bination of the old and the recent in American genius.

Joseph Pennell's Bequest

A

LL too frequently judged as crabbed, carping, and hypercritical, Joseph Pennell, who did so much for art, has added to the debt due his work and memory by the bequest of his books, pictures, and drawings to the Library of Congress. He has done much more than most such benefactors, for he has provided a liberal fund for the maintenance of the collection, which, it may be assumed, will go far to make it useful. Some years since he gave to the Government his Whistler library, one of the most complete in existence, which complements admirably the Charles L. Freer store of Whistler paintings and drawings, also the property of the United States. So future generations of lovers of art and the unique in literature can recall one who thought of them to their advantage.

For the ceremony by which men of lasting fame are honored the eulogies are fitly assigned, and in many cases descendants unveil the busts. Thus, the other day, Dan Beard for the Boy Scouts laid a wreath beside the bust of Daniel Boone, John Drew presented the bust of Edwin Booth, Roger Williams's Girl Scouts bust was unveiled by a descendant, Mrs.

John D. Rockefeller, Jr. The late Judge CRITICS of the younger generation are

Alton B. Parker was to have spoken. about Chancellor Kent and the late Oscar Straus about Roger Williams; Justice Ordway and Rabbi Wise took their places.

In all, nine busts were presented to view: Daniel Boone, Edwin Booth, Jonathan Edwards, James Kent, George Peabody, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Daniel Webster, Roger Williams, and Eli Whitney-an odd but interesting com

particularly severe in their comments on the modern girl. In the first of ten articles on the problems of the younger generation by Ishbel Ross, in the New York "Herald Tribune," Dr. Charles W. Eliot, President Emeritus of Harvard, is quoted as saying:

I also notice that young women expect to encounter rudeness from young men and that they don't much resent it. Here I touch upon what seems to me the worst condition in

contemporaneous manners between young men and young women. Young women do not seem to resent gross misconduct toward them by their male associates.

A remedy commonly advocated for what to many besides Mr. Eliot seems ominous in the manners, if not the morals, of these girls is suppression. Critics of the flapper would like to see her liberties restricted, her habits and her clothes cut along more conservative lines, her craving for exciting diversion denied. There is, however, another way of treating the symptoms. This is the way followed, on the whole, by the Girl Scout movement.

Delegates from various parts of the United States and from a number of other nations have recently been discussing the problem of the modern girl. They were women interested in the Girl Scout movement in all parts of the world. That they discussed their subject with sympathy for it-or rather her -is indicated by the fact that one of the topics of discussion was whether the modern girl was in fact a problem. These delegates visited Boston and Washington, spent five days at Camp Edith Macy at Briarcliff, New York, then visited Buffalo and Montreal. At the international camp, where most of their discussion took place, the delegates followed the routine of the average Girl Scouts while in camp.

The object, of course, of the Girl Scout movement is to provide a normal and wholesome outlet for the modern girl's desire for activity and a means of

realizing practical ideals. In other countries camping does not play so large a part as it does in this country, and therefore the delegates from other countries were specially attentive to the Girl Scout camp as developed here. So rapidly has the movement grown in America that Mrs. Jane Deeter Rippin, National Director of the American Girl Scouts, declares that the movement is suffering from over-development. The enrollment has grown at the rate of nineteen to twenty per cent a year. "This number," she says, "cannot be absorbed, because leaders cannot be found to take care of them. Moreover, our camps are too large." If this prosperity is an injury, it is also a sign of the usefulness of the Girl Scout Movement, for it proves that it supplies what girls want. As in the case of the Boy Scouts, it is leaders with a capacity for understanding what the adolescent needs that are wanted. If these are lacking, it is the older generation, and not the younger, after all, that is at fault.

