I HOWARD MURRAY JONES Winner of First Prize A MATEUR'S Night in vaudeville is nothing new; but amateur's night in editorial circles is. The Outlook recently held one. Exactly four hundred and one of our friends gathered around the editorial council table and said their say. They came from fortytwo States of the Union and from Canada and Mexico-in the form of letters in our Prize Contest for the best criticisms of The Outlook. It was a remarkable gathering. It included the chancellor of a university, college presidents, deans, professors, instructors, and students. One contestant was an eminent landscape painter. Another was an officer in the United States Navy, his contest letter written at sea. AWARDED FIRST PRIZE THE OUTLOOK'S NEXT JOB BY HOWARD MURRAY JONES AM no "highbrow," but I read The Outlook. Year after year I have kept on taking it, though for less than half the price I could get more than double the paper, with an avalanche of illustrations, in a periodical boasting two million circulation. By the pound The Outlook is the most costly periodical I read. Were I selling soap, let us say, I would keep my eye on circulation, but I am not selling soap. I am a farmer. Deducting the Outlooks mailed abroad, there is about one copy for each thousand people in the United States. Among "open-country" farmers I do not suppose there is one regular Outlook reader in fifty thousand. Surely I am a rare bird -"queer," my farmer neighbors think me, for reading The Outlook at $5 a year, but "there's a reason." The Outlook is different. It would be silly to attempt to define a flavor or taste, but I affirm I do like the taste of The Outlook. I am an addict. There is no cure. I cannot define the quality that is all its own, so let me illustrate it: Twenty-two football players are at it cheek by jowl, they go to it hip and thigh, and the twenty-third man, coolheaded, maybe a little fellow, does the refereeing. The Outlook has done the most of my refereeing for the last thirty years. Sometimes I "get hot" at its decisions (there is a "rank" one now and then), but when I cool off I have to admit to myself I know no other periodical that tries so hard to be fair and that does score right, in my judgment, so often. This passion to play fair is, fortunately, accompanied by a rare gift of seeing it through the other fellow's eyes. Thus The Outlook is not an advocate, but a and so on. But The Outlook, like the vast majority of papers, has failed to interpret the thirty-five million farm dwellers to the seventy million town and city dwellers. This is natural, the editor being a city man; natural, but tragic nevertheless. To-day there is a growing bitterness between the country and the city. For years The Outlook has been trying through interpretation of view-points to mediate between capital and labor, but both are city classes. Two million trade There were clergymen, lawyers, physicians, and engineers. There were legislators, newspaper men, and authors. There were farmers, homesteaders, manufacturers, merchants, salesmen, clerks, stenographers, housewives, and schoolboys and schoolgirls. The oldest competitor was well in his eighties. The youngest was low in his teens. BAITED AND CHASTENED We were told in plain language what is thought of The Outlook. Language varied with opinions. We were baited for prizes with honeyed words, and were smitten soundly with the chastening rod. "Ostensibly I am after a prize; actually I am after a scalp," is the way one con unionists have made more uproar than forty million farmers. But now a fourth estate, a rural estate, is rising into organized and embittered self-consciousness. Right here lies The Outlook's next job: Make the seventy million urbanites know, and therefore appreciate, the thirty-five million farmers who, often amid physical discomforts and social deprivations, toil early and late to feed the multitudes enjoying the opulence and splendor of our American cities. Enter the Agriculturalist! Exit for a season the Archæologist, the Esthete, the Agitator, and sundry other shopworn worthies! Here's to The Outlook, ordained Interpreter-Mediator! Madison, Wisconsin. AWARDED SECOND PRIZE ONE YEAR WITH A COLLEGE PRESIDENT AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FIFTY-TWO NUMBERS OF THE OUTLOOK BY WILLIAM HARRIS GUYER "M Y first coming into this home was in company with the usual mail, consisting of letters, circulars, papers, magazines, etc. I found myself in a jungle of literary productions. Circulars and booklets on 'How to Make Fat Men Lean' and 'A Trip to Devastated Europe' were in company with the 'National Republican,' the 'Ladies' Home Journal,' and the urbane 'Atlantic Monthly.' "It was a typical American home, consisting of the father and mother and six children