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with those of the aggressive and sacerdotal school; and it was intended not only to give these clericals a much stronger hold on the educational system than they had enjoyed since 1870, but also to pull down the level of the non-sectarian schools to that of the clerical schools. was a bill entirely in the interest of those clergymen and laymen who take up the position that the common schools ought to be nurseries of the Church of England. So far as concerns elementary education, there was not a clause in it honestly intended to improve the schools maintained by the State; and in the thousands of columns of speeches on the bill which have appeared in the English newspapers since April one never met with a speech in which it was even suggested that the existing school system would be improved if this wantonly disturbing measure had become. law.

After the general election in 1895, the clergy of the Church of England at once pressed their demands on Lord Salisbury. They could not have had a Premier more amenable to their wishes. Lord Salisbury has always been hostile to the board schools. He has never disguised his hostility to them, nor his affected disdain for the Free Churches whose members have done so much to make the system of 1870 a success and to place the board schools in all the large towns in that condition of excellence which has aroused the jealousy of the clergy and brought upon these schools the extraordinary onslaught which they have just escaped in such a remarkable manner. For two or three years past Mr. Balfour has also taken up a similar position towards the board schools, and, certainly since July last year, has shown himself as ready to pull them down to the level of the clerical schools as the Premier himself, or as bishops like his Lordship of Salisbury, who may be regarded as the originator of the worst feature of the abandoned bill. This feature would gratuitously and offensively have thrust the clericals into the neutral ground of the board schools, from which they have been fenced out for twenty-five years past by the famous Cowper-Temple clauses of the Act of 1870.

It needed, therefore, no greať pressure on the part of the clericals to get the Salisbury Government to take up their case. Notwithstanding the presence in the Cabinet of Liberal-Unionists like the Duke of Devonshire and Mr. Chamberlain, who prior to this bill had excellent records on the education question, everything the clericals demanded was freely conceded. They were to get more money from the Imperial Treasury for their schools, without giving up any of their absolute control of them. They were to be allowed to impose hampering and embarrassing financial restrictions on the board schools; and, moreover, as has been explained, they were to be permitted to go into the non-sectarian schools, and to seek to use them, as for two generations they have used the national schools, as nurseries of the Church of England.

To do all this for the clericals involved far-reaching changes, not only in the school laws, but in county and in municipal government. The Education Department at Whitehall, the County Councils, the Poor-Law Boards, as as well as the School Boards, were all seriously affected by the now defunct bill. Its provisions disturbed English life at numerous points, and from end to end the measure was full of contention. Even among the rank and file of the Government forces there were many members hostile to some of its vital clauses. They voted for the bill on second reading; but had it gone into committee, these members intended to propose amendments utterly unacceptable to the sacerdotal party in whose interest the measure was conceived. On the Liberal side of the House

it was opposed with a strenuousness unprecedented as regards English measures since the time of the French Revolution, when the Tory Government of that period. were forcing coercive measures through Parliament. The Unionist opposition to the Home Rule Bill in 1893 cannot be compared to the recent opposition to the Education Bill, as there was no expectation on either side of the House of the Home Rule Bill passing through the House of Lords and becoming law. On the part of the Liberals as to the Education Bill there was no spirit of give and take, as is usual on either side of the House when an important measure is before it. The Liberals opposed the bill tooth and nail, and intended to fight it line by line and clause by clause. Liberal successes at the by-elections showed that the country was with them; and to have carried the bill in the face of an Opposition in this mood would have kept Parliament in session until Christmas. It was a measure on which the closure in committee was utterly impossible. The Government had overreached itself, and Mr. Balfour had no alternative but to let the measure go, and frankly admit that he had failed.

Mr. Balfour's generalship was woefully bad; but his mistakes began when, as leader of the House of Commons, he was a party to the bill being introduced at all. England, it is true, returned a Tory Government with an overwhelming majority at the last election, but clearly England was not prepared for a return to the Toryism of the preReform period. The abandoned measure was the embodiment of the spirit of Toryism of the dark period in English history between the French Revolution and Waterloo. It had absolutely nothing akin to the newer Toryism which was dominant between 1886 and 1892, which made the schools free, gave England its present County Government Act, and also the enlightened measure in the interests of children and factory workers which followed the revelations of the sweating commission.

