in New England in 1620. The quotation at the head of the first movement is as follows:

All great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties; and must be both enterprised and overcome with answerable courages.

The first theme of this movement is illustrative of what has been said here of Mr. Kelley's type of musical creativeness. It is distinctively a harmonic theme. In its simplest form it consists of only two chords. These are sounded solemnly in the slow introduction. The theme of the Allegro is simply these two chords repeated in sequence. The second theme of this movement is more distinctively melodic, but even in that what gives it character is its harmonic basis. The second movement, bearing the quotation,

Warm and fair weather; the birds sang in the woods most pleasantly,

is based almost entirely upon New England bird songs. This is the one part of the symphony that is most obviously descriptive, and consequently awakens from the ordinary audience the quickest response. The third movement, entitled

Great lamentations and heaviness,

is based on a psalm tune which an old Connecticut Yankee, Timothy Swan, born in 1757, set to the hymn, "Why do we mourn departed friends?" This old psalm tune (which is familiar to many of an older generation and ought to be familiar to all Americans) is as fine musical material as could be found in any land or any time; and Mr. Kelley treats it with reverence and power. The final movement, bearing as its title the following quotation,

The fit way to honor and lament the departed is to be true to one another, and to work together bravely for the cause to which living and dead have consecrated themselves,

repeats in new form and in new relations and with. new effectiveness the themes of the earlier movements. Throughout the symphony it is not melodies but harmonies that serve as the principal themes. And the harmonic richness and originality are enhanced by the rich and original scoring for the orchestra. Like this symphony, Edgar Stillman Kelley's musical setting to Elizabeth Hodgkinson's text based on Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress is predominantly a harmonical composition. The composer does not (except perhaps in a few and unnoticeable instances) conceive of his themes melodically and vary them or develop them by changes in his harmonic treatment; he appears to have conceived of them harmonically, and whatever changes he makes in them he makes by recasting them in various keys or by giving them varying melodic accompaniment or by putting them over against one another in new musical patterns.

This musical Miracle Play is so arranged that it can be given in costume and with scenery as a stage production or simply in concert form. It calls for chorus, soloists, and orchestra, though it could be given in part in a church, with an organ substituted for the orchestra.

There is a rather interesting personal story connected with this new American composition. Edgar Stillman Kelley really

learned to read in order to become familiar with the contents of "Pilgrim's Progress." In a book which he encountered as early as his sixth year there were illustrations which greatly excited his imagination. The rapidity with which he learned to read (as he recalls it, he learned in a week's time), he attributes to the little book by Jacob Abbott which he says was called Learning to Read"-probably the little volume of child stories entitled "Rollo Learning to Read." During all these years, therefore, he had a special feeling for Bunyan's great allegory, and for some years he has wished to treat this theme musically and has now finished his task. The work is now under rehearsal

by the Cincinnati May Festival Chorus. That, it is to be hoped, indicates that it is to be performed at the Cincinnati Festival next May.

When the postman puts off his uniform and wears citizen's clothes like other people, he becomes, according to the theory of Mr. Chesterton's unprofessional detective, Father Brown, conspicuous. It is the paradox of life that a distinctive garb is the very thing to destroy all appearance of personal distinction. Clothed in the garments of incidental music, Edgar Stillman Kelley's musical distinction has received too little notice. It is to be hoped that if "Pilgrim's Progress" is ever performed as a stage production it will not be the music, but the costumes and scenery, that will be incidental.

THE POWERS OF THE PRESIDENT The Washington correspondence of the New York "Times" of February 2 contains the following paragraph:

Eleven Democratic Senators, invited to the White House this afternoon, were told by President Wilson that he was absolutely opposed to the War Cabinet and the Director of Munitions Bills. He would accept no compromise, the President said. He advised that the discussion be eliminated altogether; but if this was not possible, that it be reduced to a minimum as far as Democratic Senators were concerned. In the President's view, as outlined to the eleven Senators, prolonged discussion would have the effect of showing Germany that we were divided, and would, in addition, create a bad impression upon our allies.

