HOW TO WRITE SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLES

A HANDBOOK FOR REPORTERS, CORRESPONDENTSAND FREE-LANCE WRITERS WHO DESIRE TOCONTRIBUTE TO POPULAR MAGAZINES ANDMAGAZINE SECTIONS OF NEWSPAPERS

BY

WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER, PH. D. 

_Author of "Newspaper Writing and Editing, " and "Types of News Writing";Director of the Course in Journalism in the University of Wisconsin_

BOSTON, NEW YORK, CHICAGO, SAN FRANCISCO

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

The Riverside Press Cambridge

The Riverside PressCAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTSPRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 

PREFACE

This book is the result of twelve years' experience in teachinguniversity students to write special feature articles for newspapers andpopular magazines. By applying the methods outlined in the followingpages, young men and women have been able to prepare articles that havebeen accepted by many newspaper and magazine editors. The success thatthese students have achieved leads the author to believe that others whodesire to write special articles may be aided by the suggestions givenin this book. 

Although innumerable books on short-story writing have been published, no attempt has hitherto been made to discuss in detail the writing ofspecial feature articles. In the absence of any generally acceptedmethod of approach to the subject, it has been necessary to work out asystematic classification of the various types of articles and of thedifferent kinds of titles, beginnings, and similar details, as well asto supply names by which to identify them. 

A careful analysis of current practice in the writing of special featurestories and popular magazine articles is the basis of the methodspresented. In this analysis an effort has been made to show theapplication of the principles of composition to the writing of articles. Examples taken from representative newspapers and magazines are freelyused to illustrate the methods discussed. To encourage students toanalyze typical articles, the second part of the book is devoted to acollection of newspaper and magazine articles of various types, with anoutline for the analysis of them. 

Particular emphasis is placed on methods of popularizing such knowledgeas is not available to the general reader. This has been done in thebelief that it is important for the average person to know of theprogress that is being made in every field of human endeavor, in orderthat he may, if possible, apply the results to his own affairs. Theproblem, therefore, is to show aspiring writers how to presentdiscoveries, inventions, new methods, and every significant advance inknowledge, in an accurate and attractive form. 

To train students to write articles for newspapers and popular magazinesmay, perhaps, be regarded by some college instructors in composition asan undertaking scarcely worth their while. They would doubtless preferto encourage their students to write what is commonly called"literature. " The fact remains, nevertheless, that the averageundergraduate cannot write anything that approximates literature, whereas experience has shown that many students can write acceptablepopular articles. Moreover, since the overwhelming majority of Americansread only newspapers and magazines, it is by no means an unimportanttask for our universities to train writers to supply the steady demandfor well-written articles. The late Walter Hines Page, founder of the_World's Work_ and former editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_, presentedthe whole situation effectively in an article on "The Writer and theUniversity, " when he wrote:

 The journeymen writers write almost all that almost all Americans read. This is a fact that we love to fool ourselves about. We talk about "literature" and we talk about "hack writers, " implying that the reading that we do is of literature. The truth all the while is, we read little else than the writing of the hacks--living hacks, that is, men and women who write for pay. We may hug the notion that our life and thought are not really affected by current literature, that we read the living writers only for utilitarian reasons, and that our real intellectual life is fed by the great dead writers. But hugging this delusion does not change the fact that the intellectual life even of most educated persons, and certainly of the mass of the population, is fed chiefly by the writers of our own time. .. . 

 Every editor of a magazine, every editor of an earnest and worthy newspaper, every publisher of books, has dozens or hundreds of important tasks for which he cannot find capable men; tasks that require scholarship, knowledge of science, or of politics, or of industry, or of literature, along with experience in writing accurately in the language of the people. 

Special feature stories and popular magazine articles constitute a typeof writing particularly adapted to the ability of the novice, who hasdeveloped some facility in writing, but who may not have sufficientmaturity or talent to undertake successful short-story writing or otherdistinctly literary work. Most special articles cannot be regarded asliterature. Nevertheless, they afford the young writer an opportunity todevelop whatever ability he possesses. Such writing teaches him fourthings that are invaluable to any one who aspires to do literary work. It trains him to observe what is going on about him, to select what willinterest the average reader, to organize material effectively, and topresent it attractively. If this book helps the inexperienced writer, whether he is in or out of college, to acquire these four essentialqualifications for success, it will have accomplished its purpose. 

For permission to reprint complete articles, the author is indebted tothe editors of the _Boston Herald_, the _Christian Science Monitor_, the_Boston Evening Transcript_, the _New York Evening Post_, the _DetroitNews_, the _Milwaukee Journal_, the _Kansas City Star_, the _New YorkSun_, the _Providence Journal_, the _Ohio State Journal_, the _New YorkWorld_, the _Saturday Evening Post_, the _Independent_, the _CountryGentleman_, the _Outlook_, _McClure's Magazine_, _Everybody's Magazine_, the _Delineator_, the _Pictorial Review_, _Munsey's Magazine_, the_American Magazine_, _System_, _Farm and Fireside_, the _Woman's HomeCompanion_, the _Designer_, and the Newspaper Enterprise Association. The author is also under obligation to the many newspapers and magazinesfrom which excerpts, titles, and other material have been quoted. 

At every stage in the preparation of this book the author has had theadvantage of the coöperation and assistance of his wife, Alice HaskellBleyer. 

_University of WisconsinMadison, August, 1919_

CONTENTS

PART I

 I. THE FIELD FOR SPECIAL ARTICLES 3

 II. PREPARATION FOR SPECIAL FEATURE WRITING 14

III. FINDING SUBJECTS AND MATERIAL 25

 IV. APPEAL AND PURPOSE 39

 V. TYPES OF ARTICLES 52

 VI. WRITING THE ARTICLE 99

VII. HOW TO BEGIN 131

VIII. STYLE 160

 IX. TITLES AND HEADLINES 170

 X. PREPARING AND SELLING THE MANUSCRIPT 182

 XI. PHOTOGRAPHS AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS 193

PART II

AN OUTLINE FOR THE ANALYSIS OF SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLES 201

TEACH CHILDREN LOVE OF ART THROUGH STORY-TELLING 204 (_Boston Herald_)

WHERE GIRLS LEARN TO WIELD SPADE AND HOE 206 (_Christian Science Monitor_)

BOYS IN SEARCH OF JOBS (_Boston Transcript_) 209

GIRLS AND A CAMP (_New York Evening Post_) 213

YOUR PORTER (_Saturday Evening Post_) 218

THE GENTLE ART OF BLOWING BOTTLES (_Independent_) 233

THE NEIGHBORHOOD PLAYHOUSE (_New York World_) 240

THE SINGULAR STORY OF THE MOSQUITO MAN 242 (_New York Evening Post_)

A COUNTY SERVICE STATION (_Country Gentleman_) 248

GUARDING A CITY'S WATER SUPPLY (_Detroit News_) 260

THE OCCUPATION AND EXERCISE CURE (_Outlook_) 264

THE BRENNAN MONO-RAIL CAR (_McClure's Magazine_) 274

A NEW POLITICAL WEDGE (_Everybody's Magazine_) 281

THE JOB LADY (_Delineator_) 293

MARK TWAIN'S FIRST SWEETHEART (_Kansas City Star_) 299

FOUR MEN OF HUMBLE BIRTH HOLD WORLD DESTINY IN 305 THEIR HANDS (_Milwaukee Journal_)

THE CONFESSIONS OF A COLLEGE PROFESSOR'S WIFE 307 (_Saturday Evening Post_)

A PARADISE FOR A PENNY (_Boston Transcript_) 326

WANTED: A HOME ASSISTANT (_Pictorial Review_) 331

SIX YEARS OF TEA ROOMS (_New York Sun_) 336

BY PARCEL POST (_Country Gentleman_) 341

SALES WITHOUT SALESMANSHIP (_Saturday Evening Post_) 349

THE ACCIDENT THAT GAVE US WOOD-PULP PAPER 356 (_Munsey's Magazine_)

CENTENNIAL OF THE FIRST STEAMSHIP TO CROSS THE ATLANTIC 360 (_Providence Journal_)

SEARCHING FOR THE LOST ATLANTIS 364 (_Syndicate Sunday Magazine Section_)

INDEX 369

HOW TO WRITE SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLES

PART I

CHAPTER I

THE FIELD FOR SPECIAL ARTICLES

ORIGIN OF SPECIAL ARTICLES. The rise of popular magazines and ofmagazine sections of daily newspapers during the last thirty years hasresulted in a type of writing known as the "special feature article. "Such articles, presenting interesting and timely subjects in popularform, are designed to attract a class of readers that were not reachedby the older literary periodicals. Editors of newspapers and magazines ageneration ago began to realize that there was no lack of interest onthe part of the general public in scientific discoveries and inventions, in significant political and social movements, in important persons andevents. Magazine articles on these themes, however, had usually beenwritten by specialists who, as a rule, did not attempt to appeal to the"man in the street, " but were satisfied to reach a limited circle ofwell-educated readers. 

To create a larger magazine-reading public, editors undertook to developa popular form and style that would furnish information as attractivelyas possible. The perennial appeal of fiction gave them a suggestion forthe popularization of facts. The methods of the short story, of thedrama, and even of the melodrama, applied to the presentation of generalinformation, provided a means for catching the attention of the casualreader. 

Daily newspapers had already discovered the advantage of giving theday's news in a form that could be read rapidly with the maximum degreeof interest by the average man and woman. Certain so-called sensationalpapers had gone a step further in these attempts to give addedattractiveness to news and had emphasized its melodramatic aspects. Other papers had seen the value of the "human interest" phases of theday's happenings. It was not surprising, therefore, that Sunday editorsof newspapers should undertake to apply to special articles the samemethods that had proved successful in the treatment of news. 

The product of these efforts at popularization was the special featurearticle, with its story-like form, its touches of description, its"human interest, " its dramatic situations, its character portrayal--alleffectively used to furnish information and entertainment for that rapidreader, the "average American. "

DEFINITION OF A SPECIAL ARTICLE. A special feature article may bedefined as a detailed presentation of facts in an interesting formadapted to rapid reading, for the purpose of entertaining or informingthe average person. It usually deals with (1) recent news that is ofsufficient importance to warrant elaboration; (2) timely or seasonaltopics not directly connected with news; or (3) subjects of generalinterest that have no immediate connection with current events. 

Although frequently concerned with news, the special feature article ismore than a mere news story. It aims to supplement the bare facts of thenews report by giving more detailed information regarding the persons, places, and circumstances that appear in the news columns. News must bepublished as fast as it develops, with only enough explanatory materialto make it intelligible. The special article, written with theperspective afforded by an interval of a few days or weeks, fills in thebare outlines of the hurried news sketch with the life and color thatmake the picture complete. 

The special feature article must not be confused with the type of newsstory called the "feature, " or "human interest, " story. The latterundertakes to present minor incidents of the day's news in anentertaining form. Like the important news story, it is publishedimmediately after the incident occurs. Its purpose is to appeal tonewspaper readers by bringing out the humorous and pathetic phases ofevents that have little real news value. It exemplifies, therefore, merely one distinctive form of news report. 

The special feature article differs from the older type of magazinearticle, not so much in subject as in form and style. The most markeddifference lies in the fact that it supplements the recognized methodsof literary and scientific exposition with the more striking devices ofnarrative, descriptive, and dramatic writing. 

SCOPE OF FEATURE ARTICLES. The range of subjects for specialarticles is as wide as human knowledge and experience. Any theme issuitable that can be made interesting to a considerable number ofpersons. A given topic may make either a local or a general appeal. Ifinterest in it is likely to be limited to persons in the immediatevicinity of the place with which the subject is connected, the articleis best adapted to publication in a local newspaper. If the theme is onethat appeals to a larger public, the article is adapted to a periodicalof general circulation. Often local material has interest for persons inmany other communities, and hence is suitable either for newspapers orfor magazines. 

Some subjects have a peculiar appeal to persons engaged in a particularoccupation or devoted to a particular avocation or amusement. Specialarticles on these subjects of limited appeal are adapted toagricultural, trade, or other class publications, particularly to suchof these periodicals as present their material in a popular rather thana technical manner. 

THE NEWSPAPER FIELD. Because of their number and their localcharacter, daily newspapers afford a ready medium for the publication ofspecial articles, or "special feature stories, " as they are generallycalled in newspaper offices. Some newspapers publish these articles fromday to day on the editorial page or in other parts of the paper. Manymore papers have magazine sections on Saturday or Sunday made uplargely of such "stories. " Some of these special sections closelyresemble regular magazines in form, cover, and general make-up. 

The articles published in newspapers come from three sources: (1)syndicates that furnish a number of newspapers in different cities withspecial articles, illustrations, and other matter, for simultaneouspublication; (2) members of the newspaper's staff; that is, reporters, correspondents, editors, or special writers employed for the purpose;(3) so-called "free-lance" writers, professional or amateur, who submittheir "stories" to the editor of the magazine section. 

Reporters, correspondents, and other regular members of the staff may beassigned to write special feature stories, or may prepare such storieson their own initiative for submission to the editor of the magazinesection. In many offices regular members of the staff are paid forspecial feature stories in addition to their salaries, especially whenthe subjects are not assigned to them and when the stories are preparedin the writer's own leisure time. Other papers expect their regularstaff members to furnish the paper with whatever articles they maywrite, as a part of the work covered by their salary. If a paper has oneor more special feature writers on its staff, it may pay them a fixedsalary or may employ them "on space"; that is, pay them at a fixed"space rate" for the number of columns that an article fills whenprinted. 

Newspaper correspondents, who are usually paid at space rates for newsstories, may add to their monthly "string, " or amount of space, bysubmitting special feature articles in addition to news. They may alsosubmit articles to other papers that do not compete with their ownpaper. Ordinarily a newspaper expects a correspondent to give it theopportunity of printing any special feature stories that he may write. 

Free-lance writers, who are not regularly employed by newspapers ormagazines as staff members, submit articles for the editor'sconsideration and are paid at space rates. Sometimes a free lance willoutline an article in a letter or in personal conference with an editorin order to get his approval before writing it, but, unless the editorknows the writer's work, he is not likely to promise to accept thecompleted article. To the writer there is an obvious advantage inknowing that the subject as he outlines it is or is not an acceptableone. If an editor likes the work of a free lance, he may suggestsubjects for articles, or may even ask him to prepare an article on agiven subject. Freelance writers, by selling their work at space rates, can often make more money than they would receive as regular members ofa newspaper staff. 

For the amateur the newspaper offers an excellent field. First, in everycity of any size there is at least one daily newspaper, and almost allthese papers publish special feature stories. Second, feature articleson local topics, the material for which is right at the amateur's hand, are sought by most newspapers. Third, newspaper editors are generallyless critical of form and style than are magazine editors. With somepractice an inexperienced writer may acquire sufficient skill to preparean acceptable special feature story for publication in a local paper, and even if he is paid little or nothing for it, he will gain experiencefrom seeing his work in print. 

The space rate paid for feature articles is usually proportionate to thesize of the city in which the newspaper is published. In small citiespapers seldom pay more than $1 a column; in larger places the rate isabout $3 a column; in still larger ones, $5; and in the largest, from $8to $10. In general the column rate for special feature stories is thesame as that paid for news stories. 

WHAT NEWSPAPERS WANT. Since timeliness is the keynote of the newspaper, current topics, either growing out of the news of the week oranticipating coming events, furnish the subjects for most specialfeature stories. The news columns from day to day provide room for onlyconcise announcements of such news as a scientific discovery, aninvention, the death of an interesting person, a report on social orindustrial conditions, proposed legislation, the razing of a landmark, or the dedication of a new building. Such news often arouses thereader's curiosity to know more of the persons, places, andcircumstances mentioned. In an effort to satisfy this curiosity, editorsof magazine sections print special feature stories based on news. 

By anticipating approaching events, an editor is able to supply articlesthat are timely for a particular issue of his paper. Two classes ofsubjects that he usually looks forward to in this way are: first, thoseconcerned with local, state, and national anniversaries; and second, those growing out of seasonal occasions, such as holidays, vacations, the opening of schools and colleges, moving days, commencements, theopening of hunting and fishing seasons. 

The general policy of a newspaper with regard to special feature storiesis the same as its policy concerning news. Both are determined by thecharacter of its circulation. A paper that is read largely by businessand professional men provides news and special articles that satisfysuch readers. A paper that aims to reach the so-called masses naturallyselects news and features that will appeal to them. If a newspaper has aconsiderable circulation outside the city where it is published, theeditors, in framing their policy, cannot afford to overlook theirsuburban and rural readers. The character of its readers, in a word, determines the character of a paper's special feature stories. 

The newspaper is primarily local in character. A city, a state, or atmost a comparatively small section of the whole country, is itsparticular field. Besides the news of its locality, it must, of course, give significant news of the world at large. So, too, in addition tolocal feature articles, it should furnish special feature stories of abroader scope. This distinctively local character of newspapersdifferentiates them from magazines of national circulation in the matterof acceptable subjects for special articles. 

The frequency of publication of newspapers, as well as their ephemeralcharacter, leads, in many instances, to the choice of comparativelytrivial topics for some articles. Merely to give readers entertainingmatter with which to occupy their leisure at the end of a day's work oron Sunday, some papers print special feature stories on topics of littleor no importance, often written in a light vein. Articles with no moreserious purpose than that of helping readers to while away a few sparemoments are obviously better adapted to newspapers, which are readrapidly and immediately cast aside, than to periodicals. 

The sensationalism that characterizes the policy of some newspapersaffects alike their news columns and their magazine sections. Gossip, scandal, and crime lend themselves to melodramatic treatment as readilyin special feature articles as in news stories. On the other hand, therelatively few magazines that undertake to attract readers bysensationalism, usually do so by means of short stories and serialsrather than by special articles. 

All newspapers, in short, use special feature stories on local topics, some papers print trivial ones, and others "play up" sensationalmaterial; whereas practically no magazine publishes articles of thesetypes. 

SUNDAY MAGAZINE SECTIONS. The character and scope of special articlesfor the Sunday magazine section of newspapers have been well summarizedby two well-known editors of such sections. Mr. John O'Hara Cosgrove, editor of the _New York Sunday World Magazine_, and formerly editor of_Everybody's Magazine_, gives this as his conception of the ideal Sundaymagazine section:

 The real function of the Sunday Magazine, to my thinking, is to present the color and romance of the news, the most authoritative opinions on the issues and events of the day, and to chronicle promptly the developments of science as applied to daily life. In the grind of human intercourse all manner of curious, heroic, delightful things turn up, and for the most part, are dismissed in a passing note. Behind every such episode are human beings and a story, and these, if fairly and artfully explained, are the very stuff of romance. Into every great city men are drifting daily from the strange and remote places of the world where they have survived perilous hazards and seen rare spectacles. Such adventures are the treasure troves of the skilful reporter. The cross currents and reactions that lead up to any explosion of greed or passion that we call crime are often worth following, not only for their plots, but as proofs of the pain and terror of transgression. Brave deeds or heroic resistances are all too seldom presented in full length in the news, and generously portrayed prove the nobility inherent in every-day life. 

 The broad domain of the Sunday magazine editor covers all that may be rare and curious or novel in the arts and sciences, in music and verse, in religion and the occult, on the stage and in sport. Achievements and controversies are ever culminating in these diverse fields, and the men and women actors therein make admirable subjects for his pages. Provided the editor has at his disposal skilled writers who have the fine arts of vivid and simple exposition and of the brief personal sketch, there is nothing of human interest that may not be presented. 

The ideal Sunday magazine, as Mr. Frederick Boyd Stevenson, Sundayeditor of the _Brooklyn Eagle_, sees it, he describes thus:

 The new Sunday magazine of the newspaper bids fair to be a crisp, sensible review and critique of the live world. It has developed a special line of writers who have learned that a character sketch and interview of a man makes you "see" the man face to face and talk with him yourself. If he has done anything that gives him a place in the news of to-day, he is presented to you. You know the man. 

 It seems to me that the leading feature of the Sunday magazine should be the biggest topic that will be before the public on the Sunday that the newspaper is printed. It should be written by one who thoroughly knows his subject, who is forceful in style and fluent in words, who can make a picture that his readers can see, and seeing, realize. So every other feature of the Sunday magazine should have points of human interest, either by contact with the news of the day or with men and women who are doing something besides getting divorces and creating scandals. 

 I firmly believe that the coming Sunday magazine will contain articles of information without being dull or encyclopædic, articles of adventure that are real and timely, articles of scientific discoveries that are authentic, interviews with men and women who have messages, and interpretations of news and analyses of every-day themes, together with sketches, poems, and essays that are not tedious, but have a reason for being printed. 

THE MAGAZINE FIELD. The great majority of magazines differ from allnewspapers in one important respect--extent of circulation. Popularmagazines have a nation-wide distribution. It is only among agriculturaland trade journals that we find a distinctly sectional circulation. Someof these publications serve subscribers in only one state or section, and others issue separate state or sectional editions. The best basis ofdifferentiation among magazines, then, is not the extent of circulationbut the class of readers appealed to, regardless of the part of thecountry in which the readers live. The popular general magazine, monthlyor weekly, aims to attract readers of all classes in all parts of theUnited States. 

HOW MAGAZINES GET MATERIAL. Magazine articles come from (1) regularmembers of the magazine's staff, (2) professional or amateur free-lancewriters, (3) specialists who write as an avocation, and (4) readers ofthe periodical who send in material based on their own experience. 

The so-called "staff system" of magazine editing, in accordance withwhich practically all the articles are prepared by writers regularlyemployed by the publication, has been adopted by a few general magazinesand by a number of class periodicals. The staff is recruited fromwriters and editors on newspapers and other magazines. Its members oftenperform various editorial duties in addition to writing articles. Publications edited in this way buy few if any articles from outsiders. 

Magazines that do not follow the staff system depend largely or entirelyon contributors. Every editor daily receives many manuscripts submittedby writers on their own initiative. From these he selects the materialbest adapted to his publication. Experienced writers often submit anoutline of an article to a magazine editor for his approval beforepreparing the material for publication. Free-lance writers of reputationmay be asked by magazine editors to prepare articles on given subjects. 

In addition to material obtained in these ways, articles may be securedfrom specialists who write as an avocation. An editor generally decideson the subject that he thinks will interest his readers at a given timeand then selects the authority best fitted to treat it in a popular way. To induce well-known men to prepare such articles, an editor generallyoffers them more than he normally pays. 

A periodical may encourage its readers to send in short articles givingtheir own experiences and explaining how to do something in which theyhave become skilled. These personal experience articles have a realityand "human interest" that make them eminently readable. To obtain themmagazines sometimes offer prizes for the best, reserving the privilegeof publishing acceptable articles that do not win an award. Aspiringwriters should take advantage of these prize contests as a possiblemeans of getting both publication and money for their work. 

OPPORTUNITIES FOR UNKNOWN WRITERS. The belief is common among novicesthat because they are unknown their work is likely to receive little orno consideration from editors. As a matter of fact, in the majority ofnewspaper and magazine offices all unsolicited manuscripts areconsidered strictly on their merits. The unknown writer has as good achance as anybody of having his manuscript accepted, provided that hiswork has merit comparable with that of more experienced writers. 

With the exception of certain newspapers that depend entirely onsyndicates for their special features, and of a few popular magazinesthat have the staff system or that desire only the work of well-knownwriters, every publication welcomes special articles and short storiesby novices. Moreover, editors take pride in the fact that from time totime they "discover" writers whose work later proves popular. They notinfrequently tell how they accepted a short story, an article, or someverse by an author of whom they had never before heard, because theywere impressed with the quality of it, and how the verdict of theirreaders confirmed their own judgment. 

The relatively small number of amateurs who undertake special articles, compared with the hundreds of thousands who try their hand at shortstories, makes the opportunities for special feature writers all thegreater. Then, too, the number of professional writers of specialarticles is comparatively small. This is particularly true of writerswho are able effectively to popularize scientific and technicalmaterial, as well as of those who can present in popular form theresults of social and economic investigations. 

It is not too much to say, therefore, that any writer who is willing (1)to study the interests and the needs of newspaper and magazine readers, (2) to gather carefully the material for his articles, and (3) topresent it accurately and attractively, may be sure that his work willreceive the fullest consideration in almost every newspaper and magazineoffice in the country, and will be accepted whenever it is found tomerit publication. 

WOMEN AS FEATURE WRITERS. Since the essential qualifications justenumerated are not limited to men, women are quite as well fitted towrite special feature and magazine articles as are their brothers in thecraft. In fact, woman's quicker sympathies and readier emotionalresponse to many phases of life give her a distinct advantage. Herinsight into the lives of others, and her intuitive understanding ofthem, especially fit her to write good "human interest" articles. Boththe delicacy of touch and the chatty, personal tone that characterizethe work of many young women, are well suited to numerous topics. 

In some fields, such as cooking, sewing, teaching, the care of children, and household management, woman's greater knowledge and understanding ofconditions furnish her with topics that are vital to other women andoften not uninteresting to men. The entry of women into occupationshitherto open only to men is bringing new experiences to many women, andis furnishing women writers with additional fields from which to drawsubjects and material. Ever since the beginning of popular magazines andof special feature writing for newspapers, women writers have provedtheir ability, but at no time have the opportunities for them beengreater than at present. 

CHAPTER II

PREPARATION FOR SPECIAL FEATURE WRITING

QUALIFICATIONS FOR FEATURE WRITING. To attain success as a writer ofspecial feature articles a person must possess at least fourqualifications: (1) ability to find subjects that will interest theaverage man and woman, and to see the picturesque, romantic, andsignificant phases of these subjects; (2) a sympathetic understanding ofthe lives and interests of the persons about whom and for whom hewrites; (3) thoroughness and accuracy in gathering material; (4) skillto portray and to explain clearly, accurately, and attractively. 

The much vaunted sense of news values commonly called a "nose for news, "whether innate or acquired, is a prime requisite. Like the newspaperreporter, the writer of special articles must be able to recognize whatat a given moment will interest the average reader. Like the reporter, also, he must know how much it will interest him. An alert, responsiveattitude of mind toward everything that is going on in the world, andespecially in that part of the world immediately around him, will reveala host of subjects. By reading newspapers, magazines, and books, as wellas by intercourse with persons of various classes, a writer keeps incontact with what people are thinking and talking about, in the world atlarge and in his own community. In this way he finds subjects and alsolearns how to connect his subjects with events and movements of interestthe country over. 

Not only should he be quick to recognize a good subject; he must be ableto see the attractive and significant aspects of it. He must understandwhich of its phases touch most closely the life and the interests of theaverage person for whom he is writing. He must look at things from "theother fellow's" point of view. A sympathetic insight into the lives ofhis readers is necessary for every writer who hopes to quicken hissubject with vital interest. 

The alert mental attitude that constantly focuses the writer's attentionon the men and women around him has been called "human curiosity, " whichArnold Bennett says "counts among the highest social virtues (asindifference counts among the basest defects), because it leads to thedisclosure of the causes of character and temperament and thereby to abetter understanding of the springs of human conduct. " The importance ofcuriosity and of a keen sense of wonder has been emphasized as followsby Mr. John M. Siddall, editor of the _American Magazine_, who directedhis advice to college students interested in the opportunities affordedby writing as a profession:

 A journalist or writer must have consuming curiosity about other human beings--the most intense interest in their doings and motives and thoughts. It comes pretty near being the truth to say that a great journalist is a super-gossip--not about trivial things but about important things. Unless a man has a ceaseless desire to learn what is going on in the heads of others, he won't be much of a journalist--for how can you write about others unless you know about others?

 In journalism men are needed who have a natural sense of wonder. .. . You must wonder at man's achievements, at man's stupidity, at his honesty, crookedness, courage, cowardice--at everything that is remarkable about him wherever and whenever it appears. If you haven't this sense of wonder, you will never write a novel or become a great reporter, because you simply won't see anything to write about. Men will be doing amazing things under your very eyes--and you won't even know it. 

Ability to investigate a subject thoroughly, and to gather materialaccurately, is absolutely necessary for any writer who aims to doacceptable work. Careless, inaccurate writers are the bane of themagazine editor's life. Whenever mistakes appear in an article, readersare sure to write to the editor calling his attention to them. Moreover, the discovery of incorrect statements impairs the confidence of readersin the magazine. If there is reason to doubt the correctness of any datain an article, the editor takes pains to check over the facts carefullybefore publication. He is not inclined to accept work a second time froma writer who has once proved unreliable. 

To interpret correctly the essential significance of data is asimportant as to record them accurately. Readers want to know the meaningof facts and figures, and it is the writer's mission to bring out thismeaning. A sympathetic understanding of the persons who figure in hisarticle is essential, not only to portray them accurately, but to givehis story the necessary "human interest. " To observe accurately, to feelkeenly, and to interpret sympathetically and correctly whatever heundertakes to write about, should be a writer's constant aim. 

Ability to write well enough to make the average person see as clearly, feel as keenly, and understand as well as he does himself the personsand things that he is portraying and explaining, is obviously the _sinequa non_ of success. Ease, fluency, and originality of diction, eithernatural or acquired, the writer must possess if his work is to havedistinction. 

TRAINING FOR FEATURE WRITING. The ideal preparation for a writer ofspecial articles would include a four-year college course, at least ayear's work as a newspaper reporter, and practical experience in someother occupation or profession in which the writer intends to specializein his writing. Although not all persons who desire to do specialfeature work will be able to prepare themselves in this way, most ofthem can obtain some part of this preliminary training. 

A college course, although not absolutely essential for success, isgenerally recognized to be of great value as a preparation for writing. College training aims to develop the student's ability to observeaccurately, to think logically, and to express his ideas clearly andeffectively--all of which is vital to good special feature writing. Inaddition, such a course gives a student a knowledge of many subjectsthat he will find useful for his articles. A liberal education furnishesa background that is invaluable for all kinds of literary work. Universities also offer excellent opportunities for specialization. Intensive study in some one field of knowledge, such as agriculture, banking and finance, home economics, public health, social service, government and politics, or one of the physical sciences, makes itpossible for a writer to specialize in his articles. In choosing adepartment in which to do special work in college, a student may beguided by his own tastes and interests, or he may select some field inwhich there is considerable demand for well trained writers. The man orwoman with a specialty has a superior equipment for writing. 

With the development of courses in journalism in many colleges anduniversities has come the opportunity to obtain instruction andpractice, not only in the writing of special feature and magazinearticles, but also in newspaper reporting, editing, and short storywriting. To write constantly under guidance and criticism, such as it isimpossible to secure in newspaper and magazine offices, will developwhatever ability a student possesses. 

Experience as a newspaper reporter supplements college training injournalism and is the best substitute for college work generallyavailable to persons who cannot go to college. For any one who aspiresto write, reporting has several distinct advantages and some dangers. 

The requirement that news be printed at the earliest possible momentteaches newspaper workers to collect facts and opinions quickly and towrite them up rapidly under pressure. Newspaper work also develops awriter's appreciation of what constitutes news and what determines newsvalues; that is, it helps him to recognize at once, not only whatinterests the average reader, but how much it interests him. Then, too, in the course of his round of news gathering a reporter sees more ofhuman life under a variety of circumstances than do workers in any otheroccupation. Such experience not only supplies him with an abundance ofmaterial, but gives him a better understanding and a more sympatheticappreciation of the life of all classes. 

To get the most out of his reporting, a writer must guard against twodangers. One is the temptation to be satisfied with superficial workhastily done. The necessity of writing rapidly under pressure and ofconstantly handling similar material, encourages neglect of the nicetiesof structure and of style. In the rush of rapid writing, the importanceof care in the choice of words and in the arrangement of phrases andclauses is easily forgotten. Even though well-edited newspapers insiston the highest possible degree of accuracy in presenting news, theexigencies of newspaper publishing often make it impossible to verifyfacts or to attain absolute accuracy. Consequently a reporter may dropinto the habit of being satisfied with less thorough methods ofcollecting and presenting his material than are demanded by the higherstandards of magazine writing. 

The second danger is that he may unconsciously permit a more or lesscynical attitude to replace the healthy, optimistic outlook with whichhe began his work. With the seamy side of life constantly before him, hemay find that his faith in human nature is being undermined. If, however, he loses his idealism, he cannot hope to give his articles thatsincerity, hopefulness, and constructive spirit demanded by the averagereader, who, on the whole, retains his belief that truth andrighteousness prevail. 

Of the relation of newspaper reporting to the writing of magazinearticles and to magazine editing, Mr. Howard Wheeler, editor ofEverybody's Magazine, has said:

 It is the trained newspaper men that the big periodical publishers are reaching out for. The man who has been through the newspaper mill seems to have a distinct edge on the man who enters the field without any newspaper training. 

 The nose for news, the ability to select and play up leads, the feel of what is of immediate public interest is just as important in magazine work as in newspaper work. 

 Fundamentally the purpose of a magazine article is the same as the purpose of a newspaper story--to tell a tale, to tell it directly, convincingly, and interestingly. 

Practical experience in the field of his specialty is of advantage infamiliarizing a writer with the actual conditions about which he ispreparing himself to write. To engage for some time in farming, railroading, household management, or any other occupation, equips aperson to write more intelligently about it. Such practical experienceeither supplements college training in a special field, or serves as thebest substitute for such specialized education. 

WHAT EDITORS WANT. All the requirements for success in specialfeature writing may be reduced to the trite dictum that editors wantwhat they believe their readers want. Although a commonplace, itexpresses a point of view that aspiring writers are apt to forget. Froma purely commercial standpoint, editors are middlemen who buy fromproducers what they believe they can sell to their customers. Unless aneditor satisfies his readers with his articles, they will cease to buyhis publication. If his literary wares are not what his readers want, hefinds on the newsstands unsold piles of his publication, just as agrocer finds on his shelves faded packages of an unpopular breakfastfood. Both editor and grocer undertake to buy from the producers whatwill have a ready sale and will satisfy their customers. 

The writer, then, as the producer, must furnish wares that will attractand satisfy the readers of the periodical to which he desires to sellhis product. It is the ultimate consumer, not merely the editor, that hemust keep in mind in selecting his material and in writing his article. "Will the reader like this?" is the question that he must ask himself atevery stage of his work. Unless he can convince himself that the averageperson who reads the periodical to which he proposes to submit hisarticle will like what he is writing, he cannot hope to sell it to theeditor. 

UNDERSTANDING THE READER. Instead of thinking of readers as a more orless indefinite mass, the writer will find it advantageous to picture tohimself real persons who may be taken as typical readers. It is veryeasy for an author to think that what interests him and his immediatecircle will appeal equally to people in general. To write successfully, however, for the Sunday magazine of a newspaper, it is necessary to keepin mind the butcher, the baker, and--if not the candlestick-maker, atleast the stenographer and the department store clerk--as well as thedoctor, lawyer, merchant, and chief. What is true of the Sundaynewspaper is true of the popular magazine. 

The most successful publisher in this country attributes the success ofhis periodical to the fact that he kept before his mind's eye, as atype, a family of his acquaintance in a Middle-Western town of fifteenhundred inhabitants, and shaped the policy of his publication to meetthe needs and interests of all its members. An editor who desired toreach such a family would be immeasurably helped in selecting hismaterial by trying constantly to judge from their point of view whateverpassed through his hands. It is equally true that a writer desiring togain admittance to that magazine, or to others making the same appeal, would greatly profit by visualizing as vividly as possible a similarfamily. Every successful writer, consciously or unconsciously, thuspictures his readers to himself. 

If, for example, an author is preparing an article for an agriculturaljournal, he must have in his mind's eye an average farmer and thisfarmer's family. Not only must he see them in their surroundings; hemust try to see life from their point of view. The attitude of thetypical city man toward the farm and country life is very different fromthat of the countryman. Lack of sympathy and insight is a fatal defectin many an article intended by the writer for farm readers. 

Whatever the publication to which an author desires to contribute, heshould consider first, last, and all the time, its readers--theirsurroundings, their education, their income, their ambitions, theiramusements, their prejudices--in short, he must see them as they reallyare. 

The necessity of understanding the reader and his point of view has beenwell brought out by Mr. John M. Siddall, editor of the _AmericanMagazine_, in the following excerpt from an editorial in thatperiodical:

 The man who refuses to use his imagination to enable him to look at things from the other fellow's point of view simply cannot exercise wide influence. He cannot reach people. 

 Underneath it, somehow, lies a great law, the law of service. You can't expect to attract people unless you do something for them. The business man who has something to sell must have something useful to sell, and he must talk about it from the point of view of the people to whom he wants to sell his goods. In the same way, the journalist, the preacher, and the politician must look at things from the point of view of those they would reach. They must feel the needs of others and then reach out and meet those needs. They can never have a large following unless they give something. The same law runs into the human relation. How we abhor the man who talks only about himself--the man who never inquires about _our_ troubles, _our_ problems; the man who never puts himself in _our_ place, but unimaginatively and unsympathetically goes on and on, egotistically hammering away on the only subject that interests him--namely _himself_. 

STUDYING NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES. Since every successful publicationmay be assumed to be satisfying its readers to a considerable degree, the best way to determine what kind of readers it has, and what they areinterested in, is to study the contents carefully. No writer should sendan article to a publication before he has examined critically several ofits latest issues. In fact, no writer should prepare an article beforedeciding to just what periodical he wishes to submit it. The morefamiliar he is with the periodical the better are his chances of havinghis contribution accepted. 

In analyzing a newspaper or magazine in order to determine the type ofreader to which it appeals, the writer should consider the character ofthe subjects in its recent issues, and the point of view from whichthese subjects are presented. Every successful periodical has a distinctindividuality, which may be regarded as an expression of the editor'sidea of what his readers expect of his publication. To become asuccessful contributor to a periodical, a writer must catch the spiritthat pervades its fiction and its editorials, as well as its specialarticles. 

In his effort to determine the kind of topics preferred by a givenpublication, a writer may at first glance decide that timeliness is theone element that dominates their choice, but a closer examination of thearticles in one or more issues will reveal a more specific basis ofselection. Thus, one Sunday paper will be found to contain articles onthe latest political, sociological, and literary topics, while anotherdeals almost exclusively with society leaders, actors and actresses, andother men and women whose recent experiences or adventures have broughtthem into prominence. 

It is of even greater value to find out by careful reading of the entirecontents of several numbers of a periodical, the exact point of viewfrom which the material is treated. Every editor aims to present thecontents of his publication in the way that will make the strongestappeal to his readers. This point of view it is the writer's business todiscover and adopt. 

ANALYSIS OF SPECIAL ARTICLES. An inexperienced writer who desires tosubmit special feature stories to newspapers should begin by analyzingthoroughly the stories of this type in the daily papers published in hisown section of the country. Usually in the Saturday or Sunday issues hewill find typical articles on topics connected with the city and withthe state or states in which the paper circulates. The advantage ofbeginning his study of newspaper stories with those published in papersnear his home lies in the fact that he is familiar with the interests ofthe readers of these papers and can readily understand their point ofview. By noting the subjects, the point of view, the form, the style, the length, and the illustrations, he will soon discover what thesepapers want, or rather, what the readers of these papers want. The"Outline for the Analysis of Special Articles" in Part II will indicatethe points to keep in mind in studying these articles. 

In order to get a broader knowledge of the scope and character ofspecial feature stories, a writer may well extend his studies to themagazine sections of the leading papers of the country. From the work ofthe most experienced and original of the feature writers, which isgenerally to be found in these metropolitan papers, the novice willderive no little inspiration as well as a valuable knowledge oftechnique. 

The methods suggested for analyzing special feature stories innewspapers are applicable also to the study of magazine articles. Magazines afford a better opportunity than do newspapers for an analysisof the different types of articles discussed in Chapter V. Sincemagazine articles are usually signed, it is possible to seek out andstudy the work of various successful authors in order to determinewherein lies the effectiveness of their writing. Beginning with thepopular weekly and monthly magazines, a writer may well extend his studyto those periodicals that appeal to particular classes, such as women'smagazines, agricultural journals, and trade publications. 

IDEALS IN FEATURE WRITING. After thoughtful analysis of special articlesin all kinds of newspapers and magazines, the young writer with acritical sense developed by reading English literature may come to feelthat much of the writing in periodicals falls far short of the standardsof excellence established by the best authors. Because he finds that theaverage uncritical reader not only accepts commonplace work but isapparently attracted by meretricious devices in writing, he may concludethat high literary standards are not essential to popular success. Thetemptation undoubtedly is great both for editors and writers to supplyarticles that are no better than the average reader demands, especiallyin such ephemeral publications as newspapers and popular magazines. Nevertheless, the writer who yields to this temptation is sure toproduce only mediocre work. If he is satisfied to write articles thatwill be characterized merely as "acceptable, " he will never attaindistinction. 

The special feature writer owes it both to himself and to his readers todo the best work of which he is capable. It is his privilege not only toinform and to entertain the public, but to create better taste and akeener appreciation of good writing. That readers do not demand betterwriting in their newspapers and magazines does not mean that they areunappreciative of good work. Nor do originality and precision in stylenecessarily "go over the heads" of the average person. Whenever writersand editors give the public something no better than it is willing toaccept, they neglect a great opportunity to aid in the development ofbetter literary taste, particularly on the part of the public whosereading is largely confined to newspapers and periodicals. 

Because of the commercial value of satisfying his readers, an editoroccasionally assumes that he must give all of them whatever some of themcrave. "We are only giving the public what it wants, " is his excuse forprinting fiction and articles that are obviously demoralizing in theireffect. A heterogeneous public inevitably includes a considerable numberof individuals who are attracted by a suggestive treatment of morbidphases of life. To cater to the low desires of some readers, on theground of "giving the public what it wants, " will always be regarded byself-respecting editors and authors as indefensible. 

The writer's opportunity to influence the mental, moral, and æstheticideals of hundreds of thousands of readers is much greater than he oftenrealizes. When he considers the extent to which most men and women areunconsciously guided in their ideas and aspirations by what they read innewspapers and magazines, he cannot fail to appreciate hisresponsibility. Grasping the full significance of his special featurewriting, he will no longer be content to write just well enough to sellhis product, but will determine to devote his effort to producingarticles that are the best of which he is capable. 

CHAPTER III

FINDING SUBJECTS AND MATERIAL

SOURCES OF SUBJECTS. "What shall I write about?" is the first questionthat inexperienced writers ask their literary advisers. "If you haven'tanything to write about, why write at all?" might be an easy answer. Most persons, as a matter of fact, have plenty to write about but do notrealize it. Not lack of subjects, but inability to recognize thepossibilities of what lies at hand, is their real difficulty. 

The best method of finding subjects is to look at every person, everyevent, every experience--in short, at everything--with a view to seeingwhether or not it has possibilities for a special feature article. Evenin the apparently prosaic round of everyday life will be found a varietyof themes. A circular letter from a business firm announcing a newpolicy, a classified advertisement in a newspaper, the complaint of ascrub-woman, a new variety of fruit in the grocer's window, an increasein the price of laundry work, a hurried luncheon at a cafeteria--any ofthe hundred and one daily experiences may suggest a "live" topic for anarticle. 

"Every foot of ground is five feet deep with subjects; all you have todo is to scratch the surface for one, " declared the editor of a popularmagazine who is also a successful writer of special articles. Thisstatement may be taken as literally true. Within the narrow confines ofone's house and yard, for instance, are many topics. A year's experiencewith the family budget, a home-made device, an attempt to solve theservant problem, a method of making pin-money, a practical means ofeconomizing in household management, are forms of personal experiencethat may be made interesting to newspaper and magazine readers. A gardenon a city lot, a poultry house in a back yard, a novel form of garage, a new use for a gasoline engine, a labor-saving device on the farm, mayafford equally good topics. One's own experience, always a rich field, may be supplemented by experiences of neighbors and friends. 

A second source of subjects is the daily newspaper. Local news will givethe writer clues that he can follow up by visiting the places mentioned, interviewing the persons concerned, and gathering other relevantmaterial. When news comes from a distance, he can write to the personsmost likely to have the desired information. In neither case can he besure, until he has investigated, that an item of news will prove tocontain sufficient available material for an article. Many pieces ofnews, however, are worth running down carefully, for the day's eventsare rich in possibilities. 

Pieces of news as diverse as the following may suggest excellentsubjects for special articles: the death of an interesting person, thesale of a building that has historic associations, the meeting of anuncommon group or organization, the approach of the anniversary of anevent, the election or appointment of a person to a position, an unusualoccupation, an odd accident, an auction, a proposed municipalimprovement, the arrival of a well-known person, an official report, alegal decision, an epidemic, the arrest of a noted criminal, the passingof an old custom, the publication of the city directory, a railroadaccident, a marked change in fashion in dress. 

A third source of both subjects and material is the report of specialstudies in some field, the form of the report ranging from a paper readat a meeting to a treatise in several volumes. These reports ofexperiments, surveys, investigations, and other forms of research, areto be found in printed bulletins, monographs, proceedings oforganizations, scientific periodicals, and new books. Governmentpublications--federal, state, and local--giving results of investigativework done by bureaus, commissions, and committees, are public documentsthat may usually be had free of charge. Technical and scientificperiodicals and printed proceedings of important organizations aregenerally available at public libraries. 

As Mr. Waldemar Kaempffert, editor of _Popular Science Monthly, _ hassaid:

 There is hardly a paper read before the Royal Institution or the French Academy or our American engineering and chemical societies that cannot be made dramatically interesting from a human standpoint and that does not chronicle real news. 

"If you want to publish something where it will never be read, " a withas observed, "print it in an official document. " Government reports arefilled with valuable information that remains quite unknown to theaverage reader unless newspapers and magazines unearth it and present itin popular form. The popularization of the contents of all kinds ofscientific and technical publications affords great opportunities forthe writer who can present such subjects effectively. 

In addressing students of journalism on "Science and Journalism, " Dr. Edwin E. Slosson, literary editor of the _Independent_, who was formerlya professor of chemistry, has said:

 The most radical ideas of our day are not apt to be found in the popular newspaper or in queer little insurrectionary, heretical and propaganda sheets that we occasionally see, but in the technical journals and proceedings of learned societies. The real revolutions are hatched in the laboratory and study. The papers read before the annual meetings of the scientific societies, and for the most part unnoticed by the press, contain more dynamite than was ever discovered in any anarchist's shop. Political revolutions merely change the form of government or the name of the party in power. Scientific revolutions really turn the world over, and it never settles back into its former position. 

 * * * * *

 The beauty and meaning of scientific discoveries can be revealed to the general reader if there is an intermediary who can understand equally the language of the laboratory and of the street. The modern journalist knows that anything can be made interesting to anybody, if he takes pains enough with the writing of it. It is not necessary, either, to pervert scientific truths in the process of translation into the vernacular. The facts are sensational enough without any picturesque exaggeration. 

 * * * * *

 The field is not an unprofitable one even in the mercenary sense. To higher motives the task of popularizing science makes a still stronger appeal. Ignorance is the source of most of our ills. Ignorant we must always be of much that we need to know, but there is no excuse for remaining ignorant of what somebody on earth knows or has known. Rich treasure lies hidden in what President Gilman called "the bibliothecal cairn" of scientific monographs which piles up about a university. The journalist might well exchange the muckrake for the pick and dig it out. 

 Nothing could accelerate human progress more than to reduce the time between the discovery of a new truth and its application to the needs of mankind. .. . It is regarded as a great journalistic achievement when the time of transmission of a cablegram is shortened. But how much more important it is to gain a few years in learning what the men who are in advance of their age are doing than to gain a few seconds in learning what the people of Europe are doing? This lag in intellectual progress . .. Is something which it is the especial duty of the journalist to remove. He likes to score a beat of a few hours. Very well, if he will turn his attention to science, he can often score a beat of ten years. 

The three main sources, therefore, of subjects and material for specialfeature and magazine articles are (1) personal observation andexperience, (2) newspapers, (3) scientific and technical publicationsand official reports. 

PERSONAL OBSERVATION. How a writer may discover subjects for newspaperfeature articles in the course of his daily routine by being alive tothe possibilities around him can best be shown by concrete examples. 

A "community sing" in a public park gave a woman writer a good subjectfor a special article published in the _Philadelphia North American_. 

In the publication of a city directory was found a timely subject for anarticle on the task of getting out the annual directory in a large city;the story was printed in a Sunday issue of the _Boston Herald_. 

A glimpse of some children dressed like Arctic explorers in an outdoorschool in Kansas City was evidently the origin of a special featurestory on that institution, which was published in the _Kansas CityStar_. 

A woman standing guard one evening over a partially completed schoolbuilding in Seattle suggested a special feature in the _Seattle PostIntelligencer_ on the unusual occupation of night "watchman" for awoman. 

While making a purchase in a drug store, a writer overheard a clerk makea request for a deposit from a woman who desired to have a prescriptionfilled, an incident which led him to write a special feature for the_New York Times_ on this method of discouraging persons from adding tothe drug store's "morgue" of unclaimed prescriptions. 

From a visit to the Children's Museum in Brooklyn was developed afeature article for the _New York Herald_, and from a story-telling hourat the Boston Museum of Fine Arts was evolved a feature story for the_Boston Herald_ on the telling of stories as a means of interestingchildren in pictures. 

Magazine articles also may originate in the writer's observation of whatis going on about him. The specific instances given below, like thosealready mentioned, will indicate to the inexperienced writer where tolook for inspiration. 

A newspaper reporter who covered the criminal courts compiled thevarious methods of burglars and sneak thieves in gaining entrance tohouses and apartments, as he heard them related in trials, and wrote ahelpful article for _Good Housekeeping_ on how to protect one's houseagainst robbery. 

The exhibition of a novel type of rack for curing seed corn gave awriter a subject for an article on this "corn tree, " which was publishedin the _Illustrated World_. 

During a short stop at a farm while on an automobile trip, a womanwriter noticed a concrete storage cellar for vegetables, and from aninterview with the farmer obtained enough material for an article, whichshe sold to a farm journal. 

While a woman writer was making a purchase in a plumber's shop, theplumber was called to the telephone. On returning to his customer, heremarked that the call was from a woman on a farm five miles from town, who could easily have made the slight repairs herself if she had known alittle about the water-supply system on her farm. From the materialwhich the writer obtained from the plumber, she wrote an article for anagricultural paper on how plumber's bills can be avoided. 

A display of canned goods in a grocer's window, with special prices fordozen and case lots, suggested an article, afterwards published in the_Merchants Trade Journal_, on this grocer's method of fightingmail-order competition. 

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. What we actually do ourselves, as well as what wesee others do, may be turned to good use in writing articles. Personalexperiences not only afford good subjects and plenty of material but aremore easily handled than most other subjects, because, being very realand vital to the writer, they can the more readily be made real andvital to the reader. Many inexperienced writers overlook thepossibilities of what they themselves have done and are doing. 

To gain experience and impressions for their articles, special writerson newspapers even assume temporarily the roles of persons whose livesand experiences they desire to portray. One Chicago paper featured everySunday for many weeks articles by a reporter who, in order to getmaterial, did a variety of things just for one day, from playing in astrolling street band to impersonating a convict in the statepenitentiary. Thirty years ago, when women first entered the newspaperfield as special feature writers, they were sometimes sent out on"freak" assignments for special features, such as feigning injury orinsanity in order to gain entrance to hospitals in the guise ofpatients. Recently one woman writer posed as an applicant for a positionas moving-picture actress; another applied for a place as housemaid; athird donned overalls and sorted scrap-iron all day in the yard of afactory; and still another accompanied a store detective on his roundsin order to discover the methods of shop-lifting with which departmentstores have to contend. 

It is not necessary, however, to go so far afield to obtain personalexperiences, as is shown by the following newspaper and magazinearticles based on what the writers found in the course of their everydaypursuits. 

The results obtained from cultivating a quarter-acre lot in theresidence district of a city of 100, 000 population were told by a writerin the _Country Gentleman_. 

A woman's experience with bees was related in _Good Housekeeping_ underthe title, "What I Did with Bees. "

Experience in screening a large porch on his house furnished a writerwith the necessary information for a practical story in _PopularMechanics_. 

Some tests that he made on the power of automobiles gave a youngengineer the suggestion for an article on the term "horse power" asapplied to motor-cars; the article was published in the _IllustratedWorld_. 

"Building a Business on Confidence" was the title of a personalexperience article published in _System_. 

The evils of tenant farming, as illustrated by the experiences of afarmer's wife in moving during the very early spring, were vividlydepicted in an article in _Farm and Fireside_. 

The diary of an automobile trip from Chicago to Buffalo was embodied inan article by a woman writer, which she sold to the _Woman's HomeCompanion_. 

Both usual and unusual means employed to earn their college expenseshave served as subjects for many special articles written byundergraduates and graduates. 

Innumerable articles of the "how-to-do-something" type are acceptedevery year from inexperienced writers by publications that print suchuseful information. Results of experiments in solving various problemsof household management are so constantly in demand by women's magazinesand women's departments in newspapers, that housewives who like towrite find a ready market for articles based on their own experience. 

CONFESSION ARTICLES. One particular type of personal experience articlethat enjoys great popularity is the so-called "confession story. " Toldin the first person, often anonymously, a well-written confessionarticle is one of the most effective forms in which to present facts andexperiences. 

Personal experiences of others, as well as the writer's own, may begiven in confession form if the writer is able to secure sufficientlydetailed information from some one else to make the story probable. 

A few examples will illustrate the kind of subjects that have beenpresented successfully in the confession form. 

Some criticisms of a typical college and of college life were givenanonymously in the _Outlook_ under the title, "The Confessions of anUndergraduate. "

"The Story of a Summer Hotel Waitress, " published in the _Independent_, and characterized by the editor as "a frank exposure of real life belowstairs in the average summer hotel, " told how a student in a normalschool tried to earn her school expenses by serving as a waitress duringthe summer vacation. 

In _Farm and Fireside_ was published "The Confession of a Timber Buyer, "an article exposing the methods employed by some unscrupulous lumbercompanies in buying timber from farmers. 

"How I Cured Myself of Being Too Sensitive, " with the sub-title, "TheAutobiography of a Young Business Man Who Nearly Went to Smash throughJealousy, " was the subject of a confession article in the _AmericanMagazine_. 

An exposure of the impositions practiced by an itinerant quack was madein a series of three confession articles, in Sunday issues of the_Kansas City Star_, written by a young man whom the doctor had employedto drive him through the country districts. 

To secure confession features from readers, magazines have offeredprizes for the best short articles on such topics as, "The Best ThingExperience has Taught Me, " "How I Overcame My Greatest Fault, " "The Dayof My Great Temptation, " "What Will Power Did for Me. "

SUBJECTS FROM THE DAY'S NEWS. In his search for subjects a writer willfind numberless clues in newspapers. Since the first informationconcerning all new things is usually given to the world through thecolumns of the daily press, these columns are scanned carefully bywriters in search of suggestions. Any part of the paper, from the "wantads" to the death notices or the real estate transfers, may be thestarting point of a special article. The diversity of topics suggestedby newspapers is shown by the following examples. 

The death of a well-known clown in New York was followed by a specialfeature story about him in the Sunday magazine section of a Chicagopaper. 

A newspaper report of the discovery in Wisconsin of a method ofeliminating printing ink from pulp made from old newspapers, so thatwhite print paper might be produced from it, led a young writer to sendfor information to the discoverer of the process, and with theseadditional details he wrote an article that was published in the _BostonTranscript. _

A news story about a clever swindler in Boston, who obtained possessionof negotiable securities by means of a forged certified check, was madethe basis of a special feature story in the _Providence Journal_ on theprecautions to be taken against losses from forged checks. 

News of the energetic manner in which a New Jersey sheriff handled astrike suggested a personality sketch of him that appeared in the_American Magazine_. 

The publication, in a newspaper, of some results of a survey of ruralschool conditions in a Middle Western state, led to two articles on whythe little red schoolhouse fails, one of which was published in the_Country Gentleman_, and the other in the _Independent_. 

From a brief news item about the success of a farmer's widow and herdaughter, in taking summer boarders in their old farmhouse, wasdeveloped a practical article telling how to secure and provide forthese boarders on the ordinary farm. The article appeared in _Farm andFireside_. 

OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. Bulletins and reports of government officials are amine for both subjects and material. For new developments in agricultureone may consult the bulletins of the United States Department ofAgriculture and those of state agricultural experiment stations. Reportson new and better methods of preparing food, and other phases of homeeconomics, are also printed in these bulletins. State industrialcommissions publish reports that furnish valuable material on industrialaccidents, working-men's insurance, sanitary conditions in factories, and the health of workers. Child welfare is treated in reports offederal, state, and city child-welfare boards. The reports of theInterstate Commerce Commission, like those of state railroadcommissions, contain interesting material on various phases oftransportation. State and federal census reports often furnish goodsubjects and material. In short, nearly every official report of anykind may be a fruitful source of ideas for special articles. 

The few examples given below suggest various possibilities for the useof these sources. 

Investigations made by a commission of American medical expertsconstituting the Committee on Resuscitation from Mine Gases, under thedirection of the U. S. Bureau of Mines, supplied a writer in the _BostonTranscript_ with material for a special feature story on the dangersinvolved in the use of the pulmotor. 

A practical bulletin, prepared by the home economics department of astate university, on the best arrangement of a kitchen to save needlesssteps, was used for articles in a number of farm journals. 

From a bulletin of the U. S. Department of Agriculture a writer preparedan article on "the most successful farmer in the United States" and whathe did with twenty acres, for the department of "Interesting People" inthe _American Magazine_. 

The results of a municipal survey of Springfield, Illinois, as setforth in official reports, were the basis of an article in the _Outlook_on "What is a Survey?" Reports of a similar survey at Lawrence, Kansas, were used for a special feature story in the _Kansas City Star_. 

"Are You a Good or a Poor Penman?" was the title of an article in_Popular Science Monthly_ based on a chart prepared by the Russell SageFoundation in connection with some of its educational investigations. 

The _New York Evening Post_ published an interesting special article onthe "life tables" that had been prepared by the division of vitalstatistics of the Bureau of the Census, to show the expectation of lifeat all ages in the six states from which vital statistics were obtained. 

A special feature story on how Panama hats are woven, as printed in the_Ohio State Journal_, was based entirely on a report of the UnitedStates consul general at Guayaquil, Ecuador. 

SCIENTIFIC AND TECHNICAL PUBLICATIONS. Almost every science and everyart has its own special periodicals, from which can be gleaned a largenumber of subjects and much valuable material that needs only to bepopularized to be made attractive to the average reader. The printedproceedings of scientific and technical societies, including the papersread at their meetings, as well as monographs and books, are alsovaluable. How such publications may be utilized is illustrated by thearticles given below. 

The report of a special committee of an association of electricalengineers, given at its convention in Philadelphia, furnished a writerwith material for an article on "Farming by Electricity, " that waspublished in the Sunday edition of the _Springfield Republican_. 

Studies of the cause of hunger, made by Prof. A. J. Carlson of theUniversity of Chicago and published in a volume entitled "The Control ofHunger in Health and Disease, " furnished the subject for an article inthe _Illustrated World. _ Earlier results of the same investigation weregiven in the Sunday magazine of one of the Chicago papers. 

From the _Journal of Heredity_ was gleaned material for an articleentitled "What Chance Has the Poor Child?" It was printed in _EveryWeek_. 

"Golfer's Foot, One of Our Newest Diseases, " was the subject of aspecial feature in the _New York Times_, that was based on an article inthe _Medical Record_. 

That the canals on Mars may be only an optical illusion was demonstratedin an article in the Sunday magazine of the _New York Times_, by meansof material obtained from a report of the section for the Observation ofMars, a division of the British Astronomical Association. 

ANTICIPATING TIMELY SUBJECTS. By looking forward for weeks or evenmonths, as editors of Sunday newspapers and of magazines are constantlydoing, a writer can select subjects and gather material for articlesthat will be particularly appropriate at a given time. Holidays, seasonal events, and anniversaries may thus be anticipated, and specialarticles may be sent to editors some time in advance of the occasionthat makes them timely. Not infrequently it is desirable to begincollecting material a year before the intended time of publication. 

An article on fire prevention, for instance, is appropriate for themonth of October just before the day set aside for calling attention tofires caused by carelessness. Months in advance, a writer might begincollecting news stories of dangerous fires resulting from carelessness;and from the annual report of the state fire marshal issued in July, hecould secure statistics on the causes of fires and the extent of thelosses. 

To secure material for an article on the Christmas presents thatchildren might make at a cost of twenty-five cents or less, a womanwriter jotted down after one Christmas all the information that shecould get from her friends; and from these notes she wrote the articleearly in the following summer. It was published in the November numberof a magazine, at a time when children were beginning to think aboutmaking Christmas presents. 

Articles on ways and means of earning college expenses are particularlyappropriate for publication in the summer or early fall, when young menand women are preparing to go to college, but if in such an article astudent writer intends to describe experiences other than his own, hemay well begin gathering material from his fellow students some monthsbefore. 

Anniversaries of various events, such as important discoveries andinventions, the death or birth of a personage, and significanthistorical occasions, may also be anticipated. The fiftieth anniversaryof the arrival of the first railroad train in Kansas City wascommemorated in a special feature story in the _Kansas City Star_, published the day before the anniversary. The day following thefifty-sixth anniversary of the discovery of petroleum in Pennsylvania, the _New York Times_ printed in its Sunday magazine section a specialarticle on the man who first found oil there. The centenary of thelaunching of the first steam-propelled ship to cross the Atlantic, wascommemorated by an article in the Sunday edition of the _ProvidenceJournal_. _Munsey's Magazine_ printed an article on the semi-centennialof the discovery of the process of making paper from wood pulp. 

By looking over tables giving dates of significant events, writers willfind what anniversaries are approaching; or they may glean suchinformation from news stories describing preparations made forcelebrating these anniversaries. 

KEEPING LISTS OF SUBJECTS. Every writer who is on the lookout forsubjects and sources of material should keep a notebook constantly athand. Subjects suggested by everyday experiences, by newspaper andmagazine reading, and by a careful study of special articles in allkinds of publications, are likely to be forgotten unless they arerecorded at once. A small notebook that can be carried in the pocket orin a woman's hand-bag is most convenient. Besides topics for articles, the titles of books, reports, bulletins, and other publicationsmentioned in conversation or in newspapers, should be jotted down aspossible sources of material. Facts and figures from publications maybe copied for future use. Good titles and interesting methods oftreatment that a writer observes in the work of others may prove helpfulin suggesting titles and methods for his own articles. Separate sectionsof even a small notebook may conveniently be set aside for all of thesevarious points. 

FILING MATERIAL. The writer who makes methodical preparation for hiswork generally has some system of filing good material so that it willbe at hand when he wants it. One excellent filing device that is bothinexpensive and capable of indefinite expansion consists of a number ofstout manilla envelopes, large enough to hold newspaper clippings, printed reports, magazine articles, and photographs. In each envelope iskept the material pertaining to one subject in which the writer isinterested, the character of the subject-matter being indicated on oneside of the envelope, so that, as the envelopes stand on end, theircontents can readily be determined. If a writer has many of theseenvelopes, a one-drawer filing case will serve to keep them in goodorder. By constantly gathering material from newspapers, magazines, andprinted reports, he will soon find that he has collected a considerableamount of information on which to base his articles. 

CHAPTER IV

APPEAL AND PURPOSE

ANALYZING THE SUBJECT. When from many available subjects a writer isabout to choose one, he should pause to consider its possibilitiesbefore beginning to write. It is not enough to say, "This is a goodsubject; I believe that I can write an article on it. " He needs to lookat the topic from every angle. He ought to ask himself, "How widespreadis the interest in my subject? How much will it appeal to the averageindividual? What phases of it are likely to have the greatest interestfor the greatest number of persons?" To answer these questions he mustreview the basic sources of pleasure and satisfaction. 

WHAT INTERESTS READERS. To interest readers is obviously the primeobject in all popular writing. The basis of interest in the news story, the special feature article, and the short story is essentially thesame. Whatever the average person likes to hear and see, whatever giveshim pleasure and satisfaction, is what he wants to read about. In orderto test all phases of a given subject from this point of view, a writerneeds to keep in mind the fundamental sources of satisfaction. 

Subjects and phases of subjects that attract readers may, forconvenience, be divided into the following classes, which, however, arenot mutually exclusive: (1) timely topics, (2) unique, novel, andextraordinary persons, things, and events, (3) mysteries, (4) romance, (5) adventure, (6) contests for supremacy, (7) children, (8) animals, (9) hobbies and amusements, (10) familiar persons, places, and objects, (11) prominent persons, places, and objects, (12) matters involving thelife, property, and welfare of others, (13) matters that affect thereader's own success and well-being. 

Timeliness. Though not absolutely essential, timeliness is a valuableattribute of any subject. Readers like to feel that they are getting thelatest facts and the newest ideas, in special feature articles as wellas in the news. A subject need not be discarded, however, because itdoes not make a timely appeal. It may have interest in other respectssufficiently great to compensate for its lack of timeliness. 

Many topics that at first glance seem quite unrelated to currentactivities are found on closer examination to have some aspects that maybe brought into connection with timely interests. To a writer keenlyalive to everything that is going on in the world, most subjects will befound to have some bearing on what is uppermost in men's minds. Emphasison that point of contact with current ideas will give to the article thedesired timeliness. 

NOVELTY. When a person, object, or circumstance is unique, it arouses anunusual degree of interest. The first person to accomplish something outof the ordinary, the first event of its kind, the first of anything, arrests attention. 

Closely associated with the unique is the extraordinary, the curious. Ifnot absolutely the only one of its kind, a thing may still besufficiently unusual to excite an uncommon degree of interest. Noveltyhas a perennial charm. Careful study of a subject is often necessary toreveal the novel and extraordinary phase of it that can best beemphasized. 

MYSTERIES. The fascination for the human mind of whatever baffles it isso well known that it scarcely needs elaboration. Mysteries, whetherreal or fictitious, pique curiosity. Even the scholar and the practicalman of affairs find relaxation in the mystery of the detective story. Real life often furnishes events sufficiently mysterious to make aspecial feature story that rivals fiction. Unexplained crimes andaccidents; strange psychical phenomena, such as ghosts, presentiments, spiritism, and telepathy; baffling problems of the scientist and theinventor--all have elements of mystery that fascinate the averagereader. 

ROMANCE. The romance of real life is quite as interesting as that offiction. As all the world loves a lover, almost all the world loves alove story. The course of true love may run smooth or it may not; ineither case there is the romantic appeal. To find the romantic elementin a topic is to discover a perennial source of attraction for allclasses of readers. 

ADVENTURE. Few in number are the persons who will not gladly escapefrom humdrum routine by losing themselves in an exciting tale ofadventure. The thrilling exploits in real life of the engineer, theexplorer, the soldier of fortune, the pioneer in any field, hold usspellbound. Even more commonplace experiences are not without an elementof the adventurous, for life itself is a great adventure. Many specialfeature stories in narrative form have much the same interest that iscreated by the fictitious tale of adventure. 

CONTESTS FOR SUPREMACY. Man has never lost his primitive love of a goodfight. Civilization may change the form of the contest, but fighting towin, whether in love or politics, business or sport, still has a stronghold on all of us. Strikes, attempted monopolies, political revolutions, elections, championship games, diplomacy, poverty, are but a few of thestruggles that give zest to life. To portray dramatically in a specialarticle the clash and conflict in everyday affairs is to make awell-nigh universal appeal. 

CHILDREN. Because we live in and for our children, everything thatconcerns them comes close to our hearts. A child in a photo-drama or ina news story is sure to win sympathy and admiration. The special featurewriter cannot afford to neglect so vital a source of interest. Practicalarticles on the care and the education of children also have especialvalue for women readers. 

ANIMALS. Wild or tame, at large or in captivity, animals attract useither for their almost human intelligence or for their distinctivelyanimal traits. There are few persons who do not like horses, dogs, cats, and other pets, and fewer still who can pass by the animal cages at thecircus or the "zoo. " Hunting, trapping, and fishing are vocations forsome men, and sport for many more. The business of breeding horses andcattle, and the care of live stock and poultry on the farm, must not beoverlooked in the search for subjects. The technical aspects of thesetopics will interest readers of farm journals; the more popular phasesof them make a wide general appeal. 

HOBBIES AND AMUSEMENTS. Pastimes and avocations may be counted goodsubjects. Moving pictures, theaters, music, baseball, golf, automobiles, amateur photography, and a host of hobbies and recreations have enoughenthusiastic devotees to insure wide reading for special feature storiesabout them. 

THE FAMILIAR. Persons whom we know, places that we constantly see, experiences that we have had again and again, often seem commonplaceenough, even when familiarity has not bred contempt; but when theyappear unexpectedly on the stage or in print, we greet them with thecordiality bestowed on the proverbial long-lost friend. Local newsinterests readers because it concerns people and places immediatelyaround them. Every newspaper man understands the desirability ofincreasing the attractiveness of a news event that happens elsewhere byrinding "local ends, " or by giving it "a local turn. " For specialfeature stories in newspapers, local phases are no less important. Butwhether the article is to be published in a newspaper or a magazine, familiar persons and things should be "played up" prominently. 

THE PROMINENT. Many persons, places, and objects that we have never seenare frequently as real to us as are those that we see daily. This isbecause their names and their pictures have greeted us again and againin print. It is thus that prominent men and women become familiar to us. Because of their importance we like to read about them. If a specialfeature article in any of its phases concerns what is prominent, greaterattractiveness can be given to it by "playing up" this point, be it thePresident of the United States or a well-known circus clown, FifthAvenue or the Bowery, the Capitol at Washington or Coney Island, theTwentieth Century Limited or a Ford. 

LIFE AND WELFARE OF OTHERS. Sympathy with our fellow beings and aninstinctive recognition of our common humanity are inherent in most menand women. Nowhere is this more strikingly shown than in the quick andgenerous response that comes in answer to every call for aid for thosein distress. So, too, we like to know how others feel and think. We liketo get behind the veil with which every one attempts to conceal hisinnermost thoughts and feelings. Our interest in the lives and thewelfare of others finds expression in various ways, ranging from socialservice and self-sacrificing devotion to gossip and secret confidences. These extremes and all that lies between them abound in that "humaninterest" upon which all editors insist. 

This widespread interest in others affords to the writer of specialarticles one of his greatest opportunities, not only for preparinginteresting stories, but for arousing readers to support many a goodcause. To create sympathy for the unfortunate, to encourage activesocial service, to point the way to political reform, to show theadvantages of better industrial conditions, to explain better businessmethods--all these are but a few of the helpful, constructive appealsthat he may make effectively. 

He may create this interest and stir his readers to action by either oneof two methods: by exposing existing evils, or by showing what has beendone to improve bad conditions. The exposure of evils in politics, business, and society constituted the "muck-raking" to which several ofthe popular monthly magazines owe their rise. This crusading, "searchlight" type of journalism has been largely superseded by theconstructive, "sunlight" type. To explain how reforms have beenaccomplished, or are being brought about, is construed by the best ofthe present-day journals to be their special mission. 

PERSONAL SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS. Every one is vitally concerned about hisown prosperity and happiness. To make a success of life, no matter bywhat criterion we may measure that success, is our one all-powerfulmotive. Happiness, as the goal that we hope to reach by our success, andhealth, as a prime requisite for its attainment, are also of greatimportance to every one of us. How to make or save more money, how to doour work more easily, how to maintain our physical well-being, how toimprove ourselves mentally and morally, how to enjoy life morefully--that is what we all want to know. To the writer who will show ushow to be "healthy, wealthy, and wise, " we will give our undividedattention. 