The Outlook Vacation Fund

The increase of the Vacation Fund promises well for the year. The amount required to meet the demands made by the needs of the working-girls in New York is $6,000. The earlier this amount is in hand the longer will the Working-Girls' Vacation Society be able to say "Yes" to girls who need a vacation. Santa Clara, the house in the Adirondacks devoted to the use of girls threatened with consumption, is a much more expensive house to maintain than the houses near New York. This house necessitates the presence of a trained nurse and a resident physician. The house should be open all the year round. It will be, if The Outlook Vacation Fund makes it possible.

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The

Key to Success in International Arbitration'

By Professor John B. Clark

Of Columbia College

N our most confident statements concerning the practicability of a permanent court of arbitration there is an undertone of misgiving. We realize that three difficulties stand in our way. First, we are dealing with sovereign States, and it is not now practicable to coerce them. Secondly, we are proposing to establish a tribunal without that elaborate system of appeals which in private judicature is regarded as essential. The only appeal that can be reserved from a decision of such a court is the appeal to war, which is the thing we wish to avoid. Thirdly, if we establish any coercive power at all, it must be by the principle of contract; and the coercive authority that is behind an ordinary court does not rest upon that principle. A man does not submit his case to the decision of a court because he has promised to do so. He has, in fact, made no such contract with his neighbor. He intrusts the issue to the court because it represents the sovereign State, which has authority over both disputants. If the nations of the world ever constitute one sovereign State, that shall sustain the same relation to individual States that these now do to individual persons, then we can have coercion back of an international tribunal. Before that time not only is it impracticable to have it, but, in the interest of peace itself, it is undesirable that we should seek it. And yet we ought to have our permanent tribunal.

It is impossible for an economist to approach this subject from the same point of view as a jurist would do. It is impossible for him to think upon it at all without introducing those features which modern economic development has injected into the situation between nations. The attitude of labor toward capital, the world over, is commonly supposed to be very menacing. Though it is not war, it is often called so. It certainly results in much belligerent feeling. It sometimes menaces the security of different local parts of the State, though not that of the State as a whole. It disturbs the public peace here and there, and, as some think, is more likely to strain the capacity of a democratic government than anything else that can arise. From an economist's point of view, the assurance of international peace lies in exactly that development. The attitude of labor towards capital, the world over-menacing, even belligerent, as it is-seems to offer a promise of international peace.

Every one must have noticed how sensitive labor now is to the injury which the prospect of war inflicts upon what it regards as its own special cause. This is not from any fine economic philosophy, although it might arise from that source. It is not because the labor leaders clearly perceive in what way the destruction caused by war introduces into the relation of labor and capital that which is pre-eminently detrimental to labor. That the mere destruction of capital itself reduces the wage-paying power of the employer is no doubt understood; and this effect is somewhat permanent. There is an immediate result that is dreaded. The workmen are able to see that after, by a contest with their employers, they have gained what seem to them to be material things, they are likely to see much of this gain slip away from them by the introduction into the situation of the disturbing element of war. That feeling extends, not from one end of the country to the other, but from one end of the civilized world to the other. It is even stronger in England than in the United States; and the recent utterances in favor of peace which have had most weight in political circles have seemed to come from organized labor in the two countries.

The peculiarity of this demand on the part of organized labor is that, in this relation, the interest of labor in England is identical with the interest of labor in the United

This article in part summarizes Professor Clark's address at the recent ke Mononk Conference.

States; the interest of capital in England is, in the main, identical with the interest of capital in the United States; and, for a wonder, the interest of capital in both countries is identical with the interest of labor in both countries. There is a threefold harmony of interest in demanding peace.

Against all that interest you can array a moral force that, for the time being, will override the considerations in favor of peace. You cannot array against it a mere impulse that will do so. A nation is like a big, undeveloped boy with a pistol in his pocket and aching to shoot; but an impulse is not a war decision; and a nation like ours will not, from mere impulse, plunge into war. A foreign professor once said to me, "If you do not want your army to be a useless, ornamental thing, you must have war once in a while." A nation is not seriously in danger of attacking another for the sake of exercising its army. After the original impulse there comes the second thought; and if war is actually precipitated, there has to be behind the impulsive feeling a sense of injustice done-a moral influence. The conviction of having a good cause may exist on both sides of a quarrel, as in the American Civil War. It requires such a moral force, acting on each side, in order to plunge two civilized nations into overt conflict.

