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in a motor car which travels on the railway track. This vehicle is very much like an ordinary automobile except that it is equipped with railway wheels. You leave this at the station and take a sort of small street car which is pulled on a track narrower than a street railway by a small and obstinate but apparently tireless mule. In this car, which holds a dozen people, the mule hauls you half

mile or three or four miles, as the case may be, to the hacienda buildings. This ranch railway is equipped with switches and is constantly crossing similar lines, penetrating in all directions into the vast plain of gray-green henequen which is all about you.

The henequen is usually grown from cuttings or sprouts called hijos (children). In the sixth year a few leaves are cut, just to help the plant grow. The first real cut of leaves is in the seventh year, and thereafter the plant is cut annually for from thirteen to eighteen years. By the time it is from twenty to twenty-five years old the plant has developed a hard, woody bar or pole which projects upwards from the center. The advent of this pole, called a varejón, means the end of the useful life of the plant.

On a well-kept plantation each plant is cut twice a year, a "ring" of leaves being cut each time. In all, from twenty to thirty leaves are taken from each plant annually, and every thousand leaves will yield seventy or eighty pounds of hemp.

A few years ago the henequen laborer rarely was paid more than fifty centavos (twenty-five cents gold) for each thousand leaves. But Governor Alvarado has fixed sixty centavos for each thousand leaves as the minimum wage of the State, and many ranches pay per thousand as much as a peso, or almost fifty cents gold, for the peso is practically at par in Yucatan, although greatly depreciated everywhere else in Mexico. As a good laborer can cut three thousand leaves a day, he can earn from ninety cents to a dollar and a half gold a day.

Each plantation in Yucatan has its own mill for stripping the hemp from the henequen. This is done by a machine which rips the pulp in each leaf away from the fibers which run the whole length of the leaf and which are the valuable part. The fibers are then dried, bleached and pressed into bales, when they are shipped off to Merida or Progreso. Here the officials of the Reguladora weigh the bales, credit the planter with his seven cents a pound, and take

charge of selling the finished hemp to American buyers.

The plantation mills which strip the hemp from the leaves are a revelation to an American. With some exceptions, in the United States it still seems to be an accepted tradition that a factory should appear ugly, dirty, and forlorn. The hacienda mills of Yucatan prove that there is no necessity for this, for they are clean and beautifully built structures of a kind of plaster or cement, covered with vines and surrounded with trees. Near by, across a well-trimmed lawn, is usually the spacious home of the henequenero, where, after your inspection of the ranch is completed, you slake your thirst with a drink from a cocoanut just torn from the tree by an agile native. Then you sit down to a never-to-be-forgotten meal consisting of the excellent fish of the Yucatan coast, aguacate salad, tortillas, and beans served as a kind of mush, which is indescribably better than anything that is ever done with beans in our country.

The mere fact that some American jobbers and middlemen have been eliminated from the henequen trade by the formation of the monopoly and that American manufacturers have been forced to pay a higher price for sisal is not a sufficient argument for the condemnation of the Reguladora. Nor is it a sufficient argument that the farmers of the United States had to pay $4,000,000 more for their twine in 1916 than in 1915, and may have to pay a further increase of several millions in 1917. We must look deeper than this.

After all, henequen is a product of Yucatan, and the first thing to be considered in judging the merits of the sisal controversy is the welfare of the State of Yucatan.

For the average Yucatecan Governor Alvarado's tight control of the henequen trade is a good thing. This is so because for the average Yucatecan Alvarado's administration is a good one, and the henequen monopoly is the very foundation of Alvarado's administration.

The establishment of the Alvarado régime has simply meant the substitution of a strong despotism for a nominal despotism controlled by the strings of an oligarchy. Before Alvarado came to Yucatan the real power in the State was the commercial and social oligarchy of the seventy-five richest families of henequen planters, that is, the "best people" of whom Americans hear much from aggrieved mem



bers of this aristocracy who have fled to the United States for protection from the "rabble."

