classes were educated in the schools of the Catholic orders and occasionally finished their course of study in Spain or in some capital of Europe. The daughters were convent-bred and many became the wives of the Spanish officials and merchants. There was added too an infusion of Chinese blood, which made their descendants an able and intelligent race and gave to the Filipinos of to-day their leaders and aspirants. The other groups of the Philippines are not as well known; neither have they had the same advantages, due to the physical condition and location of the other islands and to the characteristics of their inhabitants. They have the same strain of foreign blood, and have been subject, though in less degree, to the same influences which made the Tagalog and Visayan the predominant races. However, they have come into less contact with the outside world and have kept unchanged their racial attributes and customs.

The tribes known as the non-Christians live in the interior, distant from the coast. They are a primitive people and live principally by hunting. They cultivate the soil to a slight extent; they have a tribal form of government and a religion which is a form of fetishism. They seldom come into contact with the other Filipinos, whom they justly consider their natural enemies. The ruthless encroachments of the Christian Filipinos upon this childlike and defenseless people have obliged them continually to recede from their holdings in the valleys until at the present time they occupy the inaccessible portions of the islands.

There is another distinct class of people who inhabit this interesting country. They are the Moros, a fearless and warlike people. They are not native to the islands, having come into the country a marauding and proselyting tribe. Their religion, their customs and manners, are diametrically different from those of the other groups of the Philippines. They have nothing in common with the natives of the Philippines save the tie of blood, being Malays. They are Mohammedans by faith, and by the very nature of their religion are not in sympathy with the Filipinos. The Filipino fears the Moro; and the Moro neither respects the Filipino nor has he any regard for his ability or authority.

These various races, divergent in development, antagonistic in religious principle and creed, mistrustful of one another, will not submit to the rule of any one group.

It would be a serious mistake to place in the hands of the leading Philippine politicians the peace, happiness, and safety of a people which is not homogeneous and among whom exist tribal hatred and fears.

I have lived in the Philippines a period of nine years. I had exceptional opportunity to study the life of the people. I was entertained in their homes. They came and lived in mine. I learned their language and their customs. We became friends. They opened their

hearts to me. They told me of their interests, their beliefs, their joys, and their sorrows. I learned to know their view-point.

A description of the customs and the manners of the people of the province in which I lived is a fair portrayal of the inhabitants of the various provinces of the islands and bears evidence of the complicated situation that confronts the administration of each province.

The province of Palawan is the most western of the Philippine archipelago and comprises many islands, the largest being the island of Palawan, fifth in size of the Philippine group and distant from Borneo sixty miles across the Straits of Balabac. This province is not on the regular trade routes and is not well known. A few magnificent harbors indent its coasts; and, together with primeval forests and rich soil, the province gives promise of great commercial activity. The people are few and very much scattered.

The Christian population consists of the Cuyonos, who are of the Visayan group. Due to isolation, they have remained unspoiled by outside influence, and are of fairly unmixed blood. They do not toil unless driven by the demands of hunger, or else impelled by desire for the acquisition of a new garment or a trinket for some fiesta.

A Spanish priest aptly described their labor platform as follows: "They prepare one-half of a piece of land for sowing. They sow one-half of what they have prepared; cultivate one-half of

Underwood

IGORROTE GIRLS RUNNING AN AMERICAN SEWING MACHINE

Bontoc is in the wild regions of the island of Luzon, near the haunts of the head hunters, close to the most northerly part of the Philippines

what they have sown; and reap onehalf of what they have cultivated." Their food consists, principally, of fish and rice. They love music. The sound of the guitar is heard in every home and they dance with great form and ceremony their beautiful native dances. They go to mass and faithfully observe the obligations of their faith.

They know little concerning those in authority, a change of heads being no more than a change of masters.

The town is governed by a council consisting of a presidente and his councilors. They constitute the most important men in the community and administer its affairs in patriarchal manner. They are respected and under proper guidance give good government.

Under Spanish control the province had no school advantages. Only the families of the better class could afford to send their children to the convents in Manila or Iloilo to acquire their limited education.

