The Saturday Evening Post 1918-01-12: Vol 190 Iss 28

Page 1

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4 ‘ - NOTICE TO READER. When you finish A ah H i BUS 3 : ei ¥ reading this copy of The Saturday Evening . . an . ; . Post place a U. S. 1-cent stamp on this notice, om 7 : : * hand same to any U.S. postal employee, and i A Oo F } 2 . s & ¥ a4 « 4 .- & . it will be placed in the hands of our soldiers or « a 4 ¢ -—- 4 ee, eS e' seilors at the front. No wrapping, no address. A. S. Burleson, Postmaster General. ~ he Se vs Ll Fic JANUARY 12,1918 | 5c. THE COPY In This Number Marion PolK Angellotti—Ernest Poole—Isaac F. Marcosson—Will Payne—David Lawrence Charles E. Van Loan—John Fleming Wilson—Samuel G. Blythe—Arthur Train—Will Irwin

Page 2

HE most conspicuous example of tire beauty, mile-producing quality, sturdy strength and downright honest value on the market. Made only with the famous Fisk Non-Skid tread-—sold Time to Retire? by dealers everywhere. | FISK RED TOP

Page 3

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I eeemnipeneellile 0 BES SA CSN PES | GA GD) SSE GES | RY ds es a eee at the Brake Drnon- take nochances with shoddy brake lining. Complete control is most essential, Line your brakes with genuine Raybestos. Guaranteed to wearone year. 15,0(0 dealers sell it.. Identified by the Silver Edge. Above everything else, be sure of efficiency, THERE—at the brake drum. Pay a few cents more for guaranteed wear and get—

Page 4

‘awe THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ > | Serve Ihem Every Day In Some Appetizing _form for Breakfast, Luncheon And Dinner » Br kd 5 eat .s a, Sy eae Armour's Oat Porridge Armour's Oat Bread ead Armour's Oat Cookies Armour's Oat Macateons 4 let Ae Armour's Oat Mush AARTICULAR housewives by the thousands have been captivated by the surprising excellence of Armour’s Oats. Not only because their flavor is so distinctively inviting, but because they can be cooked in so short a time—not more than 10 or 15 minutes being required. And the almost unlimited variety of ways Armour’s Oats can be prepared, pleases the thrifty woman intent on conserving food, at the same time she serves her family economically and well. For Armour’s Oats are not to be thought of merely as a wholesome, strengthening breakfast cereal. Carefully-tested recipes on every package are a guide to the preparation of low-cost, enjoyable Oat Bread, Oat Cookies, Oat Pancakes, Oat Macaroons, Oat Mush, Oat Muffins and other dishes equally as appealing, for breakfast, luncheon and dinner. Just think, you can serve Armour’s Oats at two meals a day for a month and never use the same recipe twice! ARMOURS OATS The Satisfying Economy Food Only a large organization like the Armour Grain Company, with country-wide grain gathering facilities; a corps of buyers to select grains where crops grow the best; a distinctive process of milling ; and unequaled distributing equipment, can produce such superior oats. Put Armour’s Oats on your pantry shelf and never be without. You will find them a satisfying alternative for many higher- priced, less-plentiful foods. Order a pack- age or two from your grocer today. Trade Supplied by Armour Grain Co., Chicago Try These Two Economical Recipes Armour’s Oat Mush Pack oat porridge left from breakfast in greased 1-lb. bak- ing powder box. Cover to prevent crust forming. Next morning remove, slice thin. Dip in flour, brown in greased frying pan. Serve with maple syrup. ee i iii | | | | | Armour’s Oat Pancakes 16 cup Armour’s Oats, ‘4 cup boiling water, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 cup flour, 1 cup milk, 1 table spoon sugar, 2 teaspoons baking powder. Place oats in bowl, add salt and boiling water—let stand five minutes—add milk, then flour and other ingredients. Mix thor- oughly and bake on hot griddle. — January 12,1918 renee te WA RAAKARS SRC

Page 5

spe one OP — eed Published Weekly The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President C.H. Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer P. S. Collins, General Business Manager Walter D. Fuller, Secretary William Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphia London: 6, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W. C Founded A’D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Copyright, 1918, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britein George Horace Lorimer THE SATURDAY (cries A.W. Neall, Associate Editors EVENING POST ™: Walter H. Dower, Art Editor Entered at the Philadelphia Post-Office as Second-Class Metter Entered as Second-Class Matter ot the Post-Office Department Onewe, Canada ee Volume 190 PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY 12, 1918 Number 28 REFLY OF tearful, lonesome small boy whose loneli HE restaurant of the Hotel St. Ives varful, lonesome sm: y whos seems, as I look back on it, an odd By Mari OF Po lk Angellotti ness went away forever with his welcom- spot to have served as stage wings for a melodrama, pure and simple. Yet a melodrama did begin there. No other word fits the TLLVUSTRATEDO Br ing hug—just arrived from his home in Washington to eat a farewell dinner with me, and for the hundredth time to impress upon me that GRANT T. REYNARD case. The inns of the Middle Ages, which I believe reeked with trapdoors and cutthroats, pistols and poisoned daggers, offered nothing weirder than my experience, with its first scene set beneath this roof. The food there is superper- fect, every luxury surrounds you, millionaires and traveling princes are your fellow guests. Still, sooner than pass another night there I would sleep airily in Central Park, and if I had a friend seeking New York quarters I would guide him toward some other place. It was pure chance that ent me to the St. Ives for the night before my steamer sailed. Closing the doors of my apart- ment the previous week, and biddinggood-bytotheservants who had maintained me there in bachelor state and comfort, I had accompanied my friend Dick Forrest on a farewell yacht cruise, from which I re- turned to find the first two hotels of my seeking packed from cellar to roof. But the third had a room free, and I took it without the ghost of a presentiment. And what would or would not have hap- pened if I had not taken it is a thing I like to speculate on. To begin with, I should in due course have joined an ambulance section somewhere in France. I should not have gone hobbling on crutches for a painful three months or more. Ishould not have in my possession four shell frag- ments, carefully extracted by a French surgeon from my fortunately hard head. Nor should I have lived through the dreadful moment when that British officer at Gibraltar held up those papers, neatly folded and bound with bright, inappropriately cheerful red I had better not go. “It’s a wild-goose chase,’ he snapped, attacking his en- trée savagely. Heaven knows it was to prove so, and wilder than his dreams could paint; but if there were geese in lit, myself included, there was also to be a swan! “You don’t really mean that, Dunny,” I said firmly, continuing my dinner. It was a good dinner; we had con sulted over each item, from cocktails to liqueurs; and we are both of us distinctly fussy about food. “T do mean it!” insisted my guardian. Dunny has the biggest heart in the world, with a cayenne layer over it, and this layer is always thick- est when I am bound for dis- tant parts. “I mean every word of it, I tell you, Dev!” Dev, like Dunny, is a misno- mer; my name is Devereux Devereux Bayne. “‘ Don’t you risk your bones enough with the confounded games you play? What’s the use hunting shells and shrapnel, like a hero in a movie reel? We're not in this war yet, though we soon will be, praise the Lord! And till we are I believe in neutral- ity—upon my soul I do!” “‘Here’s news then!” I ex- claimed. “‘I never heard of it before. Well, your new life begins too late, Dunny; you brought me up the other way. The modern system, you know, makes the parent or guardian responsible for the child, so thank yourself for my unneutral nature and for the war medals I’m going to win!” Muttering something about impertinence he veered to another tack. “If you must do it,” he croaked, “‘ why sail for Naples instead of for Bor- deaux? The Mediterranean is tape, and with an icy eye de- manded an explanation be- yond human power to afford. All this would have been spared me. But on the other hand I could not look back on that dinner on the Turin-Paris rapide. I should never have seen that little ruined French village, with guns booming in the distance, and the nearer sound of water running through tall reeds and over green stones and between great mossy trees. Indeed, my life would now be, comparatively speaking, a cheerless desert, because I should never have known the most Well, all clouds have silver linings; some have golden ones with rainbow edges. No, I am not sorry I stopped at the St. Ives; not in the least! At any rate there I was, at eight o’clock of a Wednesday evening, in a restaurant full of the usual lights and buzz and glitter, among women in soft-hued gowns and men in their hideous substitute for the same. And across the table sat my one-time guardian, dear old Peter Dunstan— Dunny to me since the night when I first came to him, a very “This Paper,’ She Whispered, “‘Has Something in It. It is Not About Me; it is Not Even True. But it May Make Troubie"’ full of those pirate fellows You read the papers—the headlines anyway; you know it as well asI. It’s suicide, no less! Those Huns sank the San Pietro last week! I say, young man, are you listening? Do you hear what I’m telling you?” It was true that my gaze had wandered, toward the close of his harangue. I like to look at my guardian; the fine old chap, with his height and straightness, his bright blue eyes and proud silver head, is a sight for sore eyes, as they say. But just then I had glimpsed something that was even better worth seeing. I am not impressionable—but I was impressed by this girl, I must confess. She sat far down the room from me. Her back alone was visible, save for a somewhat blurred side view reflected in the mirror on the wall. Even so much was, however, more than welcome, including as it did a smooth white neck, a small shell-pink ear, and a mass of warm, crinkly, red-brown hair. She wore a rose-colored gown, I noticed, cut

Page 6

4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST low, with astring of pearls; and her sole escort was a staid, elderly, precise be- ing, rather of the family lawyer type. “T haven’t missed a word, Dunny,” I assured my vis-a-vis. “I was just wondering whether Huns and pirates had quite a neutral sound. And you know I have to go via Rome to spend a week with Jack Herriott; he has been pestering me for a good two years, ever since he’s been secretary there.” Grumbling unintelligible things my guardian tasted his Chablis; and I, crumbling bread, lazily wishing I could get a front view of the girl in rose color, filled the pause by rambling on. “Duty calls me,” I declared. “You see, I was born in France. Shabby treatment on my parents’ part, I’ve always thought it; if they had hurried home before the event I might have been President and declared war here instead of hunting one across the seas. In that case, Dunny, I should have heeded your plea and stayed; but since I’m ineligible for chief executive, why linger on this side?” He scowled blackly. “I'll tell you what it is, my boy,” he accused with lifted forefinger; “‘you like to pose, that’s what is the matter with you! You like to act stolid, matter-of-fact, correct; you want to sit in your xmbulance and smoke cigarettes in- differently, and raise your eyebrows superciliously when shrapnel bursts round! And it’s all very well now; it looks picturesque; it looks good form, very! But how old are you, eh, Dev? Twenty-eight, is it? Twenty-nine?” *Youshould know, none better, that I am thirty,” I responded. “ Haven't you remembered each anniversary since I was five, beginning with a hobbyhorse, and working up through knives and rifles and ponies to the latest thing in cars?”’ Dunny lowered his accusing finger and tapped it on the cloth. “Thirty,” he repeated fatefully. “‘Allright, Dev. And strong and fit as an ox, and a crack polo player, and a fair shot and boxer, and not bad with boats and cars and horses, and pretty well off too! So when you look bored it’s picturesque; but wait! Wait ten years, till you take on flesh and the doctor puts you on diet, and you stop hunting chances to kill yourself and play golf instead, like me! Then, my boy, when you look stolid you won't be romantic. You'll be stodgy, my boy. That’s what you'll be!” Of all words in the dictionary there is surely none worse than this one. The sugges- tions of stodginess are appalling, including, even at best, hints of overweight, general un- interestingness, and a disposition to sit at home in smoking jacket and slippers after one’s evening meal. And as my guardian sug- gested, my first youth was over. [held up both my hands in token that I asked for grace. “ Kamerad!" L cried pathetically. “‘Come, Dunny, let’s be sociable. After all, you know, it’s my last evening; and if you call me such names you will be sorry when Iam gone! By the way, speaking of Hung— it was you, the neutral, who mentioned them—does it strike you there are quite a few of them on the staff of this hotel? I a that blond-haired, blue-eyed menial—do you think he saw his first daylight in these United States?” The menial in question was a uniformed bell boy wind- ing in and out among tables and paging some elusive guest. As he approached his chant grew plainer. ““Mr. Bayne,” he was droning, “Room Four Hundred and Three.” . I raised a hand in summons, and he paused beside my seat. “Telephone call for you, sir,”” he informed me. With a word to my guardian I pushed my chair back and crossed the room. But at the door I found my path barred by the maitre d’hétel, who had sprung forward at sight of my progress like an arrow from a bow. “Excuse me, sir; you’re not leaving, are you?” The man was actually breathing hard. Deferential as his bearing was, I saw no cause for the inquiry, and with some amusement and more annoyance I wondered whether he suspected me of slipping out to evade my bill “No,” I said, staring him up and down, “I’m not!” And I passed down the hall to the entrance of the telephone booths. Glancing back, I could see him still standing there gaz- ing after me; and his face, I thought, wore a relieved expression as he saw whither I was é bound, : The queer incident left my mind as I se- cluded myself, got my connection, and heard across the wire the indignant accents of Dick Forrest, my former college chum. Upon leav- ing his yacht that morning I had promised him a certain power of attorney— Dick is a lawyer, and is called a good one, though I can never quite credit it—and he now demanded with unjudicial heat why it had not been sent round. “Good heavens, man,” I cut in remorsefully, “I forgot it! The thing is in my room now. Where are you? That’s all right—you'll have it by messenger within ten minutes.” And hastily rehooking the receiver I bolted from my booth. In the restaurant door against a background of paneled walls the maitre d’hdtel still stood, as if watch- ing for my return. I sprang into an elevator just about to start its ascent, and saw his mouth fall open and his feet bring him several quick steps forward. “The man is crazy,”’ I told myself with conviction as I shot up fourstories in as many seconds and was deposited in my hall. There was no one at the desk where the floor clerk usually kept vigil, gossiping affably with such employees as passed. The place seemed deserted; no doubt all the guests were downstairs. Treading lightly on the thick carpet I went down the hall to Room Four Hundred and hope they won’t poison me. Look at the head 4 wondered Whether He Suspected Three,andfound the door ajar waiter; look at half the waiters round; and see fe of Sipping Out te Buade My Bitt and a light visible inside. January 12,1918 My bed, I supposed, was being turned down. Iswung the door open, then halted in my tracks. With his back to me, bent over a trunk which I had left locked but which now yawned wide open, was a “Aecording to Rumor the Duke of Raincy+las:Tour Was Lately Intrusted With a Mission man. of Exceptional Peril, Involving a Flight Into Hostile Territory"’ Stepping inside I closed the door quietly, the while I scrutinized my unconscious visitor from head to foot. He wore no hotel insignia—was neither porter, waiter nor valet. “Well, how about it? Anything there suit you?” I inquired affably with my back against the door. Exclaiming gutturally he whisked about and faced me where I stood quite prepared for a rough-and-tumble— and I saw, instead of a typical housebreaker of fiction, a pale, rabbitlike, decent-appearing little soul. He was neatly dressed; he seemed unarmed, save for a great ring of assorted keys; and his manner was propitiatory and mild-eyed as that of any mouse. There must be some mis- take. He was some sober mechanic, not a robber. But on the other hand he looked ready to faint with fright. ** Mein Gott!” he murmured in a sort of fishlike gasp. This illuminating remark was my first clew. “Ah! Mein Herr is German?”’ I inquired, not stirring from my place. The demand wrought an instant change in him—he drew himself up, perhaps to five feet five. “‘Vat you got against the Germans?” he asked me almost with menace. It was the voice of a fanatic intoning Die Wacht am Rhein; a zealot speaking for the whole embattled Vaterland. The situation was becoming farcical. ‘“‘ Nothing in the world, I assure you,”’ I replied. ‘‘ They are a simple, kindly people. They are musical. They have given the world Schiller, Goethe, the famous Kultur, and a new conception of the possibilities of war. But I think they should have kept out of Belgium, and I feel the same way about my room—and don’t you try to pull a pistol or I may feel more strongly still!” ~ “T ain’t got no pistol, nein,” declared my visitor sulkily. His resentment had already left him; he had shrunk back to five feet two. “Well, I have, but I'll worry along without it,” I re- marked with a glance at the nearest bag. In the light of targets I don’t regard my fellow creatures with great enthusiasm, and moreover I could easily have made two of this mousy champion of a warlike race. Illogically, I was feeling that to bully him was sheer brutality—besides which my dinner was not being improved by the delay. “Look here,” I said amiably. “I can’t see that you've taken anything. Speak up lively now; I'll give you just one chance. If you care to tell me how you got through a locked door, and what you were after, I’ll let you go. I’m off to the firing-line, and it may bring me luck!” Hope glimmered in his eyes. In broken English, with a childlike ingenuousness of demeanor, he informed me that he was a first-class locksmith—virst-glass he called it who had been sent by the management to open a reluctant trunk. He had entered my room, I was led to infer, by a mistake. “I go now,*ja?” he concluded, as postscript to the likely tale. “The devil you do! Do you take me for an utter fool?” I asked, excusably nettled; and stepping to the telephone I took the receiver from its hook. “Give me the manager’s office, please,” I requested, watching my visitor. “‘Is this the manager? This is Mr. Bayne speaking, Room Four Hundred and Three. I’ve found a man investigeting my trunk—a foreigner, a Ger- man.” An exclamation from the manager, and from the listening telephone girl a shriek. “Yes, I have him. Yes, of course I can hold him. Send up your house detective, and be quick! My dinner is spoiling - e The receiver dropped from my hand and clattered against the wall. The little German, suddenly galvanized, had leaped away from the trunk, not toward me and the door beyond me but toward the electric switch. His fingers found and turned it, plunging the room into the darkness of the grave. Taken unawares I barred his path to the hall, ee a ee \ " «= ee — a ee

Page 7

only to hear him fling up the window across the room. Against the faint square of light this revealed I saw him hang poised a moment; then, with ~ desperate noise, a moan of mixed resolve and terror, he disappeared. a TANDING there staring after him I felt like a murderer of the deepest dye. It is one thing to hand over to the police their natural prey, a thief taken in the act—quite another, and a much more harrowing one, to have him slip through your fingers, precipitate himself into midair, and drop four stories to the pavement, scattering his brains far and wide. There was not a vestige of hope for the poor wretch. Unnerved, I groped to the window and peered downward for his remains. My first glance proved my regrets to be superfluous. Beneath my win- dow — which, owing to the crowded condition of the hotel, opened on a side street—a fire escape descended jaggedly; and upon it just out of arm’s reach my recent guest clung and wab- bled, struggling with an attack of natural vertigo before pro- ceeding toward the earth. By this time my rage was such that I would have followed that little thief almost anywhere. It was not the dizziness of the yawning void that stayed me I would have climbed the Mat- terhorn with all cheerfulness to catch him at the top. But sun- dry visions of the figure I would cut,the crowd that might gather, and the probable ragging in the morning papers were too much for me, and I sorrowfully ad- mitted that the game was not worth the price. The little man’s nerves, mean- while, seemed to be steady- ing. Feeling each step he began cautiously towork his way down. To my wrath he even looked up at me and indulged in a gri- mace—but his triumph was ill- timed, for at that very instant I beheld, strolling along the street below, humming and swinging his night-stick, as lei- surely, complacent and stalwart a representative of the law as one could wish to see. ‘‘Hi there! Officer!’’ I shouted lustily. My hail, if not my words, reached him; he glanced up, saw the figure on the ladder, and was seized in- stantaneously with the spirit of the chase. Yelling something reassuring, the gist of which escaped me, he constituted himself a reception committee of one and started for the ladder’s foot. But our doughty Teuton was a resource- ful person. Roused to the ur- gency of his plight he looked wildly up at me, down at the officer, and then hastily pushing up the nearest window hoisted himself across its sill, and again ‘took refuge in the St. Ives Hotel! With a bellow of rage the policeman dashed toward the porte-cochére, while I ducked back into the room, rapidly revolving my chances of cut- ting off the man’s retreat below. If the system of number- ing was the same on every floor my thief must of course emerge from Room Three Hundred and Three. But this similarity was problematical; and to invade apartments at random, leaving a trail of women’s shrieks behind me and maybe even waking babies, was too desperate a shift to try. There remained to wait, with what patience I could summon, for the house detective. And where was he, by the way? I had turned in my alarm a good five minutes ago! In an unenviable humor I stumbled across the room, tripping and barking my shins over various malignant hassocks, tables and chairs. Finding the switch at last I flooded the room with light, and saw myself in the mirror, with tie and coat askew. “Now,” I muttered, straightening them viciously, ““we’llsee what he took away.”” But the trunk seemed undis- turbed when I examined it, and my various bags and suit cases were securely locked. I had found Forrest’s power of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST attorney and was storing it in my pocket when voices rose outside. A group of four was approaching, comprising a spruce dress-coated manager; a short, thick-set, broad-faced man who was doubtless the long-overdue detective; a professional-appearing gentleman with a black bag, obvi- ously the house physician; and the policeman whom I had summoned from his stroll belew. The latter, in an excit- able brogue, was recounting his late vision of the thief, ‘hangin’ between hivin and earth, no less’’; while the detective scornfully accused him of having been asleep or jingled, on the ground of my late telephone to the effect that I was holding the man. The manager, as was natural, took the initiative, bus- tling past me into my room and peering eagerly round. “I needn’t say, Mr. Bayne,” he orated fluently, “how sorry Iam Not Impressionable —But I Was Impressed by This Girt, I Must Confess I am that this has happened—above all, beneath our roof. It is our first case, I assure you, of anything so regret- table. If it gets into the papers it won’t do us any good. Now the important thing is to take the fellow out by the rear, without courting notice — Why, where is he?” hopefully. ‘Surely he isn’t gone?” “Sure, and didn’t I tell ye? ’Tis without oies ye think me!” The policeman was resentful, and so, to tell the truth, was I. The whole maddening affair seemed bent on turning to farce at every angle; the doctor, as a final straw, had just offered sotto voce to mix me a soothing draft! “Gone? Of course he is gone, man!” some natural temper. I exclaimed with “Did you expect him to sit here waiting all this time? What on earth have you been doing—reading the papers—playing bridge? A dozen thieves could have escaped since I telephoned downstairs!” “But you said,” he murmured, apparently dazed, “‘ that you could hold him.” A tactless remark, which failed to assuage my wrath. “So I could,” I responded savagely “But I didn’t expect him to turn into a conjuring trick, which is what he did! He went out that window head foremost, down the ladder, and into the room below. Let’s be after him though we stand as much chance of catching him as we do of finding the King of England!” And I turned toward the doorway, where the manager, the doctor and the detective were massed. The manager put his hand upon my arm. I looked down at it with raised eyebrows, and he took it away. “‘ Excuse me, sir,” he said, adopting a manner of appeal, “‘but if you'll reflect for a moment you'll see how it is, I know. People don’t care for houses where burglars fly in and out of windows; it makes them nervous; you wouldn't believe how easily a hotel can get a bad name and lose its clientéle! Besides, from what you tell me, the fellow must be well away by this time. You'd do mea favor—a big one— by drop- ping the matter here.” “Well, I won't!" I snapped indignantly. ‘‘I'll see it through — or start something still livelier! “Are you coming down with me to investigate the room be- neath us or do you want me to ring up police headquarters and find out why?” The policeman, in the hall, on the outer fringe of the group, looked at me across the inter- vening heads and dropped one slow, approving lid. “If the gintleman says so ” he re- marked in heavy tones fraught with meaning, and fixed a cold blue appraising gaze on the de- tective, who thereupon yielded with an unexpectedly good grace. “Aw, what’s eating you?’ was his amiable demand. ‘Sure, we was going right down there anyhow soon’s we found out how the land lay up here.” The five of us took the ele- vator to the lower floor. An unfriendly atmosphere sur- rounded me; I was held a hotel wrecker without’ reason and without ruth. We found the corridor empty, the floor desk abandoned—a state of things rather strikingly the duplicate of that reigning overhead-——and in due course paused before Room Three Hundred and Three, where the manager, figuratively speak- ing, washed his hands of the affair. “‘Hereistheroom, Mr. Bayne, for which you ask.” If I would persist in my nefarious course, added his tone. The detective, obeying the hypnotic eye of the policeman, knocked. There wassilence; the bluecoat, my one ally, was crouching for a spring. Then light steps crossed the room and the door was opened. There stood a girl—a most attractive girl; the girl whom I had seen downstairs. Straight and slen- der, spiritedly gracious in bear- ing, with gray eyes questioning us from beneath lashes of crinkly black, she was a radiant figure as she stood facing us, with a coat of bright-blue velvet thrown over her rosy gown. “Beg pardon, miss,” said the policeman brightly; “this gintleman’s been robbed.” As her eyebrows went up a fraction I could have mur- dered him, for how else could she read his statement save that I took her for the thief? “IT am very sorry,” I explained, bowing formally, ‘‘to disturb you. We are hunting a thief who took French leave by my fire escape. “‘T must have been mistaken in again by this window. thing of him, of course? “No, I haven’t. But then, I just this instant came up from dinner,” she replied. Her low contralto tones, quite impersonal, were yet delightful; I could have stood there talking burglars with her till dawn. ‘‘ Do you wish to come in and make sure that he is not in hiding?” With a half smile for which I didn’t blame her she moved a step aside. Continued on Page 66) I thought that he dodged You have not seen or heard any- ”

Page 8

Tihe R NYONE who imagines that Russia and her armies are no longer one of the immense deter- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ussian Armies in Revolt January 12,1918 “But the Russian sol- diers are children, accus- tomed to guidance from above; and so, in forming mining factors in this war is blind to the true state of things. For if the Bolshev- iki fail Russia may still ount in the war; and if the Bolsheviki succeed their ‘success is bound to affect the radica} forces in other lands. It may even start an impulse that will sweep all over Europe. For Europe is in a state of change, in which what hap- pens in one nation is sure, to a greater or less degree, to have an effect on all the rest. Old things are gone, and what new things are la- tent there we do not know. In Europe at the present time there are thirty-five million men in arms. For the most part this stupen- dous mass has been under firm control. But now over ten millions are in revolt, and what they will do it is hard to tell. They are the force in Russia to-day; all factions are bidding for their support. And even if their Government makes peace before this article is published they are not through; for you cannot demobilize ten million men without giving rise to dis- orders so vast as to be felt round the world. Moreover, out of the chaos of rioting and civil war into which Russia is plunging now there may arise in the next few months some leader or some great idea round which all or part of the armies will rally again. For the Russian soldier is by no means a coward. In the past he has fought as bravely as any soldier on the earth. He will not fight now because he sees no cause for which he will give his life; in his mind there is still no connection between the Revolution and the war begun by the Old Régime. But deep down within him is that slow-burning passion, that semireligious zeal which, if given.a great idea or some great personality, may yet become a terrific force in a revolutionist army. For three years we have read of disciplined armies. Here is one of another kind. And for those of us who are watch- ing this war with an eye to what may lie ahead, it is well to try to understand clearly and in full detail the growth and organization of these committees of soldiers, which have shown such real vitality that the fate of Russia seems now in their hands. For what has happened in the army is a deep and vital part of their whole Revolution, which we, as a democracy, should do our best to comprehend before try- ing to pass judgment. It may affect all Europe more than we can realize now. Al Campaign of Education HE most comprehensive view of the rise and swift devel- opment of the Russian committees of soldiers was given me in August, 1917, by General Verkhovsky, then in com- mand of all the troops in the region about Moscow. Soon afterward he became Kerensky’s Minister of War. A tall man, about forty years old, slightly stooped, with close-cropped black hair and a high receding forehead, he wore glasses over serious eyes, and spoke, with a strong accent, a slow deliberate English. Altogether he appeared more like a student than a general. And yet he wore the Cross of St. George for conspicuous bravery; and only a few days before, in the open court of the Kremlin, he had addressed thousands of soldiers with such success that after his speech they had seized him and tossed him three times in the air, which is the Russian soldier’s way of giv- ing three cheers for an officer. Here was a man who, placed in command of nearly three million mutinous troops, had succeeded, at least to some degree, in building up a following. How had he done it and what was his aim? I was interested to find out. I talked to him in the Kremlin, in a low red-stucco palace there, close by the church where the czars were crowned. “To begin with,” he said, “you Americans should understand what our armies were like before the Revolution Three-Fourths of the Russian Soldiers War With Germany, Nor By ERNEST POOLE their new committees, they almost always included cer- tain officers they could trust. Though I had been Chief of Staff of a newly formed army division, the soldiers, sailors and work- men of Sebastopol made me chairman of their head committee there, which controlled both the Fortress and the Black Sea Fleet. And so it was at other points. Only where there were no really intelligent leaders to explain the true aims of the Revolution did the soldiers mutiny against the Provisional Govern- ment. “Meantime, in Petro- grad, Kerensky had begun | to do the first thing that was needed—to replace the higher officers by men in whom thesoldiers had faith. He transferred me to Mos- cow and put me in charge of one-fourth of the armies. I found utter disintegration here. At once, where it was possible, I put into the higher commands officers + the men would trust and took place. Three-fourths of the Russian soldiers did not know how to read or write, and they had no conception of the state. They knew only that they had a Czar, and that they must obey him or they would be flogged. They did not understand at all why we were at war with Germany, nor had they any idea of the danger to Russia if Germany won. No one had thought it worth while to explain. The army had been kept in hand by the discipline of the lash. There was no Russian Army, but only an armed people. “And so, when the war had lasted two years, the men began to show signs of revolt. In the summer of 1916 the whole Seventh Siberian Army Corps refused to advance; and this was no isolated fact. With little or no understand- ing of what they were fighting for, the soldiers mutinied time and again. I found disorders last winter at many points along the Front. There was a lack of food and fuel, of clothing and munitions. Often, in some sections, the troops had little or nothing to eat for three or four days. Scrofula and scurvy were all along the Russian line. *‘Moreover, most of the best officers had been killed earlier in the war, so many of the regiments had but three or four real officers. The rest were merely makeshifts with no military training. And the higher officers had too often been selected not for fighting qualities, but because they upheld the Old Régime. That this régime was growing pro-German, few of us had any doubt. Rumors of more and more intrigues for a separate peace kept reaching us, and most of us officers at the Front felt we should be beaten unless there was a speedy change. In December I went to Petrograd to tell the real Russian patriots that unless there was a revolution soon all would be lost. “But when the Revolution broke out, to the ignorant peasant soldier the new freedom meant anarchy—freedom from duties of every kind. And from what he had known of his officers he feared that to obey them might lead him back under the Old Régime, with a loss of his new liberty. The political and the social revolutions were mixed in his head; and, besides, he had inherited dense ignorance from the past. The Bolsheviki at the Front urged him to use his new power against the Russian bourgeois; and the only bourgeois at the Front were the officers, who had better pay and better meals and living quarters. So he put them down as bourgeois and started the class struggle preached by the Bolsheviki. There were many German agents, too, and written proclamations were sent over from the German side. The situation was made worse by the fact that the Allies refused to agree to the new Russian peace terms of no annexations or contributions. The Russian soldier gathered from this that the Allies did want annexations. He put them down as imperialists, who were in the war for what they could get. Did Not Read or Write. They Did Not Understand at All Why They Were at Had They Any Idea of the Danger to Russia if Germany Won who at the same time had had real military training. It was hard to get the two combined; so instead I often put in a man for his qualities as a soldier, and then gave him as his aide an efficer fitted to explain to the men the plans of our new Government. “*To get a better life,” we said, ‘for the whole Russian people, we must save the Revolution from enemies within and without.’ In Europe there had been two czars; and the one in Berlin was still on his throne, and was straining his utmost now to win such a victory as would endanger not only Russian liberty but freedom in every liberal land. ‘And so, tovarisch [comrades], we must fight!’ Through the soldiers’ committees we spread the idea that every sol- dier must obey, must drill and get ready to go to the Front—to defend the Revolution. In my region I was able to put my supporters in control of many soldiers’ commit- tees, so that the simple soldier heard the same thing from his officer and from the soldiers’ committee he himself had organized.” Beginnings of Discipline “C10 MUCH foreducation. In this we have still made only a start, for we have had to fight against both the Ger- man and the Bolsheviki propaganda against the war. And, therefore, for those who refused to obey we must of course resort to force. But what kind of force? That was a ques- tion so difficult that, at first, we did little or nothing at all. But we have made headway even in this. “The first step was the handling of individual soldiers who took advantage of the lack of restraint to commit all sorts of petty crimes. For such crimes we formed in each company a little court of soldiers, and for the more serious crimes we organized regimental courts, which included a few wfficers. This system had large success and is spread- ing through the army. Soon every soldier will understand that for every offense he will be punished, not by hostile powers above but by his own comrades in arms. “The second question was how to control not only indi- viduals but whole regiments in mutiny. For this, of course, we had to wait until we had won a strong support. What we tried to do was to show the men that our new discipline was a vital part of the Revolution, and that all mutineers were, therefore, counter-revolutionists. In this we have already had some success. At Nizhni-Novgorod last month, when several regiments mutinied, our organization was so strong that, with the approval of the soldiers’ com- mittee here, we were able to send detachments of cavalry and infantry and artillery to Nizhni. There we surprised the mutineers and so were soon able to bring them to terms. Their leaders are in prison now, not to be tried by a soldiers’ court but by a high court-martial. But meantime this whole affair was explained in a proclamation, one hundred

Page 9

| } } i | w thousand copies of which were sent to the committees of soldiers under my command. “In brief, we have always tried not to work against the committees, but through them. We have always explained as we went along. It is slow, but it is the only way to build up a real discipline based on the consent of all. And no other kind is possible here. We can issue no arbitrary com- mands, as they could under the Old Régime. We issue every order in the name of the Revolution, and we try our uttermost to make every soldier understand. And by this plan we have at least made considerable headway. The soldiers’ courts, both higher and lower, are now beginning to handle all the individual crimes. ““Mutiny is on the decline. Regiments are beginning to drill back here in the depots, whereas a month ago there was still no drill at all. «Before, my staffs were isolated. Now they are connected by telegraph and telephone. From the depots we are already able to send regiments to the Front. And there, while as yet they will not advance, at least they stay in the trenches and are holding the Rus- sian line. “The retreat at Tarnopol, with its terrible loss of life, was a lesson to all mutineers. For the Old Régime saying still holds true: ‘It takes a clap of thunder to cause the {ussian peasant to bow and make the sign of the cross.’”’ This was the point of view of one of the highest men in command. Through all the disorders this winter it will be well to keep in mind that such men still exist in Russia and may, at almost any time, regain a powerful following. A somewhat similar viewpoint, though from a dif- ferent angle, was given me in Petrograd by a leader in the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Deputies. The majority of that council was in favor of going on with the war; all summer speakers at the Front were trying hard to build up the morale of the army. And this man was one of three in the council’s special army committee who had been directing the attempt to restore some measure of discipline. A Petrograd lawyer before the war, he had enlisted as a volunteer, had been at the Front for nearly three years and had become an officer. He was a socialist of one of the moderate factions. In figure trim and vigorous, with a strong dark face and clear black eyes, he spoke English fluently. His voice was hoarse, because for three days and nights he had been almost constantly speaking to soldiers at the Front. The Reign of Chaos ” RACTICALLY all real socialists of military age,”’ he said, ** have been at the Front since the war broke out; for that is part of socialism. You must socialize danger first of all. If your country is in danger, cer- tainly you must bear your share. I myself was a volunteer. But that does not mean you must blindly THE SATURDAY EVENING POST there was immense rejoicing; but then, as the Revolution dived deep into our whole national life and meantime played the devil with our soldiers at the Front, most of the officers changed their tune. “In our sector of the Western Front there was food for only thirty-six hours. After that it was each man for him self; and the soldiers took things into their hands. Most of them acted simply like a lot of boys turned loose. They talked and argued and sang songs; they hurrahed for the great Revolution and got food wherever they could. As a rule there was no violence; but here and there they seized the chance to pay off old scores with officers. On top of this came the Bolsheviki and German secret agents, starting trouble everywhere, haranguing the soldiers and giving out leaflets, persuading them to climb out of the trenches and fraternize with the enemy. ** Meantime the false rumor spread that there was panic everywhere in Russian towns and | villages and robbery and murder. And hun- dreds of thousands of soldiers went home, both to protect their families and to get their share of the land, which they heard was to be given } obey a Government like that of the Czar. And so when hea 2 that Govern- | ft mentwould have made a separate [ais peace, we turned out the Czar and his followers and put ina Government of } our own. “IT was down at the Front at the time. In our officers’ composed of men of all political parties, we had talked against the Old Régime; for we knew they were hindering the war in every way that was possible, and were in constant touch with Ber- lin. Then we guessed they would try to bring on a fake Revolution in Petrograd in order that they mess, ~ _ Saat — . st at, A Regiment From the Front, Loyal to Kerensky. Tke Banner Reads “Freedom Through Victory"’ to the peasants. Within a week there were in Russia hundfeds of long heavy trains, the cars packed full of soldiers, while others rode upon the tops and ran the engines. There were some frightful disasters. One train ran away on a long down grade and collided with a freight train that was filled with dynamite. “If anyone is a pessimist as to the lack of discipline now he has only to think of those early days and of the improvement we have made. But at first our work went slowly; and it was a tragic position for those officers, like myself, who were known as radicals and who therefore still had some control. For the simple soldiers, who are like children, said to us: ‘Now all is changed. We need not die, might have an excuse to break their treaty with England and France. But their fake Revolution soon became real; for the Cossacks from our division, who had been summoned to Petrograd to put down the disorders, turned against the Old Régime, even firing on the police. Other regiments did the same. The army made the Revolu- tion a success withina week. And at first among our officers Loyat Troops Guarding Botsheviki Guns Captured in the July Insurrection and we are going to live like kings! To begin with, we want bread and peace.’ And we could give them neither. They said: ‘We are peas- ants. We want the land.’ And we had to reply: ‘You must wait for that until the war is over.’ So they said: ‘Then the Revolution has done nothing for us at all!’ Many grew bitter against us because we stood out for discipline. Since last spring I have received four hundred and fifty letters threatening me with death for having betrayed the new liberties. Some say the soldiers’ com- mittee caused the confusion. It was not so. The confusion came first; and it grew so bad that the soldiers saw they must restore some kind of order and system, if only to get food supplies. So they began to form their committees. They organized first by companies, and soon there wer hundreds of such committees hunting about for food supplies on foot or in mo- tors, or even on trains. They saw this method would not work; so the small committees be gan to combine in committees for each regi- ment. But even this proved a failure. Not only to get food supplies but to settle all kinds of questions be- tween them- selves and their officers, they saw they must have a st ronger and wider or- ganization. They came to some of us for advice; and we then directed that one officer Women Soidiers of the Battalion of Death in the Kremlin, Moscow and four men from each regi- ment should be sent as delegates to a congress of our army. There were sixteen thousand delegates, repre- senting six hundred thousand men. The congress chose some fifty men to form a head committee, and this group was left in charge. “And this happened all along the Front. With cer- tain variations, each of the eighteen armies worked out a plan about like this: One big committee for the army and one for each corps and for each division, for each brigade and each regiment. That is the system in force to-day.” The First Army Congress “TTNHE soldiers were by no means against all their officers. There was a good deal of violence against the officers who were believed to favor secretly the Old Régime; but the average soldier’s attitude was not vicious or vindictive; it was simply that of a peasant boy who had lived in a small village, knew nothing of the aims of the war, had been in the trenches for three years and saw no reason for getting killed. He was often utterly staggered by the power and the problems that rose up in front of him, and his instinct was to turn to educated men for help. In our first army con- gress sixteen thousand soldiers elected fifty deputies, and of these fourteen were officers, two were colonels and one was a captain serving on the general staff. To this group I belonged. ‘But there were many officers who felt nothing but disgust for the whole Revolution and would do noth- ing to help our work. This attitude was especially true among the men in the higher commands. They wished to try to abolish all the new committees. We knew it was impossible, and we felt that through the committees lay our only chance of restoring discipline. Little by little we tried to build up a new revolutionist army. In the com mittees we tried to cut out all discussion of the land and other social problems. We said: ‘Our part in the Revolu- tion, boys, is to hold back the enemy and give Kerensky a chance at home to build a new free Russia. If we let the Germans in there will be the devil to pay; and in the mess that follows, the Czar may climb back on his throne. We’ ve got our job cut out for us. There are problems enough right here at the Front without borrowing any more from home.’ We tried to keep them working on such matters as the food supplies and other immediate daily needs. We tried to hold them all in line. “But it has not been easy work. It has been a constant struggle between us and the extremists to control the great unwieldy mass of soldiers in each regiment. process of building up a structure, which is then pulled down—but not all down; and so each time we build some- thing stronger. It has been like this: Soldiers arise in a regiment as violent agitators, gain power and are made delegates to committees higher up; but the farther up they Continued on Page 78) It has been a

Page 10

HE financial center of the world, as the [son is at present constituted, or as it is likely to be for a long time to come, is the junction of Broad and Wall Streets in New York. Here stand the Subtreasury, the House of Morgan, the Stock Exchange, the Hanover Bank and the Bankers’ Trust; and hard by are scores of other tremendous money institutions. Here is the center of the world’s money mart, and here and hereabouts are the counters, strong boxes and offices of the men who are managers and trustees of that mart. It was raining on the world’s financial center on the after- noon of Wednesday, October 24, 1917—raining a hard, cold, drenching rain, and the wind blowing in from the sea whipped that cold rain across the open spaces in sheets. It was a nasty afternoon—a time to stay indoors. Everybody who could, and some who shouldn’t, stayed indoors too. The curb market, down Broad Street a bit, had stopped an hour and a half before. The clerks were getting ready to scuttle for the Subway. The lights were lit, and shone mistily through the wet. A dismal day was dismally closing. An old man, a little bent at the shoulders, without over- coat or umbrella, came to the junction of the two streets, buffeting his way through the rain and hurrying as fast as he was able for some important place. He met another man, younger, big and sturdy, who was on an errand through the wet. They stopped for a moment, shook hands and said a word or two. Then the old man hastened along Wall Street, and the younger man turned down Broad. That was at half after four o’clock on the rainy after- noon of Wednesday, October twenty-fourth. The older man was George F. Baker, chairman of the board of direc- tors of the First National Bank of New York, one of the greatest financial institutions in the world. The younger man was Daniel G. Reid, capitalist, director in many of the great banking and industrial institutions. Both men are very rich; both are multimillionaires; both are what the demagogues term plutocrats. Their errands were identical. Mr. Baker, aged seventy- seven, was out in that rain, without coat or umbrella, because he had heard of a place where his solicitation might get a big subscription to the second Liberty Loan. Mr. Reid was on his way to secure a similar result. They had been out most of that day. And they were not the only ones in New York. Scores and scores of the greatest financiers, capitalists, bankers and millionaires in New York were hastening about at that identical hour, urging, demanding, securing millions upon millions for the success of the loan that meant and still means the success of the war. Mr. Reid sold fifty million dollars in Liberty Bonds, Mr. Baker as much, if not more. Others sold their millions upon millions. And all subscribed millions themselves. The Place Where Money Grows N=: morning the New York papers carried a dispatch from Oklahoma City giving excerpts from an interview a reporter had with the Hon. Champ Clark, speaker of the National House of Representatives. In that interview Mr. Clark was reported as saying that a ring of New York finan- ciers were hampering the Government in its Liberty Loan campaign, endeavoring to make it a partial failure, so the next loan would bear a higher rate of interest. “These men,”’ so a part of the reported interview ran, “are the spiritual descendants of the ring that operated during just such an emergency during the Civil War, and by their methods forced the price of war bonds to forty and fifty, and one day to thirty-nine. It is the duty of every citizen to make this loan a success’in spite of these New York traitors. I positively refuse to divulge the source from which I obtained the information upon which I make this accusation.” That was the next morning. Later Mr. Clark withdrew his accusation; but that isn’t the point. The point is that he said it at all, and the further point is that when he did say it he gave voice not only to a sentiment that undoubt- edly was prevalent throughout the country, but to a senti- ment that has been prevalent for a long time, which is that the rich men of the country are lacking in patriotism, and concerned only in the accumulation of money, by whatever means, and generally to the detriment of the people. It is a natural human trait to disparage the means and methods of a man who has more money than you have. That is as old as time, as old as man. Some years ago we as a people began to make a political tenet of that dispar- agement, and to assai!] wealth as a political issue. Most of the radical movements in politics in this country have had for their basis the denouncing of wealth and its owners; and this was rather definitely set into concreteness by President Roosevelt with his own peculiar line of denunci- ation, wherein he flayed “‘ predacious plutocrats,”’ “‘male- factors of great wealth,”’ ‘men with soft bodies and hard faces,” and so on. It has become a sort of creed with the THE SATURDAY EVENING FOST ND THE DEMA( By SAMUEL G. BLYTHE great bulk of Americans. Consequently Speaker Clark wasn’t voicing his own ideas particularly. He was merely reciting what had come to him by absorption, for outside of New York there is little good said of New York, and espe- cially of the rich men of New York. New York is the place where most money is. Hence, New Yorkers come in for the greater denunciation. It simply is the result of the cause producing an exaggerated outside effect. This condition is not unique for New York, of course, for wealth is a red rag to the unwealthy wherever it is held. It is truer of New York because there is more of New York, more money and more men with money. Rich men of Chicago, in their measure, or of Philadelphia, or Boston, or St. Louis, or San Francisco, or of any other place, come in for their share. Thus, though I am writing this article about the rich men of New York, and what they have done and are doing to disprove the charges made concrete by Speaker Clark and mouthed for years and years by many another, I am writing it because I happen to be in New York at the moment. I could write the same sort of arti- cle about Chicago, or Philadelphia, or Boston, or St. Louis, or San Francisco, or any other place where there are rich men, treating each place in its degree but getting the same conclusions and finding the same facts. What I shall say here about the patriotism of the rich men of New York can be applied to the rich men of any other place, large or small, in the United States. The men of New York are not sui generis in this matter. They are in greater number. What I shall say about New Yorkers is equally applicable to all other Americans of similar responsibilities and wealth. It goes for all, for they have all proved up in the same way the New Yorkers have. The Cries of American Bolsheviki OR is this article any defense of the wrongdoings of wealth; or palliation of the abuses, both political and economic, of wealth; or excuse or exoneration therefor. With much money comes power, and that this power has been wrongfully applied, both in the accumulation of even greater stores of money and in the affairs of our Govern- ment, in injustice to the small fellow, and in many other despicable and sometimes criminal ways, is admitted. The rich men are no better than they should be—nor half so good. They deserve no consideration on that score. What I maintain is that they are not traitors, that they are as keenly alive to the needs of our Government in this crisis as any others—more keenly, no doubt, for they understand the financial needs of the country more clearly; and that their conduct since we went into the war has been highly patriotic and deserving of its meed of commendation. Iam no apologist for the plutocrats or defender of them; but when they are called traitors, when they are said to be using the needs of the country for their own personal ends, when they are held as nonpatriotic, as many do hold them, it is time to present a few facts to show that the accusa- tion is false and that the rich men of the United States are doing more than their share to help make the world safe for democracy and to help the United States secure and maintain its own safety. Ever since this war began the radicals of all sorts— including the various socialist, I. W. W., LaFollette, pacifist, free speech, pro-German and all the other domes- tic Bolsheviki— have ranted that this is a capitalistic war, some ascribing on* phase of capitalism to it and some another, but all agreeing that it id capitalistic, There is to be no argument about that here, but there is one thing that is undeniably true, and that is this: It wouldn’t be much of a war without the capitalists; it would not be a war at all without the capitalists. The men who fight the war come from the people, and so does some of the money that supports and provides and equips those men; but the great bulk of the money that the Government needs and must have comes from the capitalists, the men who have it and who have given it and are giving it ungrudgingly, and who will continue so to give it. It is the mere truth to say that we could not fight this war a minute if the men with money in the United States refused to loan that money to the Government. We never could have begun it, to say nothing of continuing it as far as we have continued it and forcing it to a successful issue as we shall force it. No system of taxation that could be devised would have secured enough money for the war, or a tenth of enough money for the war. No system of levy that could have been put in operation, save confiscation, could do this. Taxation can proceed only to a certain point. Confiscation would do no good, for confiscation would paralyze every productive source. This war must be conducted on the basis of faith and loans—credit from January 12,1918 the men who have credit to give, and the resources to make that credit of value. You may tax a man for all he has, but if you do that you cannot repeat. Loans are the basis of all warlike operations, and naturally !oans must be sought where there is something to loan. The Liberty Loans were great popular loans. Many millions of Americans did subscribe, but when the final figures are totted up it will be found that the great bulk of the money secured in the first and second Liberty Loans came from a comparatively few people, bulking them against our total population. So it will be with the suc- ceeding loans. Who were these comparatively few people? The rich men, of course, and particularly the rich men cf New York; not because the rich men of New York are more patriotic than the rich men of any other place, but because there are more of them, because New York is the money center not only of the United States but now of the world. The recent Liberty Loan is the most available medium for proving this statement, and for showing how unfounded the charge is that the financiers of New York, the rich men, are lacking in patriotism; but it is not the only medium. Complete tabulations have not yet been made of the statistical results of this second loan, but there are enough figures available to show that New York led in every way, not only in percentage of subscription above allotment, but in percentage of total wealth that sub- scribed-—that is, the rich men of New York loaned more money in proportion to their wealth than the rich men of any other section of the country; for it must not be for- gotten that the New York quota of the three-billion min- imum was three times greater than the quota of any other Federal Reserve district, and that New York’s oversub- scription was seventy-two per cent, while the next highest oversubscription was sixty-two per cent, and that in the Richmond district, where the quota was $120,000,000 as against the $900,000,000 required from New York. It is stated that New York subscribed five and thirteen- hundredths of the total wealth of the district in this second loan, which is incomparably greater than any other sub- scription figured on the same basis. The financiers of New York did this: the rich men of New York, the “‘ predacious plutocrats,” the “malefactors of great wealth.”” And in like manner and measure the same types of men, the rich men and financiers of other sections, did their great shares. But let me particularize about New York because New York is close at hand at the moment, still using the second Liberty Loan as an example, before going into proof along other lines. The New York Central Liberty Loan Committee was made up of twelve or fifteen of the most important bankers in the country, includ- ing Benjamin Strong, governor of the Federal Reserve Bank; J. P. Morgan, Jacob Schiff, Frank A. Vanderlip, George F. Baker, Charles H. Sabin, Albert H. Wiggin, Seward Prosser, and others of the leaders. During the Liberty Loan campaign these men met every day, and also they gave dozens of the men from their organizations, without cost, for the work. They not only directed the great city-wide campaign, but they as individuals gave most of the remainder of their time and effort to furthering the loan in their own institutions and among individuals and corporations they were in a position to reach. Patriots Denounced as Traitors HEY canvassed individually, and each subscribed liber- ally. It was on an errand of individual solicitation, or demand perhaps, that George F. Baker, aged seventy- seven, was out all that rainy day in October and on many other days, going from board meeting to board meeting, and urging increased subscriptions and greater effort; and Reid was on a similar errand. So, too, were dozens of other big men, rich men. They went to others who have money and secured subscriptions. They introduced resolu- tions in board meetings providing for subscriptions in increased amounts over the amounts previously voted. They worked night and day, and then they were set down as “traitors.” It is doubtful whether the amount secured for this loan can ever be separated into its interesting parts, as to the results obtained by individual work; but it can be stated that if these men, these rich men in New York, had con- tented themselves with subscribing merely what they felt they should subscribe the second Liberty Loan would not have been so great a success. If they had not gone out and worked unceasingly there would have been no such result. They made lists at their committee meetings, marked down men who had money and who had not done their share, and went at those men hammer and tongs. They watched board meetings sharply, and when a corpora- tion was laggard a member of the board of that corporation ae, = — oe ee

Page 11

i § | f saw to it that the directors came to taw in a fitting manner. They scoured the city, ransacked the banks, using their knowledge of financial New York discreetly, and they were responsible for the great showing made by New York, for the tremendous success of the loan there; and in like manner the rich men of Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston, San Francisco and every other city were the agents who made the loan a success. According to figures furnished by the National City Bank of New York, New York’s total subscription for the second Liberty Loan was $1,550,453,450. These figures are presumably those furnished by the Treasury Department. The figures of the New York Federal Reserve Bank at the time this article was written, revised and corrected to the first of December, are $1,134,769,300, and New York’s quota, for the minimum of three billions, was $900,000,000, and the quota for the maximum of five billions was $1,069,- 473,000—which gives an adequate idea of what these men did, notwithstanding the high success of the campaigns for smaller amounts. When I say rich men of New York I mean the active financiers, of course. There are many rich men in New York who are simply rich, and these do not come under the demagogical designation of plutocracy. They may be so described potentially, but not actually. Iam dealing with the men who are held by the unthinking to be the chief agents of the money devil—not only plutocrats but “‘ preda- cious plutocrats’’—and I am here to say that neither the first nor the second Liberty Loan would have been so successful either in New York or in any one of the eleven other Federal Reserve districts if these men of New York, and their type elsewhere, had not patriotically worked and tremendously contributed to make it a success. Even the money devil must have his due. Some Financial Life-Preservers S I HAVE said, I have used the second Liberty Loan as an example of the way these men have worked for their country in this crisis, because the thing is concrete, and the figure at hand. It must not be supposed that the only work the rich men of New York and of other cities have done in aiding the Government has been Liberty Loan work—far from it. Ever since the war began, in July, 1914, the rich men, the bankers and the financiers of New York and the United States, have been constantly in and at the service of the Government, and have done incalcula- ble labor, and subscribed and invested incalculable money, in order to make our country’s progress easier, or, indeed, in order that the country might make any progress at all. In the vaults of one of the great banking institutions in New York there were, late in November, three billion dollars in securities of foreign countries—three billion dol- lars! They were bonds mostly, all sorts of bonds—English consols, French bonds, Italian bonds, Swedish bonds, Spanish bonds—bonds from about every country under the sun. Three billion dollars of them in one banking THE SATURDAY EVENING POST institution! I do not know how many more there were in other banks, but I saw these. Now, then, these bonds— three billions of them—are held as collateral for loans fur- nished by the banks of New York to the rest of the world in order that war necessities might be met, and the furnish- ing of this money was as much to the benefit of the United States as selling Liberty Bonds was, for it helped to keep things stable and thus preserved the values of the securities of the United States. More than that, during the course of the war—I am speaking on the authority of one of the great financiers of this country and in round numbers—the financiers of the United States have absorbed two billion dollars’ worth of American securities sent here by foreign countries, fur- nished the money to buy them and hold things steady here. This, too, was as patriotic, in its way, as the buying of Liberty Bonds. It was as great a service to the United States. And the financiers of New York did it all in the course of the day’s work, and without advertisement or exploitation. Let me go farther along these lines and catalogue some of the other acts of financial patriotism by these men: Item: Since the war began, and before, New York financiers have loaned the Government—taken certificates of indebtedness—-for temporary and pressing use, more money than all the rest of the country together. Item: Since the war began New York has provided almost fifty per cent of all the funds used by the Govern- ment for war purposes. Item: Since our entry into the war New York financiers have pledged three hundred millions of dollars for banking loans to insure a stable money market. Item: During the course of the first Liberty Loan, when such campaigns were new to our people, who are, or were, unfamiliar with bond investments, New York subscribed three hundred million dollars to be used, if required, to bring shortages in other districts up to the required quotas, in order that the loan might be a success—that is, New York stood ready to go three hundred millions of dollars more than the more than a billion New York subscribed to make this first loan a success—to help out the other sec- tions of the country if help were needed because of the unfamiliarity of our people with bond investment. Item: In two months after the President made his appeal, New York’s Federal Reserve district added three billions of dollars to the resources of the Federal Reserve system by coming in with state banks and trust companies to that enormous amount. These are some of the ways the financiers of New York, the “ predacious plutocrats,”’ rallied to the support of the country. There was another instance of it that was vital: While the second Liberty Loan was in progress the price of the three and a half per cent bonds fell to two points below par, or to ninety-eight. They might have fallen far- ther, and if they had the effects on the loan then in progress might have been unfortunate, for even with the interest increased to four per cent for the second loan there was small incentive in buying four per cent bonds when three and a half per cent bonds, nontaxable, could be bought for ninety-eight. The Treasury Department was quick to see the danger of this, and the Treasury Department turned, as it alway does when in trouble, to the financiers in New York. It was imperative that these bonds should be supported in the market, absorbed as offered, held up to their par. Consequently a further organization of New York finan ciers was perfected, and in addition to all their labors in making the second Liberty Loan a success these New York men subscribed one hundred million dollars and bought the three and a half per cent bonds of the first loan, as they were offered, sustained the market and held up the bonds, thus immeasurably helping to make the second loan the great success it was; and while that was going on there were people out in our country, in all parts of America, calling them traitors, and mouthing abuse of them as fos- tering a “capitalistic’’ war for their own financial benefit Heavy Losses But No Complaints HESE men had invested to the extreme limit, to the extent of their capabilities and the capabilities of their organizations, both in the first loan and in the second loan, and on top of this they took a hundred millions more in order that the second loan might not fail. A hundred mil- lions of dollars! The quota of the Atlanta district, of the entire district, for the second loan, at its minimum of three billions, was only eighty millions of dollars; the quota of the Dallas district, the entire district, was only seventy- five millions of dollars; the quota of the Minneapolis dis- trict was but one hundred and five millions of dollars, and the quotas of the Richmond and Kansas City districts but one hundred and twenty millions of dollars each. These men took a hundred millions more of a previous loan, hauled in the slack to that enormous amount in addition to all they did for the first loan and all they were doing for the second loan. Handy sort of ‘‘traitors’’ to have in stock, it would appear. The decline in the values of securities which has been in progress for the past year has left nearly every one of these men poorer, by far, than he was a year ago. Various tables have been prepared showing just how severe these declines have been, but there is no need of quoting the figures or of referring to the situation further than to say that notwith- standing this falling in values of securities, nothwithstand- ing the fact that a rich man to-day is practically a poor man in many instances because of the nonfluidity of his securities and because of the lack of market for them nothwithstanding these severe losses—the men who have been aiding the Government with their money and their effort are not complaining. They are far better losers than the demagogues who assail them. I know a number of men who are millions poorer to-day than they were a year ago, and I have yet to hear a word of complaint out of them (Concluded on Page 48) The Greased Pig