You may neutralize these forces. If you do so, you leave the great material interests undisturbed to determine the outcome. With moral force acting in a belligerent way and against material interests, you may not succeed in maintaining the peace. With the united voice of labor on both sides of the Atlantic, and of capital on both sides of the Atlantic, demanding peace, you may still have war. But cancel the moral influences that make for war, by offsetting against them a moral energy of an opposite kind, and you leave interest to dominate the policy of the two States.

This is not an ordinary interest, but a very vital one. It means the present and future welfare of the working classes of both countries. It is not an unworthy motive of action. The moral force that can give it a field in which to act may come from the decision of a tribunal that does not have coercive authority behind it. Let a clear declaration of the rights of the parties in dispute be made by a competent court, and that moral energy which may otherwise precipitate a war, in the face of public interest, is rendered nearly powerless.

It is the work of an economist to study tribunals for the settling of rates of wages, rather than tribunals for settling international questions. He is able to see that those economic courts of arbitration which have no coercive force back of them work with more precision than would be possible if they had such coercive authority. They have to be far better courts in order to accomplish anything. They have to conform much more accurately to the demands of economic law. Is not something of that sort true of a tribunal that undertakes to decide the difficult questions that arise between nations? Give it coercive authority, and you can get on with a poor court; but the nations will not long respect or retain it. Deprive it of coercive authority, and you must have an exceedingly good court; and it must keep, in its decisions, exceedingly close to the ultimate principles of justice.

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The Curse of Humor

By Ian Maclaren

Fletcher is one of the few clergymen with whom a layman feels at home, and to whom he may even dare to express his mind without offense. Many of his profession will converse only on one condition-that they state what they believe to be true, and that the matter be then considered as closed; and if upon this Papal Bull any mere layman ventures to dissent, the good men-and often, as it appears, in proportion to their goodness-will arch their backs and fuff very unpleasantly. One is careful after a few scratches to avoid every subject on which there can be two opinions, and one makes every allowance for this supersensitiveness. If a plant be reared under glass, it takes ill with a brisk, healthy northwester; and if a man lives constantly in a circle of admiring (as well as charming) young ladies, or with old ladies of the male sex in the shape of ecclesiastical laymen, he would be more than human if he were not offended by the independence of men who are accustomed to think for themselves and will even say what they think. My friend had the singular advantage, from my outside standpoint, of not having been isolated among people of the religious profession from his youth, and of having kept himself afterwards in touch with the world. He had therefore no shocking point in the matter of opinion, and would give a candid hearing to any heresy one might ventilate. It struck me that he did not lose by this toleration and sympathy, for there are at least six outsiders, simple pariahs of the religious civilization, who worship at St. Origens. Fletcher delighted to define himself as an Evangelical High Broad Churchman, which many pronounced "very unsatisfactory "-suggesting a vagrant who traveled anywhere so long as he found some good thing, and who had no legal address where a summons could be served upon him. He threw himself into each subject he treated with such unguarded enthusiasm that I trembled in my distant seat, and was quite prepared to hear that conventional people called him names, till he had acquired almost the complete stock of religious abuse. One day he waxed eloquent on Foreign Missions, and went out of his way to pay tribute to Xavier. A year afterwards it was still hinted that the Rector of St. Origens was a Jesuit. He must needs hold up the Salvation Army to admiration for their immense sacrifices, and was freely spoken of as a Ranter for weeks at certain dinner-tables. When he declared that the Unitarian faith had produced some of the finest ethical types in England, a lady called next daywho had long suspected the fact, and only wished to have it confirmed from his own lips-and asked the Rector whether he was indeed a Socinian.

"No, madam," he replied; "although you shrewdly suspeet that I am not an Anglican, it happens that I have never quite seen my way to become a Socinian. Swedenborgian, with leanings to Mohammedanism."

