government ownership. Now, on the other hand, railway property being the most easily socialized body of wealth, and one of the largest as well, if the twenty billion dollars of railway property were taken away from private control, your enormous and distressing inequalities of wealth would no doubt be largely limited. This is the first advantage, and it is considerable. Second, railway investment, which employs so much of your capital, would lose its speculative character by the substitution of bonds bottomed on the Government's credit for bonds bottomed on the credit of a private company. This would remove one of the chief grounds you have for complaint against your railways as hitherto managed.

Unfair discrimination, in the next placeanother just ground of complaint-would also disappear under government ownership. It is hard to conceive of a government in your country that would not administer its railways impartially. The impersonal and general nature of government, which in other respects is rather against its efficiency in railway operation, is in favor of it at this one point. A government is raised above the temptations to favoritism which have beset private companies in the throes of competition, and also above the temptation to narrow and local views of industrial and commercial development. Therefore, too-this is the fourth advantage, and very important-under government ownership rates can be adjusted with reference to a maximum development of the country as a whole. Germany gives an excellent example of what can be accomplished in this way. The privately owned railway is bound to be most of all interested in the development of the section that it serves; but if the government took its railway work seriously and intelligently, no section would thrive at another's expense through conflict of transportation interests. There would be a harmonious and balanced development of all sections, because the government is able to view the country as a whole, and is indifferent to a forced or unrelated develop ment in any part.

I think the case for and against government ownership can be pretty well summed up under these eight points-four in favor and four against. There are one or two minor points besides, possibly, that might be mentioned, such as the advantages of government-owned roads for military purposes; but to a non-military country like yours this

scarcely counts. Or, in the event of any great general labor trouble, it is an advantage for the government to own the railways, so that transportation cannot be cut off. But there is no necessity for any such labor war in a civilization like yours, and, if you deliberately invite it, one is tempted to say you deserve no more than the fortunes of war. The best antidote for Larkinism-or, as you would call it, Haywoodism-will be found in meeting organized labor with the direct, cordial, and honest interest that human beings ought to feel in one another's welfare. habitually getting over into each other's point of view, without arrogance or suspicion, with no ulterior motive beyond being human and helpful, both sides to any labor controversy will forthwith find the way to peace, to mutual esteem, and to a sense of common interest.

By

The same holds true in the present controversy between your railways and your public. There should be extreme tolerance and a sustained effort after mutual understanding. It must be remembered that you and your railways have both been proceeding upon a very different theory of railway property from that which you have recently adopted. You have all been going on the idea that a railway is private property, owned by its shareholders in the same absolute sense in which they might be said to own their overcoats and hats. The public is as much responsible as the railways for whatever abuses have grown out of this idea; for you all had it. And now, in the quick transition to a new and truer theory, there cannot help but be some friction and misunderstanding which patience, fairness, and co-operation will quickly minimize. If we in Canada have any advantage over you, as some think we have, it is only because almost from the beginning we have seen and held to this newer theory, that, no matter how privately owned a railway company may be, it owes its existence to the public through its charter, and therefore it owes its first duty to the public. The shareholders who constitute the company have undertaken, in consideration of the charter, to perform certain services for the public for which they are to receive compensation, but the public by its legislation has reserved the right to determine what the compensation shall be. Clearly, the interests of the public must rank first; but the very fact that the public accepting the service is also to be final authority in the matter of compensation, would make it as unfair and improper to have that compensa

heard before-" Rev. Josephus Mason, of the class of 1850;" and there came forward, in response to the call, a bent little old man, his eyes shining almost as brightly as the seams on his tight-buttoned black coat.

"Rev. Josephus Mason," read the president,." for forty years minister to the First Congregational Church in Scarsfield; the father of seven useful sons, the seventh of whom has this day graduated with honor from this institution, upon you, in recognition of your service to God and your country in the rearing of such a family, I bestow the degree of Doctor of Divinity.”

The assemblage broke into vociferous applause as the old man, his eyes glistening now with tears, stepped down from the white platform, clasping the coveted parchment in both hands, and found his way back to the radiant old lady waiting for him. The seven sons were there together, some of them with their wives and families, and I thought again of the bowed old millionaire staring out of unseeing eyes at the floor of the hotel lobby.