Page 12

10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST hat Isn’t Necessary Business EN years ago this winter a good friend of mine had a Tie that distressed him. He was an officer of a flour- ishing bank, but that wasn’t the job he was working at ten years ago. He was over on the West Side of Chicago conducting a hastily improvised establishment where cold and hungry men could get a hand-out of sandwiches and hot coffee. He knocked off work late at night and came home in a depressed state of mind. There seemed to be no end of those men. There was no doubt that they were hungry or that they would remain hungry unless they could get food at some establishment where they didn’t have to pay for it. In the industrial centers of the United States there were a good many establishments that winter like the one my friend conducted. At the same time—as you will see if you care to look back at the newspaper files of that period many benevolent people were bestirring themselves as best they could to disc over some means of subsistence for those men which would be more flattering to a man’s natural self-respect than a free-soup kitchen. In most of the larger cities, | believe, there were “ mayors’ committees” or “‘citizens’ committees” to canvass all possible sources of employment in the hope of scaring up jobs, however tem- porary, for some hundreds of thousands of men who wanted to work but could find no work to do. As you will see by referring to the newspaper files, the country was then struggling with an exigent problem of unemployment. We had been enjoying a boom. Then in the fall there had been a financial panic followed by a sharp setback to business and industry. Plants were laying off hands, railroads curtailing employment. Broadly speak- ing, nearly every concern wanted less help and hardly any concern wanted more help. The Shortage of Labor and Materials HE business fabric of the country had shrunk, squeez- ing many people out of work. There are various ways of gauging the country’s industrial activity. Measuring the output of pig iron is one of them, because everything of iron and steel is made from pig, and the busier the country is the more iron and steel it will use. For two years we had been making upward of twenty-five million tons of pig iron annually. This setback occurred and the output dropped below sixteen million tons. Output of soft coal and various other trade indices tell the same story. Because there were no jobs five hundred thousand fewer immigrants came here than in the year before. The condition of the poor in industrial centers was dis- tressful, and benevolent people in trying to find a mana job were not at all particular whether the plant that might take him on was producing necessary things or the most theoretically superfluous things. They would as soon he went to work making bird cages as plows. The great thing was to get him work If you study the industrial history of these prosperous United States for the last forty years you will discover that the important problem has usually been to find jobs enough to go round. Excess of men in proportion to jobs has been an important problem far oftener than excess of jobs in proportion to men has. Underemployment has been pretty nearly a standing condition, while overemployment has happened very rarely. If yoursurvey extends to Europe you will see that unemployment, or underemployment, has By WILL PAYNE been even nearer toa chronic condition. Probably, by and large, unemployme: ¢ has been the greatest affliction of the poor. If the condition of labor has been slowly improving—as I think no informed and candid reader will deny—that is partly due to the invention of more jobs. Judging by long experience, a man who can invent jobs—as by bringing into use some new device whose production extends the demand for labor—is meliorating the condition of those who depend upon their hands for a livelihood. In its rela- tion to labor this war is simply a wholesale invention of new jobs. War has created an excess of jobs in proportion to men-—-an apparent labor shortage. We must make a great lot of things that we were not making a couple of years ago or even last year; of ships, twenty times as many as we made in 1916; of airplanes, thousands where we made only dozens before; vast quantities of guns of all sorts and sizes, army trucks, tents, uniforms. We must make this enormous quantity of new things while at least a million and a half vigorous young hands are laid off from pro- ductive work. There aren’t enough labor and materials in the country to make all the new things and all the old things too. The railroads can’t transport them; they are choked up with traffic now. There isn’t capital enough to finance all the old things and all the new. Last year we may have saved up out of our income, for Federal taxes and investments of all sorts, six or seven billion dollars— perhaps somewhat more than that. This year the Government wants nine- teen billions for taxes and investment in Liberty Bonds. Obviously we must cut down. We simply can’t carry this year’s program on top of last year’s program. We see that plainly in the shortage of labor, shortage of steel, shortage of coal, shortage of transportation—which have already developed. The only question is, How to cut down? Quite a lot of impulsive people are ready with the answer. They say: *“We must stop production that is not necessary to subsist the population and to carry on the war, so that all our materials and labor may be used for necessary subsistence and for war.” That sounds delightfully plausible and at first glance it looks quite simple, for the means of doing it are ready at hand, Congress having amply provided them. The Gov- ernment can say who shall get iron, steel, copper and who shall not. It can say who shall get coal and who shall not. It can say who shall get transportation and who shall not, A mere scratch of the pen, by the duly constituted author- ity at Washington, will settle any one of those questions as to any particular business. And as a matter of course, if any sizable business can’t get basic materials, fuel or trans- portation it must immediately shut up shop. Equipped in that ample manner for cutting out all non- essential production, let us take up the list of important products and look it over in alphabetical order. We at once come to automobiles. Certainly automobiles are not essential for subsisting the population or for carrying on war. Populations subsisted without automobiles from the Garden of Eden down to the present young century, and fought countless wars. Automobiles consume a great January 12,1918 quantity of steel. They consume the labor, first and last, of hundreds of thousands of hands. They use a great deal of transportation. They employ much capital. Among other things they use chrome steel, which is the sort the Government especially needs for munitions. The supply is limited and the Government’s needs promise to be almost unlimited. The Priority Board therefore rather naturally issued an order that no more chrome steel should be delivered to anybody except for munitions work. As you can’t make a watch without a mainspring, no matter how much other watch-making material you may have on hand, so you can’t make an automobile without all the essential parts. To shut off the supply of steel would be to shut down the plants. One nonessential busi- ness would be cut out at a stroke, in the vigorous fashion which some economists are advocating. Not So Easy As it Seems UT some untoward results of that course at once become evident. Scores of great factories stocked with various sorts of materials and representing altogether an investment running into hundreds of millions would stand idle—certainly not a good condition when we need su- premely to produce to the limit of our capacity in order to carry the burden of war. Tens of thousands of workmen would be thrown out of employment. Quite a lot of them own homes at the place of their employment. All of them with families are settled down there. Of course in time, with the present urgent demand for labor, they would be drawn off into other employments. But that would cer- tainly take some time. Meanwhile the men would suffer a good deal of hardship and for a time some part of them would certainly lie idle. Probably there isn’t a village of fifteen hundred inhab- itants in the United States which does not contain at least one family whose livelihood depends upon the automobile business. My observation of country towns leads me to believe that the average for a town of fifteen hundred to two thousand inhabitants would be about three families. True, some of that business—repairing and storing cars, and so on—would continue in gradually diminishing vol- ume. But if the automobile business were cut off every hamlet would feel the difference. Hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of credit rests on that business first and last. The country-town garage probably has its loan at the bank. The local dealer has his loan. Paper issued by the manufacturers is held by a good many investors and figures in a good many bank loans. Simply cutting out the automobile business would diminish many incomes, and it would send a very perceptible shiver through the fabric of credit at a time when the fabric can’t afford to shiver. The business pays many millions in taxes and buys, certainly, millions of Liberty Bonds. In short, when the people at Washington looked it over more carefully they saw that cutting out this nonessential business wouldn’t answer at all. So they got the manu- facturers together and arranged a rational program, which involved cutting down the output of so-called pleasure cars fifteen per cent to begin with and using for government work the manufacturing capacity thereby released. The Government wants for war purposes an immense quantity of things that can be made in an automobile factory more (Continued on Page 41) a | | Ses ee By ite Command Over Steet, Copper, Fuet, Transportation, the Government Can Shift Factory Production and Turn the Released Capacity Gradually Over to War Work

Page 13

| ' | } \ —- | Al MI HEN the returns were all in, a lot \ \ of people congratulated the winners of the mixed-foursome cups, after which the weak-minded ones sympathized with Mary Brooke and Russell Davidson. Sympathy is a wonderful thing, and so rare that it should not be wasted. Any intelligent person might have seen at a glance that Mary didn’t need sympathy; and as for Russell David- son, there never was a time when he deserved it. And in all this outpouring of sentiment, this handshaking and back-patting, nobody thought to offer a kind word to old Waddles. Nobody shook him by the hand and told him that he was six of the seven wonders of the world. It seems a pity, now that I look back on it. Possibly you remember Waddles. He was, is, and probably always will be, an extremely im- portant member of the Yavapai Golf and Coun- try Club. Important, did Isay? That doesn’t begin to express it. Omnipotent—that’s better. To begin with, he is chairman of the Greens Committee, holding dominion over every blade of grass which grows on the course. He is inti- mately acquainted with every gopher hole, hoof- print and drain cover on the club property. Policing two hundred broad acres is a strong man’s job, but Waddles attends toit in his spare moments. He waves his pudgy hand and says: ‘*Let there bea bunker here,” and lo! the bunker springs up as if by magic. He abolishes sand traps which displease him, and creates new ones. The heathen may rage, and sometimes they do, but Waddles holds on the even tenor of his way, hearing only one vote, and that vote his own. Then again, he is the official handicapper—another strong man’s job—with powers which cannot be over- estimated. Some handicappers are mild and apologetic creatures who believe in tempering justice with mercy and pleasing as many people as possible, but not our Waddles. Heaven pity the wily cup hunter who keeps an improved game under cover in order that he may ease himself into a competition and clean up the silverware! Waddles hates a cup hunter with a deep and abiding hatred and deals with him accordingly. There was once an 18-handicap man who waltzed blithely through our Spring Handicap, and his worst medal round was some- thing like 85. His fat allowance made all his opponents look silly and he took home a silver water pitcher worth seventy-five dollars. This was bad enough, but he crowned his infamy by boasting openly that he had outwitted Waddles. The next time the cup hunter had occasion to glance at the handi- cap list he received a terrible shock. “‘Waddy,” said this person—and there were tears in his eyes and a sob in his voice—*‘ you know that I'll never be able to play to a four handicap, don’t you?”’ “Certainly,”” was the calm response. “Then what was the idea of putting me at such a low mark?” “Well,” said Waddles with a sweet smile, “‘I don’t mind telling you, in strict confidence: I cut you down to four to keep you honest.” The wretched cup hunter howled like a wolf, but it got him nothing. He is still a four man, and if he lives to be as old as the Dingbats he wil’ never take home another trophy. Not only is Waddles supreme on the golf course but he dominates the clubhouse as well. He writes us tart letters about shaking dice for money and signs them “House Committee, per W.”’ Really serious matters are dealt with in letters signed ‘‘ Board of Directors, per W.’’ The old boy is the law and the prophets, the fine Italian hand, the mailed fist, the lord high executioner and the chief justice, and if he misses you with one barrel he is sure to get you with the other. You might think that this would be power enough for one weak mortal. You might think that there are some things which Waddles would regard as beyond his juris- diction. You might think that the little god of love would come under another dispensation—you might think all these things, but you don’t know our Waddles. He is afflicted with that strange malady described by the im- mortal Cap’n Prowse as “the natural gift of authority,” and such a man recognizes no limits, knows no boundaries, and wouldn’t care two whoops if he did. Come to think of it, the Kaiser is now under treatment for the same ailment. Since I have given you some faint conception of Waddles and his character I will proceed with the plain and simple tale of Mary Brooke, Bill Hawley and Russell Davidson, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST XED F By Charles E. Van Loan TELUS TRATE DO Br gz. F. Some of the Women Said That Mary Wasn't Pretty, But They Would Have Had a Hard Time Proving it to a Jury of Men Beth Rogers was in the foursome too, but she doesn’t really count, not being in love with anyone but herself. a ADIES first is a safe rule, so we will start with Mary. My earliest recollection of this young woman dates back twenty-and-I-won’t-say-how-many-more years, at which time she entertained our nei*hborhood by reviting nursery rimes—‘‘ Twinka, twinka, yitty tar,’’ and all the rest of that stuff. I knew then that she was an extremely bright child for her age. Her mother told me so. I used to hold her on my lap and let her listen to my watch, and the cordial relations which existed then have lasted ever since. She doesn’t sit on my lap any more, of course, but you understand what I mean. I watched Mary lose her baby prettiness and her front teeth. I watched her pass through that distressing period when she seemed all legs and freckles, to emerge from it a different being—only a little girl still, but with a trace of shyness which was new to me, and a look in her eyes which made me feel that I must be growing a bit old. About this time I was astounded to learn that Mary had a beau. It was the Hawley kid, who lived on the next block. His parents had named him William, after an uncle with money, but from the time he had been able to walk he had been called Bill. He will always be called Bill, because that’s the sort of fellow he is. As I remember him at the beginning of his love affair Bill was somewhat of a mess, with oversized hands and feet, a shock of hair that never would stay put, and an unfortunate habit of falling all over himself at critical moments. He attached himself to Mary Brooke with all the unselfish devotion of a half-grown New foundland pup, minus the pup’s rough dem onstrations of affection. He carried Mary’s books home from school, he took her to the little neighborhood parties, he sent her frilly pink valentines, and once only once—he stripped his mother's rose garden because it was Mary’s birthday. It also happened to be Mrs. Hawley’s afternoon toentertain the whist club, and she had been counting on those roses for decorations. If my memory serves me, she allowed Mary to keep the flowers, but she stopped the amount of a florist’s bill out of her son’s allowance of fifty cents a week. The Hawleys are all practi- cal people. ” Mary’s father used to fuss and fume and say that f+ he hoped Bill would get over it and park his big ‘~ “% clumsy feet on somebody else’s front porch, but I Y© don’t think he really minded it so much as he pre- tended he did. Mrs. Brooke often remarked that since it had to be somebody she would rather it would be Bill than any other boy in the neighbor- hood. Even in those days there was something solid and dependable about Bill Hawley; he was the sort of kid that could be trusted, and more of a man at sixteen than some fellows will ever be. During Mary’s high-school days several boys car- ried her books, but not for long, and Bill was always there or thereabouts, waiting patiently in the background When another youngster had the front-porch privilege Bill did not sulk or rock the boat, and if the green-eyed monster was gnawing at his vitals there were no outward signs of anguish. We always knew when one of Mary’s little affairs was over because Bill would be back on the job, nursing his shin on Brooke’s front steps and filling the whole block with an air of silent devotion. I suppose he grew to be a habit with Mary; such things do happen once in a while. Then Bill went away to college, and while he was strug- gling for a sheepskin Mary entered the débutante period. Some of the women said that she wasn’t pretty, but they would have had a hard time proving it to a jury of men. Her features may not have been quite regular, but the general effect was wonderfully pleasing; so the tabbies compromised by calling her attractive. They didn’t have a chance to say anything else, because Mary was always the center of a group of masculine admirers, and if that doesn’t prove attraction, what does? In addition to her good looks she was bright as a new dollar—so bright that she didn’t depend entirely on her own cleverness but gave you a chance to be clever yourself once in a while. Mary Brooke knew when to listen. She listened to Waddles once, from one end of a country-club dinner to the other, and he gave her the dead low down on the reformer in politics—a subject on which the old boy is fairly well informed. I think his fatherly interest in her dated from that evening—and incidentally let me say it was the best night’s listening that Mary ever did, because if Waddles hadn’t been interested—but that’s getting ahead of the story. “‘There’s something to that little Brooke girl!’’ he told me afterward. ‘‘A society bud with brains! Who'd have thought it?” Bill came ambling-home from time to time and picked up the thread of friendship again. It grieves me to state that an Eastern college did not improve his outward ap- pearance to any marked extent. He looked nothing at all like the young men ‘ve see in the take-’em-off-the-shelf clothing ads. He was just the same old Bill, with big hands and big feet and more hair than he could manage. He danced the one-step, of course—the only dance ever in- vented for men with two left feet—but his conception of the fox trot would have made angels weep, and I never realized how much hesitation could be crowded into a hesitation waltz until I saw Bill gyrate slowly and pain- fully down the floor. Mary always seemed glad to see him, though, and we heard whispers of an engagement, to be announced after Bill had made his escape from the halls of learning. Like most of the whispering done, this particular whisper lacked the vital element of truth, but the women had a lovely time passing it along. “‘Isn’t it just too perfectly ideal—sweethearts since childhood! Think of it!” “Yes, we so seldom see anything of the sort nowadays.” “There’s one advantage in that kind of match—they won’t have to get acquainted with each other after mar- riage.” “Well, now, I don’t know about that. Doesn't one always find that one has married a total stranger? Poor, dear Augustus! I thought I knew him so well, but 7 And so forth, and so on, by the hour. Give a woman a suspicion, and she'll manage to juggle it into a certainty. Shortly before Bill's graduation, the dear ladies at the wARD

Page 14

country club had the whole affair settled, even to the probable date of the wedding, and of course Mary heard the glad news. Naturally, she was annoyed. It annoys any young woman to find the most important event of her life arranged in advance by people who have never taken the trouble to consult her about any of the “reve Given Him a Mark That'll Make Him Draw Right Down to His Hand. He Won't Play Any Four+Flush Here" details At this point I am forced to dip into theory, because I can’t say what took place inside Mary’s pretty little head. [ don’t know. Perhaps she wanted to teach the gossips a lesson. Perhaps she resented having a husband pitch- forked at her by public vote; but however she figured it she needn’t have made poor old Bill the goat, and she needn't have fallen in love with Russell Davidson. Wad- dles says it wasn’t love at all—merely an infatuation; but what I'd like to know is this: How are you going to tell one from the other when the symptoms are identical? ar JERSONALLY, I haven't a thing in the world against Russell Davidson. He never did me an injury and | hope he will never do me a favor. Russell is the sort of chap who is perfectly all right if you happen to like the sort of chap he is. I don’t, and that’s the end of the matter so far as | am concerned. He hasn't been with us very long, and still it seems long enough. He eame West to grow up with the country, arriving shortly before Bill's graduation, and he brought with him credentials which could not be overlooked, together with an Eastern golf rating which caused Waddles to sit up and take notice Ostensibly Russell is in the brokerage business, but he doesn’t seem to work much at it. Those who know tell me that it isn’t necessary for him to work much at anything, his father having attended to that little matter. Some of the dear ladies were mean enough to hint that Mary had this in mind, but they'll never get me to believe it. At any rate the gossips soon had a nice juicy topic for conversation, and when Bill came home, wagging his sheep- skin behind him, he found the front-porch privilege usurped by a handsome stranger who seemed quite at home in the Brooke household, and, unles#1’m very much mis- tuken, inclined to resent Bill's presence on the premises. It just happened that | was walking up and down the block smoking an after-dinner cigar on the evening when Bill discovered that he was slated for second-fiddle parts again. Russell's runabout was standing in front of the Brooke place, there was a dim light in the living room, and an occasional tenor wail from the phonograph. I heard quick, thumping footsteps, a big, lumbering figure came hurrying along the sidewalk—and there was Bill Hawley, grinning at me in the moonlight. ‘Attaboy!” hecried, shaking handsvigorously. “‘ How're you? How’re all the folks? Gee, it’s great to be home again! How's Mary?” “She's fine,” said I. ‘‘ Haven't you seen her yet?” ** Just got in on the Limited at five o’clock. Thought I'd urprise her. Got a thousand things to tell you. Well, see you later!” He went swinging up the front steps and rang the bell. | was finishing my cigar when Bill came out again and tarted slowly down the walk. His wonderful surprise party had not lasted more than twenty minutes. I had to hail him twice before he heard me. We took a short walk together, and reached the end of the block before Bill opened his mouth. On the corner Bill swung round and faced me: “ Who is that fellow?”’ It wasn’t a question; it was a demand for information. “What fellow?” “Davis, or Davidson, something like that. Who is he?” There wasn't a great deal I could tell him. Bill listened THE SATURDAY EVENING POST till I got to the end of my string, with a perfectly wooden expression on his homely countenance. Then for the first, last and only time he expressed his opinion of Russell Davidson. “‘Humph!” said he. And aftera long pause: “‘Humph You may think that a grunt doesn’t express an opin- ion, but as a matter of fact it’s one of the most expres- sive monosyllables in any language. It can be made to mean almost anything. A ten-minute speech with a lot of firecracker adjectives wouldn’t have made Bill's meaning any clearer. The two grunts which came out of Bill’s system were fairly dripping with disapproval. “It’s a wonderful night.” I felt the need of saying something. ‘‘ Must be quite a relief after all that humid- ity in the East.”? “Uh huh.” “‘T understand you played pretty good golf on the col- lege team, Bill.” “Uh huh.” *“We've made a lot. of improvements out at the club. You won’t know the last nine now.” “Uh huh.” I couldn’t resist the temptation of slipping a torpedo under his bows. I thought it might wake him up a trifle. *‘Mary is playing a better game now. Davidson has been teaching her some shots.” Bill wanted to open up and say something, but he didn’t know how to go about it. He looked at me almost pit- eously and I felt ashamed of myself. “T’ll be going now,”” he mumbled. ‘“‘ Haven’t had much sleep the last few nights. Never sleep on a train anyway. See you later.” That was all I got out of him, but it was enough. It wasn’t any of my affair, of course, but from the bottom of my heart I -pitied the big, clumsy fellow. I felt certain that Mary was giving him the worst of it, and taking the worst of it herself, but what could I do? Absolutely noth- ing. In life’s most important game the spectators are not encouraged to sit on the side lines and shout advice to the players. As for Bill, I think he fought it out with himself that night and decided to return to his boyhood policy of watch- ful waiting. It wasn’t the first time that he had lost the front-porch privilege, and in the past he had won it back again by keeping under cover and giving the incumbent a chance to become tiresome. Bill declined to play the second-fiddle parts; he took himself out of Mary’s or- chestra entirely. He did not call on her any more; but I am willing to bet any sum of money, up to ten dollars, that Bill knew how many times a week Rus- sell’s runabout stood in front of the Brooke place. Five would have been a fair average. Russell had things all his own way, and before long we began to hear the same vague whisperings of a wedding, coupled with expressions of sympathy for Bill. Bill heard those whisperings too—trust the dear ladies for that—but he listened to everything with a good-natured grin, and even succeeded in fool- ing a portion of the female population; but he didn’t fool Waddles and he didn’t fool me. Bill met Mary at dinner parties and dances now and then, and whenever this happened the women watched every move that he made, and were terribly disappeinted because he failed to register deep grief; but Bill never was the sort to wear his heart outside his vest. Russell was very much in evidence at all these meetings, for he took Mary everywhere, and Bill was scrupulously polite to him—the particu- lar brand of politeness which makes a real man _ want tofight. Andthusthesummerwaned,andthe winter season came on—for in our country we have { only two seasons—and it was in November that old Waddles finally unbuttoned his lip and informed me that young Mr. Davidson would never do. It was in the lounging room at the country club. We had finished our round, and I had paid Waddles three bails as usual. It never costs less than three balls to play with him. We were sitting by the window, acquiring nour- ishment and looking out upon the course. In i the near foreground Russell Davidson was WG teaching Mary Brooke the true inwardness of the chip shot. He wasn’t having a great deal of luck. Waddles broke the silence by grunting. It was a grunt of infinite disgust. I searched my pockets and put a penny on the table. “For your thoughts,” said I. “They're worth more than that,” said Waddles. “Not to me.” There was a period of silence and then Waddles grunted again. “Get it off your chest,” I advised him. “That fellow,’ said Waddles, indicating Russell with a jerk of his thumb, “gives me a pain.” “And me,” said I. “I thought Mary Brooke had some sense,’’ com- plained Waddles; ‘but I see now that she’s like all Pe y January 12,1918 the rest—anything with a high shine to it is gold. Now the pure metal often has a dull finish.” “Meaning Bill?” I asked. “Meaning Bill. He isn’t much to look at, but he’s on the level, and he worships the very ground she walks on. Why can’t she see it?”’ “Why can’t any woman see it?”’ I asked him. “But somebody ought to tell her! Somebody ought to put her wise! Somebody + “Well,” I interrupted, ‘‘why don’t you volunteer for the job?” “Oh, Lord!’ groaned Waddles. ‘It’s one of the things that can’t be done. Tell her and you’d only make matters that much worse. And I thought Mary Brooke had brains!” There was a long break in the conversation, during which Waddles munched great quantities of pretzels and cheese. Then: “T wasn’t much stuck on that Davidson person the first time I saw him!" His tone was the tone of a man who seeks an argument. ‘“ He’s a good golfer, I admit that, but he’s a cup hunter at heart, he’s a rotten hard loser, and well, he’s not on the level!” “You've been opening his mail?” I asked. “Not at all. Listen! You know the Santa Ynez Gun Club? Well, he’s joined that, among other things. He’sa cracking good duck shot. I was down there the other night, and we had a little poker game.” “A little poker game?”’ said I. “Table stakes,’ corrected Waddles. ‘‘ Davidson was the big winner.”’ “You're not hinting —— “Nothing so raw as that. Listen! Joe Herriman was in the game, and playing in the rottenest luck you ever saw. Good hands all the time, understand, but not quite good enough. If he picked up threes he was sure to run into a straight, and if he made a flush there was a full house out against him. Enough to take the heart out of any man. Finally he picked up a small full before the draw —three treys and a pair of sevens. Joe opened it light enough, because he wanted everybody in, but the only man who ” fk ata te a’ Judging by the Language Which Floated Up Out of the Ravine it Must Have Been All of Provoking

Page 15

a ea | } } stayed was Davidson, who drew one card. After the draw Joe bet ten dollars for a feeler, and Davidson came back at him with the biggest raise of the night—a cool hun- dred.” “Well,” said I, “what was wrong with that?” “Wait. The hundred-dollar bet started Joe to thinking. He had been bumping into topping hands all the evening, and Davidson knew it. . ““*Tf I were you,’ says Davidson in a nice kind tone of voice, ‘I wouldn’t call that bet. Luck is against you to-night, and I’dJadvise you, as a friend, to lay that pat hand down and forget it.’ “Joe looked at him for a long time and then he looked at his cards; you see he’d been beaten so often that he'd lost his sense of values. “*You think I hadn’t better play these?’ asks Joe. “**T’ve given you a tip,’ says Davidson. ‘I hate to seea man go up against a sure thing.’ *“*Well,’ says Joe at last, ‘I guess you’ve done me a favor. It wasn’t much of a full anyway,’ and he spread his hand on the table. Davidson didn’t show his cards—he pitched ’em into the discard and raked in the pot—not more than fifteen dollars outside of his hundred.” “And what of that?” I asked. “Oh, nothing,” said Waddles; ‘nothing, only I was dealing the next hand, and I ar- ranged to get a flash at the five cards that Davidson tried to bury in the middle of the deck.” “What did he have?” Waddles snorted angrily. “Four diamonds and a spade! A four flush, that’s what he had! The two sevens alone would have beaten him! And all that sympathetic talk, that bum steer, just to cheat the big loser out of one measly pot! What do you think of a fellow who'd doa trick like that?” I told him what I thought, and again there was silence and cheese. “Do you think Mary is going to marry that—that crook?”’ demanded Waddles. “That’s what they say.” More cheese. “T’d like to tell her,” said Waddles thoughtfully, “but it’s just one of the things that isn’t being done this season. I'd like to give her a line on that hand- some scalawag—before it’s too late. I can’t waltz up to her and tell her that he’s bogus. There must be some other way. But how? How?” Waddles sighed and attacked the cheese again. You'd hardly think that a man could get an inspira- tion out of the kind of cheese that our House Com- mittee buys to give away, but before Waddles left the club that evening he informed me that a mixed- foursome tournament wouldn’t be half bad—for a change. “You won’t get many entries,” said I. ‘You know how the men fight shy of any golf with women in it.” 3 “Don’t want many.” “Then why a tournament?” I asked. “The entry fees won’t pay for the cups.” “I’m giving the cups,”’ said Waddles, and investigated the cheese bowl once more. “‘Two of ’em. One male cup and one female cup. About sixteen dollars they’ll set me back, but I’ve an idea—just a sneaking, lingering scrap of a notion—that I’ll get my money’s worth.” And he went away mumbling to himself and blowing cracker crumbs out of his mouth. Iv F COURSE you know the theory of the mixed four- some. There are four players, two men and two women, and each couple plays one ball. It sounds very simple. Miss Jones and Mr. Brown are partners. Miss Jones drives, and it is up to Mr. Brown to play the next shot from where the ball lies, after which Miss Jones takes another pop at the pill, and so on until the putt sinks. Yes, it sounds like an innocent pastime, but of all forms of golf the mixed foursome carries the highest percentage of danger and explosive material. It is the supreme test of nerves and temper, and the trial-by-acid of the disposition. In our club there is an unwritten law that no wife shall be partnered with her husband in a mixed-foursome match, because husbands and wives have a habit of saying exactly what they think about each other—a practice which should be confined to the breakfast table. There was a case but let us avoid scandal. She has a new husband and he has a new wife. Waddles’ mixed-foursome tournament was scheduled for a Thursday, and it was amazing how many of the male members discovered that imperative business engagements would keep them from participating in the contest. The women were willing enough to play—they always are, ° “« once bless ’em!—but it was only after a vast amount of effort and Mexican diplomacy that Waddles was able to lead six goats to the slaughter. Six, did I say? Five. Russell Davidson needed no urging. The man who gave Waddles the most trouble was Bill Hawley. Bill was polite about it, but firm—oh, very firm. He didn’t want any mixed foursomes in his young life, thank you just the same. More than that, he was busy. Waddles had to put it on the ground of a personal favor before Bill showed the first sign of wavering. When I arrived at the club on Thursday noon I found Waddles sweating over the handicaps for his six couples. “*Don’t You Care,"' Grinned Bill. “‘That's Just My Distance With a Mashie. And as for Long Grass, I Dote on It"* Now it is a cinch to handicap two women or two men if they are to play as partners, but to handicap a woman and a man is quite another matter, and all recognized rules go by the board. I watched the old boy for some time, but I couldn’t make head or tail of his system. Finally I asked him how he handicapped a mixed foursome. “With prayer,” said Waddles. ‘With prayer, and in fear and trembling. And sometimes that ain’t any good.” I noted that he had given Mary Brooke and Russell Davidson the lowest mark—10. Beth Rogers and Bill Hawley were next with 16, and the other couples ranged on upward to the blue sky. “Of course,”’ I suggested, ‘‘the low handicap is some- thing of a compliment, but haven’t you slipped Davidson a bit the worst of it?” “Not at all,” growled Waddles. ‘“‘He was just crazy to get into this thing, and he wouldn’t have been unless he figured to have a cinch; consequently, hence and by reason of which I’ve given him a mark that'll make’ him draw right down to his hand. He won’t play any four- flush here.” Waddles then arranged the personnel of the foursomes, and jotted down the order in which they would leave the first tee. When I saw which quartet would start last I offered another suggestion. “You’re not helping Bill’s game any,”’ said I. “You know that he doesn’t like Davidson, and ~” Waddles stopped me with his frozen-faced, stuffed-owl stare. In deep humiliation I confess that at the time I THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 13 attributed it to his distaste for criticism. I realize now that it must have been amazement at my stupidity. “Excuse me for living,” said I with mock humility. “There is no excuse,’’ said Waddles heavily. Bill turned up on the tee at the last moment, and if he didn’t like the company in which he found himself he masked his feelings very well. “How do, Mary? Beth, this is a pleasure. you, Davidson? Ladies first, | presume?” “Drive, Miss Rogers,”’ said Davidson. Now a fluffy blonde is all right, I suppose, if she wears a hair net. Beth doesn’t, and her golden aureole would make a Circassian woman jealous. Still, there are peo- ple who think Bethisa beauty. I more than half suspect that Beth is one of them. Beth drove, and the ball plumped into the cross bunker. “Oh, partner!’’ she squealed. give me?”’ “That’s all right,”’ Bill assured her. ‘in there myself. bunker.” ‘It’s perfectly dear of you to say so!” “Fore!”’ said Mary, who was on the tee, and the conversation ceased. “Better shoot to the left,” advised Russell, “‘and go round the end of the bunker.” Mary stopped waggling her club to look at him. If there is anything in which the female of the golfing species takes sinful pride it is the length of her drive. She likes to stand up on a tee used by the men and smack the ball over the cross bunker. She wouldn't trade a two-hundred-yard drive for twenty perfect approach shots. She may be a wonder on the putting green, but she offers herself no credit for that. It is the long tee shot that takes her eye—the drive that skims the bunker and goes on up the course. Waddles says the proposition of sex equality has a bearing on the matter, but I claim that it is just ordinary, everyday pride in being able to play a man’s game, man fashion. Coming from a total stranger, that suggestion about driving to the left would have been regarded as a deadly insult; coming from Russell “But I think I can carry it,” said Mary with a tiny pout. **Change your stance and drive to the left.” The sug- gestion had become a command. “Fore!’’ said Mary again—and whacked the ball straight into the bunker—straight into the middle of it. ‘Now, you see?”’ Russell was aggravated, and showed it. “If you had changed your stance and put that ball somewhere to the left you might have given me a chance to reach the green. As it is ——’’ He was still enlarging upon her offense as they moved away from the tee. Mary did not answer him, but she gave Beth a bright smile, as much as to say ‘‘ What care 1?” Bill trailed along in the rear, juggling a niblick, his homely face wiped clean of all expression. There wasn’t much to choose between the second shots both lies were about as bad as could be*-but Russell got out safely and Bill duplicated the effort. Beth then elected to use her brassy, and sliced the ball into the long grass. Of course she had to wail about it. “‘Isn’t that just too maddening? Partner, I’msosorry!”’ “Don’t you care,” grinned Bill. ‘‘That’s just my dis- tance with a mashie. And as for long grass, I dote on it.’’ Mary was taking her brassy out of the bag when Russell butted in again—with excellent advice, I must confess. “You can’t reach the green anyway,” said he, “ an iren and keep on the course.” There was a warning flash in Mary’s eye which a wiser man would not have ignored. ‘“‘Remember you've got a partner,” “Take an iron, there’s a good girl.” “Oh, Russell! Do be still; you fuss me so!" “But, my dear! I’m only trying to help The swish of the brassy cut his explanation neatly in two, and the ball went sailing straight for the distant flag—a very pretty shot for anyone to make. “Oh, a peach!” cried Bill. “A peach!” “And you,” said Mary, turning accusingly to Russell, “‘you wanted me to take an iron!” “Because you can keep straighter with an iron,” argued Davidson. “Wasn’t that ball straight enough to please you?” asked Mary with just a touch of malice. “You had luck,”’ was the ungracious response, “but it doesn’t follow that all your wooden-club shots will turn out as well. The theory of the mixed foursome is to leave your partner with a chance to hit the ball.” “Oh, dear!” seth. ‘‘Now you’re making me feel like a criminal!” “Lady,” said Bill, “if I don’t mind, why should you? “I think you’re an angel!’’ gushed Beth. How are “Can you ever for- “I’ve often been Takes a good long shot to carry that so take urged Russell ighed (Concluded on Page 59)

Page 16

i4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 SWAT THE SPY! — By David Lawrence naval information, and those that spread words of poison. The first seek to reduce the effectiveness of our armed forces abroad; the second endeavor to weaken, if not disintegrate, our national unity at home. Surrep- titiously these covert scouts for the enemy transmit to the Imperial German Government data wherewith to plan counter-thrusts against us on land and sea. By methods no less seductive, agents of the enemy resident in our midst discharge their germs of venom into the throbbing organism of American democracy. Popular fancy pictures the spy as a false-whiskered, black-mustached individual of strange garb, of broken accent and elusive eyes, of furtive tread and slinking gait. Spies are nothing of the kind. They excel in deception not because they wear a disguise but because they do not wear a disguise. They are, asa rule, difficult of detection because indistinguishable from the mass, because in external ap- pearance and manner no difference is apparent between them and the law-abiding folks among whom they prac- tice their subtle villainy. They pass in and out of our cities in street cars and automobiles, travel back and forth on our trains, quietly, unobtrusively, mingling casually and not unnaturally with the people about them. They are not skilled in the science of the occult. They are not gifted with a mystic imperceptibility. On the contrary, they are past masters in the simple art of conformity. Always the least conspicuous and the least assertive, usually the most plausible and most harmless-looking of persons, they fit easily into the communities where they operate. No task is too trivial for a single spy or agent if to do more would excite suspicion. Nothing is too dis- honorable. Nothing is too unmoral —for their creed is that of Machiavelli, and their craft as deceptive as the camouflaged horse of ancient Troy. With them the means, no matter what it is, always is justified by the end that is sought—success to the Fatherland. Ignored, neglected, left to wander at will over the sleepy face of an unawakened country, spies multiply, infesting rural communities as well as thickly populated cities—-a swarm of enemies who feel no scruple of conscience and recognize no tenet of law. Daring men and scheming women they are—for the female of the species is more deadly than the male—-preying sedulously on our good nature, national flexibility and guilelessness. To thwart their plots of cunning many Government agencies have been especialiy organized, but only one organization can, after all, reach out effectively and swat the spy. That organization is the American people. S: ES are of two kinds— those that feed on military and Information Useful to the Enemy UT how? To answer that very question the writer con- sulted everybody in Washington who has anything to do with running down spies and enemy agents—from the attorney-general and his assistants, the chiefs of our bureaus of investigation and secret service, and officials of the War and Navy Departments, to the detectives who have hunted German mischief makers in this country and abroad. To indicate how every loyal American can help to break up the spy system of our foes it is necessary to understand American people into conflicting factions which by their strife and controversy should retard the progress of the war machine and delay aid to the Allies, while Germany batters away at the free nations which failed to amass munitions during unsuspecting years of sincere and peace- ful intention. Usually our good-natured American citizen says with a trace of impatience: ‘“‘Oh what difference does it make if Heinrich or Fritz does live next door to a shipyard? He can’t tell them more than the fact that a single ship is being built there. And how is he going to communicate with Germany anyway?” Or another remarks: “I don’t understand why the newspapers say a ship arrived at ‘an Atlantic port’ or ‘a Pacific port.’ Can’t the Germans see the boats come and go? And isn’t there a censorship to prevent messages from being sent?” But though the interrelation of trivial information and enemy plotting may not be immediately apparent, it is by piecing together things which may look insignificant that business and professional men can help. So can observant conductors on trains, watchful switchmen in the yards, keen-witted salesmen in stores, alert hotel employees, grocers, cigar dealers, and soon Everybody can assist in fighting the same intriguers who dissipated Russian unity, who spread disaffection in the Italian Army of Cadorna and who, as the revelations of Bolo Pasha proved, might have destroyed France Germs of disloyalty likewise have been planted here to disunite us, but they must not be PHOTO, BY HARRIS & EWING, WASHINGTON, D. C. permitted to multiply. It is easy to start aspy mania. It is easy to spend one’s time foolishly in pursuit on an empty trail. It is easy to use the outcry against spies as a means to vent individual spite or gain personal revenge. It is as easy to be wrong about spies as it is difficult to be right. Just because your neighbor is of German birth or descent and is now naturalized, just because someone else, whom you do not know, moves into your street and talks with a foreign accent isn’t prima-facie evidence that you have dis- covered a German agent. Nor is the fact that someone has indignantly announced that he wouldn’t buy Liberty Bonds or that America had no business in the war anyway. These things may be contributory facts, but they also may prove to be the irresponsible gossip of misguided peopie. So far as the United States Government is concerned, it gives everybody a clean bill of health as to utterances before April 6, 1917. That is the dividing line. When the United States was not a belligerent many people sympathized with Germany. Just why this was so it is not necessary now to inquire. What a man said before America entered the war is not going to be used against him if his American- ism thereafter is sound; but in the event of suspicious behavior, of course things that happened prior to April sixth may throw an interesting light on the personal history of the one suspected. The Government at Washington wants to discourage spy hysteria. There are millions of loyal German-Americans who are now even more zealous than ever to prove their fidelity to the cause of their adopted country, and thought- less individuals can heap no end of injustice and cruelty upon those who are Americans not by chance but by choice. On the other hand, the existence of a spy peril is not an abstract matter, it is a concrete fact. Spies and enemy agents have been detected already and more of them can be caught in the future if loyal citizens are on the watch. Beware of Arguments HAT kinds of information are useful to the enemy and what kinds are useless? The spy in chief operates on the theory that nothing is useless. He is omnivorous. His agents are instructed to find out everything. The man who wonders why the newspapers suddenly have been asked to refer to ship arrivals at ‘‘an Atlantic port” or “‘a Pacific port”’’ may think this a foolish restriction. On the contrary it increases the number of agents the enemy must employ, and since ships leave from several ports on the Atlantic and Pacific seaboards the chances correspondingly increase of detecting those spies who are watching arrivals and depar- tures. Barring aliens from certain zones and compelling them to register are other measures which a country on the defensive must take to render the work of spies doubly difficult. Somewhere in the link of communication there may be a break—a go-between may confess and the whole spy system is uncovered. Similarly with respect to the construction of ships and enemy aliens who lurk in the vicinity of shipyards. In each place the Germans have set men to watch the progress of construction and to make regular reports thereon. It is the same with the manufacture of guns and ammunition and the distribution of troops. One hundred principal spies, each assisted the motives and purposes behind the different kinds of trouble the Ger- mans have fomented or attempted to foment while America was neutral and to sketch those plans of enemy agents which already have unfolded themselves since this nation entered the war. When the United States was still utral the German effort was con- entrated on preventing the export of munitions and supplies to the Entente Allies. This was to be done either by embargo councils that would influence Congress or by the more di- rect method of strikes and explosions in steel plants and munition factories and by placing time bombs aboard cargo ships. Collaterally ran the in- trigue to create a pressure upon Great Britain to make peace while Germany without loss of prestige might impose her will on Europe. Similar principles of policy under- lie Germany’s activity to-day, but the methods are more ruthless, more de- by a half dozen men or women report- ing regularly from various parts of the United States, could estimate exactly the amount of ammunition and the number of men in training, the time of their expected departure for Europe, amenability to training and all the facts that will enable the Ger- man General Staff to know when to expect the bulk of the American forces abroad and the character of each division, each regiment, each battalion. To the intelligence officers of the German Army this would be valuable information. It would en- able them to know which are our Regulars, National Guard and National Army troops, and to hurl against the weakest contingents the most experienced German regiments. So the military necessity of the mo- ment is to prevent spies from learning anything about the personnel or de- tail of any of our military units. And the easiest way that spies get data of this sort is by provoking arguments or controversies among those who are liberate and more cunningly con- trived than before to paralyze the military and naval arms ofthe United States and to divide the mass of the COPYRIGHT OY HARRIS & EWING o A. Brace Bietaski — Chief of the Division of Investigation of the Department of Justice. Hundreds of Trained Investigators Report to Him Daily on the Activities of German Spies. Above — William J. Fiynn, Chief of the United States Secret Service Wasi: , well-informed. Though congressional inquiries, forexample, intoinefficiency in matters of ordnance and supply

Page 17

v | 6 ‘) ‘ | N = Cs ieee ee 4 ) | i | = ‘ are prompted by patriotic i motives, unless the War Department is careful in its answers the enemy can ob- tain from the congressional debates material which its spies might not have gath- ered in months! Naval information in- volves the same difficulty. The German effort con- stantly is to get newspapers or individuals to complain about the slowness of our shipping or naval program. ‘i Our officials have been mis- led by such tactics into making complete and com- sented prehensive statements of exactly what tonnage is going to be available every : month for the next year! wee Great Britain and France id have kept such information nil secret. Their plan has been to confuse the enemy and : oa keep him guessing. And we ar ie that’s what America’s policy Tae ought to be. Precautions COPYMENT BY HARRIO @ EWING, © have been taken in naval stations to protect navy secrets, and the parents and rela- tives of our seamen should be particularly reticent about the names of ships and other things they see in port. It looks trivial, doesn’t it? But it may mean the entangle- ment of a certain spy whose business it is to get that infor- mation; and that particular spy’s arrest may lead to the complete frustration of a system that menaces the lives of our soldiers and sailors on the high seas. Just what are all the means of secret communication between the United States and Germany is not yet definitely known. The cables are strictly censored. Codes within apparently simple commercial messages are no doubt being used, but the navy thinks it has reduced this to a minimum. On the other hand, wireless is still the great mystery. If the Germans have perfected any device that conceals the presence of their instruments or if they maintain stations in certain Latin-American countries it is obvious how quickly a relay can be established between points in the United States and Germany. Simple messages or letters to points in Northern Mexico or Cuba might be transmitted to enemy agents who have wireless communication with Germany or with supposedly neutral ships at sea. What- ever these devices may be, the business of the people in America is to stop as much information as possible at the source and to augment the instrumentalities of espionage within our borders. > VISITORS) ALLOWED. J — - Enemy Agents Among the Neutrals HERE is such a thing as spy sense—that indefinable in stinct which tells in a general way the vicinity in which spies are operating yet is not always able to locate them exactly. During the first few weeks following America’s entry into the war the spy system organized by Captains Von Papen and Boy-Ed was leaderless and the Federal authorities believe completely disrupted. For a long time Germany made no effort to reorganize it. America was not to be bestirred into active participation in the war if the Imperial Government could prevent. Apathy was a valu- able ally. So enemy agents lay low and waited instruc- tions. Now these orders have come. The Department of Justice recently sensed the importation of a large number of German spies through Scandinavian countries. They brought word to those on American soil. And the fight has begun in earnest. It is essential to remember that not always are German spies Germans. They are most frequen‘*ly the subjects of neutral countries. Every nation has its criminal class, which will hire itself out to do most anything. Even Americans did not hesitate to act as messengers for Ger- many prior to April sixth of last year. So the Beware! sign must be hung out before neutral as well as enemy aliens. Certain Dutchmen, Danes, Swedes, Swiss, Span- iards, Mexicans and even Russians have been under sus- picion from time to time, and among them no doubt are some enemy agents. Unfortunately the majority of law- abiding Swedes, Danes, Dutchmen, Spaniards and other neutrals who reside in this country may thereby become the unjust victims of social segregation. But in wartime only American citizens are free from suspicion. And not- withstanding our own benevolent neutrality toward the Allies before we entered the war, even Americans were not permitted to go about in England and France without a permit, and detectives frequently kept a close watch on them at that. Yet there is no excuse for injustice if a few simple rules which the Government advises are followed. In the first place, if you think there is something queer or strange 95 ta , ttt appanene THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 15 ‘08 &3 ca Fae en 7 not be disclosed. A plain statement of the circum- : stances under which a sus- — ’ pect was observed should be : included. Letters should 2 be sent either to the Depart di ment of Justice in Washing- 1 4 2 ; 4 f - Vio | Leta 1 a ton or to the Federal agen- o cies in any of the large cities. . If there is no United States marshal or United States district attorney in your immediate vicinity the post z master will forward the complaint to the nearest office of investigation. Whenever in doubt, write direct to the Division of Investigation of the De- partment of Justice in Washington. a The headquarters of the Nears. German spy system to-day is in Mexico. When certain pace > things happen in the United LAL. 8: ON PHOTO. BY HARRIS 4 EWING, WASHINGTON, DO. 0. ! To Guard Against Spies Daily Admittance to the State, War and Navy Buildings is by Pass, Which Must Contain @ Photograph of the Bearer. Above — Troops Guard the Entrance to the Washington Navy Yard; Would-be Visitors are Carefully Scrutinized about a man, for example, who gives his business as that of selling typewriters and yet who never seems to be engaged in that occupation and apparently knows very little about it, and you feel from your own knowledge and experience in the typewriter business that his claim is spurious, the near- est Federal or police officer should be notified by letter. United States marshals and district attorneys have means of investigating such information. It may of course happen that the individual you have suspected is not a spy at all, but a plain crook, and the case is referred to the police. On the other hand, your fears may prove groundless. But the authorities in any event will keep confidential the fact that any suspicion ever was raised; in fact, since the out- break of the war hundreds of thousands of cases have been reported to Federal agents of German-Americans and others who refused to buy Liberty Bonds or who were outspoken in their opposition to the war. Nine out of every ten proved to have absolutely no connection with the enemy. But the Government cannot afford to ignore a single complaint, because it already has obtained much valuable information in this way from the public. There’s one kind of letter, however, that is absolutely ignored and valueless. It is the anonymous communica- tion. Instances have occurred in which bitter controver- sies of a personal character have resulted in malicious attempts by one enraged individual to produce embarrass- ment for another by reporting alleged spy activities. Per- sons who are discovered in such practices render themselves liable to legal complications of a serious character. The Government is not interested in your personal enemies, but in the foes of the nation. When the loyal American observes suspicious behavior and is sincerely anxious to combat spies he should of course sign his own name and address. His part in the affair will aw States certain persons move accordingly in Mexico. The te connection has been proved. Yet the Mexican Govern- ment, absorbed in troubles of its own, has neither the funds nor the organization to run down.German agents, most of whem are plentifully supplied with money and manage not to compromise them- selves. If the United States while a neutral, with all her power and resourcefulness, was able with difficulty to checkmate the operations of German agents and only after they had been operating in this country for many months under the direction of the German Embassy itself, what can be expected from loosely organized institutions in Mexico, even granting that the latter have the best intentions? Hints to Americans in Mexico O AMERICAN residents in Mexico and other Latin- American countries owe an important obligation to their own Government. They should notify the American Embassy in Mexico City, or the consulates, of the sus- picious maneuvers or open activities of Germans or neu- trals interested in defeating the military or naval operations of the United States. And since the Germans must nat- urally try to use the Texas Border as a means of communi- cation loyal Americans who reside in Texas, Arizona, New Mexico and California must be especially cautious of irregularities at the boundary, either of individuals or in seemingly harmless articles of freight. Laundry and wear- ing apparel might easily conceal communications of the most important character which a German agent would not dare to intrust to the mails. Messages might be pinned or pasted within the lining of overcoats or on the inside of a consignment of shirts. Customs authorities on the border can be none too careful. The direction of information just now is across the Mexican Border as well as toward Cuba. Persons in the Southern States—telegraph operators, rail- road men, freight agents—all can be useful in this work Undoubtedly provoking delays to legitimate shipments will occur, but wartime imposes many an inconvenience that is exasperating yet absolutely unavoidable when the essential object is kept in mind. Through the American Protective League, a volunteer organization entirely unofficial, but with which the Depart- ment of Justice codperates, thousands of Americans in banks, railroads, industrial and manufacturing trades and occupations have been enlisted to watch for spies. Mem bership does not include authority. Obviously, to give the badge of power to hundreds of thousands of untrained de tectives might produce complications, They act, however, as loyal complainants. On the basis of their information agents of the Department of Justice begin investigations. The American Protective League of its own accord has inquired into many thousands of cases of slackerism, and much of the work of enforcing the selective-draft law has been taken from the shoulders of the department by th: volunteers of the league. But the first line of defense against spies is the police force and constabularies of city, county and state. The man on the beat and the letter carrier, whose business it is to know everyone in the neighborhood, can scent irregu- larities or suspicious circumstances, and the policeman can investigate on the spot too. The Federal authorities will be spared much time and expense if the local police are first consulted by the loyal citizen. Only if the police seem remiss and no legitimate explanation appears of the ac- tivities of a suspected enemy agent should the matter be brought to the attention of higher officials. Loyal citizens must be guided by the circumstances of each case, but in general they are advised to keep even their suspicions to themselves after they have reported to the proper officials. (Centinued on Page 62)

Page 18

16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ommodore Erroll’s When young we drank to short and merry lives; Here's How! Here's When! Here's Us! In age we drank because we'd lived too long Here's Health! Here's Luck! Here's Them! We're old; the bottle’s done; the stars are dim; Right Bells! Cockerow! All Hands! And for the youth that once gave tongue in song Heigh-ho » ea, Boy ! Lela! This once we lift but empty glasses up All Up! Once More! The Last! A toast to Death, who comes too late to right our wrong! Past Due! Too Late! SoLong! —Spilled Liquor. Fanning Island brought the news to us at Bothwell Beach that the United States had at last declared war on Germany. I imagine that each one of us, except the commodore, had a personal letter as well as the brief paragraphs in the newspapers to tell us about it. We were a small colony of American exiles on Bothwell Beach, drawn to that remote spot by the prospect of future gain or—possibly—despair over past losses. Three years before, when our French and British asso- ciates had bade us farewell and departed to join their countries’ forces, there had been ugly rumors that the rest of us, though Americans by birth, were a decadent crew, sluggards, indifferent to the cataclysm that threat- ened to drag our race into the gulf. But during those long years, unbroken in our latitude by the advent and depar- ture of the four seasons, the first sting of that scandal had left us; we led our desultory existence in peace and read the infrequent papers brought by the Messenger only to dispute idly over petty details. Not one of us had expected an actual declaration of our country’s intent to take sides; not even he whom we called, by courtesy, “The Commo- dore,”’ though from the first he had espoused the part of the Allies and preached to us from morning till night the duty of all true Americans. I found my closest intimate, Sam Todd, staring over his letters and cursing audibly and feebly. “Well,” I remarked, “I suppose you got the same news.” “Hang it all!” he snorted. “What are we going to do?” I didn’t mistake this question; I answered it just as he expected me to: **We’ll be shut off here like rats on a raft, Sam. It was hard enough before to get a steamer down here to load our goods for the Coast. Now we'll have to sit here and starve!” “Exactly!"’ he growled. Then he cursed himself, Bothwell Beach, the politicians who had got us into war, the climate, our business, the future, the past, the present; and wound up with one inclusive anathema on the world. ‘Here's a note from that agent in San Francisco telling me that, in view of the demand for ships and the high rates of insurance, and all that poppycock, he is unable to charter a vessel for us and advising me to prepare fora lengthy period of inactivity,”’ I responded. We growled like dogs over this, with the little bay parkling before us in its eternal brilliancy and the sound of the monotonous surf in our weary ears. The eyes of both of us saw the smudge of smoke on the horizon that marked the departing Messenger, and both of us withdrew our gaze from that to rest it, with disgust, on the single craft that floated in our harbor. “It may be a year before we get another mail,”” Sam said sullenly. ‘“*The mate of the Messenger said it’d likely be their last trip.” “That leaves Bothwell Beach with only the Hampton Roads as a possible recourse,” I answered. My friend looked at me with justified contempt. “And Commodore Erroll to defend the station,” he added. I laughed. The commodore had been our butt for years; the butt of Bothwell long before we youngsters had dumped our luggage on its beach and walked up to the bare wooden station to greet the one man who never got iE WAS late in April when the mail packet from TLLUSTRATEDOD January 12,1918 Subscription pa TT eid eget ¥ Nt to By John Fleming Wilson Me CAIG Br ROBERT a letter from home, or planned in time to quit the lonely island to spend his gains in his native place. Him we knew only too well, with his smooth manner, his fiery speech, his boasting, and his addiction to extraordinary intoxicants; but of his real history we should have had to confess we knew little or nothing, except what we gath- ered from his rambling tales, his incredible mysterious hints of an ennobled past, and the single fact that he was an unreconstructed Southerner. His vessel, a small underpowered steamer magnilo- quently named the Hampton Roads, was his solitary possession. For years it had been unseaworthy. In two years the commodore, even when most uplifted by liquor, hadn’t ventured to make so much of a trip as the short crossing of the twenty-mile pass between Bothwell and its neighbor, Randall Reef. It was a joke to think that all we people had left in the way of a navigator and a ship were these two, both utterly obsolete. “ Anyway,” I said, “let’s go see the Old Man and tell him what news we have.” “He’s already ripped open all the newspapers,” Sam growled. “Like as not we'll have to listen to his con- founded stories and how he’d win the war. Drat him!” “By all means,” I agreed. ‘“‘Let the commodore be dratted. But he’s the senior on this island and we ought to have some consideration for the old boy. You know he'll be hurt if we don’t humor him. ° And—who knows?—we may need his old Hampton Roads before we’re done.”’ My companion sniffed. “Marooned, by gad! And I’ll bet the Government’ll never even take the pains to inquire about us! Confound those fools at home—never thinking of anything but their own petty affairs! Here we are, three thousand miles from the nearest ——” “Shut up!” I said briefly; Sam isa difficult man to get along with when he starts on his grievances. The commodore received us with unusual brusqueness. He was seated, as ordina- rily, in his own big chair, handy to the sideboard. But I no- ticed that he hadn’t opened the case of whisky which the Mes- senger’s boat had landed for us, and no glass stood by his el- bow. He held a paper open on his knees and pored over it with an occa- sional “‘ Humph!” Sam and I smashed the top of the case and got a bottle out. When we had sampled the contents we seated ourselves, in a more amiable temper, and chatted about the news. Presently the half dozen others of our little colony drifted in and the talk became general. It finally settled down to an ill-humored discussion of the plight in which we were left by the The Oid Man Hadn't Been Down in Twenty: Four Hours. Nothing and Drunk Nothing withdrawal of the Messenger. To us war with Germany meant only that we were to be shut off from our infrequent communication with civilization. Hiram Esterley put the general sentiment in a nutshell: “We've got to find out some way what the United States is going to do for us. It can’t leave us high and dry, thisway. We're citizens and our business has got to be protected; and we've got rights that must be respected. Yes, sir! We must make the Government say what it’s going to do for us!” An absolutely strange voice broke on our ears. We started up and looked round for its source. Then, to our complete astonishment, we understood that the commo- dore was speaking. “What!” he roared at us, his usually pallid face aflame. “‘Do I understand you triply condemned offspring of a degenerate tribe of unpedigreed nonentities to inti- mate that the United States has got to say what it’s going to do for a lot of unqualifiedly lost souls without any anatomical feature except a cartilaginous spine and an ochre-colored liver?” We gaped in amazement at the usually mellifluously spoken Old Man. His shaggy brows were drawn down in a portentous scowl. His voice rasped, like shark skin: “You heaven-forsaken Gadarene swine mean to sit here on this quadruplicate replica of the sweet by-and-by and demand that your own country take any pains at all to warm your d——d milk for you so you can write to the girls for fresh pictures to stick up in your everlastingly condemned looking-glasses, and smirk—yes, smirk, by the *ternal!—at your own malformed flat faces?” The commodore brought his hand down on the out- spread paper with a bang that rattled the blinds. “Have a drink, sir,” sneered Sam. overheated.” The Old Man glared at the proffered glass, snatched it and flung the liquor on the floor, with what was strangely like a sob. Then he got to his feet, and included us all in a glance so savage, contemptuous and scorching that we in- voluntarily drew back to give him passage. He went out, slammed the screen behind him so that its hinges snapped, and strode down the white-sand pathway toward the beach. “Now what do you think of that?” muttered Sam. Think?” repeated Ester- ley with an entire change of manner. ‘‘Think? We daren’t think!” He followed the com- modore. Usually we celebrated steamer day in a mild fashion; but now, by common consent, we stowed away the newly opened case, picked up our papers, and went sepa- rately to our quarters. We felt that our little world had been upset by the commodore’s in- explicable burst of temper, em- phasized by his almost incredible spilling of good liquor. After sundown we gathered for supper in the big mess room and sat down silently to the meal the native servants had provided. The commodore did not appear—even for the business meeting, which al- ways followed at the end of steamer day. Esterley, who was steward for “You're He Had Eaten

Page 19

a i ; | 4 | the time, made his report without comment and closed it with the curt statement that, though he had sent off an order by the Messenger, it was doubtful whether we should receive fresh supplies for an indefinite time. “How much have we on hand?” Sam Todd inquired. “Plenty for a year,’”’ was the reply. “We should worry!” quoth Sam. “Lots can happen in ayear. The war will beover. One thing—it won’t touch us.” “Tt appears to me that we have a little war on our hands right now,”’ remarked Hiram quietly. ‘‘The commodore went down to the beach and put off to the Hampton Roads. Take it from me, the old fire eater is going to break up our happy family!” “We'll sit on him and make him be good,” Sam answered tartly. ‘He thinks he’s boss of this beach just because we've all stood for him and humored him. Confounded old rascal! Whyn’t he ever go home? Say, tell me that! Why’s he stick right here on Bothwell Beach all these years, with never a letter from home? Tell me that!” Sam’s voice died away slowly in the hot room. He glared round for an answer, slammed one fist on the table, and rose with a snort of disgust. “Sit down, sir!” boomed a voice in the doorway; Erroll stood in it, his beard cocked at a belligerent angle and his eyes blazing on us all. “T’ll be ” be- gan Sam, but I pulled him tohisseat; there was something in the Old Man’s expression that made me feel a slight thrill of ex- pectance. The commodore stalked on in and seated himself in his usual chair at the head of the table. Then he grimly sur- veyed us. ““We’ve flown the Stars and Stripes over this beach for thirty years,”’ hesaid. “Even when we had Smith and Hawke and Trimble and Burns—all British— we hoisted the Amer~ ican flag on steamer days. The Britishers quit this beach when they heard their coun- try wasatwar. Now we’reonly Americans left. Our country is at war! We aren’t going to sit idly here and watch the sky for the smoke of a steamer that can’t be spared on our little affairs. As a former officer in the American forces I constitute myself the chairman of this meeting, which will decide - “‘What American forces, may I boldly ask?” said Todd. “The Confederate States of America?” The smooth irony in his tone almost broke the spell the Old Man had laid on us; but .there was a sharp slither of fire in the commodore’s eyes that made even Todd drop his glance. His question went unheeded and unanswered. “I’m ready to hear your suggestions,” Erroll announced. “What can we do?” I asked. “‘We’re marooned here, without any chance of getting away,” said Hiram. “Besides, there is nothing we could do,” I added. “Ts that all?” the commodore demanded dryly. “If it is I’ll merely state what I shall do.” He paused and wiped his lips with a trembling hand. His eyes, slightly clouded, seemed to watch ours for an encouraging look, an expression of sympathy, of friend- liness. But we were sore and angry. We scowled at our plates. The Old Man sighed. “T shall prepare my steamer for sea at the earliest possible moment,” he said slowly. ‘‘Then I shall sail for the American Coast. “It goes without saying that any of you gentlemen who desire to take passage on the Hampton Roads, to volunteer for the war, will be welcome.” There was a dead silence for a moment. We were taken completely by surprise. One or two of us ejaculated “The Hampton Roads!”—as much as to say “ What insanity is this?’ But we had had a taste of the Old Man’s scathing tongue that afternoon and we were in no ” mind to seek a second dose of it. With deceiving mildness Todd inquired gently: “‘But have you a crew for your steamer? Coal? Pro- visions?” “There are nine of us!"’ was the tart reply. We stared at each other. This was not the man for our money. Someone shoved back his chair as a signal for our getting up and leaving the dotard to his maunderings. Oddly enough, no one rose. Esterley looked at the ceiling and remarked generally: “Oh, I suppose we might contribute provisions.” Involuntarily I spoke up: “‘Sam and i have three hundred tons of coal. But, of course, the Hampton Roads’ boilers wouldn’t carry a pound of steam. Besides, who would pay for the coal?” Still the commodore sat silent, watching us. Burton, who hadn’t had a word to say till now, murmured: “Tt’s over five thousand miles to the Coast. All that could be expected of us is a subscription to a loan.” “Liberty Bonds?” said Todd. “Sure!’’ said someone else. ‘Subscribe.’ “And how shall we subscribe?”’ demanded Pinkerton, another man who had taken no part in the discussion. The commodore’s harsh voice broke in on us. The Commodore Brought His Hand Down on the Outspread Paper With a Bang That Rattied the Blinds “Permit me to write your letter,’’ he remarked. ‘‘Thus: “‘America: Nine of us send a hundred dollars as ourshare in the war against Germany. We have provisions for one year only. See to it that we get our mail promptly. We’re too busy to come home. With best wishes—if you see that we get our mail and liquor regularly ——” He stopped, and Todd squirmed. “Be fair, commodore!”” he muttered. ‘‘None of us drinks much.” But the Old Man seemed not to be listening for that. He kept his steady watch on us, waiting for us to speak out loud. “T went to sea for four years,” remarked Esterley dreamily. ‘‘ My opinion is that the Hampton Roads would have been rejected by Jonah in favor of the whale—any whale—as a transport. But I’ll go.” None of us looked up. Pinkerton was the station’s engineer and mechanic. We felt that it wouldn’t be fair to catch his eye. We waited maliciously. Didn’t we know Old Pinkerton? And the commodore, with all his bluster, couldn’t go back of his authority. “*The engines in your vessel, sir,”’ said Pinkerton softly, “are of the vintage of before the war. They aren’t even fit for patterns for a Jap ironworker. Your boilers tremble when the barometer marks an increase in the atmospheric pressure. If I remember rightly, the feed pump wouldn’t churn butter. However, if you insist ——” Pinkerton had failed us utterly. Sam Todd waved a disgusted paw at him. ““Drat you!” he said acridly. special kind of American, don’t you? ’ “ You think you’re some You and your THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 17 d——d patriotism! Well, I come from a confoundedly better town than you do, and my folks are infinitely superior to yours in education, social standing and genera! smartness. But I suppose I'll have to shovel your coal.” There was nothing for the rest of us to do but yield gracefully. The commodore nodded and rose to his feet. “Very good, gentlemen!” he said gruffly. “Bothwell Beach drops everything and goes home. We start work on the Hampton Roads in the morning. Mr. Pinkerton will be chief engineer and Mr. Esterley mate.” I think we all felt a little like boys bound on a lark that night. We stayed up till all hours, laughing and talking, and planning what we should do when we got home. Our cash capital, pooled, amounted to four thousand dol- lars, and we agreed that half of it should go to buying the bonds which our newspapers announced were being offered to finance the war. It went without saying that our business on the island would be let go adrift for the present. And yet we—all of us—knew that the Hampton Roads would never arrive anywhere except at the bottom of the sea. We didn’t need Pinkerton’s dispassionate statement of her rottenness to convince us of that. “It’s the completest wild-goose chase that ever entered the mind of a crazy old unreconstructed fire eater of an ex-Confederate pi- rate!’’ Sam com- plained tome. “We all knowit. Andwe’re all going, just because we’re the same dratted asses our people sent out here to keep us from mess- ing the family social standing up beyond repair.” **Keep your per- sonal scandals to yourself,”’ I told him. “Some of us are here on pure business.” “And leaving for pure cussedness,”’ Sam retorted. ‘Oh, we're a sweet lot of gallant Americans! We'll beach the old packet on the lee side of Randall and come back in the small boat, having done our duty. Our expedition will last twenty-four hours, and then we'll come to our senses and be satisfied —or the com- modore will be satis- fied, which is the same thing.” As Todd had put the secret feeling of us all into words, I made no answer. The next morning I woke at dawn, had my bath, and lazily prepared for the day. I thought—somewhat shame- facedly—that probably the commodore would have got over his spasm of patriotism and the whole affair would be dropped. Half an hour later I lost this notion. It is difficult for me to express the alteration in the Old Man we had known so long and so familiarly. Remember, he had been a garrulous old boy, fond of his glass, a loafer among loafers, a man who one moment was a suave old gentleman with a respectable manner; the next a boaster, a profligate dotard, babbling of a golden past that was a dream. We had long since set him down as a man who had quit the States in his ramshackle old steamer because he wasn’t wanted. He was, to speak precisely, what some of us would grow into if the sun and the whisky and the monotony of our exile didn’t kill us first. But now Before the sun was well up he had Pinkerton and Esterley out on the Hampton Roads. They came ashor« with serious faces. They talked briefly and to the point. Pinkerton was no longer our quiet boon companion, but chief engineer and in authority. Esterley’s casual manner was the same as of old, but he chose his subordinates curtly and set us all at work. The commodore’s fiery and imperious eyes were everywhere, and his hoarse voice boomed along the beach in unqualified tones of command. *By night we had thoroughly got acquainted with the old steamer. She was rotten beyond all our dreams. Her machinery was a rusty groan, her deck gear a travesty of dry rot and decay. She leaked persistently and univer- sally. Her holds were foul pits, filled with stench. Her cabins reeked of disuse and mustiness. Time and again (Continued on Page 73)