It ought not to have been surprising for strikers to find that it was not as simple a matter to get back to work as simple a matter to get back to work as it was to leave it. The Government urged employers to refrain from vindicurged employers to refrain from vindictiveness, and, on the whole, if reports are to be trusted, they held no grudge against the men who left them without cause. And yet the effect upon many of the workers seeking re-employment was much the same as it would have been if their employers had been vindictive. A strike like that which virtually suspended all the industries of Great Britain brings losses so serious that managers are not in a position to reopen their factories as if nothing had happened. Moreover, those concerns that kept at work found themselves under obligation to men who had taken the strikers' places as volunteers. In many cases these volunteers have found their unaccustomed work interesting and remunerative at least sufficiently so as to warrant them in wishing to keep their jobs. Consequently, strikers have found factories still closed, or running only on part time, or else already supplied with at least a part of their labor.

In the second place, a strike like that creates a new condition of mind in the country that is as definite a factor in industry as any economic condition. There is a breaking down of old barriers that cannot be easily re-erected. The "wild

this experience become a bit wilder. They are naturally thrilled by their experience in what Moscow calls a "rehearsal" of the promised proletarian revolution. And some of the more conservative in both camps are naturally made more circumspect. Mutual confidence is impossible when it has been violated. Contracts broken cannot be mended by a mere order to cease the breaking of them.

In the third place, when a government once takes control of affairs, as the British Government had to take control of such ordinary business of life as transportation, food supplies, and the dissemination of news, it does not immediately resume its normal functions. It must necessarily carry on during the period of readjustment; and it may not relinquish at all some of the powers which it has found necessary to exercise. We found here in the United States that many of the war powers of the Government remained in the hands of the Government long after war had ceased to be.

In the fourth place, and most important of all, the general strike has left England under the necessity of regarding every economic struggle as potentially a political issue. For this the labor leaders of England are responsible. They had built a political party out of the trade-union movement, and therefore have given to every demand of organized labor the character of a political

threat. Before the general strike took place most people in England and Scotland apparently did not realize what this meant. Now they know. However meritorious a strike for higher wages or better living and working conditions may be, it will be a reminder of the threat that this strike was to England's institutions of liberty and self-govern

The very organization of labor into a political party has proved, as American labor leaders foresaw, an injury to the best interests of the British wage-earners.

The Self-Regulation
of Industry

NOR the first time in legislative his

Fo

tory the duty has been imposed upon employer and employee of entering upon collective contracts. By passing the Watson-Parker Bill Congress has substituted for the Railroad Labor Board a means of establishing the relation of employed and employer in interState railway transportation by mutual agreement without recourse to strikes. The basis of this law is voluntary cooperation between the railway manage. ments and the unions.

If

It is true that there is nothing ultimately compulsory about this law. the managers and the unions fail to agree through negotiations there is a provision for mediation, and if mediation fails there is a provision for the offer of arbitration. In these provisions the public is presumably represented. But in the last analysis the success of the law will depend upon the willingness of management and men to come to a common understanding. That there is promise in this plan is evident in the fact that the plan itself was proposed. after long and patient conferences, jointly by executives and union leaders. There is ground for hope that if conferences can produce a plan, conferences can make it work.

the United States. The extent to which different businesses have formed associations for the purpose of establishing regulative practices is astonishing. Cynics still suspect business, epecially if it is big; but big business is ceasing to be a big bugaboo. It has lost its power to frighten the common people. Men have come into leadership of many large corporations who may be fairly called industrial statesmen. They have recognized that business thrives only as it serves to meet the desires of the consumer. As a consequence, business as a whole, through the Chamber of Commerce of the United States and its component local chambers and business associations, is promoting co-operation in the interest of service to the public. The problem of statesmanship in business is to build up an ethical standard that will permit healthy competition without destroying the machinery for service, to reduce the cost of service, and to render unnecessary the multiplication of governmental regulatory mechanisms. There is a growing recognition among leaders of organized labor that a corresponding change has come in the measure of compensation from that of the standard of living to that of the value of production. As a consequence economic law is becoming recognized rap idly as a substitute for legislative enactments. There are too many participants in business as shareholders as well as consumers to make reasonable the old distinction between the corporation and the public. Democracy in industry is becoming realized and is freeing itself from political interference with its own devel opment.