The people were illiterate. They scarcely knew the language of their conquerors, spoke only their native dialect, and needed an interpreter to carry on speech with their kindred tribes living on neighboring islands. With the advent of the American soldier came the American school. The building of schools could not keep pace with the eager desire of the Cuyono to learn, which merited the magnificent efforts of the American to teach him. The natives learn quickly in the early stages of their school life; but there comes a period of arrested development, and only the brighter minds of the Filipinos attain the higher grades. The Cuyonos are gentle, peace-loving, and non-aggressive.

The Moros occupy the choice sections of land in the south of the province. They are fearless and aggressive. For centuries they made annual raids upon the Christian inhabitants, attacking defenseless villages and returning to their homes with captive Christians, whom they made their slaves. The fortified churches of the principal municipalities bear evidence of their daring and success. These churches are large stone edifices and are built like a fort. In the days of Moro invasion provisions and water were stored within the fort and upon the approach of the dreaded enemy the people sought shelter within the walls and were enabled to withstand a siege. As late as 1888 the last raid was made upon the beautiful little island of Cuyo. To this day the Cuyonos fear the Moros. They remember former years. The Moros at present are living in peace with their neighbors; not because of change of heart, but because of great respect for the American strong arm.

In the interior live the primitive tribes, the Batacs and Tagbanuas. They are the non-Christians.

The Batacs are very low in mental development, having scarcely emerged from a state of barbarism. They do not cultivate the soil. Their food consists of roots, herbs, creeping things, larvæ of bees, wild honey, and monkeys, which

they kill with a poisoned arrow. They have no shelter but a lean-to made of leaves and branches of trees. Their clothing is a loin cloth made of the beaten bark of a tree. We took into our household a Batac youth to learn a few English words and to become accustomed to the ways of the white man, that he might be used as an interpreter for Government officials and be a guide to his people. But he was hopeless. He returned to his people as he had come, happier in his native habitat, stalking his game, baiting his fish, and making his mate do his bidding. Centuries must come and go ere his tribe will attain a state of well-developed civilization.

The Tagbanuas are more advanced. They live in houses and plant rice. They are gentle and peace-loving, simple and childlike in their trust, and through many years have been the prey of the ruthless Moro. From time immemorial they have been driven into servitude by their stronger neighbors. They are intelligent and learn quickly. They are the only tribe in the Philippines which has a native alphabet. It is distinctive, hieroglyphic in form, and scientists believe it to be evidence of a former civilization or race of people.

On one of the inspection trips into this territory made by the Hon. Dean C. Worcester he asked an assembly of Tagbanuas how many could read their native script. Every hand was raised in affirmative response, a percentage greater than in any of our industrial centers with every educational advantage.

In our own home we took into our care some of the sons of the various tribes, each one a fine type of his people, whom we sent to school to learn English and to know American ways and institutions.

The Christian, Mohammedan, and nonChristian lived together in harmony. Their creeds were respected, and their customs sustained.

the Philippine Islands are held under one head. They live in peace with one another and are prosperous. Justice is

From "The Philippines Past and Present," by Dean C. Worcester. Courtesy of the Macmillan Company.

MANDAYAN BOY

The Mandayans are a wild tribe, devoted to fighting; they inhabit southeastern Mindanao, the most southerly of the main islands of the Philippine group

administered equally to all. The help less are protected and the ignorant tao is given an opportunity to taste the blessing of free action. This is due to the restraining hand of the American Government. Philippine independence will not give to the masses advantages and opportunities for development. The reins of government will be in the hands

In like manner, the various tribes of of a few who will rule by virtue of posi

tion and educational advantages. The powerful will prey upon the weak. Caciqueism, a form of slavery which American officials sought to exterminate, will maintain its sway. There will be internal uprisings and dissension due to racial characteristics and jealousies, which the central Government will not be able to control. Neither does the tao -a Tagalog word for the common people-comprehend self-government. For centuries the taos have been in subjection to some individual or power that controlled all the movements of their lives.

A people who by race and tradition have never known any other than a paternal form of government cannot evolve within a generation, or two, into an independent political existence.

Many centuries elapsed and much blood was shed before Magna Charta was given to a liberty-loving people and many centuries more were added to the history of the Anglo-Saxon race before it could maintain a representative form of government.

The Filipinos are not sufficiently developed to attain in two generations that which required many years of struggle and slow growth for the most intelligent self-governing nations of the world.

