and the influence that it exercises upon the life of the world to-day.

Its function is to interpret the significance of economic phenomena.

The poetic student of mankind who said,

"How few think justly of the thinking few;

How many never think, who think they do," expressed a doubt of the mental accuracy and energy of the average man that is not much lessened by the progress of education.

Most men say frankly that they are unable to solve the complex commercial and financial problems of to-day. They seek for and rely upon expert knowledge to help them.

Should American stocks go up because we import gold, or decline because we export it? Who knows? The effect has been reversed in both cases within the past six months.

It

Should war cause cotton to decline? was generally so believed until some one discovered that the use of guncotton is enormously increased by war, and now it is argued that a continuation of the war means higher cotton.

War itself was generally considered destructive of all values until a few months ago, but the students of economic history were soon able to prove that the reverse has been the case in the past, and now, largely because of their interpretation of the record, it is believed that war means prosperity, for the United States at least.

Facing such questions as these and many others to which intelligent reply is exceedingly difficult, the public wait for the answer that the barometer of the market makes as it records the transactions of the few courageous speculators who have the courage to interpret for themselves the meaning of events.

This leadership is most often anonymously exercised, but as the market moves people assume that it is impelled by some superior intelligence. If the interpretation suggested by the course of prices is plausible and appeals to the imagination when the public is susceptible to suggestion, a great movement may be started that will involve and affect many things that have no apparent relationship to the initial situation.

Such a movement, though always the result of some initiative in its earlier stages, may become spontaneous in its larger scope, or it may be fostered by an aggressive propaganda inspired by political or financial selfinterest. In the latter case, the leadership that assumes the responsibility for the inter

pretation by which the minds and imagination of the susceptible crowd are affected must be one that can give a plausible reason for its conclusions.

The day is past when the control of prices. by brute financial force or manipulative mystery can create an illusion of panic or prosperity.

The law now aims to prevent, and popular sentiment will not tolerate, any such attempt at the compulsion of public opinion.

It may therefore be truthfully said that in the market-place the rule of reason is supplanting the rule of force. The extraordinary demand for economic literature to-day is probably one result of this change.

The increased influence of the college professor, and especially the professor of economics, is another evidence of the same tendency.

More and more men are coming to ask

why?" and though they may not be able to understand the relation of cause and effect as it is explained to them, the effort to do so quickens their intelligence and makes them at least more independent members of the crowd whose contagion none of us can entirely resist.

Our very existence presupposes speculation. Against its manifest uncertainties we endeavor to protect ourselves and our families by life insurance, which is but a scientific speculation based upon the law of average.

In the mortality tables the actuary finds a record of human experience that enables him safely to forecast the future; but life insurance was almost entirely unknown two centuries ago, and the world was thousands of years old before men realized that the risk of death was calculable.

Through the mechanism of the great exchanges and the study that is now being given to the functions that they perform, the influence that they exert, and the reactions that they record, it is not at all impossible that we may learn that the apparently complex risks of business are governed by laws quite as immutable as those which the mortality tables disclose. Then we may be able to protect ourselves against them.

In the meantime comparative safety is to be found by preserving the psychological detachment that is essential to independent judgment. For those who become the victims of their own enthusiasm or the enthusiasm of others the path of speculation leads but to the grave of poverty.

A GREAT VIOLINIST IN THE TRENCHES1

When Mr. Fritz Kreisler appeared in Carnegie Hall, New York, at his first concert last winter, he was encircled by a great audience which rose tier on tier and greeted him with a long-continued welcome-an expression of the universal appreciation of his genius as a violinist and of gratitude that the war had spared a man who ought never to have been sent to the front.

Mr. Kreisler and his wife were in Switzerland on the 31st day of July, when the Third Austrian Army Corps, to which his regiment belonged, received an order for mobilization. He had resigned his commission two years before; but he immediately left Switzerland and reported for duty. Early in November he was injured in the leg and was declared by a commission of army surgeons and superior officers an invalid and physically unfit for further service. Into the brief four weeks at the front the great violinist had crowded many experiences, and these experiences he describes with charming modesty and simplicity in a little volume the literary quality of which is quite worthy the artist who has delighted the whole continent with his masterly playing of the violin. There is very little of the horror of war in this book, although there are some frank descriptions of the privations and sufferings to which the Austrian troops were exposed and some vivid pictures of the havoc wrought by death in their columns. The slender volume describes the rapid transition from peace to war:

We reached Vienna on August 1. A startling change had come over the city since I had left it only a few weeks before. Feverish activity everywhere prevailed. Reservists streamed in by thousands from all parts of the country to report at headquarters. Autos filled with officers whizzed past. Dense crowds surged up and down the streets. Bulletins and extra editions of newspapers passed from hand to hand. Immediately it was evident what a great leveler war is. Differences in rank and social distinctions had practically ceased. All barriers seemed to have fallen; everybody addressed everybody else.