Business and professional interests naturally occupy the larger part ofmen's thoughts, while home-making is the chief work of most women. Although women are entering many fields hitherto monopolized by men, thehome remains woman's peculiar sphere. The purchase and preparation offood, the buying and making of clothing, the management of servants, thecare of children--these are the vital concerns of most women. Theyrealize, however, that conditions outside the home have a direct bearingon home-making; and each year they are taking a more active part incivic affairs. Matters of public health, pure food legislation, the milkand the water supply, the garbage collection, the character of places ofamusement, the public schools, determine, in no small degree, thesuccess and happiness of the home-maker. 

Since the dominant interests of men and women alike are their businessand their home, the special writer should undertake to connect hissubject as closely as possible with these interests. To show, forexample, how the tariff, taxes, public utility rates, price-fixing, legislation, and similar matters affect the business and home affairs ofthe average reader, is to give to these political and economic problemsan interest for both men and women far in excess of that resulting froma more general treatment of them. The surest way to get the reader'sattention is to bring the subject home to him personally. 

Of the importance of presenting a subject in such a manner that thereader is led to see its application to himself and his own affairs, Mr. John M. Siddall, editor of the _American Magazine_, has said:

 Every human being likes to see himself in reading matter--just as he likes to see himself in a mirror. 

 The reason so much reading matter is unpopular and never attracts a wide reading public lies in the fact that the reader sees nothing in it for himself. Take an article, we'll say, entitled "The Financial System of Canada. " It looks dull, doesn't it? It looks dull because you can't quite see where it affects you. Now take an article entitled "Why it is easier to get rich in Canada than in the United States. " That's different! Your interest is aroused. You wonder wherein the Canadian has an advantage over you. You look into the article to find out whether you can't get an idea from it. Yet the two articles may be basically alike, differing only in treatment. One bores you and the other interests you. One bores you because it seems remote. The other interests you because the writer has had the skill to translate his facts and ideas into terms that are personal to you. The minute you become personal in this world you become interesting. 

COMBINING APPEALS. When the analysis of a topic shows that it possessesmore than one of these appeals, the writer may heighten theattractiveness of his story by developing several of the possibilities, simultaneously or successively. The chance discovery by a prominentphysician of a simple preventive of infantile paralysis, for instance, would combine at least four of the elements of interest enumeratedabove. If such a combination of appeals can be made at the verybeginning of the article, it is sure to command attention. 

DEFINITENESS OF PURPOSE. In view of the multiplicity of possibleappeals, a writer may be misled into undertaking to do too many diversethings in a single article. A subject often has so many differentaspects of great interest that it is difficult to resist the temptationto use all of them. If a writer yields to this temptation, the resultmay be a diffuse, aimless article that, however interesting in manydetails, fails to make a definite impression. 

To avoid this danger, the writer must decide just what his purpose isto be. He must ask himself, "What is my aim in writing this article?"and, "What do I expect to accomplish?" Only in this way will he clarifyin his mind his reason for writing on the proposed topic and the objectto be attained. 

With a definitely formulated aim before him, he can decide just whatmaterial he needs. An objective point to be reached will give hisarticle direction and will help him to stick to his subject. Furthermore, by getting his aim clearly in mind, he will have the meansof determining, when the story is completed, whether or not he hasaccomplished what he set out to do. 

In selecting material, in developing the article, and in testing thecompleted product, therefore, it is important to have a definitelyformulated purpose. 

THREE GENERAL AIMS. Every special article should accomplish one of threegeneral aims: it should (1) entertain, or (2) inform, or (3) givepractical guidance. 

The same subject and the same material may sometimes be so treated as toaccomplish any one of these three purposes. If the writer's aim ismerely to help readers pass a leisure hour pleasantly, he will "play up"those aspects of a topic that will afford entertainment and little ornothing else. If he desires to supply information that will add to thereader's stock of knowledge, he will present his facts in a mannercalculated to make his readers remember what he has told them. If heproposes to give information that can be applied by readers to their ownactivities, he must include those details that are necessary to any onewho desires to make practical use of the information. 

When, for example, a writer is about to prepare an article, based onexperience, about keeping bees on a small suburban place, he will findthat he may write his story in any one of three ways. The difficultiesexperienced by the amateur bee-keeper in trying to handle bees in asmall garden could be treated humorously with no other purpose than toamuse. Or the keeping of bees under such circumstances might bedescribed as an interesting example of enterprise on the part of a cityman living in the suburbs. Or, in order to show other men and womensimilarly situated just how to keep bees, the writer might explainexactly what any person would need to know to attain success in such aventure. Just as the purpose of these articles would vary, so thematerial and the point of view would differ. 

ENTERTAINING ARTICLES. To furnish wholesome entertainment is a perfectlylegitimate end in special feature writing. There is no reason why thehumor, the pathos, the romance, the adventure, and mystery in lifeshould not be presented in special feature stories for our entertainmentand amusement, just as they are presented for the same purpose in theshort story, the drama, and the photo-play. Many readers find specialfeature stories with real persons, real places, and real circumstances, more entertaining than fiction. A writer with the ability to see thecomedies and the tragedies in the events constantly happening about him, or frequently reported in the press, will never lack for subjects andmaterial. 

WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT. The effect of entertaining stories on the ideasand ideals of readers ought not to be overlooked. According to the bestjournalistic standards, nothing should be printed that will exert ademoralizing or unwholesome influence. Constructive journalism goes astep further when it insists that everything shall tend to be helpfuland constructive. This practice applies alike to news stories and tospecial articles. 

These standards do not necessarily exclude news and special featurestories that deal with crime, scandal, and similar topics; but they dodemand that the treatment of such subjects shall not be suggestive oroffensive. To portray violators of the criminal or moral codes as heroesworthy of emulation; to gratify some readers' taste for the morbid; tosatisfy other readers by exploiting sex--all are alike foreign to thepurpose of respectable journalism. No self-respecting writer will lendthe aid of his pen to such work, and no self-respecting editor willpublish it. 

To deter persons from committing similar crimes and follies should bethe only purpose in writing on such topics. The thoughtful writer, therefore, must guard against the temptation to surround wrong-doerswith the glamour of heroic or romantic adventure, and, by sentimentaltreatment, to create sympathy for the undeserving culprit. Violations oflaw and of the conventions of society ought to be shown to be wrong, even when the wrong-doer is deserving of some sympathy. This need not bedone by moralizing and editorializing. A much better way is toemphasize, as the results of wrong-doing, not only legal punishment andsocial ostracism, but the pangs of a guilty conscience, and the disgraceto the culprit and his family. 

A cynical or flippant treatment of serious subjects gives many readers afalse and distorted view of life. Humor does not depend on ridicule orsatire. The fads and foibles of humanity can be good-naturedly exposedin humorous articles that have no sting. Although many topics may veryproperly be treated lightly, others demand a serious, dignified style. 

The men and women whom a writer puts into his articles are not puppets, but real persons, with feelings not unlike his own. To drag them andtheir personal affairs from the privacy to which they are entitled, andto give them undesired and needless publicity, for the sake of affordingentertainment to others, often subjects them to great humiliation andsuffering. The fact that a man, woman, or child has figured in the day'snews does not necessarily mean that a writer is entitled to exploit sucha person's private affairs. He must discriminate between what the publicis entitled to know and what an individual has a right to keep private. Innocent wives, sweethearts, or children are not necessarily legitimatematerial for his article because their husband, lover, or father hasappeared in the news. The golden rule is the best guide for a writer insuch cases. Lack of consideration for the rights of others is the markneither of a good writer nor of a true gentleman. Clean, wholesomespecial feature stories that present interesting phases of lifeaccurately, and that show due consideration for the rights of thepersons portrayed, are quite as entertaining as are any others. 

INFORMATIVE ARTICLES. Since many persons confine their reading largelyto newspapers and magazines, they derive most of their information andideas from these sources. Even persons who read new books rely to someextent on special articles for the latest information about currenttopics. Although most readers look to periodicals primarily for new, timely facts, they are also interested to find there biographical andhistorical material that is not directly connected with current events. Every special feature writer has a great opportunity to furnish a largecircle of readers with interesting and significant information. 

In analyzing subjects it is necessary to discriminate betweensignificant and trivial facts. Some topics when studied will be found tocontain little of real consequence, even though a readable article mightbe developed from the material. Other themes will reveal aspects thatare both trivial and significant. When a writer undertakes to choosebetween the two, he should ask himself, "Are the facts worthremembering?" and, "Will they furnish food for thought?" In clarifyinghis purpose by such tests, he will decide not only what kind ofinformation he desires to impart, but what material he must select, andfrom what point of view he should present it. 

ARTICLES OF PRACTICAL GUIDANCE. The third general purpose that a writermay have is to give his readers sufficiently explicit information toenable them to do for themselves what has been done by others. Becauseall persons want to know how to be more successful, they read these"how-to-do-something" articles with avidity. All of us welcome practicalsuggestions, tactfully given, that can be applied to our own activities. Whatever any one has done successfully may be so presented that otherscan learn how to do it with equal success. Special feature articlesfurnish the best means of giving this practical guidance. 

In preparing a "how-to-do-something" article, a writer needs to considerthe class of readers for which it is intended. A special feature story, for example, on how to reduce the cost of milk might be presented fromany one of three points of view: that of the producer, that of thedistributor, or that of the consumer. To be practical for dairy farmers, as producers of milk, the article would have to point out possibleeconomies in keeping cows and handling milk on the farm. To be helpfulto milk-dealers, as distributors, it would concern itself with methodsof lowering the cost of selling and delivering milk in the city. Toassist housewives, as consumers, the article would have to show how toeconomize in using milk in the home. An informative article for thegeneral reader might take up all these phases of the subject, but anarticle intended to give practical guidance should consider the needs ofonly one of these three classes of persons. 

In many constructive articles of practical guidance, the writer'spurpose is so successfully concealed that it may at first escape thenotice of the average reader. By relating in detail, for example, how anactual enterprise was carried out, a writer may be able to give hisreaders, without their realizing it, all the information they need toaccomplish a similar undertaking. When he analyzes such articles, thestudent should not be misled into thinking that the writer did not havethe definite purpose of imparting practical information. If the samematerial can be developed into an article of interesting information orinto one of practical guidance, it is desirable to do the latter and, ifnecessary, to disguise the purpose. 

STATEMENT OF PURPOSE. In order to define his purpose clearly and to keepit constantly before him, a writer will do well to put down on paper hisexact aim in a single sentence. If, for example, he desired to write aconstructive article about an Americanization pageant held in his homecity on the Fourth of July, he might write out the statement of his aimthus: "I desire to show how the Americanization of aliens may beencouraged in small industrial centers of from 3000 to 20, 000inhabitants, by describing how the last Fourth of July Americanizationpageant was organized and carried out in a typical Pennsylvaniaindustrial town of 5000. "

Such a statement will assist a writer in selecting his material, insticking to his subject, and in keeping to one point of view. Withoutthis clearly formulated aim before him, it is easy for him to dwell toolong on some phase of the subject in which he is particularly interestedor on which he has the most material, to the neglect of other phasesthat are essential to the accomplishment of his purpose. Or, failing toget his aim clearly in mind, he may jump from one aspect of the subjectto another, without accomplishing anything in particular. Many anewspaper and magazine article leaves a confused, hazy impression on theminds of readers because the writer failed to have a definite objective. 

CHAPTER V

TYPES OF ARTICLES

METHODS OF TREATMENT. After choosing a subject and formulating hispurpose, a writer is ready to consider methods of treatment. Again it isdesirable to survey all the possibilities in order to choose the onemethod best adapted to his subject and his purpose. His chiefconsideration should be the class of readers that he desires to reach. Some topics, he will find, may be treated with about equal success inany one of several ways, while others lend themselves to only one or twoforms of presentation. By thinking through the various possible ways ofworking out his subject, he will be able to decide which meets his needsmost satisfactorily. 

EXPOSITION BY NARRATION AND DESCRIPTION. The commonest method ofdeveloping a special feature article is that which combines narrationand description with exposition. The reason for this combination is notfar to seek. The average person is not attracted by pure exposition. Heis attracted by fiction. Hence the narrative and descriptive devices offiction are employed advantageously to supplement expository methods. Narratives and descriptions also have the advantage of being concreteand vivid. The rapid reader can grasp a concrete story or a wordpicture. He cannot so readily comprehend a more general explanationunaccompanied by specific examples and graphic pictures of persons, places, and objects. 

Narration and description are used effectively for the concrete examplesand the specific instances by which we illustrate general ideas. Thebest way, for example, to make clear the operation of a state system ofhealth insurance is to relate how it has operated in the case of one ormore persons affected. In explaining a new piece of machinery the writermay well describe it in operation, to enable readers to visualize itand follow its motions. Since the reader's interest will be roused themore quickly if he is given tangible, concrete details that he cangrasp, the examples are usually put first, to be followed by the moregeneral explanation. Sometimes several examples are given before theexplanatory matter is offered. Whole articles are often made up ofspecific examples and generalizations presented alternately. 

To explain the effects of a new anæsthetic, for example, Mr. Burton J. Hendrick in an article in _McClure's Magazine_, pictured the scene inthe operating-room of a hospital where it was being given to a patient, showed just how it was administered, and presented the results as aspectator saw them. The beginning of the article on stovaine, the newanæsthetic, illustrating this method of exposition, follows:

 A few months ago, a small six-year-old boy was wheeled into the operating theater at the Hospital for Ruptured and Crippled Children, in New York City. He was one of the several thousand children of the tenements who annually find their way into this great philanthropic institution, suffering from what, to the lay mind, seems a hopelessly incurable injury or malformation. This particular patient had a crippled and paralyzed leg, and to restore its usefulness, it was necessary to cut deeply into the heel, stretch the "Achilles tendon, " and make other changes which, without the usual anesthetic, would involve excruciating suffering. According to the attendant nurses, the child belonged to the "noisy" class; that is, he was extremely sensitive to pain, screamed at the approach of the surgeon, and could be examined only when forcibly held down. 

 As the child came into the operating-room he presented an extremely pathetic figure--small, naked, thin, with a closely cropped head of black hair, and a face pinched and blanched with fear. Surrounded by a fair-sized army of big, muscular surgeons and white-clothed nurses, and a gallery filled with a hundred or more of the leading medical men of the metropolis, he certainly seemed a helpless speck of humanity with all the unknown forces of science and modern life arrayed against him. Under ordinary conditions he would have been etherized in an adjoining chamber and brought into the operating-room entirely unconscious. This cripple, however, had been selected as a favorable subject for an interesting experiment in modern surgery, for he was to undergo an extremely torturous operation in a state of full consciousness. 

 Among the assembled surgeons was a large-framed, black moustached and black-haired, quick-moving, gypsy-like Rumanian--Professor Thomas Jonnesco, dean of the Medical Department of the University of Bucharest, and one of the leading men of his profession in Europe. Dr. Jonnesco, who had landed in New York only two days before, had come to the United States with a definite scientific purpose. This was to show American surgeons that the most difficult operations could be performed without pain, without loss of consciousness, and without the use of the familiar anesthetics, ether or chloroform. Dr. Jonnesco's reputation in itself assured him the fullest opportunity of demonstrating his method in New York, and this six-year-old boy had been selected as an excellent test subject. 

 Under the gentle assurances of the nurses that "no one was going to hurt" him, the boy assumed a sitting posture on the operating-table, with his feet dangling over the edge. Then, at the request of Dr. Jonnesco, he bent his head forward until it almost touched his breast. This threw the child's back into the desired position--that of the typical bicycle "scorcher, "--making each particular vertebra stand out sharply under the tight drawn skin. Dr. Jonnesco quickly ran his finger along the protuberances, and finally selected the space between the twelfth dorsal and the first lumbar vertebræ--in other words, the space just above the small of the back. He then took an ordinary hypodermic needle, and slowly pushed it through the skin and tissues until it entered the small opening between the lower and upper vertebræ, not stopping until it reached the open space just this side of the spinal cord. 

 As the needle pierced the flesh, the little patient gave a sharp cry--the only sign of discomfiture displayed during the entire operation. When the hollow needle reached its destination, a few drops of a colorless liquid spurted out--the famous cerebro-spinal fluid, the substance which, like a water-jacket, envelops the brain and the spinal cord. Into this same place Dr. Jonnesco now introduced an ordinary surgical syringe, which he had previously filled with a pale yellowish liquid--the much-famed stovaine, --and slowly emptied its contents into the region that immediately surrounds the spinal cord. 

 For a few minutes the child retained his sitting posture as if nothing extraordinary had happened. Dr. Jonnesco patted him on the back and said a few pleasant words in French, while the nurses and assistants chatted amiably in English. 

 "How do you feel now?" the attending surgeon asked, after the lapse of three or four minutes. 

 "All right, " replied the boy animatedly, "'cept that my legs feel like they was going to sleep. "

 The nurses now laid the patient down upon his back, throwing a handkerchief over his eyes, so that he could not himself witness the subsequent proceedings. There was, naturally, much holding of breath as Dr. Virgil P. Gibney, the operating surgeon, raised his knife and quickly made a deep incision in the heel of this perfectly conscious patient. From the child, however, there was not the slightest evidence of sensation. 

 "Didn't you feel anything, my boy?" asked Dr. Gibney, pausing. 

 "No, I don't feel nothin', " came the response from under the handkerchief. 

 An operation lasting nearly half an hour ensued. The deepest tissues were cut, the tendons were stretched, the incision was sewed up, all apparently without the patient's knowledge. 

Some types of articles, although expository in purpose, are entirelynarrative and descriptive in form. By relating his own experiences in aconfession story, for example, a writer may be able to show very clearlyand interestingly the dangers of speculations in stocks with but smallcapital. Personality sketches are almost always narrative anddescriptive. 

Many of the devices of the short story will be found useful in articles. Not only is truth stranger than fiction, but facts may be so presentedas to be even more interesting than fiction. Conversation, character-drawing, suspense, and other methods familiar to the writer ofshort stories may be used effectively in special articles. Theirapplication to particular types of articles is shown in the followingpages. 

SPECIAL TYPES OF ARTICLES. Although there is no generally recognizedclassification of special feature articles, several distinct types maybe noted, such as (1) the interview, (2) the personal experience story, (3) the confession article, (4) the "how-to-do-something" article, (5)the personality sketch, (6) the narrative in the third person. Theseclasses, it is evident, are not mutually exclusive, but may forconvenience be treated separately. 

THE INTERVIEW. Since the material for many articles is obtained by meansof an interview, it is often convenient to put the major part, if notthe whole, of the story in interview form. Such an article may consistentirely of direct quotation with a limited amount of explanatorymaterial concerning the person interviewed; or it may be made up partlyof direct quotation and partly of indirect quotation, combined with thenecessary explanation. For greater variety it is advisable to alternatedirect and indirect quotations. A description of the person interviewedand of his surroundings, by way of introduction, gives the reader adistinct impression of the individual under characteristic conditions. Or some striking utterance of his may be "played up" at the beginning, to be followed by a picture of him and his surroundings. Interviews onthe same topic with two or more persons may be combined in a singlearticle. 

The interview has several obvious advantages. First, the spoken word, quoted _verbatim_, gives life to the story. The person interviewed seemsto be talking to each reader individually. The description of him in hissurroundings helps the reader to see him as he talks. Second, events, explanations, and opinions given in the words of one who speaks withauthority, have greater weight than do the assertions of an unknownwriter. Third, the interview is equally effective whether the writer'spurpose is to inform, to entertain, or to furnish practical guidance. Romance and adventure, humor and pathos, may well be handled ininterview form. Discoveries, inventions, new processes, unusual methods, new projects, and marked success of any kind may be explained toadvantage in the words of those responsible for these undertakings. 

In obtaining material for an interview story, a writer should bear inmind a number of points regarding interviewing in general. First, inadvance of meeting the person to be interviewed, he should plan theseries of questions by which he hopes to elicit the desired information. "What would my readers ask this person if they had a chance to talk tohim about this subject?" he must ask himself. That is, his questionsshould be those that readers would like to have answered. Since it isthe answers, however, and not the questions, that will interest readers, the questions in the completed article should be subordinated as much aspossible. Sometimes they may be skillfully embodied in the replies;again they may be implied merely, or entirely omitted. In studying aninterview article, one can generally infer what questions theinterviewer used. Second, he must cultivate his memory so that he canrecall a person's exact words without taking notes. Most men talk morefreely and easily when they are not reminded of the fact that what theyare saying is to be printed. In interviewing, therefore, it is desirableto keep pencil and paper out of sight. Third, immediately after leavingthe person whom he has interviewed, the writer should jot down facts, figures, striking statements, and anything else that he might forget. 

EXAMPLES OF THE INTERVIEW ARTICLE. As a timely special feature story forArbor Day, a Washington correspondent used the following interview withan expert as a means of giving readers practical advice ontree-planting:

 ARBOR DAY ADVICE

 WASHINGTON, April 1. --Three spadefuls of rich, pulverized earth will do more to make a young tree grow than a 30-minute Arbor day address by the president of the school board and a patriotic anthem by the senior class, according to Dr. Furman L. Mulford, tree expert for the department of agriculture. 

 Not that Dr. Mulford would abbreviate the ceremonies attendant upon Arbor day planting, but he thinks that they do not mean much unless the roots planted receive proper and constant care. For what the Fourth of July is to the war and navy departments, and what Labor day is to the department of labor, Arbor day is to the department of agriculture. 

 While the forestry bureau has concerned itself primarily with trees from the standpoint of the timber supply, Dr. Mulford has been making a study of trees best adapted for streets and cities generally. And nobody is more interested than he in what Arbor day signifies or how trees should be chosen and reared. 

 "We need trees most where our population is the thickest, and some trees, like some people, are not adapted to such a life, " said Dr. Mulford. "For street or school yard planting one of the first considerations is a hardy tree, that can find nourishment under brick pavements or granite sidewalks. It must be one that branches high from the ground and ought to be native to the country and climate. America has the prettiest native trees and shrubs in the world and it is true patriotism to recognize them. 

 "For Southern states one of the prettiest and best of shade trees is the laurel oak, and there will be thousands of them planted this spring. It is almost an evergreen and is a quick growing tree. The willow oak is another. 

 "A little farther north the red oak is one of the most desirable, and in many places the swamp maple grows well, though this latter tree does not thrive well in crowded cities. 

 "Nothing, however, is prettier than the American elm when it reaches the majesty of its maturity and I do not believe it will ever cease to be a favorite. One thing against it, though, is the 'elm beetle, ' a pest which is spreading and which will kill some of our most beautiful trees unless spraying is consistently practised. China berry trees, abundant in the South, and box elders, native to a score of states, are quick growing, but they reach maturity too soon and begin to go to pieces. "

 "What is the reason that so many Arbor day trees die?" Dr. Mulford was asked. 

 "Usually lack of protection, and often lack of care in planting, " was the answer. "When the new tree begins to put out tender rootlets a child brushing against it or 'inspecting' it too closely will break them off and it dies. Or stock will nip off the new leaves and shoots and the result is the same. A frame around the tree would prevent this. 

 "Then, often wild trees are too big when transplanted. Such trees have usually only a few long roots and so much of these are lost in transplanting that the large trunk cannot be nourished by the remainder. With nursery trees the larger they are the better it is, for they have a lot of small roots that do not have to be cut off. 

 "Fruit trees are seldom so successful as shade trees, either along a street or road or in a yard. In the first place their branches are too low and unless carefully pruned their shape is irregular. Then they are subject to so many pests that unless constant care is given them they will not bear a hatful of fruit a season. 

 "On the other hand, nut trees are usually hardy and add much to the landscape. Pecan, chestnut, walnut and shaggy bark hickory are some of the more popular varieties. "

 The first Arbor day was observed in Nebraska, which has fewer natural trees than any other state. This was in 1872, and Kansas was the second to observe the day, falling into line in 1875. Incidentally Kansas ranks next to Nebraska in dearth of trees. 

 The Arbor day idea originated with J. Sterling Morton, a Nebraskan who was appointed secretary of agriculture by Cleveland. Now every state in the Union recognizes the day and New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin and others have gotten out extensive Arbor day booklets giving information concerning trees and birds; most of them even contain appropriate songs and poems for Arbor day programs. 

How an interview combined with a description of a person may serve tocreate sympathy for her and for the cause that she represents is shownin the following article, which was published anonymously in the Sundaymagazine section of the _Ohio State Journal_. It was illustrated withtwo half-tone portraits, one of the young woman in Indian costume, theother showing her in street dress. 

 JUST LIKE POCAHONTAS OF 300 YEARS AGO

 "_Oh, East is East and West is West, And never the two shall meet_. "

 BUT they may send messengers. Hark to the words of "One-who-does-things-well. "

 "I carry a message from my people to the Government at Washington, " says Princess Galilolie, youngest daughter of John Ross, hereditary King of the "Forest Indians, " the Cherokees of Oklahoma. "We have been a nation without hope. The land that was promised us by solemn treaty, 'so long as the grass should grow and the waters run, ' has been taken from us. It was barren and wild when we received it seventy years ago. Now it is rich with oil and cultivation, and the whites coveted our possessions. Since it was thrown open to settlers no Cherokee holds sovereign rights as before, when it was his nation. We are outnumbered. I have come as a voice from my people to speak to the people of the Eastern States and to those at Washington--most of all, if I am permitted to do so, to lay our wrongs before the President's wife, in whose veins glows the blood of the Indian. "

 Only nineteen is this Indian princess--this twentieth century Pocahontas--who travels far to the seats of the mighty for her race. 

 She is a tall, slim, stately girl from the foothills of the Ozarks, from Tahlequah, former capital of the Cherokee Nation. She says she is proud of every drop of Indian blood that flows in her veins. But her skin is fair as old ivory and she is a college girl--a girl of the times to her finger-tips. 

 "When an Indian goes through college and returns to his or her people, " she says with a smile, "they say, 'Back to the blanket!' We have few blankets among the Cherokees in Tahlequah. I am the youngest of nine children, and we are all of us college graduates, as my father was before us. "

 He is John Ross 3d, Chief of the Cherokee Nation, of mingled Scotch and Indian blood, in descent from "Cooweeskowee, " John Ross I. , the rugged old Indian King who held out against Andrew Jackson back in 1838 for the ancient rights of the Five Nations to their lands along the Southern Atlantic States. 

 She sat back on the broad window seat in the sunlight. Beyond the window lay a bird's-eye view of New York housetops, the white man's permanent tepee. Some spring birds alighted on a nearby telephone wire, sending out twittering mating cries to each other. 

 "They make me want to go home, " she said with a swift, expressive gesture. "But I will stay until the answer comes to us. Do you know what they have called me, the old men and women who are wise--the full-bloods? Galilolie--'One-who-does-things-well. ' With us, when a name is given it is one with a meaning, something the child must grow to in fulfillment. So I feel I must not fail them now. "

 "You see, " she went on, lifting her chin, "it is we young half-bloods who must carry the strength and honor of our people to the world so it may understand us. All our lives we have been told tales by the old men--how our people were driven from their homes by the Government, how Gen. Winfield Scott's soldiers came down into our quiet villages and ordered the Indians to go forth leaving everything behind them. My great-grandfather, the old King Cooweeskowee, with his wife and children, paused at the first hilltop to look back at his home, and already the whites were moving into it. The house is still standing at Rossville, Ga. Do you know what the old people tell us children when we wish we could go back there?" Her eyes are half closed, her lips compressed as she says slowly, thrillingly: "They tell us it is easy to find the way over that 'Trail of Tears, ' that through the wilderness it is blazed with the gravestones of those who were too weak to march. 

 "That was seventy years ago, in 1838. The Government promised to pay amply for all it took from us, our homes and lands, cattle--even furniture. A treaty was made solemnly between the Indians and the United States that Oklahoma should be theirs 'as long as the grass should grow and the waters run. '

 "That meant perpetuity to us, don't you see?" She makes her points with a directness and simplicity that should disarm even the diplomatic suavity of Uncle Sam when he meets her in Washington. "Year after year the Cherokees waited for the Government to pay. And at last, three years ago, it came to us--$133. 19 to each Indian, seventy-eight years after the removal from Georgia had taken place. 

 "Oil was discovered after the Indians had taken the wilderness lands in Oklahoma and reclaimed them. It was as if God, in reparation for the wrongs inflicted by whites, had given us the riches of the earth. My people grew rich from their wells, but a way was found to bind their wealth so they could not use it. It was said the Indians were not fit to handle their own money. "

 She lifts eyebrows and shoulders, her hands clasped before her tightly, as if in silent resentment of their impotence to help. 

 "These are the things I want to tell; first our wrongs and then our colonization plan, for which we hope so much if the Government will grant it. We are outnumbered since the land was opened up and a mass of 'sooners, ' as we call them--squatters, claimers, settlers--swarmed in over our borders. The Government again offered to pay us for the land they took back--the land that was to be ours in perpetuity 'while the grass grew and the waters ran. ' We were told to file our claims with the whites. Some of us did, but eight hundred of the full-bloods went back forty miles into the foothills under the leadership of Red Bird Smith. They refuse to sell or to accept the Government money for their valuable oil lands. To appease justice, the Government allotted them lands anyway, in their absence, and paid the money for their old property into the banks, where it lies untouched. Red Bird and his 'Night Hawks' refuse to barter over a broken treaty. 

 "Ah, but I have gone up alone to the old men there. " Her voice softens. "They will talk to me because I am my father's daughter. My Indian name means 'One-who-does-things-well. ' So if I go to them they tell me their heart longings, what they ask for the Cherokee. 

 "And I shall put the message, if I can, before our President's wife. Perhaps she will help. "

THE PERSONAL EXPERIENCE ARTICLE. A writer's own experiences, given underhis name, under a pseudonym, or in anonymous form, can easily be madeinteresting to others. Told in the first person, such stories arerealistic and convincing. The pronoun "I" liberally sprinkled throughthe story, as it must be, gives to it a personal, intimate characterthat most readers like. Conversation and description of persons, places, and objects may be included to advantage in these personal narratives. 

The possibilities of the personal experience story are as great as arethose of the interview. Besides serving as a vehicle for the writer'sown experiences, it may be employed to give experiences of others. If, for example, a person interviewed objects to having his name used, it ispossible to present the material obtained by the interview in the formof a personal experience story. In that case the article would have tobe published without the writer's name, since the personal experiencesthat it records are not his own. Permission to present material in apersonal experience story should always be obtained from the individualwhose experiences the writer intends to use. 

Articles designed to give practical guidance, to show readers how to dosomething, are particularly effective when written in the first person. If these "how-to-do-something" articles are to be most useful toreaders, the conditions under which the personal experience wasobtained must be fairly typical. Personal experience articles of thistype are very popular in women's magazines, agricultural journals, andpublications that appeal to business men. 

EXAMPLES OF THE PERSONAL EXPERIENCE STORY. The opportunities forservice offered to women by small daily newspapers are set forth in thestory below, by means of the personal experiences of one woman. Thearticle was published in the _Woman's Home Companion_, and wasillustrated by a half-tone reproduction of a wash drawing of a youngwoman seated at her desk in a newspaper office. 

 "THEY CALL ME THE 'HEN EDITOR'"

 THE STORY OF A SMALL-TOWN NEWSPAPER WOMAN

 By SADIE L. MOSSLER

 "What do you stay buried in this burg for? Why, look how you drudge! and what do you get out of it? New York or some other big city is the place for you. There's where you can become famous instead of being a newspaper woman in a one-horse town. "

 A big city newspaper man was talking. He was in our town on an assignment, and he was idling away spare time in our office. Before I could answer, the door opened and a small girl came to my desk. 

 "Say, " she said, "Mama told me to come in here and thank you for that piece you put in the paper about us. You ought to see the eatin's folks has brought us! Heaps an' heaps! And Ma's got a job scrubbin' three stores. "

 The story to which she referred was one that I had written about a family left fatherless, a mother and three small children in real poverty. I had written a plain appeal to the home people, with the usual results. 

 "That, " I said, "is one reason that I am staying here. Maybe it isn't fame in big letters signed to an article, but it's another kind. "

 His face wore a queer expression; but before he could retort another caller appeared, a well-dressed woman. 

 "What do you mean, " she declared, "by putting it in the paper that I served light refreshments at my party?"

 "Wasn't it so?" I meekly inquired. 

 "No!" she thundered. "I served ice cream, cake and coffee, and that makes two courses. See that it is right next time, or we'll stop the paper. "

 Here my visitor laughed. "I suppose that's another reason for your staying here. When we write anything about a person we don't have to see them again and hear about it. "

 "But, " I replied, "that's the very reason I cling to the small town. I want to see the people about whom I am writing, and live with them. That's what brings the rewards in our business. It's the personal side that makes it worth while, the real living of a newspaper instead of merely writing to fill its columns. "

 In many small towns women have not heretofore been overly welcome on the staff of the local paper, for the small town is essentially conservative and suspicious of change. This war, however, is changing all that, and many a woman with newspaper ambitions will now have her chance at home. 

 For ten years I have been what may be classified as a small town newspaper woman, serving in every capacity from society reporter to city and managing editor. During this time I have been tempted many times to go to fields where national fame and a larger salary awaited those who won. But it was that latter part that held me back, that and one other factor: "Those who won, " and "What do they get out of it more than I?"

 It is generally conceded that for one woman who succeeds in the metropolitan newspaper field about ten fail before the vicissitudes of city life, the orders of managing editors, and the merciless grind of the big city's working world. And with those who succeed, what have they more than I? They sign their names to articles; they receive big salaries; they are famous--as such fame goes. Why is a signed name to an article necessary, when everyone knows when the paper comes out that I wrote the article? What does national fame mean compared with the fact that the local laws of the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" were not being enforced and that I wrote stories that remedied this condition?

 I began newspaper life as society reporter of a daily paper in a Middle-Western town of ten thousand inhabitants. That is, I supposed I was going to be society reporter, but before very long I found myself doing police assignments, sport, editing telegraph, and whatever the occasion demanded. 

 I suppose that the beginnings of everyone's business life always remain vivid memories. The first morning I reported for work at seven o'clock. Naturally, no one was in the front office, as the news department of a small-town newspaper office is sometimes called. I was embarrassed and nervous, and sat anxiously awaiting the arrival of the city editor. In five minutes he gave me sufficient instructions to last a year, but the only one I remember was, "Ask all the questions you can think of, and don't let anyone bluff you out of a story. "

 My first duty, and one that I performed every morning for several years, was to "make" an early morning train connecting with a large city, forty miles away. It was no easy task to approach strangers and ask their names and destination; but it was all good experience, and it taught me how to approach people and to ask personal questions without being rude. 

 During my service as society reporter I learned much, so much that I am convinced there is no work in the smaller towns better suited to women. Any girl who is bright and quick, who knows the ethics of being a lady, can hold this position and make better money at it than by teaching or clerking. 

 Each trade, they say, has its tricks, and being a society reporter is no exception. In towns of from one thousand to two thousand inhabitants, the news that Mrs. X. Is going to give a party spreads rapidly by that system of wireless telegraphy that excels the Marconi--neighborhood gossip. But in the larger towns it is not so easy. In "our town, " whenever there is a party the ice cream is ordered from a certain confectioner. Daily he permitted us to see his order book. If Mrs. Jones ordered a quart of ice cream we knew that she was only having a treat for the family. If it were two quarts or more, it was a party, and if it was ice cream in molds, we knew a big formal function was on foot. 

 Society reporting is a fertile field, and for a long time I had been thinking that society columns were too dull. My ideal of a newspaper is that every department should be edited so that everyone would read all the paper. I knew that men rarely read the social column. One day a man said to me that he always called his wife his better judgment instead of his better half. That appealed to me as printable, but where to put it in the paper? Why not in my own department? I did so. That night when the paper came out everyone clamored to know who the man was, for I had merely written, "A man in town calls his wife his better judgment instead of his better half. "

 Then I decided to make the society department a reflection of our daily life and sayings. In order to get these in I used the initials of my title, "S. R. " I never used names, but I always managed to identify my persons. 

 As one might expect, I brought down a storm about my head. Many persons took the hints for themselves when they were not so intended, and there were some amusing results. For instance, when I said in the paper that "a certain man in a down-town store has perfect manners, " the next day twelve men thanked me, and I received four boxes of candy as expressions of gratitude. 

 There were no complaints about the society column being dull after this; everyone read it and laughed at it, and it was quoted in many exchanges. Of course, I was careful to hurt no one's feelings, but I did occasionally have a little good-natured fun at the expense of people who wouldn't mind it. Little personal paragraphs of this sort must never be malicious or mean--if the paper is to keep its friends. 

 Of all my newspaper experience I like best to dwell on the society reporting; but if I were to advance I knew that I must take on more responsibility, so I became city editor of another paper. I was virtually managing editor, for the editor and owner was a politician and was away much of the time. It was then that I began to realize the responsibility of my position, to grapple with the problem of dealing fairly both with my employer and the public. The daily life with its varying incidents, the big civic issues, the stories to be handled, the rights of the advertisers to be considered, the adjusting of the news to the business department--all these were brought before me with a powerful clarity. 

 When a woman starts on a city paper she knows that there are linotypes, presses and other machinery. Often she has seen them work; but her knowledge of "how" they work is generally vague. It was on my third day as city editor that I realized my woeful ignorance of the newspaper business from the mechanical viewpoint. I had just arrived at the office when the foreman came to my desk. 

 "Say, " he said, "we didn't get any stuff set last night. Power was off. Better come out and pick out the plate you want to fill with. "

 What he meant by the power being off I could understand, and perforce I went out to select the plate. He handed me long slabs of plate matter to read. Later I learned that printed copies of the plate are sent for selection, but in my ignorance I took up the slabs and tried to read the type. To my astonishment it was all backward, and I found myself wondering if it were a Chinese feature story. Finally I threw myself on his mercy and told him to select what he chose. As I left the composing-room I heard him say to one of the printers: "That's what comes of the boss hiring a hen editor. "

 Shortly after noon a linotype operator came to me with his hands full of copy. 

 "If you want any of this dope in the paper, " he said, "you'll have to grab off a paragraph here and there. My machine's got a bad squirt, and it'll take an hour or more to fix it. "

 Greek, all Greek! A squirt! I was too busy "grabbing off" paragraphs to investigate; but then and there I resolved to penetrate all these mysteries. I found the linotype operator eager to show me how his machine works, and the foreman was glad to take me around and instruct me in his department and also in the pressroom. I have had trouble with printers since; but in the end they had to admit that the "hen editor" knew what she was talking about. 

 There is a great cry now for woman's advancement. If the women are hunting equality as their goal let them not seek out the crowded, hostile cities, but remain in the smaller places where their work can stand out distinctly. A trite phrase expresses it that a newspaper is the "voice of the people. " What better than that a woman should set the tune for that voice?

 Equality with men! I sit at my desk looking out over the familiar home scene. A smell of fresh ink comes to me, and a paper just off the press is slapped down on my desk. 

 "Look!" says the foreman. "We got out some paper today, didn't we?"

 "_We_!" How's that for equality? He has been twenty years at his trade and I only ten, yet he includes me. 

 When I am tempted to feel that my field is limited, my tools crude, and my work unhonored and unsung, I recall a quotation I read many years ago, and I will place it here at the end of the "hen editor's" uneventful story. 

 Back before my mind floats that phrase, "Buried in this burg. " If a person has ability, will not the world learn it?

 "If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or sing a more glorious song than his neighbor, though he build his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door. "

That a personal experience story may be utilized to show readers how todo something is demonstrated in the following article taken from _TheDesigner_. It was illustrated by a half-tone made from a wash drawing ofone corner of the burlap room. 

 A BEDROOM IN BURLAP

 THE MOST SATISFACTORY ROOM IN OUR BUNGALOW

 BY KATHERINE VAN DORN

 Our burlap room is the show room of our bungalow. Visitors are guided through the living-room, the bedroom, the sleeping-porch and kitchen, and allowed to express their delight and satisfaction while we wait with bated breath for the grand surprise to be given them. Then, when they have concluded, we say:

 "But you should see our burlap room!" Then we lead the way up the stairs to the attic and again stand and wait. We know what is coming, and, as we revel in the expressions of admiration evoked, we again declaim with enormous pride: "We made it all ourselves!"

 There is a solid satisfaction in making a room, especially for an amateur who hardly expects to undertake room-making as a profession. We regard our room as an original creation produced by our own genius, not likely to be duplicated in our personal experience. It grew in this wise:

 When we came to the bungalow last spring the family numbered three instead of the two of the year before. Now number three, a healthy and bouncing young woman, necessitated a "sleeping-in" maid if her parents were ever to be able to detach themselves from her person. We had never had a sleeping-in maid at the bungalow before and the problem of where to put her was a serious one. We well knew that no self-respecting servant would condescend to sleep in an attic, although the attic was cool, airy and comfortable. We rather thought, too, that the maid might despise us if we gave her the bedroom and took up our quarters under the rafters. It would be an easy enough matter for carpenters and plasterers to put a room in the attic, but we lacked the money necessary for such a venture. And so we puzzled. At first we thought of curtains, but the high winds which visit us made curtains impracticable. Then we thought of tacking the curtains top and bottom, and from this the idea evolved. The carpenter whom we consulted proved to be amenable to suggestion and agreed to put us up a framework in a day. We helped. We outlined the room on the floor. This took two strips of wood about one and a half by two inches. The other two sides of the room were formed by the wall of the attic and by the meeting place of the roof and floor--that is, there was in reality no fourth wall; the room simply ended where floor and roof met. Two strips were nailed to the rafters in positions similar to those on the floor, and then an upright strip was inserted and nailed fast at intervals of every three feet. This distance was decided by the fact that curtain materials usually come a yard wide. For a door we used a discarded screen-door, which, having been denuded of the bits of wire clinging to it, answered the purpose very well. The door completed the skeleton. 

 We used a beautiful soft blue burlap. Tacking on proved a more difficult matter than we had anticipated, owing to the fact that our carpenter had used cypress for the framework. We stretched the material taut and then tacked it fast with sharp-pointed, large-headed brass tacks, and while inserting these we measured carefully the distances between the tacks in order to keep this trimming uniform. The two walls supplied by the framework were quickly covered, but the rough wall of the attic necessitated some cutting, as we had to tack the burlap to the uprights and these had not been placed with yard-wide material in view. Above the screen-door frame was a hiatus of space running up into the peak. The carpenter had thoughtfully run two strips up to the roof and this enabled us to fill in by cutting and turning in the cloth. A corresponding space above the window received similar treatment. Then we covered the inner surface of the screen door and we had a room. 

 But we were far from satisfied. The room looked bare and crude. We bought a can of dark-oak stain and gave the floor a coat and this improved matters so much that we stained the wood visible on the door frame and about the window. Having finished this, we saw the need of doing something for the ceiling. The ceiling was merely the inner surface of the roof. The builders had made it of boards of varying sizes, the rafters were rough and splintery and there were myriads of nails sticking through everywhere. It looked a hopeless task. But we bought more stain and went to work. Before beginning we covered our precious blue walls with newspapers, donned our oldest clothes and spread papers well over the floor. It was well that we did. The staining was not difficult work but the nails made it splashy and we were pretty well spotted when we finished. 

 But when we did finish we felt compensated. The nails had become invisible. The dull blue walls with their bright brass trimming, the soft brown floor and the stained, raftered roof made the room the most attractive in the house. We could not rest, although the hour was late and we were both tired, until we had furnished it. We put in a couple of small rugs, a brass bed, and a white bureau. We hung two pictures securely upon the uprights of the skeleton. We added a couple of chairs and a rack for clothing, put up a white madras curtain at the window, and regarded the effect with the utmost satisfaction. The room answered the purpose exactly. The burlap was thick enough to act as a screen. It was possible to see movement through it, but not form. It insured privacy and still permitted the air to pass through for ventilation. As a finishing touch we screwed a knob on the outside of the door, put a brass hook on the inside and went downstairs to count the cost. 

 As a quick and inexpensive method of adding to the number of rooms in one's house, the making of a burlap room is without an equal. The idea is not patented, and we who deem ourselves its creators, are only too happy to send it on, in the hope that it may be of service to some other puzzled householder who is wondering where to put an added family member. 

THE CONFESSION STORY. Closely akin to the personal experience article isthe so-called "confession story. " Usually published anonymously, confession stories may reveal more personal and intimate experiencesthan a writer would ordinarily care to give in a signed article. Needless to say, most readers are keenly interested in such revelations, even though they are made anonymously. Like personal experience stories, they are told in the first person with a liberal use of the pronoun "I. "

A writer need not confine himself to his own experiences for confessionstories; he may obtain valuable material for them from others. Notinfrequently his name is attached to these articles accompanied by thestatement that the confession was "transcribed, " "taken down, " or"recorded" by the writer. 

Conditions of life in classes of society with which the reader is notfamiliar may be brought home to him through the medium of the confessionstory. It may be made the means of arousing interest in questions aboutwhich the average reader cares little. The average man or woman, forexample, is probably little concerned with the problem of the poorlypaid college professor, but hundreds of thousands doubtless read withinterest the leading article in an issue of the _Saturday Evening Post_entitled, "The Pressure on the Professor. " This was a confession story, which did not give the author's own experiences but appeared as"Transcribed by Walter E. Weyl. " This article was obviously written withthe purpose, skillfully concealed, of calling attention to the hard lotof the underpaid professor. 

Constructive criticism of existing conditions may be successfullyembodied in the form of a confession article that describes the evils asthey have been experienced by one individual. If the article is to beentirely effective and just, the experience of the one person describedmust be fairly typical of that of others in the same situation. In orderto show that these experiences are characteristic, the writer may findit advantageous to introduce facts and figures tending to prove that hisown case is not an isolated example. In the confession article mentionedabove, "The Pressure on the Professor, " the assistant professor whomakes the confession, in order to demonstrate that his own case istypical, cites statistics collected by a colleague at StanfordUniversity giving the financial status of 112 assistant professors invarious American universities. 

Confessions that show how faults and personal difficulties have beenovercome prove helpful to readers laboring under similar troubles. Hereagain, what is related should be typical rather than exceptional. 

EXAMPLES OF THE CONFESSION STORY. That an intimate account of thefinancial difficulties of a young couple as told by the wife, may notonly make an interesting story but may serve as a warning to others, isshown in the confession story below. Signed "F. B. , " and illustrated witha pen and ink sketch of the couple at work over their accounts, it wasprinted in _Every Week_, a popular illustrated periodical formerlypublished by the Crowell Publishing Company, New York. 

 THE THINGS WE LEARNED TO DO WITHOUT

 We were married within a month of our commencement, after three years of courtship at a big Middle West university. Looking back, it seems to me that rich, tumultuous college life of ours was wholly pagan. All about us was the free-handed atmosphere of "easy money, " and in our "crowd" a tacit implication that a good time was one of the primary necessities of life. Such were our ideas when we married on a salary of one hundred dollars a month. We took letters of introduction to some of the "smart" people in a suburb near Chicago, and they proved so delightfully cordial that we settled down among them without stopping to consider the discrepancies between their ways and our income. We were put up at a small country club--a simple affair enough, comparatively speaking--that demanded six weeks' salary in initial dues and much more in actual subsequent expense. "Everybody" went out for Saturday golf and stayed for dinner and dancing. 

 By fall there was in working operation a dinner club of the "younger married set, " as our local column in the city papers called us; an afternoon bridge club; and a small theater club that went into town every fortnight for dinner and a show. Costly little amusements, but hardly more than were due charming young people of our opportunities and tastes. I think that was our attitude, although we did not admit it. In September we rented a "smart" little apartment. We had planned to furnish it by means of several generous checks which were family contributions to our array of wedding gifts. What we did was to buy the furniture on the instalment plan, agreeing to pay twenty dollars a month till the bill was settled, and we put the furniture money into running expenses. 

 It was the beginning of a custom. They gave most generously, that older generation. Visiting us, Max's mother would slip a bill into my always empty purse when we went shopping; or mine would drop a gold piece into my top bureau drawer for me to find after she had gone. And there were always checks for birthdays. 

 Everything went into running expenses; yet, in spite of it, our expenses ran quite away. Max said I was "too valuable a woman to put into the kitchen, " so we hired a maid, good-humoredly giving her _carte blanche_ on the grocery and meat market. Our bills, for all our dining out, were enormous. There were clothes, too. Max delighted in silk socks and tailored shirts, and he ordered his monogramed cigarettes by the thousand. My own taste ran to expensive little hats. 

 It is hardly necessary to recount the details. We had our first tremendous quarrel at the end of six months, when, in spite of our furniture money and our birthday checks, we found ourselves two hundred and fifty dollars in debt. But as we cooled we decided that there was nothing we could do without; we could only be "more careful. "

 Every month we reached that same conclusion. There was nothing we could do without. At the end of the year on a $1200 salary we were $700 behind; eight months later, after our first baby came, we were over a thousand--and by that time, it seemed, permanently estranged. I actually was carrying out a threat of separation and stripping the apartment, one morning, when Max came back from town and sat down to discuss matters with me. 

 A curious labyrinthine discussion it was, winding from recriminations and flat admissions that our marriage was a failure and our love was dead, to the most poignant memories of our engagement days. But its central point was Max's detached insistence that we make marriage over into a purely utilitarian affair. 

 "Man needs the decencies of a home, " he said over and over. "It doesn't do a fellow any good with a firm like mine to have them know he can't manage his affairs. And my firm is the kind of firm I want to work for. This next year is important; and if I spend it dragging through a nasty divorce business, knowing that everybody knows, I'll be about thirty per cent efficient. I'm willing to admit that marriage--even a frost like ours--is useful. Will you?"

 I had to. My choice rested between going home, where there were two younger sisters, or leaving the baby somewhere and striking out for myself. 

 "It seems to me, " said Max, taking out his pencil, "that if two reasonably clever people can put their best brain power and eight hours a day into a home, it might amount to something sometime. The thing resolves itself into a choice between the things we can do without and the things we can't. We'll list them. We can't do without three meals and a roof; but there must be something. "

 "You can certainly give up silk socks and cigarettes, " I said; and, surprisingly, on this old sore point between us Max agreed. 

 "You can give up silk stockings, then, " he said, and put them down. Silk socks and silk stockings! Out of all possible economies, they were the only things that we could think of. Finally--

 "We could make baby an excuse, " I said, "and never get out to the club till very late--after dinner--and stay just for the dancing. And we could get out of the dinner club and the theater bunch. Only, we ought to have some fun. "

 "You can go to matinées, and tell me about them, so we can talk intelligently. We'll say we can't leave the kid nights--"

 "We can buy magazines and read up on plays. We'll talk well enough if we do that, and people won't know we haven't been. Put down: 'Magazines for plays. '"

 He did it quite seriously. Do we seem very amusing to you? So anxious lest we should betray our economies--so impressed with our social "position" and what people might think! It is funny enough to me, looking back; but it was bitter business then. 

 I set myself to playing the devoted and absorbed young mother. But it was a long, long time before it became the sweetest of realities. I cried the first time I refused a bridge game to "stay with baby"; and I carried a sore heart those long spring afternoons when I pushed his carriage conspicuously up and down the avenue while the other women motored past me out for tea at the club. Yet those long walks were the best thing that ever happened to me. I had time to think, for one thing; and I gained splendid health, losing the superfluous flesh I was beginning to carry, and the headaches that usually came after days of lunching and bridge and dining. 

 I fell into the habit, too, of going around by the market, merely to have an objective, and buying the day's supplies. The first month of that habit my bills showed a decrease of $16. 47. I shall always remember that sum, because it is certainly the biggest I have ever seen. I began to ask the prices of things; and I made my first faint effort at applying our game of substitution to the food problem, a thing which to me is still one of the most fascinating factors in housekeeping. 

 One afternoon in late summer, I found a delightful little bungalow in process of building, on a side street not so _very_ far from the proper avenue. I investigated idly, and found that the rent was thirty dollars less than we were paying. Yet even then I hesitated. 

 It was Max who had the courage to decide. 

 "The only thing we are doing without is the address, " he said, "And that isn't a loss that looks like $360 to me. "

 All that fall and winter we kept doggedly at our game of substitution. Max bought a ready-made Tuxedo, and I ripped out the label and sewed in one from a good tailor. I carried half a dozen dresses from the dyer's to a woman who evolved three very decent gowns; and then I toted them home in a box with a marking calculated to impress any chance acquaintance. We were so ashamed of our attempts at thrift that they came hard. 

 Often enough we quarreled after we had been caught in some sudden temptation that set us back a pretty penny, and we were inevitably bored and cross when we refused some gayety for economy's sake. We resolutely decided to read aloud the evenings the others went to the theater club; and as resolutely we substituted a stiff game of chess for the bridge that we could not afford. But we had to learn to like them both. 

 Occasionally we entertained at very small, very informal dinners, "on account of the baby"; and definitely discarded the wines that added the "smartness" demanded at formal affairs. People came to those dinners in their second or third best: but they stayed late, and laughed hilariously to the last second of their stay. 

 In the spring we celebrated Max's second respectable rise in salary by dropping out of the country club. We could do without it by that time. At first we thought it necessary to substitute a determined tramp for the Sunday morning golf game; but we presently gave that up. We were becoming garden enthusiasts. And as a substitution for most of the pleasure cravings of life, gardening is to be highly recommended. Discontent has a curious little trick of flowing out of the earthy end of a hoe. 

 Later that summer I found that a maid was one of the things I could do without, making the discovery in an interregnum not of my original choosing. A charwoman came in for the heavier work, and I took over the cooking. Almost immediately, in spite of my inexperience, the bills dropped. I could not cook rich pastries and fancy desserts, and fell back on simple salads and fruit instead. I dipped into the household magazines, followed on into technical articles on efficiency, substituted labor-savers wherever I could, and started my first muddled set of accounts. 

 At the beginning of the new year I tried my prentice hand on a budget; and that was the year that we emerged from debt and began to save. 

 That was six very short years ago. When, with three babies, the bungalow became a trifle small, we built a little country house and moved farther out. Several people whom we liked best among that first "exclusive younger set" have moved out too, and formed the nucleus of a neighborhood group that has wonderful times on incomes no one of which touches $4000 a year. 

 Ours is not as much as that yet; but it is enough to leave a wide and comfortable margin all around our wants. Max has given up his pipe for cigarettes (unmonogramed), and patronizes a good tailor for business reasons. But in everything else our substitutions stand: gardening for golf; picnics for roadhouse dinners; simple food, simple clothing, simple hospitality, books, a fire, and a game of chess on winter nights. 

 We don't even talk about economies any more. We like them. But--every Christmas there comes to me via the Christmas tree a box of stockings, and for Max a box of socks--heavy silk. There never is any card in either box; but I think we'll probably get them till we die. 

The following short confession, signed "Mrs. M. F. E. , " was awarded thefirst prize by the _American Magazine_ in a contest for articles on "TheBest Thing Experience Has Taught Me":

 Forty Years Bartered for What?

 A tiny bit of wisdom, but as vital as protoplasm. I know, for I bartered forty precious years of wifehood and motherhood to learn it. 

 During the years of my childhood and girlhood, our family passed from wealth to poverty. My father and only brother were killed in battle during the Civil War; our slaves were freed; our plantations melted from my mother's white hands during the Reconstruction days; our big town house was sold for taxes. 

 When I married, my only dowry was a fierce pride and an overwhelming ambition to get back our material prosperity. My husband was making a "good living. " He was kind, easy-going, with a rare capacity for enjoying life and he loved his wife with that chivalrous, unquestioning, "the queen-can-do-no-wrong" type of love. 

 But even in our days of courting I answered his ardent love-making with, "And we will work and save and buy back the big house; then we will--" etc. , etc. 

 And he? Ah, alone at sixty, I can still hear echoing down the years his big tender laugh, as he'd say, "Oh, what a de-ah, ambitious little sweetheart I have!"

 He owned a home, a little cottage with a rose garden at one side of it--surely, with love, enough for any bride. But I--I saw only the ancestral mansion up the street, the big old house that had passed out of the hands of our family. 

 I would have no honeymoon trip; I wanted the money instead. John kissed each of my palms before he put the money into them. My fingers closed greedily over the bills; it was the nest egg, the beginning. 

 Next I had him dismiss his bookkeeper and give me the place. I didn't go to his store--Southern ladies didn't do that in those days--but I kept the books at home, and I wrote all the business letters. So it happened when John came home at night, tired from his day's work at the store, I had no time for diversions, for love-making, no hours to walk in the rose garden by his side--no, we must talk business. 

 I can see John now on many a hot night--and summer _is_ hot in the Gulf States--dripping with perspiration as he dictated his letters to me, while I, my aching head near the big hot lamp, wrote on and on with hurried, nervous fingers. Outside there would be the evening breeze from the Gulf, the moonlight, the breath of the roses, all the romance of the southern night--but not for us!

 The children came--four, in quick succession. But so fixed were my eyes on the goal of Success, I scarcely realized the mystery of motherhood. Oh, I loved them! I loved John, too. I would willingly have laid down my life for him or for any one of the children. And I intended _sometime_ to stop and enjoy John and the children. Oh, yes, I was going really to _live_ after we had bought back the big house, and had done so and so! In the meanwhile, I held my breath and worked. 

 "I'll be so glad, " I remember saying one day to a friend, "when all my children are old enough to be off at school all day!" Think of that! Glad when the best years of our lives together were passed! The day came when the last little fellow trudged off to school and I no longer had a baby to hamper me. We were living now in the big old home. We had bought it back and paid for it. I no longer did John's bookkeeping for him--he paid a man a hundred dollars a month to do that--but I still kept my hand on the business. 

 Then suddenly one day--John died. _Died_ in what should have been the prime and vigor of his life. 

 I worked harder than ever then, not from necessity, but because in the first few years after John left I was _afraid_ to stop and think. So the years hurried by! One by one the children grew up and entered more or less successful careers of their own. .. . I don't feel that I know them so very well. 

 And now that the time of life has come when I must stop and think, I ask myself: "What did you do with the wonderful gifts Life laid in your lap--the love of a good man, domestic happiness, the chance to know intimately four little souls?"

 And being honest I have to answer: "I bartered Life's great gifts for Life's pitiful extras--for pride, for show!"

 If my experience were unique it would not be worth publishing, but it is only too common. Think of the wives who exchange the best years of their lives, their husband's comfort, his peace of mind, if not to buy back the family mansion, then for a higher social position; sometimes it is merely for--clothes!

 It is to you women who still have the opportunity to "walk with John in the garden" that I give my dearly bought bit of experience. Stop holding your breath until you get this or that; stop reaching out blindly for to-morrow's prize; _live_ to-day!

THE "HOW-TO-DO-SOMETHING" ARTICLE. Articles the primary purpose of whichis to give directions for doing something in a particular way, arealways in demand. The simplest type is the recipe or formula containinga few directions for combining ingredients. More elaborate processesnaturally demand more complex directions and require longer articles. Inthe simpler types the directions are given in the imperative form; thatis, the reader is told to "take" this thing and that, and to "mix" itwith something else. Although such recipe directions are clear, they arenot particularly interesting. Many readers, especially those ofagricultural journals, are tired of being told to do this and that inorder to get better results. They are inclined to suspect the writer ofgiving directions on the basis of untried theory rather than on that ofsuccessful practice. There is an advantage, therefore, in getting awayfrom formal advice and directions and in describing actual processes asthey have been carried on successfully. 

Articles intended to give practical guidance are most interesting whencast in the form of an interview, a personal experience, or a narrative. In an interview article, a person may indirectly give directions toothers by describing in his own words the methods that he has used toaccomplish the desired results. Or the writer, by telling his ownexperiences in doing something, may give readers directions in aninteresting form. 

Whatever method he adopts, the writer must keep in mind the questionsthat his readers would be likely to ask if he were explaining the methodor process to them in person. To one who is thoroughly familiar with amethod the whole process is so clear that he forgets how necessary it isto describe every step to readers unfamiliar with it. The omission of asingle point may make it impossible for the reader to understand or tofollow the directions. Although a writer need not insult theintelligence of his readers by telling them what they already know, hemay well assume that they need to be reminded tactfully of many thingsthat they may have known but have possibly forgotten. 

TWO PRACTICAL GUIDANCE ARTICLES. A method of filing office records, asexplained apparently by the man who devised it, is well set forth in thefollowing combination of the personal experience and the"how-to-do-something" types of articles. It appeared in _System_ with ahalf-tone reproduction of a photograph showing a man looking overrecords in a drawer of the desk at which he is seated. 

 WHO'LL DO JOHN'S WORK?

 BY M. C. HOBART

 "It's a quarter after 8 and Schuyler hasn't showed up, " telephoned Beggs, one of our foremen, last Tuesday morning. "I've put Fanning on his machine, but that won't help much unless I can get somebody to work at Fanning's bench. Got anybody you can let me have for to-day?"

 I didn't know offhand. But I told Beggs I'd call him back. 

 Ten minutes later a young lathe operator reported to Beggs. He was able to run Fanning's machine while the latter temporarily filled the shoes of the absent Schuyler. 

 Scarcely a week passes that does not bring a similar call to our employment office. While our plant, as plants go, is not large, we always have a number of men working with us who are fitted by experience and adaptability to do other work than that which they are hired to do. Such men are invaluable to know about, especially when an operator stays away for a day or perhaps a week and the shop is full of orders. Once it was a problem to find the right man immediately. A few additions to our employment records made it possible to keep track of each man's complete qualifications. 

 The employment records I keep in my desk in the deep drawer. They are filed alphabetically by name. When we hire a man we write his name and the job he is to fill on the outside of a 9 by 12 manila envelope. Into this envelope we put his application, his references, and other papers. His application tells us what kinds of work he can do and has done in other shops. 

 There are 29 different kinds of work to be done in our shops, from gear cutting to running errands. I have listed these operations, alphabetically, on a cardboard the exact length of the employment record envelope, 12 inches. When a man tells me in his application that he not only can operate a drill press, for which he is hired, but has also worked at grinding, I fit my cardboard list to the top of the employment record envelope and punch two notches along the top directly opposite the words "drill press" and "grinding" on my list. Then I file away the envelope. 

 I rest secure now in my knowledge that I have not buried a potential grinder in a drill press operator, or that I do not have to carry his double qualifications in my mind. I know that if Beggs should suddenly telephone me some morning that his grinder is absent--sick, or fishing, perhaps--I need only take my cardboard list and, starting at A, run it down my file until I come to the envelope of the drill press operator. I am stopped there automatically by the second notch on the envelope which corresponds in position to the word "grinder" on my list. 

 And there is every likelihood that, with the necessary explanation to the man's own foreman, Beggs will get his grinder for the day. 

From the following article, printed in _Farm and Fireside_ city andcountry readers alike may glean much practical information concerningways and means of making a comfortable living from a small farm. It wasillustrated by four half-tone reproductions of photographs showing (1)the house, (2) the woman at her desk with a typewriter before her, (3)the woman in her dining-room about to serve a meal from a labor-savingservice wagon, and (4) the woman in the poultry yard with a basket ofeggs. 

 TEN ACRES AND A LIVING

 SHE WAS YOUNG, POPULAR, AND HAD BEEN REARED IN THE CITY. EVERYBODY LAUGHED WHEN SHE DECIDED TO FARM--BUT THAT WAS FOUR YEARS AGO

 BY ALICE MARY KIMBALL

 When she decided to be a farmer everybody laughed. She was young, popular, unusually fond of frocks and fun. She had been reared in the city. She didn't know a Jersey from a Hereford, or a Wyandotte from a Plymouth Rock. 

 "You'll be back in six months, " her friends said. 

 Four years have passed. Mrs. Charles S. Tupper still is "buried" in the country. Moreover, she is supplying eggs, chickens, honey, and home-canned goods to those of her former associates who are willing to pay for quality. 

 "Farming, " said Mrs. Tupper, "is the ideal vocation for the woman who feels the modern desire for a job and the need of marriage and a home. 

 "I never wanted a job so keenly as when I found myself in a small city apartment without enough to do to keep me busy. After I'd swept and dusted and prepared meals for two, I had hours of time on my hands. The corner bakeshop, the laundry, and modern conveniences had thrust upon me more leisure than I could use. Mr. Tupper is a young engineer whose work takes him to various parts of the Southwest. In his absence I felt strongly the need of filling up my idle hours in some interesting, useful way. 

 "I didn't quite like the idea of spending all my spare time on cards, calling, women's clubs, and social pleasures. I longed to be a real partner to my husband and to share in making the family income as well as spending it. 

 "We had a few thousand saved for a home, and were trying to decide where to build. One day it flashed upon me: 'Why invest in city property? Why not a little farm? Then we'll have a home; I'll have a job, and can make our living. '"

 The idea materialized into a modern bungalow on a 10-acre farm in Westdale, Missouri, an hour's drive from Kansas City. Mr. Tupper's salary furnished working capital for the enterprise and Mrs. Tupper has found congenial work as farmer-in-chief. 

 Poultry, bees, and a vegetable garden are Mrs. Tupper's specialities. Her side lines are a pig and a registered Jersey cow. She looks after the poultry, works in garden and apiary, and milks the cow herself. She employs very little help. 

 "It wasn't difficult to get a start in learning to farm, " Mrs. Tupper explained. "I visited farms and studied the methods of farmers and their wives. I asked lots of questions. 

 "I didn't have any old fogyisms to unlearn, and I didn't acquire any. I went straight to the agricultural college and the state poultry experiment station for instructions. While I was living in the country supervising the building of the bungalow, I read and digested every bulletin I could get. I'm still studying bulletins. I subscribe for several farm papers and a bee journal. 

 "Of course, I learned a great deal from the practical experience of the people about me, but I checked up everything to the rules and directions of government and state agricultural experts, which may be had for the price of a postage stamp. I tried to take orders intelligently. I ignored old rules for poultry and bee-keeping. "

 Mrs. Tupper's chickens are hatched in incubators, hovered in a coal-heated brooder house, fed according to experiment-station directions, and reared in poultry houses built from experiment-station designs. From the first they have been practically free from lice and disease. She gets winter eggs. Even in zero weather and at times when feed is most costly, her spring pullets more than pay their way. 

 "Bees responded as readily to proper treatment, " she said. "My second season I harvested $265 worth of comb honey from twenty working swarms. And I was stung not a half-dozen times at that. "

 Some of Mrs. Tupper's neighbors were inclined to joke at first at her appetite for bulletins, her belief in experts, and her rigid insistence on pure-bred stock and poultry. They admit now that her faith has been justified. 

 If Mrs. Tupper had trod in the well-worn neighborhood ruts, she would have marketed her produce by the country-store-commission-man-retailer-consumer route; but again she did not. From the first she planned to plug the leakage of farm profits in middlemen's commissions. When she had anything to sell, she put on a good-looking tailored suit, a becoming hat, smart shoes and gloves, and went to the city to talk to ultimate consumers. 

 The consciousness of being dressed appropriately--not expensively or ornately--is a valuable aid to the farm saleswoman, Mrs. Tupper thinks. 

 "If a salesman comes to me shabbily dressed or flashily dressed, I can't give him a fair hearing, " she said. "I may let him talk on, but I decide against him the instant I look at him. So I reasoned that a trim, pleasing appearance would be as valuable an asset to me as to the men who sell pickles, insurance, or gilt-edged bonds. It would mean a favorable first impression and open the way to show samples and make a sales talk. 

 "If I tried to interview a prospective customer handicapped by the consciousness that my skirt hung badly or that my shoes were shabby, not only would I be timid and ill at ease, but my appearance would suggest to the city buyer the very slipshodness and lack of reliability he fears in buying direct from the farm. 

 "I go strong on attractive samples. It would be useless to try for fancy prices if I brought honey to town in mean-looking cases or rusty cans. A slight drip down the side of a package might not be proof positive of poor quality, but it would frighten away a careful buyer. Likewise, I do not illustrate my egg sales talks with a sample dozen of odd sizes and shapes. It is needless to add that goods delivered to customers must be of the same quality and appearance as the samples, and that one must keep one's promises to the dot. A little well-directed enterprise will land a customer, but only good service can hold him. "

 When the current wholesale price of honey was $3 a case, Mrs. Tupper's comb honey has been in demand at from 20 to 30 cents a pound. She disposes of every pound to private customers and to one grocery store which caters to "fancy" trade. She sells eggs from her 400 Anconas at from 4 to 6 cents more a dozen than the country store is paying its patrons who bring in eggs and "take them out in trade. "

 Mrs. Tupper figured that if a trademark has advertising pull for a manufacturing concern, it would help the farm business. She christened her 10 acres "Graceland Farm, " and this name is stamped on everything that leaves her place. She had cards printed bearing the name of the farm, its telephone number, and its products. Graceland Farm is also emphasized on letter heads. 

 "Prompt attention to correspondence is an easy method of advertising a farm business, " she suggested. "A typewritten letter on letterhead stationery, mailed promptly, creates a pleasant impression on the man who has written to inquire the price of a setting of eggs or a trio of chickens. 

 "Suppose I delayed a week and wrote the reply with pen and ink, or, worse, with a pencil on ruled tablet paper. I'd stand a good chance of losing a customer, wouldn't I? If I didn't miss an order outright, I should certainly leave a suggestion of inefficiency and carelessness which could only be charged to the debit side of the business. "

 She has found that a $50 typewriter and a letter file have helped greatly to create the good-will which is as essential to the farmer business woman as to the woman who runs a millinery shop or an insurance office. 

 Mrs. Tupper has encouraged automobile trade. Her apiary is within sight of the road, and a "Honey for Sale" sign brings many a customer. Many of her city patrons have the habit of driving to the farm and returning with a hamper laden with eggs, honey, butter, or canned stuff from the vegetable garden. The garden last summer supplied material for more than 900 cans of vegetables. 

 The neighbors smile at her zeal for fairs and poultry shows. 

 "It isn't fun altogether; it's business, " she tells them. 

 It was cold, disagreeable work, for instance, to prepare an exhibit for the Heart of America Poultry Show at Kansas City last fall; but Mrs. Tupper felt repaid. She won first prize on hen, first and second on pullet, and fourth on cockerel. Then she exhibited at the St. Joseph, Missouri, Poultry Show with even better success. 

 "These prizes will add to the value of every chicken I have, and to all my poultry products. They give me another advertising point, " she said. 

 "The shows gave me a fine opportunity to meet possible customers and to make friends for my business. I was on the job for days. I met scores of people and distributed hundreds of cards. I learned a lot, too, in talks with judges and experienced breeders. "

 The Tupper bungalow is neat and attractive. In spite of her duties in the poultry house and apiary, Mrs. Tupper serves appetizing meals. She finds time for church work and neighborhood calls, and gives every Thursday to the Red Cross. 

 The housework is speeded up with such conveniences as hot and cold water in kitchen and bathroom, and steam heat. The kitchen is an efficient little workshop lined by cupboards and shelves. Mrs. Tupper can sit before her kitchen cabinet and prepare a meal without moving about for ingredients and utensils. A service wagon saves steps between kitchen and dining-room. 

 The floors of the bungalow are of hard wood. They are waxed a few times each year, and a little work each morning with dust mop and carpet sweeper keeps them in good order. The washing is sent out. 

 "I couldn't earn an income from the farm if I had a farmhouse without modern improvements, " Mrs. Tupper declared. "Reducing drudgery to a minimum is only plain business sense. Laundry work, scrubbing, and dishwashing have a low economic value. Such unskilled labor eats up the time and strength one needs for the more profitable and interesting tasks of farm management, accounting and correspondence, advertising and marketing. "

THE PERSONALITY SKETCH. We all like to read about prominent andsuccessful people. We want to know more about the men and women whofigure in the day's news, and even about interesting persons whosesuccess has not been great enough to be heralded in the press. Whatappeals to us most about these individuals is, not mere biographicalfacts such as appear in _Who's Who_, but the more intimate details ofcharacter and personality that give us the key to their success. We wantto see them as living men and women. It is the writer's problem topresent them so vividly that we shall feel as if we had actually metthem face to face. 

