoys being ruined. When David Belasco sued for a settlement of the affairs of "The Auctioneer" Company, alleging that not Joseph Brooks, but Klaw and Erlanger were his real partners in the manage­ ment, he asserted under oath on the witness stand that Erlanger had refused to give him a route for Warfield except for 50 per cent, of the profits; that Erlanger further had exacted a promise that he should be given a like inter­ est, without risk, in everything else Belasco might produce; but, that the outside world should not know that the firm of Klaw and Erlanger was in the Warfield transaction, Joseph Brooks was used as their dummy in the case, though it was stipulated that no profit checks should be made payable to Brooks, but to Klaw and Erlanger only. Erlanger's reply to this was a denial. He admitted, however, that his firm had received two-thirds of the 50 per cent, profits of the alleged nominal partnership with Brooks. He said: "We were not partners with Brooks in that enterprise; we never took one postage stamp of risk in the enterprise. Mr. Brooks made us a present of two-thirds of his share in consideration of other work done." Mr. Erlanger's own words are sufficiently ex­ planatory. It is said that in recent years the 5 per cent, booking fees alone yielded $ 7 5 0 , 0 0 0 annually. At first other managers tried to organize an opposition, and failed. Then the actors, led by Nat Goodwin, Francis Wilson, Mans­ field, James A. Heme and Mrs. Fiske, took a hand. The Syndicate landed Goodwin by promises of fine engagements and a long season at the Knickerbocker in New York. Francis Wilson, Mansfield and all the rest save Mrs. Fiske ultimately gave in, too. Mr. Wilson stated as his reasons: 1st. The months of struggle had brought no new converts, and the strongest ally, Mans­ field, had fallen by the wayside. 2nd. There were no signs of the Trust's re­ lenting or weakening. 3rd. His following was slipping away, on account of the theatres he had to play in. 4th. His traveling expenses were greater. 5th. He had his family to consider.* That was in January, 1899. Only Mrs. Fiske remained independent. She continued * ( F r o m H a p g o o d ' s " The Stage in A m e r i c a . " )

to play as much as she could in her New York theatre, and anywhere she could outside of it. She would not forsake her principles of inde­ pendence, which included her right to play where she wished at her own terms, and she never has forsaken them, though it has cost her much money, and though for years she played through the country in convention halls and second-class theatres on dirty side streets. She is the one and only person, actor or manager, in America who has had the courage, the pur­ pose, the ability to stand firm for fifteen years, and it is she who has the best right to-day to dance on the grave of the Syndicate. Char­ acteristically, she hasn't so much as given out an interview. From 1899 on, then, for almost a decade, with sporadic opposition here and there, as when David Belasco hauled the Syndicate into court and wore for a time the martyr's crown, until the final downfall began two years ago, when the Shubert Brothers, managers in New York, grasped the situation by acquiring rival theatres, the Syndicate was in practically abso­ lute control of the American stage. No local theatre manager in Worcester, Mass., or Nor­ folk, Va., or Grand Rapids, Mich., could say what should or should not come to his house. He had to take what was sent, good or bad, clean or vile. No play producer could get his play before the public unless Klaw and Er­ langer chose to let him, and then, often, only at the payment of a heavy toll. Since the Syndi­ cate could control absolutely the tours, they naturally gave the best bookings to their own plays, or the plays of men closely affiliated with them, and so, equally naturally, they controlled the European market, not because they could mount the plays better here, but because they and they alone could promise the foreign au­ thors long and profitable tours. That is the real secret of Charles Frohman's command of the best English plays. It followed, also, that na­ tive authors depended too largely for a hearing on the judgments of a few ignorant men, and that the ambitious actor or the small manager with a new, untried play, unless it seemed to their mercenary standards sure of popular suc­ cess, or unless the actor or manager was willing to come to their terms, had no chance at all. It used frequently to be affirmed by these piratical dictators, and reiterated by the press (hostile at first, but soon awed by the advertis­ ing club), that "the public isn't interested in the manager of a play or the business side of the theatre; the play is all that concerns him." Nothing could be more false. The moment a man assumes to manage a theatre he becomes a public servant, for the offering on his stage

Photograph

MARGARET

by

Sarony

ILL INGTON

Who returns to the stage in a Camille play, a translation from the French, entitled "Until Eternity." Illington's manager is M r . Edward Eisner, who was her former stage manager in " T h e Thief."

Miss

l i e is an

example of the small manager who before the fall of the Syndic ale would have been unable to obtain any bookings for an offering of his own

T h e R i s e a n d F a l l of the T h e a t r i c a l S y n d i c a t e : B y W . P . E a t o n directly and powerfully influences public taste and morality. Now, it is written in the stars that no man can permanently produce above his own level. The plays he picks from manu­ script will inevitably reflect his own tastes, the men he encourages will be his own kind, the influence he exerts will be a reflex of his char­ acter. Who our theatrical managers are is a matter of vast public importance. And, ulti­ mately, it was the character of the men who composed the Syndicate and of the men it gathered in its train which wrought its down­ fall. It was organized for pecuniary gain, con­ ducted for gain, and its members never showed that they cared for the true interests of the theatre, or that they understood them, and so never had the first right to dabble with a fine art. Abraham Lincoln Erlanger, a man who has never had any real artistic training, a man of high-handed and dictatorial methods, as the "fighting head" of the Syndicate and chief of its booking agency, did most to kill the goose that was laying him golden eggs. He killed the goose by killing off the small producer. Especially in a country like this, where there are more than two thousand first-class theatres to fill, no one man, and no single group of men, can possibly pro­ duce good plays enough to go around, even if they should possess the catholic taste of an archangel and the laboring ability of a Hercules. Yet for many years practically all the better class of plays sent out from New York have been produced by a rela­ tively small number of men, most of them en­ joying the favor of the Syndicate, and only a very few of our actors have been permitted to choose and mount their own plays, to present a repertoire instead of one part for two or three seasons. There is less profit in a repertoire. Of course, there is more growth for the actor and more pleasure for the public—but what of that? Charles Frohman, the largest producer in the Syndicate, has done very little for the American dramatist; but he has brought us many worthy reproductions of English plays, made for him on the other side by men who know their business. He has been a wholesale importer of decent wares, and we are told he is "kind to his players"—which means he pays them well and keeps them, as he kept Miss Barrymore, for years in trivial parts which please a large section of the public. He alone of the Syndicate has any standing, at any rate, in the world of art or in the community at large. Hayman has produced nothing. Klaw and Erlanger have produced "Ben Hur," and little

837

else of merit. Their other productions have been either noisy, slap-stick musical affairs like the Rogers Brothers' "shows," or else the firm has been identified wdth salacious pieces like "The Soul Kiss" and "Miss Innocence," di­ rectly fathered by their camp-follower, Ziegfeld. Erlanger himself helped to stage that ribald obscenity, "The Queen of the Moulin Rouge," and "The Girl wdth the Whooping Cough" was playing at his New York Theatre when Mayor Gaynor revoked the license of the house. Nixon and Zimmerman do not count as producers. Another man, closely affiliated wdth the Syndicate, is generally known as be­ ing unable to tell a good play from a bad till he reads the morning papers. The firm of Cohan and Harris, the Cohan being George M. Cohan, are strong Syndicate allies. Mr. Co­ han's intellectual and artistic rank is indicated by the plays and the music he writes, though it is only just to state that in the past year his firm has mounted two excellent plays, "The House Next Door" and "The Fortune Hunter." An­ other ally of the Syndicate was trained for the delicate task of manipulating a fine art by managing a large amusement park at Coney Island. Aside from Mr. Frohman, then, the Syndi­ cate has had no members nor close allies com­ petent to furnish steadily worthy dramatic fare for the people of America. This fare has had to come from the outside managers, and only such managers as were strong enough to com­ pel concessions from Mr. Erlanger or weak enough to minister to his vanity or yield to his demands, survived to furnish it. To men like George Tyler, of Liebler & Co., we have looked to discover much of our new, native drama. To Henry W. Savage we have looked for real oper­ etta instead of G. M. Cohan musical-comedies. To actor-managers like Mansfield, Henry Miller, Mrs. Fiske, Sothern and Marlowe, and to Belasco we have looked for careful, pro­ gressive, imaginative stage management. For years the best acting, the best stage direction, the freshest drama, have been furnished to us not by the Syndicate, but by the outside mana­ gers whom the Syndicate had to let live because without them it could nothavefilledits theatres. But these managers have been few in num­ ber, far too few to cover the field; they have represented too narrow a range of taste. Among them also have been far too few actormanagers. Too little attention has been given to acting, to experiment, to the growth of reper­ toires. And that is because the small mana­ gers have been killed off and the actors who washed to branch out for themselves discour­ aged or choked dowm. Cases in proof of this

8; 8

The American Magazine

could be cited by the score. Frank Terley, once a manager, but forced out of the business, found one of his plays booked to jump from Philadelphia to East Liverpool, Ohio; from there to Dowagiac, Michigan; and then via a circuitous route with many relays to Char­ lotte, North Carolina. This is a typical ex­ ample. Another manager of much experience, taste and skill has made but one or two produc­ tions a season for several years because he refused to meet certain implied demands of the Syndicate booking agents, and so was kept out of New York City. Next season he will mount six plays. Another small manager committed suicide, it is said, because he lost all his fortune paying railroad fares on a tour so arranged that profit was impossible. The personal preferences of the head of the Syndicate booking agency have also played their part in suppressing experiment on our stage, or competition, or the development of new talent. An actress who owned a play married a certain man in high disfavor with Klaw and Erlanger, and retired from the stage. Several other ac­ tresses, with a little money of their own, wished to buy that play and put it on for themselves. But the negotiations always stopped at a certain point. The actress had evidently married the wrong man. Some years ago a new play by a young new author was in rehearsal. The author said something to Mr. Erlanger which offended that manager. The rehearsals stopped, and for a space of years the young author could not get any play produced. Fi­ nally a firm of managers accepted one of his dramas on condition that Erlanger would give consent (in writing) to book it. Erlanger re­ lented, the play was produced, and the author immediately was recognized as one of the most promising talents in our theatre. Conversely, of course, the plays and mana­ gers which met Mr. Erlanger's approval were given undue prominence and the choicest book­ ings. Like seeks like. These plays and man­ agers were oftenest, perhaps, of his own kind. If not, they were the plays in which hisfirmhad acquired the largest financial interest or which promised to his theatres the quickest financial reward. Hence, in recent years, we have seen his tastes directly reflected on our stage and inflicted upon us in the best theatres, through such pieces as "The Soul Kiss," "Miss Inno­ cence," "The Follies of 1 9 0 9 , " "The Queen of the Moulin Rouge," "The Girl with the Whooping Cough." As the local managers had no say in the matter, we have seen the decline from a high and dignified dramatic standard of such theatres as the Hollis Street in Boston, and the slower but no less sure with­

drawal from theatregoing of a large portion of the old-fashioned, conservative element of the population, the people who best loved the art of acting and best appreciated the finer things of the stage. A year or more ago, Erlanger declared he would not "book" any indecent shows in the Syndicate theatres. Twelve months later, the Mayor of New York had to close up one of his theatres to protect public decency. It is possible that Mr. Erlanger was overruled by the other members of the Syndi­ cate, and compelled to book this filth against his will. But whether the responsibility rests on one man or on six, the fact remains that the power of the monopoly, when it might have been exercised for good, was exercised for evil, to debauch the stage. But in the greed of the Syndicate for monop­ olistic power, and especially in the conduct of its nominal head (who, it has been frequently stated, considers himself as little less than a reincarnation of Napoleon, living in a house full of busts and mementos of the Little Cor­ poral, and of books about him) lay the seeds of its downfall. Not only did the Syndicate keep its hundreds of little theatre managers in line by tyrannical methods, denying them all inde­ pendence and extorting heavy tolls from them, not only did it keep the producers in line by threats and intimidation, not only did it kill off ambitious young managers or actors with a play, who would not "come to terms"; but its nominal head, there seems good ground to be­ lieve, suffered severe anger when due obeisance was not made before the throne. Even actors and theatre managers are human; they have shreds of independence, of self-assertion, even in defiance of pecuniary profit. Thus, after more than a decade of high-handed domi­ nance of the American theatre, the Syndicate found itself suddenly with a fight on its hands, and heard the mutter of discontent even in the ranks of its most subservient followers. The Shuberts—Sam S., who was killed in a railroad wreck at the beginning of the contest, and his brothers Lee and J . J.—suddenly de­ veloped astonishing independence. That was five years ago. They began to acquire thea­ tres of their own in New York and other cities. At first the contest looked hopeless, and the Shuberts appeared to give it up for a time. Mrs. Fiske and Belasco were their only allies of power, and they had few attractions of their own. But the patched-up truce did not last long. Where these mild-seeming little He­ brews get their fighting power it is hard to fathom. But fight they did, and in the only way—by acquiring ever more rival theatres through the country, getting backers to build

Ii:l:||:|¡ i| III :|!¡|!¡hi II ¡IMIJI IIII IN Photograph

MRS.

LESLIE

&jr

Sctrony

CARTER

A former Belasco star, now under the management of John Cort, who, controlling a large circuit of theatres throughout

the Northwest, broke away from the Syndicate in the spring of this year. appear this season in a new play by Rupert Hughes

Mrs. Carter is to

Photograph

by Moffttt

F R I T ZI

SCH E F F

the present season has been one of the stars of the Theatrical Syndicate under the management Dillingham.

Her present contract has been made with the Shubert Brothers, the Syndicate's

, and during the coming season she will appear in a musical version of " T r i l b y " written for her by Victor Herbert

T h e R i s e a n d F a l l of the T h e a t r i c a l S y n d i c a t e : B y W . P . E a t o n the houses when necessary, and by putting on more and more plays to fill them. The time came almost two years ago when they con­ trolled playhouses in most of the larger cities, the "one week stands," as they are called. This was hopeful, but it was not enough. The 1,200 to 1,500 theatres in the one night stands were closed to them still, because the managers of those houses were bound to play only Syndi­ cate attractions. A manager could' secure a year's tour for his play from the Shuberts, but not a second or third year in the profitable one night territory, nor could he get from city to city without great expense. But the Shuberts made flattering offers to actors and playwrights and gradually they weened away such a large list of attractions from the other camp that the Syndicate did not have attractions enough to supply its small town theatres as of old. The managers of these theatres, hit in the pocket now as well as the pride, began to grumble. A year ago, George W. Tyler, always an independent man, went over to the Shuberts, with all his fine list of stars and plays, including Viola Allen, Wil­ ton Lackaye, "The Melting Pot," "The Fourth Estate," "The Dawn of a To-morrow" and "Alias Jimmy Valentine." At the same time, to be sure, David Belasco, who had for some years worn a martyr's crown and de­ claimed against the tyranny of the Syndicate, saw the lure of dollars for Warfield in the one night stands of the South, and suddenly put his crown into cold storage. It is one of the ironies of fate that, since then, he has perceptibly lost prestige with the public, who admired him for his former allegiance to the principles of freedom. He has produced but one success and that a very mild one, while on the road even his old plays, save Warfield, have ceased to draw. There is money in a martyr's crown! Belasco's deflection, how­ ever, was not enough to stem the tide. Too many people had fretted too long under the yoke. It became apparent to the careful ob­ server that so soon as the Independents could get a list of attractions anything like equal to the Syndicate's list, the small theatres, in defi­ ance of the Trust, would begin to open their doors; and then the landslide. Early in 1 9 1 0 the landslide started. William A. Brady, manager of many plays, and Daniel V. Arthur, manager of Marie Cahill and De Wolf Hopper (Mr. Arthur had tried in vain to get a theatre for Hopper in New York from the Syndicate), went over to the Shuberts. Already the Shuberts were preparing to add The New Theatre company to their list of travelling at­ tractions. They controlled as many theatres

841

in New York as the Syndicate. In Boston, by wise management, they had taken the prestige away from the mismanaged Hollis Street Theatre. They were intrenched in Washing­ ton, Philadelphia, Pittsburg, Chicago, St. Paul, Minneapolis, and the connecting cities. And by mid-spring, 1 9 1 0 , the landslide was coming down, gathering momentum as it slid, and making a roar in the theatrical world that caused Broadway to sit up astonished. First the circuit of theatres covering New England, through the man who had hitherto lined them up for the Syndicate, declared for the Open Door. Then John Cort's circuit of theatres covering the Northwest followed suit. A Pennsylvania and Ohio circuit (in which Nixon and Zimmerman owned' 25 per cent, of the stock) next voted to book any plays they chose. By May 1,200 small town theatres through the country had declared their right to play what­ ever attractions they saw fit, and had united into the National Theatre Owners' Association. As the Shuberts already owned or controlled practically as large a number of city theatres as the Syndicate, that despotic institution was, at one blow, absolutely shorn of its power. It could no longer threaten anybody, it could no longer impose its tastes, its prejudices, its vul­ garity, upon the stage of America. Napoleon had met his Waterloo. The Syndicate, of course, is not going to die without a kick or two. Immediately it lined up its own attractions and those of a few mana­ gers still "loyal" to it, and refused to play them in any of the 1,200 "open door" houses. It also began negotiations (on paper, at least) to build rival theatres over the country. How long these managers will remain "loyal," now that their profits have dwindled in half, remains to be seen. Henry W. Savage threw it over last July, and thus took 24 attractions away from it at a blow. The situation has not, at the present writing, worked itself out fully. But one thing seems certain. There is no immediate prospect of any one-man control of the American stage in the future. In all' the cities rival theatres exist; and all the one night stand theatre managers are weary of being janitors, and still more weary of losing money, which they are bound to do if, by alliance with a Syndicate, they lose all the good plays and popular players outside of such a Syndicate. They want all the good attractions they can get; and they can get them only through a free stage. Consequently they now once more fill their time for themselves, reserve the right to reject unworthy dramas sent from New York and are janitors no longer. If the Syndicate can really build up a second