While coming from the station I saw two young reservists, to all appearances brothers, as they hurried to the barracks, carrying their

'Four Weeks in the Trenches. By Fritz Kreisler. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston. $1.

small belongings in a valise. Along with them walked a little old lady crying, presumably their mother. They passed a general in full uniform. Up went their hands to their caps in military salute, whereupon the old general threw his arms wide open and embraced them both, saying: "Go on, my boys, do your duty bravely and stand firm for your Emperor and your country. God willing, you will come back to your old mother." The old lady smiled through her tears. A shout went up, and the crowds surrounding the general cheered him. Long after I had left I could hear them shouting.

A few streets farther on I saw in an open café a young couple, a reservist in field uniform and a young girl, his bride or sweetheart. They surroundings and of the world at large. When sat here, hands linked, utterly oblivious of their somebody in the crowd espied them, a great shout went up, the public rushing to the table and surrounding them, then breaking into applause and waving hats and handkerchiefs. At first the young couple seemed to be utterly taken aback, and only slowly did they realize that the ovation was meant for them. They seemed confused, the young girl blushing and hiding her face in her hands, the young man rising to his feet, saluting and bowing. More cheers and applause. He opened his mouth as if wanting to speak. There was a sudden silence. He was vainly struggling for expression, but then his face lit up as if by inspiration. Standing erect, hand at his cap, in a pose of military salute, he intoned the Austrian national hymn. In a second every head in that throng was bared. All traffic suddenly stopped, passengers as well as conductors of the cars joining in the anthem. The neighboring windows soon filled with people, and soon it was a chorus of a thousand voices. The volume of tone and the intensity of feeling seemed to raise the inspiring anthem to the uttermost heights of sublime majesty. We were then on our way to the station, and long afterwards we could hear the singing, swelling like a human organ.

Madame Kreisler volunteered her services as a Red Cross nurse in order to be near the front with her husband. When she learned later that no nurse was allowed to go farther than the large troop hospitals, which were far in the rear of actual operations, she decided to remain in Vienna nursing in the barracks. The regiment immediately started for the front, traveling via Budapest to Galicia, and left the train at a station south of Lemberg. Then began the severe test of continuous rapid marching. At the close of the first

day Mr. Kreisler gives this delightful description of night in the woods:

Night had fallen when we reached a small monastery in the midst of a forest, where the peaceful surroundings and the monastic life, entirely untouched by the war fever, seemed strange indeed. Camp was established, tents erected, fires were lighted, and coffee made. Soon a life of bustling activity sprang up in the wilderness in the midst of the forest which only a few hours before had been deserted. It made a weird and impressive picture in the wonderful starlight night, these soldiers sitting around the camp-fires softly singing in chorus; the fantastic outlines of the monastery half hidden in the woods; the dark figures of the monks moving silently back and forth amongst the shadows of the trees as they brought refreshments to the troops; the red glow of the camp-fires illuminating the eager and enthusiastic faces of the young officers grouped around the colonel; the snorting and stamping of the horses near by; an occasional melodic outcry of a sentinel out in the night; all these things merging into an unforgetable scene of great romanticism and beauty. That night I lay for a long while stretched near the smoldering ashes of the camp-fire, with my cape as a blanket, in a state of lassitude and somnolence, my soul filled with exaltation and happiness over the beauty around me.

While the trenches in France and Flanders were extensive and elaborate, with underground workings and wing connections, those in Galicia were shallow and hastily made, and the Austrian troops thought themselves fortunate if they could secure enough straw to cover the bottom. Mr. Kreisler's regiment had hardly secured its position when an aeroplane appeared on the horizon and gave the invisible battery accurate measurements for the shelling of the Austrian position. Human nerves so soon get accustomed to the most unusual conditions that the violinist noticed a number of men sleeping in the trenches in spite of the roaring of the cannon and the whizzing shrapnel over their heads. He also made a discovery which turned out to be of practical use and is a remarkable instance of the fact that an artist may put a trained ear in the service of his country:

