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justice, some carrying carpetbags of the vintage of 1865, some carrying their saddles; some armed with rifles, all with six-shooters at their belts. They are followed by a dozen Westerners on horseback; these are followed by an army wagon with supplies. Behind the army wagon comes a group of a different sort-young men in custom-made clothes and derby hats, carrying voluminous overcoats and suit-cases and Gladstone bags and golf clubs. These are silkstockings from Boston and New York and Washington; athletes from Harvard and Princeton and Yale. And behind them comes Mary Astor, in shirt-waist and trailing skirt and fedora hat, with Charles Emmet Mack riding a tandem bicycle.

The cameras click like distant machine guns. They are recording the assembling of the Rough Riders.

Over the bridge and through the gate go the strange and varied types. The gate-house looks as though it had been there forty years; the initials and dates of the eighties and nineties, carved into the scarred woodwork, carry out the illusion; actually it is six weeks old. The architecture gives painful solace for the passing of the good old days. But the green of hackberry and pecan in which it is set assuages somewhat the sensibilities wounded by the three-quarter arc framing the balcony over the gate, and the rippling line of the shingles, and the four spikes which rise from the crossed gables.

That three-quarter arc pursues you as you follow the recruits into the old Fair Grounds. It is on the inside of the gate, where you might expect it; but it is also, you discern to your distress, on the huge Exhibition Building three hundred yards to the left as you enter the camp over each entrance and under each gable that breaks the lines of the two lower roofs. Four turrets topped by what look like enormous onions stand at the corners; there is another more magnificent onion in the center. Some carpenter, you divine, in a luckless moment came upon a picture of the Taj Mahal.

It is startling to come through the old gate especially startling to one who has stood a few months previous on that identical spot and gazed out over a waste of mesquite and town rubbish and bits of bent pipe sticking out of the ground like the leg of some soldier too hastily interred. The mesquite is gone, the rubbish is gone, the pipe is decently buried. Before you are the level drillground ringed with trees which the photographs of 1898 have made familiar; the half-mile race-track; the long, low

The Officers' Tents, with the Exhibition Building in the Background open structure with the broken roof line where the quartermaster sheltered his supplies. In front of the Exhibition Building are the rows of pup-tents; at right angles are the officers' tents. This tent was Leonard Wood's; this, Theodore Roosevelt's. Here the enlisting officer received the recruits, there the medical officer thumped their chests.

which tells with characteristic snap of the unbelievable red tape he must cut in Washington before he can join the regiment.

"Say, ain't it wonderful?" exclaims a bronzed, shrewd-eyed Rough Rider. "It's just as it was. There where the cook-stoves is is where Ham Fish an' I was peelin' potatoes the day I met him. We become buddies, though he was a sergeant an' I just a private, an' he was a rich swell an' I just a brakeman on the railroad. That was the way the regiment was."

At the enlisting tent is a motley crew in line; among the pup-tents fifty men, in line; among the pup-tents fifty men, in the brown-duck trousers and blueflannel shirts of the Rough Riders, are flannel shirts of the Rough Riders, are lounging, ready to jump into place at the word of command to furnish background for the scene of the enlistment. The line of recruits is itself background when it comes to revealing Colonel Wood in front of his tent receiving a telegram from Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt

It is stirring to sit day after day under the hackberry trees, where in the old days the regimental officers had their mess, and see the story of the Rough Riders unfolding itself. The regiment is all one great awkward squad at first; with the best intentions in the world, some of the individualists from the Territories find it difficult to learn the significance of drill and discipline. A gayhearted cow-puncher is on guard when Roosevelt arrives. He presents armsand suddenly he recognizes the man driving past in the surrey with Colonel Wood. He has ridden the ranges with him in the Bad Lands. Discipline be hanged! he thrusts his rifle into the hands of an irate top sergeant standing at salute beside him, dashes after the carriage, stops it, greets his old friend, and is greeted like a brother.

We see Wood and Roosevelt with their brother officers; the quiet, military bearing, tempered by a very human smile, of the one; the vitality, the keen interest, the warmth, the flashing teeth of the other. of the other. Doubles of the men they

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are impersonating? Of course not. But
curiously persuasive symbols, winning
and holding the sympathy of even the
critical onlooker by the simplicity and
sincerity of their acting.