842

The American Magazine

chain of theatres, all the better, we shall have competition, and the best play will win. Also, we may have $ 1 . 5 0 seats again! Whether the Syndicate is ever able to build up a rival chain of theatres or not, however, the Free Stage means that hosts of small towns will now see plays and players which in recent years have not been permitted to visit them. It means that, after the season which is just commencing, at any rate, they will probably see most of ' the first-class productions sent out from New York, instead of half. But it means, still more, that the country at large will have a chance to see more new work by native authors tried out than ever before in the history of our theatre, picked and mounted by a greater number of men. It means that the day of the young author and the small manager and the ambitious actor has arrived. During the winter ahead, especially if Klaw and Erlanger contrive for a few months more to keep Charles Frohman and others from playing the open door houses, the Independents will have to mount an enormous number of new plays to fill their theatres. These they will have to secure to a considerable extent from young authors and small managers. Under the new régime no extortionate booking fee is exacted. Every possible encouragement will be given to the actor who has a play and a little money to put it on with, to the small manager who has found a drama he has faith in, to any­ body with theatrical wares to sell. Such a man can go and book his tour for himself, deal­ ing directly with the various circuits of smaller theatres, and playing where he sees fit. It stands to reason that the varying tastes of six men each producing a play will result in greater variety than the taste of one man pro­ ducing six; and that a man can give closer personal attention to one production, than to half a dozen. The stage effects of Belasco result from his close, patient, personal atten­ tion. Mrs. Fiske's marvelous stage direction could not be smeared thinly over six plays and remain what it is. Still further, the actors themselves, who after all best know their own business, ought, to a much larger extent, to con­ trol their own destinies, and this they can only do when they are encouraged not to play one rôle for three seasons, but to pick and mount plays for themselves, to experiment and ex­ pand. Until two years ago, when he broke away from a manager and took up his own af­ fairs, William Faversham was looked upon as an amiable mediocrity. The Shuberts, needing attractions, gave him the chance to play "The World and His Wife" and then "Herod," and suddenly we realized that Faversham was an

actor of solid ability and high ideals. Walter Hampden, who has bought Miss Peabody's prize play, "The Piper," ought to follow the same course. So ought Otis Skinner, an actor who for some years has consented to parade season after season in one or two parts, when he might be a leader of our stage. We have plenty of good actors, we have just now more young playwrights who possess tal­ ent and technical knowledge than ever before. Unfortunately we have, thanks to the decade and a half of Syndicate rule, fewer managers who are in the "theatrical business" because they love the art of the theatre—men like Palmer and Daly and Steele Mackaye—men of brains and taste and skill. But, under the new conditions, these men can now arise again, and, working with the actors and the authors, can put the theatrical business where it belongs, in the hands of theatrical artists. It is only onethird a business; it is two-thirds an art; a little problem in fractions which the Syndicate failed to solve. In the first two weeks of last May,fiftyyoung managers and actors with some money to back ventures of their own, inspired by the landslide, came to the Independent camp with requests for a hearing next season. Of course, out of these fifty trials will be many failures. But some gold will undoubtedly be found, which under the old conditions would never have seen the light. The small manager does not have the pick of the big dramatists' work. He has to try out some play by a new author. The actor who seeks to mount a drama for himself has usually chosen one which has literary or poetic qualities of a less widely popular appeal than his former manager could appreciate— like "Herod," for example. To encourage the small manager, then, is to give the young native playwright a chance, to encourage the ambi­ tious actor is to increase the pleasure the public may find in the theatre, to encourage the better things of the stage. And not in fifteen years has such encouragement been given in Amer­ ica as will be given in the seasons just ahead of us. The theatrical business, rightly conducted, is capable of being a splendid and delight­ ful occupation. By the sordid, monopolistic methods of the Syndicate, the theatrical bus­ iness in America has latterly fallen to such a state that few men of birth and breeding could possibly be attracted into it, or remain in it with self-respect. These are hard words, but true. The best plays will always be dis­ covered, and the best productions made, by the best men, by men of breeding, sound taste, and theatric skill.

MATRIMONIAL

"ACTUALLY.

YES.

TROUBLES

ACTUALLY,

THE

THEY

HAD

OF T H E JIMSIE

BEGUN

FATAL

W I T H

A

BATES

CANNED -FISH

SALAD!"

HASH

BY MARY AUTHOR

OF

HEATON

"JIMSIE'S

ILLUSTRATIONS

BY

VORSE

AFTERNOON

MAY'

A FTER Glover and Edith Sessions had / % gone Louise was the first to break the \ silence that had fallen like a leathern curtain between her and Jimsie. The question she asked was incredible. It was asked, too, in an irritating tone, a cool little society voice as one who is addressing a stranger whom one has not very much fancied. Her question—and Jimsie could not believe his ears when he heard it—was: "Who is Miss Sessions?" Now that was a nice thing for Louise to say, wasn't it,—"Who was Edith Sessions?" Who

WILSON

OFF,"

ETC.

PRESTON

was Jimsie's girl pal before he married Louise? Who was the best girl friend he had ever had ? Who was the girl who had dined with him and the "bunch" night after night? Who was Edith—the first one to know about his engage­ ment ?—and at the thought of the incident which led to the telling of his engagement before it was announced Jimsie's ears grew unpleasantly hot, for he remembered that he had been fool enough to feel embarrassed over telling this news to his old friend, that he had been fool enough to dream for a moment that a girl with Edith's brains and charm should have anything 843

844

The

American Magazine

stronger than a liking or friendship for a com­ mon or garden variety of man such as Jimsie knew himself to be. At the flooding of all these memories which exactly placed Edith Sessions, Jimsie answered with surprise mingled, too, with a touch of just irritation: "Why, you know who Miss Sessions is, Louise! You met her at our wedding and she called on you afterward." Louise dropped her tone of polite inquiry to one not far removed from the accents of domes­ tic bicker. "You don't suppose," she asked him, "that I can remember everybody, Jimsie, that came to my wedding, do you? Her face seemed familiar, however!" Jimsie liked that—Edith's face seemed familiar! He remembered distinctly Edith's having talked to Louise at Mrs. Bronson's tea, and said so. He remembered having hoped anxiously that Edith would like Louise; Edith like Louise, mind you,—not Louise, Edith. That he had taken for granted. "But when it comes," Louise pursued, "to bringing home stray young women to dinner without so much as telephoning me, besides men that I know as little as Mr. Glover . . . If you had telephoned, you know!" It was the offensive phrase concerning "stray young women" which aroused the'masculine dignity of Jimsie Bate. "Louise," he said with what he hoped was sternness, " I have heard enough about my not telephoning; quite enough. I told you I tried three times and that the wire was busy every time. I never can get you, when it comes to that, when I want you on the wire. Some­ times it seems to me as if you must spend the day plastered to that telephone." Louise had spent time at the phone, and for good reason. Her mother wasn't very well and couldn't go out and liked to talk to Louise, and had called her up three times from New Rochelle; she had called her mother up once. Nothing but affection and consideration for Jimsie had kept her from dashing out there and spending the night. She had been a bad daughter just because she loved Jimsie so much, doing the thing she always did—sacri­ ficing her family and her friends for his sake. She hadn't even bothered him with the news that her mother wasn't very well when he had come home bringing with him two uninvited guests. But Jimsie was still talking as Louise's mind wandered off into a consideration of how she put her own friends and family aside for love of him. He was saying:

"Besides that, it's all pose on your part, ask­ ing who Edith Sessions is. I have talked to you about her heaps of times, telling you about the gang." Here came from Louise, prompt and dis­ tinct, a denial direct: "You have not." " I beg your pardon ? " asked Jimsie, menace in his eyes. " I said I have never heard you say the name of Miss Sessions in talking about what you call your 'gang,'" Louise repeated firmly. Jimsie was silent. He prided himself on be­ ing very just. Vaguely did he remember that, because of some instinct that he had never given himself account of before, in telling stories in which Edith Sessions was concerned, she had figured as " a girl," or "a friend of mine," " a special writer who played around with the bunch," " a girl I liked." Yes, in these many stories relating to the days before one's marriage, of the kind that one likes to tell one's wife, Edith might perfectly well have been six young ladies. He had never thought about it as he did it. There was no reason for it at all. It had been done'as artlessly and without taking thought as a rabbit changes his coat in winter to match the snow. He made up for that now, but at the moment it seemed a lack of loyalty to Edith to give a minute and exact description of how good a friend she had been to him. He informed Louise that, having led the sheltered life she had, she could not appreciate what the friendship and constant companionship of a really fine girl like Edith meant to a young fellow, and he ended up with this statement: "You can judge how good a friend of mine she is when I tell you that she was the very first person I told about our engagement—before I told any of my own people." After this statement the heavy curtain of silence fell between them again. Jimsie sat in a big Morris chair, his feet spread out in front of him, slowdy puffing his pipe, his eyes on the toes of his shoes; from where he sat he could not see Louise. He had left anger behind and soared to the heights of philosophy—phi­ losophy tinged with the cynicism of The Man Who Knows, of The Man Who Has Been There. He gave himself the pleasure of contrasting two sets of pictures, his lips twisted in a humorous, cynical smile. One set was what you thought it was going to be and one was how it really was—a sort of series of "before and after" pictures from the view­ point of the experienced married man. Take the matter of unexpected guests, for instance. There is probably no man living

T h e Fatal H a s h : B y M a r y Heaton Vorse who doesn't imagine himself bringing home friends as he wishes. "Come along, old man, and get something fit to eat!" are the words that every natural man expects to find himself saying at will to all his old friends. Then when you get home you expect to find a smiling wdfe, charmingly dressed,—a gracious hostess,—and a good little dinner, very simple, you know, but everything awfully good of its kind—real grub, in fact, as a man in his own home is entitled to. Then con­ versation and a good time and your old friend making a hit with your wife and your wife making a hit with your old friend, who, in his own good time, takes his departure, thinking what a lucky man Jimsie Bate is. That's the picture that you dream about; not a very elaborate one—you are not asking for frills, you are not looking for the impossible. But what really happens? The first time— Jimsie smiled as he thought of it. He found the house dark, the maid gone and, after a search through rooms which showed the dis­ order of a precipitate flight, he discovered a note of insulting brevity, saying: "Called sud­ denly to mother's. You had better get your dinner out." He remembered well with a hot feeling under the collar his friend's quizzical little look, as he explained the situation. And on top of that, Louise had actually, yes, actu­ ally, dared to express an opinion that Jimsie could not afford expensive dinners like the one he had given his friend in a restaurant, and he hadn't replied a single word or reproached her in the least. It was things like that that made him realize why foreign peoples chuckle over the American man. A soft, mush-hearted fool was what he was! Then there was the second time: Louise had tried awfully hard to elaborate a simple dinner, too hard,—she might have let dinner go at potluck; the maid, who had done very well up to that time, left the next day. His mind trailed itself through the little string of failures diversi­ fied by one or two successes. What was the matter? Jimsie wondered, not having pro­ gressed far enough along in the knowledge that marriage gives a man of his wife to realize that Louise had not an emergency mind. Then to-night! He had met Glover and Edith Sessions and heard about their engage­ ment, and, feeling full of kindness and peace-onearth-and-good-will-toward-men, he had ex­ uberantly asked them to dinner. Glover had hesitated: the women folk in his family hadn't the emergency mind either; Edith hesitated, too. But Jimsie, in the impetuous rush of his good feeling, had swept them along before him. r

845

They chattered and had a good time all the way uptown, but as soon as they entered the house things had gone wrong. Jimsie still longed to strangle something when he thought of Louise's polite and infinitely formal "So good of you to come." This time, by Jove, she hadn't broken her neck with any fussings over the dinner! She had gone out and given a few orders principally concerning the opening of a can of salmon. Jimsie's mind dwelt gloomily and insistently upon the details of the meal of which he had partaken. Actually, yes, actually, they had begun with a canned-fish salad! Glover had eaten it, fed, as it were, from Jimsie's hand. Canned-fish salad! Glover, who knew every good restaurant in New York! He didn't so much mind Edith; she was a woman and would understand. And then what followed the salad ? A kind of baked hash with queerflavorings—thekind you read about in Sunday newspapers, highly flavored and unnourishing. That was the meat that had been destined for him, and that alone! That was the sort of provender on which he, a hard-working man, was expected to get up steam for next day! A sense of his own personal injury for a moment made him forget that of his friends. Hang it! W hat a man wanted to eat for dinner was meat! He had told Louise ages and ages ago that he hated hash in any of its multitudinous forms. To be sure, at that time he had been humorous about it and had made Louise laugh, but he thought he had gotten it over, gotten it over good and plenty that to him hash was hash, whether you called it croquettes or Syrian force-meat or gave it an Italian name and stuck a little spaghetti in it and poured tomato sauce disgustingly over it. He knew it; he could tell it! And then after you had recited a humorous epic to your'wife upon your loathing for a certain dish to have it turn up as the only nourishment furnished you was just a bit too much. He could have forgiven even that, for Jimsie Bate was magnanimous, but what hurt him most was the awful way dinner had dragged. Edith had done her best and told little stories and been charming, yes, touching. She had held out a hand of friendship shyly and sweetly to Louise and, as many times as she did it, Louise had thrown down some banality to cover it. Even Glover, man of the world though he was, and master of a difficult situa­ tion, hadn't been able to make the evening anything but lead. Outwardly they laughed and talked, but the spirit was lacking, or rather instead of the spirit of friendship and fellow­ ship, the soul of that ignoble hash had been T

The American Magazine

846

substituted, and together with the rest of that frightful dinner it had dominated them, each in a separate way; and when, very soon after din­ ner, Edith and Glover had been going, the four had stood saying all the polite things that the occasion demanded with such threadbare in­ sincerity that you could just see the awful time they had of it shining forth clear and plain behind their stereotyped phrases. Jimsie had seen married friends of his alien­ ated from their surroundings, from their com­ panions—old friends dropping from them one by one, like the leaves of a tree at the approach of winter, men, some of them, who had charming and pretty wives like his own. He didn't know how the trick had been done; now he under­ stood. Well did Jimsie remember having quoted the little phrase, "There is no place like home, thank God!" as he made his escape after an interminable week-end, where he had been steeped in domesticity, and where never for one second had the talk gone. He ran over the dif­ ferent ways he had been made to feel uncom­ fortable by young wives, sometimes by wellmeant but uninteresting anecdotes of domestic

' S A Y I N G

A L L

T H E

P O L I T E

T H I N G S

details that couldn't possibly have interested him; sometimes a too obvious earnestness or a too great effort to please had made him su­ premely uncomfortable. But, darn it! he had never been calmly and politely shoved away as he had seen Edith and Glover shoved that evening. While Jimsie sat reviewing these gloomy events and smoked in silence, Louise, behind him, covered her face with her hands and wept; wept carefully and in silence; wept for the hopeless humiliation of that dinner. She minded Glover; oh, yes, she knew his kind. Why, she had come very near being engaged to a man of Glover's sort once—fastidious, know­ ing the world as he did food. But she had known, too, instinctively, that Glover was, over and above all, kind. She knew the reason Edith Sessions had become engaged to him. Then she almost choked at the humiliating thought that, in the course of his talk as to who exactly Edith Sessions was, Jimsie had empha­ sized the fact of Edith's recent engagement—as though Louise had stooped to any little mean jealousy. What she hated in the matter were his

T H A T

T H E

O C C A S I O N

D E M A N D E D '

HE

WASN

T

SORRY

FOR

LOUISE;

evasions. Why shouldn't she have known about this girl who called her husband " Jimsie" and whom he called by her first name and who had evidently been such a good friend of his? She wondered bitterly what Jimsie thought of the kind of woman who imagines despicably that all the other women her husband has ever known have been in love with him. It was Edith that was the crux of the matter. Oh, the awful humiliation of having had to serve a dinner like that to another woman, an old friend of Jimsie's! If you are young and agreeable and have been accustomed to having men around all your life you can throw yourself on the mercy of your husband's men friends; but with the women of his acquaintance— being young and pretty and knowing how to put on your clothes with an air will not help you out in the least, and well you know it. You have got to make them understand right in the first why it was that Jimsie married you. And oh, how most awfully she had failed! Here a little sighing sob escaped her. Jimsie turned his head, looked at her, saw she was crying, and turned his head away again with slow disgust, anger welling up within him. That was the climax; that was too much! After all she had done, or rather, all she hadn't done, now she had to make a scene! By Jove! there had been too many scenes in his life; Louise cried about every little thing. It was

HE

WAS

JUST

BORED"

time it stopped. With the end in view of stop­ ping it Jimsie inquired tactfully, in a level and superior tone: "Would you mind telling me what you are crying about, Louise?" He wasn't looking at her; he didn't see that she quivered all through her body at this. It was that desperate moment in the storm of tears when self-control breaks and a desire to give way to the abandon of grief seizes one. She didn't want Jimsie to see that she was crying; men don't know the awful humiliation a decent woman can suffer over crying openly before her husband. Where there is one woman who uses her tears as a weapon, there are nine who can't bear to cry when there is anybody around. "Tears on top of a not really successful evening," Jimsie suggested, and here the storm broke; Louise, tingling with humiliation, sobbed unrestrainedly. Jimsie, his anger now quenched, but with a slow disgust rising all through him, turned gloomy and retrospective eyes on the toes of his shoes. This was a happy home, wasn't it? He wasn't sorry for Louise; he was just bored, —profoundly bored and disgusted. He had been through the various phases that a woman's tears can induce. The first time that he had seen Louise cry he had been moved to the depths of his being. 847

8 8 4

The American Magazine

It had been a shattering thing, something that left him physically as though he had been through some nerve-racking accident. He just couldn't stand it, and the fact that he had been the cause of tears to that beloved person Louise made his anguish a thing not to be endured. Yes, he had felt that way then; he had been so soft-hearted that he had felt as if he had shot Louise. You know how it is—all men go through it; that acute agony of mind over a beloved one's grief doesn't continue, although the tears do. The human animal adjusts itself to everything. So Jimsie's mind traveled along the line it had followed at the sight of Louise's tears—• from anguish to dismay, and then just sym­ pathy and a desire to help her, after that irrita­ tion had crept in. Now he had gotten past that; he told himself gloomily that he looked at the world from a different place now. He was just bored. Yes, he had gotten not to care—by fove! it was Louise who had done it for him: . . . Her tears just bored him. . . . What if she were suffering! You can't forever and ever keep up a terrible anguish of sym­ pathy and love for a person who is raving around because they have got a splinter in their thumb! At first a man treats tears according to the amount of emotion they show and the pain that the woman who is shedding them is apparently suffering; later his logical mind makes him take into account the cause. Jimsie from this time forth would never sympathize with Louise's tears; she would have to show him a reason. She couldn't up and cry like a dog baying at the moon and expect Jimsie to come falling down from his perch. So for the first time he sat tranquil and quiet and let her cry. After a time she stopped and said "Good night, Jimsie,"—even kissed him dutifully and went to bed. There was some­ thing appealing and childish, something very sad and very tired in her manner, and after she had left it gripped Jimsie. After all, Louise was Louise, and even if she was a little fool to cry about nothing at all—and what the dickens she had been crying about Jimsie could not imagine—yet she had been crying. He felt him­ self quite unjust and a little bit of a brute-—but he was yet annoyed with her for making him feel so, and sternly repressed his moment of sympathy. The next day neither of them spoke of the unfortunate party of the night before; they ignored it with precision. But it was here that crept over the spirit of Jimsie Bate a curious feeling of something wrong, a hint of frost in the atmosphere. They had had their troubles

before; there had been tears and misunder­ standings and little quarrels as in this imperfect world must occur when two imperfect people are married one to another, but morning had always found them with a fresh world in which to begin over again—all the misunderstandings forgotten; not only forgotten but blotted out, as if they hadn't existed. When he came home that night the same little element of the unexplained took possession of him in a disquieting fashion as soon as he met Louise, and yet on the surface everything was pleasant,—dinner was good. What on earth was the matter ? Something was wrong, nothing enough to ask: "What ails you, Louise?" He knew the reply to that before­ hand. It would be, "Nothing." The large blue eyes would have turned on him with a look of childlike surprise. He knew enough to know that, even if he hadn't been married such a deuce of a time. Two days more and the same state of things continued. In the life of a normal man there is nothing that will drive him to desperation quicker than the unexplained in his domestic affairs—that nameless feeling of something awry, of an unexpressed reproach for which there is no reason. He hadn't done anything, had he? Jimsie asked himself. He went over all his little faults; there was nothing he could blame himself for. What on earth had happened, and if something had happened, why couldn't he ask Louise? For the first time since the triumphant hours of his engagement he found the image of his wife haunting him in his working hours. Jim­ sie was the type of American business man who threw himself intensely into the thing of the moment. When he played, he played; when he worked, he forgot his household. He left the office cares as definitely behind him as he left the office building. But now this haunting sense of something"subtly and intangibly wrong between him and Louise followed him. If he could only have put his finger on it . . •; she was never disagreeable, she wasn't even too sweet or too polite; life was going on just the same as it had before and yet everything was different. Nothing had happened and everything had happened. They had dropped the little inci­ dent of the dinner into the well of oblivion, as they had done much graver misunderstandings. It couldn't be that. The only tangible thing he had to lay hold of was that Louise didn't look very well—she was pale. It seemed to him that, when he came in, her eyes showed the traces of tears; it made him in turns impatient, discontented, tender, and, above all, most ever-