If this report is true, the President is making a serious mistake. Under our Constitution, it is the business of Congress to decide what is to be done, and the business of the President to put that decision into effect. According to this report, the President is assuming authority to decide what is to be done, and to tell Congress what legislation is necessary for that purpose. His excuse is that "prolonged discussion would have the effect of showing Germany that we were divided.” There is a Constitutional way to remedy prolonged discussion. It is to have legislation for reorganization of the administrative departments and the Government introduced into both houses of Congress and limitation put upon the debate. If the legislation passes both houses of Congress, then the President should accept it. The proposal attributed to the President by the correspondent of the *Times" substitutes autocratic for democratic government. It is not necessary to substitute autocracy for democracy in order to make the world safe for democracy.

"Yo

7OU can call me either Mrs. O'Grady or Commissioner O'Grady, but not 'The O'Grady, said the newly appointed Fifth Deputy Commissioner of the New York City Police Department, with a humorous twinkle in her eye, in response to a question by a representative of The Outlook.

There had been a little doubt in the mind of the interviewer as to the proper style of addressing the new appointee, for on inquiring of the doorman at Police Headquarters for "Mrs. O'Grady," he had been rather sternly told that "the Commissioner was to be found in Room 211.

This proved to be a large, well-lighted apartment, with an outer room presided over by a young woman secretary of

pleasing manners and appearance, and an inner sanctuary in which the new Commissioner does her work and receives her callers.

The new Deputy Commissioner is an attractive-looking woman of middle age, dressed well but simply, as befits an official, with a gold police badge on her breast, and wearing a small black hat-which, she explained, she had become so accustomed to having on in court that she did not feel comfortable without it even in her own office.

"I have hardly got accustomed to my new job," she said, in answer to a question. "So far I have given up most of my time to reporters and photographers, and I am hardly in a position to tell you what my duties are or what I plan to do. You know

I have spent fifteen years in the courts as a probation officer. That is not strictly police work, and so it will take a little time for me to get accustomed to my new position."

In answer to some inquiries as to the number of women who might be under her leadership in her new work, and the number engaged in court work, Commissioner O'Grady, with a woman's dislike for statistics and a shrewd smile, suddenly asked her interviewer, “Are you asking these questions to test my general intelligence?". Then she went on: There is a big opportunity for capable women to help in these police departments of our cities. So far as I know, I am the first woman to occupy so important an official position in police work. What can I do in this new work? I can only refer you to what I have done. I have carried my probation cases through successfully in most instances. They were little things, perhaps; but if you learn to do little things well, it's the best indication that you can undertake a bigger job. But if you really want to know about my work in the past you will have to go to others. I have worked a good deal in Brownsville. That is a Jewish district, you know. There are some splendid Jews in official positions in the courts of New York, and I have had fine co-operation from them in every way. I say this though I am an Irish-American-I came to this country as a baby, you know. Ask some of them about me—or others who are equally familiar with what I have done."

This modest declination to sound her own praises on the part of Mrs. O'Grady seemed good to listen to, contrasting as it does with the usual attitude of men suddenly brought into prominence. Mrs. O'Grady continued: "I have just been out to investigate the case of a child who had disappeared. There are many such cases, and I could devote much of my time to them, though larger matters in connection with the welfare of women and girls will probably keep me busy."

"Will the Department provide an automobile for your use?" It will be for the city's advantage if it does. A department

official's time is too valuable for her to spend half a day waiting on street corners for cars. But let me tell you an incident. Soon after I was appointed, a fine-appearing young woman, with a real soldierly bearing, came to me and said, 'Our association has a large number of automobiles that we are going to devote without charge to the public service during these war times. Mrs. O'Grady, we want you to make use of these cars at any time when they may be useful to you.' Doesn't that show a fine spirit?"

"One further question, Commissioner. Women all over the country are interested in the question of equal pay for equal service. Is New York's new woman Commissioner to be on an equal basis with the men Commissioners in this respect ?” "I understand that to be the case.'

"And what is the salary, may I ask?”

Here Mrs. O'Grady's quiet humor again came to her rescue in answering this personal question.

"I don't know-I haven't got my pay envelope yet. But I have read in the newspapers that my salary is to be six thousand dollars a year.'

