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Almost equal is the provision made for adults. Each reservation has a government agent to execute its treaty stipulations, direct its service, compose dissensions, and guard the interests of the Indians. He is often an army officer detailed for these duties. At every agency there is a physician whose services are gratuitous to the Indians. The government employees number 530 whites and 570 Indians, who range from laborers, farmers, and mechanics to clerks, engineers, and judges, and also 804 red men enrolled in the reservation police, which is a force relatively twice as great, according to population, as the police of New York city. In the aggregate of the entire Indian service the government maintains one adult person in the field, or exclusive of its bureau work, for each 41 red people, and for this asks no reimbursement. Here is an example of prodigal nurture for an entire race, already rich in lands, live-stock, and invested funds, probably unexampled in the relations of a civilized to an inferior people. It is as if the United States should exempt Rhode Island from all public obligations, and appropriate $16,000,000 a year to that Commonwealth, not only to pay for the administration of its affairs, but to educate its children and feed its people. On the side of good sense this prodigality may be a cause of self-reproach, but not on the side of human pity. When other nations can surpass this record then they may cast their stones at us.

Obstacles to the success of the Indian policy of civilizing our wards are mainly threefold: the generosity of the government, which has put a premium on tribal communism and encouraged idleness and improvidence; conflict of local and Federal laws; and the hunger of white men for the wealth of the aborigine. This hunger has infested the reservations with squawmen and intruders, has engirdled them with saloons and the shops of unlicensed traders, and has plotted to despoil the red men of their lands.

The conflict of laws is multifarious and can only be superficially indicated. In 1873 Oregon demanded that Captain Jack, the Modoc chief, should be tried for the murder of General Canby, not in the Federal but in the State courts, in order to make sure of his execution. In 1897 the game-wardens of Colorado killed two Utes and wounded two others for hunting out of season off their reservation, although

the right to do so was stipulated in the treaty by which they were settled on their lands. There was no redress to be had, because the courts have held that, after the admission of a State into the Union, municipal law overrides federal enactments. There are a score of kindred ways in which conflict of jurisdiction has worked injury to Indians, and hence the necessity for their close restriction to their reservations in order to enjoy their treaty rights.

The effect of government liberality is not hard to discern. Why should the Indian give up the ease of his endowed communism for civilized ways, when the exchange of a blanket for trousers denotes the loss of ignoble idleness and the acquisition of laborious self-support, tax-paying, and a vote? Why abandon a heathen paradise for a civilized purgatory?

Great things have been accomplished, chiefly within the thirty years since the government addressed itself to the task of educating the Indian race and of fitting it to take part in the duties and privileges of civilized society. The tomahawk has long been unstained with the blood of human scalps; the warpath is overgrown with weeds; the frame-house displaces the wigwam; the children are in school. In 1898 the government withdrew its garrisons from the frontier posts to send them to Cuba and the Philippines, but the predicted outbreaks of savages from their reservations did not follow. Red wives are no longer ruthlessly put away, there having been in 1897 but one divorce to sixteen marriages. More than half the people "labor in civilized pursuits; " nearly half have adopted civilized dress, and a fifth more use it in part; a fifth speak English; and thirteen per cent are Christian communicants. In 1897 the Indians owned $17,000,000 in live-stock and farm products, or $93 apiece, and one third of their families were living on their own allotted homesteads. Thus far have we gone, mainly in the last generation, toward obliterating the distinctions of condition between the red and the white races. In view of the problems that confront us in Asia and the West Indies it may be asked, opportunely, what guidance may the nation find in reviewing its conduct toward the Indians? For a century, by endowing savagery, we perpetuated it. It is probable that our practically disfranchised 13,000,000 Africans will become creditable citizens quite as soon as

our quarter of a million pauperized Indians, and with a very much reduced expense. But the problems are widely different, for the negro has lived in close association with the whites and individually, while the Indian has been excluded from civilized life and managed in tribes. We have dealt with the latter from the dictates of a sentimental equity which the aborigine has not understood, and have but recently adopted the ideal of making him a part of our national life.

At the same time the Indian has neither been cajoled nor forced into a new career. His traditions have been respected and he has been left to his own self-determination. If he abandons his communism he does so self-persuaded. If he sends his child to school, settles on a homestead of his own, and puts on a civilized dress, he does these things with his own consent.

The same goal is now sought for by the red race as that toward which the white presses. Both are ultimately to possess the same privileges and obey the same laws.

In pursuit of this end the great agency is education. This is not the education of the class-room alone. It is industrial as well as primary. It reaches adults as well as youth. It seeks to connect the Indian with the practical phases of modern life. He sees in the mill, the shop, the railroad, and the telegraph the advantages of the white over the red man's ways, and he is asked by all considerations of his best self-interests to take an efficient part in modern life.

Religion is not excluded. On the contrary, it may come or go without challenge or hindrance, but it must rely on its own powers and the support of its friends. These are all American principles, and step by step they have been wrought into our Indian policy. Their success can only give serious emphasis to the belief that the United States can hopefully administer the affairs of the peoples whom the fortunes of the recent war have put under their guidance. VINELAND, N.J.