Before Alvarado came to Yucatan the trend of the henequen market was largely determined by the International Harvester Company and the Plymouth Cordage Company, which bought about eighty per cent of the sisal output between them. Their agents and brokers in Yucatan seemed to have a working understanding; they quite naturally bought in accordance with the ordinary laws of supply and demand, and as these agents and brokers bought so went the market. In those days the price paid to the planters for their sisal was two and a half to six cents a pound —that is, from four and a half to one cent a pound less than they are getting now. But many of these planters were able to make a greater profit then than now, because then they were not forced to pay their labor so much as at present, then they were not forced to support schools for their employees, then they had less taxes than at present. In fact, in general, then there were fewer obligations demanded by the State of the henequenero.

It is just as plain why the average workingman supports Alvarado as it is why the average planter prays or plans for his downfall.

But whether he belongs to the larger class which has benefited by the Governor's administration, or to the smaller class which has suffered by it, every Yucatecan will tell you that the principle of the Reguladora is right.

The principle on which the Reguladora stands is simply the principle of organized production. It is the principle beneath the farmers' granges of our West, it is the principle back of the butter artels of Siberia, it is the principle on which, recently, in many large American cities markets have been organized where the farmers sell their products directly to the consumers to the advantage of both producers and consumers, and to the discomfort only of middlemen.

Every school-boy who has finished elementary economics knows that when the buyers organize the sellers must organize too. The founders of the Reguladora had two things in mind: first to eliminate some middlemen and to sell their hemp as directly as possible to the twine manufacturers; and, second (and this they considered much more important), to organize the sellers of henequen so that they might get a good price from the organized buyers.


Before Alvarado reorganized the Reguladora the buyers of henequen were well organized, backed with much capital, and able to fight; the sellers of henequen were badly organized, without much capital, and unable to fight. Inevitably, therefore, the buyers had the better of the sellers in fixing the price of the green gold.

To a layman the present price of henequen seems justified by business conditions and the laws of trade. In February and March, 1902, when the henequen buyers were not so well organized as they later became, the price of sisal in New York was ten cents a pound, or only three-eighths of a cent less than it is to-day. Moreover, in determining the justice of the price of a product, usually a fair criterion is the price of the articles in competition with that product. The competitors of sisal hemp are New Zealand hemp and Manila hemp. In the opinion of experts, a fair price for sisal is a figure slightly less than the price of Manila, and about the same as the price for New Zealand. From early in 1908, part way into 1912, the price of sisal hemp in New York was never more than a cent below the price of "current" Manila, and in the early months of 1910 it was actually higher than "current" Manila, although in these years the sisal producers were unorganized.

To-day, with sisal hemp bringing 103% cents a pound in New York, "current" Manila is bringing from 105% to 114 cents a pound, while a pound of New Zealand fiber sells at from 11 to 124 cents.

Government ownership and Government regulation are terms that frighten few intelligent people to-day. gent people to-day. Such people recognize that this is an age of organization, and that a monopoly is not condemned by calling it a monopoly, but only by further describing it as a bad monopoly.

It is not a sufficient condemnation of Carranza and Alvarado to assert that they have established a henequen monopoly in Yucatan. It is no condemnation at all. The fact is that in putting the henequen output under State control Carranza and Alvarado have done only what England and Germany have done with their resources in the crisis of war. And Mexico, it must be remembered, is still under military government. It is palpably illogical to criticise Carranza in one breath for not restoring order in Mexico, and to criticise him in the next breath for raising henequen to a price which even some Ameri

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any despotism, however benevolent. So the controversy over the merits of Alvarado's administration is, after all, a side issue. The main issue, one in which all Americans ought to be interested, is the struggle so to raise the standard of intelligence and public integrity in Mexico that real representative government, as we understand the term in its essentials, may come to be established with a minimum of delay.


ERMANY, through the insurance legislation inaugurated by Bismarck, early laid the foundation for an Empire of organized prosperity that should never know the dire want of the London slums or the poverty-stricken East Sides of American cities. Previous to the war, statisticians from Continental Europe, England, and America frequently visited the Fatherland to study the German insurance system-to-day a proved boon-and to gain a comprehension of Germany's life-value, old age, accident, health, Mutterschutz (motherhood insurance), workman's compensation, and general welfare legislation. These foreign observers have often expressed the conviction that Germany might rightfully feel that absolute want had been organized out of existence within her boundaries.



This is the third and last of the series of articles by Mrs. Gallison describing her experiences in Germany during the summer of this year. The preceding articles will be found in the issues of The Outlook for November 29 and December 6.-THE. EDITORS.