The purpose of the personality sketch may be (1) to give interestinginformation concerning either prominent or little known persons, (2) tofurnish readers inspiration that may bear fruit in their own lives, (3)to give practical guidance by showing how one individual hasaccomplished a certain thing. Whether the aim is to afford food forthought, inspiration to action, or guidance in practical matters, thetreatment is essentially the same. 

The recognized methods of describing characters in fiction may be usedto advantage in portraying real persons. These are (1) using generaldescriptive terms, (2) describing personal appearance, (3) telling ofcharacteristic actions, (4) quoting their words, (5) giving biographicalfacts, (6) citing opinions of others about them, (7) showing how othersreact to them. By a judicious combination of several of these methods, awriter can make his readers visualize the person, hear him speak, watchhim in characteristic actions, and understand his past life, as well asrealize what others think of him and how they act toward him. 

Material for a personality sketch may be obtained in one of three ways:(1) from a more or less intimate acquaintance with the person to bedescribed; (2) from an interview with the person, supplemented byconversation with others about him; (3) from printed sketches of himcombined with information secured from others. It is easier to writepersonality sketches about men and women whom we know well than it isabout those whom we have never met, or with whom we have had only ashort interview. Inexperienced writers should not attempt to preparesketches of persons whom they know but slightly. In a single interview awriter who is observant, and who is a keen judge of human nature, may beable to get an impression sufficiently strong to serve as the basis of asatisfactory article, especially if the material obtained in theinterview is supplemented by printed sketches and by conversations withothers. Personality sketches sometimes include long interviews givingthe person's opinions on the subject on which he is an authority. Insuch articles the sketch usually precedes the interview. 

EXAMPLES OF THE PERSONALITY SKETCH. The first of the following sketchesappeared, with a half-tone portrait, in the department of "InterestingPeople" in the _American Magazine_; the second was sent out by theNewspaper Enterprise Association, Cleveland, Ohio, which suppliesseveral hundred daily newspapers with special features. 

 (1)

 "TOMMY"--WHO ENJOYS STRAIGHTENING OUT THINGS

 BY SAMPSON RAPHAELSON

 Six years ago a young Bulgarian immigrant, dreamy-eyed and shabby, came to the University of Illinois seeking an education. He inquired his way of a group of underclassmen and they pointed out to him a large red building on the campus. 

 "Go there, " they said gayly, "and ask for Tommy. "

 He did, and when he was admitted to the presence of Thomas Arkle Clark, Dean of Men, and addressed him in his broken English as "Mis-terr Tommy, " the dean did not smile. Although Mr. Clark had just finished persuading an irascible father to allow his reprobate sophomore son to stay at college, and although he was facing the problem of advising an impetuous senior how to break an engagement with a girl he no longer loved, he adapted himself to the needs and the temperament of the foreigner instantly, sympathetically, and efficiently. 

 In five minutes the Bulgarian had a job, knew what courses in English he ought to take, and was filled with a glow of hope, inspiration, and security which only a genius in the art of graciousness and understanding like "Tommy Arkle, " as he is amiably called by every student and alumnus of Illinois, can bestow. 

 This is a typical incident in the extremely busy, richly human daily routine of the man who created the office of Dean of Men in American universities. Slender, short, well-dressed, his gray hair smartly parted, with kindly, clever, humorous blue eyes and a smile that is an ecstasy of friendliness, "Tommy" sits behind his big desk in the Administration Building from eight to five every day and handles all of the very real troubles and problems of the four thousand-odd men students at the University of Illinois. 

 He averages one hundred callers a day, in addition to answering a heavy mail and attendance upon various committee, board, and council meetings. He is known all over the country as an authority on fraternities and their influence, and a power for making that influence constantly better and finer. In business, farmer, and school circles in the Middle West Mr. Clark is famous for his whimsical, inspiring speeches. His quick, shaft-like humor, his keen, devastating sarcasm, and his rare, resilient sympathy have made him a personality beloved particularly by young persons. 

 They still tell the story on the campus of an ingenuous youngster who walked into the dean's office one fall, set his suitcase on the floor, and drawing two one-dollar bills and a fifty-cent piece from his pocket, laid the money on the big desk, saying:

 "That's all the money I have. I've come to work my way through. Will you help me to get a job?"

 In a flash "Tommy" noted the boy's eager, imaginative brown eyes, his wide, compact lips and strong jaw. Reaching over, he took the two bills and pocketed them, leaving the half-dollar. 

 "The traditional great men, " said the dean, "started their university careers with only fifty cents. I don't want you to be handicapped, so I'll keep this two dollars. You can get work at ---- Green Street waiting on table for your meals, and the landlady at ---- Chalmers Street wants a student to fire her furnace in exchange for room rent. "

 The boy earned his way successfully for several months. Then suddenly he was taken sick. An operation was necessary. Mr. Clark wired for a Chicago specialist and paid all expenses out of his own pocket. The student recovered, and two years after he was graduated sent "Tommy" a letter enclosing a check for five hundred dollars. "To redeem my two dollars which you have in trust, " the letter said, "and please use the money as a medical fund for sick students who need, but cannot afford, Chicago specialists. "

 The dean has an abnormal memory for names and faces. Every year he makes a "rogues' gallery"--the photographs of all incoming freshmen are taken and filed away. And many an humble, unknown freshman has been exalted by the "Hello, Darby, " or "Good morning, Boschenstein"--or whatever his name happened to be--with which the dean greeted him. 

 Mr. Clark once revealed to me the secret of his life. Fifteen years ago he was professor of English and had strong literary ambitions, with no little promise. There came the offer of the office of Dean of Men. He had to choose between writing about peoples lives or living those lives with people. And he chose, with the result that at all times of the day and night it's "Tommy this, and Tommy that"; an accident case may need him at two A. M. In the hospital, or a crowd of roystering students may necessitate his missing a night's sleep in order to argue an irate sheriff into the conviction that they are not robbers and murderers. He has been known to spend many evenings in the rooms of lonesome students who "need a friend. "

 "Tommy Arkle" is one of the Middle West's finest contributions to the modern ideal of human service. 

 (2)

 TWO NEW MACHINE GUNS ARE INVENTED FOR THE U. S. ARMY BY THE "EDISON OF FIREARMS"

 BY HARRY B. HUNT

 HARTFORD, CONN. , NOV. 12. --"Well, Old J. M. Has done it again. "

 That is the chief topic of conversation these days in the big shops of Hartford, New Haven and Bridgeport, where the bulk of the rifles, pistols and machine guns for Uncle Sam's army is being turned out. 

 For in these towns to say that "Old J. M. Has done it again" is the simplest and most direct way of stating that John M. Browning has invented a new kind of firearm. 

 This time, however, "Old J. M. " has done it twice. He has invented not one, but two new guns. Both have been accepted by the United States government, contracts for immense numbers of each have been signed, and work of production is being pushed night and day. The new weapons will be put into the field against Germany at the earliest possible day. 

 Who is John Browning? You never heard of him?

 Well, Browning is the father of rapid-fire and automatic firearms. His is the brain behind practically every basic small firearm invention in the past 40 years. He has been to the development of firearms what Edison has been to electricity. 

 "Unquestionably the greatest inventor of firearms in the world, " is the unanimous verdict of the gun experts of the Colt, Remington and Winchester plants, whose business it is to study and criticise every development in firearms. 

 But if Browning is our greatest gun inventor, he is the most "gun-shy" genius in the country when it comes to publicity. He would rather face a machine gun than a reporter. 

 A few years ago a paper in his home state--Utah--published a little story about his success as an inventor, and the story was copied by the Hartford Courant. 

 "I'd rather have paid $1, 000 cash than have had that stuff printed, " Browning says. 

 Friends, however, who believe that the world should know something about this firearms wizard, furnish the following sidelights on his career:

 Browning comes from an old-stock Mormon family of Ogden, Utah. As a young man he was a great hunter, going off into the woods for a month or six weeks at a time, with only his gun for company. He was only 24 when he worked out his ideas for a gun carrying a magazine full of cartridges, which could be fired rapidly in succession. He pounded out the parts for his first rapid-fire gun with hammer and cold chisel. 

 Since that time, pump and "trombone" shotguns, automatic pistols, rapid-fire rifles produced by the biggest firearms manufacturers in the country have been Browning's products. 

 The United States army pistol is a Browning invention. 

 A Browning pistol manufactured by the Fabrique Nationale of Belgium was made the standard equipment for the armies of Belgium, Russia, Spain, Italy and Serbia. 

 On completion of the one-millionth pistol by the Fabrique Nationale, King Albert of Belgium knighted the modest inventor, so he is now, officially, "Sir" John Browning. 

 Browning is tall, slender, slightly stooped, 62, bald except for a rim of gray hair, and wears a closely clipped gray moustache. His face is marked by a network of fine lines. 

 Although Browning will not talk of himself or of his career as an inventor, he can't help talking when the conversation is turned on guns. 

 "I always think of a gun as something that is made primarily to shoot, " he says. "The best gun is the simplest gun. When you begin loading a gun up with a lot of fancy contraptions and 'safety devices, ' you are only inviting trouble. You complicate the mechanism and make that many more places for dirt and grit to clog the action. 

 "You can make a gun so 'safe' that it won't shoot. "

 Of Browning's new guns it is not, of course, permissible to give any details. One, however, is a light rapid-fire gun, weighing only 15 pounds, which can be fired from the shoulder like the ordinary rifle. Each magazine carries 20 rounds and the empty magazine can be detached and another substituted by pressing a button. 

 The heavier gun is a belt-fed machine, capable of firing 600 shots a minute. Although it is water-cooled, it weighs, water jacket and all, only 28 pounds. For airplane work, where the firing is in bursts and the speed of the machine helps cool the gun, the jacket is discarded and the gun weighs only 20 pounds. 

 Both guns are counted upon as valuable additions to the equipment of our overseas forces. 

THE NARRATIVE IN THE THIRD PERSON. Although the interview, the personalexperience article, and the confession story are largely narrative, theyare always told in the first person, whereas the term "narrativearticle" as used in this classification is applied only to a narrativein the third person. In this respect it is more like the short story. Asin the short story so in the narrative article, description of persons, places, and objects involved serves to heighten the effect. 

Narrative methods may be employed to present anygroup of facts that can be arranged in chronological order. A process, for example, may be explained by showing a manor a number of men engaged in the work involved, and bygiving each step in the process as though it were an incidentin a story. The story of an invention or a discovery maybe told from the inception of the idea to its realization. Apolitical situation may be explained by relating the eventsthat led up to it. The workings of some institution, suchas an employment office or a juvenile court, may be madeclear by telling just what takes place in it on a typicaloccasion. Historical and biographical material can best bepresented in narrative form. 

Suspense, rapid action, exciting adventure, vivid description, conversation, and all the other devices of the short story may beintroduced into narrative articles to increase the interest andstrengthen the impression. Whenever, therefore, material can begiven a narrative form it is very desirable to do so. A writer, however, must guard against exaggeration and the use of fictitiousdetails. 

EXAMPLES OF THE NARRATIVE ARTICLE. How narration withdescriptive touches and conversation may be effectivelyused to explain a new institution like the communitykitchen, or the methods of recruiting employed in thearmy, is shown in the two articles below. The first wastaken from the _New York World_, and the second from the_Outlook_. 

 (1)

 NOW THE PUBLIC KITCHEN

 BY MARIE COOLIDGE RASK

 The Community Kitchen Menu

 +--------------------------------------------------+ | Vegetable soup pint, 3¢ | | Beef stew half pint, 4¢ | | Baked beans half pint, 3¢ | | Two frankfurters, one potato and cup full of | | boiled cabbage all for 7¢ | | Rice pudding, 3¢. Stewed peaches 3¢ | | Coffee or cocoa with milk half pint, 3¢ | +--------------------------------------------------+

 "My mother wants three cents' worth of vegetable soup. "

 "And mine wants enough beef stew for three of us. "

 Two battered tin pails were handed up by small, grimy fingers. Two eager little faces were upturned toward the top of the bright green counter which loomed before them. Two pairs of roguish eyes smiled back at the woman who reached over the counter and took the pails. 

 "The beef stew will be twelve cents, " she said. "It is four cents for each half pint, you know. "

 "I know, " answered the youth. "My mother says when she has to buy the meat and all and cook it and put a quarter in the gas meter, it's cheaper to get it here. My father got his breakfast here, too, and it only cost him five cents. "

 "And was he pleased?" asked the woman, carefully lowering the filled pail to the outstretched little hand. 

 "You bet, " chuckled the lad, as he turned and followed the little procession down the length of the room and out through the door on the opposite side. 

 The woman was Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, jr. 

 The boy was the son of a 'longshoreman living on "Death Avenue, " in close proximity to the newly established People's Kitchen, situated on the southeast corner of Tenth Avenue and West Twenty-seventh Street, New York. 

 So it is here at last--the much talked of, long hoped for, community kitchen. 

 Within three days after its doors had been opened to the public more than 1, 100 persons had availed themselves of its benefits. Within three years, it is promised, the community kitchen will have become national in character. Its possibilities for development are limitless. 

 Way was blazed for the pioneer kitchen by Edward F. Brown, executive secretary of the New York school lunch committee. 

 The active power behind the cauldrons of soup, cabbage and frankfurters, beans and rice pudding is vested in Mrs. James A. Burden, jr. , and Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, jr. 

 The evolution of the community kitchen is going to be of interest to every housewife and to every wage earner in all classes of society. 

 First of all, let it be distinctly understood that the kitchen as inaugurated is not a charity. It is social and philanthropic in character, and it will ultimately reduce the cost of living by almost 50 per cent. This much has been demonstrated already to the extent that the Tenth Avenue kitchen has not only paid expenses, but has so overrun its confines that plans are in preparation for the establishment of other and larger kitchens in rapid succession. 

 The object is to give to the purchaser the maximum quantity of highest grade food, properly cooked, at minimum cost. This cost includes rent, light, heat, power, interest on investment, depreciation, cost of food materials, labor and supervision. The principle is that of barter and sale on an equitable business basis. 

 The project as now formulated is to establish for immediate use a small group of public kitchens having one central depot. This depot will be in constant operation throughout the twenty-four hours. Here the food will be prepared and distributed to the smaller kitchens where, by means of steam tables, it can be kept hot and dispensed. The character of the food to be supplied each district will be chosen with regard to what the population is accustomed to, that which is simple and wholesome, which contains bulk, can be prepared at minimum cost, can be conveniently dispensed and easily carried away. 

 Opposite a large school building, in a small room that had been at one time a saloon, the kitchen of the century was fitted up and formally opened to the public. 

 Three long green tables with green painted benches beside them encircle the room on two sides. Their use was manifest the second day after the kitchen was opened. 

 At 4 o'clock in the morning, from various tenement homes near by, sturdy 'longshoremen and laborers might have been seen plodding silently from their respective homes, careful not to disturb their wives and families, and heading straight for the new kitchen on the corner. From trains running along "Death Avenue" came blackened trainmen after their night's work. They, too, stopped at the corner kitchen. By the time the attendant arrived to unlock the doors forty men were in line waiting for breakfast. 

 Ten minutes later the three tables were fully occupied. 

 "Bread, cereal and coffee for five cents!" exclaimed one of the men, pushing the empty tray from him, after draining the last drop of coffee in his mug. "This kitchen's all right. "

 Noon came. The children from the school building trooped in. 

 "My mamma works in a factory, " said one. "I used to get some cakes at a bakery at noontime. Gee! There's raisins in this rice puddin', ain't there?" He carried the saucerful of pudding over to the table. "Only three cents, " he whispered to the little girl beside him. "You better get some, too. That'll leave you two cents for a cup of cocoa. "

 "Ain't it a cinch!" exclaimed the little girl. 

 Behind the counter the women who had made these things possible smiled happily and dished out pudding, beans and soup with generous impartiality. The daughter of Mrs. Vanderbilt appeared. 

 "I'm hungry, mother, " she cried. "I'll pay for my lunch. "

 "You'll have to serve yourself, " was the rejoinder of the busy woman with the tin pail in her hand. "There's a tray at the end of the counter--but don't get in the way. "

 So rich and poor lunched together. 

 "Oh, but I'm tired!" exclaimed a woman, who, satchel in hand, entered, late in the afternoon, "It's hard to go home and cook after canvassing all day. Will you mind if I eat supper here?"

 Then the women and children poured in with pails and dishes and pans. 

 "We're getting used to it now, " said one. "It's just like a store, you know, and it saves us a lot of work--"

 "And expense! My land!" cried another. "Why, my man has only been working half time, and the pennies count when you've got children to feed and clothe. When I go to work by the day it's little that's cooked at home. Now--" She presented a dish as the line moved along. "Beef stew for four, " she ordered, "and coffee in this pitcher, here. "

 (2)

 GATHERING IN THE RAW RECRUIT

 BY KINGSLEY MOSES

 MEN WANTED FOR THE UNITED STATES ARMY

 A tall, gaunt farmer boy with a very dirty face and huge gnarled hands stood open-mouthed before the brilliant poster displayed before the small-town recruiting office. In his rather dull mind he pictured himself as he would look, straight and dignified, in the khaki uniform, perhaps even with the three stripes of the sergeant on his arm. 

 "Fifteen dollars a month, " he thought to himself, "and board and clothes and lodgings and doctor's bills. Why, that's more than I'm gettin' now on the farm! I'd see the world; I might even get to learn a regular trade. " He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I ain't gettin' nowhere now, that's sure, " he concluded, and slowly climbed the stairs. 

 This boy had not come to his decision in a moment. His untrained but thoroughly honest mind worked slowly. He had been pondering the opportunities of army life for many weeks. The idea had come to him by chance, he thought. 

 Over a month ago he had been plowing the lower forty of Old Man Huggins's farm. The road to the mountains lay along one side of the field, and as the boy turned and started to plow his furrow toward the road he noticed that a motor cycle had stopped just beyond the fence. "Broke down, " the boy commented to himself, as he saw the tan-clad rider dismounting. Over the mule's huge back he watched as he drew nearer. "Why, the rider was in uniform; he must be a soldier!"

 Sure enough, when the fence was reached the boy saw that the stranger was dressed in the regulation khaki of Uncle Sam, with the U. S. In block letters at the vent of the collar and two stripes on the left sleeve. 

 "Broke down?" the boy queried, dropping his plow-handles. 

 The corporal grunted and continued to potter with the machine. 

 "You in the army?" the boy continued, leaning on the fence. 

 "You bet!" assented the soldier. Then, looking up and taking in the big, raw-boned physique of the youngster, "Ever think of joinin'?"

 "Can't say's I did. "

 "Got any friends in the army?"

 "Nope. "

 "Fine life. " The motor cycle was attracting little of the recruiting officer's attention now, for he was a recruiting officer, and engaged in one of the most practical phases of his work. 

 "Them soldiers have a pretty easy life, don't they?" Evidently the boy was becoming interested. 

 The recruiting officer laid down his tools, pulled out a pipe, and sat down comfortably under a small sycamore tree at the roadside. 

 "Not so very easy, " he replied, "but interesting and exciting. " He paused for a minute to scrutinize the prospective recruit more closely. To his experienced eye the boy appeared desirable. Slouchy, dirty, and lazy-looking, perhaps; but there were nevertheless good muscles and a strong body under those ragged overalls. The corporal launched into his story. 

 For twenty minutes the boy listened open-mouthed to the stories of post life, where baseball, football, and boxing divided the time with drilling; of mess-halls where a fellow could eat all he wanted to, free; of good-fellowship and fraternal pride in the organization; of the pleasant evenings in the amusement rooms in quarters. And then of the life of the big world, of which the boy had only dreamed; of the Western plains, of Texas, the snowy ridges of the great Rockies, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, the Philippines, Hawaii, the strange glamour of the tropics, the great wildernesses of the frozen North. 

 "It seems 'most like as I'd like to join, " was the timid venture. 

 "What's your name?"

 "Steve Bishop. "

 "All right, Steve, come in and see me the next time you're in town, " said the corporal, rising. "We'll talk it over. "

 And, mounting his motor cycle, he was gone down the road in a whirl of red dust. Nor did the farmer boy think to wonder at the sudden recovery of the apparently stalled machine. 

 "Missionary work, " explains the corporal. "We never beg 'em to join; but we do sort of give 'em the idea. Like joinin' the Masons, you know, " he winked, giving me the grip. 

 So it happened that Steve Bishop mounted the stairs that day, resolved to join the army if they would take him. 

 In the small, bare, but immaculately clean room at the head of the stairs he found his friend the corporal banging away at a typewriter. "How are you, Steve? Glad to see you, " was the welcome. "Sit down a minute, and we'll talk. "

 The soldier finished his page, lit his pipe again, and leisurely swung round in his chair. 

 "Think you'll like to soldier with us?" he said. 

 Unconsciously the boy appreciated the compliment; it was flattering to be considered on a basis of equality with this clean-cut, rugged man of the wide world. 

 "I reckon so, " he replied, almost timidly. 

 "Well, how old are you, Steve?"

 "Twenty-one. " The corporal nodded approval. That was all right, then; no tedious formality of securing signed permission from parent or guardian was necessary. 

 Then began a string of personal questions as to previous employment, education, details of physical condition, moral record (for the army will have no ex-jailbirds), etc. , and finally the question, "Why do you want to join?"

 "They don't know why I ask that, " says the corporal, "but I have a mighty good reason. From the way a boy answers I can decide which branch of the service he ought to be connected with. If he wants to be a soldier just for travel and adventure, I advise the infantry or the cavalry; but if he seriously wants to learn and study, I recommend him to the coast artillery or the engineers. "

 Then comes the physical examination, a vigorous but not exacting course of sprouts designed to find out if the applicant is capable of violent exertion and to discover any minor weaknesses; an examination of eyes, ears, teeth, and nose; and, finally, a cursory scrutiny for functional disorders. 

 "I'll take you, Steve, " the corporal finally says. "In about a week we'll send you to the barracks. "

 "But what am I goin' to do till then? I ain't got a cent. "

 "Don't worry about that. You'll eat and sleep at Mrs. Barrows's, "--naming a good, clean boarding-house in the town, the owner of which has a yearly contract with the Government to take care of just such embryo recruits; "in the daytime you can hang around town, and the police won't bother you if you behave yourself. If they call you for loafin' tell them you're waitin' to get into the army. "

 In a week the district recruiting officer, a young lieutenant, drops in on his regular circuit. The men who have been accepted by the non-commissioned officer are put through their paces again, and so expert is the corporal in judging good material that none of Steve's group of eight are rejected. 

 "All right, " says the corporal when the lieutenant has gone; "here's your tickets to the training station at Columbus, Ohio, and twenty-eight cents apiece for coffee on the way. In these boxes you'll find four big, healthy lunches for each one of you. That'll keep you until you get to Columbus. "

 One of the new recruits is given charge of the form ticket issued by the railway expressly for the Government; is told that when meal-time comes he can get off the train with the others and for fifty cents buy a big pail of hot coffee for the bunch at the station lunch-room. Then the corporal takes them all down to the train, tells them briefly but plainly what is expected in the way of conduct from a soldier, and winds up with the admonition: "And, boys, remember this first of all; the first duty of a soldier is this: do what you're told to do, do it without question, and _do it quick_. Good-bye. "

 In twenty-four hours Steve and his companions are at the training station, have taken the oath of allegiance, and are safely and well on their way to full membership in the family of Uncle Sam. 

CHAPTER VI

WRITING THE ARTICLE

VALUE OF A PLAN. Just as a builder would hesitate to erect a housewithout a carefully worked-out plan, so a writer should be loath tobegin an article before he has outlined it fully. In planning abuilding, an architect considers how large a house his client desires, how many rooms he must provide, how the space available may best beapportioned among the rooms, and what relation the rooms are to bear toone another. In outlining an article, likewise, a writer needs todetermine how long it must be, what material it should include, how muchspace should be devoted to each part, and how the parts should bearranged. Time spent in thus planning an article is time well spent. 

Outlining the subject fully involves thinking out the article frombeginning to end. The value of each item of the material gathered mustbe carefully weighed; its relation to the whole subject and to everypart must be considered. The arrangement of the parts is of even greaterimportance, because much of the effectiveness of the presentation willdepend upon a logical development of the thought. In the last analysis, good writing means clear thinking, and at no stage in the preparation ofan article is clear thinking more necessary than in the planning of it. 

Amateurs sometimes insist that it is easier to write without an outlinethan with one. It undoubtedly does take less time to dash off a specialfeature story than it does to think out all of the details and thenwrite it. In nine cases out of ten, however, when a writer attempts towork out an article as he goes along, trusting that his ideas willarrange themselves, the result is far from a clear, logical, well-organized presentation of his subject. The common disinclination tomake an outline is usually based on the difficulty that most personsexperience in deliberately thinking about a subject in all its variousaspects, and in getting down in logical order the results of suchthought. Unwillingness to outline a subject generally meansunwillingness to think. 

THE LENGTH OF AN ARTICLE. The length of an article is determined by twoconsiderations: the scope of the subject, and the policy of thepublication for which it is intended. A large subject cannot beadequately treated in a brief space, nor can an important theme bedisposed of satisfactorily in a few hundred words. The length of anarticle, in general, should be proportionate to the size and theimportance of the subject. 

The deciding factor, however, in fixing the length of an article is thepolicy of the periodical for which it is designed. One popularpublication may print articles from 4000 to 6000 words, while anotherfixes the limit at 1000 words. It would be quite as bad judgment toprepare a 1000-word article for the former, as it would be to send oneof 5000 words to the latter. Periodicals also fix certain limits forarticles to be printed in particular departments. One monthly magazine, for instance, has a department of personality sketches which range from800 to 1200 words in length, while the other articles in this periodicalcontain from 2000 to 4000 words. 

The practice of printing a column or two of reading matter on most ofthe advertising pages influences the length of articles in manymagazines. To obtain an attractive make-up, the editors allow only apage or two of each special article, short story, or serial to appear inthe first part of the magazine, relegating the remainder to theadvertising pages. Articles must, therefore, be long enough to fill apage or two in the first part of the periodical and several columns onthe pages of advertising. Some magazines use short articles, or"fillers, " to furnish the necessary reading matter on these advertisingpages. 

Newspapers of the usual size, with from 1000 to 1200 words in a column, have greater flexibility than magazines in the matter of make-up, andcan, therefore, use special feature stories of various lengths. Thearrangement of advertisements, even in the magazine sections, does notaffect the length of articles. The only way to determine exactly therequirements of different newspapers and magazines is to count the wordsin typical articles in various departments. 

SELECTION AND PROPORTION. After deciding on the length of his article, the writer should consider what main points he will be able to developin the allotted space. His choice will be guided by his purpose inwriting the article. "Is this point essential to the accomplishment ofmy aim?" is the test he should apply. Whatever is non-essential must beabandoned, no matter how attractive it may be. Having determined uponthe essential topics, he next proceeds to estimate their relative valuefor the development of his theme, so that he may give to each one thespace and the prominence that are proportionate to its importance. 

ARRANGEMENT OF MATERIAL. The order in which to present the main topicsrequires thoughtful study. A logical development of a subject by whichthe reader is led, step by step, from the first sentence to the last inthe easiest and most natural way, is the ideal arrangement. An articleshould march right along from beginning to end, without digressing ormarking time. The straight line, in writing as in drawing, is theshortest distance between two points. 

In narration the natural order is chronological. To arouse immediateinterest, however, a writer may at times deviate from this order bybeginning with a striking incident and then going back to relate theevents that led up to it. This method of beginning _in medias res_ is adevice well recognized in fiction. In exposition the normal order is toproceed from the known to the unknown, to dovetail the new facts intothose already familiar to the reader. 

When a writer desires by his article to create certain convictions inthe minds of his readers, he should consider the arrangement bestcalculated to lead them to form such conclusions. The most tellingeffects are produced, not by stating his own conclusions as strongly aspossible, but rather by skillfully inducing his readers to reach thoseconclusions by what they regard as their own mental processes. That is, if readers think that the convictions which they have reached are theirown, and were not forced upon them, their interest in these ideas islikely to be much deeper and more lasting. It is best, therefore, tounderstate conclusions or to omit them entirely. In all such cases thewriter's aim in arranging his material should be to direct his readers'train of thought so that, after they have finished the last sentence, they will inevitably form the desired conclusion. 

With the main topics arranged in the best possible order, the writerselects from his available material such details as he needs to amplifyeach point. Examples, incidents, statistics, and other particulars hejots down under each of the chief heads. The arrangement of thesedetails, in relation both to the central purpose and to each other, requires some consideration, for each detail must have its logical placein the series. Having thus ordered his material according to asystematic plan, he has before him a good working outline to guide himin writing. 

PLANNING A TYPICAL ARTICLE. The process of gathering, evaluating, andorganizing material may best be shown by a concrete example. Thepublication in a New York paper of a news story to the effect that thefirst commencement exercises were about to be held in the only factoryschool ever conducted in the city, suggested to a special feature writerthe possibility of preparing an article on the work of the school. Toobtain the necessary material, he decided to attend the exercises and tointerview both the principal of the school and the head of the factory. In thinking over the subject beforehand, he jotted down these pointsupon which to secure data: (1) the origin and the purpose of the school;(2) its relation to the work of the factory; (3) the methods ofinstruction; (4) the kind of pupils and the results accomplished forthem; (5) the cost of the school; (6) its relation to the public schoolsystem. At the close of the graduation exercises, he secured thedesired interviews with the teacher in charge and with the head of thefirm, copied typical examples from the exhibition of the pupils' writtenwork, and jotted down notes on the decoration and furnishing of theschoolroom. Since the commencement exercises had been reported in thenewspapers, he decided to refer to them only incidentally in his story. 

After considering the significance of the work of the school and whatthere was about it that would appeal to different classes of readers, hedecided to write his story for the magazine section of the New Yorknewspaper that he believed was most generally read by business men whooperated factories similar to the one described. His purpose heformulated thus: "I intend to show how illiterate immigrant girls can betransformed quickly into intelligent, efficient American citizens bymeans of instruction in a factory school; this I wish to do byexplaining what has been accomplished in this direction by one New Yorkfactory. " He hoped that his article would lead readers to encourage theestablishment of similar schools as a means of Americanizing aliengirls. The expository type of article containing concrete examples, description, and interviews he concluded to adopt as the form bestsuited to his subject. 

The average length of the special feature stories, in the magazinesection of the paper to which he intended to submit the article, provedto be about 2000 words. In order to accomplish his purpose in an articleof this length, he selected five main topics to develop: (1) the reasonsthat led the firm to establish the school; (2) the results obtained; (3)the methods of instruction; (4) the cost of the school; (5) theschoolroom and its equipment. 

"What part of my material will make the strongest appeal to the readersof this newspaper?" was the question he asked himself, in order toselect the best point with which to begin his article. The feature thatwould attract the most attention, he believed, was the striking resultsobtained by the school in a comparatively short time. 

In reviewing the several types of beginnings to determine which wouldbest suit the presentation of these remarkable results, he found twopossibilities: first, the summary lead with a striking statement for thefirst sentence; and second, a concrete example of the results as shownby one of the pupils. He found, however, that he did not have sufficientdata concerning any one girl to enable him to tell the story of hertransformation as an effective concrete case. He determined, therefore, to use a striking statement as the feature of a summary lead. 

From his interview with the head of the firm, and from a formalstatement of the purpose of the school printed on the commencementprogram, he obtained the reasons why the school had been established. These he decided to give _verbatim_ in direct quotation form. 

To show most interestingly the results of the teaching, he picked outfour of the six written exercises that he had copied from thoseexhibited on the walls of the schoolroom. The first of these dealt withAmerican history, the second with thrift and business methods, and thethird with personal hygiene. For the fourth he selected the work of awoman of forty whose struggles to get into the school and to learn towrite the teacher had described to him. 

Figures on the cost of the school he had secured from the head of thefirm according to his preliminary plan. These covered the expense bothto the employers and to the city. 

His description of the schoolroom he could base on his own observation, supplemented by the teacher's explanations. 

For his conclusion he determined to summarize the results of thisexperiment in education as the firm stated them on the commencementprogram, and to give his own impression of the success of the school. Thus he sought to give final reinforcement to the favorable impressionof the school that he wished his article to create, with the aim ofleading readers to reach the conclusion that such schools should beencouraged as invaluable aids to the Americanization of alien girls. 

OUTLINING THE ARTICLE. Having selected the main topics and havingdecided in a general way how he intended to develop each one, he thenfixed upon the best order in which to present them. 

After his introduction giving the striking results of the school in asummary lead, it seemed logical to explain the firm's purpose inundertaking this unusual enterprise. He accordingly jotted down for hissecond topic, "Purpose in establishing the school, " with the twosub-topics, "Firm's statement on program" and "Head of firm's statementin interview. "

The methods of-instruction by which the remarkable success was attained, impressed him as the next important point. His readers, having learnedthe results and the purpose of the school, would naturally want to knowby what methods these girls had been transformed in so short a time. Ashis third topic, therefore, he put down, "Methods of instruction. "

For his fourth division he had to choose between (1) the results asshown by the pupils' written work, (2) the cost of the school, and (3)the schoolroom and its equipment. From the point of view of logicalorder either the results or the schoolroom might have been taken upnext, but, as all the explanations of the methods of instruction werequoted directly in the words of the teacher, and as the pupils'exercises were to be given _verbatim_, he thought it best to place hisown description of the schoolroom between these two quoted parts. Greater variety, he foresaw, would result from such an arrangement. "Theschoolroom, " then, became the fourth topic. 

Since the pupils' work which he planned to reproduce had been exhibitedon the walls of the schoolroom, the transition from the description ofthe room to the exhibits on the walls was an easy and logical one. 

By this process of elimination, the cost of the school became the sixthdivision, to be followed by the summary conclusion. 

He then proceeded to fill in the details needed to develop each ofthese main topics, always keeping his general purpose in mind. Theresult of this organization of material was the following outline:

 I. Summary lead 1. Striking results--time required 2. Commencement--when and where held 3. Graduates--number, nationality, certificates 4. School--when and where established 5. Example to other firms

 II. Purpose of school 1. Firm's statement on commencement program 2. Head of firm's statement in interview

 III. Methods of instruction 1. Practical education 2. Letter writing--geography, postal regulations, correspondence 3. Arithmetic--money, expense accounts, reports of work 4. Civics--history, biography, holidays, citizenship, patriotism 5. Personal hygiene--cleanliness, physical culture, first aid, food 6. Cotton goods--growing cotton, spinning, shipping 7. Means of communication--telephone, directory, map of city, routes of travel, telephone book 8. Study outside of classroom

 IV. The schoolroom 1. Location--floor space, windows 2. Decorations--flowers, motto, photograph of Miss Jessie Wilson 3. Furnishings--piano, phonograph 4. Library--reading to the girls, _The Promised Land_, Mary Antin, library cards

 V. Results shown by pupils' work 1. Italian's theme and her remarkable progress 2. Russian's essay on saving 3. Polish girl's exercise about picture 4. Woman of forty and her work

 VI. Cost of school 1. Expense to firm 2. Cost to Board of Education--salaries and supplies 3. Entire cost per pupil 4. Returns to firm outweigh cost, says employer

 VII. Summary conclusion 1. Results quoted from program 2. Impression made by girls receiving diplomas

THE COMPLETED ARTICLE. Since the establishment of a school in a factorywas the novel feature of the enterprise, he worked out a title based onthis idea, with a sub-title presenting the striking results accomplishedby the school. The completed article follows, with a brief analysis ofthe methods used in developing the outline. 

TAKING THE SCHOOL TO THE FACTORY

HOW ALIEN GIRLS ARE BEING CHANGED INTO INTELLIGENT AMERICAN WORKERS BYINSTRUCTION DURING WORKING HOURS

In from twenty to thirty-five weeks I. SUMMARY LEADan illiterate immigrant girl can be 1. Striking resultstransformed into an intelligent, efficient Striking statementAmerican citizen, in this city, in two sentence towithout interfering with the daily work avoid unwieldy sentence. By which she earns her living. Onlyforty-five minutes a day in a factoryschoolroom is required to accomplishsuch striking results. 

This has just been demonstrated at 2. Commencementthe first commencement of the only Timeliness broughtschool conducted in a New York factory. Out immediately afterThe classes have been held on striking statementone of the upper floors of the whitegoods factory of D. E. Sicher & Co. , 49 West 21st Street, where the graduation Address has localexercises were held last Thursday interestevening. 

Forty girls--Italians, Poles, Russians, 3. GraduatesHungarians, Austrians among Note concrete detailsthe number--received the first "certificatesof literacy" ever issued by theBoard of Education. Twenty weeks Striking resultsago many of these young women could emphasized by devicenot speak English; many of them had of contrastnever been to school a day in theirlives. Every one present on Thursday Impression on audiencenight felt that this was indeed a commencement of remarkablefor these girls. Results

It is due to the instruction of Miss Teacher's name hasFlorence Meyers, formerly a public local interestschool teacher, that the girls can nowspeak English, write good letters, makeout money-orders, cash checks, andsend telegrams. They have also been Additional concretetaught the principles of our government, details of strikingthe importance of personal hygiene, resultsand the processes by which cottongoods used in their work are manufactured. 

The school was organized this year 4. Schoolat the suggestion of Dudley E. Sicher, head of the firm, in coöperation withthe Board of Education, and has beenunder the supervision of Miss Lizzie E. Principal and schoolRector, Public School No. 4, Manhattan. Have local interest. 

What has been accomplished in this 5. Example to otherfactory, which is the largest white firmsgoods muslin underwear plant in the Veiled suggestion toworld, will doubtless serve as an example readersto be followed by other firms. 

Its purpose the firm expresses in II. PURPOSE OF SCHOOLthese words: "To hasten assimilation 1. Firm's statementnecessary to national unity, to promoteindustrial betterment, by reducing Statement in generalthe friction caused by failure to comprehend termsdirections, and to decrease thewaste and loss of wage incidental to theilliterate worker. "

"When a girl understands English 2. Head of firm's statementand has been taught American businessand factory methods, " says Mr. Sicher, "she doesn't hesitate and Statement in concreteblunder; she understands what she is termstold and she does it. 

"Intelligent employees do much betterwork than illiterate ones, and sincewe can afford to pay them better wages, they are much more contented. Froma business point of view, the school is agood investment. "

The instruction that has accomplished III. METHODS OF INSTRUCTIONsuch remarkable results hasbeen eminently practical. "There 1. Practical educationwas no time to spend in teaching thegirls anything but the most necessary Teacher's statementthings, " explains Miss Meyers, "for I of her problemcould have each one of them for onlyforty-five minutes a day, and there wasmuch to be done in that time. 

"Here was a girl, for example, who Problem concretelycould hardly say 'good morning. ' shownHere was another who had never writtena word in her life, either in Englishor in any other language. The problemwas how to give each of them whatshe most needed in the short time allotted Statement of generalevery day. This essentially planpractical training I organized underseveral subjects, each of which wasbroadly inclusive. 

"When I undertook to teach letter 2. Letter writingwriting, it meant teaching the Englishlanguage, as well as writing and spelling. It meant teaching the geographyof the country, the postal regulations, and the forms of business and personalcorrespondence. 

"In teaching arithmetic, I use money 3. Arithmeticand show them how to make change bymeans of addition, subtraction, anddivision. I also ask them to keep personalexpense accounts and to makeout reports of the work that they do. 

"Civics included American history, 4. Civicsthe lives of our statesmen--for thesegirls are so eager to be true Americansthat they want to know about our greatmen--the origin of legal holidays, themerits of our system of government, the meaning of citizenship, and the essenceof patriotism. 

"Hygiene is another important 5. Personal hygienesubject. American standards of living, personal cleanliness, and sanitary regulationshave to be emphasized. Toaid in counteracting the effects of longhours at the sewing machines, we havephysical culture exercises. Instructionin first aid measures is also given sothat they will know what to do in caseof an accident. The nutritive value ofdifferent foods in relation to their costis discussed to enable them to maintaintheir health by a proper diet. 

"As these young women are engaged 6. Cotton goodsin making muslin underwear, it seemeddesirable for them to know where cottongrows, how it is spun, where themills are and how it is shipped to NewYork. After they understand the variousprocesses through which the materialgoes before it reaches them, theytake much more interest in their work, as a part of the manufacture of cottongoods into clothing. "

The use of the telephone, the telegraph, 7. Means of communicationthe subway, surface lines, andrailways is another subject of instruction. A dummy 'phone, telegraph Method of presentationblanks, the city directory, maps with in this paragraphroutes of rapid transit lines, and the changed fortelephone book, are some of the practical varietylaboratory apparatus and textbooksthat are employed. 

"We encourage them to learn for 8. Study outside ofthemselves outside of school hours classroommany of the necessary things that wehave not time for in the classroom, "says the teacher. 

To reach the schoolroom in which IV. THE SCHOOLROOMthis work has been carried on, you take 1. Locationthe elevator to the last floor but one of Note effect of usingthe factory building. There you find "you"only a portion of the floor space clearedfor tables and chairs. It is a clean, airy room with big windows openingon the street, made gay with boxes offlowers. 

Flags of many nations about the 2. Decorationsroom appropriately represent the manynationalities among the pupils. On Note character ofone wall hangs a card with the legend: decorations selected

 Four things come not back: The spoken word The sped arrow The past life The neglected opportunity. 

A photograph of Miss Jessie Wilson, now Mrs. Francis B. Sayre, occupiesthe space between the two windows. The picture was presented to the girlsby Miss Wilson herself, just before she This shows enterprisingwas married, when a party of them with spirit on theMiss Meyers went to Washington to part of teacher, girls, give her a white petticoat they had and firmmade themselves, as a wedding present. After Miss Wilson had shown themthrough the White House and they hadseen her wedding presents, she gavethem this signed photograph. 

A piano and a phonograph at one 3. Furnishingsend of the room make it possible forthe girls to enjoy dancing during thenoon hours on three days of the week, and to have musicals on other occasions. 

Shelves filled with books line the 4. Librarywalls of a smaller office room openingoff the schoolroom. On two days ofthe week during the noon hour, theteacher read aloud to the girls untilthey were able to read for themselves. Then they were permitted to takebooks home with them. Besides this, they have been encouraged to use thepublic libraries, after being shown howto make out applications for librarycards. 

"One girl is reading 'The Promised Concrete exampleLand, ' by Mary Antin, " Miss Meyers has "human interest, "tells you, "and thinks it is a wonderful as related inbook. She was so much interested in the teacher's ownit that I asked her to tell the others wordsabout it. Although a little shy atfirst, she soon forgot herself in her eagernessto relate Miss Antin's experiences. She told the story with suchdramatic effect that she quite carriedaway her classmates. If we had doneno more than to teach this girl to read abook that meant so much to her, I believeour school would have justifiedits existence. "

Mary Antin herself accepted the Is this paragraphgirls' invitation to attend the graduation out of logical order?exercises, and made a short address. 

The pupils' written work was exhibited V. RESULTS SHOWN BYon the walls of the room on the occasion PUPILS' WORKof the exercises, and showed conclusivelythe proficiency that they haveattained. 

The greatest progress made by any 1. Italian's theme andof the pupils was probably that of an progressItalian girl. Before coming to thiscountry, she had attended school and Example of greatestbesides this she had been teaching her progress is putfather at night whatever she had firstlearned during the day. Her shortessay on her adopted country read:

 This country is the United States Note use of narrow of America. It is the land of freedom measure without and liberty, because the people quotation marks for govern themselves. All citizens love examples quoted their country, because they know that this freedom was earned by men who gave their lives for it. The United States is in North America. North America is one of the greatest divisions of the earth. North America was discovered on October 12, 1492, by Christopher Columbus. 

The fact that Columbus, one of her Is this comment bycountrymen, had discovered the country the writer effective?in which she and her father hadfound a new life, doubtless appealed toher keen imagination. 

That a Russian girl appreciated the 2. Russian's essay onlessons she had received in the value of savingopening a dime-savings account, is indicatedby this composition:

I must save money out of my earningsto put in the bank. I know thatmoney is safe in the bank. 

To deposit means to put money inthe bank. 

Cashing a cheque means changinga cheque for money. 

How practical lessons in personal hygiene 3. Polish girl's essaymay be emphasized in connectionwith the teaching of composition wasillustrated in an essay of a Polish girlwritten under a picture of a womancombing her hair:

 She wished to comb her hair. She takes the comb in her hand. She combs her hair. She wishes to brush her hair. She takes the brush in her hand. She brushes her hair. She combs and brushes her hair every morning. She washes her hair often with soap and water. 

The pathetic eagerness of one woman 4. Woman of fortyof forty to learn to read and write was and her worktold by Miss Meyers in connection withone of the pieces of work exhibited. 

"She was an old woman; at least she "Human interest"seems to me to be over fifty, although appeal heightenedshe gave her age as only forty, " explained by quoting teacherthe teacher. "She couldn't _verbatim_read or even write her name. Despiteher age, she begged for a long time tobe permitted to enter the school, butthere were so many young girls who desiredto learn that they were given thepreference. She pleaded so hard thatfinally I asked to have her admitted ontrial. "

"It was hard work to teach her, " Progress in penmanshipcontinued Miss Meyers as she pointed could not beto some of the woman's writing. The shown by quotingfirst attempts were large, irregular exerciseletters that sprawled over the sheetlike the work of a child when it beginsto write. After twenty weeks of struggle, her work took on a form that, althoughstill crude, was creditable forone who had never written until shewas over forty. "Her joy at her successwas great enough to repay memany times over for my efforts to teachher, " remarked Miss Meyers. 

The exact cost to the firm of conducting VI. COST OF SCHOOLthe school, including the wages 1. Expense to firmpaid for the time spent by the girls inthe classroom, has been itemized byMr. Sicher for the year just closed, asfollows:

 Floor space $175. 00 Short table of figures Rent, light, and heat 105. 00 is comprehensible Janitor 357. 00 and not uninteresting Wages at 17¢ an hr. , 40 girls 375. 00 ------- Total cost, 40 girls $672. 00 Total cost per girl 16. 80

The Board of Education, for its part 2. Cost to Board ofof the school, paid out $560 for the Educationteacher's salary and for supplies. Thiswas an expense of $14. 80 for each pupil. 

The entire cost for educating each 3. Entire cost per pupilone of the forty girl workers, therefore, was only $31. 60. 

That this money has been well spent 4. Returns outweighis the opinion of the employer, for the costschool work increases the efficiency inthe factory sufficiently to make up forthe time taken out of working hours. 

"I would rather have these girls in Head of firm's statementmy employ whom I can afford to pay given to convincefrom ten to twenty dollars a week, " readersdeclares Mr. Sicher, "than many morewhom I have to pay low wages simplybecause they aren't worth higher ones. From a business point of view, it savesspace and space is money. "

That the result has been what the VII. SUMMARY CONCLUSIONfirm had anticipated in establishingthe school is shown by the following 1. Results quoted fromstatement which was made on the commencement programprogram: "It is the presentbelief of the firm that the workers Note appeal ofwho have been thus trained have "efficiency" togained from 20 to 70 per cent in efficiency. " practical readers

How much the girls themselves have 2. Impression givengained more vital to them even than by girlsefficiency was very evident to everyone Note patriotic appealwho looked into their faces as they received in closingthe certificates that recognize phrase, which wasthem as "Literate American Citizens. " a happy choice. 

ANOTHER ARTICLE ON THE SAME SUBJECT. This commencement at the factoryschool furnished another writer, Nixola Greeley Smith, with material fora special feature story which was sent out by a syndicate, the NewspaperEnterprise Association, for publication in several hundred newspapers. Her story contains only 375 words and is thus less than one fifth thelength of the other article. The author centers the interest in one ofthe pupils, and shows the value of the school in terms of this girl'sexperience. The girl's own account of what the school has meant to hermakes a strong "human interest" appeal. By thus developing one concreteexample effectively, the author is able to arouse more interest in theresults of the school than she would have done if in the same space shehad attempted to give a greater number of facts about it. Unlike thelonger article, her story probably would not suggest to the reader thepossibility of undertaking a similar enterprise, because it does notgive enough details about the organization and methods of the school toshow how the idea could be applied elsewhere. 

The beginning of the shorter story was doubtless suggested by thepresence at the exercises of Mary Antin, the author of "The PromisedLand, " who addressed the girls. The first sentence of it piques ourcuriosity to know how "the promised land" has kept its promise, and thestory proceeds to tell us. The article, with an analysis of its mainpoints, follows:

WONDERFUL AMERICA! THINKS LITTLE AUSTRIANWHO GRADUATES FROM FACTORY SCHOOL

"The promised land" has kept its I. STORY OF REBECCApromise to Rebecca Meyer! MEYER

Eight months ago an illiterate Austrian 1. Striking statementimmigrant girl, unable to speak or beginningwrite English, went to work in a New Note effective use ofYork garment factory. Device of contrast

To-day, speaking and writing fluentlythe language of her adopted country, Second and thirdproficient in other studies, she paragraphs showproudly cherishes the first "certificate striking results inof literacy" issued by a factory--a one concrete case. Factory which has paid her for going toschool during working hours!

It was Rebecca Meyer who received 2. Commencementthis first certificate, at the graduation Note that Rebeccaexercises held on the top floor of the is the central figurebig women's wear factory of D. E. Sicher & Co. It was Rebecca Meyerwho delivered the address of welcometo the members of the board of education, the members of the firm, her fellowemployees, and all the others gatheredat these exercises--the first of Dash used to set offtheir kind ever held in any commercial unique elementestablishment, anywhere!

"Isn't it wonderful!" she said. 3. Rebecca's statement"When I came from Austria, I hoped Slightly unidiomaticto find work. That was all. How I English is suggestiveshould learn to speak the English language, I did not know. It might takeme years, I thought. That I should goto school every day, while I worked--whocould dream of such a thing? Itcould not be in any other country exceptAmerica. "

Dudley E. Sicher, head of the firm, II. STORY OF THE SCHOOLin whose workrooms a regularly organized 1. Origin of schoolclass of the New York public Note method ofschools has held its sessions all winter, introducing head of firmstood smiling in the background. Mr. Sicher is president of the Cotton GoodsManufacturers' Association. It washe who conceived the idea, about ayear ago, of increasing the efficiencyof his women employees by giving theman education free of cost, during workinghours. 

"One of the first and most noticeable 2. Results of schoolresults of the factory school has Statement of headbeen a marked decrease in the friction of firmand the waste of time caused by theinability of employees to comprehenddirections. A girl who understandsEnglish, and has been enabled therebyto school herself in factory methodsand conditions, doesn't hesitate andblunder; she understands, and does. And what then? Why, higher pay. "

No wonder Rebecca Meyer is grateful III. CONCLUSIONfor the 45 minutes a day in which Rebecca again madebutton-sewing has given place to study--no the central figurewonder she thinks America must Appeal to reader'sbe the wonderland of all the world! pride in his country. 

ARTICLES COMPOSED OF UNITS. The study of the two special feature storieson the factory school shows how articles of this type are built up outof a number of units, such as examples, incidents, and statistics. Asimilar study of the other types of articles exemplified in Chapter Vwill show that they also are made up of various kinds of units. Again, if we turn to the types of beginnings illustrated in Chapter VII, weshall find that they, too, are units, which in some cases might havebeen used in the body of the article instead of as an introduction. Since, then, every division of a subject may be regarded as a unit thatis complete in itself whatever its position in the article, each of theseveral kinds of units may be studied separately. For this purpose wemay discuss five common types of units: (1) examples, (2) incidents, (3)statistics, (4) scientific and technical processes, and (5) recipes anddirections. 

METHODS OF DEVELOPING UNITS. In order to present these units mosteffectively, and to vary the form of presentation when occasion demands, a writer needs to be familiar with the different methods of developingeach one of these types. Four common methods of handling materialwithin these units are: (1) exposition, narration, or description inthe writer's own words; (2) dialogue; (3) the interview; (4) direct orindirect quotation. Statistics and recipes may also be given in tabularform. 

When a unit may be developed with equal effectiveness by any one ofseveral methods, a writer should choose the one that gives variety tohis article. If, for example, the units just before and after the oneunder consideration are to be in direct quotation, he should avoid anyform that involves quoted matter. 

 EXAMPLES. In all types of articles the concrete example is the commonest and most natural means of explaining a general idea. To most readers, for instance, the legal provisions of an old age pension law would be neither comprehensible nor interesting, but a story showing how a particular old man had been benefited by the law would appeal to practically every one. That is, to explain the operation and advantages of such a law, we give, as one unit, the concrete example of this old man. Actual examples are preferable to hypothetical ones, but the latter may occasionally be used when real cases are not available. Imaginary instances may be introduced by such phrases as, "If, for example, " or "Suppose, for instance, that. "

 To explain why companies that insure persons against loss of their jewelry are compelled to investigate carefully every claim filed with them, a writer in the _Buffalo News_ gave several cases in which individuals supposed that they were entitled to payment for losses although subsequent investigation showed that they had not actually sustained any loss. One of these cases, that given below, he decided to relate in his own words, without conversation or quotation, although he might have quoted part of the affidavit, or might have given the dialogue between the detective and the woman who had lost the pin. No doubt he regarded the facts themselves, together with the suspense as to the outcome of the search, as sufficiently interesting to render unnecessary any other device for creating interest. 

 Another woman of equal wealth and equally undoubted honesty lost a horseshoe diamond pin. She and her maid looked everywhere, as they thought, but failed to find it. So she made her "proof of loss" in affidavit form and asked the surety company with which she carried the policy on all her jewelry to replace the article. 

 She said in her affidavit that she had worn the pin in a restaurant a few nights before and had lost it that night, either in the restaurant or on her way there or back. The restaurant management had searched for it, the restaurant help had been questioned closely, the automobile used that night had been gone over carefully, and the woman's home had been ransacked. Particular attention had been given to the gown worn by the woman on that occasion; every inch of it had been examined with the idea that the pin, falling from its proper place, had caught in the folds. 

 The surety company assigned one of its detectives to look for the pin. From surface indications the loss had the appearance of a theft--an "inside job. " The company, however, asked that its detective be allowed to search the woman's house itself. The request was granted readily. The detective then inquired for the various gowns which the woman had worn for dress occasions within the preceding several weeks. 

 This line of investigation the owner of the pin considered a waste of time, since she remembered distinctly wearing the pin to the restaurant on that particular night, and her husband also remembered seeing it that night and put his memory in affidavit form. But the detective persisted and with the help of a maid examined carefully those other gowns. 

 In the ruffle at the bottom of one of them, worn for the last time at least a week before the visit to the restaurant, she found the pin. The woman and her husband simply had been mistaken--honestly mistaken. She hadn't worn the pin to the restaurant, and her husband hadn't seen it that night. The error was unintentional, but it came very near costing the surety company a large sum of money. 

The benefits of a newly established clinic for animalswere demonstrated in a special feature article in the _NewYork Times_ by the selection of several animal patients astypical cases. Probably the one given below did not seemto the writer to be sufficiently striking if only the bare factswere given, and so he undertook to create sympathy bydescribing the poor, whimpering little dog and the distressof the two young women. By arousing the sympathies ofthe readers, he was better able to impress them with thebenefits of the clinic. 

 The other day Daisy, a little fox terrier, was one of the patients. She was a pretty little thing, three months old, with a silky coat and big, pathetic eyes. She was escorted to the clinic by two hatless young women, in shawls, and three children. The children waited outside in the reception room, standing in a line, grinning self-consciously, while the women followed Daisy into the examination room. There she was gently muzzled with a piece of bandage, and the doctor examined her. There was something the matter with one hind leg, and the poor little animal whimpered pitifully, as dogs do, while the doctor searched for a broken bone. It was too much for one of the women. She left the room, and, standing outside the door, put her fingers in her ears, while the tears rolled down her cheeks. 

 "Well, I wouldn't cry for a dog, " said a workman, putting in some S. P. C. A. Receiving boxes, with a grin, while the three children--and children are always more or less little savages--grinned sympathetically. But it was a very real sorrow for Daisy's mistress. 

 There was no reason for alarm; it was only a sprain, caused by her mistress' catching the animal by the leg when she was giving her a bath. Her friends were told to take her home, bathe the leg with warm water, and keep her as quiet as possible. Her mistress, still with a troubled face, wrapped her carefully in the black shawl she was wearing, so that only the puppy's little white head and big, soft eyes peeped out, and the small procession moved away. 

In a special feature story designed to show how much more intelligentlythe first woman judge in this country could deal with cases ofdelinquent girls in the juvenile court than could the ordinary policecourt judge, a writer selected several cases that she had disposed of inher characteristic way. The first case, which follows, he decided couldbest be reported _verbatim_, as by that method he could show mostclearly the kindly attitude of the judge in dealing with even the leastappreciative of girls. 

 The first case brought in the other day was that of a girl of 16, who hated her home and persisted in running away, sometimes to a married sister, and sometimes to a friend. She was accompanied by her mother and older sister, both with determined lower jaws and faces as hard as flint. She swaggered into the room in an impudent way to conceal the fact that her bravado was leaving her. 

 "Ella, " said Miss Bartelme, looking up from her desk, "why didn't you tell me the truth when you came in here the other day? You did not tell me where you had been. Don't you understand that it is much easier for me to help you if you speak the truth right away?"

 Ella hung her head and said nothing. The older sister scowled at the girl and muttered something to the mother. 

 "No, " refused the mother, on being questioned. "We don't want nothing more to do with her. "

 "Humph, " snorted Ella, "you needn't think I want to come back. I don't want nothing more to do with you, either. "

 Miss Bartelme often lets the family fight things out among themselves; for in this way, far more than by definite questioning, she learns the attitude of the girl and the family toward each other, and indirectly arrives at most of the actual facts of the case. 

 "How would you like to go into a good home where some one would love you and care for you?" asked the judge. 

 "I don't want nobody to love me. "

 "Why, Ella, wouldn't you like to have a kind friend, somebody you could confide in and go walking with and who would be interested in you?"

 "I don't want no friends. I just want to be left alone. "

 "Well, Ella, " said the judge, patiently, ignoring her sullenness, "I think we shall send you back to Park Ridge for a while. But if you ever change your mind about wanting friends let us know, because we'll be here and shall feel the same way as we do now about it. "

To explain to readers of the _Kansas City Star_ how a bloodhound runsdown a criminal, a special feature writer asked them to imagine that acrime had been committed at a particular corner in that city and that abloodhound had been brought to track the criminal; then he told themwhat would happen if the crime were committed, first, when the streetswere deserted, or second, when they were crowded. In other words, hegave two imaginary instances to illustrate the manner in whichbloodhounds are able to follow a trail. Obviously these two hypotheticalcases are sufficiently plausible and typical to explain the idea. 

 If a bloodhound is brought to the scene of the crime within a reasonable length of time after it has been committed, and the dog has been properly trained, he will unfailingly run down the criminal, provided, of course, that thousands of feet have not tramped over the ground. 

 If, for instance, a crime were committed at Twelfth and Walnut streets at 3 o'clock in the morning, when few persons are on the street, a well-trained bloodhound would take the trail of the criminal at daybreak and stick to it with a grim determination that appears to be uncanny, and he would follow the trail as swiftly as if the hunted man had left his shadow all along the route. 

 But let the crime be committed at noon when the section is alive with humanity and remain undiscovered until after dark, then the bloodhound is put at a disadvantage and his wonderful powers would fail him, no doubt. 

INCIDENTS. Narrative articles, such as personal experience stories, confessions, and narratives in the third person, consist almost entirelyof incidents. Dialogue and description are very frequently employed inrelating incidents, even when the greater part of the incident is toldin the writer's own words. The incidents given as examples of narrativebeginnings on pages 135-37 are sufficient to illustrate the variousmethods of developing incidents as units. 

STATISTICS. To make statistical facts comprehensible and interesting isusually a difficult problem for the inexperienced writer. Masses offigures generally mean very little to the average reader. Unless thesignificance of statistics can be quickly grasped, they are almostvalueless as a means of explanation. One method of simplifying them isto translate them into terms with which the average reader is familiar. This may often be done by reducing large figures to smaller ones. Instead of saying, for example, that a press prints 36, 000 newspapers anhour, we may say that it prints 10 papers a second, or 600 a minute. Tomost persons 36, 000 papers an hour means little more than a largenumber, but 10 papers and one second are figures sufficiently small tobe understood at a glance. Statistics sometimes appear less formidableif they are incorporated in an interview or in a conversation. 

In undertaking to explain the advantages of a coöperative communitystore, a writer was confronted with the problem of handling aconsiderable number of figures. The first excerpt below shows how hemanaged to distribute them through several paragraphs, thus avoiding anyawkward massing of figures. In order to present a number of comparativeprices, he used the concrete case, given below, of an investigatormaking a series of purchases at the store. 

 (1)

 Here's the way the manager of the community store started. He demonstrated to his neighbors by actual figures that they were paying anywhere from $2 to $8 a week more for their groceries and supplies than they needed to. This represented the middlemen's profits. 

 He then proposed that if a hundred families would pay him regularly 50 cents a week, he would undertake to supply them with garden truck, provisions and meats at wholesale prices. To clinch the demonstration he showed that an average family would save this 50-cent weekly fee in a few days' purchases. 

 * * * * *

 There is no difference in appearance between the community store and any other provision store. There is no difference in the way you buy your food. The only difference is that you pay 50 cents a week on a certain day each week and buy food anywhere from 15 to 40 per cent less than at the commercial, non-coöperative retail stores. 

 (2)

 The other day an investigator from the department of agriculture went to the Washington community store to make an experiment. He paid his 50-cent weekly membership fee and made some purchases. He bought a 10-cent carton of oatmeal for 8 cents; a 10-cent loaf of bread for 8 cents; one-half peck of string beans for 20 cents, instead of for 30 cents, the price in the non-coöperative stores; three pounds of veal for 58 cents instead of 80 cents; a half dozen oranges for 13 cents instead of the usual price of from 20 to 25 cents. His total purchases amounted to $1. 32, and the estimated saving was 49 cents--within 1 cent of the entire weekly fee. 

Since to the average newspaper reader it would not mean much to say thatthe cost of the public schools amounted to several hundred thousanddollars a year, a special feature writer calculated the relation of theschool appropriation to the total municipal expenditure and thenpresented the results as fractions of a dollar, thus:

 Of every dollar that each taxpayer in this city paid to the city treasurer last year, 45 cents was spent on the public schools. This means that nearly one-half of all the taxes were expended on giving boys and girls an education. 

 Of that same dollar only 8 cents went to maintain the police department, 12 cents to keep up the fire department, and 13 cents for general expenses of the city offices. 

 Out of the 45 cents used for school purposes, over one-half, or 24 cents, was paid as salaries to teachers and principals. Only 8 cents went for operation, maintenance, and similar expenses. 

How statistics may be effectively embodied in an interview isdemonstrated by the following excerpt from a special feature story on aworkmen's compensation law administered by a state industrial board:

 Judge J. B. Vaughn, who is at the head of the board, estimates that the system of settling compensation by means of a commission instead of by the regular courts has saved the state $1, 000, 000 a year since its inception in 1913. "Under the usual court proceedings, " he says, "each case of an injured workman versus his employer costs from $250 to $300. Under the workings of the industrial board the average cost is no more than $20. 

 "In three and one-half years 8, 000 cases have come before us. Nine out of every ten have been adjusted by our eight picked arbitrators, who tour the state, visiting promptly each scene of an accident and adjusting the compensation as quickly as possible. The tenth case, which requires a lengthier or more painstaking hearing, is brought to the board. 

 "Seven million dollars has been in this time ordered to be paid to injured men and their families. Of this no charge of any sort has been entered against the workers or their beneficiaries. The costs are taken care of by the state. Fully 90 per cent of all the cases are settled within the board, which means that only 10 per cent are carried further into the higher courts for settlement. "

PROCESSES. To make scientific and technical processes sufficientlysimple to appeal to the layman, is another problem for the writer ofpopular articles. A narrative-descriptive presentation that enables thereader to visualize and follow the process, step by step, as though itwere taking place before his eyes, is usually the best means of makingit both understandable and interesting. 

In a special feature story on methods of exterminating mosquitoes, awriter in the _Detroit News_ undertook to trace the life history of amosquito. In order to popularize these scientific details, he describesa "baby mosquito" in a concrete, informal manner, and, as he tells thestory of its life, suggests or points out specifically its likeness to ahuman being. 

 The baby mosquito is a regular little water bug. You call him a "wiggler" when you see him swimming about in a puddle. His head is wide and flat and his eyes are set well out at the sides, while in front of them he has a pair of cute little horns or feelers. While the baby mosquito is brought up in the water, he is an air-breather and comes to the top to breathe as do frogs and musk-rats and many other water creatures of a higher order. 

 Like most babies the mosquito larva believes that his mission is to eat as much as he can and grow up very fast. This he does, and if the weather is warm and the food abundant, he soon outgrows his skin. He proceeds to grow a new skin underneath the old one, and when he finds himself protected, he bursts out of his old clothes and comes out in a spring suit. This molting process occurs several times within a week or two, but the last time he takes on another form. He is then called a pupa, and is in a strange transition period during which he does not eat. He now slowly takes on the form of a true mosquito within his pupal skin or shell. 

 After two or three days, or perhaps five or six, if conditions are not altogether favorable, he feels a great longing within him to rise to something higher. His tiny shell is floating upon the water with his now winged body closely packed within. The skin begins to split along the back and the true baby mosquito starts to work himself out. It is a strenuous task for him and consumes many minutes. 

 At last he appears and sits dazed and exhausted, floating on his old skin as on a little boat, and slowly working his new wings in the sunlight, as if to try them out before essaying flight. It is a moment of great peril. A passing ripple may swamp his tiny craft and shipwreck him to become the prey of any passing fish or vagrant frog. A swallow sweeping close to the water's surface may gobble him down. Some ruthless city employe may have flooded the surface of the pond with kerosene, the merest touch of which means death to a mosquito. Escaping all of the thousand and one accidents that may befall, he soon rises and hums away seeking whom he may devour. 

A mechanical process, that of handling milk at a model dairy farm, waseffectively presented by Constance D. Leupp in an article entitled, "TheFight for Clean Milk, " printed in the _Outlook_. By leading "you, " thereader, to the spot, as it were, by picturing in detail what "you" wouldsee there, and then by following in story form the course of the milkfrom one place to another, she succeeded in making the process clear andinteresting. 

 Here at five in the afternoon you may see long lines of sleek, well-groomed cows standing in their cement-floored, perfectly drained sheds. The walls and ceilings are spotless from constant applications of whitewash, ventilation is scientifically arranged, doors and windows are screened against the flies. Here the white-clad, smooth-shaven milkers do their work with scrubbed and manicured hands. You will note that all these men are studiously low-voiced and gentle in movement; for a cow, notwithstanding her outward placidity, is the most sensitive creature on earth, and there is an old superstition that if you speak roughly to your cow she will earn no money for you that day. 

 As each pail is filled it is carried directly into the milk-house; not into the bottling-room, for in that sterilized sanctum nobody except the bottler is admitted, but into the room above, where the pails are emptied into the strainer of a huge receptacle. From the base of this receptacle it flows over the radiator in the bottling-room, which reduces it at once to the required temperature, thence into the mechanical bottler. The white-clad attendant places a tray containing several dozen empty bottles underneath, presses a lever, and, presto! they are full and not a drop spilled. He caps the bottles with another twist of the lever, sprays the whole with a hose, picks up the load and pushes it through the horizontal dumb-waiter, where another attendant receives it in the packing-room. The second man clamps a metal cover over the pasteboard caps and packs the bottles in ice. Less than half an hour is consumed in the milking of each cow, the straining, chilling, bottling, and storing of her product. 

PRACTICAL GUIDANCE UNITS. To give in an attractive form complete andaccurate directions for doing something in a certain way, is anotherdifficult problem for the inexperienced writer. For interest andvariety, conversation, interviews and other forms of direct quotation, as well as informal narrative, may be employed. 

Various practical methods of saving fuel in cooking were given by awriter in _Successful Farming_, in what purported to be an account of ameeting of a farm woman's club at which the problem was discussed. Bythe device of allowing the members of the club to relate theirexperiences, she was able to offer a large number of suggestions. Twounits selected from different portions of the article illustrate thismethod:

 "I save dollars by cooking in my furnace, " added a practical worker. "Potatoes bake nicely when laid on the ledge, and beans, stews, roasts, bread--in fact the whole food list--may be cooked there. But one must be careful not to have too hot a fire. I burned several things before I learned that even a few red coals in the fire-pot will be sufficient for practically everything. And then it does blacken the pans! But I've solved that difficulty by bending a piece of tin and setting it between the fire and the cooking vessel. This prevents burning, too, if the fire should be hot. Another plan is to set the vessel in an old preserving kettle. If this outer kettle does not leak, it may be filled with water, which not only aids in the cooking process but also prevents burning. For broiling or toasting, a large corn popper is just the thing. "

 * * * * *

 "My chief saving, " confided the member who believes in preparedness, "consists in cooking things in quantities, especially the things that require long cooking, like baked beans or soup. I never think of cooking less than two days' supply of beans, and as for soup, that is made up in quantity sufficient to last a week. If I have no ice, reheating it each day during warm weather prevents spoiling. Most vegetables are not harmed by a second cooking, and, besides the saving in fuel it entails, it's mighty comforting to know that you have your dinner already prepared for the next day, or several days before for that matter. In cold weather, or if you have ice, it will not be necessary to introduce monotony into your meals in order to save fuel, for one can wait a day or two before serving the extra quantity. Sauces, either for vegetables, meats or puddings, may just as well be made for more than one occasion, altho if milk is used in their preparation, care must be taken that they are kept perfectly cold, as ptomaines develop rapidly in such foods. Other things that it pays to cook in large portions are chocolate syrup for making cocoa, caramel for flavoring, and apple sauce. "

By using a conversation between a hostess and her guest, another writerin the same farm journal succeeded in giving in a novel way somedirections for preparing celery. 

 "Your escalloped corn is delicious. Where did you get your recipe?"

 Mrs. Field smiled across the dining table at her guest. "Out of my head, I suppose, for I never saw it in print. I just followed the regulation method of a layer of corn, then seasoning, and repeat, only I cut into small pieces a stalk or two of celery with each layer of corn. "

 "Celery and corn--a new combination, but it's a good one. I'm so glad to learn of it; but isn't it tedious to cut the celery into such small bits?"

 "Not at all, with my kitchen scissors. I just slash the stalk into several lengthwise strips, then cut them crosswise all at once into very small pieces. "

 "You always have such helpful ideas about new and easy ways to do your work. And economical, too. Why, celery for a dish like this could be the outer stalks or pieces too small to be used fresh on the table. "

 "That's the idea, exactly. I use such celery in soups and stews of all kinds; it adds such a delicious flavor. It is especially good in poultry stuffings and meat loaf. Then there is creamed celery, of course, to which I sometimes add a half cup of almonds for variety. And I use it in salads, too. Not a bit of celery is wasted around here. Even the leaves may be dried out in the oven, and crumbled up to flavor soups or other dishes. "

 "That's fine! Celery is so high this season, and much of it is not quite nice enough for the table, unless cooked. "

A number of new uses for adhesive plaster were suggested by a writer inthe _New York Tribune_, who, in the excerpt below, employs effectivelythe device of the direct appeal to the reader. 

 Aside from surgical "First Aid" and the countless uses to which this useful material may be put, there are a great number of household uses for adhesive plaster. 

 If your pumps are too large and slip at the heel, just put a strip across the back and they will stay in place nicely. When your rubbers begin to break repair them on the inside with plaster cut to fit. If the children lose their rubbers at school, write their names with black ink on strips of the clinging material and put these strips inside the top of the rubber at the back. 

 In the same way labels can be made for bottles and cans. They are easy to put on and to take off. If the garden hose, the rubber tube of your bath spray, or your hot water bag shows a crack or a small break, mend it with adhesive. 