Page 20

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 anaging the Empire How Salesmanship Has Helped British Statesmanship W ato seas By ISAAC F. MARCOSSON tone dd what the glamour from the great war ae a ee and analyze the larger results you hot Mtn ve Sey he Lite Jace find that nothing achieved so far is of | J f a achieved s ws : L g z more permanent value to the future than the infusion of | prof Dp tah es : business methods | ¥ i > > ¢ t of | nto the conduct o 2 ¢ ik Auced be governments. Just as the war itself is | organized and op- erated upon a huge } commercial basis, come clearing houses y for the best business J Andrew Carnegie or any other man of a = Pr] that type would do. He mobilized the Schwabs, the Thomas A. Edisons, the Henry Fords and the Westing- SS; houses of the King- Sie] vs dom and made them his workers. From every cor- 4 Ku. lisr os rt ner of the Empire he drafted experience. without stint, so he ’ ag o. aE He wanted workers started a Bureau of publicity, so he so have cabinets be- tis Mae Lisette GC aa A ate o Labor; he needed brains. The hands that have molded industry now shape the destinies of nations. | f Never before in ys va all history has there ikHtZ MA an Coed 4 t. been such a shaking trative bones. The professional Euro- pean politician, born to office, is in the main a vanishing type; his “pull” is a lost art. There is | a definite reason. The billions con- sumed on the fiery altar of the stupendous conflict demand employ- ment by men trained to the fiscal task, while the gearing of railways and industries to the titanic needs requires a specialized preparation for the colossal readjustments of peace. In no Allied country have business talents been so completely commandeered as in England. With the exception of Premier Lloyd George, Mr. Balfour, and a few other seasoned office- holders, the cabinet is a board of directors re- cruited from industrial pursuits that could sit on any problem of overhead cost and distribution that came up. In addition practically every important war activity is either dominated or controlled by men who left their desks and count- ing rooms to become drivewheels of the mighty machine of war. up of dry adminis- a are The Supreme Lesson for America if ERE lies the supreme lesson for the United States, preparing for her immense part in the world struggle. Happily the precedent of Great Britain has already in a measure been heeded. But the Baruchs, the Willards, the Hurleys, the Coffins, the Davisons, the Deedses and all the rest of their colleagues now on the job at Washington are merely the forerunners of that larger group of captains of capital and industry who must inevitably have their part in the work of the war. As in England, the business man will eventually do everything but stake out the strategy of battle. If this commercialization of government, as it might be called, had begun in the United States no one would have been surprised. Business is our middle name. The fact that it was born amid the hidebound traditions of British states- manship makes it one of the many miracles of a war of miracles. Nor does any single fact more opfaniy Yate | y iat launched an Adver- tising Department; fr RS Cau aT a Ton Mav to compete success- fully with the Ger- “ Plan oo on. he oe aw’ tv mans he knew that he would have to Wee, f° FP ee PO oF ’ employ every inven- . tive resource that y ae ae his country could he o - command, so founded an Inven- ° Bae tas gees tion and Research = 4 he at BO. es 7 Bureau; hesaw that the shirker and the = Aas Oun-ae “avo _ 4 hx Ae slacker were still abroad in the land, | so he unfurled the i Union Jack in every mill and took over the control of British industry; finally with his Munitions Act he conscripted the workers at forge and furnace into an industrial army that is practically under martial law. He slashed red tape and he injected red blood into the arteries of government. He became an efficiency engineer. Such was the real beginning of the business conduct of the war so far as the British end was concerned. The startling results produced by the Ministry of Munitions convinced Lloyd George that the business man was one of the nation’s chief assets—an asset that should be capitalized to the very last degree. When he suggested to Mr. Asquith and to his other colleagues in the government the necessity for what amounted to a commercialization of war procedure, he was met with the argument that too many business men would spoil the government. Sir Eric Geddes’ Swift Rise HE little Welshman bided his time. When he became Premier, in December, 1916, he startled England with a cabinet that represented the real business leadership of the Kingdom. Since that time the nation has taken steady toll of its commercial genius, until to-day the con- trol of national affairs, and more especially the domination of the three great agencies of War, Food and Finance, are almost entirely in the hands of men who had spent their previous lives doing nothing more stirring or patriotic than rolling up great fortunes in railroads, shipping. banking or manufacture of some kind. Let us now see who they are, what they have OY S&S. WIL RiRSON, KH ANES BORD Engtand's Handy Man, Sir Eric Geddes, Who is First, Last and Always @ Business Man, Pens a Personal Message to the American Peopte. Many Political Prophets Say He Will Some Day be Prime Minister eloquently proclaim Britain's determination to be a tre- and led to the establishment of the Ministry of Munitions mendous industrial factor when the war is over. The war did the government draw the recruits from commerce has become an immense training school for the war after about its standard. the war! The Ministry of Munitions therefore represents the The evolution was interesting. When England leaped corner stone of the business bulwark that the Empire has into war almost overnight she had a government composed reared. Lioyd George was the first Minister of Munitions. of professional statesmen. Notuntil Viscount—thenLord— He was not a business man, but he knew how business Northcliffe exploded his famous bombshell about the lack affairs should be conducted. He knew, too, that America of high explosives which jolted Kitchener from his pedestal had built her industrial supremacy on close-knit and done and how they have done it. Oddly enough the two most capable and conspicuous of the lot got their first practical training in the United States, and with typical American corporations. Premier in this government by business is Sir Eric Geddes, who is the Lloyd George of the new era because, like that energetic speeder-up of empire, he is England’s handy man. “Let Geddes do it” is the slogan of imperial distress. In less than two years and at the age of forty-two Geddes has become a prop of government. There are many people in England to-day who believe that he has more than a fifty-fifty chance to be Prime Minister eventually. a

Page 21

} \ : / What is the explanation of Geddes? The an- swer lies in the fact that first, last and always he is a business man. He has regarded every one of the many difficult problems put up to him since the beginning of the war merely as a busi- ness proposition, applied his training and expe- rience, and made good. This is the formula of what is commonly regarded as the most spec- tacular personal success of the war. When I first met Geddes he sat at an obscure desk in a small office in the Armament Building. It was in 1915 and the Ministry of Munitions was in the making. Though he was the highest- paid railway official in England, he was unknown out of his own field. When I last talked with him he was First Lord of the Admiralty, the post vacated by Churchill and Carson in succession, and all Britain hailed him as a glorified life pre- server. He had galvanized the whole British munitions output; he had put the British mili- tary railways in France on the map; he had reorganized the Admiralty on a business basis and was facing the toughest of all his tasks—the suppression of the submarine pest. In Geddes the Lloyd George history repeats itself. For the first two years of the war the present Prime Minister was shunted into every national emergency, whether it was a coal strike in Wales, a snarl among the Allies or the unravel- ing of some governmental tangle. He went from post to post until he reached the top. Geddes is now the superminuteman, ready to jump into the breach at the first sound of the alarm. In the American vernacular he is always there with the goods. You have only to take a survey of his life—it is as swift and stirring as a movie film to understand why he has been able to make good every time. The approach to his star part in Business-Managing the Empire is an animated sermon on how to succeed. Geddes was born in India, of Scotch parents, who returned to the mother country when he was very young. Being Scotch he is thrifty with every- thing but his own energy. He practically ran away from home when he was seventeen. His father, convinced that he would come back, gave him a check for seventy-five dollars to be used for his return passage. When he got to New York—he went in the steerage—he mailed back the check, saying in one of his characteristically brief letters: “| think it will do me good to go on my own.” Sir Eric’s American Training NLIKE most of the heroes of human-interest romances, he had more than the traditional fifty cents in his pocket. To be exact, his fortune was ten dollars. His first job was as typewriter salesman in New York. Then he drifted to Pittsburgh, worked at the Homestead Steel Works for a dollar and a half a day, and finally landed as section hand on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad in West Virginia. The engineer in charge of the gang was L. F. Loree, who later became president of the road. For a time the section worked near a small station called Nicolette. The converted freight car used as a lodging house by the laborers, which Geddes now calls his first Pullman, stood on a siding near by. In his odd moments Sir Joseph Maclay, Shipping Controller Sir Albert Stantey, President of the Board of Trade Geddes began to study train dispatching and telegraphy. His teacher was the station agent, a kindly lrishwoman whose sweetheart was the section foreman. In exchange for instruction he “‘passed”’ the trains for her—that is, officially signaled them by while the agent was out spoon- ing with her young man. When she finally married the section foreman, Geddes got her position as station agent. Thus the future First Lord of the British Admiralty flashed signals and even switched cars for Baltimore & Ohio trains at an obscure point in West Virginia. Geddes was big, brawny and restless. He wanted to see America, so he went to Alabama, worked as a lumberjack and learned the lumber business at first-hand. When he was twenty-one he sailed off to Australia, rode the range as a sheep herder and turned up a year later in India, where he took root for the time. His knowledge of railroading, gained in America, enabled him to become foreman of a gang of coolies building a light railway through the jungles. The moment he touched light-railway construction he reached the work that was to qualify him in later years as a master war-wager. In five years he was traffic manager of the Rohilkund and Kumaon Railway. After this, life for Geddes was just one continuous promotion. He seemed to find the magic key and all doors opened to him. Some of the Indian stockholders in his railway were also stockholders in the North-Eastern Railway in England. They began to write home about the construction wizard who had dropped into their midst. The English stock- holders soon got the impression that he was too valuable a man to be wasted on Oriental jungles. At Simla, one Wed- nesday, Geddes got an offer by cable to come to the North- Eastern. On the following Saturday he was on the way. This is the Geddes system of doing things. The North-Eastern is one of the richest roadsin England. It skirts the humming Midlands and taps an immense coal and iron area. Geddes’ first job was as chief goods man- ager, which corresponds with a general freight agent on an American road. Geddes at once had the inspiration that would come to any wide-awake American traffic official: He decided to promote industry along his line. No one had ever thought of this in England before. In the face of considerable opposition from the board of directors he established the office of industrial manager. The result was increased revenue and growing goodwill. Now came one of those curious freaks of Fate that bob up so often in the lives of men of action. Geddes got an offer to operate an Argentine railway at a salary that seemed fabulous. He took it up with the North-Eastern people, and, while they could not meet the South American propo- sition, they agreed to pay him what was then and what remains the highest salary ever paid a railway official in Great Britain. If Geddes had accepted that Argentine offer the chances are that to-day he would be the king-pin among South American railway operators instead of being a leading figure in the drama of the great war. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 When the war broke out Geddes was deputy general manager of the North-Eastern. The gen- eral manager was practically a figurehead, so Geddes was really head of thesystem. He wanted to do his part in the war, so he went to the War Office in September, 1914, and said: “ You haven't any trained railway troops in France and I thir you will need them.” “No, thank you,” said the War Office; ‘“‘w can manage very well.”’ That was before business sense had dawned on the War Office. It was the first of a long series of blunders with men and materials that cost the Empire dearly. Eric Geddes is not easily discouraged. He returned to York, which is the, center of the North-Eastern system, and raised a railway bat- talion out of his employees. He became their lieutenant colonel and the unit became part of the Pioneer and Sapper Division of the Royal Engineers. It was Geddes who helped to lay out a large part of the trench system which comprises part of the coast defense in the north of England. It was impossible for Geddes to keep out of the war game. Destiny was working in his direction, and it manifested itself in the shape of a message from Kitchener, who asked him to come to the War Office. These two big and outstanding per- sonalities had known each other in India. The first thing that K. of K. said was this: “‘I am not happy about the railway situation in France. There is too much congestion of supplies. Can you go over and straighten things out?” “Of course,’’ replied Geddes. “I can start to- morrow.” 3ut Geddes did not start to-morrow. The red- tape octopus squeezed out Kitchener’s scheme, and Geddes had to go back to his railway bat- talion. For the second time England turned down the man on whom she now leans so heavily. Geddes besought his board of directors to get him into the war. “If you tender my services perhaps they will be accepted,”’ he said. The chairman went to the government, saying: ‘We know we have a big man in Geddes and he is wasting his time training men.” But the government still remained deaf. The old hostility of the dyed-in-the-wool regular for the civilian stood pat. The Northcliffe Exposure NCE more Kitchener sent for Geddes. This time the war lord was in the north, and Geddes joined him on his private car at Newcastle. “‘IT am uneasy about munitions,” said Kitchener. “Can you come in and help us?” Geddes had become accustomed to offering his services to the government, so he made the usual assent, to which the Secretary of State for War responded: “If no Muni tions Department is established I want you to come with me to the War Office.” While Kitchener was arranging to fit Geddes into his scheme of things, the Northcliffe exposure about shell short- age broke like a storm over England. When it subsided Lloyd George sat at a desk in an office down in Whitehall as Minister of Munitions. With a stroke of the pen the & FRY " Lord Rhondda, the British Food Controller

Page 22

20 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST British Government had created a whole new ministry that was in many respects the very hope of empire. But this department existed on paper. Lloyd George had to translate it into a going concern, and do it in a hurry. He had never heard of Geddes, but his name was handed to him in a list of men eligible for work with him. Three days later Geddes and Lloyd George met for the first time. It was a historic meeting, because, from that hour on, the war was to give each a tremendous oppor- tunity, which was to be capitalized to the very last degree. “What can you do?” asked Lloyd George in his brief and abrupt fashior “I have no technical knowledge of shell making, but I can get things done,"’ replied Geddes. “All right,”’ rejoined the little minister; “‘you will have every chance.” In May, 1915, Geddes was made Deputy Director Gen- eral of Munitions and took over the production of rifles, small arms, optical instruments, transport vehicles, ma- chine guns and salvage. It was Geddes who first began to retrieve empty shell cases, and through a system of care- ful transportation made it possible for the government to use brass cartridge cases at least a dozen times. He was one of the fathers of salvage. In six weeks he had his whole machine going at full tilt. England suddenly found herself bang up against a serious munitions problem. Millions of empty shel! cases were coming in from America. These cases had to be filled; otherwisé they were so much inert and ineffective metal. All the while the cry across the waters from France was munitions and still more munitions. British guns stood impotent before the German avalanche of steel. Geddes saw that no munitions task was quite so important as getting these millions of shell cases filled, so he annexed the job. It meant more responsibility for him, but one of his chief traits is that he is a glutton for work. Factories had to be built or adapted and’ an army of workers recruited and trained. To give you some idea of the technical difficulties of shell filling let me say that there are exactly sixty-four items—that is, sixty-four component parts —in filling a single ¢ighteen-pounder shell. Men and women had to be taught the care and use of deadly explo- ives. It meant the establishment of a whole new school of labor. Geddes turned on the full current of his dynamic energy. He assumed control ‘of the Royal Ordnance Factories at Woolwich, Waltham and Enfield. Before the leaves on the French hillsides turned red and brown that fateful autumn British batteries were hurling back shell for shell in every bombardment that the German artillery made. The whole British offensive of September, 1915, was due almost en- tirely to the fact that Geddes had stimulated the output of the shel!-filling factories and had put live and up-to- date American business. codrdination behind the men and the machines. Two Big Jobs at Once HE astonishing parallel in the advancement of Lloyd Georgeand Geddes now became marked. When Kitchener went to his death on the Hampshire and Lloyd George suc- ceeded him as Secretary of State for War, the first question he asked when he took his new desk was: “Is Geddes free?” Geddes was. It is characteristic of the man that he never permits a job to master him. He does the conquer- ing. Part of his administrative creed is to organize his work so thoroughly that it can run without him. This is the reason why he has always been able to act as first aid when the hurry-up call came. Lloyd George therefore found him ready for a new demonstration of his many- ided talents Like his laraented predecessor, Lloyd George was wor- ried about the railway situation in France. He was getting the shells across the Channel, but the shells were not getting up to the men fast enough. The Battle of the Somme had proved that England had all the ammunition she needed, but as the armies went forward the railways behind did not keep pace. “Are you sure that the French railways can carry all the traffic?’ asked Lloyd George. “No, IL am not,”’ replied Geddes. ‘Then make an investigation and report to me,” was the injunction from the War Secretary. Geddes went to France in mufti and made one of his swift and searching appraisals of the transportation sys- tem. Here he was on his chosen ground. He saw ammu- nition being manhandled. To use his phrase: ‘The stuff was bogged.” Being a railway man he realized that the best and quickest way to get shells up to the fighting men was on light railways, which could be laid down or repaired overnight. He went back to Lloyd George and summed up his recommendation in a single sentence, which was: “We must have light railways that can follow the guns as they smash the way up the line.” On the spot Lloyd George made him Director of Military Railways at the War Office. The very next day Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, whom he had met during his investigation, offered him the post of Director General of Transportation in France. He wired back: “I have just accepted post of Director of Military Railways at the War Office.” Haig immediately telegraphed: ‘Take both jobs.” Geddes accepted both positions, and now began a re- markable career as a dual personality that is without precedent in all war history. As Director General of Transportation in France he had to requisition himself as Director of Military Railways at the War Office for all the materials used in the field. For once the consumer could find no fault with the producer. They were one and the same person. Geddes began the work which dramatized all his pre- vious experience and put him in the war hall of fame. He found the railways in France congested; the rolling stock broken down under the terrific drive for food, troops and ammunition; the rails and roadbed showing the effect of the incessant wear and tear. He faced a colossal and mo- mentous job of reconstruction, because the railways meant life or death and traffic could not be interrupted for a single hour. It was like rebuilding a terminal like the Grand Central Station in New York City without interfering with the operation of a train. Geddes turned the trick. He got his whole task down on paper first. He built a pyramid with himself as Director General of Transporta- tion at the apex and divided into four main divisions. One was organization of forces; the second was technical and dealt with equipment, extensions and all allied activities; the third was purely statistical, while the fourth had to do with construction. He called this his Organization and Liaison Chart, because every one of these branches was literally married to the other. It was this close and con- stant teamwork that won out. In working out his crganization Geddes did a very char- acteristic thing. He said to the Army Council in substance: “If I am to be Director General of Transportation I must be master of all the highways.” He therefore took over the control of the network of inland waterways, which included all the canals of Northern France. Hundreds of thousands of tons of freight and thousands of wounded men move up and down their winding way each month. Geddes had to use the French roads to haul his supplies. They were in bad shape from the interminable movement of men, food, munitions and supplies, so he became their custodian. Thus to his growing activities he now added road making. He reorganized the French quarries and moved the broken stone direct from hillside to steam roller. He kept the roads in repair with battalions of navvies that he brought over from England. Not content with all this he reached out and annexed the domain of docks and dock engineering. This work was formerly under the wing of the Army Service Corps. Geddes established a department responsible for the repair and upkeep of all the docks. This was a very essential work, because delays in the coming and going of supply ships would interfere with the lines of food comraunication in the field. Being a disciple of centralization Geddes farmed out the responsibility for the huge job that he had cut out for him- self. At the head of each department he placed a director, who became the Geddes of that particular branch, whether it was Roads, Docks, Transportation, Light Railways or Inland Water Transport. ANAOIAN OF FICIAL PHOTOGRAPH, COPYRIGHT RESERVE Lerd Beaverbrook, Whe Has Proved That He Can Make Governments Justas He Made Millions January 12,1918 Before long Geddes was a dictator, with an empire all his own. He had to have a suitable capital, so he planted his flag just outside the little town which will always be famous as the General Headquarters of the British Armies in France. Here he built a remarkable group of offices. Technically they are called Transportation Headquarters, but in the popular history of the war they will always be known as Geddesburg. These offices are really a community group. The central structure is so arranged that the moment you enter you can look down a long hall and see a succession of signs that not only indicate every man’s office but his job. These offices are arranged in order of seniority. The first there- fore is that of the Director General of Transportation; next comes the Deputy Director General of Transportation, and soon. One value of this arrangement is that a man can see at a glance just the office he is seeking, because the function of that office is revealed at the same time. It saves time and temper. This plan is a little side light on the way Geddes does things. At the outset of his experience in France he was wise enough to call to his aid a group of trained regular soldiers who knew military requirements and who were familiar with conditions in the field. He once explained his reason by saying: “‘The trained soldier can do the soldier’s job better than anyone else. For an expert job you must get experts and let them alone.’ I might add, in passing, that this is the simple little rule upon which Northcliffe has reared the structure of his whole success with newspapers and magazines. Since his job was reconstruction Geddes’ first and fore most difficulty lay with raw materials. How to get them was the problem, because the head of every other army and navy activity was moving heaven and earth in a mad effort to obtain wood and steel. He had decided that light rail- ways would save the whole supply and ammunition situa- tion. In order to feed them he knew that the broad-gauge lines would have to be increased on a large scale. He further realized that to get new equipment for both light and standard gauge systems was out of the question in the brief time at his command. He determined to follow the line of least resistance. His campaign therefore resolved itself into getting new light-railway material from mill and factory and drafting part of the existing standard-gauge equipment from the going British railroads. Transplanted Railroads HE first of these propositions was a simple matter of making contracts and following them through. The second bristled with troubles. All the railways in the United Kingdom were under military control, to be sure, but to commandeer rolling stock and tracks was little short of confiscation, even under drastic war regulations. Geddes decided to use diplomacy. He knew he had to “‘sell”’ the British railway managers on the proposition of giving up part of their equipment, so he invited them to come to France, see the army in action and go over the whole railway system. Practically none of these men had been in the zones of the armies. They came, they saw, and they were conquered by Geddes. They went back home convinced that the Director General of Transportation ought to have everything he asked for. When he demanded hundreds of locomotives, thousands of freight cars and hundreds of miles of actual track—he got them. It meant literally taking up a whole railway system in England and laying it down in France. This is why you see, as you travel along the French lines of communication to-day, North-Eastern locomotives hauling London and South-Western trucks on tracks that formerly gridironed the Midland Systems. It helps to make the Tommy feel at home. By getting a ready-made standard-gauge railway system Geddes was able to go straight ahead with the light-railway construction. Once more he did a characteristic thing. “If we are te build railroads they must be built by seasoned railroad men,” he said. He knew that the railways in Canada had blazed their iron way through virgin land and that as a result the Canadian Pacific, the Canadian North- ern and the Grand Trunk had marshaled an army of build- ers who had fought flood, gorge and cafion. He recruited this host of construction pioneers for France and organized them into the so-called Canadian Railway Battalions. At their head he placed a game and grizzled railway contractor, “Jack”’ Stewart, gave him a major general’s commission, and before many months had passed these men had laid down hundreds of miles of light railways. I have seen them within forty yards of the front-line trenches. All the while Geddes was doing precisely what James J. Hill would have done under the same conditions. He dug out the vital statistics of all the lines he operated. He got such startling facts as demurrage under fire; the traffic density per mile in the fighting area; the time consumed for unloading at railhead; the number of empty cars that came back to the advanced supply depots—indeed every scrap of information that could illumine or facilitate operations. Armed with these statistics he established a (Continued on Page 48)

Page 23

« | 4 | | | et mee TN meee eee HE mi The end of worldly life awaits us all; Let him who may, gain honor ere death. E WERE just getting up from breakfast on the Monday morn- ing after our return to New York when the doorbell rang and our old friend, Kenneth Adams, came in, pale and agitated. ““What’sthe matter, Ken?” asked Helen. “Did your cook spoil the coffee?”’ ‘*No,’’ he replied nervously—‘‘we haven't any cook; but that’s not my trouble. Lucy’s got appendici- tis—at least that is what young Hopkins says; and I haven’t any reason todoubt his word. He says she ought to be operated on immediately.” “What a shame!” said Helen. ‘‘Still, she’ll be ever so much better without it. Of course the operation isn’t pleasant, but once her appendix is out a “Yes; but who’s go- ing to take it out?” demanded Kenneth. ““What’s the matter with McCook?” I in- quired with levity. “*He’s supposed to be our best local excava- tor, isn’t he?”’ ‘““McCook? He’s been in Paris for two years and a half!” “Oh, yes; I remem- ber,” I admitted. ‘‘So he has. How about Furness? He’s one of the Big Four.” “Furness sailed with the Fordyce Unit last spring. He’s on the firing line.” “Well, Jameson then. One is about as good as another. ** Jameson’s gone too.” “Farley?” “Farley’s down in Washington—-he’s a major, I be- lieve— helping on some advisory medical board.” “By George!” I ejaculated with more sympathy. ‘‘Some medical exodus— what?” “I’m at my wit’s end!” declared Adams. “All the big operators have gone away. I've called up hospital after hospital, doctor's office after doctor’s office, and they all tell me the same thing: Doctor So-and-So has been away since June or July in 1914—or whatever the fact is.” “But what’s the matter with Freylingheusen?” I queried. “‘I saw him at the theater the other night.” ‘“‘Freylingheusen?” retorted Adams bitterly. ‘Why, he’s a thousand years old! Appendicitis wasn’t even in- vented when he went to the medical school. I wouldn’t trust him to cut up cat meat, let alone my wife! I tell you I’m up against it.” “But the hospitals can’t be absolutely denuded,” I in- sisted. “Surely you can get someone - F ““Someone—yes! But would you want just someone to operate on Helen here? The hospital staffs have been just about cut in half, and the fellows that are left are the young ones nobody ever heard of.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “IT don’t know what to do!” he groaned. ‘Hopkins keeps assuring me that the operation is a perfectly simple one and that nobody thinks anything of it at all these days. ‘Only five per cent mortality!’ he says. Think of telling me that! Mortality—nice word to have a surgeon chuck at you! He suggests I should engage a friend of his named Oppenheim, but I have an idea that he really wants to do the operation himself.” ““Well, why don’t you let him?” “Hopkins? Nonsense!” “Why?” “Nol’’ He Retorted. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EARTH I KINGS XIX, 11-19 My Friends—By Arthur Train TLLUSTRATED Br LEJAREWN A “Nobody But the Biggest Man in the Business is Going to Operate on My Wife! There Must be Some Crackajack Surgeon Who Hasn't Gone" ““Why—he’s too young, for one thing. He’s all right as a sort of general practitioner.” “How old is he?”’ Adams hesitated. *‘I—don’t—know,” he answered slowly. ‘Come to think of it, he must be well over forty.” “Well,”’ I retorted, ‘‘if he’s ever going to be old enough to operate I should think he has reached maturity. Why don’t you let him?” My friend waved a frenzied hand. “IT wouldn’t let him touch Lucy with a ten-foot pole! I won’t have an inexperienced man slashing up my wife. I want the biggest surgeon there is—and he’d be none too good. There must be someone—even in another city.” Helen had risen and nad been standing looking out into the sunlit yard of the day school in our rear. Now she turned and laid her hand on Kenneth’s arm. “Listen, Kenneth,’’ she admonished him: “I know exactly how you feel, and I’m awfully sorry about Lucy; but things aren’t so bad as you feel just at this moment. We've been away and haven't kept in touch, but perhaps we can understand all the better. Now, from what you say it would appear that most of the well-known surgeons have gone away—to France or Washington or medical reserve officers’ camps. However, the hospitals are still manned and equipped. The big men all have to die off sometime. There are always others just as good—or prac- tically so—to fill their places. I've heard both Oppenheim and Hopkins very well spoken of. Why don’t you try one of them?” But Kenneth shook his head gloomily. “No!” he retorted. “Nobody but the biggest man in the business is going to operate on my wife! I thought maybe I'd overlooked someone and that you might be able to suggest a name. But I’ll have to try elsewhere. There must be some crackajack surgeon who hasn’t gone.” “What do you suppose other people will do?” I asked rather impatiently. “IT don’t know what they’! do,” he declared wildly. ““What’s that tome? That's an entirely different matter, MILLER isn’t it?”’ He got up, removed his hat from the table where he had laid it and took a step toward the door with- out offering to shake hands. “There must be someone!” he kept repeating “Try Oppenheim,” urged Helen. “A fellow I never heard of!’’ he almost shouted. “I'd rather have Hopkins.” He turned and hur- ried out into the front hall, mumbling to him- self. The door slammed and then I saw his shadow fall across the window. ‘Poor Kenneth!” sighed Helen. “I don’t blame him for being nervous about Lucy; but really - “‘T see where we have simply got to keep well!” I remarked. Helen laughed. “I forbid you to have appendicitis!’’ she said. I had not been to my office since theeventful day of our return, and had: availed myself of my partner’s sugges- tion that I should get my domestic affairs in order before bothering my head about busi ness. The task of re- adjusting those affairs to the new conditions in which we found our- selves had proved far less difficult than I had anticipated. For example, save for the fact that we were unable to take our customary Sunday afternoon run into the coun- try, I should not have noticed the absence of our motor. We had not, as yet, had time to ascertain who of our friends had returned to town, and we had all been so busy that, save for the necessity of the comparatively trifling econ- omies we had inaugurated, the effect of the war had been imperceptible. As I walked downtown I was struck by the profusion of To Let and For Sale signs displayed upon both sides of the street. Where there had always been a scattering few, now they everywhere thrust themselves upon one’s notice. At the apartment house on the corner I found that they had replaced the elevator men with women. Two military service motors passed me, driven by young ladies in khaki, and I observed, with interest, two little girls delivering telegrams. ‘These things, following, as they did, Adams’ complaint that he could not secure the kind of surgeon he wanted, indicated that the war had already made itself felt more than I should otherwise have supposed. I wasn’t looking for war signs; in fact, my attitude had been rather one of skepticism. Business seemed to be going on as usual and Fifth Avenue had never been so crowded with motors. However, I encountered Jim Lockwood and, farther along, Horace Gibson, both men of about my age and in uniform, taking their small girls to school, and wondered what sort of military service they were engagedin. Between Seventy- second and Thirty-fourth Streets I passed or overtook, by actual count, twenty-seven men in army or navy uni- forms—before nine o’clock; and at Sixtieth Street I had heard a humming like that of a gigantic cockchafer, and looking overhead had seen a monoplane sailing across Central Park, going west toward Jersey. Mind you, if I had been in New York right along I prob- ably shouldn’t have paid any attention to these phenom- ena; but I had been away, practically asleep on a sugar plantation, for nearly ten months, and everything—as the saying is—“hit me between the eyes.” That aéroplane particularly! A year ago the whir of its propeller would

Page 24

have brought every housemaid out into the street within a radius of three miles; and now—nobody paid the slightest attention to it! Along Fifth Avenue, in the course of my walk of only two miles, I saw innumerable service flags, the stars run- ning from one to five in private houses and as high as fifty to sixty in one or two of the largest stores. The sidewalks, of course, were just as full of people as ever; but there before my eyes was the tangible evidence that at least a regiment of men had gone to the Front from the immediate neighborhood Two crowded busses containing a company of negro guardsmen came out of Fifty-seventh Street and turned up Fifth Avenue without attracting more than a casual glance from the pedestrians. In the Subway I read the notice that the Interborough Railroad had lost no less than twelve hundred and sixty employees on account of enlistment. Three officers in uni- forms in adjacent seats to my own, going downtown, seemed to excite no interest. But when I reached the bridge and, emerging upon Broadway, perceived the huge service flag of the New York Telephone Company, with its six thousand eight hundred and sixty-one stars, I grasped, for the first time, the reality of the thing. For every man a star—for every stara hero! Whata host of them! What a glory! Somehow my eyes grew moist at the vision of those hundreds of boys you wouldn't have credited with any particular idealism, whose chief interest you would have assumed to be an evening spent at the movies with a girl, now stumping along with set faces to the whistle of the fife under the Stars and Stripes. Youthful cynics some of them, sophisticated in the ways of business and of pol- itics, suspicious of motives, creedless, churchless, rebellious to authority, skeptics. What had sent them? What had sent my Jack? For answer, the inscription upon the monument in Soldiers’ Field floated across the curling folds of the great flag with its myriad stars: Though love repine and reason chafe, There comes a voice without reply: Twere man’s perdition to be safe When for the Truth he ought to die! Below Fulton Street the city was all aflutter with flags, and many motors passed in both directions driven by or carrying officers. It occurred to me that, as I was in his neighborhood, I would drop in on Fred Hawkins, the senior member of the firm of Hawkins, Ludlow & Fowler, who attended to our law business when we were unfortunate enough to have any. To my surprise I noticed that the name on the door now read “‘ Ludlow & Fowler.”” The clerk in the outer office informed me that Mr. Hawkins was away, but that Mr. Ludlow would be glad to see me in the library, where he was working. “ How d’'you do, Stanton?” he exclaimed cordially, hold- ing out his hand. “Why, no; Hawkins hasn’t been with us THE SATURDAY EVENING sincelast May. He went over with Pershing; he was very lucky—got a major’s commis- sion on the Judge-Advocate-General’s staff.” “Isn't he a bit over age?”’ I inquired, find- ing it difficult to envisage my rather elderly attorney with epaulets. “And hasn’t he got several children?” “‘He’s fifty-one,”’ conceded Ludlow. “‘ But his wife has a little money of her own and the three children are all away at school. I think they spend most of their vacations at their grandmother’s, anyhow. But that wouldn’t have made any difference. Fred began to get uneasy long before the war actually started. He’s a sentimental cuss, sort of medieval and romantic—inherited a chivalric side from his mother’s family; she was part French, you know. The day after the declaration he simply walked in here and said: ‘ Well, boys, I’m off for the war!’ And he went. He’d had his pipes all laid for some time. Nothing would have stopped him. We offered to keep the firm together for him, but he said he’d rather resign and be foot-free. So he just chucked the whole thing up, and now it’s Ludlow & Fowler.” ““Of course I'd have heard, only I’ve been away,” Isaid. ‘I suppose I'll find a lot of my other friends gone.” “Rather!” he returned. “I tell you there’s a big hole in this town below Fulton Street. The last men in the world you would have thought of! Gone across—or down to Washington, or on some mission; left their jobs and just hiked right’ out. Take the bar: there are so many of ‘em gone that we’ve had to form a big committee of lawyers to hold their practice together for them.” “‘ How is the law business?” I inquired. “Rotten!” he grinned. “But what do you expect? There isn’t any business—except war business—for there to be any law business about.” “I know the surgeons are pretty well cleaned out,” said I, thinking of Ken Adams and his appendicitis case. “Glad to have seen you. If you should have any law business, don’t forget us!” “I shan't have any law business,” I answered grimly; “or any other kind, round here, I guess—from the look of things.” The Petroleum National Bank was on the next block on my way to the office and I paused at the cashier’s desk to inquire the amount of my balance. Behind a glass parti- tion I could see Rumsey Prall, the president, sitting in state at his mahogany desk; and after getting my infor- mation I pushed my way past the brass rail and went in to speak to him. “Hello, Stanton!” he said, drawing me into a chair. “Haven't seen you for a dog’s age. Where you. been— Paris?” I shook my head. ‘‘Not much!” I retorted. “I’ve been dreaming away nearly a year in the Pacific.” He looked at me with open incredulity. “That’s a funny safe place to have been!” he ejaculated. “So I’ve just discovered,” I replied. “It seems that quite a little has happened since I left here. By the way, where’s Jim Rogers—your vice president?”’ “ Rogers is running the Red Cross over on the other side,”” he answered. “They needed a big man, so we had to let him go. Phillips, our third vice, has gone too. He's in Washington, though. Seen our service flag? Forty-seven stars on it!’ he added proudly. On the corner of Wall Street I ran into Allston Hopkins, dressed as a captain, walking with his son Sam, in the uniform of an ensign in the navy. Hopkins is a civil engineer with an international reputation, who ezrns, it is said, two or three hundred thousand dollars a year. He nodded to me, evidently not aware that I had been away. “Going across?’ I asked over my shoulder as I passed. I Yearned to Ge and Do Something Mysetf; Not at a Desk, But With a Rifle Over My Shoutder, the Smelt ef Pewder in the Air, and My Feet on the Muddy Turf January 12,1918 “A Fettow Can't Lose in This Market; All He's Got to Deo is to Seti a Few Thousand Short With His Eyes Shut — That is, if He Has a Lit« tle Real Courage’’ “T’ve been over and back five times,”’ he said. “Just got my boy a job.” “Good luck to you!” I called after them. Already I had an unpleasant feeling of being a sort of outsider, as if all about me there was some mystic circle to which I did not have the pass- word—a brotherhood of which I was not a member. There were all sorts of uniforms on Wall Street, and several French and Canadian officers were strolling along, watching the crowds and looking at the Stock Exchange. Suddenly an old woman, carrying a string bag full of bundles, pushed her way through the crowd to where a French captain in an army cape was standing before a show window. She was shabbily dressed and her gray hair was far from tidy; but her eyes were shining, and there was an almost reverential expression on her wrinkled face as she timidly touched him upon the arm. He turned and, seeing her eager look, raised his cap as she held out her hand. “IT just can’t help shaking hands with you!” she cried tremulously, and with little tears of excitement in her eyes. “Do you mind? We can’t ever thank you enough!” “C'est avec plaisir, madame, que je vous remercie pour Vhonneur fait d mes compatriotes—au nom de la France.” And he bent over the little hand with a bow that would have done credit to a nobleman of the ancient régime, while the little lady, quite flustered, looked up and then down, and, as if abashed at her own temerity, hurried on, lest someone should see her. The Frenchman stood gazing after her, with his cap still raised in air, for several seconds, while the crowd swept round him, a gentle smile about his eyes. I couldn’t help it—I, too, stepped up and laid my hand on his arm. “Je veux vous remercicr, aussi,”” I said, smiling. ‘“‘ Nous vouluns tous vous remercier!”’ Like a flash he gave me the salute. “* Mes compliments, m’sieur!”’ he responded; then, glanc- ing tenderly in the direction of vhe little figure, almost lost in the crowd: “Ah, cette petite dame agée me fait penser a ma chére grand’mére ad Falaise!”’ The recollection of that brief scene stayed with me all day. I think of it occasionally even now. I am glad that old lady did not restrain her impulse to show her apprecia- tion, in the only way she could, of what France has done for us and for the world. At the office I found that my partner, Lord, had already been in for a few moments, looked over his mail and hurried out again. Miss Peterson said he had just made an unexpected sale of some bonds and had gone over to the yaults to superintend delivery personally. This was news no less grateful than it was surprising. Perhaps business was looking up again! Not having anything in particular to do, I started in making a short list of the men I thought I should like to see and chat with during the course of the day; for, under my doctor’s orders, I had done no letter writing while on my vacation, and I looked forward with a good deal of anticipation to renewing the old intimacies and hearing what my former cronies had to say for themselves. —— teen tp, TNT cP A LOC nc, a Se G2

Page 25

{ Centr TCT cD IE I A, Met: es MA ROE. iE yeh I jotted down some twenty names and told Miss Peter- son to call up their offices and see whether they were in town. Half an hour later she laid the slip on my desk, with the notes she had made. I shall give no names, but merely the occupations and whereabouts of twelve out of the twenty of my former downtown associates: BANK PRESIDENT—Acting as Assistant to Secretary of the Treasury, in Washington. MANUFACTURER— Member of National Council of De- fense, in Washington. LAWYER— Major, Bureau of. Intelligence, Washington. LAWYER— Member Special Commission to Russia. VICE PRESIDENT OF TRUST COMPANY—Red Cross Execu- tive, in Paris. CaPITALIST—Y. M. C. A. Executive, in Paris. EpITtoR—Allied War Relief, in Paris. MANUFACTURER—Member of War Industries Board, Washington. DEALER IN RAILROAD SUPPLIES—Gone to Russia on business for United States Government. LAWYER— Executive in Food Administration, Chicago. STOCKBROKER— Major of Ordnance, France. LAWYER— Lieutenant Colonel National Army, Fort Myer. Of the twenty there were only eight remaining in New York! Now it may well be that, had I extended my list to a hundred names, I should have found only a few addi- tional absentees. I do not know. What struck me was the fact that of the twenty men I most wanted to see on my return to New York a majority had offered their services to their country, in spite of the fact that they were all above military age, all prominent in affairs, and most of them earning large salaries. They had abandoned their careers gladly, apparently without a moment’s hesitation, simply because they thought it was the thing to do. It didn’t and it doesn’t seem to me particularly impor- tant to know how many of one’s entire acquaintance are responding to the call of duty; but it is important to know how many of the twenty men one regards as most worth while are doing so. If I had confined myself to the first ten names I should have found only three of my friends who were not working for the Government. There was nothing doing in the office; so I put on my hat and went out into the street again. As I looked back at our front windows I observed for the first time that we had a small service flag of our own, with three blue stars on it. Somehow it gave me a feeling of encouragement. I wondered whether everybody’s business was as hard hit as my own; yet the streets seemed to be just as crowded as ever, with people hurrying along about their manifold affairs. The only difference was in the amount of bunting displayed everywhere and the posters—some old and torn, others fresh and new—that adorned every hoarding, wall and empty barrel. Many of them were artistic and their legends inspiring. Side by side with posters upon which were displayed the Stars and Stripes were others with the Union Jack and the banner of Saint George, calling upon all loyal Englishmen and Canadians in the United States to enlist under their own flag: Britishers, enlist to-day!—British blood calls British blood! Sons of Britain, join your army here enlist now! One poster especially gripped my imagina- tion—the figure of a marine in khaki, one foot advanced, standing in front of the flag, his left fist clenched and in his right hand a pistol, with a look of determination upon his bronzed face: First in the Fight!—Always Faithful! Two other posters “I Just Can't Help Shaking Hands With You!’’ She Cried Tremutousty, and With Little Tears of Excitement showed our boys in khaki charging up a hill, bearing the flag; and another a group, similar to that in the familiar painting, inscribed, Spirit of 1917! That was it! The spirit of 1917! I had been accustomed to growl at English stupidity and bad manners, to scoff at French laxity and frivolity; now the sight of French and English uniforms among the crowd and the French and English colors juxtaposed with my own sent a fine glow through my veins. This was a new world I had come back into! A bigger world, a world of the spirit—the spirit of 1917! My blood tingled at the thought that, even if I wasn’t going to be among the first to fight for freedom, Jack was! I was exalted by a patri- otic fervor stimulated by these flags and posters. I yearned to go and do something myself—right off—‘‘ now” —*“‘to- day”; not at a desk in some administrative building, but with a rifle over my shoulder, the smell of powder in the air and my feet on the muddy turf. Then I gloomily realized that, though my heart was young, my arteries were old! Nevertheless, I assured myself they were not so old as Joffre’s by nearly twenty years! Or Cadorna’s! So far as fitness went, I was per- fectly sound; the only difference was that under a pro- longed strain probably I shouldn't last so long as a younger chap—a purely theoretical limitation. To every intent and purpose I was as vigorous as my son. After all, I was really a young man. I had climbed Fusi-yama only eight months before, had tramped for days through the Philippines, and every year of the last ten I had hunted either Rocky Mountain sheep or elk among the Shoshones. I was as hard as nails, unaddicted in excess to alcohol or tobacco, could carry a sixty-pound pack for hours along a New Brunswick portage, or tote my half of a canoe with any French-Canadian voyageur. No; I was allright! Yet here I was, wandering round Wall Street! It was almost with relief—a sensation of needed vindi- cation—that I found myself being warmly shaken by the hand by Arthur Pulham, a stockbrokering friend of mine with offices on the ground floor of a Broad Street building. He is a big, husky chap, about forty-three years old, with pink cheeks, weighs nearly two hundred pounds, and has shoulders like Samson’s. He spends his summers sailing a racing yacht on Narragansett Bay and always goes tarpon fishing in the spring—a crank about outdoor life, with a keen sense of the value of money, who, in spite of a curious pantheistic materialism, had a lot of good points and whom I could count on when in trouble as a friend. “Well! Well! Jack!” he cried heartily. ‘You back! I am glad to see you! Tell me all about yourself! How is Helen? And the boy? Oh, of course, he’d be with the colors! Great luck for the lad, eh? Wish I was his age! Come round to the office and smoke a cigar?” I was glad to see him and, having nothing to do, followed him into the customers’ room, which was filled with a heterogeneous crowd lounging in chairs in front of a quo- tation board. The market was active and depressed, and prices were changing with great rapidity. Pulham pushed me into his private office and pulled to the door. Then he shoved toward me a box of expensive cigars, helped him- self to one, lighted it and leaned back comfortably in his armchair. Behind him, on the wall, was a poster which said: *‘ Will you be more tender with your dollars than our boys are with their lives?’’—or something like that. “Well, old man,” he repeated, “I sure am glad to see you once more! How do you find business?” “Isn’t any,” I answered, smiling. ‘“‘ But, from the look of things outside there, you don’t seem to be troubled that way.” He took a satisfied pull on his cigar. “No,” he said; “business is pretty good! Pretty, pretty good!” He leaned toward me confidentially. “‘ You see,” he imparted to me with a tremor of egotism that he could not conceal, ‘I doped this al] out nearly two years ago. In the first place, all my people got in on the War Babies— Bethlehem Steel, Crucible, General Motors, and so on; and then I had a hunch that, whether the war lasted much longer or not, there would be some bad times, and I told everybody to sell. In a word, we were bears when war was declared, and we've been bears ever since. A fellow can’t lose in this market; all he’s got to do is to sell a few thousand short with his eyes shut— that is, if he has a little real courage.” “A little real courage!” I half murmured. Was it the cigar smoke that made me feel queer? Pulham didn’t notice. “It’s the only sure way to make money,” he continued. ‘ Business in Her Eyes. “‘Do You Mince? We Can't Ever Thank You Enough!" THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 23 conditions are terrible! The railroads are in a shocking state! It’s criminal, the way the Commission is treating ’em. It’s bound to mean government ownership sooner or later. It’s a safe bet to sell this market from now on.” “But all business isn’t so bad, is it?” I inquired, mor to make conversation than anything else. “I should say not! The money some fellows have made is enough to make you sick—positively sick! I know one who has made twenty million since August, 1914.”’ “Twenty million!” “Tw-en-ty! Count ’em! Any number of fellows have just coined it; all luck, of course—just happened to be in the right thing —chemicals, rubber, machinery, munitions. There’s a chap upstairs who was doing business in 1914 with one room and an office boy. Now he has the whole floor-—twenty-two offices. Literal truth! Some expansion what?” “Where is Dixon?” I asked, looking through the office door of the adjoining office. “Dixon? Left us. Gone across to France in the Red Cross.” “That’s fine!” said I warmly. “Yes—fine!”’ he echoed. “Splendid, isn’t it, the way the fellows are volunteering? Everybody's doing some- thing, you know! Even those who can’t find a job in Washington are doing their bit right here at home, one way or another—Liberty Loan, Y. M. C. A., Red Cross or something. I'd give my eyes to go across if only I was the right age. But they don’t want us old fellows on the other side.”’ “T suppose you could go to Plattsburg and get an officer’s commission, couldn’t you?” I hazarded. ““Oh, possibly,’ he acceded with a slight frown; “but there’s the family ! You can’t go and leave a wife and five children—now can you? Besides,”’ he hurried on without giving me a chance to reply, “I've tried my best to get a job where what ability I have can be utilized; but I can’t find a place, to save my life. I've tried the War Depart- ment, the Navy Department, and written to Hoover; but all any of ’em can offer me is some clerical work that an office boy could do. Now if they’d put me on a com- mission be I held my peace. “You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to find a chance to do something—anything to help!”’ he protested with even more earnestness than the occasion seemed to demand. And then, over his desk, I noticed for the first time a picture of Uncle Sam, pointing an accusing finger and saying: I Want You! “No,” I admitted truthfully; “I don’t suppose I do As | strolled back to my own offices the sunlight seemed to be a shade less bright than earlier in the day. There was Hawkins-—a leader of the bar—-who had thrown up a career, and certainly not less than thirty thousand a year; and right across the street one of his best friends was making money hand over fist! I found that Lord had not yet returned, and as it was nearly lunchtime I called up John Sedgewick and asked whether my old lunch club was still going. He answered that it was, only there were now but nine members instead of fourteen as formerly, and they no longer took a private room, but sat at a round table in the regular dining room of the Noonday Club. He was just going over, he said, Would I join him? (Continued on Page 37) . ~, Gores > vi co ea thot

Page 26

24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FOUNDED A‘*‘D‘ 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A. GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR By Subscription $150 the Year. Five Cents the Copy of All Newsdealers to Caneda—By Subscription $1.75 the Year. Single Copies, Five Cents Foreign Subscriptions; For Countries in the Postal Union. Single Subscrip- tions, $3.15. Remittances to be Made by International Postal Money Order. PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY 12,1918 arene $$ Notice to Subscribers IF YOUR COPY does not arrive promptly on Thursday do not assume that it has been lost in transit. With the terribly con- gested condition of the railroads at this time delays to the mail trains are inevi- table. If your copy of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST does not reach you on Thursday wait a few days before writing tous. By that time it will probably be in your hands. For the same reason news- dealers’ supplies may also at times be late. War Criticism ATURALLY people who conduct the war—here or abroad—want criticism pretty exclusively directed at the public. They want economy and organization for war urged upon individuals, and individual extravagance reprobated. They want criticism used in such a manner as to bring the greatest possible quantity of national resources into their hands. They are not so keen about criticism when it is directed at themselves. The general attitude was exemplified recently when a high official deprecated carp- ing at government expenditures. Of course a government at war must not practice meticu- lous economy. Time is usually much more important than money. When the house is afire it is silly to pause and reckon up the cost of cutting a hole through the roof. But from every angle the efficiency of the nation will be measured by the efficiency of the Government—the agency through which the nation acts. In a war that supremely tests national resources, and whose outcome may depend upon using every ounce of resources to the best advantage, carping at avoidable government extravagance is even more to the point than carping at individual extravagance. Real economy is not a question of measuring money against time, but of making the best use of both. If five per cent can be saved on a ship without retarding con- struction, that means twenty-one ships at the end of the year instead of twenty. As the President said in his annual message, the method by which money is appropriated at Washington makes extravagance inevitable. Every intelligent student of the subject for the last dozen years has said the same thing. Appropriating is all done piecemeal and at haphazard. There is nowhere any central authority to consider and edit appropriations as a whole. Nowhere is there any real responsibility for government expenditures lodged. Our mail and our conversation with initiates keep reminding us that this situation really cannot be remedied; that the House of Representatives will not even go so far as to refer all appropriation bills to one committee because there is too much jealousy and too many congress- men want a finger in the pie; that the best we can possibly do is to have a more or less shadowy advisory committee superimposed on the present heterogeneous structure. As for anything resembling a genuine budget system, all experts agree that it is utterly out of the question, Con- gress’ jealousies and vanities make it impossible. This inevitably means that Congress’ jealousies and vanities are going to cost the country some hundreds of millions in the next six months. The experts may be right, for the time being; but criticism will not be discouraged. A rational method of handling appropriations is coming. Hand to Mouth HE whole world is short of food, fuel, iron, copper, leather, woolen goods, cotton, and some of the most useful chemicals. Even in the United States, three thousand miles from war's ravages and with no diminution of productive labor power up to last autumn, we are living from hand to mouth as to most of the necessaries of life mentioned above. A temporary check upon distribution brings famine in sight. The last census reported thirty-eight million men, women and children gainfully employed in the United States, that many producers of all sorts. Counting the men under arms and those engaged in making guns and ammunition, not less than three times that number—the best labor in the world—have been absolutely idle, so far as useful pro- duction is concerned, for more than three years. Of course surplus stocks have been used up, The world over, living is hand to mouth. There will be no improvement until peace comes, and the pressure is greater in Austria-Hungary and Germany than anywhere else. Wasting anything now means imme- diate want somewhere. Secession HE postal provisions of the War Revenue Act were smuggled in at the last moment in secret conference. When the bill was under open debate less drastic provi- sions had been stricken out of it. When Chairman Kitchin inserted these provisions in conference he knew, of course, that there would be practically no opportunity to debate them. Congress had been working at the bill six months. It was tired, impatient, anxious to adjourn. The practical question was whether it should accept the bill substantially as the conference committee reported it, or open up the whole business anew and indefinitely postpone adjourn- ment. As Mr. Kitchin no doubt calculated, it accepted the bill, including the postal provisions, though there is good ground for saying that if those provisions had come up for fair consideration a decisive majority of both houses would have rejected them. The effect of these provisions is to destroy national periodicals. It is rather difficult to believe that was not the intention. To publications with wide circulation the provisions virtually say: ‘“‘ You may circulate as far as you please, only you must cut out advertisements or charge remote subscribers three times as much as you charge those near by.’ Which is like saying to a grocer: ‘Continue in busi- ness as long as you like; only you must lock the front door and charge every third customer three times as much as you charge the other two.” For the great majority of widely circulated publications this is not revenue-paying or taxation. It is simply prohibition. Long postal hauls cost more than short ones. Therefore, let us enact that the Congressional Record, the bulletins of the Department of Agriculture, the reports of the Census Bureau, and all other government publications, shall not circulate west of the Mississippi River. To that proposi- tion Mr. Kitchin would say: ‘* Why, you are inaugurating secession! You are trying to put those people out of the United States!” But out of every thousand persons whose daily thinking is affected by widely circulated private publications, not more than one ever sees a government publication. Losing Time MERICA’S supreme war aim is a world organization to insure lasting peace. At various times spokesmen for all the Allies have accepted that aim. Undoubtedly the people of the allied nations desire it. Neutrals are ready for it. There is no reason why all steps toward such a world organization should await the end of the war. There are weighty reasons why the necessary preliminary steps should be taken at once. That war aim remains merely a sketch—an indefinite intention. To give it a tangible outline and a visible body would heighten its appeal. We believe the moral effect throughout the non-Teuton world would be much the same as when mariners, adrift on a sea for which they have no chart, discern a shore line ahead. A closer organization of the enemies of Germany is desir- able for -trictly military purposes, and every other day shows the desirability of a more comprehensive working January 12,1913 agreement between them and the neutral states. Outlining a League of Nations would help to accomplish both ends. Russia has broken away and is undoubtedly moving to separate peace; which will practically leave her detached- a stake for which either side may play. There is all too much evidence that merely beating Germany is a war aim in which the Russian people are no longer interested. Nothing else would be so decisive in attaching them to the Allies‘as proof in some concrete form that the enemies of Germany are fighting for an international arrangement to insure peace. Definite steps toward a League of Nations need not at all divert attention and energy from the prosecution of the war. By visualizing the supreme war aim such steps would bring even higher resolution to continue the war until Germany, too, becomes an acceptable candidate for the league. The spectacle of the non-Teutonic world defi- nitely moving toward permanent international organization might be expected to have a deep effect upon the German people. Wanted: A Railroad Policy ONGRESS at the last session appropriated one billion forty million-and-odd dollars for shipping. Everybody knows it must be spent under conditions involving a good deal of extravagance. Nobody objects, because the vital need of more ships is recognized. Ships are only the last link in the chain. Nearly every- thing they carry must first be brought to the docks by rail. Everybody knows how inadequate the land link is. The Fuel Administration wants more cars for coal. Hoover wants more cars for foodstuffs. Every industry and every town is crying for cars. At a hundred important points the country’s output is retarded because the railroads are congested with traffic. For five years it has been known to everybody who cared to inform himself that the railroads were not increasing their facilities as they should to keep abreast of normal expansion in the country’s business. The chief reason was that Federal and state authorities seemed minded to keep railroad revenues down to the lowest livable level and so brought railroad credit under suspicion. Without war, that would have been an unprofitable policy. With war, it is costing the country heavily. For more than five years we have had no real railroad policy. We have had Federal control, and conflicting state control. We have regulated rates, but never accepted the logical consequence by frankly permitting railroads to coéperate logical because the only reason for insisting upon competi- tion is to prevent an overcharge to the public, and rate regulation prevents an overcharge. We have regulated rates on ‘the general principle that in no particular case should the roads have more than enough to live on, but with no assurance that in all cases they should have enough to live on. Naturally railroad securities fell under suspicion. We need a railroad policy—a real policy. There are only two finally possible ones: Government ownership, or private ownership with regulation and control lodged ex- clusively in the Federal Government, and so constructively exercised that the railroads can assuredly bid for capital in competition with other applicants. Another Preparedness BOUT the time the Senate passed the Webb Bill per- mitting combinations of manufacturers for export trade, belated news from Germany told of action by the government compelling the boot-and-shoe industry to form what we call a trust. The number of factories was reduced, those that could produce least economically, it appears, being bought out and shut down, while the others were put into a syndicate so as to operate as a unit. Substantially it was what our tru#t promoters used to do, and the operation would sound thoroughly familiar to American ears if the name of J. P. Morgan or Judge Moore were substituted for that of the Kaiser. Germany seems to have gone further, however; for the consolidation appears to have extended even to dealers in boots and shoes. Just why the boot-and-shoe manufacturers did not com- bine voluntarily— when the German Government, far from discouraging such action, has always encouraged it— is not explained by the advices at hand. Evidently they did not, however, and the government forced them to do so. There is other evidence that, behind the war screen, Germany is steadily extending a policy of industrial and business consolidation. At one time we hear that a blast furnace syndicate has renewed its articles of combination for a long term; at another, that there is some difficulty about renewal of a steel-works combination; but no one expects the government will permit it to be dissolved. Unquestionably Germany is preparing for the contest of peace by restricting and eliminating competition on every hand. She proposes that German industry shall compete with the world, but that it shall lose no energy by com- peting within itself. ————