That there is a danger in this, as there is in all progress, cannot be denied. Particularly is it apparent when the business is so vast a public utility as the railways. The danger there is that management and men will reach agreements to their own advantage but to the cost of those who use the railways as passengers and shippers and of the taxpayers. Rates are determined by the Inter-State Commerce Commission; but they cannot be set in disregard of the cost of running the railways, which in turn will be determined in part by the wages that are paid and the conditions of labor. If the railways are to avoid Governmental regulation of wages and conditions of labor, management and men must so accept their responsibility as to consider paramount

the interest of the public which they both serve. In the working of the new Railway Labor Law there will be a test of the ability of at least one great form of business to regulate itself.

Fifty Years of Ethical Culture

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NIFTY years ago, before there were electric lights or telephones, and when Times Square at night was

as lonely a place as one could find in almost any part of New York, Felix Adler, then a young teacher of religious education at Cornell, was invited to address one hundred men and women in Standard Hall, at Broadway and Fortysecond Street. This company of people, dissatisfied with the orthodox point of view, were eager for new truth in the field of religion. The young teacher, who was the son of the rabbi of Temple Emanu-El, the leading synagogue in New York, had not only been educated in the best schools in America, but had taken post-graduate work in the universities of Europe. His original intention. was to follow in his father's footsteps; but while passing through these educational processes he became convinced that neither the old Hebrew faith nor even the more modern Christian religion would adequately meet the problems which he felt were looming up before America and the world. He became persuaded that the last word regarding religious truth had not been spoken, that constantly there were new revelations of divine truth, and that this truth was being brought out, not in the seclusion of the cloister nor in the old rabbinical laws, but in life itself.

On May 15, 1876-just one hundred years after the Declaration of Independence had been signed-Felix Adler and this group founded the Ethical Culture Movement, which has since spread to many of the largest cities of the United States and to half a score of foreign lands, even to Asia. During the week ending Sunday, May 16, delegates assembled in New York from these various societies to celebrate the fiftieth anni versary of the organization of this movement, and to bring felicitations to Dr. Adler in connection with the seventy-fifth year of his life. During the entire week the Meeting-House of the New York Society, on Central Park

West and Sixty-fourth Street, was crowded daily to do honor to this modern prophet. Not a single note of discouragement or discord was uttered during the week. The high character of the audiences indicated the type of men and women who had accepted Felix Adler's philosophy. Constantly was it reiterated that education was the basis of its progress, that the Ethical Culture Movement was neither agnostic nor atheistic, that it gave to its adherents the utmost liberty in the acceptance of truth as it was revealed to them, and that there resided in every man the good which needed simply to be developed in order to create in him the highest aspirations and standards of conduct.

In his address on Consecration Sunday, when the leaders of the various societies again committed themselves to the principles of the Ethical Culture Movement, Dr. Adler pointed out that Ethical Culture was more than mere social reform or philanthropy-that, while the social reformer sought to destroy the slums, abolish ignorance and war, he saw only the contemporary evil, not its root, which can be annihilated only by spiritual means; but that Ethical Culture makes the spiritual element supreme.

Dr. Adler believes that all mankind may be creative in the sense that men may organize the materials by which society is to be perfected. "Ethical Culture," says Dr. Adler, "asks you to make humanity's tragedies your own. It is a new type of religion. It venerates the truth of the past, but it believes in the increase of eternal light on all of human life." On the outside of the Ethical Culture Meeting House in New York there is the statement, "This building is dedicated to the ever-increasing love, knowledge, and practice of the right."

During the fifty years of Dr. Adler's activities as the Senior Leader of the New York Society he has been carrying on a most practical program. Dr. Adler organized the first free kindergarten in the country, introduced the visitingnurse service for the poor, the Fresh Air Fund, and the idea of sending poor children to the country; and in political reform was one of the prime movers in creating the first Tenement House Commission in New York, which revolutionized living conditions on New York's lower East Side and in abating the social evil. He was one of the first advocates