ranging in ages from nine to twenty-two years. When James, who is the second son, was told that The Outlook was to be a regular visitor in the home, he cracked his heels together and jubilantly shouted, 'Bully! now I'll know where to get the "goods" for our college debates.' liator, interpreting Jew to Gentile, "I soon won my way into the hearts olic to Protestant, capital to labor, of each member of the home. Tennyson, the youngest son, would throw himself on the floor before the grate fire and pass happy moments with the illustrations. The whole family participated in the discussion over the new disease known as 'Spenditis.' James introduced 'Hello, Central,' 'Uplifting the Clown,' and 'Honest Baseball' to the college boys, who were delighted with them. "Without any premeditation, the family conceived the idea of making a file index of the contents of The Outlook. An inexpensive filing case and several hundred cards were bought, and James was given charge of the work. The young conservator of knowledge was often puzzled to know under what head to classify 'Allied Fiddlesticks' and The Folly of the Ouija Board.' "At the end of the year the family was brought together to hear the result of the 'Great Experiment.' It was found that through the medium of The to Mrs. Cate, of Massachusetts, and one The first prize thus goes to a Wiscon- The first prize letter, by Howard Murray Jones, of Madison, Wisconsin, is an appreciative, but frank, criticism. The second prize letter, by Dr. William Harris Guyer, President of Findlay College, Findlay, Ohio, is an understanding summary and analysis-with the evidence catalogued-of what The Outlook accomplishes; while both of the third prize letters may be classed as affectionate personal tributes. WILLIAM HARRIS GUYER Winner of Second Prize Outlook there had come into the home fourteen hundred and twenty-five different subjects; the titles and notices of more than fourteen hundred and seventysix different books; forty-eight poems, consisting of twelve hundred and seventyfour lines; forty-one full-page illustrations, among them those of Lyman Abbott, John Burroughs, Lincoln, Lafayette, Harding, and Coolidge. It was also found that of the more than sixty clubs of the city most of them had used articles and other material catalogued in the filing case. All were highly pleased, not only because the material was so conveniently accessible, but because it was reliable and covered such a variety of subjects. "The lovers of poetry were delighted with 'Kentucky Mountain Rhymes' and 'How Long, Massa Jesus, How Long?' High school children referred to The Outlook in preparing papers on English, history, and politics. One of the professors bore testimony to the fact that no other publication gave him such an intelligent understanding of European affairs. Everywhere in his travels did the college president find Christian lay M men familiar with Dr. Lyman Abbott's 'Knoll Papers.' "The whole family agreed that the bound volumes of The Outlook furnished a thesaurus of information convenient and reliable which is indispensable to every modern home." Findlay College, Findlay, Ohio. TIED FOR THIRD PRIZE Y mind to me a kingdom is, but I must have a courier who will bring to me reports of the doings and thinkings in the great empire of the world. The Outlook is my courier, wise, my nicest friends among poems, and I am ready to put off my courier until the babies are in bed and my wood fire is ready to comfort my toes and inspire my fancy. And don't I adore the play and others which were read before liter- yet guileless, smiling often, presenting reviews then! I can enjoy my black ary societies. "The father reported that ministers of the city found helpful articles pertaining to their work and private study. "The Misunderstood Christ' and "The Two Worlds' received much attention. MRS. EDYTHE I. DRAPER Tled for Third Prize the two sides or more that most things have to them, but not leaving me in doubt as to which side is fairly to be judged the right side; stern rarely, but always when truth is subtly and danger. ously assailed. I suppose I smile always when I see The Outlook among the papers and letters one day in each week. I remember that I did to-day. For what could I be thinking about as I darn Sonny's knees or pick up all the things three children and one man can bestrew a house withal each hurrying morning if I could not have a minute or two at breakfast time to read just a little of The Outlook? The waffles are crisp and hot. I feel the ever-new excitement of sensing the dawn coming up out of the woods beyond the pasture. I prop The Outlook against the water-pitcher and read bits to Jim and we talk just a little-and my day has begun. I read the paragraphs about politics, see a few fat faces of