But nobody in the audience took the old man's degree really seriously; that was the trouble. The president's eyes twinkled as he awarded it; the students regarded it as a novel and harmless little pleasantry. Even the old man himself, deep down in his heart, suspected that the honor had really come to him because of his "History of the First Congregational Church of Scarsfield," published the year before, and his frequent contributions to the organ of his denomination. Doubtless copies of these had come to the attention of the trustees, so he thought, and were the real explanation. The idea that fatherhood is really a profession, that success in it is a notable thing, worthy of distinction, never seriously occurred to any one. For the raising of a family in these successful days is one of the things that every man does, but, like playing golf or being handy around the house, it lies outside the serious domain of business, and is therefore a matter of little importance.

When the Great Man died, for instance, all of the newspapers expressed deep regret that he had been so unfortunate in his family affairs. That was the word they used; it was nothing, apparently, that he could be blamed for. He was a very successful and worthy citizen, but in his family affairs he had been unfortunate. If his estate had been found bankrupt by the executors, the papers would have called him a fool or a knave or a fail

ure; but the bankruptcy of his domestic affairs was considered a mere matter for condolence. With the picture of him sitting, bent and withered, in that European hotel, one might be easily induced to agree with the verdict. And yet as he sat there that day he knew who was to blame for the misfortune of his family affairs.

From the day of his first beginnings at business there had been only one fixed idea in his mind. He had determined to succeed; the atmosphere in which he moved was altogether one of eagerness for money; his business had grown so rapidly as to absorb his energy as fast as he could create it. It had been easier to buy off his son with free indulgence and plenty of money than to sacrifice upon him any of the precious minutes which, with him, were literally golden. So he had built his great success, and his son was a fool.

This is one of the strange things in the world, it seems to me that the raising of sons and daughters should be considered so purely a personal affair, in which society has no voice or interest, a matter for which a man incurs no blame if he is recreant nor receives any reward for success. The world, as every one supposes, is growing better, and, of course, can grow so only by the cumulative gains of succeeding generations. Yet when a man who has contracted with society to produce one or more members of the succeeding generation presents as his finished product a couple of failures or fools, he is unfortunate.

And if it had been a bridge he had contracted to produce, and the bridge had proved weak or fraudulent, society would have arrested him and put him in jail.

I was visiting the other night in a fashionable suburb, at the home of a man who will receive very extended notices in the newspapers at his death. That morning he had shown me through the offices from which he directs the operation of more than thirty thousand men in a score of different factories. And while we talked that evening in his home his boy, five years old, burst in upon us repeatedly, jumped up and down on the chairs, and finally made further conversation impossible. Apologetically, the father, at whose command an army starts or halts, suggested that we move up to his den, where we would be somewhat more quiet. And so we retreated before the boy.

"I tell you a youngster's a big problem,"

he said to me, as we fled. "I don't want any more; one's all I can handle."

He meant it was more than he could handle; he, who in the daytime handles thirty-five thousand men. On the other hand, the father of John Stuart Mill, who had not one per cent of this man's executive ability, successfully handled nine children. Of course he was only a poor subordinate in the office of a great corporation, who wrote a "History of India" that hardly any one reads; but he contributed to society John Stuart Mill.

"What he was himself willing to undergo for the sake of my instruction," says John Stuart, "may be judged from the fact that I went through the whole process of preparing my Greek lessons in the same room and at the same table at which he was writing; and as in those days Greek and Latin lexicons were not, and I could make no more use of a Greek and Latin lexicon than could be made without having yet begun to learn Latin, I was forced to have recourse to him for the meaning of every word which I did not know. This incessant interruption he, one of the most impatient of men, submitted to, and wrote under that interruption several volumes of his History, and all else that he had to write during those years."

It is possible, of course, that had he not been interrupted he might have written two Histories of India, or become President of the British East India Company; but either achievement would have been little recompense to the world for the loss of John Stuart Mill.

It is time, it seems to me, for a little shifting of emphasis in this question of what constitutes success; time to recognize seriously that there is no service to the world like the rearing in it of sons and daughters competent to carry righteousness a step forward; no treason to the moral order like contributing to the next generation men and women who are a burden to its progress instead of a help.

And time, also, to stop using the word "unfortunate " in obituary notices of successful men whose sons are fools. I should like to see obituaries written, for instance, something like this:

Died, at his home on Riverside Drive, John Dives, President of the International Hose Supporter Co. Mr. Dives leaves a fortune of several million dollars. He has two sons, who are members of the following clubs: Idlers, Drivers and Riders, Tango, and the Monte Carlo.

Alfred Edwards, father of one of the largest and most useful families in the city, passed away at his home on West 329th Street yesterday afternoon at four o'clock. At his bedside were his wife, his six sons, and his daughter, and members of their families. In his death the city loses one of its representative and most useful citizens.