We see the regiment on foot, passing in review before Roosevelt. The lines bend and roll; nobody seems to be in step. The men grumble, knowing what an unholy show they are making of themselves; but Roosevelt speaks the saving word. We see the horses arriving-wicked horses bought in a hurry, anywhere, from any one; horse lines stretching eastward; the bronco on his side being shod. We see Roosevelt picking a wild horse and riding him through a half-dozen bucks; we see a thousand men in regimental formation on the drill-ground. The order comes, "Prepare to mount!"

"They may not be able to march," says Roosevelt to his Colonel, "but wait till you see them ride.”

The Colonel gives the order, "Mount!" And instantly a thousand

horses are either bucking or stampeding.
It is a wild and thrilling sight to the
observer seated under one of the cam-
eras on a forty-foot platform-horses
bucking, horses charging; riderless
horses, unhorsed riders; dust blowing;
officers yelling; only the colonels and
their staff keeping their places.

"Yes, that's the way it was!" exclaims
a man who was a sergeant in the Rough
Riders. "You never saw such a mess!"

"I've seen all the big rodeos in the West," remarks a Texan of ancient lineage observing the scene, "but I've never seen a stampede like this."

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Roosevelt, trying to hold his horse in place, turns with a grin to Wood. "It may not be very military," he remarks, "but it's the grandest circus I ever saw." Meanwhile we see two boys competing for the love of the same girl-a Westerner and an Easterner, a country boy and a "swell;" we see another conflict, between a genial horse thief who has skipped jail to enlist and the sheriff who has enlisted to be near his man. But

always in the background moves the regiment.

And once more we see assembled the men and the horses; two weeks have passed; the energy and firmness and understanding of two human dynamos have done their work; the motley aggregation is a regiment, beginning to know the why and wherefore of that odd word "Obedience," and beginning to love the two men who have taught them that it is not incompatible with an American's self-respect.

Like the story of the lovers, the story of the regiment develops toward its cli

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The Merchant Marine and the Navy

A Plea that the Nation Awake to Its Own Interest

By CAPTAIN R. D. GATEWOOD, U. S. N.

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for a merchant marine is appre

ciated in very many sections of this greatest of all commercial nations. It is quite easy to see how even the average intelligent and well-informed person in the interior of our country cannot well realize how extraordinarily difficult it is to have an efficient merchant marine and

T

Foreign Commerce

HERE is not a single industry in the United States that is so self-sustaining or so independent that it does not have to rely on foreign commerce to supply it with some material or article before it can manufacture its own product. Nor is there a single important industry that does not have to rely on

come to pass, world trade will expand
vastly. How can we compete commer-
cially in the great future markets if we
are forced to pay our competitors at
the rates that will be set by them to
"fetch and carry" for us? Surely this is
all too obvious.
The Navy

to overcome the many handicaps oper- foreign trade to absorb some part of its Bur this is only part of one side of

ating against us in our efforts to accomplish this. Indeed, few people know how many million man-hours go into the making of a single ship, how many trades are involved, and how many industries are called upon to contribute their products toward the completed vessel. How much less, therefore, can they know of the intricate and complex details of operating vessels all over the world and getting cargoes for them going and coming in this most competitive of all businesses in the world-shipping! This would require years of intensive study and experience, but it only requires a few seconds' thought and a little common sense to appreciate the necessity for a merchant marine. It is So obvious as to be axiomatic, and yet there are millions who do not know

finished product. How long could a
manufacturer or merchant remain in
business if he allowed his competitor to
be solely responsible for bringing him
his raw materials and for carrying away
his finished goods? How long, I ask
you, could he be expected to make a
profit? And yet that is precisely the
state of affairs that would prevail with-
out an American merchant marine.

As the standard of living in the world.
increases and luxuries of to-day become
the necessities of to-morrow, as the pur-
chasing power of many nations increases,
as of course it must when exchanges
have been stabilized and when produc-
have been stabilized and when produc-
tivity has returned to normal, as the
more readily available supplies of raw
materials are exhausted, necessitating
locating new sources of supply in the far

the shield, the so-called commercial side. The other is the military side. After a merchant marine has helped us earn our fair profit in the world markets we must have a navy to help us protect this profit. No right-minded person denies the need for a navy. Men may differ as to the number, size, and type of vessels that go to make a well-balanced, efficient fleet, but all agree that some navy is necessary. But how can we have a navy without a merchant marine? It is unthinkable. Surely we of this generation learned that lesson in the Great War. We must have merchant vessels of our own, not only to carry supplies to and from our fleets and armies, but to train a seafaring personnel so that it will be available to man military vessels in time of war.

has not been stressed enough. Most people believe that a merchant marine is part of a navy only in time of war. Not at all. A merchant marine is part of a ravy at all times. There may be some argument as to whether aircraft should form an arm of the army or the navy, but there is not the slightest doubt that a navy without a merchant marine is no navy.