T h e Fatal H a s h : B y M a r y Heaton Vorse

849

lastingly annoyed. He had no mind for sub­ the fact. The moment he had seen Louise, tleties and no patience with this sort of a Edith, his constant companion and good friend, shadowy misunderstanding. had been blotted out. Now she was engaged He went home four nights with a well-defined to a man that Jimsie liked, and his last vague intention of having it out with Louise, and self-reproach was gone. Someway with her when he got there, there was nothing to have it engagement he had found Edith again. But out about, not one Jimsie had no mind single thing to take for introspection, hold of. and since he had Meanwhile not translated h i s Louise was eating emotions into words her heart out. She that he felt, how on knew what the mat­ earth could he ex­ ter was; she could plain them? have explained it It was with a feel­ all. The cruel, sus­ ing of mutual re­ picious thought had lief that Louise ac­ come to her before, cepted her mother's and then had only suggestion to spend lasted a couple of a n i g h t in New hours; it was now a Rochelle and go in definite thing in her shopping the next life — J i m s i e no day. Both of them longer loved her, wanted to get away and she would from the other— r a t h e r die than L o u i s e from the mention it. She had sight of the beloved humiliated him be­ DEAR ME. LOUISE! HOW MUCH YOU REMIND person who didn't fore his friends, and M E OF MYSELF WHEN I WAS FIRST love her, J i m s i e he no longer loved MARRIED TO Y O U R FATHER!'" from the cloud of her; and he had the unexplained shown it when he hadn't comprehended what that so tormented him. One of the hardest things her tears were for; he had shown it by his for people who care for each other to bear are lack of sympathy for her terrible humilia­ these times of the alienation of the spirit. You tion; he had been showing it for some time may live in close harmony, ignoring even the past, only she had shut her mind to too small nibs of life, and suddenly find yourself many things. It was her fate to go unloved looking into the eyes of a stranger. The har­ through life. The little vision of the perfect mony is broken as definitely as the turning off happiness and the perfect understanding that of an electric current. Youflounderaround in had so enveloped her in the first days of her the darkness with no one to tell you the way. marriage had proved an illusion, as it had in So Jimsie went to business with a lighter the lives of so many other women she knew. heart and Louise went to her mother's, and at Now she understood these bridge-playing the sight of her comfortable face she sank un­ wives—these women who threw themselves expectedly into tears, sobbing out some sort of into any fad that came along to forget that they a story about the dinner, which, as she told weren't loved. Had he ever really loved her it, seemed inexpressibly trivial. And finally or understood her? His lack of trust in her there came to the surface the thing that she comprehension in the matter of Edith Sessions hadn't meant to tell at all, thrown up on the top stung her perpetually. She had told him so of her emotion, in spite of herself. She looked freely about all her affairs; why couldn't he up at her mother to see the effect of her terrible have talked about Edith? That certainly discovery. Her mother was smiling—smiling showed that he thought she would be jealous, with sympathy, and yet with that little hint of and it enraged her. amusement she had seen in her face when Jimsie himself wasn't subtle-minded enough she had comforted Louise over small and child­ to have explained that he hadn't told her about ish troubles. A little reminiscent quirk played Edith because of a certain delicacy of the around her mouth and a little kindly twdnkle in spirit. In a way he had thrown Edith down her eyes. most awfully for Louise's sake. The fact that "Dear me, Louise! How much you remind Edith hadn't minded particularly didn't alter me of myself when I was first married to your

The American Magazine father! How we all do walk over the same rough places! I suppose there isn't a woman living who hasn't almost worried her husband into fits because she thought he didn't love her any more. And," she continued with energy, "some of them bring it to pass, I can tell you, Louise. Many a good husband has been made to hate his wife with this attitude of mind, but sensible women like us get over it, like we do the measles." And with these words a cloud was lifted from the spirit of Louise. It was as if she be­ came her mother and could look back over long years at her own childishness. Before this breath of common sense her doubt and fears were blown away, like clouds be­ fore a clean wind. The twin­ kle of humor in her mother's eye was answered by a twinkle from Louise's. "I suppose I have been an aw­ ful fool," she gave out ruefully. " I n d e e d you have, my " ' h a v e y o u - e dear!" her mother assented i n t o y o u r with vigor. b o x a n d

bit of an old ham that ought to have been thrown away and then seasoned it most awfully, knowing that your husband hated hash —and then had friends come in to eat of that abomination of desolation ?" Jimsie pricked up his ears. He was separated from the speaker by a tall German, and yet he knew that voice and knew the answering voice that laughed. Edith! Louise! The story of the fatal hash! Jimsie Bate's heart sang aloud within him. Jimsie didn't know and never would know that for a space of four heartbreaking days Louise had thought that he no longer loved her. He never would know how the wind of common sense had blown the troubled clouds out of the sky of his life. He didn't even know how grave a danger had menaced him — the first dead­ ening breath of misunderstand­ ing that kills joy and confi­ dence and harmony between man and wife. He had been v e r s n e a k e d helpless and Louise had been o w n i c e · helpless. They had both come s c r a p e d to a place where no words had A S O U P - B O N E . " " been possible. But the cloud Jimsie Bate, tired from busi­ ness, was returning to the shadow of his that had threatened them had passed on, and once happy home. For the first time in he was none the wiser. He never would know, his life he dreaded to meet Louise. It would either, in what way his wife and his old friend all have to be done over again, he sup­ had been brought together, or how meeting on posed gloomily, for the few days before, go one of the commonplace grounds of women— ing home had been like entering a place that of the shop—they had covered the gap where there was some gas—a gas without that years of ordinary acquaintanceship would taste or smell, but which took all the life from have taken to bridge; for there exists some the air, and, having breathed of it deeply, he bond between two women who can shop dreaded to breathe it again. It was like the air harmoniously together all the day. All he of the subway in which he was riding, cold and knew was that in some inexplicable way his clammy and unnatural. He stood swinging friend Edith Sessions was riding uptown with disconsolately to a strap in that hour of dejec- his wife Louise, and that they were laughtion that comes before dinner when, after a ing their silly heads off over the tragedy of hard and rasping day, on top of it all a man has the hash. to make that uncomfortable ride before he can He brushed the German aside and greeted attain the peace of home. But Jimsie couldn't them and they him, radiant. even look forward to that. "We met Edith," Louise explained, and she Suddenly a well-known voice smote on his gave the name out as though she and Edith had ears: eaten out of the same porridge-bowl before they "Edith," it was saying, "have you ever had cut their back teeth—most inscrutable are waited for the butcher to come as if he was the ways of women—"we met her downtown going to bring back to you your immortal soul, and we lunched together, and I have been shopand then when he didn't come, have you ever ping all day with her for her trousseau, and made up a dish out of every scrap you could she's going home to dinner with me. There's find ? Have you ever sneaked into your own a good one to-night," she added with light airiice-box and scraped a soup-bone and taken a ness, "not hash, Jimsie!"

LISTEN, BY

MRS.

H

MY

SCHUYLER

A S T thou known

VAN

the demands

My sister?—singled From

SISTER RENSSELAER

of the core of thy

them out, set them

the wide vague fancies,

The longings

heart,

apart

the keen brief pangs of desire,

that pass as a breath

Or blaze as a fire That

scorches and scars?

Hast

thou tried to make

sure

What good thou shalt crave of thy life, to endure For thy life, unto Find

it, my sister.

death?

Single

it out; look deep

In thy soul and search well.

Test the

Of what sccmeth thine uttermost wish

strength by the

length

Of the days that may dawn ere the last bringcth And

balance its

As of jewels and That

gold

may buy thee content with

Though

sleep;

weight the wealth of thy

but brief be the hours thou shall To thy bosom thy

fate,

itold

treasure.

By all else thou couldst have thou shall

measure

The worth of what scemeth the most and the best; And

when tfwu hast

Knowing Make

ready to forfeit

Somewhat

And

quest,

need,

all else.

The great good must be

bought,

for God giveth

nothing for

naught;

his price may be great.

life is thy all: do thy utmost that so

It may yield

thee its utmost.

For fruition,

be instant

In what field, from

to

—Ah,

of souls that have tested and

little sister and young, when

to wait grow.

that sees thee most clear!)—thine

ask of the wisdom

Believe

Be patient know

what seed-bed, the harvest may

Ask aid of the vision And

the

thou must pay as the meed

Of thy birthright,

Thy

finished

surely thine ultimate

I have known,

I tell thee what far and forever

The heart of a man on thy heart day and A child on thy

own; known.

I have lived; outweigheth night,

breast.

851

I am the rest:

right;

THE LETTERS,

THE

CITIES T H A T TO BE BIG

T

PILGRIM'S C O M M E N T S

W A N T

H I S is census y e a r . E v e r y w h e r e I g o I hear p e o p l e b r a g g i n g a b o u t the g r o w t h of their h o m e cities. O n m a n y faces a n d in m a n y n e w s p a p e r s I see the signs of pride o v e r p o p u l a t i o n . A middle W e s t e r n state capital is thrilled o v e r t h e f a c t that since 1 9 0 0 the n u m b e r of its i n h a b i t a n t s h a s j u m p e d from 1 2 5 , 0 0 0 t o 1 8 1 , 0 0 0 , o r 4 4 p e r c e n t . A l t h o u g h n o b o d y claims t h a t the p o p u l a t i o n o f our c o u n t r y as a w h o l e has increased m o r e t h a n 2 0 per cent, since 1 9 0 0 , it will b e f o u n d b e f o r e this year is o v e r t h a t m a n y of o u r cities h a v e g r o w n 3 0 , 4 0 , o r 5 0 per cent, in the s a m e p e r i o d o f t i m e . A n d for this piece of news m a n y will b e g l a d . B u t I a m n o t glad. A n d for the simple reason that I live in the p o o h - b a h of all o u r b i g t o w n s — New York. B y a simple process of the m i n d I dread t o see other c o m m u n i t i e s m a r c h i n g r a p i d l y o n the w a y t o b e c o m e great centers of suffering a n d misery like N e w Y o r k . T o m e , n e w s of t h e g r o w t h of a c i t y of 1 2 5 , 0 0 0 in 1 9 0 0 t o a c i t y o f 1 S i , 0 0 0 in 1 9 1 0 brings the t h o u g h t t h a t m o r e p e o p l e in that c i t y are w i t h o u t g o o d air a n d c o m f o r t a b l e quarters than e v e r b e f o r e . I had m u c h rather hear t h a t 5 0 , 0 0 0 p e o p l e h a d left such a c i t y a n d taken t o the o u t l y i n g f a r m s and villages. I s u p p o s e t h a t P e o r i a ' s b o s o m will swell w i t h g l o r y if the census of 1 9 1 0 s h o w s it t o h a v e o n e fortieth of the p o p u l a t i o n t h a t N e w Y o r k has. B u t let m e tell y o u t w o v e r y little things a b o u t N e w Y o r k t h a t fell across m y w a y y e s t e r d a y . A n d w h e n t h e y are t o l d , a t h o u s a n d m e n will rise u p a n d say t h a t t h e y c a n tell w o r s e things. B u t let that g o . A l l t h a t I i n t e n d is t o start t h e i m a g i n a t i o n of readers in t h e right d i r e c t i o n . I n the first p l a c e , m y wife w e n t i n t o the b u t c h e r s h o p y e s t e r d a y , and, w h i l e there, s a w t w o little children. O n e t h a t w a s in t h e care o f the o t h e r c o u l d s c a r c e l y h o l d u p its head, a n d w a l k e d w e a k l y like an o l d w o m a n . M y wife asked the b u t c h e r a b o u t the children, a n d the b u t c h e r , w h e n he h a d a m i n u t e t o spare, w a l k e d a r o u n d the c o u n t e r a n d said, in a l o w t o n e : " T h e f a c t is t h a t t h o s e k i d s are u n d e r f e d . T h e y d o n o t h a v e e n o u g h t o eat. T h e r e are s e v e n children in the f a m i l y a n d t h e father is a s o b e r , h a r d - w o r k i n g l a b o r i n g m a n w h o earns small p a y — a dollar a n d a half a d a y o r s o . T h a t father

852

SCRIP

A N D CONFESSIONS

c o m e s in here e v e r y S a t u r d a y night, late, just as w e are closing, a n d b r i n g s 4 0 , 5 0 , o r 6 0 cents and asks us for as m u c h m e a t as w e c a n spare for the m o n e y he has. W e g i v e h i m all w e can afford, a n d o n S u n d a y t h e f a m i l y has the o n l y really square m e a l it g e t s in the w e e k . T h e children l o o k sick t h r o u g h l a c k of f o o d a n d fresh air, and t h e y o u g h t t o g e t a w a y ; b u t o h m y G o d , what c a n t h e y d o ? T h i s is a terrible life, lady, for a lot of these p e o p l e t h a t I k n o w — w e d g e d in t o ­ gether a n d n e a r l y s t a r v i n g . " T h i s w a s the s t o r y t h a t I h e a r d in the evening, after w h i c h I t o l d m y wife a v e r y little thing that I h a d seen d u r i n g the h o t d a y . I t w a s this: a w o m a n w a s sitting o n a little w o o d e n b o x in the street, t r y i n g t o get a little air f o r t h e b a b y she held in her arms. She w a s sitting w i t h her b a c k to o n e of the pillars t h a t s u p p o r t t h e e l e v a t e d railroad. T h e n a r r o w pillar p r o t e c t e d her f r o m being run o v e r , b u t of c o u r s e t h e traffic o f the surface cars a n d street v e h i c l e s r o a r e d p a s t her on b o t h sides, a n d o v e r her h e a d rushed the great squeak­ ing e l e v a t e d trains. I m a y b e w r o n g , b u t I am willing t o v e n t u r e t h a t t h e w h o l e peaceful state of I o w a d o e s n o t c o n t a i n a noisier or more cruelly b u s y s p o t t h a n t h a t w h i c h this p o o r w o m a n w a s f o r c e d t o o c c u p y as the o n l y available p l a c e w h e r e she c o u l d b e o u t d o o r s and breathe. She p r o b a b l y lives in a t e n e m e n t near by—per­ h a p s in a r o o m w i t h o u t a n y v e n t i l a t i o n . (There are 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 s u c h r o o m s in N e w Y o r k ! )

I t m a y b e t h a t these cities are the pride of civilization. B u t w h e r e in c i v i l i z a t i o n can o n e find m o r e d e s o l a t i o n , disease, a n d d o w n r i g h t unhappiness t h a n in these s a m e great cities? T h e r e is n o m o r e s o l e m n n e w s in t h e w o r l d t o - d a y than the n e w s of these great a n d disproportionate increases in o u r c i t y p o p u l a t i o n t h a t is coming f r o m the C e n s u s B u r e a u in W a s h i n g t o n . J. M . S.