Representatives, etc., then the Angels' Advocate wants me to smile at him, and I do. Mary Garden next! I saw her once in a movie of "Thaïs," and I am a better woman since. (What will Mr. Pulsifer say?) Then I look almost tearfully at Joyce Kilmer's little tree poem, one of sea of an onion patch and still hie me "to the well-trod stage anon" and catch a little of what a modern Jonson is doing in his learned sock. I hope Mr. Walter Damrosch will never see this, but I did adore him so when I was eighteen and stayed on one hard bench hour after hour, day after day, at Willow Grove in Philadelphia, one summer to hear every note of his music. The Outlook is good to let me have news of him occasionally. I have read Mr. Fuessle ever since the first time when I just happened to read him one day. He quarrels so deliciously. Here in Kansas men and women of the Old World are rare. The Outlook is doing something which a compulsory plan for peace can perhaps fail to accomplish in making us all in the New World more understandingly kind towards our tired but spirited friends of the old countries. I do not read much about sports, nor, I am ashamed to say, do I always pursue the economists and the business writers to the bitter ends of their articles. (I mean to, though, when the babies are grown up.) My mother, away across the miles to the East, reads The Outlook. Her guide and friend for many rich years has been Lyman Abbott, and as I go on facing life's responsibilities and trying to answer its questions I find he is more and more mine. I climbed the arid way from Calvinism to Unitarianism a good many years ago, when I was very young and very ardent, and I think Lyman Abbott's wise hand often helped me over bitterly rough places to the wider, happier plain where reason and faith shine together. The Outlook has meant sanity, you see, to an extremist, a pendulum-swinger. Oswego, Kansas. I TIED FOR THIRD PRIZE HOW I FEEL ABOUT THE OUTLOOK HAVE in my mind a vivid picture of Some such emotion possesses me when, expectant, I slip the wrapper from the current number of The Outlook. I stop, look, and listen in that first sublimated enjoyment, scanning headlines, peeping at pictures, reading a paragraph here, an editorial there, an advertisement, a joke, knowing that later I can settle down to a full and satisfying meal. Just now I am exultant over its 8 by 11 size. As to subject-matter, I do not enjoy everything, for I am not interested in everything within the compass of any magazine, but there is such a wealth of subjects that I always find more articles that are appealing than I can possibly find time to read. I especially enjoy The Outlook's book reviews, for they are honest and not nauseatingly flattering. I like its vitality, which makes me feel as if the writers were all on tiptoe in their eagerness for life-more life and fuller. I am amazed each week at the scope of the articles, and feel as if the correspondents sailed about on a magic carpet to view this old world at every fantastic angle. They seem eager to touch life and make it flame, to arouse sympathy with the unfortunate and make people act, yet they are never hectic nor sensational. For those who need to be soothed and calmed there is always the poet's magic touch and Lyman Abbott's crystal thinking and gentle philosophy. As to its editorials, no matter what the topics, I know they will be treated fairly and sanely. I like their snap, their clear-cut English, and good literary form. I like the way they come to a point, then stop. I like their analysis of character and events. I like their way of illuminating big issues, and, most of all, I trust The Outlook's editorial judgments, knowing that moral issues will never be confused. Now I will confess to its greatest service to me personally. Being somewhat wobbly-minded, I depend on The Outlook to stabilize me, to set me right morally, politically, ethically, socially, spiritually. And it does. What more could any magazine do? Belmont, Massachusetts. OUTLOOK READERS IN CONSULTATION WHAT THE OUTLOOK MEANS TO THEM TH HE character of The Outlook is described by contestants with almost endless variety. It has "the attributes of a perfect gentleman;" it is "an arsenal whence the thoughtful may draw their weapons;" it is "a welcome ambassador from everywhere." One refers to the "dulcet editorial notes of the ecclesiastical canary and to the intriguing feline purr of alluring advertisements." "Why not arrange to have The Outlook made a final arbiter of all decisions and the world will move smoothly," is an ironic inquiry from Ohio. "I could wish that you were not quite so uniformly and impregnably fortified in your self-confidence, or a shade less clever in retreating from a position which has proved not quite tenable," says