The American Government has given to the Filipinos wonderful opportunities and guidance for development in government. It has given them an educational system unsurpassed in its scope and generosity. It has given to coming generations of the Philippines all that it gives to its own; but it cannot change the inherent nature of the Filipino.

With careful thought and unselfish devotion the United States Government must continue to guide the Philippine people-old in race, but young and inexperienced in government-in order that they may know and comprehend the responsibilities and obligations of a self-governing nation, and thus take their place with honor and confidence among the governing bodies of the world, and without endangering the peace of mankind.

A

BANKRUPTCY among the Scandinavian farmers of the Northwest is rare. Every one has credit. Sometimes children who are employed run accounts of their own at the stores. A child's antecedents for at least three generations are known in these communities. The original stock came from Europe, but at least two generations were born in America.

Credit is based upon honesty, and honesty is largely a matter of heredity. Every farmer among these folk has a credit, large or small, according to his reputation for honesty. Rarely is any thing lost on bad debts. Merchants seldom send out statements; the farmer considers himself insulted if a store bill

BY W. T. COE

is mailed to him. When he has money from the sale of his crop, he will come into the store and pay. Poultry, eggs, and butter are turned in on the store bills. If too much is delivered, the farmer is given aluminum token money of different denominations, stamped with the merchant's name and location. Often the dressed turkeys alone pay the old bill and supply enough token money to pay for the greater part of next year's bill of supplies. This token money is worth par at the issuing store at any time it is presented. It supplies the extra circulating medium.

So long as the turkey currency lasts, these Scandinavian villages of the Northwestern wheat fields do not worry about

the volume of the Federal Reserve notes. Turkeys seem to thrive in this territory. Thirty thousand dollars' worth were shipped out of one Minnesota village alone for the holiday market in 1920.

Living in one of these communities was a young farmer named Bjarne Bjerke, commonly called Barney Burke, a Norwegian, and not an Irishman, although the sound of his name would indicate that he might be a Sinn Feiner. Among Norwegians one must not be surprised at the similarity between Irish and Norwegian names. Bjarne's wife was Nora Dohlen, pronounced Dolan, but her father's name was Ole and not Mike. Like Bjarne, she was pure Norwe

gian. A neighbor of Barney's spelled his name Norlien, but pronounced it Nolan; another, Andrew Toohey, spelled his name Thue. Mike Phalen spelled his name Faloen; Tom Quealley spelled his name Kvalle; Oscar Dailey spelled his name Dahle. These people lived in Nora township, originally spelled Norre, meaning north. These names suggest that the sea-roving Vikings doubtless settled the south of Ireland as well as Normandy and the east coast of England. At any rate, Barney Burke was not Irish.

He was the son of Marin Bjerke, a well-to-do woman who owned a large wheat farm. Barney fell out with his mother and decided to farm on his own hook, so he rented a big wheat farm for cash rent in the spring of 1920, bought his farming outfit at the annual spring sales, on time, and borrowed money at the bank to buy seed. He got credit at the stores for his summer's supplies. When he threshed his wheat, his landlord was on the job and got the greater part of his rent from the wheat money. Then the prices of farm products fell so steadily that when Barney's crop was sold there wasn't enough to go round by $1,500. He got only his food for his work and he was in debt. His mother was old and would soon be passing, so his creditors decided to wait until Barney got his share of the estate. Barney decided to forestall them and filed a petition in voluntary bankruptcy, naming them all and the amounts owed to

each. He played no favorites. There were no assets, and the liabilities totaled a little less than $1,600. The banker and the business men-all Scandinavians —were up in arms. The village talked of nothing else for a week. Barney had suffered the losses common to all, due to the unfortunate decline in the price of farm products. Every one was sorry for him, but they deplored and condemned his seeking the bankruptcy route.

Honesty in paying bills was an unwritten law. One might not be able to pay to-day, but he paid as soon as he could. A bankrupt—a man who would never pay and who wouldn't try-was a pariah.