Moreover, the Government is mandated to the people to maintain the 5-5-3 ratio of naval strength set by the Conference on the Limitation of Arma. ments. Since the merchant fleet is an integral part of the Navy, it must clearly be kept at its proportionate strength. It seems certain that non-productive naval fleets will be reduced by similar future conferences. This, then, will obviously make the relative strength of merchant fleets still more important and necessary to maintain. Unless we do this we are deliberately handing over to the British and the Japanese our share of the ratio. Our National safety depends on maintaining our ratio. Could any stronger argument be needed as a necessity for a merchant marine?

J

The Cost of Neglect

UST let me present some figures to think over. It is said that we are not "ship-minded;" but do you know that during the fifteen years between 1795 and 1810 we carried ninety per cent of the world's commerce in American-flag ships? Impelled by a variety of causesdirect subsidies by other governments, slowness to appreciate the value of steel construction, ease of making fortunes through the development of great natural resources in the interior of our country-we slowly left the sea for the temptations of the land, until during the next hundred years we had dropped down to eight per cent in 1910.

When the Civil War came, we had no adequate Navy or merchant ships effectively to blockade the few important ports of the South. When the Spanish War came, we had no merchant ships to carry supplies or troops to even the little army we had sent to Cuba.

Do you know that in 1900 no American-flag ship sailed from our shores to the following countries: Russia, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Italy, Hungary, Greece, or Turkey? In that same year only two small sailing vessels left our shores for France, and both of them returned in ballast. One small sailing vessel left for Belgium, and returned in ballast.

When President Roosevelt sent the fleet around the world in 1908, we had to use foreign-flag merchant vessels to

carry coal and supplies for those few naval vessels. When the World War came, the great majority of our raw material imports and our exports were being carried in foreign vessels. Surely we remember how the South was paralyzed remember how the South was paralyzed and in the hands of the banks for years after 1914 because there were no ships to carry its cotton and other products to countries that needed them so vitally.

No less an authority than Senator Wesley Jones, of Washington, the bestinformed man on shipping matters in the Senate, has very recently said: "It is a conservative estimate, in my judgment, that our lack of ships at the beginning of the World War has cost our people more than $7,500,000,000. This is equivalent to an annual expenditure of $75,000,000 a year for one hundred years. What more is needed to show an intelligent and patriotic man from the financial side alone that we can well afford to pay out $25,000,000 to $30,000,000 000,000 a year for new ships and aid in the construction of new ships and their operation? No matter what others may do, I consider it so important for us to have a merchant marine that I am prepared to vote for any measure, no matter what it is nor by whom proposed, that offers a reasonable hope of giving us merchant ships."

I

A Profitable Investment

N the fiscal year just ended the Shipping Board received a revenue for freight, passengers, and mail, $81,038,731. Suppose, now, that we had no merchant marine other than our own coastwise fleet. We would have paid this $81,000,000 over to foreign steamship lines. Yes, and we would have paid a great deal more than this, because the freight and passenger rates would unquestionably have been a great deal higher, since they would have been entirely controlled by our competitors in world trade.

Again, in the fiscal year just ended the Shipping Board expended $97,700,710, and the larger portion of this amount was spent in the United States. Let us analyze this for just a minute and see what it means. About $15,000,000 was spent for crews' wages to American officers and seamen, who in turn spent most of it in the United States; over $10,000,000 was spent for food, stores, and equipment, practically all of this in the United States; about $23,000,000 was spent for fuel, practically all of it in the United States; over $17,000,000 was spent for stevedoring, a great deal more than half of this being spent in the United States; about $9,000.000 was spent for commissions,

fees, and brokerage, a great deal more than half of it in the United States; $6,000,000 was spent in repairs, practically all of it in the United States; over $4,000,000 was spent in administrative expense and advertising, practically all of this in the United States. Figures as large as these serve to indicate what a great difference it would make to the industries and citizens of this country if all this expenditure were made in foreign countries instead of in our own.

Let me quote further from Senator Jones's splendid presentation of the case: "The freight money that the Government receives for the carriage of its cargoes while it owns and operates the ships is not the sole measure of its profits and the value of these ships. While we have had to take money from the Treasury to make good the deficit in their operation, we must not overlook the tremendous influence these ships have had in holding down ocean-carrying charges. Surely no one can doubt but that if we had not had American ships on the seas, as we have had during the last five years, ocean freight rates would have been much higher, to the great advantage of the foreign shipowner and to the great disadvantage of the American producer and manufacturer. The benefit to American business of every kind far exceeds the Treasury outlay."