 A cracked handle of a broom, carpet sweeper, or umbrella can be repaired with this first aid to the injured. In the same way the handles of golf sticks, baseball bats, flagstaffs and whips may be given a new lease on life. 

 If your sheet music is torn or the window shade needs repairing, or there is a cracked pane of glass in the barn or in a rear window, apply a strip or patch of suitable size. 

In an article in the _Philadelphia Ledger_ on "What Can I Do to EarnMoney?" Mary Hamilton Talbot gave several examples of methods of earningmoney, in one of which she incorporated practical directions, thus:

 A resourceful girl who loved to be out-of-doors found her opportunity in a bed of mint and aromatic herbs. She sends bunches of the mint neatly prepared to various hotels and cafés several times a week by parcel post, but it is in the over-supply that she works out best her original ideas. Among the novelties she makes is a candied mint that sells quickly. Here is her formula: Cut bits of mint, leaving three or four small leaves on the branch; wash well; dry and lay in rows on a broad, level surface. Thoroughly dissolve one pound of loaf sugar, boil until it threads and set from the fire. While it is still at the boiling point plunge in the bits of mint singly with great care. Remove them from the fondant with a fork and straighten the leaves neatly with a hatpin or like instrument. If a second plunging is necessary, allow the first coating to become thoroughly crystalized before dipping them again. Lay the sweets on oiled paper until thoroughly dry. With careful handling these mints will preserve their natural aroma, taste, and shape, and will keep for any length of time if sealed from the air. They show to best advantage in glass. The sweet-smelling herbs of this girl's garden she dries and sells to the fancy goods trade, and they are used for filling cushions, pillows, and perfume bags. The seasoning herbs she dries, pulverizes, and puts in small glasses, nicely labeled, which sell for 10 cents each, and reliable grocers are glad to have them for their fastidious customers. 

CHAPTER VII

HOW TO BEGIN

IMPORTANCE OF THE BEGINNING. The value of a good beginning for a newsstory, a special feature article, or a short story results from the wayin which most persons read newspapers and magazines. In glancing throughcurrent publications, the average reader is attracted chiefly byheadlines or titles, illustrations, and authors' names. If any one ofthese interests him, he pauses a moment or two over the beginning "tosee what it is all about. " The first paragraphs usually determinewhether or not he goes any further. A single copy of a newspaper ormagazine offers so much reading matter that the casual reader, ifdisappointed in the introduction to one article or short story, hasplenty of others to choose from. But if the opening sentences hold hisattention, he reads on. "Well begun is half done" is a saying thatapplies with peculiar fitness to special feature articles. 

STRUCTURE OF THE BEGINNING. To accomplish its purpose an introductionmust be both a unit in itself and an integral part of the article. Thebeginning, whether a single paragraph in form, or a single paragraph inessence, although actually broken up into two or more short paragraphs, should produce on the mind of the reader a unified impression. Theconversation, the incident, the example, or the summary of which itconsists, should be complete in itself. Unless, on the other hand, theintroduction is an organic part of the article, it fails of its purpose. The beginning must present some vital phase of the subject; it shouldnot be merely something attractive attached to the article to catch thereader's notice. In his effort to make the beginning attractive, aninexperienced writer is inclined to linger over it until it becomesdisproportionately long. Its length, however, should be proportionate tothe importance of that phase of the subject which it presents. As avital part of the article, the introduction must be so skillfullyconnected with what follows that a reader is not conscious of thetransition. Close coherence between the beginning and the body of thearticle is essential. 

The four faults, therefore, to be guarded against in writing thebeginning are: (1) the inclusion of diverse details not carefullycoordinated to produce a single unified impression; (2) the developmentof the introduction to a disproportionate length; (3) failure to makethe beginning a vital part of the article itself; (4) lack of closeconnection or of skillful transition between the introduction and thebody of the article. 

TYPES OF BEGINNINGS. Because of the importance of the introduction, thewriter should familiarize himself with the different kinds ofbeginnings, and should study them from the point of view of theirsuitability for various types of articles. The seven distinct types ofbeginnings are: (1) summary; (2) narrative; (3) description; (4)striking statement; (5) quotation; (6) question; (7) direct address. Combinations of two or more of these methods are not infrequent. 

Summary Beginnings. The general adoption by newspapers of the summarybeginning, or "lead, " for news stories has accustomed the average readerto finding most of the essential facts of a piece of news groupedtogether in the first paragraph. The lead, by telling the reader thenature of the event, the persons and things concerned, the time, theplace, the cause, and the result, answers his questions, What? Who?When? Where? Why? How? Not only are the important facts summarized insuch a beginning, but the most striking detail is usually "played up" inthe first group of words of the initial sentence where it catches theeye at once. Thus the reader is given both the main facts and the mostsignificant feature of the subject. Unquestionably this news story lead, when skillfully worked out, has distinct advantages alike for the newsreport and for the special article. 

 SUMMARY BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_Kansas City Star_)

 A FRESH AIR PALACE READY

 A palace of sunshine, a glass house of fresh air, will be the Christmas offering of Kansas City to the fight against tuberculosis, the "Great White Plague. " Ten miles from the business district of the city, overlooking a horizon miles away over valley and hill, stands the finest tuberculosis hospital in the United States. The newly completed institution, although not the largest hospital of the kind, is the best equipped and finest appointed. It is symbolic of sunshine and pure air, the cure for the disease. 

 (2)

 (_New York World_)

 STOPPING THE COST OF LIVING LEAKS

 BY MARIE COOLIDGE RASK

 After ten weeks' instruction in domestic economy at a New York high school, a girl of thirteen has been the means of reducing the expenditure in a family of seven to the extent of five dollars a week. 

 The girl is Anna Scheiring, American born, of Austrian ancestry, living with her parents and brothers and sisters in a five-room apartment at No. 769 East One Hundred and Fifty-eighth Street, where her father, Joseph Scheiring is superintendent of the building. 

 The same economic practices applied by little Anna Scheiring are at the present time being worked out in two thousand other New York homes whose daughters are pupils in the Washington Irving High School. 

 (3)

 (_The Outlook_)

 THE FIGHT FOR CLEAN MILK

 BY CONSTANCE D. LEUPP

 Two million quarts of milk are shipped into New York every day. One hundred thousand of those who drink it are babies. The milk comes from forty-four thousand dairy farms scattered through New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Vermont, and even Ohio. 

 A large proportion of the two million quarts travels thirty-six hours before it lands on the front doorstep of the consumer. The situation in New York is duplicated in a less acute degree in every city in the United States. 

NARRATIVE BEGINNINGS. To begin a special feature article in thenarrative form is to give it a story-like character that at once arousesinterest. It is impossible in many instances to know from theintroduction whether what follows is to be a short story or a specialarticle. An element of suspense may even be injected into the narrativeintroduction to stimulate the reader's curiosity, and descriptivetouches may be added to heighten the vividness. 

If the whole article is in narrative form, as is the case in a personalexperience or confession story, the introduction is only the first partof a continuous story, and as such gives the necessary information aboutthe person involved. 

Narrative beginnings that consist of concrete examples and specificinstances are popular for expository articles. Sometimes severalinstances are related in the introduction before the writer proceeds togeneralize from them. The advantage of this inductive method ofexplanation grows out of the fact that, after a general idea has beenillustrated by an example or two, most persons can grasp it with muchless effort and with much greater interest than when suchexemplification follows the generalization. 

Other narrative introductions consist of an anecdote, an incident, or animportant event connected with the subject of the article. 

Since conversation is an excellent means of enlivening a narrative, dialogue is often used in the introduction to special articles, whetherfor relating an incident, giving a specific instance, or beginning apersonal experience story. 

 Narrative Beginnings

 (1)

 (_The Outlook_)

 BOOKER T. WASHINGTON

 BY EMMETT J. SCOTT AND LYMAN BEECHER STOWE

 It came about that in the year 1880, in Macon County, Alabama, a certain ex-Confederate colonel conceived the idea that if he could secure the Negro vote he could beat his rival and win the seat he coveted in the State Legislature. Accordingly the colonel went to the leading Negro in the town of Tuskegee and asked him what he could do to secure the Negro vote, for Negroes then voted in Alabama without restriction. This man, Lewis Adams by name, himself an ex-slave, promptly replied that what his race most wanted was education, and what they most needed was industrial education, and that if he (the colonel) would agree to work for the passage of a bill appropriating money for the maintenance of an industrial school for Negroes, he, Adams, would help to get for him the Negro vote and the election. This bargain between an ex-slaveholder and an ex-slave was made and faithfully observed on both sides, with the result that the following year the Legislature of Alabama appropriated $2, 000 a year for the establishment of a normal and industrial school for Negroes in the town of Tuskegee. On the recommendation of General Armstrong, of Hampton Institute, a young colored man, Booker T. Washington, a recent graduate of and teacher at the Institute, was called from there to take charge of this landless, buildingless, teacherless, and studentless institution of learning. 

 (2)

 (_Leslie's Weekly_)

 MILLIONAIRES MADE BY WAR

 BY HOMER CROY

 A tall, gaunt, barefooted Missouri hill-billy stood beside his rattly, dish-wheeled wagon waiting to see the mighty proprietor of the saw mill who guessed only too well that the hill-billy had something he wanted to swap for lumber. 

 "What can I do for you?"

 The hillman shifted his weight uneasily. "I 'low I got somethun of powerful lot of interest to yuh. " Reaching over the side of the wagon he placed his rough hand tenderly on a black lump. "I guess yuh know what it is. "

 The saw mill proprietor glanced at it depreciatingly and turned toward the mill. 

 "It's lead, pardner, pure lead, and I know where it come from. I could take you right to the spot--ef I wanted to. "

 The mill proprietor hooked a row of fingers under the rough stone and tried to lift it. But he could not budge it. "It does seem to have lead in it. What was you calc'lating askin' for showin' me where you found it?"

 The farmer from the foothills cut his eyes down to crafty slits. "I was 'lowing just tother day as how a house pattern would come in handy. Ef you'll saw me out one I'll take you to the spot. " And so the deal was consummated, the hill-billy gleefully driving away, joyous over having got a fine house pattern worth $40 for merely showing a fellow where you could pick up a few hunks of lead. 

 That was forty-five years ago and it was thus that the great Joplin lead and zinc district was made known to the world. 

 (3)

 (_Munsey's Magazine_)

 FRANK A. SCOTT, CHAIRMAN OF THE WAR INDUSTRIES BOARD

 BY THEODORE TILLER

 One day in the year 1885 a twelve-year-old boy, who had to leave school and make his own way in the world on account of his father's death, applied for a job in a railroad freight-office in Cleveland, Ohio. 

 "I'm afraid you won't do, " said the chief. "We need a boy, but you're not tall enough to reach the letter-press. "

 "Well, couldn't I stand on a box?" suggested the young seeker of employment. 

 That day a box was added to the equipment of the freight-office and the name of Frank A. Scott to the payroll. 

 (4)

 (_New York Times_)

 NEW YORKER INVENTS NEW EXPLOSIVE AND GIVES IT TO THE UNITED STATES

 Nine young men recently rowed to the middle of the Hudson River with a wooden box to which wires were attached, lying in the bottom of the boat. They sank the box in deep water very cautiously, and then rowed slowly back to land, holding one end of the wire. Presently a column of water 40 feet through and 300 feet high shot into the air, followed by a deafening detonation, which tore dead branches from trees. 

 The nine young men were congratulating one man of the group on the explosion when an irate farmer ran up, yelling that every window in his farmhouse, nearly a mile away, had been shattered. The party of young men didn't apologize then; they gathered about the one who was being congratulated and recongratulated him. 

 The farmer did not know until later that the force which broke his windows and sent the huge column of water into the air was the War Department's newest, safest, and most powerful explosive; that the young men composed the dynamite squad of the Engineer Corps of the New York National Guard; and that the man they were congratulating was Lieut. Harold Chase Woodward, the inventor of the explosive. 

 (5)

 (_System_)

 WHY THE EMPLOYEES RUN OUR BUSINESS

 A BUSINESS OF THE WORKERS, BY THE WORKERS, AND FOR THE WORKERS--HOW IT SUCCEEDS. 

 BY EDWARD A. FILENE

 "I know I am right. Leave it to any fair-minded person to decide. "

 "Good enough, " I replied; "you name one, I will name another, and let them select a third. "

 She agreed; we selected the umpires and they decided against the store!

 It had come about in this way. The store rule had been that cashiers paid for shortages in their accounts as--in our view--a penalty for carelessness; we did not care about the money. This girl had been short in an account; the amount had been deducted from her pay, and, not being afraid to speak out, she complained:

 "If I am over in my accounts, it is a mistake; but if I am short, am I a thief? Why should I pay back the money? Why can't a mistake be made in either direction?"

 This arbitration--although it had caused a decision against us--seemed such a satisfactory way of ending disputes that we continued the practice in an informal way. Out of it grew the present arbitration board, which is the corner-stone of the relation between our store and the employees, because it affords the machinery for getting what employees are above all else interested in--a square deal. 

DESCRIPTIVE BEGINNINGS. Just as description of characters or of sceneand setting is one method of beginning short stories and novels, so alsoit constitutes a form of introduction for an article. In both cases theaim is to create immediate interest by vivid portrayal of definitepersons and places. The concrete word picture, like the concreteinstance in a narrative beginning, makes a quick and strong appeal. Anelement of suspense or mystery may be introduced into the description, if a person, a place, or an object is described without being identifiedby name until the end of the portrayal. 

The possibilities of description are not limited to sights alone;sounds, odors and other sense impressions, as well as emotions, may bedescribed. Frequently several different impressions are combined. Tostir the reader's feelings by a strong emotional description isobviously a good method of beginning. 

A descriptive beginning, to be clear to the rapid reader, should besuggestive rather than detailed. The average person can easily visualizea picture that is sketched in a few suggestive words, whereas he islikely to be confused by a mass of details. Picture-making words andthose imitative of sounds, as well as figures of speech, may be used toadvantage in descriptive beginnings. For the description of feelings, words with a rich emotional connotation are important. 

 DESCRIPTIVE BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_Munsey's Magazine_)

 OUR HIGHEST COURT

 BY HORACE TOWNER

 "The Honorable the Supreme Court of the United States!"

 Nearly every week-day during the winter months, exactly at noon, these warning words, intoned in a resonant and solemn voice, may be heard by the visitor who chances to pass the doors of the Supreme Court Chamber in the Capitol of the United States. The visitor sees that others are entering those august portals, and so he, too, makes bold to step softly inside. 

 If he has not waited too long, he finds himself within the chamber in time to see nine justices of our highest court, clad in long, black robes, file slowly into the room from an antechamber at the left. 

 Every one within the room has arisen, and all stand respectfully at attention while the justices take their places. Then the voice of the court crier is heard again:

 "_Oyez, oyez, oyez_! All persons having business with the Supreme Court of the United States are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the court is now sitting. "

 Then, after a slight pause:

 "God save the United States and this honorable court!"

 The justices seat themselves; the attorneys at the bar and visitors do likewise. The Supreme Court of the United States, generally held to be the most powerful tribunal on earth, is in session. 

 (2)

 (_Collier's Weekly_)

 JAMES WHITCOMB BROUGHER, A PREACHER TO THE PROCESSION

 BY PETER CLARK MACFARLANE

 Imagine the Hippodrome--the largest playhouse of New York and of the New World! Imagine it filled with people from foot-lights to the last row in the topmost gallery--orchestra, dress circle, and balconies--a huge uprising, semicircular bowl, lined with human beings. Imagine it thus, and then strip the stage; take away the Indians and the soldiers, the elephants and the camels; take away the careening stage coaches and the thundering hoofs of horses, and all the strange conglomeration of dramatic activities with which these inventive stage managers are accustomed to panoply their productions. Instead of all this, people the stage with a chorus choir in white smocks, and in front of the choir put a lean, upstanding, shock-headed preacher; but leave the audience--a regular Hippodrome audience on the biggest Saturday night. Imagine all of this, I say, and what you have is not the Hippodrome, not the greatest play in the New World, nor any playhouse at all, but the Temple Baptist Church of Los Angeles, California, with James Whitcomb Brougher, D. D. , in the pulpit. 

 (3)

 (_The Independent_)

 THE LITTLE RED SCHOOLHOUSE A "FAKE"

 What the Country Schoolhouse Really Is, and Why

 BY EDNA M. HILL

 The schoolhouse squats dour and silent in its acre of weeds. A little to the rear stand two wretched outbuildings. Upon its gray clapboarded sides, window blinds hang loose and window sashes sag away from their frames. Groaning upon one hinge the vestibule door turns away from lopsided steps, while a broken drain pipe sways perilously from the east corner of the roof. 

 Within and beyond the vestibule is the schoolroom, a monotony of grimy walls and smoky ceiling. Cross lights from the six windows shine upon rows of desks of varying sizes and in varying stages of destruction. A kitchen table faces the door. Squarely in the middle of the rough pine floor stands a jacketed stove. A much torn dictionary and a dented water pail stand side by side on the shelf below the one blackboard. 

 And this is the "little red schoolhouse" to which I looked forward so eagerly during the summer--nothing but a tumbledown shack set in the heart of a prosperous farming district. 

 (4)

 (_New York Tribune_)

 THE ONE WOMAN OFFICIAL AT PLATTSBURG

 BY ELENE FOSTER

 The tramp, tramp of feet on a hard road; long lines of khaki figures moving over the browning grass of the parade ground; rows of faces, keen and alert, with that look in the eyes that one sees in LePage's Jeanne d'Arc; the click, click of bullets from the distant rifle range blended with a chorus of deep voices near at hand singing "Over There"; a clear, blue sky, crisp autumn air and the sparkling waters of Lake Champlain--that's Plattsburg. 

 (5)

 (_Good Housekeeping_)

 NEW ENGLAND MILL SLAVES

 BY MARY ALDEN HOPKINS

 In the pale light of an early winter morning, while a flat, white moon awaited the dawn and wind-driven clouds flung faint scudding shadows across the snow, two little girls, cloaked, shawled, hooded out of all recognition, plodded heavily along a Vermont mountain road. Each carried a dangling dinner pail. 

 The road was lonely. Once they passed a farmhouse, asleep save for a yellow light in a chamber. Somewhere a cock crowed. A dog barked in the faint distance. 

 Where the road ascended the mountain--a narrow cut between dark, pointed firs and swaying white-limbed birches--the way was slushy with melting snow. The littler girl, half dozing along the accustomed way, slipped and slid into puddles. 

 At the top of the mountain the two children shrank back into their mufflers, before the sweep of the wet, chill wind; but the mill was in sight--beyond the slope of bleak pastures outlined with stone walls--sunk deep in the valley beside a rapid mountain stream, a dim bulk already glimmering with points of light. Toward this the two little workwomen slopped along on squashy feet. 

 They were spinners. One was fifteen. She had worked three years. The other was fourteen. She had worked two years. The terse record of the National Child Labor Committee lies before me, unsentimental, bare of comment:

 "They both get up at four fifteen A. M. And after breakfast start for the mill, arriving there in time not to be late, at six. Their home is two and one-half miles from the mill. Each earns three dollars a week--So they cannot afford to ride. The road is rough, and it is over the mountains. "

 (6)

 (_Providence Journal_)

 HOW TO SING THE NATIONAL SONGS

 To Interpret the Text Successfully the Singer Must Memorize, Visualize, Rhythmize, and Emphasize

 BY JOHN G. ARCHER

 The weary eye of the toastmaster looks apologetically down long rows of tables as he says with a sorry-but-it-must-be-done air, "We will now sing 'The Star Spangled Banner'"; the orchestra starts, the diners reach frantically for their menus and each, according to his musical inheritance and patriotic fervor, plunges into the unknown with a resolute determination to be in on the death of the sad rite. 

 Some are wrecked among the dizzy altitudes, others persevere through uncharted shoals, all make some kind of a noisy noise, and lo, it is accomplished; and intense relief sits enthroned on every dewy brow. 

 In the crowded church, the minister announces the "Battle Hymn of the Republic, " and the organist, armed with plenary powers, crashes into the giddy old tune, dragging the congregation resistingly along at a hurdy gurdy pace till all semblance of text or meaning is irretrievably lost. 

 Happy are they when the refrain, "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, " provides a temporary respite from the shredded syllables and scrambled periods, and one may light, as it were, and catch up with himself and the organist. 

 At the close of an outdoor public meeting the chairman, with fatuous ineptitude, shouts that everybody will sing three verses of "America. " Granting that the tune is pitched comfortably, the first verse marches with vigor and certitude, but not for long; dismay soon smites the crowd in sections as the individual consciousness backs and fills amid half learned lines. 

 The trick of catching hopefully at a neighbor's phrase usually serves to defeat itself, as it unmasks the ignorance of said neighbor, and the tune ends in a sort of polyglot mouthing which is not at all flattering to the denizens of an enlightened community. 

 These glimpses are not a whit over-drawn, and it is safe to say that they mirror practically every corner of our land to-day. Why is it, then, that the people make such a sorry exhibition of themselves when they attempt to sing the patriotic songs of our country? Is it the tunes or the words or we ourselves?

BEGINNING WITH A STRIKING STATEMENT. When the thought expressed in thefirst sentence of an article is sufficiently unusual, or is presented ina sufficiently striking form, it at once commands attention. Bystimulating interest and curiosity, it leads the average person to readon until he is satisfied. 

A striking statement of this sort may serve as the first sentence of oneof the other types of beginning, such as the narrative or thedescriptive introduction, the quotation, the question, or the directaddress. But it may also be used entirely alone. 

Since great size is impressive, a statement of the magnitude ofsomething is usually striking. Numerical figures are often used in theopening sentences to produce the impression of enormous size. If thesefigures are so large that the mind cannot grasp them, it is well, bymeans of comparisons, to translate them into terms of the reader's ownexperience. There is always danger of overwhelming and confusing aperson with statistics that in the mass mean little or nothing to him. 

To declare in the first sentence that something is the first or the onlyone of its kind immediately arrests attention, because of the universalinterest in the unique. 

An unusual prediction is another form of striking statement. To be toldat the beginning of an article of some remarkable thing that the futureholds in store for him or for his descendants, fascinates the averageperson as much as does the fortune-teller's prophecy. There is danger ofexaggeration, however, in making predictions. When writers magnify theimportance of their subject by assuring us that what they are explainingwill "revolutionize" our ideas and practices, we are inclined todiscount these exaggerated and trite forms of prophecy. 

A striking figure of speech--an unusual metaphor, for example--may oftenbe used in the beginning of an article to arouse curiosity. As thecomparison in a metaphor is implied rather than expressed, the points oflikeness may not immediately be evident to the reader and thus thefigurative statement piques his curiosity. A comparison in the form of asimile, or in that of a parable or allegory, may serve as a strikingintroduction. 

A paradox, as a self-contradictory statement, arrests the attention inthe initial sentence of an article. Although not always easy to frame, and hence not so often employed as it might be, a paradoxical expressionis an excellent device for a writer to keep in mind when some phase ofhis theme lends itself to such a striking beginning. 

Besides these readily classified forms of unusual statements, any novel, extraordinary expression that is not too bizarre may be employed. Thechief danger to guard against is that of making sensational, exaggerated, or false statements, merely to catch the reader's notice. 

 STRIKING STATEMENT BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_Illustrated World_)

 FIRE WRITES A HEART'S RECORD

 BY H. G. HUNTING

 A human heart, writing its own record with an actual finger of flame, is the startling spectacle that has recently been witnessed by scientists. It sounds fanciful, doesn't it? But it is literally a fact that the automatic recording of the heart's action by means of tracings from the point of a tiny blaze appears to have been made a practicable method of determining the condition of the heart, more reliable than any other test that can be applied. 

 (2)

 (_Boston Transcript_)

 TAKING HOSPITALS TO THE EMERGENCY By F. W. COBURN

 Taking the hospital to the emergency instead of the emergency to the hospital is the underlying idea of the Bay State's newest medical unit--one which was installed in three hours on the top of Corey Hill, and which in much less than half that time may tomorrow or the next day be en route post haste for Peru, Plymouth, or Pawtucketville. 

 (3)

 (_Kansas City Star_)

 MUST YOUR HOME BURN?

 Autumn is the season of burning homes. 

 Furnaces and stoves will soon be lighted. They have been unused all summer and rubbish may have been piled near them or the flues may have rusted and slipped out of place unobserved in the long period of disuse. Persons start their fires in a sudden cold snap. They don't take time to investigate. Then the fire department has work to do. 

 (4)

 (_New York Times_)

 ONLY PUBLIC SCHOOL FOR CHILDREN WITH POOR EYES

 There was opened down Hester Street way last week the only public school in the world for children with defective eyes. Bad eyesight has been urged for years as a cause of backwardness and incorrigibility in school children. Now the public school authorities plan, for the first time, not only to teach children whose eyes are defective, but to cure them as well. 

 (5) (_The Outlook_)

 DISEASED TEETH AND BAD HEALTH BY MATTHIAS NICOLL, JR. 

 The complete disappearance of teeth from the human mouth is the condition towards which the most highly cultivated classes of humanity are drifting. We have already gone far on a course that leads to the coming of a toothless age in future generations. Only by immediate adoption of the most active and widespread measures of prevention can the human tooth be saved from the fate that has befallen the leg of the whale. 

 (6)

 (_Harper's Weekly_)

 THE SPAN OF LIFE

 BY WALTER E. WEYL

 You who begin this sentence may not live to read its close. There is a chance, one in three or four billions, that you will die in a second, by the tick of the watch. The chair upon which you sit may collapse, the car in which you ride may collide, your heart may suddenly cease. Or you may survive the sentence and the article, and live twenty, fifty, eighty years longer. 

 No one knows the span of your life, and yet the insurance man is willing to bet upon it. What is life insurance but the bet of an unknown number of yearly premiums against the payment of the policy? * * * * The length of your individual life is a guess, but the insurance company bets on a sure thing, on the average death rate. 

 (7)

 (_The Outlook_)

 "AMERICANS FIRST"

 BY GREGORY MASON

 Every third man you meet in Detroit was born in a foreign country. And three out of every four persons there were either born abroad or born here of foreign-born parents. In short, in Detroit, only every fourth person you meet was born in this country of American parents. Such is the make-up of the town which has been called "the most American city in the United States. "

 (8)

 (_Kansas City Star_)

 A KANSAS TOWN FEELS ITS OWN PULSE

 Lawrence, Kas. , was not ill. Most of its citizens did not even think it was ailing, but there were some anxious souls who wondered if the rosy exterior were not the mockery of an internal fever. They called in physicians, and after seven months spent in making their diagnosis, they have prescribed for Lawrence, and the town is alarmed to the point of taking their medicine. 

 That is the medical way of saying that Lawrence has just completed the most thorough municipal survey ever undertaken by a town of its size, and in so doing has found out that it is afflicted with a lot of ills that all cities are heir to. Lawrence, however, with Kansas progressiveness, proposes to cure these ills. 

 Prof. F. W. Blackmar, head of the department of sociology at the University of Kansas, and incidentally a sort of city doctor, was the first "physician" consulted. He called his assistant, Prof. B. W. Burgess, and Rev. William A. Powell in consultation, and about one hundred and fifty club women were taken into the case. Then they got busy. That was April 1. This month they completed the examination, set up an exhibit to illustrate what they had to report, and read the prescription. 

 (9)

 (_Popular Science Monthly_)

 BREAKING THE CHAIN THAT BINDS US TO EARTH

 BY CHARLES NEVERS HOLMES

 Man is chained to this Earth, his planet home. His chain is invisible, but the ball is always to be seen--the Earth itself. The chain itself is apparently without weight, while the chain's ball weighs about 7, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000 tons!

 (10)

 (_Associated Sunday Magazine_)

 IN TUNE WHEN OUT OF TUNE

 BY JOHN WARREN

 How many persons who own pianos and play them can explain why a piano cannot be said to be in tune unless it is actually out of tune?

 (11)

 (_Railroad Man's Magazine_)

 MAKING STEEL RAILS

 BY CHARLES FREDERICK CARTER

 To make steel rails, take 2 pounds of iron ore, 1 pound of coke, ½ pound of limestone, and 4½ pounds of air for each pound of iron to be produced. Mix and melt, cast in molds, and roll to shape while hot. Serve cold. 

 Rail-making certainly does seem to be easy when stated in its simplest terms; it also seems attractive from a business standpoint. 

 (12)

 (_Leslie's Weekly_)

 WHAT ELECTRICITY MEANS TO YOU

 ONE CENT'S WORTH OF ELECTRICITY AT TEN CENTS PER KILOWATT-HOUR WILL OPERATE:

 Sixteen candle-power Mazda lamp for five hours Six pound flatiron 15 minutes Radiant toaster long enough to produce ten slices of toast Sewing machine for two hours Fan 12 inches in diameter for two hours Percolator long enough to make five cups of coffee Heating pad from two to four hours Domestic buffer for 1¼ hours Chafing dish 12 minutes Radiant grill for 10 minutes Curling iron once a day for two weeks Luminous 500 watt radiator for 12 minutes

 Hardly as old as a grown man, the electrical industry--including railways, telephones and telegraphs--has already invested $8, 125, 000, 000 in the business of America. Its utility companies alone pay Uncle Sam $200, 000, 000 every year for taxes--seven out of every ten use it in some form every day. It is unmistakably the most vital factor to-day in America's prosperity. Its resources are boundless. As Secretary of the Interior Lane expresses it, there is enough hydro-electric energy running to waste to equal the daily labor of 1, 800, 000, 000 men or 30 times our adult population. 

BEGINNING WITH A QUOTATION. Words enclosed in quotation marks or setoff in some distinctive form such as verse, an advertisement, a letter, a menu, or a sign, immediately catch the eye at the beginning of anarticle. Every conceivable source may be drawn on for quotations, provided, of course, that what is quoted has close connection with thesubject. If the quotation expresses an extraordinary idea, it possessesan additional source of interest. 

Verse quotations may be taken from a well-known poem, a popular song, anursery rhyme, or even doggerel verse. Sometimes a whole poem or songprefaces an article. When the verse is printed in smaller type than thearticle, it need not be enclosed in quotation marks. In his typewrittenmanuscript a writer may indicate this difference in size of type bysingle-spacing the lines of the quotation. 

Prose quotations may be taken from a speech or an interview, or fromprinted material such as a book, report, or bulletin. The moresignificant the quoted statement, the more effective will be theintroduction. When the quotation consists of several sentences or of onelong sentence, it may comprise the first paragraph, to be followed inthe second paragraph by the necessary explanation. 

Popular sayings, slogans, or current phrases are not always enclosed inquotation marks, but are often set off in a separate paragraph as astriking form of beginning. 

The most conspicuous quotation beginnings are reproductions of newspaperclippings, advertisements, price lists, menus, telegrams, invitations, or parts of legal documents. These are not infrequently reproduced asnearly as possible in the original form and may be enclosed in a frame, or "box. "

 QUOTATION BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_New York Evening Post_)

 "DIGNIFIED AND STATELY"

 BEING AN ACCOUNT OF SOME HIGH AND LOW JINKS PRACTICED ABOUT THIS TIME ON COLLEGE CLASS DAYS

 BY EVA ELISE VOM BAUR

 _Our sorrows are forgotten, And our cares are flown away, While we go marching through Princeton_. 

 Singing these words, 'round and 'round the campus they marched, drums beating time which no one observed, band clashing with band, in tune with nothing but the dominant note--the joy of reunion. A motley lot of men they are--sailors and traction engineers, Pierrots, soldiers, and even vestal virgins--for the June Commencement is college carnival time. 

 Then hundreds upon thousands of men, East, West, North and South, drop their work and their worries, and leaving families and creditors at home, slip away to their respective alma maters, "just to be boys again" for a day and a night or two. 

 (2)

 (_Harper's Monthly_)

 THE PARTY OF THE THIRD PART

 BY WALTER E. WEYL

 "The quarrel, " opined Sir Lucius O'Trigger, "is a very pretty quarrel as it stands; we should only spoil it by trying to explain it. "

 Something like this was once the attitude of the swaggering youth of Britain and Ireland, who quarreled "genteelly" and fought out their bloody duels "in peace and quietness. " Something like this, also, after the jump of a century, was the attitude of employers and trade-unions all over the world toward industrial disputes. Words were wasted breath; the time to strike or to lock out your employees was when you were ready and your opponent was not. If you won, so much the better; if you lost--at any rate, it was your own business. Outsiders were not presumed to interfere. "Faith!" exclaimed Sir Lucius, "that same interruption in affairs of this nature shows very great ill-breeding. "

 (3)

 (_McClure's Magazine_)

 RIDING ON BUBBLES

 BY WALDEMAR KAEMPFFERT

 "And the Prince sped away with his princess in a magic chariot, the wheels of which were four bubbles of air. "

 Suppose you had read that in an Andersen or a Grimm fairy tale in the days when you firmly believed that Cinderella went to a ball in a state coach which had once been a pumpkin; you would have accepted the magic chariot and its four bubbles of air without question. 

 What a pity it is that we have lost the credulity and the wonder of childhood! We have our automobiles--over two and a half million of them--but they have ceased to be magic chariots to us. And as for their tires, they are mere "shoes" and "tubes"--anything but the bubbles of air that they are. 

 In the whole mechanism of modern transportation there is nothing so paradoxical, nothing so daring in conception as these same bubbles of air which we call tires. 

 (4)

 (_Good Housekeeping_)

 GERALDINE FARRAR'S ADVICE TO ASPIRING SINGERS

 INTERVIEW BY JOHN CORBIN

 "When did I first decide to be an opera singer?" Miss Farrar smiled. "Let me see. At least as early as the age of eight. This is how I remember. At school I used to get good marks in most of my studies, but in arithmetic my mark was about sixty. That made me unhappy. But once when I was eight, I distinctly remember, I reflected that it didn't really matter because I was going to be an opera singer. How long before that I had decided on my career I can't say. "

 (5)

 (_The Delineator_)

 HOW TO START A CAFETERIA

 BY AGNES ATHOL

 "If John could only get a satisfactory lunch for a reasonable amount of money!" sighs the wife of John in every sizable city in the United States, where work and home are far apart. 

 "He hates sandwiches, anyway, and has no suitable place to eat them; and somehow he doesn't feel that he does good work on a cold box lunch. But those clattery quick-lunch places which are all he has time for, or can afford, don't have appetizing cooking or surroundings, and all my forethought and planning over our good home meals may be counteracted by his miserable lunch. I believe half the explanation of the 'tired business man' lies in the kind of lunches he eats. "

 Twenty-five cents a day is probably the outside limit of what the great majority of men spend on their luncheons. Some cannot spend over fifteen. What a man needs and so seldom gets for that sum is good, wholesome, appetizing food, quickly served. He wants to eat in a place which is quiet and not too bare and ugly. He wants to buy real food and not table decorations. He is willing to dispense with elaborate service and its accompanying tip, if he can get more food of better quality. 

 The cafeteria lunch-room provides a solution for the mid-day lunch problem and, when wisely located and well run, the answer to many a competent woman or girl who is asking: "What shall I do to earn a living?"

 (6)

 (_Newspaper Enterprise Association_)

 AMERICANIZATION OF AMERICA IS PLANNED

 BY E. C. RODGERS

 Washington, D. C. --America Americanized!

 That's the goal of the naturalization bureau of the United States department of labor, as expressed by Raymond P. Crist, deputy commissioner, in charge of the Americanization program. 

 (7)

 (_Tractor and Gas Engine Review_)

 FIRE INSURANCE THAT DOESN'T INSURE

 BY A. B. BROWN

 "This entire policy, unless otherwise provided by agreement endorsed hereon, or added hereto, shall be void if the interest of the insured be other than unconditional and sole ownership. "

 If any farmer anywhere in the United States will look up the fire insurance policy on his farm building, and will read it carefully, in nine cases out of ten, he will find tucked away somewhere therein a clause exactly like the one quoted above, or practically in the same words. 

BEGINNING WITH A QUESTION. Every question is like a riddle; we are neversatisfied until we know the answer. So a question put to us at thebeginning of an article piques our curiosity, and we are not contentuntil we find out how the writer answers it. 

Instead of a single question, several may be asked in succession. Thesequestions may deal with different phases of the subject or may repeatthe first question in other words. It is frequently desirable to breakup a long question into a number of short ones to enable the rapidreader to grasp the idea more easily. Greater prominence may be gainedfor each question by giving it a separate paragraph. 

Rhetorical questions, although the equivalent of affirmative or negativestatements, nevertheless retain enough of their interrogative effect tobe used advantageously for the beginning of an article. 

That the appeal may be brought home to each reader personally, thepronoun "you, " or "yours, " is often embodied in the question, andsometimes readers are addressed by some designation such as "Mr. AverageReader, " "Mrs. Voter, " "you, high school boys and girls. "

The indirect question naturally lacks the force of the direct one, butit may be employed when a less striking form of beginning is desired. The direct question, "Do you know why the sky is blue?" loses much ofits force when changed into the indirect form, "Few people know why thesky is blue"; still it possesses enough of the riddle element tostimulate thought. Several indirect questions may be included in theinitial sentence of an article. 

 QUESTION BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_Kansas City Star_)

 TRACING THE DROUTH TO ITS LAIR

 What becomes of the rainfall in the plains states? This region is the veritable bread basket of our country; but in spite of the fact that we have an average rainfall of about thirty-six inches, lack of moisture, more frequently than any other condition, becomes a limiting factor in crop production. Measured in terms of wheat production, a 36-inch rainfall, if properly distributed through the growing season and utilized only by the crop growing land, is sufficient for the production of ninety bushels of wheat an acre. The question as to what becomes of the rainfall, therefore, is of considerable interest in this great agricultural center of North America, where we do well if we average twenty-five bushels to the acre. 

 (2)

 (_New York Evening Sun_)

 WE WASTE ONE-QUARTER OF OUR FOOD

 If a family of five using twenty-five bushels of potatoes a year at $2 a bushel, lose 20 per cent on a bushel by paring, how much has the family thrown into the garbage can during the year? Answer, $10. Applying this conservative estimate of dietitians to other foods, the average family might save at least $100 a year on its table. 

 (3)

 (_New York Times)_

 FARM WIZARD ACHIEVES AGRICULTURAL WONDERS

 BY ROBERT G. SKERRETT

 Can a farm be operated like a factory? Can fickle nature be offset and crops be brought to maturity upon schedule time?

 These are questions that a farmer near Bridgeton, N. J. , has answered in the most practical manner imaginable. 

 (4)

 (_San Francisco Call_)

 DOES IT PAY THE STATE TO EDUCATE PRETTY GIRLS FOR TEACHERS?

 BY KATHERINE ATKINSON

 Does it pay the state to educate its teachers?

 Do normal school and university graduates continue teaching long enough to make adequate return for the money invested in their training?

 (5)

 (_Newspaper Feature Service_)

 HOW HUNGER IS NOW MEASURED AND PHOTOGRAPHED

 Just what hunger is, why all living creatures suffer this feeling and what the difference is between hunger and appetite have always been three questions that puzzled scientists. Not until Dr. A. J. Carlson devised a method of ascertaining exactly the nature of hunger by measuring and comparing the degrees of this sensation, have investigators along this line of scientific research been able to reach any definite conclusion. 

 (6)

 (_The Outlook_)

 GROW OLD ALONG WITH ME

 BY CHARLES HENRY LERRIGO

 Are you interested in adding fifteen years to your life?

 Perhaps you are one of those sound strong persons absolutely assured of perfect health. 

 Very well. Two thousand young persons, mostly men, average age thirty, employees of commercial houses and banks in New York City, were given a medical examination in a recent period of six months; 1, 898 of them were positive of getting a perfect bill of health. 

 Here are the findings:

 Sixty-three were absolutely sound. 

 The remaining 1, 937 all suffered from some defect, great or small, which was capable of improvement. 

 (7)

 (_Country Gentleman_)

 SIMPLE ACCOUNTS FOR FARM BUSINESS

 BY MORTON O. COOPER

 Is your farm making money or losing it? What department is showing a profit? What one is piling up a loss? Do you know? Not one farmer in ten does know and it is all because not one in ten has any accounts apart from his bankbook so he can tell at the end of the year whether he has kept the farm or the farm has kept him. 

 (8)

 (_The Outlook_)

 AN ENFORCED VACATION

 BY A CITY DWELLER

 Have you, my amiable male reader, felt secretly annoyed when your friends--probably your wife and certainly your physician--have suggested that you cut your daily diet of Havanas in two, feeling that your intimate acquaintance with yourself constituted you a better judge of such matters than they? Have you felt that your physician's advice to spend at least three-quarters of an hour at lunch was good advice for somebody else, but that you had neither time nor inclination for it? Have you felt that you would _like_ to take a month's vacation, but with so many "irons in the fire" things would go to smash if you did? Do you know what it is to lie awake at night and plan your campaign for the following day? Then _you_ are getting ready for an enforced vacation. 

 (9)

 (_Leslie's Weekly_)

 TAKING THE STARCH OUT OF THE MARCH

 BY GERALD MYGATT

 Don't most of us--that is, those of us who are unfamiliar with army life and with things military in general--don't most of us picture marching troops as swinging down a road in perfect step, left arms moving in unison, rifles held smartly at the right shoulder, head and eyes straight to the front (with never so much as a forehead wrinkled to dislodge a mosquito or a fly), and with the band of the fife-and-drum corps playing gaily at the head of the column? Of course we do. Because that's the way we see them on parade. 

 A march is a far different thing. A march is simply the means of getting so many men from one place to another in the quickest time and in the best possible condition. And it may astonish one to be told that marching is the principal occupation of troops in the field--that it is one of the hardest things for troops to learn to do properly, and that it is one of the chief causes of loss. 

ADDRESSING THE READER DIRECTLY. A direct personal appeal makes a goodopening for an article. The writer seems to be talking to each readerindividually instead of merely writing for thousands. This form ofaddress may seem to hark back to the days of the "gentle reader, " butits appeal is perennial. To the pronoun "you" may be added thedesignation of the particular class of readers addressed, such as "You, mothers, " or "You, Mr. Salaried Man. " The imperative verb is perhaps thestrongest form of direct address. There is danger of overdoing the"do-this-and-don't-do-that" style, particularly in articles of practicalguidance, but that need not deter a writer from using the imperativebeginning occasionally. 

 DIRECT ADDRESS BEGINNINGS

 (1)

 (_New York Times_)

 SMALL CHANCE FOR DRAFT DODGERS IF DOCTORS KNOW THEIR BUSINESS

 A word with you, Mr. Would-Be-Slacker. If you 're thinking of trying to dodge the selective draft by pretending physical disability when you get before the local exemption board, here's a bit of advice: Don't. Since you are Mr. Would-Be-Slacker there is no use preaching patriotism to you. But here is something that will influence you: If you try to dodge the draft and are caught, there is a heavy penalty, both fine and imprisonment; and you're almost sure to get caught. 

 (2)

 (_American Magazine_)

 THE GENERAL MANAGER OF COWBELL "HOLLER"

 BY BRUCE BARTON

 You would never in the world find Cowbell "Holler" alone, so I will tell you how to get there. You come over the Big Hill pike until you reach West Pinnacle. It was from the peak of West Pinnacle that Daniel Boone first looked out over the blue grass region of Kentucky. You follow the pike around the base of the Pinnacle, and there you are, right in the heart of Cowbell "Holler, " and only two pastures and a creek away from Miss Adelia Fox's rural social settlement--the first of its kind, so far as I know, in America. 

 (3)

 (_Chicago Tribune_)

 THE ROAD TO RETAIL SUCCESS

 BY BENJAMIN H. JEFFERSON

 You all know the retail druggist who has worked fifteen or sixteen hours a day all his life, and now, as an old man, is forced to discharge his only clerk. You all know the grocer who has changed from one store to another and another, and who finally turns up as a collector for your milkman. You all know the hard working milliner and, perhaps, have followed her career until she was lost to sight amid sickness and distress. You all have friends among stationers and newsdealers. You have seen them labor day in and day out, from early morning until late at night; and have observed with sorrow the small fruits of their many years of toil. 

 Why did they fail?

 (4)

 (_Illustrated Sunday Magazine_)

 THE MAN WHO PUT THE "PEP" IN PRINTING

 Look at your watch. 

 How long is a second? Gone as you look at the tiny hand, isn't it? Yet within that one second it is possible to print, cut, fold and stack sixteen and two-thirds newspapers!

 Watch the second hand make one revolution--a minute. Within that minute it is possible to print, cut, fold and stack in neat piles one thousand big newspapers! To do that is putting "pep" in printing, and Henry A. Wise Wood is the man who did it. 

CHAPTER VIII

STYLE

STYLE DEFINED. Style, or the manner in which ideas and emotions areexpressed, is as important in special feature writing as it is in anyother kind of literary work. A writer may select an excellent subject, may formulate a definite purpose, and may choose the type of articlebest suited to his needs, but if he is unable to express his thoughtseffectively, his article will be a failure. Style is not to be regardedas mere ornament added to ordinary forms of expression. It is not anincidental element, but rather the fundamental part of all literarycomposition, the means by which a writer transfers what is in his ownmind to the minds of his readers. It is a vehicle for conveying ideasand emotions. The more easily, accurately, and completely the readergets the author's thoughts and feelings, the better is the style. 

The style of an article needs to be adapted both to the readers and tothe subject. An article for a boys' magazine would be written in a styledifferent from that of a story on the same subject intended for a Sundaynewspaper. The style appropriate to an entertaining story on oddsuperstitions of business men would be unsuitable for a popularexposition of wireless telephony. In a word, the style of a specialarticle demands as careful consideration as does its subject, purpose, and structure. 

Since it may be assumed that any one who aspires to write for newspapersand magazines has a general knowledge of the principles of compositionand of the elements and qualities of style, only such points of style asare important in special feature writing will be discussed in thischapter. 

The elements of style are: (1) words, (2) figures of speech, (3)sentences, and (4) paragraphs. The kinds of words, figures, sentences, and paragraphs used, and the way in which they are combined, determinethe style. 

WORDS. In the choice of words for popular articles, three points areimportant: (1) only such words may be used as are familiar to theaverage person, (2) concrete terms make a much more definite impressionthan general ones, and (3) words that carry with them associated ideasand feelings are more effective than words that lack such intellectualand emotional connotation. 

The rapid reader cannot stop to refer to the dictionary for words thathe does not know. Although the special feature writer is limited toterms familiar to the average reader, he need not confine himself tocommonplace, colloquial diction; most readers know the meaning of manymore words than they themselves use in everyday conversation. Intreating technical topics, it is often necessary to employ someunfamiliar terms, but these may readily be explained the first time theyappear. Whenever the writer is in doubt as to whether or not his readerswill understand a certain term, the safest course is to explain it or tosubstitute one that is sure to be understood. 

Since most persons grasp concrete ideas more quickly than abstract ones, specific words should be given the preference in popular articles. Tocreate concrete images must be the writer's constant aim. Instead of ageneral term like "walk, " for example, he should select a specific, picture-making word such as hurry, dash, run, race, amble, stroll, stride, shuffle, shamble, limp, strut, stalk. For the word "horse" hemay substitute a definite term like sorrel, bay, percheron, nag, charger, steed, broncho, or pony. In narrative and descriptive writingparticularly, it is necessary to use words that make pictures and thatreproduce sounds and other sense impressions. In the effort to make hisdiction specific, however, the writer must guard against bizarre effectsand an excessive use of adjectives and adverbs. Verbs, quite as much asnouns, adjectives, and adverbs, produce clear, vivid images whenskillfully handled. 

Some words carry with them associated ideas and emotions, while othersdo not. The feelings and ideas thus associated with words constitutetheir emotional and intellectual connotation, as distinct from theirlogical meaning, or denotation. The word "home, " for example, denotessimply one's place of residence, but it connotes all the thoughts andfeelings associated with one's own house and family circle. Such a wordis said to have a rich emotional connotation because it arouses strongfeeling. It also has a rich intellectual connotation since it calls upmany associated images. Words and phrases that are peculiar to the Bibleor to the church service carry with them mental images and emotionsconnected with religious worship. In a personality sketch of a spiritualleader, for example, such words and phrases would be particularlyeffective to create the atmosphere with which such a man might veryappropriately be invested. Since homely, colloquial expressions haveentirely different associations, they would be entirely out of keepingwith the tone of such a sketch, unless the religious leader were anunconventional revivalist. A single word with the wrong connotation mayseriously affect the tone of a paragraph. On the other hand, words andphrases rich in appropriate suggestion heighten immeasurably theeffectiveness of an article. 

The value of concrete words is shown in the following paragraphs takenfrom a newspaper article describing a gas attack:

 There was a faint green vapor, which swayed and hung under the lee of the raised parapet two hundred yards away. It increased in volume, and at last rose high enough to be caught by the wind. It strayed out in tattered yellowish streamers toward the English lines, half dissipating itself in twenty yards, until the steady outpour of the green smoke gave it reinforcement and it made headway. Then, creeping forward from tuft to tuft, and preceded by an acrid and parching whiff, the curling and tumbling vapor reached the English lines in a wall twenty feet high. 

 As the grayish cloud drifted over the parapet, there was a stifled call from some dozen men who had carelessly let their protectors drop. The gas was terrible. A breath of it was like a wolf at the throat, like hot ashes in the windpipe. 

 The yellowish waves of gas became more greenish in color as fresh volumes poured out continually from the squat iron cylinders which had now been raised and placed outside the trenches by the Germans. The translucent flood flowed over the parapet, linking at once on the inner side and forming vague, gauzy pools and backwaters, in which men stood knee deep while the lighter gas was blown in their faces over the parapet. 

FAULTS IN DICTION. Since newspaper reporters and correspondents arecalled upon day after day to write on similar events and to write at topspeed, they are prone to use the same words over and over again, withoutmaking much of an effort to "find the one noun that best expresses theidea, the one verb needed to give it life, and the one adjective toqualify it. " This tendency to use trite, general, "woolly" words insteadof fresh, concrete ones is not infrequently seen in special featurestories written by newspaper workers. Every writer who aims to give tohis articles some distinction in style should guard against the dangerof writing what has aptly been termed "jargon. " "To write jargon, " saysSir Arthur Quiller-Couch in his book, "On the Art of Writing, " "is to beperpetually shuffling around in the fog and cotton-wool of abstractterms. So long as you prefer abstract words, which express other men'ssummarized concepts of things, to concrete ones which lie as near as canbe reached to things themselves and are the first-hand material for yourthoughts, you will remain, at the best, writers at second-hand. If yourlanguage be jargon, your intellect, if not your whole character, willalmost certainly correspond. Where your mind should go straight, it willdodge; the difficulties it should approach with a fair front and gripwith a firm hand it will be seeking to evade or circumvent. For thestyle is the man, and where a man's treasure is there his heart, and hisbrain, and his writing, will be also. "

FIGURES OF SPEECH. To most persons the term "figure of speech" suggestssuch figures as metonymy and synecdoche, which they once learned todefine, but never thought of using voluntarily in their own writing. Figures of speech are too often regarded as ornaments suited only topoetry or poetical prose. With these popular notions in mind, a writerfor newspapers and magazines may quite naturally conclude thatfigurative expressions have little or no practical value in his work. Figures of speech, however, are great aids, not only to clearness andconciseness, but to the vividness of an article. They assist the readerto grasp ideas quickly and they stimulate his imagination and hisemotions. 

Association of ideas is the principle underlying figurative expressions. By a figure of speech a writer shows his readers the relation between anew idea and one already familiar to them. An unfamiliar object, forexample, is likened to a familiar one, directly, as in the simile, or byimplication, as in the metaphor. As the object brought into relationwith the new idea is more familiar and more concrete, the effect of thefigure is to simplify the subject that is being explained, and to makeit more easy of comprehension. 

A figure of speech makes both for conciseness and for economy of mentaleffort on the part of the reader. To say in a personality sketch, forexample, that the person looks "like Lincoln" is the simplest, mostconcise way of creating a mental picture. Or to describe a smoothlyrunning electric motor as "purring, " instantly makes the reader hear thesound. Scores of words may be saved, and clearer, more vivid impressionsmay be given, by the judicious use of figures of speech. 

As the familiar, concrete objects introduced in figures frequently haveassociated emotions, figurative expressions often make an emotionalappeal. Again, to say that a person looks "like Lincoln" not onlycreates a mental picture but awakes the feelings generally associatedwith Lincoln. The result is that readers are inclined to feel toward theperson so described as they feel toward Lincoln. 

Even in practical articles, figurative diction may not be amiss. Inexplaining a method of splitting old kitchen boilers in order to makewatering troughs, a writer in a farm journal happily described a coldchisel as "turning out a narrow shaving of steel and rolling it awaymuch as the mold-board of a plow turns the furrow. "

The stimulating effect of a paragraph abounding in figurativeexpressions is well illustrated by the following passage taken from anewspaper personality sketch of a popular pulpit orator:

 His mind is all daylight. There are no subtle half-tones, or sensitive reserves, or significant shadows of silence, no landscape fading through purple mists to a romantic distance. All is clear, obvious, emphatic. There is little atmosphere and a lack of that humor that softens the contours of controversy. His thought is simple and direct and makes its appeal, not to culture, but to the primitive emotions. * * * * His strenuousness is a battle-cry to the crowd. He keeps his passion white hot; his body works like a windmill in a hurricane; his eyes flash lightnings; he seizes the enemy, as it were, by the throat, pommels him with breathless blows, and throws him aside a miserable wreck. 

SENTENCES. For rapid reading the prime requisite of a good sentence isthat its grammatical structure shall be evident; in other words, thatthe reader shall be able at a glance to see the relation of its parts. Involved sentences that require a second perusal before they yield theirmeaning, are clearly not adapted to the newspaper or magazine. Shortsentences and those of medium length are, as a rule, more easily graspedthan long ones, but for rapid reading the structure of the sentence, rather than its length, is the chief consideration. Absolute clearnessis of paramount importance. 

In hurried reading the eye is caught by the first group of words at thebeginning of a sentence. These words make more of an impression on thereader's mind than do those in the middle or at the end of the sentence. In all journalistic writing, therefore, the position of greatestemphasis is the beginning. It is there that the most significant ideashould be placed. Such an arrangement does not mean that the sentenceneed trail off loosely in a series of phrases and clauses. Firmness ofstructure can and should be maintained even though the strongestemphasis is at the beginning. In revising his article a writer oftenfinds that he may greatly increase the effectiveness of his sentences byso rearranging the parts as to bring the important ideas close to thebeginning. 

LENGTH OF THE SENTENCE. Sentences may be classified according to lengthas (1) short, containing 15 words or less; (2) medium, from 15 to 30words; and (3) long, 30 words or more. Each of these types of sentencehas its own peculiar advantages. 

The short sentence, because it is easily apprehended, is more emphaticthan a longer one. Used in combination with medium and long sentences itgains prominence by contrast. It makes an emphatic beginning and astrong conclusion for a paragraph. As the last sentence of an article itis a good "snapper. " In contrast with longer statements, it also servesas a convenient transition sentence. 

The sentence of medium length lends itself readily to the expression ofthe average thought; but when used continuously it gives to the style amonotony of rhythm that soon becomes tiresome. 

The long sentence is convenient for grouping details that are closelyconnected. In contrast with the rapid, emphatic short sentence, it movesslowly and deliberately, and so is well adapted to the expression ofdignified and impressive thoughts. 

To prevent monotony, variety of sentence length is desirable. Writerswho unconsciously tend to use sentences of about the same length and ofthe same construction, need to beware of this uniformity. 

The skillful use of single short sentences, of series of shortsentences, of medium, and of long sentences, to give variety, to expressthoughts effectively, and to produce harmony between the movement of thestyle and the ideas advanced, is well illustrated in the selectionbelow. It is the beginning of a personality sketch of William II, theformer German emperor, published in the London _Daily News_ before theworld war, and written by Mr. A. G. Gardiner, the editor of that paper. 

 When I think of the Kaiser I think of a bright May morning at Potsdam. It is the Spring Parade, and across from where we are gathered under the windows of the old palace the household troops are drawn up on the great parade ground, their helmets and banners and lances all astir in the jolly sunshine. Officers gallop hither and thither shouting commands. Regiments form and reform. Swords flash out and flash back again. A noble background of trees frames the gay picture with cool green foliage. There is a sudden stillness. The closely serried ranks are rigid and moveless. The shouts of command are silenced. 

 "The Kaiser. "

 He comes slowly up the parade ground on his white charger, helmet and eagle flashing in the sunshine, sitting his horse as if he lived in the saddle, his face turned to his men as he passes by. 

 "Morgen, meine Kinder. " His salutation rings out at intervals in the clear morning air. And back from the ranks in chorus comes the response: "Morgen, Majestät. "

 And as he rides on, master of a million men, the most powerful figure in Europe, reviewing his troops on the peaceful parade ground at Potsdam, one wonders whether the day will ever come when he will ride down those ranks on another errand, and when that cheerful response of the soldiers will have in it the ancient ring of doom--"Te morituri salutamus. "

 For answer, let us look at this challenging figure on the white charger. What is he? What has he done?

By the three short sentences in the first paragraph beginning "Officersgallop, " the author depicts the rapid movement of the soldiers. By thenext three short sentences in the same paragraph beginning, "There is asudden stillness, " he produces an impression of suspense. To picture theKaiser coming up "slowly, " he uses a long, leisurely sentence. Thesalutations "ring out" in short, crisp sentences. The more serious, impressive thought of the possibility of war finds fitting expression inthe long, 64-word sentence, ending with the sonorous--"ring of doom, ""Te morituri salutamus. "

The transition between the introduction and the body of the sketch isaccomplished by the last paragraph consisting of three short sentences, in marked contrast with the climactic effect with which the descriptionclosed. 

PARAGRAPHS. The paragraph is a device that aids a writer to convey toreaders his thoughts combined in the same groups in which they arearranged in his own mind. Since a small group of thoughts is more easilygrasped than a large one, paragraphs in journalistic writing are usuallyconsiderably shorter than those of ordinary English prose. In the narrownewspaper column, there is room for only five or six words to a line. Aparagraph of 250 words, which is the average length of the literaryparagraph, fills between forty and fifty lines of a newspaper column. Such paragraphs seem heavy and uninviting. Moreover, the casual readercannot readily comprehend and combine the various thoughts in so large agroup of sentences. Although there is no standard column width formagazines, the number of words in a line does not usually exceed eight. A paragraph of 250 words that occupies 30 eight-word lines seems lessattractive than one of half that length. The normal paragraph injournalistic writing seldom exceeds 100 words and not infrequently ismuch shorter. As such a paragraph contains not more than four or fivesentences, the general reading public has little difficulty incomprehending it. 

The beginning of the paragraph, like the beginning of the sentence, isthe part that catches the eye. Significant ideas that need to beimpressed upon the mind of the reader belong at the beginning. If hisattention is arrested and held by the first group of words, he is likelyto read on. If the beginning does not attract him, he skips down thecolumn to the next paragraph, glancing merely at enough words in theparagraph that he skips to "get the drift of it. " An emphatic beginningfor a paragraph will insure attention for its contents. 

REVISION. It is seldom that the first draft of an article cannot beimproved by a careful revision. In going over his work, word by word andsentence by sentence, the writer will generally find many opportunitiesto increase the effectiveness of the structure and the style. Suchrevision, moreover, need not destroy the ease and naturalness ofexpression. 

To improve the diction of his article, the writer should eliminate (1)superfluous words, (2) trite phrases, (3) general, colorless words, (4)terms unfamiliar to the average reader, unless they are explained, (5)words with a connotation inappropriate to the context, (6) hackneyed andmixed metaphors. The effectiveness of the expression may often bestrengthened by the addition of specific, picture-making, imitative, andconnotative words, as well as of figures of speech that clarify theideas and stimulate the imagination. 

Sentences may frequently be improved (1) by making their grammaticalstructure more evident, (2) by breaking up long, loose sentences intoshorter ones, (3) by using short sentences for emphasis, (4) by varyingthe sentence length, (5) by transferring important ideas to thebeginning of the sentence. 

Every paragraph should be tested to determine whether or not it is aunified, coherent group of thoughts, containing not more than 100 words, with important ideas effectively massed at the beginning. 

Finally, revision should eliminate all errors in grammar, spelling, punctuation, and capitalization. Every minute spent in improving anarticle adds greatly to its chances of being accepted. 

CHAPTER IX

TITLES AND HEADLINES

IMPORTANCE OF HEAD AND TITLE. Headlines or titles, illustrations, andnames of authors are the three things that first catch the eye of thereader as he turns over the pages of a newspaper or magazine. When thewriter's name is unknown to him, only the illustrations and the headingremain to attract his attention. 

The "attention-getting" value of the headline is fully appreciated notonly by newspaper and magazine editors but by writers of advertisements. Just as the striking heads on the front page of a newspaper increase itssales, so, also, attractive titles on the cover of a magazine leadpeople to buy it, and so, too, a good headline in an advertisementarouses interest in what the advertiser is trying to sell. 

A good title adds greatly to the attractiveness of an article. In thefirst place, the title is the one thing that catches the eye of theeditor or manuscript reader, as he glances over the copy, and if thetitle is good, he carries over this favorable impression to the firstpage or two of the article itself. To secure such favorableconsideration for a manuscript among the hundreds that are examined ineditorial offices, is no slight advantage. In the second place, what istrue of the editor and the manuscript is equally true of the reader andthe printed article. No writer can afford to neglect his titles. 

VARIETY IN FORM AND STYLE. Because newspapers and magazines differ inthe size and the "make-up" of their pages, there is considerable varietyin the style of headlines and titles given to special feature articles. Some magazine sections of newspapers have the full-size page of theregular edition; others have pages only half as large. Some newspapersuse large eight-column display heads on their special articles, whileothers confine their headlines for feature stories to a column or two. Some papers regularly employ sub-titles in their magazine sections, corresponding to the "lines, " "banks, " and "decks" in their newsheadlines. This variety in newspapers is matched by that in magazines. Despite these differences, however, there are a few general principlesthat apply to all kinds of titles and headlines for special featurearticles. 

CHARACTERISTICS OF A GOOD TITLE. To accomplish their purpose mosteffectively titles should be (1) attractive, (2) accurate, (3) concise, and (4) concrete. 

The attractiveness of a title is measured by its power to arrestattention and to lead to a reading of the article. As a statement of thesubject, the title makes essentially the same appeal that the subjectitself does; that is, it may interest the reader because the idea itexpresses has timeliness, novelty, elements of mystery or romance, humaninterest, relation to the reader's life and success, or connection withfamiliar or prominent persons or things. Not only the idea expressed, but the way in which it is expressed, may catch the eye. By afigurative, paradoxical, or interrogative form, the title may piquecuriosity. By alliteration, balance, or rhyme, it may please the ear. Itpermits the reader to taste, in order to whet his appetite. It createsdesires that only the article can satisfy. 

In an effort to make his titles attractive, a writer must beware ofsensationalism and exaggeration. The lurid news headline on the frontpage of sensational papers has its counterpart in the equallysensational title in the Sunday magazine section. All that has been saidconcerning unwholesome subject-matter for special feature storiesapplies to sensational titles. So, too, exaggerated, misleadingheadlines on news and advertisements are matched by exaggerated, misleading titles on special articles. To state more than the factswarrant, to promise more than can be given, to arouse expectations thatcannot be satisfied--all are departures from truth and honesty. 

Accuracy in titles involves, not merely avoidance of exaggerated andmisleading statement, but complete harmony in tone and spirit betweentitle and article. When the story is familiar and colloquial in style, the title should reflect that informality. When the article makes aserious appeal, the title should be dignified. A good title, in a word, is true to the spirit as well as to the letter. 

Conciseness in titles is imposed on the writer by the physicallimitations of type and page. Because the width of the column and of thepage is fixed, and because type is not made of rubber, a headline mustbe built to fit the place it is to fill. Although in framing titles forarticles it is not always necessary to conform to the strictrequirements as to letters and spaces that limit the building of newsheadlines, it is nevertheless important to keep within bounds. A studyof a large number of titles will show that they seldom contain more thanthree or four important words with the necessary connectives andparticles. Short words, moreover, are preferred to long ones. Byanalyzing the titles in the publication to which he plans to send hisarticle, a writer can frame his title to meet its typographicalrequirements. 

The reader's limited power of rapid comprehension is another reason forbrevity. A short title consisting of a small group of words yields itsmeaning at a glance. Unless the reader catches the idea in the titlequickly, he is likely to pass on to something else. Here again shortwords have an advantage over long ones. 

Concreteness in titles makes for rapid comprehension and interest. Clean-cut mental images are called up by specific words; vague onesusually result from general, abstract terms. Clear mental pictures aremore interesting than vague impressions. 

SUB-TITLES. Sub-titles are often used to supplement and amplify thetitles. They are the counterparts of the "decks" and "banks" in newsheadlines. Their purpose is to give additional information, to arousegreater interest, and to assist in carrying the reader over, as it were, to the beginning of the article. 

Since sub-titles follow immediately after the title, any repetition ofimportant words is usually avoided. It is desirable to maintain the sametone in both title and sub-title. Occasionally the two together make acontinuous statement. The length of the sub-title is generally abouttwice that of the title; that is, the average sub-title consists of fromten to twelve words, including articles and connectives. The articles, "a, " "an, " and "the, " are not as consistently excluded from sub-titlesas they are from newspaper headlines. 

SOME TYPES OF TITLES. Attempts to classify all kinds of headlines andtitles involve difficulties similar to those already encountered in theeffort to classify all types of beginnings. Nevertheless, a separationof titles into fairly distinct, if not mutually exclusive, groups mayprove helpful to inexperienced writers. The following are the nine mostdistinctive types of titles: (1) label; (2) "how" and "why" statement;(3) striking statement, including figure of speech, paradox, andexpression of great magnitude; (4) quotation and paraphrase ofquotation; (5) question; (6) direct address, particularly in imperativeform; (7) alliteration; (8) rhyme; (9) balance. 

The label title is a simple, direct statement of the subject. It hasonly as much interest and attractiveness as the subject itselfpossesses. Such titles are the following:

 (1) RAISING GUINEA PIGS FOR A LIVINGOne Missouri Man Finds a Ready Market for All He Can Sell

 (2) HUMAN NATURE AS SEEN BY A PULLMAN PORTER

 (3) THE FINANCIAL SIDE OF FOOTBALL

 (4) CONFESSIONS OF AN UNDERGRADUATE

 (5) BEE-KEEPING ON SHARES

 (6) A COMMUNITY WOOD-CHOPPING DAY

 (7) WHAT A WOMAN ON THE FARM THINKS OF PRICE FIXING

The "how-to-do-something" article may be given a "how" title thatindicates the character of the contents; for example:

 (1) HOW I FOUND HEALTH IN THE DENTIST'S CHAIR

 (2) HOW TO STORE YOUR CAR IN WINTER

 (3) HOW A FARMER'S WIFE MADE $55 EXTRA

 (4) HOW TO SUCCEED AS A WRITERWoman Who "Knew She Could Write" Tells How She Began and Finally Got on the Right Road

The "how" title may also be used for an article that explains somephenomenon or process. Examples of such titles are these:

 (1) HOW A NETTLE STINGS

 (2) HOW RIPE OLIVES ARE MADE

 (3) HOW THE FREIGHT CAR GETS HOME

Articles that undertake to give causes and reasons are appropriatelygiven "why" titles like the following:

 (1) WHY CAVIAR COSTS SO MUCH

 (2) WHY I LIKE A ROUND BARN

 (3) WHY THE COAL SUPPLY IS SHORT

A title may attract attention because of the striking character of theidea it expresses; for example:

 (1) WANTED: $50, 000 MEN

 (2) 200 BUSHELS OF CORN PER ACRE

 (3) FIRE WRITES A HEART'S RECORD

 (4) THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SECOND HELPINGS

The paradoxical form of title piques curiosity by seeming to make aself-contradictory statement, as, for example, the following:

 (1) SHIPS OF STONE Seaworthy Concrete Vessels an Accomplished Fact

 (2) CHRISTIAN PAGANS

 (3) A TELESCOPE THAT POINTS DOWNWARD

 (4) SEEING WITH YOUR EARS

 (5) MAKING SAILORS WITHOUT SHIPS

 (6) HOW TO BE AT HOME WHILE TRAVELING

 (7) CANAL-BOATS THAT CLIMB HILLS

A striking figure of speech in a title stimulates the reader'simagination and arouses his interest; for example:

 (1) PULLING THE RIVER'S TEETH

 (2) THE OLD HOUSE WITH TWO FACES

 (3) THE HONEY-BEE SAVINGS BANK

 (4) RIDING ON BUBBLES

 (5) THE ROMANCE OF NITROGEN

A familiar quotation may be used for the title and may stand alone, butoften a sub-title is desirable to show the application of the quotationto the subject, thus:

 (1) THE SHOT HEARD 'ROUND THE WORLD America's First Victory in France

 (2) "ALL WOOL AND A YARD WIDE"What "All Wool" Really Means and Why Shoddy is Necessary

 (3) THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE And Why She Won't Stay in the House

A well-known quotation or common saying may be paraphrased in a novelway to attract attention; for example:

 (1) FORWARD! THE TRACTOR BRIGADE

 (2) IT'S LO, THE RICH INDIAN

 (3) LEARNING BY UNDOING

 (4) THE GUILELESS SPIDER AND THE WILY FLYEntomology Modifies our Ideas of the Famous Parlor

Since every question is like a riddle, a title in question formnaturally leads the reader to seek the answer in the article itself. Thedirectness of appeal may be heightened by addressing the question to thereader with "you, " "your, " or by presenting it from the reader's pointof view with the use of "I, " "we, " or "ours. " The sub-title may beanother question or an affirmation, but should not attempt to answer thequestion. The following are typical question titles and sub-titles:

 (1) WHAT IS A FAIR PRICE FOR MILK?

 (2) HOW MUCH HEAT IS THERE IN YOUR COAL?

 (3) WHO'S THE BEST BOSS? Would You Rather Work For a Man or For a Machine?

 (4) "SHE SANK BY THE BOW"--BUT WHY?

 (5) HOW SHALL WE KEEP WARM THIS WINTER?

 (6) DOES DEEP PLOWING PAY? What Some Recent Tests Have Demonstrated

 (7) SHALL I START A CANNING BUSINESS?

The reader may be addressed in an imperative form of title, as well asin a question, as the following titles show:

 (1) BLAME THE SUN SPOTSSolar Upheavals That Make Mischief on the Earth

 (2) EAT SHARKS AND TAN THEIR SKINS

 (3) HOE! HOE! FOR UNCLE SAM

 (4) DON'T JUMP OUT OF BEDGive Your Subconscious Self a Chance to Awake Gradually

 (5) RAISE FISH ON YOUR FARM

 (6) BETTER STOP! LOOK! AND LISTEN!