a vigorous 'con testant. A man in Indianapolis finds us careful, well edited, and sane, but declares frankly: "That is just the trouble-you are too darn careful, too well edited, and too sane." We find, too, that we are a manual of conversation. Thus, from Tacoma, Washington: "When I was a college student, I was criticised for not joining in the general conversation in my home. A little introspection convinced me that I ust take time from my college work read more broadly and have someing to talk about. I subscribed for The Outlook as a means to that end. A lady in Columbus, Ohio, confesses Some one refers to our "boyish enthusiasm." "It can feel things because it has the sensitiveness of youth," he adds. "When I disagree with The Outlook, it is a clean disagreement which leaves my mouth unfevered," is another's tribute. "The Outlook is a good comrade. It is old in experience, young in heart, optimistic in spirit, and it doesn't talk too much," we learn from another. A Cincinnati physician seems also to perceive elements of the fountain of youth in The Outlook. "With pleasure I advise my convalescent patients to read it," he says. We are twitted by one because we print "little to rouse the sleeping dogs of combat," and are complimented by another because "you bring to my house by the side of the road the news of the world. Someway or other, you are the peep-hole through which I see the world." Our contestants are split into rival camps as to the typographical appear ance and size of The Outlook. A Mexican ingenuously assures us that the reduced size makes The Outlook "commodious for handling in the daily siesta." While some sigh for larger print, others like the type, finding it, to use the words of one contestant, "so clear that aging people beam when they open it." And here is commendation of a distinguishing typographical feature: "Cursed be the day when Edward Bok first ranged all his big game with heads and foreparts grandly showing and then buried their tails in the sloughs of precious business. The Outlook has not succumbed to this practice." ITS "VETERAN EDITOR" One compares The Outlook to "a delightful meal, with the editorials as the soup course, sharpening the appetite, the 'Knoll Papers' the staff of life, a poem for a relish, illustrations for salad, a story for dessert, 'By the Way' the after-dinner speeches, the book table furnishing nuts to nibble with the afterdinner coffee. Alas, though, that the aroma of a cigar should follow this almost perfect meal!" "What," demands one, "has a hightoned publication like The Outlook to do with the noxious weeds of tobacco?" A kindlier critic writes: "I am not one of those who hold that The Outlook has lost its religion. It has merely lost its head." "Lyman Abbott's writings are my church," writes one contestant. "Con "EXACTLY FOUR HUNDRED AND ONE OF OUR FRIENDS GATHERED AROUND THE EDITORIAL COUNCIL TABLE. ... IT WASN'T EASY TO PICK THE WINNERS" tinue the 'Knoll Papers,' with Rabbi Wise assisting," urges another. The next critic "can't understand why Lyman Abbott, a modern prophet, can print a description of a prize-fight." A man in Newton, Iowa, complains that Dr. Lyman Abbott "regrets that he didn't learn to dance when young." A Kansan who heard Lincoln debate with Douglas hopes "there is some Elisha in training in The Outlook family upon whom the mantle of its veteran editor may fall." TOO PROVINCIAL? Is The Outlook too provincial? This question agitates a considerable number. "Your editors sit in New York in their clubs and easy chairs," charges one; but takes the sting out of the remark by graciously adding, "To me it is a cool breeze that purges the mind each week." A man in Coon Rapids, Iowa, commands us to decentralize. "Keep a member of your staff at large all the time," he urges. "Let the golden glow of the western sun drive the city fog and provincialism from your pages," pleads another. Numerous criticisms arrived clothed in apologies. One critic confesses that he feels as if he "had spoken sharply to a loved companion." Some discern a sign of weakness in our announcement of this contest. One asks: "Are you not weakening that faith which your constituency has at all times possessed in your absolute efficiency and your ability to paddle your own canoe?" A man in Brooklyn "would treat our weaknesses with a touch of velvet like the Angora cat which sometimes awakens me in the morning by cuffing my cheek." A Philadephian trusts that the contest "will not induce you to spoil your journal by adopting suggestions where they are not needed." Opinions as to our politics bristle from many of the letters. One writer feels "fed up with politics" when reading The Outlook. "Sometimes it squints its blind eye toward partisan projects; yet who is not partisan