I, too, soon got accustomed to the deadly missiles-in fact, I had already started to make observation of their peculiarities. My ear, accustomed to differentiate sounds of all kinds, had some time ago, while we still advanced, noted a remarkable discrepancy in the peculiar whine produced by the different shells in their rapid flight through the air as they passed over our heads, some sounding shrill, with a rising

enden cy, and the others rather dull, with a falling cadence. A short observation revealed the fact that the passing of a dull-sounding shell was invariably preceded by a flash from one of our own cannon in the rear of the hill, which conclusively proved it to be an Austrian shell. It must be understood that as we were advanc ing between the positions of the Austrian and Russian artillery, both kinds of shells were passing over our heads. As we advanced the difference between shrill and dull shell grew less and less perceptible, until I could hardly tell them apart. Upon nearing the hill the difference increased again more and more until on the hill itself it was very marked. After our trench was finished I crawled to the top of the hill until I could make out the flash of the Russian guns on the opposite heights, and by timing flash and actual passing of the shell found, to my astonishment, that now the Russian missiles had become dull, while, on the other hand, the shrill shell was invariably heralded by a flash from one of our guns, now far in the rear. What had happened was this: Every shell describes in its course a parabolic line, with the first half of the curve ascending and the second one descending. Apparently in the first half of the curve, that is, its course while ascending, the shell produced a dull whine accompanied by a falling cadence, which changes to a rising shrill as soon as the acme has been reached and the curve points downward again. The acme for both kinds of shells naturally was exactly the half distance between the Russian and Austrian artillery, and this was the point where I had noticed that the difference was the least marked. A few days later, in talking over my observations with an artillery officer, I was told the fact was known that the shells sounded different going up than when coming down, but this knowledge was not used for practical purposes. When I told him that I could actually determine by the sound the exact place where a shell coming from the opposing batteries was reaching its acme, he thought that this would be of great value in a case where the position of the opposing battery was hidden and thus could be located. He apparently spoke to his commander about me, for a few days later I was sent on a reconnoite ing tour, with the object of marking on the map the exact spot where I thought the hostile shells were reaching their acme, and it was later reported to me that I had succeeded in giving to our batteries the almost exact range of the Russian guns. I have gone into this matter at some length because it is the only instance where my musical ear was of value during my service.

When such great battles are fought, individual death and sorrow are almost swallowed up in the general calamity; but Mr. Kreisler's description of the death of the son

The

gren's

of the colonel of his regiment arrests our attention for a moment and brings the individual misery of the colossal conflict home to the imagination:

Suddenly I saw the face of the colonel riding next to me light up with excitement as A wounded man was borne past. He addressed a few words to the stretcher-bearers, and then turned to me, saying: "The regiment of my son is fighting on the hill. It is one of their men they have brought by." He urged us on again, and it seemed to me as if I noticed-or was it my imagination ?-a new note of appeal in his face. Suddenly another stretcher was brought past. The colonel at my side jumped from his horse, crying out, " My boy !" and a feeble voice answered, "Father." We all stopped as if a command had been given, to look at the young officer who lay on the stretcher, his eyes all aglow with enthusiasm and joy, unmindful of his own wound, as he cried out, "Father, how splendid that the relief should just come from

Brocklebank Riddle (The). By Herbert Wales.
The Century Company, New York. $1.30.

A well-told, strange story of a man who after br being cremated appears a few days later in his business office and takes up his usual course of life with a difference. It is only fair to warn the reader who dislikes to have mystery stories solved by other than natural methods that theosophy and soul-transference are involved, and that there is a remote reflection of the HydeJekyll motive. Even so the story grasps the attention with unusual strength.

Merry-Andrew. By Keble Howard. The John
Lane Company, New York. $1.35.

An agreeable story of a young Englishman,
fresh from the university, unexpectedly thrown
on his own resources.
This " Merry-Andrew,"

as his nickname indicates, is good-natured, and, green as he is to London's ways, he gets a hold upon journalism and literature after a troublous time in school-teaching. The author "knows the ropes" and evidently writes from experience. The novel is pleasant reading, if not of great weight.

Play in Education. By Joseph Lee. The Macmillan Company, New York. $1.50.

A valuable book for parents, educators, and municipal authorities. Its author, long a member of the Boston School Committee, stresses especially the importance of play as a preparation for the serious business of adult life. Hence he insists upon something which too many people are prone to forget-namely, that play is an absolute necessity in the proper development of all children, and that every facility should be given for the child to play spontaneously, vigorously, and freely. Occa

His

you! Go on. We held out splendidly. All we need is ammunition and a little moral support. Go on, don't stop for me; I am all right." The old colonel stood like a statue of bronze. face had become suddenly ashen gray. He looked at the doctor and tried to catch his expression. The doctor seemed grave. But the young man urged us on, saying, " Go on, go on; I'll be all right to-morrow."

The whole incident had not lasted more than five minutes, barely longer than it takes to write it. The colonel mounted his horse, sternly commanding us to march forward, but the light had died out of his eyes.

