dark symmetrical little evergreen with a single glowing red berry.

"Let's take it back to John Burroughs." I pulled off the berried spray -ever so gently, so the berry wouldn't fall-and when we all met again in Pink Street I gave it to him.

"It's a little Christmas tree, with one red candle all ready to light for you."

"A Christmas tree!" he chuckled, and stuck it in the breast pocket of his gray seersucker coat, arranging it caressingly so the prized red candle would be safe. He said it was American yew, and very rarely found about there.

We left Pink Street by the upper end, leading back into the hills, topping peak after peak till we came out upon a high plateau. Wide on either hand the windswept hillcrests billowed out to the cloud-swept sky. There was nothing

else in the world. We. looked out into space itself, that high space that rides unbroken across the universe. Cloud and peak set in infinite space-and at our feet small pink blossoms creviced in the gray rock. Across the plateau the road curved to the edge of the heights, and farther down we could see the valley through a screen of trees linking that upper world of space and the living valley below.

Presently John Burroughs leaned back from the wheel. Professor L. offered to take it, so they changed places, and we went down almost in silence, the exhilaration of the heights still upon us.

"Have you turned her off?" John Burroughs suddenly leaned forward and asked.

"Yes," answered Professor L. "That's right. Save the gas and fool

your engine." John Burroughs chuckled and leaned back again.

The car came out into the village and a stir went through our little party. The picnic in Pink Street was over, and promptings of things to be done came out and prodded us.

"We need a loaf of bread," Mrs. Burroughs remembered.

"I'll get it," said John Burroughs.

He got out of the car by the grocery, and I got out, too, so that I might walk home under the maples.

We said good-night, with the last of the glowing day upon us, and I looked back and waved, and John Burroughs stood there in the sunset, still erect, looking out with his kindly eyes smiling friendlily-and my little red-candled Christmas tree stuck safe in his breast pocket.

I

AM very much surprised at Belgium.

I had heard that she had come back with a bang. So she has; but it has been partly because of inflation and governmental aid to factories denuded and demolished by the Germans.

Let me say first that the people of Belgium appear as well dressed, as well fed, and as prosperous in a business way as the people of the United States. There is a reason.

First, Belgium was not devastated as northern France was. The Boche removed machinery and some steel buildings, bridges, etc., to Germany, but Belgium was not fought over; it was quickly taken, and most of the accumulated building of centuries remains the same to-day as in 1913.

Second, the war activity of the Belgian Government was very small, hence it did not pile up a great war debt.

Third, the Government has run into debt since the armistice, issuing paper francs by the billions as loans or gifts to put her business back on its feet. One steel works that had all of its machinery taken by the Germans secured one hundred million paper francs. The company agrees that if the Boche fail to pay indemnities, then the company will pay back the hundred millions to the Belgian treasury.

It is easy to understand that restoration has been greatly accelerated. Labor has been in great demand and the market for merchandise of all kinds has been fine.

Belgians also profiteered more or less during the early days of the war. The German merchants bought up large quantities of goods at any prices asked. Of course the invading army requisitioned a good deal, paying in paper marks, which the Belgians were forced to accept. But in August, 1914, Belgium was full of merchandise. Antwerp at that time was the greatest port in Europe. So thousands of great fortunes

were made here during the early and in some ways the darkest days of the war. These fortunes, being spent freely, have added to the distribution of prosperity.

The foregoing will explain why I saw this morning a crowd of over twenty thousand people along the wide riverfront of Liège all dressed as well as I am, and, I am sorry to say, looking better fed.

Goods have been shipped in here from everywhere, not excepting Germany.

The stores display an ample supply of food and clothing-necessities; and in addition there seems to be a pre-war quantity of furniture, crockery, hardware, jewelry, laces, bicycles, and every other thing one could call for.

All gentlemen carry canes here. I do not begrudge a man a cane ordinarily, but there have probably been enough bought here since the armistice to have made a very large contribution to the starving children of Europe had the money been diverted to charity.

I have no doubt I will find some children somewhere for whom the American public can still be asked to give, but they are not in Belgium, nor indeed in France, for outside aid should not be received by a country containing a large number of very wealthy people.

I understand France, Belgium, and England are all giving relief money to Poland and Austria.

There is one cloud on the Belgian sky; almost any one can discern that it spells the word Financial. It does not yet cover the sun of temporary prosperity, but it will soon.

The public debt is about six billion dollars (before the war it was about one billion).

The State Bank has issued about one and a quarter billion dollars' worth of paper currency, to redeem which it holds a gold reserve of only five per cent.