The attractiveness of titles may be heightened by such combinations ofsounds as alliteration and rhyme, or by rhythm such as is produced bybalanced elements. The following examples illustrate the use ofalliteration, rhyme, and balance:

 (1) THE LURE OF THE LATCH

 (2) THE DIMINISHING DOLLAR

 (3) TRACING TELEPHONE TROUBLES

 (4) BOY CULTURE AND AGRICULTURE

 (5) A LITTLE BILL AGAINST BILLBOARDS

 (6) EVERY CAMPUS A CAMP

 (7) LABOR-LIGHTENERS AND HOME-BRIGHTENERS

 (8) THE ARTILLERY MILL AT OLD FORT SILLHow Uncle Sam is Training His Field Artillery Officers

 (9) SCHOLARS VS. DOLLARS

 (10) WAR ON PESTSWhen the Spray Gun's Away, Crop Enemies Play

 (11) MORE HEAT AND LESS COAL

 (12) GRAIN ALCOHOL FROM GREEN GARBAGE

HOW TO FRAME A TITLE. The application of the general principlesgoverning titles may best be shown by means of an article for which atitle is desired. A writer, for example, has prepared a popular articleon soil analysis as a means of determining what chemical elementsdifferent kinds of farm land need to be most productive. A simple labeltitle like "The Value of Soil Analysis, " obviously would not attract theaverage person, and probably would interest only the more enterprisingof farmers. The analysis of soil not unnaturally suggests the diagnosisof human disease; and the remedying of worn-out, run-down farm land byapplying such chemicals as phosphorus and lime, is analogous to thephysician's prescription of tonics for a run-down, anæmic person. Theseideas may readily be worked out as the following titles show:

 (1) PRESCRIBING FOR RUN-DOWN LANDWhat the Soil Doctor is Doing to Improve Our Farms

 (2) THE SOIL DOCTOR AND HIS TONICS Prescribing Remedies for Worn-Out Farm Land

 (3) DIAGNOSING ILLS OF THE SOILScience Offers Remedies for Depleted Farms

Other figurative titles like the following may be developed without mucheffort from the ideas that soil "gets tired, " "wears out, " and "needs tobe fed":

 (1) WHEN FARM LAND GETS TIRED Scientists Find Causes of Exhausted Fields

 (2) FIELDS WON'T WEAR OUT If the Warnings of Soil Experts Are Heeded

 (3) BALANCED RATIONS FOR THE SOILWhy the Feeding of Farm Land is Necessary for Good Crops

CHAPTER X

PREPARING AND SELLING THE MANUSCRIPT

IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANUSCRIPT. After an article has been carefullyrevised, it is ready to be copied in the form in which it will besubmitted to editors. Because hundreds of contributions are examinedevery day in editorial offices of large publications, manuscripts shouldbe submitted in such form that their merits can be ascertained as easilyand as quickly as possible. A neatly and carefully prepared manuscriptis likely to receive more favorable consideration than a badly typedone. The impression produced by the external appearance of a manuscriptas it comes to an editor's table is comparable to that made by thepersonal appearance of an applicant for a position as he enters anoffice seeking employment. In copying his article, therefore, a writershould keep in mind the impression that it will make in the editorialoffice. 

FORM FOR MANUSCRIPTS. Editors expect all manuscripts to be submitted intypewritten form. Every person who aspires to write for publicationshould learn to use a typewriter. Until he has learned to type his workaccurately, he must have a good typist copy it for him. 

A good typewriter with clean type and a fresh, black, non-copying ribbonproduces the best results. The following elementary directions apply tothe preparation of all manuscripts: (1) write on only one side of thepaper; (2) allow a margin of about three quarters of an inch on allsides of the page; (3) double space the lines in order to leave room forchanges, sub-heads, and other editing. 

Unruled white bond paper of good quality in standard letter size, 8½by 11 inches, is the most satisfactory. A high grade of paper not onlygives the manuscript a good appearance but stands more handling andsaves the recopying of returned manuscripts. A carbon copy should bemade of every manuscript so that, if the original copy goes astray inthe mail or in an editorial office, the writer's work will not have beenin vain. The carbon copy can also be used later for comparison with theprinted article. Such a comparison will show the writer the amount andcharacter of the editing that was deemed necessary to adapt the materialto the publication in which it appears. 

A cover sheet of the same paper is a convenient device. It not onlygives the editorial reader some information in regard to the article, but it protects the manuscript itself. Frequently, for purposes ofrecord, manuscripts are stamped or marked in editorial offices, but if acover page is attached, the manuscript itself is not defaced. When anarticle is returned, the writer needs to recopy only the cover pagebefore starting the manuscript on its next journey. The form for such acover page is given on page 184. 

The upper half of the first page of the manuscript should be left blank, so that the editor may write a new title and sub-title if he is notsatisfied with those supplied by the author. The title, the sub-title, and the author's name should be repeated at the beginning of the articlein the middle of the first page, even though they have been given on thecover page. At the left-hand side, close to the top of each page afterthe first, should be placed the writer's last name followed by a dashand the title of the article, thus:

 Milton--Confessions of a Freshman. 

The pages should be numbered in the upper right-hand corner. By thesesimple means the danger of losing a page in the editorial offices isreduced to a minimum. 

 To be paid for at usual Written for The Outlook rates, or to be returned with the ten (10) cents in stamps enclosed, to Arthur W. Milton, 582 Wilson Street, Des Moines, Iowa. 

 CONFESSIONS OF A FRESHMAN

 Why I Was Dropped From College at the End of My First Year

 By Arthur W. Milton

 (Note. This article is based on the writer's own experience in a large Middle Western state university, and the statistics have been obtained from the registrars of four state universities. It contains 2, 750 words. )

 Four (4) Photographs are Enclosed, as follows:

 1. How I Decorated My Room

 2. I Spent Hours Learning to Play My Ukelele

 3. When I Made the Freshman Team

 4. Cramming For My Final Exams

TYPOGRAPHICAL STYLE. Every newspaper and magazine has its own distincttypographical style in capitalization, abbreviation, punctuation, hyphenation, and the use of numerical figures. Some newspapers andperiodicals have a style book giving rules for the preparation andediting of copy. A careful reading of several issues of a publicationwill show a writer the salient features of its typographical style. Itis less important, however, to conform to the typographicalpeculiarities of any one publication than it is to follow consistentlythe commonly accepted rules of capitalization, punctuation, abbreviation, and "unreformed" spelling. Printers prefer to have eachpage end with a complete sentence. At the close of the article it iswell to put the end mark (#). 

When a special feature story for newspaper publication must be preparedso hastily that there is no time to copy the first draft, it may bedesirable to revise the manuscript by using the marks commonly employedin editing copy. These are as follows:

american Three short lines under a letter or a= word indicate that it is to be set in- capital letters; thus, American. 

New York Times Two short lines under a letter or a = = = word indicate that it is to be set in - - - small capital letters; thus, NEW YORK TIMES. 

sine qua non One line under a word or words indicates---- --- --- that it is to be set in italics; thus, _sine qua non_. 

He is a /Sophomore An oblique line drawn from right to left through a capital letter indicates that it is to be set in lower case; thus, He is a sophomore. ____ _____There are |10| in a |bu. | A circle around numerical figures or ---- ----- abbreviations indicates that they are to be spelled out; thus, There are ten in a bushel. ___________ _______|Professor| A. B. Smith is |sixty|. A circle around words or figures----------- ------- spelled out indicates that they are to be abbreviated or that numerical figures are to be used; thus, Prof. A. B. Smith is 60. Not aIt is complimentry to him A caret is placed at the point in the ^ ^ line where the letters or words written above the line are to be inserted; thus, It is not complimentary to him. __________ ______to |carefullyXstudy| A line encircling two or more words ---------- ------ like an elongated figure "8" indicates that the words are to be transposed; thus, to study carefully. 

to[=()]morrow Half circles connecting words or letters indicate that they are to be brought together; thus, tomorrow. 

all/right A vertical line between parts of a word shows that the parts are to be separated; thus, all right. 

U S 4 per cent. Bonds A small cross or a period in a circle x x may be used to show that a period is to be used; thus, U. S. 4 per cent. Bonds. 

")Yes, ')Love laughs at lock- Quotation marks are often enclosedsmiths(', you know(", he replied. In half circles to indicate whether they are beginning or end marks. 

¶"How old are you?" he asked. The paragraph mark (¶) or the_|"Sixteen", she said. Sign [_|] may be used to call attention to the beginning of a new paragraph. 

MAILING MANUSCRIPTS. Since manuscripts are written matter, they must besent sealed as first-class mail at letter rates of postage. For thereturn of rejected articles stamps may be attached to the cover page bymeans of a clip, or a self-addressed envelope with stamps affixed may beenclosed. The writer's name and address should always be given on theenvelope in which the manuscript is sent to the publishers. 

The envelope containing the article should be addressed to the "Editor"of a magazine or to the "Sunday Editor" of a newspaper, as nothing isgained by addressing him or her by name. If a writer knows an editorpersonally or has had correspondence with him in regard to a particulararticle, it may be desirable to send the manuscript to him personally. An accompanying letter is not necessary, for the cover page of themanuscript gives the editor and his assistants all the information thatthey need. 

Articles consisting of only a few pages may be folded twice and mailedin a long envelope; bulkier manuscripts should be folded once and sentin a manila manuscript envelope. Photographs of sizes up to 5 x 7 inchesmay be placed in a manuscript that is folded once, with a single pieceof stout cardboard for protection. When larger photographs, up to 8 x 10inches, accompany the article, the manuscript must be sent unfolded, with two pieces of cardboard to protect the pictures. Manuscripts shouldnever be rolled. 

HOW MANUSCRIPTS ARE HANDLED. In order to handle hundreds of manuscriptsas expeditiously as possible, most large editorial offices have workedout systems that, though differing slightly, are essentially the same. When a manuscript is received, a record is made of it on a card or in abook, with the name and address of the author, the title and characterof the contribution, and the time of its receipt. The same data areentered on a blank that is attached to the manuscript by a clip. On thisblank are left spaces for comments by each of the editorial assistantswho read and pass upon the article. 

After these records have been made, the manuscript is given to the firsteditorial reader. He can determine by glancing at the first page or twowhether or not the article is worth further consideration. Of thethousands of contributions of all kinds submitted, a considerableproportion are not in the least adapted to the periodical to which theyhave been sent. The first reader, accordingly, is scarcely more than askilled sorter who separates the possible from the impossible. Allmanuscripts that are clearly unacceptable are turned over to a clerk tobe returned with a rejection slip. 

When an article appears to have merit, the first reader looks over it asecond time and adds a brief comment, which he signs with his initials. The manuscript is then read and commented on by other editorial readersbefore it reaches the assistant editor. The best of the contributionsare submitted to the editor for a final decision. By such a system everymeritorious contribution is considered carefully by several criticsbefore it is finally accepted or rejected. Moreover, the editor and theassistant editor have before them the comments of several readers withwhich to compare their own impressions. 

In newspaper offices manuscripts are usually sorted by the assistantSunday editor, or assistant magazine editor, and are finally accepted orrejected by the Sunday or magazine editor. 

REJECTED MANUSCRIPTS. In rejecting contributions, editorial officesfollow various methods. The commonest one is to send the author aprinted slip expressing regret that the manuscript is not acceptable andencouraging him to submit something else. Some ingenious editors haveprepared a number of form letters to explain to contributors the variousreasons why their manuscripts are unacceptable. The editorial assistantwho rejects an unsuitable article indicates by number which of theseform letters is to be sent to the author. A few editors send a personalletter to every contributor. Sometimes an editor in rejecting acontribution will suggest some publication to which it might beacceptable. If a manuscript has merit but is not entirely satisfactory, he may suggest that it be revised and submitted to him again. 

KEEPING A MANUSCRIPT RECORD. Every writer who intends to carry on hiswork in a systematic manner should keep a manuscript record, to assisthim in marketing his articles to the best advantage. Either a book or acard index may be used. The purpose of such a record is to show (1) thelength of time required by various publications to make a decision oncontributions; (2) the rate and the time of payment of each periodical;(3) the present whereabouts of his manuscript and the periodicals towhich it has already been submitted. 

It is important for a writer to know how soon he may expect a decisionon his contributions. If he has prepared an article that depends ontimeliness for its interest, he cannot afford to send it to an editorwho normally takes three or four weeks to make a decision. Anotherpublication to which his article is equally well adapted, he may findfrom his manuscript record, accepts or rejects contributions within aweek or ten days. Naturally he will send his timely article to thepublication that makes the quickest decision. If that publicationrejects it, he will still have time enough to try it elsewhere. Hisexperience with different editors, as recorded in his manuscript record, often assists him materially in placing his work to the best advantage. 

The rate and the time of payment for contributions are also worthrecording. When an article is equally well suited to two or moreperiodicals, a writer will naturally be inclined to send it first to thepublication that pays the highest price and that pays on acceptance. 

A manuscript record also indicates where each one of a writer's articlesis at a given moment, and by what publications it has been rejected. Forsuch data he cannot afford to trust his memory. 

A writer may purchase a manuscript record book or may prepare his ownbook or card index. At the top of each page or card is placed the titleof the article, followed by the number of words that it contains, thenumber of illustrations that accompany it, and the date on which it wascompleted. On the lines under the title are written in turn the names ofthe periodicals to which the manuscript is submitted, with (1) the dateson which it was submitted and returned or rejected; (2) the rate and thetime of payment; and (3) any remarks that may prove helpful. Aconvenient form for such a page or card is shown on the next page:___________________________________________________________________________|Confessions of a Freshman. 2, 750 Words. 4 Photos. Written, Jan. 18, 1919. ||-------------------------------------------------------------------------|| |Sent |Returned|Accepted|Paid |Amount|Remarks ||-------------------------------------------------------------------------||The Outlook |1/18/19 |1/30/19 | | | | ||The Independent |1/31/19 |2/10/19 | | | | ||The Kansas City Star|2/12/19 | |2/18/19 |3/12/19 |$9. 50 |$4 a col. || | | | | | | ||____________________|________|________|________|________|______|_________|

ACCEPTED MANUSCRIPTS. Contributions accepted for publication are paidfor at the time of their acceptance, at the time of their publication, or at some fixed date in the month following their acceptance orpublication. Nearly all well-established periodicals pay for articleswhen they are accepted. Some publications do not pay until the articleis printed, a method obviously less satisfactory to a writer than promptpayment, since he may have to wait a year or more for his money. Newspapers pay either on acceptance or before the tenth day of the monthfollowing publication. The latter arrangement grows out of the practiceof paying correspondents between the first and the tenth of each monthfor the work of the preceding month. 

After a manuscript has been accepted, a writer usually has no furtherresponsibility concerning it. Some magazines submit galley proofs to theauthor for correction and for any changes that he cares to make. It isdesirable to make as few alterations as possible to avoid the delay andexpense of resetting the type. Corrected proofs should be returnedpromptly. 

Unless specific stipulations are made to the contrary by the author, anarticle on being accepted by a periodical becomes its property andcannot be republished without its consent. Usually an editor will grantan author permission to reprint an article in book or pamphlet form. Bycopyrighting each issue, as most magazines and some newspapers do, thepublishers establish fully their rights to an author's work. 

SYNDICATING ARTICLES. By sending copies of his articles to a number ofnewspapers for simultaneous publication, a writer of special featurestories for newspapers may add to his earnings. This method is known assyndicating. It is made possible by the fact that the circulation ofnewspapers is largely local. Since, for example, Chicago papers are notread in New York, or Minneapolis papers in St. Louis, these papers maywell publish the same articles on the same day. Organized newspapersyndicates furnish many papers with reading matter of all kinds. 

The same article must not, however, be sent to more than one magazine, but a single subject may be used for two entirely different articlesintended for two magazines. If two articles are written on the samesubject, different pictures should be secured, so that it will not benecessary to send copies of the same illustrations to two magazines. Agricultural journals with a distinctly sectional circulation do notobject to using syndicated articles, provided that the journals to whichthe article is sent do not circulate in the same territory. 

If a writer desires to syndicate his work, he must conform to severalrequirements. First, he must make as many good copies as he intends tosend out and must secure separate sets of photographs to accompany eachone. Second, he must indicate clearly on each copy the fact that he issyndicating the article and that he is sending it to only one paper in acity. A special feature story, for instance, sent to the _Kansas CityStar_ for publication in its Sunday edition, he would mark, "Exclusivefor Kansas City. Release for Publication, Sunday, January 19. " Third, hemust send out the copies sufficiently far in advance of the release dateto enable all of the papers to arrange for the publication of thearticle on that day. For papers with magazine sections that are made upa week or more before the day of publication, articles should be in theoffice of the editor at least two weeks before the release date. Forpapers that make up their Sunday issues only a few days in advance, articles need be submitted only a week before the publication day. 

SELLING ARTICLES TO SYNDICATES. The syndicates that supply newspaperswith various kinds of material, including special feature stories, areoperated on the same principle that governs the syndicating of articlesby the writer himself. That is, they furnish their features to a numberof different papers for simultaneous publication. Since, however, theysell the same material to many papers, they can afford to do so at acomparatively low price and still make a fair profit. To protect theirliterary property, they often copyright their features, and a line ofprint announcing this fact is often the only indication in a newspaperthat the matter was furnished by a syndicate. Among the best-knownnewspaper syndicates are the Newspaper Enterprise Association, Cleveland, Ohio; the McClure Newspaper Syndicate, New York; and theNewspaper Feature Service, New York. A number of large newspapers, likethe _New York Evening Post_, the _Philadelphia Ledger_, and the _NewYork Tribune_, syndicate their popular features to papers in othercities. 

A writer may submit his special feature stories to one of the newspapersyndicates just as he would send it to a newspaper or magazine. Theseorganizations usually pay well for acceptable manuscripts. It is not aseasy, however, to discover the needs and general policy of eachsyndicate as it is those of papers and magazines, because frequentlythere is no means of identifying their articles when they are printed innewspapers. 

CHAPTER XI

PHOTOGRAPHS AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS

VALUE OF ILLUSTRATIONS. The perfecting of photo-engraving processes formaking illustrations has been one of the most important factors in thedevelopment of popular magazines and of magazine sections of newspapers, for good pictures have contributed largely to their success. With theadvent of the half-tone process a generation ago, and with the morerecent application of the rotogravure process to periodicalpublications, comparatively cheap and rapid methods of illustration wereprovided. Newspapers and magazines have made extensive use of both theseprocesses. 

The chief value of illustrations for special articles lies in the factthat they present graphically what would require hundreds of words todescribe. Ideas expressed in pictures can be grasped much more readilythan ideas expressed in words. As an aid to rapid reading illustrationsare unexcelled. In fact, so effective are pictures as a means ofconveying facts that whole sections of magazines and Sunday newspapersare given over to them exclusively. 

Illustrations constitute a particularly valuable adjunct to specialarticles. Good reproductions of photographs printed in connection withthe articles assist readers to visualize and to understand what a writeris undertaking to explain. So fully do editors realize the greatattractiveness of illustrations, that they will buy articles accompaniedby satisfactory photographs more readily than they will those withoutillustrations. Excellent photographs will sometimes sell mediocrearticles, and meritorious articles may even be rejected because theylack good illustrations. In preparing his special feature stories, awriter will do well to consider carefully the number and character ofthe illustrations necessary to give his work the strongest possibleappeal. 

SECURING PHOTOGRAPHS. Inexperienced writers are often at a loss to knowhow to secure good photographs. Professional photographers will, as arule, produce the best results, but amateur writers often hesitate toincur the expense involved, especially when they feel uncertain aboutselling their articles. If prints can be obtained from negatives thatphotographers have taken for other purposes, the cost is so small that awriter can afford to risk the expenditure. Money spent for goodphotographs is usually money well spent. 

Every writer of special articles should become adept in the use of acamera. With a little study and practice, any one can take photographsthat will reproduce well for illustrations. One advantage to a writer ofoperating his own camera is that he can take pictures on the spur of themoment when he happens to see just what he needs. Unconventionalpictures caught at the right instant often make the best illustrations. 

The charges for developing films and for making prints and enlargementsare now so reasonable that a writer need not master these technicalitiesin order to use a camera of his own. If he has time and interest, however, he may secure the desired results more nearly by developing andprinting his own pictures. 

Satisfactory pictures can be obtained with almost any camera, but onewith a high-grade lens and shutter is the best for all kinds of work. Apocket camera so equipped is very convenient. If a writer can afford tomake a somewhat larger initial investment, he will do well to buy acamera of the so-called "reflex" type. Despite its greater weight andbulk, as compared with pocket cameras, it has the advantage of showingthe picture full size, right side up, on the top of the camera, untilthe very moment that the button is pressed. These reflex cameras areequipped with the fastest types of lens and shutter, and thus areparticularly well adapted to poorly lighted and rapidly moving objects. 

A tripod should be used whenever possible. A hastily taken snap shotoften proves unsatisfactory, whereas, if the camera had rested on atripod, and if a slightly longer exposure had been given, a goodnegative would doubtless have resulted. 

REQUIREMENTS FOR PHOTOGRAPHS. All photographs intended for reproductionby the half-tone or the rotogravure process should conform to certainrequirements. 

First: The standard size of photographic prints to be used forillustrations is 5 x 7 inches, but two smaller sizes, 4 x 5 and 3½ x5½, as well as larger sizes such as 6½ x 8½ and 8 x 10, arealso acceptable. Professional photographers generally make theirnegatives for illustrations in the sizes, 5 x 7, 6½ x 8½, and 8 x10. If a writer uses a pocket camera taking pictures smaller thanpost-card size (3½ x 5½), he must have his negatives enlarged toone of the above standard sizes. 

Second: Photographic prints for illustrations should have a glossysurface; that is, they should be what is known as "gloss prints. " Printson rough paper seldom reproduce satisfactorily; they usually result in"muddy" illustrations. Prints may be mounted or unmounted; unmountedones cost less and require less postage, but are more easily broken inhandling. 

Third: Objects in the photograph should be clear and well defined; thisrequires a sharp negative. For newspaper illustrations it is desirableto have prints with a stronger contrast between the dark and the lightparts of the picture than is necessary for the finer half-tones androtogravures used in magazines. 

Fourth: Photographs must have life and action. Pictures of inanimateobjects in which neither persons nor animals appear, seem "dead" andunattractive to the average reader. It is necessary, therefore, to haveat least one person in every photograph. Informal, unconventionalpictures in which the subjects seem to have been "caught" unawares, arefar better than those that appear to have been posed. Good snap-shots ofpersons in characteristic surroundings are always preferable to cabinetphotographs. "Action pictures" are what all editors and all readerswant. 

Fifth: Pictures must "tell the story"; that is, they should illustratethe phase of the subject that they are designed to make clear. Unless aphotograph has illustrative value it fails to accomplish the purpose forwhich it is intended. 

CAPTIONS FOR ILLUSTRATIONS. On the back of a photograph intended forreproduction the author should write or type a brief explanation of whatit represents. If he is skillful in phrasing this explanation, or"caption, " as it is called, the editor will probably use all or part ofit just as it stands. If his caption is unsatisfactory, the editor willhave to write one based on the writer's explanation. A clever captionadds much to the attractiveness of an illustration. 

A caption should not be a mere label, but, like a photograph, shouldhave life and action. It either should contain a verb of action orshould imply one. In this and other respects, it is not unlike thenewspaper headline. Instead, for example, of the label title, "A LargeGold Dredge in Alaska, " a photograph was given the caption, "Digs Out aFortune Daily. " A picture of a young woman feeding chickens in abackyard poultry run that accompanied an article entitled "Did You EverThink of a Meat Garden?" was given the caption "Fresh Eggs and ChickenDinners Reward Her Labor. " To illustrate an article on the danger of thepet cat as a carrier of disease germs, a photograph of a child playingwith a cat was used with the caption, "How Epidemics Start. " A portraitof a housewife who uses a number of labor-saving devices in her homebore the legend, "She is Reducing Housekeeping to a Science. " "A SmokingChimney is a Bad Sign" was the caption under a photograph of a chimneypouring out smoke, which was used to illustrate an article on how tosave coal. 

Longer captions describing in detail the subject illustrated by thephotograph, are not uncommon; in fact, as more and more pictures arebeing used, there is a growing tendency to place a short statement, or"overline, " above the illustration and to add to the amount ofdescriptive matter in the caption below it. This is doubtless due to twocauses: the increasing use of illustrations unaccompanied by any textexcept the caption, and the effort to attract the casual reader bygiving him a taste, as it were, of what the article contains. 

DRAWINGS FOR ILLUSTRATIONS. Diagrams, working drawings, floor plans, maps, or pen-and-ink sketches are necessary to illustrate some articles. Articles of practical guidance often need diagrams. Trade papers like tohave their articles illustrated with reproductions of record sheets andblanks designed to develop greater efficiency in office or storemanagement. If a writer has a little skill in drawing, he may prepare inrough form the material that he considers desirable for illustration, leaving to the artists employed by the publication the work of makingdrawings suitable for reproduction. A writer who has had training inpen-and-ink drawing may prepare his own illustrations. Such drawingsshould be made on bristol board with black drawing ink, and should bedrawn two or three times as large as they are intended to appear whenprinted. If record sheets are to be used for illustration, the rulingshould be done with black drawing ink, and the figures and other datashould be written in with the same kind of ink. Typewriting on blanksintended for reproduction should be done with a fresh record blackribbon. Captions are necessary on the back of drawings as well as onphotographs. 

MAILING PHOTOGRAPHS AND DRAWINGS. It is best to mail flat allphotographs and drawings up to 8 x 10 in size, in the envelope with themanuscript, protecting them with pieces of stout cardboard. Only verylarge photographs or long, narrow panoramic ones should be rolled andmailed in a heavy cardboard tube, separate from the manuscript. Thewriter's name and address, as well as the title of the article to beillustrated, should be written on the back of every photograph anddrawing. 

As photographs and drawings are not ordinarily returned when they areused with an article that is accepted, writers should not promise toreturn such material to the persons from whom they secure it. Copies canalmost always be made from the originals when persons furnishing writerswith photographs and drawings desire to have the originals kept in goodcondition. 

PART II

AN OUTLINE FOR THE ANALYSIS OF SPECIALFEATURE ARTICLES

I. SOURCES OF MATERIAL

 1. What appears to have suggested the subject to the writer?

 2. How much of the article was based on his personal experience?

 3. How much of it was based on his personal observations?

 4. Was any of the material obtained from newspapers or periodicals?

 5. What portions of the article were evidently obtained by interviews?

 6. What reports, documents, technical periodicals, and books of reference were used as sources in preparing the article?

 7. Does the article suggest to you some sources from which you might obtain material for your own articles?

II. INTEREST AND APPEAL

 1. Is there any evidence that the article was timely when it was published?

 2. Is the article of general or of local interest?

 3. Does it seem to be particularly well adapted to the readers of the publication in which it was printed? Why?

 4. What, for the average reader, is the source of interest in the article?

 5. Does it have more than one appeal?

 6. Is the subject so presented that the average reader is led to see its application to himself and to his own affairs?

 7. Could an article on the same subject, or on a similar one, be written for a newspaper in your section of the country?

 8. What possible subjects does the article suggest to you?

III. PURPOSE

 1. Did the writer aim to entertain, to inform, or to give practical guidance?

 2. Does the writer seem to have had a definitely formulated purpose?

 3. How would you state this apparent purpose in one sentence?

 4. Is the purpose a worthy one?

 5. Did the writer accomplish his purpose?

 6. Does the article contain any material that seems unnecessary to the accomplishment of the purpose?

IV. TYPE OF ARTICLE

 1. To which type does this article conform?

 2. Is there any other type better adapted to the subject and material?

 3. How far did the character of the subject determine the methods of treatment?

 4. What other methods might have been used to advantage in presenting this subject?

 5. Is the article predominantly narrative, descriptive, or expository?

 6. To what extent are narration and description used for expository purposes?

 7. Are concrete examples and specific instances employed effectively?

 8. By what means are the narrative passages made interesting?

 9. Do the descriptive parts of the article portray the impressions vividly?

V. STRUCTURE

 1. What main topics are taken up in the article?

 2. Could any parts of the article be omitted without serious loss?

 3. Could the parts be rearranged with gain in clearness, interest, or progress?

 4. Does the article march on steadily from beginning to end?

 5. Is the material so arranged that the average reader will reach the conclusion that the writer intended to have him reach?

 6. Is there variety in the methods of presentation?

 7. Is the length of the article proportionate to the subject?

 8. What type of beginning is used?

 9. Is the type of beginning well adapted to the subject and the material?

10. Would the beginning attract the attention and hold the interest of the average reader?

11. Is the beginning an integral part of the article?

12. Is the length of the beginning proportionate to the length of the whole article?

13. Is the beginning skillfully connected with the body of the article?

VI. STYLE

 1. Is the article easy to read? Why?

 2. Is the diction literary or colloquial, specific or general, original or trite, connotative or denotative?

 3. Are figures of speech used effectively?

 4. Do the sentences yield their meaning easily when read rapidly?

 5. Is there variety in sentence length and structure?

 6. Are important ideas placed at the beginning of sentences?

 7. Are the paragraphs long or short?

 8. Are they well-organized units?

 9. Do the paragraphs begin with important ideas?

10. Is there variety in paragraph beginnings?

11. Is the tone well suited to the subject?

12. Do the words, figures of speech, sentences, and paragraphs in this article suggest to you possible means of improving your own style?

VII. TITLES AND HEADLINES

 1. Is the title attractive, accurate, concise, and concrete?

 2. To what type does it conform?

 3. What is the character of the sub-title, and what relation does it bear to the title?

(_Boston Herald_)

TEACH CHILDREN LOVE OF ART THROUGH STORY-TELLING

"----And so, " ended the story, "St. George slew the dragon. "

A great sigh, long drawn and sibilant, which for the last five minuteshad been swelling 57 little thoraxes, burst out and filled the space ofthe lecture hall at the Museum of Fine Arts. 

"O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" said 27 little girls. 

"Aw-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w, gosh!" said 30 little boys. "Say, Mis' Cronan, there wasn't no real dragon, was they?" A shock-headed youngster pushedhis way to the platform where Mrs. Mary C. Cronan, professional storyteller, stood smiling and wistfully looked up at her. "They wasn't noreally dragon, was they?"

"'Course they was a dragon! Whadd'ye think the man wanted to paint thepicture for if there wasn't a dragon? Certn'y there was a dragon. Ileave it to Mis' Cronan if there wasn't. "

Steering a narrow course between fiction and truth, Mrs. Cronan told herclass that she thought there certainly must have been a dragon or thepicture wouldn't have been painted. 

It was at one of the regular morning story hours at the Museum of FineArts, a department opened three years ago at the museum by Mrs. Cronanand Mrs. Laura Scales, a department which has become so popular that nowhundreds of children a week are entertained, children from the publicplaygrounds and from the settlement houses. 

On this particular day it was children from the Bickford streetplayground under the guidance of two teachers from the Lucretia CrockerSchool, Miss Roche and Miss Hayes, who had, in some mysterious manner, convoyed these 57 atoms to the museum by car without mishap and whoapparently did not dread the necessity of getting them back again, although to the uninitiated it appeared a task beside which grasping acomet by the tail was a pleasant afternoon's amusement. 

For the most part the story of St. George and the Dragon was a new thingto these children. They might stand for St. George, although hiscostume was a little out of the regular form at Jamaica Plain, but theDragon was another thing. 

"I don't believe it, " insisted an 8-year-old. "I seen every animal inthe Zoo in the park and I don't see any of them things. " But the wistfullittle boy kept insisting that there must be such an animal or Mrs. Cronan wouldn't say so. 

"That is the way they nearly always take it at first, " said Mrs. Cronan. "Nearly all of these children are here for the first time. Later theywill bring their fathers and mothers on Sunday and you might hear themexplaining the pictures upstairs as if they were the docents of themuseum. 

"The object of the story hour is to familiarize the children with asmany as possible of the pictures of the Museum and to get them into theway of coming here of themselves. When they go away they are given cardsbearing a reproduction of the picture about which the story of the dayhas been told, and on these cards is always an invitation to them tobring their families to the Museum on Saturday and Sunday, when there isno entrance fee. "

The idea of the story hour was broached several years ago and at firstit was taken up as an experiment. Stereopticon slides were made ofseveral of the more famous pictures in the Museum, and Mrs. Cronan, whowas at the time achieving a well earned success at the Public Library, was asked to take charge of the story telling. The plan became a successat once. 

Later Mrs. Scales was called in to take afternoon classes, and now morethan 1000 children go to the Museum each week during July and August andhear stories told entertainingly that fix in their minds the bestpictures of the world. Following the stories they are taken through thehalls of the Museum and are given short talks on some art subject. Oneday it may be some interesting thing on Thibetan amulets, or ontapestries or on some picture, Stuart's Washington or Turner's SlaveShip, or a colorful canvas of Claude Monet. 

It is hoped that the movement may result in greater familiarity with andlove for the Museum, for it is intended by the officials that thesechildren shall come to love the Museum and to care for the collectionand not to think of it, as many do, as a cold, unresponsive buildingcontaining dark mysteries, or haughty officials, or an atmosphere of"highbrow" iciness. 

"I believe, " says Mrs. Cronan, "that our little talks are doing justthis thing. And although some of them, of course, can't get the ideaquite all at once, most of these children will have a soft spothereafter for Donatello's St. George. "

At least some of them were not forgetting it, for as they filed out thewistful little boy was still talking about it. 

"Ya, " he said to the scoffer, "you mightn't a seen him at the Zoo. That's all right, but you never went over to the 'quarium. Probably theygot one over there. Gee! I wish I could see a dragon. What color arethey?"

But the smallest boy of all, who had hold of Miss Hayes's hand and whohad been an interested listener to all this, branched out mentally intoother and further fields. 

"Aw, " said he, "I know a feller what's got a ginny pig wit' yeller spotson 'im and he--" And they all trailed out the door. 

 * * * * *

(_Christian Science Monitor_)

One illustration, a half-tone reproduction of a photograph showing theinterior of the greenhouse with girls at work. 

WHERE GIRLS LEARN TO WIELD SPADE AND HOE

To go to school in a potato patch; to say one's lessons to a farmer; tostudy in an orchard and do laboratory work in a greenhouse--this is thepleasant lot of the modern girl who goes to a school of horticultureinstead of going to college, or perhaps after going to college. 

If ever there was a vocation that seemed specially adapted to manywomen, gardening would at first glance be the one. From the time of

 "Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow?"

down to the busy city woman who to-day takes her recreation by diggingin her flowerbeds, gardens have seemed a natural habitat for womankind, and garden activities have belonged to her by right. 

In various parts of the country there have now been established schoolswhere young women may learn the ways of trees and shrubs, vegetables andflowers, and may do experimental work among the growing thingsthemselves. Some of these schools are merely adjuncts of the stateagricultural colleges, with more or less limited courses ofinstruction; but, just out of Philadelphia, there is a school, to whichwomen only are admitted, that is located on a real farm, and covers awide range of outdoor study. 

One begins to feel the homely charm of the place the moment instructionsare given as to how to reach it. 

"Out the old Lime-kiln road, " you are told. And out the old Lime-kilnroad you go, until you come to a farm which spells the perfection ofcare in every clump of trees and every row of vegetables. Some girls inbroad-brimmed hats are working in the Strawberry bed--if you go instrawberry time--and farther on a group of women have gathered, with anoveralled instructor, under an apple tree the needs of which are beingstudied. 

Under some sedate shade trees, you are led to an old Pennsylvania stonefarmhouse--the administration building, if you please. Beyond are thebarns, poultry houses, nurseries and greenhouses, and a cottage which isused as a dormitory for the girls--as unlike the usual dormitory as theschool is unlike the usual school. A bee colony has its own little whitevillage near by. 

Then the director, a trained woman landscape gardener, tells you allthat this school of horticulture has accomplished since its foundingfive years ago. 

"Women are naturally fitted for gardening, and for some years past therehave been many calls for women to be teachers in school gardens, planners of private gardens, or landscape gardeners in institutions forwomen. Very few women, however, have had the practical training toenable them to fill such positions, and five years ago there was littleopportunity for them to obtain such training. At that time a number ofwomen in and about Philadelphia, who realized the need for thoroughteaching in all the branches of horticulture, not merely in theory butin practice, organized this school. The course is planned to equip womenwith the practical knowledge that will enable them to manage private andcommercial gardens, greenhouses or orchards. Some women wish to learnhow to care for their own well-loved gardens; some young girls studywith the idea of establishing their own greenhouses and raising flowersas a means of livelihood; still others want to go in for fruit farming, and even for poultry raising or bee culture. 

"In other countries, schools of gardening for women are holding arecognized place in the educational world. In England, Belgium, Germany, Italy, Denmark and Russia, such institutions have long passedthe experimental stage; graduates from their schools are managing largeestates or holding responsible positions as directors of public orprivate gardens, as managers of commercial greenhouses, or as consultinghorticulturists and lecturers. In this country there is a growing demandfor supervisors of home and school gardens, for work on plantations andmodel farms, and for landscape gardeners. Such positions command largesalaries, and the comparatively few women available for them are almostcertain to attain success. "

Already one of the graduates has issued a modest brown circular statingthat she is equipped to supply ideas for gardens and personally to plantthem; to expend limited sums of money to the best advantage for beautyand service; to take entire charge of gardens and orchards for theseason and personally to supervise gardens during the owners' absence;to spray ornamental trees and shrubs, and prune them; and to care forindoor plants and window boxes. 

"She is making a success of it, too. She has all she can do, " commentsone of the women directors, who is standing by. 

A smiling strawberry student, who is passing, readily tells all thatgoing to a garden school means. 

"Each one of us has her own small plot of ground for which she isresponsible. We have to plant it, care for it, and be marked on it. Weall have special care of certain parts of the greenhouse, too, and eachhas a part of the nursery, the orchard and the vineyard. Even the workthat is too heavy for us we have to study about, so that we can directhelpers when the time comes. We have to understand every detail of itall. We have to keep a daily record of our work. This is the way tolearn how long it takes for different seeds to germinate, and thus wewatch the development of the fruits and flowers and vegetables. You see, the attendance at the school is limited to a small number; so each oneof us receives a great deal of individual attention and help. 

"We learn simple carpentry, as part of the course, so that we shall beable to make window boxes, flats, cold frames and other articles that weneed. We could even make a greenhouse, if we had to. We are taught thecare and raising of poultry, we learn bee culture, and we have a coursein landscape gardening. There is a course in canning and preserving, too, so that our fruits and berries can be disposed of in that way, ifwe should not be able to sell them outright, when we have the gardensof our own that we are all looking forward to. "

In the cozy cottage that serves as a dormitory, there is a largeclassroom, where the lectures in botany, entomology, soils andhorticultural chemistry are given. There is a staff of instructors, allfrom well-known universities, and a master farmer to impart thepractical everyday process of managing fields and orchards. Speciallectures are given frequently by experts in various subjects. In thecottage is a big, homelike living-room, where the girls read and singand dance in the evening. Each girl takes care of her own bedroom. 

The costumes worn by these garden students are durable, appropriate andmost becoming. The school colors are the woodsy ones of brown and green, and the working garb is carried out in these colors. Brown khaki orcorduroy skirts, eight inches from the ground, with two large pockets, are worn under soft green smocks smocked in brown. The sweaters arebrown or green, and there is a soft hat for winter and a large shade hatfor summer. Heavy working gloves and boots are provided, and a largeapron with pockets goes with the outfit. 

All in all, you feel sure, as you go back down the "old Lime-Kiln road, "that the motto of the school will be fulfilled in the life of each ofits students: "So enter that daily thou mayst become more thoughtful andmore learned. So depart that daily thou mayst become more useful tothyself and to all mankind. "

 * * * * *

(_Boston Transcript_)

BOYS IN SEARCH OF JOBS

BY RAYMOND G. FULLER

One morning lately, if you had stood on Kneeland street in sight of theentrance of the State Free Employment Office, you would have seen a longline of boys--a hundred of them--waiting for the doors to open. Theywere of all sorts of racial extraction and of ages ranging through mostof the teens. Some you would have called ragamuffins, street urchins, but some were too well washed, combed and laundered for such adesignation. Some were eagerly waiting, some anxiously, someindifferently. Some wore sober faces; some were standing soldierlystiff; but others were bubbling over with the spirits of their age, gossiping, shouting, indulging in colt-play. When they came out, somehustled away to prospective employers and others loitered in the street. Disappointment was written all over some of them, from face to feet; onothers the inscription was, "I don't care. "

Two hundred boys applied for "jobs" at the employment office that day. Half the number were looking for summer positions. Others were of thevast army of boys who quit school for keeps at the eighth or ninth gradeor thereabouts. Several weeks before school closed the office had morethan enough boy "jobs" to go around. With the coming of vacation timethe ratio was reversed. The boy applicants were a hundred or two hundreddaily. For the two hundred on the day mentioned there were fifty places. 

Says Mr. Deady, who has charge of the department for male minors:"Ranging from fourteen to nineteen years of age, of all nationalitiesand beliefs, fresh from the influence of questionable home environment, boisterous and brimful of animation, without ideas and thoughtless to amarked degree--this is the picture of the ordinary boy who is in searchof employment. He is without a care and his only thought, if he has one, is to obtain as high a wage as possible. It is safe to say that of thethousands of boys who apply annually at the employment office, two-thirds are between sixteen and eighteen years of age. Before goingfurther, we can safely say that twenty per cent of the youngest ladshave left school only a few weeks before applying for work. Approximately sixty per cent have not completed a course in theelementary grammar schools. "

The boy of foreign parentage seems to be more in earnest, moreambitious, than the American boy (not to quibble over the definition ofthe adjective "American"). Walter L. Sears, superintendent of the officein Kneeland street, tells this story:

An American youngster came in. 

"Gotta job?" he asked. 

"Yes, here is one"--referring to the card records--"in a printingoffice; four dollars a week. "

"'Taint enough money. Got anything else?"

"Here's a place in a grocery store--six dollars a week. "

"What time d'ye have to get to work in the morning?"

"Seven o'clock. "

"Got anything else?"

"Here's something--errand boy--six a week, mornings at eight. "

"Saturday afternoons off?"

"Nothing is said about it. "

"W-ell-l, maybe I'll drop around and look at it. "

American independence!

An Italian boy came in, looking for work. He was told of the printingoffice job. 

"All right. I'll take it. "

For what it is worth, it may be set down that a large proportion of theboy applicants carefully scrutinize the dollar sign when they talkwages. Moreover, they are not unacquainted with that phrase concocted bythose higher up, "the high cost of living. " The compulsion of the thing, or the appeal of the phrase--which?

The youthful unemployed, those who seek employment, would cast agood-sized vote in favor of "shoffer. " A youngster comes to Mr. Sears. He wants to be a "shoffer. "

"Why do you want to be a chauffeur?"

"I don't know. "

"Haven't you any reasons at all?"

"No, sir. "

"Isn't it because you have many times seen the man at the wheel roundinga corner in an automobile at a 2. 40 clip and sailing down the boulevardat sixty miles an hour?"

The boy's eyes light up with the picture. 

"Isn't that it?"

And the boy's eyes light up with discovery. 

"Yes, I guess so. "

"Well, have you ever seen the chauffeur at night, after being out allday with the car? Overalls on, sleeves rolled up, face streaming withperspiration? Repairing the mechanism, polishing the brass? Tired todeath?"

"No, sir. "

The boy applicants seldom have any clear idea of the ultimate prospectsin any line of work they may have in mind--as to the salary limit forthe most expert, or the opportunities for promotion and the securing ofan independent position. Many of them have no preconceived idea even ofwhat they want to do, to say nothing of what they ought to do. 

Here is an instance. 

"I want a position, " says a boy. 

"What kind of a position?"

"I don't know. "

"Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"No. "

"Haven't you ever talked it over at home or at school?"

"No. "

"Would you like to be a machinist?"

"I don't know. "

"Would you like to be a plumber?"

"I don't know. "

Similar questions, with similar answers, continue. Finally:

"Would you like to be a doctor?"

"I don't know--is that a good position?"

Sometimes a boy is accompanied to the office by his father. 

"My son is a natural-born electrician, " the father boasts. 

"What has he done to show that?"

"Why, he's wired the whole house from top to bottom. "

It is found by further questions that the lad has installed a push-bellbutton at the front door and another at the back door. He had bought drybatteries, wire and buttons at a hardware store in a box containing fulldirections. It is nevertheless hard to convince the father that the boymay not be a natural-born electrician, after all. 

In frequent cases the father has not considered the limitations andopportunities in the occupation which he chooses for his son. 

Mr. Deady has this to say on the subject of the father's relation to theboy's "job": "The average boy while seeking employment in ninety-ninecases out of a hundred is unaccompanied by either parent. Such acondition is deplorable. It not only shows a lack of interest in theboy's welfare on the part of the parents, but also places the youthfulapplicant in an unfair position. Oftentimes, owing to inexperience, aboy accepts a position without inquiring into the details and nature ofthe same. His main thought is the amount of the wage to be received. Consequently there is but one obvious result. The hours are excessive, the work is beyond the boy's strength or is hazardous, and finally thelad withdraws without notice. It is this general apathy on the part ofthe parents of a boy, combined with over-zealousness on the part of anordinary employer to secure boy labor for a mere trifle, that accountsfor the instability of juvenile labor. "

The coming of vacation invariably brings a great influx of boys to theState employment office, some looking for summer work, others forpermanent employment. Most of them show lack of intelligentconstructive thought on the matter in hand. Few of them have had anycounsel, or any valuable counsel from their parents or others. To Mr. Sears and his assistants--and they have become very proficient at it--isleft the task of vocational guidance, within such limitations as thoseof time and equipment. What can be done to get the boy and his sponsorsto thinking intelligently about the question of an occupation for theboy, with proper regard to their mutual fitness?

Superintendent Sears has some suggestions to offer. In his opinion thesubject of occupational choice should be debated thoroughly in thepublic schools. He favors the introduction of some plan embodying thisidea in the upper grades of the grammar school, under conditions thatwould give each boy an opportunity to talk, and that would encourage himto consult his parents and teachers. The debates might be held monthly, and preparation should be required. Experts or successful men in variousoccupations might be called in to address the pupils and furnishauthoritative information. The questions debated should involve theadvisability of learning a trade and the choice of a trade, and the sameconsiderations with respect to the professions, the mercantile pursuits, and so on. The pupils should be allowed to vote on the merits of eachquestion debated. By such a method, thinks Mr. Sears, the boys wouldgain the valuable training which debating gives, would devoteconsiderable thought to the question of their future employment, wouldacquire much information, and would get their parents more interested inthe matter than many of them are. 

 * * * * *

(_New York Evening Post_)

GIRLS AND A CAMP

NOW IT IS THAT MANY COVEYS OF STUDENTS ARE HEADED TOWARD LAKE ANDMOUNTAIN--JUST HOW IT PAYS

With the sudden plunge into a muggy heat, more suggestive of July thanof the rare June weather of poets, there has begun the exodus of summercamp folk, those men and women who add to the slender salary of theteaching profession the additional income made by running camps for boysand girls during the long vacation. They stretch, these camps, inrapidly extending area from Canada through Maine and northern NewEngland, into the Adirondacks and the Alleghenies, and then acrosstoward the Northwest and the Rockies. It is quite safe to assert thatthere is not a private school of importance that does not take under itsprotection and support at least one such institution, while largenumbers of teachers either own camps or assist in their management asinstructors. 

One group, unmistakably the advance guard of a girls' camp, assembled atthe Grand Central Station on Wednesday. There were two alert, dignifiedwomen, evidently the co-principals; a younger woman, who, at least sothe tired suburban shopper decided, was probably the athleticinstructor; two neat colored women, and a small girl of twelve, ontiptoe with excitement, talking volubly about the fun she would havewhen they got to the lake and when all the other girls arrived. Herexcited chatter also revealed the fact that father and mother had justsailed for Europe, and, while she thought of them with regret, there wasonly pleasure in prospect as she started northward. There was muchbaggage to be attended to, and consultation over express and freightbills, with interesting references to tents, canoes, and tennis nets. 

Success is an excellent testimonial, and there is no longer any need topoint out the advantages of such camps for boys and girls. They fill areal place for the delicate, the lazy, or the backward, who must needsdo extra work to keep up with their school grade, for those whootherwise would be condemned to hotel life, or for the children whoseparents, because of circumstances, are compelled to spend the summer incities. Even the most jealously anxious of mothers are among theconverts to the movement. As one said the other day of her only son, "Yes, David will go to Mr. D. 's camp again this summer. It will be histhird year. I thought the first time that I simply could not part withhim. I pictured him drowned or ill from poor food or severe colds. Indeed, there wasn't a single terror I didn't imagine. But he enjoyed itso, and came home so well and happy, that I've never worried since. "

From the child's point of view, summer camps are a blessing, and, assuch, they have come to stay. But there are those who doubt theirbenefits, even the financial ones, for the teachers, who mortgage theirvacations to conduct them. Unfortunately, as every one knows, almostevery teacher has to mortgage her spare time in one way or another inorder to make a more than bare living. Call the roll of those whom youmay know, and you will be surprised--no, scarcely surprised; merelyinterested--to find that nine-tenths of them do some additional work. Itmay be extra tutoring, hack writing, translating, the editing of schooltexts or the writing of text-books, taking agencies for this, that, orthe other commodity, conducting travel parties, lecturing at educationalinstitutes, running women's clubs, or organizing nature classes. Someoutside vocation is necessary if the teacher is to enjoy the advantagesher training makes almost imperative, or the comforts her tired, nervousorganism demands. So, as one philosopher was heard to remark, it isperhaps best to run a summer camp, since in the doing of it there is atleast the advantage of being in the open and of leading a wholesomelysane existence. 

Two good friends and fellow-teachers who have conducted a camp innorthern Maine for the last five years have been extremely frank insetting forth their experiences for the benefit of those who arestanding on the brink of a similar venture. And their story is worthwhile, because from every point of view they have been successful. Anypessimistic touches in their narrative cannot be laid at the door offailure. Indeed, in their first year they cleared expenses, and that israre; and their clientèle has steadily increased until now they have acamp of forty or more girls, at the very topmost of camp prices. Again, as there were two of them and they are both versatile, they have neededlittle assistance; the mother of one has been house mother and generalcamp counsellor. With all this as optimistic preamble, let us hear theirstory. 

Perhaps their first doubt arises with regard to the wear and tear ofcamp life upon those most directly responsible for its conduct. "Foryears we even refused to consider it, " said the senior partner, "although urged by friends and would-be patrons, because we realized theunwisdom of working the year around and living continuously with schoolgirls--but the inevitable happened. Our income did not keep pace withour expenses, and it was start a camp or do something less agreeable. Just at the psychological moment one of our insistent friends found theright spot, we concluded negotiations, and, behold, we are campproprietors, not altogether sure, in our most uncompromisingly frankmoments, that we have done the best thing. "

That a girls' camp is a far more difficult proposition than one for boysis evident on the face of it. Mother may shed tears over parting withJohnny, but, after all, he's a boy, and sooner or later must dependupon himself. But Sister Sue is another matter. Can she trust any oneelse to watch over her in the matter of flannels and dry stockings? Dothese well-meaning but spinster teachers know the symptoms oftonsilitis, the first signs of a bilious attack, or the peculiarities ofa spoiled girl's diet? And will not Sue lose, possibly, some of thegentle manners and dainty ways inculcated at home, by close contact withdivers other ways and manners? She is inclined to be skeptical, ismother. "And so, " acknowledged the senior partner, "the first summer wewere deluged by visits long and short from anxious ladies who could notbelieve on hearsay evidence that we knew how to care for their delicatedaughters. They not only came, but they stayed, and as the nearest hotelwas distant many devious miles of mountain road, we were forced to putthem up; finally the maids had to sleep in the old barn, and we werecamping on cots in the hall of the farmhouse which is our headquarters. Naturally we had to be polite, for we were under the necessity of makinga good impression that first year, but it was most distracting, forwhile they stayed they were unconsciously but selfishly demanding alittle more than a fair share of time and attention for theirdaughters. "

And, indeed, all this maternal anxiety is not entirely misplaced. Sue isa good deal harder to take care of than Johnny. She needs a few morecomforts, although camp life aims at eliminating all but the essentialsof simple living. Her clothes, even at a minimum, are more elaborate, which increases the difficulty of laundering, always a problem incamping. She is infinitely more dependent upon her elders for directionin the veriest A B C's of daily existence. "Even the matter of tying ahair-ribbon or cleaning a pair of white canvas shoes is a mountain to agood many of my girls, " said the successful camp counsellor. 

Homesickness is "a malady most incident to maids. " Boys may suffer fromit, but they suffer alone. If tears are shed they are shed in secret, lest the other fellows find it out. Except in the case of the verylittle chaps, the masters are not disturbed. But girls have no suchreserves; and the teachers in charge of twenty-five strange girls, manyin the throes of this really distressing ailment, are not to be envied. "Frankly speaking, " went on the confession, "there isn't a moment of theday when we can dismiss them from our thoughts. Are they swimming incharge of the director of athletics, a most capable girl, one of us mustbe there, too, because, should anything happen, we, and not she, aredirectly responsible. When the lesson hour is on, we not only teach, but must see that each girl's work is adapted to her needs, as they comefrom a dozen different schools. There are disputes to settle, plans foroutings and entertainments to be made, games to direct, letters to thehome folks to be superintended, or half the girls would never write atall, to say nothing of the marketing and housekeeping, and our ownbusiness correspondence, that has to be tucked into the siesta hourafter luncheon. Indeed, in the nine weeks of camp last summer I neveronce had an hour that I could call my very own. "

"And that is only the day's anxiety, " sighed her colleague reflectively. "My specialty is prowling about at night to see that everybody isproperly covered. Not a girl among them would have sense enough to getup and close windows in case of rain, so I sleep with one ear prickedfor the first patter on the roof. Occasionally there are two or threewho walk in their sleep, and I'm on pins and needles lest harm come tothem, so I make my rounds to see that they're safe. Oh, it is apeacefully placid existence, I assure you, having charge of fortydarling daughters. Some of them have done nothing for themselves intheir entire lives, and what a splendid place camp is for such girls. But while they're learning we must be looking out for their sins ofomission, such, for instance, as throwing a soaking wet bathing suitupon a bed instead of hanging it upon the line. "

These are some of the few worries that attach to the care of sensitiveand delicately brought up girls that the boys' camp never knows. But ifthe financial return is adequate there will naturally be somecompensation for all these pinpricks. Here again the Senior Partner isinclined to hem and haw. "Given a popular head of camp, " says she, "whohas been fortunate enough to secure a desirable site and a payingclientèle, and she will certainly not lose money. Her summer will bepaid for. However, that is not enough to reward her for the additionalwork and worry. Camp work does not confine itself to the nine weeks ofresidence. There are the hours and days spent in planning and purchasingequipment, the getting out of circulars, the correspondence entailed andthe subsequent keeping in touch with patrons. "

Her own venture has so far paid its own way, and after the first yearhas left a neat margin of profit. But this profit, because of expansion, has immediately been invested in new equipment. This year, for example, there has been erected a bungalow for general living purposes. A dozennew tents and four canoes were bought, and two dirt tennis courts made. Then each year there must be a general replenishing of dishes, table andbed linen, athletic goods, and furniture. The garden has been soenlarged that the semi-occasional man-of-all-work has been replaced by apermanent gardener. 

Naturally, such extension does mean ultimate profit, and, given a fewmore years of continued prosperity, the summer will yield a goodlyadditional income. But the teacher who undertakes a camp with the ideathat such money is easily made, is mistaken. One successful woman hascleared large sums, so large, indeed, that she has about decided tosever her direct connection with the private school where she has taughtfor years, and trust to her camp for a living. She has been sofortunate, it is but fair to explain, because her camp is upon agovernment reserve tract in Canada, and she has had to make no largeinvestment in land; nor does she pay taxes. Desirable locations areharder to find nowadays and much more expensive to purchase. A fortunatepioneer in the movement bought seven acres, with five hundred feet oflake frontage, for three hundred dollars six years ago. That same landis worth ten times as much to-day. 

And the kind of woman who should attempt the summer camp for girls as ameans of additional income? First of all, the one who really lovesoutdoor life, who can find in woods and water compensation for the wearand tear of summering with schoolgirls. Again, she who can minimize thepetty worries of existence to the vanishing point. And, last of all, shewho has business acumen. For what does it profit a tired teacher if shefill her camp list and have no margin of profit for her weeks of hardlabor?

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_(Saturday Evening Post)_

Two half-tone reproductions of wash-drawings by a staff artist. 

YOUR PORTER

BY EDWARD HUNGERFORD

He stands there at the door of his car, dusky, grinning, immaculate--awaiting your pleasure. He steps forward as you near himand, with a quick, intuitive movement born of long experience andcareful training, inquires:

"What space you got, guv'nor?"

"Lower five, " you reply. "Are you full-up, George?"

"Jus' toler'bul, guv'nor. "

He has your grips, is already slipping down the aisle toward sectionfive. And, after he has stowed the big one under the facing bench andplaced the smaller one by your side, he asks again:

"Shake out a pillow for you, guv'nor?"

That "guv'nor, " though not a part of his official training, is a part ofhis unofficial--his subtlety, if you please. Another passenger might bethe "kunnel"; still another, the "jedge. " But there can be no otherguv'nor save you on this car and trip. And George, of the Pullmans, isgoing to watch over you this night as a mother hen might watch over hersolitary chick. The car is well filled and he is going to have a hardnight of it; but he is going to take good care of you. He tells you so;and, before you are off the car, you are going to have good reason tobelieve it. 

Before we consider the sable-skinned George of to-day, give a passingthought to the Pullman itself. The first George of the Pullmans--GeorgeM. Pullman--was a shrewd-headed carpenter who migrated from a westernNew York village out into Illinois more than half a century ago and gavebirth to the idea of railroad luxury at half a cent a mile. There hadbeen sleeping cars before Pullman built the Pioneer, as he called hismaiden effort. There was a night car, equipped with rough bunks for thecomfort of passengers, on the Cumberland Valley Railroad along about1840. 

Other early railroads had made similar experiments, but they were allmakeshifts and crude. Pullman set out to build a sleeping car that wouldcombine a degree of comfort with a degree of luxury. The Pioneer, viewedin the eyes of 1864, was really a luxurious car. It was as wide as thesleeping car of to-day and nearly as high; in fact, so high and so widewas it that there were no railroads on which it might run, and whenPullman pleaded with the old-time railroad officers to widen theclearances, so as to permit the Pioneer to run over their lines, theylaughed at him. 

"It is ridiculous, Mr. Pullman, " they told him smilingly in refusal. "People are never going to pay their good money to ride in any suchfancy contraption as that car of yours. "

Then suddenly they ceased smiling. All America ceased smiling. Morse'stelegraph was sobering an exultant land by telling how its greatmagistrate lay dead within the White House, at Washington. And men weredemanding a funeral car, dignified and handsome enough to carry the bodyof Abraham Lincoln from Washington to Springfield. Suddenly somebodythought of the Pioneer, which rested, a virtual prisoner, in a railroadyard not far from Chicago. 

The Pioneer was quickly released. There was no hesitation now aboutmaking clearances for her. Almost in the passing of a night, stationplatforms and other obstructions were being cut away, and the first ofall the Pullman cars made a triumphant though melancholy journey to NewYork, to Washington, and back again to Illinois. Abraham Lincoln, in thehour of death--fifty years ago this blossoming spring of 1915--had givenbirth to the Pullman idea. The other day, while one of the brisk Federalcommissions down at Washington was extending consideration to thePullman porter and his wage, it called to the witness stand theexecutive head of the Pullman Company. And the man who answered the callwas Robert T. Lincoln, the son of Abraham Lincoln. 

When Pullman built the Pioneer he designated it A, little dreaming thateventually he might build enough cars to exhaust the letters of thealphabet. To-day the Pullman Company has more than six thousand cars inconstant use. It operates the entire sleeping-car service and by far thelarger part of the parlor-car service on all but half a dozen of therailroads of the United States and Canada, with a goodly sprinkling ofroutes south into Mexico. On an average night sixty thousand persons--acommunity equal in size to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, or South Bend, Indiana--sleep within its cars. 

And one of the chief excuses for its existence is the flexibility of itsservice. A railroad in the South, with a large passenger traffic in thewinter, or a railroad in the North, with conditions reversed and travelrunning at high tide throughout the hot summer months, could hardlyafford to place the investment in sleeping and parlor cars to meet itshigh-tide needs, and have those cars grow rusty throughout the long, dull months. The Pullman Company, by moving its extra cars backward andforward over the face of the land in regiments and in battalions, keepsthem all earning money. It meets unusual traffic demands with all theresources of its great fleet of traveling hotels. 

Last summer, when the Knights Templars held their convention in Denver, it sent four hundred and fifty extra cars out to the capital ofColorado. And this year it is bending its resources toward findingsufficient cars to meet the demands for the long overland trek to theexpositions on the Pacific Coast. 

The transition from the Pioneer to the steel sleeping car of todaywas not accomplished in a single step. A man does not have to be sovery old or so very much traveled to recall the day when the Pullmanwas called a palace ear and did its enterprising best to justify thattitle. It was almost an apotheosis of architectural bad taste. Disfiguredby all manner of moldings, cornices, grilles and dinky plushcurtains--head-bumping, dust-catching, useless--it was a decorativeorgy, as well as one of the very foundations of the newspaper school ofhumor. 

Suddenly the Pullman Company awoke to the absurdity of it all. More thanten years ago it came to the decision that architecture was all right inits way, but that it was not a fundamental part of car building. Itseparated the two. It began to throw out the grilles and the otherknickknacks, even before it had committed itself definitely to the useof the steel car. 

Recently it has done much more. It has banished all but the verysimplest of the moldings, and all the hangings save those that areabsolutely necessary to the operation of the car. It has studied and ithas experimented until it has produced in the sleeping car of to-daywhat is probably the most efficient railroad vehicle in the world. Ourforeign cousins scoff at it and call it immodest; but we may reserve ourown opinion as to the relative modesty of some of their institutions. 

 * * * * *

This, however, is not the story of the Pullman car. It is the story ofthat ebony autocrat who presides so genially and yet so firmly over it. It is the story of George the porter--the six thousand Georges standingto-night to greet you and the other traveling folk at the doors of thewaiting cars. And George is worthy of a passing thought. He was born inthe day when the negro servant was the pride of America--when the blackman stood at your elbow in the dining rooms of the greatest of ourhotels; when a colored butler was the joy of the finest of the homesalong Fifth Avenue or round Rittenhouse Square. Transplanted, he quicklybecame an American institution. And there is many a man who avers thatnever elsewhere has there been such a servant as a good negro servant. 

Fashions change, and in the transplanting of other social ideas theblack man has been shoved aside. It is only in the Pullman service thathe retains his old-time pride and prestige. That company to-day mightalmost be fairly called his salvation, despite the vexing questions ofthe wages and tips of the sleeping-car porters that have recently cometo the fore. Yet it is almost equally true that the black man has beenthe salvation of the sleeping-car service. Experiments have been made inusing others. One or two of the Canadian roads, which operate their ownsleeping cars, have placed white men as porters; down in the Southwestthe inevitable Mexicano has been placed in the familiar blue uniform. None of them has been satisfactory; and, indeed, it is not every negrowho is capable of taking charge of a sleeping car. 

The Pullman Company passes by the West Indians--the type so familiar toevery man who has ridden many times in the elevators of the apartmenthouses of upper New York. It prefers to recruit its porters from certainof the states of the Old South--Georgia and the Carolinas. It almostlimits its choice to certain counties within those states. It shows adecided preference for the sons of its employees; in fact, it mightalmost be said that to-day there are black boys growing up down there inthe cotton country who have come into the world with the hope andexpectation of being made Pullman car porters. The company that operatesthose cars prefers to discriminate--and it does discriminate. 

That is its first step toward service--the careful selection of thehuman factor. The next step lies in the proper training of that factor;and as soon as a young man enters the service of the Pullmans he goes toschool--in some one of the large railroad centers that act as hubs forthat system. Sometimes the school is held in one of the divisionoffices, but more often it goes forward in the familiar aisle of asleeping car, sidetracked for the purpose. 

Its curriculum is unusual but it is valuable. One moment it considersthe best methods to "swat the fly"--to drive him from the vehicle inwhich he is an unwelcome passenger; the next moment the class is beingshown the proper handling of the linen closet, the proper methods offolding and putting away clean linen and blankets, the correct way ofstacking in the laundry bags the dirty and discarded bedding. The porteris taught that a sheet once unfolded cannot be used again. Though it maybe really spotless, yet technically it is dirty; and it must make around trip to the laundry before it can reenter the service. 

All these things are taught the sophomore porters by a wrinkled veteranof the service; and they are minutely prescribed in the voluminous rulebook issued by the Pullman Company, which believes that the firstfoundation of service is discipline. So the school and the rule book donot hesitate at details. They teach the immature porter not merely theroutine of making up and taking down beds, and the proper maintenance ofthe car, but they go into such finer things as the calling of apassenger, for instance. Noise is tabooed, and so even a soft knockingon the top of the berth is forbidden. The porter must gently shake thecurtains or the bedding from without. 

When the would-be porter is through in this schoolroom his educationgoes forward out on the line. Under the direction of one of the grizzledautocrats he first comes in contact with actual patrons--comes to knowtheir personalities and their peculiarities. Also, he comes to know thefull meaning of that overused and abused word--service. After all, hereis the full measure of the job. He is a servant. He must realize that. And as a servant he must perfect himself. He must rise to the countlessopportunities that will come to him each night he is on the run. He mustdo better--he must anticipate them. 

Take such a man as Eugene Roundtree, who has been running a smoking caron one of the limited trains between New York and Boston for twodecades--save for that brief transcendent hour when Charles S. Mellensaw himself destined to become transportation overlord of New Englandand appropriated Roundtree for a personal servant and porter of hisprivate car. Roundtree is a negro of the very finest type. He is a manwho commands respect and dignity--and receives it. And Roundtree, asporter of the Pullman smoker on the Merchants' Limited, has learned toanticipate. 

He knows at least five hundred of the big bankers and business men ofboth New York and Boston--though he knows the Boston crowd best. Heknows the men who belong to the Somerset and the Algonquin Clubs--themen who are Boston enough to pronounce Peabody "Pebbuddy. " And they knowhim. Some of them have a habit of dropping in at the New Haven ticketoffices and demanding: "Is Eugene running up on the Merchants'to-night?"

"It isn't just knowing them and being able to call them by their names, "he will tell you if you can catch him in one of his rarely idle moments. "I've got to remember what they smoke and what they drink. When Mr. Blank tells me he wants a cigar it's my job to remember what he smokesand to put it before him. I don't ask him what he wants. I anticipate. "

And by anticipating Roundtree approaches a sort of _n_th degree ofservice and receives one of the "fattest" of all the Pullman runs. 

George Sylvester is another man of the Roundtree type--only his runtrends to the west from New York instead of to the east, which meansthat he has a somewhat different type of patron with which to deal. 

Sylvester is a porter on the Twentieth Century Limited; and, likeRoundtree, he is a colored man of far more than ordinary force andcharacter. He had opportunity to show both on a winter night, when histrain was stopped and a drunken man--a man who was making life hideousfor other passengers on Sylvester's car--was taken from the train. Thefact that the man was a powerful politician, a man who raved the direstthreats when arrested, made the porter's job the more difficult. 

The Pullman Company, in this instance alone, had good cause to rememberSylvester's force and courage--and consummate tact--just as it has goodcause in many such episodes to be thankful for the cool-headedness ofits black man in a blue uniform who stands in immediate control of itsproperty. 

Sylvester prefers to forget that episode. He likes to think of the nicepart of the Century's runs--the passengers who are quiet, and kind, andthoughtful, and remembering. They are a sort whom it is a pleasure for aporter to serve. They are the people who make an excess-fare train a"fat run. " There are other fat runs, of course: the Overland, theOlympian, the Congressional--and of General Henry Forrest, of theCongressional, more in a moment--fat trains that follow the route of theCentury. 

It was on one of these, coming east from Cleveland on a snowy night inFebruary last, that a resourceful porter had full use for his store oftact; for there is, in the community that has begun to stamp Sixth Cityon its shirts and its shoe tabs, a bank president who--to put the matterlightly--is a particular traveler. More than one black man, rising highin porter service, has had his vanity come to grief when this crotchetypersonage has come on his car. 

And the man himself was one of those who are marked up and down thePullman trails. An unwritten code was being transmitted between theblack brethren of the sleeping cars as to his whims and peculiarities. It was well that every brother in service in the Cleveland districtshould know the code. When Mr. X entered his drawing-room--he neverrides elsewhere in the car--shades were to be drawn, a pillow beaten andready by the window, and matches on the window sill. X would never askfor these things; but God help the poor porter who forgot them!

So you yourself can imagine the emotions of Whittlesey Warren, porter ofthe car Thanatopsis, bound east on Number Six on the snowy Februarynight when X came through the portals of that scarabic antique, theUnion Depot at Cleveland, a redcap with his grips in the wake. Warrenrecognized his man. The code took good care as to that. He followed thebanker down the aisle, tucked away the bags, pulled down the shades, fixed the pillow and placed the matches on the window sill. 

The banker merely grunted approval, lighted a big black cigar and wentinto the smoker, while Warren gave some passing attention to the otherpatrons of his car. It was passing attention at the best; for after atime the little bell annunciator began to sing merrily and persistentlyat him--and invariably its commanding needle pointed to D. R. And on thedrawing-room Whittlesey Warren danced a constant attention. 

"Here, you nigger!" X shouted at the first response. "How many timeshave I got to tell all of you to put the head of my bed toward theengine?"

Whittlesey Warren looked at the bed. He knew the make-up of the train. The code had been met. The banker's pillows were toward the locomotive. But his job was not to argue and dispute. He merely said:

"Yas-suh. Scuse me!" And he remade the bed while X lit a stogy and wentback to the smoker. 

That was at Erie--Erie, and the snow was falling more briskly than atCleveland. Slowing into Dunkirk, the banker returned and glanced throughthe car window. He could see by the snow against the street lamps thatthe train was apparently running in the opposite direction. His chubbyfinger went against the push button. Whittlesey Warren appeared at thedoor. The language that followed cannot be reproduced in THE SATURDAYEVENING POST. Suffice it to say that the porter remembered who he wasand what he was, and merely remade the bed. 

The banker bit off the end of another cigar and retired once again tothe club car. When he returned, the train was backing into the Buffalostation. At that unfortunate moment he raised his car shade--and PorterWhittlesey Warren again reversed the bed, to the accompaniment of themost violent abuse that had ever been heaped on his defenseless head. 

Yet not once did he complain--he remembered that a servant a servantalways is. And in the morning X must have remembered; for a folded billwent into Warren's palm--a bill of a denomination large enough to buythat fancy vest which hung in a haberdasher's shop over on San JuanHill. 

If you have been asking yourself all this while just what a fat run is, here is your answer: Tips; a fine train filled with fine ladies and finegentlemen, not all of them so cranky as X, of Cleveland--thank heavenfor that!--though a good many of them have their peculiarities and arewilling to pay generously for the privilege of indulging thosepeculiarities. 

Despite the rigid discipline of the Pullman Company the porter's leewayis a very considerable one. His instructions are never to say "Againstthe rules!" but rather "I do not know what can be done about it"--andthen to make a quick reference to the Pullman conductor, who is hisarbiter and his court of last resort. His own initiative, however, isnot small. 

Two newspaper men in New York know that. They had gone over to Bostonfor a week-end, had separated momentarily at its end, to meet at thelast of the afternoon trains for Gotham. A had the joint finances andtickets for the trip; but B, hurrying through the traffic tangle ofSouth Station, just ninety seconds before the moment of departure, knewthat he would find him already in the big Pullman observation car. Hewas not asked to show his ticket at the train gate. Boston, with thefine spirit of the Tea Party still flowing in its blue veins, has alwaysresented that as a sort of railroad impertinence. 

B did not find A. He did not really search for him until Back Bay waspassed and the train was on the first leg of its journey, with the nextstop at Providence. Then it was that A was not to be found. Then Brealized that his side partner had missed the train. He dropped into acorner and searched his own pockets. A battered quarter and threepennies came to view--and the fare from Boston to Providence is ninetycents!

Then it was that the initiative of a well-trained Pullman porter cameinto play. He had stood over the distressed B while he was making aninventory of his resources. 

"Done los' something, boss?" said the autocrat of the car. 

