Japan makes such a treaty with Russia, our great and good friend suddenly becomes a hostile conspirator who aims to "eliminate us from the Oriental sphere" in order that his people and the Japanese may get rid of our insignificant competition. Japan and Russia have greater and more vital interests in the Orient than has any other Power except Great Britain. Japan's interests are military and political, as well as commercial, because China is now in the transition stage of her national life, and is comparatively powerless to resist aggression. If, in her present weak condition, she should fall under the domination of a strong military Power, or group of Powers, she might become a serious menace to Japan's very existWe think that our geographical relation to Mexico, and our special interests in ence. that country, entitle us to take any measures that seem to us necessary for the maintenance of her integrity and the protection of her soil from invasion. If we doubted our ability to defend her against two such Powers as Germany and Japan, for exaample, we should think we had a perfect right to form a treaty combination with the Power whose Mexican interests stood next to ours in importance; and we might, naturally enough, make such an alliance without intending to monopolize the resources of Mexico or exclude other nations from that commercial field. The cases, of course, are not exactly parallel, but they are similar. China, in a certain sense, is Japan's Mexico; and in judging Japanese policy we should think for a moment what our policy would probably be if we were in Japan's place." GEORGE KENNAN. H AN ENFORCED VACATION BY A CITY DWELLER AVE you, my amiable male reader, felt secretly annoyed when your friends-probably your wife, and certainly your physician-have suggested that you cut your daily diet of Havanas in two, feeling that your intimate acquaintance with yourself constituted you a better judge of such matters than they? Have you felt that your physician's advice to spend at least three quarters of an hour at lunch was good advice for somebody else, but that you had neither the time nor the inclination for it? you felt that you would like to take a month's vacation, but with so many 'irons in the fire" things would go to smash if you did? Do you know what it is to lie awake at night and plan your campaign for the following day? Then you are getting ready for an enforced vacation. Have One fine morning Dame Nature looked me over and said to herself: "This cheerful idiot is more interested in the checker-game of life than in the real thing, life itself. Others can't seem to change his methods; I'll take a try." Said she: "If I knock his legs out from under him, I guess he'll slow down; if I hit him in the stomach, he'll probably do a little thinking on that score; and, to make a thoroughly good job of it, I'll just give his nerves a few jolts to shake them up. If this treat ment doesn't change his view-point, let him die; he is of no further interest to me." After Dame Nature got through with her playfulness, her victim, like a bedraggled pollparrot that had just been ducked in a water bucket to improve his manners, looked around him, somewhat dazed, and his wife took him by the ear and led him away out of the scheme of things, and he dropped out of life. That was seven months ago. Have you ever been in the depths of the Maine woods, where the only sound you hear that savors of civilization is the occasional whistle of a tiny locomotive operating on a little narrow-gauge railway that works its way up through the woods? Have you? Then you'll agree with me that it's a long distance away from Wall Street, La Salle Street, and State Street; from the club with its extra sirloin and mushrooms; from the theater and all those other "indispensable" things that nowadays go to make up the life of man. The transition from civilization, from markets that cater to your palate, to a little camp in the woods too far away to make possible either milk, eggs, or meats, is quite a jump. In the early part of your enforced vacation in the woods you will find it hard to crowd out of your thoughts the things left behind. It's well to make a clean break, even if you do fidget and fuss for a short time for the things that are missing. Don't take any of the latest magazines with you, and don't arrange to have them sent to you. Take a few books that you wouldn't read at home because you were "too tired to read that heavy stuff." You'll enjoy them after a time. Pick out one publication that gives you all that's really worth while. This isn't a sop to the editors, but the magazine link that binds us to civilization is The Outlook. It really doesn't matter who are appearing at the theaters, or who has just made $10,000,000 shipping supplies to the Allies. Until you can begin to get dog tired physically by doing something constructive in the woods-building a dock, making rustic furniture, making a bean pole, cleaning out and blazing a trail-your mind will complain fre quently at the " raw deal you are giving it by taking away the food on which it feeds; but this is all necessary in getting a new view-point. How well do you know your boys? Do they like you? I don't mean respect you. We will hope they do that, though I am not altogether sure of it. But do they like to stay around where you are, and do you like to have them? Or are they willing for you to go your way if you'll let them alone so they can go theirs? You know, your boys are very apt to have a lot of horse sense, and can teach you a lot if you'll climb up, not