industry in turn suffered from progress made elsewhere. The Channel Islands underbid them in transporting some of their products. An unsympathetic Government drew a tighter rein upon the smuggling. The introduction of steam made the piloting less essential. Altogether, the early years of the nineteenth century saw these islands in bad case. A wretched economic system kept the people poor, and ambition died altogether. Everything was tried-fisheries, ship-building, raising of potatoes-but each in turn failed, for reasons not far to seek by the economist of to-day.

From private hands the islands passed finally to the ownership of the Crown, and during the time of William IV earnest if unenlightened efforts were made to better the condition of the isles, mostly with nỏ result. But one fine day along came an enthusiast, a dreamer, a theorist, and found a laboratory ready to his hand. Mr. Augustus Smith had been a Manchester cotton-spinner, had risen from the ranks, and, waxing great and rich in this world's goods, had become Member of Parliament for Truro. Always an ardent student of economics, he saw in the Scilly Islands an opportunity unexcelled to experiment in the theories he had studied in books. He leased the islands from the Crown and became the first Lord Proprietor, a feudal ruler set in modern times. Mr. Smith has long since gone to his reward, but, as the Spectator journeyed about the islands, everywhere was seen the touch of his hand. The older folk all remembered him well, and gave him his meed of praise or blame according to individual temper or intelligence. No easy task was undertaken by this sanguine student of the natural laws that govern the prosperity or failure of groups of men. His reorganization and government of the islands was undoubtedly autocratic, even drastic at times, but the consequent prosperity was as evident. How he consolidated the tiny subdivided farms into respectable holdings; how he first educated and then sent away to the mainland the superfluous sons and even daughters of the farmers, how he encouraged

ship-building, systematized piloting, tried crop after crop; how he failed and how he succeeded, is an interesting story that may some day be told as it deserves. The kindly, autocratic lord proprietor made many experiments before he hit upon the solution, but now for thirty years or more the islands have been prosperous, holding the palm for the early production of the daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths that London requires to brighten its drawingrooms during the dark days of winter gloom.

All this, and more, the Spectator learned from his talks with the island folks, during rambles over the length and breadth of the largest island, St. Mary's (the extreme length being one and one-half miles and the greatest breadth one mile); during many day-long sails among the outer islands; during a memorable trip to the Bishop lighthouse, that westernmost outpost of warning to the mariner, founded upon a submerged rock fortyfive miles from the mainland, whose inhabitants are sometimes cut off from visitors for three months at a time by winter storms.

There was Peninis to be visited, the wonderful headland of rocks water-worn into weirdest shapes; Hell Bay, where in storm the ocean is seen at its grandest; Tresco, its tropical gardens and tragic collection of wooden figureheads salvaged from the noble ships which ended their careers on the dreaded fangs of Scilly; Bryher, rich in Druidical circles and barrows; St. Agnes, isle of mystery; Menavawes, haunt of waterfowl; Annet, brilliant with sea pink in May and June, the breeding-place of puffins, razorbills, guillemots, gulls, cormorants; there were Mincarlo, Illieswilzie, and many more of the islands to be explored. The Spectator saw himself spending a long lifetime in the pleasant task, becoming antiquary, botanist, historian, ornithologist, painter, or teller of tales, till he awoke with a start to find that he must take the next boat to catch his steamer, and wondered whether it would be the Lyonesse or the Lady of the Isles.

WOMAN IN SCIENCE1

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT Dr. Mozans is not only an erudite student versed in scientific and what would formerly have been called "humanistic" studies, but an explorer and traveler of note. Moreover,

he is a man to whom nothing human is alien, who loves the life of the past and the life of the present, and whose sympathies are keen for every good cause.

The present book is emphatically timely, dealing as it does with the right of woman to the opportunity to develop her life precisely as the man has the right to develop his. The movement to give to woman this right has strengthened until now in the countries of advanced civilization it is on the point of victory. This book is a storehouse of facts and arguments for all who in this struggle take the side of reason and justice. It deals with woman's long struggle for the things of the mind, and in chapter after chapter discusses what women have already accomplished in scientific pursuits, in mathematics, medicine and surgery, in the natural sciences-in short, in every department of that laborious intellectual activity for which it has been the foolish fashion to insist on woman's special unfitness.

Most of the so-called arguments against giving woman the chance which is given to the lowest men are in essence identical with the arguments formerly used by the favored. classes among men against giving equality of opportunity to the majority of male mankind who were below them. Unfortunately the enfranchised man usually takes some time before he realizes that the woman, his helpmate, cannot justly be denied the rights which it were injustice for him not to receive.