Books about the war have already attained the dimensions of a good-sized library. Many of them depend for their interest entirely on passing conditions already out of date. A few books-largely, it may be suspected, personal narratives-will survive; and this slender volume is likely to find its place among them.

sionally, to be sure, Mr. Lee's enthusiastic advocacy of full vent for the play instinct leads to indiscreet suggestions, as in his indorsement of the dangerous juvenile håbit of playing with fire. And, particularly at the present time, not every one will feel as he does with respect to the desirability of cultivating the instinct to fight. But his book as a whole is so sane, so informing, and so practically helpful that it may be cordially recommended to all concerned in the upbringing of children. Students of the physiology and psychology of play will also find it a useful addition to their libraries, for it presents in convenient form the results of the best scientific studies in this important field. Fight for Peace (The): An Aggressive Campaign for American Churches. By Sidney L. Gulick, D.D. The Fleming H. Revell Company, New York. 50c.

This book contains some excellent suggestions to churches and some valuable information respecting the relations between the United States and the Far East. We do not, however, agree with its underlying affirmation that "the next great forward step for the Christian world is the Crusade for Peace." We think the crusade of the churches should be for justice. When the world has secured justice, peace will follow.

Limitations of Science (The). By Louis Trenchard More (Ph.D.).. Henry Holt & Co., New York. $1.50.

In this interesting if somewhat repetitious volume Professor More vigorously criticises sundry scientific hypotheses, particularly those which aim at explaining the nature of the uniHis point of view is tersely expressed in the statement that "we cannot attain any

verse.

knowledge of things themselves, but only of their attributes as they affect our senses.' It is enough to formulate general laws-such as the law of gravitation-without attempting to ascertain the causes of these laws. This, he insists, is quite outside the province of science, because it involves guesswork, and guesswork is not scientific.

La Belgique en Terre d'Asile. By Henry Carton de Wiart. Bloud et Gay, Paris.

The Minister of Justice in the Belgian Cabinet has published a smail volume recounting certain recent events in Belgium-doubtless the beginning of a larger work to cover the whole period of the war-which should be of use as a volume of reference. The book has been written in excellent style, and thus appeals both because of manner and because of matter. It deserves translation.

University of Chicago Sermons. By Members

of the University Faculty. Edited by Theodore Gerald Soares. University of Chicago Press, Chicago. $1.50.

These sermons are intelligent without being academic, broad without being vague, forceful without being sensational. They deal with the sins and mistakes of modern life, and inspire the higher aspirations and more unselfish service in the work of to-day. Their individual and social messages will appeal to the modern mind, and will furnish inspiration and help especially to young ministers.

Writing an Advertisement. By S. Roland Hall. Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston. $1. Mr. Hall has done for the writer of advertising what the press agent has done for the actor: he has stripped him of all glamour and left reality to speak for itself. Early in the days of modern advertising," he relates here, the writer of advertisements was a rather

unique personage. He was surrounded with some mystery, too much halo." Then the author goes on to show the practical development of the men who "sell through publicity." Mr. Hall is best known as the author of four large volumes on the subject of advertising

which were used as text-books by a correspondence school. His present volume contains

much valuable information. He writes interestingly of the difference between mere clever advertising and advertising that creates response. The seventeen chapters treat many subjects in the field of commercial literature. The author emphasizes the importance of copy," and tells of the studies made by successful advertising men of the uses of products, of points of view, of trade conditions, of points of contact, of the appeal of illustrations, and of the power of words. "Some are inclined to say, 'Copy is a mere detail," " he writes. Copy never was, never will be a mere detail. Too few people are able to write it."

Reconstruction of the Church (The). By Paul Moore Strayer. The Macmillan Company, New York. $1.50.

A strenuous and successful church leader here sends out a stirring summons to the churches. The daily life and practices of their members must be aligned with the principles of Christ. Then, if the Church would teach no half-way religion, it must teach men to be religious in all their dealings, social, political, industrial. We are then pointed to New England's "decadent villages and degenerate country settlements," where the Church has failed to hold its own, and to the swarming city crowds who ignore the churches as having nothing at all for them. Wanted-a militant church with a programme.

To this the latter half of the volume is given, how to reclothe "the eternal spiritual message of the Church to meet the demands of this new industrial age." Here this experienced strategist gives practical counsels in the lines of needed reconstruction that have begun to be tried with success. The crux of a campaign for it is laid bare by the facts cited-Can the churches get together? Christian unity is said to be already "in the air." How long shall it stay there? All that is needed is the Christian spirit to take the steps pointed to by Dr. Strayer to end this disgrace.

CIVIL SERVICE PENSIONS

I believe it was decided in an article in a late issue of The Outlook that a corporation has a soul. There is one body of men who are chosen to take care of (one can safely say) the most important business of the country-the men whose duty it is to appropriate "Uncle Sam's " money and decide how it shall be used. If they have developed a soul, why not distribute his money in a whole-souled way? According to Mr. Hyde's articles in the Chicago "Tribune,"