down, to their level. If you don't know the different birds and their voices, if you are unacquainted with the habits of animals, if you don't know the best places in the waters near you to look for fish, if you have been too indifferent to watch his majesty the sun wake up the world in the morning, and carefully bank his fires and put out his lights at night, you haven't half lived, do you know it? Picture a tight little camp, set back in the trees about three hundred feet from the lake, with a comfortable sleeping-porch which the boys and I have built along its front. Inside the best-natured and most willing little cook-stove you ever saw-after the boys and I manufactured a damper for it. At the other end of the camp, and facing the stove from various angles, are parlor, dining-room, and library, with no intervening partitions to make passage from one room to another difficult. Upstairs we sleep in very bad weather, for flanking the camp on either side at a respectable distance are the 153 tents, where sleep waits for you on the pillow. And sleeping out of doors is the rule. Rustic chairs of home manufacture, a big stone fireplace, a dining-table in a shady spot under the trees, complete the outdoor equipment. Oh, I forgot the dock with its "approaches," which the boys and I think was quite a piece of work. The other morning at daybreak I went to the boys' tent and whispered to one of them, after shaking him awake: “ Let's go out and try a fly. I think the fish will rise." Putting some crackers in our pockets and without waking the rest of the sleepers, we put out onto the lake. I know there is one accomplishment I possess that my boys respect. I can cast a fly better than they can, but they are rapidly catching up. This prompts me to say: If you haven't got a hobby, get one. It doesn't so much matter what it is, but your hobby will come in mighty handy if you have to quit business for a time. Out on the lake discussion followed as to the relative merits of a Silver Doctor, a Professor, a Parmachenee Belle, and other flies as each were tried with indifferent success on that particular morning. A few trout, and, in the hope that enough could be added through the forenoon for dinner, we were back at seven to build a fire and make toast and chocolate, which, with black mission figs, is all they'll give us for breakfast, no matter what protests we make. Really wives and mothers have more sense in some things than we men have. After breakfast two of us tackled a dead tree in the woods. Cut down, sawed, and split, we need not worry for dry wood when the next rainy day arrives. There is exhilaration and sport in swinging an ax; but if you are ever asked to define hard work, just say, Sawing wood with a buck-saw." It's one thing in the woods there's no romance in, and you can't put it in. Sometimes we go "plug-fishing." I have long had a secret contempt for plug-fishing as a sport, as compared with the art of casting a fly; but I have found this year that plug-fishing has its virtues. I can hardly imagine anything that will better teach patience. You simply sit and wait. Unless trout are on the table at dinner time-for the midday meal in the woods is always dinner, never luncheon-the meal is all vegetables. Think of it, all vegetables! And I always considered vegetables, if we except green corn, green peas, and asparagus, as a sort of necessary evil to be endured in moderation for the good of the system. Of course there is as great a variety from day to day as the out-in-the-world markets will furnish. If you have followed me thus far, I am going to tell you, in all honesty, that a dinner of vegetables is good, mighty good. From four-thirty till seven is fly-fishing time. Usually our canoe and two boats are all in use in different parts of the lake or drifting along within calling distance, and at supper time there is animated conversation about the big one" that rose alongside the canoe, and the "old sockdolager "that was just hooked lightly through the lip and got away before he could be brought to net. After supper there is reading aloud from some of the books brought into camp until the boys' bedtime at eight-thirty-before this year I have thought reading aloud or being read to was an unmitigated nuisance-then an other half-hour or more reading quietly to one's self, and at nine-thirty lights out, finishing a busy day. Providing amusement for yourself from within yourself is much more satisfying than amusement sold to you on the basis of two dollars for an orchestra chair. So the days go on. In another month the enforced vacation will be over. The heavy walking-stick, a very necessary aid up to ten weeks ago, has been thrown aside, and now I can follow any pace the boys want to set through the woods, and can jump the bad holes in the "corduroy or clear mud-holes at a jump as well as they. The great outdoors; hard work mixed with real fun; one, sometimes two, dips in the lake a day each has done its work. It was a wise doctor who prescribed it, and would prescribe nothing else. Don't be foolish, as I was, and wait till you are forced to take a vacation. It is apt to be a long one. Make a regular vacation a part of your year's business. A THE NATIONS AT WAR THE END OF A DAY AT YPRES CLOUD hung over the earth. A fierce onslaught had been repulsed. We were all dazed, and worked as people in a trance trying to get together the men and nurses of our unit, so as to send as many of the wounded as we could to shelter; and the dead-they lay where they had fallen. I bent over the body of a little Scotchman, a