The opponents of giving to woman her rights of course vary widely in nature. Some of them are made opponents chiefly by the excesses of foolish or immoral advocates of the movement among the women themselves. Every such movement, every democratic movement or movement for social or industrial reform, must have its leaders and its martyrs, and unfortunately every such movement also develops a few fools and a few knaves, who give an alloy of base metal to the pure gold of the leadership and the martyr

Woman in Science. By H. J. Mozans, A.M., Ph.D. D. Appleton & Co., New York.

dom. There are foolish women and women who are worse than foolish who in advocating justice to woman seek to release her from her physical obligations to humanity and her moral obligations to society. Advocates of this type who demand that woman shall cease doing her prime duty as wife and mother, as the bearer and rearer of children, are not only foolish but wicked. They stand on an exact level with the criminal demagogue who in the name of democracy and of the rights of labor preaches murder and demands for mankind freedom from the stern law which insists that the race can rise only through the individuals who do not shirk hard work or slip backward from the laws of morality. The first type of wickedness and folly is akin to the second; the woman who preaches the first type of doctrine is no worse and no better than the man who preaches the second; each is an unworthy champion of the cause, each furnishes arguments for the opponents of the

cause.

But neither is really important, save as showing that when people have been oppressed and are given their freedom there is always some danger of the freedom being abused, and this without regard to whether they are men or women. When the reforms have been accomplished and the period of excitement has passed, there is no more reason for believing that woman will shirk her duties because she has acquired rights than for believing that the average man in a democracy will be less dutiful than the average man in a despotism. The argument both from theory and experience is identical in the two cases.

It is impossible to give even an abstract of the mass of interesting facts accumulated by Dr. Mozans. There is hardly a famous name among the women of scientific learning upon which he does not touch with sympathetic understanding, He understands them all, from Hypatia, the beloved friend of that wonderful old Christian bishop and Neoplatonist philosopher Synesius of Libya, to the women of our own time who have done such varied work in archæology, in natural science, as inventors, and in medicine and surgery. Incidentally he points out that one of the most noted physicists of the eighteenth century, a friend of Voltaire, a professor in the University of Bologna, Laura Bassi, was the mother of twelve children. She never per

mitted her extraordinary scientific and literary work to conflict with her domestic duties, or to detract in the least from the deep affection which united her to her husband and children. The same lesson is taught by her contemporary of a very different type, the Empress Maria Theresa. She was an exemplary wife and the mother of many children. These were born and brought up during the very years when their Empress-mother rescued Austria from destruction and faced trials greater than any of her contemporary sovereigns save only her great antagonist Frederick.

It is worth while mentioning, by the way, that the only eighteenth-century sovereign who approached the great Frederick in masterful ability was also a woman, Catharine of Russia. Even crusted conservatives speak of Catharine and Maria Theresa as great sovereigns, just as they all admit that among the sovereigns born to the throne of England during the last four centuries the greatest was the woman Elizabeth. They not merely admit, but insist, that Elizabeth and Catharine and Maria Theresa bore the greatest state burdens as well as any man could have borne them. Yet they see nothing incongruous in taking the position that if these women had happened to stand two or three degrees lower in the social hierarchy they would have been wholly unfit to sit beside some harddrinking, sodden predecessor of Squire Weston in the British Parliament, or rank with some dull Hungarian or Russian magnate whose whole worth to his country depended upon the alacrity with which he obeyed the orders of the imperious woman who was his sovereign.

The progress of woman, or, in other words, the progress of man in helping himself by doing justice to the woman who labors beside him, has been more rapid in some countries than in others, and at some times than at others. Italy has borne an honorable distinction in the advance, standing far above France, England, and Germany, and, for the matter of that, beyond the United States until very recent times. Five centuries ago that very remarkable woman Christine de Pizan (whose learning was so wide that it included the ability to write a standard military text-book) spoke as follows:

I say to thee again, and doubt never the contrary, that if it were the custom to put the little maidens to the school, and they were made to learn the sciences as they do to the men-children,

that they should learn as perfectly, and they should be as well entered into the subtleties of all the arts and sciences as men be. And peradventure, there should be more of them, for I have teached heretofore that by how much women have the body more soft than the men have, and less able to do divers things, by so much they have the understanding more sharp there as they apply it.

In the Italy of the Middle Ages there were great schools of medicine for women at Salerno and Bologna. Yet the University of Paris persecuted women during those very centuries because they dared to try to serve their fellow-women in their hours of sorest need! And but a generation ago the University of London, with blind selfishness and obscurantism, declined to allow women to study surgery or medicine. Vassar, the pioneer college for women, is not fifty years old.

Dr. Mozans is a great lover of Dante, and on the title-page he quotes from Dante's line asking what can be better in a woman than wisdom-the knowledge which comes from training no less than from natural ability. Nowadays few men of the first rank, few men indeed aside from cheap dealers in paradoxes, deny woman's right to as good an education as any man can obtain. We marvel that our predecessors a century or even half a century ago should have failed to see this. Half a century or a century hence our successors will marvel as greatly that we failed to see the indefensibility of denying to woman the other rights necessary to put her on a footing of complete equality with

man.