I am a

This was a very foolish speech indeed, as I told Fletcher, and brought its just punishment. One of that excellent woman's peculiarities was a hopeless incapacity of giving an accurate account of anything she had either seen or heard, and the evening of the same day she told me, between the soup and the fish, that the truth had come out at last about the Rector of St. Origens.

"I put it to him plainly, and he admitted that he was an atheist, but I do not remember which denomination," and he has hardly scraped off that label to this day.

When he dropped in last evening and flung himself into his favorite chair, I anticipated some new canard. "Are you really an Irvingite?" I began. "No, no, it's nothing of that kind just now. I am the victim of a malignant spirit which is going to ruin me," and then he denounced humor up hill and down dale, declaring it to be an unmitigated curse, and affirming that he would cheerfully barter any share he had for the irrelevancy of that good woman.

"It is well enough for you to laugh, but if you were in my shoes you would take another view. Twice this week have I disgraced myself before companies of religious

respectables, and I do not see how I can recover the

scandal.

"Last Monday, as I begged for details, I was so foolish as to attend a Drawing-room in aid of the Door-to-Door Visitation Society, and found myself with fifty of the most solemn-looking people ever gathered under one roof,

"You are a Celt, so of course you will not despise the idea of presentiments. I was haunted with a sense of calamity all day, and it deepened in the room. When the Secretary, a young man with an indescribable air of selfsatisfaction, began to read extracts from the visitors' letters, I ought to have risen and left. ters, I ought to have risen and left. If I had only had the courage to walk out before that report . . ." And Fletcher took a turn of regret on the hearth-rug.

"What was it? Oh, nothing remarkable; you can hear such a thing every day, but it found me: 'Called at 191 Jemima Street. Mother and boy aged six in house. Boy had nothing on except a few small boils. Mother said she was washing his clothes. Spoke to her from text, 'Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish,' and left her much affected.'

"Yes, I did my best, and perhaps I might have succeeded, had not an elderly lady beside me murmured, 'Very suitable, indeed; Mr. Popham has quite a turn for application.' Then I laughed aloud joyfully, after which nothing remained but to slink out of the room as unobtrusively as possible. Apologies would have aggravated the situation."

"Does it matter so very much?"

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Yes, it does, desperately, in more ways than one. Don't you see, man, that I've hurt the feelings of many excellent folk, and flouted, as appears, a good work, and convinced everybody who had any doubt before that I really am an atheist?"

It was on the face of it an unfortunate circumstance, and one could only suggest that people's memories are very short in these busy days.

"The people in that room don't forget," said Fletcher, gloomily. "And this very day I crowned my iniquity; it's no use fighting against fate, by which I mean this hideous vice of the ridiculous. It's in my blood-the only bad turn my poor mother did me.

"What happened to-day? Oh, nothing again, nothingI simply stumbled into the Conference of the 'Sisterhood of Female Philanthropists,' and was dragged to the platform, where I sat facing the audience," and he shuddered at the remembrance.

"She was a most eloquent speaker, and she was enlarging on the courage it needed to ask a stranger to join the Sisterhood. 'Well do I remember my feelings,' and then she traveled into autobiography. Your feelings that day were doubtless the same as mine,' and again she turned aside, and we were kept in anguish. Yes, you and I had the same experience, and we shall never, never forget it '— here every one made ready to take a note. 'Dear sisters, did not each of us burst that minute into a violent perspiration?' There seemed no way of getting out except through the hall, and it was really very good of them not to hiss me.

"Of course I'll never run such risks again, but it does not matter where I am, this evil spirit will seize me; it is my profound conviction that there must be a personal Devil, and that humor is one of his choice instruments.

"You know that wonderful verger of ours who is am understudy of an alderman? Well, he took charge of a party of strangers at the door, who had come in at the venite, and started a procession-he leading majestically, chanting as he went, and gently beating time with his lifted hand. Then he turned at a certain pew, and motioned to his convoy to enter, but there was nobody. The people had found seats for themselves at the back, and the procession had consisted of the great man himself. When I stood at the lectern, the sight came up before me, and I went to pieces over the word Nebuchadnezzar.