brave, sturdy young fellow. His curly hair. was stained with blood, the deep-blue eyes were fiery. He was talking fast, though the failing strength made his voice very low, and I had difficulty in hearing what he said. His exhausted mind could find no rest. Each incident of the battle was being lived over. Boys, it looks like business." He got excited. "D-n them! This place is like a plowed field; there is hardly a place to stand. My ears! why are they buzzing so? Oh, yes, I know; the big shells. They are 66 The author of this sketch of actual life and death is a young American volunteer who has been working for the wounded and dying in a French military hospital. going at it hard, nurse. On with your masks, "Cheer up, my laddie," I said. "You'll be well before long. To-night you are going to the ambulance, and in a week or so you'll be home." He scarcely listened. The faint flicker of a smile passed over his face. "What's that light over there?" he cried. "It's a French fuze éclairante; and that light there it gets bigger and bigger and bigger." I could not see it. "It's lonely, you know, nurse; and the music and the flowers and the birds." 1916 THE READER'S VIEW Then I knew what he meant. The delirium had set in. A cool wind was sweeping away the clouds on the horizon and the golden streaks were fast fading into silver. The moon and stars came out, and night hid the horrors of the day. Suddenly, out of the night, came the voice of the little soldier: "Your hand, nurse; it will help me take the stride." 155 His eyes glowed and he held me fast. "I died that they might live again." And then, as if transported, "Yes, I am going to live. And, raising himself with a strength I had thought long since gone, he cried in a clear, strong voice, "Long live England !" The living heard, and it justified the smiles on the faces of the dead. He fell back into my arms and I laid him on the ground that he had conquered. CRIMINAL LAW: A SUGGESTED CHANGE I have read with great interest the article on page 942 of The Outlook of August 23 on the subject "Abolish Modern Torture." It is certainly scandalous that the police should be allowed to interrogate in private a person whom they suspect of crime, and the sooner it is done away with the better for the innocent and the guilty and for society at large. There is, however, one other improvement which ought to go hand in hand with this reform, and that is the abolishment of the absurd rule which allows a prisoner on his trial to refuse to go on the stand to testify, and prevents the prosecuting attorney from using that refusal in summing up the case to the jury. When a man is implicated by circumstantial evidence, it is his duty to go on the stand and explain those circumstances, and, from an ordinary, common-sense point of view, if he refuses to explain incriminating circumstances, everybody understands that it is because he cannot explain them and it is a sign of guilt. That is the rule on which every one goes in ordinary life, and it is the rule which prevails in the courts in the trial of civil cases. As it is now, a man accused of crime can remain silent in the face of the most incriminating circumstances, and unless there is direct evidence of his guilt, the jury can very properly acquit him. ALBERT H. ATTERBURY, Attorney at Law. THE ORIGIN OF "JOHN BROWN'S BODY " The following is a copy of part of a letter from Miss Mary W. Greenleaf, of 36 Oak Street, Belmont, Massachusetts, dated August 4, 1913, to Miss Alice A. Gray, of Languoit, New York. Miss Greenleaf is a daughter of James E. Greenleaf, who was a son of the Rev. Patrick Henry Greenleaf, an Episcopalian clergyman of Charlestown, Massachusetts: "You are right in supposing that the James Greenleaf mentioned in the newspaper article was my father, and I will give you a faithful VIEW account of the use and origin of the song, 'John Brown's Body Lies Mouldering in the Grave.' The John Brown named in the song was not the John Brown of Harper's Ferry fame, but a John Brown in a regiment of Boston Light Infantry, stationed at Fort Warren (South Boston, Massachusetts), at the beginning of the Civil War. James E. Greenleaf (my father) was captain of one of the companies, and John Brown was a member of it. "On the night the song originated the men were trying to pass a cheerful evening before the company was to start next day for active service in the South. One of their number, as they were joking John Brown, said, 'John Brown's body lies moldering in the grave,' then other men added more lines, and at last some one said, 'Greenleaf, you give us a tune to sing it by.' Father said he thought of the old Methodist tune which seemed to fit the words, so they all sang it, marching around their tents. "P. T. Gilmore, the famous bandmaster, was He at Fort Warren that night and heard it. was jubilant over the swing of it all, father said; and he came to him and said, 'Captain Greenleaf, I must have that to play going up State Street (Boston) to-morrow morning; can you give it to me?' And then, though it was after eleven o'clock, he sat down on an old box and by the light of a candle wrote entirely from memory the score for the band, and gave it to Mr. Gilmore by midnight. "As they marched up State Street that next morning the air was first publicly played as a war song, and that old Methodist tune has stirred men's souls to 'marching on' ever since. My father never claimed authorship of the tune, and was always much annoyed at the articles appearing from time to time in connection with the famous song, and almost always