Three old heads gathered one morning at the post office, the town meetingplace. One said: "Barney is getting bad advice. Let us get him in and tell him he is making a mistake. Let us urge him to dismiss his bankruptcy petition and settle by giving long-time notes, payable a little each year, as the Allies are doing with the war indemnity." Another wise head said: "You'll have to go back a generation if you want to instill that doctrine into Barney. Years ago, I used to be a grain buyer. Many's the time Marin Bjerke has tried to bluff me into giving her an extra bushel on the weight of her load of wheat by claiming she had weighed it at home and that I was trying to cheat her."

The third said: "She once brought a coop of chickens to my store to sell. Í

weighed the chickens and dumped them into my coop. She promptly claimed the weight of the chickens on her scales was twenty pounds more than my weights showed. She tried to shame me by saying: "You are trying to cheat a poor widow.' Fortunately, I hadn't mixed the chickens with any others. I told my clerk to go with her, catch the chickens, and take them across the street and have my competitor weigh them. She demurred at this, but I insisted; she had attacked my reputation for honest weight. I told her I couldn't and wouldn't stand for it; that my character was at stake. Reluctantly, she went along. My competitor found my weights were right."

A fourth man had by this time joined the three wise ones. He was the young manager of the Farmers' Co-operative Elevator. He laughed and said: "Only yesterday Marin Burke sent a load of her wheat to the elevator. I weighed it and she tried to beat me out of seventy pounds of wheat worth about two dollars. I just wouldn't let her beat her neighbors who own stock in our elevator out of even two dollars."

The three wise ones who had followed the star of Bethlehem known as common honesty, a guiding star among the wheatfield men for all these years, shook their gray heads.

"If we expected to get that bankruptcy petition dismissed, we should have started a generation ago."

IN the Berryman household Malcolm Berryman and Arnold Adair were

the high cost of food that since the war had threatened to upset the household budgets of every family in the land. Wage-earners were striking for higher pay, and by their strikes reducing the output and supply. Employers were charging more to meet this higher pay and the higher cost of their families' food. Consumers everywhere were compelled to pay more for everything they bought all because everybody must have food, and it was costing more.

Experts and economists might argue all they pleased, legislators might enact restraining laws, individuals might continue to protest against imminent bankruptcy, yet remorselessly the price of food went up and other necessities of life kept pace with it. Even the people of California, the land of milk and honey, sea food, and fruit-even these lucky people of the land of plenty suffered unaccountably with the common distress of the Nation.

Like the competent housewife she was, Mrs. Berryman conducted all the affairs of their country place on a budget system, and she kept well within the allowance made for this purpose by the generous head of the Berryman family. Yet, try as she might, she could not make ends meet as they used to, nor I could she conceal her irritation at the outrageous demands made upon her purse by the tradesmen in town for staple articles of food that were now double and treble their customary cost.

"I told the fish-market man he was a profiteer, and nothing less!" Mrs. Berryman said to her family in great indignation in relating the story of her morning marketing. "Mr. Parker owns the cannery here, and he operates his own fleet of fishing smacks off the coast. I've seen those boats loaded full of sardines and

salmon and herring and mackerel and tunny fish-caught in one day-yet he has the audacity to charge me thirty cents a pound for a mess for dinner. What the poor people do nowadays I am sure I do not know!"

"There are no poor people nowadays, mother," observed Oliver Berryman, smiling. "You never saw So many motor cars on the streets of San Diego as there are to-day. Probably every one of Parker's employees owns a Ford. Parker has to charge more for his fish to pay for the automobiles."

"I thought Parker had closed down his fish cannery," said Malcolm, turning to his older brother, who was a man of affairs in the city. "I saw something about it in the paper."

"Not altogether," returned Oliver. "There's been a slump in the run of fish this summer, and he operates the cannery on part time only. Parker's not a bad fellow, mother. You'd do the same if you were in business nowadays. You must charge your customers enough to pay your expenses or else you close your doors. He is not a profiteer. Didn't you find fish the same price all over town?"

Mrs. Berryman confessed rather reluctantly that Oliver was right. She had spoken her mind to each of them about the sin of profiteering, and each had protested that he made less profit to-day than he did a year ago, when fish were selling for half the present price. She resolutely advised them to bring down their prices at once if they wanted to sell her any more fish. She would boycott fish until they were again reasonable in their charges.

"That's the spirit, mother!" laughed Oliver. "If everybody boycotts fish, then there will be more fish than there are consumers, and the price will certainly go down. Supply and demand regulates prices, you know. If you can't

increase the supply, then reduce the demand, and the value of the commodity falls just the same."