D. O. KELLOGG.

T

THE PHYSICIAN

HE true scope as well as the powers and limitations of the medical man are often imperfectly understood; the various functions of the physician. cure, alleviation, prevention, and teaching are better defined by the Latin cura, care," than by its derivative, "cure," in its modern sense. To care for the health of the whole community is a far wider field of usefulness than to cure the sick individually.

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In his work among the sick the physician is too often viewed as a kind of sorcerer, and he is invoked to use the mysterious chemicals he is supposed to have. How many people there are to-day who imagine that if they could get hold of the doctor's prescription-book they could perform wonderful cures ! Yet few drugs that we use in medicine have any certainty of action. Indeed, of the more than four thousand drugs in use to-day, about the action of less than twenty is there any real certainty.

Surgical and other remedial measures are more certain and positive in their action; indeed, these often act like magic; but in the large proportion of cases the physician is far from being a magician

and has no absolute power over disease. He is simply one learned in the science of medicine, and he should likewise be well learned in all the collateral sciences and experienced in the management of sickness; but he is only one factor in, yet the chief of all the forces operating for the maintenance of life and against death. The nurse, the patient himself, his friends, and often his ancestors, influence the result for good or for evil.

The power of the physician against disease and death lies chiefly in his trained faculties of observation; in his superior insight into details and particulars; in his comprehensive grasp of medical principles; in his profound knowledge of all the conditions which are for and against life; in his wise judgment, his honesty of purpose, his sympathy of heart, and conscientious application. These are the qualities of brain and heart that enable a physician to nurse the flickering flame of life back to health and strength where a less skilful hand would extinguish it forever.

Like the architect, the builder, and the general, the doctor is a director of forces, a supervisor, an exerciser of good judgment; but his equipment is intellectual

more than physical; his power to cure is oftener in his head than in his satchel.

How notable in the inexperienced and newly initiated young physician is the readiness to know and possess the very "specific" for any ailment that may come to him, let the same be acute or chronic, as compared with the ripe and experienced physician whose saddle-bag contains no specifics, and whose remedies are by no

means numerous.

It is to be feared that the physician has sometimes permitted or encouraged an exaggerated estimate of his power and importance. The physician is human, and when the patient gets well he has not the heart to dispel the illusion which inspires grateful praise. Perhaps he feels that these are in some measure his due, to offset the unjust criticism which all physicians receive. But in the end he must remember that any mistaken idea of his powers will react when he fails to save a case which no power on earth could save, when it is said of him that he utterly failed to grasp the situation. Therefore the interests of both physician and patient are always best served by both having an intelligent comprehension of the scope, the powers, and the limitations of medical science.

The cure of disease will always be an important element in the physician's work, and the care of the incurable sick, the alleviation of pain and suffering, and the prolongation of life are priceless beneficences; but the most valuable service which scientific medicine is capable of rendering lies in the direction of the prevention of disease in the family, in the state, and in the nation.

Indeed we cannot fail to realize that this is the great era of preventive medicine. To-day it is known that nearly every disease has its own specific germ origin; and the laws that govern and control this germ in its every form are becoming known. Herein lies our greatest hope, for the ounce of prevention will ever remain better than the pound of cure. Even though medicine has made marvellous strides in the recent past, it must be acknowledged that our resources are still wanting in view of the severity of many maladies. Therefore it behoves us to use our best efforts to prevent the development of disease.

Let one of our magnificent ocean vessels be sailing the high seas under a tropic

sun.

On the horizon there rises a small cloud. Its appearance is unheeded, and though the cloud waxes there is still no awakening. When presently the storm breaks upon the ship with vicious fury, a wild rush is made to take in sail and to set the vessel in order, but it is too late. Such neglect would be criminally bad seamanship, but it is an illustration of what occurs every day upon the uncertain sea of life.

The efficiency of the medical man will be immensely increased when his relation to the family is more constant instead of being intermittent and irregular. The doctor should come and go like the clergyman or priest, instead of being looked upon as a necessary evil, whose visits are avoided as long as possible, and are at all times a source of uneasiness. He should be a sanitary officer of the family, with whom there should be free intercourse. He should be consulted on a hundred personal and family questions which may perhaps influence the symmetrical development of a child, if not, indeed, shape the destiny of a man.

The eradication of inherited tendencies to disease; the direct improvement of the physical and mental measures of stocks; the development of a hardy constitution in weak children; the stoppage of many fatal organic diseases in their incipiency; the arrest of acute inflammations at a time when this is possible; the ensuring of longevity and a sound old age,—these are some of the things which the physician of to-day is able, but which he is not often permitted, to do.

It must be admitted that it is impossible to go into details with every patient; yet it is likewise true that, to some extent, every patient can be made to comprehend some of the salient features of the case in question.