The war, however, has created new problems. The established systems contribute greatly toward the internal economic strength of the Fatherland and mitigate its burdens.

In the meantime, so long as there is not such a further increase in the price of henequen as seriously to interfere with our harvests—that is, so long as a fair price is charged for the sisal, and so long as our legal machinery is well oiled to prevent an infringement of our anti-trust laws by the selling activities of the Reguladora in this countrythere seems no reason why the American public should become alarmed by the course of the henequen controversy. For, after all, it is not our henequen. It is the green gold of Yucatan.

But what of the cripples, the maimed, and the blind? This misery affects Germany, as it does the other belligerents, and taxes statesmanship anew.

How does Germany prevent the crippled soldier, who in ages gone has been an almsgatherer, from becoming a burden to the state and himself? How can the Fatherland open up life to him again? How can it give limbs to the cripple, ears to the deaf, eyes to the blind, so that they can again rejoice in their manhood and take up successfully the fight for an existence? What the scientific world here and in Europe has produced the German Government utilizes, and again its genius for system makes smooth the way.

Broken of body and spirit, the badly damaged soldier is a double problem. The Government sets out to reclaim him, first, by restoring through care and nursing his general well-being, and then by instilling new hope. Definite steps are recognized in the reclamation programme: recuperation of



health, kindling new ambitions, energizing the will, employment during convalescence, counseling the patient on his future occupation, reviewing the elementary educational factors, training him in the vocation selected, and guaranteeing him employment.

The nurses may feel sympathy, but may not show it. The early stages of nursing past, even while in bed the soldiers are employed with papers of various colors and cardboards, and are led to make ornamental or useful things, games and toys for children; to carve wooden kitchen utensils or little objects of art; to braid twine; and to make bags, mats, and nets. Thus they are taught to combat ever-recurring question, "What is to become of me?" All the encouragement of competition is afforded by exhibitions and sales of their products. Materials and tools are given to them, and the fruit of their work is, of course, also their


While the soldier is thus occupied advisers come to him and, with infinite tact and kindness, suggest to him, if he cannot possibly take up his old occupation, to consider what new work he would like best to undertake. As soon as he is up and walks about, training in his former occupation begins or the rudiments of his new vocation are taught him. All soldiers, no matter what their future work will be, receive lessons in the general branches of education, German composition, simple bookkeeping-their boyhood schooling being thus reviewed with the aim of making the knowledge serviceable anew. Readings are given in courses adapted to each group of beginners and for each trade or profession. Those who wish it can study foreign languages or attend lectures on special on special topics.


experience on the land. A position or an opportunity was guaranteed him upon the completion of the course.

Each soldier is carefully prepared to take up his new work, and any manual training school, school of mechanic arts, university, or other educational institution is open to him. Many a man who had to earn his living before the war by manual labor to-day realizes his dream of a university education. This is the general scheme. The deaf, the blind, and the crippled are, as each case permits, subjected to this régime. During all this time the soldiers' families are provided for by the Government, Frauenvereine, and relief clubs.

The deaf are made to "hear" by their eyes, by lip-reading. "Hearing" is thus restored to them by a three months' course. I visited the three grades that compose the curriculum, and was surprised to see how readily the ability to converse is regained by the soldiers. They are taught by pictures and blackboard drawings, in easy stages, how the sounds of the letters, of words, and eventually of sentences are formed by the lips, tongue, palate, and larynx. I was able to converse with the members of the graduating class, who could lip-read so well that it was hard to believe that they had lost their hearing.

Perhaps the most humanly interesting experience in the two lower grades was to note the frank delight of the soldiers when they found that they could convey the sounds they could not hear. With what patience did they watch a slow comrade; how complete their satisfaction when he too was able to repeat the exercises, or, in the second class, to convey the contents of the short stories that were systematically built up to keep nimble the soldier's brains!

The members of the senior class were very much interested when I told them that I was an American at home on a short visit. I asked them about themselves. Not one would vouchsafe why he had received the Iron Cross. What splendid men they were! What thoroughly good faces! What sturdy characters! What a pilgrimage this was to me! The atmosphere of the school, its struggle, its perseverance, and its human conquest took me off my feet.