But

They will marvel no less at the folly and wickedness of the women who have believed that the acquirement of rights will absolve them from the performance of duties. this is only to say that they will feel as we do, we democrats of the school of Hampden and Washington and Lincoln, when we turn with contemptuous abhorrence from the misdeeds committed by the Robespierres and Marats in the name of democracy. Neither woman nor man can shirk duties under penalty of eventually losing rights, for the possession of the right should be conditioned upon the performance of the duty. Moreover, equality of right does not mean identity of function. In any healthy community the prime duty of the woman will ever be that of the wife and mother, just as the prime duty of the man will be to provide the home for wife and children; and this prime duty

Works of Francis Thompson (The). Vol. III. Edited by Wilfred Meynell. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. $5.50.

Life of Francis Thompson (The). By Everard

Meynell. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. $4.50. The works of Francis Thompson were discussed editorially in The Outlook of January 3. The definitive edition of his prose and poetry has been prepared by his friend and literary executor, Mr. Wilfred Meynell. His son is the author of "The Life of Thompson." Mr. Everard Meynell's biography is satisfying in all but one respect—and had it been complete in this also it could not have been written by a son of Alice and Wilfred Meynell. The debt which Francis Thompson owed to Everard Meynell's father and mother, a debt which they never regarded save as a service freely and proudly rendered, Mr. Meynell touches upon only indirectly and with evident and natural reluctance. There is no need for reticence, however, in our acknowledgment of the debt which lovers of poetry owe to Alice and Wilfred Meynell for their service to literature in the person of Francis Thompson. It is a debt not easily to be discharged. Thomas Hardy's Wessex. By Hermann Lea. The Macmillan Company, New York. $1.35. No one knows exactly what the bounds of the ancient kingdom of Wessex were. Neither does Hardy's imagined "Wessex " have exact limits; it was largely in Dorset, but took in parts of five other counties. But Hardy undoubtedly had the old kingdom in mind, and his "Wessex novels," with their imaginary names, often for perfectly recognizable cities, admit of a perfectly consistent map. This book identifies, describes, and pictures by photograph very many of the towns, churches, houses, and scenic localities in the novels. Apart from the special Hardy in terest, the book gives charming glimpses of the English county.

Heroic Ballads of Servia. Translated by George Rapall Noyes and Leonard Bacon. Sherman, French & Co., Boston. $1.25.

The ballad literature of Servia is among the finest in Europe. Unfortunately, aside from a few scattering versions, it is not known to English readers. The present volume, consisting of translations of the ballads of Servia by Mr. Noyes and Mr. Bacon, will be welcomed by those who would gain a closer acquaintance with the freshness, vividness, vigor, and vivacity

Finot. There is in this a sentence which finely and tersely puts the truth which both writers champion. It runs as follows: “Humanity will be the happier in proportion as it becomes juster, and man will be more content with his lot from the moment when his wife or his sister, admitted to the banquet of life, shares with him the full right to both its bitterness and its joy."

of the Servian songs. Aside from their literary charm, these ballads have a particular claim to public attention at the present time, when the world has seen Servia win back much of her old territory from the Turk.

Childhood. By Alice Meynell. E. P. Dutton & Co., New York. 75c.

This little volume represents fairly the series of "Fellowship Books," attractively made and small enough to be carried in the pocket, and so far presenting sound writing and suggestive thought. Among the contributors to the series are Quiller-Couch, Miss May Sinclair, and Norman Gale. Mrs. Meynell's discussion of childhood is fresh and free from commonplace perception and observation.

Little Wars. By H. G. Wells. Small, Maynard & Co., Boston. $1.20.

Mr. Wells does not even go through the form of pretending that he has developed for the sake of children the inviting war games which he describes in this book. Unlike the proverbial father "consenting" to accompany his son to the circus, Mr. Wells frankly admits that it is no vicarious delight that he feels in marshaling his legions of toy soldiers. Indeed, the complicated game of horse, foot, and cannon which he has developed is not a child's game at all, though we think its creator rather flatters himself that in it he is renewing the days of his youth. It is too scientific a game for children even to have dreamed of inventing. Why, indeed, should any self-respecting child bother with all this complicated chess-like technique when, armed with a wooden sword and capped with a folded paper hat, the whole world lies open to his conquering imagination?