THE

N U M B E R

& N % / %

OF

W O R D S

W E

USE

article in the J u l y A M E R I C A N M A G A Z I N E d e s c r i p t i v e of t h e great w o r k that D r . P e t e r R o b e r t s is d o i n g toward t e a c h i n g foreigners t o speak English has stirred u p d i s c u s s i o n o n o n e of t h e minor al­ t h o u g h v e r y interesting p o i n t s in the article a n d t h a t is the p o i n t as t o h o w m u c h of a v o ­ c a b u l a r y c h i l d r e n a n d small t r a d e s m e n use. /

T h e Pilgrim's Scrip Mrs. A . W . R a n k i n , of M i n n e a p o l i s , wife of Professor R a n k i n of the U n i v e r s i t y of M i n n e s o t a , writes us: ' ' P e r m i t m e t o call a t t e n t i o n t o an error in an article in the J u l y A M E R I C A N M A G A Z I N E . M r . Siddall, writing of D r . P e t e r R o b e r t s ' s w o r k in English says: ' T h e a v e r a g e child of six o r seven has a v o c a b u l a r y of t w o o r three h u n d r e d w o r d s ; the average small retail m e r c h a n t uses 4 0 0 or 5 0 0 words in his business dealings.' " T h e fact is t h a t the ' a v e r a g e ' child of six or seven in the h o m e of e d u c a t e d parents uses

about five or six thousand words instead of 200 o r 300. T h e eighth grade g r a m m a r pupil m u s t know fully ten thousand words if he has c o m p r e ­ hended his t e x t - b o o k s . ' T h e a v e r a g e small re­ tail m e r c h a n t ' c o u l d n o t p o s s i b l y d o business, even on a small scale, w i t h 4 0 0 o r 5 0 0 w o r d s , unless indeed b y ' a v e r a g e ' is m e a n t a l m o s t n o business at all." We s u b m i t t e d M r s . R a n k i n ' s criticism t o D r . Roberts a n d a s k e d h i m t o reply. F o l l o w i n g is his letter: " I n preparing lessons in English for foreignspeaking m e n I tried t o e s t i m a t e the n u m b e r of words necessary t o carry on simple c o n v e r s a t i o n in the affairs of d a i l y life. I h a v e four children, the eldest eight and the y o u n g e s t three. I set t o work to find h o w m a n y w o r d s these children use to express their w a n t s and t o c a r r y o n their p l a y . T h e eldest w o u l d n o t use m o r e t h a n 4 5 0 while the youngest w o u l d n o t use 1 5 0 . T h e t w o , five a n d six and a half y e a r s r e s p e c t i v e l y , used b e t w e e n 300 and 4 0 0 w o r d s . U p o n this o b s e r v a t i o n I based m y s t a t e m e n t t h a t the a v e r a g e child of six years uses less t h a n 4 0 0 w o r d s in his daily c o n ­ versation. I t o l d M r . Siddall t h a t a child of six used b e t w e e n 2 0 0 a n d 3 0 0 w o r d s ; the figures ought to b e from 3 0 0 t o 4 0 0 . " T h e distinction s h o u l d b e m a d e b e t w e e n the words a child of six k n o w s a n d the o n e s he uses. M y •child of six k n o w s w h a t repeat, return, per­ spire, p r o m o t e , e t c . , m e a n , b u t he n e v e r uses t h e m . I counted the w o r d s t h e y used, a n d the n u m b e r will not e x c e e d 4 0 0 . " T h e figures g i v e n of the w o r d s used b y the average retail m e r c h a n t are a c c u r a t e . T h e r e are scores of m e n in N e w Y o r k C i t y w h o d o a flour­ ishing business w i t h less t h a n 6 0 w o r d s . I k n o w a Greek, w h o s e profits a v e r a g e $ 3 0 0 a m o n t h , and the m e d i u m of c o m m u n i c a t i o n b e t w e e n h i m and his English-speaking p a t r o n s d o e s n o t c o m - ' prise 3 0 0 w o r d s . H e r e again it is n o t a q u e s t i o n of what n u m b e r of w o r d s the a v e r a g e A m e r i c a n retail m e r c h a n t k n o w s , b u t the n u m b e r he uses in the transaction of his business d a y b y d a y . " T h e discussion s h o u l d b e limited t o this: h o w many' w o r d s d o e s the a v e r a g e child of s i x — n o t that of the cultured h o m e o n l y , b u t children of every social c o n d i t i o n — u s e daily t o express his wants, and h o w m a n y w o r d s d o e s the average retail m e r c h a n t use in carrying o n his business? If the question is thus limited the figures a b o v e given are p r e t t y near the m a r k . "

THE

STORY

853 OF

THE

POLICEMAN

" ^ H E P o l i c e m a n sat o u t u n d e r the tree and smiled. T h i s w a s o n e of the rea­ sons he h a d b e e n elected. H e was v e r y large a n d s t r o n g and the p e o p l e w h o e m p l o y e d h i m a n d w h o l o o k e d t o h i m for p r o t e c t i o n often e x a m i n e d his great muscles a n d felt a l m o s t sorry for a n y r o b b e r w h o m i g h t stray i n t o their t o w n . H e h a d smiled all through life. T h e t o w n square h a d b e e n quiet for a long time, b u t s u d d e n l y there was an interruption. Little M a r y a n d her c o m p a n i o n c a m e running a r o u n d the c o r n e r screaming at the t o p s of their v o i c e s . " P o l i c e ! P o l i c e ! T h e r e ' s burglars in U n c l e S a m ' s h o u s e . " B u t the P o l i c e m a n o n l y smiled. " M a r y , " he said, " d i d y o u ever see a burglar? D o y o u k n o w a burglar w h e n y o u see o n e ? " " B u t h u r r y , " s c r e a m e d M a r y , " t h e y ' r e killin' h i m ; t h e y ' r e k n o c k i n ' his b l o c k o f f . " " M a r y , " said the P o l i c e m a n , " h o w d o y o u spell burglar? " " B - E - R - g l a r , " said the agitated M a r y . " I t o l d y o u s o , " said the P o l i c e m a n . " N o w , I c o u l d p r o v e t o y o u quite easily b y the d e d u c t i v e m e t h o d that there n e v e r h a v e b e e n a n y burglars at all. A n d furthermore, in the interest of p a r t y solidarity—" B u t s u d d e n l y the fat w a s in the fire. U n c l e S a m h a d been driven i n t o the o p e n a n d the square s h o o k w i t h the roar of the c o n ­ flict. T h e y all ran t o the scene. T h e P o l i c e m a n sat o n the c u r b s t o n e where he c o u l d get a g o o d v i e w . U n c l e S a m p u t u p a great fight, b u t at last t h e y g o t h i m d o w n . W h e n he 'came t o he f o u n d the P o l i c e m a n w i p i n g the b l o o d from his face. "Why d i d n ' t y o u help m e ? " m u r m u r e d the old m a n . T h e P o l i c e m a n s h o o k his h e a d . " I c o u l d n ' t , " he said, " n o t w i t h m y judicial t e m p e r a m e n t . " " B u t y o u ' r e the P o l i c e m a n , " said U n c l e S a m . " Y e s , I ' m the P o l i c e m a n , b u t still I feel that m y greatest duties are those of j u d g e o r u m p i r e . " T h e o l d m a n relapsed i n t o u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s . A t last he s p o k e again, w e a k l y : " I think y o u m i g h t at least h a v e c a u g h t o n e , " he said; " t h e big one—the one that stamped on m y neck." " I c o u l d n ' t d o that v e r y w e l l , " said the Police­ m a n , " h e ' s a dear friend of m i n e from N e w England." " W e l l , then, the little o n e , " said U n c l e S a m ; " t h e o n e that t o o k m y c o l l a r . " " W h a t ! get dear o l d U n c l e J o e ? " said the P o ­ liceman. " Y o u are asking a little t o o m u c h . " T h e o l d m a n w e p t with rage. " T o t h i n k , " he said, " a l l m y b e l o n g i n g s stolen, all this t r e a c h e r y a n d villainy a n d b e t r a y a l a n d n o t a single o n e arrested." T h e P o l i c e m a n arose. H e s p o k e with decision. • " T h e r e are g o i n g to b e arrests all r i g h t , " he said, " d o n ' t w o r r y a b o u t that. A n d w e ' l l begin with M a r y here and her little pal. C o m e , M a r y , bring y o u r h o o p . F o r t h e y m a d e a l o u d n o i s e , " said the P o l i c e m a n , " w h i c h has t e n d e d t o discredit m y administration." G. W .

IN

THE

INTERPRETER'S

HOUSE

"So they drew on towards the house (the house of the Interpreter), and when they came to the door they heard a great talk in the house." Bunyan s Pilgrim's Progress "NOT

A

RIOT,

SIRE,

A MERICA is witnessing a great move/ \ ment in politics—said the Observer / % —a movement that may be historic in its significance. The movement is within the Republican party. A moral pro­ test is forming against the control of the Re­ publican party by the great corporate inter­ ests of New York and New England. The thing known as a corporation is essentially selfish. It is organized solely for gain. It has its being because men can A Political make more money through Party the corporation than they can "Marches make otherwise. It is one of o n its the few human institutions Belly" that has no altruistic side. Men serving corporations often grow' like what they serve. The suc­ cessful corporation attorney or manager is likely to become impressed with the impor­ tance of the material side of life. Sentiment does not move him deeply. Now a political party, like an army, moves on its belly, and when the provender of a political party comes from great corporations the. party naturally bleeds for property. When President Taft came to the White House he sincerely desired to have the best advice he could get. He is a lawyer. Natur­ ally he regarded those wdio were successful in his profession as the wisest of men. So he called about him the most successful lawyers he could find. The growth and dominance of corporations in the business of this country, with their essentially selfish attitude toward life, made it inevitable that the successful lawyers should be those who had served the corporations, and had become, like the cor­ porations they served, material, crass, and selfish. The President is "the titular head" of the party. So we find the titular head of the party surrounded by men whose instincts are trained in a material world. To them sen854

BUT

A

REVOLUTION"

tinrent seems a silliness; and we find great corporations furnishing campaign contribu­ tions to the Congressional committee of the Republican party.

T

RUE—said the Reporter—and then a tariff bill was passed. Schedules were arranged obviously to fit cam­ paign contributions and great interests were protected because they are great and power­ ful. The President, surrounded by men who think in terms of business, T a f t ' s C a b i n e t made a business defense of Thinks the tariff. The people, who in T e r m s think in terms of morals, of made a moral protest. The Business President smiled. It seemed to him a passing pout. No one around him knew enough about public sentiment to tell the President that he was facing the deep-set anger of an outraged peo­ ple. Statistics will not convince them. One might as well tell the father of a stolen child what a revenue producer the child is, and expect him to be proud, as to quote clearing­ house figures and customs receipts to the American people. Any one but corporation lawyers would know this. The protest was moral, not economic, and no amount of pros­ perity will quiet the protest. For nine months after the passage of the Pajme-Aldrich tariff act the air wasfilledwith indignant clamor. Congressmen nominated to fill death vacancies were defeated. That was explained as Democratic party agitation. Then the Indiana Republican state conven­ tion met. Senator Beveridge, who had voted against the tariff bill, was a candidate for renomination as Senator by his party. The Re­ publican state convention refused to endorse the Payne-Aldrich law, and it commended Senator Beveridge for his vote. The fire was out inside the Republican party. Minne-

I n the I n t e r p r e t e r ' s H o u s e sota held her state Republican convention and refused to endorse the tariff act, and, like Indiana, commended her Republican Senators and Congressmen who voted against the bill. South Dakota followed; Nebraska denounced Cannonism; Iowa followed Nebraska. Kan­ sas Republicans at the primaries defeated four of the six Congressmen who voted for the tariff bill and endorsed a governor who de­ nounced the bill. Republicans all over the West who voted against the bill in Congress have been sustained up to date at the Re­ publican primaries and con­ ventions, without opposition, The Thing and Congressmen who voted Called for the bill have had to fight Insurgency for their lives in the party organization. In ten instances these men lost their nomina­ tions. The thing called insurgency, which the President tried to choke with statistics, is alive—alive and kicking with a high voltage.

B

UT Indiana started the fight—broke in the Observer again. The Indiana Republican state convention first hurled defiance at the plunderbund within the party. So this contest for a free party may be properly called the Indiana contest. Certain aspects of the contest differ in differ­ ent states. But fundamentally Indiana is typical of the whole contest. For in Indiana, as in the other insurgent states, the rank and file of the party has overthrown the Republi­ can party machine; the rank and file of the Republican party has named Republican candidates who are opposed by the machine; and the machine is willing to let a Democrat win rather than to help the Republican nom­ inees to victory. Senator Albert J . Beveridge w on the Re­ publican nomination for United States Sen­ ator after a full and fair discussion of his record all over Indiana. He appealed to Re­ publican voters with his case and not to the great corporate interests that „ . were formerly in the habit of T

Concentrating t ] i e

_

p. r e

5

,·

·

,

,·

dispensing party nominations by reason of their campaign

on S e n a t o r

,

,.

0

.

T>

contributions. Senator Beveven ge jdge has stood in the Senate against those interests. He has offended them. When the interests of men and of property were in conflict Senator Beveridge's record shows that he has stood unflinchingly for men. So he 'finds himself out of accord with the national organization of his party, and in accord with the voters of his party. Organized property is against him. B

er

855

Unorganized men are for him. It would seem a simple matter—easy of decision. But the great corporate interests of this country are cunning. If Indiana people could vote di­ rectly for the election of Senator Beveridge, Indiana would elect him. But the lever that must elevate him to office is com­ pound—therefore liable to fracture. The voters have to vote for a member of the Legis­ lature, who in turn votes for a Senator. The game in Indiana is to break the lever; to raise local issues; to confuse the voters; to carry the Legislature away from Beveridge on some trumped-up question. So wefindthat in every district in Indiana men are at work try­ ing to defeat the Republican Legislative candi­ dates—not by explaining that a vote for the Republican member of the Legislature is a vote for Beveridge, but by ignoring that fact and laying emphasis on the minor faults of the member; by calling attention to his re­ ligion, his position upon the temperance ques­ tion, the color of his hair, his previous condi­ tion of servitude or his standing with the Anti-Horse Thief Association. Money in unlimited sums is ready for use to defeat Senator Beveridge. It will be brought into any legislative district where there is a chance to befog the people. Side issues are being magnified by the manipulators of politics; Indiana prejudices are aroused; and *k all the devilish devices of poli" Bloody j n; l into play to Angle" a k e the Legislature Demo­ cratic—not because Mr.Kern, the Democratic Senatorial candidate, is par­ ticularly desirable to the great interests, but because the defeat of Senator Beveridge would be a lesson to other Republicans who might in the future venture to go his way and fight for men. The interests that prey upon the people through special privilege desire the scalp of Beveridge for a warning. They de­ sire to hold it up to others who would fight for the rights of men and say: "Behold the fate of all reformers. The people will not sustain the reformer. You can fool the peo­ ple, but you can't fool us." e

t

c

s

a r e

ca

ec

m

O here—said the Philosopher—we have the situation: The contest between the rights of men under this government and the rights of property under this gov­ ernment. A man should have all he earns. Also he should earn all he has. He should give something to society for his living, and society should guarantee that he has a living commensurate with what he gives. But by

S

S 6 5

The American Magazine

tariff laws that permit great trusts to thrive, the people pay from their earnings millions upon millions in penny conThe Rights tributions to the owners of of Man watered stock in dividends; vs. these dividends come bethe Rights cause the trusts capitalize not of Property actual property nor actual service; they capitalize the laws of the very people who are robbed. • Millions of men and women are made to pay tribute by their own laws to great aggre­ gations of capital that by their very size can afford to put by funds for political purposes; thereby to secure political privileges that smaller capitalists could not obtain. These special privileges virtually legalize the plun­ dering of the people. These special privileges give to the few what they do not honestly earn, and they take this plunder from the many who do honestly earn it. Society is failing in its guarantee to make those who get give something for what they get; more­ over, society is failing to protect those who earn in the use of their earnings. Thus from -trusts with swollen capitalization men buy the necessaries of life at exorbitant profits. These exorbitant profits pay dividends upon what our United States Supreme Court has seen fit to call "fictitious capitalization." This fictitious capitalization is the gun that holds up the people and robs them. And the unnecessarily high tariff is the hand that holds the gun. Those who get what they do not earn steal it from those who earn what they do not get. So the plunderers of the people can afford to go into politics. They can afford to spend millions to hold their right to rob. The de­ feat of Beveridge would be worth a king's ransom to them. And the election of Bever­ idge 'would be worth an empire to the people. For if he is vindicated by the people, others will follow his course. The tide will turn from the pirate crew and leave them stranded. The members of the crew know this. They realize that the defeat of Beveridge is vital. And hence we find the contest in Indiana a death struggle for predatory wealth. We find the same struggle in Wisconsin against Senator LaFollette, and in Minnesota against Senator Clapp, in Kansas against Governor Stubbs and the Republican Congressional nominees, and in Iowa against the whole

Republican organization. Wherever a free man is found struggling in the Republican party for his political life, the same sinister forces are against him that are organized to fight Senator Beveridge in Indiana. The men wdio get what they do not earn from those who earn what they do not get are for the first time since the fall of slavery in this country facing a great moral protest. A new The New fight for freedom is upon us. Fight The predatory interests are active in the Republican Freedom party because that party hap­ pens to dominate. But the Democratic party has only to show signs of life to find the forces of evil working in it. There is no hope in either party. The real hope of the people is to clean out both parties, and make them serve this country. It will do no good to change parties. So long as people can be fooled by merely changing parties, the powers that prey will keep that game up, and fatten on it. That is the game in Indiana. But the question before the people now is to cleanse the party in power. That may be done only by standing by men like Beveridge in Indiana, LaFollette in Wis­ consin, Clapp in Minnesota, Stubbs and Murdock in Kansas; and the insurgent Republi­ can Congressmen wherever they are named. These men represent the free element in the Republican party. They are captains in the new battle for freedom in America. They stand for the free man who demands his earnings in this civilization of ours. If his earnings were not picked from his pockets to pay unrighteous dividends upon stock watered by the capitalization of unjust laws, the aver­ age man would have more savings, more leisure, more time to think and grow and en­ joy and improve the world about him. It is his freedom that the average man needs—his freedom to dominate his own party, to make his own laws, to run his own government, to live a broader, better life than he may live under the rule of the great interests that con­ trol the government by campaign contribu­ tions to whatever party may be in power. That is what the fight in Indiana means— what it means all over America. It is the fight of free men for a free party, that through it they may serve a free country. f o r

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Growing Children develop sturdy

bodies a n d

bright brains w h e n reared upon proper food. One

child,

properly

ished, will grow to manhood—strong

nour­

splendid

a n d rugged

as a y o u n g o a k ; another, care­ lessly f e d is

handicapped

through life. A

child's f u t u r e

depends

largely u p o n the mother's care­ ful selection of its food.

Grape-Nuts is a scientific food, contains the vitalizing elements in w h e a t a n d barley, s o prepared as to supply true nourishment

for

the child's rapidly developing body a n d brain. T h i s nourishment is derived solely from Nature's labora­ tory— the g r a i n - f i e l d s — t h u s it is Nature's

gift

to

mothers

for the highest development of growing children.

"There's a Reason" Postum C e r e a l C o m p a n y , Ltd., Battle Creek, Michigan, U . S. A .

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THE

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AMERICAN

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Melba " I h a v e tried the records a n d find t h e m really w o n ­ derful r e p r o d u c ­ t i o n s of m y s i n g ­ ing. I feel that in t h e m all the c a r e and t r o u b l e to which your experts w e n t h a v e found great reward. My friends w h o h a v e heard t h e m are s i m p l y delighted with t h e m " .

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c a m e to A m e r i c a a w e e k a h e a d of time She spent the entire week of August 20-27 in the Victor laboratories at Camden, making a series of records by our new and improved recording pro­ cess, and was so enthusiastic with the result that she made over her records already listed in the Victor catalogue. These new Melba records are truly remarkable examples of the famous singer's glorious voice and conclusively demonstrate the great progress of the Victor. These Melba records will be place< on sale with all Victor dealers in the early future. In the meantime drop in any store where you see the famous Victor trademark and just ask to hear the Victor or VictorVictrola. You'll be astonished and wonder why you have waited so long.

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A E O L I A N C O M P A N Y , Aeolian Hall, 362 Fifth A v e . , N e w Y o r k The

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3n

T h e

in t h e W o r l d

A m e r i c a n

M a g a z i n e .

38

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

A r e you befogged? Y o u can't g e t b e f o g g e d about roofing if y o u steer straight for G e n a s c o , a n d g e t it to c o v e r all y o u r buildings.