During the course of the interview, which The Outlook's representative felt should be as brief as possible so as not to embarrass a busy woman engaged in orienting herself in her new place, Mrs. O'Grady introduced pertinently a familiar quotation from Tennyson, beginning:

"The old order changes, yielding place to new,
And God fulfills himself in many ways."

That here was a police official who remembered and cared to quote a line suggestive of idealism in connection with the work of the Police Department seemed a happy augury of the good influence that would be exerted in that Department through the innovation of giving a woman a prominent place on its official staff.

W

ASHINGTON is a city of irregularities. The farther you go along an avenue, the farther you are from another avenue (or street, I forget which); and by the time you have reached Sixteenth Street you have forgotten whether the particular place you are seeking is at the corner of Eighteenth and F or Nineteenth and K. Washington, too, is like that, temperamentally and politically. The only spot in the city which seems fixed and ascertainable is the White House, flanked by the Navy and War Departments respectively. On paper, L'Enfant's plan of Washington is splendid. Actually, it is a city of geometrically progressive separations; politically it is that also. The mental, ethical, emotional, political, and administrative point of convergence is the White House. And the White House stands a long way back from the thoroughfare. But that is another story, and will keep until next week.

Every one who is hypercritical, or even and only constructively critical, tells you solemnly that what Washington needs is co-ordination. Official Washington is utterly sick of the word. The President is openly antagonistic toward the suggestion. He seems to say: "I will furnish the co-ordination; you do not need a War Cabinet, and I beg you not even to discuss it." Nevertheless the critics, hostile and friendly, will persist in talking about co-ordination.

Do they know what they mean? I doubt it. Several of them have drawn charts for me to illustrate how they would co-ordinate everything, and no two diagrams agree. One co-ordinates everything in a War. Cabinet which still leaves everything co-ordinated in the President. Another focuses all power in a Ministry of Munitions, but is not certain whether to make the Ministry responsible to Congress, to the Secretary of War, or to the General Staff nevertheless the President is Commander

in-Chief of the Army and Navy, and insists that a Ministry of Munitions would do little beyond disrupting the excellent navy system of supplies. A third makes a chart which proves that a Ministry of Munitions is simply what the Administration has already done in the appointment of Mr. Stettinius as SurveyorGeneral-a clever bit of Administration camouflage in military parlance, or an astute "passing the buck"in current slang-a term, I am told, which has its origin in the game of poker, and signifies that some other man is responsible for the deal.

There are many people in Washington who believe that the Administration's most successful accomplishment is the skill with which it has acquired the art of passing the buck. It has been said that Mr. Gregory, of the Department of Justice, passed the buck to Mr. Baker when he persuaded the Secretary of War to overrule Mr. Lane's agreement with the bituminous coal operators of June 28, 1917, in order to save his lawsuit against certain West Virginia operators for price-fixing (which the Attorney-General did not save, anyway). Nearly every one agrees that. Mr. McAdoo passed the buck to Dr. Garfield when he persuaded the Fuel Administrator to issue the fuel embargo, not to save coal, but in order that Mr. McAdoo might have a chance to straighten out the railway freight congestion and facilitate Government operation. A few of the more knowing ones in military circles swear that General Crozier passed the buck to four guileless bureaus, and slipped himself from the much-criticised Ordnance Department into the War Council; there are some who say that Mr. Baker passed the buck to General Pershing by testifying that it was the General who did not want the Lewis machine gun in the trenches; and there are even some who claim that President Wilson will pass the buck to the Senate Military Committee and to certain newspaper critics by sending Mr. Baker to France. Only the grand assize of

history can settle some of these mooted questions, but multitudes of people seem to be firmly convinced that the Administration is extremely skillful in passing the buck.

Still, in spite of all the confusion caused by facility in shifting responsibility, any one who is in Washington and in contact with influential men on both the legislative and administrative branches of the Government-as I have been for the past week cannot but recognize that a sudden change has come over the Administration in consequence of the widespread criticism which has broken out since the opening of the new year. Senator Chamberlain may have allowed his dramatic instinct to run away with his logical powers when he read those two heartrending letters about the dead soldiers as though they were evidence of the Medical Corps' demoralization, and his facts concerning the breakdown of the Quartermaster and Ordnance Departments may not have been quite sufficient to rivet the charge of utter failure upon the Administration, but his speech had a salutary effect and galvanized the War Department into more vigorous activity. Since the Senate Military Committee began its investigations there has been a new resolution apparent in military circles, and even Mr. Baker seems to have laid aside his cavalier manner in favor of a responsive and teachable spirit.