of small parks in the congested districts, of public playgrounds and public baths, and, above all, of greater justice and humanity in the relations between labor and capital, employer and employee. One of the first practical labor projects that he undertook was the organization of the Workingmen's Lyceum, and of a workingmen's school, the first vocational school in the country and the first school to include ethics in its curriculum. This school, started for the children of workingmen, and beginning with four students, has developed into the present Ethical Culture High School with 950 students, a model educational center, maintaining a constant ratio of paying and non-paying pupils. It was through Dr. Adler's initiative also that the New York School for Printers' Apprentices with its 750 students, the largest of its kind in the country, was organized. This school is now supported jointly by "Big Six" of the Typographical Union and the Employing Printers. The Manhattan Trade School for Girls, Hudson Guild and Madison House (two of the most important neighborhood houses in New York's congested dis

T

tricts), the Henry Booth House in Chicago, the Southwark Settlement in Philadelphia, owe their existence largely to the influence of Dr. Adler and leaders of the Ethical Society.

Against materialism, against the tendency to the removal of every form of constraint, against the notion, too common, that there is virtue in infidelity, the Ethical Society has set its face. Not content to rely upon society's natural reaction, as a matter of self-preservation, against unbelief and moral anarchy, it is undertaking to build a structure upon its faith in righteousness and in the capacity of man for the righteous life. And this calls for self-sacrifice, for repentance for wrong, for the right kind of renewal of effort, the right kind of impulse and will.

HE Fourth of July next will be the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence and the one hundredth anniversary of the death of Thomas Jefferson, the author of that immortal document. For many years in Jefferson's native State of Virginia the fact that he died on the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration was regarded by his devoted disciples as a special and unique manifestation of the regard of Divine Providence. It was almost as if, like Elijah, he had been carried to heavenly bliss in a chariot of fire. Dr. Alderman, of the University of Virginia, tells an amusing story of a good old Virginia Democrat who, when he learned that John Adams, Jefferson's great political rival, died in Boston on the Fourth of July, 1826, a few hours before Jefferson, exclaimed, in indignation: "Well, I call it a damned Yankee trick!"

This story is a good illustration of the passionate differences of opinion that have raged about the name and achieve

ments of the third President of the United States for more than a century. Partisanship, bitter as it was in the lifetime of George Washington, has ceased to play any part in the popular estimation of the Father of his Country. Washington has been adopted without any sectional differences by the whole Nation, although when he finally left the Presidency, in March, 1797, the "Aurora," the leading newspaper organ of the Jeffersonian party, announced with satisfaction that he was about to step into "well-merited oblivion." But partisanship still clings to the memory of Jeffer

the doctrine of Secession; and, although refined, cultivated, and intellectual in personal tastes and private life, stooped to some demagogic practices in political affairs which have given an unfortunate trend to certain currents of our National history. But it should be remembered that some of Lincoln's methods in practical politics have not been wholly free from the suspicion and accusation of demagoguery. In other words, both In other words, both Jefferson and Lincoln were human beings, and not demigods.

The approaching hundredth anniversary of Jefferson's death has revived the popular interest in his personality and character. Two recently published books are notable contributions to that endthe "Life and Letters of Thomas Jefferson," by Francis W. Hirst, and "Jefferson and Hamilton: The Struggle for Democracy in America," by Claude G. Bowers. Both these works are avowedly written from the pro-Jefferson point of view, just as F. S. Oliver's "Life of Hamilton" and and Senator Beveridge's “Life of John Marshall" contain studies of Jefferson written by men unsympathetic with the fundamentals of Jefferson's political philosophy. Those who have the time and inclination to make a somewhat extended study of the Jeffersonian controversy and then form their own independent judgment cannot do better than to read Oliver, Beveridge, Hirst, and Bowers. This, however, means the expenditure of a good many hours of time and the thumbing of a good many hundreds of pages. Those Northerners who, like myself, wish to form a just estimate of Jefferson and to rid themselves of the prejudices growing out of the Civil War may get a good deal of light on their problem by turning to a book on Jefferson published twentyfive years ago by Henry C. Merwin.