These figures are based on a franc

being worth par (about 20 cents), but the franc is now worth only 8 cents in United States money, and the Belgian Government must pay out a very large amount of such depreciated money to cover its expenses. It does not dare as yet to collect taxes enough to cover its expenses; neither does it dare to reduce substantially its activities, which include control of railways, wheat and flour prices, meat importations and refrigeration plants, and many other things that the people like to have a Government do, to reduce the cost of living.

The result shows in the last financial statement obtainable. The state Treasurer, in a speech in Parliament in December last, mentioned the expenditure for the recent twelve months of eleven billion francs and the total receipts of four billion francs. (I leave out the fractions, which about balance each other.)

All countries in the world have been more or less tainted with this poison of inflation, not excepting the United States of America. But nowhere does the intoxication produce more brilliant temporary results than here, and I am glad to be on the ground before the after effects follow. I have seen the after effects in England, where they have partially sworn off and now are having a spell of unemployment and confusion of counsel, with much bad temper thrown in.

For all that, England is in better shape than Belgium, and Belgium will probably get her feet on the ground a little later on. I studied Belgium twelve years ago, and find going over the same ground now very fascinating.

The people are among the most polite in Europe. The eight-hour day has supplanted the longer pre-war working hours; the men and women are hard workers, and the dogs-I mustn't forget them! I saw a man and dog pulling a

cart loaded with 2,800 pounds of coal. My son remarked that he would want "a larger dog than that." I replied, "I should prefer six." But work is a fine art. These people know how to do a lot of things better than we can do them. They cannot buy auto trucks, nor pay 65 cents a gallon for gasoline; but they can make a two-wheel cart with wheels of large diameter, they can balance a heavy load carefully, and then on level streets they have found that one can push or pull a surprisingly large load. In addition they have trained dogs in the same art. It is a common sight to see a dog under the cart, entirely out of sight of the master, digging in desperately as though he might break his harness. "Faithful as a dog" has come to me many times; he earns a living. No amount of labor seems to destroy his spirit; he growls threateningly when passing another working dog, and when resting in the market-place all the dogs get their Irish up at times and have a fine fight.

When Germany was here, she paid for everything in paper marks at an arbitrary value of 1 mark to 11⁄4 francs. She allowed nothing but these paper marks to circulate. People were shot for less offenses than hesitating to receive them.

After the armistice the Belgian Gov

ernment found over six billion of these worthless paper marks in the hands of the Belgian people.

They properly and promptly replaced them with Belgian francs, adding this very heavy item to their national debt. I have not been able to learn how much has been paid to those manufacturing companies whose entire machinery and equipment were taken to Germany, but it also runs into billions of francs. This is not entirely a gift, as, if the Germans should, peradventure, not pay an indemnity, these manufacturers have agreed to reimburse their Government.

I have visited two plants-one which received five million francs, and the other the steel works I have already mentioned. The Director of the latter told me that he had been confined in a cell in Germany for two and one-half years, and that he was nearly starved to death.

When the Germans commenced to ship the machinery and part of the buildings to Germany, the company asked permission to make a record of everything; the Boche had time and again declared: "You will be paid for everything." Whatever confidence the company might have had at the time in such promises, they were rudely awakened when the Germans blew up the concrete foundations with dynamite.

The records show that 105,000 tons were shipped from this one plant-over three thousand American car-loads.

Among all the plants where such thefts were committed, the Belgian Government was able to describe and de mand the return of about twenty-five thousand machines, from small lathes to large rolling mills.

The Germans returned sixteen thousand, of which about ten thousand were in fair working condition, but of course much less valuable than when taken; the other six thousand are almost worthless. I saw many of each.

There is an undoubted shortage of animals here, or cows would not be used for plowing and people would not harness themselves to pull canal boats. Yet milk is not dear. This hotel paid 1 franc (8 cents) a quart yesterday for their milk supply, and 7 francs (56 cents) for a half-pint of cream.

People are raising chickens everywhere, and only beer and light wines are sold by the drink. If a man wants whisky, he must go to certain places, buy a bottle, and take it away unopened. I think this law is fairly well enforced, although I notice more wine-shops here than before, and most of them are screened from outside inspection. I hope to get more information on this subject. W. C. GREGG.

S

| INGLE-TAXERS who are tired of straining their eyes toward the hori

zon of economic change can find a fair realization of their dreams by the simple expedient of packing up and moving to Kwantung Province, China. The single tax has made its début in one of the most populous and prosperous districts of the Far Eastern Republic. This section of China knows no income, inheritance, or personal property taxes, and outside the cities there is no tax on buildings or other improvements. It is now the purpose of Mr. Liao Chunghai, Commissioner of Finance, to resurvey all the land of the province, register its value, make a second appraisal in ten years, and appropriate the unearned increment for the state.