There are a thousand jobs in America which Mr. Baker could fill more perfectly than the one he now holds. It is no secret that he did not want the War portfolio. And it has been stated with an air of positive knowledge that he offered to resign, but the President would not hear of it. "Secretary Daniels weathered the storm, why not Secretary Baker?" Mr. Wilson asks. The cases are totally different. There is no doubt now that the agitation against the Secretary of the Navy was started largely and augmented constantly by the liquor interests, and besides that the "Hon. Josephus Daniels was a name with which Gilbert and Sullivan could have juggled for two hours of delicious opéra bouffe. The criticism upon Mr. Baker has been almost entirely from calm and experienced business men-men of both political parties and from every section of the country. And it has not been leveled at his opinions, but at his defects as an administrator. The work of the War Department at this stage is more industrial than military in its nature, and that is why thoughtful people feel that there must be a large degree of truth in the charges made. Military defects are hardly visible at this stage; if serious ones have been made, we shall read them later in letters of blood and sorrow.

Perhaps the most persistent question asked in Washington is whether Mr. Stettinius will be given the powers necessary for the accomplishment of his task. At present he is under Colonel Pierce, and Colonel Pierce represents the General Staff. If Mr. Wilson will agree to a modification of the Ministry of Munitions Bill, by which Congress shall give Mr. Stettinius the powers necessary for building up a forceful department, or if the President will definitely transfer some of his own powers to Mr. Stettinius, we shall begin to get results at once.

One of the most discouraging aspects of the Washington situation is that the members of the Administration appear to be comfortably satisfied with themselves. There is something almost Pharisaical about their attitude-"Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other menor even as this Republican." The President, Mr. Baker, Mr. Daniels, Mr. McAdoo, have all pointed out how well they have handled a stupendous task, and they imply that no one could have done any better in view of all the circumstances. It is noticeable, however, that their stocktaking runs no further back than April, 1917, and calmly ignores all the lost antecedents.

Let us grant, for the time being, that most of the defects and deficiencies in war material—artillery, small guns, ammunition, clothing-may be made up; but what can ever make up the shipping deficiency? That business has been blundered and bungled from the beginning. We were led to believe that American skill and resources could produce six million tons of shipping in about a year. Then came the controversy between General Goethals and Mr. Denman over the material of construction, which dragged great names through the mud and held up production during several vital months. Then, only last week, Mr. J. W. Powell, of the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation, testified before the Senate Commerce Committee: "If

the United States is able to produce three million tons of shipping in 1918, it will be accomplishing a wonderful feat." Lincoln Colcord, an authority on shipping, is quite positive that we shall not build much more than 1,500,000 tons. (Philadelphia "Public Ledger," February 2, 1918.) He says that Mr. Baker has already passed the buck to E. N. Hurley, Chairman of the Shipping Board, and prophesies that when the country knows the facts the Administration will make Mr. Hurley the scapegoat, which would be a great National calamity. Perhaps Mr. Baker knows how he is going to carry a million and a half of troops to Europe in 1918, and then feed, clothe, and munition them. If he does, there surely cannot be any harm in letting the country know.

Congress is genuinely in earnest in wishing to help the Administration. Only hypersensitiveness or an unquiet conscience could construe the actions of the Senate Military Committee as an inimical attitude. Senator Chamberlain's speech on the floor of the Senate was not made as Chairman of the Military Affairs Committee, but as a "personal privilege." Ilis word had been questioned by the President, and he put his facts before the court. Even the bills to which the President has such strong objections-the War Cabinet and the Ministry of Munitions Bills -were conceived and framed, not to hamper or curtail the Commander-in-Chief, but to give him competent aids in the prosecution of the war. By thus liberating him from any care concerning preparations at home the Senate Military Committee hoped to free him for those tremendously urgent and exacting duties which seem to have fallen upon him as the spokesman of the Allied nations. But it is useless to argue the pros and cons of those bills; the President does not want them, and even if one should pass the Senate in its present form it would be only to meet a swift death in the House. In view of the Congressional elections in the fall, the President absolutely controls the lower chamber-no Congressman would ever dare face his constituents with the President's disapproval branded upon him. Mr. Wilson is as absolutely master of the situation as was Gulliver among the Lilliputians.