The blind are made to "see" by their hands, and, "seeing," to take their part in the world's work. This was shown me in a home for the blind in Frankfort. A wealthy lady had given her house. It was a large mansion, situated in an expansive garden at

Of course the idea is to enable the badly damaged soldier to follow his old vocation. When that is impossible, he receives gratuitously special training in his new work. For instance, I was present when a clerk, his sight having been seriously impaired, was advised to become a farmer and a course of studies was planned for him. He was to learn farm accounting, planting of grains and truck, fruit culture, plant diseases and pest preventions, the science of soil culture, stockraising, dairying, the fattening of goats, sheep, fowl, and pigs, marketing the produce, and the essentials of farm machinery and its use. The course was to be made interesting by practical illustrations or films and by actual

one end of which a spacious garden-house was turned into workshops. The director of this home was himself blind. He told me that America surpassed Germany in her treatment of the blind. America had even progressed so far that she taught different sports to them; Germany had not yet attempted that.

The soldiers were taught to read and write again; then to pursue their newly chosen calling. Carpentry, cabinetwork, weaving mats, tuning pianos-these; the usual occupations of the blind, were being practiced. Many of the blind soldiers were, however, being employed in the munition factories. A number were studying at the universities. The case of an officer who was studying law at Leipzig, his wife accompanying him to his lectures, especially interested me as a brave struggle against great odds.

I shall never forget a blind young sculptor. In a somewhat larger and airier room, where I found several remarkable portrait busts and bas-reliefs, some completed and some unfinished, the director explained that one of his pupils had been an engraver before the war, and that, to amuse him, they had sent him to a well-known sculptor, who was willing to have him work in clay. He soon had shown such skill in handling the material and copying any model put before him that he had aroused his professor's enthusiasm. The sculptor had instantly, upon his discovery, assumed the responsibility of guaranteeing him a good living in this most exacting


During the recital the door opened and the hero of the story himself entered with a laughing face. He had just returned from the studio. He shook hands and poured out to me all his exuberant joy at the realization of his heart's desire, which the war and the loss of his sight had brought him. Though he did not show his affliction, he was not handsome; but, in spite of loss of sight and beauty, he radiated the sunniest expression and the joy of a spiritual triumph.

My friends could understand that I might want to visit the deaf or the blind, for at least the loss of one of the senses, they thought, left these unfortunates less able to react to a stranger's betrayal of pity—the pity that fills your eyes or puts a lump in your throat, whether you will it or not. "But visit the maimed, whose every sense is as keen as your own! How can you do it? Though you try to fight off sympathy in their presence," they

said, "how your heart will be wrung when you see the badly crippled-maimed men! How will or can you bear it?" And I thought my friends were right. But how mistaken were we!

It is to the genius of Professor Dr. Biesalski, her foremost orthopedist, that Germany owes many of her successes in her reclamation of damaged manhood. Under his supervision schools have been placed by the Government throughout the country for the crippled. His remarkable personality dominates them, and their principals look to him for inspiration and guidance. I doubt whether any other man is so revered by his profession. He is one of the greatest idealists I have ever met, a man of few words, tremendous energy, and enormous capacity for work. His watchwords are will,”


perseverance," and "no sympathy." Professor Dr. Biesalski made it possible for me to see his special institution, the Oscar Helenen Heim, near Berlin, where in times of peace he prepared for the sublime work of redeeming and remaking men after they have been pitifully wounded.

He is aided by the unusually brilliant Director Hans Wuertz, a pedagogical genius who is able to invent for each new problem a new way of teaching. The impossible is made possible by the co-operation of these two men, and the seed of their achievements is bearing fruit in institutions elsewhere.


Professor Dr. Biesalski's theory is to develop and train the stump. The cripple is first taught to use it, and it is wonderful how the stump can be made to do almost anything. If the patient perseveres, the stump develops the same sense of feeling that exists in the fingers. I saw a teacher who had one arm taken off above, the other below, the elbow. Consequently he had one long and one short stump. He seemed to do everything that a teacher usually does with his hands. I saw him pick up a small piece of chalk, go to the blackboard with it, and write on it the arithmetic examples for his class.

The soldiers who perhaps do not have the time to develop their stump are provided with special apparatus. Dr. Biesalski straps or screws on the tools of the particular trade in which the soldier is to be employed. These are called Prothesen. With the help of these a man without an artificial limb or a man without hands can be trained to do a great deal of manual labor. All the tools of

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