Panama Gateway (The). By Joseph Bucklin Bishop. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. $2. Of the making of books on Panama there is apparently no end in sight. Out of the ordinary, however, is "The Panama Gateway." Mr. Bishop has been Secretary of the Canal Commission since 1905, and his account of the building of the Canal carries the conviction that goes with authoritative statement. Against an admirably balanced historical background he has painted a picture of the work undertaken and accomplished in the Zone which neither sacrifices conciseness to interest nor interest to ac

The

curacy. Mr. Bishop's book bids fair to become the standard reference book concerning the Panama Canal, both for the general reader and for the student of modern political history. Mainsail Haul (A). By John Masefield. The Macmillan Company, New York. $1.25. Salt Water Ballads. By John Masefield. Macmillan Company, New York. $1.25. These two volumes, one of prose and one of verse, contain the earlier writings of Mr. Masefield, relaunched and floated on the flood tide of his present reputation. It must be confessed that they are more interesting than this introduction might lead the reader to suppose. One prose story," The Port of Many Ships," invites attention because of the close similarity between its style and the style of Mr. Masefield's verse. Line after line might be transplanted into one of his narrative poems with hardly the change of a syllable for the sake of the meter. "The Western Islands " and "The Seal Man "are the best tales in "A Mainsail Haul." "Salt Water

Ballads," a collection of short poems, is a characteristic piece of work, though perhaps more reminiscent of both Kipling and Newbolt than is Mr. Masefield's present manner. In this volume, as in his later works, he shows that he knows the sea as few poets have known it, a fact which carries him safely over many dangerous verbal reefs and metrical sand-bars.

A People's Man. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. $1.30. Not the mystery of crime, as in most of the author's stories, but the danger or necessity of a social revolution is the theme here. The early pages are tense; but as conflict in the mind of the "people's man," Maraton, arises; as he finds that to plunge England into a universal strike and labor war would be to hand her over to despoilment by an enemy across the Channel; and as the personal influence of a wise and beautiful girl, niece of the Prime Minister, grows upon him, Maraton wavers, develops a patriotism he had disowned, and yields to the step-by-step political labor and social movement which he had at first despised. Naturally, the outcome is not as dramatic or as clear cut as the beginning.

Egotistical I (The). By Ellen Wilkins Tompkins. E. P. Dutton & Co., New York. $1. "The Egotistical I" is a pleasant little book of mild philosophy and simple romance. It might be urged with reason that the old bachelor Timothy is by no means a man's man; but there are many such, and many readers there are who do not crave solid mental nutriment. Mésalliance (A). By Katharine Tynan. Duffield & Co., New York. $1.25.

There is entertainment here for the novel reader, for the author is trained in managing her characters and has the gift of engaging her reader's attention. The tangle of English guardian and young ward is almost too familiar a

theme, but in this instance there is enough besides to carry off the ancient situation. A wholesome story of some literary merit is desirable, and in spite of the prevalence of problem novels we all enjoy the happy ending so neatly arranged for us in fiction like this story. Kingdom of Two (A). By Helen R. Albee. The Macmillan Company, New York. $1.50. Avowed, unblushing sentiment is spread upon the pages devoted to the description of “A Kingdom of Two." Not mawkish sentiment, be it understood, but of a kind to attract lovers of gardens, and those who hate to disturb the pretty rabbits that haunt the gardens, and those who love the small but important happenings in field and wood, all leading up-or down-to moral reflections. The book is well illustrated by photographs.

America as I Saw It. By Mrs. Alec-Tweedie. The Macmillan Company, New York. $3. Mrs. Alec-Tweedie saw America through the eyes of a distinctly modern journalist. She writes an amusing book and exercises her taste for generalization, indulging in such smart epigrammatic sayings as "Boston is a city of ideals; Washington a city of ideas; Chicago a city of force; New York a city of dollars." Her text is "Hypersensitiveness is an American sin." She begins and ends there. She distributes praise and blame impartially, in perfect good humor, and her taste allows her to catalogue by name her hosts and hostesses in America. She thinks the American press is improving and that of Europe is deteriorating. The nouveaux riches in America are becoming more cultured, while the same class in England "remain stupidly illiterate." American cooking is excellent, but American organization is bad, she says. American hustle is a myth; it is "the young Britisher who has made most of the railways of America, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, and Brazil," she says. She recognizes the germs of a hundred races in the free-born American, yet she resents our calling a "Britisher" a foreigner. She finds us talking continually of our money, but does not note, as other observers have, that in England they talk more about saving money while we talk and plan to spend it. "Money counts far beyond brains in America," says Mrs. Tweedie. But the money is spent, not hoarded. It is not the love of gain but the desire for what money can buy that stirs Americans, so we think.

Wards of the State. By Tighe Hopkins. Little, Brown & Co, Boston $3.

In this informative study of crime and criminals the viewpoint is that of the most advanced criminologists, who regard the criminal as a helpless product of social conditions, who emphasize the possibility of recreating him by sound reformative measures instituted during and after imprisonment, and who see in the