"We are going to try, as far as possible, to put into practice the principles of Henry George," Mr. Liao told the writer in a recent interview. "As a matter of fact, what is virtually a single tax has been in existence in the country districts for many years. The farmer pays only a land tax and is not penalized for having the energy to improve his property. In the cities, however, the system is reversed. There the whole burden is borne by the buildings and the land goes free. This must be changed before Kwantung can claim to be a real follower of Henry George."

Mr. Liao anticipates no difficulty in carrying out his plan to collect the un

earned increment, for Chinese farmers are accustomed to fairly high land taxes and Kwantung expects no sensational real estate booms that would raise the unearned increment to a dizzy figure. Though there is no direct land tax in the cities, its purpose is met by an assessment amounting to 8.4 per cent of the property's value, which is levied whenever real estate changes hands.

At present Kwantung Province, of which Canton is the capital, is in a serious financial plight through no fault of its system of taxation. The militarists from the neighboring province of Kwangsi, who captured Kwantung during the ascendency of Yuan Shi-kai and who were recently driven out by the Cantonese, left nothing in the treasury but the floor. Before retiring out of gunshot the military governor thoughtfully collected the taxes for three years in advance, and then departed, owing the public school teachers, policemen, and other government employees their wages for a period of nine months. The new Commissioner of Finance is therefore faced with a most unenviable job. Despite the vacuous condition of the treasury, however, Mr. Liao's first official act was to close up the city's gambling-houses, from which the government derived a revenue of ten million dollars a year.

"We hope to make up this deficit, first, by stamping out the 'squeeze' system,

whereby several millions were lost to the government every year; and, secondly, by the resurvey of the land and a consequent increase in taxation," Mr. Liao explained. "The surveys on which taxes are now based are so antiquated and inaccurate that about onethird of the land escapes taxation altogether."

Mr. Liao hopes eventually to eliminate the salt tax, which, he says, is unjust, because it is borne chiefly by the poor. He wishes to supplant it by heavier taxes on wines and tobacco to make up the temporary deficit. The fact, however, that the foreign Powers permit China to charge only a five per cent duty on imports puts a serious difficulty in the way, for the province, by placing a heavy tax on its own products, will merely force its new tobacco industry out of business. The Commissioner of Finance has urgently requested the Powers administering China's maritime customs to permit a higher duty on tobacco and wines.

When, in a few years, the province has taken the kinks out of its finances and the appropriating of the unearned increment by the state has become a reality, the rest of the globe need merely take a "look-see" in Kwantung to learn whether or not Henry George had the right prescription for the world's economic stomach-ache.

P

ECULIAR to the Southern mountains is the custom of funeralizing. When a man dies, he is buried with no ceremony whatever, with not even much mourning on the part of the relatives. Ministers are few and scattered, there are no means of prompt communication with them and with interested friends at a distance, so only the demands of decency are complied with. After several members of a family have died, however, a pittance from the meager income is saved up for the purpose of hiring several ministers to conduct a funeral meeting, an elaborate event which more. than atones for the apparent neglect.

Thus it. happened that Cindy Cornett and her two sons had been dead several years before her daughter, Mary, "norrated it round" that there was going to be a funeralizing in the schoolhouse on Robber's Creek the third Sunday in October. The teachers from the settlement school across the mountain were especially urged, to come. "Git up at candlelight, come over afore breakfast, and stay all day; now do, fer I'm aimin' to have a good dinner that day, and you're jist bound to come!" Mary's invitation was too attractive to be resisted. We had our breakfast before leaving the school, however, as making a six-mile climb on an empty stomach is no fun.

We reached the little white schoolhouse a few minutes after ten o'clock. Mary came running out to meet us, solemnly resplendent in a black funeral dress and a stiff white bonnet. "Come right in. We're havin' sech purty singin'." Having heard the mournful sounds long before we reached the meeting, we agreed that the singing left nothing to be desired.

The room was. almost filled. The day was warm, so most of the men were sitting around in their shirt sleeves, although some were giving vent to their reverence by wearing vests. The smallest children were crying, already weary of being kept indoors; their elder brothers and sisters were running in and out of the room, the boys occasionally sitting down in a row against the wall to see who could spit the farthest, the winner being the acknowledged best man of them all. That the women were prepared for the affair could be seen not only by their hats, which gave evidence of all the styles from the early eighties on down, but also by their unusually distressed faces.