B told the black man his story in a quick, straightforward manner; andthe black man looked into his eyes. B returned the glance. Perhaps hesaw in that honest ebony face something of the expression of thefaithful servants of wartime who refused to leave their masters evenafter utter ruin had come upon them. The porter drew forth a fat roll ofbills. 

"Ah guess dat, ef you-all'll give meh yo' business cyard, Ah'll be ableto fee-nance yo' trip dis time. "

To initiative the black man was adding intuition. He had studied hisman. He was forever using his countless opportunities to study men. Itwas not so much of a gamble as one might suppose. 

A pretty well-known editor was saved from a mighty embarrassing time;and some other people have been saved from similarly embarrassingsituations through the intuition and the resources of the Pullmanporter. The conductor--both of the train and of the sleeping-carservice--is not permitted to exercise such initiative or intuition; butthe porter can do and frequently does things of this very sort. Hisrecompense for them, however, is hardly to be classed as a tip. 

The tip is the nub of the whole situation. Almost since the very daywhen the Pioneer began to blaze the trail of luxury over the railroadsof the land, and the autocrat of the Pullman car created his servile butentirely honorable calling, it has been a mooted point. Recently a greatFederal commission has blazed the strong light of publicity on it. Robert T. Lincoln, son of the Emancipator, and, as we have already said, the head and front of the Pullman Company, sat in a witness chair atWashington and answered some pretty pointed questions as to the divisionof the porter's income between the company and the passenger whoemployed him. Wages, it appeared, are twenty-seven dollars and a half amonth for the first fifteen years of the porter's service, increasingthereafter to thirty dollars a month, slightly augmented by bonuses forgood records. 

The porter also receives his uniforms free after ten years of service, and in some cases of long service his pay may reach forty-two dollars amonth. The rest of his income is in the form of tips. And Mr. Lincolntestified that during the past year the total of these tips, to the bestknowledge and belief of his company, had exceeded two million threehundred thousand dollars. 

The Pullman Company is not an eleemosynary institution. Though it hasmade distinct advances in the establishment of pension funds and deathbenefits, it is hardly to be classed as a philanthropy. It is a largeorganization; and it generally is what it chooses to consider itself. Sometimes it avers that it is a transportation company, at other timesit prefers to regard itself as a hotel organization; but at all times itis a business proposition. It is not in business for its health. Itsdividend record is proof of that. All of which is a preface to thestatement that the Pullman Company, like any other large user of labor, regulates its wage scale by supply and demand. If it can find enough ofthe colored brethren competent and willing and anxious to man its carsat twenty-seven dollars and a half a month--with the fair gamble of twoor three or four times that amount to come in the form of tips--it ishardly apt to pay more. 

No wonder, then, the tip forms the nub of the situation. To-day allAmerica tips. You tip the chauffeur in the taxi, the redcap in thestation, the barber, the bootblack, the manicure, the boy or girl whoholds your coat for you in the barber's shop or hotel. In the modernhotel tipping becomes a vast and complex thing--waiters, doormen, hatboys, chambermaids, bell boys, porters--the list seems almost unending. 

The system may be abominable, but it has certainly fastened itself onus--sternly and securely. And it may be said for the Pullman car thatthere, at least, the tip comes to a single servitor--the black autocratwho smiles genially no matter how suspiciously he may, at heart, viewthe quarter you have placed within his palm. 

A quarter seems to be the standard Pullman tip--for one person, eachnight he may be on the car. Some men give more; some men--alas for poorGeorge!--less. A quarter is not only average but fairly standard. It isgiven a certain official status by the auditing officers of many largerailroads and industrial corporations, who recognize it as a chargeableitem in the expense accounts of their men on the road. 

A man with a fat run--lower berths all occupied, with at least asmattering of riders in the uppers, night after night--ought to be ableeasily to put aside a hundred and fifty dollars a month as his incomefrom this item. There are hundreds of porters who are doing this verything; and there are at least dozens of porters who own real estate, automobiles, and other such material evidences of prosperity. 

A tip is not necessarily a humiliation, either to the giver or to thetaker. On the contrary, it is a token of meritorious service. And thesmart porter is going to take good care that he gives such service. Buthow about the porter who is not so smart--the man who has the lean run?As every butcher and every transportation man knows, there is lean withthe fat. And it does the lean man little good to know that his fatbrother is preparing to buy a secondhand automobile. On the contrary, itcreates an anarchist--or at least a socialist--down under that blackskin. 

Here is Lemuel--cursed with a lean run and yet trying to maintain atleast an appearance of geniality. Lemuel runs on a "differential"between New York, Chicago and St. Louis. Every passenger-traffic manknows that most of the differentials--as the roads that take longerhours, and so are permitted to charge a slightly lower through farebetween those cities, are called--have had a hard time of it in recentyears. It is the excess-fare trains, the highest-priced carriers--whichcharge you a premium of a dollar for every hour they save in placing youin the terminal--that are the crowded trains. And the differentials havehad increasing difficulty getting through passengers. 

It seems that in this day and land a man who goes from New York toChicago or St. Louis is generally so well paid as to make it worthdollars to him to save hours in the journey. It is modern efficiencyshowing itself in railroad-passenger travel. But the differentials, having local territory to serve, as well as on account of some otherreasons, must maintain a sleeping-car service--even at a loss. There islittle or no loss to the Pullman Company--you may be sure of that! Therailroad pays it a mileage fee for hauling a half or three-quarter emptycar over its own line--in addition to permitting the Pullman system totake all the revenue from the car; but Lemuel sees his end of thebusiness as a dead loss. 

He leaves New York at two-thirty o'clock on Monday afternoon, havingreported at his car nearly three hours before so as to make sure that itis properly stocked and cleaned for its long trip. He is due at St. Louis at ten-fifteen on Tuesday evening--though it will be nearly twohours later before he has checked the contents of the car and slippedoff to the bunking quarters maintained there by his company. 

On Wednesday evening at seven o'clock he starts east and is due in NewYork about dawn on Friday morning. He cleans up his car and himself, andgets to his little home on the West Side of Manhattan Island sometimebefore noon; but by noon on Saturday he must be back at his car, makingsure that it is fit and ready by two-thirty o'clock--the moment theconductor's arm falls--and they are headed west again. 

This time the destination is Chicago, which is not reached until aboutsix o'clock Sunday night. He bunks that night in the Windy City and thenspends thirty-two hours going back again to New York. He sees his homeone more night; then he is off to St. Louis again--started on a freshround of his eternal schedule. 

Talk of tips to Lemuel! His face lengthens. You may not believe it, white man, but Lemuel made fifty-three cents in tips on the last tripfrom New York to Chicago. You can understand the man who gave him theColumbian antique; but Lemuel believes there can be no future too warmfor that skinny man who gave him the three pennies! He thinks thegentleman might at least have come across with a Subway ticket. It isall legal tender to him. 

All that saves this porter's bacon is the fact that he is in charge ofthe car--for some three hundred miles of its eastbound run he is actingas sleeping-car conductor, for which consolidated job he draws down aproportionate share of forty-two dollars a month. This is a small sop, however, to Lemuel. He turns and tells you how, on the last trip, hecame all the way from St. Louis to New York--two nights on theroad--without ever a "make-down, " as he calls preparing a berth. Nowonder then that he has difficulty in making fifty dollars a month, withhis miserable tips on the lean run. 

Nor is that all. Though Lemuel is permitted three hours' sleep--on thebunk in the washroom on the long runs--from midnight to three o'clock inthe morning, there may come other times when his head begins to nod. Andthose are sure to be the times when some lynx-eyed inspector comesslipping aboard. Biff! Bang! Pullman discipline is strict. Something hashappened to Lemuel's pay envelope, and his coffee-colored wife in WestTwenty-ninth Street will not be able to get those gray spats until theyare clean gone out of style. 

What can be done for Lemuel? He must bide his time and constantly makehimself a better servant--a better porter, if you please. It will not gounnoticed. The Pullman system has a method for noticing those verythings--inconsequential in themselves but all going to raise thestandard of its service. 

Then some fine day something will happen. A big sleeping-car autocrat, in the smugness and false security of a fat run, is going to err. He isgoing to step on the feet of some important citizen--perhaps a railroaddirector--and the important citizen is going to make a fuss. After whichLemuel, hard-schooled in adversity, in faithfulness and in courtesy, will be asked in the passing of a night to change places with the oldautocrat. 

And the old autocrat, riding in the poverty of a lean run, will haveplenty of opportunity to count the telegraph poles and reflect on themutability of men and things. The Pullman Company denies that this ispart of its system; but it does happen--time and time and time again. 

George, or Lemuel, or Alexander--whatever the name may be--has no easyjob. If you do not believe that, go upstairs some hot summer night tothe rear bedroom--that little room under the blazing tin roof which youreserve for your relatives--and make up the bed fifteen or twenty times, carefully unmaking it between times and placing the clothes away in aregular position. Let your family nag at you and criticize you duringeach moment of the job--while somebody plays an obbligato on theelectric bell and places shoes and leather grips underneath your feet. Imagine the house is bumping and rocking--and keep a smiling face and acourteous tongue throughout all of it!

Or do this on a bitter night in midwinter; and between every two orthree makings of the bed in the overheated room slip out of a linen coatand into a fairly thin serge one and go and stand outside the door fromthree to ten minutes in the snow and cold. In some ways this is one ofthe hardest parts of George's job. Racially the negro is peculiarlysensitive to pneumonia and other pulmonary diseases; yet the rules of aporter's job require that at stopping stations he must be outside of thecar--no matter what the hour or condition of the climate--smiling andready to say:

"What space you got, guv'nor?"

However, the porter's job, like nearly every other job, has its gloriesas well as its hardships--triumphs that can be told and retold for manya day to fascinated colored audiences; because there are specialtrains--filled with pursy and prosperous bankers from Hartford andRochester and Terre Haute--making the trip from coast to coast and backagain, and never forgetting the porter at the last hour of the last day. 

There are many men in the Pullman service like Roger Pryor, who hasridden with every recent President of the land and enjoyed hisconfidence and respect. And then there is General Henry Forrest, of theCongressional Limited, for twenty-four years in charge of one of itsbroiler cars, who stops not at Presidents but enjoys the acquaintanceof senators and ambassadors almost without number. 

The General comes to know these dignitaries by their feet. When he isstanding at the door of his train under the Pennsylvania Terminal, inNew York, he recognizes the feet as they come poking down the longstairs from the concourse. And he can make his smile senatorial orambassadorial--a long time in advance. 

Once Forrest journeyed in a private car to San Francisco, caring for aCertain Big Man. He took good care of the Certain Big Man--that was partof his job. He took extra good care of the Certain Big Man--that was hisopportunity. And when the Certain Big Man reached the Golden Gate hetold Henry Forrest that he had understood and appreciated the countlessattentions. The black face of the porter wrinkled into smiles. He daredto venture an observation. 

"Ah thank you, Jedge!" said he. "An' ef it wouldn't be trespassin' Ah'dlak to say dat when yo' comes home you's gwine to be President of deseUnited States. "

The Certain Big Man shook his head negatively; but he was flatterednevertheless. He leaned over and spoke to Henry Forrest. 

"If ever I am President, " said he, "I will make you a general. "

And so it came to pass that on the blizzardy Dakota-made day whenWilliam Howard Taft was inaugurated President of these United Statesthere was a parade--a parade in which many men rode in panoply andpride; but none was prouder there than he who, mounted on a magnificentbay horse, headed the Philippine Band. 

A promise was being kept. The bay horse started three times to bolt fromthe line of march, and this was probably because its rider was betterused to the Pompeian-red broiler car than to a Pompeian-red bay mare. But these were mere trifles. Despite them--partly because of themperhaps--the younger brethren at the terminals were no longer to addressthe veteran from the Congressional merely as Mr. Forrest. He was GeneralForrest now--a title he bears proudly and which he will carry with himall the long years of his life. 

What becomes of the older porters?

Sometimes, when the rush of the fast trains, the broken nights, theexposure and the hard, hard work begin to be too much for even sturdyAfric frames, they go to the "super" and beg for the "sick man's run"--aleisurely sixty or a hundred miles a day on a parlor car, perhaps on aside line where travel is light and the parlor car is a sort ofsentimental frippery; probably one of the old wooden cars: the Alicia, or the Lucille, or the Celeste, still vain in bay windows and grilles, and abundant in carvings. For a sentimental frippery may be given afeminine name and may bear her years gracefully--even though she doescreak in all her hundred joints when the track is the least bit uneven. 

As to the sick man's tips, the gratuity is no less a matter of keeninterest and doubt at sixty than it is at twenty-six. And though thereis a smile under that clean mat of kinky white hair, it is not allhabit--some of it is still anticipation. But quarters and half dollarsdo not come so easily to the old man in the parlor car as to his youngerbrother on the sleepers, or those elect who have the smokers on the fatruns. To the old men come dimes instead--some of them miserable affairsbearing on their worn faces the faint presentments of the ruler on thenorth side of Lake Erie and hardly redeemable in Baltimore orCincinnati. Yet even these are hardly to be scorned--when one is sixty. 

After the sick man's job? Perhaps a sandy farm on a Carolinahillside, where an old man may sit and nod in the warm sun, and dreamof the days when steel cars were new--perhaps of the days when theplatform-vestibule first went bounding over the rails--may dream andnod; and then, in his waking moments, stir the pickaninnies to theglories of a career on a fast train and a fat run. For if it is truethat any white boy has the potential opportunity of becoming Presidentof the United States, it is equally true that any black boy may becomethe Autocrat of the Pullman Car. 

 * * * * *

_(The Independent)_

THE GENTLE ART OF BLOWING BOTTLESAnd the Story of How Sand is Melted into Glass

BY F. GREGORY HARTSWICK

Remedies for our manifold ills; the refreshment that our infant lipscraved; coolness in time of heat; yes--even tho July 1st has come andgone--drafts to assuage our thirst; the divers stays and supports of ourdeclining years--all these things come in bottles. From the time of itspurchase to the moment of its consignment to the barrel in the cellar orthe rapacious wagon of the rag-and-bone man the bottle plays a vitalpart in our lives. And as with most inconspicuous necessities, butlittle is known of its history. We assume vaguely that it is blown--eversince we saw the Bohemian Glass Blowers at the World's Fair we haveknown that glass is blown into whatever shape fancy may dictate--butthat is as far as our knowledge of its manufacture extends. 

As a matter of fact the production of bottles in bulk is one of the mostimportant features of the glass industry of this country today. Themanufacture of window glass fades into insignficance before the hugenessof the bottle-making business; and even the advent of prohibition, whileit lessens materially the demand for glass containers of liquids, doesnot do so in such degree as to warrant very active uneasiness on thepart of the proprietors of bottle factories. 

The process of manufacture of the humble bottle is a surprizinglyinvolved one. It includes the transportation and preparation of rawmaterial, the reduction of the material to a proper state ofworkability, and the shaping of the material according to design, beforethe bottle is ready to go forth on its mission. 

The basic material of which all glass is made is, of course, sand. Notthe brown sand of the river-bed, the well remembered "sandy bottom" ofthe swimmin' hole of our childhood, but the finest of white sand fromthe prehistoric ocean-beds of our country. This sand is brought to thefactory and there mixed by experts with coloring matter and a flux toaid the melting. On the tint of the finished product depends the sort ofcoloring agent used. For clear white glass, called flint glass, no coloris added. The mixing of a copper salt with the sand gives a greenishtinge to the glass; amber glass is obtained by the addition of an ironcompound; and a little cobalt in the mixture gives the finished bottlethe clear blue tone that used to greet the waking eye as it searched theroom for something to allay that morning's morning feeling. The fluxused is old glass--bits of shattered bottles, scraps from the floor ofthe factory. This broken glass is called "cullet, " and is carefullyswept into piles and kept in bins for use in the furnaces. 

The sand, coloring matter, and cullet, when mixed in the properproportions, form what is called in bottle-makers' talk the "batch" or"dope. " This batch is put into a specially constructed furnace--a brickbox about thirty feet long by fifteen wide, and seven feet high at thecrown of the arched roof. This furnace is made of the best refractoryblocks to withstand the fierce heat necessary to bring the batch to amolten state. The heat is supplied by various fuels--producer-gas is themost common, tho oil is sometimes used. The gas is forced into thefurnace and mixed with air at its inception; when the mixture is ignitedthe flame rolls down across the batch, and the burnt gases pass out ofthe furnace on the other side. The gases at their exit pass thru a brickgrating or "checkerboard, " which takes up much of the heat; about everyhalf hour, by an arrangement of valves, the inlet of the gas becomes theoutlet, and vice versa, so that the heat taken up by the checkerboard isused instead of being dissipated, and as little of the heat ofcombustion is lost as is possible. The batch is put into the furnacefrom the rear; as it liquefies it flows to the front, where it is drawnoff thru small openings and blown into shape. 

The temperature in the furnace averages about 2100 degrees Fahrenheit;it is lowest at the rear, where the batch is fed in, and graduates toits highest point just behind the openings thru which the glass is drawnoff. This temperature is measured by special instruments called thermalcouples--two metals joined and placed in the heat of the flame. The heatsets up an electric current in the joined metals, and this current isread on a galvanometer graduated to read degrees Fahrenheit instead ofvolts, so that the temperature may be read direct. 

All furnaces for the melting of sand for glass are essentially the samein construction and principle. The radical differences in bottlemanufacturing appear in the methods used in drawing off the glass andblowing it into shape. 

Glass is blown by three methods: hand-blowing, semi-automatic blowing, and automatic blowing. The first used was the hand method, and tho theintroduction of machines is rapidly making the old way a back number, there are still factories where the old-time glass blower reignssupreme. 

One of the great centers of the bottle industry in the United States isdown in the southern end of New Jersey. Good sand is dug there--NewJersey was part of the bed of the Atlantic before it literally rose toits present state status--and naturally the factories cluster about thesource of supply of material. Within a radius of thirty miles theinvestigator may see bottles turned out by all three methods. 

The hand-blowing, while it is the slowest and most expensive means ofmaking bottles, is by far the most picturesque. Imagine a long, low, dark building--dark as far as daylight is concerned, but weirdly lit byorange and scarlet flashes from the great furnaces that crouch in itsshelter. At the front of each of these squatting monsters, men, silhouetted against the fierce glow from the doors, move about likepuppets on wires--any noise they may make is drowned in the masteringroar of the fire. A worker thrusts a long blowpipe (in glassworkers'terminology a wand) into the molten mass in the furnace and twirls itrapidly. The end of the wand, armed with a ball of refractory clay, collects a ball of semi-liquid glass; the worker must estimate theamount of glass to be withdrawn for the particular size of the bottlethat is to be made. This ball of glowing material is withdrawn from thefurnace; the worker rolls it on a sloping moldboard, shaping it to acylinder, and passes the wand to the blower who is standing ready toreceive it. The blower drops the cylinder of glass into a mold, which isheld open for its reception by yet another man; the mold snaps shut; theblower applies his mouth to the end of the blowpipe; a quick puff, accompanied by the drawing away of the wand, blows the glass to shape inthe mold and leaves a thin bubble of glass protruding above. The mold isopened; the shaped bottle, still faintly glowing, is withdrawn with apair of asbestos-lined pincers, and passed to a man who chips off thebubble on a rough strip of steel, after which he gives the bottle to onewho sits guarding a tiny furnace in which oil sprayed under pressureroars and flares. The rough neck of the bottle goes into the flame; theraw edges left when the bubble was chipped off are smoothed away by theheat; the neck undergoes a final polishing and shaping twirl in the jawsof a steel instrument, and the bottle is laid on a little shelf to becarried away. It is shaped, but not finished. 

The glass must not be cooled too quickly, lest it be brittle. It must beannealed--cooled slowly--in order to withstand the rough usage to whichit is to be subjected. The annealing process takes place in a long, brick tunnel, heated at one end, and gradually cooling to atmospherictemperature at the other. The bottles are placed on a moving platform, which slowly carries them from the heated end to the cool end. Theprocess takes about thirty hours. At the cool end of the annealingfurnace the bottle is met by the packers and is made ready for shipment. These annealing furnaces are called "lehrs" or "leers"--either spellingis correct--and the most searching inquiry failed to discover the reasonfor the name. They have always been called that, and probably alwayswill be. 

In the hand-blowing process six men are needed to make one bottle. There must be a gatherer to draw the glass from the furnace; a blower; aman to handle the mold; a man to chip off the bubble left by the blower;a shaper to finish the neck of the bottle; and a carrier-off to take thecompleted bottles to the lehr. Usually the gatherer is also the blower, in which case two men are used, one blowing while the other gathers forhis turn; but on one platform I saw the somewhat unusual sight of oneman doing all the blowing while another gathered for him. The pair usedtwo wands, so that their production was the same as tho two men weregathering and blowing. This particular blower was making quart bottles, and he was well qualified for the job. He weighed, at a conservativeestimate, two hundred and fifty pounds, and when he blew something hadto happen. I arrived at his place of labor just as the shifts were beingchanged--a glass-furnace is worked continuously, in three eight-hourshifts--and as the little whistle blew to announce the end of his day'stoil the giant grabbed the last wand, dropped it into the waiting mold, and blew a mighty blast. A bubble of glass sprang from the mouth of themold, swelled to two feet in diameter, and burst with a bang, fillingthe air with shimmering flakes of glass, light enough to be wafted likemotes. When the shining shower had settled and I had opened my eyes--itwould not be pleasant to get an eyeful of those beautiful scraps--thehuge blower was diminishing in perspective toward his dinner, and thefurnace door was, for the moment, without its usual hustlingcongregation of workers. I made bold to investigate the platform. 

Close to me glared the mouth of the furnace, with masses of silverthreads depending from it like the beard of some fiery gulletedogre--the strings of glass left by the withdrawal of the wand. The heatthree feet away was enough to make sand melt and run like water, but Iwas not unpleasantly warm. This was because I stood at the focus ofthree tin pipes, thru which streams of cold air, fan-impelled, beat uponme. Without this cooling agent it would be impossible for men to work soclose to the heat of the molten glass. 

Later, in the cool offices of the company, where the roar of thefurnaces penetrated only as a dull undertone, and electric fans whizzedaway the heat of the summer afternoon, I learned more of the techniqueof the bottle industry. Each shape demanded by the trade requires aspecial mold, made of cast iron and cut according to the designsubmitted. There are, of course, standard shapes for standard bottles;these are alluded to (reversing the usual practise of metonymy) by usingthing contained for container, as "ginger ales, " "olives, " "mustards, ""sodas" and (low be it spoken) "beers. " But when a firm places an orderfor bottles of a particular shape, or ones with lettering in relief onthe glass, special molds must be made; and after the lot is finished themolds are useless till another order for that particular design comesin. A few standard molds are made so that plates with lettering can beinserted for customers who want trademarks or firm names on theirbottles; but the great majority of the lettered bottles have their ownmolds, made especially for them and unable to be used for any other lot. 

All bottles are blown in molds; it is in the handling of the moltenglass and the actual blowing that machinery has come to take the placeof men in the glass industry. The first type of machine to be developedwas for blowing the bottle and finishing it, thus doing away with threeof the six men formerly employed in making one bottle. In appearance thebottle-blowing machine is merely two circular platforms, revolving inthe same horizontal plane, each carrying five molds. One of theplatforms revolves close to the furnace door, and as each mold comesaround it automatically opens and the gatherer draws from the furnaceenough glass for the bottle which is being made at the time, and placesit in the mold. The mold closes, and the platform turns on, bringingaround another mold to the gatherer. Meanwhile a nozzle has snapped downover the first mold, shaping the neck of the bottle, and beginning theblowing. As the mold comes to a point diametrically opposite the furnacedoor it opens again, and a handler takes the blank, as the bottle iscalled at this stage, and places it in a mold on the second revolvingplatform. This mold closes and compressed air blows out the bottle asthe platform revolves. As the mold comes around to the handler again itopens and the handler takes out the finished bottle, replacing it with anew blank drawn from the mold on the first platform. This operationnecessitates only three men--a gatherer, a handler, and a carrier-off. It is also much faster than the old method--an average of about fortybottles per minute as against barely twenty. 

A newer development of this machine does away with the gatherer. A longrod of refractory clay is given a churning movement in the mouth of thefurnace, forcing the molten glass thru a tube. As enough glass for onebottle appears at the mouth of the tube a knife cuts the mass and theblob of glass falls into a trough which conveys it to the blank mold. Byan ingenious device the same trough is made to feed three or fourmachines at one time. As many as fifty bottles a minute can be turnedout by this combination blowing machine and feeder. 

But the apotheosis of bottle-making is to be seen in another factory inthe south Jersey district. Here it is the boast of the superintendentsthat from the time the sand goes out of the freight cars in which it isbrought to the plant till the finished bottle is taken by the packer, nohuman hand touches the product; and their statement is amply confirmedby a trip thru the plant. The sand, coloring matter and cullet are inseparate bins; an electrical conveyor takes enough of each for a batchto a mixing machine; from there the batch goes on a long belt to thefurnace. At the front of the furnace, instead of doors or mouths, is arevolving pan, kept level full with the molten glass. Outside thefurnace revolves a huge machine with ten arms, each of which carries itsown mold and blowpipe. As each arm passes over the pan in the furnacethe proper amount of glass is sucked into the mold by vacuum; the bottleis blown and shaped in the course of one revolution, and the mold, opening, drops the finished bottle into a rack which carries it to thelehr on a belt. It passes thru the lehr to the packers; and as each rackis emptied of its bottles the packers place it again on the belt, whichcarries it up to the machine, where it collects its cargo of hot bottlesand conducts it again thru the lehr. The entire plant--mixing, feeding, actually making the bottles, delivery to the lehr, and packing--issynchronized exactly. Men unload the cars of sand--men pack the bottles. The intermediate period is entirely mechanical. The plant itself is aswell lighted and ventilated as a department store, and except in theimmediate vicinity of the furnace there is no heat felt above the dailytemperature. The machines average well over a bottle a second, and by anexceedingly clever arrangement of electrical recording appliances anaccurate record of the output of each machine, as well as thetemperatures of the furnaces and lehrs, is kept in the offices of thecompany. The entire equipment is of the most modern, from the boilersand motors in the power-plant and producer-gas-plant to the packingplatforms. In addition, the plant boasts a complete machine shop whereall the molds are made and the machines repaired. 

It is a far cry from human lung-power to the super-efficient machineryof the new plants; but it is the logical progress of human events, applying to every product of man's hands, from battleships to--bottles. 

 * * * * *

SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLES

(_New York World_)

One illustration, a half-tone reproduction of a photograph of theexterior of the theater. 

THE NEIGHBORHOOD PLAYHOUSE

A GIFT TO THE EAST SIDE--HOW THE SETTLEMENT WORK OF MISSES IRENE ANDALICE LEWISOHN HAS CULMINATED AT LAST IN A REAL THEATRE--ITS ATTRACTIONSAND EDUCATIONAL VALUE

The piece is the Biblical "Jephthah's Daughter, " adapted from the Bookof Judges. The hero, "a mighty man of valor, " has conquered the enemiesof his people. There is great rejoicing over his victory, for the tribeof Israel has been at its weakest. But now comes payment of the price ofconquest. The leader of the victorious host promised to yield to God asa burnt sacrifice "whatsoever cometh forth from the doors of my house tomeet me when I return from battle. " And his daughter came forth. 

In the last act, the girl herself, young and beautiful, advances towardthe altar on which fagots have been piled high. In her hand is thelighted torch which is to kindle her own death fire. 

The chorus chants old Hebraic melodies. Even the audience joins in thesinging. The play takes on the aspect of an ancient religiousceremonial. Old men and women are in tears, moved by the sad history oftheir race, forgetful of the horror of human sacrifice in the intensityof their religious fervor. 

Such is the artistry of the piece; such the perfection of itsproduction. 

Yet this is no professional performance, but the work of amateurs. It isthe opening night of the new community theatre of New York's denselypopulated East Side. 

At No. 466 Grand Street it stands, far away from Broadway's theatricaldistrict--a low-lying, little Georgian building. It is but three storieshigh, built of light red brick, and finished with white marble. Allaround garish millinery shops display their showy goods. Peddlers withpushcarts lit by flickering flames, vie with each other in their arrayof gaudy neckties and bargain shirtwaists. Blazing electric signs heraldthe thrills of movie shows. And, salient by the force of extremecontrast, a plain little white posterboard makes its influence felt. Itis lit by two iron lanterns, and reads simply, "The NeighborhoodPlayhouse. "

The Misses Irene and Alice Lewisohn of No. 43 Fifth Avenue have builtthis theatre. It is their gift to the neighborhood, and symbolizes theculmination of a work which they have shared with the neighborhood'speople. 

Eight years ago the Henry Street Settlement started its scheme offestivals and pantomimes, portraying through the medium of color, song, and dance such vague ideas as "Impressions of Spring. " It was the boysand girls of the Settlement who performed in these pantomimes. It wasthey who made the costumes, painted the necessary scenery, sang anddanced. 

And both daughters of the late Leonard Lewisohn were always interestedand active in promoting this work. 

Out of it, in due time, there developed, quite naturally, a dramaticclub. Plays were given in the Settlement gymnasium--full-grown pieceslike "The Silver Box, " by John Galsworthy, and inspiring dramas like"The Shepherd, " a plea for Russian revolutionists, by an Americanauthor, Miss Olive Tilford Dargan. Such was the emotional response ofthe neighborhood to this drama that four performances had to be given atClinton Hall; and as a result a substantial sum of money was forwardedto "The Friends of Russian Freedom. "

Then, in 1913, came the famous Pageant, which roused the entire districtto a consciousness of itself--its history, its dignity and also itspossibilities. 

That portion of the East Side which surrounds the Henry StreetSettlement has seen many an invasion since the days when the Dutch firstousted the Indians. English, Quakers, Scotch have come and gone, leavingtraces more or less distinct. The Irish have given place to theItalians, who have been replaced by the Russians. In the Pageant of 1913all these settlers were represented by artistically clad groups whoparaded the streets singing and dancing. No hall could have held theaudience which thronged to see this performance; no host of matinéeworshippers could have rivalled it in fervor of appreciation. 

When the Misses Lewisohn, then, built their new playhouse in GrandStreet, it was not with the intention of rousing, but rather ofsatisfying, an artistic demand among the people of the neighborhood. Andin the new home are to be continued all the varied activities of whichthe Henry Street Settlement festival and dramatic clubs were but thecentre. It is to be a genuine community enterprise in which each boy andgirl will have a share. Miss Alice Lewisohn herself thus expresses itsmany-sided work:

"The costume designers and makers, fashioners of jewelry, painters andcomposers, musicians and seamstresses, as well as actors and directors, will contribute their share in varying degree. 

"Putting aside for a moment the higher and artistic development whichsuch work must bring, there is the craftsman side, too, which haspractical value. The young men will become familiar with all thehandiwork of the theatre, the construction and handling of scenery, theelectrical equipment and its varied uses. It will be conceded, I think, that in this respect the community playhouse is really a college ofinstruction in the craft of the stage. "

It is a college with a very efficient and well-trained staff ofprofessors. Mrs. Sarah Cowell Le Moyne, already well known as a teacherof elocution and acting, will be one of its members. Miss GraceGriswold, an experienced co-worker of the late Augustine Daly, will actas manager. 

The pupils of this novel school are to have amusement as well as work. The third floor has been planned to meet many more requirements than areusually considered in a theatre. Across the front runs a large rehearsalroom, large enough to make a fine dance hall when occasion demands. Here, too, is a kitchenette which will be used to serve refreshmentswhen social gatherings are in progress or when an over-long rehearsaltires out the cast. In warm weather the flat-tiled roof will be used asa playground. It will be the scene, too, of many open air performances. 

The Neighborhood Playhouse has been open only a few weeks. Already it isin full swing. On the nights when the regular players do not appear theprogramme consists of motion pictures and music. There is a charminginformality and ease about these entertainments; there is also genuineart, and a whole-hearted appreciation on the part of the neighborhood'speople. 

 * * * * *

(_New York Evening Post_)

THE SINGULAR STORY OF THE MOSQUITO MAN

BY HELEN BULLITT LOWRY

"Now you just hold up a minute"--the bungalow-owner waved an indignanthand at the man in the little car chug-chugging over the bumpy road. "Now I just want to tell you, " he protested, "that a mosquito got intomy room last night and bit me, and I want you to know that this hashappened three times this week. I want it to stop. "

The man in the car had jumped out, and was turning an animated, andaggressive, but not at all provoked, face on the complainer. 

"Are you certain your drains are not stopped up?" he asked. 

"Oh, those drains are all right. It's that damp hollow over in Miss K'swoods that's making the trouble. "

"I'll go there immediately, " said the aggressive one. "She promised meshe would fill that place this week. "

"All right, then, " answered the placated bungalow-owner, "I thoughtyou'd fix it up if you found out about it. I certainly wouldn't havebought around Darien if you had not cleared this place of mosquitoes. "

The aggressive one plunged into the Connecticut woods and began hissearch for possible mosquito-breeding spots. He was the "Mosquito Man, "the self-appointed guardian of the Connecticut coast from Stamford toWestport. 

He was not born a Mosquito Man at all--in fact, he did not become oneuntil he was forty years old and had retired from business because hehad made enough money to rest and "enjoy life. " But he did not rest, anddid not get enjoyment, for the mosquitoes had likewise leased his placeon the Sound and were making good their title. 

Came then big fat mosquitoes from the swamp. Came mosquitoes from thesalt marshes. Some lighted on the owner's nose and some looked for hisankles, and found them. Three days of this sort of rest made him decideto move away. Then, because he was aggressive, he became the MosquitoMan. The idea occurred to him when he had gone over to a distant islandand was watching the building of houses. 

"This place, " he said to the head carpenter, "is going to be a littleheaven. "

"More like a little other place, " growled the head carpenter. "Herethey've dug out the centre of the island and carted it to the beach tomake hills for the houses to be built on. One good rain will fill theirlittle heaven with mosquitoes. Why don't the people around here draintheir country?"

That night the Mosquito Man telephoned to a drainage expert in New Yorkand demanded that he come out the next day. 

"I don't like to work on Sunday, " the expert objected. 

"It is absolutely essential that you come at once, " he was told. "Canyou take the first train?"

The first train and the expert arrived in Darien at 5:51. Before the daywas over a contract had been drawn up to the purport that the expertwould drain the salt marshes between Stamford and South Norwalk for$4, 000. 

The Mosquito Man now began to talk mosquitoes to every one who wouldlisten and to many who did not want to listen. "That bug, " the oldsettlers called him at the time--for old settlers are very settled intheir ways. The young women at the Country Club, whenever they saw himcoming, made bets as to whether he would talk mosquitoes--and he alwaysdid. Every property-owner in the township was asked for a subscription, and some gave generously and some gave niggardly and some did not giveat all. The subscriptions were voluntary, for no one could be forced toremove a mosquito-breeding nuisance from his property. This was in 1911, and only in 1915 has a mosquito law been passed in Connecticut. TheMosquito Man was forced to use "indirect influence, " which does notexpedite matters. 

A subscription of $1, 000 came from the big land corporation of theneighborhood, after the "indirect influence" had rather forciblyexpressed itself. 

"I want $1, 000 from you, " said the Mosquito Man to the representative ofthe president--the president was in South America. The representativelaughed, so the Mosquito Man spent several days explaining to him whyproperty is more valuable when it is not infested with pests. But everytime that the $1, 000 was mentioned, the representative could notrestrain the smile. 

"Well, " the Mosquito Man said, at last, "I will make the drainage onyour property anyway, and it will cost me $2, 000. If you want it leftyou will have to pay me every cent of the $2, 000, not just the $1, 000that I am asking now. Otherwise I shall fill up my ditches and let youenjoy your mosquitoes. "

The representative did not laugh at this, but cabled the president inSouth America. As the president had just been at Panama, and had seenthe mosquito extermination work, the $1, 000 subscription came back byreturn cable. 

The Darien Board of Health also was a spot against which in directinfluence was knocking, for it was a rich Board of Health with $150 atits disposal--and the Mosquito Man wanted that appropriation to flauntin the faces of the old settlers. 

"God sent mosquitoes, " objected one member of the Board of Health, "andit is going in the face of Providence to try to get rid of them. "

All in all, the money was raised. Some whom he asked for $100 gave $25, and some whom he asked for $25 gave $100, and some millionaires did notgive at all--but a sail-maker is still telling proudly of how he gave$5, and "I haven't regretted a cent of it since. "

The draining now commenced, and the expert and the Mosquito Man were ofthe same stripe. The work was completed in six weeks. Just about thistime people stopped calling the Mosquito Man "a bug, " and the members ofthe Country Club even tried to make him talk mosquitoes to them, whilethe sail-maker felt sure that his $5 had done the whole job. Hammockswere swung out in the yards--and a hammock hung outside of the screensis the barometer of the mosquito condition. 

The Mosquito Man was feeling very satisfied the night he went to a danceat the Country Club. But the east wind blew in the mosquitoes from theNorwalk marshes. 

"It was the most embarrassing experience I have ever had, " said theMosquito Man. "I sat right behind a big fat lady whose dress was verylow and I watched the mosquitoes bite her; her whole back was coveredwith red lumps. That night I telegraphed to the man who had done thedraining and he telegraphed back that all of Norwalk township must bedrained. "

Norwalk proved to be a much severer task than Darien. In Darien theMosquito Man had found only indifference and prejudice; in Norwalk hemet active opposition. Property owners and city councils seem to beafraid that the value of property will be brought down if any sanitationscandal is advertised. It really appeared to be simpler and betterbusiness to ignore the fact. 

To do away with this opposition, the Mosquito Man handled his campaignin a popular manner. The cooperation of the newspapers was gained andevery day he published articles on the mosquito question; some of thearticles were educational and others were facetious--while one came outthat brought the property owners crying "murder" about his ears. Thiswas the article in which he gave the statistics of Norwalk's health ratein comparison with other Connecticut towns. The smallest subscriptionswere encouraged, for, after a man has given a dollar to a cause, thatcause is his. Many a child was received with a welcoming smile when hebrought to the campaign offices a ten-cent donation. 

True, ten-cent donations were not suggested to adult contributors, andthe Mosquito Man did much to induce the well-to-do citizens to subscribeaccording to their means. He still tells with relish of the club ofwomen which took up a collection, after his talk, and presented him withtwo dollars, in small change. 

"The women, though, were my greatest help, " he adds; "I found that thewomen are as a rule better citizens than the men and are glad to beorganized to fight the mosquito and fly menace. Of course, I found someuneducated ones that owned a piece of property a foot square, and wereafraid that I would walk off with it in my pocket if I came to look itover--but, as for the educated women, I could not have managed mycampaign without them. "

A large contributor to the fund was the monastery at Kaiser Island. Foryears this had been a summer resort for the monks, who filled thedormitories in the old days before the mosquitoes took the island. Onlyone priest was there when the Mosquito Man visited the place to ask fora subscription. 

"Very few come any more, " said the priest. "It is because of themosquitoes. "

"Will you contribute $500 to get rid of them?" asked the Mosquito Man. 

Briefly, the Mosquito Man offered to repay the $500 himself if he didnot exterminate the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes went; the monks came backto Kaiser Island. 

Yet, in spite of the occasional generous giver, the $7, 500 was neverquite raised, and the Mosquito Man himself had to make up the deficit. The citizens of Norwalk, for instance, contributed only $150. 

This all happened three years ago, and now not a child in the twelvemiles but can tell you all about mosquitoes and how a community canavoid having them. The Mosquito Man is appreciated now, and thecommunity understands what he has done for them and what he is stilldoing--for the contract merely drained the salt marshes, doing away withthe salt-water mosquitoes. There were still the fresh-water mosquitoes, and there was still much work for some one to do. That some one hasbeen the Mosquito Man. 

During the three years, he has made it his business to drain everyinland marsh within his territory, to turn over every tub which maycollect water, to let the plug out of every old boat which is breedingmosquitoes, and to convince every ancestor-encumbered autocrat that hisinherited woods can breed mosquitoes just as disastrously as do the tincans of the Hungarian immigrant down the road. The Mosquito Man has anassistant, paid by the towns of Darien and Norwalk--and together theytraverse the country. 

"It was difficult finding a man who would go into mud to the waist whenneed was, " said the Mosquito Man, "but I finally found a good man withthe proper scorn of public opinion on the clothes question, and with aproperly trained wife who cleaned without scolding. "

You can find traces of the two men any place you go in the woods ofDarien or Norwalk. In a ferned dell where you are quite sure that yoursis the first human presence, you come upon a ditch, as clean and smoothas a knife--or you find new grass in a place which you remember as aswamp. Perhaps you may even be lucky enough to come on the two workersthemselves, digging with their pick and spade--for all summer long theMosquito Man is working eight hours a day at his self-appointed task. 

You might even find him in New York some off-day--and you will know him, for surely he will be telling some rebellious apartment-house owner thatthe tank on his roof is unscreened. For they do say that he carries hisactivities into any part of the world where he may chance to be; they dosay that, when he was in Italy not so very long ago, he went out toinvestigate the mosquitoes which had disturbed his rest the nightbefore. 

"Now you must oil your swamp, " said he to the innkeeper. 

That night there was no salad for dinner, for the innkeeper had obeyedthe order to the best of his ability. He had poured all of his bestolive oil on the mosquito marsh. 

 * * * * *

_(Country Gentleman)_

Five half-tone illustrations, with the following captions: 1. "A Traction Ditcher at Work Digging Trench for Tile. " 2. "Ditch Dug With Dynamite Through Woods. " 3. "Apple Packing House and Cold Storage at Ransomville. " 4. "Nelson R. Peet, County Agent and Manager of the Niagara County Farm Bureau, New York. " 5. "Part of the Crowd Listening to the Speakers. "

A COUNTY SERVICE STATION

WHERE NEW YORK FARMERS GET HELP IN THEIR FRUIT GROWING AND MARKETINGPROBLEMS

BY D. H. WILLIAMS

You've got to look into the family closet of a county and study itsskeletons before you can decide whether that county's farming businessis mostly on paper or on concrete. You've got to know whether itstandardizes production and marketing, or just markets by as manymethods as there are producers. 

As a living example of the possibility of tightening up and retiming thegears of a county's economic machinery to the end of cutting out powerlosses, Niagara County, New York, stands in a distinct class by itself. 

Here is an area of 558 square miles, with Lake Ontario spraying itsnorthern line. A network of electric and steam railways and hundreds ofmiles of splendid state highways make up a system of economic arteriesthrough which the industrial life-blood of the county circulates. 

Forty-eight hours to Chicago's markets, the same distance to New York's;three wealthy industrial and agricultural cities within the countyitself--Lockport, Niagara Falls and North Tonawanda--operating with awealth of cheap electric power generated at Niagara Falls--these aresome of the advantages within and without the county, the value of whichis self-evident. 

Beginning with the southern plain section, Niagara's agriculture changesin type from general hay and grain farming to a more intensefruit-growing industry as the northern plain section is approached, until within the zone of Lake Ontario's tempering influence the fruitindustry almost excludes all other types of farming. 

There is hardly a more favored fruit section in the country than thenorthern half of Niagara County. Apples, pears, peaches, plums, grapes, cherries, quinces make up the county's horticultural catalogue. Thelatest available figures rank Niagara County first among the counties ofNew York in the number of fruit trees; second in the total number ofbushels of fruit produced; first in the quantity of peaches, pears, plums and prunes, quinces and cherries; third in the number of bushelsof apples. 

Yet there are things about the county which no statistics will evershow, such things, for instance, as the condition of the orchards, themarket value of the fruit, the earning capacity of the land as awhole--in other words, the bedrock rating of the county. You have to getat these things by a different avenue of approach. 

A rather close auditing during 1914 of the accounts of some eighty-seventypical good farms in perhaps the best section of Niagara County broughtout the fact that labor incomes from these farms, on the whole, couldnot be classed as strictly giltedge. One diagnosis made by a NiagaraCounty investigator is recorded in these words:

"Though Niagara County has many of the best fruit farms in New YorkState, there are numbers of orchards that have been abandoned to theravages of insects and disease. There is also a tendency towardextensive rather than intensive fruit growing, which has resulted inmany large plantings being made. 

"Niagara County does not need more orchards, but rather cultivation andspraying of the present orchards; it does not need to produce morefruit, but rather to insure better grading and marketing of the presentproduction. "

This observation is dated 1914, one year after leading farmers andbusiness men of the county, convinced that all was not so well with themas the lifeless census figures would have one believe, made the move toset up and operate for the county a farm bureau. New York is thenational hotbed of farm-bureau enthusiasm and propaganda. 

Almost six years to the day after the inauguration of this bureau, Iwent into Niagara County. And before I left I was able to sketch arather vivid mental picture of what a farm bureau really can do for acounty, be the raw material with which it must work good, bad orindifferent. 

Up in the office of the Niagara County Farm Bureau at Lockport I waitedsome two hours for an interview with its manager, Nelson R. Peet. Thatwait was an eye-opener. 

Three women clerks and stenographers and the assistant manager occupiedthis room. The clerks were trying to typewrite, answer the continuousringing of the phone, respond to buzzer summons from Manager Peet'sprivate office and talk with a stream of visitors, all at the same time. 

I spent two whole days and half a night in these offices and not oncesave at night was there a let-up in this sort of thing. It was businessall the time; the business of service! Niagara County farmers are usingthe bureau. 

Nelson Peet, manager, is a spectacled human magneto. His speech and hismovements fairly crackle with energy; his enthusiasm is as communicableas a jump spark. A young man in years, yet mature in the knowledge ofmen and the psychology of service, he never wastes a minute dilatingupon the philosophy of farm management; but he has worked twenty hours aday to see that Niagara County farmers got all the labor they neededduring rush seasons. 

This man has been with the bureau three years. When he came to it thebureau had a paid-up membership of 325. In March this year, when I wasin Niagara County, the membership stood at 2185, and was increasingdaily. It led by a good margin, I was told, the fifty-five New Yorkcounty farm bureaus. These, in 1918, had a total membership of 60, 000. More than half the farmers in Niagara County are members of the NiagaraBureau. 

When Peet first took charge there were two broad courses open to him. Hemight have planned a program of paternalistic propaganda in behalf ofthe farmers of the county. Such a program calls for a tremendous amountof talking and writing about coöperation and community interests, bettereconomics and better social conditions, but too often results in thepropagandist doing the "coing, " while the "operating" is left tosomebody else. 

The other course was to find out what the farms and farmers in thecounty needed most and then set to work with little ado to get thosethings. Peet chose the latter course. And in so doing he has staged oneof the best demonstrations in rural America. He has shown that a farmbureau can be made into a county service station and actually become thehub of the county's agricultural activities. 

With the aid of state-college men, one of Peet's foremost lines ofbureau work has been that of taking inventories of the farming businessof Niagara County. For four years these records have been taken on some100 typical farms. Group meetings are regularly held at the homes of thebureau's community committeemen. Here, with the records they have beenkeeping, the farmers assemble. Here they work out their own laborincomes and compare notes with their neighbors. The farm bureau helpsthe men make these business analyses--it does not do the work for them. Now the farmers ask for the blank forms and are themselves asenthusiastic over farm-management records as the men who specialize insuch. 

These figures serve the bureau as an index to the county's progress. More than once Peet has referred to them and discovered where leakscould be plugged. For example, these records showed an average laborincome of $182 a farm for the four years ending 1916. 

"This fact, " Mr. Peet explained, "we put to work as the reason for doingsomething to benefit the fruit industry. What could be done? The answerin other highly specialized fruit sections seems to have been centralpacking houses. We held a meeting, inviting one very influential fruitgrower from each loading station in the county. We showed charts of thefarm-management records. It didn't take long for the meeting to go onrecord as favoring the central-packing-house plan. 

"Later meetings were held in each community, the farm-management chartswere again shown, and at every loading station the meetings went onrecord as favoring central packing houses. To make a long story short, sites and methods of financing these houses were worked out. There werealready two old central packing houses in operation. They took on newlife. Five new ones have been formed. All were incorporated andfederated into a central parent association, which owns the brandadopted and makes the rules and regulations under which the fruit ispacked. 

"From the very beginning the proposition has been pushed not as a meansof beating the selling game by selling coöperatively, but as a means ofsecuring the confidence of the consuming public, which must ultimatelyresult in a wider distribution and better prices. In fact, the matter ofselling has not been fostered from the farm-bureau office. We haveconcerned ourselves solely with uniform grading and central packing. Webelieved from the start that the selling of properly graded and packedfruit will take care of itself, and this stand has been justified. 

"Each association makes its own arrangements for selling, and in everycase has secured better prices than the growers who sold under the oldsystem. The most satisfactory feature of this work centers round thefact that the best and most influential growers are heart and soulbehind the proposition. The personnel of coöperative movements, Ibelieve, is the main feature. "

When I visited Niagara County the seven central packing associationswere doing a splendid business, handling about $1, 000, 000 worth ofapples between them. Only two of the associations were more than oneyear old. Many of the associations were dickering for additional spacefor packing and for extensions for their refrigerator service. Othercommunities in Niagara and in other counties were writing in for detailsof the plan, to the end of getting the same thing started in theirsections. And inquiries were coming in from states outside of New York. 

Even with the best of selling methods, no commodity will bring a profitto the producer unless the greater portion of it is eligible to the A-1class. Too many seconds or culls will throw any orchard venture on therocks of bankruptcy. It came to Manager Peet's attention early in 1917that the farm bureau had a golden opportunity to put on another service, which alone, if it worked out in practice as well as it did on paper, would justify the existence of the bureau. 

He noticed that though orchardists were following sprayingschedules--the best they could find--some had splendid results incontrolling apple scab and other pests, but others got results rangingbetween indifferent and poor. This seemed paradoxical, in view of thefact that one man who followed the same spraying schedule as hisneighbor would have more scabby apples than the other. 

At that time L. F. Strickland, orchard inspector for the state departmentof agriculture, had paid particular attention to a limited number ofapple orchards in Niagara County with a view to controlling scab byspraying. He discovered that, though the average spraying calendar isall right, climatic conditions in different parts of the same countyoften upset these standard calculations, so that a difference of one dayor even a few hours in time of spraying often meant the differencebetween success and failure. In other words, it was necessary to studyall contributing factors, watch the orchards unremittingly and thendecide on the exact day or even hour when conditions were right for asuccessful spray treatment. He found that one must strike the _timesbetween times_ to get the optimum of results. 

So Mr. Strickland, in conjunction with his regular work, kept an eagleeye on a few orchards and would notify the owners when it seemed themoment for spraying had come. It worked out that those favoredorchardists had magnificent yields of A-1 fruit; others in the samesections, following the rather flexible spraying calendars, didn't donearly so well. 

All this set Manager Peet to thinking. "Strickland hasn't got anautomobile and has lots of other work to do, " he reasoned; "but why, ifhe had a car and could give all the time necessary to such work, couldn't the same results be had in orchards all over the county? Whycan't this farm bureau put on a spraying service?"

He put the idea up to the executive committee of the bureau. The ideawas good, they agreed, but it would cost at least $500 to try it out thefirst year. The bureau didn't have the available funds. 

"Tell you what, " they finally said: "If you want to get out and rustleup 500 new members at one dollar each to pay for this thing, we'llauthorize it. "

Peet was telling me about it. "Here the bureau had been working for fouryears with a paid-up membership of about 375, " he said, "and if Ibelieved in my idea I had to get 500 more by spring. It was Februaryeighth when the committee gave me this decision. Well, I did it in timeto start the ball that spring!"

He got the new members because he had a service to sell them. Arrangements were made whereby the county was divided into six zones, varying in soil and topographic conditions. Criterion orchards wereselected in each zone. The inspector, with the aid of daily telegraphicweather reports and through constant inspection of the criterionorchards, decided when the hour struck for the most effective sprayingof these orchards. 

In the meantime Manager Peet and the inspector had worked out a codesystem for spraying instructions and put this into the hands of thegrowers in the six zones. When it came time to spray, the telephonesfrom headquarters in Lockport were put to work and the code message sentto certain orchardists; these in turn repeated the instructions to anumber of other orchardists agreed upon, until every member had receivedthe message. 

The scheme has worked. The first year there were 800 members who tookthis service; the second year--1918--there were 900; this year there are1500. It is paying for itself many times over. One central packinghouse with nine grower members reports that eight of the members usedthe spraying service and that none of these had more than five per centof their fruit to cull out. The ninth member sprayed, but not throughthe service. He culled forty-five per cent of his crop. There are scoresof similar instances. 

Seeing how quickly he could get the support of the Niagara farmers forany move which had practice and not theory to recommend it, Manager Peetnext began to agitate for an improvement in city-marketing conditions inLockport. Up to August, 1915, the system--if system it might becalled--of distributing farm produce for Lockport's consumptionconsisted of sporadic visits by producers to the city with produce to besold at prices largely controlled by the local grocerymen. Likewiseretail prices to consumers were chiefly regulated by the same standard. 

A grower might drive into Lockport with 100 quarts of strawberries. Hewould stop at a grocery and offer them. 

"No, " the grocer would say, "I don't want any. Say, how much do you wantfor them anyhow?"

"Ten cents a quart. "

"Too high; I'll give you six. "

Whereupon the man would drive on to see the next grocer. But the man whooffered six cents might go straight to his phone, call up the rest ofthe trade and inform it that there were 100 quarts of strawberries onthe streets for which he had offered six cents against ten asked. Theresult would be that the farmer would get no better offer than sixcents. 

So Manager Peet joined hands with the Lockport Board of Commerce andwent at the job of righting this condition. He proposed a city marketfor farmers. The nearest approach to a market was a shelter for teamswhich the local food dealers had rented. 

To 700 farmers in the vicinity of Lockport Manager Peet wrote letters, calling their attention to these conditions and offering the city-marketidea as a remedy. And he used publicity among Lockport's population ofconsumers, showing them the economy of such a move. The farmers held aget-together meeting, decided on a location for a market in Lockport, decided on market days and market hours. After this the farm bureau gotthe city's common council to pass an ordinance prohibiting thehuckstering of farm produce on the streets during market hours; also anordinance setting the market hours, marking off a street section whichshould be used as a market stand, and putting the superintendent ofstreets in charge. 

That was all. Not a cent of appropriation asked for. The market openedAugust 10, 1917, with fifty farm wagons in place. Before the summer wasover it was common to find more than 100 at their stands. The localwar-garden supervisor acted as inspector. He looked over the produce, advised the farmers how to pack and display it, and used every energy inthe direction of popularizing the market among producers and consumersalike. 

Between Manager Peet and the inspector a scheme was worked out wherebyevery Thursday was bargain day in market. They would get a certainnumber of farmers to agree to pack and offer for sale on those days alimited number of baskets of their finest tomatoes, say. Or it might becorn. In the case of tomatoes the bargain price would be ten cents forbaskets which that day were selling regularly for eighteen totwenty-five cents. To each of these baskets--no farmer was asked tosacrifice more than ten--was attached a green tag noting that it was abargain. 

Each bargain day was advertised in advance among Lockport consumers. Thursday mornings would see an early rush to the market. The bargainswould be cleaned out and then business at normal prices would continueat a brisker rate than usual. 

The first year of its operation this market was held on fifty-one days. During this period 1300 rigs sold out their produce for a total of$13, 000. This simple move has resulted in stabilizing prices in Lockportand has encouraged the bringing in of farm produce. Prices automaticallyregulate themselves. If they begin to get too low in Lockport, thesupply in sight is immediately reduced through action by the producersin shipping the stuff to Niagara Falls or Buffalo by motor trucks. 

The distribution of Lockport's milk supply, as happens in hundreds ofcities, has been attended by considerable waste and expense as a resultof duplication of delivery routes, breakage of bottles and uneconomicschedules. 

The first night I was in Lockport, Manager Peet was holding a meeting ofthe milk producers supplying the city for the purpose of settling thisinequity once and for all. A little agitation had been carried on aheadof this meeting, but only a little. Peet had a plan. 

"It's all wrong to plan for a municipally owned central distributingsystem, " he was explaining to me the next morning; "these are too likelyto get mixed up in politics. So last night we just about clinched ourarrangement for having our city distributing system owned by theproducers themselves. In the past we have had eight distributors withfifteen wagons handling the milk supplied from fifty dairy farms. Therehas been a big loss in time and money as a result of this competition. 

"The farm bureau got the producers together on the plan of securingoptions on these distributors' interests, and last night we just aboutwound up all the preliminaries. We already have our limited liabilitycorporation papers. We're incorporating under the Membership CorporationLaw. Our organization comes under the amendment to the Sherman AntitrustLaw, you know, following closely the California law under which theCalifornia fruit growers' associations operate. 

"We figure that we will need between $20, 000 and $30, 000 for thepurchase of buildings, wagons, equipment and good-will now in the handsof the distributors. At first we thought it would be a good plan to haveevery member of the association subscribe to the amount proportioned bythe number of cows he keeps or the amount of milk he has for sale. Butfor several reasons this wouldn't work. So we hit on the scheme ofhaving each man subscribe to the amount he personally is able tofinance. 

"We already have $24, 000 subscribed in sums between set limits of $100and $1000. We're issuing five-year certificates of indebtedness bearingsix per cent interest. Our producers will have about $9000 worth of milka month to distribute. We plan to deduct five per cent every month fromthese milk checks to pay off the certificates. Then later we'll create anew set of certificates and redistribute these in proportion to theamounts of milk produced on the members' farms. "

Manager Peet and the producers are making it perfectly plain to Lockportconsumers that this is no move contemplating price control. In fact, they expect to sell milk for a cent a quart under the old price. 

The farm-labor shortage which antedated our entrance into the war becamea national menace about the time our selective draft began to operate. New York farmers were as hard hit as any other farmers, particularly inthe fruit sections, where a tremendous labor supply falls suddenly dueat harvest time. Niagara County came in for its full share of thistrouble and the Niagara County Farm Bureau went its length to meet theemergency. 

In 1917 Western New York produced the biggest crop of peaches in itshistory, and in the face of the greatest labor famine. There were nearly8000 cars of the fruit in danger of spoiling on the trees and on theground. Peet anticipated the crisis by converting the farm bureau into averitable county labor department. He was promised a good number ofhigh-school boys who were to help in the peach harvest and who were tobe cleared through a central office in Buffalo. 

Manager Peet worked out arrangements for the care of these boys inforty-two camps strategically located. The camps were to accommodatethirty boys each. The farmers had asked Peet for 4500 hands. He appliedfor 1500 boys and had every reason to expect these. But at the criticalmoment something went wrong in Buffalo headquarters and of the 1500asked for he got only 200!

"I was in Buffalo at the time the news was broken, " Manager Peet wassaying to me, "and my first impulse was to jump off one of the docks!"

Here was a nice kettle of fish! The fruit was ripening on the trees, andthe phones in the bureau offices were ringing their plating off withcalls from frantic farmers. Peet didn't jump off a Buffalo dock; hejumped out of his coat and into the fray. He got a Federal Department ofLabor man to help him. They plastered appeals for help all over WesternNew York--on the walls of post offices, railroad stations, on boardinghouses. They worked on long-distance phones, the telegraph, the mails. They hired trucks and brought city men and boys and women and girls fromcities to work in the orchards over week-ends. Labor, attracted by theflaring posters, drifted into the bureau's offices in Lockport andimmediately was assigned to farms; and hundreds of laborers whom Peetnever saw also came. 

By working seven days a week and often without meals and with cat napsfor sleep the bureau cleared 1200 laborers through its office, to saynothing of the loads brought overland by motor truck and which nevercame near the office. Business houses in the towns closed down and senttheir help to the orchards. Lockport's organization of "livewires"--lawyers, doctors, bankers--went out and worked in the orchards. 

"Well, " was Peet's comment, "we saved the crop, that's all!"

Last year the bureau placed 1095 men and four women on farms in NiagaraCounty. In addition, 1527 soldiers were secured on two-day furloughsfrom Fort Niagara to help harvest the fruit crops. "We did this, " saidManager Peet, "mainly by starting early and keeping persistently at itwith the War Department, in order to cut the red tape. "

This fall there will go into effect in New York State an amendment toits drainage law which is going to do more properly to drain the statethan all the steam diggers that could have been crowded on its acresunder former conditions. This action came out of Niagara County, throughthe farm bureau. 

To realize the importance of drainage in this county one must rememberthat it lies in two levels broken by the ridge which forms the locks atLockport, the falls at Niagara Falls, and which extends across thecounty from east to west. In each plateau the land is very level, therebeing but few places in the county having a difference in elevation oftwenty feet within a radius of a mile. Good drainage is very necessaryand in the past has been very hard to secure. 

"Practically no man can secure adequate drainage without being concernedin the drainage of his neighbor's land, " said Mr. Peet. "If the neighborobjects the situation is complicated. And our drainage laws have beenwoefully inadequate to handle these problems. "

But recently the farm bureau put it up to a conference of county agentsof New York to get the "state leader" to appoint a state committee towork this thing out and persuade the state legislature to make thenecessary amendments to the drainage law. The plan went through, and oneof the laws passed compels an objecting property owner to open drainswhich are necessary for the relief of his neighbors. This law goes intoeffect next fall. 

Farmers are looking to the farm bureau for help in the cleaning andrepairing of some sixty drainage ditches constructed in the past underthe county-commissioner plan. But the records on file in the countyclerk's office are in bad shape. The farm bureau has taken it uponitself to arrange all this material so that it is available on aminute's notice, and as a result has drawn up petitions to thesupervisors for the cleaning out of three of these ditches. 

Cooperating with the New York State Food Commission, the farm bureau hada power-tractor ditcher placed in the county last summer. Peet placedhis assistant in full charge, and the machine never lost a single day asa result of lack of supervision. It has dug over 4000 rods of ditch fortile on twenty-eight farms. 

For four years Niagara County farmers had not made expenses in growingtomatoes for the canneries. The farm bureau called a meeting of somefourteen growers and together they figured the cost of production. Theaverage cost for 1917 was found to be $85 an acre; the estimated costfor 1918 was $108 an acre. The average crop was set at six tons to theacre. A joint committee went out of the conference and laid these factsbefore the canners. The result was that the growers got $20 a ton fortheir crops in 1918. 

These are some outstanding features of the service rendered its farmersby the Niagara bureau. Here are some of its "lesser" activities:

Taking an agricultural census by school districts of each farm in thecounty and completing the job in one week. 

Effecting an interchange of livestock and seed. 

Distributing 1000 bushels of seed corn among 383 farmers, twenty-twotons of nitrate of soda at cost among sixty-two farmers, and securingand distributing six tons of sugar to fifty beekeepers for winteringbees. 

Indorsing 200 applications for military furloughs. 

Assisting in organizing Liberty Loan campaigns, especially the third. 

Assisting in the delivery of twenty carloads of feed, fertilizer, farmmachinery and barrels, which had been delayed. 

Holding twelve demonstration meetings, attended by 602 farmers. 

Conducting two tractor schools, attended by 125 farmers. 

Arranging eight farmers' institutes, attended by 900 farmers. 

Organizing a Federal Farm Loan Association which has loaned $125, 000 tonineteen farmers. 

The bureau keeps its members posted on what is going on in the countyand what the bureau is doing through the medium of a well-edited monthly"News" of eight pages. The best feature of the handling of thispublication is that it costs neither bureau nor members a cent. Theadvertisements from local supply dealers pay for it, and two pages ofads in each issue settles the bill. 

The bureau's books show that last year it spent five dollars in servingeach member. The membership fee is only one dollar. The difference comesfrom Federal, state and county appropriations. 

The success of this bureau comes from having at the head of it the rightman with the right view of what a farm bureau should do. Manager Peetsees to it that the organization works with the local chamber ofcommerce--the one in Lockport has 700 members--which antedates the farmbureau and which always has supported the bureau. Peet's policy has beento keep the bureau not only before the farmers but before the citypeople as well. 

The "live-wire" committee of the Lockport chamber, composed of lawyers, doctors, bankers, merchants, and the like, has made Manager Peet an_ex-officio_ member. The Niagara Falls and Tonawanda Chambers ofCommerce get together with the Lockport chamber and the farm bureau andtalk over problems of inter-county importance. These conferences haveworked out a unified plan for road development, for instance. TheNiagara Farm Bureau helped the Niagara Falls city administration tosecure the services of a Federal market inspector. In this way allrivalry between different sections and towns in Niagara County is freedof friction. 

About the only criticism I heard against the farm bureau of NiagaraCounty was that Peet was the wrong man. The farmers want a man who will_stay_ manager. But some of the best members hinted that Peet will notstay because he's just a bit too efficient. They seem to fear that somebusiness corporation is going to get him away. And when you look overthe record of his work as organizer and executive, you must admitthere's something in this. 

 * * * * *

_(Detroit News)_

Four half-tone illustrations: 1. The Settling Basin at the Water Works. 2. Interior of the Tunnel Through which the Water is Pumped. 3. Where Detroit's Water Comes From. 4. Water Rushing into the Settling Basin. 

GUARDING A CITY'S WATER SUPPLY

HOW THE CITY CHEMIST WATCHES FOR THE APPEARANCE OF DEADLY BACILLI; WATERMADE PURE BY CHEMICALS

BY HENRY J. RICHMOND

"COLON. " The city chemist spoke the one significant word as he set downthe test tube into which he had been gazing intently. The next morningthe front page of all the city papers displayed the warning, "Citizensshould boil the drinking water. "

Every morning, as the first task of the day, the city chemist uncorks acurious little crooked tube containing a few spoonsful of very ordinarybouillon, akin to that which you might grab at the quick lunch, butwhich has been treated by the admixture of a chemical. This tube beginsin a bulb which holds the fluid and terminates in an upturned crooksealed at the end. Into this interesting little piece of apparatus, thechemist pours a small quantity of the city drinking water, and he thenputs the whole into an incubator where it is kept at a temperaturefavorable to the reactions which are expected if the water iscontaminated. 

After a sufficient time the tube is inspected. To the untrained eyenothing appears. The bouillon still remains in the little bulbapparently unchanged. Its color and clearness have not been affected. But the chemist notices that it does not stand so high in the closed endof the tube as it did when placed in the incubator. The observationseems trivial, but to the man of science it is significant. 

What has happened? The water contained some minute organisms which whenacted upon by the chemical in the tube have set up a fermentation. Gradually, one by one in the little bulb, bubbles of gas have formed andrisen to the surface of the liquid in the closed upper end of the tube. As this gas was liberated, it took the place of the liquid in the tube, and the liquid was forced downward until there was quite a large space, apparently vacant but really filled with gas. 

It was this phenomenon that had attracted the attention of the chemist. What did it mean? It was the evidence that the water which was beingfurnished to the city for half a million people to drink contained someliving organism. 

Now that, in itself, was enough to make an official of the healthdepartment begin to take an interest. It was not, however, in itself adanger signal. 

Not all bacterial life is a menace to health, the chemist will tell you. Indeed, humanity has come to live on very peaceable terms with severalthousand varieties of bacteria and to be really at enmity with but ascore or more. Without the beneficent work of a certain class ofbacteria the world would not be habitable. This comes about through avery interesting, though rather repulsive condition--the necessity ofgetting rid of the dead to make room for the living. 

What would be the result if no provision had been made for thedisintegration of the bodies of all the men and animals that haveinhabited the earth since the beginning? Such a situation isinconceivable. But very wisely providence has provided that myriads andmyriads of tiny creatures are ever at work breaking up worn-out and deadanimal matter and reducing it to its original elements. These elementsare taken up by plant life, elaborated into living vegetable growth andmade fit again for the nourishment of animal life, thus completing themarvelous cycle. And so we must not get the notion that all bacteria areour mortal foes. We could not live without them, and our earth, withouttheir humble services, would no longer be habitable. 

Neither need we fear the presence of bacterial life in our drinkingwater. Drinking water always contains bacteria. We, ourselves, even whenin the best of health, are the hosts of millions upon millions of them, and it is fair to suppose that they serve some useful purpose. At anyrate, it has never been demonstrated that they do us any harm undernormal conditions. 

And so, the chemist was not alarmed when he discovered that theformation of gas in his crooked tube gave indication of bacteria in thedrinking water. He must ascertain what type of bacteria he hadentrapped. To this end, he analyzed the gas, and when he determined thatthe fermentation was due to the presence of colon bacilli in the water, he sent out his warning. Not that the colon bacilli are a menace tohealth. The body of every human being in the world is infested withmillions of them. But the presence of colon bacilli in drinking water isan indication of the presence of a really dangerous thing--sewage. 

Thus, when the city chemist turned from his test tube with theexclamation, "Colon!" he did not fear the thing that he saw, but thething that he knew might accompany it. 

There has been much discussion of late of the possibility that the greatlakes cities may suffer a water famine. The rapid increase of populationalong the borders of these great seas, it has been said, might renderthe water unfit for use. This fear is based upon the assumption that weshall always continue the present very foolish practice of dumping oursewage into the source of our water supply. The time may come when weshall know better how to protect the public health and at the same timehusband the public resources. But even at that, the city chemist saysthat he hardly expects to see the time when the present intake forwater near the head of Belle Isle will not be both safe and adequate. 

No doubt he makes this statement because he has confidence that thepurification of water is both simple and safe. There are two principalmethods. The first, and most expensive, is nature's own--the filter. Theapplication of this method is comparatively simple though it involvesconsiderable expense. The trick was learned from the hillside springwhich, welling up through strata of sand and gravel, comes out pure andclear and sparkling. To make spring water out of lake water, therefore, it is merely necessary to excavate a considerable area to the desireddepth and lead into it the pipes connected with the wells from whichwater is to be pumped. Then the pit is filled with successive layers ofcrushed stone graduated in fineness to the size of gravel and thencovered with a deep layer of fine sand. This area is then flooded withthe water to be filtered, which slowly percolates and comes out clearand pure. The best results in purification of contaminated watersupplies have probably been attained in this way; that is, as measuredby the improvement of health and the general reduction of the death ratefrom those diseases caused by the use of contaminated water. 

But when the alarm was given this spring by the city chemist there wasno time to excavate and build an extensive filtering plant. The dreadedtyphoid was already making its appearance and babies were dying. Something had to be done at once. 

If some afternoon you take a stroll through Gladwin park your attentionmay be attracted to a little white building at the lower end of thesettling basin. It is merely a temporary structure yet it is serving avery important purpose. Approach the open door and your nostrils will begreeted by a pungent odor that may make you catch your breath. Theworkmen, too, you will notice, do not stay long within doors, but takerefuge in a little shelter booth outside. Strewn about here and thereare traces of a white, powdery substance which seems to have beentracked down from a platform erected on the roof. This is hypochloriteof lime, the substance used for sterilizing the city drinking water. 

This is so powerful a disinfectant that it destroys all bacteria inwater even in an extremely dilute solution. The method of applying it isinteresting. The city water comes in from the river through a greattunnel about 10 feet in diameter. The little chlorinating plant issituated on the line of this tunnel so that the solution is readilyintroduced into the water before it reaches the pool called a settlingbasin. 

The hypochlorite reaches the plant in iron cylinders containing 100pounds. These are carried up to the roof and poured into the firstmixing tank through a hopper fixed for the purpose. There are within thebuilding four of these mixing tanks. In the first, up near the roof, avery strong solution is first made. This is drawn off into a second tankwith a greater admixture of water and thence passes into the third andfourth. From the last it is forced out into the main tunnel by a pipeand mingles with the great flood that is pouring constantly into thewells beneath pumping engines. And this is the strength of the chemical:five pounds of it mingled with one million gallons of water issufficient to render the water fit for drinking purposes. Nearly 98 percent of the bacteria in the water is destroyed by this weak solution. The water is tasteless and odorless. Indeed, probably very few of thecitizens of Detroit who are using the city water all the time, know thatthe treatment is being applied. 

But the chemist continues his tests every morning. Every morning thelittle crooked tubes are brought out and filled and carefully watched toascertain if the telltale gas develops which is an index of "death inthe cup. " Thus is the city's water supply guarded. 