Genasco Ready Roofing

is m a d e of the only perfect w a t e r p r o o f e r T r i n i d a d L a k e asphalt. It is N a t u r e ' s o w n p r o d u c t — n o m y s t e r y ; no Proven by g u e s s - w o r k . G e n a s c o h a s the life that lasts o v e r thirty y e a r s ' u s e of natural asphalt. The Kant-leak Kleet is the greatest invention for applying' roofing. Makes seams positively water-tight without cement. Adds beauty to the roof. Supplied in rolls of Genasco when specified. A s k your dealer for G e n a s c o . Gold M e d a l (highest a w a r d ) Seattle, 1909. Mineral o r s m o o t h surface. L o o k for the hemisphere t r a d e m a r k . W r i t e for samples and the G o o d R o o f Guide B o o k .

THE BARBER ASPHALT PAVING COMPANY Largest producers of asphalt, and largest manufacturers of ready-roofing in the world.

New York

PHILADELPHIA Chicago

San Francisco

Cross-section G e n a s c o S m o o t h - s u r f a c e R o o f i n g Trinidad T-ake Asphalt ^= Asphalt-saturated W o o l F e l t m Trinidad Lake Asphalt

W h e n writing to advertisers please mention T H E A M E R I C A N M A G A Z I N E .

THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE

39

Heating for delicate women The width of a window-sill sep­ aratesfierceWinter from gen­ tle Summer—that is, if your heating outfit has been rightly chosen. The most delicate women and the frailest flowers thrive and bloom in the whole­ some warmth and ventilation brought about by

AMERICAN x IDEAL

i l Radiators ^Iboilers

The cleanly, genial warmth these outfits produce enables your wife to dress in light-weight, becoming cloth­ ing, to appear at her graceful best, to work and exercise unrestrictedl)., and relieves her of all back-breaking drudgery that is a part of old-fashioned heating methods. IDEAL Boilers and AMERICAN Radiators are sure aids to domestic happine and economy. They keep the house cozy and healthful in al kinds of bad we By saving much coal and doing away with repair bills, as wel as giving long furnishings and decorations, they more than earn their cost. In fact, they are every way an investment — not an expense. A D V A N T A G E 21. All I D E A L S t e a m Boilers are fitted w i t h S y l p h o n R e g u l a t o r , w h i c h is t h e g r e a t e s t i m ­ p r o v e m e n t m a d e in a c e n t u r y , for g i v i n g p e r f e c t c o n t r o l o v e r the draft a n d c h e c k d a m p e r s . T h i s regulator keeps t h e s t e a m s t e a d i l y at t h e right p o i n t for e c o n o m i c a l h e a t i n g a n d i n s u r e s u n i f o r m h e a t i n g of t h e r o o m s . S a v e s r u n n i n g u p a n d d o w n the cellar stairs during quickchanging weather. (If y o u h a v e a boiler w i t h o u t this r e g u l a t o r b e s u r e to w r i t e u s for full p a r t i c u l a r s . ) Ask a l s o for o u r n e w e d i t i o n of " I d e a l H e a t i n g " ( f r e e ) w h i c h A No. 2118 I D E A L Boiler and A No. A-2 r I D E M . lîoiler t e l l s all t h e advantages of t h e w o r l d - f a m o u s I D E A L B o i l ­ 270 ft. of 38-inch AMERICAN and 401 ft. of 36-inch A M E R . e r s a n d A M E R I C A N R a d i a t o r s . Radiators, costing the owner ICAN Radiators costing the $ 1 3 5 . were used to Hot-Water owner $ 2 1 5 . were used to Hot- I f y o u w a n t t o m a k e y o u r h o m e a h a v e n of w a r m t h , d o n ' t heat this cottage. Water heat this cottage. w a i t until y o u b u i l d , b u t c o m f o r t y o u r p r e s e n t h o u s e w i t h a n outfit of I D E A L B o i l e r s a n d A M E R I C A N R a d i ­ At these prices the gonds can be bought of any reputable, com­ P u t in n o w w i t h o u t d i s t u r b i n g y o u r o l d h e a t e r s petent fitter. This did not Include cost of labor, pipe, valves, a t o r s . freight, etc., which installation is extra and varies according to u n t i l r e a d y t o s t a r t fire in t h e n e w . climatic and other conditions. 4

Showrooms in all large cities

AMERICAN KADIATOR COMPANY When writing to advertisers please mention T h e

A m e r i c a n

M a g a z i n e .

W r i t e to D e p t 19 CHICAGO

THE

4o

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Best by Teat Why Buy Wash Water? Chemically

Practically

€|

It

requires

spoonfuls Fluffy of

t w o

of

or

the

S o a p

m o r e

B i g

P o w d e r

table-

P a c k a g e s

to

o n e t a b l e s p o o n f u l o f

d o

the

of

work

P E A R L 1 N E

WHY? C|

D r y

t h e m

the

thinly

spot — w e i g h ence Cj|

p o w d e r s in

leave

sun

for

spreading

or

2 4

in

is

in

the

bulk,

P E A R L 1 N E

T H E S E

F L U F F E D

the

not

the

I S

S O A P

B I G

a

weight.

C O N C E N ­ P O W D E R -

S O A P IS

then

differ­

P A C K A G E S

P E A R L I N E

warm

hours —

them—-you'll"find

T R A T E D

T R Y T O M A K E S O A P P A S T E O F T H E F L U F F E D S O A P P O W D E R S B Y P E A R L I N E ' S D I R E C T I O N S — S E E W H A T Y O U ' L L G E T

the

b y

A R E

P O W D E R S . B E S T

A N D

C H E A P E S T

Use Paint made with Oxide of Zinc In

selecting

the

paint

house, look ahead! in

six

months?

will be

left in

H o w H o w

three

for

your

w i l l it l o o k much

of

it

years?

OXIDE O F ZINC insures

durability

and

permanent

beauty.

See that your paint contains Oxide of Zinc Oxide of Zinc is unalterable even under the blow-pipe

W e do not grind Oxide of Zinc in oil. A list of manufacturers of Oxide of Zinc paints mailed free on request.

The New Jersey Zinc Co. 55 Wall Street, New York

When writing to advertisers please mention T H E AMERICAN

MAGAZINE.

THE

IF Y O U T H I N K O F

A M E R I C A N MAGAZINE

B U Y I N G A V A C U U M

CLEANER,

N O W OR L A T E R S A V E T H I S A D V E R T I S E M E N T T h e vital points in a V a c u u m C l e a n e r a r e volume constant,

even

of air, and a

suction.

B u t these

qualities a r e of little v a l u e unless the m a c h i n e is S i m p l e i n D e s i g n and Operation. L e t y o u r c o m ­ m o n s e n s e be y o u r g u i d e . '

SIMPLICITY OF DESIGN. Every superfluous work­ ing part is sure to make trouble through wearing out. The Sturtevant has only one moving part—(the fan) besides the motor. It has no gears to loosen, no valves to wear out. This means durability and many years of efficiency. The dust-screen and dust-collector are extremely simple and easily managed. The whole cylindrical front of the cleaner is given to screening and collecting the dirt. A small screen must soon clog. The Sturtevant will clean a whole house without clogging. Don't be fooled by claims of "com­ pactness and consequent light weight." A small dustscreen is a constant nuisance through speedy clogging.

The motor is separated from the dust by a solid aluminum Vail. This is one reason why our cleaner outwears others, in which there is constant sifting of fine dust into the motor.

SIMPLICITY O F O P E R A T I O N . Anyone can use the Sturtevant. Simply connect the cord with an electric socket, turn the button and you have nearly 100,000 cubic inches of air rushing through the hose each minute. The 1 -inch hose gives nearly twice the air-volume of the ordinary ^4 inch hose with greater velocity at the cleaning tool, thus pick­ ing up larger particles and working at a greater distance from the tool. The dust-bag is reached by turning two thumb-screws, and letting down the door which forms the top half of the cleaner. This can be done in less than a minute, although the dust receptacle is large enough to hold the gatherings of months. The lack of complicated parts to get out of order and the extreme simplicity of operation make the Sturtevant Cleaner especially valuable for housekeepers who are not skilled in mechanical things.

Si urievani Above all else, keep these facts in mind : 1. A revolving fan must long outwear any pump, bellows jf or diaphragm because it suffers almost no wear and tear; also it gives a constant instead of an in­ termittent suction.

2. The effective handling of rapid air currents is one of the most difficult and complex departments of engineering.

/' Patent App tea For

This oddlu shaped fan, 3. The B. F. S t u r t e v a n t revolving thousands of times a minute, gives Company has had more experience greater volume of air and in designing, building and installing evenness of suction than o e possible with any other air-driving apparatus than all other device practicable for port­ firms in the world combined. able cleaner. r

V A C U U C L E A N E R

Delivered anywhere express prepaid in the United States, complete, ready to use, with unusually full equipment of cleaning tools, for

$ 1 3 0 . 0 0 It carries, in every detail of construction and operation, the strong guarantee that goes with all our apparatus. For further information, write for booklet No. 44, or call at one of our offices named below. In addition to this household cleaner, we make larger machines for vacuum cleaner systems to be installed in hotels, residences public buildings, etc.

B. F . S T U R T E V A N T C O . , H Y D E PARK, MACHINES

C A NBE SEEN

A T FOLLOWING

BRANCH

MASS.

OFFICES:

50 Church St.. N e w Y o r k ; 135 N . 3rd St.. Philadelphia; 329 W 3rd St.. Cincinnati; 300 Fullerton Bldg., St L o u i s : 530 S Clinton St.. Chicaco- 711 Park B i d e Pittsburg- 1006 W a s h . L o a n & Trust Bldu., W a s h i n g t o n , D . C ; 34 Oliver St.. Boston; 529 Metro­ politan Bid?. Minneapolis; 4 2 3 S c h o f i e l d B i d g . , Cleveland, 1108 Granite B i d s . , R o c h e s t e r ; 326 Hennen B i d e . . N e w Orleans; 36 Pearl St., Hartford.

WE ARE GLAD TO QUOTE TRADE TERMS TO RESPONSIBLE

DEALERS.

When writing to advertisers please mention T'-:E AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

4

THE AMERICAN

2

MAGAZINE

Insures a Rapid R -

Strengthens the Over­

e

5*«. I

covery

worked ,

Make Yourself Over P e r f e c t h a p p i n e s s is a l w a y s perfect h e a l t h . B u i l d up those w a s t e d t i s s u e s — i n f u s e n e w life into y o u r b l o o d — r e c o n s t r u c t w o r n out n e r v e cells a n d fit yourself to e n j o y the v i g o r a n d e n e r g y of y o u t h . K e e p yourself in trim with a little of

Patost Extract Ifie^esTTonic each day. It is a pure, w h o l e s o m e , p r e d i g e s t e d liquid food, con­ taining all the nutritive a n d d i g e s t i v e elements of rich b a r l e y malt a n d the tonic properties of choicest h o p s . It is w e l c o m e d b y the w e a k e s t s t o m a c h a n d is easily a n d q u i c k l y a s s i m i l a t e d b y the en­ tire s y s t e m — m a k i n g rich, r e d blood a n d g i v i n g n e w life to one's vital o r g a n s . Physicians r e c o m m e n d Pabst E x t r a c t , T h e " B e s t " T o n i c , to s t r e n g t h e n the w e a k and b u i l d u p t h e o v e r w o r k e d — t o r e l i e v e i n s o m n i a a n d Qorifluer d y s p e p s i a — t o h e l p t h e a n a e m i c a n d turn n e r v e e x h a u s t i o n into a c t i v e , h e a l t h y v i m — t o e n c o u r a g e listless c o n ­ v a l e s c e n c e to r a p i d r e c o v e r y — t o assist nursing m o t h e r s a n d r e i n v i g o r a t e o l d age. The U. S. Government specifically classif iec Pabst Extract as an article of medicine—oot an alcoholic beverage O r d e r a D o z e n f r o m Y o u r Druggist—Insist U p o n it B e i n g Pafctst Free

Booklet,

" Healtli

Darts,''" Write

tells ALL uses and for it--a postal will

lenef>ts do.

of Pabst

Extract.

Library slip, good for b o o k s and magazines,with e a c h bottle

PABST E X T R A C T CO. Dept. 1, Milwaukee, Wis.

m Re­ lieves Enervating insomnia

Al­ lays Nervous Irritability

rst Ext®

=5E When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

43

The Labor Saving Features and Improvements in

Are Found in No Others! The S i n g l e D a m p e r motion—push the

rest.

(patented).

Perfect fire and oven control by one

knob to " K i n d l e , " " B a k e " or " C h e c k " — t h e range

does

the

Worth the price of the range.

The A s h H o d in the base is a patented feature. If a prize were offered for the worst plan for disposing of ashes, the ordinary stove would get it. By our plan the ashes fall through a chute into a Hod, all of them, making their removal safe, easy, cleanly. The Coal Hod is alongside the Ash Hod, out of the way. The O v e n is the surest, quickest of bakers. Scientific curved heat flues with nonleaking cup-joints and the asbestos oven back insure perfect and uniform heating. The F i r e B o x and the P a t e n t e d G r a t e s save fuel and enable a small fire to do a big baking. Write for Illustrated Booklet. If Crawfords are not sold in your town we will tell you how to get one.

Walker & Pratt Mfg. Co. 31-35

Union St., Boston

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE

44

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

A United Nation

Millions of people touch elbows and are kept in constant personal contact by the Bell System. There are all kinds of people, but only one kind of telephone service that brings them all together. They have varying needs, an infinite variety, but the same Bell sys­ tem and the same Bell telephone fits them all. Each Bell Station, no matter where located, is virtually the center of the system, readily connected with other stations, whether one or a thousand miles away. Only by such a universal can a nation be bound AMERICAN

TELEPHONE AND

AND TELEGRAPH

ASSOCIATED

COMPANIES

When writing to advertisers please mention T H E AMERICAN MAGAZINE..

system together. COMPANY

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

THE HOWARD

45

WATCH

^^here will be no more Howards as low as $ 3 7 . 5 0 , except the limited number now in the dealers' hands. The increasing demand for our better watches compels us to stop making this grade and concentrate on the finer movements. On February 1st, of this year, we had to discontinue the $ 3 5 . 0 0 Howard as we announced at that time, and on June 1 5 th we marie the last of the $ 3 7 . 5 0 quality.

These are both excellent watches.

The $ 3 5 . 0 0 watch sold out so fast that many people were disappointed.

1

They didn't see the jeweler soon enough.

It will be the

same with the $ 3 7 . 5 0 if those who desire them do not act quickly.

See your jeweler at once, there will never be a n o t h e r H o w a r d m a d e a t $ 3 7 . 5 0 This watch is 17-jewel single roller escapement, tested in its case at the factory—adjusted to three positions, temperature and isochronism—in hunting case only. W e wish it clearly understood that this is not a raise in price of Howard watches. It means that we have to increase our pro­ duction of the finer watches and we can't do that by hurrying the work. In 6 5 years of watch making history a Howard has never been slighted. Every year there are more men who want to own a Howard —never quite enough to go around. The price of each watch is fixed at the factory and a printed ticket attached. Not every jeweler can sell you a Howard watch. No jeweler can charge you more than the printed ticket calls for and the Howard is always worth that price. Talk to the Howard jeweler in your town—he is a good man to know. E. H O W A R D WATCH WORKS BOSTON,

MASS.

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE

AMERICAN MAGAZINE

>STEIN\SSY VERTEGRAND 0 possess a Steinway is to have a piano that stands firsts not only from the point of tone and workmanship, but also as regards the repu­ tation of the makers —a reputation won by strict adherence to the highest art stand­ ard. Steinway leader­ ship is fully expressed in the Steinway Vertegrand. The Upright Piano of "Grand" Value. Illustrated Catalogue will be sent upon request and mention

E B O N I Z E D C A S E

$550

of

STEINWAY STEINWAY

&

this magazine.

SONS

HALL

107 and 109 East Fourteenth Street, N e w Y o r k Subway Express Station at the Door.

W h e n writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

17

Is Y o u r A p p e a r a n c e W o r t h a Postal— or a two cent stamp ? That's the only expense attached to your getting a real style book •— an

clothes are · worn by the best dressed men today. We've

designed forty-one

styles this

Fall. Let this book be your guide in Furthermore, the Adler-Rochester Style which style is best for you. Book —for Fall and Winter, 1 9 1 0 - 1 1 — Learn from it how the finest first-grade shows what is possible in clothes. clothes are made, and how you may get It takes you through the famous Adler- them at ordinary good clothes' prices. Rochester plant — the finest tailoring Then you'll realize why you will be institution in the world. It tells, briefly better dressed—and without any greater and interestingly, the reason why our outlay—if you demand

absolute authority

in fashions for

men.

A D L E R V R C C H E S T E R , You'll find that the m e r c h a n t w h o h a n d l e s our clothes in y o u r t o w n has your interests at heart. Otherwise h e ' d b e s e l l i n g o t h e r c l o t h e s —entirely in his own interests. The name a n d address of this m e r c h a n t accompanies the A d l e r - R o c h e s t e r Fall Style Book.

C L O T H E S

T h e v a l u e o f this b o o k to y o u — o r t o a n y m a n w h o e s t e e m s h i s appearance—is priceless. Y e t it is yoxrrs for a s i m p l e request. A s k for Kdition D a n d mail today. T o delay m a y b e to forget. T o forget is t o c o n t i n u e b u y i n g clothes haphazard—to b e a loser in purse a n d in a p p e a r a n c e . Act now!

L. A D L E R , BROS. & CO., Rochester, N. Y ,

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

4

THE AMERICAN

s

MAGAZINE

=3Q

America's Greatest Violinist heard the Apollo and thought

it was some great artist In Syracuse, N. Y., Francis Macmillen, the world-renowned violinist visited a large musical establishment. A s he entered the "Apollo Room" a gentleman seated at one of the instru­ ments was interpreting the Schumann Nocturne. Turning to his companion, Mr. Macmillen said:"Whata wonderful touch that man has!" H e thought the performer was some great artist. Coming closer he discovered the instrument was the Apollo. H e was still more surprised to learn that the performer was not a musician, having become discouraged in his youth, after taking a few piano lessons. The great violinist added that it was the only player with

a true

human-like

he had ever

heard

touch.