This is America's war, and we are in it as Americans—not as Democrats or Republicans. Any outcropping of partisan spirit should be put under the ban instantly. One of the high officials of the Government preached that to me with eloquence and sincerity the other day. Then he drifted into a discussion of Mr. Baker. I took the position that Mr. Baker was a liability to the Administration, and his continuance in the War Office weakened public confidence. At least, I said, that was the way I read the mind of the people. "Supposing Mr. Baker is not as inefficient as the general public thinks," I argued. "It would seem that to restore the confidence of the Nation is the most urgent necessity at this moment."

"But can you suggest a man for the place?" the official asked.

"Yes," I said; "Mr. Elihu Root. If he were appointed, every one would be gratified, and Mr. Wilson would be praised for rising to the Lincoln level in the Stanton appointment."

Impossible," came the reply; "it couldn't be done. We are committed to the party system of government. I deplore it exceedingly myself, but it is inevitable.

So there is a growing feeling that the non-partisanship should all be exercised by the Republicans. And I hope that the Republicans will be large enough and generous enough to play the rôle, at least during the present crisis. The question which came most often and most persistently to my mind during the week I lived almost exclusively in the Administration atmosphere was whether the Administration realized how tremendously the people of America had been gripped by the great spiritual issues involved in the war. No message from the President evoked such a response as the one he gave in answer to his Holiness the Pope, in which he laid down as the first and paramount condition an overthrow of the present militaristic rulers of Germany, whose word was worthless. and whose most solemn bond was invalid; there must be a final crushing defeat of autocracy. The President's more recent utterance, known as the "Fourteen Terms," omits all reference to the overthrow of autocracy, or of making the world safe for democracy, and presents a bargain counter. So people are asking, and where they cannot ask it for lack of precise phraseology they are manifest

in the address. President Lincoln did not have the unique reputation then that he later came to have. I looked upon him as a thoroughly honest man, of simple rugged strength, but somewhat uncouth in person and in style, which impression had been deepened in me by his nervous, ungainly manner during the lengthy preceding speech.

But all these impressions vanished from the moment the great leader began to read. His simple power and pathos at once held me. Every sentence seemed perfectly to voice the great historymaking epoch through which the Nation was passing. The address appeared to gather up and utter in terse phrase all the mighty issues of the hour. Its force, its clear-cut sentences, its strong monosyllables, were notable. And then the beauty of it! The elevation of thought, the depth of reverence for the martyred dead, the generic truths of democracy, the tender sympathy, were uttered with a rhythmical flow of words that left a musical cadence on the ear. The time, in the midst of the great war for the Union; the scene, the crucial battlefield of the struggle, the hills and woods about us still echoing with the roar of guns and artillery; and, above all, the thousands of hero graves encircling us, contributed to heighten the moral grandeur of the moment. Then, too, more impressive even than the address, the personality of the man himself, incarnating the great issues, shone forth with a compelling power.

T

At all events, I found myself quite carried away with emotion. I was as greatly surprised as I was enthralled. The sentences that had most impressed me were: "The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here;" and especially this one, which Mr. Lincoln uttered with a tone of dignity equal to the strength of the thought: "That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this Nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom." This noble sentence long rang

in

my ears.

After the applause had subsided I turned to my friend, Wieting, and said, "What do you think of it?" He answered: "Pretty well done for Old Abe! How did you like it?" I replied: "That speech is a classic; it will take its place in English literature."

Such are my impressions of this great hour in President Lincoln's life, gathered from my vivid memories, and also from the records of my diary.

The grandeur and beauty of this immortal address were not at once recognized. But when it had spread throughout the world, and men had time to take its measure, it soon came to be recognized, as it now is, as one of the two or three addresses most memorable in the political annals of the race; nor is there any fear that it will ever be displaced from this peak of solitary eminence.