Arnold Adair had been listening attentively to a discussion which interested him exceedingly. Here, three thousand miles. away from New York, families were confronted with the same problems of living; they were exasperated by the same inexplicable outlay of income for simple items of food and clothing; they felt the same resentment, yet after consideration they came to the same conclusion. Supply and demand regulated prices. Increased demand invariably increased the supply where an increased supply was possible to obtain. If the supply could not be increased, high prices must continue.

"What's the matter with the Pacific fishes, Oliver?" inquired Arnold. "Isn't there an inexhaustible supply of fish in the sea, or have they become too wise to get caught?"

"I don't know anything about this wholesale catching of fish, Arnold," returned Oliver. "If it's a question of a brook trout, I can tell you where to drop your fly when you want one or two, but catching sardines by the boat-loadthat's a science that never appealed to me. Perhaps they get boat-shy and beat it when they sight a sail. Anyway, Parker's boats cruise about week in and week out, he says, without finding a school of fish."

"Perhaps there's a war on," suggested Malcolm Berryman, "and the California sardines are over taking a fall out of the Japanese goldfish. If they all mobilize across the Pacific for any length of time, Parker and the cannery will be out of luck."

"How do the fishing smacks locate schools of fish?" demanded Arnold. "Do the fish gather around for bait, or how do the boats get a line on their whereabouts?"

"Oh, they swim about in great schools

near the surface," Mrs. Berryman interposed. "I remember when the Parker fleet used to bring in all it could carry after two days at sea. Sometimes they would run into a school of herring twenty miles long. They would drop their nets and scoop them up into the boats and sail home. They just search around until they find these big schools, then they signal to one another to come close together, and all they have to do is to scoop them in-and sell them for thirty cents a pound!" ended the indignant lady, a trace of resentment still lingering in her mind.

"And these fishing boats cruise around the Pacific Ocean until they run into a school like that!" exclaimed Arnold Adair, incredulously. "It must be like looking for a needle in a haystack! They can't see more than a hundred yards around them. What a stupid way of finding fish!" A thought suddenly struck him. But, with characteristic caution, he sat silently considering it while the others continued their conversation.

Parker had twenty small trawlers, it appeared, besides several power boats which acted as scouts for the heavier craft. Several men were employed on each boat, some to care for the nets, others to man the boats. And the fish cannery itself had worked several hundred men when the fishing season was at its height. At present, at the very time when people needed fish as a diet to supplant the more expensive meats and fowls, the cannery was running on part time because the trawlers could find no fish. And all the other canners along the coast were suffering from the same scarcity of material.

Arnold had witnessed the fisheries of the Columbia River in operation. Here huge water-wheels, constantly revolving by the current, caught in their meshes the salmon which sought to pass through the narrow trap beneath the wheel. As each compartment of the wheel reached the upper half of its circuit, the dripping fish fell into a slanting trough, which slid them rapidly into the bins of the cannery. Day and night a continuous stream of mighty salmon poured down the trough, to be dressed, cooked, and canned with almost automatic celerity. Thus had the ingenuity of the fresh-water fishing industry simplified the process of catching their food, reducing hugely the cost of the wholesome supply to the kitchens of the world. A wise Government policy had required each cannery to restock those waters with tenfold as many fish as were consumed each year.

Ocean fisheries could not operate their canneries by means of water-wheels. Arnold wondered how small cruising sailboats ever succeeded in finding loitering schools of fish. Lately power boats had come into service. Their swifter speed enabled them to make sorties out beyond the fleet of fishing boats, but even they must necessarily blunder full into n unsuspected school to find it. If saltter fish could be secured as cheaply

as the Columbia River salmon, they would sell as cheaply.

"Has Mr. Parker's cannery such a thing as a wireless?" inquired Arnold, suddenly. "Of course his fishing boats do not carry wireless."

"Rather not," laughed Oliver Berryman. "There is a Government station here and several small private stations, but nobody knows anything about wireless here except small boys and cranks. Why? Would you have the ocean liners send in a wireless message when they encounter a school of fish?"