sometimes?" asks another. "The Outlook is my political boss. It does not mince or mulch. It strikes with a sharp ax and digs with a pointed spade," we learn from another. One says we "made a twelve strike when we secured Theodore Roosevelt as contributing editor;" but adds that if we will now secure President Wilson for a similar service we will have "rung all the bells at once." But apparently The Outlook's partisanship is of a peculiarly non-partisan variety, for we are told on the one side that we made "a grave mistake in supporting President Wilson in his personal efforts to establish world peace. . . . The Outlook deserves in a degree the rebuff given to Mr. Wilson at the last Presidential election;" while on the other side we are charged with personal malice toward President Wilson and are told that "in order to show the absolute disregard of truth on the part of The Outlook, the contest editor will probably pigeonhole this criticism and award the first prize to the person who falsely states that The Outlook never made a mistake and is not subject to improvement." A critic in Alton, Illinois, asks: "Why should I palpitate at the news that college presidents will unanimously 'flop' next election? They can't be served in crisp slices with waffles, more's the pity." One thinks it was "a stroke of genius" to get popular novelists to talk politics in our pages. One discovers that there is on the staff "a delightfully musical member." Numerous contestants take a timely hand in our motion-picture controversy. One "rejoices in Mr. Pulsifer's castigation of the movies." Another says that he "wears a complacency which is irritating and not always justified by his knowledge and his wisdom." A discerning graduate of Vassar College observes concerning Mr. Pulsifer that "he seems to have stepped from his editorial slippers into dancing pumps." The "Contributors' Gallery" evokes considerable comment. For instance: "After reading a sketch of the author's life, the article is made many times more interesting than if the reader did not know whether the author were a Congressman or an ex-convict." There are numerous laments at the disappearance of the Spectator. "Was he too good to last?" asks one. "An irretrievable loss," grieves another. "By the Way" comes in for much praise. One critic, however, considers it "a little too verbose." A San Francisco colonel compares "By the Way" with "a fragrant cigar after the evening meal." "Articles in lighter vein and stories do not add to the value of The Outlook," writes a school superintendent in Easthampton, Massachusetts. "We do not like your stories. But, since you print so few, we will forgive you. Possibly you do not like them yourselves," is another view. "Give us one of your incomparable short stories every week. You are publishing the best short stories in America," one makes no bones about saying. Another finds that they "lack virility" and thinks they are "too dreamy and reminiscent." One exponent of rougher stuff holds the opinion that our stories "melt too much into your background of culture and refinement." A subscriber in Sodus, New York, says: "I buy almost every book of which you give an extended notice, and rarely regret the purchase." DELIGHTED WITH DRAMATIC REVIEWS A reader in Kew Gardens, Long Island, says he consults our play reviews regularly before buying theater tickets. An M. E. preacher in Iowa naïvely states: "I wonder if we ministers have made a mistake. We have looked upon actors, theaters, and the whole stage paraphernalia as in apposition and, I fear, opposition to the Church. . . . Even the minister reads of the drama as described in The Outlook and wishes he were there to enjoy it, and feels his inward man would receive no hurt, but very likely a helpful impulse on the way." The covers and illustrations draw various kinds of fire. A woman in Montana wants more of Henry Hoyt Moore's photographs on the cover; she cuts them out and frames them. But an Iowa critic objects decidedly to "the out of focus pictures of your staff photographer." "Your illustrations are good, but don't overdo them," a critic from Yakima, Washington, entreats us; "your clientele is sufficiently educated to preciate a good short story m pages of half-tones." One highly approves of Outlook covers as compared with "half-dressed, red-lipped girls on other periodicals," while a man in Texas finds our covers "weak, lacking the forcefulness of the editorial pages." WHAT THEY WANT Recommendations for the improvement of The Outlook are legion. A gentleman in Abilene, Texas, offers "to criticise each week the miserable and inefficient city government of New York." Some one else wants to know "what the psychoanalyst has accomplished in municipal clinics and how psy chology is being