The platform at the end of the schoolroom held a couple of tables, upon which sat buckets of water. To these the children, and grown-ups as well, made frequent pilgrimages, all using the common dippers and carefully pouring back into the bucket any drops that might be left. The spring which supplied the drinking water was a half-mile away, and the day was warm. Around the

wall sat the dignitaries of the meeting— the husband and father of the deceased, the officiating minister and the two "precious brethren" from neighboring counties, and the pillars of the church of both sexes who were gifted with the loudest voices. All their tunes were mournful, never ending on the keynote, and were sung with many quaverings and breaks of voice. At the conclusion of one song, a good old sister made her way up to the platform, selected a chair near the front, and sat down, removing her bonnet in order to cool off. She had probably climbed a mountain to get to the meeting. The high back-comb she took from her tight knot of hair, and down it fell. Carefully she combed it out, as unconcerned as if that were the conventional thing to do in church.

When the song service was finally ended, the preachers consulted together at great length as to what they should do next and who should do it; it fell to the lot of the officiating minister to pray, so he announced that we should all "git down" when we prayed, for all examples in the Bible proved that people should fall "prosprate on the ground." The prayer was long, punctuated by much spitting and blowing of nose on the part of the minister; many instructions were given the Lord as to whom, what, and how to bless; a little refrain, with a tune, of "O Lord, bless the brotherly love, O Lord, the love, O Lord, that flows from heart to heart, O Lord, from heart to heart," entered regularly every fifth or sixth sentence. When our knees were almost paralyzed, he stopped, arose, mopped his face, and began his "remarks." He read the three obituaries. The woman had left satisfaction behind, having lived a "considerable" Christian life, which was later read as a "consistent" Christian life; the first son had led a wild life "atter the fashion of most young men;" the second son had been shot, and some thought he had died praying. Each reading was greeted with sobs and groans from the mourners. The preacher then talked at length about the sureness of death and about that pale "figger who had his finger, cold and clammy, even then, at that very moment, upon our shoulders." In the course of time this minister gave way to Brother Osbourne, who expounded once more upon death's certainty, using as a text the story of the Passover, with much emphasis upon the blood upon the door. He was a firm believer in recognition after death and shouted to us that we should know Cindy when we reached heaven. Then he drew out his watch and, having talked thirty-five minutes "by his time," said he would let some of the other brethren talk. We sang another hymn before giving the next man his chance. His theme was similar to that of the others. He described the way the two robbers looked on Calvary as they

were "expanded between heaven and earth." He worked himself into such

a frenzy as he danced around the platform that the ends of his long, curled-up mustache fanned the air.

The theology of this service was typical of all the Hard-Shell Baptist teachings in this section of the mountains. There is no relation whatever between creed and actual living. Morality has no connection with religion. In fact, it seems that mountain people have no outlet for their passions, no chance for a legitimate excitement which every normal being demands, save in these two extremes, paradoxical as it may sound, immorality and religious fanaticism. Some people choose one outlet, some the other; it is not unusual for some to choose both.

The exhorting which had figured strongly in each sermon now began to have its effect. One "dear dyin' sinner" came to the altar, while another lay across a desk, her face hot with tears, groaning: "O Lord, have mercy on my pore soul!" The people on the platform were shouting, crying, and shaking hands. One tall, spare old lady, with spectacles on the end of her nose and with hat resting on the back of her neck, got so happy that she danced about the platform, spinning round and round like a top, keeping time by clapping her hands. Another showed her zeal by throwing herself backwards from the edge of the platform, trusting to luck that some one would catch her; fortunately, some one always did, although a time or two I grew very nervous. The excitement at last subsided, the people sat down, and the ministers produced bread and a bottle of wine preparatory to serving the sacrament. From the odor, I should say that grape juice was not used. After this ceremony was performed, with no word as to its significance, water was brought in and towels were unwrapped for the footwashing. The men sat in a double row, facing each other, at one end of the platform, the women the same way at the other end. The first woman tied a towel around her waist with strings sewed on the towel. She then washed the feet of the woman next to her, dried them on the towel, shook hands, gave the towel to this woman, who then performed the same service for the first woman. The men did the same way. so that, in the end, each person had his feet washed and had washed some one else's. This process was accompanied by much shouting and weeping, with an occasional hymn. As there were no books, one of the ministers lined off the hymns, reading a line, which was then sung by the congregation, then reading another. and so on. One man kept his mouth wide open while the line was being read, so that he was in position when the time came to sing again. When the foot