Page 27

Oh, OO aes Th OE POET AIP Sate = Pe a ae ee Morr — i! i THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ITALIAN CORRESPONDENTS’ HEADQUARTERS, B Wi T 7 ZR If October 18, 1917. VY HE Italian Army, last to admit foreign correspond- ents to its lines, has now perhaps the most smoothly working press system of all. It seemed to me that I had scarcely arrived at the beginning of my ten days’ per- mission to the Front before I was installed in a fast motor, with an escorting officer and two others of my kind, and was running at breakneck speed for a visit to the Bainsizza Plateau, and—if fortune and the course of battle favored to the Italian positions about Monte San Gabriele. This was the territory captured by the Italians-in their last gigantic effort of August, the greatest single victory won on the Fronts of the Western Allies since the Battle of the Marne. To-night, as I sit scratching off these notes on the rick- ety table of a very dark little hotel room, I am in the state of embarrassment common to all who try to write about the war. I have seen enough to-day, as one does every day at the Front, to write whole volumes. It is hard to express it all in a few hundred words. The psychology of war is a kind of intoxication, a huge intensification of life. Some of its moments produce on the mind and the senses an effect more poignant and permanent than those of years of peace. My impressions may edit themselves in time, retaining only the really significant scenes and incidents; but to-night I am mainly struck with my memories of war revisited; for a year ago last April I saw the hinterland of this country at a time when it was still a field of desperate and continual battle. And to-day I was struck especially with its grotesque and queer transformations. First, there was a little town, still unscarred by shells at that period, where we passed the night last year before trying to get into the house at Zagora. It was headquarters then, and a general in command of artillery had been kind enough to give us a bed. He warned us at the time that we might be wakened by a “whizbang”’; for, though the town had not been shelled as yet, we were within easy range of the enemy guns, and military works on one side had been suffering of late. As for the town, it was a little hill village, like a thousand others in Northern Italy, and yet with its own individuality. Its three or four narrow streets cen- tered about an old Renaissance church and a tall slender cam- panile. On the little public square stood an old four-pillared shrine of some pagan god, an inherit- ance from Roman times, now reduced to the condition of a eap- stone for the drinking fountain. On one border of the village was a wide and pleasant chateau, its outer walls gayly decorated, Ve- netian fashion, with flewery wreaths and cupids. The Carso in Autuma HE town, at first sight, seemed tostand as I remembered it, in- tact, untouched. Only after sev- eral minutesdid I begin to perceive the new stone. Everywhere, in the gray spaces of walls that had been white when the builders worked on them, centuries ago, there was the gleam of white patchwork. The painted chateau proved best of all what had hap- pened. The great irregular patches of white crossed the run- ning decoration of flowers and cupids, and broke it. Tiere had been time and spare energy for rebuilding, but none for decora- tion. This town, in short, had been clear through the cycle of war. crumbled under the shells. In May and again in August, 1917, the Italians swept on across the ranges dominating the town and relieved it from artillery fire. The canny home-loving Italian natives—Italian still, though for cen- turies the town had been under Austrian dominion—had immediately set about rebuilding, with the help of sol- diers quartered upon them. Conservative to their finger tips, they had rebuilt exactly and mathematically on the old tines.. As we swept on toward one of the toughest and most cruel aspects of this war, it seemed to me that I had been touched by a little breath of the coming peace. So we motored on over a wooded range, rusty with the dull browns and yellows that autumn brings to Europe; they do not know, in these lands, any violent autumn tints like ours. I had seen this range last in its tender spring dress; but it had undergone a greater transformation than that. Where it had been before an untrodden wood, it was now a world of intense military activity and of rude temporary buildings. Everywhere, too, it was creased with new mili- tary roads—those wonderful roads at which the Italian engineers are so clever. Here I must touch briefly on geography. We were going north of the key town of Gorizia, into the foothills of the Alps. They are called foothills, but in the East of the United States they would be called mountains; they are fully as high as the Catskills or as Mount Tamalpais, which hangs over San Francisco. On the other side of Gorizia, stretching to the sea, lies the hill desert of the Carso—a red Intact when I saw it in April, 1916, it had been heavily bom- barded afterward and had half ITALIAN OFFICIAL PHOTO, FROM UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, NEW YORK CITY The Steep Stopes of the Alps Have Proved No Obstacte to the Italian Engineers. They Have Placed Guns on the Most Inaccessible Cliffs and Cleverly Camouflaged Them on Monte Cucco and foreed the barren soil, in which nothing grows except a few stunted scrubs. That unpromising soil is spotted everywhere with great outcroppings of rock, red or white, and studded with dolinas, which are regular flat-bottomed holes, like the craters of the moon. The Carso is supposed to end at the fertile valley in which stands the troubled city of Gorizia. As a matter of fact, when, on the other side of this town, the terrain sweeps up into the Alpine focthills, this barren formation persists. In places the lower Julian Alps are sweet with chestnut woods and underbrush; but the plateaus and many of the slopes partake of the character of the Carso, The New Landscape Made by War WE CROSSED the summits of the nearest range; we were looking, from a height of perhaps two thousand feet, on to the gorge of the Isonzo. When | saw it before, in the early spring of 1916, it was of a clear opalesque blue, in spite of the early rains. Now it rolled muddy and opaque, like one of our Western rivers when the placer diggers have been at work. Indeed, the landscape was transformed since the time when the lines rested at Zagora, low down on that slope, and when Plava, on the other side of the river, was the opening to the communication trenches. In those days the grotesque scars of war showed only on the slope below Zagora, in a maze of yellow ditches and walls and back trenches. Now the whole landscape was so scarred. New roads ran everywhere. They were ,alive that morning with transports crawling through a light, cold autumn rain, Everywhere — not going too closely into details—hut settle- ments, bariked with yellow earth or with sandbags, broke the green of the hills. The forest had disappeared in great bald patches. Piled everywhere were military materials. ‘It looked not like war—except for the uniforms but like the preliminaries to such a great engineering job as the Panama Canal or the Assuan Dam. And, indeed, it looks what it is. The Italian campaign in the mountains is the greatest engineering job ever undertaken by man. When I visited this field be- fore I came to see the ‘famous house at Zagora, a military posi- tion long unique on any Front. For at Zagora, on the first abrupt slope of Monte Cucco, the lines locked after the stubborn battle of November, 1915. The Italians had crossed the Isonzo at this point and were trying to force their way up Monte Cucco. In a stone farmhouse on the outskirts of the village they were definitely checked. As things settled: down the Italians found themselves literally in the back rooms of the house—the Austri- ans in the front rooms; the Ital- iansin the kitchen—the Austrians in the coal cellar; the Italians in the spare back bedroom—the Austrians in the dining room. On that spring morning last year we sneaked in at dawn for the chance to put our hands on a wall only a foot away from the enemy, and to crawl down a trench line where, through the loopholes, you could see the walls of the enemy trenches rising in your face only ten yards away. That morning, too, we were caught under a bombardment for our pains, and forced to stay nearly all day. The situation had rested so for nearly six months when I visited the famous house; it seemed incredible that it should exist much longer. As a matter of fact, it did exist for thirteen months more—until the attack of last May, which outflanked and took the Austrian positions

Page 28

26 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST enemy back over the mountain. Fora year and a half men crawled and whispered through the broken walls of that house, chucking or dodging grenades, engaged simply in the business of killing. It was never shelled; neither side could do that without the risk of killing its own men. But it crumbled under the constant vicious little explosions of the grenades, until in the day of Italian victory it stood as it does now~a foundation with two fragments of saw- edged windowless wall rising brown against the hillside. The rains have washed away the stains of battle; when I saw it last it was black with burned powder. I could not quite understand then why neither side blew up this house or attacked to relieve the position. I under- stood to-day, having a chance to look about. The house two stories on one side and three on the other—occupied an abrupt hill slope. But on the Austrian side a flat little piece of hill plateau formed its front yard and kitchen garden. Had the Italians broken through into that field they would have been slaughtered like lambs by the Austrian machine guns bristling from the reserve lines. On the other hand, had the Austrians broken through they would have come out on the abrupt hill slope controlled by hundreds of machine guns from the Italian positions on the mountains across the river. Only a great general attack, like the one that came last May, could ever have relieved it. There it stands, still unrepaired, a monument of an episode unique in the history of wars. When the Italians Advanced WE CROSSED the river at Plava, where still stood the wrecks of pontoons by which we crossed before—there is a real bridge now. To Canale we traveled for three miles literally over the old Austrian front-line positions, for in all the early stages of the war—in fact, until the great surprise attack of August—the river itself had been No Man’s Land; the trenches of either side ran level with its banks. Much has been talked in Europe about the rush of tourists, after this war, to witness the trench lines of the battle- fields. As a matter of fact, there will be little to see. A trench is only a deep ditch; it takes constant work to maintain it against the attrition of Nature. Everywhere these ditches, even where they had been wattled with wil- low branches, were fillingup orfallingin. Grass wasspringing on their parapets and late autumn flowers were blooming. A road, borcered regularly with trees, had evidently run on this side of the river bank. These trees had been scarred, stripped of their braaches and broken here and there by two years of constant firing. Yet with the autumn rains their foliage had freshened before its fall; they looked no more ragged than thousands of trees clipped for firewood that one sees along the Euro- pean roads in peacetime. I observed the same thing in the old trenches near Soissons, abandoned by the Germans early last spring. Nature will not be denied; and ex- cept for places like the Somme Battle- field, where the soil has been chem- ically transformed by the constant shell explosions, she is fast healing the wounds of the earth Canale, which must have been a beautiful river town before it became a point of support in a trench line, looked so much like all those war-battered towns, which every- one kas seen in the cinema, that I shall not stop to describe it. From Canale, Cadorna began last August the first movement of his surprising attack, which relieved all themountainsabove us and took the Bainsizza Plateau. And now we were climbing on a per- fect road, metaled and graded at its in- numerable hairpin turns, which we could see winding above us to the mountain summit. The Twelve-Day Road, the Italians call it; though for most of the distance it had to be blasted out of the hard Alpine sandstone and gneiss, the job took exactly twelve days from the arrival of the working parties to its perfect completion. So we climbed, the guns, which we had been hearing all the morning, growing more and more distinct — climbed until we shot about the corner of a cliff and came out in sight of the Bainsizza Plateau. What a terrain! For monotonous barrenness it resem- bled the Carso. It rolled away, a monochrome of reddish brown, rumpled here and there by little ranges of hills. Even the foliage of the few desert shrubs, touched with autumn, had taken on the prevailing color. Only the white rocks broke the monotony. These rose in ridges and patches, making the landscape appear as though snow had fallen and was half melted. We shot into sight of a hill village, half destroyed like the rest. Across the road lay a field where soil had settled into a hollow of the rocks; there stood rows of cornstalks, stripped of their ears. “The Austrians did not destroy that crop!” I remarked. “Why?” “We came on too fast,” said our escorting captain. “It was a surprise, you know. We were streaming over this part of the plateau before they knew we had started. The women and children took to the hills. We rounded them up afterward and sent four hundred of them back to the safety zone. For days after the attack small knots of Austrians were wandering round the plateau or the forest, trying to find a chance to give themselves up.” This was the last sign of permanent human habitation; the rest were dugouts or huts wedged in between rocks and sandbagged. But always the roads were perfect. We came, in the end, to the rear of a low hill range that closes the plateau on the Austrian side. Beyond this range, half or three-quarters of a mile away, lay our trenches. Guns were going behind us; sometimes, if you were watching, you could see just after an explosion a slight puff of mist overlying a clump of rocks, but of the gun you could see nothing, so cleverly was it camouflaged. We pulled up finally before the dugouts of an advanced dressing station to talk things over with a fine stalwart Milanese surgeon in charge. The night before had brought an adventure, he said. He was operating on an emergency case in that board-and-corrugated-iron building there when the Austrians began shelling them with shrapnel. He pointed out the little ragged holes in the roof where the bullets had pattered about him as he clipped and tied. It was a case of life and death; so he had kept right on. In the morning the wounded man had gone back by ambulance. “And, except for complications, he will get well too!” said the surgeon. “‘But they won’t get me to-night, for we have just finished our little playhouse over there.”’ He led us to the gaping mouth of a tunnel in the rock. We pushed January 12,1918 on for forty or fifty feet to a chamber where the tunnel widened. We were in an operating room, complete even to the X-ray apparatus! And as we emerged we saw we had another case. Down the road came four soldiers with the Red Cross brassard on their arms. Shoulder-high they carried a stretcher made from interwoven willow branches. From a heap of gray blankets peered the face of the wounded man; he looked, as the wounded generally do, not especially agonized, but just dazed and a little un- comfortable. We ran our machine into the protection of a hill after that and made a basket lunch. Our trenches were on the other slope of the hill, half a mile or so away, and now and then a shell from our guns or the enemy’s whistled over- head. And we chatted of things personal, including the failings of absent fellow men; but scarcely a word about the war. We had to make a quick run past a dangerous corner as we came away; on this point the Austrians, who must have suspected the presence of a road, could bring fire to bear from two directions at once. We had scarcely passed it, in fact, before the slight, dull, but yet sinister, sound of a shrapnel burst caused us to crane our necks and observe, a hundred feet back, a pretty smoke cloud trailing doWn toward earth. Now we were skirting a hill; the full glory of the Isonzo Gorge showed below us; but I shall omit descrip- tion until I come to the point where, having abandoned the machine and taken to our legs, we found ourselves on the ruined crest of Monte Santo. Over the Crest of Monte Santo T IS called a mountain; to-night I think of it more asa crag, so steep is it, except for one side, up which, through innumerable military works, we had wormed our machine. On the very summit once stood a convent. You could see that it had been built of stone, because some of the frag- ments showed that they had been shaped by the quarry- man’s saw; but you could tell neither its old shape nor its dimensions. Jeffries, of our party, had visited this summit a short time after the battle, when the slopes were still dotted with the unburied dead. Poking about among the ruin that day, he had discovered a child’s toy automobile—a relic, after two years of war, from the days when this ruin harbored nuns and children. Jeffries was poking round again when I was hailed in a perfect cockney accent by a little soldier in very rusty olive-gray and a trench helmet. “Are you the Dyly Myle man?” he asked, his animated Italian expression contrasting queerly with his accent. I indicated Jeffries as the anointed representative of the Daily Mail; and the soldier, who, it appeared, was a con- stant reader, addressed him in terms that brought the blushes to his cheek. He was a performer at the London Hip- podrome, the soldier told us—an acrobat. Also he had married an English actress. He dived into the depths of his bat- tered uniform, and brought out her pho- tograph in a frame, to prove his asser- tion that she was a beauty. Having, it appeared, nothing special to do at the moment, he joined the party and was with us most of the way over Monte Santo. Yes, the visible dead were buried; but there were other dead still there, as the sense of smell told from time to time. For the earth below us was a honeycomb of cav- erns, where Italian and Austrian lay festering side by side. It was these caverns, more than the nature of the hill itself, which made the taking of Monte Santo so difficult. Two com- panies of Italian Ar- diti stormed that Ain Italian Outpost on the Isonzo Front (Continued on Page 28) Tyran, a arco OS eae FeSO TE OIL ett a Se re st treme be Pee

Page 29

} wt papain, eS a erent AE me, 2 Sa ROT OO ORL IE STOR To OT ————— TES NG ADR eas 4\\XHI 7 A oA | . . 33> in time. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “On the tick and piping hot That's the way to eat it! Soup that goes right to the spot! Where's the feast to beat it?” “) cw Ready in three minutes! And minutes are precious when you are tired and hungry. “Nine-tenths of wisdom,” they say, “is in being wise It is something the same with soup. A large proportion of the benefit you get from it is in having it on time—and hot! Just notice the smile that breaks out all over Dad's weary face when he catches the first fragrant steaming whiff from Campbell’s Vegetable Soup It is not only all that a soup ought to be, but you can have it at three minutes’ notice any time. Fresh-flavored delicious vegetables— choice white potatoes, sweet potatoes, ruta- bagas and carrots—daintily diced, baby lima beans, small peas, tender corn, juicy okra, fine tomatoes, cabbage, celery and parsley, a little And it is all cooked and prepared—ready for your table. Simply add hot water, bring to a boil and serve it hot. . 21 kinds 12c a can Asparagus Clam Chowder Pea Beef Consommé Pepper Pot Bouillon Julienne Printanier Celery Mock Turtle Tomato Chicken Mulligatawny Tomato-Okra Chicken-Gumbo (Okra) Mutton Vegetable Clam Bouillon Ox Tail Vermicelli-Tomato delicate leek and onion and sweet red peppers. Added to this plenty of barley, rice and “alphabet macaroni” — all blended in a nour- ishing stock which we make from good se- lected beef. Isn’t that a dainty dish to set before King Hubby when he comes home tired, hungry and im- patient ? ©U a ebtee , ae Pe 7 ; ‘ OSEPH CamppeLL COMPAN th CAMDEN, NJ. USA ‘i ¥ hed Nin als. The 14 z Gite? Hes i Es) | x

Page 30

The “Yale” trade-mark is part of the product The trade-mark “Yale” is the proof in the case: | evidence that’ your money has H| | evidence and | | | bought the you want; | | } qu ality proof that you will get the service you have a right to expect. And every “Yale” mark on it—from the product has that trade simplest of inexpensive drawer locks, to padiocks, night latches, | door closers, chain hoists, or the 18] finest of exclusive builders’ hard IE ware. It is put on Yale products iE | to protect you when buying—as a visible guarantee of the company }8} who made it. That trade-mark “Yale” is as much a part of ‘the product as the perfect mechanism and endur It can’t be a “Yale” it bears the trade mu ing metal. r r product unless mark “ Yale.” A fact well worth remembering, as your hardware dealer will tell you. The Yale & Towne Mfg. Co. 9 East 40th i. New York Chicago Office: 77 East Lake Street Canadian Yale & Towne Lid Cath Yale Night Latch Vale Padlock | low, ran the Isonzo. to ours, (Continued from Page 26) crest in the beginning; they had secured it to all appearance; they had even sent back prisoners, when—they vanished, and the Austrians were back. The enemy had simply disappeared into the caverns, popped out at the proper moments, and made cap- tives of their captors. It took wave after wave of assault troops to secure that sum- mit and to make the caverns untenable. Then a peep through a camouflage screen—a view that told us what this posi- tion was all about. On our right, far be- Across, a twin height was Monte Sabotino. Monte Santo, as we approached it, had shown yellow-brown; the hot breath of battle had stripped it of trees and of most small vege- tation. But Sabotino had been taken more than a year before, and a green-brown au- tumn forest still clothed it. Its precipitous sides were banging, banging, banging with concealed heavy artillery. Before us, less than a mile away, was a | perfectly bald cone-shaped mountain, only one ragged dead tree near the summit show- | ing that it had once been clothed with a forest. That was San Gabriele, now the | chief obstacle to Italian advance in this | dead tree. region. Honeycombed with caverns, as Monte Santo was, the summit where the dead tree stands sentinel is a No Man’s Land. Neither side has been able to hold it. The opposing trenches run together up | its slopes, widen out to curve round each side of the summit, and come together on the other side. On the right ran that gracious valley, now overlaid with golden mist, where stands Gorizia. Gorizia looked white, beautiful and inviting; distance had blotted out her ugly stains of war. Before the city, and hiding a little the farther view of the valley, lay a cluster of tawny barren hills. That is the range of San Marco, held by the Aus- trians. Take it, and the Italians have an open pass into Austria. But San Gabriele commands San Marco; hence the struggle which has been going on since August about that barren cone crowned by its one Farther on stretched the whole red range of the Carso; and finally, a glint in the Nile-green mists of that misty after- noon, the Adriatic, right wing of the great European battle line. On the Italian Front alone can one see the whole scheme of battle. I realized that fact again a few minutes later. We had crawled behind a camou- flage screen about the more precipitous slope of the mountain, for a nearer look at our own front trenches and the Austrian position. Our path took us through a wil- derness of military works, not to be de- scribed here, past the yawning mouths of the old Austrian caverns, past soldiers on guard with the keenly alert expression of battle—for here it is always a battle, more or less intense. Shrapnel was breaking all the time along the mountain slope below | us; now and then, through the screen, you could observe the yellow puff of a prema- ture burst. The soldiers told us, reassur- ingly, that it was only a matter of time before the Austrians raised their range to sweep our present position. We came at last to a dugout, where an officer, who looked, in his knit and wound winter cap, like an especially handsome Sikh of North- ern India, led us to a peeping place. The Bowl in the Hills We were above a bow!-like plateau in the hills—so far and directly above it that I felt I could have thrown a baseball onto the roofs of the town below. It was a little, huddled, stone hill town, not especially battered, but deserted. The plateau be- hind it was threaded with roads. Before us loomed San Gabriele,’ the double trench line, yellow amid the brown, trailing down it to the slopes of a Jittle valley, where it was lost from sight. The landscape looked barren, deserted, lunar, and nothing more; of the thousands and thousands of men who inhabited those hills and that plateau, there was not a glimpse. Then things began to happen which showed that this was not a desert, but a battlefield. Here and there an electric spark twinkled an instant before the vi- sion—-the flash of a gun. Along one of the roads black puffs began rhythmically to burst and settle. We were trying to trace the Austrian trench line, at a spot where it seemed obscure, when it was outlined for us by one—two—three—four bursts of white smoke, shot with black—the Italians , wereshelling. Monte Sabotino was shooting THE SATURDAY EVENING POST harder than ever; three-inch field guns, with their vicious little snap, opened from some point below us; the spitting hum of a mi- trailleuse joined in. The day was getting so warm that it was prudent to retire, I thought. The captain must have thought so, too, for he started us back. But not before I had my own reunion. A tall, stalwart fellow, in the uniform of a lieutenant of a machine-gun company, hailed me in United States Eng- lish. ‘“‘Where do you live?” he asked, “New York—when I’m at home,” said I. “So do I,” he said; “or did. I was taking a course in a business college when I came over here to this war. Say, who won the World’s Series?”” Unfortunately I had but imperfect reports on that great sporting event and could only tell him that, at last accounts, it stood two-all. And then—we missed our Englishman. The fourth member of the party, he repre- sented the Foreign Office. He is a man of wit and parts—a novelist, a garden expert, a searcher of this earth for botanical speci- mens; the war, in fact, called him home from somewhere on the boundarie: of Thibet. We had just scurried fast round a corner, where we were a little uncertain of the camouflage, when we noticed he was not among us. The captain muttered something about wishing they would not loiter in dangerous places. It occurred to us, too, that he might have been picked by a sniper; so there was nothing to do but go back for him. Digging Bulbs Under Fire We came round a corner of rock and caught sight of him. On the hillside was one of the patches of ground the shells had spared; it grew a few sickly herbs. Reach- ing up, flat against the hillside, he was digging with a garden trowel, which, I under- stand, he always carries in his pocket as another man carries a knife. We hailed him, and he faced us, the trowel in one hand and two bulbs in the other. “‘Cyclamen!”’ he exc laimed. fine specimens too! “Hurry along, Englishman,” I said, “or you'll be a bulb and get planted, and have a chance to grow.” He gazed back over the harassed land- scape. “T haven't the slightest idea where those shells are going,” he said, “‘ which intensi- fies the confidence with which I view the situation.” So we scrambled and scurried back to that protected spot under the hill where the car waited. I can never conquer the feeling of relief with which I depart from a place like Monte Santo; but my relief is always tempered by shame when I think of the army I am leaving behind to endure it day after day and night after night. It seems a little like running away. “And jolly ITALIAN HEADQUARTERS, October 23d. For three days the Englishman and I, under proper escort of an officer who knows this Front like his own bedroom, and driven in a fast, agile mountain-climbing car, have been ranging the Trentino. There has been no time for taking notes. When, after dark, we rolled into our quarters at Verona, we had just enough energy left to dine and tumble into bed; before daylight we were dressing and off again. Perhaps it is just as well. Through this delay I have got the geographical details all twisted up in my mind and shall not unload upon the reader a mass of names in a foreign language. In- stead, I shall confine myself to general observations and to a few scenes that stand out in the memory of a crowded three days. One main impression lingers of those three days, almost effacing any others: It is of the mighty, the ynprecedented engi- neering work the Italians have performed in order to take and secure these mountains. I could wish that I had technical training as an engineer in order properly to convey what they have done. First and foremost come the roads. There, one is tempted to grow epic. When I was with the army in the Alps about a year and a half ago, getting to most of the peaks even the lower ones—involved much travel by mule up mere trails, much hard climb- ing, much disagreeable swinging across gorges by teleferica. Even in the higher Alps the visitor need do little of that work to-day. He goes almost to the summits by perfect mountain roads in a motor car. Last Sunday I wentso, from thesix-hundred- foot level almost to the six-thousand-foot level, up the slopes of a mountain so January 12,1918 precipitous that I grew giddy every time I looked down. These roads of necessity take the sharpest kind of hairpin turns. They are scientifi- cally banked at the corners; they are metaled; and usually at the most dangerous turns a stone wall or a row of deeply planted stone buttresses guard the inexpert chauf- feur from a tumble with his car into infin- ity. Hundreds and perhaps thousands of such roads have been driven during the process of securing the Alps. The direction has been in the hands of Italian engineers, mostly from the north; and I know a man high in that profession who has always maintained that the Northern Italian civil engineer is the best in the world. The labor, for the most part, has been performed by reservists; though civilian workmen, too old for military service, are employ ed here and the re; in fact, last Sat- urday I went up one perfect road which the Italians call the Chemin des Dames, or Ladies’ Road—a play on the name of the famous position over which the French and the Germans fought so long last summer. The work here was done by stout Italian peasant women; and I hereby assure my suf- fragette sisters that it is an excellent road. Indeed, the road-making organization has become so expert that Italy is consider- ing it in her after-the-war plans. The southern part of the peninsula is still suf- fering from the lack of really good highways. While that condition of affairs exists, it seems a pity to let such an organization go out of existence. Like all the other bellig- erent countries, Italy will surely have her struggle with unemploy ment during the period of readjustment. And certain of the great industrial men are suggesting to the Government that the organization shall remain intact until it has provided Southern Italy with all the roads she needs. Concerning the more obviously military part of this great engineering job, I must write with more caution. In places it is startling and incredible. Coming to the abrupt rocky peak of a little mountain, I found myself facing “ series of tunnels. A reservist lit a miner’s lantern and guided us through a dark sock passage. We came out finally by the breech of a gun. Day- light showed beyond its muzzle. I peeped out. I was looking down the face of a cliff, across the sweep of a deeply cleft valley lay the line of the Austrian trenches. Again we wound up a road toward a summit and came presently to a camou- flage screen, showing that we were within range of the enemy fire. In the corner formed by two mountain slopes, so placed that it had good — tion, was an electric power house. The Austrian lines, I was told, were only a mile or so across the sum- mit. “That power plant,” said our cap- tain, “‘not only furnishes light for the caverns up there, it sends the compressed air to drive two hundred drills!’ Aérial Trolley Cars Everywhere, in some places looking like spider web, ran the threads of the tele- fericas. That device of Italian warfare has been so often described that I need only give a reminder here. A teleferica is an aérial tram—merely a cable on which runs a wire basket, a gigantic version of the cash carrier used in department stores. These shoot from position to position along slopes or across gulfs. In most cases it would take hours to make the same transit by road. The teleferica takes up the emergency supplies, for it works much faster; and everywhere roads and telefericas supple- ment each other. If one breaks down through accident or enemy fire, the other takes up the job. Finally, on a trip to one of the highest positions that bar the road down the Asiago Valley, I got an idea of what Italian en- rineering has done for the comfort of the *n; how Alpine warfare, from the point ui view of the soldier who must endure it, has become transformed. This was a six-thousand-foot mountain, and we climbed to it in our motor car by one of the regular new roads. That kind of climbing is not so prosaic as it seems; it has its sporting side. Never have I so sym- pathized with a chauffeur as with the stout young Italian mechanic who drove us. During almost any straight passage—if you happened to be on the outside seat of the car—you could look down hundreds of feet and speculate on what a skid would do to the car and passengers. There was danger of skidding, too; for it rained most (Continued on Page 31) eo So et aca ee ee

Page 31

aa Eee ge -_" — ni. bt . eo 4 -- ar RE gs ona TIE Son rsh, aS nee cL am TOE 4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Comfort Car - Se é us r 5 F N pulling and climbing abil- ity, the new Hupmobile 1s little short of phenomenal. But your reliance on its flood of power is only the beginning of your comfort. Already it has demonstrated an increase of no less than 24 per cent in gasoline mileage; more than 15 per cent in tire mileage; a surprisingly low cost of main- tenance. Add to this its superb steadiness, with riding ease that invites complete relaxation, and you will realize why this Hupmobile has actually given a new mean- ing to the word ‘comfort.’ | Hupmobile

Page 32

30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 wy NT) 8g eh 8 a Lo i a a ‘Royal Cord’ Tt res for Pass Seng ae a anh Bicycles and Aire A Tire for Every Need of Price and Use. VE WLAN ecb eo tmbude rl one a denial sf is ld) Ses UMA ACL ill —— dit ‘Nobby’ ‘Chain’ bate Resa ERS nseizid SecA ‘Plain’ ‘Nobby Cord’ Truck Wherever Rubber Rolls United States Tires are Found Today’s Great Transportation Need for More and More Tire Efficiency Creates Unprece- dented Demand for United States Tires. Move man and merchandise—that is the transportation demand of the nation. Never have the railroads of this coun- try been strained so near the cracking point as they are today. The leaders of industry have turned to the automobile for relief—and the auto- mobile has responded to the demand. Samuel P. Colt, one of the great lead- ers of American industry, has said— ‘*Use your car, passenger or commercial, more and more to relieve the tremen- dous pressure on the nation’s railroads and merchants’ daily service.’’ But in order to be enabled to use your car, passenger or commercial, more and Trucks, Motor- more, you must have dependable, effi- cient tires that will keep it on its ‘‘feet’’ day and night, —tires that will give you long mileage and low mileage cost, —tires that will give you absolute service—fast, sure, economical. United States Tires, both for passenger cars and commercial vehicles, are stand- ing the test under every condition in city and country, over mountains and plains —everywhere. Wherever rubber rolls, United States Tires are found giving supreme service. Put United States Tires on your car— and make comparisons. United States Tubes - United States Tires :: Are Good Tires and Tire Accessories All the Sterling Worth and Wear that Make United States Tires Supreme. Also tires for Motor Trucks, Motorcycles, Bicycles and Aéroplanes Solid Truck a 8 om ————— £ asl taal i:

Page 33

PF etait (Continued from Page 28) of the way and snowed the rest. But straight stretches of road were few. No sooner were we past one hairpin turn than we ran into another. In most cases the other leg of the hairpin was quite invisible, and the danger which kept our driver’s eyes on the road and his hand firm on the controls was that a cam- ion, making up time, should shoot round the corner at a pace too fast for control. Two or three times we did have such en- counters, and the cars seemed to dig their tires into the road as they avoided collision by feet and even inches. On these occa- sions our chauffeur, skillful though he was, could not make the turns without backing; and usually before he started up he would have the rear wheels within a foot of a thousand-foot slope. At those moments there would be just a tiny break in the thread of our conversa- tion while we caught our breath and dug our toes into the soles of our boots. Then we would resume talk with that calm which one always assumes in a state of war. At last, with the world far below us, we were running on a final stretch of road just below the ridge of this knife-shaped moun- tain and parallel with it. There we had luncheon with a bronzed and cheerful head- quarters’ mess. Before luncheon, however, we strolled across the ridge to a certain open trench, from which we could see the Austrian trenches across on the other side of the valley. Finally we walked to the summit, which was tunneled and galleried in a manner so thorough and complex that I could not de- scribe it if I tried. But the interesting thing to the Alpini is the fact that these tunnels and galleries furnish them com- fortable winter quarters. Once they had to lie out for weeks and sometimes months together in the eternal snows, with no fires—for smoke would have betrayed their position—and no hot food. When I visited the Adamello in April of last year, the ther- mometer at night always went down to zero; and in the dead of the previous winter it had been forty degrees below. Yet there they were—fighting without fire! In the Front Trenches In these tunnels the men are sheltered from the blizzards. Stovepipes can be car- ried out to some harmless neutral position, where they will not betray the location of the men; consequently if the teleferica is kept working, with its supplies of fuel, they may have both warmth and hot food. True, the front patrol trenches must be held under the old conditions; but these, in the nature of this fighting, may be lightly oc- cupied, and the men can be very frequently relieved; so they need endure the old con- ditions only two or three days at a time. ITALIAN HEADQUARTERS, October 24th. A wayside conversation with an Italian officer leads me here to a few remarks about the Italian command in general, and Cadorna, the man who leads this army. I had hoped to have a talk with Cadorna at this time; but he is not to be seen. Doubt- less just at present he has his troubles with planning his defense. However, I have heard much talk of him from men who know him, and I set forth some of the facts. Modern warfare has brought a change in the type of commanding generals. As H. G. Wells remarks, the old stuffed effigy of the heroic days has passed. Your modern leader of wars resembles the great indus- trial leader, head of a board of experts. On one side sits his board of strategy, the chess players of war—like as not, little old men in spectacles, who look like anything but soldiers. They do the thinking part. They keep in touch with the strategic situation; they originate ideas for movements; they thresh out the ideas to see whether or not they are sound. Their recommendations go to the chief of the General Staff—the general. He, indeed, may spawn ideas of his own; if he does they go before this body so that their soundness may be examined. The general, in consultation with his personal staff, ap- proves finally of this plan or that; like the president of a great industrial corporation, he is the final judge. Say that the general approves, in a general way, a plan of campaign—for instance, an attack. He has not yet made his final judgment; he cannot do that until he has consulted other experts in his com- plex organization. First, there is the head of the Intelligence Department. What forces has the enemy at the point chosen for attack? What reserves? What, so far as anyone knows, is the condition of his transportation system? The chief of the Ordnance Department is called into coun- cil. How many guns can be spared for the operation? What munitions will he need? Then, as modern war always does, it back toward the civilian population. The Minister of Munitions must be consulted. Can he furnish that quantity of shells in the given time? Only when these departments, and many other minor departments, have made their report, can the stupendous work of docu- menting a modern attack begin. An eminent soldier told me last year that it took ten days to get out the papers for a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST battle—the orders, for example, and the | artillery calculations. Mind, I do not say that things are done exactly as I have described on the Italian Front, or on any | other Front. This is merely a rough general sketch. A Visit to Gorizia The man who heads the whole organiza- tion, the modern general, must be a broader human being than the general of old wars, who laid out one plan of campaign by him- self and, on the vital day of action, met the emergency by snap judgments. Like one of those great industrials to whom I have compared him, he must have, to be ideal, a general working knowledge of all those branehes in which his experts deal strategy, logistics, intelligence work; even now the technic of transportation and munitions making. He must be a judge of men, knowing how to select them, how to keep them working in harmony, how to use their good qualities while escaping the penalties of their bad ones. He must have, of course, the supreme quality of leader- ship; and he must know how to inspire confidence. ITALIAN HEADQUARTERS, October 25th. The grand tour of the Carso day before yesterday was to have finished my period at the Front; I had kept an Italian military car very busy for a week and had dipped into the line all the way from the Trentino to the Adriatic. Yesterday and to-day, according to program, I was to write; and to-morrow and Saturday I am to finish out my ten days’ leave with a look at beautiful, tight-shut, harassed Venice. But yesterday morning a party of correspondents going forward to Gorizia found one of their num- ber missing and I was offered a seat in their car. I had not yet, as it happened, set foot in Gorizia itself. It turned out to be an adventure—as much of an adventure as [ want in one day. As we rounded the heel of Monte San Michele—green with trees and grass again after the terrible blasting it received in the attacks of last year—the town came out white against the red hills of the Carso about it and the Nile-green mists of its own valley. There was a lot of shooting. Our guns were banging or booming on every hill. As we waited by the door of a certain headquarters for permission to enter the sector, 1 was certain I could hear continually the slighter but more dangerous noise of arrivals. Being but a soft civilian, I grew a little nervous. I was ashamed of my nerves—I forgot them completely—when we came out into the main streets of this pretty Venetian town and found civilian life still going on calmly under the pouring rain and the whistling shells. Women in shawls and pattens scurried along under umbrellas, paying no more attention to the great whistling overhead than they did to the raindrops. Through an open doorway I caught a glimpse of a butcher cutting meat, while a crowd of waiting women chattered over the counter—the next day would be meatless, and buying was brisk. We dropped into a stationer’s; he was doing a lively business with post cards for the soldiers to send home. A bookshop displayed the latest shockers in Italian, and even in French, together with the illustrated papers. A haberdasher had dressed his window with shirts and cravats in brilliant greens and pinks, and had lettered the sign: This lot a bargain!—or the Italian equivalent of those words. Yet here and there, between these centers of trade and activity, were buildings wholly ruined by shells; were peppered walls; panes. For the Austrian lines on San Marco (Continued on Page 33) were shattered window | times its size. no fuel. Exhibition, Madison Sq Compact, takes up little space, yet gives out more heat than ordinary gas stoves two to three as, at high temperature, is absolutely odorless, and wastes It consumes a// the Costs less to buy and less to use. Safety base; insulated legs; steel jacket; flat top. k Your Gas Company or Dealer can supply you Or, write us for descriptive folder and how to get the Zauwsm Odorless Room Heater without delay. DEALERS: The Lawson Odorless will be shown at the Hardware uare Garden, New York, Feb. 12 to 15, 1918. Radiant Heat is heat projected through the ait without devitalizing it. The sun gives out radiant heat. So does the Liuson Odorless Room Heater. Different from all other gas heating stoves! No open flame! No stuffy atmosphere ! The red-hot inner combustion chamber—the glowing “heart” —of this intense little heating marvel transmits its healthful, radiant heat energy directly to the occupants and surrounding objects of the room. The lower levels of the room are thus kept warm, cheery an co i the air nye Reeneno te pure, owent fresh, and invigorati ry an RADI ‘NT HI AT of the Pat. Dec. 6, 1910 For Rooms 5 Lawson Mfg. Co. of Pittsburgh No. @ 1 + ox Bit Also makers of the renowned Lawson Water Heaters. Over a + aa so « 5s 4 ~ », 25 x? million in use. Write for booklet, “Plenty of Hot Water.’’ 02 & ’ = “hc! = —— —— x =satseeeacoes — - = nd — a **The Girl I Leave Behind Me’*—Haskell Coffin h Christy amare: Send for Swifts Premiuni Calendar-l918 Four great patriotic paintings by Howard Chandler Christy “When Sammy Comes Marching Home" A. W. Eckhardt Wigwag Signal Sydney H. Riesenberg Somewhere at Sunrise” Haskell Coftin The Girl I Leave Behind Me" Have these beautiful pictures in your home EE the sad, brave leave-taking of Haskell Coffin’s soldier and sweetheart. See Mr. Christy’s painting of the time when our Marines march victoriously home. See our daring Aviators with the charming girl in Mr. Eckhardt’s picture. Have this great sailor painting by Mr. Riesenberg. This is the finest calendar of all the famous Swift series, for in these splendid paintings the strong national feeling of the hour has inspired four of our country’s greatest artists. Paintings beautifully reproduced in colors On the back of each picture are dozens of facts you want to know—how to recognize a lieuten ant, a captain, a major, an ensign. Wigwag signals—how to give warning of the enemy's approach. The different types of battleships, torpedo boats, submarines. The. different air planes—monoplanes, biplanes Each picture is ten and a half inches high, the whole calendar fifteen inches. There is no ad vertising on the front Its beauty will delight you. Send for it today. How to get this calendar This beautiful calendar for 1918 will be sent to any address in the U. S. for 10c, coin or stamps r—Trade-mack end of five Swift's ‘ Oleomargarine cartons. or—4 labels from Swift's Bacon cartons or—4 covers from Brookfield S or—6 Maxine Elliott Soap wrappers or—10 Wool Soap wrappers Premium" “Premium” Sliced Sausage cartons (If you live in Canada send 10c extra to pa; duty.) Address Swift & Co., 4130 Packers Ave., Chicago Swift’s “Premium” Ham and Bacon are specially cured—delicious in flavor Swift & Company, U. S. A. as + ae

Page 34

32 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1913 \— —_— ‘ Mi. CADILLAC 2 L pa a Aa> \ VOaRD OF THE wo EVER, in all its honorable history, has the Cadillac stood so high in the esteem of the nation as it does at this moment. War has laid nex stress on the wisdom of buying motor cars of sound and substantial, close and accurate construction. The Cadillac is reaping the reward of long adherence to the strictest standards of manufacturing integrity. If he suggests that you list your order for future delivery, we ask you to co-operate with your Cadillac dealer in his desire to protect you against possible disappointment. AD A MOTOR AE “FROIT. MICHIGAN 4

Page 35

~ Sa = ea Silat, BE (Continued from Page 31) are scarcely two miles from the center of the town. This destruction is all recent. When the Austrians held the city the Italians forbore to bombard—this was an unrescued Italian population. It was taken, a year ago last August, by a surprise attack in which it suffered very little. Since then, however, the Austrians have been searching it with intermittent flurries of shells. In spite of all this, some two or three thousand coura- geous people have come back to see it through in their own town. I regretted much my ignorance of the language and my haste; I wanted to talk to these people, for each one must have had a great story. Indeed, as we passed a certain shop our captain remarked: “That family is interesting. They had four grown sons. Two of them, when war was declared, managed to get across the Austrian border and join our armies—one of these has been killed fighting for Italy. Another was caught by the Austrians and hanged—they are great hangmen. The fourth was hidden for fourteen months in a cellar; he never came out until we entered Gorizia, rescued him, and took him into our army.” We drove on through the town and up the winding way to the citadel, which over- looks the San Marco lines. Parking our car in a sheltered spot, we climbed on, past walls and buildings that showed more and more the marks of war. The guns were now going very heavily on both sides and before us. While we stood in the plaza fronting the church of the citadel, now pretty badly battered, a machine gun, from far below, began a rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat. “‘It looks like a little attack,” said the captain. “‘ Perhaps we may get a look.’”” We pressed on up- ward to a certain dirt parapet. It was raining heavily. “I think it is misty enough so that we may look over,” said the captain; “I don’t believe we can be spotted on a day like this.” Through the mists rose San Gabriele, and below us lay tawny San Marco, now spit- ting fire. The captain pointed out the Austrian line. He scarcely needed do that. Whip, whip, whip—puffs of white were breaking along the trench line with won- derful mathematical alignment and rhythm. It was scarcely a mile away. I adjusted my field glasses to see whether I could catch a glimpse of the gray line when it broke from the trenches. I must stop here to tell how we were arranged. I stood at the right of the group, with the captain close beside me; Thomp- son was on the other side of him. A little farther to the left Cortesi and Ward-Price formed a group of their own. Suddenly, among the whistling shells, came one that whistled ten times as loud as the rest. I had a human impulse to duck. ““No,”” my mind said, working in a flash; “that is passing overhead.” A Narrow Escape Something with all the force, the over- whelming monstrous force of a wave on the beach struck me on the shoulder and back. I could feel it roll up, up, over my head. The world was black. I was only aware of my mind, traveling with incredible rapidity over every part of my body and assuring me that I was not hurt—not in the least hurt. I was now in a trench below the parapet—how I got there I did not, some- how, know. I was standing, looking at the captain; he was talking, but I could not hear him, at first, for the ringing in my ears. “Was it a three-inch shell?” I asked, trying to be professionally calm—for I was not at all certain that this shell was not going to be followed by another. ‘Oh, no; a hundred and fifty-nine—six-inch, English measurement,”’ he said.’ “‘We shouldn’t have heard the whistle of a three-inch shell. They don’t announce themselves.” “Only about six yards,”” announced Ward-Price. I looked back. A little on my right what had been the smooth line of the parapet was a trash heap of tangled iron, splintered boards and tossed earth. The soft wet dirt had smothered the explosion. I looked again and was aware that Thompson did not look natural. I realized then that he had lost his nose glasses and that a trickle of blood was running down from his temple to his right cheek. We informed him that he had lost his glasses and that he was hit. “Have I? Am I?” he said. The captain and Ward-Price went back to the parapet and picked up his glasses, and we took him to the dressingstation—for THE SATURDAY even a little wound like that may be in- fected. Thompson protested, until he re- membered that he has one son in the army and another in the navy, and that he should be able to boast the first wound in the family. Not until we were waiting under a shelter in the company of half a dozen Italian soldiers did I realize that I had been knocked down. Cortesi and Ward-Price had seen the rest of us tumble at their feet—I knocked down the captain, he knocked down Thompson; we all went over like a house of cards. Thompson had evidently been hit by a fly- ing piece of rock. To this moment I have no memory of going down; neither, curiously, was I conscious of hearing the explosion. However, I found my upper lip swelling; that must have been the member with which I hit the captain. As we waited, the bombardment dying down a little, we remarked that this, which seemed a great adventure to us, was what soldiers in the trenches get all the time, as a part of the day’s work; and Ward-Price quoted what a French officer had said to him of the visitor to the Front. ‘He seems to me,” said this poet of the trenches, “like a little girl who sits before a lighted candle, thrusts her finger into the wick for a mo- ment, says, ‘See; am burned!’—and smiles at you through the flame.” A Lively Afternoon Under the hill we cleansed ourselves of | the worst of the mud—I am still picking it out of neglected corners of my clothes— and motored back for tea in the Café del Carso; | for Gorizia has a fine going café, managed | by a resident who used to be a chemist be- fore the war, but who started this establish- | ment in order that the civilians and soldiers in Gorizia might have a little touch of nor- | mal life. In most respects it was a regular Italian café, even to the row of liqueur bottles back of the tiny bar and the files of illustrated papers. The effect, however, was very dark; for at least a third of the windowpanes had been blown out and re- placed by poster advertisements for a cer- tain Dutch liqueur, which happened exactly to fit the sashes. We stopped to write and post souvenir post cards; for the postmark of a town only two miles from the line is a war souvenir worth having, and the Gorizia postoffice has been doing business for more than a year. Then we scurried out, past the sec- tion that was getting shells. It was a lively afternoon; we could per- ceive that, even when we got into the rear zone. Twice, when the motor stopped in little villages, I got the crack of arrivals. The preliminaries of an attack, which may come in a day or so or may be delayed for a fortnight—such is the way of attacks have begun along this line. For several days we have known that not only Aus- trians but Germans, brought from the stripped Russian Front, are along this line. My permission to go forward is over for the present; but this morning I had half a notion to give up Venice and spend. my two remaining days of war-zone pass at Head- quarters, listening to the gossip in case the attack does come within forty-eight hours. VENICE, October 26th. The last words I find in my notes of yes- terday rise up to reproach my judgment. The attack came last night and the news is not so good as heart might wish. This afternoon I was having tea on the Piazza of Saint Mark’s, the most famous, the most pictured public Square in the world, with Mr. and Mrs. Carroll—he is our consul in Venice. It is a transformed Square now, the painted spires and pinnacles of its old beauty half hidden under sandbags and plank barricades. ; It was a beautiful afternoon, warm and perfectly clear, and all Venice was strolling through the Square, chattering and lover- ing. I noticed that a crowd had gathered under the arcade behind me. “The after- noon communiqué is always posted there,”’ said Carroll. “‘ Let’s havea look.” Craning over the heads of the crowd, he translated it for me, his voice getting low and serious as he came to the final chilling paragraph: “The abandonment of the Bainsizza Plateau is to be expected.” When, having joined the rest of our party and talked a little of our disappointment out of ourselves, we grew conscious of our surroundings, I was aware that a curious change had come over the appearance of the crowds. Ten minutes before they had EVENING POST FEDERAL TUBES Flawless! Seamless! Reinforced! Federal tubes are exceptionally strong tubes. At the valve base of every Federal inner tube are extra thicknesses of rubber, rein forced by fabric—right where the extra strain comes, rhis reinforcement is not cemented—it is vulcanized integrally with the tube _ It adds greater strength and eliminates th liability of leakage or working loose at the valve base. And Federal tubes are practically endless so spliced as to make them a continuous unit rhis avoids troubles due to joints becoming loose, breaking away or leaking. Ask for Federal inner tubes—either Gray or Red. They are carefully packed in indi- vidual cartons. The Federal Rubber Company of Illinois : Factories, Cudahy, Wisconsin Manufacturers of Federal Automobile Tires, Tubes and Sundries, Motorcycle, Bicycle, and Carriage Tire Rubber Heels, Fibre Soles, Horse Shoe Pads Rubber Matting and Mechanical Rubbhe ood MACHINE BOOKKEEPING statements in our grocery department. 3 bookkeepers do it all. After nearly 2 years we are even.more enthusiastic over machine bookkeeping and Baker-Vawter Equipment.” [Experiences of E.R. Godfrey & Sons Co.,Wholesalers. Milwaukee, Wisc} BAKER -VAWTER BINDERS, LEAVES, STATEMENTS. ETL. Baker-VawTer COMPANY Investigate the greater speed, perfect legibility and mechanical accuracy of machine bookkeeping. Long hand bookkeeping quails under the comparison. Baker- Vawter Company is “headquarters” for seasoned advice and equipment. A ten times greater experience—due to having equipped THE BIG MAJORITY of machine bookkeeping users — will be concentrated upon your problems. Write Dept. M either factory: Benton Harbor, Mich.,or Holyoke, Mass. Wk. ~ ae In our business service, efficiency and SPEED are vital factors. rae. cially in our perishable goods department where we require THOU- SANDS of WEEKLY statements besides the thousands of monthly Sales Offices in 47 Cities Originators and Manufacturers Salesmen Everywhere LOOSE LEAF and STEEL FILING EQUIPMENT K

Page 36

HA Mends Tubes in 5 Minutes —apply it to the chemical disc. In 5 minutes a firm, flat, permanent repair. Just strike a match the puncture is repaired No gasoline or cement—no dangerous flame. It operates auto- matics ally —~and without fail. Use it amywhere—in any weather. So simple, a child can make perfect repairs with it. Complete Outfit Only $1.50 The outfit includes—the vulcanizer, 6 round patch-and-heat units for punctures, and 6 oblong units for long cuts—complete with full instructions, $1.50. Extra patch units only 75c per dozen. Sold by Accessory Dealers and Garages Let your nearest accessory dealer show you how easily you can mend your tubes anywhere with the SHALER 5-Minute Vulcanizer. Write for FREE BOOK —“‘ Care and Repair of Tires”’ C. me Shaler Co., 1400 Fourth Street, Waupun, Wis. Look for the Big Red One When you need a pure, high-grade oil for lubricating any light mechanism, for | cleaning and polishing veneered and varnished surfaces, for preventing rust or tarnish on metal surfaces —go to any good store and ask for 3-in-One. Look for the big red ONE on the label. This trade mark, famous a quarter- century, appears on every bottle and can of in-O The High Quality Oil for Home and Office office mechanisms, bicycles, automatic locks, hinges. For cleaning and polishing fine furniture—for making your own dustless dust-cloths and polish mop. For preventing rust or tarnish on gas ranges, stoves, bathroom I'ry guns, for oiling typewriters, all tools, 3-in-One sewing machines, fixtures, tools, knives. Self-shavers: Use 3-in-One on your razor blades before and after shav- ing and they won't “pull.”’ Motorists: 3-in-One st« ps sp ring squeaks, oils any magneto just right, cleans and polishes car body and wind- hield. Ford owners: Try 3-in-One on the commutator—makes cranking much easier. Sold throughout the civilized world, in 50c, 25c¢ and iSe botth also im 25¢ undy Oil Can FREE Ask us to send yor aliberal umple of 3-in- One Oil: und Dic tionary of Uses —both free THREE-IN-ONE OIL CO, ' 165 EUM. Broadway :: = New York Causis Ow tera LUBRICATES TYPEWRITERS BICYCLES THE SATURDAY EVENING POST been streaming across the plaza. Now there was no movement. They had con- gealed into groups, talking low and seri- ously. Do not get the idea that there was any panic, or any sign of one; but it was a blow, and Venice was taking it seriously, as wellshe might. All that Italy had gained -so splendidly in the August offensive gone in one stroke! If it would only stop there! Rome, October 29th. On Saturday evening, the inexorable law of military permits forced me to leave Venice and the war zone. I had spent the day ranging the town, which is almost as | beautiful in its war dress of sandbags as it used to be in peace dress, when it was the | heaven of tourists. Probably it has been | the most consistently air-raided town in | Europe. The enemy, with that streak of | bad boy which seems to exist in every modern Teuton, has tried as hard for the | ancient and irreplaceable monuments of | Venice as for more useful destruction. There is no doubt that beautiful Saint Mark’s has been a steady target. It has escaped dam- | age so far—the religious believe through | the intercession of the Virgin, whose mirac- ulous statue stands on one of the few altars not now covered with sandbags. Indeed, as the records of injuries show, Venice has been very lucky. The gondolas. still ply as of old, and with very little increase over the old tariff; but the gondoliers are no more the young, ro- mantic, dark-eyed Italians, wearing sashes, whose prototypes we see at every fancy- dress ball. They are old fellows; (on look like city cabmen, wielding oars instead of whips. As you glide down the side canals, where you sit level with the basement windows, you see here and there regular piles of sandbags crowded tight up against the window bars. These are private shel- ters—no home, really, is complete without | one now. | Even our hotel has its own shelter for | guests. The hotels of Venice are not serv- ing meals; but one eats very well, never- at either of two large cafés. On | Friday night, when we expected an air | raid, a Venetian friend warned me that, if I | was dining late, I might do well to ask the head waiter their shelter was. “I believe they reserve space for their cus- | tomers,”’ he said. theless, where Disquieting Rumors But Venice is not in the least terrified. Like Gorizia, she has grown used to high explosives. | When I visited the city last, eighteen months ago, I found that the antique shops were selling beautiful goods at almost any price, in order to get ready money. That has changed; I imagine others have found this out and bought out the stocks. At any rate, the selection is now rather poor, and the prices are back where they used to be. War has queer effects on trade. One would suppose that the demand for Venetian glass would be dead. As a matter of fact, the glass factories complain not of the lack of business, but of the struggle to find workmen. One glass man told me his fac- tory had orders ahead for more than two years. You go from the hotel to the station down a dark canal. The porter of our hotel, who had come over with us, could get no satisfaction what- ever from a sadly worried station master about the arrival of the Udine train. Being bribed, he circulated about, collecting and reporting rumors: The train was coming from Udine as usual. No train was com- ing from Udine. Thesleeper was on the way from Udine, but was three hours late. | We grew a little too curious about the movements of the troops, and a military a in spite of our military passes, erded usintoa waitingroom. It was packed with disheveled civilians. One pale, worn woman, bareheaded, sat in the corner, with four children, including a baby at her breast, huddled about her. From old memories of | Belgium, I picked these as refugees. | Yet, at midnight a train did arrive from | somew here—and it included a sleeper. We | had to do some lively dodging through | military trains before we got our places, | The blinds of railroad trains are strictly January 12,1918 drawn in the war zone. From the moment I entered, all observation was shut off. When, finally, I woke and compared the stations we were passing with the map, I found that we had been shunted far off ona side line; and the trip to Rome, which should have taken twelve hours, took ee Rome, November 2d. Tragic things have happened, as all the world will know by the time this reaches America—not fatal things, but tragic. They were going on with incredible swiftness dur- ing those two days when I wasin Venice. I can believe the news, but I cannot really imagine it. Udine, where I had dined in good company on Wednesday evening— Udine, which I left on Thursday leading its usual busy, calm, confident life of a war- zone town, was in process of evacuation on Saturday; to-day it is not an Italian head- quarters, but an Austrian. Gorizia, where we had our shell adventure on Wednesday, was, in forty-eight hours, empty of its brave civilian population, which had stood by. We were, I dare say, the last visitors of Allied nationality for the present. The Italian Retreat I spoke somewhere in the beginning of these letters concerning the transforma- tions of war—how certain little cities I had seen under the shells were, as the Italian lines pushed on, restored to the semblance of peace. Another and hideous transfor- mation has followed the wand of the black magician, War—Gradisca, San Lorenzo, Monfalecone and Cormons are all German or Austrian to-night. How it happened, except that something broke, I shall not try to say here. I have seen the Italian Army, however; I know how stalwart it is, how efficient, how well- organized; and I believe it is only a set- back, coming on a stroke of bad luck. I lived in Paris through the first fort- night of the Verdun battle. Paris of those days was like Rome of these—the same serious crowds; the same eyes that gaze and see not; the same—exactly the same— rumors in certain irresponsible places; and the same gathering of heroic determination. Refugees are already coming in from the captured province of Friuli; the news- papers are collecting funds; the govern- ment has cleared out a series of small hotels to house the destitute. In one of those refuges lives a man who, a week ago, was the magnate of the country about Udine, rich in lands and factories. To-day he has not a franc to his name; nor does he know whether he shall ever have. Country people, in the strange peasant dress of the northern provinces, wander about the streets, dragging their children behind them and gaping at the sights. And the groups through which they weave are heavy-eyed. Several circumstances add to the poign- ancy of the human tragedy: When, at the beginning of the war, the Germans drove through Belgium the inhabitants had several days of notice, after all. It was known that the German Army was coming on like a steady flood, and people were pre- pared for the final hour when they packed their little bundles and departed. Here it was a bolt out of the blue... A further personal burden lies on the hearts of civilian Italy. In these times ac- curate lists of the killed, wounded and miss- ing are impossible. The army is too busy with something else. It will be long before these facts can be collated and the people at home can know. Yet the army is standing; it is a good army, a great army; and we who lived through the days before the Marne and Verdun know the strength of a free people with the enemy on its soil, That is the thought which is stirring Rome and is put- ting the last ounce of fight into Italy—the enemy is in Friuli! An Italian friend put it this way to me yesterday: “T have seen,” he said, ‘that American mite ta gh oe film which showed the in- vasion of America. I remember that I could not be stirred by it as were my Amer- ican friends; to me it was only a show. Now Italy is invaded. It is not ashow. It is a reality. You sympathize—but you cannot know.’

Page 37

oP ya Pe et oS Sv Raitin ib ingress Me Saag Meese aes THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The man who tries one Lmpire ends up When a man buys a car he has no choice about the tires on it. His first real selection comes after the first blow-out. Strikingly enough, his tendency is, not to replace with the make that was on the car originally, but to try another make. And so with the second replacement —and the third — until he has three or four different makes of tires on his car. Why is this ? In most of his buying, the average man soon settles down to certain brands that he prefers. But when it comes to tires, he goes on experimenting. Unless he has tried Empires. For it 1s an extraordinary fact that the man who tries one Empire comes back for a second and a third, and finally fixes upon Empire as his standard tire. with Lmprres all round You can verify this with your own eyes as you go along the street. Whenever you see an Empire on acar, look quickly at the other wheels. There will usually be two, three or four Empires on the same car. This can mean only one thing—that Empires make good. It has been proved over and over again that the average Empire, in average running, will deliver many extra miles—well beyond what you expect. They live up to the 30 years’ repu- tation of the Empire Rubber & Tire Co. of Trenton, N. J., for putting long life into rubber goods of all kinds. If you want to settle your tire problem for good, come to the Empire store and try one Empire. You will soon have Empires on al! four wheels and on the spare. ‘The Emprre fire Dealer

Page 38

36 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 Peet's tal Whi te AN “‘The Perfect Family Soap”’ THE TOUCH OF SOFT WHITE SHEETS makes you feel the purity of Crystal White. To thousands of American housewives Crystal White is even more than a perfect cleanser of clothes and fabrics: it’s the safeguard of Home Sanitation and Economy. OS. MFG. CO. ~SAN FRANCISCO

Page 39

mig” ae THE EARTHQUAKE (Continued from Page 23) It was just one o’clock when I entered and I was rather surprised to find so few members about. Before I went away it had been always crowded to overflowing at that hour; but now _there were plenty of empty tables. Old Thomas, the decrepit doorman, greeted me warmly, though sadly. “You'll find things a good deal changed, Mr. Stanton,” he sighed. ‘It’ s very hard for us to get good boys any more in the coat room. And it’s the same way with the waiters. They’re just a lot of pushcart men. The club isn’t what it was. This war’s an awful thing, sir! My daughter’s husband, he got blinded last July—he was a Canadian, you know, sir; and he would go back and enlist!” I patted him on the shoulder and passed on to hang up my coat and hat. What could I say? Sedgewick was waiting for me, and we went upstairs and took our seats at the club table. One or two men were already there, and the others gradually drifted in. In different parts of the room I counted four members in uniform. It gave me a jolt to see Hibben, the club raconteur, who always had a crowd of jovial fellows at his elbow, in the blue jacket of a lieutenant in the navy, talking earnestly to an artil- leryman, whom I recognized as Charley Merrill, heretofore an utterly irresponsible bounder, whose matrimonial and other dif- ficulties had given him a good deal of rather unpleasant notoriety. I couldn’t quite bring myself to accept the thing as real. It was as if they were acting charades or had stepped out of a rehearsal of private theat- ricals to get a bite of lunch. When, how- ever, Fred Thomas, the promoter, one of our Own group, came in and sat down with us in the uniform of a second lieutenant it began to have a tinge of actuality. “You look fine, Fred!” I exclaimed with genuine pleasure at the sight of his trim military figure. “Well,” he drawled, better.”’ ‘Been laid up?” I asked sympathetically. ‘Oh, no!” he retorted carelessly. “‘My health’s been all right enough. You'll un- derstand after you’ve been back a while. It’s just a feeling—half restless, half ennui. A kind of soul disease, I guess. Nothing round here seems worth doing. Hanging round Wall Street these days is like playing penny ante when there’s a Harvard-Yale football game going on in the next lot. It doesn’t hav e the interest it otherwise might, you know.’ ‘That’s so!’ agreed Kessler, the banker across the table, a man of over sixty. Bg don’t know what we fellows that aren’t do- ing anything are coming to! I can’t get up the slightest excitement over what used to thrill me to the marrow. I don’t care whether we make money or lose it. Damn it all, I don’t care about anything any more— except to tear the hide off those Germans!” “‘Everybody feels the same way,”’ said Sedgewick. “‘What possible difference does it make whether you make money or not, or I win a case or not, when our friends and our sons and our brothers are going off to be shot up or gassed? You might just as well expect a man calmly to sit and play checkers in the parlor while a burglar was chloroforming his wife upstairs prepara- tory to going through the family safe. Some of us have to stay here; but the curse of the thing is that those of us who do can never explain why. We'll be classed with the swine that are making money out of it! God! Some of these fellows make me think of a man watching his sister fighting for her honor with a tramp and trying to sell a chance to take a picture of it to a movie eoncern! And, by the Lord, they hope— damn them!—that she’ll last until the camera gets there!”’ He threw down his soup spoon and glared round the table. I have never seen the wizened little lawyer under such emotional stress. “‘Oh, forget ’em!’’ recommended Thomas. “Try to think only of us heroes!’’ he added with humorous sarcasm. “Of course it’s rotten to make an opportunity out of an- other chap’s extremity, and pretty nearly treason to take advantage of national adversity—a man who sells the market short at such a time as this ought to be taken out in front of the mint and shot; but, after all, somebody’s got to keep the show going at home, and a chap mustn’t get the idea that, just because he’d rather like “T begin to feel to wear shoulder straps and get credit for a THE SATURDAY willingness to give his life for his country, | Pershing can’t get along without him. Now | I say that the really brave man—the | patriot—is the chap who’s big enough to brave the censure of public opinion and | keep right on working when, instead of a | chance for the croix de guerre, all he’s got a | chance of getting is a kick in the pants!” “Hear! Hear!” cried old Kessler bit- terly. “I’d rather you’d say that in uni- form than some other fellow in tennis trousers. Don’t preach that doctrine too loud or the country will be swamped with self-abnegators crucified to their present nice little jobs!” “*Tt’s the truth all the same!” shot back Thomas defiantly. ‘For example, the worst danger we have got to face is the undermining of our national morale. Unless we stamp out sedition here at home—and somebody’s got to stay here and attend to it—we shall just ship our boys over into a shambles that will go on forever.” ‘Say, you fellows, cut it out—will you?” requested Robinson, a cotton broker who had two sons in France, turning a rather ghastly hue. “This war stuff is all right; but, after all, it’s lunchtime. Here, waiter! Bring us our coffee and some of theze new domestic cigars that cost only twelve cents apiece.’ Our party broke up a few minutes later and I found, to my amazement, that it was only half past one. Formerly we had spent an hour or more over the table. Indeed, it had always taken nearly an hour to serve the three or four courses we inevitably had—our oysters, soup, entrée and dessert. But I observed that to-day, with only two exceptions, the men had ordered only soup and corn bread, or crackers and milk and | pie, or some light dish of that sort; and, though we had lingered as long as we | wished, we were through in half the usual | time. Down in the hall I picked up Thomas | again and invited him to smoke another cigarette before going away. “You can’t understand how this, my first morning downtown in nearly a year, has got under my skin,” I told ‘him. “*Everything’s different!’ “‘Of course it is!’ he replied. ‘‘We’re different, too—a good many of us. But there are a lot of us who aren’t—yet. I suppose it takes people a long time to wake up—get going. It took England just as long, they say. But—my God, man!—this nation, as a nation, isn’t plunging into war. | It’s wading in, one foot at a time! We're about up to our ankles; all nice and dry up above. Wait till an ice-cold roller hits us!” “‘Tt’s hit me already,” I hastened to as- sure him. “You see, I’ve come back to these things all at once, while the rest of you have had plenty of time to get used to | them gradually. You seem to have thought a lot about it all.” “Yes,” he said; “I have. ever thought about anything else in my life before. It came over me all at once. It doesn’t matter what started it. That’s per- sonal. I’ve seen it in a lot of other men too. You’re sort of getting ready for it without knowing it; and then it breaks on you— suddenly—like Saint Paul when he walked unexpectedly into the celestial spotlight. I feel now as if I had a sort of mission to go round preaching; but, of course, I can’t. The fierce part of it, however, is that there’s no safe way to tell whether a man is a slacker or not; and all the swine take ad- vantage of that fact.” “But you’re looking at it only from the point of view of trying to pillory the cow- ards,” I cautioned him. it from the othe: side and be glad that the war has brought forward so many men one should never have suspected of being the right stuff? Why, my regard for human nature has gone up a thousand per cent in the past three hours!’’ He looked at me intently for several moments. “By George! You’re right!” he an- swered finally. ‘“‘And this war has done a tremendous amount for a lot of us fellows who didn’t know we needed it. own case: know that, Stanton. I made three hundred thousand dollars in 1913. for it. I’ve been doing the things that fellows like ““Why not look at | Take my | I was a successful man. You | More than I | I’ve got a knack | I can make money any time. And | me do—playing golf for a hundred dollars | a hole, and racing round over the country in big motor cars, and giving my wife al! EVENING POST ry to pull off a Rie-Nie Auto Patch that has seen hard service. You'll have to use your pliers and you'll tear the tube when you do it. You can’t help an occasional puncture or blow- out, so have the best cure always on hand. The Rie-Nie Auto Patch is a tool box necessity. Applied in Two Minutes No Heat or Tools Required Two hands and a flat spot are all you need to repair a pin-hole puncture or an 18-inch blowout. A Perfect Casing Blowout Patch Cut off as much of the patch as you need—clean tube or casing with emery paper—press patch into place—and your tire is ready. A Permanent Repair—Not a Makeshift The heat of the road vulcanizes the patch to the tubes— the hotter the road, the tighter it sticks. No danger of deteriorating the rubber by over-heating. The patch is made in layers of cured rubber and raw rubber, backed by a stout khaki fabric which adds strength, durability and prevents creeping. No po- rosity possible—the patch is as air-tight as the tube itself. Ask your dealer to demon- strate the Rie-Nie Auto Patch to you. If he hasn’t it in stock fill out the coupon, giving us your dealer’s name. A tryout will con- vince even the most skeptical. Small Size (36 sq. inches) $0.50 Large Size (108 sq. inches) x 1.00 Shop Size (648 sq. inches) $5.00 All the other Rie-Nie Products are Time and Money Savers. Get acquainted with each and every one of them. Full information sent on re- quest. as indicated below. Large Can $1.00 | Can $.50 y Please send me Rie-Nie Auto Patch Small Free Sample i Chec nie Amount Wanted With xX. Durkee-Atwood Co. ag Minneapolis Name Minnesota Dealer's Address___ Write Your Own Name and Address in Margin.