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"As for funerals "-Fletcher was determined to make a clean breast of it-" they are simply a terror to me; men play such pranks and are so unreal. You know Bibby, what a droll, chubby-faced, hearty little man he is?" Yes,

I did know Bibby. "Well, he came yesterday into the room where we were all sitting in that awful silence with an expression so woebegone that I could have shaken him; he sat down beside me, and sighed like a blast furnace." "Which was too much for your wickedness?"

"I only said in a natural voice, Bitter east wind,' and if the wretched creature did not reply, 'Ah, yes, very unexpected 'he did not know the relatives by sight, and had mistaken the doctor for the chief mourner- and sad. We are there to-day and here to-morrow.' Then if he didn't wag his head, and Satan seemed to take possession of me. "It isn't that I am not ashamed of myself, or that I don't take precautions. I have not preached a sermon for years without reading it over once for the special purpose of scoring out any single word that would provoke a smile. Yet people laugh when I preach in strange churches, although I am as solemn as a grave-digger, and a rascally newspaper called me an amusing preacher. As for myself, the public executions I have conducted !"

"As a counteractive, do you mean?"

"Yes, of course; the moment I see any danger, I condemn some poor wretch to death without mercy, and strap his legs and arms, and place him on the trap door, and put on the white cap, and pull the bolt. Surely that is enough. The number of people I have hung at an ecclesiastical gathering, say a Diocesan Conference, to maintain my character, often fills me with remorse."

"Do ecclesiastics never laugh?" I dared to inquire. "Never, except in a quiet, regulated fashion at some jocose, time-honored clerical pleasantry, and then only if it proceed from an archdeacon upwards. If a mere commoner like myself, being suddenly overcome by the pedantic absurdity of ecclesiastical ways, should express myself freely, you would see a sickly smile on the faces of those. superior men, and afterwards you might overhear them : 'Great want of seriousness; very light mettle indeed.'

"In fact," and Fletcher became almost bitter, "if you wish to succeed in Church or State, never jest, and remember what our English humorist said when, with his friends, he was tasting some agreeable tale, 'Look solemn, here's a fool coming.'"

It was in vain that I labored at consolation, urging the woodenness of men that had no humor, their blunders, wearinesses, and inanities, from all of which a humor surely delivers a man. No poor words of mine could lift the dejected Rector of St. Origens, who left declaring that he was a disabled man, and that the conditions of solid success in public life were a stout figure, a ponderous manner, an impressive clearance of the throat, but chiefly a mind cleansed and delivered and guarded from the wicked and destructive spirit of humor.

A Social Experiment

A Country Club-House for Workingmen's Families By Lillian W. Betts

Four years ago a club was organized in a tenementhouse region in New York, the members of which were and are the wives of the better class of mechanics. The aim of the club was to increase the social opportunities of the members and their families. When the club had been organized a few months less than two years, an offer was made of two cottages, furnished with the necessaries, in New Jersey, for the use of the members for the summer. The possibilities for good and evil were recognized by the President. If accepted, the offer might kill the club; it might be the means of putting the club on a permanent basis. This plan of running the cottages was submitted to the club and accepted by vote: Each family should occupy one of the cottages for two weeks, paying all of the expenses, just as when at home in New York. The change of occupants should take place on Saturday. From the funds of the club two family railroad tickets should be bought. On the return of each family the members holding the family tickets should pay for the number of trips taken on that ticket. One ton of coal was bought, and one cord of wood,

from the club's funds. Two children's banks were provided, one marked Coal and the other Wood. When a scuttle of coal was taken from the ton, ten cents was to be put in the coal bank; when the equivalent of a bundle of wood was taken, two cents was to be put in the wood bank. This plan provided for the railroad tickets and the fuel, and was a fund constantly turned over, and replaced in the club treasury at the close of the season. The membership dues were ten cents per week, five dollars and twenty cents per year, and there were thirty members.

Twelve only could use the summer cottage the first season, but they gave vacations to sixty people. One family was so generous in its hospitality that it has never made a second venture in the country; it went far beyond its income, and it took the following winter for it to straighten out its affairs. The cottages were very small, without shade and without grounds. House-hunting through the region the next spring discovered a house much better suited to the needs of the club. The house needed repairing, and arrangements fell through at the last moment, to the deep sorrow of the club members, their relatives and friends.