Teaching should be an important part of the physician's daily labors. Medical advice given in the abstract is wholly barren of results. The instruction should be of such a character as to convey clear ideas of pertinent physiological and scientific facts. As in all teaching, the living voice is effective in a greater degree than the printed page can ever be; indeed the talent which some physicians have for clearly illustrating a subject or emphasizing a fact is an important element in their sucIRVING DAVID WILTROUT.

cess.

EAU CLAIRE, WIS.

1

S

O RAPID has been the development of the American locomotive within the past few years as to thoroughly discredit the predictions of a diminution in the pace of progress in this branch of steam-engineering science. Indeed, with the possible exception of shipbuilding, it is doubtful if there is another industry with a field so rich in promise and possibilities as locomotive-building, or a sphere so certain to enlist the highest effort of inventive genius so far as it is capable of utilization in the interest of economy of time and energy.

The tendency of the age is manifestly toward a continual—and, all things considered, a rapid increase in the size, weight, and speed of railroad trains. The demand for locomotives of greater power and speed follows as a natural consequence. A few years ago public opinion, which received some countenance in technical and

ninety-five miles per hour, and by the achievements of America's fastest transcontinental train, which regularly travels a distance of three thousand miles in one hundred hours.

Thus, with the picture of locomotives weighing from eighty to one hundred tons travelling upon hundred-pound rails and drawing trains of seventy cars a present reality, it is not difficult to treat with tolerance prophecies regarding the future which might at first seem highly improbable. It is worthy of note, moreover, that development has been simultaneous in the case of the types of locomotives designed for passenger and freight service respectively. Present exactions in the case of the latter are well exemplified by the guarantee that each of the locomotives furnished to a company whose line extends from Buffalo to Chicago shall be capable of hauling fifty cars,

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There are built in the United States each year several thousand miles of railroad, and with the rapid evolution of locomotive design the engines in use on oldestablished roads are bound to be displaced after a comparatively brief term of service. At the same time it would be a manifest injustice to underestimate the influence exerted by the export trade in locomotives which has grown up during the past quarter of a century, and which has enabled American builders to supply to foreign railways during that time in the neighborhood of four thousand locomotives, valued at more than $36,000,000.

Indeed it was the merit in the design and construction of American locomotives furnished to railroad builders all over the world, together with the celerity with which commissions therefor were filled, that first engendered that apprehension of American competition which is to-day so marked a characteristic of British industrial life. The fact that the American locomotive has been accepted as the standard of construction in most other countries is one of many qualifications which might be cited in its favor, and while, all points of excellence and demerits considered, its superiority has been demonstrated, it is by no means universally conceded as yet by English and Continental locomotive

constructors.

The English builder unquestionably spends considerably more money in the construction of a locomotive than his confrère on this side of the Atlantic. It is a question, however, whether the excess of the British price, over the $10,000 to $12,500 which a completed locomotive costs in America, is really a wise expenditure. The American builder claims that it is unnecessary, in that it really adds nothing to either the endurance or the efficiency of an engine.

One vantage-ground possessed by American builders which has been noted above is exemplified by their ability to buy the material for a locomotive and deliver the completed machine all within six weeks. In England a much longer space of time is required. Material is purchased much cheaper in the United States than abroad, but on the other hand labor costs fully fifty per cent more. Finally, the American locomotive is much heavier than the English, but the builders in this country claim that by the transformation from the twenty-five to forty ton locomotive of

thirty years ago to the sixty to eighty ton engine of to-day they have gained in speed, traction power, and endurance.

It must not be imagined, however, that the British builders have been driven from the field, or are, indeed, likely to be for some years to come. The competition between builders on opposite sides of the Atlantic has been in progress for a number of years, and to some extent the product of British shops has held its own despite our recent orders from English railways. The aggregate value of locomotives exported from Great Britain during the past half-dozen years is nearly double that of those exported from the United States. The development of the export side of locomotive manufacture in America has certainly, however, been an exceedingly rapid growth. For the first four or five years commencing with 1890 rarely did the exports exceed one tenth of the total number of locomotives manufactured, while now they constitute almost one third.

A tendency on the part of students at engineering colleges to spend their summer vacations in practical work in locomotive construction and repair shops has of late years become so general as to prove noticeable. Certainly almost limitless possibilities for a high degree of practical skill as well as inventive genius are held by a field which is occupied by over a dozen large firms who turn out each year locomotives almost equal in number to the miles of railroad constructed in the United States within the same period.

Keeping pace with improvements in the locomotive itself, methods of locomotive construction have undergone very radical changes within the past few years,— changes necessitated in a great measure by the demand for heavier engines and the exactions imposed by the necessity for more rapid work. Nevertheless, the erecting-shop constitutes to-day, as of old, the embodiment of all that is interesting in the process of manufacture of the iron monsters. It is here that the efficiency not only of every department, but almost of every employee of the entire works, is put to practical test. Every part of the locomotive must arrive on time, and every part must fit into its proper place when it does arrive. A faulty piece of workmanship or a few minutes' tardiness may result in a costly delay.

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