applied in the care of epileptics at the Craig Colony, New York." A Pittsburgher wants "a contest of ideas as to how to preserve the peace of the world, with a prize of $50,000 to attract the big men of the world." Still another wants "a department of physical culture and hygiene for the middleaged." There are repeated demands for pronouncing glossaries of difficult names that appear in The Outlook. A reader in Enosburg Falls, Vermont, puzzles over the pronunciation of Fuessle, Brandeis, Deschanel, and Bourgeois. A Pennsylvania teacher of history "abominates and deplores Herr Gathany's waste of space each week;" he prefers articles by Bruce Barton and Frank Crane. Another wants Bergson. Some request a department devoted to babies and children. One suggests that we start a loan fund to provide scholarships for college students. One comments on our "evident cult for conceited foreigners" and would have Americans write their impressions of America. One critic cries: "Adjust your specs; focus on both men and women," and requests something from the pen of Margaret Sanger. A woman in Indiana wants some articles "on the bacteriology of dish-washing." T THE ST. LAWRENCE OUTLET TO THE SEA LOCKS AT THE "SOO" HE West needs a new outlet to the sea. This was the reason why West and East-farmers, manufacturers, bankers, shippers, and railway executives-met in Detroit, Michigan, to discuss the. 1emedy for the continued emergency of transportation shortage. At this time the Great LakesSt. Lawrence movement became a national undertaking. Every year we hear that car shortage is great. Every year there is a possibility that enough coal cannot be carried from the mines to avert coal famine. Production is hampered by failure of transportation facilities, industries are disturbed by inability to produce raw material, the crop movement is retarded so that seed, machinery, and labor are curtailed and prices are influenced by the shortage of stocks at some points and accumulation at others. This is no new story and the States that are making tremendous contribu tions of food supply to other section: are the Western and Northwestern States, where is the surplus food-producing area of the United States. These districts are capable of yielding many times what they do now, but they are hampered in development by remoteness from market and transportation facilities. It is for these and other cogent reasons that the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Tidewater Association, in behalf of the States of Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Iowa, Montana, Idaho, Colorado, Wyoming, and Nebraska, and the Canadian Deep Waterways and Powers Association, in behalf of numerous municipal and civic bodies of Canada, are advocating connecting the Great Lakes with the ocean by way of the St. Lawrence. In the Rivers and Harbors Act of 1919 Congress requested that the In ternational Joint Commission created in 1909 investigate what further improvements were necessary to make the St. Lawrence available through its entire course for ocean-going vessels, and what economic results could be predicated on such an improvement. Look at the map of the United States and Canada, and you will see that from Duluth and Superior, Port Arthur and Fort William, at the head of the Great Lakes to Montreal and Quebec and the sea there is a series of water routes from the heart of the continent to the ocean. It is a stretch of water which is now recognized as a National and international necessity to benefit thirty million people of the United States alone. Already there is on the Great Lakes a commerce of millions of tons a year on a length of one thousand miles. What is needed is the continuation of this and the way made ready for boats to pass on the two hundred and fifty miles of Ontario and the upper St. Lawrence and on the lower St. Lawrence to the sea. Canada is building the new Welland Canal, which will remove one obstacle in this link. There will remain the obstructions of the St. Lawrence River to overcome, and this is now under investigation by the United States and Canada. Each country has appointed engineers to make surveys that the public may be fully informed when the result of the engineers' investigations is given. It is not disputed that New York is not entirely in sympathy with this undertaking, for she feels that the Port of New York may suffer; but it must be remembered that the Great Lakes-toocean route would make seaports of Buffalo, Ogdensburg, and Rochester. Another benefit is that if the four million horse-power awaiting development in the St. Lawrence is utilized it would serve central New York to below Albany, and a possible radius would include New York and eastern Massachusetts. The West feels that the advantages to |