Why should you, knowingly, do a thing backwards, or

I am astonished at the improve­ the wrong way? D i d y o u e v e r see a n y o n e p l a y a p i a n o b y any other ments that the A P O L L O player m e t h o d t h a n touching down on the piano keys? D o y o u k n o w t h a t w e own t h e p a t e n t s on the natural reveals. T h e device permitting the w a y o f p l a y i n g t h e p i a n o w i t h a n interior player— touch on the keys? Y o u could transposition of a composition into wn oi tt he xtpheecdownward t o u r c o m p e t i t o r s t o m a k e this point clear. W o u l d y o u like t o r e a d t h e p a t e n t s that give us any key, the automatic rewinding and this right ? T h e p a t e n t s t h a t c o v e r t h e reason why also the e a s y a c t i o n of the pedals posi­ tively

challenge

admiration and are a

certain

tee

of

future

guaran­ a

great

f o r this i n ­

genious invention"

Joseph

Hofmann

musicians r e m a r k ''mechanical."

that the Apollo does

p a y y o u in dollars and satis­ faction t o i n v e s t i g a t e t h e

Apollo. Your name a n d a d d r e s s will b r i n g a c a t a l o g and absolute proof that t h e A p o l l o is t h e o n e i n s t r u m e n t of its k i n d t h a t can play i n t h e ^ n a t u r a l w a y . T h e real facts a n c information about player pianos t h a t w e will t r a d e f o r a p e n n y Showing How the Mechanical p o s t a l are w e l l w o r t h h a v i n g . .™ gowN «S Fin s e

P r
and get ® \ a N o t c h collar with an end that looks like this;=JC---^ Then cut out the illustrations below and put them on your dresser where you can see them when you do this: = = i =

Put the outer fold under head of button.

Press button out with finger, bring notch end over and notch it on.

Then raise outer fold, bend Ions end of band inward and shove it under.

I T I S E A S Y TO P U T O N , B U T E V E N E A S I E R TO T A K E OFF. HAS B E E N E L I M I N A T E D . HAS A M P L E T I E S P A C E .

\, l u

}"

u

c/pt ttii« o uuo C L

T H E BUTTONHOLE THAT R I P S OUT

I T I S T H E ONLY CLOSE-FITTING COLLAR THAT S T A Y S CLOSED, A N D IT T O T A K E I T OFF, J U S T P U T FINGER U N D E R LONG E N D A N D FLIP OFF.

It is m a d e in all the m o s t f a s h i o n a b l e m o d e l s in the f a m o u s

A r r o w Collars BEDFORD

C O N C O R D

C H E S T E R

At your dealer's—I5c each, 2 for 25c.

In Canada 20c each, 3 for 50c.

Cluett, Pcabody & Co., Makers, Troy, N. Y .

•\Yhen writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.-

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Inner fabric of cotton,linen or silk

D

Outer fabric of wool,silk or silkoline

ON'T

let J a c k

Frost catch you

napping. Y o u may prevent an all-winter cold by going to your furnisher today for Im

rove
Y O ^BANKER SRTR UST C O P A N Y W A LLA5P N ,.L E WT Y O R K CITY 7

I

and Comfort

*I The points that make "Jewel" Base Burners appeal to every home-maker are the beauty of design, the quality of finish and the great heating capacity that assures cosy comfort. •I For years "Jewels" have been noted as the best built, longest lasting stoves money can buy—Always sold at fair prices.

JEWEL

IT

el 250

Pens S t y l e s

EVERY ESTERBROOK PEN IS SURE TO GIVE SATISFAC­ TION. A STYLE FOR EVERY WRITER. QUALITY GUARAN­ TEED BY A HALF-CEN­ TURY'S REPUTATION. AT ALL STATIONERS. THE E T T E R B R O O K STEEL PEN MFG. CO. 26 JOHN ST, N E W YORK

IF Made in over a thousand styles and sizes, including Steel Ranges, Cast Ranges, Base Burners, Oak Stoves, Gas Ranges and Furnaces. No matter for what pur­ pose you want a stove, "Buy a Jewel and save fuel." «1 Over 10,000 dealers sell Jewel Stoves— and back of each stove is a strong double guarantee—the dealer's and ours. *J The supremacy of our plant — "the largest stove plant in the world "—could not be maintained were it not for the supremacy of "Jewel " stoves. k—not red oak—not plain sawn oak— is used Ihroughout. Choice of eight finishes—we send you actual samples free. Write for our book of Mission, Flanders, and Bungalow Furniture for Bed Room, Dining R o o m , D e n , and Hall—mailed free. COME-PACKT

FURNITURE

C O . , 1 0 1 5 Edwin St., A D D Arbor,

Mich.

When writing t o advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Aito&rop SHARPNESS

H o w long w i l l y o u

Doubt Truth.?

S

O extravagant have been the exaggerations in safety razor advertising, that w e have great difficulty in making the public believe that the AutoStrop Satetv Razor really does get the head barber's edge and give the head barber's shave. But reason it out for yourself, to w i t : T h e AutoStrop Safety R a z o r , like the head barber, depends o n expert stropping for its edge. T h a t is w h y it gets the edge. And, as it makes e v e r y b o d y able to strop as quickly, handily and expertly as a head barber, it makes e v e r y b o d y able to shave as quickly, handily and expertly as a head barber. Some m e n live a life of doubt—doubting everything, e v e r y b o d y . D o u b t makes them fail ures. Stop doubting the AutoStrop Safety Razor. Get o n e from your dealer today on 30 days' free trial.

GET

ONE—TRY

(DEALERS ALSO

READ

IT

THIS)

I f it doesn't give y o u head barber shaves, dealer will willingly refund your $5.00, as he loses nothing. W e exchange the razor y o u return or refund him what he paid for it. Consists o f o n e self-stropping safety razor C silver - p l a t e d ) , 1 2 fine blades and strop in handsome case. Price $¡5, w h i c h is your total shaving expense lor years, as o n e blade often lasts six months to o n e year. T h e best w a v to forget to get an A u t o Strop Safety Razor is to put it o f f until "to-morrow."

A u t o S t r o p Safety R a z o r C o . , 3 4 9 Fifth A v e n u e , N e w Y o r k ; 233 Coristine Building, M o n t r e a l ; 61 N e w O x f o r d S t r e e t . L o n d o n .

F A R QUICKER, HANDIER

THAN

S T R O P S ,

SHAVES,

CLEANS

W I T H O U T DETACHING BLADE

A NO-STROPPING

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

RAZOR

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If

O n a n y C o a t # On any Style § A C o n v e r t i b l e C o a t C o l a r f ) O coast ni me! w h ti Preo st Coalrs. A rd. m o er TW T h e r s e ' o c e n o m y o f r y o u a n d c o n v e n e n i c e . h m e t n i e v e r y d a y . I f y o n , h s i s o t c k , w e t r i o t u s , a n d w e w l Y o u r o v e r c o a — t o t p c o a — t c r a v e n e t c o a t f u l n i l e n i y o u r o l c a t y i l . g iC lco hattonvo o r h e a v y c o a t — h s o u d l b e m a d e w h t i a P r e o s t ^ , b e r i t l C o a l r . W h t i h t e c o a l r u t r n e d d o w n , y o u r D o n t g e t h t e d i l o k s n o d e f r i e n t r o m f a n y w e l m a d e , w e l ° " c o n s p c u i o u fitting c o a t d o w n , y o u c a n t s e e T u n r u p h t e c o a l r a n d Presto! Y o u h a v e h t e S o m e n i e x p e n v s i e n e a t m a t i r l y i a s t n d n i g c o a l r , c o l s e n t i f g a n d s t y s . l h . A , , , ^ o h ' e s m sm en b s i e l c o a t o f r c o o l w e a h t e r , o r r a m , o r o f r a u o t h a v e a d o p e d t h t n o i g b l . a n d h t e k i l e . , o v e r c o a s t , c r a v e n • p , „ _ „ . . . , e t e s , r e e e f r s , h u n i g t c o a t s , a u o t 1 h e P r e o s t C a o l r . i s m a d e o f h t e a m s e m a e a t r i l a s , _ . _ h t e b o d y o f h t e c o a t , a n d p r o p e y r l a t o l i r e d b y h t e man w h o m a d e h t e c o a t . N o t a n a c t h a t m e n — t m i s y p l a n m isup r o v e d m h e t o d o f c o n r s t u n c i t g c o a t c o a l r s . G e t a P R E S r O S C O Y o u c a n g o t o y o u r r e g u a l r c o l t h e i r , a n d s e l c t u j s t h e t o p s c o p e i s c i . a c o a t a s y o u n a u t r y a l p r e f r a s t o s t y e l , a f b r c i a n d | t y w h c i p r c i e . S m i p y l b e s u r e h t a t i t h a s b e n m a d e w h t i a i; | P r e o s t C o n v b e r i t l C o a l r , n i e s t a d o f h t e o d l s t y e l o n e , j n i o t a p r o w a y c o a l r . L o k o f r h t e n a m e •'Presto" o n h t e a l b e . l | n i e t r e n s i t g L e a d n i g c o l h t e i r s e v e r y w h e r e c a n k e p o r m l a i o t a r f e i n /£Q " grades and styels of coast filloutand e snd us thsid v

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T H E PRESTO C O M P A N Y 723 Broadway, NEW YORK

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CHICAGO

BOSTON

LONDON

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BERLIN

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HOLDER FOR WAFER BLADE fCR MÖÖfl. C

P

E R F E C T stropping d e p e n d s absolutely upon a stropper set to strop at THE IDENTICAL ANGLE AT WHICH THE BLADE WAS HONED. Perfect results C A N N O T b e obtained in any other w a y . T H E " G R I F F O N " A U T O M A T I C S T R O P P E R is m a d e in three distinct m o d e l s . M O D E L A—For M O D E L B—For MODEL C-For G e m Jr., Ever-Ready Star. G e m . Arnold. Clark,Luna, K e e n Kutter, Enders.etc. "Griffon," etc. Simply push the handle to and f r o ; no matter h o w y o u

PRICE #2.00

At your dealer's—or sent, all charges prepaid, upon receipt of price by makers. Mention model wanted.

"It_savesJhejdip that^distraets"

Send us thiee of your and 4c. in stamps for blades hetter than new, edge this strop will put

discarded blades (any make) postage—we will return the proving the deliglfully keen on old blades. 1

use it, a perfect edge results. GRIFFON C U T L E R Y W O R K S 481 Broadway, N e w Y o r k

"THE

STAR"

Asbestos Pad For Dining Tables

T

D

E

A

I

T

FOU™

There is only one fountain pen which gives universal satisfaction—Waterman's Ideal. The gold pen is relatively permanent when suited to your hand, while a steel pen is undergoing a mechanical change from the moment you first dip it in ink until you throw it away. Try

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L. E. WATERMAN CO. 1 7 3 BROADWAY NEW YORK

T h e original and patented Dining T a b l e Pad. Not an imitation. T h e best Pad manufactured. M a d e of a special grade of Asbestos of sufficient thickness and weight t o assure protection from damage b y heat a n d moisture, covered with double-faced c o t t o n flannel t o make it soft and noiseless. Pads and leaves m a d e t o fold t o convenient size to lay away when not in use. D o i l y , Chafing-dish a n d Platter M a t s of same ma­ terials, size 5 to 18 inches, round, square, or o v a l . A s k y o u r dealer to show y o u the STAR Pad. All Pads and M a t s bear our trade-mark, " S t a r . " W r i t e for descriptive b o o k l e t .

KERNEY MFG. C O . 151 W. 62ND ST. CHICAGO, ILL.

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THE

AMERICAN MAGAZINE

1 0 1

ORCHARD —

LAND

m THE INVESTMENT OPPORTUNITY |jf ft

OF THE HOUR

Hosiery "ONYX" STAMPED ON A HOSE MEANS

For the best ending of this sen­ tence three prizes will be offered. $100.00 50.00 25.00

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Contest to end December 1st. Three competent judges will award the prizes to the winners about De­ cember 15th. Send all communica­ tions to CONTEST DEPT. T.

Lord & 80-86

Taylor

Ninth

Avenue

P. O. Station r

A ew

Tork

C

City

When writing to advertisers please mention Tut:

A M E R I C A N

M A G A Z I N E

l!l

T11E

104

AMERICAN

New Invention ! FOR THE HOME

AIR THE

MAGAZINE

GIVEN ABSOLUTELY FREE If one

DOES WORK

The

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Send at once for

CLEANS CARPETS, RUGS, MATTINGS, ETC., ON THE FLOOR, BY THE VACUUM PROCESS

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W E I G H S NINE POUNDS Operated by child or weakly woman. Air is drawn through body and fibre of carpet at terrific speed. Carries all dust, grit, eerms, etc., into the Cleaner. N o dust in room, it all goes into Cleaner. Supercedes b r o o m , brush, sweeper, dust pan and dust cloth. Cleans without sweeping. Raises n o dust. Keeps house clean, does away with house cleaning. Portable, dustless, a l w a y s ready. Adapted to every home—rich or poor—city, village or •Sfc yDoes same work as expensive machines. C o s t s nothing to operate—costs nothing for repairs. Light, neat, well and durably made—should last a life time. Saves fctime, labor, carpets, curtains, furniture. aves drudgery, s a v e s h e a l t h , s a v e s | m o n e y . Saves taking up and beating carpets. The New Home Cleaner is truly a wonder. Astonishes everybody; customers all delighted and praise it. They wonder how they ever did without it.

/fjllpB^

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LADY HAD MATTING TOO OLD TO TAKE UP—NEW HOME CLEANER SAVED IT— CLEANED ON FLOOR. Others write: " Would not do without it for many times its c o s t . " Another says: "Ten year old girl keeps everything clean." Another: " Never had house so clean." Another: "Carpets and rugs i clean baby can play without getting d u s t and germs." Another: "It works so easy; stslide nozzleover carpet, it draws all the dirt n t o the Cleaner — not a particleof dust raised." So they run, h u n ­

The

P r e m i u m

Catalogue, s h o w i n g 44 articles y o u can

THE NEW HOME VACUUM CLEANER

dreds

y o u will secure me new subscriber to

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EDGAR E. PHILLIPS—THE CRAFTSMAN ROOM 157, 41 W. 34TH ST., N. Y. CITY

Don't Handciap Yourself in the race for business by failure or neglect to provide yourself with the best business card the world thus far affords

PEERLESS PATENT BOOK FORM CARDS In Use the cards are detached one by one as o c ­ casion demands. THE EDGES ARE ABSOLUTELY SMOOTH, incomprehensible as that may seem, and every card is clean, flat, perfect and unmarred. THEY ATTRACT ATTENTION AND THEY GET ATTENTION. Send for sample book and detach t' em for yourself—You will never be satisfied with any­ thing else.

SEND TODAY.

and

thousands of letters p r a i s ing, without

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Agents make money easy, quick, sure. Spare or all time. Men or women. Experience unnecessary. $50 to $ i so per week. W . B . Morgan, Pa., "Send GO Cleaners at once. Sold 32 so far t h i s week, making 75 in 9 days." " S o l d 5 V a c u u m C l e a n e r s last Saturday—

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S a l e s e a s y , profits b i g , g e n e r o u s .

Show one in

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Afijearance

of our neat card i7i case

THE JOHN B . WIGGINS COMPANY Engravers, Die Embossers, Plate Printers

33-35 EAST ADAMS STREET, CHICAGO NEW YORK OFFICE, 350 BROADWAY

ARITHMETIC MADE EASY tor anyone with a set of Arithmetic Help. Any and all examples and problems in arithmetic, from i the easiest to the hardest, are worked out and ex« plained so anyone can understand. For the student or business man. Easy and simple. 2 volumes; 630 pages; over 200 illustrations and color plates; bound in red silk cloth. Most complete ever pub­ lished. A$2 bill brings a set prepaid anywhere. Send for a set. I f not pleased return at our expense and get your money back. Order today.

STANDARD SALES CO., 1.7 FIFTH AVE.. CHICAGO.

Improvements For The Stereopticon Every Lantern Owner or Purchaser Should Investigate Z |9 mm ™*

These

TIIE INTENSO L A M P : This wonderful n e w electric lamp w o r k s noiselessly on direct or alternating current, is intensely brilliant, requires no rheostat or carbons. T H E ALCO-UAIH AN'T L A M P , for use where electricity is not available, the most perfect portable light brilliant cheap and easy to use. TIIE A D V E RTIGRAPH, the n e w automatic stereopticon for Street and Show W i n d o w Advertising. Requires no operator. W e make 50 styles of Magic Lanterns and Post-card Projectors, and have 50,000 Lantern Slides for sale or rent. Lists free. Write for circulars

WILLIAMS, BROWN & EARLE, INC., DEPT. 41, 918 CHESTNUT ST., PHILADELPHIA, PA. When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

i o

5

The

Time Saved will soon pay for a new

Individual Libraries One

o f the

many

advantages

of

SloW^Vcrnicke B o o k c a s e s is t h e c r e a t i n g o f individual l i b r a r i e s in any r o o m , e n ­

a b l i n g e a c h t o h a v e his o r her b o o k s w h e r e they are instantly accessible.

Self-Inking

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N o h u n t i n g for

the

N o soiled fingers.

I m p o r t a n t and confidential

informa­

tion can b e p u t in the mails in an h o u r for h u n d r e d s of a g e n t s and

correspon­

dents. One c o p y is written o n the t y p e w r i t e r —the rest are turned off b y the Neostyle at the s p e e d o f a r o t a r y press. T h e N e o s t y l e is a business-getter— T h e N e o s t y l e is an extra c l e r k — W a n t to k n o w ?

StoW^Vertneke Elastic Bookcases are fully described in our n e w 1911 catalogue, w h i c h contains many practical suggestions f o r clever decorative effects, and tells in detail the m a n y points o f G l o b e - W e r n i c k e superiority. T h e coupon b e l o w will secure y o u a c o p y . " T h e W o r l d ' s Best B o o k s " is a valuable guide in selecting a library, and contains authentic lists prepared b y prominent literary authorities. 'Those w h o love books will find this volume o f genuine service, and its selections m a d e on a broad basis o f

wisdom."—Buffalo

News.

A c o p y will b e mailed free with 1911 Catalog to anyone w h o returns the coupon below.

Just ask

Neostyle Co. 30

be

r e a r r a n g e d to m e e t t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s o f different r o o m s in the s a m e h o m e , o r in the e v e n t o f m o v i n g t o a n e w house or apartment—a feature entirely l a c k i n g in the solid o r built-in b o o k c a s e .

R e a d e St., N e w Y o r k 1 0 9 F r a n k l i n St., B o s t o n 2 1 9 R a n d o l p h St., C h i c a g o

Dept. p , Cincinnati, U . S. A .

The Globe. Wernicke Co., Dept. p, Cincinnati.U. S. A. Please send me"Thc World's Best Books,' 'also your 1911 catalog. -

My library contains

vols.

Name. Street

City.

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

• State..

io6

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

F^j

There is a great difference between Fast Colo Eyelets and all other kinds of shoe eyelets.