No more important work can devolve on the board of health. Beforescience had learned to recognize the tiny enemies which infest drinkingwater, typhoid and kindred diseases were regarded as a visitation ofdivine providence for the sins of a people. We now know that a rise inthe death rate from these diseases is to be laid rather to the sins ofomission on the part of the board of health and the public worksdepartment. 

 * * * * *

_(The Outlook)_

THE OCCUPATION AND EXERCISE CURE

BY FRANK MARSHALL WHITE

The nerve specialist leaned back in his chair behind the great mahoganydesk in his consulting-room and studied the features of the capitalistas that important factor in commerce and industry explained the symptomsthat had become alarming enough to drive him, against his will, to seekmedical assistance. The patient was under fifty years of age, thoughthe deep lines in his face, with his whitening hair--consequences of theassiduity with which he had devoted himself to the accumulation of hismillions and his position in the Directory of Directors--made him appearten years older. An examination had shown that he had no organic diseaseof any kind, but he told the physician that he was suffering from whathe called "inward trembling, " with palpitation of the heart, poor sleep, occasional dizziness, pain in the back of the neck, difficulty inconcentrating his attention, and, most of all, from variousapprehensions, such as that of being about to fall, of losing his mind, of sudden death--he was afraid to be alone, and was continually tired, worried, and harassed. 

"You present merely the ordinary signs of neurasthenia, " said thespecialist. "These symptoms are distressing, but not at all serious ordangerous. You have been thinking a great deal too much about yourselfand your feelings. You watch with morbid interest the pervertedsensations that arise in various parts of your body. You growapprehensive about the palpitation of your heart, which is not at alldiseased, but which flutters a little from time to time because thegreat nerve of the heart is tired, like the other great nerves andnerve-centers of your body. You grow apprehensive over the analogoustremor which you describe as 'inward trembling, ' and which you oftenfeel all through your trunk and sometimes in your knees, hands, andface, particularly about the eyes and mouth and in the fingers. "

The capitalist had started at the mention of the word neurasthenia, andhad seemed much relieved when the physician had declared that thesymptoms were not dangerous. "I had been under the impression thatneurasthenia was practically an incurable disease, " he said. "However, you have described my sensations exactly. "

"One hundred per centum of cases of neurasthenia are curable, " respondedthe specialist. "Neurasthenia is not, as is usually supposed, an equallydiffused general exhaustion of the nervous system. In my opinion, it israther an unequally distributed multiple fatigue. Certain morevulnerable portions of the nervous system are affected, while theremainder is normal. In the brain we have an overworked area which, irritated, gives rise to an apprehension or imperative idea. Byconcentration of energy in some other region of the brain, by using thenormal portions, we give this affected part an opportunity to rest andrecuperate. New occupations are therefore substituted for the oldhabitual one. A change of interests gives the tired centers rest. "

"I have heard the 'rest cure' advocated in cases like mine, " suggestedthe capitalist. 

"In the treatment of neurasthenia we must take the whole man intoconsideration, " said the physician. "We must stimulate nutrition, feedwell the tired and exhausted organism, and, above all, provide some sortof rest and distraction for the mind. The mind needs feeding as well asthe body. The rest cure is a kind of passive, relaxing, sedativetreatment. The field is allowed to lie fallow, and often to grow up withweeds, trusting to time to rest and enrich it. The 'exercise andoccupation cure, ' on the other hand, is an active, stimulating, andtonic prescription. You place yourself in the hands of a physician whomust direct the treatment. He will lay out a scheme with a judiciousadmixture of exercise which will improve your general health, sootheyour nervous system, induce good appetite and sleep, and of occupationwhich will keep your mind from morbid self-contemplation. One of thebest means to this end is manual occupation--drawing, designing, carpentry, metal-work, leather-work, weaving, basket-making, bookbinding, clay-modeling, and the like--for in all these things thehands are kept busy, requiring concentration of attention, while newinterests of an artistic and æsthetic nature are aroused. The outdoorexercise, taken for a part of each day, if of the right sort, alsodistracts by taking the attention and creating interest. "

The capitalist had called upon the specialist braced for a possiblesentence of death, prepared at the least to be informed that he wassuffering from a progressive mental malady. Now, while a tremendousweight was lifted from his mind with the information that he mightanticipate a complete return to health, the idea of devoting his trainedintelligence, accustomed to cope with great problems of trade andfinance, to such trivialities as basket-making or modeling in clayappeared preposterous. Nevertheless, when the physician told him of aresort near at hand, established for the treatment of cases just such ashis, where he might be under continuous medical supervision, withoutconfinement indoors or being deprived of any of the comforts or luxuriesof life, he decided to put himself in the other's hands unreservedly. The specialist informed him that the length of time required for hiscure would depend largely upon himself. He might, for instance, evenkeep in touch with his office and have matters of import referred tohim while he was recuperating his mental and physical strength, but sucha course would inevitably retard his recovery, and possibly prevent it. To get the best results from the treatment he ought to leave everybusiness interest behind him, he was told. 

The fee that the capitalist paid the specialist made his advice sovaluable that the other followed it absolutely. The next evening saw thepatient in the home of the "occupation and exercise cure. " He arrivedjust in time to sit down to dinner with a score of other patients, notone of whom showed any outward sign of illness, though all were takingthe cure for some form of nervous trouble. There were no cases ofinsanity among them, however, none being admitted to the institutionunder any circumstances. The dinner was simple and abundant, and theconversation at the tables of a lively and cheerful nature. As everybodywent to bed by ten o'clock--almost every one considerably before thathour, in fact--the newcomer did likewise, he having secured a suite witha bath in the main building. Somewhat to the surprise of the capitalist, who was accustomed to be made much of wherever he happened to be, nomore attention was paid to him than to any other guest of theestablishment, a condition of affairs that happened to please him. Hewas told on retiring that breakfast would be served in the dining-roomfrom 7:30 to 8:30 in the morning, but that, if he preferred to remain inhis room, it would be brought to him there at nine o'clock. 

The capitalist had a bad night, and was up to breakfast early. After hehad concluded that repast the medical superintendent showed him aboutthe place, but did not encourage him to talk about his symptoms. Thegrounds of the "occupation and exercise cure" comprised a farm of fortyacres located among the hills of northern Westchester County in theCroton watershed, with large shade trees, lawns, flower gardens, and aninexhaustible supply of pure spring water from a well three hundred feetdeep in solid rock. The main building, situated on a knoll adjacent to agrove of evergreen trees, contained a great solarium, which was thefavorite sitting-room of the patients, and the dining-room was alsofinished with two sides of glass, both apartments capable of beingthrown open in warm weather, and having the advantage of all the sunthere was in winter. In this building were also the medical offices, with a clinical laboratory and hydro- and electro-therapeutic equipment, and accommodations for from twelve to fifteen guests. Two bungalowsunder the trees of the apple orchard close at hand, one containing twoseparate suites with baths, and the other two living-rooms with hall andbath-room, were ideal places for quiet and repose. Situated at theentrance to the grounds was a club-house, with a big sitting-room and anopen fireplace; it also contained a solarium, billiard-room, bowlingalleys, a squash court, a greenhouse for winter floriculture, and thearts and crafts shops, with seven living-rooms. Every living-room in themain building, the club-house, and the bungalows was connected with themedical office by telephone, so that in case of need patients mightimmediately secure the services of a physician at any hour of the day ornight. 

The arts and crafts shops being the basic principle of the "occupationand exercise cure, " the capitalist was introduced to an efficient andbusinesslike young woman, the instructress, who explained to him thenature of the avocations in which he might choose to interest himself. Here he found his fellow-patients busily and apparently congeniallyemployed. In one of the shops a recent alumnus of one of the leadinguniversities, who had undergone a nervous breakdown after graduation, was patiently hammering a sheet of brass with a view to converting itinto a lampshade; a matron of nearly sixty, who had previously spenteight years in sanatoriums, practically bedridden, was setting type inthe printing office with greater activity than she had known before fortwo decades; two girls, one sixteen and the other twelve, the latterinclined to hysteria and the former once subject to acute nervousattacks, taking the cure in charge of trained nurses, were chatteringgayly over a loom in the construction of a silk rug; a prominentbusiness man from a Western city, like the New York capitalist brokendown from overwork, was earnestly modeling in clay what he hoped mighteventually become a jardiniere; one of last season's debutantes amongthe fashionables, who had been leading a life of too strenuous gayetythat had told on her nerves, was constructing a stamped leatherportfolio with entire absorption; and half a dozen others, mostly youngwomen, were engaged at wood-carving, bookbinding, block-printing, tapestry weaving, or basket-making, each one of them under treatment forsome nervous derangement. 

The new patient decided to try his hand at basket-making; and, althoughhe figured out that it would take him about four days to turn out aproduct that might sell for ten cents, he was soon so much interested inmastering the manual details of the craft that he was disinclined to putthe work aside when the medical superintendent suggested a horsebackride. When, at the advice of the specialist, the capitalist had decidedto try the occupation and exercise cure, he did so with little faiththat it would restore him to health, though he felt that there wasperhaps a slight chance that it might help him. The remedy seemed to himtoo simple to overcome a disease that was paralyzing his energies. Tohis great surprise, he began to improve at once; and though for thefirst week he got little sleep, and his dizziness, with the pain in theback of his neck and his apprehensions, continued to recur for weeks, they did so at always increasing intervals. 

He learned bookbinding, and sent to his library for some favoritevolumes, and put them into new dress; he made elaborate waste-paperbaskets, and beat brass into ornamental desk-trays, which he proudlypresented to his friends in the city as specimens of his skill. Workwith him, as with the others of the patients, was continually varied byrecreation. In the summer months there were lawn-tennis, golf, croquet, canoeing, rowing, fishing, riding, and driving. In winter, such outdoorsports as skating, tobogganing, coasting, skeeing, snowshoeing, andlacrosse were varied by billiards, bowling, squash, the medicine ball, and basket and tether ball. The capitalist was astonished to discoverthat he could take an interest in games. The specialist, who called uponhis patient at intervals, told him that a point of great importance inthe cure was that exercise that is _enjoyed_ is almost twice aseffective in the good accomplished as exercise which is a meremechanical routine of movements made as a matter of duty. 

The net result was that, after four months of the "occupation andexercise cure, " the capitalist returned to New York sound in mind andbody, and feeling younger than he had before in years. Complete cureswere effected in the cases of the other patients also, which is the lessremarkable when the circumstance is taken into consideration that onlypatients capable of entire recovery are recommended to take thetreatment. 

Of course the institution that has been described is only for thewell-to-do, and physicians are endeavoring to bring the "occupation andexercise cure" within the reach of the poor, and to interestphilanthropists in the establishment of "colony sanatoriums, " such asalready exist in different parts of Europe, for those suffering fromfunctional nervous disorders who are without means. Contrary to thegeneral opinion, neurasthenia, particularly among women, is not confinedto the moneyed and leisure class; but, owing to the fact that women havetaken up the work of men in offices and trades as well as in many ofthe professions, working-women are continually breaking down undernervous strain, and many, under present conditions, have little chancefor recovery, because they cannot afford the proper treatment. As aspeaker at the last annual meeting of the American Medical Associationdeclared, "Idiots and epileptics and lunatics are many; but all togetherthey are less numerous than the victims of nervousness--the peopleafflicted with lesser grades of psychasthenic and neurasthenicinadequacy, who become devoted epicures of their own emotions, and whoclaim a large share of the attention of every general practitioner andof every specialist. "

Scientists declare that this premature collapse of nerve force isincreasing to such an extent as to become a positive menace to thegeneral welfare. The struggle for existence among the conditions ofmodern life, especially among those found in the large centers ofindustrial and scientific activity, and the steady, persistent work, with its attendant sorrows, deprivations, and over-anxiety for success, are among the most prolific causes--causes which are the results ofconditions from which, for the large mass of people, according to aleading New York alienist, there has been no possibility of escape. 

"Especially here in America are people forced into surroundings forwhich they have never been fitted, " the alienist asserts, "andespecially here are premature demands made upon their nervous systemsbefore they are mature and properly qualified. The lack of propertraining deprives many of the workers, in all branches, of the bestprotection against functional nervous diseases which any person canhave, namely, a well-trained nervous system. This struggle for existenceby the congenital neuropath or the educationally unfit forces many tothe use, and then to the abuse, of stimulants and excitants, and hereinwe have another important exciting cause. This early and excessive useof coffee, tea, alcohol, and tobacco is especially deleterious in itsaction upon the nervous system of those very ones who are most prone togo to excess in their use. 

"Therefore, predisposition, aided by the storm and stress of activecompetition and abetted by the use of stimulants, must be looked upon asthe main cause for the premature collapse of nerve force which we callneurasthenia; so it will be found that the majority of neurasthenics arebetween twenty-five and fifty years of age, and that their occupationsare those which are attended by worry, undue excitement, uncertainty, excessive wear and tear, and thus we find mentally active persons moreeasily affected than those whose occupation is solely physical. Authors, actors, school-teachers, governesses, telegraph and telephone operators, are among those most frequently affected, and the increase ofneurasthenia among women dates from the modern era which has opened tothem new channels of work and has admitted them more generally into theso-called learned professions. But whatever may be the occupation inwhich persons have broken down, it is never the occupation alone whichhas been the cause. 

"This cannot be too often repeated. The emotional fitness or unfitnessof an individual for his occupation is of the utmost importance as acausative factor, and overwork alone, without any emotional cause andwithout any errors in mode of life, will never act to produce such acollapse. It is therefore not astonishing that this class of functionalnervous diseases is not confined to the wealthy, and that the rich andthe poor are indiscriminately affected. But certain causes are ofgreater influence in the one class, while different ones obtain in theother. Poverty in itself, with its limitations of proper rest andrecuperation, is a very positive cause. Years of neurological dispensarywork among the poor have convinced me that nervousness, neurasthenia, hysteria, etc. , are quite as prevalent among the indigent as among thewell-to-do. "

Physicians agree that the prime requisite in the treatment of thesedisorders is the removal of the patient from his or her habitualsurroundings, where recognition of the existence of actual disease isgenerally wanting, where the constant admonitions of well-meaningfriends to "brace up" and to "exert your will power" force the sick manor woman to bodily and mental over-exertion, and where the worries abouta livelihood are always dominant. Such a change alone, however, theexperts say, will help but few, for it is being recognized more and morethat these functional diseases of the nervous system can receivesatisfactory treatment only in institutions, where constant attentionmay be had, with expert supervision and trained attendants. 

The "occupation and exercise cure" is applicable also to epilepsy, andis the therapeutic principle of the Craig Colony for Epileptics atSonyea, in Livingston County, supported by the State, and thatinstitution furnishes a general model for the "colony sanatoriums"suggested for indigent patients suffering from functional nervousdisorders. The Craig Colony was the idea of Dr. Frederick Peterson, Professor of Psychiatry at Columbia University, and former President ofthe New York State Commission of Lunacy and of the New York NeurologicalSociety, which he based upon the epileptic colony at Beilefeld, Germany, that was founded in 1867. The Craig Colony was founded in 1894, andthere are now being cared for within its confines more than thirteenhundred patients, who have turned out this year agricultural products, with bricks, soap, and brooms, to the value of $60, 000. The colony isnamed after the late Oscar Craig, of Rochester, who, with William P. Letchworth, of Buffalo, purchased the two-thousand-acre tract of land onwhich it is situated from the Shaker colony at Sonyea and presented itto the State, Dr. Peterson devoting several months of each year for nineyears to getting the institution into working order. The first patientswere housed in the old Shaker buildings, which were well constructed andfairly well arranged for the purpose, but as additional applications foradmission have been made new buildings have been erected. To-day thereare eighty buildings in the colony, but a thousand patients are waitingfor admission, eight hundred of whom are in New York City. 

Epilepsy, the "falling sickness, " is a most difficult malady to treateven in an institution for that purpose, and it is impossible to treatit anywhere else. An epileptic in a family is an almost intolerableburden to its other members, as well as to himself. The temperamentaleffect of the disease takes the form in the patient of making frequentand unjust complaints, and epileptics invariably charge some one withhaving injured them while they have been unconscious during an attack. Then, too, living at home, they are often dangerous to younger membersof a family, and they are fault-finding, exacting, and irritablegenerally. The seizures frequently come on without warning, and thepatient drops where he stands, often injuring himself severely. The lastannual report of the Craig Colony records more than four hundredinjuries within the year to patients during seizures which required asurgeon's attention, the injuries varying from severe bruises tofractures of the skull. 

The object of the Craig Colony is to remove the burden of the epilepticin the family from the home without subjecting the patient to thehardship of confinement with the insane. "Very few epileptics sufferpermanent insanity in any form except dementia, " says the medicalsuperintendent of the Colony. "Acute mania and maniac depressiveinsanity not infrequently appear as a 'post-convulsive' condition, thatgenerally subsides within a few hours, or at most a few days. Rarelythe state may persist a month. Melancholia is extremely infrequent. Delusions of persecution, hallucinations of sight or hearing, systematized in character, are almost never encountered in epilepsy. "

Only from six to fifteen per cent of epileptics are curable, and hencethe work of the Craig Colony is largely palliative of the sufferings ofthe patients. Each individual case is studied with the utmost care, however, and patients are given their choice of available occupations. The Colony is not a custodial institution. There are no bars on thewindows, no walls or high fences about the farm. The patients are housedin cottages, men and women in separate buildings some distance apart, about thirty to each cottage. In charge of each of these families are aman and his wife, who utilize the services of some of the patients inthe performance of household work, while the others have their dutiesoutside. Kindness to the unfortunates under their care is impressed uponevery employee of the Colony, and an iron-bound rule forbids them tostrike a patient even in case of assault. 

Besides the agricultural work in the Craig Colony, and that in the soapand broom factories and the brick-yard, the patients are taughtblacksmithing, carpentry, dressmaking, tailoring, painting, plumbing, shoemaking, laundrying, and sloyd work. It is insisted on that allpatients physically capable shall find employment as a therapeuticmeasure. The records show that on Sundays and holidays and on rainydays, when there is a minimum of physical activity among the patients, their seizures double and sometimes treble in number. Few of thepatients know how to perform any kind of labor when they enter theColony, but many of them learn rapidly. It has been repeatedlydemonstrated that boys from eighteen to twenty years of age can spendtwo years in the sloyd shop and leave it fully qualified ascabinet-makers, and capable of earning a journeyman's wages. 

There are about two hundred children in the colony of epileptics atSonyea, more than half of whom are girls. As children subject toepileptic seizures are not received in the public schools of the State, the only opportunity for any education among these afflicted little oneswhose parents are unable to teach them themselves or provide privatetutors for them is in the schools of the Colony. Some of the childrenare comparatively bright scholars, while the attempt to teach othersseems a hopeless task. For instance, it took one girl ninety days tolearn to lay three sticks in the form of a letter A. 

Every effort is made to encourage recreation among the patients in theCraig Colony, both children and adults. The men have a club of 250members, with billiards, chess, checkers, cards, and magazines andnewspapers. The boys have their baseball and football, and play matchgames among themselves or with visiting teams. The women and girls playcroquet, tennis, and other outdoor games. There is a band composed ofpatients that gives a concert once a week, and there are theatricals anddancing, with occasional lectures by visiting celebrities. As theColony, with the medical staff, nurses, and other employees, has apopulation of 2, 000, there is always an audience for any visitingattraction. The maintenance of the Colony is costing the State $225, 000the present year. 

Since the founding of the Craig Colony similar institutions have beenestablished in Massachusetts, Texas, Michigan, Ohio, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Illinois, and Kansas, and other States are preparing tofollow their example. There are other private sanatoriums throughout thecountry similar to the one in Westchester County, where the nervous orneurasthenic patient who is well-to-do may obtain relaxation andsupervision, but there is no place at all to-day where the man or womansuffering from curable nervous disorders who is without means can go fortreatment. 

 * * * * *

_(McClure's Magazine)_

Five illustrations: two wash drawings by André Castaigne showingmono-rail trains in the future, five half-tone reproductions of photographsof the car on its trial trip, and one pen-and-ink diagram of thegyroscopes. 

THE BRENNAN MONO-RAIL CAR

BY PERCEVAL GIBBON

It was November 10, 1909--a day that will surely have its place inhistory beside that other day, eighty-five years ago, when GeorgeStephenson drove the first railway locomotive between Stockton andDarlington. In the great square of the Brennan torpedo factory atGillingham, where the fighting-tops of battleships in the adjacentdockyard poise above the stone coping of the wall, there was a tracklaid down in a circle of a quarter of a mile. Switches linked it up withother lengths of track, a straight stretch down to a muddy cape of theMedway estuary, and a string of curves and loops coiling among thestone and iron factory sheds. The strange thing about it was that it wassingle--just one line of rail on sleepers tamped into the unstable"made" ground of the place. 

And there was Brennan, his face red with the chill wind sweeping in fromthe Nore, his voice plaintive and Irish, discoursing, at slow length, ofrevolutions per minute, of "precession, " and the like. The journalistsfrom London, who had come down at his invitation, fidgeted and shiveredin the bitter morning air; the affair did not look in the least like anepoch in the history of transportation and civilization, till--

"Now, gentlemen, " said Brennan, and led the way across the circle oftrack. 

And then, from its home behind the low, powder-magazine-like sheds, there rode forth a strange car, the like of which was never seen before. It was painted the businesslike slatyblue gray of the War Department. Itwas merely a flat platform, ten feet wide by forty feet long, with asteel cab mounted on its forward end, through the windows of which onecould see a young engineer in tweeds standing against a blur of movingmachine-parts. 

It ran on the single rail; its four wheels revolved in a line, onebehind another; and it traveled with the level, flexible equilibrium ofa ship moving across a dock. It swung over the sharp curves withoutfaltering, crossed the switch, and floated--floated is the only word forthe serene and equable quality of its movement--round and round thequarter-mile circle. A workman boarded it as it passed him, and sat onthe edge with his legs swinging, and its level was unaltered. It waswonderful beyond words to see. It seemed to abolish the very principleof gravitation; it contradicted calmly one's most familiar instincts. 

Every one knows the sense one gains at times while watching an ingeniousmachine at its work--a sense of being in the presence of a living andconscious thing, with more than the industry, the pertinacity, thedexterity, of a man. There was a moment, while watching Brennan's car, when one had to summon an effort of reason to do away with this sense oflife; it answered each movement of the men on board and each inequalityin the makeshift track with an adjustment of balance irresistiblysuggestive of consciousness. It was an illustration of that troubloustheorem which advances that consciousness is no more than theco-relation of the parts of the brain, and that a machine adapted to itswork is as conscious in its own sphere as a mind is in its sphere. 

The car backed round the track, crossed to the straight line, andhalted to take us aboard. There were about forty of us, yet it took upour unequally distributed weight without disturbance. The young engineerthrew over his lever, and we ran down the line. The movement was as"sweet" and equable as the movement of a powerful automobile runningslowly on a smooth road; there was an utter absence of those jars andsmall lateral shocks that are inseparable from a car running on a doubletrack. We passed beyond the sheds and slid along a narrow spit of landthrusting out into the mud-flanked estuary. Men on lighters and aworking-party of bluejackets turned to stare at the incredible machinewith its load. Then back again, three times round the circle, and in andout among the curves, always with that unchanging stateliness of gait. As we spun round the circle, she leaned inward like a cyclist againstthe centrifugal pull. She needs no banking of the track to keep her onthe rail. A line of rails to travel on, and ground that will carry herweight--she asks no more. With these and a clear road ahead, she is toabolish distance and revise the world's schedules of time. 

"A hundred and twenty miles an hour, " I hear Brennan saying, in that sadvoice of his; "or maybe two hundred. That's a detail. "

In the back of the cab were broad unglazed windows, through which onecould watch the tangle of machinery. Dynamos are bolted to the floor, purring under their shields like comfortable cats; abaft of them atwenty-horse-power Wolseley petrol-engine supplies motive power foreverything. And above the dynamos, cased in studded leather, swinging alittle in their ordered precession, are the two gyroscopes, the soul ofthe machine. To them she owes her equilibrium. 

Of all machines in the world, the gyroscope is the simplest, for, in itsessential form, it is no more than a wheel revolving. But a wheelrevolving is the vehicle of many physical principles, and the sum ofthem is that which is known as gyroscopic action. It is seen in theordinary spinning top, which stands erect in its capacity of a gyroscoperevolving horizontally. The apparatus that holds Brennan's car upright, and promises to revolutionize transportation, is a top adapted to a newpurpose. It is a gyroscope revolving in a perpendicular plane, a steelwheel weighing three quarters of a ton and spinning at the rate of threethousand revolutions to the minute. 

Now, the effect of gyroscopic action is to resist any impulse thattends to move the revolving wheel out of the plane in which it revolves. This resistance can be felt in a top; it can be felt much more stronglyin the beautiful little gyroscopes of brass and steel that are sold forthe scientific demonstration of the laws governing revolving bodies. Such a one, only a few inches in size, will develop a surprisingresistance. This resistance increases with the weight of the wheel andthe speed at which it moves, till, with Brennan's gyroscopes of threequarters of a ton each, whirling in a vacuum at three thousandrevolutions per minute, it would need a weight that would crush the carinto the ground to throw them from their upright plane. 

Readers of MCCLURE'S MAGAZINE were made familiar with the working ofBrennan's gyroscope by Mr. Cleveland Moffett's article in the issue ofDecember, 1907. The occasion of that article was the exhibition ofBrennan's model mono-rail car before the Royal Society and in thegrounds of his residence at Gillingham. For a clear understanding of thefirst full-sized car, it may be well to recapitulate a few of thecharacteristics of the gyroscope. 

When Brennan made his early models, he found that, while the little carswould remain upright and run along a straight rail, they left the trackat the first curve. The gyroscope governed their direction as well astheir equilibrium. It was the first check in the evolution of theperfect machine. It was over ten years before he found the answer to theproblem--ten years of making experimental machines and scrapping them, of filing useless patents, of doubt and persistence. But the answer wasfound--in the spinning top. 

A spinning top set down so that it stands at an angle to the floor willright itself; it will rise till it stands upright on the point of equalfriction. Brennan's resource, therefore, was to treat his gyroscope as atop. He enclosed it in a case, through which its axles projected, and ateach side of the car he built stout brackets reaching forth a few inchesbelow each end of the axle. 

The result is not difficult to deduce. When the car came to a curve, thecentrifugal action tended to throw it outward; the side of the car thatwas on the inside of the curve swung up and the bracket touched the axleof the gyroscope. Forthwith, in the manner of its father, the top, thegyroscope tried to stand upright on the bracket; all the weight of itand all its wonderful force were pressed on that side of the car, holding it down against the tendency to rise and capsize. The thing wasdone; the spinning top had come to the rescue of its posterity. It onlyremained to fit a double gyroscope, with the wheels revolving inopposite directions, and, save for engineering details, the mono-railcar was evolved. 

Through the window in the back of the cab I was able to watch them atthen; work--not the actual gyroscopes, but their cases, quivering withthe unimaginable velocity of the great wheels within, turning andtilting accurately to each shifting weight as the men on board movedhere and there. Above them were the glass oilcups, with the opal-greenengine-oil flushing through them to feed the bearings. Lubrication is avital part of the machine. Let that fail, and the axles, grinding andred-hot, would eat through the white metal of the bearings as a knifegoes through butter. It is a thing that has been foreseen by theinventor: to the lubricating apparatus is affixed a danger signal thatwould instantly warn the engineer. 

"But, " says Brennan, "if one broke down, the other gyroscope would holdher up--till ye could run her to a siding, anyway. "

"But supposing the electric apparatus failed?" suggests a reporter--withvisions of headlines, perhaps. "Supposing the motor driving thegyroscopes broke down; what then?"

"They'd run for a couple of days, with the momentum they've got, "answers the inventor. "And for two or three hours, that 'ud keep herupright by itself. "

On the short track at Gillingham there are no gradients to show what thecar can do in the way of climbing, but here again the inventor ispositive. She will run up a slope as steep as one in six, he says. Thereis no reason to doubt him; the five-foot model that he used to exhibitcould climb much steeper inclines, run along a rope stretched six feetabove the ground, or remain at rest upon it while the rope was swung toand fro. It would do all these things while carrying a man; and, for mypart, I am willing to take Brennan's word. 

Louis Brennan himself was by no means the least interesting feature ofthe demonstration. He has none of the look of the visionary, this manwho has gone to war with time and space; neither had George Stephenson. He is short and thick-set, with a full face, a heavy moustache hidinghis mouth, and heavy eyebrows. He is troubled a little with asthma, which makes him somewhat staccato and breathless in speech, and perhapsalso accentuates the peculiar plaintive quality of his Irish voice. There is nothing in his appearance to indicate whether he is thirty-fiveor fifty-five. As a matter of fact, he is two years over the latterage, but a man ripe in life, with that persistence and belief in hiswork which is to engineers what passion is to a poet. 

The technicalities of steel and iron come easily off his tongue; theyare his native speech, in which he expresses himself most intimately. All his life he has been concerned with machines. He is the inventor ofthe Brennan steerable torpedo, whose adoption by the Admiralty made himrich and rendered possible the long years of study and experiment thatwent to the making of the mono-rail car. He has a touch of the richman's complacency; it does not go ill with his kindly good humor and hissingle-hearted pride in his life work. 

It is characteristic, I think, of his honesty of purpose and of thegenius that is his driving force that hitherto he has concerned himselfwith scientific invention somewhat to the exclusion of the commercialaspects of his contrivance. He has had help in money and men from theBritish Government, which likewise placed the torpedo factory at hisdisposal; and the governments of India and--of all places--Kashmir havegranted him subsidies. Railroad men from all parts of the world haveseen his model; but he has not been ardent in the hunt for customers. Perhaps that will not be necessary; the mono-rail car should be its ownsalesman; but, in the meantime, it is not amiss that a great inventorshould stand aloof from commerce. 

But, for all the cheerful matter-of-factness of the man, he, too, hasseen visions. There are times when he talks of the future as he hopes itwill be, as he means it to be, when "transportation is civilization. "Men are to travel then on a single rail, in great cars like halls, twohundred feet long, thirty to forty feet wide, whirling across continentsat two hundred miles an hour--from New York to San Francisco betweendawn and dawn. 

Travel will no longer be uncomfortable. These cars, equipped like ahotel, will sweep along with the motion of an ice-yacht. They will notjolt over uneven places, or strain to mount the track at curves; in eachone, the weariless gyroscopes will govern an unchanging equilibrium. Trustful Kashmir will advance from its remoteness to a place accessiblefrom anywhere. Streetcar lines will no longer be a perplexity to pavingauthorities and anathema to other traffic; a single rail will be flushwith the ground, out of the way of hoofs and tires. Automobiles will runon two wheels like a bicycle. It is to be a mono-rail world, soothed andassured by the drone of gyroscopes. By that time the patient ingenuityof inventors and engineers will have found the means to run thegyroscopes at a greater speed than is now possible, thus rendering itfeasible to use a smaller wheel. It is a dream based on good, solidreasoning, backed by a great inventor's careful calculations; H. G. Wellshas given a picture of it in the last of his stories of the future. 

Practical railroad men have given to the mono-rail car a sufficientlywarm welcome. They have been impressed chiefly by its suitability to theconditions of transportation in the great new countries, as, forinstance, on that line of railway that is creeping north from theZambesi to open up the copper deposits of northwestern Rhodesia, and onthrough Central Africa to its terminus at Cairo. Just such land as thishelped to inspire Brennan. He was a boy when he first saw the endlessplains of Australia, and out of that experience grew his firstspeculations about the future of railway travel. Such lands makepositive and clear demands, if ever they are to be exploited for theirfull value to humanity. They need railways quickly laid and cheaplyconstructed; lines not too exacting in point of curves and gradients;and, finally, fast travel. It is not difficult to see how valuable themono-rail would have been in such an emergency as the last Sudan War, when the army dragged a line of railway with it down toward Omdurman. Petrol-driven cars to replace the expensive steam locomotives, easyrapid transit instead of the laborious crawl through the stifling desertheat--a complete railway installation, swiftly and cheaply called intobeing, instead of a costly and cumbersome makeshift. 

The car went back to her garage, or engine-shed, or stable, or whateverthe railway man of the future shall decide to call it. Struts werepulled into position to hold her up, the motors were switched off, andthe gyroscopes were left to run themselves down in forty-eight hours orso. When the mono-rail comes into general use, explained Brennan, therewill be docks for the cars, with low brick walls built to slide underthe platforms and take their weight. 

While his guests assembled in a store-shed to drink champagne and eatsandwiches, he produced a big flat book, sumptuously bound, and told ushow his patents were being infringed on in Germany. On that same daythere was an exhibition of a mono-rail car on the Brennan principletaking place at the Zoölogical Gardens in Berlin; the book was itscatalogue. It was full of imaginative pictures of trains fifty yearshence, and thereto was appended sanguine letter-press. While theresounded in our ears the hum of the gyroscopes from the car housed in therear, I translated one paragraph for him. It was to the effect that oneBrennan, an Englishman, had conducted experiments with gyroscopes tenyears ago, but the matter had gone no further. 

"There, now, " said Brennan. 

 * * * * *

(_Everybody's Magazine_)

A NEW POLITICAL WEDGE

THE WAY ST. LOUIS WOMEN DROVE A NINE-HOUR DAY INTO THE LAW

BY INIS H. WEED

It was the evening before the state primaries--a swelteringfirst of August night in the tenement district of St. Louis, wherethe factory people eat their suppers and have their beds. Menin shirt-sleeves and women with babies sat on the steps for abreath of air, and the streets were a noisy welter of children. 

Two of the most enthusiastic girls in the Women's TradeUnion League stopped before the group silhouetted in the gaslightat No. 32 and handed the men in the group this card:

 REPUBLICAN VOTERS -----------------It is the Women and Children that are the Victims of Manufacturers and Manufacturers Associations and it is the WORKING WOMAN AND CHILD that demands your protection at the PRIMARIES, TUESDAY, AUGUST 2nd Scratch ------- E. J. TroySecretary St. Louis Manufacturers Association and run by them on theRepublican Ticket for the Legislature in the 1st District ComprisingWARDS 10, 11, 2, 13, and 24. Precincts 14 of the 15th WARD. Precincts 1, 2, 3 of the 23rd WARD. Precincts 1, 2 of the 15th WARD. Precincts 6, 7, 10, 11, 12, 13 of the 14th WARD. Precincts 1, 4, 5 of the 9th Ward

"So yez would be afther havin' me scratch Misther Troy?" Mike Ryan ranhis fingers through his stubby crop with a puzzled air. "Oi'm always furplazin' the loidies, but Misther Troy, he's a frind o' mine. Shure, heshmokes a grand cigar, an' he shakes yer hand that hearty. "

So Mike belonged to the long, long glad-hand line. Well, _personal_arguments were necessary in his case then. That was the way the girlssized up Mike Ryan. 

"But this ticket has something to do with your oldest girl. "

"With Briddie?"

"It sure does, Mr. Ryan. Didn't I hear your wife tellin' what with thehard times an' all, you'd be puttin' Briddie in the mill this winter assoon as ever she's turned fourteen? Wouldn't you rather they worked hernine hours a day instead o' ten--such a soft little kid with such a loto' growin' to do? There's a lot of us goin' to fight for a Nine-HourBill for the women and children this winter, an' do you think amanufacturers' representative, like Troy, is goin' to help us? Look athis record! See how he's fought the employees' interests in thelegislature! That's a part of his job! _He_ won't vote for no Nine-HourBill!"

And the two girls went on to the next tenement. 

They were only two of the hundreds of Trade Union girls who were "doing"the First Electoral District (about one-third of St. Louis) on the eveof the primaries. They were thorough. They had the whole districtorganized on the block system, and they went over each block house byhouse. 

_A new move, is it not, this carefully organized effort of factory womento secure justice through the ballot-box?_

How have St. Louis women attained this clear vision that theirindustrial future is bound up in politics? It is a three years' story. Let us go back a little. 

St. Louis is essentially a conservative city. First, it was an oldFrench town; then a Southern town; then a German tradesman's town. Withsuch strata superimposed one above the other, it could hardly be otherthan conservative. In addition, St. Louis was crippled in the warbetween the states. She lost her market. This made her slow. 

In the 'eighties, this old French-Southern-German city began to recoverfrom the ruin of her Southern trade. Little by little she took heart, for the great Southwest was being settled. There was a new field inwhich to build up trade. To-day St. Louis is _the_ great wholesale andjobbing depot, _the_ manufacturing city for that vast stretch ofterritory known as the Southwest. 

Since 1890, great fortunes have been amassed--most of them, indeed, inthe past ten years. There has been a rapid growth of industry. The oldSouthern city has become a soft-coal factory center. A pall of smokehangs over the center of the city where the factories roar and pound. In the midst of this gloom the workfolk are creating rivers of beer, carloads of shoes and woodenware, millions of garments and bags, and thethousand and one things necessary to fill the orders of hundreds oftraveling salesmen in the Southwest territory--and in the South, too, for St. Louis is winning back some of her old-time trade. 

And the toil of their lifting hands and flying fingers has wrought agolden age for the men who control the capital and the tools. The menwho manage have been shaking hands in their clubs for the past decadeand congratulating themselves and each other over their drinks. "Yes, St. Louis is a grand old business town. Solid! No mushroom real-estatebooms, you know, but a big, steady growth. New plants starting everymonth and the old ones growing. Then, when we get our deep waterway, that's going to be another big shove toward prosperity. 

"Nice town to live in, too! Look at our handsome houses and clubs andpublic buildings. Never was anything like our World's Fair in thehistory of men--never! Look at our parks, too. When we get 'em linkedtogether with speedways, where'll you find anything prettier?" Thus themoney-makers in this heavy German town. 

But what about the employees--the clerks and the factory workers? Havethey been "in" on this "big shove toward prosperity?" Have they found ita "nice" town to live in?

No, to each count. For the people at the bottom of the ladder--for thepeople who tend machines, dig ditches, and stand behind the notioncounter--St. Louis is a smoky town, where people have gray lungs insteadof pink; a town where franchise grabbing and an antiquated system oftaxation have their consequence of more than New York city rents. A townwhose slums, says Lee Frankel, are the worst in the country. A townwhere wages are low (in some occupations twenty-five per cent lower thanin New York City); where employment is irregular, the speeding-uptremendous, the number of women entering industry steadily increasing, and where the influx of immigrant labor is pulling down the wage scaleand the standard of living. 

The average wage of the shoe-workers in the East is $550 per year. InSt. Louis it is $440 if work is steady--and rents are higher than in NewYork City. 

It must be remembered that this sum is an average, and that thousands ofshoe-workers earn, less than $440, for full-time work. The same is trueof thousands engaged in other kinds of manufacture and in departmentstores. 

Somehow the town looks different from the two ends of the ladder. 

The government of Missouri and St. Louis has been about as littleadapted to the needs of the industrial worker as it well could be. Menhave been concerned not so much with social justice as with governmentprotection for money-making schemes. 

Business opportunity has depended much on _pliable state and municipallaws_. How the interests fought to keep them pliable; how St. Louis andMissouri became a world scandal in this steady growth to riches, we allknow. 

We know, too, the period of political reform. People thought the killingtrouble in Missouri lay largely with the governmental machinery; and theoptimists' faith in a state primary law, in the initiative andreferendum as panacea, was white and shining. _They did not see that theunderlying problem is industrial_. 

After the reform wave had spent itself, the crooked people who had keptout of jail crept from their holes and went back to their old job ofbeating the game. The only essential difference is that their methodsto-day are less raw and crude. They play a more gentlemanly game; butthe people are still robbed of their rights. 

Thus it came to pass that when the cheerful optimist went to thecupboard to get his poor dog a bone, why, lo! the cupboard was bare. 

Meantime the dog has taken up the struggle for social justice on his ownaccount, not singly but in groups and packs. As yet, although a deal ofsnuffing, running to and fro, barking, yelping, and fighting has beendone, little has been accomplished; for one reason, because labor haslacked great organizers in St. Louis. 

It has remained for the working women of St. Louis to make theindustrial idea effective and to reach out with united single purpose tobend the political bow for their protection. 

The Women's Trade Union League, whose real general is Cynthelia IsgrigKnefler, the most dynamic woman in St. Louis, received its first impetusonly three years ago in the idealism of a brilliant young Irish girl, Hannah Hennessy, who died at Thanksgiving, 1910, a victim of exhaustingwork in a garment shop and of her own tireless efforts to organize theworking girls of her city. 

Hannah Hennessy was sent by the Garment Workers' Union to the NationalLabor Convention of 1907 at Norfolk, Virginia. 

There she glimpsed for the first time the inevitable great world marchof women following industry as machinery takes it out of the home andinto the shop--saw these women, blind, unorganized, helpless to copewith the conditions offered by organized capital. The vision fired thisIrish girl to a pitch of enthusiasm peculiar to the Celtic temperament. Back she came to St. Louis with the spirit of the Crusaders, her vision"the eight-hour day, the living wage to guard the home. "

For the first time she saw the broken physical future of women who labelthree thousand five hundred bottles of beer an hour, and accept theircuts and gashes from the bursting bottles as inevitable; of women whoput eyelets on a hundred cases of shoes a day, twenty-four pairs to thecase; of women who must weave one thousand yards of hemp cloth a day tohold their job in a mill where the possible speed of woman and machineis so nicely calculated that the speediest person in the factory canweave only twelve hundred and sixty yards a day; where the lint fromthis hemp fills the air and is so injurious to eyes and throat that thecompany furnishes medical attendance free. 

To undertake the huge task of organizing these thousands of St. Louiswomen would require not only vision but time and energy. Hannah's returnmeant being engulfed in the vast roar made by rows of throbbing, whirring machines, into one of which she sewed her vitality at dizzyspeed ten hours a day. Vision she had, but training, time, energy--no!

It was at this point that she met Cynthelia Isgrig Knefler, aleisure-class young woman, who had been gripped by a sense of theunevenness of the human struggle. Cynthelia Knefler was groping her waythrough the maze of settlement activities to an appreciation of theirrelative futility in the face of long hours, low wages, and unsanitaryshops. 

Then the idealism of these two young women, born on the one hand of hardexperience, on the other of a gentle existence, fused, and burned with awhite light whose power is beginning to touch the lives of the women whotoil and spin for the great Southwest. 

Both women possessed fire and eloquence. Hannah's special contributionwas first-hand experience; Mrs. Knefler's the knowledge of economicconditions necessary to an understanding of our complicated laborproblems. Wise, sane, conservative, Mrs. Knefler not only helped Hannahto organize branch after branch of the Women's Trade Union League in thedifferent industries, but set out at once to train strong, intelligentleaders. She stimulated them to a critical study of labor laws with theevolution of industry for background. 

Night after night for two years Mrs. Knefler and Hannah were outorganizing groups of girls. Mrs. Knefler's friends finally stoppedremonstrating with her. Hannah, utterly self-forgetful despite ten hoursa day in the mills, hurled herself into the new work. Evening afterevening her mother protested anxiously, but Hannah, heedless of her owninterest, would eat her supper and hurry across the city to help groupsof new girls--American, Russian, Roumanian--a confused mass, to findthemselves and pull together. 

One June morning in 1910 the papers announced that the Manufacturers'Association and the Business Men's League had decided on E. J. Troy astheir candidate to the State Legislature for the First District. Hiscandidacy was also backed by the Republican machine. The papers went onto say that E. J. Troy was one of "our ablest and most popular fellowtownsmen, " that he had grown up in his district, had a host of friends, and might be expected to carry the primaries by a big majority. 

That evening at the weekly dinner of the officers of the Women's TradeUnion League at the Settlement, Mrs. Knefler hurried in: "Girls, haveyou seen the morning papers? Do you know that we've got E. J. Troy tocontend with again?"

At the same moment in dashed Hannah Hennessy by another door, callingout, "Girls, they're goin' to put Troy on the carpet again!"

To both speeches came half a dozen excited replies that that's just whatthey were talking about!

Over the potatoes and meat and bread-pudding the situation was discussedin detail. 

"Yes, 'twas him, all right, that thought up most of those tricky moveswhen we was tryin' to get our Nine-Hour Bill before, " reflected a wiry, quick-motioned girl during a second's pause. 

"Don't it just make you boil, " began another, "when you think how heriled 'em up at every four corners in Missouri! He had every old countrystorekeeper standin' on end about that Nine-Hour Bill. He had 'emputtin' on their specs and callin' to mother to come and listen to thisinformation the manufacturers had sent him:--how the labor unions wastryin' to get a Nine-Hour Bill for women passed; how it would keep theiryoungest girl, Bessie, from helping in the store when the farmers drovein of a Saturday night; and how it was a blow at American freedom. "

"E. J. Troy's got to be squenched at the primaries, " said a third, quietly and decisively. 

"But how?" asked a more timid officer. 

Bing! Mrs. Knefler got into action. There never was a woman for whom adifficult situation offered a more bracing tonic quality. The businessmeeting that followed fairly bristled with plans. 

The girls' first move was to go before the Central Labor Body and askthem to indorse their objections to E. J. Troy. Definite action beyondindorsement the girls did not ask or expect. This much they got. 

One day a little later, when Mrs. Knefler's campaign was beginning totake form, a representative of E. J. Troy called Mrs. Knefler on thetelephone. The voice was bland, smooth, and very friendly. Wouldn'tshe--that is--ah--er--wouldn't her organization confer with Mr. E. J. Troy? He felt sure they would come to a pleasant and mutually helpfulunderstanding. 

Mrs. Knefler explained to the mouthpiece (take it either way) that itwould be quite useless; that the stand of the League was taken on Mr. Troy's previous record and on the "interests" he represented; that whilethey had nothing against him in his private capacity, as a publicservant they must oppose him. All this in Mrs. Knefler's suavestfashion. She feels intensely, but she never loses her self-possession. That's why she is such a formidable antagonist. 

It was the last week in June--they had just a month before the primariesin which to rouse public opinion. The newspapers must help, of course. 

Mrs. Knefler went to the editors. They were polite, they admitted thejustice of her stand, but they were evasive. Mrs. Knefler opened herpaper the next morning after she had made the rounds, to find not asingle word about the danger to the working woman's interests. 

What could the papers do? Weren't they in the hands of the "big cinch, "as a certain combination of business men in St. Louis is known?Naturally they refused to print a line. You never step on your own toe, do you, or hit yourself in the face--if you can help it?

One must admit that things looked bad for the League. How were girls whoraced at machines all day, who had neither money nor the voice of thepress, to rouse this sluggish, corrupt city to the menace of sending tothe legislature men like E. J. Troy, pledged body and soul to themanufacturers? How could they waken the public to woman's bitternecessity for shorter hours? The case looked hopeless, but Mrs. Kneflermerely set her teeth, and got busy--decidedly busy. 

She planned a campaign that no other St. Louis woman in her class wouldhave had the courage to tackle. Mrs. Knefler is a member of the clubthat is the St. Louis clubwomen's "holy of holies. " They have aclub-house that just drips art, and they steep themselves inself-culture. As a group their consciousness of the city's industrialproblems is still nebulous. The high light in which Mrs. Knefler's workmust inevitably stand out is intensified by this background ofself-culture women, with a few--only a few--rash daughters shiveringaround preparatory to taking their first cold plunge in the suffragepool. 

In such an atmosphere Cynthelia Knefler planned and carried out thebiggest, the most modern and strategic campaign for the working womanever waged outside a suffrage state. It was done simply because herheart was filled with the need of the thousands of helpless, unorganizedgirls for protection from the greed of organized capital. 

There are moments when love gives vision and raises us head andshoulders above our group. So it was with Cynthelia Knefler, brought upin this conservative city, educated in a prunes-and-prisms girls'school, steeped in the Southern idea that no "lady" would ever let herpicture or her opinions get into the newspapers, and that making publicspeeches was quite unthinkable!

The press was silent, but at least Mrs. Knefler could speak to the laborunions. She and two other women appealed to every labor union in St. Louis with a speech against E. J. Troy. They fought him--not as a man, but as a representative of the "big interests. " Mrs. Knefler madeseventy-six speeches in that one month before the primaries. That meanthurrying from hall to hall on hot summer nights and making two speeches, and sometimes three and four, while her friends were wearing whitemuslin and sitting on the gallery, to get the cool of the evening. 

Mrs. Knefler's mind was working like a trip-hammer that month; seekingways and means for rousing the busy, unthinking, conglomerate mass ofpeople to the real issue. Money in the League was scarce. There are norich members. But out of their wages and out of raffles andentertainments the League had a small reserve. Part of this they used toprint sixty thousand cards. So that when you went in to get a shave yourglance was caught, as the barber turned your head, by this red ticket"Scratch E. J. Troy. " When you stopped in for a loaf of bread, a redticket behind the glass of the case advised you to "Scratch E. J. Troy. "When you went in for a drink, there leaped into sight dozens of littlered tickets: "Scratch E. J. Troy. "

There are always some men, though, who are moved only by the big, noisythings of life. Only Schneider's band sounds like music to them; only"Twenty Buckets of Blood, or Dead Man's Gulch" appeals to them asliterature; and the only speaker is the man who rips out Old Glory anddefies forked lightning. In a political campaign the little red ticketis lost on that kind of man. Mrs. Knefler understood this. So one hotJuly day huge posters in high, wood-block letters screamed frombillboards and the walls of saloons and barber shops and labor halls:"Union men and friends, Scratch E. J. Troy. "

All this printing and bill-posting was expensive for working girls. Theycame back at the Central Labor body again. "Your sympathy is great, butyour funds are better, " they said. 

"You've tackled too big a job, " the Labor leaders told the girls, with abenevolent air. "He's the candy around this town--E. J. Troy is. It wouldtake a mint of money to beat E. J. Troy. "

However, the Central body instructed the legislative committee of fiveto give the girls every help, and they did good service. But the CentralBody didn't instruct the Committee to go down very far into thetreasury. 

July was wearing on. The League hurled itself upon the press once more. Surely after so much speech-making and bill-posting the editors wouldaccord them some recognition merely as news. Silence--absolute silencein the next day's papers, and the next. 

How did they accomplish the next move? That is one of the secrets. Theirmoney was gone, the silence of the press had crushed them with anoverwhelming sense of helplessness, but nevertheless they turned thetrick. They reached the upper and middle class readers of the South SideDistrict, Troy's district, which the papers were determined to keep asmuch in ignorance as possible. All one night, silent, swift-moving menwhipped the paste across the billboards of that section and slapped onhuge posters, so that when Papa Smith and young Mr. Jones and BankerGreen came out of their comfortable houses next morning on their way tobusiness, they neglected their papers to find out why they should"scratch E. J. Troy. "

The day of the primaries was almost come. Now to reach the dull fellowswho hadn't seen the cards and the huge posters, who use their eyes onlyto avoid obstacles. One night, as the factory whistles blew the signalof dismissal, the men in the lines of operators who filed out of shopand mills found themselves mechanically taking and examining this tickethanded them by League girls, who had gone off their job a bit early andhad their wages docked in order to work for the larger good. 

The Committee of the Central Body was now openly active in their behalf. Men as well as women were passing out the tickets. 

Then came the eve of the election. Busy pairs of girls who had alreadydone ten hours' work were going over E. J. Troy's district, with itssections of rich and poor and well-to-do. Throbbing feet that hadcarried the body's weight ten hot, fatiguing hours hurried up and downthe blocks, climbed flight after flight of stairs, and stood at doorafter door. 

"Say, kid, ain't it the limit that a woman can't vote on her ownbusiness?" said one girl too another after they had finished the onehundred and forty-fifth family and tried to explain their stake in theelection to a bigoted "head of the house. "

On the morning of the primaries Mrs. Schurz, as she took the coffee offthe stove, remonstrated with her oldest daughter, Minna. "Vat, Minna, you ain't goin' to stay out of de mill today and lose your pay?

"Yes, I be, _Mutter_, " retorted Minna, with a tightening of the lips anda light in her eyre. "I'm goin' to the polls to hand out cards to thevoters. I'm goin'. I don't care if I lose my job even. "

"Oh, Minna, dat is bad, and me wid four _kinder_ to eat de food. Whereis de _fleisch_ and de _brot_ widout your wages?" Mrs. Schurz's heavyface wore the anxious despondence so common to the mothers of the poor. 

The girl hesitated, then tightened her lips once more. "I've got to takethe risk, _Mutter_. It'll come out right--it's got to. Do you want therest of the children workin' ten hours a day too? Look at me! I ain'tgot no looks any more. I'm too dead tired to go out of a Saturday night. I can't give nobody a good time any more. I guess there won't be noweddin' bells for mine--ever. But the kids"--pointing to the insidebedroom, where the younger girls were still asleep--"the kids is a-goin'to keep their looks. "

So at six o'clock Minna joined the relays of working girls who--many ofthem, like Minna, at personal risk and sacrifice--handed out cards allday to each man who entered. Thus the men were reminded at the lastmoment of the working woman's stake in the election. "Scratch E. J. Troy"was before their eyes as they crossed their tickets. 

Every moment of the day there were alert girls to make this final quietappeal for justice. They were serious, dignified. There was no jeering, no mirth on the part of the men at the novelty of this campaign--nothingto make any woman self-conscious. 

The girls were quiet enough outwardly, but the inner drama was keyedhigh. Had all their speech-making, placarding, bill-posting and thecanvassing of factories, blocks, and primaries--had all their littlesavings, their risk and personal sacrifice accomplished anything? Thatwas what the girls asked themselves. The thermometer of their hope roseand fell with the rumors of the day. The fathers of the Central LaborBody patted them on the head benevolently and tried to ease their fall, if they were to fall, by saying that anyway it would be something tomake Troy run third on his ticket. 

Seven o'clock, and the girls were leaving the primaries in twos andthrees, tired but excitedly discussing the situation. Between hope anddespondency the comment varied on the streets, at the supper-tables, andin the eager, waiting groups of girls on tenement steps and stairs. 

At last came the authentic returns. E. J. Troy ran _3, 338 votes behindhis ticket. With a silent press and practically no money, the workingwomen had defeated one of the most popular men in St. Louis. _

A man pledged to the interests of labor legislation won his place. Thatmade the outlook better for the Women's Nine-Hour Bill, and thousands ofworking girls tumbled into bed, tired, but with new hope. 

Every newspaper in St. Louis failed to comment on the victory. Theslaves who sit at the editorial desk said they couldn't--they weren't"let. " _So the most hopeful feature in St. Louis politics has never beencommented on by the American press. _

As for Hannah Hennessy--she had been too ill to share in the activework of the campaign, but her influence was everywhere--a vital force, acontinual inspiration. 

Week by week her cheeks grew thinner, her cough more rasping. But afterthe campaign against Troy was over, she turned with the same intensityof interest to the National Convention of the American Federation ofLabor which was to meet there in November. For a year she had beenmaking plans, eager to make this convention a landmark in the history ofwomen's labor. But in November she was in bed by the little grate firein the family sitting-room. And when convention week came with itsmeetings a scant three blocks from her home, she could be there inspirit only; she waited restlessly for the girls to slip in after thedaily sessions and live them over again for her. 

On Thanksgiving Day, between the exhausting strain of high-tension workand the zeal of the young reformer, her beautiful life and brilliantfire were burned out. The committee for the prevention of tuberculosisadded her case to their statistics, and the League girls bore her intothe lighted church. 

In the winter of 1910-11 the leaders of all the labor and social forcesof St. Louis, all the organizations for various forms of uplift, unitedunder an able secretary and began their custom of lunching together oncea week to discuss the pending social legislation. They played a goodgame. First, there was the educational effect of their previouslegislative campaign to build on. Then there was all the economy andimpetus gained from consolidation. They knew the rules of the gamebetter, too. Their plans were more carefully laid and executed. 

With a more wary and sophisticated eye on the Manufacturers' Associationand a finger in the buttonhole of every legislator, the socially awakeof St. Louis have secured _more humane child labor legislation, and theNine-Hour Day for women and children with no exception in favor ofshop-keepers_. 

Knowing the sickening fate of industrial legislation in certain otherstates when tried before judges whose social vision is fifty yearsbehind the times, the winners of this new bill began to wait tenselyenough for its testing. So far, however, the Women's Nine-Hour law hasnot been contested. It has also been exceptionally well enforced, considering that there are only four factory inspectors for all themyriad shops and mills of this manufacturing city of the Southwest, andonly seven factory inspectors for the whole state of Missouri. 

Meanwhile St. Louis's new political wedge, the Women's Trade UnionLeague, continues to be a perfectly good political wedge. When there islegislation wanted, all kinds of organizations invariably call upon thisleague of the working women, whose purpose is a wider social justice. 

St. Louis is another American city where the working women arediscovering that they can do things if they only think so. 

 * * * * *

(_The Delineator_)

Illustrated by two pen-and-ink sketches made by a staff artist. 

THE JOB LADY

GIVES THE YOUNG WAGE-EARNER A FAIR WORKING CHANCE

BY MARY E. TITZEL

The Jones School, the oldest public school building in Chicago, is atHarrison Street and Plymouth Court. When it was new, it was surroundedby "brown-stone fronts, " and boys and girls who to-day are among thecity's most influential citizens learned their A-B-C's within its walls. Now, the office-buildings and printing-houses and cheap hotels andburlesque shows that mark the noisy, grimy district south of the "loop"crowd in upon it; and only an occasional shabby brown-stone frontsurvives in the neighborhood as a tenement house. But in the JonesSchool, the process of making influential citizens is still going on. For there the "Job Lady" has her office, her sanctum. 

Job Lady is a generic term that includes Miss Anne Davis, director ofthe Bureau of Vocational Supervision, and her four assistants. TheBureau--which is the newest department of Chicago's school system--isreally an employment agency, but one that is different from any otheremployment agency in the United States. It is concerned solely with amuch-neglected class of wage-earners--children from fourteen to sixteenyears of age; and its chief purpose is, not to find positions for its"patrons, " but to keep them in school. 

It was founded as a result of the discovery that there were not nearlyenough jobs in Chicago to go around among the twelve or fifteen thousandchildren under sixteen years of age who left school each year to go towork; also that, though a statute of the State required a child eitherto work or to go to school, there were about twenty-three thousandyoungsters in the city who were doing neither. The law had made noprovision for keeping track of the children once they had left school. No one knew what had become of them. So Miss Davis, acting as specialinvestigator for the School of Civics and Philanthropy and the ChicagoWomen's Club, set to work to find out. 

She discovered--and she can show you statistics to prove it--that"bummin'" around, looking aimlessly for work, brought many a boy andgirl, unable to withstand the temptations of the street, into theJuvenile Court. And she found, as other statistics bear witness, thatthe fate of the children who found jobs was scarcely better than that oftheir idle brothers and sisters. Undirected, they took the firstpositions that offered, with the result that most of them were engagedin "blind-alley" occupations, unskilled industries that offered little, if any, chance for advancement and that gave no training for the future. The pay was poor; it averaged two dollars a week. Working conditionswere frequently unhealthful. Moral influences of shop and factory andoffice were often bad. For the most part, the industries that employedchildren were seasonal; and many boys and girls were forced into longperiods of inactivity between positions. This state of affairs, combinedwith a natural tendency to vary the monotony of life by shifting, on theslightest pretext, from one job to another, was making of many childrenthat bane of modern industry, the "casual" laborer. 

The Bureau--started informally in the course of initial investigationsand kept alive through the grace of the Women's Club, until the Board ofEducation was ready to adopt it--has been able to do much inamelioration of the lot of the fourteen-to-sixteen-year-old worker. Butno statistics it can produce are as telling as the sight of the Bureauin operation. Sit with your eyes and ears open, in a corner of theoffice in the Jones School and you will make the acquaintance of one ofthe humanest employment agencies in the world; also you will learn moreabout such grave subjects as the needs of our educational system and theunderlying causes of poverty than you can learn out of fat treatises ina year. 

"Why do you want to leave school?" That is the first question the JobLady asks of each new applicant who comes to the Bureau for work. Perhaps the child has heard that question before; for in those schoolsfrom which the greatest numbers of children go out at the age offourteen, Miss Davis and her assistants hold office hours and intervieweach boy or girl who shows signs of restlessness. They give informaltalks to the pupils of the sixth and seventh grades about theopportunities open to boys and girls under sixteen; they discuss thespecial training offered by the schools and show the advisability ofremaining in school as long as possible; they try to find an opportunityof talking over the future with each member of the graduating class. 

But even when the way has been paved for it, the question, "Why do youwant to leave school?" brings to light the most trivial of reasons. Invery few cases is it economic necessity that drives a child to work. 

"I ain't int'rusted, " explained one boy to Miss Davis. "I jest sits. "

The Job Lady is often able to convince even the sitters that school is, after all, the best place for boys and girls under sixteen. Shepersuaded between twenty-five and thirty per cent. Of the children thatapplied at the Bureau last year to return to school. Sometimes all shehad to do was to give the child a plain statement of the facts in thecase--of the poor work and poor pay and lack of opportunity in theindustries open to the fourteen-year-old worker. Often she found itnecessary only to explain what the school had to offer. One boy was sentto Miss Davis by a teacher who had advised him to go to work, althoughhe had just completed the seventh grade, because he had "too muchenergy" for school! He was a bright boy--one capable of making somethingof himself, if the two important, formative years that must pass beforehe was sixteen were not wasted; so he was transferred from his school toone where vocational work was part of the curriculum--where he couldfind an outlet for his superfluous energy in working with his hands. Nowhe is doing high-school work creditably; and he has stopped talkingabout leaving school. 

But it isn't always the whim of the child that prompts him to cut shorthis education. Sometimes he is driven into the industrial world by theignorance or greed of his parents. Miss Davis tells of one little girlwho was sacrificed to the great god Labor because the four dollars shebrought home weekly helped to pay the instalments on a piano, and of aboy who was taken from eighth grade just before graduation because hisfather had bought some property and needed a little extra money. Frequently boys and girls are put to work because of the impressionthat schools have nothing of practical value to offer. 

Still, even the most miserly and most stubborn and most ignorant ofparents can sometimes be made to see the wisdom of keeping a child inschool until he is sixteen. They are won to the Job Lady's point of viewby a statement of the increased opportunity open to the child who issixteen. Or they are brought to see that the schools are for _all_children, and that work, on the contrary, is very bad for some children. 

But often all the Job Lady's efforts fail. The child is incurably sickof school, the parent remains obdurate. Or, perhaps, there is a veryreal need of what little the son or daughter can earn. Often some onecan be found who will donate books, or a scholarship ranging fromcar-fare to a few dollars a week. Over four hundred dollars is beinggiven out in scholarships each month, and every scholarship shows goodreturns. But often no scholarship is forthcoming; and there is nothingfor the Job Lady to do but find a position for the small applicant. 

Then begins the often difficult process of fitting the child to someavailable job. The process starts, really, with fitting the job to thechild, and that is as it should be. The Job Lady always tries to placethe boys and girls that come to her office where there will be somechance for them to learn something. But jobs with a "future" are few forthe fourteen-year-old worker. The trades will not receive apprenticesunder the age of sixteen; business houses and the higher-grade factorieswon't bother with youngsters, because they are too unreliable; as oneman put it, with unconscious irony, too "childish. " So the Job Lady mustbe content to send the boys out as office and errand boys or to findemployment for the girls in binderies and novelty shops. But sheinvestigates every position before a child is sent to fill it; and if itis found to be not up to standard in wages or working conditions, it iscrossed off the Bureau's list. 

The Job Lady has established a minimum wage of four dollars a week. Nochildren go out from the Bureau to work for less than that sum, excepting those who are placed in the part-time schools of some printingestablishments, or in dressmaking shops, where they will be learning auseful trade. This informal minimum-wage law results in a raising of thestandard of payment in a shop. 

In such manner, the Bureau makes over many a job to fit the worker. Butthe fitting process works both ways. The Job Lady knows that it isdiscouraging, often demoralizing, for a child to be turned away, justbecause he is not the "right person" for a place. So she tries to makesure that he _is_ the right person. That she succeeds very often, theemployers who have learned to rely on the Bureau will testify. 

"If you haven't a boy for me now, " one man said to Miss Davis, "I'llwait until you get one. It will save time in the end, for you alwayssend just the boy I want. "

The secret of finding the right boy lies, first of all, in discoveringwhat he wants to do; and, next, in judging whether or not he can do it. Very often, he has not the least idea of what he wants to do. He haslearned many things in school, but little or nothing of the industrialworld in which he must live. To many boys and girls, especially to thosefrom the poorest families, an "office job" is the acme of desire. Itmeans to them, pitifully enough, a respectability they have never beenquite able to encompass. As a result, perhaps, of our slow-changingeducational ideals, they scorn the trades. 

Into the trades, however, Miss Davis finds it possible to steer many aboy who is obviously unfitted for the career of lawyer, bank clerk, or, vaguely, "business man. " And she is able to place others in the covetedoffice jobs, with their time-honored requirement: "only the neat, honest, intelligent boy need apply. "

Often, given the honesty and intelligence, she must manufacture a childto fit the description. Sometimes all that is necessary is a hint aboutsoap and water and a clean collar. Sometimes the big cupboard in heroffice must yield up a half-worn suit or a pair of shoes that someluckier boy has outgrown. Occasionally, hers is the delicate task ofsuggesting to a prematurely sophisticated little girl that someemployers have an unreasonable prejudice against rouge and earrings; orthat even the poorest people can wash their underwear. Mannersfrequently come in for attention. 

When the boys or girls are placed, the Bureau, unlike most employmentagencies, does not wash its hands of them. Its work has only begun. Eachchild is asked to report concerning his progress from time to time; andif he does not show up, a vocational supervisor keeps track of him byvisits to home or office, or by letters, written quarterly. The Job Ladyis able to observe by this method, whether or not the work is suitablefor the child, or whether it offers him the best available chance; andshe is often able to check the habit of "shifting" in its incipientstages. She is continually arbitrating and making adjustments, alwaysready to listen to childish woes and to allay them when she can. 

Not long ago, I went to a conference on Vocational Guidance. There Iheard, from the mouths of various men, what hope the work being done bythe Bureau held for the future. One showed how it had infused new bloodinto the veins of an anemic educational system, how it was making theschools a more efficient preparation for life--the life of factory andshop and office--than they ever had been before. 

Another man pointed out that the Bureau, through the schools, wouldstrike at one of the deep roots of poverty--incompetency. More peopleare poor for lack of proper equipment to earn a living and properdirection in choosing a vocation, he said, than for any other onereason. 

A third man saw in the Vocational Bureau a means of keeping a controlover employing interests. "You treat our children well, and you pay themwell, " the schools of the future, he declared, would be able to say tothe employer, as the Bureau was already saying, "or we won't permit ourchildren to work for you. " A fourth had a vision of what the Bureau andthe new education it heralded could do toward educating the men andwomen of the future to a knowledge of their rights as workers. 

And then there came a man with a plea. "All of these things, " he said, "the Bureau can accomplish--must accomplish. But let us not forget, inour pursuance of great ends, that it is the essential _humanness_ of theBureau that has made it what it is. "

Here was the final, immeasurable measure of its success. It counts, ofcourse, that the Job Lady helps along big causes, drives at the roots ofbig ills; but, somehow it counts more that an anxious-faced youngster Isaw at the Bureau should have brought his woes to her. His employer hadgiven him a problem to solve--and he couldn't do it. He was afraid he'dlose his job. He had never been to the Bureau before, but "a boy you gota job for said you'd help me out, " he explained--and he was sent offhappy, the problem solved. 

It counts too, that Tillie, who had once found work through the Bureau, but was now keeping house for her father, should turn to the Bureau foraid. Her father had been sick and couldn't afford to buy her anythingnew to wear. "My dress is so clumsy, " she wrote, "that the boys laugh atme when I go out in the street. " She was confident that the Job Ladywould help her--and her confidence was not misplaced. It counts thatthe Jameses and Henrys and Johns and Marys and Sadies come, brimmingover with joy, to tell the Job Lady of a "raise" or of a bit ofapprobation from an employer. All the funny, grateful, pathetic lettersthat pour in count unspeakably!

To hundreds of boys and girls and parents the Job Lady has proved afriend. There has been no nonsense about the matter. She has notsentimentalized over her work; she has not made it smack of charity. Indeed, there is no charity about it. The boys and girls and parents whocome to the Job Lady are, for the most part, just average boys and girlsand parents, as little paupers as millionaires. They are the people whoare generally lost sight of in a democracy, where one must usually bewell-to-do enough to, buy assistance, or poor enough to accept it asalms, if he is to have any aid at all in solving the problems of life. 

It is a great thing for the schools, through the Bureau, to give tothese average men and women and children practical aid in adjustingtheir lives to the conditions under which they live and work, and to doit with a sympathy and an understanding--a humanness that warms thesoul. 

 * * * * *

_(Kansas City Star)_

Two illustrations with the captions: 1. "Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher, " an Illustration in the "Adventures of Tom Sawyer" (Harpers), which met the Author's Approval. 

 2. Mrs. Laura Frazer, the Original "Becky Thatcher, " Pouring Tea at Mark Twain's Boyhood Home in Hannibal, Mo. , on the Anniversary of the Author's Birth. 

MARK TWAIN'S FIRST SWEETHEART, BECKY THATCHER, TELLS OF THEIR CHILDHOODCOURTSHIP

To Mrs. Laura Frazer of Hannibal, Mo. , Mark Twain's immortal "Adventuresof Tom Sawyer" is a rosary, and the book's plot is the cord of fictionon which beads of truth are strung. In the sunset of her life she tellsthem over, and if here and there among the roseate chaplet is a beadgray in coloring, time has softened the hues of all so they blendexquisitely. This bead recalls a happy afternoon on the broadMississippi with the boys and girls of seventy years ago; the nextbrings up a picture of a schoolroom where a score of little heads bobover their books and slates, and a third visualizes a wonderful picnicexcursion to the woods with a feast of fried chicken and pie and cake. 

For Mrs. Frazer is the original of Becky Thatcher, the childhoodsweetheart of Tom Sawyer, and the original of Tom Sawyer, of course, wasMark Twain himself. 

"Yes, I was the Becky Thatcher of Mr. Clemens's book, " Mrs. Frazer saidthe other day, as she sat in the big second floor front parlor of theold time mansion in Hannibal, which is now the Home for the Friendless. Mrs. Frazer is the matron of the home. 

"Of course I suspected it when I first read the 'Adventures of TomSawyer, '" she went on. "There were so many incidents which I recalled ashappening to Sam Clemens and myself that I felt he had drawn a pictureof his memory of me in the character of Judge Thatcher's littledaughter. But I never confided my belief to anyone. I felt that it wouldbe a presumption to take the honor to myself. 

"There were other women who had no such scruples--some of them righthere in Hannibal--and they attempted to gain a little reflectednotoriety by asserting that they were the prototypes of the character. When Albert Bigelow Paine, Mr. Clemens's biographer, gathered thematerial for his life of the author, he found no fewer than twenty-fivewomen, in Missouri and elsewhere, each of whom declared she was BeckyThatcher, but he settled the controversy for all time on Mr. Clemens'sauthority when the biography was published. In it you will find thatBecky Thatcher was Laura Hawkins, which was my maiden name. 

"We were boy and girl sweethearts, Sam Clemens and I, " Mrs. Frazer saidwith a gentle little laugh. 

She is elderly, of course, since it was seventy years ago that herfriendship with Mark Twain began, and her hair is gray. But her heart isyoung, and she finds in her work of mothering the twenty-five boys andgirls in her charge the secret of defying age. On this particularafternoon she wore black and white striped silk, the effect of which wasa soft gray to match her hair, and her placid face was lighted withsmiles of reminiscence. 