Page 40

38 THE SATURDAY

Every Household | Needs This Tool You can’t call in a mechanic every time something needs a screw or bolt. A bit brace to make the holes is just as necessary asa pasceed 2 ser or wrench. Here’s a brace that will do the work of two or three ordi- nary boring tools. A favorite tool with mechanics—it’s so good. MILLERS FALLS$ 325 BiT BRACE No.7 (In Canada $4.50)

With this No. 732 Brace you can bore into metal, tile or cement as well as wood, for it has a chuck of special design that holds twist drills just as well as auger bits. AnExclusive Millers Falls Feature es “<-_*

Bit Brace No. 732 has protected ratchet that makes it easy to get into corners and a ball-bearing head that gives full power to your boring. Handsomely nickeled, with cocobolo han- dles, it will last a lifetime. All the better hardware stores have it or will get it for you. Send 10c for our Mechanic’s Hand- book. 60 pages of mechanical information and helpful hints. How to figure paint, shingles, board measure, brickwork and stonework and 50 other useful subjects. Pocket catalog of all Millers Falls tools on request. MILLERS FALLS CO. **Toolmaker to the Master Mechanic’’ Millers Falls, Mass. N. Y. Office, 28 Warren St. MILLERS FALLS , TOQWULS

| them all gentlemen together; | won’t stand, either, for seeing the ideals | they bled for going by the board. They’ll EVENING POST the money to put into clothes and jewelry = wanted, and all that. I thought it was ne! ‘Well, when this war came along I saw men whose abilities and bank accounts were ten times as big as mine letting the whole business slide. Why, you know, he’s given up a hundred-thousand-dollar salary to go down to Washington for a dol- lar a year! There are dozens of ’em. They didn’t seem to think the money amounted to a row of pins. It set me — Was it? I asked myself. What was my kind of success worth if fellows just tossed it away like that when something bigger came along. Then it occurred to me that—war or no war—there were bigger things coming along all the time! “Get me? It’s fine to drive the Boches out of Belgium; but it would be fine, too, to drive poverty and crime and disease out of America! It was an absolutely new idea tome. Yet John D. has had it all the time! Give the old rooster his due. And little John too! Andif it’s worth throwing away your fortune—and your life, maybe—for one good cause, it’s worth while throwing *em away for another. See?” Inodded. This was queer stuff for a Wall Street promoter to put across after a mid- day lunch at the club—stuff that was a little too abstract for my mood. Here was a man making plans for what he was going to do after the war—if he wasn’t killed; while I —— “That’s a pretty fine idea,’ I agreed, “But, no matter what they do hereafter, I must say it seems to me that the rich have done themselves proud so far in this war. They’ve given their sons and them- selves, and poured out their money like | coal running down a chute, without a quiver!” “You bet!” he assented. “This war has rehabilitated the malefactorof great wealth. It’s a funny thing! When I was a boy riches and honor were more or less synony- mous, for wealth was regarded as signifying thrift and industry. But latterly, in Amer- | iea, the possessors of great fortunes have | found themselves more or less objects of suspicion. Ever since the Insurance In- vestigation and the good old muckraking days the millionaire has been under a cloud. If he gave away a couple of millions to a hospital or a college he was always charged | with trying to buy an honorary degree or | salve his conscience, and the directors of | the institution he was trying to hel were accused of receiving stolen goods. Tainted money! “A million dollars, I guess, always car- ries a slight guilty feeling along with it. No one can earn a million dollars. I always feel that way about my promotion profits. That, I suppose, is the significance of the word ‘fortune.’ Until recently the puzzle of the rich has been how to get rid of their money with honor. Now they’ve got their chance. They’re taking advantage of it too. They’re unloading it on Uncle Sam— | and Belgium—and France—and Poland. They’re all right!” ; “Of course!” I interjected. ‘‘The rich can afford to doit. They've got the money to give. And a lot of ’em won’t miss it so very much at that!” “True,” he answered. “But they’re giving it, aren’t they? You don’t belittle the act of the fireman who saves a woman because he happens to be a fireman and to have the ladder. The rich were lucky to have the money. Let’s give ’em credit for giving it away. I tell you this war is going to make the rich respectable again. They had lost caste. They were going down. It gave ’em a chance to get back. “But, apart from the giving of money, the rich have not been behind the poor in offering themselves to serve under the flag. Oh, this war is doing a lot to wipe out the distrust of wealth. And the real underlying reason is, it’s teaching the fellows who have made the money that it isn’t of very much value unless they do something with it worth while for everybody else.”’ “There won’t be much class feeling left when we get through, I fancy,” I dared | to assert. ‘‘With the poor man’s boy and | the capitalist’s son fighting side by side, | they'll find out each other’s good points; | and they'll remember them when they come back. The brotherhood of man will mean something. It’s the soldier’s choice of honor rather than life which will make and they fight for them at home—just as they did | in France.” January 12,1918 “What you say about the choice of honor rather than life is very true,” he returned thoughtfully. “What a wonderful thing it is that to every man of us is given the same opportunity for the supreme sacrifice! The same great prize—the same immortal glory! It makes no difference whether a ellow has made a success or failure of his life up to this time; he has the same chance as anybody else—to give all he’s got. And nobody can give more. He’s the equal in that respect of the greatest genius or states- man in the land. “If you asked me who were the happiest men round to-day I should unhesitatingly reply ‘The failures!’ This war is the op- rtunity of the unsuccessful. The past is orgotten. No matter how much a man may have foozled his life, he can retrieve himself by a single act-—in the twinkling of an eye. When a chap dies out on No Man’s Land nobody will ask whether he made money or not before the war. They won’t inquire whether he lived well or ill. What- ever his past may have been, he will have atoned for all his sins.” He took a long breath, surcharged with tobacco. “The other evening at the club I hap- pened to ask half a dozen rather notorious ne’er-do-wells of; my acquaintance, and learned that every one was or had been at the Front. One was chasing submarines in the North Sea in command of his own con- verted yacht—in danger every moment of being torpedoed; two others, men of over fifty, were driving ambulances on the firing line; three had joined the Lafayette Esca- drille and were risking their lives daily in the air; and the last—Thompson—had died at the head of his men while leading a charge at Neuve Chapelle.” “Poor old Thompson!” I said. “Lucky: old Thompson, you mean!” retorted the fellow I was talking with; there were bitter tears in his eyes. “I was going with him; only—dammit!—my bad heart threw me out!” As I threaded my way through the crowd on my way back to the office I realized the truth of what my friend had said. This was the salvation of the failure! How many fellows we have known who, for one reason or another, didn’t fit into the scheme of modern life! In another age or another clime they might have risen to su- preme heights through strength or bravery; but either their bodies were superior to their brains or their ——— were stronger than their wills. Either they have plodded dumbly through life, making failure after failure in business or at the professions, or have hung about doing nothing, if not actu- ally engaged in dissipation. They have no place on a city pavement between rows of brownstone dwellings. Theirs was therealm of sea and sky—gentle- man adventurers, b:\ccaneers, cave men, if you choose. New York was no place for them. Now they have come into their own. They have found themselves. They can follow the gleam over the “uttermost purplerim.” They can challenge the rest of mankind in bravery. Good luck to them! So, likewise, the war has opened the eyes of the successful man. It has suddenly jarred him into the realization that, after all, his toiling, his money and his so-called good fortune are of no particular good to him. After twenty or thirty years he has really no more to offer his country than his totally unsuccessful brother has. He is up against the eternal verities. The qualities which made him successful are inevitably the same that will send him to the officers’ camp at Plattsburg or into some other form of military service; and, once he has on khaki and faces the proba- bility that at the same time next year he will be lying under a little wooden cross on the outskirts of some village of Northern France, he will wonder, if he never won- dered before, whether his success was worth the price he paid for it! He will see things in their true relation to one another. He will wish devoutly that he had lived more as he went along, and less in antici- pation; and he will envy the poor devil he used to scorn because he only earned a couple of thousand dollars a year, though he had a jolly good time doing it. But, success or failure, they are all coming forward. There has never been a more inspiring response to the call of patriotism in the history of the world. Men who are on the point of achieving their highest ambitions are, nevertheless, ready to scrap their suc- cess at the call of duty, well knowing that (Conctuded on Page 41)

Page 41

UT goes the library lamp. Be sure you have the key! : We’re bound for a chair in a theatre that j knows and shows what we want to see in / photoplays. We don’t have to hunt for it—don’t even have to take a chance on what we’ll see. The name of the play? Who THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Let's live a life in two Aours — lovers, hanging on the ‘‘yes’’ of the heroine; we're fond mothers and stern fathers; we’re ambitious youths; we’re struggling girls; we’re Cinderella and Prince Charming; we are the king and we are the beggar—we are all things and all men. Weare not forty or eighty or sixty-two during those magical hours we watch Paramount and Artcraft stories on the screen. We are youthful romancers living in another world. * 7 7 7 cares? It’s a Paramount or Artcraft picture; and that’s saying we'll see foremost stars, superbly directed, in clean motion pictures. 7 * 7 . Time? Who counts the time of clocks in this won- Paramoynta( Crteraft “FOREMOST STARS. SUPERBLY DIRECTED, IN CLEAN MOTION PICTURES And when those two ab- sorbing hours have flitted past—we rouse ourselves and readjust our viewpoint to taxes and potatoes. But we can’t forget the pictures that work such a derful land. Our heart is the time-table of our emotions. A magician somewhere waves his wand, and we’ re off on our tr: avels i into the realms of laughter and tears; of sighs and regrets; of love and adventure. (Please be reminded that these are Paramount and Art- craft motion pictures, not just ‘‘motion pictures.’’) We’re happy transformation in us—we remember they’re Paramount and Artcraft pictures— the ultimate in the genius of great stars the ultimate in directing craft the ultimate in character of their stories all combining to produce 4ecfter pictures, c/ean pictures — heroes; we’re against the villain and ail his wiles; we’re pictures worth your while and mine. ‘- f TRADE y REM ® y MARK F ; uf ae P 7. * * W, how to be sure of seeing Paramount : Py/ ‘ Three ays Lo K NOW ond Artcraft Motion Pictures * B . , . , y seeing these trade-marks By seeing these trade-marks By seeing these trade- - GPT “4 one or names in the advertise- two or names on the front of the three marks or names flashed * ‘ ments of your local theatres. theatre or in the lobby. on the screen inside the theatre. * * 2 GPictures& FAMOUS PLAYERS ~LASKY CORPORATION ADOLPH ZUKOR Pres JESSE ay A geraa B DE MILLE Director . w

Page 42

40 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 “DURABILITY in the Bearings is essential, gentlemen!” “The speed of every rotating part, the load carried, every strain and thrust, are borne by the Bearings. This is essentially true whatever the machinery or the work de- manded of it. “The factors we have to consider, then, are not only dura- bility, but the reduction of friction to the vanishing point, the lowest possible operative cost.” The leading engineering practice at horne and abroad tells us that Ball Bearings approximate Bearing perfection and repay the user in dependability and wearing qualities many times the initial expense. Ball Bearings are a vital and economical accessory to the nation’s need in industry or war. We have a new Booklet, attractively illustrated, which we will be glad to send you THE FAFNIR BEARING CO. NEW BRITAIN, CONN. Conrad Patent Licensee

Page 43

(Concluded from Page 38) it is a trivial thing, to themselves and to their families, compared to having their names upon their country’s roll of honor. Their real success lies not in what they have done in the world but in their ability to recognize its true value. It is a glorious refutation of the cabal that we are a nation of materialists and moneygrubbers. The man who counts his assets in dollars will discover that dollars no longer count. He will perceive the futility of his ambition to live in a forty-foot instead of a seventeen- foot house, and to have three automobiles instead of one. It will lead him to a con- sideration of what he shall do with his life. He will cease to measure his happiness by his bank account. He will find out that he has a soul as well as a stomach; and, even if it does not send him into the trenches, it may result in his doing something for the service of mankind. I found my partner sitting dejectedly at his desk, looking about as cheerful as an undertaker upon his introductory visit. “What’s the matter?” I demanded. “Miss Peterson told me you had just sold a block of bonds. It didn’t use to make you feel that way.” He held up a slip of paper. It was a check for a hundred thousand dollars. I — our profits would be about five thou- sand. THE SATURDAY “I don’t want to make any more money,” he remarked. “What!” I exclaimed; such a statement was preposterous, coming from Lord. “T mean it,” he said seriously. “It sickens me to be trying to sell securities at a time like this. s like playing the fiddle with Rome burning. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Everybody has, I guess. What I’ve been asking myself is, What are we doing for the country?” “‘We furnish,” I repeated reminiscently, “fan important and necessary link between capital and investment, a market for the distribution of money; we enable the small investor to contribute easily and safely to the development of industry.” Lord gave a hollow laugh. **We are about as useful at the present juncture as dealers in Punch and Judy shows!” “Look here, old man,” I expostulated, “you mustn’t talk that way. One would think you were on the point of giving up business and going into the trenches.” “I’m thinking of it,”’ he replied. “But you’ve got a wife and child!” I returned. “Wife and child! Wife and child!”’ he ground out bitterly. “Jch habe Weib und Kind zu Haus. My wife’s got an independ- ent income, and you know it. My child is thirteen years old and is a beneficiary under EVENING POST her grandfather's trust estate to the extent of five thousand dollars a year. I’m thirty- nine years old and the champion golfer of my county. “Of course I can sit here, like a stuffed dove, and look pained when any real man comes along, and get off the customary sad rot about how hard I’ve tried to do some- thing but nobody’ll have me; and how Washington is overflowing with men of my class holding down clerical jobs. That’s the most miserable sort of camouflage! There isn’t a fitter man than me to go into the trenches to-day, or one with any less ex- cuse. I’ve waited until you got back—as Morris was away; but now I can face the thing squarely. At the present time I’m a slacker—that’s all! A slacker—nothing else!’ He got up nervously and thrust his hand through his hair. “T’ll give you two weeks to feel just as I do. Of course I couldn’t chuck the busi- ness, with everybody away. I had to stick to the ship. So I worked the old wife-and- child racket, and sniveled round about how I'd give my eyes togoabroad— but couldn’t! I would give my eyes to go—that’s God’s own truth! But that I can’t go is a damn lie! I’ve fought this thing out with myself, and it’s as clear as daylight. The world has got to be saved from those German brutes, and it’s everybody’s job to go to it and 41 clean ’em up pacitated. “Tt’s the old distinction between legal and moral obligation. If you see your neighbor’s baby crawling on the railroad track in front of an express train, and you can save it merely by putting out your hand and yanking it out of the way, you have no legal obligation to do so. Well, I haven't any legal obligation to do my bit on the other ae either.” “Great Scott!" I replied. “I've got to have a chance to think. You make my mind whirl. Why couldn't you have waited a day or two before springing all this on me? He turned and looked at me earnestly. “Tt would be all the same,” he protested. “Sooner or later—I’m going. I’m not going to see the railroad train run down the child without doing what I can to save it.” There was an expression of almost exal- tation on his face. What curious things the war did to people! I looked out of the window. Flapping lazily on its pole hung our service flag, with its three stars. There was room enough for more. With a sudden oe I turned and held out my hand to im. “You're right, old man! To hell with the business!’’ I said. Editor's Note—This is the third in a series by Mr. Train. The fourth will appear in an early issue. unless he is physically inca- BUSINESS THAT ISN’T NECESSARY (Continued from Page 10) advantageously than anywhere else—that is, army trucks and airplane engines. It wants a great quantity of other things that can be made to good advantage in an automobile factory — such as small and medium size shells. By gradually cutting down the output of touring cars and turning the factory ca- pacity over to war work the Government can, of course, get an incomparably better all-round result than if it simply stopped the making of cars point blank and then soucht to redistribute the labor. The rational plan was adopted. All the same, people whom I know of are presuming that war is a temporary condi- tion. Even Nietzsche and Bernhardi never anticipated that slaughter would become permanently the chief occupation of man- kind. Everyone supposes peace will come sometime. Everyone knows that when it does come this colossal war production will stop short. In the United States a million and a half or two and a half or three million young men, released from army service, will be in search of jobs. Three or more million hands that are now occupied in pro- ducing distinctively war goods will have to find something else to do. The rule has been that a period of rapid industrial expansion is followed sooner or later by a period of contraction. However that may be as to this particular period of unprecedented industrial expansion, it is certain that the moment peace comes we shall want those automobile factories in the best possible condition to employ labor and keep the industrial wheels turning. If they are kept running—gradually turning their capacity from the making of less essential cars to the making of more essential air- planes, shells and trucks—they can turn back to peace production smoothly and readily. Whaat Shutting Down Means Shutting a factory down is quite simple. All you need do is lock the door and walk away. Anybody can dothat. But starting it up again after a long period of idleness, repairing the deterioration, assembling the materials and labor force, and so on, is much more difficult. It isn’t merely the factory. There’s no use starting up a fac- tory unless you have an outlet for its prod- uct. These particular factories have an elaborately organized outlet covering the entire country —their agents and dealers in every considerable town. Except the youngest of them, those agents and dealers were doing something else before they went into the automobile business. They have put their skill and energy and capital into that. If the business were shut down a good many of them would be broke; most of them would be out of a job. Mainly they would, of course, begin seeking something else to do. The whole extensive organiza- tion of the automobile business would begin to fall apart and vanish. Noscratch of the pen could build it up again out of hand. I have taken the automobile business because it begins with “‘a”’ and typifies a good many businesses which can, by intel- ligent care, be turned from less essen- tial production to the most essential war production. Nothing in the war is more essential than airplanes and trucks and am- bulances. It was auto tanks—another out- growth of automobiles—that enabled the British to win their most important victory. But many businesses cannot be converted at all to production that is most essential for subsistence or war. Look about for examples of completely nonessential arti- cles. Perhaps you say ‘“‘Candy, chewing gum, peanuts.” We bought last year more than two bil- lion dollars’ worth of goods from other countries. We had to buy about that in order to keep our plant going. Roughly, half of it was raw materials to be used in our manufactures. More than half a bil- lion was foodstuffs—largely of sorts we do not grow. A third of a billion was partly manufactured stuff which we finished. We have to pay for that in gold or in goods, and it is especially important to pay as much as possible in goods now, when we are selling enormous quantities to the Allies on time. Your banker will tell you, if you don’t hap- pen to know it, that for many months we’ve had a hard job keeping American exchange anywhere near par in neutral markets; in fact, we haven’t kept it very near par in most neutral markets. In July, 1914, for example, a dollar of American exchange was worth a slight premium in Stockholm. It is now worth sixty-two cents. In Copen- hagen it is worth about seventy-six cents; in Madrid, eight-two cents; in Zurich, Switzerland, eighty-four cents. That is not a satisfactory condition, and after all the technical explanations one reason for it is that we are selling a lot of goods on time and buying a lot he cash. Those neutral markets have more American exchange than they need. The more goods we can sell, aside from sales to the Allies which go on the book, the better for us. Last year we sold abroad abovt three million dollars’ worth of candy, chewing gum and peanuts. It he)ps to pay the bill. It finally takes the place of that much gold. If we owe Brazil a hundred million dollars for coffee the more candy and peanuts we can swap for coffee the better. Pake up the long list of American exports and consider how many holes would be shot in it if we stopped making theoretically nonessential things. The music shop on the corner looks non- essential enough; nothing in it that you can eat, wear, throw at an enemy or raise the winter temperature with for more than afew minutes. It represents also consump- tion of materials and labor. If you look over the materials you will find they consist largely of expensive woods that are of very little utility except for an ornamental pur- pose. So far as waging war or down-to- brass-tacks subsistence is concerned the lumber used in building a small reviewing stand from which the mayor inspects a parade would be worth many times all the wood in the shop. Aside from wood, there is perhaps a hundred —- of wire. But all the material in the shop, for war or hardpan subsistence, would hardly be worth carrying away. And if you sorted out all the labor you would probably find that much of it was not very useful for military purposes or hardpan subsistence. It is Mou labor that is especially skilled and valuable for that particular kind of work. Nowhere has the war strain been more severe than in France; but the luxury shops of Paris have by no means been cut out. Many of them are open and doing business as usual. They are woven into the business fabric of the country. To cut them out would start a raveling that would probably weaken the business fabric even for war peraees: They produce war taxes and ond subscriptions. A good many people subsist by them. True, it is not absolutely necessary that those people should subsist. They could just go and jump into the river, thereby decreasing the consumption of food. But France doesn’t wish them to do that. How Music and Nicotine Help Our music shop contains nothing to eat, wear, hurl or raise the temperature. But the hardest-pressed belligerent finds it ad- visable to maintain military bands. I am told that the German Government— whose rigorous efficiency for war is daily held up for our emulation—expends a good deal of money, labor and precious materials for the purpose of keeping a supply of talking ma- chines in the rest and concentration camps all along behind the battle front, because it finds that popular music played on these machines invigorates the men’s minds and makes better fighters of them. The mili- tary critics are always talking about the morale of the different troops—that is, about the state of their minds. By the common judgment of experts nothing is more essential in this war than those im- ponderable things which keep men in a high, resolute state of mind. Tothat crucial end music contributes as well as canned beef. In an American plebiscite on nonessen- tial businesses the liquor business would probably get more votes than any other. But the German Government is at a huge cost to supply its soldiers with beer. It knows that when Hans Schmidt laid aside civilian clothes the same set of intricate tastes and habits which his derby hat used to cover persist unchanged beneath his helmet. Deprived of his accustomed beer he would feel dissatisfied and fall prey toa nervous irritation which would diminish his efficiency. It makes a great effort to get him the beer. All over the United States contributions poured in to supply our train- ing camps with tobacco, because a great number of young men went into the camps with a tobacco habit, and if a man has once fallen victim to that horrible depravity taking away his pipe puts sand burs in his nervous system. The world went to war with an intricate set of tastes and habits derived from the beginning of time and confirmed by lifelon practice. The amazingly complex ra which we call business is the material mani- festation of those tastes and habits—a pro- jection of the habitual stuff in a man’s mind. The most rigorous critics want pretty much to wipe all that out and start over again on a schedule confined to food, fuel, clothes and ammunition. It couldn’t peuney be done. What an impossible ardpan subsistence-and-war program cut out would finally include nearly everything which admirably distinguishes the popula- tion of the United States to-day from its breechclouted population of five hundred years ago. Of course if we were going to organize for war as a permanent condition we might as well do that. But the most rigorous econo- mists contemplate a return of peace in a few months or years. They urge cutting out what they call nonessentials only for the duration of the war. But even for war we want to disturb the business organization of the country to the least practicable extent. A year ago loans and discounts by commercial banks ex- ceeded fifteen billion dollars. A great part of that rested on stuff that was neither food, fuel, transportation, necessary cloth- ing, guns nor ammunition—on things that must be classed nonessential if we are goin to make any such classification. It woul be interesting to see what would become of the country’s vast structure of bank credit which is the very breath of its business life and on which all government financing rests—if every business which could not justify itself as strictly necessary for sub- sistence or war were cut out. My guess is that the structure would look a good deal like Louvain after the Germans used it for an object lesson in frightfulness. No business whatever that is not actually noxious is nonessential either for war or for subsisting the population as a civilized population, with civilized cravings for in- tellectual and wsthetic satisfactions. Cutting out is simple enough, but build- ing up is another matter. The vital thing in any business is its organization—the human associations by which it is carried on. Shut it down and the organization immediately begins to disintegrate. Build- ing it up again takes time and effort. No business organization whatever should be destroyed. Cut down where necessary but never cut out. Prune but leave roots and trunk. Say it is a talking-machine business. If there is war work—time fuses, small shells, uniform buttons, or what else- that it can do to advantage, turn some of its capacity (Continued on Page 44)

Page 44

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12, 1918 TEC ITI rrr TIIIIIrisisrir crit IIIIlillisriisryeryirvirriiiitiitiii ore

Page 45

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST T -—EARUSO he would eve an se, who was capuye ‘a) instructions. | alt Lamic ) ruso . he a j 3, but # ; 1 a that yea" aim oe | 1903. and asthe present 1 |. ig assured petfect repro” ‘ | c ee 1, Giordano 2 0 2.00 od Hardelot os 3 4 cini 69002 “ 3.00 Puce 833! 10 2.00 Leone irtis 87092 12 3.00 vio-de Bizet 88208 2 3.00 Bizet 88209 2 3.00 ) Mascasm 88456 3 88 3 g8376 12 Carol Camens 88518 15 200 Donizet’ (66339 12 H 00 tty 12 Aatl hes oe 88333 2 oO Fen Gounod, ‘eagna 12 3% Fro Govmen as VB yn S0n8). ceehl 87079 15 3,00 Bu ~ os Ete 10 +00 Eves) Eranchees 67052 10 © uired 20 years of constant research, of steady 1, of tireless effort, and the expenditure of 1 Million Dollars to place this catalog in your hands 2 pages is the recognized authoritative index to the world’s best music; ievements of all time. ' ibutes to the years of unceasing vigil spent in gathering the best music globe. They reflect the hours upon hours which the greatest artists their superb art for the delight of all generations. They attest to the and millions of dollars spent in developing the art of recording to its And through each and every page runs the story and proof of Victor »py of this great Victor catalog of music. Everybody should have this book, whether or not they have a f the information about artists, operas and composers, and the numerous portraits and illustrations it contains. you a copy of this great catalog of music, or we will mail you a copy free, postage paid. Victor Talking Machine Co., Camden, N. J., u.s. A. a Berliner Gramophone Co., Montreal, Canadian Distributors - Supremacy A book that ever music-lover will want Important Notice. Victor Records and Victor Machines are scientifically coordinated and synchronized by our special processes of manufacture, and their use, one with the other, is absolutely essential to a perfect Victor re- production. New Victor Records demonstrated at all dealers on the Ist of each month REC EG US. PAT OFF Sa “HIS MASTERS VOICE”, To insure Victor quality, always look for the famous trademark, “His Master's Voice.” It is on all genuine products of the Victor Talking Machine Company.

Page 46

‘“YANKEE For example: **YANKEE”’ Ratchet Breast and Hand Drills save a third to half the time and OU save labor, time, yourself—when you use ** YANKEE”’’ Tools. tools of today: conserving man’s power. They mean greater capacity for good work; make a man a better mechanic; add to his value—on his job and to himself. ” Tools are highly specialized tools for drilling, tapping and working metal ; boring in wood; driving screws. ious; well-balanced; speedy, accurate, efficient! labor of working with ordinary drills: Because the “ Yankee” Ratchet (right, left and double ratchet movements) adapts the tool to the working conditions of any drill- ing or boring job. Five Adjustments are controlled by the Ratchet Shifter between the small gears and are in- stantly changed at a finger-touch: First Notch: Plain(ordinary) Drill. Second: Left-hand Ratchet. Third: Right-hand Ratchet. Fourth: DOUBLE RATCHET. Fifth: Gears locked. The “ DOUBLE” (or contin- uous) Ratchet advances the drill in the work with any and every movement of the crank, to or fro, no matter how slight. Speed and convenience in drilling in cramped places! “YANKEE” Ratchet Breast Drill No. 1555.—Three-jaw Chack. Length, 17 inches. Ne. 555.—Twe-jaw Chuck. Length, 1744 inches. Price, $7.70. Look for “YANKEE” Unri- valled, for their purpose. THE SATURDAY ltiplying 7 Mans e They are the Ingen- drill from the wor Write for “* Yankee’ Tool Book.’ lnusseere . and describes 14 Sty and Sizes of Breast and Hand Drills, roneing fs from this powerful N ? the h pay little No. is30." - only inches in length, yet has | five ratchet ad- justments. Also shows numer- ous other “* Yankee” Tools. North Bros. Mfg. Co. Philadelphia — ' | EVENING POST (Continued from Page 41) | over to that—gradually so as not to disor- | ganize the factory—and preserve the busi- ness organization. We want it now to pay taxes and buy Liberty Bonds. Sure as sure can be we shall decidedly want it to help take up the slack when war production ceases and the millions of hands now en- gaged therein must turn to other employ- ment. We can’t make all the things we made last year and all the things that must be made this year. We must cut down. The means of doing it are at hand—without labeling a purblindly selected lot of busi- nesses nonessential and standing them up before a firing squad. By its command over steel, copper, fuel and transportation the Government can shift production from less necessary things to more necessary things, just as it is now doing in the automobile business—turning the released capacity over to war work by a gradual adjustment, and saving the organization of the business. The Government has almost a monopoly of the investment market. In November of 1917 all the business corporations of the country, railroad and industrial, of such size that their financing gets noticed in Wall Street, absorbed only ninety million dollars of capital through the issue of bonds, stock and one and two year notes, against two hundred and fifty millions in the corre- sponding month of 1916. Except in exigent cases business corporations are not trying to float bond and stock issues. That of itself cuts down dispensable production. Labor Conditions Last year a ten-thousand-dollar income paid a hundred and twenty dollars taxes; a twenty-thousand-dollar income paid three hundred and twenty dollars taxes. This zone the ten-thousand-dollar income is kely to pay several times as much, and the ScosinGhommundduliat income a consider- ably greater increase. So with all larger incomes. That will cut down consumption. About three-quarters of the five billion eight hundred million dollars which has been paid into the Treasury by Liberty-loan subscribers has come from comparatively small subscriptions—those, that is, not over fifty thousand dollars. That must involve a good deal of retrenchment in individual expenditure. This whole question of production comes back largely to the supply of labor, and there seems to be no doubt that a better mobilization of labor could be effected with- out any imposition upon labor and without destroying any business. In its report for November the New York State Bureau of Employment says: “Publication throughout the country of an alleged shortage in labor continues, some of these publications being given out by re- liable financial institutions. What is really meant in many of the references to shortage is the ‘turnover.’ On account of the restless- ness of workers in many places this ‘turn- over’ has very largely increased in the last few months. This Bureau has a report from one large plant in a neighboring state where there has been a complete change in a force of several thousand workers in a period of one month. . Contributing more largely to the restlessness than anything else is the constant repetition of the short- age of labor and the frequent publication about abnormal earnings, especially in munition factories. A worker, reading of this labor shortage and these large earnings, uits his present job and goes hunting the Sesto one paying very high wages. The different offices qf the Bureau throughout the state report a total of several hundred seekers of jobs every day. Many of these refuse to take the available jobs at the wages offered.” War work is creating an unusual demand for labor with some technical training. “To meet this need,” says the Bureau, “it will be necessary for employers to get together and decide on the number of workers each one should train to supply this demand. This should be done in each industrial community through the co- operation of employers needing any kind of technically trained men. The United States is just now teaching thousands of men how to shoot a gun and handle a bayonet. Is it not just as desirable in this emergency to teach men how to handle a tool and a machine? We have great numbers of men | available for training. Let us train them now and absorb them into the industries needing them before we consider the use of large numbers of untrained women.” January 12,1918 The State Bureau should be in a position to know. According to its view the labor shortage is less a lack of hands than a lack of intelligent mobilization and of training that could be rather readily supplied. Good wages and patriotism may be ex- pected to bring an increasing number of women into industry also. A great part of this labor shortage, that is, can be met by better organization—which is infinitely better than going out with an ax to destroy the organization we have by cutting out so-called nonessential businesses. The country faces a tremendous task, but I don’t think going into hysterics about it will be materially helpful. I have never known a case where having a fit got a man any further along. Railroad transportation has been one of the weak spots. Congestion of traffic has held the country back at a hundred points. There is no doubt that the recommendation of the Interstate Com- merce Commission for completely unified operation of the roads will help very de- cidedly. There are intelligent means of meeting the situation all round. One reason for rail congestion, especially in the East, is found in the very great in- crease in | aw py traffic. A piece of road one hundred and thirty-odd miles long, from Philadelphia to Washington, and carrying a considerable part of the through travel from New York to the capital, sold one million four hundred thousand dollars’ worth of tickets in October. Commenting on that the Philadelphia Public Ledger said: “Out of New York the Pennsylvania is running ninety to a hundred extra sleep- ers in trains that go in sections every four or five minutes. Under normal conditions thirty-five to forty sleepers are run in the Washington service. At present there are nearly a hundred and fifty from New York alone and extra cars are put on when the train arrives here.” That is one reason why the railroad is badly congested. I know something about that ee travel. Much of it is unquestionably quite necessary. A good deal is made by excited persons who deem it important to rush down to Washington and impart their views to almost any patient soul who will listen, or to offer superfluous services involving the use of an easy-chair and a shiny badge—with the net result of cluttering up the railroad. The railroads have cut down passenger service. No doubt they will cut it down still further. But as to the whole volume of business travel it would puzzle a Solomon to say what should be regarded as nonessen- tial. All of it in one way or another keeps the wheels turning. The Fuel Famine Very recently some parts of the country were threatened with a fuel famine which would have a very disastrous effect on industry. The Fuel Administration wanted an order from the Priority Board giving coal shipments preference over every other kind of freight. With a fuel famine threat- ening it seemed at first glance that such an order should be issued. But in came the Food Administration, pointing out that if foodstuffs were sidetracked there might be a food famine here and there. The best administrative brains in the service of the Government were unable to decide, under all the circumstances of the case, whether food or fuel was most essential and declined to issue any order. Substantially that difficulty will come up whenever anybody who knows tries to classify business into essential and nonessential. When the selective-draft law was under discussion last spring we heard a good deal about classifying the labor power of the country according to whether it was en- aged in essential or nonessential work. But the steel-mill hands who make ship plates would work to poor advantage if there weren’t somebody to keep their time, a clerk to make out the pay oh, a corps of stenographers to handle the office corre- spondence. The pay envelope would lose a lot of its attraction and the difficulties of the labor situation increase if mill hands couldn’t take their families to the movies, buy the wife a nobby winter coat and read all about the strictly nonessential ~ sneee in high life in the evening newspape That is exactly what skilled labor is working, organizing and fighting for- satisfactions over and above bread and butter, a scuttle of coal and a suit of over- alls. Agricultural labor is generally re- garded as so essential that its complete exemption from military service has been

Page 47

—— —— proposed. But if you think over the opera- tions of any farm you will see that it is con- suming and applying a great deal of labor besides that which harnesses the horses and guides the plow. Of course there is the blacksmith who shod the horses, the grocer who did up the flour and sugar, the girl in the telephone exchange. But the bill clerk in the plow factory, the drummer who sold the farmer’s shoes to the local merchant, the telegraph operator in Chicago who sent out the day’s quotation on hogs, the man who designed the corn planter—are all working on that farm. If you could take one day’s operations on a typical farm and trace out all the factors that contributed to it you would find that they involved the labor of a hundred thousand men and women. All business and all labor is pretty much one seamless piece of goods. Cut a piece out of it and the raveling will run pretty nearly from end to end. England has been at war nearly three and a half years, with constantly increasing expense and pressure. Almost nothing has been cut out of the country’s business or- ganization. They have stopped the manu- facture of touring cars. But that was a small item in British industry; the plants are kept busy on war work and a great many touring cars are in use in the country. Some years ago a good many rigorous economists were convinced that touring cars were more or less of an outrage even in peace. Several very opulent citizens—who considered automobiles quite appropriate for themselves—declared that the extrava- gance of farmers in buying touring cars was a national scandal and a grave menace to the country’s well-being. For a good while I have been by way of being a farmer, by proxy, myself, and have spent part of every year in a typical farming community. First-hand observation leads me to the opinion that, at least since McCormick invented a reaping machine, no other inven- tion has been so beneficial to farmers as the automobile—and when it comes to farmers’ wives I put the automobile ahead of the reaper. No other thing has done so much to make the farmer’s wages—and his wife’s wages—equal the wages of workers in town. By wages I mean, of course, the satisfactions a man gets, for that is what anybody’s wages finally consist of. If I were legislating on farm essentials I should put automobiles high on the list, especially at this time, when they can be exceedingly useful in relieving the railroads of passen- gers and goods on short hauls, The British War Taxes Pately nothing has been cut out of the British business organization. British businesses publish yearly reports of their op- erations to a decidedly greater extent than American businesses do. The London Econ- omist regularly tabulates, analyzes and compares reports of about one thousand concerns engaged in all sorts of businesses. Since the comparatively brief period of de- moralization which followed the declara- tion of war the outstanding characteristic of these reports has consisted of increased profits all along the line. It should be remembered that England has a real war-profits tax, entirely different from our miscalled war-profits tax. Wher- ever a British concern is making greater profits now than before the war the govern- ment takes eighty per cent of the excess. But it doesn’t take anything unless there is an excess over normal peace profits. As to these reports then, four-fifths—or seventy THE SATURDAY = cent until this year—of war profits have een wiped out, or handed over to the government. Still they show in the main increased net profits. For the reports fall- ing in the third quarter of 1917 the average increase was four and a half per cent. That showing after deducting the war-profits tax means, of course, increased business as a general rule. One considerable class of companies shows, as a rule, a decrease—the class we call public utilities. Their income is limited because the price at which they sell their — is fixed while operating expenses ave greatly increased. This includes pri- vately owned gas, telephone and water- works. The largest taxicab company in London shows a decrease. Some of its vehicles have been taken; operating costs have increased. Automobile companies show a decrease of three per cent as com- pared with 1916—naturally. But the rule is increased profits for all sorts of business. Rigorous economists over there deplore this. They say it shows scandalous extrava- gance on the part of the public. They want to get down to brass-tacks essentials. Ap- parently that has by no means been done even in Germany. I take it that it simply can’t be done unless a whole population is put under the awful pressure of a besieged city, and that if it were done many years would be needed to recover from the ensuing wreckage and prostration. Save for Liberty Bonds Only a lunatic can question the magni- tude of the country’s task. Unless peace develops sooner than any definite signs now warrant one in expecting, the task will probably tax the country’s resources more heavily than the Civil War taxed them in the North. The country’s resources, pon- derable and imponderable, are sufficient to meet it. The one kind is as important as the other. The question is how to handle them most effectively. Disintegrating the country’s business organization will not help. Cut-and-slash false economies that start up broadcast material and mental re- actions are not useful. Broad means of pushing down on less instantly essential production and pushing up on most instantly essential production are already in the hands of the Government. There can be a still further mobilization of credit, through a government agency — say the Federal Reserve Board—to pass upon applications for capital which involve flotation of stocks and bonds. There can undoubtedly be a better mobilization of labor power, as indicated above. A vast deal must rest with the individual. He must look over his income and outgo, and save to the utmost of his ability for Liberty Bonds. If individuals don’t do that they will certainly experience a price infla- tion which will force them to ec onomize because their money will buy less. It is impossible to lay down rigid, universal rules about saving. But I believe almost any individual intelligent enough to earn | an income can sit in judgment on his own case and solve it intelligently. There must be economy. We must cut down. If we don’t do it intelligently in- exorable forces will compel it—and in a very costly way, as I expect to show in another article. But any idea of meeting this situation by applying a wholesale, purely arbitrary classification of essential and nonessential to the business of the United States is nonsense. Editor’s Note—This is the first of two articles by Will Payne. The second will appear in an early issue. EVENING POST Sie Hot Water Bottle for Universal Use Now Ready for Homes e \ The Surgeons Grade AGN © reds 5 Rade 46 4 4° rete HERE’S more real comfort— relief-—-and prevention — more everyday usefulness—in this Leak-Proof Miller Hot Water Bottle than anything else you can get at your druggist’s. Your home and every home needs it because it is so handy. And remember that this is not an ordinary grade of rubber—it is Miller Surgeons Grade. First made famous by the medical profession. Miller Hot Water Bottles are constructed with the patented C-Kure-Nek. The metal part is imbedded in solid rubber, then vul- canized into an inseparable unit. And more than that, these Miller Bottles have no seams or bindings. Hence they cannot separate or leak. Actual tests have demonstrated that Miller Bottles will withstand hundreds of pounds of pressure. Miller Surgeons Grade Rubber Goods Miller Hot Water Bottles can be had with complete outfit of tubing and pipes that ae, convert them into combination Foun- tain Syringes. They are made in two and three quart sizes—and all are over capacity. For years their sale was confined to the medical profession. But the Miller fame spread everywhere and finally we consented to supply the demand of the public for Miller Rubber Goods—Rubber Sponges, Non-Collapsible Nipples, Household Rubber Goods, Surgeons’ Rubber Gloves, Fountain Syringes, Hot Water Bottles, etc.—all rubber articles needed in the sick room, the bath room or the nursery. One druggist in each locality is authorized to supply the Miller Surgeons Grade Rubber Goods. Go to that store, or send direct to us. Don’t accept inferior kinds when you can now get the grade that surgeons and hospitals use. Poor rubber soon disintegrates. Miller lasts for years with proper care. Go to the Miller Agency in your locality. The Miller Rubber Co. Dept. E 1, AKRON, O. Makers of Miller Uniform Tires— eared-to-the-Roa

Page 48

January 12,1918 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 46 1918, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co sy righ: t

Page 49

Oe eee i : THE SATURDAY EVENING POST S\N its last fiscal year || this company made tires than any other maker in the world. From the great Goodyear fac- tories more than 5,300,000 tires were delivered into the public’s hands—the largest number ever marketed by one company in the same length of time. The immensity of this figure can be realized only in the knowledge that the total Amer- ican registration in 1917 was approximately 4,600,000 cars. Thus, despite the competition of more than 200 other tire makers, Goodyear attained an average of better than one tire to every motor car in the land. Nothing that we have ever said of Goodyear Tires, whether in these pages or elsewhere, com- pares with this indorsement by the American people. Such superiorities as we have claimed for our product, such declarations of quality as we have issued, are here more powerfully verified than by any words. e4 In elevating Goodyear Tires to the position of supremacy they now occupy, the public FRED 'E does so not only by force of its opinion but bv the dollars it spends. The belief of the average car- owner in the goodness of Good- year Tires is a belief on which he is willing to stake not alone his judgment but a consider- able investment as well. Notable as is the size of last year’s record volume, size is not at all the most significant thing about it. The significant thing is that this total climaxes a_ produc- tion that has been steadily and irresistibly increasing. Not for one year or for two, has the appeal of Goodyear Tires forthe public been strong, but for year after year without break. The pace of this institution’s growth, almost since its incep- tion, has been in direct ratio with its acquaintance among the people. It cannot justly be said that either salesmanship or adver- tising has been mainly respon- sible for Goodyear’s great growth. Salesmanship and advertising appeal chiefly to new business; there is not enough of it in World-Wide Supremacy the country to absorb this great volume. Far more potent than either of these in the success of this company, has been the good- ness of a product which held old customers while gaining new. It is from this source largely that our business has Hourished, out of the satisfaction of the public it served. The policy on which this in- stitution has been reared is so simple as to be an inspiration for us all. That policy, as expressed in our labors and dealings, is ‘the more we put into our product in goodness, the more we will take out in sales.” Because we will continue to exercise this policy, this busi- ness will continue to grow. Because it is the foundation and insurance of our present supremacy, that supremacy will not be surrendered. Goodyear Tires, Heavy Tourist Tubes and “* Tire Saver” Accessories are easy to get from Good year Service Station Dealers everywhere. The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co. Akron, Ohio

Page 50

48 Nor is there any complaint about their tremendously increased taxation. They take it as it comes, and when the next Liberty Loan is floated, which will not be so long from now, they will go out again to help push it over just as they helped push over the first one and the second one. There is no need of going into the decline in securities. ‘That isn’t material, save as an inconvenience. It doesn’t affect the attitude of the financiers. They are for the United Staves first, and they have proved it. Then there is the personal side of it all, as apart from the money side—the service and the sacrifice. No millionaire can gain any kudos from me because his son or sons have gone to war, though I shall men- tion a few whose sons have gone to war just to show they are performing in that way also. I think it is susceptible of proof that, man for man, the rich men of the United States, as individuals, in giving their per- sonal services are doing more, at a greater sacrifice and in greater numbers than the components of any other broad division of our population. I mean by that that rela- tively there are more rich men in the un- selfish service of the Government in this war work than there are men of any other sort who may be classified in such broad generalizations. Of course rich man is a relative term, for a man who is rich in one part of our far- flung country wouldn’t be held as rich in another; and rich men in New York and in the larger cities are very rich men considered in money terms. A man with a million or so in New York isn’t rich; he is well-to-do. A bank with only a few millions of deposits isn’t a bank; it’s a branch. New York is where the money is and where the rich man really is rich in all that the term implies. Therefore, taking these men as a class— the men, I mean, who are accused of being capitalistic enough to force and maintain a “capitalistic” war, the men denounced by our domestic Bolsheviki as plutocrats—I THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DIVES AND THE DEMAGOGUES (Concluded from Page 9) maintain it is susceptible of proof that more of them relatively are giving their expert and invaluable services to the country in this crisis than of any other class what- soever. It would take a page of THE SATURDAY EVENING Post to print a list of men who may be called rich men, men of the capitalist class, who have abandoned their own af- fairs, and who, not only in Washington but in all parts of the country, are serving the Government where they may be useful, without compensation, and paying their own expenses. A few of these are: Frank A. Vanderlip, president of the greatest bank in the United States, the National City Bank of New York, who is in the Treasury; H. P. Davison, one of the partners of the House of Morgan, who is at the head of the Red Cross; John D. Ryan, president of the Anaconda Copper Company; Bernard Ba- ruch, Judge Lovett, J. L. Replogle, Howard Elliott—the list is too long to continue. They come from all over the United States, not alone from New York, and they have not only given their own services but they have contributed of their organiza- tions the experts in the lines of finance and industry as they were needed. Let me take the House of Morgan as an example to show what these men have done; an excellent example, for the House of Morgan comes first invariably when the demagogue begins to denounce the money devil. The House of Morgan has contributed the entire services of one of its most active artners, Mr. Davison, and Mr. Davison as two sons in the aviation service, one of whom has been seriously injured. Mr. Morgan’s eldest son is in the Navy. Mr. Steele, who has no sons, has three sons-in- law, and two of them are in Government work for the United States, and the third is in the French Army. Mr. Porter’s only son is in the Army, and his son-in-law is in Government work. Mr. Hamilton’s eldest boy is an aviator and is already in France. Mr. Stettinius has a son in the Army. Neither Mr. Lamont, Mr. Morrow nor Mr. Cochrane has children old enough to serve. Of the Philadelphia partners, Mr. Stotesbury and Mr. Lloyd have no sons eligible for service, and Mr. Newbold’s two sons are both in the Army. In addition to this Mr. Anderson, the chief bond man of the Morgan organization, gave his services for several months to the Liberty Loan Committee, and many clerks were sent by the Morgans tothat committee. All the part- ners sold Liberty Bonds, made speeches and campaigns, and subscribed great amounts. To go a bit farther and note the serv- ice being rendered by men in other great financial institutions, which form the “oc- topus”’ of the demagogue: Mr. Vanderlip, of the National City Bank, and two of his vice presidents, Mr. James H. Perkins and Samuel McRoberts, are giving the Government their services for a dollar a year; Grayson Murphy, the senior vice president of the Guaranty Trust Company, a most impressive tentacle of the ‘‘octopus,” want to France months ago in charge of Red Cross work; Lewis B. Franklin, who is a vice president of the Guaranty and also president of the Investment Bankers’ Association of America, has been in Wash- ington since early in the spring assisting the Treasury in Liberty Loan work; Nelson D. Jay, another vice president, is in France working under Charles G. Dawes, a Chicago banker who went to France with the Army with the earliest advance of our men; Charles D. Norton, of the First National Bank, is giving all his time to the Red Cross; and George F. Baker, Jr., of the same bank, headed the Red Cross mission to Italy. To continue would be to catalogue men, leading men, from all the big banks in New York and from the great trust com- panies and corporations, who have gone enthusiastically into war work, who are giving their services, and who are also giv- ing the services of myriads of their clerks, managers, experts and directors. This is January 12,1918 not alone the case in New York. Men have come to the aid of the Government— the same sort of men-—the plutocrats and their representatives—from every big city in the country. They have left their per- sonal interests and are devoting all that is in them to the aid and support of the Government. If one could call the roll of these men as they are stationed at Wash- ington, or in France, or elsewhere, it would be a roll call of the biggest men in finance, or many of them, the captains of industry fron: the Atlantic to the Pacific. Hence, I repeat, that while our American Bolsheviki are ranting in all parts of the country that this is a “‘capitalistic” war it wouldn’t be any sort of war at all if it were not for our American capitalists. They are supporting it, and financing it, and making it possible to win it. Nor is there any dis- position to claim that these men have not, in the past, merited some of the attacks made on them. They get no immunity here. What I do maintain is this: As a class, the so-called plutocrats have shown in this war and will continue to show a high and enduring patriotism, a keen sense of national obligation, a loyalty to our country and its flag, a spirit of American- ism that the demagogues who live by denouncing them might emulate. I main- tain that they are more patriotic, man fo: man, as proved by their deeds, than many others who have equal opportunities, rela- tively, to show their patriotism. This is the big truth of it: The first Liberty Loan would not have succeeded as it did; the second Liberty Loan would not have succeeded as it did; the Government would not have been able to finance itself or its Allies; the work of production would be far, far in arrears; the war would now be lagging, or our part of it—and, for that matter, the part of the Allies—if these men had not done what they did do, if they had been plutocrats before they were patriots. That is the credit they deserve. That is the credit they here receive. BUSINESS-MANAGING THE EMPIRE (Continued from Page 20) definite schedule. Every car had to be un- loaded within a prescribed time no matter whether it was under shell fire or not; every train had to bring back its quota of material for salvage, wounded men or troops bound for the rest camps. ‘‘ No empty hauls” was the slogan that went forth. These were the rules for the standard-gauge lines. Geddes was no less exacting with the light railways. They were kept to an iron- bound regulation. More than this, he drove them forward with an unceasing labor that did not flinch or falter in the face of shot and shell. What was the result? When the Germans made their famous “ victorious retreat”’ in the Somme in the spring of 1917 the rail- way followed right behind them. The rear guard of Haig's pursuing army could hear the shriek of the advancing locomotives as they steamed along the newly laid track. The iron horse almost trod on Tommy’s heels! It was a triumph of the Geddes system which brought food, equipment, supplies and ammunition right into the zone of actual fighting. This procedure was repeated in an even more dramatic way last November when Byng smashed his way behind the tanks toward Cambrai. During these stirring operations the light railways in some in- stances were apace with the battling troops. Without them the advance would ave been impossible. From this bill of particulars you can readily understand how and why Geddes made good in France. Six months after he established himself at Geddesburg he was made Inspector General of Transporta- tion for all the theaters of war. This made him the traffic king of the British armies everywhere. Most men would have been content with this full-sized job. But Eng- land had taken Geddes’ measure and found that it fitted all emergencies. The time had come for him to move on. He took the next round of the service ladder, and in a way that was little short of sensational. With the Battle of Jutland storm clouds began to gather over the British Admiralty. There was no dissatisfaction over the fit- ness of the Grand Fleet, but a growing feeling that it was being kept under leash. The submarine devastation was getting on the nation’s nerves. A strong public senti- ment crystallized in the shape of a demand that the barnacles be scraped away from the hull of the Admiralty and that the good old ship be manned with younger and redder blood. Geddes, who meanwhile had become Sir Eric, was put upon the bridge. He was made a member of the Board of the Ad- miralty with the rank of vice admiral and the title of controller, which went back to the time of Samuel Pepys. With charac- teristic tenacity, however, he maintained hie post as Inspector General of Transpor- tation, which carried with it the rank of major general in the army. Thus he main- tained the integrity of his dual personality, because he became the only civilian in all history who could wear, if it were possible, a major general's and a vice admiral’s uni- form at the same time. The wags immedi- ately began to suggest that he appear in public in the trousers of one service and the coat of another! The introduction of Geddes into the Admiralty was just one more proof of the urgent need of the business man on the war — He knew absolutely nothing about »attleships, cruisers, torpedo-boat destroy- ers or shipbuilding, but he did know the rules of the business game and how to get things done. He dedicated himself to hurrying up the shipbuilding program and to the production of supplies and muni- tions for the navy. He became, as he aptly expressed it to me, “‘the Wet Minister of Munitions.” As a side line he joined the Shipping Control Committee. He was a man of many tasks—the Pooh-Bah of British public service. The Admiralty seethed with movement. Here, as elsewhere throughout his progres- sive journey through the principal war posts in the gift of Britain, he adhered to the plan of taking his own people with bim. This is a typical Geddes performance. The men trained in the Geddes school know him and his methods. When he takes a new post they enable him to make it a going concern at once. . He was not in the Admiralty very long before he installed the former secretary and solicitor of the North-Eastern Rail- way as assistant secretary. Other old col- leagues followed. The civilian had at last invaded the stamping ground of the sailor- man, and was there to stay. Geddes grad- ually built up a group of officials—all of them graduated from the railways or from business and all dedicated to the task of making things happen. If you know Geddes at all you also know that he is not the type of man likely to remain in a subordinate place. He is just naturally booked for the top. When the dissatisfaction over what was considered to be a distinct inability to solve the sub- marine problem expanded into a vigorous national belief that Sir Edward Carson, as First Lord of the Admiralty, should do something or quit the job, no one was sur- prised when he got out and was succeeded by Sir Eric Geddes. The one-time section hand on the Balt*- more & Ohio Railroad was now in the office that made the supreme test of his re- sources. The public wanted action; he was the man to give it to them. Before he was in office two weeks he knew what every ship in the British Navy was doing. As always, statistics were his weapon. He be- lieves in them because they are the infal- lible revealers of both weakness and strength. He proved the efficacy of his theory when he made his first important speech as First Lord of the Admiralty. He unloaded such a fusillade of facts that the loudest critical guns were silenced. To illustrate: There had been widespread chagrin over the sinking of a convoy of neutral vessels from Scandinavia escorted by two British de- stroyers. They were surprised and sunk in the North Sea by German raiders. The British people very naturally wondered why the Grand Fleet did not hear about this attack and rout the raiders. The First Lord asked the House to recol- lect these facts: That the area of the North Sea is 140,000 square nautical miles; that Britain herself has a coast line of 568 nau- tical miles subject to attack by raiders; that the area of vision for a cruiser squad- ron with its attendant destroyers at night is well under five square miles. Then he added: “Five square miles in 140,000.” There was not a chirp about that North Sea action when he got through. When you meet Sir Eric Geddes you un- derstand very soon why he is one of the overlords of England at forty-two. Physi- cally he looks the part. He is deep and broad of chest, wide of shoulder; you can see the muscles of his arm expand under his sleeves. His jaw is hard and unyield- ing, his mouth is firm; his whole being incarnates strength of body and determina- tion. Despite all this bone and sinew he is as active as a cat. His eyes look straight through you. He keeps fit by riding horse- back every morning before breakfast. I once asked him what single rule had been of most service to him. Quick as a flash he snapped out: “The use of statis- tics. Istatistize everything. Knowledge is power and statistics are the throttle valve of every business. But don’t let statistics master you. Usethem! I’llshow you what I mean.” He was sitting at the desk of the First Lor of the Admiralty. He pushed a buz- zer, and when a secretary appeared he said: “Get me the statistics.” In a few moments three books, made like loose-leaf ledgers, were before him. One was brown, another blue, and the third was black. He picked them up in succes- sion,,.saying: “‘This brown book contains a catalogue of all the Admiralty stock— that is, a list of every ton of stuff we own. This blue book is the register of the personnel of the navy, with every man’s record up to yesterday. This black book contains the account of all naval operations and movements since the war an. To- gether they form a complete library of all the available statistics about the Ad- miralty. In short I know what every man and every ship is doing and just where they are.” Geddes believes that running a war is just like running any business. “It is just like operating a factory,” he said. (Continued on Page 52)

Page 51

THE SATURDAY EVENING Are you missing something very good, something decid- edly worth having? You remember the first time you tasted Hawaiian Pineapple— you wouldn't have missed it for a good deal. You know what the California Peach means to you today —a few years ago it didn’t figure in your bill of fare. Take the word of the firm who made these fruits famous and try their Cali- fornia Cherries. Of course, you will try them first as a pie. But you won't stop at pie—you will have Cherry Cobbler, Cherry Salad, and you'll have them straight, served in their own syrup, as a dessert. Steadily the Libby kitchens in Cali- fornia are feeling the increase in the popularity of Libby’s Cherries. Don’t wait for others to introduce you to this California success—find out for yourself. Ask to have them served in your own home. Add this new dish to your list of favorites. Libby, M‘Neill & Libby 240 Welfare Bidg., Chicago Libby, M‘Neill & Libby of Canada, Ltd. 45 E. Front St., Toronto, Ont., Can.

Page 52

50 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 Burning Up the Nation’s Bread l a we lie hs MERICA is today the hope of the 4 Allied Peoples, soldiers and civil ians alike. Without our grain, their hope is gone. as SR , Hunger may cause them to falter even to quit as did Russia. With hungry eyes they look to us tor food. Yet we continue to throw millions of dollars’ worth of precious, irreplace- able, life-giving foodstuffs to the Moloch whose name is Fire. Read the brief list of fires on this page in which tens of millions of loaves of bread were destroyed. Then think! The full list of food-fires for 1917 would fill this page with fine type. F ° aT a Key to Fire-Pictures How f bread are there in this small mountain of grain I P Ni Gsrinnell Sprinkler would hav ¢t for 16.800.000 ft bre 1 burne ( t (sy ‘\ rs W i nay iV it elevator a Sprinkler System would have cost $19,000 and saved $5,000 a year in insurance, thus paying for itself in four years.