Mr. Merwin is not a Virginian, but a Massachusetts lawyer and a graduate of Harvard. His life of Jefferson is only a little over a hundred and fifty pages in length and can be carried in a coat pocket, but it seems to me to be a little masterpiece of biographical writing. My only criticism of it is that Mr. Merwin does scant justice to one of the very greatest and most admirable of the Fathers of the Republic, Chief Justice John Marshall, to whom, I think, this country owes a greater debt of gratitude than to any other of the founders except George Washington. But I do not intend in this brief article to become in

volved in political controversy. My object is to give, if I can, an outline sketch of Jefferson's personality which may suggest more elaborate reading to those who are interested in the forthcoming anniversary.

Jefferson was of yeoman ancestry on his father's side, but of aristocratic lineage on his mother's. His father was a man of some property, and he himself became a man of property. His professional income as a Virginia lawyer, before he abandoned practice for politics, averaged more than twelve thousand dollars a year, a large sum in those days. His tastes were naturally æsthetic rather than political. As a student at the College of William and Mary he was devoted to music, and said himself that during a dozen years of his youth he played on the violin no less than three hours a day. When he became Governor of Virginia, in the third year of the Revolutionary War, he was, as his biographer Parton says, "a lawyer of thirtysix, with a talent for music, a taste for art, a love of science, literature, and gardening." When twenty-nine years of gardening." When twenty-nine years of age, he began to build his beautiful home at Monticello, and there he took his bride, a young widow of social charm and cultivation, who was also musical. Into this home he received his widowed sister with six small children, whom, with his own two daughters, he brought up as if he were their father. His family life was ideal, and in this life he early developed those principles of education which led him later to found the University of Virginia.

Jefferson was never a successful public speaker, but early won a reputation as a writer of style and effective, logical argument. In his thirty-second year he wrote "A Summary View" of the quarrel of the colonies with Great Britain, which established on both sides of the Atlantic his position as a political thinker. "Jefferson," to quote Merwin, "was always about a century in advance of his time; and the 'Summary View' substantially anticipated what is now the acknowledged relation of England to her colonies." Of this quality of foresight in Jefferson's grasp of political and social questions Merwin also says: "His ideas of the scope of public education went far beyond those which prevailed in his time, and considerably beyond those which prevail even now. For example, a free university course for the most apt pupils graduated at the grammar schools

made part of his scheme-an idea most nearly realized in the Western States."

Of the next great political document which Jefferson wrote, the Declaration of Independence, it is not necessary to speak. It speaks for itself. It contains a phrase of eight words which is not surpassed in the whole range of literature as a combination of brevity and moral power-"A decent respect for the opinions of mankind." Although opposed to slavery, Jefferson was a slaveowner, but his treatment of his slaves was of such a considerate nature that they were devoted to him and sacrificed themselves to protect his home and property when he was driven away by the army of Cornwallis. His democracy was not merely theoretical, but practical. While living in France as Minister of the federated American colonies, he wrote to Lafayette as follows on the practical problems of human welfare: "You must ferret the people out of their hovels, as I have done; look into their kettles; eat their bread; loll on their beds on pretense of resting yourself, but in fact to find if they are soft. You will find a sublime pleasure in the course of the investigation, and a sublimer one hereafter, when you shall be able to apply your knowledge to the softening of their beds, or the throwing a morsel of meat into their kettle of vegetables."

It was this experience which gave Jefferson a passionate sympathy with the French Revolution, for he ascribed the misery of the French masses to monarchical despotism monarchical despotism and taxation. "There is not a crowned head in Europe," he once said to Washington, "whose talents or merits would entitle him to be elected a vestryman by the people of America." But he was not concerned merely with the physical wellbeing of the masses; he believed, as Lincoln did later, that mankind, or the plain people, have an innate faculty "which we call common sense; state a moral case to a plowman and a professor; the former will decide it as well and often better than the latter, because he has not been led astray by artificial rules." This faith in the common sense or moral sense of the masses he sometimes carried to a faulty extreme, but it did not prevent him, when he became President, or chief executive of law and order, from taking rigorous measures which some critics have thought inconsistent with his philosophical theories. For example, he put down by force the Barbary Pi