W

D I A M O N D

F A S T

C O L O R

E Y E L E T S

have nickel barrels with tops of solid color which cannot wear brassy. The imitations have nothing but the roll top of brass with a thin coating of enamel to protect it. There are two features of Diamond Fast Color Eyelets that cannot be imitated. First, the wear; and, second, the Diamond Trade Mark that appears on the tops of Fast Color Eyelets. It is the distinguishing mark of the only kind of Shoe Eyelets that never wear brassy. Be sure and look for the Diamond Trade Mark. Only the genuine Fast Color Eyelets have it. UNITED FAST COLOR EYELET CO. - Boston, Mass

The Cigaret you can smoke all d a y without a t r a c e of nerves — b e c a u s e it's just pure, clean, sweet tobaccos, b l e n d e d b y artists. P r o v e it.

I Can M a k e Y o u a

M A K A R O F F

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saya Grenville Kleiser (lately of Yale Fac­ ulty). He rids you of timidity—gives you confidence in yourself — develops your power and personality. Just give him fif­ teen minutes of your time daily—at home —and he will speedily teach you h o w to

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Close Sales — M a k e Political Speeches—Address Board Meet­ ings — D e l i v e r After Dinner S p e e c h e s — P r o p o s e Toasts—Tell Stories Entertainingly.

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Mail address—95 Milk Street, Boston

C

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If you can't talk to the point, you can't carry conviction —you can't win ! Don't you want to be a winner t Then write to-day. Let us tell you all about this helpful Course and prove its value. A postal will d o . FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Dept. 50,

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

NEW YORK

THE

AMERICAN

A LIVING

MAGAZINE

FROM

107

POULTRY

$1,500.00 from 60 Hens in Ten Months on a City Lot 40 Feet Square yO

the

average

man

that

impossible you

and we

a

$ 1 5 0 0

iness

with

corner feet

wide are

It

would

get

such

of

the

practiced people, complished

tell

actually

poultry

6 0 by

bus-

hens

city

on

4 0

feet

long,

stating

not

be

returns

facts.

possible by

systems

a

garden

4 0

simply

keeping

we

have

in the

we

seem

when

that

done

poultry-

would

to

any

of

one poultry

recommended by still

and

the it

American can

by

be

ac-

the

PHILO S Y S T E M THE

PHILO

SYSTEM

e c o n d i t i o n 0 1 t h e s e t h r e e m o n t h s old p u l i e t s . T h e s e p u l l e t s a n d t h e i r a n c e s t o r s for s e v e n g e n e r a t i o n s have never b e e n a l l o w e d t o r u n o u t s i d e t h e c o o p s .

I SU N L I K E

A L L OTHER

WAYS

O FK E E P I N G

POULTRY and in many respects just rtie reverse, accomplishing things in poultry work that, have always been considered Impossible, and getting unheard-of results that are hard to believe wittiout seeing. THE

N E W SYSTEM

COVERS

ALL BRANCHES

NECESSARY

F O RSUCCESS

O F THE

WORK

from selecting the breeders to marketing the product. It tells how to get eggs that will hatch, how to hatch nearly every egg and how lo raise nearly all the chicks hatched. I t gives complete plans in detail how to make everything necessary to run the business and at less than half jthe cost required to handle the poultry business in any other manner. TWO-POUND

B R O I L E R S I NEIGHT

WEEKS

art; raised in a space of less than a square foot to the broiler without any loss, and the broilers arc of the very best quality, bringing here 3 cents a pound above the highest market price OUR

SIX-MONTH-OLD

PULLETS A R E LAYING

24 E G G S E A C H

A TT H E R A T E O F

P E R MONTH

In a space or two square feet, for each bird. N o green cut bone of any description Is fed. and the food used is inexpensive as compared with food others are using. Our new book. T h e P h i i o S y s t e m of P o u l t r y K e e p i n g , gives full particulars regarding these wonderful discoveries, with simple, easy-to-understand directions that are right to the point, and 1"> pages of illustrations snowing all branches of the work from start to finish.

DON'T L E TT H E CHICKS D I E I N T H E S H E L L . One of the secrets of success is to save all the chickens that are fully developed at hatching time, whether they can crack the shell or not It is a simple trick and believed to hp the secret of the ancient Egyptians and Chinese which enabled them to sell t h e chicks at 10 cents a dozen. CHICKEN FEED A T15 CENTS A BUSHEL. Our book tells how to make the best green food with but little trouble and have a good supply any day in the year, winter or summer. It is just as impossible to get a large egg yield without green food as it is to keep a cow without hay or fodder. OUR N E W BROODER S A V E S 2 CENTS ON EACH CHICKEN N o lamp required. N o danger of chilling, over-heating or burning up the chickens as with brooders using lamps or any kind of fire. T h e y also keep the lice off the chickens automatically or kill any that may be on them when placed in the brooder. Our book gives full plans and the right to make and use them. One can easily be made in an hour at a cost of 2d to 5 0 cents. T E S T I M O N I A L . S o u t h B r i t a i n , C o n n . , April 19, 1909 M r . E. R . P h i l o , E l m i r a , N. Y . D e a r Sir:—I have followed your system as close as I could; the result is a complete success. If there can be any improvement on nature, your brooder is it. T h e first experience I had with vour System was last December. I hatched 17 chicks under two hens, put them as soon as batched in one of your brooders out of doors and at the age of three months I sold them at 'S. ,v, a pound. T h e v then averaged 2% lbs. each, and the m in I sold them to said thev were the finest he ever saw and he wants all I can spare this season. Yours truly, A. E. N e l s o n . r

SPECIAL OFFER Send

$ 1 . 0 0 for

year's the

Poultry

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a

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E. R. PHILO, Publisher, h o t o g r a p h S h o w i n g a P o r t i o n of t h e P h i l o N a H o n a l P o u l t r y I n s t i t u t e P o u l t r y P l a n t W h e r e T h e r e A r c Mow O v e r 5,000 P e d i g r e e W h i t e O r p i n g t o n s on Less T h a n a Half Acre of L a n d .

j r .. . . Y ¿ 3 1 4 IHK J L . ,

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

a • JM Y LLLLLLLD, 11. I .

THE

io8

AMERICAN MAGAZINE

You're Not Healthy Unless You're Clean INSIDE And t h e o n e w a y to r e a l i n t e r n a l c l e a n l i n e s s — b y w h i c h y o u a r e p r o t e c t e d agrainst 9 0 p e r c e n t , o f a l l h u m a n a i l m e n t s — is t h r o u g h P l t O P J E R i n t e r n a l b a t h i n g , w i t h p l a i n w a r m w a t e r . There is nothing unusual about this treatment—no drugs, no dieting—nothing but the correct application of Nature's own cleanser. B u t only since the invention of the J. B . L . Cascade has a means for p r o p e r internal bathing existed. Pending its discharge from out bodies, all waste matter is held in the organ known as the colon. This waste, like all other waste In Nature, is p o i s o n o u s . A n d twice during each 2 4 hours every drop of blood in the human body circulates through the colon. Unless the poisonous waste is properly washed a w a y , more or less of it is necessarily a b s o r b e d by the blood and carried to other parts of the body. T o accumulated waste m a y be traced the original cause of m a n y dangerous ailments of which appendicitis is one of the most common. Naturally this poison in the blood weakens the system and produces that "run down" condition which opens the way for attack from countless diseases either b y contagion or b y natural processes. T y p h o i d rarely can secure a foot-hold in the system of one who bathes i n t e r n a l l y as well as e x t e r n a l l y . Indigestion, headaches, dizziness and most common of all, nervousness—these are some of the distressing and life-shorten­ ing troubles caused b y continued absorption of the poisons in the colon. Only one treatment is known for actually c l e a n s i n g the colon without the aid of elaborate surgical apparatus. This is

The

Internal B y

M e a n s

o f

D r . A Wilfred Hall, P h . D . , L . L . D . , and W . E . Forest, B . S . , M . D . , two world famous authorities on Internal bathing, a r e among the thousands of physicians who have given their h e a r t y and active endorsement and support to the J. B . L . Cascade treatment. F u l l y half a million men and women a n d children now use t h i s real boon to h u m a n i t y — m o s t of them i n a c c o r d a n c e w i t h t h e i r doctor's

orders.

:

One Physician's Experience 26 Jacobson Building, Denver, Colo. D e a r D o c t o r : — Y o u r "J. B . L . Cascade" received, and I have tried it in a number of cases. I t is excellent. I can truthfully say that I have had the very best results in m y experience with the "Cascade." I treat a great m a n y chronic cases of wasting dis­ eases, and I find ninety per cent, of them the result of impacted faecal matter. B y the old method, one has to coax and persuade the patient to continue internal bathing; but with the "Cascade" it's a pleasure. Since I received the "Cascade" I have cheated the surgeons out of a good operation for appendicitis. U p o n ex­ amination, every s y m p t o m pointed to an operation immediately, and in a few hours she would have been on the table, under the knife. Y o u certainly have struck the keynote of m a n y diseases. Sincerely yours, Prof. Horace T . D o d g e , M . D . . Prof, of Materia M e d i c a and Pharmacology, Homoepathic College, Denver, C o l o .

Bath Let Dr. Tyrrell Advise You

t h e

J. B . L. Cascade Prof. Metchnikoff, Europe's leading authority on intestinal conditions, is quoted as saying that, if the colomand its poisonous contents were removable, people would live in good health to twice the present average of human life.

D r . Tyrrell is always very glad of an opportunity to consult freely with anyone who writes h i m — a n d at n o e x p e n s e o r o b l i ­ gation whatever. Describe your case to him and he gives y o u his promise that you will learn facts about yourself which y o u will realize are of v i t a l i m p o r t a n c e . Y o u will also receive his book "The W h a t , the W h y , the W a y , " which is a most interest­ ing treatise on internal bathing. Consultation with Dr. Tyrrell involves

no

obligation.

Address, TYRRELL'S HYGIENIC INSTITUTE, Dept. 137K, 134 W. 65th St., New York

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When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE

AMERICAN

The man that is

You Who Drink Unwisely

"Always Tired-Out" will soon be worn-out.

Why hesitate in taking steps to overcome a false appetite ? Over-indulgence in liquor is the result of constitutional weakness. Often this is originally induced by wilful drinking. A continued excessive drinking, however, is not a matter of the will, but of the body. It is a physical, not a mental condition— therefore, subject to medical treatment.

If the day's work fags you,— If an ill-chosen meal upsets your digestion,— If a sleepless night spoils the next day—then you are not normal, but are below par,

MAGAZINE

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Mtt^itntni)

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PLEASANT

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Different from other dentifrices in its delightfulflavorand double efficiency. Not only a germ-destroyer, killing decay-germs when you use it, but also so lastingly antiseptic that it k P the mouth in that sweet, clean, non-acid condition that counteracts germgrowth. ee

Delicious—Efficient Colgate's is the antiseptic, anti-acid cream, delicious without the presence of sugar, efficient without "grit" and all that is beneficial without any injurious effect.

Trial Tube for 4 cents COLGATE

tO. YL 55 John lorK

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&° CO. K New

York

Xante 'Address

When v.Titiag

s

t o advertisers please mention

THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Good Looks, Like Good Pictures, M a y b e H a d a t Small Cost There are many readers of this advertisement who once thought that they couldn't get a good magazine for less than 35c. They were mistaken. Witness the American to-day, only 15c. There are many who think they can't get artistic pic­ tures in colors for 15c. apiece. They are mistaken. Witness these pictures by popular artists, and with an art store value of $1.50 to $2.50. Price only 15c. Then again there are many who think they can't get a good face cream unless French made, and costing several dollars. They, too, are mistaken. Witness Pompeian at only 50c. So we are continually finding "something new under the sun," after all. GOOD

LOOKS

A T

lc. PER

D A Y

At a cost of less than 1 c. a day several million men and women are "looking their best" through the aid of Pompeian Massage Cream. Moreover, it is so easy to apply, so refreshing in its effects, so cleansing and so beneficial to the skin, that one soon looks forward to each Pompeian Massage as a true pleasure rather than a duty. A clear, clean, fresh-looking skin is a good asset in busi­ ness or society. Pompeian gives those results. Pompeian is rubbed on the face, well into the pores and then rubbed out. Nothing is left on the skin. It brings out hidden pore-dirt that causes blackheads and other blemishes. Pompeian, through its hygienic massage action, stimulates the muscles of the face, thus imparting a healthy, natural glow. "Don't envy a good complexion; use Pompeian and have one." Trial jar sent for 6 c , coin or stamps. Use Coupon. You may order trial jar or pictures, or both. OUR

1911

PICTURES

Each "Pompeian Beauty" is by a high-priced artist, and represents a type of woman whom Pompeian Mas­ sage Cream helps to make more beautiful by imparting a natural, fresh, youthful complexion. • No advertising on the front; only the artist's name plate. The original of one of these pictures would cost you nearly $1000. Each picture goes through the press from 10 to 15 times. Here is our reason for giving such expen­ sive pictures for a few cents; we want to make you so delighted with each picture you get that you can never forget who gave it to you, for each picture is practically a gift, the 15c. being charged to protect ourselves from being overwhelmed. W e get our reward through years to come, and from the good will and confidence thus established. DESCRIPTION O F PICTURES " P o m p e i a n B e a u t y " ( A ) by Turner. Size 17 in. by 12 in. Turner's "Pompeian Beauty" smiles straif-ht at you. She is irresistible

POMPEIAN

with her feminine softness of contour and bloom of healififul happiness. Art value 1.50 to $2.50. Price I 5 cents. m

n

, ",^? P£i?. B e a u t y " ( B ) by Warde Traver. Size 19 in. by 12 in. This exquisite profile of Traver"s typical American girl makeshardened bachelors exclaim, "If I could only meet a queen like thatI While women enlhuse, ' If I could only have a complexion like hers ! Art value $1.50 to $2.50. Price I 5 cenls. o m

i a n

"P P.? B e a u t y " ( C ) by Everett Johnson. Size 32 in. by 8 in The original of this Art Panel would cost you nearly $ 1000. Its appeal is to the classes rather than to the masses, and is deserving of an expensive frame. Artists declare it a daring yet whclly artistic color treatment. Tbe wonderful green shade of "Pompeian Beauty's" dress almost startles you at first. Yet each day the picture seems more worth the having. Mr. Johnson is an American arlisl living in Paris. This accounts for the dash of French chic imparted lo this panel Art value $1.50 to $2.50. Price 15 cenls. , O u r G u a r a n t e e . If you are not satisfied that each copy of any PomP^an Beauty" has an actual Art Store value of from $1.50 to $2.50, or if for any reason you are disappointed, we will return your money. N o t e . The handsome frames are only printed on pictures A and B. FINAL INSTRUCTIONS Don t expect picture and trial jar to come together; don't expect reply by "return mail" (we have 20,000 orderson some days.) But after making due allowance for distance, congestion cf mails and our being overwhelmed at times, if you then get no reply, write us, for mails will miscarry and we do replace all goods lost or stolen. Wrile plainly on the coupon only. You may order as many pictures as you wish for yourself or friends. Read this coupon carefully before filling out your order. T H E P O M P E I A N M F G . C O . , 38 Prospect St., Cleveland, O . Gentlemen : — Under the letters (or a letter) in the spaces below I have placed figures (or a figure) to show _AJ_B_I 0 I the quantity I wish of one or more of 1 Pictures 1 1 1 the three "Pompeian Beauties." I am | Quantity enclosing 1 5c. (stamps or money) for each picture ordered. P. S. I shall place a mark (x) in the space at the end of line if I enclose 6c. extra (stamps or coin) for a trial jar of Pompeian. Write very carefully, fully and plainly.

•

Name

Massage Cream All dealers, 50c, 75c. and $1.

Street Address City

State.,

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE

I 20

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

This illustration represents the Four Fifty Four casket, constructed of solid African mahogany, richly carved.

efitting Burial Caskets Not a great m a n y years ago the universal use of the grimly s h a p e d coffin lent to burials a repellent atmosphere quite at variance with all the finer sentiments t o w a r d the departed. In m o r e recent years, and due largely to this C o m p a n y ' s efforts, the coffin has b e e n r e p l a c e d b y caskets, m a d e in beautiful, appropriate, dignified designs. T h e s e h a v e r e m o v e d from the burial of today all that is not expressive of the highest memorial ideals. T h a t those interested in funeral arrangements m a y h a v e o p ­ portunity for suitable selection, this C o m p a n y maintains S h o w ­ rooms in the cities listed below, w h e r e funeral directors with their patrons m a y v i e w caskets of e v e r y suitable design and grade. Write for booklet •'THE NATIONAL BRONZE ' '— descriptive of THE indestructible Na­ tional Bronze Casket, WITH an interesting history of the Eternal Metal. Address to I I West Street, NEW York-

NATIONAL CASKET

COMPANY

Albany ; Allegheny ; Baltimore ; Boston ; Brooklyn ; Buffalo ; Chicago ; East Cambridge ; Harlem ; Hoboken ; Indianapolis ; Louisville ; New Haven ; Nashville ; New York City ; Oneida ; Philadelphia ; Pittsburg ; Rochester ; Scranton ; Syracuse ; Washington ; Williamsburg. National Caskets a r e obtainable from regularly established funeral directors everywhere. W e d o n o t sell a t retail.

29th

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M A S K

A product of the Elliott-Fisher Factory S O L D O NA P P R O V A L — The " Bennett " Typewriter will double the efficiency and out­ put of anyone now doing his writing by hand. It is a practical, _™rablemachine, with standard keyboard and has A L L O F T H E E S S E N T I A L S , also D O E S A L L T H E W O R K of a high cost machine. " i, ' ' ' Priced portable typewriter using a ribbon—it is as small as an efficient machine can be (11x5x2 inches— weight 4 2 pounds in case.) Simplicity makes possible its low cost. The pub­ lishers of this magazine endorse every claim made for the " Bennett." Send Name and Address Sent.express prepaid to any part of the United States Tf for free illustrated catalog. the Bennett" does not wholly meet your requirements. Inquire price in foreign countries. and is returned within ten days of its receipt by you, your Agents wanted for n few unfilled territories, money, less express charges, will be refunded B E T T N ' E T T T Y P E W R I T E R C O M P A N Y . 3 6 6 B r o a d w a y . N e w Y o r k , TJ. S. A . s

t

n

eo n

y

o

w

1

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE

AMERICAN MAGAZINE

Hitting the Bull's Eye

B

U Y I N G fire insurance ought to be like rifle practice. The aim should be for the Hartford. The value of a fire insurance policy is not altogether dependent upon the promises which it contains, nor upon the financial resources back of it. Its value depends largely upon the character and methods of the company which issues it. I t is for this reason that w e place the Hartford as the bull's eye of the insurance target. You aim for the best when you select a bank or take a partner in business. Why not do this in fire insurance? Aiming for the Hartford and getting it gives you the perfect score. I t costs no more in effort to aim for this perfect insurance: it costs no more in money to get a Hartford policy. Our aim in this advertising is to get property owners to use the same fore­ sight about fire insurance that they do about other business matters. We will register a high score if w e succeed. As a property owner who ought to have the best insurance, demand a Hartford policy. Aim for the bull's eye. A little steady persistence and the prize is yours. Aim now by using this coupon.