Last year, in the same New Jersey town, a beautiful house, with four acres of ground, one-half of which was an apple orchard, was found. This house was so arranged as to provide two kitchens; it had eight bedrooms in the main house and one in the wing; a long saloon parlor, which would answer as a general club-room, and a wide hall added to the advantages of the house. Two piazzas are open, one inclosed, making practically an extra summer dining-room, and a beautiful, well-shaded lawn increased the utility and attractiveness of the place as a country clubhouse. Friends of the club who were willing to furnish the money to make this experiment came forward in the most generous spirit, and provided the money for the rent and necessary purchases. Furniture was sent to the house by other friends, and on May 30, 1895, the house was opened. The members, their families, even to the fourth cousins, intimate friends and their children, married and single, came with their lunch-baskets. Footballs, croquet sets, and swings were provided, and a day of such happiness as can come only to those whose opportunities are few was passed. The dates for the coming of the families were arranged on this day. July and August are reserved for those members who have children attending school. Those whose children are at work or too young for school must take June and September. If a member cannot keep her engagement to take the house at the date assigned, the committee, consisting of three of the members, assigns the date to some other member whose name is on the list. If this family cannot come on that date, the member occupying the house can remain until the first succeeding Saturday, when some other member can take it. There is no court of appeal from the decision of this committee, called the Club-House Committee. Many members of the club are related that is, there are mothers and married daughters, sisters, sisters-in-law, cousins. Such related members usually make their dates come so that the families remain four weeks. They choose their dates to follow each other, and then combine and make one family for a month. During this time the relatives come for Sundays, or longer as the hostesses arrange. The guests frequently bring food from the city. But all such arrangements are entirely personal. The families arrange their affairs with the same freedom they exercise in the city. There is no control except the public sentiment of the club. Each family leaves the house clean and in order. If they do not, they pay the penalty of knowing that their slackness, their carelessness, has marked them in their own social set. Public sentiment in the club has been its protection, its salvation. One member violated the public sentiment of the club. She did that which the club felt reflected on every member. Feeling ran high. But at the meeting where it was announced that the privileges of the country club-house could not be used by that member this summer, she was referred to as Mrs. X. Her name was never mentioned. She had been privately notified of the President's decision. The matter was not voted upon. The members elect mem

bers. The President has the option of dismissal. This member was not dismissed from the club. She was debarred from the country club-house only. She had never violated the privileges of the club in town.

The thirtieth of May of 1896 found the members and their families assembled at the club-house. It was the annual picnic, and the generous spirit of the members was shown again by the numbers of friends invited. Two of the members had opened the house two days before, and were settled there with their families to remain until June 27, as none of the other members could come before that date. The fires were ready, water boiling for coffee. The long table in the largest dining-room was extended to its greatest length, and added to by other tables, all covered with white oilcloth. The baskets and boxes carried proved that generous provision had been made. One member's husband had fished off the Battery and caught forty fish, which his wife fried before they left home. Meat had been boiled and roasted the day before by each of the members. Cakes and bread were abundantly provided. One of the members, a sweet, gentle, refined woman, living in a house with twenty families, called the writer's attention to two boys of nineteen, who had come with her boy of twelve. “J————— told them about the house and our coming to-day, and that boy, the taller one, asked him if he could come. J— asked me. I said, 'Why, yes,' but we could not pay his fare. I would take lunch for him though, gladly. Well, when I talked with that boy I found he had never seen the country in his life. Then the other boy, he lives downstairs, he asked Jif he could come. Jasked me, and I thought I could just as well plan for one more. J- likes him. Well, what do you think, the upstairs boy's mother, the boy who had never seen the country, would not give him the money for his fare. He gives her all his wages. never saw a boy so disappointed. I could not pay it; it was out of the question. This morning the downstairs boy heard of it, and his mother had given him his fare and fifty cents extra to spend, and he invited the boy to come with him and paid his fare. I wish you could have seen that boy. He glued his face to the car window, and never moved all the way here. Did you ever see anybody so happy?" A guest of the day, a young man of twentyfour, saw the country for the first time last year. He is engaged to a cousin of one of the members, and was invited with her to spend Sunday.