Page 53

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Special Notice to Sprinkler System Owners Fire-bugs caused losses last year of $35,000,000, according io the insurance companies. No matter what type of automatic sprinkler system you have, it can be made proof against malicious tampering by alien enemies determined to burn your property. An electrically controlled automatic system does it. Better than several additional watchmen. We shall be glad to give you full partic- ulars about this “Sprinkler Supervisory Service.” Photo from Underwood ” Food That Is Gone Forever Last year ended with no less than 240 big food- destroying fires. Over half a billion loaves of bread thrown away. We say thrown away, because at the outset these fires could have been extinguished by a Grinnell Sprinkler System. This loss is irreplaceable. Insurance money can never bring back asingle yellow grain of cornor wheat. Grinnell Automatic Sprinklers have: saved mil- lions of dollars by preventing scores of catastrophes similar to these. They do not wait for human operation. The moment the heat reaches them they act, pouring an irresistible stream right into the heart of the ‘ incipient fire. In over 20,000 reported fires, the © ; hae aay Underu average loss with Grinnell Sprinklers has been oat — = J ndert under $280. Flour-mills and grain-elevators are dangerous fire-risks. But so information before it is too late. Address General Iire Ex- sure is Grinnell protection even in them that the insurance companies tinguisher Co., 277 West Exchange St., Providence, R. I. ae 2 c : : ' > 2Verage re > rate 6 24 7 > sp CTI aS ‘ . ve 11 —_ the a ae a 0073 oo for thi ada rcaae Chere will be other hres. Will they prove equally destruc Patriotic action, therefore, wins a tangible reward. tive? Perhaps your plant will be one of them? Are you [his priceless protection is at your service today. Write for full prepared? Or will you wait until it is too late?

Page 54

52 (Continued from Page 48) The following remark made to Lloyd George when they first met emphasizes this attitude: ‘‘Employ the men in warfare on the job in which they excelled in peace. Then you will have no square pegs in round holes.” The maxim by which he ruled his men in France is typical of their leader. Summed ip, it was: “‘Temper justice with mercy and common sense. Use mercy because your people are working under fire; employ common sense because you must not ex- pect them to do the impossible.’ The best tribute that I ever heard paid to Sir Eric Geddes came from a long- headed Scotchman who worked with him on the North-Eastern, whosaid: ‘Capable men always get on with Geddes.’’s Geddes is about the only man who ever turned Lloyd George down. One day when they were both in the Ministry of Muni- tions his chief sent for him and demanded certain figures at once about shell output. “You cannot have them because they are not ready,” he said. “But I must have them,” said the minister. “There is no ‘must’ with incomplete statistics,” replied Geddes. It closed the incident, and Lloyd George had to wait. I cite this little incident to show that Geddes never goes off at half coc k. When I last talked with him I asked him te give me a message to the American peo- ple, as I was sailing for New York the next da For once the answer did not follow hot on the question. “‘Give me a little time,”’ he said. That night I received from him at my hotel the autographed note which is re- produced in facsimile with this article. It so clearly reflects the Geddes state of mind and conveys such a great truth to the American people that I use the text of it here as well, It is: **My message to your great nation is: “Give up hoping that this can be a hort war. Plan and provide for an ever- receding duration of at least two years more, “If we all do so, Peace may one day sur- prise us. we do not, there will be no peace and no freedom, but only a post- ponement, There must be no postponement and no ‘next time.’” In this message Geddes the man speaks out of the years of contact with crash and risis, It reveals rare qualities of vision and statesmanship. Yet they were born of business. Analyze the late J. P. Morgan in the light of the Erie Geddes career and you realize that he might have been an- other Bismarck or Disraeli had he gone into politics, Sir ~— s family seems to be born for eadership. His brother, Sir Aukland Ged- des, is Director of National Service—a virile man who left the academic aloof- ness of a medical lecture room in McGill University to become a militant and com- manding war personality. Theirsister, Mrs. Chalmers Watson, is the ranking officer of the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps—the Tommywaacs—and a woman of excep- tional administrative ability. Sir Albert Stanley's Training Full mate to Sir Eric Geddes is Sir Al- bert Stanley, a real live wire in the business battery that galvanized the British Gov- ernment. Like Geddes, he cut his business teeth in America. These two strong men have much in common, They cre the same age, and in career and method of work present a striking parallel. From a hall .bedroom in Detroit to a place in the British Cabinet as President of the Board of Trade is an example of the proverbial far cry that fictionists like to write about. But this is the span in the Stanley life so far. Born in England, he was brought to America by his parents when he was eleven and educated in American schools. At sixteen he was an office boy with the Detroit United Railways; at twenty-two he was superintendent of the properties; at twenty-eight he was general manager of the Public Service Railways of New Jer- sey; and a few years later he was general manager of the Underground Railways of London. Like Geddes, he was always ready for the job ahead. One day, when he was temporarily in charge of the Detroit properties, lightning THE SATURDAY destroyed two-thirds of the dynamos of the company. It was an absolutely un- precedented accident. All his superiors were out of town, so Stanley, single-handed, tackled the job of making one-third of the cars go as far as all had gone. He hired every available local electrician, wired to Pittsburgh, Buffalo, Toledo, Cleveland and other near-by cities for more, and brought them to Detroit on special trains and en- gines. Though impaired, the service was not interrupted, and within a week it was normal again. This is the type of man called to London, first to speed up the traction lines and later to stimulate one of the great govern- ment machines. It was Stanley who made London “step lively.” When he took up his work in the metropolis he faced a traffic congestion almost as bad as that on the New York subways. Shonts in New York had one advantage over Stanley in London in that an American crowd will move fast if told to do so, while a British assemblage is constitutionally opposed to hurry in any form. Stanley trained conductors to speed up traffic to the point where schedules moved like clockwork and congestion was a thing of the past. On the Board of Trade It was Stanley who merged all the trans- portation lines in London until practically all traffic by omnibus, tramway and tube was under his control. Here he utilized the lesson that he had learned in America, be- cause each one of these lines became a feeder of the others. He had just got this whole mechanism well tuned up when the war broke. Lloyd George at once snapped him up for his Ministry of Munitions, where he became Director General of Me- chanical Transport. Thousands of his London omnibuses were hauling troops in France. His experience therefore was highly useful. When the Asquith government fell under the Northcliffe hammering for a real busi- ness administration and Lloyd George took over the reins, Stanley was the logical and inevitable choice for President of the Board of Trade. He did precisely for this august organization what Geddes did to the French railroads and to the Admiralty. He became the great transformer. To understand fully the revolution that Stanley has wrought in administrative methods you must first know that the British Board of Trade is the biggest busi- ness in the world. On the one hand it grips all British industry and on the other super- vises all transport on land and sea. The whole domain of British trade at home and abroad acknowledges it as chief. Its charter dates back to the time when the Pilgrim Fathers were engaged in put- ting Plymouth Rock on the map. By its original authorization it was presided over by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the speaker of the House of Parliament and a president. The board lumbered along, nursed by tradition, bandaged with red tape—a_worthy, much-respected and, in the main, use sless organization. Every- thing was by precedent; its creed was ‘Let well enough alone.” Since its func- tion was purely regulative the board was like a fat old lady who slumbered at her ease while German economic penetration fastened itself on British industry. Stanley brushed away the cobwebs, re- vived the corpse, and blew in the breath of a live and up-to-date business system. He converted the Board of Trade into a real Ministry of Commerce. Promotion succeeded regulation. Where once its chief task was to be the historian of business, the Board of Trade now became a _ business getter. In other words it made rather than chronicled business. Stanley charted the board with pyramids and made it hum with action. He realized at once that the successful conduct of the war meant the control of raw materials. Take coal, which in war is life. He saw millions of tons being wasted on nonessen- tial industries and in the generation and distribution of useless electrical power. He established a rigid control that saved an immense quantity in six months. Coal became the precedent for the con- trol of timber, paper, matches, gasoline, cotton, rubber and tin. Gradually the whole British world of raw materials came under his supervision; in fact the only important items outside his jurisdiction are iron and steel, which are controlled by the Ministry of Munitions; and wool, which is under the domination of the War EVENING POST Department. Thus Stanley is the steward of the supplies that are preservative of industrial life. Two distinct innovations inaugurated by Stanley will serve to indicate the scope and method of his reorganization of the Board of Trade. One is the daily conference that he holds at eleven o’clock with the heads of his departments. Here he finds out what every branch is doing. In the old days this procedure would have been little short of heresy. Every man in the Board of Trade was a cog who worked, lived and died in his little groove. The other is the system by which Sir Albert keeps the board in con- stant touch with the march of trade events. Formerly most of the news of British trade filtered in through consuls or agents in dry- as-dust reports. Stanley organized a force of traveling scouts who prowl about the Empire finding out what is going on in the business world. They stimulate backward industries and encourage new ones. In a word, the Board of Trade has be- come the Promotion Department of the British Empire, Unlimited When England set up a food comptroller- ship one of the wits said that the job, like war itself, would be a graveyard of repu- tations. The first man who tackled it— Lord Devonport, who began life as a grocer’s clerk and made his way to the peer- age by an almost endless chain of grocery stores—found himself a storm center of bitter criticism and attack. The reason was obvious: Everybody wanted to eat; everybody had an idea about food control; and likewise everybody wanted everybody else to do the abstaining. Touch food and you touch human nature at its worst. All the wisdom acquired out of many years of glorified grocery management failed Lord Devonport in the task of curbing the Brit- ish appetite. He was made a viscount and politely permitted to retire. When he was succeeded by Lord Rhondda the livest captain of capital in Great Britain became custodian ef the British stomach. About him—as about so many of his co-directors in the board of manage- ment of the British Empire—there is the glamour of fascinating human interest. Thirty years ago four young Welsh- men—the backbone of the famous revolt that overthrew a government—dreamed of the great things that they would accom- plish. One of them was Lloyd George; the others were S. T. Evans, Thomas Ellis and D. A. Thomas. Each lived to do a big man’s job. Lloyd George is Prime Minister of England; Ellis became chief whip of the Liberal government and died at the threshold of a great career; Evans is President of the Prize Court and a fu- - ture Lord Chancellor; while Thomas is Lord Rhondda, perhaps the richest man in the United Kingdom. As Food Comp- troller he stands between the British Gov- ernment and an unrest that might develop into anything. A Lusitania Survivor Rhondda narrowly escaped becoming a lawyer, got sidetracked into business, or- ganized the great Cambrian Coal Combine and became the Welsh coal king. It was the natural step to a new throne when he became the food king. He was throne broke. As D. A. Thomas be is very widely known in America because in 1915 he came to the United States as special envoy from the Ministry of Munitions to act as liaison officer between the American shell makers and the British Government. It was like making a Scotchman guardian of a Bitts- burgh millionaire who had just come into his fortune. I will tell you why. It was at the very high tide of the so- called war contract. Every man who had a lathe or a near-factory had some sort of munitions contract. Poor old John Bull was being trimmed, Rhondda became the censor of contracts. He put his canny Welsh probe into every deal; he had to be shown. The result was that he saved the British people hundreds of millions of dol- lars. He would have saved many more if his advice with regard to the purchase of aluminum in bulk had been heeded. His whole experience in the United States was one of the first and most convincing demon- strations of the value of trained business experience in government work. Lord Rhondda, who was still D. A. Thomas, went home by the Lusitania when she made her last trip. He was in the water for three hours. His life was saved by the fact that as a boy he was a star athlete and January 12,1918 a champion swimmer. On more than one occasion he has mixed it up with striking miners and got the best of the argument. He knew how to use his hands as well as his brains. For his service in America and Canada he got his peerage. Lloyd George knew his business capa- bilities. When he became Premier, Rhondda was made President of the Local Govern- ment Board. This body is facetiously called the Wet Nurse of England, because it deals with all questions of public health. It proved to be merely the stepping-stone to his great national opportunity, which came when he succeeded Lord Devonport as Food Comptroller. There were advan- tages and disadvantages in taking over a going control, because he had to inherit the faults as well as the virtues of the Devon- port system. He stuck to the voluntary system of rationing established by his pred- ecessor, but it was not long before he put Britain on sugar cards. . Under this scheme no sugar is sold at retail except by retailers registered with the local food-control com- mittee. There is such a Committee in every city or in every district comprising a group of small communities. Shopkeepers are required to accept all sugar cards tendered to them. In this way they are prohibited from discriminating in favor of old cus- tomers; in other words, Mrs. John Bull is not required to buy hardware or any other unnecessary article in order to get a few pounds of sugar. Lord Rhondda a Close Buyer Caterers have their supply regulated, because in England, as will doubtless fol- low in America, one of the favorite sugar- hoarding plans was to make false reports about the quantity of sweets required in eatering. Hotels and institutions have their sugar supply allotted according to the number of guests or inmates. The list is revised twice a week. The whole story of the Rhondda food control would require a special article. Summed up, the comptroller regards the conservation of food as a definite business. He first closed all the avenues of waste. Then he found out how much food England needed and set about mobilizing a sufficient supply. He fixed wholesale and retail prices, basing them on tradesmen’s average profits during the twelve months preceding the war. Like Geddes, he stands or falls by statistics. In establishing his control of food prices he set up the precedent that may well be followed by the United States. Being a business man first he put this gigantic task into what he calls the Ministry Costings Department, in charge of the best-known of all British expert accountants. The country is divided into twelve districts, each one under an accountant chosen by the Food Comptroller after consultation with the president of the Institute of Chartered Accountants. The local trades- man’s profit on the food he sells is regulated by the war cost of the commodity, the transit charges and the overhead. The Food Comptroller must not only save food but buy food. He is the biggest buyer in Britain. Much of this acquired food comes from the United States, where Lord Rhondda has established his own buy- ers in the American markets. From the moment of purchase he can control the prices all down the line, from importer to wholesaler, from wholesaler to retailer and from retailer to consumer. He cannot guarantee lower prices for the imported food, but he can and does guarantee that there will be no inflation through multi- plicity of dealers and of speculators who have nothing to do with the trade. In brief, Lord Rhondda put the food profiteer out of business. Just as leadership is an inheritance of the Geddes family, so is rare business sense a birthright with the Thomases. Lord Rhondda’s daughter, Lady Mackworth, is one of the ablest business women in the United Kingdom. Six years ago she was following Mrs. Pankhurst; to-day she is chairman or director of twenty-eight cor- porations. The energy that she once ex- pended on militant suffrage is now dedi- cated to constructive commercial pursuit. She has a suite of offices in the palatial building that houses the Cambrian Coal Combine at Cardiff and maintains a branch in London. When she decided to go into business she went at the job intelligently. She spent a whole year studying the unro- mantic facts about the various enterprises (Concluded on Page 54 ee ———

Page 55

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST = itl ylakts 5 nee ‘recovers with firm, stndinen, 0 thio Firestone Card Tie

Page 56

54 (Cencituded from Page 52) in which she succeeded her father as active manager. Second only in importance to the con- trol of food is the control of shipping. Without ships England would go hungry. It is the penalty that attaches to the mag- nificent isolation, once her safeguard, but now, in the light of the submarine, well- nigh her undoin At the desk of the Shipping Comptroller in London sits a wiry, lean, energetic Scotchman whose name, Sir Joseph Mac- lay, would be accepted on a check for seven figures at any bank in England. Like every other business man who swings a vast governmental supervision in Britain to-day, he is self-made and with a career as fascinating as the sea he helps to dominate. Forty-five years ago Joseph Maclay was sweeping out the office of a shipping firm in Glasgow, his native city. Five years later he was a junior clerk. Being Scotch and therefore frugal he had saved enough by the time he was twenty-five to buy a small interest in a freighter. That interest was the nucleus of the mighty Maclay fleet of to-day, the corner stone of an international power as cargo carrier which made him the unanimous choice for Shipping Comp- troller when Lloyd George set up his busi- ness administration in 1916. Of all imperial posts none is more neces- sary to the life of England. From the Shipping Comptroller’s office radiates the far-flung mastery of approximately 16,- 000,000 tons of shipping that sail the seven seas. These hulls provide the means of supply and communication of all the Brit- ish armies; they feed the civil population of Great Britain; they carry supplies, troops and materials for the Allies, and furnish a very large proportion of the vessels of the auxiliary service of the navy. What most people do not know is that the British mercantile marine provides all the fleet colliers, mine sweepers, patrol boats and their crews, and also the army transports. Since the beginning of the war it has moved over 11,000,000 men, exclu- sive of sick, wounded and prisoners, and has carried 2,000,000 horses and mules. In that time British ships have conveyed 130,000,000 tons of goods into the United Kingdom, of which 50,000,000 tons have been foodstuffs. This work has involved 25,000 round voyages, aggregating 200,000- 000 miles of travel. The average number of tons of stores and munitions transported across the English Channel to France every day is just under 22,000, while the number of men is just over 7000. These titanic figures visualize the immensity and the responsibility of shipping control. When you command a ship you must have absolute authority. It followed there- fore that one of the first conditions that Sir Joseph imposed was that he should have a free hand and that he should choose his own colleagues, He got it and things began to happen. Finding Cargo Space Then, as now, the great cry was for cargo space. Every week the German tor- pedo was smashing a deeper hole in British tonnage. When the losses for a week would show a big decline and optimistic England would immediately declare that the sub- marine menace was checked, Sir Joseph would only shake his head and say: “Let us prepare for still greater losses."’ He be- lieves that heedless optimism should have no place in the vocabulary of the war. Sir Joseph set to work to get more cargo space, and in very swift and effective fash- ion. Two steps will show how he went about his job. The first was the utilization of the shelter deck for cargoes. In practi- cally all ships this shelter deck was used principally for fresh air. Sir Joseph Mac- lay ordered them converted into space for cargo and added 250,000 tons to British carrying space, He saw America proceeding with a scheme of standardizing ships, so he im- mediately laid down a huge program of standardized cargo vessels. In less than a year some of these were on the high seas. He took out insurance against such con- tingencies as the Goethals-Denman con- troversy in the United States by making himself dictator of ship construction. Go to the office of the Shipping Comp- troller, housed in a high temporary struc- ture in a London park, and you will find a card-index system that is one of the miracles of the governmental business organization. Every cargo vessel, army transport, mine THE SATURDAY sweeper and patrol boat has a big card which lists her complete war record from the moment she broke out the national en- sign. When the vessel is sunk by enemy action, mine or torpedo it is marked with a huge red cross and goes into the morgue index. Thus the Shipping Comptroller knows every hour of — day just what every one of the thousands of ships under his authority is doing and, through a very intimate working arrangement with the Admiralty, just where she is. The whole shipping control of Great Britain is organized to-day like a monster rivate shipping business. Sir Joseph Macla lay has drawn about him his ablest colleagues of the craft. Sir Thomas Roy- den, deputy chairman of the Cunard Line, for example, represents the ministry in the United States; Sir Kenneth Anderson, managing director of the Orient Line, is concerned with the requisitioning of liners. It might be well to say that almost from the first day of the war Great Britain com- mandeered every ship that flew the British flag. Mr. F. W. Lewis, a director in one of the largest shipping firms in the world, is cham with the special responsibility’ of employing neutral tonnage. These three men, each a shipping king, form with the comptroller the Spine ne ‘ontrol Commit- tee to which all important questions of policy are referred and decided. Lord Beaverbrook’s Career The control of British shipping is so vast and the activities are so numerous that the comptroller has divided it up into depart- ments. Sir Percy Bates, a director of the Cunard Line, is Sood of what is known as the Commercial Branch and is held re- sponsible for all tonnage engaged in the import of food, raw materials and general supplies. Sir Lionel Fletcher, of the Oceanic Line, directs the diverting of liners from one trade to another. One of the best-known shipping experts in England allots the convoys. A fourth is concerned solely with the requisitioning of tramp steamers. Still another executive operates all the coast traffic. Not the least impor- tant branch of shipping deals with the trans- ortation of munitions, which requires ighly specialized control, involving ex- traordinary caution and the utmost se- crecy. Themen for these ships are carefully selected and trained. Port acceleration is of course a necessary adjunct to shipping control. It naturally follows that the director is a man of high- est type—L. A. P. Warner, who is deputy eneral manager of the Mersey Dock and Recher Board, which controls the docking of England’s greatest port. No appraisal of the business brains run- ning England to-day would be complete without the inclusion of one of the most remarkable and least-known personalities in British public life. Without holding any definite public office his influence reaches to all offices; without figuring as a factor in its achievement he was instrumental in making possible the premiership of Lloyd George, and through that act the setting up of a government by business. Such is the unique performance of Lord Beaver- brook—an adventure in public life almost without parallel. A struggling and obscure Canadian bank clerk at twenty, a merger of banks at twenty-three, a builder of railways and lighting plants in Cuba at twenty-five, a maker of trusts at thirty, a millionaire at thirty-four, and a peer of the realm at thirty-seven-——this is the dazzling story- book life of the one-time Max Aitken—the Warwick of the war. When he came to England to live—it was considerably less than a decade ago- he went to his first public dinner in London. Lloyd George, Carson, Churchill and all the other national figures were there. He had to ask his host who they were. In a few years he was calling them all by their first names. He entered Parliament, and a whole new world became his. He made few speeches, EVENING POST but whenever people wanted things done they somehow went to Aitken. He re- mained almost entirely in the background. I doubt whether, aside from his old Par- liamentary constituency, there are fifty thousand people in Great Britain to-day who know who Lord Beaverbrook really is. Yet at barely forty he wields an aston- oe — power. The case of the Lloyd George premiership is the most con- spicuous example of his authority. I am violating no confidence when I briefly tell that story now. The fall of the Asquith Ministry and the advent of Lloyd George grew out of the nation-wide protest against the wait-and- see policy of the government. In the House of Commons Sir Edward Carson was the symbol of this protest. He resigned office because he disapproved of the con- duct of the war by what he called “‘the methods of a debating society.” In the cabinet the unrest centered in Lloyd George, who found himself a Secretary of State for War constantly curbed by caution and conservatism. He was strong for a business administration by business men. A breach developed between the Liberals and the Conservatives. Coalition, which had buried all political difference in the one great desire to win the war, was threat- ened. A national disaster impended. The country’s salvation lay in the dis- placement of Asquith by a man of the vigor, brilliancy, daring and imagination of Lloyd George. The task therefore was to bring Carson, Bonar Law—who was the titular head of the Conservative party— and Lloyd George together to reconstitute the government on definite business lines and to smash ahead with the war with the gre atest possible energy. This task Lord eaverbrook—he was then Sir Max Ait- ken—undertook to perform. It was like rounding up a nest of escaped hornets. Day and night, with all the tact, ingenuity and selling skill that had made him a master of millions, he literally worked on the man on whose shoulders rested the fate of empire. He had one great advan- tage in the fact that Bonar Law was his most intimate friend. He accomplished what he set out to do. To translate this achievement into terms of war, it was Northcliffe with his news- —— who put over the barrage that, so ar as the public knew, launched the great offensive against the Asquith Ministry. But it was Beaverbrook behind the scenes who stormed and carried the trenches. For his labors in this crisis he got his peerage. He made his fortune in cement in Canada. The wits immediately called him the Con- crete Peer, but they alwaysspelled it ‘‘pier.”’ The Ministry of Munitions Beaverbrook is a man of many con- trasts. I have watched him play like a boy; I have listened to him when he talked like an inspired seer. All natures mingle in him. He started out in life to amass a great fortune, and long before he was thirty he had made a flying start. If he had not been diverted into politics by Bonar Law and annexed to imperialism by Rudyard Kipling, who is his second most intimate friend, he might have been a sec- ond Croesus. Money-making is instinct with him. You might well adapt to him the classic remark that William C. Whitney once made about Thomas F. Ryan: “If he lives long enough he will own all the money in the world.” The authority that he might have wielded in finance has given way to politi- cal ambition. What -the future holds for him no man can tell. He has proved that he can make governments just as he made millions. He owns The Daily Express in London, which gives him a voice; he is in- trenched in British business, where he has commercial prestige; he sits in the House of Lords, where he can give free expression to what he has on his mind. I have kept for the last the great busi- ness agency in the British Government which was really the first. I mean, of January /2,1918 course, the Ministry of Munitions, once the solitary outpost of the brilliant line of commercial defense which now safeguards the conduct of the war. It has become a real congress of British industry. Since 1915 it has gradually drawn into its fold a group of men who could operate any trust in the world. With more than two million employees and an office staff of five thousand, it carries on a colossal business along lines of scientific efficiency that would do credit to the United States Steel Corporation or the Standard Oil Company. There is no space here to go into the de- tails of its organization or its management. It is charted and pyramided like any corporation. Though the present Minister of Munitions, Winston Churchill, is not a business man, he has stuck to the Lloyd George policy of surrounding himself with business men. He is the dynamic speeder- up, while they do the routine. Chief among his lieutenants is George Booth, one of the many unknown wizards of output that munitions-making has de- veloped. He was a pioneer in the ministry under Lloyd George, who called him his “‘push-and-go man.” Before the war he was head of the great shipping firm that bears his name. . ~ The Priority System It was Booth, barely turned forty, who conceived and put into operation the prior- ity system which enabled Great Britain to establish a control of iron, steel, brass and copper. No lesson wrought out of British munitions-making is of more vital signifi- cance to the United States. Here is the way it works: If a London hotel orders a new elevator from a manu- facturer he must make application to the Ministry of Munitions for the metal needed. A department inspector first finds out whether the new elevator is necessary. If there is the slightest shortage in wire cable or brass for fittings the order must wait. The manufacturer gets a so-called priority certificate, which entitles him to receive wire, steel, copper and brass as soon as his number is reached. Every priority cer- tificate has a number. The manufacturer therefore joins the waiting list. One great value of the priority system is that it does away with useless and non- essential construction. It has made indi- viduals, firms and institutions realize that they do not really need machinery that they thought indispensable. It has saved money and material. Booth is merely one of a group of Muni- tions Department heads who comprise a Who’s Who of British Manufacture. It includes such men as Sir Charles Ellis, who built the battle cruiser Tiger; Sir Alfred Herbert, the largest machine-tool maker in the Kingdom; Sir E. W. Moore, one of the dictators of railway supplies; Sir Wil- liam Weir, the most extensive of all British pump makers; and Sir Robert Hadfield, the Sheffield steel master. Wherever you turn in the administration of the British Government you find the business man intrenched. He has reared, among other things, the permanent struc- ture of war savings, which has given the nation a rebirth of thrift and will husband the pennies of peace just as it garnered the pounds of war. Thanks to a business man, Sir Hedley Le Bas, the British Government has been taught the value of advertising. He is one of the biggest book publishers in England and the first to take a full page in a news- paper to advertise one of his publications. It created a sensation, but it made the book a best seller. When the great war broke he was made a member of the Parliamentary Recruiting Committee. It was Sir Hedley who persuaded Kitchener to advertise for recruits. That advertising campaign for the Kitchener army was the first gun in a continuous publicity campaign that first recruited men, then sold war bonds and is now saving English food. It has made the billboard and printer’s ink first and best aid to every government need. Advertis- ing has become a national habit. Nor must you forget that one vast win of the business of war is under the contro of a group of seasoned business men headed by Mr. Andrew Weir, the Surveyor Gen- eral of Supply. Thus war, finance, politics, statesmanship— indeed every activity that touches the safety and the prosperity of the whole British nation—feels the impress of business experience. Good government is simply good business. ms .

Page 57

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TU A SPLITDORF§ re ee ORR ee | The green jacket of this plug is merely a covering —an outer garment—a mark of identification. It adds finish—nothing more—yet it is of extreme importance to every user of spark plugs because it encases a genuine ruby mica core. ‘This laterally wound mica core is the heart of the SPLITDORF Plug. It gives long life and freedom from all the ills that beset other plugs. The plug with the green jacket cannot chip or crack, cannot score cylinders, cannot leak oil or gas, cannot short circuit. It will not burn out or wear out. And it may be cleaned and recleaned indefinitely, as oil cannot penetrate the mica core. The green jacket may be cracked or broken—or entirely missing — without affecting the insulation of the mica core or the efliciency of the plug. There is a type of SPLITDORF Plug best suited for CHU | ) | every engine. Get them from jobbers and dealers. If you are experiencing any trouble with plugs of any make our skilled engineers are at your call. Write us and we ise you and show you how to correct the evil. SPLITDORF ELECTRICAL CO., Newark, N. J.

Page 58

January 12,1918 w& a ° a, ©) z — z Q > Q ~ g Q & ~ i & a q) ~ ia

Page 59

SATURDAY EVENING POST Poor Printing ls Disappearing ln America (> ) into any first-class printing plant and you will see pressman, fore- man, and master-printer taking real pains—going to real trouble—to_ pro- duce better printing. rhe printers of this country have been quick to grasp every opportunity offered them to do more beautiful work. New standards in printing paper have cleared the way for remarkable advance- ments in the Art Preservative. Poor paper doesn’t have to be cheap or shoddy paper. Paper may be made of very good materials and yet through a lack of uni- formity or workability on the press it may tend to produce poor printing. The American Public fosters good printing and silently demands it by con- sistently buying more liberally from the booklets and catalogs that are most in- viting in appearance. Standardized printing paper is what the printer needed and _ standardized printing paper is what S. D. Warren & Company make. Warren's Standard Printing Papers, whether in low-priced or de luxe grades, are uniform in weight, in thickness, in color, in all around goodness. Warren's Cameo is one of the most beautiful sheets of paper ever produced. It has a dull ivory-like coating in which the screen-effect of a half-tone engraving loses itself while the values are faithfully reproduced. Though a more finely fin ished paper, Cameo is no more com pletely standardized than Warren's Cumberland Machine Book,a low-priced, unpretentious white where illustrative detail is not essential. paper for jobs rhe highest refinement of surface in glossy coated printing papers will be found in Warren’s Lustro. But Lustro with all its excellence is no more com- pletely standardized in its methods of manufacture than is Warren’s Cumber- land Coated, Warren's Silkote, Warren's Printone, Warren's Cumberland Super Book, or any other Warren Standard Paper. Each is manufactured to fill a definite to give the printer something in which he can place complete reliance. Each is a paper de- signed and standardized to help elevate the character of American printing. established printing need Buyers of Printing, Printers, Engravers, and Their Salesmen will find the Warren Suggestion Book a help in planning better printing and in selling it. ‘This book makes the selection of paper easy and makes correct choice an almost automatic process. It is made up of many specimen leaves, each printed with specimens of the sort of engravings for which the paper was manufactured. Upon request for this book from any man whose letterhead indi cates that he holds one of the above positions we will promptly forward a copy. S. D. WARREN & COMPANY, 200 Devonshire Street, Boston, Mass. Constant Excellence of Product

Page 60

The MUNGER ‘ALWAYS TIGHT PISTON RING OUTFIT- for FORDS 8 “Always Ticht Rings ia if regular size U : 4 Always Tight Rings (over size) 1 Regrooving Tool | Ring Insertion Tool THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ready to insert the Munger Re grooving T Tue-up @ WORN CIStoN groove The MUNGER ALWAYS TIGHT EXPANSION JOINT All other piston rings begin to lose compression as soon as they begin to wear. Munger Piston Rings a/ways remain compression-tight. These unique rings quickly conform to the shape of any cylinder and retain their perfect fit until completely wornout. The wonderful compression-holding power of these simple one-piece rings is due to their scientific design and their ac- curacy of manufacture. The Munger Expansion Joint, sosim- ple yet s> efficient —the patented process of peening, which makes these rings fit the walls of any cylinder —the minute oil grooves, which cause these rings to seat themselves almost immediately—are distinctive features that make Munger “Always Tight "’ Piston Rings superior to all others. They are the easiest of all rings to install. With the Munger Ring Insertion Tool even a novice can place them in the piston grooves without breakage or the slightest trouble. And Munger Rings are the most inexpensive, because they are practically wear-proof. SPLITDORF ELECTRICAL CO., Newark, New Jersey When piston grooves become slightly worn it is impossible to fit any rings in them gas-tight without first truing-up the grooves. With each complete set of Munger “‘ Always Tight" Piston Rings is one oversize ring for each piston (to be used in worn grooves) and a Munger Re-grooving Tool with which worn grooves can be straight ened quickly and accurately without resorting to expensive lathe work, and without even disconnecting the piston from the connecting rod January 12,1918 Get them from your accessory dealer or garage man

Page 61

ee 2 a i 4 ' me replied Bill, “I am; but don’t tell anybody.’ While Mary and Russell were discussing the theory of the mixed foursome old Bill made a terrific mashie shot out of the grass, and the ball reached the edge of the green. Beth applauded wildly, Mary chimed in, but Davidson did not open his mouth. He was irritated, and made no secret of it, but his irritation did not keep him from drop- ping the next shot on the putting green. Bill didn’t even blink when Beth took her putter and overran the hole by ten feet. Beth said she knew he’d never, never speak to her again in this world, and she couldn’t blame him it he didn’t. ‘Well,” said Bill cheerfully, ‘‘you gave the ball a chance, anyhow. That’s the main thing. It’s better to be over than short.” “You're a perfect dear!” said Beth. “I'll do better—see if I don’t.” Mary then prepared to putt, Russell’s approach having left her twelve feet short of the hole. ‘And be sure to get it there,” cautioned her partner. “Tt’s uphill, you know. Allow for it. Mary bit her lip and hit the grass an inch behind the ball. It rolled something less the an four feet. “Hit the ball! Russell angrily. you to-day? Mary apologized profusely—probably to keep Russell quiet; and she laughed too—a dry, hard little laugh that didn’t have any fun in it. Bill glared at Davidson for an instant, and his mouth opened, but he swallowed whatever impulse was troubling him, and carefully laid his ball on the lip of the cup for a two-inch putt that not even Beth could have missed. Russell then holed his long one, which seemed to put him in a better humor, and the men started for the second tee. In mixed foursomes the drive alternates. Mary and Beth took the short cut used by the caddies, and I followed them at a discreet distance. Mary babbled inces- santly about everything in the world but golf, which was her way of conveying the impression that nothing unusual had hap- pened; and Beth, womanlike, helped her out by pretending to be deeply interested in what Mary was saying. And yet they tell you that if women could learn to bluff they would make good poker players! As I waited for the men to drive I thought of the Mary Brooke I used to know—the leggy little girl with her hair in pigtails and I remembered that in those days she would stand just so much teasing from the boys, and then somebody would be slapped—hard. Had she changed so much, I wondered? On the third hole Russell began nagging again, and Bill’s face was astudy. Fortwo cents I think he would have choked him. Mary tried to carry it off with a smile, but it was a weak effort. Nothing but absolute obedience and recognition of his right to give orders would satisfy Russell. “It’s no use your telling me now that you're sorry,” he scolded after Mary had butchered a spoon shot on Number Three. ‘You won't take advice when it’s offered. I told you not to try that confounded spoon. A spoon is no club for a beginner.” Mary gasped. ‘But—I’m not a beginner! playing ever and ever so long! that spoon.” “TI don’t care what you like. If we win this thing you must do as I say.” “Oh! So that’s it— because you want to win?” ‘What do you think I entered for—ex- ercise? Nothing to beat but a lot of dubs and you’re not even trying!” “Bill is no dub.”” Mary flared up a bit in defense of her old friend. “Ho!” sneered Russell. him Bill, do you? I lost the thread of the conversation there because Mary lowered her voice, but she must have told the young man something for the good of his soul. Anyway he was in a savage frame of mind when he stepped on the fourth tee. He wanted to quarrel with someone, but it wouldn’t have been healthy to pick on old Bill, and Russell probably realized it. Bill hadn’t spoken to him since the first hole, and to be thus calmly ignored was fresh fuel on a smoldering fire. There was another explosion on Number Four—such a loud one that everybody heard it. Hit the ball!” snapped “‘What’s the matter with I’ve been And I like “So you call THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Al MIXED FOURSOME (Concluded from Page 13 “There you go again!” snarled Russell. ““T give you a perfect drive—I leave you in a position where all you have to do is pop a little mashie over a bunker to the green and see what a mess you've made of it! I’m sorry I ever entered this fool tournament!" ‘I’m sorry too,”’ said Mary quietly, and walked away from him leaving him fuming. It must have been an uncomfortable sit- uation for Beth and Bill. They kept just as far away from the other pair as they could—an exhibition of delicacy which I am sure Mary appreciated—and pretended not to hear the nasty things Russell said, though there were times when Bill had to hide his clenched fists in his coat pockets. He wanted to hit something, and hit it hard, so he took it out on the ball, with excellent results. And no matter what Beth did or did not do Bill never had any- thing for her but a cheery grin and words of encouragement. They got quite chummy, those two, and once or. twice I thought I surprised resentment in Mary’seye. I may have been mistaken. Russell grew more rabid as the round proceeded, possibly because Mary’s man- ner was changing. After the seventh hole, where Russell said it was a waste of time to try to teach a woman anything about the use of a wooden club, Mary made not the slightest attempt to placate him. She de- liberately ignored his advice, and did it smilingly. She became very gay, and laughed a great deal—too much, in fact and of course her attitude did not help matters to any appreciable extent. A bully likes to have a victim who cringes under the lash. The last nine was painful, even to a spectator, and if Russell Davidson had been blessed with the intelligence which God gives a goose he would have kept his mouth shut; but no, he seemed determined to force Mary to take some notice of his re- marks. The strangest thing about it was that some fairly good golf was played by all hands. Even fuzzy-headed little Beth pulled off some pretty shots, whereupon Bill cheered uproariously. I think he found relief in making a noise. While they were on the seventeenth green I spied old Waddles against the sky- line, cutting off the entire sunset, and I climbed the hill to tell him the news. You may believe it or not, but up to that mo- ment I had overlooked Waddles entirely. I had been stupid enough to think that the show I had been witnessing was an im- promptu affair—a thing of pure chance, lacking a stage manager. Just as I reached the top of the hill, enlightenment came to me—came in company with Mary’s laugh, rippling up from below. At a distance it sounded genuine. A shade of disappoint- ment crossed Waddles’ wide and genial countenance. **So it didn’t work,” said he. ‘‘It didn’t work—and I’m sixteen dollars to the bad. Hey! Quit pounding me on the back! Anybody but a born ass would have known the whole thing was cooked up for Mary’s benefit—and you’ve just tumbled, eh? Now then, what has he done?”’ Briefly, and in words of one syllable, I sketched Russell’s activities. Waddles Ww agged his head soberly. ‘Treated her just the same as if he was already married to her, eh? A mixed four- some is no-o-o place for a mean man; give him rope enough and he'll hang himself. How do they stand?” I had not been keeping the score, so we walked down the hill to the eighteenth tee. ‘Pretty soft for you folks,”’ said Waddles with a disarming grin. ‘Pretty soft. You've only got to beat a net 98.” ““Zat so?” asked Bill carelessly, but Russell snatched a score card from his pocket. Instantly his whole manner changed. The sullen look left his face; his eyes sparkled; he smiled. ““We’'re here in 94,” said Russell. ‘‘Ten off of that—84. Why—it’s a cinch, Mary, a cinch! And I thought you’d thrown it away!” “And you?” asked Waddles, turning to Bill. “Oh,” said Russell casually, “they’ve got a gross of 102. What’s their handi- cap?” ‘*Sixteen,”” answered Waddles. “A net 86.”’ Russell became thoughtful. ““H’m-m. Close enough to be interesting. Still, they’ve got to pick up three strokes on us here. Mary, all you’ve got to do is keep your second shot out of trouble. Go straight, and I'll guarartee to be on the green in three.” Mary didn’t say anything. She was watching Waddles— Waddles, with his lip curled into the scornful expression which he reserves for cup hunters and winter members who try to hog the course. Russell drove and the ball sailed over the direction post at the summit of the hill “That'll hold ’em!”’ he boasted. ‘‘ Now just keep straight, Mary, and we've got "em licked!” Bill followed with another of his tremen- dous tee shots—two hundred pounds of beef and at least a thousand pounds of contempt behind the pill—and away they went up;the path. Russell fell in beside Mary, and at every step he urged upon her the vital im- portance of keeping the ball straight. He simply bubbled and fizzed with advice, and he smiled as he offered it. I never saw a man change so in a short space of time. “Well, partner,” apologized Beth, ‘I’m sorry. If I’d only played a tiny bit bet- ter ins “Shucks!” laughed Bill. ‘Don’t you care. What’s a little tin cup between frie nds? ‘A tin cup!” growled Waddles. ‘ Where do you get that stuff? Sterling silver, you poor cow!” Bill’s drive was the long one, so it was up to Mary to play first. Our last hole requires fairly straight shooting, because the course is paralleled at the right by the steep slope of a hill, and at the bottom of that hill is a creek bed, lined on either side by tangled brush and heavy willows. A ball sliced so as to reach the top of the incline is almost certain to go all the way down. On the other side of the fair green there is a wide belt of thick long grass in which a ball may easily be lost. No wonder Russell advised caution. “Take an iron,” said he, ‘and never mind trying for distance. All we need is a six ” % Boy,’ ’ said Mary, addressing the cad- die, ‘‘my brassy, please.” “ Give her an iron,” countermanded Rus- sell. ‘‘ Mary, you must listen tome. We've got this thin g won now — ‘Fore!” said Mary in the tone of voice which all women possess, but most men do not hear it until after they are married. Russell fell back, stammering a remon- strance, and Mary took her practice swings—four of them. Then she set herself as carefully as if her entire golfing career de- pended on that next shot. Her back swing was deliberate, the club head descended ina perfect arc, she kept her head down, and she followed through beautifully—but at the click of contact a strangled how! of anguish went up from her partner. Shc had hit the ball with the rounded toe of the club, instead of the flat driving surface, and the result was a flight almost at right angles with the line of the putting green—a wretched roundhouse slice ticketed for the bottom of the creek bed. By running at top speed Russell was able to catch sight of the ball as it bounded into the willows. Mary looked at Waddles and smiled—the first real smile of the afternoon. “Isn’t that provoking?” said she. Judging by the language which floated up out of the ravine it must have been all of that. Russell found the ball at last, under the willows and half buried in the sand,-and the recovery which he made was nothing short of miraculous. He actually managed to clear the top of the hill. Even Waddles applauded the shot. Beth took an iron and played straight for the flag. Russell picked the burs from his flannel trousers and counted the strokes on his fingers. “Hawley will put the next one on the green,” said he, “‘and that means a possible five—a net of 91. A six will win for us; and for pity’s sake, Mary, for my sake, get up there somewhere and give me a chance to lay the ball dead!” Waddles sniffed. “‘He’s quit bossing and gone to begging,” said he. ‘‘ Well, if | was Mary Brooke Holy mackerel! She’s surely not going to take another shot at it with that brassy!” But that was exactly what Mary was preparing to do. Russell pleaded, he en- treated, and at last he raved wildly; he might have spared his breath. “Cheer up!” said Mary with a chilly little smile. ‘‘I won’t slice this one. You ” watch me it with a savage hook, which sailed clear across the course and into the thick grass. The ball carried in the rough seventy-five yards from the putting green, and disap- peared without even a bounce. “That one,” whispered Waddles, sighing She kept her promise-——kept contentedly, “is buried a foot deep. It begins to look bad for love’s young dream Bill, you're away. Russell, his shoulders hunched and his chin buried in his collar, lingered long enough to watch Bill put an iron shot on the putting green, ten feet from the flag. Then he wan- dered off into the rough and relieved his feelings by growling at the caddie. He did not quit, however; the true cup hunter never quits. His niblick shot tore through that tangle of thick grass, cut under the ball and sent it spinning high in the air. It stopped rolling just short of the green. We complimented him again, but he was past small courtesies. Our reward was a black scowl, which we shared with Mary. **Lay it up!” said he curtly. ‘A seven may tie’em. Lay it up!” By this time quite a gallery had gathered to witness the finish of the match. In abso- lute silence Mary drew her putter from the bag and studied the shot. . It was an ab- surdly simple one—a 30-foot approach over a level green, and all she had to do was to leave Russell a short putt. Then if Beth missed her ten-footer — “Tt’s fast,’ warned Russell. so don’t hit it too hard!” Even as he spoke the putter clicked against the ball, and instantly a gasp of dismay went up from the feminine spec- tators. I was watching Russell Davidson, and I can testify that his face turned a delicate shade of green. I looked for the ball, and was in time to see it skate merrily by the hole, ‘‘going a mile a minute,” as Waddles afterward expressed it. It rolled clear across the putting green before it stopped. Mary ignored the polite murmur of sym- pathy from the gallery. ‘‘Never up, never in,” cheerful smile. away.” Waddles pinched my arm. “Did you get that stuff?” he breathed into my ear. ‘“‘Did you get it? She threw him down—threw him down cold!” Russell seemed to realize this, but he made a noble effort to hole the putt. A third miracle refused him, and then Beth Rogers put her ball within three inches of the cup. “Put it down!” grunted Russell. ‘‘Sink it—and let’s get it done with!” Bill tapped the ball into the hole, and » the match was over. ““Why—why,” stuttered Beth, ‘‘then we've won!” At this point the hand-shaking began. I was privileged to hear one more exchange of remarks between the losers as they started for the clubhouse. “We had it won—if you’d only listened to me ”’ Russell began. “Ah!” said Mary, ‘‘you seem to forget that I’ve been listening to you all the afternoon—listening and learning!” “It’s fast, said she with a ‘Russell, I’m afraid you're That very same evening I was sitting on my front porch studying the stars and meditating upon the mutability of human relationships. A familiar runabout drew up at the Brooke house, and a young man passed up the walk, moving with a stiff and stately stride. In exactly twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds by my watch the young man came out again, bounced down the steps, jumped into his car, slammed the door with a bang like a pistol shot, and departed from the neighborhood with a grinding and a clashing of gears which might have been heard for half a mile. The red tail light had scarcely disap- peared down the street when big Bill Haw- ley lumbered across the Brooke lawn, took the front steps at a bound and rang the doorbell. Not being of an inquisitive ana a prying nature, I cannot 7 certain how long he remained, but at 37 I thought I heard a door close, bo HF re afterward someone pa sed under my window whistling loudly and unmelodiously. The selection of the unknown serenader was that pretty little thing which describes the end of a perfect day.

Page 62

Stora SAAD AK Eo Be ~ » A A AAA 60 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Columbia Battery What the BeeTaught the Maker 4 ee . -— —— ° HE. honey-bee make its honey-cell on the hexagonal formation be cause a cell of this shay gives the maximum co bination of strength and capacity. We have taken this k yn from the honey-bec The Columbia Hone comb Grid not only hol firmly the right amount of active material, but it has greatest strength and stay ing power. It has the highest and conductivity of any design most untform of Storage Battery Plates HE Columbia Honeycomb Grid is, we be- lieve, the greatest improvement in storage battery construction since automobile batteries came into use. It is called a Honeycomb Grid because it is constructed on the hexagonal pat- tern of a honey-cell—the most capacious and at the same time mechanically sound construction that man has imagined or nature produced. The plates are the most vital part of a starting and lighting storage battery. The plates produce the current. When the plates are gone, the current ts gone. Short circuits and failures caused by buckled plates are the most frequent as well as the most expensive of bat- tery troubles. The foundation of the battery plate is the grid—so called because its open or grid-like framework supports the material and con- ducts the current. And the Columbia Honeycomb Grid makes the battery strong where strength is needed and the result is service when service is needed. January 12,1918

Page 63

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 61 Columbia Storage Battery - - , What Other Guarantee Offers So Much? fi IE Columbia Storage Battery is backed by a real Guarantee of definite performance, definite capacity, definite life, definite service. This liberal guarantee should not be con- fused with the customary “‘adjustment plan” which requires a payment from you. The Columbia guarantee definitely states that a Columbia Battery will maintain a working capacity of at least eighty per cent of its origi- nal electrical output for the period of one year. If, for any reason, the Columbia Battery does not make good the terms of the guarantee, you will get another battery without payment on your part. To make sure that every Columbia Storage Battery gives its owner its full measure of use- fulness, we have established a logical, standard- ized Columbia Service—a service rendered by First—COoLUMBIA SERVICE STATIONS which are small duplicates of our factory, and Second— COLUMBIA SERVICE DEALERS. Columbia Service Dealers are merchants of established reputation and responsibility. They are located in cities and towns all over the country. A Columbia Service Dealer installs a battery in your car—recharges it when necessary and tests it with a hydrometer to determine its operating condition. He carries a supply of distilled water for your battery and cleans and tightens connec- tions. He gives every attention that a battery ordinarily requires but he may not break the seal to open a Columbia. His contract with us specifies that he shall not. For, even though it is possible for the aver- age automobile supply and accessory dealer to render all the service ordinarily required by a Columbia, it is not always practical for him to devote the amount of space required or make the investment in special equipment and parts necessary to repair batteries according to the Columbia standard. Should your battery require repairs which necessitate breaking the seal, a Columbia Service Dealer will replace it with a fully charged rental battery and will send your own battery to an Official Columbia Service Station. Official Columbia Service Stations are estab- lished in all the principal distributing centers. These Service Stations are operated just as we ourselves would operate a small but complete Columbia Storage Battery Factory. These Official Columbia Service Stations are directly responsible to the National Carbon Company, Incorporated, and carry a complete stock of every size and type of battery and the many parts necessary to properly replace, rebuild, or repair any make of battery now in use. The men in charge of Official Columbia Service Stations and the men who work in them are skilled and experienced in battery re pair. When they break the seal and open the battery the service they render is a real and standardized Columbia Service—directly under our control—one that you can depend upon. Ask the Columbia Service Station in the large city or the Columbia Service Dealer any where to explain how this centralized, standard- ized, organized, responsible service, assured through the Columbia Seal, is but one of the eighteen distinctive and exclusive features which make it possible to back the Columbia Storage Battery with: A REAL GUARANTEE OF DEFINITE PERFORMANCE DEFINITE CAPACITY DEFINITE SERVICE DerEFINITE Livi NATIONAL CARBON COMPANY, Inc., CLEVELAND, OHIO See.exhibit at Chicago Motor Show, Booth 74, Cotiseum Gallery, Jan. 25 —Feb, 2 Bayonet-Catch The ent Plug The Universal Terminal makes the installing of a Columbia in your car the work of seconds instead of hours. Connecting cables is as easy as tak- ing hold of a stick. \ twist of the fingers by a quarter-turn loosens it for removal a or clamps it tightly into place. No matching or stripping of threads; no fussing with tools,

Page 64

62 Lift Corns out with Fingers A few applications of Freezone loosen corns or calluses so they peel off Apply a few drops of Freezone upon a tender, aching corn or a callus for two or three nights. The soreness stops and shortly the entire corn orcallus loosens and can be lifted off without a twinge of pain. | and robbery. removes hard corns, soft corns, also corns between the toes and | hardened calluses. Freezone does not | irritate the surrounding skin. You feel no pain when applying it or afterward. Women! Keep a tiny bottle of Freezone on your dresser and never let a corn ache twice. Small bottles can be had at any drug store in the Unsted States or Canada. B. The Edward Wesley Co., Rider Agents Wanted where to ride and exhibit the Freezone Cincinnati, O. Motorbike com tric light ol tank hew oo ' pletely equipped with ele nd horn, carrier, st and te couster brake mud guards and ati-ekid tires. Choice of 44 other styles, colors and sizes in the fa yuae “ 1 of t le DELIVERED FREE on napprovel nd 30 DAYS’ TRIAL. Send ke ar big gee ¢ at wr by nn p at ula of our wctory to- Rider marvelous os rs and terr TIRES 7” ups, Horne, Wheels, sun *. and 'p arte for all bieyele ‘half usual prices SEND NO MONEY but tell us exactly what you need. Do not buy until you tour price termeand the big FREE catalog MEAD CYCLE COMPANY Dept. W-55, CHICAGO Any Spare Time? you will have any spare time this winter, we will buy it and pay you liber- ally in salary and commission Many Curtis representatives average a dollar an hour. Let us explain our offer. THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 229 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pa. For Wall Decorations Never use nails or tacks all light-weight articles use Moore Push-Pins Glass Heads, Steel Points Moore Push-lesas Hangers, the Honger with @ Test, for framed pwtures. mirrors, ete . Drug and At Stationery, Hardware c Photo Supply stores In Canada tke Samples and Booklet Free. Write Dept.S MOORE PUSH-PIN CO., Philadelphia, Pa. then 2 ek 213 bengeifel picteren, Rewchins Describes > wnt information viling 53 pare-beed varieties ncubators, sprouters led for 10 cents BERRY'S POULTRY FARM, Box 69, Clarinda, lows ~ Fine Pure-bred chickens, ducks, geese, tur women 62 BREEDS tors Nonicts trea very beds, vie *, beautiful. Powls, eggs, Incubators at low prices. America’s pioneer poultry farm. 24 years' exp. Large fine catalog free. FA. Neubert, Box 681, Mankato, Minn \ TANTED—AN IDEA! Who can think of some simple thing topatent? Protect your ideas, they may ring you wealth. Write for “ Needed Inventions” and How to Get Your Patent and Your Money.” RANDOLPH & Co., Dept. 137, Patent Attorneys, Washington, D. C, THE SATURDAY Gossip can do no good and may do a great deal of harm. Just because you fail to re- ceive a reply to your communication is no reason to suppose that attention has not been given it. Either there is no founda- tion for suspicion or the Government, as frequently happens, is permitting the spy to operate so as to catch his accomplices too. Your duty is done when the authorities are notified. All doubts, it must be remembered, are resolved by the Department of Justice, which conducts prosecutions through United States district attorne And no one is interned or indicted without thorough in- vestigation. Innocent persons need have no fear that mere suspicion will be accepted as proof. Most difficult to detect of all spies is the man in uniform. The penalty is death, of course; but this never has deterred the master spy. Some of them are now foolishly relying on the theory that America is too good-natured to execute a spy even if found in its own army or navy. Thus far there have been a few instances of men who im- personated officers. These have proved to be crooks and swindlers intent on fraud But some real spies are be- lieved to have enlisted in the American Army. Several persons who qualified for commissions through the officers’ training camps have been suspected of other than patriotic motives. In cases where investi- gation has not brought evidence sufficient for severe punishment those whose loyalty has been doubted were ordered into inac- tive service. Curiously enough, fewer complaints of enemy activity have come from American cities where German colonies are located than from cities where other large foreign elements reside. This is attributed to the | fact that the American citizens in the first- mentioned communities have since the out- break of the war been especially watchful, and also to the fact that the German- Americans, most of whom have pledged their allegiance to their adopted country, omit no opportunity to demonstrate their Americanism. Beware of German Waiters German waiters, however, have come under suspicion, particularly in Atlantic and Pacific ports. Our Government agents frequently have noticed the remarkable solicitude that waiters have shown at tables where military matters were being dis- cussed, Something was wrong with the tablecloth. A saltcellar was missing. An extra knife had to be procured. There always seemed to be some excuse for loiter- ing, and one detective actually caught a | waiter who was presumably adding up | checks simply taking down in shorthand a conversation designed especially for the oc casion! American citizens who possess informa- tion valuable to the enemy should be most careful about discussions in public places. Children and women messengers are often used in the German spy system to send communications to and from barred zones. Immoral women whose ideas of loyalty and patriotism have been warped by their con- scienceless lives also have lent themselves to German schemes and plots. One girl, in whom Von Rintelen placed the utmost con- fidence, reported daily to the authorities, and brought about his arrest. And from that case the Government learned half what it knows to-day of German spy methods. Commercial spies are numerous and well trained. They are apparently engaged in innocent transactions. For the last fifteen or twenty years they have been keeping the German Government advised on the progress of American industries. The busi- ness of secret communication is second nature to them. They are the class with which the cable censors have most to deal. But the greatest menace to America is not in the spy who conveys military and naval information to the enemy across or under seas. After all, the United States is three thousand miles away from the con- flict, and German spies abound in Great Britain and France, where the opportuni- ties to smuggle news through neutral coun- tries and by means of the skippers and seamen on neutral ships that pass to and from entente ports are much more numerous than in the United States. America must be on guard against a more subtie enemy EVENING POST SWAT THE SPY! (Continued from Page 15) than the military spy—the enemy propa- gandist. The ordinary conception of a propagan- dist is either a German who makes public speeches or one who writes poy communications to the newspapers. All this was true before the United States became a belligerent. The means now used are more indirect but no less vicious. De- struction of property is more easily curbed than the destruction of a nation’s spirit. And to that end the insidious operations of the enemy are to-day dedicated. Germany’s avowed purpose with respect to the United States is to produce serious divisions of opinion. The German General Staff from the start has argued of its nu- merous enemies: ‘‘ Those whom we cannot destroy we shall divide.”” History alone will tell how great a part paid agents of Germany had in producing the chaos now regnant in Russia. Italy was almost sub- verted, but was saved in time. Efforts to detach France and constant pleadings with Japan are open secrets. Both nations have loyally revealed the manner of that intrigue. Therefore, when the United States of Amer- ica, most powerful of all Allies, most re- sourceful, most wealthy in men and money— entered the lists, the German Government at first scoffed. “‘What can they do, with the Atlantic Ocean between us and the sub- marine so effective?"’ But neither distance nor the torpedo is invincible. Berlin’s Underhand Methods Now the battle goes further—to the heart of America’s strength, the democracy that pulses in the veins of the Republic. “If poison can be infused into the blood of America,”” reasons the German tactician, ‘her institutions will weaken, her hand will falter, her mind will grow sluggish and her counsels disordered.”’ Brains resident in Berlin may set forth the purpose; but brains resident in America, familiar with our ways, acquainted with our strong points and our weaknesses, must execute that purpose. We are fighting not merely enemies without but enemies within. The German line of attack changes as events or circumstances require, but sub- stantially it strives to make as many Amer- icans as possible believe these things: That America has no business in a European war; that the capitalists of Wall Street brought it on; that we are trying to impose on Germany a democracy she does not want; that Germany never has declared war on us; and that we are inseparably entangled with the Entente Allies in a war of conquest. If you say, “Yes, but how about the Lusitania?” the answer invariably is: ‘* Oh, that’s a technical question, military neces- sity, a rule of war, something to negotiate over but not to go to war about.” Lives of men, women and children are always tech- nical questions with the German General Staff—especially the lives of others! Examine the German-language news- papers during the first few months of the war, read carefully some of the seditious literature that daily comes to the office of the attorney-general, and the arguments summed up above are emphasized and re- emphasized with an amazing uniformity. It is the German plan of campaign—the first offensive of the German psychological drive. So plainly is this mode of attack the product of the German General Staff that confirmation came recently in a cable dis- patch direct from Berlin which our own censors inadvertently permitted to pass through and which hundreds of American newspapers printed without stopping to analyze. Here is the press dispatch as it was printed in our newspapers: “BERLIN, Sunday, Nov. 25, via London, Nov. 28. A report received from the West- ern Front describing the American troops in action says: ~ Independent American units have been thrown in the trench line. The felt hat has given way to the English-fashioned steel helmet, and the whistling and bursting of shells have become familiar sounds to Amer- ican ears. For the first time since they have been participating as independent contingents the Americans have tasted hand-to-hand scuffle. But this time the shells did not merely fly over their heads but into the very trenches they had selected, and presently, with an infernal noise, these ements et January 12,1918 things which the young soldiers believed to a firm protection an to quake and t urst. “* And hard on the heels of this a firm attack by our onrushing Bavarian reserves forced the way into the American trenches, and musket shots and hand grenades re- lieved the artillery fire. “*Our new opponents made a most determined defense, and desperate hand- to-hand fighting set in. Butts of guns, fists and hand grenades were freely brought into play and many fell to the ground before the rest gave up resistance and surrendered. After a bare hour the German storming troops were back in their trenches with booty and prisoners. “*There they stood before us, these young men from the land of liberty. They were sturdy and sportsmanlike in build. Good-natured smiles radiated from their blue eyes, and they were quite surprised that we did not propose to shoot them down, as they had been led in the French training camp to believe we would do. “*They know no reply to our query “Why does the United States carry on war against Germany?” The sinking of Amer- ican ships by U-boats, which was the fa- vorite pretext, sounds a trifle stale. One prisoner expressed the opinion that we had treated Belgium rather badly. Another as- serted that it was Lafayette who brought America French aid in the war of Inde- pendence, and because of this the United States would now stand by France.’”’ First notice the reference to the English- fashioned helmet, a remark calculated to appeal to the radical Irish or extreme anti- British feeling in this country. The Ger- mans have tried not a little to put over the idea that America was fighting England’s war. Note, further, the flattery of our “sturdy and sportsmanlike” young men with “good-natured smiles,’ intended to show the affectionate attitude of the Ger- man toward the American, against whom, the German propagandists adroitly argue, even in this country, that the Imperial Government has never declared war. The final paragraph of the dispatch dis- closes the purpose of the whole thing: “Why does the United States carry on war against Germany?” German agents have not ceased their efforts from the beginning to prove that Wall Street drew America into the war and that this country reaily had no grievance. Germany’s own arguments are put in the mouths of American prisoners, and the propaganda itself is deliberately sent back to the United States for American consumption! Subtle Propaganda For months the United States hasn’t re- ceived a line of news directly from Berlin, and the very first thing that is permitted to leak out—a German report of Americans in action at the Front—is too much like news to be thought anything else; and the man who framed the dispatch in Berlin suc- ceeds in getting it printed in hundreds of American newspapers and read by millions. It is precisely such a subtle propaganda that agents of Germany are carrying on in the United States. Why is America at war? Indeed, there are many people who do not read the newspapers closely and who, tak- ing only a superficial view of even the most vital problems of their own country, are easily misled by specious arguments. The loyal American citizen who wants to fight mischievous propaganda should inform him- self thoroughly on all the points raised by the German agents or their indirect repre- sentatives. And it must be remembered that there are many genuine Americans who conscientiously argue the views so frequently espoused by the German propa- gandists. A Wall Street war? Does anyone think for a minute that the men, women and chil- dren who have been drowned without warn- ing were traveling at the behest of financiers? Did the right of a noncombatant to journey on the high seas, a right admitted by Ger- many yet abrogated by military necessity, come from any group of citizens? Wasn’t it the heritage of the nation itself? To yield a single right meant to submit to German domination. It meant to sacrifice the life of the nation itself and render valueless for- ever its influence in the civilized world. (Continued on Page 65)

Page 65

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WHITE i rs ' | ee me igs Si Ba Tas ia There is a LEE Distributor in Your Town Pb Bho t ti Bath Here is a tire that is built for GREATER MILEAGE from the foundation up. You can SEE that it will wear longer. Measure it with a rule. It has a larger girth than ANY other tire of the same rating. No tire user need be told that such a tire will give greater mileage. Note that THIS tire is pure white—a fact that proves that these tires are built of tough, strong, long- wearing rubber. THIS is another reason why LEE White Oversize Tires give greater mileage. The dealer who sells LEE Puncture-Proof Tires and LEE Multipie Cord Tires also sells LEE White Oversize Tires. LEE TIRE & RUBBER CO. 245 WEST 55th STREET, NEW YORK CITY Factories—Conshohocken, Pa.