"Yes. Why not?" answered Arnold, in all seriousness. "I suppose Parker and the others wouldn't mind paying pretty well for such information, would they? But really, I would like to talk to one of these small boys who has a wireless outfit in town. Can you find him for me to-morrow, Malcolm?"

"Yes," replied Malcolm, looking at Arnold wonderingly. He scented another flying stunt of some sort whenever Arnold proposed anything out of the common. "There's an ex-army pilot in town named Wilcox, who didn't get overseas, but he is a wizard at wireless. He makes his own apparatus."

The following morning Arnold and Malcolm, with Wilcox at their heels, called to have a talk with the head of the Parker Cannery Company. Arnold had imparted to his two friends the project he had in mind. He proposed to take Malcolm with him in his seaplane, the Comet, leaving young Wilcox behind at the cannery office, where he would run out a set of listening wires on the roof, connected with his instrument below stairs in the office of Mr. Parker. Arnold had an idea that schools of fish could be picked up from an airplane with as much ease as an airman spots a submarine below the surface. If this proved to be correct, there remained only the difficulty of directing the boats of the fishing fleet to the spot desired. His wireless sender was good for three hundred miles.

If his plan proved to be at all feasible, the airplane would certainly do a day's work in a small fraction of the time required of the power boats or trawlers. Not only could the aviator travel much faster than the fisherman on the sea, but he could see deeper into the water, and could cover a horizon wider beyond comparison.

Mr. Peter B. Parker, proprietor of the city market and part owner of the Cannery Company, was found on the company's docks in the bay. He was a salt-water man, rugged and grizzled of feature, a short stubby mustache of the color and tenacity of a tooth-brush covering the skin of his upper lip. He eyed the aviators steadily as Arnold unfolded his plan, turning from one to the other an appraising glance that sought to discover the motive back of this extraordinary idea. “What will it cost?" he demanded, shortly, when Arnold had finished. "And what do you want me to do if your flyin' contraption comes down in the ocean?"

"Nothing at all, Mr. Parker," replied Arnold. "This is just a little experiment of our own. If it works, you will get the benefit of it--you and the other canners of fish food in the vicinity. All we want you to do is to permit Lieutenant Wilcox here to put up his wireless rigging on the cannery roof-or down here on the dock, if you prefer. If we find any fish, we want to send word to you from the spot, so that your boats can find them."

The old fisherman smiled somewhat skeptically as he looked across the bay. Obviously he did not care to become responsible for the drowning of two harebrained aviators who desired to sacrifice themselves in an expedition so foolish and so reckless. In his opinion, it was bad enough to fly at all, let alone going out to sea. A man would have all he could do to keep his machine balanced, let alone looking around for any fish!

Malcolm Berryman finally persuaded the old man that Arnold's seaplane could ride the waves as safely as could one of his old fishing smacks. Whether he consented to take advantage of their expedition or not, they would make the flight just the same. And finally it was concluded, to their mutual approval,

that Wilcox should rig his wireless antennæ from the mast of one of the largest trawlers in the harbor, and should accompany the fleet out to sea as soon as the airplane was ready to start. This arrangement would permit even quicker intelligence to be transmitted to the fleet than if Wilcox and the boats waited within the harbor.

By noon the boats would be ready to get under way. They had just returned from a fruitless cruise lasting six days. The men were discouraged, the canners were alarmed, and the price of herring and mackerel had gone up several notches more. Only a few scattered schools had been encountered during the whole cruise. And it was considered the best time of the year for trawler fishing.

"They're out there somewhere," insisted Parker, chewing a match meditatively as he gazed out to sea. "Some years it's like this fer months at a time. They gather in big schools and stick together, sometimes miles and miles long. One day, I remember, the Katonomah steamed through a school of herring fer three hours, lyin' right under the surface. When she reached port and told us about it, I found our boats had been within ten miles of the big swarm, and never knew it."

Arnold nodded his head appreciatively. Ten miles of ocean surface could be searched in five minutes on board the Comet.

As Arnold and Malcolm motored through the city on their way home, leaving Wilcox in the care of the unemotional Mr. Parker, Malcolm questioned his friend interestedly on the subject of his plans.

Malcolm had never experienced the thrills and tediousness of submarine patrols during the war. He knew that Arnold had been through this anxious schooling before he had joined the