incorrectly reported. Several times he tried to give the press the correct story, but the idea that the great John Brown was the John Brown of the song was so firmly fixed in the public mind that it was hard to contradict it." (Signed) MARY W. GREENLEAF." An advertisement of an aviation school says, "A short course will fit you to fly any type of machine. Pupil flies the first lesson." The aeroplane, at this rate, may yet overtake the automobile in popularity as a pleasure vehicle. Another indication of the future of the flyingmachine is seen in the erection of a huge building in Brooklyn, New York, for the manufacture of gyroscopes and other adjuncts to the aeroplane; it is said that it will employ two thousand workers. "Our present idea of beautiful hands in women differs from that of the M ddle Ages," says a writer in "Good Health." 'The old idea was that portrayed in sacred pictures of the old masters-long, slim hands with delicate tapering fingers that suggest sainthood." The firm, muscular hand that is the ideal at present, according to this writer, has been developed through the use of golf clubs, tennis racquets, canoe paddles, etc. Notwithstanding Great Britain's absorption in the war, she is building more merchant ships than a year ago. Among the 432 steam vessels on the ways at present in British shipyards there are some large liners. Two vessels of between 30,000 and 40,000 tons burden are under construction, and more than a score of over 10,000 tons. The Mauretania, it will be remembered, is of 32,000 tonnage, while the New York, of the American Line, has a tonnage of about 10,000. 99 As an example of made-to-order "funny stuff, with a certain edge of wit, this extract from the "Chaparral " has its appeal: "Downan Out.-Jo Cose: 'Is Mr. Downan in?' Ima Stenog: 'No, he went out to lunch.' Jo Cose: 'Will he be in after lunch?' Ima Stenog: 'No, that's what he went out after.'" Sometimes there are profits in the insurance business, even when run by a Government. Since the United States Bureau of War Risk Insurance was started, two years ago, it has received $2,950,377 in premiums and suffered net losses of only $712,518, leaving a balance of $2,237,859 on the right side of the ledger. "Waste Land Boy Contest." The heading invites further reading: "The idea of the contest is for a farmer to look over his land, pick out the bad spots, turn over one acre of it to his son and let him improve it. Money prizes of $100 are offered in each of six sections of the United States. For entry blanks and further information about the contest write to E. I. Du Pont de Nemours & Company, Wilmington, Delaware." A vegetarian magazine starts an article on "The High Price of Meat " with the disconcerting remark, "It is encouraging to see the price of meat continually going higher." Thou sands of people, it says, are finding out that meat is not essential as an article of diet, and that one may maintain health, strength, and vigor without meat far better than with it. The majority, however, it may be observed, are not invalids, and are not troubled about maintaining health, strength, and vigor-they have these; but they are vitally interested in having "a good table "-and vegetarianism certainly does not help in this respect. An article called "Putting Punch in Salesmanship" in the "Automobile Trade Journal" discriminates carefully between "noise" and "punch." "Don't get the idea that noise has anything to do with punch," it says. "We all have met salesmen who seemed to think that, the louder they talked, the deeper the impression they would make. Noise may represent a certain kind of force, but it is not the kind that will get by with a buyer." 66 'Signs were put up in hotel rooms notifying guests that no one could sleep more than eight hours without being charged another dollar for his couch." This three-shift rule for sleepers is said to have been adopted in Nederland, Colorado, during the recent boom in the tungsten industry. Tungsten is found in but few places in this country, and Nederland is one of them. The boom has quieted down now, but for a time the memories of '49 were revived in the experiences of this district. The Los Angeles "Examiner "has a home that is probably unique architecturally. It is built on the lines of the Spanish architecture of the early days of southern California, but the material is steel and reinforced concrete. Excepting a central tower, the building is only two stories high, thus presenting a radical departure from the "sky-scraper" style of newspaper building. Who owns Spitzbergen? Nobody, according to "Shipping Illustrated." "The conditions at Spitzbergen are unique," it says, "in that this is probably the only inhabited and promising part of the world that is under the sovereignty of no country, has no government of any kind, and no police force, courts, laws, or regulations." There are valuable coal deposits on the principal island, all above sea-level, and after the war is over no doubt a government will be organized to care for the four hundred persons who are engaged in developing these mines. The future historian of New York City may find space for this side-light on the infant paralysis epidemic of 1916. It is in the form of an advertisement in a daily paper: WANTED-In order to save lives and limbs of children, a small amount of blood from any child or adult who has had infant paralysis. It can be taken by a needle puncture. Expenses of volunteers will be paid and those in need will be recompensed. Apply any day... to the New York State Board of Health at, etc., etc. |