1910

N a m e of A c c n t or Brulier

W h e n m y fire i n s u r a n c e e x p i r e s , p l e a s e s e e t h a t I g e t a p o l i c y in t h e H a r t f o r d . Name Address

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

—

THE

122

The of

AMERICAN

H e a l t h t h e

MAGAZINE

w

O u t d o o r

W o m a n

is proverbial. With health comes strength—and both go far to make a successful life. Thousands of American women know that

has brought them the priceless boon of health. To poorly nour­ ished and anaemic women it is of inestimable value. Declared b y U . S. R e v e n u e Department A Pure Malt Product a n d N O T a n alcoholic beverage. Sold by druggists and grocers.

Anheuser-Busch

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When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

THE 'AMERICAN

x

'sL\ÓA&Sk

123

mm

" T h e Raw Material"

' T h e Finished W Product" * Copyright 1910 by The Royal Tailors

®ffftIk,® EVERY MORNING 300,000 MOST PARTICULAR MALE PERSONS GET UP AND into ROYAL TAILORED-/r9-OR^R CLOTHES. In thousands of h o m e s , t h e t o u s l e d l u m p of h u m a n d o u g h that t u m b l e s o n t o the c a r p e t in t h e m o r n i n g is r e f i n e d f o r t h e d a y into a c l e a n - c u t , e y e - p l e a s i n g man of affairs t h r o u g h t h e m a g i c of g o o d g r o o m i n g a n d R o y a l T a i l o r c l o t h e s . A Broadway Every

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man has a deep-seated-tenderness

made-to-measure liking'

Shop In Walking-

for

clothes.

years

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because

some

7

for

smother that circumstance

obliges h i m to a c c e p t r e a d y - m a d e ' ' m a k e - s h i f t s . " But

no elaborate a r g u m e n t or imagined omy

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you

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gratify without

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econ­

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A

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For Booklet

And Dealer's

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To-day

T h e r e is a d e a l e r in y o u r o w n t o w n , r e a d y w i t h tape line a n d willingness Royal

Fall

woolen the ($20, the

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out will be from the c r e a m of

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A n d the price y o u p a y

$25, $30, $ 3 5 , ) brings very acme

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A n d

as low as $16.50 and $ 1 8 most

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B e w a r e of u n w o r t h y im­ itations. Ro3*al

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R o y a l D e a l e r i n Y o u r Town. M e a n s a B r o a d w a y T a i l o r S h o o "Within W a l k i n g Distance" =

TH

R O YA 1

TAIL O R S TheClothesThat R e a l MeitíWear"

O V E R

*0YAL

5 0 0 0

DEALERS

C hi c a g o

New

York

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

148

B R A N C H

R O Y A L

S T O R E S

124

THE

AMERICAN

MAGAZINE

Business Insurance An Advertisement

by Elbert

Hubbard

"NUMBERS ELIMINATE CHANCE"

H E business corporation was a device of the Romans. T h e original idea came from Julius Caesar, and was suggested by the uncertainty of human life. It was an insurance against the dissolution of a project in case of death. T h e intent was to provide for the continuance and perpetuity of enterprises I which probably no man could carry out during his lifetime. T h e first application of the corporation was for building water-systems and laying out roadways. T h e corporation provided against stoppage of the work in case of the death of any man connected with it. ^aS^fBut the corporate life of a great business is not secure against shock, unless the lives of its managers are insured for the benefit of the corporation. Hence we find the big men— the men of initiative and enterprise-—allowing their lives to be insured at the ex­ pense of the corporation which they serve, for the corporation's benefit. >2>f T o guard 'gainst the blow of the business blizzard when an able leader dies, T h e Equitable Life Assurance Society now issues a Corporate Policy. T h e proceeds are made payable to the Corporation, which is both Applicant and Beneficiary. Thus is the Commercial Craft ballasted and made snug and secure when comes the storm. >^£> T h e Equitable Life Assurance Society will exist when every eye that reads this page is closed forever; when every heart that now throbs is still; when every brain through whose winding bastions thought roams free, has turned to dust. T h e Equitable will live on, a body without death, a mind without decline. Only safe, superior and competent men can secure life-insurance nowadays. Life-insurance adds poise, power and purpose to able men. If you are helping to carry the burdens of the world and making this earth a better place because you are here, perhaps you had better write for further information.

THE EQUITABLE LIFE ASSURANCE SOCIETY OF

THE UNITED STATES

"Strongest

in the World"

The Company which pays its death claims on the day it receives them. P A U L MORTON, PRESIDENT

1 2 0 BROADWAY, NEW Y O R K

AGENCIES E V E R Y W H E R E ! None in your town? Then why not recommend to us some good man—or woman—to represent us there— Great opportunities to-day in Life Insurance work for the Equitable.

When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

CITY

THE

AMKRICA A

MAGAZIXh

IT WILL COST Y O U NO MORE TO BUILD YOUR RESIDENCE I F I R E P R O O F — M O I S T U R E PROOF—SOUND P R O O F — V E R M I N PROOF — W A R M E R IN WINTER — COOLER IN S U M M E R — OF

NATCO HOLLOW TILE THAN IF Y O U BUILD OF WOOD-AND-BRICK, BRICK OR CONCRETE.

STONE-AND-WOOD,

Natco Hollow Tile is precisely the same material, the same company's product, which has made fireproof the world's greatest business and public structures—the Singer Tower, the Pennsylvania and Grand Central Terminals in N e w York; the People's Gas Building, the Blackstone and La Salle Hotels, the Northwestern Terminal in Chicago; the Union Station in Washington, and numerous other great buildings the country over, each costing many millions. Since the adaption of fireproof Hollow Tile by this company for res­ idence construction, architects themselves, building homes for their own ownership and occupancy, have been its foremost users.

it &

This is t h e strongest possible reason w h y y o u should get this 96-page book

"FIREPROOF HOUSES" which describes and beautifully illustrates 45 houses costing $4.000 to $200,000; con­ tains typical floor plans; and is also a complete text book with technical drawings, making clear all details of Natco Hollow Tile construction. Mailed for 10c. postage. Most home builders build but or-ce a life time—whether you plan to build this year or next, write for this book today. Address Department A

N A T I O N A L FIRE · PRCSDFING COMPANY D

O

taro PITTSBURGH,

OR CAN] Z E D 18 S 9

PA. Offices in All Principal Cities,

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T H E A M E R I C A N

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Cleans, Scouts, Polishes C l e a n i n g w i n d o w s is a n easy task with B o n A m i . C o v e r the glass with a lather made, by rubbing a wet cloth on the cake. Let the lather dry. T h e n w i p e it clean with a dry cloth. E v e r y particle of dust, and dirt will disappear, l e a v i n g a clean, s p a r k l i n g surface. Nothing else e q u a l s B o n A m i for. this purpose. '

It is the same on brass a n d tin, mirrors a n d g l a s s w a r e , on floors and paint, on porcelain and oilcloth. Bon A m i cleans, polishes and scours w i t h o u t scratchIt never roughens the hands. / 8 years ON THE MARKET "HASN'T SCRATCHED YET!"

mm When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

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Standar

G U A R A N T E E D B A T H S AND L A V A T O R I E S See that y o u r have T h e

d o n e

bathroom

m u c h

fixtures

towards

are o f the highest

solving the problem

o n e w a y to b e certain about

antee Label serve

is o n every

as a guide

to

plumbing

fixtures

this is t o m a k e fixture

that create

sanitary

o f h o m e

sure that

y o ub u y .

This

a n d perpetuate

worth

against risk in

y o u will

the "$tat?datid" Label

health

Guar-

does more

than

in the h o m e — i t

the makers' g u a r a n t e e against defects in material a n d w o r k m a n s h i p . guard

a n d

health.

It i s y o u r

is

safe-

purchasing.

All genuine ^tafldarcf fixtures for bathroom, kitchen and laundry are identified by the Green and Gold Label, with one exception. There are two classes of our Guaranteed Baths, the Green and Gold Label Bath, and the Red and Black Label Bath. T h e Green and Gold Label Bath is triple enameled. It is guaranteed for five years. T h e Red and Black Label Bath is double enameled. It is guaranteed for two years.

If you would avoid dissatisfaction and expense, install a guaranteed fixture—either the Green and Gold Label Bath, or the Red and Black La be 1 Bath according to the price you wish to pay. Guard against substitutes trading on our name and reputation. They must have the ^taitdard" guarantee label to be of our make. A l l fixtures purporting to be "nStafldattT are spurious,

UNLESS THEY BEAR OUR GUARANTEE LABEL.

Send for your copy of our beautiful new book "Modern Bathrooms." It will prove of invaluable assistance in the planning of your bathroom. Many model rooms are illustrated, costing from $78 to $600. This valuable book is sent for 6c. postage.

oStattdard ¿Saiñtar-j, Iflfe. Co. Department 20

Pittsburg, Pa.

f New York- 35-37 West 31st Si.; Chicago: 415 Ashland Block; Philadelphia; 1 128 Walnut Si.; Toronto, Can.; 59 Richmond St E . AND J Pittsburg: 949 Kent A v e . ; St Louis: 100-2 N. Fourth New St. 'Orleans: Cor. Baronne and St. Joseph Sis.; Montreal, Can.: 215 : 1 Constine Building: Boston: John Hancock Building: Louisville: 319-23 W , Main Street; Cleveland: 648-652 Huron Road, S. E . ; I London, E . C : 59 Holborn Viaduct; Houston, Tex.: Preston and Smith Streets; San Francisco: 1303-04 Metropolis Bank Building

OFFICES SHOWROOMS:

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NABISCO

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THÈ

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T

HE world welcomes the well-dressed man. It challenges the^ other fellow. Life is too short to arouse prejudice just for the sake of fighting it down—don't. Start right—in Kuppenheimer ' clothes—they make a man feel his own worth—• they impress others.

The man of moderate means finds in them true economy—the rich man can wear no better. In business—among social friends — wherever a man's appearance counts—they lend an air of simple dignity and solid worth.

Send for our book

Tibe H©M. Chicago When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

of New

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Their quality is un­ mistakable, their ser­ vice guaranteed. You model and fit an color in the big array of new fall styles—all pure v i r g i n wool fabrics. Look for Kuppenheimer gar­ ments at the best store in your neighborhood.

" S t y l e s for M e n "

Koppeinlbeimer York

Boston W h e n writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

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J

ack afloat or ashore is neatly shaved ; it's part of the U. S . Navy regulations. Thousands of Gillettes are used in the Navy. On a modern battleship the men shave wherever they happen to be. You will see one man using the Gillette while another holds the glass for him. It is shaving reduced to its simplest form—and best. The sailor-man can shave in two minutes and in the roughest weather, with the ship rolling at all angles and with seas washing over the decks.

G I L L E T T E

S A L E S

C O M P A N Y ,

24

W .

Second

Street,

Boston

N e w Y o r k , T i m e s Building Chicago, Stock E x c h a n g e Building Gillette Safety Razor. Ltd.. L o n d o n Eastern Office, Shanghai, China Canadian Office, 63 St. A l e x a n d e r Street, Montreal

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AMERICAN

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god-send

to

a

T 1 "*

sailor.

It

is

as

popular w i t h the officers as w i t h the m e n . W h e r e v e r y o u find neatness, men

dispatch,

discipline—

w i t h w o r k to d o , business to attend t o — y o u w i l l

find t h e Gillette S a f e t y R a z o r . Standard

S e t , w i t h t w e l v e double-edge blades, $5.00.

Blades 50c. and $1.00 per packet. Write

GILLETTE

and w e ' l l send y o u a pamphlet—Dept. A .

SALES Factories;

COMPANY,

24 W.

S e c o n d

Street,

B o s t o n , M o n t r e a l , L e i c e s t e r , B e r l i n , Paris

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Amberol Edison Amberol Records stand today as the greatest triumph in record making. They have brought to Phonograph owners songs and music never before offered in record form. Prior to the perfection of Amberol Records much of the world's best music was too long to put upon a record. If offered at all, it was spoiled by cutting or hurrying. The Amberol Records, playing four and a half minutes, offer such music, executed as the composer intended and each selection is complete. Before you buy a sound reproducing instrument, hear an Edison Phonograph play an Amberol Record. Look over the Edison Record list and see the songs and selec­ tions offered exclusively on Amberol Records and remember that it's the Edison Phonograph that plays both Amberol (4i-minute) and Standard (2-minute) Records. There is an Edison Phonograph at whatever price you wish to pay, from the Gem at $ 1 2 . 5 0 to the Amberola at $200.00. There are Edison dealers e v e r y w h e r e . G o t o the nearest and hear the Edison P h o n o g r a p h play both Edison Standard and A m b e r o l R e c o r d s . G e t c o m p l e t e catalogs from your dealer or from us.

With the Edison Business Phonograph you are not dependent upon any one stenographer. A n y typist in your office can transcribe your work.

National Phonograph Company, 2 3 Lakeside A v e n u e , Orange, N . J . When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

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135

Record T

H E owner of an Edison Phonograph has the advantage each month of two long lists of Records from which to choose. Here is offered the real song hits of the moment, musical selections by famous soloists, bands and orches­ tras, tuneful bits from musical attractions and arias from grand opera—each on a Record of the right playing length to faithfully and completely reproduce it. Run over this list of Edison Amberol and Edison Standard Records. Then go to an Edison dealer on September 24th and hear an Edison Phonograph play those to your liking. EDISON AMBEROL RECORDS U, S., 5 0 c ; Canada, 6 5 c . Medley Overture—Haviland's Song Hits 529 " M a m m a ' s B o y " — D e s c r i p t i v e L e n Spencer & C o . Edison C o n c e r t Band 530 Kerry Mills' Nantucket . N e w Y o r k Military Band B o y o ' Mine Frank C. Stanley 531 Come, Be My Sunshine, Dearie W h e n the Daisies B l o o m Billy M u r r a y and Chorus Miss Barbour and Mr. A n t h o n y 532 H o p e B e y o n d A n t h o n y and Harrison Jere S a n f o r d ' s Y o d l i n g a n d W h i s t l i n g S p e c i a l t y 533 Just for a Girl E d w a r d M. Favor Jere Sanford 534 Y o u A r e the Ideal o f M y Dreams . W . H . T h o m p s o n Cupid's Appeal Charles D a a b 535 M a n d y , H o w D o Y o u D o ? Auld Lang Syne Marie Narelle Ada Jones and Billy Murray and Chorus F a d i n g , Still F a d i n g K n i c k e r b o c k e r Quartet 536 The Premier Polka Arthur S. W i t c o m b H u m o r o u s Transcriptions on a G e r m a n Folk-Song 537 W h e n the R o b i n s Nest A g a i n V i c t o r Herbert a n d his Orchestra W i l l O a k l a n d and C h o r u s Gee! But T h e r e ' s Class to a Girl L i k e Y o u 538 Trip to the C o u n t y Fair Premier Q u a r t e t Manuel Romain 539 T e m p t a t i o n R a g N e w Y o r k Military Band

520 521 522

524 525 526 527 528

EDISON STANDARD RECORDS U . S., 3 5 c , Canada, 4 0 c . 10426 10427 10428 10429 104;W

Strenuous Life M a r c h U. S. Marine Band S w e e t Italian L o v e Billy Murray The Bright Forever Edison M i x e d Quartet I ' v e G o t the T i m e , I ' v e G o t the P l a c e Byron G. Harlan Cameo Polka Charles D a a b

10431 10432 10433 10434 10435

I'll A w a i t M y L o v e Will O a k l a n d Y u e a t a n a Man Collins and Harlan P l a y T h a t Barber S h o p C h o r d Edward Meeker T h e M o c k i n g Bird R o x y P. L a R o c c a Oft in the Stilly N i g h t Knickerbocker Quartet

EDISON GRAND OPERA AMBEROL RECORDS 40027 40028 40029 40030

A n d r e a Chenier—La m a m m a morta ( G i o r d a n o ) ( S u n g in Italian) Orchestra A c c o m p a n i m e n t U. S., $2.00. Canada, $2.60 Carmen Melis Faust—Cavatina, S a l u t ! d e m e u r e (Gounod) (Sung in F r e n c h ) Orchestra A c c o m p a n i m e n t TJ. S., $2.00. Canada, $2.50 Karl Jorn Gioconda—Voce di donna (Ponchielli) (Sung in Italian) Orchestra A c c o m p a n i m e n t U. S., $2.00. Canada, $2.60 Marie Delna Pescatori di Perle — A r i a ( R o m a n z a ) (Bizet) (Sung in Italian) Orchestra A c c o m p a n i m e n t U . S . , $2.00. Canada, $2.60 Giovanni Polese

30029

Favorita—Una vergine ( D o n i z e t t i ) * (Sung in Italian) Orchestra A c c o m p a n i m e n t U.S., $1.00. Canada, $1.26 Florencie C o n s t a n t i n o

Amberol Record By S A R A H B E R N H A R D T S5007

L ' A i g l o n — L a Plaine d e W a g r a m ( E d w a r d R o s t a n d ) (In F r e n c h ) Sarah B e r n h a r d t U . S . , $1.60. Canada, $2.00

National Phonograph Company, 2 3 Lakeside Avenue, Orange, N. J . When writing to advertisers please mention THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE.

136

THE

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Drop a cake of Ivory Soap in bathtub or washbowl and up, up it comes to the surface of the water. That is one of Ivory's advantages over other bath and toilet soaps—it floats. Other advantages are: Ivory purer by far than many soaps times its price; it contains no bined) alkali; it lathers freely;

Soap is pure— that sell at five "free" (uncomit rinses easily.

I v o r y Soap . . . It Floats

When

w r i t i n g to a d v e r t i s e r s p l e a s e m e n t i o n

T H E AMERICAN

MAGAZINE.

A Steady Hand A Keen Eye A Clear C o m b i n e t o " make a hit " in the

field

Brain

of sport and more surely in the field of

business. ff coffee interferes—and

it does with m a n y — s t o p and use well-made

POSTUM T h e n c o m e s the steady nerves and brain absolutely essential t o success.

"There's a Reason" P o s t u m Cereal C o . , Limited, Battle Creek, M i c h . , U . S. A .

THE

CHARLES

SCHWEIXLER

PRESS

1