Mr. Edwards was born in the city some seventy-eight years ago, and, with the exception of a trip to Chautauqua in 1897 and one winter spent with his son Frederick, who is Superintendent of Schools in Tampa, Florida, has lived here all his life. He was married at the age of twenty-three to Miss Minnie Sanford, of this city. They have seven children: John, who is editor of a newspaper in Illinois; James, a practicing lawyer at 45 Pine Street; Frederick, a noted Southern educator; Helen, the wife of Dr. Henry Edgren, of this city; Matthew, Mark, and Luke, who are well known in the business affairs of the city. Mr. Edwards's life was remarkably successful; he lived to see all his children married, and to rejoice in the birth of nine grandchildren, all of whom give promise of clean, useful lives.

The Mayor, commenting on the city's loss, said: "Mr. Edwards's life is a proof of the oft-repeated axiom that success can be attained only by hard work and constant application. Mr. Edwards's success was no accident. For over forty years he has given unremitting care and thought to the training and education of his family. Finding, in his later years, that he could not accept positions of larger responsibility in his office without seriously impairing his domestic efficiency, he gladly made the sacrifice for the sake of his life-work. I have known personally that he devoted his Sundays, his evenings, and many of his days wholly to his boys and girls. The value of such a life to the community cannot be overestimated. As the official head of the city, I extend its heartfelt condolences to the bereaved wife who so splendidly co-operated with him in achieving his notable success.”

The funeral will be held this afternoon from the Cathedral, and will be attended by the Mayor and Council.

that the officers and Mr. Edwards's associates might be present at the services.

It is a far cry from our present standards of success to the standard indicated in obituaries like this. But which standard is more nearly correct, judged by the test of time? It would be interesting to trace the influence of the International Hose Supporter Company (which is Mr. Dives's achievement) and the success of the six sons and a daughter (who are Mr. Edwards's) through, say, ten generations, and answer the question then.

In the same suburb with my friend who commands thirty-five thousand men, and does not command his son, there lives another friend of mine, who has deliberately made up his mind that he will probably not rise any higher in the great organization in which he is employed. He has made a comfortable success; he has a good income, and sufficient life insurance to care for his family when he is gone. His acquaintances are not a little perplexed to understand the seeming decline of his ambition. He might have been president of the company, they assert, if he would; yet they see him, in middle life, at the height of his power, stopping work at four o'clock in the afternoon, and spending the remaining hours of the days, and nearly all of his evenings, at home.

But to me his case is no mystery, because

one day, in a burst of confidence, he explained it :

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'My boy is growing up," he said; "he will be twelve years old this spring. He's right at the most critical time of his life, when he is forming the ideals and habits that are going to determine his future. I talked it all over with my wife, and we have decided that it's time for me to take up seriously the business of being a companion to the boy. Every afternoon last summer I went to the ball game with him; I've even bought a ball glove for myself so that we can play, and I've joined the athletic club and taken out a membership for him. I'm brushing up on my old college studies, too. I mean to be closer to him in the next ten years than any other companion-to be a bigger influence in his life than any of the influences that are outside our control. He's going to be a better man than I am, if I can make him so."

It's very mysterious to the business acquaintances of my friend. They can't understand why he should be content to remain as secretary of his company when he might easily aspire to the presidency. But their comment does not disturb him at all. He may not leave a great fortune when he dies, but at least he knows that they cannot say of him, He was very unfortunate in his family affairs; his son is a fool."

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T

HE Mexican Situation, in its political aspect, is dealt with in the editorial pages of The Outlook.

It remains for me to discuss its commercial and financial aspect.

Of course war is to be deplored from the standpoint of both the humanitarian and the economist, but it is undeniable that two recent wars have given tremendous impulse to the world's commercial development.

The unexampled expansion of English trade in the twentieth century was largely due to the success of the British in the Boer War, and the issue of our own war with Spain was a potent factor in stimulating the extraordinary revival of American business that

commenced with the victory of Manila Bay.

In both cases the forces of commercial civilization were arrayed against those of archaic and inert governments, and the triumph of the former resulted in awakening a large and somnolent population to new needs and new opportunities, the satisfaction and development of which meant the extension of commerce and industry.

The profits of this intensified commercial activity were more than sufficient to offset the military expenditure involved, and, except for the loss of life and human suffering, the world is materially benefited by the fact that energizing and orderly methods of govern