Page 66

64 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Map Size 21«28 inches The Rand-McNally War Maps place before you the battle fronts in minute detail. They are made on such a large scale that they show places not found on other maps. All the cities, little towns, rivers, mountains, hills, the railway lines, canals, forests—not only shown but indexed so that you can put your finger at once upon any place you want to locate. Follow the battle lines with one of these maps. See just how far the Germans reached—see where their lines are now. See where our men ere fighting. When you read of a battle or a military movement, ¢ turn to your Rand-McNally War Map and see just where it happened Add vastly to your conception of what is being done at the front and of what this war means. These Rand-McNally Maps of all the battle fronts are absolutely authentic, standard and true even to the slightest detail. Price only 25 cents. DEPARTMENTS " j rs Gooner rimiing— ¢ fitastrated Book K ’ ~Sanheré Mon CHICAGO "283-3" Rand McNally & Company World’s Greatest Map Makers; Book sec a? Printers Rand-McNally Pocket Maps for 1918 Now Ready—At Dealers The 1918 revised, authoritative maps of any state, group of states or of the whole United States are now ready and on sale at dealers’ everywhere. No need to use an out of date or inaccurate map when only 25c buys one of these right up-to-the-minute, authentic Rand-McNally Maps. Shows states, counties and county seats, townships, cities, towns, villages, railways, steamships, rivers, lakes, islands, creeks, and gives information about post, express and telegraph offices revised up to date. Any military cantonment, aviation station, army post or naval station can also be easily located. Every 1918 Rand-McNally Pocket State Map also has correct auto road map on back. Millions of these maps are used by commercial travelers, business executives, real estate men, investors, bankers, shippers and automobile tourists. They should be in every home and every office. Examine the Rand- McNally Map of your state and see how much information it gives that is new to you. Always have one of these maps for ready reference. Remember, these are the standard maps. Made by a house with over 60 years’ experience in map making. The largest producers of maps in the world. Price 25c at dealers’ everywhere. d-McNally Maps For Every Need No matter for what purpose you want it there is a Rand-McNally Map that will give you just the facts you need. You can get these maps not only of the United States and its colonies but of all foreign countries. Special maps also, such as climatic, historical, biblical and language maps—each the product of our specialized organization. Rand-McNally Map-Tack System The simplest, most adaptable and efficient system for keeping in close touch with every important territorial condition affecting a manufacturing, jobbing, or banking business. Customers and ratings, prospects, agents, inquiries, salesmen’s routes, advertising campaigns, contract expirations, collections, crop conditions, federal reserve bank districts, etc. All this and much other important information always available at a glance. This system furnished in any capacity wanted—from one state to all the states and foreign countries. A very interesting booklet on the Rand-McNally Map-Tack System is now ready for mailing. Filled with valuable information. It is sent free. Write for it, and also ask about our Expert System Service for business houses. Rand-McNally Atlases “The world in one volume” are words which describe a good atlas. Invaluable to every man, woman and child. The Rand-McNally Atlases have been accepted as authorita- tive for years. Used in families, schools, colleges, business houses and by the government. brings the Rand-McNally Imperial Atlas —complete with maps in colors of the Se ana continents, individual states, counties and all foreign countries. Gives principal cities with populations; shows rivers, mountains, lakes, principal ocean routes and much other valuabie information. Nearly 200 pages. 12x14 inches, stiff book binding. At “lealers’ or sent direct. Other atlases at 25c¢ up. $1.75 is enough to pay for an atlas until after the war, when the new Rand-McNally Standard Atlas of the World will be issued. The Bankers’ Monthly A magazine which is the exponent of modern, progressive banking and finance. Has special articles on bank policies, methods and systems with charts, graphs, illustrations, etc. A publication which is looked for and closely read by the more progressive bank officers and employés. Circulates in every state. $2 a year. Trial subscription, 3 months 30c. Send for free sample copy. Ask the Dealer You can get Rand-McNally Pocket Maps and War Maps almost everywhere. At book and stationery stores, drug stores, department stores, news stands, hotel lobbies, railway stations, on trains, etc If you cannot get Rand-McNally ‘Maps from your dealer, order direct from us. 18 Drawer Outfit Style No.1 Mehine— ee Tack Systems — Atlases —Globes as. NEW YORK road Printing —Cabinet January 12,1918 WEr « ys DEPARTMENTS Educational and School Books —T ickei end C ~ ms—United States Maps

Page 67

(Continued from Page 62) As between a craven obedience to German rule on the sea and a stern refusal to submit to the command of an arrogant government, the President and the Congress of the United States, obeying a patriotic people, made war. Of course from Germany's viewpoint it is eminently desirable to say the whole con- troversy about sinking American ships is a trifle stale. So is it to the German purpose to make the people of the United States forget the purport and implications of the famous Zimmermann note. And unfortu- nately many Americans have forgotten— and dozens of men you meet on the street cannot even recall what the Zimmermann note was—so casual has the average Amer- ican’s interest been hitherto in international affairs. Loyal citizens can remind their neighbors, especially the misguided ones who think America had no grievance, just what such things as the Zimmermann note mean in terms of America’s right to exist as a free country. While the United States Govern- ment was attempting to negotiate a settle- ment of the vexed submarine controversy, while, indeed, the President of the United States was endeavoring to bring about peace, something Germany pretended to seek, the Imperial Government’s foreign secretary was sending instructions to the German minister in Mexico to involve Mexico and Japan in a war against the United States. Americans had heard talk of a German invasion and had ridiculed it. They had read books of Germany’s plan to conquer the Entente and then violate the Monroe Doctrine in the Western Hemi- sphere— but no evidence existed. Sus- picions were many but proofs unhappily too few. Suddenly the United States in- tercepted Herr Zimmermann’s note to the German minister in Mexico and the whole plot was revealed. No longer was there any doubt what the Kaiser meant in his con- versation with Ambassador Gerard when he said: ‘‘ After this war I shall brook no non- sense from America.” And in answer tothat challenge the words of President Wilson in his war message will never be forgotten. “The time has come,” said the President, “to conquer or submit. For us there can be but one choice. We have made it.” Free Speech Permitted Education on the issues of the war is the best plan of counter-attack that the Wash- ington Government has devised against enemy propaganda. Suppression of obvious German propagandists is necessary, but the arresting of American citizens of the anti- war type is not a real cure. Suppression in this instance may tend to confirm the German-made impression that the United States does not feel sure of her ground, that she cannot justify her entry into the war. The policy thus far in some cases has been to let American citizens who oppose the war talk as loudly as they choose. Only the loyal Americans must talk louder and at the same time expose the character of the other argument and its direct relation to Germany’s plans. In a debate as to the merits of the German or American case the average citizen of this country will have no difficulty in making up his mind. The trouble is that the enemy propagandists have had it very much their own way. Americans have not bothered themselves to refute fallacies. They must, however, meet’them now on every occasion. For what Germany wants to do is to prevent labor from keeping’on good terms with capital, to cause endless strikes and industrial disputes, to spread germs of dis- content among ship employees, to carry back and forth tales of alleged profits and inspire demands for higher wages, foment mutual antagonisms, cause food panics and food riots, destroy munition plants and factories—in short, to do everything that will prevent America from getting to the Allies the ships, food, munitions and sup- plies they need to insure victory. To call a labor leader pro-German or an enemy agent is in nine cases out of ten absolutely wrong. But to trace the sub- tle manner in which enemy agents have through devious ways influenced a labor leader to call a strike just as frequently leads back to German agents or sympa- thizers. With hundreds and thousands of agents no one can be occupied in anything that is too trivial some day to cause trouble. Enemies are quietly slipped into the labor- ing communities to talk against the em- ployer. to argue against the war, to call ita rich man’s affair and to deplore the hard- | ships of the workingman. Capital and labor are hard things to reconcile in times of peace. Not all industrial discontent is due to the war. But true patriotism demands that both employers and employees shall be the more careful not to lend themselves con- sciously or unconsciously to enemy plots. Socialism is the best vehicle the Germans have found. The trend of the age is social- istic. It is so during all wars. Many of the socialist leaders are not aware that they are mere puppets for German agents. “IT don’t know a single German. I never would listen to one,”’ remarks an indignant socialist. ‘‘I have believed in socialism for twenty years.” But Mr. Jones, who has been a socialist in time of peace and is exultant over the growth of the movement to-day, does not realize how enemy agents have filled the homes of American citizens with fallible arguments about the war and have resorted even to the districting of communities wherein slowly but gradually the seeds of disloyalty have been sown by Americans who believed themselves right in their views because no dissent or dispute rose from any near-by quarter. Poison in Small Doses Many millions of our people read news- | papers and magazines, but many millions, especially among the immigrant classes, do not get their opinions from newspapers but at the corner stores and saloons, lodges and family gatherings. The mouth-to-mouth method and quiet tip are especially suc- cessful when the intention is to spread war lies. The barber or the bartender drops a casual remark: “I hear there was a big battle yesterday and ten thousand Amer- | icans were killed”; or perhaps he says: “I just heard from a customer that a battle- ship has been blown up”; or maybe: “ You have no idea how many of our soldiers are sick.” War lies are particularly malevolent. England and France had them too. They have, however, been circulated with re- markable ingenuity in the United States. Taking advantage of the shortage in sugar, for instance, the Germans started a drive on salt and matches. A few persons pur- chased the entire supply of certain stores in each of several cities. Later, when in the natural course customers asked for these articles, the shopkeepers had none on hand. In quick time word was spread of the new famine. Soon what had previonsly been an ample supply was exhausted and hoarding produced even a greater shortage. Amer- ican citizens should not be fooled by such | tactics. Hoarding food and supplies is one | way to assist the very purpose of enemy agents. Stories of the most fanciful character have been invented to destroy faith and confidence in the honesty of the Govern- ment and in the agencies engaged in con- ducting the war for the people of the United States. Lies have been spread describing epidemics, scenes of terrible suffering in the camps, overfeeding and underfeeding of troops, graft in fuel and food administra- tion, the sale of Red Cross supplies, the waste of public moneys, and—worst of all—alleged letters ‘‘from the Front”’ tell- ing of serious losses to our men, sea dis- asters and untold hardships. To repeat these lies is to strengthen the propaganda of Germany. In one case a yarn was simultaneously started in several cities to the effect that Joseph Patrick Tumulty, private secretary to the President, had been sent to Fort Leavenworth Prison. Mr. Tumulty paid no attention to the propaganda, but the story recurred so often—people even wrote letters to President Wilson about it—that the White House issued a formal statement exposing the German game. Why was the tale about the President’s secretary circulated? To prove that all sorts of high crimes and misdemeanors were being committed in Washington under the cloak of the censorship, and to promote disaffection among Irish-Americans. De- partment of Justice officials have been try- ing to trace these stories to their point of origin, but so skillfully have they been planted that it takes no énd of energy to run them down—and the Germans would like to send our detectives on as many wild- goose chases as they can. Unfortunately loyal Americans have given impetus to the German scheme by repeating the Tumulty story and other war lies. Both the Secre- tary of the Navy and the Secretary of War THE SATURDAY EVENING POST With an intense blue flame, odorless. smokeless. close up under the cooking. cartridge belt and all—by’ helping to save coal, Coal is more i the war. Wen flame that is capdecwier than gunpowder in Ame ip win, and apr 2 we te Ane eee and ketoxene is one of the most con- ‘a ste ea dc co aa ldsascadea wy spaned and get a dean bat : . No wick to trim, to get re to a intensely Bale Tyger —— rea or _ How bade} it sat be to a one in your kitchen! And begin to save coal—a most important contribution to the war, Most of the best dealers sell Florence Oil Stoves; if you can’t oné in Your vicinity, write us for the name of the nearest Florence. Dealer. ‘Central Oil & Gas eer Company ~ 313 School Street Gardner, Massachusetts

Page 68

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST We Must “Follow-Up” The story of the Gallipoli with- drawal is a tale of inadequate sup- port. Like Salamanders clinging to the red-hot bars of a fiery furnace, the boys of Australia and New Zea- land clung to the slopes of Anzac. Desperately, heroically they clung. No troops under any circumstances ever displayed greater soldierly qualities or upheld more sacredly the best traditions of England's Army. But they had to withdraw because the “follow-up” was not there. To some of us it has been given to march with the columns of troops And to others it But he that go to France. is given to wave Godspeed. who marches and he who stays is Fell (BY Oe 4 One Policy AND One System equally a citizen of the world’s mightiest republic and equally re- sponsible for its success in this greatest of undertakings. Then let us at home turn from our flag waving and consider how neces- | sary we are, how useful we must be. | Those who go to fight cannot hope to win by naked bravery and we cannot hope to win unless every in- dividual at home does all he can. We must have no Gallipoli. The Bell System is only one of the myriad great and small industries which are co-operating that nothing be left undone to keep a constant, efficient stream of men, guns, am- munition, food, clothing and com- forts flowing to the front. AMERICAN TELEPHONE AND TELEGRAPH COMPANY ASSOCIATED COMPANIES Universal Service PROMPTLY PROCURED Send sketch for pcteeipearch and report 1918 yo W-| age Patent Book me GEORGE P. KIMMEL, 22-A Oriental Bidg., Washington, That Protect and Pay = | Peosne Send Sketch or Model for Search BOOKS AND ADVICE E tson E. Coleman, Patent Lawyer, Washington, D. C. Pee eh ee ae learned to write with Sanford’s Ink. Remember —-in Your Business Today Sold Everywhere Also Te on Sanford’s Library Paste = | In the Utopian Jar | have pledged themselves to reveal at once any unfavorable news. In the absence of | official announcements the American peo- ple have been asked to be wary of unauthor- ized reports no matter by whom circulated. For it is very easy to distribute rumor. One always gives it on the word of somebody else—and that somebody else is either im- aginary or very difficult to find when once you start to run a rumor down. By these lies the German Government seeks to spread terror in America, to dis- pirit our people, to depress them, to fill their minds with horror and their hearts with despair; to make them weary of the war and to influence them thereby to bring pressure io bear on their chosen representa- tives in the Government toend the struggle at a time when it is favorable to Germany to have it ended. Not a word, however, do enemy agents say about the menace of another war begun five or ten years after the present war is concluded, if perchance this one ended with- out the extermination of German milita- rism, if peace merely permitted of a truce while all the belligerents caught their breath, recuperated and went at it again. German propagandists are always urging an immediate negotiation for peace, and many Americans who love peace are receptive January 12,1918 to arguments of this kind because they do not readily see what a German peace means. Therefore, people in all walks of life can assist the Government in explaining to their friends and neighbors, who cannot or will not seek light on such matters them- selves, what are the dangers of a premature peace, what are the issues that brought war to America, what has been the menace to the freedom of this republic and what it will be in future generations unless milita- rism, with its costly taxation for armaments, is once and for all rendered futile. It was this militarism which conceived of spy sys- tems for times of peace as well as war. It was this militarism which treacherously played with the soft-spoken words of the United States Government and at the same time sought by secret plot to align Mexico and Japan in hostile combination against us. Peace is coming—but only when the world is rid of such pernicious institutions and a free government has risen in Ger- many composed of liberty-loving individ- uals like ourselves, coveting the territory of no neighbor, tempted by no spirit of im- perial conquest, menacing the lives of no peoples, but anxious to live happily in a place under the sun without begrudging similar solar rights to other nations. THE FIREFLY OF FRANCE (Continued from Page 5) “Certainly not!’ I said firmly, ignoring a nudge on the policeman’s part. “ He left before you came—there was ample time. It is not of the least consequence, anyhow. Again, I beg your pardon”’; and as she inclined her head I bowed and closed the door. “T trust, Mr. Bayne, that you are satis- fied at last.” This was the St. Ives’ mana- ger, and I did not like his tone. “T am satisfied of several things,” I retorted sharply; ‘“‘but before I share them with you will you kindly tell me your name?” “My name is Ritter,” said he with dignity. “I confess I fail to see what bearing “ ‘Call it curiosity,”’ I interrupted. tor, favor me with yours.” The doctor peered at me over his glasses, hesitated, then revealed his patronym. It was Swanburger, he informed me. “But, my dear sir, what on earth —— . Merely,’ * said I with conviction, “that this isn’t an Allies’ night. It is Deutschland iiber Alles; the stars are fighting for the Teuton race. Now let’s hear how you were christened ’"’—turning to the house detec- tive, who looked even less sunny than be- fore, if that could be. “See here, whatcher giving us?” snarled that somewhat unpolished worthy. “My name’s Zeitfeld; but I was born in this country, don’t you forget it, same as you!” “A great American personality,” I re- marked dreamily, “has declared that in the hyphenate lies the chief menace to the United States. And what’s your name?” I asked the representative of law and order. as Is it Schmidt?” ” * Doe- ” | sary conviction. | citizen “No, sorr, " he responded, grinning; “‘it’s O’ Reilly, sorr. “Thank heaven for that! You've saved my reason,” I assured him as I leaned against the wall and scanned the Germanic hordes. “Mr. Ritter,” said I, addressing that gentleman coldly, ‘‘when I am next in New York I don’t think I shall stop with you. The atmosphere here is too hectic; you answer calls for help too slowly—calls, at least, in which a guest indiscreetly tells you that he has caught a German thief. It looks extremely queer, gentlemen. And there are some other points as well oe But there I paused. I lacked the neces- After all I was the average with the average incredulity of the far-fetched, the melodramatic, the absurd. To connect the head-waiter’s panic at my departure with the episode in my room, to declare that the floor clerks had been called from their posts of set purpose and the halls deliberately cleared for the thief— were flights of fancy that were beyond me. The more fool I! By the time I saw the last of the adven- ture I began that night—it was all written in the nth power, and introduced in more or less important réles the most charming girl in the world; the most spectacular hero of France; the clev erest secret-service agent in the pay of the Fatherland; and, I sometimes ruefully suspected, the biggest imbecile of the United States in the person of myself I knew better than to call any idea impossi- ble simply because it might sound wild. But for the moment my education was in its initial stages; and turning with a shrug from three scowling faces I led my friendly bluecoat a little aside. “T’ve no more time to-night to spend thief-catching, officer,” I told him. I had just recalled my dinner, now utterly ruined, and Dunny, probably at this instant crack- ing walnuts as fierce ely as if each one were the Kaiser’s head. ‘‘ But I’m an amateur in these affairs, and you are a master; before I go, as man to man, what the dickens do you make of this?” Flattered, he looked profound. thinking, sorr,”” he gave judgment, “‘ ye had the rights of it. Seein’ as how th’ thafe is German ye’ll not set oies on him more—-for divvle a wan here but’s of that counthry, and the y stic k together some thing fierce!” “Well,” I admitted, ‘‘our thoughts run parallel. ’ Here is something to drink con- fusion to them all. And, O’Reilly, I am glad I’m going to sail to-morrow. I'd rather live in a sea full of submarines than in this hotel, wouldn’t you?” Touching his forehead he assented, and wished me good night and a good journey; part of which hope went unfulfilled, by the way. That ocean voyage of mine was to take rank, in part at least, as a first-class nightmare; the Central Powers could scarcely have improved on it by torpedoing us in midocean or by speeding us upon our trip with a cargo of time-clock bombs. “T’'m ar HE sailing of the King of Italy was scheduled for three P. M. promptly, but being well acquainted with the ways of steamers at most times, above all in these piping times of war, it was not until an hour later that I left the St. Ives, where the manager, by the way, did not appear to bid me farewell. The thermometer had been falling, and the day was crisp and snappy, with a light powdering ef snow underfoot and a blue tang and sparkle in the air. Dunny ac- companied me in the taxicab, but was less talkative than usual. Indeed, he spoke only two or three times between the hotel and the pier. “IT say, Dev,” was his first contribution to the conversation, “‘d’you remember it was at a dock that you and I first met? It was night, blacker than Tophet, and rain- ing, and you came ashore wet as a rag. You were the lonesomest, chilliest, most forlorn little tike I ever saw; but, by the Eternal, you were trying not to cry!” “Lonesome? [I rather think so!” I echoed with conviction. ‘Wynne and his wife brought me over; he played poker all the way and she read novels in her berth. And I heard everyone say that I was an orphan and that it was very, very sad. Well, I was never lonely after that, Dunny.”’ My hand met his halfway. (Continued on Page 69)

Page 69

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 67 | Carson Sat ety Crank $ J20 0a Anywhere in the United States $8.50 in Canada Patented Nov. 16, 1916 AGENTS WANTED Sales territory open in some sections. Write for proposition. Coupon— Tear Out, Fill In and Mail Today | Carson Manufacturing Corp., Mutual Bldg., s | j Richmond, Va. | Enclosed find $7.50 for a Carson Safety Crank which | I purchase under your guaranty of satisfaction or money back. Name Street Address City and State Takes Danger Out of Cranking Especially designed for Fords You can start your Ford with absolute safety in any weather, and under any conditions With this new crank on your car, you can safely advance your spark and get quicker firing, under all conditions. If your motor back-fires it makes no difference, because the Carson Safety Crank is instantly and automatically released from the crank shaft. It is impossible to be “kicked”’ by the crank handle if your car is equipped with this new crank. The Carson Safety Crank, in case of back-fire, is automatically disconnected from the crank shaft. The largest concern in America bought them for the accident insurance feature alone. Thousands in daily use, and giving satisfaction. Danger of Injury Eliminated This new crank in no way tampers with the engine, and in no way alters the construction of your car. It is the regular Ford crank made automatically kickless by our patented device. A few minutes only are required to install on your car. The crank reaches you complete, with full instructions for installation. These features make it the most valuable improve- ment yet offered tothe Ford Automobile. SAFETY — Advance your spark fully and fearlessly; con- nect crank handle by customary pressure; crank your car as usual, and your motor starts without danger from back-fire. EFFICIENCY GUARANTY: If for any reason, after ten days’ trial, a purchaser is not satisfied, the purchase price will be promptly refunded in cash, and carrying charges both ways paid upon return of the crank tothe manufacturer. SIMPLICITY—The mechanism of the Carson Safety Crank consists of three parts of case-hardened steel. There is nothing to get out of order. It is practically indestructible. SERVICE In addition to eliminating all danger from back-fire, the Carson Safety Crank is ready to start your motor more quickly and safely under all conditions because you can get quicker firing. SATISFACTION —The safety assured, the quic ker start- ing made possible, the ease of operation, and the sturdy mechanical construction, combine to make the Carson Safety Crank giye the utmost satisfaction. DEALERS: Wire for Carson Safety Cranks if you have not ordered. A simple demonstration proves absolutely convincing. Dealers throughout the United States are ordering from 5 to 100 at start. Selling on sight to majority of Ford owners. Circular gives full details and particulars. Write or wire for Carson Safety Cranks. The price, delivered anywhere in the United States, is $7.50. If your nearest dealer has not yet stocked, mail the coupon and we will send crank by express, prepaid. $8.50 delivered in Canada. The Cheapest Insurance Against Accidents to Ford Drivers Carson Manufacturing Corporation, Richmond, Va.

Page 70

GS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST nother Great 1 be exhibited at the Chicago Sho Space G24 49, in the Greer Building By the “World’s Champion Light Six” 6,202 Miles With SEALED Hood, Clutch and Transmission January 12,1918 Victory Scored . $1095 Chicago 5-Passenger Touring Car. t-Passenger Roadster Sedan Model, $1645. All Chassis Uniform. 117-inch Wheelbase Valve-in-head Motor eb lo Dealers: Successful dealers are com ing fast to the Elgin Six be cause 1. The car, popular in price, beautiful in line and finish, perfect in action, sells readily and makes friends every where 2. Our factory additions, just completed, give us a 100-car a day capacity — plenty of cars. 3. Located in the world’s greatest shipping center, Chi- cago. No matter what freight congestion at other points— guaranteed deliveries See us at the National Auto mobile Show in Chicago. Let us show you why the Elgin, “the World's Champion Light Six,” is the car for you to han die, providing your territory is Open Write or wire Dept. 3! today meming an appointment Chicago to the Pacific Coast and back—twice across the Rockies—no chance to touch the engine—no chance to even look at clutch or transmission— that is the latest wonderful record of the ELGIN SIX. Valve-in-head Motor never faltering on steepest inclines, in deepest mud nor heaviest sands Clutch holding on mile after mile of steepest mountain climbs— Brakes holding fast on mile after mile of downward plunges—where slip- ping meant death— What eloquent proof of the 100% stamina and dependability of the ELGIN SIX. And Economy—19.4 Miles to the Gallon of Gasoline ENGINE, clutch and transmission SEALED, performed without adjustment— without repair—for two solid months of con- tinuous travel. The car ran perfectly in the freezing, rare- fied atmosphere above the clouds; and cooled perfectly in 132 degrees of desert heat. A broken fan-belt—compelling the car to travel a thousand miles homeward witha still fan—a performance almost unbelievable— added a crucial test. This stock car was selected and placed un- der seal by the Chicago Motor Club as an Official Road Reporting “Scout Car’ and traveled under the auspices of the American Automobile Association and the Detroit Auto- mobile Club. j In the Service of the U. S. War Dept. But the greatest honor was conferred upon the ELGIN SIX when Secretary of War Baker, in a personal letter, appointed it ‘‘Official Scout Car” to report transcontinental road conditions to the War Department for emer- gency movements of troops and supplies. A car exactly like the one which made this great world’s record (which was one of our regular stock cars) may be purchased of any Elgin dealer for $1095. Send for booklet describing this world famous record. Address Dept. 31 Elgin Motor Car Corporation CHICAGO, ILL.

Page 71

(Continued from Page 66) The next time he broke silence was upon the ferry, when he urged on me a fat wallet stuffed with plutocratic-looking notes. “In case anything should happen,” ran his mut- tered explanation. I have never needed Dunny’s money—his affection is another matter—but he can spare it, and this time I took it because I saw he wanted me to. As we approached the Jersey City Piers he seemed to shrink and grow tired, to take on a good ten years beyond his hale and hearty age. With every glance I stole at him a lump in my throat grew bigger, and in the end, bending forward, I laid a hand on his knee. “See here, looking at him, Dunny,” I demanded, not “do you mean half of what you were saying last evening—or the hundredth part? After all, there'll be a chance to fight here before we’re many months older. If you just say the word, old fellow, I’ll be with you to-night—and hang the trip!” But Dunny, though he wrung my hand gratefully, and choked, and glared out of the window, would hear of no such arrange- ment-- repudiated it indeed with scorn. “No, my boy,” he declared, ‘I don’t say itfora minute. I like your going. I wouldn’t give a tinker’s dam for you, whatever that is, if you didn’t want to do something for those fellows over there. I won’t even say to be careful, for you can’t if you do your duty—only, don’t you be too all-fired fool- hardy, even for war medals, Dev.” “Oh, I was born to be hanged, not shot,” I assured him, almost prophetically. “I'll take care of myse if, and I'll write you now and then “No, you won’t!” he snorted with a ske spticism amply justified by the past. ‘And if you did I wouldn’t answer; I hate letters, always did. But you cable me once a fortnight to let me know you're living— and you send an extra cable if you want any thing on earth!” The taxi, which had been crawling, came to a final halt, and a hungry horde, falling on my impedimenta, lowered them from the driver’s seat. “No, I'll not come on board, Dev,” said my guardian. “‘I—I couldn’t stand it. Good-by, my dear boy.” We clasped hands again, then I felt his arm resting on my shoulder, and flung both of mine about him in an old-time, boyish hug. ‘**Au revoir, Dunny; back next year,” I shouted cheerily as the driver threw in his clutch and the car glided on its way. Preceded by various porters I threaded my way at a snail’s pace through the dense crowd of waiting passengers, swarthy-faced sons of Italy, bound for the steerage by their looks. The great gray bulk of the Ré d’Italia loomed before me, floating proudly at her stern the green- -white-and-red flag blazoned with the Savoyard shield. ‘‘Wave while they let you,” I apostrophized i saluting. “‘When we get outside the three- mile limit and stop courting notice you'll not fly long!” At the alniitiails I was halted, produced my passport, and exhibited the visé of his excellency, the Italian consul general in New York. Next I strolled aboard, was assigned to Cabin D, and informed by my steward that there were in all but five first- class passengers, a piece of news that left me calm. My carefully limited baggage looked lonely in my cabin; Imissed the parapher- nalia with which one usually begins a trip. Also, as I rummaged through two bags to find the cap I wanted, I longed for Peters, my faithful man, who could be backed to produce any desired thing at a moment’s notice. When bound for Flanders or the Vosges, however, one must be a Spartan. I found what I sought at last and went on deck. The scene, though cheerful, was not lack- ing in wartime features: A row of lifeboats hung invitingly ready; a gun, highly dramatic in appearance, was mounted astern, with every air of meaning business should the Kaiser meddle with us en route. Down below, the Italians, talking, gesticu- lating, showing their white teeth in flashing boyish smiles, were being herded docilely on board, while at intervals one or another of the few promenade-deck passengers ap- peared. The first of these, a shrewd-faced, nerv- ous little man, borrowed an unneeded match of me and remarked that it was cold weather for spring. The next, a good- looking young foreigner—a reservist, I sur- mised, recalled to the Italian colors in this THE SATURDAY hour of his country’s need —rather har- rowed my feelings by coming on board with a family party, gray-haired father, anxious mother, slim bridelike wife, and two broth- ers or cousins, all making pathetic pretense at good cheer. Soon after came a third in- dividual, a dark, quiet, watchful-looking man, personable enough, save that his shoes were a thought too gleamingly polished, his watch and chain a bit too luminously golden, the color scheme of his hose and tie selected with almost too much care. “This,” I reflected resignedly, “is going to be a ghastly trip. By Jove, here comes another! Now where have I seen her before?”’ The new arrival, as indicated by the pronoun, was a woman, though why one should tempt Providence by traveling on this route and at this juncture I found it hard to guess. Standing with her back to me, enveloped in a coat of sealskin with a broad collar of darker fur, well gloved, smartly shod, crowned by a fur hat with a gold cockade— she made a delightful picture. There was a haunting familiarity about her. She teased my memory as I strolled up the deck. Then snapping the bag shut she turned and straightened, and I recognized the girl to whose door my thief-chase had led me at the St. Ives. It seemed rather a coincidence, my meet- ing her again. “I wouldn’t mind talking to you on this trip,’’ I reflected, mollified. “The mischief of it is you’ll notice me about as much as you notice the ship’s stokers. You're not the sort to sc ‘rape acquaintance, or : Ise I miss my shot!’ I did not miss it. Se much was instantly proved. As I passed her on the mere chance that she might elect to acknowledge our encounter I let my gaze impersonally meet with hers. She started slightly. Evidently she remembered. But she turned toward the nearest door without a bow. The dark, too-well-groomed man was emerging as she advanced. Instead of mov- ing back he blocked her path, looking was it appraisingly, expectantly ?— into her eyes. There was a pause while she waited rather haughtily for passage; then he ef- faced himself and she disappeared. Striking a match viciously I lit a ciga- rette and strolled forward. Either the fellow had fancied that he knew her or he had be- haved in a confoundedly impertinent way. The latter hypothesis seemed on the whole the more likely, and I felt a lively desire to drop him over the rail. Time was passing; night had fallen. Consulting my watch I found it was seven o’clock. I had been aboard more than two hours. An afternoon sailing, quotha! At this rate we would be lucky if we got off by dawn. The dinner gong, a welcome diversion, summoned us below to lights and warmth. At one table the young Italian entertained his relatives, and at another the captain, a short, swart-faced, taciturn being, had grouped his officers and various officials of the steamship company at a farewell feast. The little sharp-faced passenger was throned elsewhere, in lonely splendor, but when I selected a fourth table he jumped up, crossed over and installed himself as my vis-a-vis. Passing me the salt, which I did not require, he supplied with it some per- sonal data of which I felt no greater need. His name was McGuntrie, he announced; he was sales agent for the famous Phillipson rifles, and was being dispatched to secure a . gigantic contract on the other side. ‘And if inside six months you Jon’t see three hundred thousand Italian soldiers carrying Phillipson’s best,’’ he informed me, “T’ll take a back seat and let young Jim Furman, who thinks I’m a has-been and he’s the one white hope, begin to draw my pay! You can’t beat those rifles—when the boys get to carrying them old Franz Joseph's ghost’ll weep! Pity, ain’t it, we didn’t get on board by noon?” he digressed sociably. “‘I could’ve found something to do ashore the four hours I’ve been twid- dling my thumbs here; and I guess you could too. Hardest, though, on our friends the newspaper boys—did you know they were out there, waiting to take a flashlight film? Fact. They do it nowadays every time a big liner leaves. Then if we sink all they have to do is run it, with ‘Doomed Ship Leaving New York Harbor’ underneath.” To his shocked surprise I laughed at the information. “Think it’s funny, do you?” my new friend reproached me. “‘W ell, I don’t; and neither did the folks who had cabins taken, and who threw them up last week when they heard how the San Pietro went down EVENING POST on this same route! idiots, that’s what we are—five crazy luna- ties! I'd never have come a step, not with wild horses dragging me, if it hadn’t been for Jim Furman being pretty near popeyed, looking for a chance to cut me out and sail. We've got fifteen hundred reservists down- stairs, and a cargo of contraband. What do you know about that as a prize for a sub- marine?” “Well,” I swim.” My eyes were wandering, for the girl in the fur coat had entered, with the dark, watchful-eyed man—was it pure coinci- said vaingloriously, “I can dence?—close behind. The steward ushered her to a table; the man followed at her heels. dare say I glared—I know my muscles stiffened. The fellow was going to speak to her! What in blazes did he mean by stalking her in this way? “Excuse me,” he was haven’t we met before?” The girl straightened into looking him over beneath her lashes. Her manner was haughty, her ruddy head poised stiffly, as she answered in a cold tone: ‘‘No.” He was watching her keenly. “My name’s John van Blarcom,” he persisted. Again she gave him that sweeping glance. ‘ You are mistaken,” she said with indifference. ‘‘I have not seen you before.” He nodded curtly. ‘‘My mistake,” he admitted. “I thought I knew you.” And turning from her he sat down at the one table still unoccupied. “*So his name’s Van Blarcom,”’ whispered my ubiquitous neighbor. ‘And the Italian chap over there is Pietro Ricci—thesteward told me so. And the captain’s name is Cecchi; get it? AndI know your name, too, Mr. Bayne,” with a grin. “The steward didn’t know what was taking you over, but I guess I’ve got your number allright. Say ain’t you a flying man or else one of the American-Ambulance boys?” saying, “but rigidness, I mustered the feeble parry that I had | stopped being a boy of any sort some time ago. Then lest he wring from me my age, birthplace and the amount of my income tax I made an end of my meal. On deck again I wondered at my irrita- tion, my sense of restlessness. The little salesman was not responsible, though he had fretted me like a buzzing fly. It was rather that I had taken an intense dislike to the man calling himself Van Blarcom; that the girl, in spite of her haughtiness, had somehow given me an impression of un- ease—of fear almost—as she saw him ap- proach and heard him speak; and above all, that I would have liked to flay alive the person or persons who had let her sail unaccompanied for a zone which at this moment was the danger point of the seas. My matter-of-fact, conservatively or- dered life had been given a crazy twist at the St. Ives. As an aftermath of that episode I was probably scenting mysteries ae ‘re there were none. Nevertheless, I wondered—though I called myself a fool for it—whether any more queer things would happen before this ship on which we five bold voyagers were confined should reach the other side. They did. iv OWARD nine o'clock to my relief it became obvious that the King of Italy was really going to sail at last. . The first and second whistles, sounding raucously, sent the company officials and the family of the young officer of reserves ashore. The plank was lowered; between the ship and the looming pier a thread of black water appeared and grew; a flash and an ex sion indicated that the possibly doomed liner had, as per schedule, been filmed. The details of departure were an old tale to me. As we swung farther and farther out I turned to a newspaper, a twentieth extra probably, which I had heard a news- boy erying along the dock a little earlier, and had bribed a steward to secure. Moon and stars, to-night, were lacking, but the deck lights were good reading lamps. ing up the rail to one of them I investigated the world’s affairs. From the first sheet, headlines leaped at me. inevitable peace rumor, the double denial, the eternal bulletin of a trench taken here, a hill recaptured there. A _ sensational rumor was exploited to the effect that Franz von Blenheim, one of the star secret agents of the German Empire, was at present incognito at Washington, having spent the past month in putting, to our disadvantage, his finger in the Mexican pie; We're five plumb |! lo- Mov- | | GPBCTAL 8 $1.50 OFFER. i$ the usual staring | There were the | Alexander The Great IDitraoucsacemm bitett.. Johnston Discovered ibelehyctslesce Sweets MILWAUKEE Start Your Ford Quickly in Winter The]. won Gasoline Injector spray nd vaporizes ¢ into he intake vorts of thu cylinders Then “one turr tarts her.’’ Easily installed, no dash cutting or char ing engine njecto comes thru rad your garage o soline direct! stented stor, thor With Economy Plans of Celfernia Homes rt bra repre “ie prese! tative c Cal Soe en” Plans, $ “West Coast y 72 Pha » rs ich ns om we "FREE Ew STILLWELL & CO. > ree Pie 602 Henne Bidg., Los Angeles Write tor WANTED NEW IDEAS {S25 is ventions Wanted by manufacturers and $1,000,000 in prizes offered for inventions. Our four books sent Free. Send sketch for Free opinion as to patentability. Victor J. Evans & Co., 727 Ninth, Washington, D.C. YOUR DUTY TO INVENT NOW wok ol 4 i v Material, labor and time-saving device Write Ma Fenwick & vrence, Patent Lawyers. Estb. 1861. Wa nd ington, D.C., New York, or Chicago. Bovklet Free

Page 72

ELECT your next pair of shoes on a basis of quality. Good shoes will prove ar Florsheim’'s fit ame depend worn We obtain faction tvlk ind comfort. The abl quality iS Light to ten dollars; reason ably priced, value considered There Flor every city sl their ecc “it heretofore heim dealer in the season's name and owing correct styl Hi booklet on request The Florsheim Shoe Co. Chicago, U. 8S. A. The Roadster— An easy ' walking shoe— Look for name in Suspenders \djust themselves to every movement of the body do not train or bind, and make the trousers hang just right rhe tamous Double Crown Roller of the et provides the uti in comilort and pair ol KAD\ St SPE ND ERS today and wear them for a week. If ul are not satisfied, sur honey dealer will return Refuse substitute look for KADY on buckk 0 cents and 75 ce at leading dealers! THE OHIO SUSPENDER CO. MANSFIELD, OHIO name ts — goplit SOAP e4 Large o Easily and thoroughly removes Obstinate dirt, stains, grease and grime. leaves a feeling, of thorough refreshing, ¢ niiness oa | while on the last column of the page there figured the photograph of a distinguished- looking young man in uniform, together with an announcement that promised some | interest, I thought. “War Scandal Bursts in France’—I read. “Scion of Oldest Noblesse Impli- | cated—Duke Mysteriously Missing’’—in | diminishing degrees of scarehead type. | Then the picture, with a mien attractively debonair, a pleasantly smiling mouth and a sympathetic pair of eyes; and in due course, the tale. “Of all the scandals to which the pres- ent war has given birth,” I read, clutching at the flapping ends of the sheet, “none has stirred France more profoundly than | that implicating Jean-Hervé-Marie-Olivier, Count of Druyes, Marquis of Beuil and Santenay, and Duke of Raincy-la-Tour. This young nobleman, head of a family which has played its part in French histcry since the days of the Northmen and the crusaders, bears in his veins the bluest blood of the old. régime, and numbers among his ancestors no fewer than seven marshals and five constables of France. ““A& noted figure not alone by his birth, his wealth and his various historic chateaux, but also by his sporting proclivities, his daring automobile racing, his marvelous fencing and his spectacular hunting trips, the Duke of Raincy-la-Tour has long been in addition an amateur aviator of consider- | able fame, and it was to the French Flying | Corps that he was attached when hostilities began. Here he distinguished himself from the first by his coolness, his extraordinary resource, and his utter contempt for dan- ger; and became one of the idols of the French Army and a proverb for success and audacity, besides attaining to the rank of lieutenant, gaining, after his famous night flight across Miilhausen for bomb-dropping purposes, the affectionate sobriquet of the Firefly of France, and winning, in rapid suc- cession, the Military Medal, the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, and the Cross of War with palms. “‘ According to rumor the duke was lately intrusted with a mission of exceptional peril, involving a flight into hostile territory and the obtaining of certain photographs of defenses much needed for the plans of the | Supreme Command. With his wonted bril- | liancy, he is said to have accomplished the | errand, and to have returned in safety as | far as the French lines. | coercion to deliver up his spoils. Here, however, we enter the realm of conjecture. The duke has disappeared; the plans he bore have never reached the generalissimo; and rumor per- sistently declares that at some point upon his return journey he was intercepted by German agents and induced by bribes or By one version he was later captured and sum- | marily executed by the French; while his | Continued on Page Three. 4s } Olivier, friends, denying this, pin their hopes to his death at the hands of the enemy, as offering the best outcome of the unsavory event. “The family of the Duke of Raincy-la- Tour has been noted in the. past for its pronouncedly Royalist tendencies, the atti- tude of his father and grandfather toward the republic having been hostile in the extreme. It is believed that this fact may have its significance in the present episode. The occurrence is of especial interest to the United States, in view of the recent —— Before proceeding I glanced at the pic- tured face. The Duke of Raincy-la-Tour looked back at me with cool clear eyes, smiling half aloofly, a mere hint seornfully, in the presence of danger the true Frenchman is apt to smile. : don’ t think, Jean-Hervé-Marie- ” | reflected, “‘that you ever talked to the Germans exce pt with bombs! They probably got you, poor chap, and you're | lying buried somewhere, while the gossips make a holiday of the fact that you don’ t come home. Confound ‘current rumors’ anyhow, and yellow papers too ——” ™ beg your pardon,” said a low con- | tralto voice. The girl in the fur coat was standing at my shoulder. I turned, lifting my cap, wondering what under heaven she could | want. 1 was not much pleased, to tell the | truth—a goddess shouldn't step from her pedestal to chat with strangers. Then | ‘Would you lend me your paper,” was asking, suddenly I recognized a distinct oddness in her air. she “for just a moment? I haven't seen one since morning; the evening edi- tions were not out when I came on board.” Her manner was proud, spirited, gracious; she even smiled; but she was frightened. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I could read it in her slight pallor, in the quickening of her breath. My extra! What was there in the day’s news that could upset her? I was non- plused, but of course I at once extended the sheet. “‘Certainly!” I replied politely. “Pray keep it”—and lifting my cap a second time I turned to go. Her fingers touched my arm. “Wait! Please wait!” she was urging. There was a half-imperious, half-appealing note in her hushed voice. I stared. “I’m afraid,’ ” I said blankly, “that I don’t quite —— “Someone may seri Someone may come,” urged this most astonishing young woman. “Don’t you see that—that I’m trusting you to help me? Won’t you stay?” Wondering whether by any chance I looked as stunned as I felt, I bowed for- mally, faced about and waited, both arms on the rail. My ideas as to my companion had been revolutionized in sixty seconds. And then, beside me, the paper rustled. I heard a little gasp, a tiny low-drawn sigh. Stealing a glance down I saw the girl’s face shining whitely in the deck light. I had no idea of speaking, and yet I did speak. ‘I am afraid,’ I heard myself say- ing, ‘‘that you have had bad news.” he was struggling for self-control, but her voice wavered. ‘‘ Yes,’’ she agreed; “I am afraid I have.” “If there is anything I can do al was correct but reluctant. How I would bless her if she would go away! But she obviously did not intend to. Quite the contrary! “‘ There is something,” she was murmuring, “that would help me very much.” There, I had done it! I was an ass of the common or garden variety, who first resolved to keep out of a queer business and then, because a girl looked bothered, plunged into it up to my ears! I succeeded in hiding my feelings, in looking wooden. ‘Please tell me,” I responded, “what it is. “But—I can’t explain it.” Her gloved hands tightened on the railing. ‘And if I ask without explaining it will seem so—so strange.” Doubtless, I reflected grimly. But I had to see the thing thrcugh now. “That doesn’t matter at all,” I assured her civilly, through clenched teeth. She came closer, so close that her fur coat brushed me and her breath touched my cheek; and her eyes, like gray stars now that they were less anxious, went to my head a little, I suppose. “This paper,’”’ she whispered, holding out the sheet, ‘‘has something in it. It is not about me; it is not even true. But if it stays aboard the ship—if someone sees it— it may make trouble——- Oh, you see how it sounds; I knew you would think me mad!” “Not in the least.” “*T can’t destroy it myself,” she went on anxiously. ‘‘He—they—mustn’t see me do anything that might lead them to—to guess. But no one will think of you, nobody will be watching you; so, by and by, will you weight the paper with something heavy and drop it across the rail?”’ My head was whirling, but a graven image might have envied me my impassiv- ity. I bowed. “I shall be delighted, ~'e announced banally, “to do as you say. Her face flushed to a warm, wild-rose tint as she heard me promise it, and her red lips, parting, took ona tremuloussmile. “Thank you,” she murmured in frank gratitude. “I thought—J knew you would help me!” And she was gone. Resentfully I reminded myself that mysteries were suspicious; that honest people seldom had need of secrecy; that idiots who, like me, consented to act blind- fold would probably repent their blindness. Without further mental parley I went down to my cabin, where I routed out from among my traps a bronze paper weight as heavy as lead. Wrapping the mysterious sheet about it I brought the package back on deck. There was not a soul in sight; it was a propitious hour. To right and to left the coast lights were slipping past, making golden paths on the black water as our tug pulled us out to sea. The reservists down below were singing Fuori gli Stranieri. 1 dropped my package overboard, watched it vanish-—and turned, to behold the sphinxlike Van Blarcom, sprung up as if by magic, regardin placidly from the shelter of the smoking- room door. TO BE CONTINUED) January (12,1918 Off With One Hand Your thumb presses the button clasp and it comes off instantly. The Ivory Garter clasp has two great advantages— it holds tight and unhitches easily. (VOTH, is simplicity itself. It is a piece of good webbing held together with a non- metallic clasp. It is extremely light— has no pad—and doesn’t bind—a beauti- ful garter. Ask your dealer. Price 50c, 35c, 25¢ DEALERS. Order from your jobber or direct. Catalog including women’s gar- ters on request. Ivory Garter Co., Sete ' Mfrs. New Orleans, U.S New York Sales Office, 200 a Ave +1 DOWN FREE TRIAL No Games Like These! | In all this big, wide world, there are no more absorbingly interesting games than Billiards and Pool. Everybody plays, or wants to play—and everybody wants to play well. It's practice that perfects your game. For only a few cents a day, you can soon own your Billiard and Table Can be set on your 2 ning or library table or on its own legs or folding stand. No alr s ne ut up or down in a minut Sizes 4°, x9 ft. (standard). Prices of Tables $15 up s down Balls, cues, etc., free Home Billiard and P ol Tables ave welld-lanians They are splendidly built in every particular Many experts use them for home practice. Burrowes Regis High-Speed Rubber Cushions are the best made. Burrowes Tables are now on sale in many cities FREE TRIAL—\W: ite us for catalog (illustrated), ontaining free trial offer, price terms. rder blanks, etc THE E.T. SURROWES CO., 821 Center Street, Portland, Me. Also San Francisco and Los Angeles Offices REEU Your Good Complexion This rubber applicator, massage brush or The original Burr and towns beard softener removes wrinkles, keeps your skin clean, clear and in wonderfully healthy condition. Helps you retain a beautiful complexion. Used by thousands now Comes with either black or white handle. Price 25c. Postage prepaid. Independent Drag Co., 206 S. Wabash Ave., Chicego OSES of NEW CASTLE is the ticle of a beautiful book on the culture of roses and other plants; gives expert experience of alifetime. It'sfree. Exquisitely illustrated in natural colors; offers and tells how to grow these famous plants. Write for copy today HELLER BROS. CO., Box 110, New Castle, Ind. OUTHEERN Crops Bring Top Prices Today. The mild climate and long growing season on these Virginia and N. Carolina farms mean bigger crops and larger protitsfor you. Good fertile, well-wateredlanad $15 an acre up. Excellent for truck and general farming, poaltry, livestock, dairying, etc Details and copy Southern Homeseeker free—write today. F. H. LaBaume, Agri. Agt.. N. & W. Ry. 444 Arcade Bidg., Roanoke, Va.

Page 73

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST on = - soca as ss se eeciae: npaestets a - 4 SSAA ‘The Car Kor Economy NCONOMY has become the first of motor car virtues—all thoughtful people demand it. The new Grant Six is a larger and finer car than we have ever built before, yet we believe it the most economical six in existence because of its light weight and a degree of mechanical excellence which has never before been expected in a motor car of medium price. This new Grant Six will appeal not only to all buyers of moderate means but to all those who realize that extravagance is not in keeping with the spirit of the hour. Yet the buyer of this car is not asked to forego anything that contributes to motor car worth. The new Grant Six is both a large and beautiful car. Its high radiator and hood, long running board, raking windshield and well-formed fenders convey an instant impression of smart style and unusual size, But for the experienced buyer the chief interest will center in the powerful, flexible and remarkably quiet Grant Six engine. The superiority of the overhead-valve type of engine is generally recognized. Grant Sixes have been built around this type of engine for several seasons. In this new Grant Six the overhead-valve type engine includes many advanced features, notably the balanced crankshaft and forced feed oiling. In piston displacement and S. A. E. rated horsepower it is the largest overhead-valve engine used in any six-cylinder car of approximately equal price. To this remarkably efficient engine, and to the light and almost perfectly balanced car weight, is due the nationally famous Grant Six economy of fuel, oil and tires. While tests show very much higher figures we believe that owners will average in every-day use at least 20 miles to a gallon of gasoline and 900 miles to a gallon of oil. Beauty, economy, riding comfort—never before has a car of moderate price given so much of all these three as this new Grant Six. And when you remem- ber that its makers were the first firm in America to build a six selling under $1000 and that the 1917 model was the lowest priced six in the country, you will agree that when they turned their attention to the building of a larger and finer six than they had ever before built, they were well fitted to succeed. _Five-passenger touring car, $1055, with demount- able sedan top, $1350; Three-passenger roadster, $1055; live-passenger convertible sedan, $1595; Three-pas- senger convertible coupé, $1575. All prices f. 0. b. Cleveland. GRANT MOTOR CAR CORPORATION CLEVELAND EEE CORR ay LL OS TOTO TN ODODE aes SS i saciniiian SS SS

Page 74

THE SATURDA

Y EVENING POST When Steel meets Steel

FIVE U.S GALLONS NET L\YO) BIN WE US Paro OIL. IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE ) MEDIUM J ™ConPomay |

INDIAN R FINING Co.

i < Rub two highly polished bars of finest steel together. Without oil or with an inferior oil you will get friction. With a quality oil at the places of contact, you could rub till doomsday, but the bars would never wear out. The oil literally spreads a film between the places of contact and keeps the metal separated. A film of poor oil will break down and give friction its deadly chance. Chis is why you should see to it that the lubricating oil in your motor is a qual- ity oil, why you should use Havoline Oil. HAVOLINE OIL REG. U.S.PAT. OFF “It makes a difference’’ Your motor, bearings, and cylinder must be protected by oil that does not break— no matter what the weather or speed at which you drive, no matter how hot the engine becomes. You can depend upon Havoline. (here is no practical way to test motor oil unless you use it in your automobile. No ““free sample’’ will prove anything, except to the expert analytical chemist. But if the experience of a vast majority of the better class of car owners all over the country is worth anything, you can empty your crank-case today, clean it out with kerosene, buy a can of Havoline, fill up your motor, and start her run- ning. You'll be surprised at the new lease of life your good old car will take, running on Havoline. You may find it necessary to drive your present car next year, and the year after that. “The oil you use is important to the life of your car, whether you continue to drive it yourself or want a good price for it when you sell it or trade it in Havoline Oil comes in sealed containers, your guarantee of uniform quality. Havoline greases are compounded of Havoline Oil and pure, sweet tallow. Clean to handle and correct tn body 3 Indian Refining Company, New York , Incorporated / Producers and Refiners of Petroleum January 12,1918

Page 75

COMMODORE ERROLLI’S SUBSCRIPTION (Continued from Page 17) one of us would look at another and shake his head. We squinted our eyes at Pinker- ton and chuckled at Esterley when they tried to pretend that we might so much as move the old packet from her anchorage. Yet we went on with the work steadily. We cleaned the boilers and fished the boiler stays. We hammered the twisted grate bars into some semblance of their original form. We dredged the seepage and the dust out of the bunkers and cleaned the bilges. We scraped the decks and washed the wood- work. Out of our own stores we peevishly gave up to the commodore’s harsh demands treasures of rope, wire, paint, tar and canvas. Day after day we laboriously loaded coal sacks into the small boat and took them out and sweated them to the bunker hatches. We fetched fresh water by the cask and filled her tanks. We patched and spliced and cursed and blasphemed. We flattered our- selves that any minute we might quit and throw up our job. We laughed at the in- credible imbecility of our self-appointed task and winked when the commodore threatened us with penalties for slacking. It was a huge joke, this; a tremendous and uproarious prank. Yet, to our astonishment, the hour came when the Hampton Roads was ready for sea. Her ancient cable was buoyed and a fresh one lay faked on the forward deck. Her anchor was under her bow. A puff of steam feathered the top of her funnel and deep in her bowels shovels clanged and slice bars thumped. The last boat was coming off, laden with what we had hastily packed. The station was being abandoned to the astonished natives, at whom we goggled and chuckled, keeping from them the secret of the burlesque we presented to the serene sky. On the bridge the man we called—with our tongues in our cheeks Commodore Erroll strode back and forth, a tremendous hat on the back of his gray head, a square-skirted coat about his flabby waist, his bellowing tones conveying to us the necessity for haste and efficiency. Among us Esterley went about, calm and mysterious, giving his orders in a queer voice, affecting authority and competence. And we could imagine how the joke went below, where Pinkerton stood stripped to the skin under the rusty valves, his eye on the wavering needles of the gauges, waiting for the cracked gong to ring his tottering engines to their final task. “We'll catch the tide just right to fetch | us on the beach at Randall’s four hours from now,” Sam Todd murmured in my ear. ‘‘To-morrow morning we'll be back on Bothwell Beach writing home.” Above us the big whistle broke its silence THE SATURDAY EVENING POST of years in a hoarse and mournful call, | which echoed across the little bay and came back to us subdued and plangent. The commodore looked down on us and waved his arm. Esterley suddenly leaped into activity. His loud cry answered that ges- ture, interpreting it: ‘*Heave away, sir!” The winch stuttered, coughed and took hold. The cable rattled inboard. Esterley stood in the very bows and looked down anxiously, watching the shackles as they appeared. Suddenly he turned to us and said simply: *’Vast heaving!”’ He lifted his hand to his mouth and hailed the Old Man on the bridge. ‘‘All’s clear, sir!” he sang tune- fully. Somewhere in the hull of the Hampton Roads a gong sounded. The steamer drifted a little ahead, still answering the impetus given by her anchor. Then a rapid rum- bling shook the deck on which we stood, and there arose a soft murmur round the cut- water, of water rippling. Two slight, slim | lines traveled out to either side across the | smooth waters of the bay. The bows | | y de “Ie May be a Year Before We Get Another Maii,"* Sam Said Sullenty | Thread Limit Snap Gage. The screw should pass betweer upper points and hang on the lower 10.000 of an inch BSOLUTE accuracy of dimension in mak- ing machine parts is impossible—and un- necessary. Real efficiency means only such accuracy as the purpose demands. ‘To go de- Roller bearings, for instance, must be highly accurate. yond that point means waste. The axle of a farm wagon need be only approximate in size. As absolute accuracy is impossible, it is necessary to determine the permissible variation from a given size in machine parts. The great problem of American manufacturers is the production of machine parts in great quan- tities with accuracy-and-speed. They must establish interchangeability of parts, so that assembling, no matter where or by whom it is done, will be a The use of @T Gages means the parts will 47—that the loss of time standardized operation. ») Limit - ee ’, and profits, through even so small’’ a thing as an oversize screw, will be a thing of the past War has taught Europe a great manufacturing lesson. When hostilities started, she was in the main incapable of accurate quantity-production- with-speed. Now, three million workers in four thousand plants in England alone are turning out munitions, motors and other mechanical necessi- ties in tremendous volume, at a speed that is almost incredible. She has learned to use limit gages. If America is to meet European competition after the war, she must fight skill with skill. She, too, must learn the value of the limit gage. GTC Limit Gages protect you from loss through the screw which ‘“‘jams’’ and parts that won’t assem- ble. And, mark this well, the secret of ow assem- bling costs is found in the use of the limit gage. A boy can gage the product of an automatic machine at the rate of, say, several hundred an hour. ““Guess- ing it’s all right’’ can be stopped—and “Knowing it’s all right” can be made the order of the day. @©TO PRODUCTS Gages Reamers Grinder Taps Pipe Tools ( 1 Saw Sharpener Serew Threading D Lathes ( i S PI Screw Machine Phread la Greenfield Tap and Die Corporation Greenfield, Massachusetts, U.S. A. iy Gasca Accuracy — Standardization — Speed

