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'Still friends?' he asked, coming thing proposes, and you deprive him of closer. all motive to save.'

I nodded.

'We're friends?' he asked again. 'Never better,' I assured him, but I knew now, from his insistence, that only a miracle could save the plan.

VI

The meeting held surprises. Mr. Welsh sat perfectly glum while members of the committee answered questions put to them. The general manager, as chairman of the conference, delivered a sort of charge to the jury, prior to the vote, which must be unanimous if the plan was to be adopted, clearly manifesting his own desire that a favorable verdict be brought in. There was a minute's silence. Then he turned, as if in duty bound, to the manager of Mohawk Works.

'All?' I had held myself in check up to this time. 'All motive, Mr. Welsh? What about owning his own home, educating his children, sickness, old age, death? The workman's not embarrassed, if you'll permit me to disagree with you, sir, by any scarcity of objects to save for.'

'Bravo!' called out the manager of Mohawk Park, down at the end of the table.

It came to me that, if I should picture to these executives just one of the scenes my eyes had rested on during the two winters their men had been out of work, they could not fail to respond. What were these men around the table? The most thoughtful and indulgent of husbands, the kindest, most tender of fathers. Why not tap this well? But would it be playing the game? My momentary struggle came to an abrupt

'What do you think of it, Welsh? end with the sound of Mr. Welsh's You have n't said.'

There was another minute of silence. 'Damned drivel!' came from Mr. Welsh, half under his breath, followed by the word I had waited for in dread, 'Socialism!' - then by another parrot phrase, a little louder and equally distasteful to the average manufacturer, 'Paternalism!'

voice, his old familiar nasal drawl, with all its humorous inflections. He was telling a story - apropos, sidesplitting, deadly. The only chance was a better story. But if there was anyone living who could tell a better, I had never heard him.

The conference broke up, left the room in little groups of two or three,

Everybody was straining to hear talking together lightly, as if nothing

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"THE SCENTED YEAR DRAWS TO ITS CLOSE'

Outstanding Events of the World: Armistice Day, 1925-Armistice Day, 1926

BY HENRY W. BUNN

THE appointment of the Morrow Air Board was the most statesmanlike act of the present Administration. That board submitted its report in December 1925. Its recommendations, based on exhaustive investigation by disinterested experts of first ability, furnished out a fairly complete guide for Congress in legislating for the needs of army, navy, and commercial aviation. I make no doubt that the future historian will find that its aviation legislation (following, in a general way, recommendations of the Board) was the most important achievement of the late session. Commercial aviation has not yet found its stride, but it will ere long; suddenly, amazingly. Aviation will soon be in the very forefront of the nation's activities.

I am of those who believe that we should consult, not justice merely, but even 'enlightened self-interest,' by total cancellation of the war debts; but the debt agreements (except the British, of which no generous American can think without disgust) probably represent as near an approximation to ideal justice as may be hoped for under present conditions in this our world of so fantastic a political and economic structure. Of the important agreements, only that with France remains to be consummated. Really, it's quite absurd. The French, so often 'stung'

I

that they are morbidly suspicious, hold out for explicit statement of certain considerations implicit in the general terms of the agreement as signed but not ratified, and we stiffly refuse to indulge them; with consequences sufficiently sad for France. Now would the British act that way? Certainly not. At Downing Street, whatever they lack, they possess humor, magnanimity, the grand style. At Washington they are innocent of all three. Otherwise, with inward chuckle and a grand and gracious air, they'd give France her 'safeguarding' clauses; Olympus rocking with 'sweet laughter.' There's no more humor in Washington than there was in old Jerusalem. There's a Baotian quality in the air. For example: a typical Washingtonian statement presents us as 'the Good Samaritan in civilization.' No doubt, no doubt. But why say so? Why not enjoy our own virtue in silent bliss, 'ourself our own delight,' as Shelley would say? Why render ourselves obnoxious to the Comic Spirit? The British accepted the above statement, but with the trifling substitution of 'Shylock' for 'Good Samaritan.'

It is by no means certain, but it is probable, that we shall ultimately find ourselves on the World Court; though a further ferocious logomachy threatens in that connection. 'Tis to be

'Still friends?' he asked, coming thing proposes, and you deprive him of closer. all motive to save.'

I nodded.

'We're friends?' he asked again. 'Never better,' I assured him, but I knew now, from his insistence, that only a miracle could save the plan.

VI

The meeting held surprises. Mr. Welsh sat perfectly glum while members of the committee answered questions put to them. The general manager, as chairman of the conference, delivered a sort of charge to the jury, prior to the vote, which must be unanimous if the plan was to be adopted, clearly manifesting his own desire that a favorable verdict be brought in. There was a minute's silence. Then he turned, as if in duty bound, to the manager of Mohawk Works.

'What do you think of it, Welsh? You have n't said.'

There was another minute of silence. 'Damned drivel!' came from Mr. Welsh, half under his breath, followed by the word I had waited for in dread, 'Socialism!' then by another parrot phrase, a little louder and equally distasteful to the average manufacturer, 'Paternalism!'

'All?' I had held myself in check up to this time. 'All motive, Mr. Welsh? What about owning his own home, educating his children, sickness, old age, death? The workman's not embarrassed, if you'll permit me to disagree with you, sir, by any scarcity of objects to save for.'

'Bravo!' called out the manager of Mohawk Park, down at the end of the table.

It came to me that, if I should picture to these executives just one of the scenes my eyes had rested on during the two winters their men had been out of work, they could not fail to respond. What were these men around the table? The most thoughtful and indulgent of husbands, the kindest, most tender of fathers. Why not tap this well? But would it be playing the game? My momentary struggle came to an abrupt end with the sound of Mr. Welsh's voice, his old familiar nasal drawl, with all its humorous inflections. He was telling a story - apropos, sidesplitting, deadly. The only chance was a better story. But if there was anyone living who could tell a better, I had never heard him.