PICTURE NUMBER ONE

Lincoln was elected. On the next March he would take his place at the head of the Nation. He came to Cleveland, Ohio, and with Mrs. Lincoln beside him received and greeted the people. The bands played lustily, flags waved from every place where a flag could be fastened, and bunting was draped from window to window outside and inside the hotel where they stayed.

66

This reception is for the distinguished citizens," said my brother. "It would not look well for a girl to go."

"But father has been here since Cleveland was a village, and every one knows his record. Surely he is distinguished enough, and as his daughter I could go, and I mean to go, and I am. going to shake his hand. So there!"

In a blue dress a red-haired girl with red, white, and blue ribbons was presented. Taking my hand in his, Mr. Lincoln covered it with his other big, warm hand, and for the instant held it. Looking down with a smile, as though he saw the funny side of it all-a smile on that rugged, homely face which made it handsome—he said, "Daughter, I am right glad to see you.” The only other part of this memory picture is that of his turning me over to the little woman in hoops and tiny ruffles who stood beside him.

That girl was such a hero-worshiper that for days her right hand was kept wrapped up so that there would be no need to wash off the warm, loving grasp of Mr. Lincoln.

PICTURE NUMBER TWO

"

The Civil War was calling men and women to duty. 6 We are coming, Father Abraham, six hundred thousand strong,' sang the men. But there was need of women as nurses. That was before the day when well-equipped, trained nurses were ready for service. Among the many agencies for relief was one got up by the Ohio Military Agent. A party of Ohio men were to go to help as best they could, under the leadership of an earnest, practical Methodist minister. One experienced woman was ready to go, and, as one woman could not go alone, I was added as a junior member of the group.

We had been tried at Aquia Creek, where the poor bruised and broken men were brought from Fredericksburg after the battle on their way to Washington hospitals. Our party had been sent to several different points where there was plenty of

opportunity for all our ministry under the direction of the doctors in charge. We had been so close to the front that we had heard the cannonading, and had cared for the men, black from the rifle-pits. At last our party were at City Point; our supplies did not arrive as quickly as had we. The barrels and boxes and bundles were on their way, so that the first night at the Point we had only a tent. The grass was thick and clean, and could serve as bed and chair. Johnny, the drummer boy, rolled in a log, saying, rolled in a log, saying, "Here's a pillow for you, Sister Ohio." At dusk a tap on our tent pole showed us a caller. “Will you ladies take in for the night," asked an officer, "Miss Barton? There is no place for her to-night. She has business in the morning at headquarters. We cannot place her, as our supplies are not here."

We gave to Clara Barton a most cordial welcome. She slept. beside me, with the grass for a mattress, part of the log for a pillow, and half of my mother's big warm plaid blanket-shawl for a covering. In the morning, when she had gone, I was standing at the tent door, looking out upon the scene of the camp activity, when not far away, just good photographic distance, stood those two great men, Lincoln and Grant, in earnest conversation. There were only a few flags flying and there was no music; no glimpse of a funny story on those strong, sad lips. The President looked as though he might have been awake a large part of the long night and in prayer. At a respectful distance from the two men stood a soldier, as motionless as a statue. They did not see me, and I was careful not to move; but upon my heart and mind there is graven a picture in which every line of that face, that bent form, the earnest attention as he listened or spoke to the General near him, stands out to-day.

PICTURE NUMBER THREE

The body of our martyred President was to rest on its journey to Springfield, Illinois, at Cleveland, Ohio. In the center of the public square very hastily a pavilion was erected, where the body would lie in state. Flags drooped at half-mast; bands rehearsed the saddest of sad music; a committee of young women, decorated with sashes of black, with busy fingers made up huge rosettes and trimmings of black and of white cambric with which to make more pleasing the pavilion where the dead hero should rest. With drawn faces and many a sob, the people came, one after another, to look upon that quiet form, wondering, wondering who could guide the ship of state now that our captain had fallen. The city mourned, the Nation mourned; and to-day, after all the years, we do not forget to love and praise and honor Abraham Lincoln.