Page 76

AreYou Hitting at Nothing? Herbert P. Mee, Material Accountant of the South ern Pacific Railroad at Los Angeles, California, aimed at nothing and hit it—unti/—but let him tell his story himself. is a b drifter, admiring succe wishing for better things to come, with no con ‘ ose better things were or how to pro I aimed at nothing and hit it performed each task that presented itself, did it fairly well and then lay back awaiting the mext task * spare time to build castles in Spain Paragraph One, Lesson One of your Course in Personal Efficiency started me to thinking This I have never ceased to do since. If the Course had done nothing else for me than this, it was well worth the price paid. But it did more As an immediate benefit, I have an increased capacity for work which my superiors were not slow to recognize, #0 that for the most part I am relieved of my old duties and assigned to much more important work L Young people who wish to get ahead, but don't know etter the why, the how or the way, can get the information very cheaply through this Course “Old people, given over to pessimism, loss of interest, > amd and with apparently wea jolt kened vitality and enthusiasm will get the of their life reading the Course through but once Is it skill you want? Efficiency taught the U.S. Navy to shoot 1200 times as well today as at Santiago. Is it money? Efficiency brought a great western railroad a million ar a a half in one year. Is it Economy? A California state fficial saved $2700 on one job after he had his third lesson of this course. Is it Education? A prominent man of Louisville, Ky., got his first big step that way from the first lesson of this course. Harrington Emerson acquired in practical work with many corporations of many kinds the knowledge and experience that enabled him to write thi s still the president of an Efficiency Company directing efficiency «rporations. In his work he had to teach and train many un me of whom today hold highly paid positions. He has thought che t forty years; he has taught it forthirty years; during twenty ars | You can learn an hour, two hours, slowly collected the data for this course. ye ve from the lessons of this course how you can save a dollar, two dollars out of each day and how you can make the day p Canes lay at the same time. You can study this course and make urself eficient in your own life in 15 minutes a day and for litek 1ore than one dollar a lesson FREE—This Book 20 Chapters —In Colors — Illustrated Ze Send for this book It contains the answer to the ever-pre sent question of how to take a “Short Cut to Success Some of ¢c of, Review the chapter se 0 . ZA rs What is Efficiency? For whom is Efficiency? How you are ¢ New York taught Efficiency. Are you ear ded or ey d? Find out y¢ what you are actual! oing — our time. Most failures are ~ due to guess work. ou use only half your power. To what do some men owe their success culture, Personal finances. |/ Mr. Emerson's message to you. c ¢ Send me free and without obligation on ¢ my part, your book “* Short Cut to Success,” also particulars about your Course in Efficie ency, There is no standing still in life are going backward will If you're not going forward, you , If Efficiency doesn't grow on you, ineffi- ¢ This course will send you forward to your goal—it will ¢ ae th on the shortest, quickest, easiest road to success. Send the Pa and “ Story of Emerson. coupon for information now-—today. It costs you nothing and may ¢ be the biggest thing you ever did in your life. ¢ Name REVIEW of REVIEWS CO., 30 Irving Place, N.Y. kD ¢ ¢ Address c OPY THIS SKETCH what you car Every Real Estate Trick EXPOSED Real Estate Men and In- vestors, help us elevate the Real Estate profession. Every trick and subterfuge practiced by the real estate shark is exposed in our publication. Every healthy and legitimate sale plan told. Become a realtor, don't remain an agent. Five big monthly issues will be sent you fof $1.00 currency, money crderorcheck. Oficial Organ of National Association of Real — Boards Money refu NationaiReal Estate Jourval, Dept S.E.P if not satistiec P- indianapolis lad The Cartounina, 143 4 Schoheld Bldg. C-veland,0 Paint Your Ford for $1.25 Think of it—only one coat of Glidden Auto Finish and you have a new looking car. You can easily do it yourself and in less than 48 hours you'll be driving again. You'll have a rich, brilliant finish that will give you lasting satisfaction Go to your regular dealer. If he cannot supply you, send $1.25 (Canadian Imperial Quart $1.50) for 1 quart of Auto Finish Black to—THE GLIDDEN CO., 1522 Berea Rd., Cleveland, Ohio. Canadian Address, Toronto, Ontario. Nole to Send at once for our Marketing Book of Glidden Auto Finishes. AUTO ms FINISHES Dealers b- tH SB EVENING POST swung slowly till they held in front of them the pass to the open sea. There they steadied. That night the last glimpse of land shut down behind us. The Hampton Roads was steaming into the East. Our jest had become earnest. For a week we made our slow progress across the world, lighted by the bright stars at night and scorched by the blazing sun in the day. The sea was like glass and lay in blinding sheets of azure to the sea line. The movement of the steamer was an almost imperceptible rise and fall; a sound- less lifting up on some huge, slow swell; a gradual letting down into a hollow whose slope was miles in length. The monotony of our routine was unbroken. We worked the period of our watch on deck, stopped at the sound of eight bells, and drowsed where we were, dazed by the tremendous adventure upon which we had embarked. The following week we roused ourselves a little. A fresh breeze shrilled in the rig- ging and a quick chop tossed our vessel in a lively manner. The commodore had fashioned us, by the mere force of taking us for granted, into an orderly crew. Our tasks were simple and we had learned them. The weariness drew out of our bones. We began to chaff each other, to appreciate the joke on ourselves. “Now what do you think of yourself?” Sam Todd would demand of each of us, twisting his face into a grimace expressive of great amusement; and we would toss our hands in an easy gesture of bravado, as much as to say “Oh, well! Who cares?” But one day he dropped down beside me and remarked soberly: “Has it come to your mind that when we land in San Francisco we shall have to do something?” “Do something?” I repe ated. “Yes,” he retorted—“‘make good. The commodore has put us in a nice hole. | We’ve got to play up to him when we reach | idly. | was dotty. the Coast. We've got to make good.” He was right, of course. I never was more provoked in my life. Here I was, steaming across the Pacific in a filthy old tub, carrying out a joke on an old man, and it might cost me my life in a trench in Europe! I cursed heartily. “There’s a chance,”’ Sam remarked stol- “Pinkerton happened to mention that this old packet is opening up like a sleazy handkerchief. In that case Thereafter I studied the weather anx- iously and found that I wasn’t alone in peering for signs of a change from the per- fection we enjoyed. I discovered Esterley craning his neck and staring into the depths or tilting backward to discern a speck in the sky. Pinkerton came up from his engines and scowled, smelling the breeze. It was, we silently agreed, incredible that so old and rotten a craft should survive to | accomplish the dream of a crazed dotard. There was no doubt that the commodore His ponderous manner, his solemnity, his careful observance of his ‘own dignity as commander, his meticulous Shooting of the sun at noon, and his care- fully planned observations of a star at night, showed that he took the whole business in earnest. To him the unsea- worthy old Hampton Roads was a full- powered and able steamship, swiftly going to her distant port; and we were youthful, ardent patriots hasting to the rescue of our stricken country. He was not aware that we were daily losing our speed, sinking a little deeper, edging a particle closer to the brink. We crossed the one hundred and eightieth meridian of longitude and dropped a day frorn the calendar. “Bang goes Thursday!”’ said Todd, roll- ing his eyes maliciously on us as we huddled in our damp bunks in the half deck. “ Yes- terday was Wednesday and to-day’s Friday. I'll bet we'll never see another Thursday either. That’s the commodore for you! To steal a whole day from us when we need all we can get!’ “Shut up!’’ Burton growled sullenly. “I took a peek at the glass a while back. It’s falling!” We lay in our bunks and studied the motion of the steamer anxiously. Was the sea rising? Had the wind increased? One of us hooked the door wide open so we could view the night sky. The stars shone mockingly in on us. We went to sleep with muttered imprecations. I was dragged from my bunk and slammed against the bulkhead by a ruffian whom I recognized as Esterley. “Wake up, you dummy!” he rasped. ‘All hands!” January 12,1918 We tumbled out and dashed on deck, and the gale took us by the throat. We could see nothing but a dark welter of smoking sea and wild sky. “Get along there!” bellowed Esterley. “Relash the anchor! Snug the boats in their slings!” We were obedient. And when the job was done we crawled back into shelter, angry and disturbed. ‘‘ What the deuce?” we seemed to demand of one another as we wrung out our clothes and sorted out our much-mixed belongings from the tangled mess underfoot. Daylight told us little more. The sea was blanketed with vapor, the sky was heavy with bulging clouds, and the wind screamed steadily in the rigging. Now and then the Hampton Roads would dip her bows into a hunching swell and fling tons of water back to roar along the decks. Again she would twist and lurch into a sud- den hollow with sickening irresponsibility. The engine-room men, coming off watch, glared at us out of their soot-rimmed eyes and muttered hoarsely of choking pumps and yielding boiler stays. Even Esterley, who had never since his appointment as mate so much as acknowledged he had once been our associate, condescended to drop a word about buckling beams. We knew, at last, that our adventure was nearing its tragic close. That day passed, and toward evening we began to look with some astonishment at the figure of the Old Man, who kept watch on the bridge. Someone said he hadn’t been down in twenty-four hours. Our native steward told us he had eaten nothing and drunk nothing. “‘Drat the man!” said Sam Todd through pallid lips. ‘‘He thinks he can save this bally old packet! D’y’ ever hear of such foolishness? Can’t he ever see a joke?” To our astonishment another morning dawned and we still lived. The commodore was still at his post, wrapped in a great coat, cap pulled down over his eyes, hands gripping the rail. Those of us who had stood a watch at the wheel remarked on his calm voice, which all through the night had rung down to us, telling us what the murk ahead held of menace and danger. “The old boy is a seaman of sorts,’ Burton acknowledged. “How he oe this old ark afloat is beyond me!” We spoke in whispers of the events we had witnessed that night, while the steamer plunged and careened and thudded her weary and er oe bows into the unceas- ing assaults of the seas. We were perfectly aware that sooner or later our vessel would give up and go down as simply as a stone; but it intrigued us to observe what the old fellow would do; how long he would main- tain his imperturbable dignity. Night came again and the tempest re- doubled its fury. The gale was now an incredible scream, high-pitched and pro- longed; the sea a mass of tumultuous and giddy crests. Each hour brought us closer to the end. The boats were racked away in flinders. The masts buckled and shredded in the collars of the stays. Below the en- gines barely turned, groaning and com- a: while the boilers seethed and ummed and the fires flared and smoldered in the vain endeavor to raise the pressure in the gauges. And above and below the encroaching water poured steadily and in- exorably, rising inch by inch above the floors, invading the bunkers, swishing over the plates, cascading down the frames. “The Old Man’s come off the bridge and 4g at the wheel himself,’’ Todd announced, jamming himself into the galley just ahead of a sweeping sea. “Just came down as cool as if he was invited to dinner and took the wheel without so much as by your leave!’"’ Presently he added, over his cof- fee tin: “He can steer.” “She’s riding easier, anyway. Burton. This was true. In an hour we knew the worst was over, so far as wind went. And the commodore’s miraculously sensitive hand on the wheel made little of the rising sea. Morning found us more cheerful. Only Pinkerton showed a morose face. The weather grew fair immediately, and by sundown we were steaming over a smooth surface, with only a tremendous swell to mark the gale that had passed. But we shook our heads at one another. There was no concealing the fact that the Hampton Roads had suffered mortal in- jury. She was afloat; her engines were turning over; she was progressing toward our destination. But in the depths we (Concluded on Page 77) said

Page 77

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Not an ldle Boast Buta FACT! All the news supplied by the Associated Press—the greatest news-gathering service of America. All the news supplied by the international organization of the London Times— the greatest news- gathering service of Europe. The corps of Public Ledger special correspondents in Paris, London, Rome, Petrograd, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Tokio, Honolulu. Salaried staff correspondents with the American Army and Navy in the war zone. Washington staff, containing Lincoln Colcord and other noted news writers. + Contributors such as Lieutenant Colonel Repington, Raymond G. Carroll, Sydney Brooks, James H. Collins and William H. Taft. On top of it all, an entirely separate organization gathering commercial and industrial news from all parts of the United States for the daily BUSINESS SECTION. All these together Give the Philadelphia PUBLIC :£*s LEDGER The World’s Greatest News Service To Other Advertisers: Immediate results are not expected from the national campaign of which this advertisement is a part. Time, as well as money, must be invested to compel public recognition | 4 Fd VA 4 of a product’s merit. Advertising now means orders later. Cyan A. i Outta ~

Page 78

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST = Universal One - J. Lawrence & Bro nw _ Bros., (ae Universal One Ton § as. Mc( “redie, Elgir — Ea You Can Now Get a Universal Smith Form-a-Truck For Any Make of Car Deliveries Now Being Made Universal Means: — —this Universal Smith Form-a-Truck will make any new or used automobile, with straight side channel- steel frame, with or without single or double drop, into a one or two ton motor truck chassis. —it answers your question of what to do with your used car—70% of all used cars are “second hand’”’ because of style, not by reason of mechanical decadence. —you know your old car is “right” but your family want appearance—they won’t ride in it. —you can’t get the price you know it is worth—but you can make it pay back the entire original cost and more. —sell it to your business—let it earn from five to seven and a half dollars a day net as a motor truck. —in five hours, by the watch, your used car is taken off your hands and your motor truck is running. —in two years’ service it pays for itself and your new car as well. — 30,000 owners have already proved that Smith Form-a-Truck gives ° ° ee . ° the highest truck efficiency and “the lowest hauling cost in the world,’’ —these owners all used Ford power plants. —today you can use any power plant. You know how good your power plant is. Put it at work. One-Ton Universal..............- $400 Two-Ton Universal. .............. 500 One-Ton Standard (for Ford Cars)... 350 Prices f. o. b. Chicago Write Us About Your Used Car January 12,1918 SMITH MOTOR TRUCK CORPORATION Michigan Avenue at Sixteenth Street, Chicago, Illinois Plant, Rock Islan

Page 79

(Concluded from Page 74) heard the clack of the overloaded pumps and knew the water was gaining. **Now isn’t it just like the commodore to quit and go to sleep?’’ Todd demanded of his world in an aggrieved voice. “‘Stays up for three days and nights; then says it’s fair weather and toddles off to bed like a man who’s done an honest day’s work, And here the miserable old tub’s sinking under our feet! What does he expect us to do? All our boats are gone. Expect us to find whales enough for so many Jonahs?”’ Yet, in spite of all our growling and scoff- ing, the Hampton Roads kept afloat. We crept onward hour by hour, interminably decrepit; our speed was a scant six knots an hour. The pumps clanked and thumped and clattered; the sea seeped in; the deck sank nearer the water; and we stood double watches till our eyes burned in their sockets with utter weariness and our muscles ached unendurably. We hated the Old Man, who, once more on the bridge, looked supercil- iously down on us and whipped us to our unspeakable and useless toil. In a week we made barely nine hundred miles. We were still two thousand from our port. We staggered about the decks and asked one another why we were such asses as to obey an insane old man who had got us into a pinch we’d never get out of. ‘Then a voice broke in on our self- consciousness. A steamer was in sight. Instantly we dropped everything and slapped our thighs. We were saved! An hour—two hours—and we'd be tucked up in snug berths in clean cabins on board a liner. The news reached the fireroom, and they came up with shouts. We stood along the bulwarks and peered under the sharp of our grimy hands at the distant bulk so rapidly approac hing. ‘China boat!” cried Todd at last. “I know her kind—Victoria to Hong-Kong direct, old sons! We'll be drinking good-by to the Hampton Roads in good liquor to- night.” But as we watched we saw that we had set no signals. The lot of us ran to the chart room to get the flags. We were met by the commodore, a revolver in each hand. His fiery eyes scorched us. Get below!” he roared. ‘All of you! I’ll run this part of the ship!” We started to expostulate. He drove us before him, careless of our curses, our prayers and our imprecations; huddled us into the engine-room entrance and down the greasy ladders. He slammed the big door on us, and Pinkerton snatched us to himself and imprisoned us in the fireroom. “Shovel coal, you sweeps!”’ he snarled. We raged helplessly. We set to work. We raised steam desperately, trying to blow up the boilers. We’d show him! The crazy fool! Instead, Pinkerton came in and smiled benignantly. “You've got the pumps to fete hing the water faster than it’s coming in,” he poe iy “We'll be doing nine knots if you keep on.” Sam Todd rolled his eyes. ‘‘Now what do you think of that?” demanded with acrimony. We didn’t think. Life had been snatched out of our grasp. We were in the midst of the ocean with a madman over us. We freshened the fires and grinned cunningly at the gauges. We'd blow the whole busi- ness to hell! I slept at last in a corner of the fireroom, my head in ashes. ‘Two days latér Esterley came down and said brusquely: ‘* You fools, behave yourselves now. Ondeck with you!” Will you believe it? We went sulkily, like children defrauded. Once more in the chill air, we stared at the Old Man on the bridge and shook our fists at him. “Drat him!” panted Todd, almost be- side himself. ‘‘He never knew we were going to blow him and his rotten old packet into the hereafter! What can you do with a fellow like that?”’ Two more days passed. We were nearing the American Coast. Afterall, we began to think we might make it! We planned the sinister things we should do to the commo- dore. “‘ Wait till we get him ashore!”’ said Todd mysteriously. But that night the Hampton Roads swam out of the darkness of a starless sea into a field of brilliant light. We stood and stared into the glare of that sudden search- light, which rested on us steadily, inclu- sively. In response to the loud gongs rung in the engine room the steamer ceased to struggle ahead. She drifted slowly before the slow seas, always.in the glare. Then a leaned on his shovel and he THE SATURDAY glistening dark shadow moved close to us, taking shape as a destroyer. The Hampton Roads ceased to move through the water. “Who are you?” voice from the imperious newcomer. Above us the commodore’s voice rang out in reply: “American steamer Hampton Roads; Bothwell Beach to San Francisco, sir.” We heard a muttered chuckle from the destroyer. Someone was highly amused at our appearance. Then the same voice spoke again: “You're in trouble, captain? You seem to be deep in the water.” “Who are you?” demanded the commo- dore calmly. “United States patrol boat,” was the answer. “‘ What can I do for you, captain?” We peered up at our bridge. The com- modore seemed at a loss. We raised our voices in a chorus of pleading. He an- swered by speaking to the destroyer: “Will you send a boat over, sir? are all gone.” Immediately a boat swept out from the shadow of the patrol vessel and into the glare in which we floated. It slipped along- side, and an officer leaped over our low rail, nodded to Esterley, and went straight to the bridge ladder. We heard him greet the commodore and say: “What can we do for you, sir? Old Erroll came to the rail and looked down on us. We saw his face white in the searching flame. His voice was clear and steady: “T have come from Bothwell Beach, down in the South Pacific, to bring up a subscription to the American Govern- ment’s war loan. You will please explain to your superiors that I did my best under the circumstances. My vessel is—-er-—-old; sinking, in fact. I hope it may not be mis- understood—my doing no more. But it seems that all I can do is to subscribe at this time.” The eyes of all of us were fixed on the old commodore. He seemed to be slowly subsiding to the bridge deck. His voice was growing weaker, his utterance less dis- tinct. The youthful officer was puzzled. “Subscribe, sir?” he repeated. ‘I don’t understand.” He turned a quick, curious glance down on us. Sam Todd met that look defiantly, rolling his eyes in their dark sockets. *“Now what do you think of that?”’ said clearly. ‘‘Of course the Old Man sub- scribed! Here’s his subscription, down here— eight of us.” The Hampton Roads dipped her bows deeply and we saw the figure of the commo- dore sink to the bridge. He lay there, his white face upturned in the glare of the searchlight, the officer kneeling by him. Then the officer rose and looked down on us again. “The captain here is dead, I’m afraid,” he said. The steamer again dipped her bows; did not lift them; lay over slowly. The officer glanced hastily round and leaped down among us “My word!” work there, boys!” We tumbled into the destroyer’s boat without a backward glance and its crew pulled away desperately as the Hampton Roads boiled downward. The destroyer loomed above us; and a moment later we were on her decks. We turned quickly and starea Gut into the path of the searchlight. We saw nothing but a field of foam. Round us the crew of the warship rustled sympa- the tic ally. ‘There goes our Old Man! Esterley said in a chokea voice, and hie one arm across my shoulder. We clipped off our caps and bowed our heads. Then the deck of the destroyer surged to the thrust of her tremendous en- gines and we were swung off into the dark- ness. ‘Too bad!’’ murmured Pinkerton. ‘‘ He ought to have lived to do what he hoped to do. Dear old commodore!” ““Dratted old commodore!” cried Sam with a sob. “Do what he hoped to do! Hasn’t he taken down with him our four thousand dollars we got together to sub- Mine ” he breathed. “Quick scribe? Now we've got nothing— except to volunteer and fight.” He put his head shamelessly on my An officer appeared, “Now we'll fix shoulder and wept. compassionately solicitous. up you men as comfortably Sam raised his twisted dirty face. brought his hand up to salute: “Eight men, sir. Ready to enlist!” He cried an authoritative | he | EVENING POST Two Eggs Ten Big Dishes of Quaker Oats Here are facts to ponder in the days of high food cost. Two eggs contain about the nutrition Quaker Oats. Yet two eggs cost as much as ten big dishes. So with many foods. per unit of food value: in calories same a dish of as Here is what some cost, compared with Quaker Oats, Bacon and eggs costs 7 times as much as Quaker Oats. Ham and eggs 7 times as much. Round Steak 9 times as much. Chicken 20 times as much. Bread about twice as much. The reasons are these: Oats are plentiful and cheap. They sell today around 60 cents per bushel. They vield in food value 1810 calories per pound That's considerably more than wheat. Oats stand first among grain foods in flavor and nutrition. As energy food and food for growth, they have an age-old fame Make the Mix Quaker Oats in your flour foods to conserve our wheat. meer Oats The Supreme Oat Dainty Serve bigger dishes. whole breakfast on oats. for extra flavor, for lower cost, and Neverw at food soimportant. And never but ten pounds from a busiel. did it mean so much to get this extra grade cost yextr ! Ask r th ' la iker Oats is made of Queen oats on! note what it ad flavor —« r her t t rich, plump, flavory oat We get ise it 12c and 30¢ per package in United States and Canada, except in far West and South where high freights may prohibit Quaker Oats Muffins a « uncooked Quaker Oat 1 ips fi 1 cur scalded mi Ik, 1 egg, 4 level tea Quaker Oats Sweetbits The Oat Macaroon poons baking powe der. 2 tables spoons melted butter tea alt, 3 tablespoons sugar lurn ‘ milk on Quaker Oats, let stand ‘ five minute add sugar, salt and melted butter ft in flour and baking powder mix thoroughl and add egg well beaten. Bake in buttered ger 5 Quaker Oats Pancakes 2 cups Quaker Oats (uncooked), 1 flour ~~ visit 1 teaspoon t 1 teaspoon soda, di ed in , , tablespoons hot water I teaspoon bak ng 1 wder aker ¢ ix in the flour), 2'y cups sour milk or ermilk oe rn" aten lightly, 1 tablespoon sugar, 1 tablespoons melted butter according the Cream but und gar Add k ‘ ness of the milk Add Quaker Oat » whicl aking powd Process: Soak Quaker Oats over night in milk been added ad add vanilla In the morning mix and sift flour, soda igar and t ind a I yr salt add this to Quaker Oats mixture add mel | ispoon t fe butter; add eggs beaten lightly — beat thoroughly Bake in slo € and cook as griddle cakes sian sa All at the Cost of

Page 80

78 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE RUSSIAN ARMIES IN REVOLT (Continued from Page 7) —So Easy Now to Clean Spark Plugs Just half fill the tube of the Cleaner with gasoline, the plug and shake. Little flying needles, loose in the tube, which the sotten. ga soline screw in pick off the carbon serves to And in a jiffy, without even soiling your hz ands, any spark plug may be cleaned much more thoroughly than in the old, borious way. You don't even take the spark plug apart. The Champion Minute Spark Plug Cleaner comes in a neat wooden box that fits nicely into your tool case. It costs only for sale by 75 cents and is all gars igemen and dealers in auto supplies. Get yours today. Champion Spark Plug Co. Toledo, Ohio anaes ’ MA You owe it to your FREE THE BOYS GAZINE. boy's mental, moral and physical development to send today for a free copy of The Boys’ Magazine. Full of clean, inspiring stories and wee ecial departments devoted to every subject of interest » boys. Beautifully printed and illustrated. Address The Beott FP. Redfield Co, 1725 Main St, Smethport, Pa. hundreds of Ideas Wanted, etc. Owen, Patent Lawyer, or 2276T Woolworth Bidg., New B. D. C., Patent your Invention—I'll help market it. Send for 4 Free Guide Books with list of Patent ba ers, Advice Free. Richard 33 Owen Bid “ resninaten, ork. ‘BANKING BY MAIL AT 4% |NTEREST UR PLAN of receiving deposits by mail assures safety for your money, privacy and 4% interest. It brings the service of this large, safe bank right into your home. Write today for full information—Ask for free booklet “M.” THE CITIZENS = AN SS & TRUST CO. CLEVELAND, OHIO PTT Tia over CAPITAL & SURPLUS $8.¢ 000,000.00 MILLION DOLLAR met. 5 cents the copy The farmer must have volunteers or con- scripts to grow world-feeding crops this year. Help Wanted! By John E. Pickett, tells how the demand will be Out today. THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN $1.75 the year in Canada THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA, PENNA. $1 the year | tensive. | build up our discipline. | dous applause, |} notion go the more problems they must face, and with the responsibility they grow more moderate in tone—until they seem too moderate to the fellows at the bottom; and then new agitators come climbing up to push them out. It is like a herd of buffaloes out there on your American plains: The lean starved animals make a rush and so push out to the front of the herd; there they find rich grass to eat, and so they soon ow sluggish—until more lean beasts from behind come rushing on and shove them out. “T remember one big meeting we had of a special army congress, called to decide upon whether or not to restore the death nalty. It was ina railroad station with a uge arched roof of steel. The place was packed with soldiers, sixteen thousand del- egates; and often it seemed to shake with the roar of cheers or angry voices. I was the presiding officer and I found it hard to hold them down. I recognized speakers on both sides; but all through the crowd were the Bolsheviki, who knew I was against them. They kept sending up to me letters threatening me with death. At last one note was handed up on which had been scribbled: ‘If you don’t let me speak in five minutes I will shoot you from where I stand!’ “To this the soldier’s name was signed. I summoned him to the platform, and then I read his note aloud. The chap was beam- ing with delight, because he thought he had me bluffed. But I said: ‘I have brought you up here to tell you that you cannot speak, my boy! Now begin to kill me!’ After that the poor devil was nearly mobbed. I then announced to the whole crowd that after the meeting I should walk back to my quarters along a certain road, in order to give a fair chance to all those who wished to take part in the shooting. The result of the long discussion was that we voted for the death penalty. But the faction against it was so strong that they have made trouble ever since. The question is far from settled yet. ** And soit was with Korniloff’s command that no army orders from now on should be discussed in the lower committees, but only | at a congress representing the whole army. The army committee approved of this, but we have not yet been able to bring the whole mass into line. “The real test of our new discipline came with the order for an advance. Two weeks ago our army congress voted for an offen- sive, and then at once came the tussle to get the mass of troops to agree. We worked literally day and night; and when the time came it seemed, at first, as though we had succeeded. When the first line went over the top they ran forward at such a pace I had all I could do to keep up with my men. We took two lines of trenches and at some points even three, advancing for three miles in all. But then was shown our weakness. | For the first line had been composed of the minority, whom we could trust. The sec- ond line, thrown into disorder by shells from enemy batteries, refused to advance. So we waited out there all day and all night, and then were driven slowly back.” Committee Rule “We had learned our lesson. The mass of our army was not yet ready for an of- And so, in the two weeks since then, we have simply tried to hold our line as best we can, and meantime continue to It is hard to see ahead these days; but at least we know we have made a start. “As to our higher officers, we have of course removed all those who would sup- port the Old Régime; but this has not meant deposing every general who is con- servative. For myself, when I hear a gen- eral addressing the soldiers loudly in favor of the Revolution, and so receiving tremen- I at once get an uneasy first, that he is not a real fighter; and second, that he is not sincere and may | soon be shouting as loudly against the Rev- | applause, because he is so eloquent. olution, and possibly winning as great We | want blunt leaders, men who are fighters and do not care to interfere with politics. | We want such men to have control in mat- ters of army strategy; but, on the other hand, I am sure the troops could not be held together without the committees we have formed. The committees are needed con- stantly to explain all orders to the men, and * ‘We won’t help you January 12,1918 so to act as go-betweens between them and their officers. “The Russian soldier is like a child. It is hard to say which way he will turn before all this is over. But, no matter to what ex- césses he may go in the next few months, if he ever gets into as big a mess as there was in those early days last spring I think he will turn back to us. In my regiment, at the start, the soldiers came to me and said: “Where are we going to get the grub? How ought we to organize? You know all about such things. Help us get this started.’ And so they made me chairman of their regi- ment’s committee. When they found they could trust me there they sent me up to the army committee; and from there they sent me here. And here, in the All-Russian Council of Workmen's and Soldiers’ Depu- ties, one-third of the soldier deputies wear on their breasts the white cross of the uni- versity graduate.” I was given a third view of conditions at the Front by a man in the ranks. In Petro- grad one afternoon, coming into the Tauride Palace, headquarters of the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Deputies, and making my way through a dense crowd of soldiers who were loudly arguing, I went into an inner room; and there I talked with a tough little man who was dressed in an old brown uniform, worn threadbare, patched and covered with stains. He had a red, round, determined face and wore glasses over small twinkling eyes. He had been in America two years and he spoke broken English earnestly. Spy Work in the Army On his own story he did not dwell. In 1905, a boy of twenty, he took part in that first revolution; and later, when it was put down, with several hundred thousand others he was sent to Siberia. From there he escaped through China and went to San Francisco. For a year he worked in Mon- tana mines and later drifted to New York. When the Revolution broke out he started at once for Russia. Arriving there and learning of the chaos in the army, he en- listed as a volunteer. He was soon at the Front; and, working his way into the confi- dence of the men, he became one of the many speakers who, under the control of the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ De put 5 endeavored to restore the morale. “‘We knew it would be very bad,” he said, “for Russia to drop out of the war if Germany came out on top. So we have gone the limit to make our fellows under- stand. I have been on the Riga Front. When I went there first it was a mob. The soldiers were abolishing almost every law in sight. At first they were all talking in crowds; but then they chose committees and things got a little better. When officers gave small orders now, most of the soldiers would obey; but if there was any order to fight, the deputies must meet and decide. Things got better; then they got worse. The higher officers were the limit. They said -it’sno use!’ Most of the under officers helped, but even then it was no cinch “On the Riga Front it was like this: First, there were honest-to-God Bolsheviki who wanted peace and a big revolution quit fighting and make a new Russia right off. They said to our fellows: ‘This war would be over to-night at six-thirty if it weren't for England!’ They said Kerensky had sold out to the bourgeois English Gov- ernment, which would not give up German colonies and wanted things all her own way in the East. They said: ‘No rich bourgeois are your allies, no matter where. This Revo- lution is going all wrong. You did it—now they take it away. So go back and take Russia for yourselves. Then the German soldiers will do the same, and in a few weeks it will be like that all over Europe.’ “Well, with these honest-to-God Bolshev- iki were German spies who sneaked round and from the German trenches wooden guns shot bundles of papers across to our fellows. And the Germans talked like this: “We want peace—we ain’t got any scrap with you. Go on back to your homes and we'll go back to ours. We're dead sick of this war—it’s for nothing now except for the bourgeois in England. Y our new gov- ernment does what London says.’ “And the counter-revolutionists handed out the same line of talk. ‘This disorder is (Continued on Page 81)

Page 81

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 54 Men.in one organization are frainin§ for bigger responsibilities The Robbins & Myers Company, Springfield, Ohio, is the world’s largest exclusive manufacturer of electric fans and small motors. In this organization, fifty-four men are enrolled in the Alexander Hamilton Institute. The number includes the Vice-Pres- ident and General Manager, the Treas- urer, Secretary, Superintendents, as well as younger men. Every man of the fifty-four in this progressive organization enrolled with a definite object in mind to better himself and his condition by broadening his business vision. Training for success in business They enrolled because they appreciate that the one best and most practical way to do this is to get a grasp of the basic principles of to acquire a definite knowledge of business the fundamentals upon which all successful businesses are based. The Department Heads—thru the very fact of their being heads—appreciate the necessity for this mine of business informa- tion for the successful conduct of their executive positions. The assistants and younger men realize that promotion comes only with preparation. They are getting the training which will be the all-important factor when the oppor- tunity for promotion comes. Wherever the wheel of business turns — the need is great This opportunity exists in every organiza- tion just the same as in the Robbins & Myers Company. It is a measure to be reckoned with by every man and concern in business. The war is bringing these opportunities in more organizations ‘and with greater fre- quency than the business world has ever known before. You men who head businesses—when the time comes for a shift in your personnel, will there be inconvenience and lost motion due to inability to find the right man for the right job? Or, will you be able to place your hands on several of your own men, any one of whom you know to be prepared? The more men who know business funda- mentals you have at your beck and call, the quicker the adjustment—the less lost mo- tion—the less “ breaking in” and consequent interruption in production and routine. Whether you make motors or mousetraps the same fundamental principles form the frame-work of your business structure. The same need is there for the mastery of these fundamentals to maintain that structure and to insure its growth. And you younger men who are looking ahead. When the shift comes will you go up, stand still, or down? If you know business fundamentals, there can be but one direction for you to move. No man today need worry if he is prepared with a sound knowledge of business principles. Get the facts — then go ahead The sooner you start your training, the sooner you are fortified with a business capital which puts doubt behind you—and which, once acquired, is yours for all time. The Alexander Hamilton Institute offers you a thoro and sound training in the funda- mental principles that operate and regulate all departments of business. It brings to you in the most convenient, easily readable form, exactly those business facts which enable you to stand on your own business feet, and which equip you for the bigger job ahead. 65,000 live-wire business men are now profiting by this short-cut method to busi- ness knowledge. You owe it to yourself to join this army of ambitious men who have so enrolled. This step will be just as valuable and bene- ficial to you as it has been to all of these other able and progressive men. Presidents of big corporations are often enrolled for the Modern Business Course and Service along with ambitious young men in their employ. The kind of men enrolled Among the 65,000 subscribers are such men as A. T. Hardin, Vice President of the New York Central lines; E. R. Behrend, President of the Hammermill Paper Com- pany; N. A. Hawkins, Manager of Sales, Kord Motor Company; William C. D'Arcy President of the Associated Advertising Clubs of the World; Melville W. Mix, President of the Dodge Mfg. Company, and scores of others equally prominent. In the Standard Oil Company 291 men are enrolled in the Alexander Hamilton Institute; in the United States Steel Corporation, 450; in the National Cash Register Company, 194; in the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, 108; in the General Electric Company, 300 and so on down the list of the biggest con- cerns in America. Advisory Council Business and educational authority of the highe t standir g£ represented in the Advisory Council of the Institute. Vhis Council includes Frank A. Vanderlip, President of the National City Bank of New York; Judge E. H. Gary, head of the United States Steel Corporation; John Hays Hammond, the eminent engineer; Jeremiah W. Jenks, tl statistician and economist, and Joseph French Johnson, Dean of the New York University School of Commerce. Get further information A careful reading of the interesting 112-page book, **Forgimg Ahead in Business,’’ will show you how to pre pare for the increasing number of business opportunities that are bound to come during the next few years. Every man and woman with either a business or a career to guide to bigger, surer success, should read this book Simply fill out and send the coupon below. . . \ Alexander Hamilton Institute he ) 28 Astor Place - New York City Send me ‘FORGING AHEAD IN BUSINESS’’—FRE1 Name Bu ine Addre Busines Positior ac A

Page 82

80 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 — er. ee ed ; ae -‘MELEONE BRACKER - | ae Copyright 1918, Liggett & Myers Tobacco Co. y? face is shore familiar— Like a man I uster know— I declar’ now, Mr. Snow Man, Ain’t we met somewhar’ befo’? Glad you'll join me in a pipeful; Don’t it do a feller good Just to smell this here tobacco That’s been agein’ in the wood? An’ to smoke it—bless yo’ buttons! Starts a mellow kind of glow That makes good friends of strangers An’ can warm a heart of snow. Yatiat Jor And to Smoke VELVET— There’s where you discover VELVET’S goodness. Mildness, mellowness, smoothness, coolness and hearty flavor are all in VELVET, ps) —put there by Mother Nature through two ve 10c tins years of slow ageing in wooden hogsheads. os op. A pipeful in the office, at home, on the street humider or out skating—anyway, anywhere you'll find Velvet Joc's Almanac for the year WET: WET the smoothest smoking tobacco. y "y wr to Mm 2 > and he will mail it to you ~

Page 83

(Continued from Page 78) bad,’ they said; ‘it’s bad! The Old Régime was better for you—it would have made peace this summer. But your new free government is getting you killed for Eng- land. A hell of a government that is! Come on, boys—back to the Czar!’ “We were up against all this line of talk, and the Bolsheviki papers were handed round by millions. Kerensky now has shut them off; but all the things they said and wrote have stuck in the minds of the sol- diers. ‘The fellows are tired—they are tired! They have had three years of it and they want to go home. We work and work; but it’s a slow job. I tell it to you for a fact on the Riga Front the discipline is worse than it was two months ago.” He was to start back at eleven that night on a train so packed with troops that if he got a seat he would be lucky. The next day he had to make speeches to two divisions of soldiers who had refused the week before to go back to the trenches. I tried to get some ay om of the strange turbulent life he had led for two months, day and night, always moving about, getting snatches of sleep in crowded trains or in automobiles, forever facing hostile crowds. Teaching by Word of Mouth “Oh, yes; I go,”’ he told me. “I go to base towns and talk to the boys, or out to the Front and get together the fellows who are in the reserves. I talk to two hundred or to five thousand. No difference—it's al- ways the same; they never like to hear me. I am no fool; so I learn how to say a few nice things to make them feel good, and then they often cheer me. But the minute I get to the word fight, right away they begin to shout at me. Other soldiers jump up from the crowd and begin to talk against me. Then they all get into bunches and everyone talks. Often they won’t let me talk at ali. They say: ‘If you talk we will oy you!’ I call the bluff—get away with but that’s all the good it does. «One crowd of fellows shouted: ‘We don’t want you to talk to us! We want you to fight with us! You are coming to the trenches, my boy!’ More of their bluff. But I spit and say: ‘Hell, yes! Sure, I'll come!’ So I go out to the front line. There was not much fighting—only a little. I was there ten days and between shots I talked right along. I said we must keep in the war till we had the Kaiser asking for a job in the subway in Berlin. And after three days and nights of this talk some of the fellows changed their minds. I had them where I wanted them. But then the Regimental Committee kept me in one company. They said to themselves: ‘This guy is a bug he’s a disease! We must keep him in one place or he'll spread!’ So they kept me there for quite a few days. Then I got one of the fellows to send for me a telegram up here to the council—and back came a wire and I was let go. I went on about my busi- ness. “But it’s bad business, all the same. Any minute the fellows may go home. Will they fight through the winter? There ain’t a chance! I tell you these. boys are tired. They are tired! They have fought three years—they don’t know what about; so they want to go home. The only way that I can see how they will ever fight again is some very big dange r to Russia.” In addition to such men in the army, Kerensky had enlisted the support and co- operation of many groups and organiza- tions that were working for the war. The leading spirit in one of these was from Mos- cow—‘‘a man of the Moscow type,” as I heard him called by Russians. It meant that he was the practical kind. Of medium height and build, he had alert and vigorous eyes. He wore glasses; and he had black hair and a small mustache. He spoke al- most perfect English, with a rapid nervous force, for an hour or more one evening over tea and cigarettes. Here, in brief, is what he said: ““When the war broke out I offered my- self as a volunteer, but was refused on ac- count of my eyes. So I started organizing the work of receiving our exchanged pris- oners who came back home from Ger- many. Tens of thousands came through our hands, many of them in bad condition ragged, crippled, sick anddying. There were also those who had escaped. In the three years before the Revolution nearly fifteen thousand had escaped from Germany. And these chaps appealed to me. Most of them had come from the farms and the factories THE SATURDAY and mines where the Germans work their prisoners. To escape from such places and | to make one’s way across Germany and get home a man has to take his life in his hands. And fifteen thousand got away! “Then came the Revolution and the | | troubles in the army. And that gave me | my idea. To talk to those shouting, muti- nous soldiers you need a man of unlimited nerve and quick thinking. I said to myself: ‘My escaped prisoners are such men; for to escape from Germany a man must think quick what he has to do each minute in the day and night.’ So I started on my plan. | Since the Revolution began eleven hundred such men have escaped; and I organized them as fast as they came. We formed a special committee and got permits from the Council Staff to let them all go down to the Front and talk to the soldiers—for two months; only two months, because, unless he is trained to the job, a man’s voice and his ideas give out after that much talking. “Well, for two months I had each man go along the lines telling the soldiers that this idea of Germans being their brothers was all rot. They described the German brutality and the tyranny of their system both in the army and all through the land. They said: ‘The German Government’s system is bad. for the world and must be fought until its sharp teeth are all pulled out. Not till then has Russia a chance to be free. The Kaiser will never leave us in peace. He talks lies to you now, so that you will stand off and let him defeat all your allies. But then he will turn his armies on you! And so, tovarisch, this is the truth. We know it is not a pleasure to die; we know because we have been near to death; we are not soft gentlemen, talk- ing to you. But we say you must do as we have done—make war upon the Kaiser!’ “Well, so they have talked; and their work has been hard. You Americans should understand that the Russian soldier is as brave as any soldier on the earth; but all men are human, and in no army will many men die unless there is iron discipline. And to restore that takes time—and more time. We keep three hundred speakers always at the Front, and we back them up with leaf- lets—about five hundred thousand in all giving the facts-—plain, ugly and bare: the testimony of prisoners as to the conditions in the German prison camps and in the fac- tories and mines where our fellows are worked to death.” | nothing to worry you. The Commercial Invasion ““Wekeep three hundred men at the Front and the remaining eight hundred in their homes; for as soon as one of our men at the Front gets all worn out with speaking we send him back to his village to rest. And we say to him: ‘You have learned not only the bad in the Germans but also the good their strong points, their up-to-date meth- | ods and technical skill on their farms, in their factories, mills and mines. You have had a chance to see just the things that make Germany strong against Russia. You must talk of that in the villages. For all you have learned is just what we need to defeat the Germans later on. For the Ger- mans will try to conquer us in commerce, make us buy their goods and remain as we are, a nation of ignorant peasants!’ “And our men are talking like this in small villages all over Russia. Their letters pour in from everywhere, telling me how they are teaching their friends the real strength of the Kaiser. ‘And this teaching is quite as important as the talking they do at the Front. For when the war is over, America and the Allies on one side and Germany on the other will contend for a Russian alliance. And the Germans will make a shrewd, clever propaganda here. Secretly they will start schools all over Russia—‘ Russian schools’—but they will be German! ‘Russian newspapers’—Ger- man newspapers! ‘‘Twenty years ago French was spoken here three times as much as German, but now German is spoken more than French. How was that done? By accident? No. With the Germans there are no acci- dents. It was the effect of their careful plan to control Russia’s destiny. More Germans can speak Russian to-day than all other for- eigners combined; and still more will learn Russian and will come here, to teach and preach and write their Kultur—and to sell their goods; to sell so cheap that our people will give in and buy. **So you should win our friendship now. I do not want to say this as a threat. I speak as I do because I myself am so eager EVENING POST hy Live An nferior Life? I know that I can easily, quickly and positively prove to you that you are only half as alive as you must be to realize the joys and benefits of living in full; and that you are only half as well as you should be, half as vigorous as ONSCIO of Cc Us &p 81 you can be, half as ambitious as you may be, and only half as well developed as you ought to be. 4E fact is that no matter who you are, whether you are young or old, weak or strong, rich or poor, I can prove to you readily by demonstration that you are leading an inferior life, and I want the opportunity to show you the way in which you may completely and easily, without inconvenience or loss of time, come in possession of new life, vigor, energy, development and a higher realiza- tion of life and success. Become Su Other The Swoboda System can make a better human being of you physically, mentally and in every way. The Swoboda System can do more for you than you can imagine. It can so vitalize every organ, tissue and cell of your body as to make the mere act of living a joy. It can give you an intense, thrilling and pulsating nature. It can increase your very life. I not only promise it, I guarantee it. My guarantee is un- usual, startling, specific, positive and ab- solutely fraud-proof. WHY TAKE LESS THAN YOUR FULL SHARE OF LIFE AND PLEASURE? Are you living a full and successful life> Why not always be at your best —thor- oughly well, virile, energetic? Why not invest in yourself and make the most of your every opportunity? It is easy when you know how. The Swoboda System points the way. It requires no drugs, no appliances, no dieting, no study, no loss of time, no special bathing; there is It gives ideal mental and physical conditions without inconvenience or trouble. YOUR EARNING POWER your success, depend entirely upon your energy, health, vitality, memory and will power. With- out these, all knowledge becomes of small value, for it cannot be put into active use. The Swoboda System can make you tireless, improve your memory, intensify your will power, and make you physically just as you ought to be This New Copyrighted Book is Free Swoboda has written a wonderful explanation of the haman body and its evolution. This book explains Conscious Evolution and the human body as it has never been explained before. It explains the Swoboda theory and laws of mind and body. It startles, 5 epee and enlightens. It explains as never before the reason for the evo- lution of the mind and body. It tells how the cells and their energies build the organs and the body, and it tells how to organize the cells beyond the point where nature left off for you. It will give you a better understanding of yourself than you could obtain through reading all of the ks of science and philosophy on , subject of the body and mind, because it explains principles that have never before been explained by scientists or phil rs. Iti ble to duplicate elsewhere the information it gives, and the value of the information is beyond estimate. Swoboda has written a simple, bat the first really scientific and philosophical explanation of the actual evolutionary cause of old age. is essay is a classic. It will stand for all time throughout all ages as the first basic and real analysis of evolution and ageing of the cells of the human body. It explains the psychological and evolution- ary errors and elements involved in the production of ageing. Without being compelled to study text books on psychology, philosophy, biology, histology, etc., you will through reading this brief analysis learn fully what is nature, when is natare not nature, what is the cause of growth, maturity, evolution and decay la has the happ faculty of being able to put a whole science into a ene popen t few words. This essay will interest not only mex and women who are merely interested in avoiding the nightmare of old age, and those who realize consciously that they are growing older in ey but it will also interest the scientist, the philosopher, the psychologist, as well as the pure ponds Ae on the subject of life. | predict that every man and woman will read this work and profit by it. it is the A, B,C of perpetual youth. It will mean astonishment to the scientist. It brings confusion to those who practice self-deception. It brings embarrassment to those who believe old age necessary. It seems bold, but this is only the effect of misconceptions concerning the necessity of old age. rior to Swoboda System Swoboda Has Over 260,000 Followers! 25,000 in New York 1,200 in Cincinnati 14,000 in a a 2,000 in Los Angeles 15,000 in Philadelphia 1,000 in Washington in Boston . D.C ” 5,000 in Pittsburgh 25,000 in England 4,000 in St. Louis 800 in Cleveland 162,000 in other places Total—262,000 Men and Women F. W. Vanderbilt W.R. Pearst Percy A. Rockefeller Oscar Straus Prank A Vanderilp harles Evans Hughes \ \ ee ea Bis =o ty —the pursuit of perpetual youth—has always been ¢ The Fountain of Youth very alluring, but here we have a guide to its ; source. No intelligent human being will need coaxing to drink of this fountain, for its ¢ spirit gives life, — arrests decay and destroys the nightmare of old age - agg af youth will mean io the human race more than is in the power of any human being to 1 / estimate. Imagine what it will mean to double, triple, or even quadruple the pcg Pe RS of human life and multiply human energy. | You owe yourself a reading of this essay on the Swaboda philosophy and a eS science. It will put you favorably in touch and in harmony with your Ps se 4 e; creative forces. You will harness them, capitalize them, and employ © ' 9” them. The resalt will amaze you. This essay which Swoboda has ¢ é The written and copyrighted will be sent to you free of day and free Ps roa rs . of all obligations to la, if you will write for it. Just write ae 2 4 Swoboda your name and address on this page, tear it out and mail it to os e. Sweboda, or draw a ring around your name on your letier- , Vv + System head, or merely send a postal, giving your name an P \ aioe is as address. Do it today. Read it, and learn how to be , ¢ . aw perpetually young, for you cannot afford to live an fa ev . “ te Effective h inferior life and to grow old. Address 2 XP ° for / f Wome ¢ (\ Alois P. Swoboda ,-’ e 3 asfor = SJ 2089 Berkeley Building ? “” - é Men New York City, N.Y. ,“° ee: ee

Page 84

THE SATURDAY Gentlemen: Name Address City $1600 a y Just Clip and Mail the Coupon — What Are You Doing? John Calkins A Dollar an Hour Edwin Kohl $500 a month Raymond Starr $100 a weck Wesley Kemp fear The Curtis Publishing Company 230 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pa. Please tell me how much you’ll pay me for my spare time. Calkins, Kohl, Starr, Kemp and a score of our other val- ued young men have gone to war. Before Uncle Sam borrowed them, we were paying them, on an average, $300.00 a month. Are you doing as well? You can! $300.00 a Month The fact that they have gone gives you a remarkable op- portunity. The demand for the three nationally popular Curtis periodicals, The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman, is greater than ever before. Thousands of orders are coming directly to us simply because our staff of local salesmen is not big enough to handle all the business. We Need You to represent us locally in your spare time—and we will pay you liberally in salary and commission for the new and renewal subscriptions you can easily and quickly secure. The midwinter rush is bear- ing down upon us. Holiday bills are bearing down upon you. Wecan helpeach other. Let's get together. Today State EVENING POST for your friendship. I know what it can mean to us and to all the ideals that we both hold. Help us—help us all the time— no matter what our armies do. Have pa- tience and try to understand the troubles we are facing. Our country is in a great Revolution. It is hard for our Government to act—for they must explain; they must always explain. They can use little time to build a new nation, for they must explain to the people first. “And most of the people are slow to see. To the mind of the average peasant the very word government sounds like a curse. So our present leaders must stop and ex- plain—to the army, to the cities and to all the villages. It is like a tragic Sunday school. A great new religion must be ex- plained. So where are the men with both the minds and the time to do the practical building? That is where we need help from America.” I have tried to give the viewpoint of those who believed in explaining every- thing as they went along, and oo belie up a government based on the consent of the governed. And, in their words, I have tried to give an idea of the Russian soldier’s state of mind—the reasons why he was ready to hear the Bolsheviki. As to the Bolsheviki themselves, their attitude toward the war has been sketched in my preceding article. Briefly repeated it is this: They believe that a real revolution in Russia cannot be accomplished while the nation is at war, for the needs of war and revolution are directly opposite. Moreover, the Bolsheviki believe that by proclaiming to the world a revolutionary peace they will soon get a response from the masses in Germany and Austria, as well as in Eng- land, Italy and France. All last summer, they told me, they were in weekly touch with the extreme radical leaders in Ger- many and Austria; and from what they heard they firmly believe that, as soon as the pressure of war is removed, the lid will fly off in Germany and the proletariat will rise. This point of view directly clashed with the viewpoints of Kerensky and of his sup- porters, including the most progressive of the bourgeois leaders and the more moder- ate socialist groups that made up the ma- jority of the Council of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Deputies. They believed it danger- ous to count on a revolution in Germany, and that the only way to attain security for free nations was to continue in the war until the German Government should agree to a peace without forced annexations or punitive indemnities. And from all I heard last summer I think Kerensky and his friends might have won out in the army had it not been for the activities of a third and more conservative group. This third Russian faction had rallied | round Korniloff, the noted Cossack gen- eral, who believed that no improvement | could be made in army discipline until the soldier committees were wholly done away with. He felt that most of the trouble had come from those first “‘fatal orders” of the new government last spring, abolishing the death penalty and proclaiming that all soldiers could choose their own officers. The Overthrow of Korniloff Korniloff and his supporters worked to restore an iron discipline. With the slow progress of Kerensky’s plan their pressure rapidly increased; and when at last Ker- ensky agreed to restore the death penalty at the Front, Korniloff ordered wholesale executions of mutineers. More than once whole battalions of soldiers were slaugh- tered by machine guns, and the stiffened | dead bodies were stood up in rows along | the fences, with placards on their breasts to announce: “I was shot because I was a traitor to Russia!” For a time this method seemed to suc- ceed, and Korniloff’s power grew so fast that the more conservative elements turned to the Little Cossack General as the strong man of the hour, who was to lead the na- tion out of disorders and on through war to victory. His adherents were by no means confined to reactionary elements. The so- called bourgeois liberals, and even consid- erable sections of the working people in the towns, were sick to death of confusion and wanted a strong leader. Moreover, they knew that Korniloff was against the Old Régime. And meantime in | the villages there were millions who both approved of continuing in the war and were also deeply hostile to the radicals in the | towns, whom they lumped all together January 12,1918 under the term of Bolsheviki. These peas- ants gave small welcome to deserting sol- diers. I visited scores of villages in which deserters did not dare to show themselves in the daytime, but kept in hiding in the woods. “Do you see that stick?” asked one old peasant, pointing to a heavy, Fray , club lying on top of his brick stove. hat’s for my son if he deserts.” Korniloff’s power came to a climax late in August at the Moscow Conference, where he made a speech demanding the utter abolition of committees in the army. His speech was greeted by a storm of cheers from the bourgeois factions there; but Kerensky and the socialists stuck to their former policy. So Korniloff, two weeks later, resolved to take things into his own hands. With possibly two divisions of his Cossack followers, on whom he felt sure he could depend, he advanced on Petrograd. I was there at the time, and he came so near that one night we heard his first big guns. But the fighting stopped almost as soon as it started; for when his Cossacks were informed that they had been brought to overturn Kerensky and his government they revolted, almost to a man, and placed Korniloff under arrest. In brief, the strong-arm method proved an utter failure. Later on it may succeed; but at that time and at that stage of the Russian Revolution it was shown to be without support by the rank and file of the army. Moreover, it caused a reaction, a tremendous radical wave, which undid Kerensky’s work and led to the recent ris- ing of the Bolsheviki. How long they will stay in power it would be idle to prophesy. They may succeed in their attempt or they may be out of office before this article ap- pears. Meantime I can try to give only some of the possibilities. The Changing Storm Center The Bolsheviki may wholly fail. Before they can make peace with Berlin, or even after it has been made, they may be ousted from power at home. For, though the mass of the Russians are sick of war and would welcome peace, they are also sick of dis- orders; and they may find that the same government which is trying to stop the war will also stop their railroads and their in- dustries as well, and bring them wholesale famine, arson, pillage, civil war. From such conditions they may be glad to escape through another government, even a dictatorship, which, with the help of the Allies, will meet their immediate problems at home, on condition that the Russians agree to continue doing their part in the war. Nor is this pressure from the outside merely one of material aid. There are millions of people in Russia to-day who are keenly sensitive to the pressure of pub- lic opinion throughout the world. They clearly see the issue involved in this strug- gle between the liberal nations and the two great autocracies, and they will give their prompt support to a movement for driving on the war. Even the Bolsheviki themselves may find the German peace terms so harsh that they will refuse them. For these extremists are sincere. Of course there are German agents among them; but there are German agents, too, in every Russian faction. The honest- to-God Bolsheviki is out for a real revolu- tion, in Germany as well as at home; and if now, to his offer of peace, the government of the Kaiser replies by offering terms of a conqueror, the Bolsheviki may resort at once to a propaganda for the war as violent as their former agitation for early peace. Again, if the Germans do offer terms that Lenine and his colleagues will accept, the latter may not be able to carry the nation behind them. Certain large sections may split off. There may be civil warfare and the breaking up of Russia into several na- tions. A Cossack republic in the South may continue the war on Austria. Finally, in spite of all the obstacles now in their way, there is just a chance that the Bolsheviki may succeed both in making an early peace and also, through securing the support of the more moderate socialist and labor groups, in building a radical govern- ment which shall meet, at least in a meas- ure, the urgent needs pressing at home. If that | ontheons Russia will become a great storm center of revolt, from which will go forth an influence that may perhaps change profoundly not only the German autocracy but all Europe in the next few years. For where is the prophet who can be sure what the next stage of this war will be?

Page 85

AF if Y v4 oy) “4/74 Was — 162 THE SATURDAY Salle Trained Men With EVENING POST Armour and Company Big Salaries for Trained Executives “T want men to come to me WITH a decision, not FOR a decision,” says Mr. Armour. “If I don’t trust a man I don’t give him responsibility.” What is true of true of every business. men prepared to assume Armour and Company is The. demand is for executive responsi bilities. The fat pay envelope, the big checks and dividends go to men who have the knowl- edge, training and capacity to make quick, reliable decisions. Business wants specialists—not specula- tors. No guesser ever won and held an exec- utive job with a big salary. If you don't KNOW, you can’t grow. Why depend upon haphazard information when you can fortify yourself with the boiled-down, organized ex- perience and ‘‘brain power” which successful executives put into their work? LaSalle training equips men with the knowledge of modern business fundamentals needed in every position of responsibility. Bring to your own use the knowledge, experience, practice and principles that have been responsible for putting other men in executive positions. With the Standard Oil Company you will find who are their same 140 men increasing exec- utive ability through La Salle training and business counsel; the Pennsylvania R. R. C has 913 LaSalle men. The S. Stee! Cor- the Baltimore @ Ohio R. R. * Northwestern Railway 393. concerns like the Western Electric Co., the International Harvester Co., and the Goodrich Tire and Rubber Co. employ from 50 to 100 LaSalle men. The demand is for Business Managers, Expert Accountants, Auditors, Comptrollers, Financial Managers, Cost Accountants, Credit Men, Banking Experts, Law-trained Men, [raffic Directors, Sales and Advertising Man- agers, Interstate Commerce Experts, Business Correspondents and Office Managers. Hundreds of these important, high-salaried positions await men and women competent to do the work. LaSalle training and Service, supplemented by the individual guidance of our large staff of experts, will show you how take you up step by step, in orderly sequence, poration 250; the Chicago © Many 564: until qualified. Our plan presents to you the opportunity to secure practical professional training during your spare hours without interference with your present duties. Membership also includes free use of the La Salle Business Consulting Service which places our entire staff of experts in all depart- ments at your command whenever you may need help or counsel on some special business problem busine ‘ss or rhe La Salle organization consists of 800 . . > : . . . people, including 300 business specialists, pro- fessional men, text writers, special lecture writers, instructors and assistants. La Salle Extension University is a clearing house of business knowledge and information. Many corporations and business firms are using our institution as a training school for their exec- utives and employees. More than 20,000 members enroll annually. One hundred and thirty thousand men in active business, including many corporation officials, bankers and professional men, are reaping the benefits of La Salle training and consulting service. Below are a few convinc- ing statements from thousands who testify to the thoroughness of La Salle training. ‘The most efficient and most rapidly promoted men in our whole organization are LaSalle trained ‘*Promoted to General Manager.” ‘To me, every man who enters our emplo advance, he d iment and / “Saved our firm $3,988 on one export shipment.” “Salary increased 250 per cent ws “Have been promoted to Chief of the Tariff De- partment. “Saved $33,000 more ‘Inereased my income $2,500 this year.”’ our company $7,000, and a probable this year.” “Now in my own office with Traffic Manager on the door.” “Passed Certified Public Accountants’ examina- tion in Ohio.” “Have been admitted to the bar in this state.’ Improve your business ability and earning power by utilizing some of the spare time you ordinarily waste. Avoid the long road of routine experience which ordinarily leads only to disappointed and ambition. The in- teresting book ‘Ten Years’ Promotion In One”’ explains the mgdern short-cut to business and executive efficiency. ‘‘Get this book even if it costs you $5.00 tor a copy,” says one executive. But it is free to the ambitious. Simply mark with an “ X"" below the course hopes Chicago and service in which you are interested. We will mail the book ‘‘Ten Years’ Promotion In One,” catalog and full particulars. A small initial payment makes our complete service available to you. Mark and mail the coupon today. Let us prove to you how this step has led thousands of forward looking men and women to real success. 1s an 9 mer Tf} , re the r I. Of¢ ly LA SALLE EXTENSION UNIVERSITY ‘The World's Greate Dept. 171-R, Chicago, Illinois Send me free “Ten Years’ Promotion In One, course and service in the department | have marked with BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION HIGHER AC Training for Official, Managerial for, Sales and Executive positions in oller Business Co LAW cert ie ee Fansite NANCE lraining for admission to bar and frainingf t sitionsin executive-business positions 1 Benkeand Financial Institutios ° juiring legally ereknes men > Tellers, Cashiers, Trust Officers, gree of LL.B nferred Financial Managers, et« COMMERCIAL SPANISH BUSI S ENGLISH Training for positions as Foreign Tr for positions as Busine Correspondents with Span rrespondents, Business Litera Speaking Countries ture and Copy Wr Name Address ilso « atalog an X t Extension Universi ind part | egard Ek ATE COM MER( 4 I \ ( I for ition ! « Tra M gers, Ir exper r } FE | ( PI } I g ' f eff “oe Mini tlesine Kr la rs, 1 n ELEMENT 1 ACK F Training for Expert Bookkee Position Present I tior

Page 86

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 12,1918 YWMPLETE CITY or This Complete City of One Thousand Population $686,590 Price Includes : Sewer System Water Works and Distributing System Electric Light Service and Generating Plant Gutters, Curbing and Sidewalks Public Service Buildings Churches Schools Hotels Stores And Houses for 1000 Population Lg ee OME: aye cot, 4 meee Aladdin Service is equal to any demand made of it. No matter what your requirements are—-a single home or a complete city—the Aladdin organization is capable of handling it with the greatest despatch. The Aladdin Company has successfully solved the housing problems of many ot the greatest corporations of the world, including the United States Government and the British Government. The Aladdin Catalog contains descriptions and prices for complete cities of 500, 1000, 2000 and 3000 population Aladdin Cities—populations of 300 to 3000 Send for Book “Industrial Housing” Aladdin Cities are the result of a careful research work into the necessities of modern The Aladdin System means handling the erection of houses with despatch. Each c life Every necessity which makes for health, comfort, hygiene and expansion is price includes complete material readi-cut —a feature which eliminates the necessity for ided in these plans. Each city is complete and specifications include complete skilled help in erection. Aladdin literature contains over 100 designs of homes from erials for homes of different sizes, churches, schools, public service buildings, such as cottages of two rooms to dwellings of 18 rooms, store, hotel, church, school and other offices, hotels, banks, etc., all materials for water and sewage distributing systems, types of public buildings; industrial courts showing attractive arrangements of different e and generating plant, all materials for landscape work, gutters, curbing, numbers of workmen's homes; complete cities intended for populations of from 300 to in short, complete materials for each city 3000. Copies of these books will be mailed to those interested. Canadian Add . CANADIAN ALADDIN CO. LTD.. Toronto, Canada

Page 87

This oman Home of Eight Rooms

Build This Year With Alad This me sean anion of Funee ia one Sa itt rentchacigdanpst assemmteer dae Be pei hon s materials rhe one way to iccomplish this is to e/:minate waste of matertals! The Aladdin Readi-Cut System ht set the usual! 18°) waste in lumber to Ie than 2&7. You won't need to postpone your home building if spe: sg Alecia way. Prien nd wonderful book ‘‘ Aladdi din’s Help! 18°), off present home buildit ost rf iam Homes” has a message for 1 It pictures over 100 charming bungalows and dwellir hows floor plans, gives specificatior It tells you more about high building prices and how to avoid them. Shall we send you ‘2 COPY of this interest bool Aladdin Houses Eliminate Waste Dollar-A-Knot Guarantee Beautiful Book of Homes H h lumber cost Alad Dollar-A-Knot Guar one Over 100 desigt * of ne \ | . ‘ ‘ WW e ol ! i ‘ i ’ ir t tiful } hown int Alad I average W t r t I r r aneot “y" " fcom 2 t Or rath rae . is 18 $18 t rv $10 { ; ¢ reemene at f Alad Sins acct atau ri es into t w I A I \laddin R Cut t " riginated twelve to-fit as follow Lut I ( > f ; e whi ti inds of Al Idin inoide Galak Anus sr "i ad y hardw :, at b. na » t you in solving y r own me t < building problem Send st THE ALADDIN COMPANY HOMEBUILDERS TO THE NATION Poa 388 Aladdin Ave. "Bay City, Mich. Canadian Address, CANADIAN ALADDIN CO. LTD., Toronto, Canada

Page 88

<r ere ae

|

“fi

TM TL he Pleasant Business of Buying a Grafonola Go to the store where Columbia Grafonolas are sold. Walk in. Columbia sales people know how to treat the man and his wife who would like to ‘ do a lot of looking and listening before they be- gin to buy. Look over the catalog of records. Pick out what you want. The records will be brought and played. Then play some yourself. ‘Take this sensible way of getting acquainted with the Grafonola. Compare it with other instruments. In direct comparison the Columbia Grafonola al- ways appears at its best. Columbia Grafonolas are priced at $/8 to $250 Period Designs up to $2/00 COLUMBIA GRAPHOPHONE COMPANY NEW YORK TMM MM MM MM MYM MM MM PM ME Rie pees TOT TTT peed i - | | | | Ld TOOT pee TUT PEN + NE oS RN = A pees

SRI unr A eP e e hin)

ATUATATUATEADUAUALGLCATINATABIAGATENUIOMMAUTONTOOTOANANTNAUAUDADADOINTUGAGOTDODODAOVOUITOTOVOUOLOTATAAOAEUCHAUE

— s+ wm . - au: + os ped

:

iin = al

TYY ; 2 4 ce on 9 wa. 6 : a ee

ax

3 £

Gros we 4ee x ; ORMEREnaneeeenenaney COT LU

: | | : it i i i a