But what is this Treasury outlay? For the last three years it has been less than six per cent of the total appropriations for the Navy. For the fiscal year just closed it has been less than $20,000,000. For the next year it will be around $15,000,000, or about the cost of one new scout cruiser. This is less than some of our single States spend on roads in a year.

Is it fair, or right, or proper to call this "loss" in any real sense? It represents actually the "cost" of three very vital things:

(1) The hauling and delivering of a proportion of our own raw materials and finished products of farm, factory, and forest;

(2) The best and only possible insurance on maintenance of reasonable and low freight rates, enabling our farmers and manufacturers to compete in the markets of all the world, because we run services (275 ships) to every continent and in all oceans; and

(3) Maintaining an absolutely necessary arm of the Navy.

Can any one tell how to make "Treasury outlay" do more than that, or where a dollar of public money can be spent to better advantage to all of our people than on the merchant marine?

X

Edited by EDMUND PEARSON

Voyageurs

Reviews by DRAKE de KAY

ENOPHON'S Anabasis is the
noble ancestor of innumerable
works of travel and adventure.

It would be hard to find a better cri-
terion for this narrative type unless one
harked back to the myth of the Trojan
War. The 13,000 Greek mercenaries
were protagonists of an epic contest.
Backbone of the Satrap's army, their
assault upon the vastly superior forces
of Artaxerxes is one of the most gallant
incidents in the annals of war. The
campaign that was to win fame and for-
tune netted precisely nothing-nothing
but eternal glory!
bles, Cyrus slain, Clearchus treacher-
ously murdered, the retreat to the Black
Sea a fight at every step, prevailing
against implacable nature herself. A
Grand Army that did not succumb to
the Cossacks and the cold, but crossed

Cunaxa a sham

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the Beresina, decimated, yet without the loss of a standard. It is a thrilling theme and a great one because it combines two contests-that of man with man, and man versus nature. Wherefore it stands to-day in the first rank of travel and adventure stories.

In none of the books under consideration do we find this basic struggle set forth so boldly and unequivocally. They are not of the hero fellowship. Nevertheless each casts a faint reflection of those primal contests. No idle whim prompted Mr. Brooks' and his two companions to trudge a long month the roads and lanes of Surrey, Sussex, and Kent under rucksacks, when the trip might have been made in the compara

1 Roundabout to Canterbury. By Charles S. Brooks. Harcourt, Brace & Co., New York. $3.

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tive comfort of a Ford in a quarter of the time, not missing one of those charming village inns or conversations with droll characters in taprooms and cinemas. But nature in the English countryside, as they must have foreseen. is a tender mother. The worst she could do was to blister a heel.

Mr. Brooks writes with a bubbling humor and makes no effort to delve beneath the smiling surface, nor does he dispel cherished beliefs in the mutton monotony of the cuisine and the excellence of native brews. Our jazz, movies, and (worst of all) our chewing-gum have made themselves thoroughly at home. It was inevitable that three Americans on such a tour should somewhere encounter a downright John Bull Englishman and be reminded of our Naer's frank denunciation should result in tional failings, and also that the island

the pleasantest evening of bicker about an inn table. Mingled with apt quotations from the poets (mostly minor), the author offers a sample or two of his own light verse, which he modestly admits does not approach Mr. Belloc's level. When you have turned the last of these pleasant pages, embellished by the penand-ink illustrations of Julia McCune Flory, you may not straightway resolve when next in England to tramp through the southeastern counties, but you will certainly include in your itinerary the Mermaid Inn at Rye.

A book of quite another color is Mr. Wallace Thompson's, since the author has written objectively and with the intention of giving the reader at least an outline of political, economic, and social conditions in the five Central American republics. Panama and British Honduras are not included. He has occasional recourse to statistics, but never to a burdensome extent, the atmosphere of the book suggesting first-rate journalism. One is conscious of the author's skill in gathering and analyzing facts as well as of his ability to present them in the most interesting manner. It is a revelation to find that each of these tiny countries is endowed with a distinct personality, that the aim of the idealists in all of them is to achieve political union.

Although an enthusiast, Mr. Thompson sees his subject in true perspective. The beauties of nature, the marvelous richness of the soil, the cultivation and

2 Rainbow Countries of Central America. By Wallace Thompson, F.R.G.S. E. P. Dutton & Co., New York. $5.

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