The conference broke up, left the room in little groups of two or three,

Everybody was straining to hear talking together lightly, as if nothing

now.

'You'll soon get the workman so you'll have to feed him pap out of a spoon. It's folderol! Help him through periods of unemployment, the way this

had been at stake. There was only one thing for me to do to demonstrate that if business had taught me nothing else it had taught me to be a tolerably good loser.

"THE SCENTED YEAR DRAWS TO ITS CLOSE'

Outstanding Events of the World: Armistice Day, 1925-Armistice Day, 1926

BY HENRY W. BUNN

THE appointment of the Morrow Air Board was the most statesmanlike act of the present Administration. That board submitted its report in December 1925. Its recommendations, based on exhaustive investigation by disinterested experts of first ability, furnished out a fairly complete guide for Congress in legislating for the needs of army, navy, and commercial aviation. I make no doubt that the future historian will find that its aviation legislation (following, in a general way, recommendations of the Board) was the most important achievement of the late session. Commercial aviation has not yet found its stride, but it will ere long; suddenly, amazingly. Aviation will soon be in the very forefront of the nation's activities.

I am of those who believe that we should consult, not justice merely, but even 'enlightened self-interest,' by total cancellation of the war debts; but the debt agreements (except the British, of which no generous American can think without disgust) probably represent as near an approximation to ideal justice as may be hoped for under present conditions in this our world of so fantastic a political and economic structure. Of the important agreements, only that with France remains to be consummated. Really, it's quite absurd. The French, so often 'stung'

I

that they are morbidly suspicious, hold out for explicit statement of certain considerations implicit in the general terms of the agreement as signed but not ratified, and we stiffly refuse to indulge them; with consequences sufficiently sad for France. Now would the British act that way? Certainly not. At Downing Street, whatever they lack, they possess humor, magnanimity, the grand style. At Washington they are innocent of all three. Otherwise, with inward chuckle and a grand and gracious air, they'd give France her 'safeguarding' clauses; Olympus rocking with 'sweet laughter.' There's no more humor in Washington than there was in old Jerusalem. There's a Boeotian quality in the air. For example: a typical Washingtonian statement presents us as 'the Good Samaritan in civilization.' No doubt, no doubt. But why say so? Why not enjoy our own virtue in silent bliss, 'ourself our own delight,' as Shelley would say? Why render ourselves obnoxious to the Comic Spirit? The British accepted the above statement, but with the trifling substitution of 'Shylock' for 'Good Samaritan.'

It is by no means certain, but it is probable, that we shall ultimately find ourselves on the World Court; though a further ferocious logomachy threatens in that connection. 'Tis to be

hoped the closure rule will be applied, as in the original debate on the resolution of adhesion. Indeed, there are few persons in the world whose views on any subject cannot be fully expressed well within an hour; and this applies peculiarly to some of the Senatorial opponents of our adhesion to the Court. The human intellect never appeared to worse advantage than in their attack on the resolution, which did to death a strong case. It is sweet to reflect that, if we do join the Court, we shall be quite adequately protected against League taint, and, indeed, against any other danger. 'Safe' is the word, down by the Potomac.

The Congress devoted the better part of its energies in the long session to the agrarian problem. All that labor, only to bring forth a silly little mouse, the Coöperative Marketing Act. I am, I shall confess, nonplussed. Anyway, it was a nice, genuine little mouse; not the hideous abortion so many of us feared. It is at least reassuring that Congress, despite its desperate embarrassment in view of the coming elections, did muster the courage to reject vicious (using the word in the technical sense) proposals. I will even concede that the gentlemen on Capitol Hill discussed the great problem with as much sincerity, as little selfishness, as is possible to gentlemen who face elections, each and every profoundly convinced that the prime interest of the State is not salutary legislation but that he should be returned to his seat. So much conceded, yet it has to be admitted that little light was struck out by the clash of oratorical weapons.

The problem remains, presumably not to be seriously dealt with in the short session. A solution must be found. The Coöperative Marketing Act is excellent, but the relief called for is far beyond its scope. It is quite evident that the farmers, the

indispensable, the supremely important element of the community, are at a disadvantage in comparison with other elements of the population; and this through defects of the economic structure. It's up to Congress to find a solution that shall at once harmonize with genuine economic principles and remove the farmer's disabilities. Sir, did I hear you, in course of defending the nefarious Haugen bill, pish at my citation of 'the law of supply and demand'? Did I hear you wickedly assert that the very idea of a tariff runs counter to the free operation of that law? Oh, sir, let's change the subject.

No doubt the late elections would have been fought out on the good old tariff issue but for intrusion of the prohibition issue. Wholly apart from what may be said for or against prohibition, it is a cold fact that the intrusion of that issue has utterly confused American politics; has made it quite impossible to obtain a clean-cut decision on other issues; has done away the natural dichotomy between Jeffersonians and Hamiltonians. And one can see no end to this chaos.

Oh! yes, one can. J. B. S. Haldane, in his astounding little book entitled Daedalus, assures us that within 120 years a completely satisfactory diet will be produced by synthetic chemistry; sugar and starch, for example, from cellulose, the proteins from coal and atmospheric nitrogen. "This will mean that agriculture will become a luxury and that mankind will be completely urbanized.' In 120 years no agrarian problem, and, if you please, no prohibition issue. When all are urbans, prohibition will die of innocuous desuetude. Moreover, time, we have learned, is only a shadow of the fifth dimension. Presto! we're in A.D. 2046, and everybody jolly.

Next to the failure to enact adequate legislation (or, perhaps, modify or

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