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The husbands of the members who can afford it go back and forth every day, leaving at five o'clock in the morning and returning at seven. Others lose their wages and take three or four days off. One husband said: "We've been married seventeen years, and it's the first time my wife and I could get an hour or two alone since the first baby was born. I'm making love all over again. I liked it the first time, I like it better now-I know her better," and the light of a lover shone in his face.

It would not complete this picture if the social conditions surrounding the country club-house were not sketched. The house is a beautiful old homestead. It at once suggests a home of generous refinement. It is in a neighborhood where all the people are well-to-do. They are families occupying homesteads. It was explained to these residents, when the house was hired, that the members who would occupy it would come as any other family would come. They had no other claim on the community than any family moving into the neighborhood would have. Since the first family came this has been the attitude. Calls are made and returned. Vegetables and fruits are sent to the house because there is a surplus in the giver's garden. Milk is sent to the children. This year the hand of death has sanctified the house. A baby boy of two years had been sick all winter. Decoration Day he showed that he was not well. The end came in a week. From the time that baby was taken seriously ill until the end, every neighborly service was rendered; the family were never left alone. One thought helped the little mother. "I am so glad we came here where the rooms are large, and so many, and the neighbors make you feel that they suffer with you. It helps."

This country club-house for workingmen's families is no

longer an experiment. Things occur that are disagreeable. The members and their families are human beings, not angels. This family residence is giving boys and girls a love for country life that will make them choose the country when they make homes of their own. It has changed the standards of some of the families, and they are paying higher rent in the city to secure space and privacy.

The independence in management, the absence of oversight, and the educated public sentiment of this club are the factors that make its success. Next year the club, by getting up entertainments, hope to raise the entire rent of the house. They raised one-third this year.

The Use and Abuse of Vacations

By Mary Taylor Bissell, M.D.

"I should not like to live in America," said a brawny young Scotchman once to the writer. "You have no time for picnics over there."

The speaker chose a term which does not in our country represent a highly popular form of diversion, but it was evident that with him it stood for the spirit of simple love and occasional leisure for outdoor life-an afternoon in the woods, a luncheon on the river, a quiet supper in open gardens-oftener manifested by our German and French population, who have not forgotten the happy customs of their fatherland, than by the American citizen.

But while there was truth in the Scotchman's implied criticism on our hurried living and our lack of acquaintance with nature at first hand, it is evident that as a nation we are trying to do better. Whether it is due to a greater love for nature, to fashion, or to grim experience which has demonstrated that all work and no play makes Jack not only dull but sickly, certain it is that the summer exodus grows greater every year, and the question how best to use so as not to abuse their vacation-time becomes increasingly important to many people.

A wise balance between rest and exercise, using both terms in their broadest sense, it is difficult to strike, yet this is the secret of a perfect vacation.

With that body of persons who spend a long summer in a round of conventional dissipation, whose exercise is mostly taken in the ball-room, and who are veritable bondswomen to dress, we need not argue. Mountains, streams, and fields are in no sense the object of their love, and if the season's close leaves them unrefreshed and uncomforted we can only believe that they have found what they sought, and therefore do not wish for our sympathy. But the average vacationer whom we have in mind wants to be physically and mentally born again, and very often he wants this new creation perfected in a fortnight's time.

He has heard that one can scarcely exercise too freely in the country, consequently on reaching his destination he throws himself vigorously into whatever outdoor diversion the life affords. If he is at the shore, he bathes longer and oftener than any one else. If in the mountains, he at once joins the climbing party. Golf, tennis, cycling, baseball, tramps, each of these in turn engages his enthusiastic interest.

Being neither by nature nor training an athlete, but, on the contrary, a sedentary city dweller for ten or eleven. months of every year, the end of his first week of vacation finds him worn out instead of refreshed, discouraged rather than heartened.

He is surprised that the change of air has not done him more good and that "all this exercise" has not made him

over.

He is simply the victim of a popular fallacy which imagines that vacation means miracle, and that the magic of the word is sufficient to change the habits of a lifetime.

Now, if a man or woman is used to regular and active exercise in town, he or she can probably take with safety any amount likely to be desired in a vacation; but if, for instance, one mile is the ordinary agreeable limit of the daily walk in town, it is manifestly irrational to suppose

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