"Children are wholly unartificial, you know, " she explained. "They donot learn to conceal their feelings until they begin to grow up. Thecourtship of childhood, therefore, is a matter of preference and ofcomradeship. I liked Sam better than the other boys, and he liked mebetter than the other girls, and that was all there was to it. "

If you had seen this lady of Old Missouri as she told of her childhoodromance you would have recalled instinctively Mark Twain's description:

 A lovely little blue eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. * * * He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye until he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. 

And you would have found it easy to conceive that this refined, gentlecountenance once was apple cheeked and rosy, that the serene gray eyesonce sparkled as blue as the Father of Waters on a sunny day and thatthe frosted hair was as golden as the sunshine. 

"I must have been 6 or 7 years old when we moved to Hannibal, " Mrs. Frazer said. "My father had owned a big mill and a store and aplantation worked by many negro slaves further inland, but he found thetask of managing all too heavy for him, and so he bought a home inHannibal and was preparing to move to it when he died. My mother leftthe mill and the plantation in the hands of my grown brothers--I was oneof ten children, by the way--and came to Hannibal. Our house stood atthe corner of Hill and Main streets, and just a few doors west, on HillStreet, lived the Clemens family. 

"I think I must have liked Sam Clemens the very first time I saw him. Hewas different from the other boys. I didn't know then, of course, whatit was that made him different, but afterward, when my knowledge of theworld and its people grew, I realized that it was his naturalrefinement. He played hookey from school, he cared nothing at all forhis books and he was guilty of all sorts of mischievous pranks, just asTom Sawyer is in the book, but I never heard a coarse word from him inall our childhood acquaintance. 

"Hannibal was a little town which hugged the steamboat landing in thosedays. If you will go down through the old part of the city now you willfind it much as it was when I was a child, for the quaint oldweatherbeaten buildings still stand, proving how thoroughly the pioneersdid their work. We went to school, we had picnics, we explored the bigcave--they call it the Mark Twain Cave now, you know. "

"Were you lost in the cave, as Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher were?"Mrs. Frazer was asked. 

"No; that is a part of the fiction of the book, " she answered. "As amatter of fact, some older persons always went with us. Usually my oldersister and Sam Clemens's older sister, who were great friends, werealong to see that we didn't get lost among the winding passages whereour candles lighted up the great stalagmites and stalactites, and wherewater was dripping from the stone roof overhead, just as Mr. Clemens hasdescribed it. "

And then she proceeded to divorce the memory of Mark Twain from "thelittle red schoolhouse" forever. 

"In those days we had only private schools, " Mrs. Frazer said. "If therewere public schools I never heard of them. The first school I went towas taught by Mr. Cross, who had canvassed the town and obtained perhapstwenty-five private pupils at a stated price for the tuition of each. Ido not know how much Mr. Cross charged, but when I was older I rememberthat a young woman teacher opened a school after getting twenty-fivepupils at $25 each for the year's tuition. I shall never forget that Mr. Cross did not belie his name, however, or that Sam Clemens wrote a bitof doggerel about him. "

She quoted it this way:

 Cross by name and Cross by nature, Cross hopped out of an Irish potato. 

"The schoolhouse was a 2-story frame building with a gallery across theentire front, " she resumed. "After a year together in that school Samand I went to the school taught by Mrs. Horr. It was then he used towrite notes to me and bring apples to school and put them on my desk. And once, as a punishment for some prank, he had to sit with the girlsand occupied a vacant seat by me. He didn't seem to mind the penalty atall, " Mrs. Frazer added with another laugh, "so I don't know whether itwas effective as a punishment or not. 

"We hadn't reached the dancing age then, but we went to many 'playparties' together and romped through 'Going to Jerusalem, ' 'King Williamwas King George's Son' and 'Green Grow the Rushes--O. '

"Judge Clemens, Sam's father, died and left the family in straitenedcircumstances, and Sam's schooling ended there. He began work in theprinting office to help out, and when he was 17 or 18 he left Hannibalto go to work in St. Louis. He never returned to live, but he visitedhere often in the years that followed. "

Mrs. Frazer's own story formed the next chapter of her narrative. Ayoung physician, Doctor Frazer of Madisonville, which was a littleinland village in Ralls County, adjoining, came often to Hannibal andcourted pretty Laura Hawkins. When she was 20 they were married and wentto live in the new house Doctor Frazer had built for his bride atMadisonville. There they reared two sons until they required betterschool facilities, when they went to Rensselaer, also in Ralls County, but nearer Hannibal. They lived in Rensselaer until Doctor Frazer'sdeath, when the mother and younger son moved to the General Canby farm. This son's marriage led to Mrs. Frazer's return to Hannibal twenty-twoyears ago. She was offered the position of matron at the Home for theFriendless, and for twenty-two years she has managed it. The boys andgirls who have gone out from it in nearly every case have become usefulmen and women as a result of her guidance at the critical period oftheir life, for the girls remain in the home until they are 14 and theboys until they are 12. The old mansion which houses the score or moreof children always there is to be abandoned in the spring for a new andmodern building, a gift from a wealthy citizen to the private charitywhich has conducted the institution so long without aid from city, county or state. 

It was given to Mrs. Frazer and Mark Twain to renew their youthfulfriendship after a lapse of half a century. In 1908 Mrs. Frazer made atrip East, accepting an invitation to visit Albert Bigelow Paine atRedding, Conn. Mr. Paine had visited Hannibal two years before in asearch for material for his biography of Mark Twain and had made Mrs. Frazer's acquaintance then. He mentioned the approaching visit to thegreat humorist and Mark Twain promptly sat down and wrote Mrs. Frazerthat she must be a guest also at Stormfield, his Redding estate. So itcame about that the one-time little Laura Hawkins found herself liftingthe knocker at the beautiful country home of Mark Twain in theConnecticut hills. 

"The door was opened by Clara Clemens, Mr. Clemens's daughter, " Mrs. Frazer said, "and she threw her arms about me and cried:

 'I know you, for I've seen your picture, and father has told me about you. You are Becky Thatcher, and I'm happy to see you. '

"And that, " Mrs. Frazer said, "was the first time I really knew I wasthe original of the character, although I had suspected it for thirtyyears. Clara Clemens, you know, even then was a famous contralto, andOssip Gabrilowitsch, whose wife she is now, was 'waiting' on her at thetime. 

"It was a wonderful visit, " she went on. "Mr. Clemens took me overStormfield. It must have been a tract of three hundred acres. We wentthrough the fields, which were not fields at all, since they were notcultivated, and across a rustic bridge over a little rushing brook whichboiled and bubbled among the rocks in the bed of a great ravine, and wesat down under a rustic arbor and talked of the old days in Hannibalwhen he was a little boy and I a little girl, before he went out intothe world to win fame and before I lived my own happy married life. Mr. Clemens had that rare faculty of loyalty to his friends which made thelapse of fifty years merely an interim. It was as if the half centuryhad rolled away and we were there looking on the boy and girl we hadbeen. 

"Mr. Clemens had won worldwide fame; he had been a welcome guest in thepalaces of Old World rulers and lionized in the great cities of his owncountry. He had been made a Doctor of Literature by the University ofOxford, the highest honor of the greatest university in the world, andyet there at Stormfield to me he seemed to be Sam Clemens of oldHannibal, rather than the foremost man in the American world of letters. 

"That, I believe, is my most treasured memory of Sam Clemens, " Mrs. Frazer ended. "I love to think of him as the curly-headed, rollicking, clean minded little boy I played with as a child, but I like betterstill to think of him as he was in his last days, when all that fame andfortune had showered on him did not, even momentarily, make him waver inhis loyalty to the friends of his youth. "

In Hannibal stands the quaint little 2-story house flush with thesidewalk which Samuel Langhorne Clemens's father built in 1844, after hehad moved to the old river town from Florida, Mo. , where the great storyteller was born. Restored, it houses many reminders of the author and ismaintained as a memorial to Mark Twain. There, November 30, theeighty-second anniversary of the birth of Clemens, the people ofHannibal and persons from many cities widely scattered over America willgo to pay tribute to his memory. 

And there they will see Becky Thatcher in the flesh, silkengowned, gray-haired and grown old, but Becky Thatcher just the same, seated in achair which once was Mark Twain's and pouring tea at a table on whichthe author once wrote. And if the aroma of the cup she hands out to eachvisitor doesn't waft before his mind a vision of a curly-headed boy anda little girl with golden long-tails at play on the wharf of oldHannibal while the ancient packets ply up and down the rolling blueMississippi, there is nothing whatever in the white magic ofassociation. 

 * * * * *

(_Milwaukee Journal_)

FOUR MEN OF HUMBLE BIRTH HOLD WORLD DESTINY IN THEIR HANDS

BY WILLIAM G. SHEPHERD

WASHINGTON--Out of a dingy law office in Virginia, out of a cobbler'sshop in Wales, out of a village doctor's office in France and from afarm on the island of Sicily came the four men who, in the grand oldpalace at Versailles, will soon put the quietus on the divine right ofkings. 

In 1856, three days after Christmas, a boy named Thomas was born in theplain home of a Presbyterian parson in Staunton, Va. When this boy was 4years old, there was born in Palermo, on the island of Sicily, 4, 000miles away, a black-eyed Sicilian boy. Into the town of Palermo, on thatJuly day, came Garibaldi, in triumph, and the farmer-folk parents of theboy, in honor of the occasion, named their son Victor, after the newItalian king, whom Garibaldi had helped to seat. 

Three years later still, when Thomas was playing the games of 7-year-oldboys down in Virginia, and when Victor, at 3, spent most of his timeromping on the little farm in Sicily, there was born in the heart of thefoggy, grimy town of Manchester, in England, a boy named David. His homewas the ugliest of the homes of all the three. It was of red brick, twostories high, with small windows, facing a busy stone sidewalk. Itsrooms were small and little adorned, and not much hope of greatnesscould ever have sprung from that dingy place. 

There was one other boy to make up the quartet. His name was George. Hewas a young medical student in Paris twenty-two years old when David wasborn in England. He thought all governments ought to be republics, and, by the time he was 25, he came over to the United States to study theAmerican republic, and, if possible, to make a living over here as adoctor. He had been born in a little village in France, in a doctor'shousehold. 

While George was in New York, almost starving for lack of patients, andlater, while he taught French in a girls' school in Stamford, Conn. , little Thomas, down in Virginia, at the age of 10 years, had buckleddown to his studies, with the hope of being a lawyer; Victor, at 6, wasstudying in a school in far-away Palermo, and David, at 3, fatherless bythis time, was getting ready for life in the home of his uncle, avillage shoemaker, in a little town of Wales. The only city-born boy ofthe four, he was taken by fate, when his father died, to the simplicityof village life and saved, perhaps, from the sidewalks. 

The years whirled on. George married an American girl and went back toFrance, to write and teach and doctor. Thomas went to a university tostudy law. David, seven years younger, spent his evenings and spare timein his uncle's shoe shop or in the village blacksmith shop, listening tohis elders talk over the affairs of the world. 

Victor, with law as his vision, crossed the famous old straits ofMessina from his island home and went to Naples to study in the lawschool there. 

In the '80s things began to happen. Down in Virginia, Thomas wasadmitted to the bar. In old Wales, David, who, by this time, had learnedto speak English, was admitted to practice law in 1884, and, in 1885, the black-eyed, hot-blooded Sicilian Victor received the documents thatentitled him to practice at the Italian bar. 

George, in France, by this time had dropped medicine. Bolshevism hadarisen there in the form of the Commune, and he had fought it sodesperately that he had been sentenced to death. He hated kings, and healso hated the autocracy of the mob. He fled from Paris. 

Soon they will sit at a peace table together, the first peace table inall human history from which divine-right kings are barred. The futureand the welfare of the world lie in their four pairs of hands. Theirfull names are: Georges Clemenceau, premier of France; David LloydGeorge, prime minister of England; Victor Emanuel Orlando, premier ofItaly, and Thomas Woodrow Wilson, president of the United States. 

 * * * * *

_(Saturday Evening Post)_

Three half-tone reproductions of wash-drawings by a staff artist. 

THE CONFESSIONS OF A COLLEGE PROFESSOR'S WIFE

A college professor--as may be proved by any number of novels andplays--is a quaint, pedantic person, with spectacles and a beard, butwithout any passions--except for books. He takes delight in large fatwords, but is utterly indifferent to such things as clothes andwomen--except the dowdy one he married when too young to know better. .. . It is always so interesting to see ourselves as authors see us. 

Even more entertaining to us, however, is the shockingly inconsistentattitude toward academic life maintained by practical people who knowall about real life--meaning the making and spending of money. 

One evening soon after I became a college professor's wife I enjoyed theinestimable privilege of sitting next to one of America's safest andsanest business men at a dinner party given in his honor by one of thetrustees of the university. 

When he began to inform me, with that interesting air of originalitywhich often accompanies the platitudes of our best citizens, thatcollege professors were "mere visionary idealists--all academictheories; no practical knowledge of the world"--and so on, as usual--Imade bold to interrupt:

"Why, in the name of common sense, then, do you send your own sons tothem to be prepared for it! Is such a policy safe? Is it sane? Is itpractical?" And I am afraid I laughed in the great man's face. 

He only blinked and said "Humph!" in a thoroughly businesslike manner;but throughout the rest of the evening he viewed me askance, as though Ihad become a dangerous theorist too--by marriage. So I turned my back onhim and wondered why such a large and brilliant dinner was given forsuch a dull and uninteresting Philistine!

This shows, by the way, how young and ignorant I was. The mystery wasexplained next day, when it was intimated to me that I had made what issometimes called, even in refined college circles, a break. Youngprofessors' wives were not expected to trifle with visitors of sucheminent solvency; but I had frequently heard the materialistictendencies of the age condemned in public, and had not been warned inprivate that we were all supposed to do our best to work thismaterialist for a million, with which to keep up the fight againstmaterialism. 

In the cloistered seclusion of our universities, dedicated to highideals, more deference is shown to the masters of high finance than tothe masters of other arts--let me add not because Mammon is worshiped, but because he is needed for building cloisters. 

The search for truth would be far more congenial than the search forwealth; but, so long as our old-fashioned institutions remain, likeold-fashioned females, dependent for their very existence on the bountyof personal favor, devious methods must be employed for coaxing andwheedling money out of those who control it--and therefore the truth. 

I was a slender bride and had a fresh, becoming trousseau. He was aheavy-jowled banker and had many millions. I was supposed to ply whatfeminine arts I could command for the highly moral purpose of obtaininghis dollars, to be used in destroying his ideals. 

Well, that was the first and last time I was ever so employed. Despitethe conscientious flattery of the others he gruntingly refused to give apenny. And--who knows--perhaps I was in part responsible for the loss ofa million! A dreadful preface to my career as a college professor'swife. 

However, before pursuing my personal confessions, I must not overlookthe most common and comic characteristic of the college professor we allknow and love in fiction. I refer to his picturesque absent-mindedness. I had almost forgotten that; possibly I have become absent-minded bymarriage too! Is not the dear old fellow always absent-minded on thestage? Invariably and most deliriously! Just how he manages to remain onthe Faculty when absent-minded is never explained on the program; and itoften perplexes us who are behind the scenes. 

I tell my husband that, in our case, I, as the dowdy and devoted wife, am supposed to interrupt his dreams--they always have dreams--remove hisuntidy dressing gown--they always wear dressing gowns--and dispatch himto the classroom with a kiss and a coat; but how about that great andgrowing proportion of his colleagues who, for reasons to be stated, arewifeless and presumably helpless?

Being only a woman, I cannot explain how bachelors retain theirpositions; but I shall venture to assert that no business in theworld--not even the army and navy--is conducted on a more ruthless andinexorable schedule than the business of teaching. 

My two brothers drift into their office at any time between nine and tenin the morning and yet control a fairly successful commercialenterprise; whereas, if my husband arrived at his eight-o'clockclassroom only one minute late there would be no class there to teach. For it is an unwritten law among our engaging young friends theundergraduates that when the "prof" is not on hand before the bell stopsringing they can "cut"--thus avoiding what they were sent to college forand achieving one of the pleasantest triumphs of a university course. 

My confessions! Dear me! What have I, a college professor's wife, toconfess? At least three things:

 1--That I love my husband so well that I wish I had never married him. 

 2--That I have been such a good wife that he does not know he ought never to have had one. 

 3--That if I had to do it all over again I would do the same thing all over again! This is indeed a confession, though whether it be of weakness of will or strength of faith you may decide if you read the rest. 

The first time I saw the man who became my husband was at the Casino inNewport. And what was a poor professor doing at Newport? He was not aprofessor--he was a prince; a proud prince of the most royal realm ofsport. Carl, as some of you might recall if that were his real name, hadbeen the intercollegiate tennis champion a few years before, and now, with the kings of the court, had come to try his luck in the annualnational tournament. He lasted until the finals this time and then wasput out. That was as high as he ever got in the game. 

Alas for the romance of love at first sight! He paid not the slightestattention to me, though he sat beside me for ten minutes; for, despitehis defeat, he was as enthusiastically absorbed in the runner-up and thedashing defender of the title as--well, as the splendid sportsman I havesince found him to be in disappointments far more grim. 

As for me, I fear I hardly noticed him either, except to remark that hewas very good-looking; for this was my first visit to Newport--the lasttoo--and the pageantry of wealth and fashion was bewilderinglyinteresting to me. I was quite young then. I am older now. But suchunintellectual exhibitions might, I fancy, still interest me--ashocking confession for a college professor's wife!

I did not see Carl again for two years, and then it was in another kindof pageant, amid pomp and circumstance of such a different sort; and, instead of white flannel trousers, he now wore a black silk gown. It hadlarge flowing sleeves and a hood of loud colors hanging down behind; andhe was blandly marching along in the academic procession at theinaugural ceremonies of the new president of the university. 

I wonder why it is that when the stronger sex wishes to appearparticularly dignified and impressive, as on the bench or in the pulpit, it likes to don female attire! No matter whether suffragists orantis--they all do it. Now some of these paraders seemed as embarrassedby their skirts as the weaker sex would be without them; but the wayCarl wore his new honors and his new doctor's hood attracted myattention and held it. He seemed quite aware of the ridiculous aspect ofan awkward squad of pedagogues paraded like chorus girls before anaudience invited to watch the display; but, also, he actually enjoyedthe comedy of it--and that is a distinction when you are an actor in thecomedy! His quietly derisive strut altogether fascinated me. "Hurrah!Aren't we fine!" he seemed to say. 

As the long, self-conscious procession passed where I sat, smiling andunnoticed, he suddenly looked up. His veiled twinkle happened to meet mygaze. It passed over me, instantly returned and rested on ray eyes foralmost a second. Such a wonderful second for little me!. .. Not a gleamof recollection. He had quite forgotten that our names had once beenpronounced to each other; but in that flashing instant he recognized, asI did, that we two knew each other better than anyone else in the wholeassemblage. 

The nicest smile in the world said as plainly as words, and all for mealone: "Hurrah! You see it too!" Then, with that deliciously derisivestrut, he passed on, while something within me said: "There he is!--atlast! He is the one for you!" And I glowed and was glad. 

Carl informed me afterward that he had a similar sensation, and that allthrough the long platitudinous exercises my face was a great solace tohim. 

"Whenever they became particularly tiresome, " he said, "I looked atyou--and bore up. "

I was not unaware that he was observing me; nor was I surprised when, at the end of the exhausting ordeal, he broke through the crowd--withoh, such dear impetuosity!--and asked my uncle to present him, while I, trembling at his approach, looked in the other direction, for I felt thecrimson in my cheeks--I who had been out three seasons! Then I turnedand raised my eyes to his, and he, too, colored deeply as he took myhand. 

We saw no comedy in what followed. 

There was plenty of comedy, only we were too romantic to see it. At thetime it seemed entirely tragic to me that my people, though of the sortclassified as cultured and refined, deploring the materialistic tendencyof the age, violently objected to my caring for this wonderful being, who brilliantly embodied all they admired in baccalaureate sermons andextolled in Sunday-school. 

It was not despite but because of that very thing that they opposed thematch! If only he had not so ably curbed his materialistic tendenciesthey would have been delighted with this well-bred young man, for hiswas an even older family than ours, meaning one having money long enoughto breed contempt for making it. Instead of a fortune, however, merely atradition of _noblesse oblige_ had come down to him, like an unwieldyheirloom. He had waved aside a promising opening in his cousin'sbond-house on leaving college and invested five important years, as wellas his small patrimony, in hard work at the leading universities abroadin order to secure a thorough working capital for the worst-paidprofession in the world. 

"If there were only some future in the teaching business!" as one of myelder brothers said; "but I've looked into the proposition. Why, even afull professor seldom gets more than four thousand--in most cases less. And it will be years before your young man is a full professor. "

"I can wait, " I said. 

"But a girl like you could never stand that kind of life. You aren'tfitted for it. You weren't brought up to be a poor man's wife. "

"Plenty of tune to learn while waiting, " I returned gayly enough, butheartsick at the thought of the long wait. 

Carl, however, quite agreed with my brothers and wanted impetuously tostart afresh in pursuit of the career in Wall Street he had forsworn, willing and eager--the darling!--to throw away ambition, change hisinherited tastes, abandon his cultivated talents, and forget the fiveyears he had "squandered in riotous learning, " as he put it!

However, I was not willing--for his sake. He would regret it later. They always do. Besides, like Carl, I had certain unuttered ideals aboutserving the world in those days. We still have. Only now we betterunderstand the world. Make no mistake about this. Men are just as nobleas they used to be. Plenty of them are willing to sacrificethemselves--but not us. That is why so few of the sort most needed go infor teaching and preaching in these so-called materialistic days. 

What was the actual, material result of my lover's having takenseriously the advice ladled out to him by college presidents and otherevil companions of his innocent youth, who had besought him not to seekmaterial gain?

At the time we found each other he was twenty-seven years of age and hadjust begun his career--an instructor in the economics department, with athousand-dollar salary. That is not why he was called an economist; butcan you blame my brothers for doing their best to break theengagement?. .. I do not--now. It was not their fault if Carl actuallypracticed what they merely preached. Should Carl be blamed? No; for heseriously intended never to marry at all--until he met me. Should I beblamed? Possibly; but I did my best to break the engagement too--andincidentally both our hearts--by going abroad and staying abroad untilCarl--bless him!--came over after me. 

I am not blaming anybody. I am merely telling why so few men inuniversity work, or, for that matter, in most of the professionsnowadays, can support wives until after the natural mating time is past. By that time their true mates have usually wed other men--men who cansupport them--not the men they really love, but the men they tellthemselves they love! For, if marriage is woman's only true career, itis hardly true to one's family or oneself not to follow it before it istoo late--especially when denied training for any other--even though shemay be equally lacking in practical training for the only career open toher. 

This sounds like a confession of personal failure due to the typicalunpreparedness for marriage of the modern American girl. I do not thinkanyone could call our marriage a personal failure, though socially itmay be. During the long period of our engagement I became almost as wellprepared for my lifework as Carl was for his. Instead of just waiting insweet, sighing idleness I took courses in domestic science, studieddietetics, mastered double-entry and learned to sew. I also beganreading up on economics. The latter amused the family, for they thoughtthe higher education of women quite unwomanly and had refused to let mego to college. 

It amused Carl too, until I convinced him that I was really interestedin the subject, not just in him; then he began sending me boxes of booksinstead of boxes of candy, which made the family laugh and call mestrong-minded. I did not care what they called me. I was too busy makingup for the time and money wasted on my disadvantageous advantages, whichmay have made me more attractive to men, but had not fitted me to be thewife of any man, rich or poor. 

All that my accomplishments and those of my sisters actuallyaccomplished, as I see it now, was to kill my dear father; for, thoughhe made a large income as a lawyer, he had an even larger family anddied a poor man, like so many prominent members of the bar. 

I shall not dwell on the ordeal of a long engagement. It is often madeto sound romantic in fiction, but in realistic life such an unnaturalrelationship is a refined atrocity--often an injurious one--except topseudo-human beings so unreal and unromantic that they should never bemarried or engaged at all. I nearly died; and as for Carl--well, unrequited affection may be good for some men, but requited affection insuch circumstances cannot be good for any man--if you grant thatmarriage is!

A high-strung, ambitious fellow like Carl needed no incentive to makehim work hard or to keep him out of mischief, any more than he needed aprize to make him do his best at tennis or keep him from cheating in thescore. What an ignoble view of these matters most good people accept! Inpoint of fact he had been able to do more work and to play better tennisbefore receiving this long handicap--in short, would have been in aposition to marry sooner if he had not been engaged to marry! This maysound strange, but that is merely because the truth is so seldom toldabout anything that concerns the most important relationship in life. 

Nevertheless, despite what he was pleased to call his inspiration, hewon his assistant professorship at an earlier age than the average, andwe were married on fifteen hundred a year. 

Oh, what a happy year! I am bound to say the family were very nice aboutit. Everyone was nice about it. And when we came back from our weddingjourney the other professors' wives overwhelmed me with kindness andwith calls--and with teas and dinners and receptions in our honor. Carlhad been a very popular bachelor and his friends were pleased to treatme quite as if I were worthy of him. This was generous, but disquieting. I was afraid they would soon see through me and pity poor Carl. 

I had supposed, like most outsiders, that the women of a university townwould be dreadfully intellectual and modern--and I was rather in awe ofthem at first, being aware of my own magnificent limitations; but, forthe most part, these charming new friends of mine, especially thewealthier members of the set I was thrown with, seemed guilelesslyignorant in respect of the interesting period of civilization in whichthey happened to live--almost as ignorant as I was and as most "nicepeople" are everywhere. 

Books sufficiently old, art sufficiently classic, views sufficientlyvenerable to be respectable--these interested them, as did foreigntravel and modern languages; but ideas that were modern could not benice because they were new, though they might be nice in time--afterthey became stale. College culture, I soon discovered, does not careabout what is happening to the world, but what used to happen to it. 

"You see, my dear, " Carl explained, with that quiet, casual manner sopuzzling to pious devotees of "cultureine"--and even to me at first, though I adored and soon adopted it! "--universities don't leadthought--they follow it. In Europe institutions of learning maybe--indeed, they frequently are--hotbeds of radicalism; in America ourcolleges are merely featherbeds for conservatism to die in respectably. "Then he added: "But what could you expect? You see, we are stillintellectually _nouveaux_ over here, and therefore self-consciouslycorrect and imitative, like the _nouveaux riches_. So long as you have abroad _a_ you need never worry about a narrow mind. "

As for the men, I had pictured the privilege of sitting at their feetand learning many interesting things about the universe. Perhaps theywere too tired to have their feet encumbered by ignorant young women;for when I ventured to ask questions about their subject their answerwas--not always--but in so many cases a solemn owllike "yes-and-no" thatI soon learned my place. They did not expect or want a woman to knowanything and preferred light banter and persiflage. I like that, too, when it is well done; but I was accustomed to men who did it better. 

I preferred the society of their wives. I do not expect any member ofthe complacent sex to believe this statement--unless I add that the mendid not fancy my society, which would not be strictly true; but, even ifnot so intellectual as I had feared, the women of our town were far morecharming than I had hoped, and when you cannot have both cleverness andkindness the latter makes a more agreeable atmosphere for a permanenthome. I still consider them the loveliest women in the world. 

In short my only regret about being married was that we had wasted somuch of the glory of youth apart. Youth is the time for love, but notfor marriage! Some of our friends among the instructors marry on athousand a year, even in these days of the high cost of living; and Ishould have been so willing to live as certain of them do--rentinglodgings from a respectable artisan's wife and doing my own cooking onher stove after she had done hers. 

Carl gave me no encouragement, however! Perhaps it was just as well; forwhen first engaged I did not know how to cook, though I was a gooddancer and could play Liszt's Polonaise in E flat with but few mistakes. 

As it turned out we began our wedded life quite luxuriously. We had awhole house to ourselves--and sometimes even a maid! In those days therewere no flats in our town and certain small but shrewd local capitalistshad built rows of tiny frame dwellings which they leased to assistantprofessors, assistant plumbers, and other respectable people of the samefinancial status, at rates which enabled them--the owners, not thetenants--to support charity and religion. 

They were all alike--I refer to the houses now, not to all landlordsnecessarily--with a steep stoop in front and a drying yard for Mondaymornings in the rear, the kind you see on the factory edges of greatcities--except that ours were cleaner and were occupied by nicer people. 

One of our next-door neighbors was a rising young butcher with his brideand the house on the other side of us was occupied by a postman, hisprogeny, and the piercing notes of his whistle--presumably a cast-offone--on which all of his numerous children, irrespective of sex or age, were ambitiously learning their father's calling, as was made clearthrough the thin dividing wall, which supplied visual privacy but didnot prevent our knowing when they took their baths or in what terms theyobjected to doing so. It became a matter of interesting speculation tous what Willie would say the next Saturday night; and if we hadquarreled they, in turn, could have--and would have--told what it wasall about. 

"Not every economist, " Carl remarked whimsically, "can learn at firsthand how the proletariat lives. "

I, too, was learning at first hand much about my own profession. Myoriginal research in domestic science was sound in theory, but I soondiscovered that my dietetic program was too expensive in practice. Instead of good cuts of beef I had to select second or third qualityfrom the rising young butcher, who, by the way, has since risen to thedignity of a touring car. Instead of poultry we had pork, for this wasbefore pork also rose. 

My courses in bookkeeping, however, proved quite practical; and I maysay that I was a good purchasing agent and general manager from thebeginning of our partnership, instead of becoming one later throughbitter experience, like so many young wives brought up to be ladies, notgeneral houseworkers. 

Frequently I had a maid, commonly called along our row the "gurrul"--andquite frequently I had none; for we could afford only young beginners, who, as soon as I had trained them well, left me for other mistresseswho could afford to pay them well. 

"Oh, we should not accuse the poor creatures of ingratitude, " I toldCarl one day. "Not every economist can learn at first hand the law ofsupply and demand. "

If, however, as my fashionable aunt in town remarked, we werepicturesquely impecunious--which, to that soft lady, probably meantthat, we had to worry along without motor cars--we were just asdesperately happy as we were poor; for we had each other at least. Everyother deprivation seemed comparatively easy or amusing. 

Nor were we the only ones who had each other--and therefore poverty. Scholarship meant sacrifice, but all agreed that it was the ideal life. 

To be sure, some members of the Faculty--or their wives--had independentmeans and could better afford the ideal life. They were considered noblefor choosing it. Some of the alumni who attended the great games and thegraduating exercises were enormously wealthy, and gave the interest oftheir incomes--sometimes a whole handful of bonds at a time--to thesupport of the ideal life. 

Was there any law compelling them to give their money to their AlmaMater? No--just as there was none compelling men like Carl to give theirlives and sacrifice their wives. These men of wealth made even greatersacrifices. They could have kept in comfort a dozen wives apiece--modestones--on what they voluntarily preferred to turn over to the dear oldcollege. Professors, being impractical and visionary, cannot always seethese things in their true proportions. 

We, moreover, in return for our interest in education, did we notshamelessly accept monthly checks from the university treasurer'soffice? It was quite materialistic in us. Whereas these disinteresteddonors, instead of receiving checks, gave them, which is more blessed. And were they not checks of a denomination far larger than those weselfishly cashed for ourselves? Invariably. Therefore our princelybenefactors were regarded not only as nobler but as the Nobility. 

Indeed, the social stratification of my new home, where the excellentprinciples of high thinking and plain living were highly recommended forall who could not reverse the precept, struck me, a neophyte, as for allthe world like that of a cathedral town in England, except that thesevisiting patrons of religion and learning were treated with a reverenceand respect found only in America. Surely it must have amused them, hadthey not been so used to it; for they were quite the simplest, kindest, sweetest overrich people I had ever met in my own country--and theyoften took pains to tell us broad-mindedly that there were better thingsthan money. Their tactful attempts to hide their awful affluence werequite appealing--occasionally rather comic. Like similarly consciousefforts to cover evident indigence, it was so palpable and sounnecessary. 

"There, there!" I always wanted to say--until I, too, became accustomedto it. "It's all right. You can't help it. "

It was dear of them all the same, however, and I would not seemungrateful for their kind consideration. After all, how different fromthe purse-proud arrogance of wealth seen in our best--selling--fiction, though seldom elsewhere. 

For the most part they were true gentlefolk, with the low voices andsimple manners of several generations of breeding; and I liked them, forthe most part, very much--especially certain old friends of our parents, who, I learned later, were willing to show their true friendship in moreways than Carl and I could permit. 

One is frequently informed that the great compensation for underpayingthe college professor is in the leisure to live--_otium cum dignitate_as returning old grads call it when they can remember their Latin, though as most of them cannot they call it a snap. 

Carl, by the way, happened to be the secretary of his class, and hispopularity with dear old classmates became a nuisance in our tiny home. I remember one well-known bachelor of arts who answered to the name ofSpud, a rather vulgar little man. Comfortably seated in Carl's study onemorning, with a cigar in his mouth, Spud began:

"My, what a snap! A couple of hours' work a day and three solid months'vacation! Why, just see, here you are loafing early in the morning! Youought to come up to the city! Humph! I'd show you what real work means. "

Now my husband had been writing until two o'clock the night before, sothat he had not yet made preparation for his next hour. It was so earlyindeed that I had not yet made the beds. Besides, I had heard all aboutour snap before and it was getting on my nerves. 

"Carl would enjoy nothing better than seeing you work, " I put in whenthe dear classmate finished; "but unfortunately he cannot spare thetime. "

Spud saw the point and left; but Carl, instead of giving me the thanks Ideserved, gave me the first scolding of our married life! Now isn't thatjust like a husband?

Of course it can be proved by the annual catalogue that the averagemember of the Faculty has only about twelve or fourteen hours ofclassroom work a week--the worst-paid instructor more; the highest-paidprofessor less. What a university teacher gives to his students in theclassroom, however, is or ought to be but a rendering of what heacquires outside, as when my distinguished father tried one of hiswell-prepared cases in court. Every new class, moreover, is a differentproposition, as I once heard my brother say of his customers. 

That is where the art of teaching comes in and where Carl excelled. Hecould make even the "dismal science, " as Carlyle called economics, interesting, as was proved by the large numbers of men who elected hiscourses, despite the fact that he made them work hard to pass. Nor doesthis take into account original research and the writing of books likeCarl's scholarly work on The History of Property, on which he had beenslaving for three solid summers and hundreds of nights during termtime;not to speak of attending committee meetings constantly, and the furnaceeven more constantly. The latter, like making beds, is not mentioned inthe official catalogue. I suppose such details would not become one'sdignity. 

As in every other occupation, some members of the Faculty do as littlework as the law requires; but most of them are an extremely busy lot, even though they may, when it suits their schedule better, take exercisein the morning instead of the afternoon--an astonishing state of affairsthat always scandalizes the so-called tired business man. 

As for Carl, I was seeing so little of him except at mealtimes that Ibecame rather piqued at first, being a bride. I felt sure he did notlove me any more!

"Do you really think you have a right to devote so much time to outsidework?" I asked one evening when I was washing the dishes and he wasstarting off for the university library to write on his great book. --Itwas the indirect womanly method of saying: "Oh, please devote just alittle more time to me!"--"You ought to rest and be fresh for yourclassroom work, " I added. 

Being a man he did not see it. 

"The way to advance in the teaching profession, " he answered, with hisveiled twinkle, "is to neglect it. It doesn't matter how poorly youteach, so long as you write dull books for other professors to read. That's why it is called scholarship--because you slight your scholars. "

"Oh, I'm sick of all this talk about scholarship!" I cried. "What doesit mean anyway?"

"Scholarship, my dear, " said Carl, "means finding out all there is toknow about something nobody else cares about, and then telling it insuch a way that nobody else can find out. If you are understood you arepopular; if you are popular you are no scholar. And if you're noscholar, how can you become a full professor? Now, my child, it is allclear to you. "

And, dismissing me and the subject with a good-night kiss, he brushedhis last year's hat and hurried off, taking the latchkey. 

So much for _otium_. 

"But where does the dignity come in?" I asked Carl one day when he wassharpening his lawnmower and thus neglecting his lawn tennis; for, likea Freshman, I still had much to learn about quaint old college customs. 

"Why, in being called p'fessor by the tradesmen, " said Carl. "Also inrenting a doctor's hood for academic pee-rades at three dollars apee-rade, instead of buying a new hat for the rest of the year. Greatthing--dignity!"

He chuckled and began to cut the grass furiously, reminding me of athoroughbred hunter I once saw harnessed to a plow. 

"P'fessors of pugilism and dancing, " he went on gravely, "haven't a bitmore dignity than we have. They merely have more money. Just think!There isn't a butcher or grocer in this town who doesn't doff his hat tome when he whizzes by in his motor--even those whose bills I haven'tpaid. It's great to have dignity. I don't believe there's another placein the world where he who rides makes obeisance to him who walks. Muchbetter than getting as high wages as a trustee's chauffeur! A salary isso much more dignified than wages. "

He stopped to mop his brow, looking perfectly dignified. 

"And yet, " he added, egged on by my laughter, for I always loved hisquiet irony--it was never directed at individuals, but at the ideas andtraditions they blandly and blindly followed--

"And yet carping critics of the greatest nation on earth try to make outthat art and intellectuality are not properly recognized in the States. Pessimists! Look at our picture galleries, filled with old masters fromabroad! Think how that helps American artists! Look at our colleges, crowded with buildings more costly than Oxford's! Think how thatencourages American teachers! Simply because an occasional foreignprofessor gets higher pay--bah! There are better things than money. Forexample, this!"

And he bent to his mower again, with much the same derisively dignifiedstrut as on that memorable day long ago when I came and saw and wasconquered by it--only then he wore black silk sleeves and now whiteshirtsleeves. 

And so much for dignity. 

I soon saw that if I were to be a help and not a hindrance to the man Iloved I should have to depart from what I had been carefully trained toregard as woman's only true sphere. Do not be alarmed! I had no thoughtof leaving home or husband. It is simply that the home, in theindustrial sense, is leaving the house--seventy-five per cent of itsocial scientists say, has gone already--so that nowadays a wife must goout after it or else find some new-fashioned productive substitute ifshe really intends to be an old-fashioned helpmate to her husband. 

It was not a feminist theory but a financial condition that confrontedus. My done-over trousseau would not last forever, nor would Carl'spresent intellectual wardrobe, which was becoming threadbare. Travelabroad and foreign study are just as necessary for an American scholaras foreign buying is for an American dealer in trousseaus. 

I thought of many plans; but in a college town a woman's opportunitiesare so limited. We are not paid enough to be ladies, though we arerequired to dress and act like them--do not forget that point. And yet, when willing to stop being a lady, what could one do?

Finally I thought of dropping entirely out of the social, religious andcharitable activities of the town, investing in a typewriter andsubscribing to a correspondence-school course in stenography. I could atleast help Carl prepare his lectures and relieve him of the burden ofletter writing, thus giving him more time for book reviewing and otherpotboiling jobs, which were not only delaying his own book but makinghim burn the candle at both ends in the strenuous effort to make bothends meet. 

I knew Carl would object, but I had not expected such an outburst ofprofane rage as followed my announcement. The poor boy was dreadfullytired, and for months, like the thoroughbred he was, he had repressedhis true feelings under a quiet, quizzical smile. 

"My heavens! What next?" he cried, jumping up and pacing the floor. "Haven't you already given up everything you were accustomed to--everyinnocent pleasure you deserve--every wholesome diversion you actuallyneed in this God-forsaken, monotonous hole? Haven't I already draggedyou down--you, a lovely, fine-grained, highly evolved woman--down to theposition of a servant in my house? And now, on top of all this--No, byGod! I won't have it! I tell you I won't have it!"

It may be a shocking confession, but I loved him for that wicked oath. He looked so splendid--all fire and furious determination, as when heused to rush up to the net in the deciding game of a tennis match, cooland quick as lightning. 

"You are right, Carl dear, " I said, kissing his profane lips; for I hadlearned long since never to argue with him. "I am too good to be a merehousehold drudge. It's an economic waste of superior ability. That's whyI am going to be your secretary and save you time and money enough toget and keep a competent maid. "

"But I tell you--"

"I know, dear; but what are we going to do about it? We can't go on thisway. They've got us down--are we going to let them keep us down? Lookinto the future! Look at poor old Professor Culberson. Look at half ofthe older members of the Faculty! They have ceased to grow; theirusefulness is over; they are all gone to seed--because they hadn't thecourage or the cash to develop anything but their characters!"

Carl looked thoughtful. He had gained an idea for his book and, like atrue scholar, forgot for the moment our personal situation. 

"Really, you know, " he mused, "does it pay Society to reward itsindividuals in inverse ratio to their usefulness?" He took out hispocket notebook and wrote: "Society itself suffers for rewarding thatlow order of cunning called business sense with the ultimate control ofall other useful talents. " He closed his notebook and smiled. 

"And yet they call the present economic order safe and sane! And all ofus who throw the searchlight of truth on it--dangerous theorists! Canyou beat it?"

"Well, " I rejoined, not being a scholar, "there's nothing dangerousabout my theory. Instead of your stenographer becoming your wife, yourwife becomes your stenographer--far safer and saner than the usualorder. Men are much more apt to fall in love with lively littletypewriters than with fat, flabby wives. "

Though it was merely to make a poor joke out of a not objectionablenecessity, my plan, as it turned out, was far wiser than I realized. 

First, I surreptitiously card-catalogued the notes and references forCarl's "epoch-making book, " as one of the sweet, vague wives of theFaculty always called her husband's volumes, which she never read. ThenI learned to take down his lectures, to look up data in the library, toverify quotations, and even lent a hand in the book reviewing. 

Soon I began to feel more than a mere consumer's interest--a producer'sinterest--in Carl's work. And then a wonderful thing happened: Myhusband began to see--just in time, I believe--that a wife could be morethan a passive and more or less desirable appendage to a man's life--anactive and intelligent partner in it. And he looked at me with a new andwondering respect, which was rather amusing, but very dear. 

He had made the astonishing discovery that his wife had a mind!

Years of piano practice had helped to make my fingers nimble for thetypewriter, and for this advantage I was duly grateful to the family'sold-fashioned ideals, though I fear they did not appreciate mygratitude. Once, when visiting them during the holidays, I waslaughingly boasting, before some guests invited to meet me at luncheon, about my part in the writing of Carl's History of Property, which hadbeen dedicated to me and was now making a sensation in the economicworld, though our guests in the social world had never heard of it. 

Suddenly I saw a curious, uncomfortable look come over the faces of thefamily. Then I stopped and remembered that nowadays wives--nice wives, that is--are not supposed to be helpmates to their husbands except inname; quite as spinsters no longer spin. They can help him spend. Atthat they are truly better halves, but to help him earn is not nice. Toour guests it could mean only one thing--namely, that my husband couldnot afford a secretary. Well, he could not. What of it?

For a moment I had the disquieting sensation of having paraded mypoverty--a form of vulgarity that Carl and I detest as heartily as adisplay of wealth. 

The family considerately informed me afterward, however, that theythought me brave to sacrifice myself so cheerfully. Dear me! I was notbeing brave. I was not being cheerful. I was being happy. There is nosacrifice in working for the man you love. And if you can do it withhim--why, I conceitedly thought it quite a distinction. Few women havethe ability or enterprise to attain it!

One of my sisters who, like me, had failed to "marry well" valeted forher husband; but somehow that seemed to be all right. For my part Inever could see why it is more womanly to do menial work for a man thanintellectual work with him. I have done both and ought to know. .. . Canit be merely because the one is done strictly in the home or because noone can see you do it? Or is it merely because it is unskilled labor?

It is all right for the superior sex to do skilled labor, but a truewomanly woman must do only unskilled labor, and a fine lady none atall--so clothed as to prevent it and so displayed as to prove it, thusadvertising to the world that the man who pays for her can also pay forsecretaries and all sorts of expensive things. Is that the old idea?

If so I am afraid most college professors' wives should give up theold-fashioned expensive pose of ladyhood and join the new womanhood!

Well, as it turned out, we were enabled to spend our sabbatical yearabroad--just in time to give Carl a new lease of life mentally and mephysically; for both of us were on the verge of breaking down before weleft. 

Such a wonderful year! Revisiting his old haunts; attending lecturestogether in the German and French universities; working side by side inthe great libraries; and meeting the great men of his profession atdinner! Then, between whiles, we had the best art and music thrown in!Ah, those are the only real luxuries we miss and long for! Indeed, tous, they are not really luxuries. Beauty is a necessity to some persons, like exercise; though others can get along perfectly well without itand, therefore, wonder why we cannot too. 

Carl's book had already been discovered over there--that is perhaps theonly reason it was discovered later over here--and every one was so kindabout it. We felt quite important and used to wink at each other acrossthe table. "Our" book, Carl always called it, like a dear. His work wasmy work now--his ambitions, my ambitions; not just emotionally orinspirationally, but intellectually, collaboratively. And that made ouremotional interest in each other the keener and more satisfying. We hadfallen completely in love with each other. For the first time we twowere really one. Previously we had been merely pronounced so by aclergyman who read it out of a book. 

Oh, the glory of loving some one more than oneself! And oh, theblessedness of toiling together for something greater and more importantthan either! That is what makes it possible for the other thing toendure--not merely for a few mad, glad years, followed by drab duty anddull regret, but for a happy lifetime of useful vigor. That, and notleisure or dignity, is the great compensation for the professorial life. 

What a joy it was to me during that rosy-sweet early period of our unionto watch Carl, like a proud mother, as he grew and exfoliated--like aplant that has been kept in a cellar and now in congenial soil andsunshine is showing at last its full potentialities. Through me my boywas attaining the full stature of a man; and I, his proud mate, wasjealously glad that even his dear dead mother could not have broughtthat to pass. 

His wit became less caustic; his manner more genial. People who onceirritated now interested him. Some who used to fear him now liked him. And as for the undergraduates who had hero-worshiped this former tennischampion, they now shyly turned to him for counsel and advice. He wasmore of a man of the world than most of his colleagues and treated theboys as though they were men of the world too--for instance, he neverreferred to them as boys. 

"I wouldn't be a damned fool if I were you, " I once overheard him say toa certain young man who was suffering from an attack of what Carl calledmisdirected energy. 

More than one he took in hand this way; and, though I used to callit--to tease him--his man-to-man manner, I saw that it was effective. I, too, grew fond of these frank, ingenuous youths. We used to have them atour house when we could spare an evening--often when we could not. 

None of this work, it may be mentioned, is referred to in the annualcatalogue or provided for in the annual budget; and yet it is often themost vital and lasting service a teacher renders his students--especiallywhen their silly parents provide them with more pocket money than theprofessor's entire income for the support of himself, his family, hisscholarship and his dignity. 

"Your husband is not a professor, " one of them confided shyly tome--"he's a human being!"

After the success of our book we were called to another college--a fullprofessorship at three thousand a year! Carl loved his Alma Mater with apassion I sometimes failed to understand; but he could not afford toremain faithful to her forever on vague promises of future favor. Hewent to the president and said so plainly, hating the indignity of itand loathing the whole system that made such methods necessary. 

The president would gladly have raised all the salaries if he had hadthe means. He could not meet the competitor's price, but he begged Carlto stay, offering the full title--meaning empty--of professor and aminimum wage of twenty-five hundred dollars, with the promise of fullpay when the funds could be raised. 

Now we had demonstrated that, even on the Faculty of an Eastern college, two persons could live on fifteen hundred. Therefore, with twenty-fivehundred, we could not only exist but work efficiently. So we did nothave to go. 

 * * * * *

I look back on those days as the happiest period of our life together. That is why I have lingered over them. Congenial work, bright prospects, perfect health, the affection of friends, the respect of rivals--whatmore could any woman want for her husband or herself?

Only one thing. And now that, too, was to be ours! However, withchildren came trouble, for which--bless their little hearts!--they arenot responsible. Were we? I wonder! Had we a right to have children? Hadwe a right not to have children? It has been estimated by a member ofthe mathematical department that, at the present salary rate, each ofthe college professors of America is entitled to just two-fifths of achild. 

Does this pay? Should only the financially fit be allowed to survive--toreproduce their species? Should or should not those who may be fittestphysically, intellectually and morally also be entitled to the privilegeand responsibility of taking their natural part in determining thecharacter of America's future generations, for the evolution of the raceand the glory of God?

I wonder!

 * * * * *

(_Boston Transcript_)

A PARADISE FOR A PENNY

MADDENED BY THE CATALOGUES OF PEACE-TIME, ONE LOVER OF GARDENS YETMANAGED TO BUILD A LITTLE EDEN, AND TELLS HOW HE DID IT FOR A SONG

By WALTER PRICHARD EATON

War-time economy (which is a much pleasanter and doubtless a morepatriotically approved phrase than war-time poverty) is not without itscompensations, even to the gardener. At first I did not think so. Confronted by a vast array of new and empty borders and rock steps andnatural-laid stone, flanking a wall fountain, and other features of anew garden ambitiously planned before the President was so inconsiderateas to declare war without consulting me, and confronted, too, by anempty purse--pardon me, I mean by the voluntarily imposed necessity foreconomy--I sat me down amid my catalogues, like Niobe amid her children, and wept. (Maybe it wasn't amid her children Niobe wept, but for them;anyhow I remember her as a symbol of lachrymosity. ) Dear, alluring, immoral catalogues, sweet sirens for a man's undoing! How you sang to meof sedums, and whispered of peonies and irises--yea, even of Germanirises! How you spoke in soft, seductive accents of wonderful lilacs, and exquisite spireas, and sweet syringas, murmurous with bees! How youtold of tulips and narcissuses, and a thousand lovely things for bedsand borders and rock work--at so much a dozen, so very much a dozen, and a dozen so very few! I did not resort to cotton in my ears, but totears and profanity. 

Then two things happened. I got a letter from a Boston architect who hadpassed by and seen my unfinished place; and I took a walk up a back roadwhere the Massachusetts Highway Commissioners hadn't sent a gang ofworkmen through to "improve" it. The architect said, "Keep your placesimple. It cries for it. That's always the hardest thing to do--but thebest. " And the back-country roadside said, "Look at me; I didn't comefrom any catalogue; no nursery grew me; I'm really and truly 'perfectlyhardy'; I didn't cost a cent--and can you beat me at any price? I'm ahundred per cent American, too. "

I looked, and I admitted, with a blush of shame for ever doubting, thatI certainly could not beat it. But, I suddenly realized, I could stealit!

I have been stealing it ever since, and having an enormously enjoyabletime in the bargain. 

Of course, stealing is a relative term, like anything else connectedwith morality. What would be stealing in the immediate neighborhood of acity is not even what the old South County oyster fisherman oncedescribed as "jest pilferin' 'round, " out here on the edges of thewilderness. I go out with the trailer hitched to the back of my Ford, half a mile in any direction, and I pass roadsides where, if there areany farmer owners of the fields on the other side of the fence, theseowners are only too glad to have a few of the massed, invading plants orbushes thinned out. But far more often there is not even a fence, or ifthere is, it has heavy woods or a swamp or a wild pasture beyond it. Icould go after plants every day for six months and nobody would everdetect where I took them. My only rule--self-imposed--is never to take asingle specimen, or even one of a small group, and always to take wherethinning is useful, and where the land or the roadside is wild andneglected, and no human being can possibly be injured. Most often, indeed, I simply go up the mountain along, or into, my own woods. 

I am not going to attempt any botanical or cultural description of whatI am now attempting. That will have to wait, anyhow, till I know alittle more about it myself! But I want to indicate, in a general way, some of the effects which are perfectly possible, I believe, here in aMassachusetts garden, without importing a single plant, or even sowing aseed or purchasing any stock from a nursery. 

Take the matter of asters, for instance. Hitherto my garden, up here inthe mountains where the frosts come early and we cannot have anemone, japonica, or chrysanthemums, has generally been a melancholy spectacleafter the middle of September. Yet it is just at this time that ourroadsides and woodland borders are the most beautiful. The answer isn'talone asters, but very largely. And nothing, I have discovered, is mucheasier to transplant than a New England aster, the showiest of thefamily. Within the confines of my own farm or its bordering woods are atleast seven varieties of asters, and there are more within half a mile. They range in color from the deepest purple and lilac, through shades ofblue, to white, and vary in height from the six feet my New Englandshave attained in rich garden soil, to one foot. Moreover, by a littlecare, they can be so massed and alternated in a long border (such aborder I have), as to pass in under heavy shade and out again into fullsun, from a damp place to a dry place, and yet all be blooming at theirbest. With what other flower can you do that? And what other flower, atwhatever price per dozen, will give you such abundance of beauty withouta fear of frosts? I recently dug up a load of asters in bud, on a rainyday, and already they are in full bloom in their new garden places, without so much as a wilted leaf. 

Adjoining my farm is an abandoned marble quarry. In that quarry, or, rather, in the rank grass bordering it, grow thousands of Solidagorigida, the big, flat-topped goldenrod. This is the only station for itin Berkshire County. As the ledges from this quarry come over into mypastures, and doubtless the goldenrod would have come too, had it notbeen for the sheep, what could be more fitting than for me to make thisglorious yellow flower a part of my garden scheme? Surely if anythingbelongs in my peculiar soil and landscape it does. It transplantseasily, and under cultivation reaches a large size and holds its bloom along time. Massed with the asters it is superb, and I get it by goingthrough the bars with a shovel and a wheelbarrow. 

But a garden of goldenrod and asters would be somewhat dull from May tomid-August, and somewhat monotonous thereafter. I have no intention, ofcourse, of barring out from my garden the stock perennials, and, indeed, I have already salvaged from my old place or grown from seed theindispensable phloxes, foxgloves, larkspur, hollyhocks, sweet william, climbing roses, platycodons and the like. But let me merely mention afew of the wild things I have brought in from the immediateneighborhood, and see if they do not promise, when naturally plantedwhere the borders wind under trees, or grouped to the grass in front ofasters, ferns, goldenrod and the shrubs I shall mention later, a kind ofbeauty and interest not to be secured by the usual garden methods. 

There are painted trilliums, yellow and pink lady's slippers, Orchisspectabilis, hepaticas, bloodroot, violets, jack-in-the-pulpit, massesof baneberries, solomon's seal, true and false; smooth false foxglove, five-flowered and closed gentians, meadow lilies (Canadensis) and woodlilies (Philadelphicum), the former especially being here so common thatI can go out and dig up the bulbs by the score, taking only one or twofrom any one spot. These are but a few of the flowers, blooming fromearly spring to late fall, in the borders, and I have forgotten tomention the little bunch berries from my own woods as an edging plant. 

Let me turn now for a moment to the hedge and shrubbery screen whichmust intervene between my west border and the highway, and which is thecrux of the garden. The hedge is already started with hemlocks from themountain side, put in last spring. I must admit nursery in-grownevergreens are easier to handle, and make a better and quicker growth. But I am out now to see how far I can get with absolutely nativematerial. Between the hedge and the border, where at first I dreamed oflilacs and the like, I now visualize as filling up with the kind ofgrowth which lines our roads, and which is no less beautiful and muchmore fitting. From my own woods will come in spring (the only safe timeto move them) masses of mountain laurel and azalea. From my own pasturefence-line will come red osier, dogwood, with its white blooms, its blueberries, its winter stem-coloring, and elderberry. From my own woodshave already come several four-foot maple-leaved vibernums, which, though moved in June, throve and have made a fine new growth. There willbe, also, a shadbush or two and certainly some hobble bushes, with hereand there a young pine and small, slender canoe birch. Here and therewill be a clump of flowering raspberry. I shall not scorn spireas, and Imust have at least one big white syringa to scent the twilight; but thegreat mass of my screen will be exactly what nature would plant there ifshe were left alone--minus the choke cherries. You always have toexercise a little supervision over nature!

A feature of my garden is to be rock work and a little, thin stream of abrooklet flowing away from a wall fountain. I read in my catalogues ofmarvellous Alpine plants, and I dreamed of irises by my brook. I shallhave some of both too. Why not? The war has got to end one of thesedays. But meanwhile, why be too down-hearted? On the cliffs above mypasture are masses of moss, holding, as a pincushion holds a breastpin, little early saxifrage plants. From the crannies frail hair bells dangleforth. There are clumps of purple cliffbrase and other tiny, exquisiteferns. On a gravel bank beside the State road are thousands of viper'sbugloss plants; on a ledge nearby is an entire nursery of Sedum acre(the small yellow stone crop). Columbines grow like a weed in my mowing, and so do Quaker ladies, which, in England, are highly esteemed in therock garden. The Greens Committee at the nearby golf club will certainlylet me dig up some of the gay pinks which are a pest in one of the high, gravelly bunkers. And these are only a fraction of the native materialavailable for my rock work and bank. Many of them are already in andthriving. 

As for the little brook, any pond edge or brookside nearby hasarrowheads, forget-me-nots, cardinal flowers, blue flag, clumps ofbeautiful grasses, monkey flowers, jewel-weed and the like. There arecowslips, too, and blue vervain, and white violets. If I want a clump ofsomething tall, Joe-pye-weed is not to be disdained. No, I do notanticipate any trouble about my brookside. It will not look at all as Ithought a year ago it was going to look. It will not look like anillustration in some "garden beautiful" magazine. It will looklike--like a brook! I am tremendously excited now at the prospect ofseeing it look like a brook, a little, lazy, trickling Yankee brook. IfI ever let it look like anything else, I believe I shall deserve to havemy spring dry up. 

Probably I shall have moments of, for me, comparative affluence in theyears to come, when I shall once more listen to the siren song ofcatalogues, and order Japanese irises, Darwin tulips, hybrid lilacs, andso on. But by that time, I feel sure, my native plants and shrubs willhave got such a start, and made such a luxuriant, natural tangle, thatthey will assimilate the aliens and teach them their proper place in aNew England garden. At any rate, till the war is over, I am 100 per centBerkshire County!

 * * * * *

WANTED: A HOME ASSISTANT

(_Pictorial Review_)

One illustration made by a staff artist, with the caption, "The New HomeAssistant is Trained for Her Work. "

WANTED: A HOME ASSISTANT

BUSINESS HOURS AND WAGES ARE HELPING WOMEN TO SOLVE THE SERVANT PROBLEM

BY LOUISE F. NELLIS

WANTED: A HOME ASSISTANT--Eight hours a day; six days a week. Sleep andeat at home. Pay, twelve dollars a week. 

Whenever this notice appears in the Help Wanted column of a citynewspaper, fifty to one hundred answers are received in the firsttwenty-four hours!

"Why, " we hear some one say, "that seems impossible! When I advertisedfor a maid at forty dollars a month with board and lodging provided, nota soul answered. Why are so many responses received to the otheradvertisement?"

Let us look more closely at the first notice. 

Wanted: A Home Assistant! How pleasant and dignified it sounds; nothingabout a general houseworker or maid or servant, just Home Assistant! Wecan almost draw a picture of the kind of young woman who might be calledby such a title. She comes, quiet, dignified, and interested in our homeand its problems. She may have been in an office but has never reallyliked office work and has always longed for home surroundings and homeduties. 

I remember one case I was told of--a little stenographer. She had gladlyassumed her new duties as Home Assistant, and had wept on the firstChristmas Day with the family because it was the only Christmas she hadspent in years in a home atmosphere. Or perhaps the applicant for thenew kind of work in the home may have been employed in a departmentstore and found the continuous standing on her feet too wearing. Shewelcomes the frequent change of occupation in her new position. Or shemay be married with a little home of her own, but with the desire to addto the family income. We call these Home Assistants, Miss Smith or Mrs. Jones, and they preserve their own individuality and self-respect. 

"Well, I would call my housemaid anything if I could only get one, "says one young married woman. "There must be more to this new plan thancalling them Home Assistants and addressing them as Miss. "

Let us read further in the advertisement: "Eight hours a day; six days aweek. " One full day and one half day off each week, making a total offorty-four hours weekly which is the standard working week in mostindustrial occupations. At least two free Sundays a month should begiven and a convenient week-day substituted for the other two Sundays. If Saturday is not the best half day to give, another afternoon may bearranged with the Home Assistant. 

"Impossible, " I can hear Mrs. Reader say, "I couldn't get along witheight hours' work a day, forty-four hours a week. " No! Well, possiblyyou have had to get along without any maid at all, or you may have hadsome one in your kitchen who is incompetent and slovenly, whom you darenot discharge for fear you can not replace her. Would you rather nothave a good interested worker for eight hours a day than none at all?During that time the Home Assistant works steadily and specialization isdone away with. She is there to do your work and she does whatever maybe called for. If she is asked to take care of the baby for a few hours, she does it willingly, as part of her duties; or if she is called uponto do some ironing left in the basket, she assumes that it is part ofher work, and doesn't say, "No, Madam, I wasn't hired to do that, " atthe same time putting on her hat and leaving as under the old system. 

The new plan seems expensive? "Twelve dollars a week is more than I havepaid my domestic helper, " Mrs. Reader says. But consider this morecarefully. You pay from thirty-five to fifty dollars a month with allthe worker's food and lodging provided. This is at the rate of eight toeleven dollars a week for wages. Food and room cost at least fivedollars a week, and most estimates are higher. The old type ofhouseworker has cost us more than we have realized. The new systemcompares favorably in expense with the old. 

"I am perfectly certain it wouldn't be practical not to feed my helper, "Mrs. Reader says. Under the old system of a twelve to fourteen-hourworking day, it would not be feasible, but if she is on the eight-hourbasis, the worker can bring a box-luncheon with her, or she can gooutside to a restaurant just as she would if she were in an office orfactory. The time spent in eating is not included in her day's work. Think of the relief to the house-keeper who can order what her familylikes to eat without having to say, "Oh, I can't have that; Marywouldn't eat it you know. "

"I can't afford a Home Assistant or a maid at the present wages, " someone says. "But I do wish I had some one who could get and serve dinnerevery night. I am so tired by evening that cooking is the last straw. "

Try looking for a Home Assistant for four hours a day to relieve you ofjust this work. You would have to pay about a dollar a day or sixdollars a week for such service and it would be worth it. 

How does the Home Assistant plan work in households where two or morehelpers are kept? The more complicated homes run several shifts ofworkers, coming in at different hours and covering every need of theday. One woman I talked to told me that she studied out her problem inthis way! She did every bit of the work in her house for a while inorder to find out how long each job took. She found, for instance, thatit took twenty-five minutes to clean one bathroom, ten minutes to brushdown and dust a flight of stairs, thirty minutes to do the dinnerdishes, and so on through all the work. She made out a time-card whichshowed that twenty-two hours of work a day was needed for her home. Sheknew how much money she could spend and she proceeded to divide the workand money among several assistants coming in on different shifts. Herhousehold now runs like clockwork. One of the splendid things about thisnew system is its great flexibility and the fact that it can be adaptedto any household. 

Thoughtful and intelligent planning such as this woman gave to herproblems is necessary for the greatest success of the plan. The oldhaphazard methods must go. The housekeeper who has been in the habit ofcoming into her kitchen about half past five and saying, "Oh, Mary, whatcan we have for dinner? I have just come back from down-town; I didexpect to be home sooner, " will not get the most out of her HomeAssistant. Work must be scheduled and planned ahead, the home must berun on business methods if the system is to succeed. I heard thisexplained to a group of women not long ago. After the talk, one of themsaid, "Well, in business houses and factories there is a foreman whoruns the shop and oversees the workers. It wouldn't work in homesbecause we haven't any foreman. " She had entirely overlooked her job asforewoman of her own establishment!

"Suppose I have company for dinner and the Home Assistant isn't throughher work when her eight hours are up, what happens?" some one asks. Allovertime work is paid for at the rate of one and one-half times thehourly rate. If you are paying your assistant twelve dollars for aforty-four-hour week, you are giving her twenty-eight cents an hour. Oneand one half times this amounts to forty-two cents an hour, which shereceives for extra work just as she would in the business world. 

"Will these girls from offices and stores do their work well? They havehad no training for housework unless they have happened to do some intheir own homes, " some one wisely remarks. The lack of systematicpreparation has always been one of the troubles with our domestichelpers. It is true that the new type of girl trained in business to bepunctual and alert, and to use her mind, adapts herself very quickly toher work, but the trained worker in any field has an advantage. Withthis in mind the Central Branch of the Young Women's ChristianAssociation in New York City has started a training-school for HomeAssistants. The course provides demonstrations on the preparation ofbreakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and talks on the following:House-cleaning, Laundry, Care of Children, Shopping, Planning work, Deportment, Efficiency, and Duty to Employer. This course gives a girl ageneral knowledge of her duties and what is even more important sheacquires the right mental attitude toward her work. The girls are givenan examination and those who successfully pass it are given acertificate and placed as Trained Home Assistants at fifteen dollars aweek. 

The National Association would like to see these training-schoolsturning out this type of worker for the homes all over the country. Thisis a constructive piece of work for women to undertake. Housewives'Leagues have interested themselves in this in various centers, and theY. W. C. A. Will help wherever it can. There are always home economicsgraduates in every town who could help give the course, and there areexcellent housekeepers who excel in some branch who could give a talk ortwo. 

The course would be worth a great deal in results to any community. TheUnited States Employment Bureaus are also taking a hand in this, and, with the coöperation of the High Schools, are placing girls as trainedassistants on the new basis. I have talked with many women who are notonly using this plan to-day but have been for several years. 

It has been more than six years ago since Mrs. Helene Barker's book"Wanted a Young Woman to Do Housework" was published. 

This gave the working plan to the idea. Women in Boston, Providence, New York, Cleveland, and in many other cities have become soenthusiastic over their success in running their homes with the HomeAssistants that a number are giving their time to lecturing and talkingto groups of women about it. 

Let me give two concrete illustrations of the practical application ofhousework on a business basis. 

Mrs. A. Lives in a small city in the Middle West. Her household consistsof herself, her husband, and her twelve year old son. She had had theusual string of impossible maids or none at all until she tried the newsystem. Through a girls' club in a factory in the city, she secured ayoung woman to work for her at factory hours and wages. Her assistantcame at seven-thirty in the morning. By having the breakfast cerealprepared the night before, breakfast could be served promptly at eight, a plan which was necessary in order that the boy get to school on time. Each morning's work was written out and hung up in the kitchen so thatthe assistant wasted no time in waiting to know what she had to do. Lunch was at twelve-fifteen, and at one o'clock the Home Assistant wenthome. 

She came back on regular duty at five-thirty to prepare and serve thedinner. Except for times when there were guests for dinner she wasthrough her work by eight. When she worked overtime, there was the extrapay to compensate. Mrs. A. Paid her thirteen dollars a week and feltthat she saved money by the new plan. The assistant was off duty everyother Sunday, and on alternate weeks was given all day Tuesday offinstead of Sunday. Tuesday was the day the heavy washing was done andthe laundress was there to help with any work which Mrs. A. Did not feelequal to doing. Even though there are times in the day when she isalone, Mrs. A. Says she would not go back to the old system foranything. 

Mrs. B. Lives in a city apartment. There are four grown people in thefamily. She formerly kept two maids, a cook-laundress, and awaitress-chambermaid. She often had a great deal of trouble finding acook who would do the washing. As her apartment had only one maid'sroom, she had to give one of the guestrooms to the second maid. She paidthese girls forty dollars apiece and provided them with room and board. Her apartment cost her one hundred and fifteen dollars a month for sevenrooms, two of which were occupied by maids. 

Mrs. B. Decided to put her household on the new business basis lastFall. She moved into a five-room apartment which cost her ninetydollars, but she had larger rooms and a newer building with moreup-to-date improvements than she had had before. She saved twenty-fivedollars a month on rent plus eighty dollars wages and about thirtydollars on her former maids' food. All together she had one hundred andthirty-five dollars which could be used for Home Assistants. This is theway the money was spent:

 A laundress once a week. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . $2. 60 Home Assistant, on duty from 7. 30 A. M. To 2 P. M. .. .. .. . 10. 00 Home Assistant, on duty from 12 M. To 9 P. M. .. .. .. .. .. . 15. 00 _____ Week. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. $27. 60

On this schedule the work was done better than ever before. There was nolonger any grievance about the washing. Mrs. B. Had some onecontinuously on duty. The morning assistant was allowed a half hour atnoon to eat her luncheon which she brought with her. As Mrs. B. Entertained a great deal, especially at luncheon, she arranged to havethe schedule of the two assistants overlap at this time of day. Themorning worker, it will be noted, was employed for only six hours. Theafternoon worker was a trained assistant and, therefore, receivedfifteen dollars a week. She had an hour off, between three-thirty andfour-thirty and was on duty again in time to serve tea or afternoonrefreshments. If there were a number of extra people for dinner, theassistant was expected to stay until nine and there was never anycomplaining about too much company. Mrs. B. Has a better apartment andsaves money every month besides!

 * * * * *

(_New York Sun_)

SIX YEARS OF TEA ROOMS

BUSINESS CAREER OF A WOMAN COLLEGE GRADUATE

"For the last three years I have cleared $5, 000 a year on my tea rooms, "declared a young woman who six years ago was graduated with distinctionat one of the leading colleges of the country. 

"I attained my twenty-third birthday a month after I received mydiploma. On that day I took stock of the capital with which I was tostep into the world and earn my own living. My stock taking showedperfect health, my college education and $300, my share of my father'sestate after the expenses of my college course had been paid. 

"In spite of the protests of many of my friends I decided to become abusiness woman instead of entering one of the professions. I believedthat a well conducted tea room in a college town where there was nothingof the kind would pay well, and I proceeded to open a place. 

"After renting a suitable room I invested $100 in furnishings. Besideshaving a paid announcement in the college and town papers I had athousand leaflets printed and distributed. 

"Though I couldn't afford music I did have my rooms decorated profuselywith flowers on the afternoon of my opening. As it was early in theautumn the flowers were inexpensive and made a brave show. My onlyassistant was a young Irish woman whom I had engaged for one month aswaitress, with the understanding that if my venture succeeded I wouldengage her permanently. 

"We paid expenses that first afternoon, and by the end of the week thebusiness had increased to such an extent that I might have engaged asecond waitress had not so many of my friends persisted in shaking theirheads and saying the novelty would soon wear off. During the second weekmy little Irish girl and I had so much to do that on several occasionsour college boy patrons felt themselves constrained to offer theirservices as waiters, while more than one of the young professors after along wait left the room with the remark that they would go elsewhere. 

"Of course it was well enough to laugh as we all knew there was no'elsewhere, ' but when I recalled how ready people are to crowd into afield that has proved successful, I determined no longer to heed theshaking heads of my friends. The third week found me not only with asecond assistant but with a card posted in a conspicuous placeannouncing that at the beginning of the next week I would enlarge myquarters in such a way as to accommodate more than twice as many guests. 

"Having proved to my own satisfaction that my venture was and would besuccessful, I didn't hesitate to go into debt to the extent of $150. This was not only to repair and freshen up the new room but also toequip it with more expensive furnishing than I had felt myself justifiedin buying for the first. 

"Knowing how every little thing that happens is talked about in acollege town, I was sure the difference in the furnishings of the roomswould prove a good advertisement. I counted on it to draw custom, butnot just in the way it did. 

"Before I realized just what was happening I was receiving letters fromcollege boys who, after proclaiming themselves among my very firstcustomers, demanded to know why they were discriminated against. I hadnoticed that everybody appeared to prefer the new room and that onseveral occasions when persons telephoning for reservations had beenunable to get the promise of a table in there, they had said they wouldwait and come at another time. What I had not noticed was that only mencoming alone or with other men, and girls coming with other girls, wouldaccept seats in the first room. 

"I learned from the letters of 'my very first patrons' that no gentlemanwould take a girl to have tea in a second class tea room. They were notonly hitting at the cheaper furnishings of my first room but also at thewaiter whom I had employed, because I felt the need of a man's help indoing heavy work. The girl in her fresh apron and cap was moreattractive than the man, and because he happened to serve in the firstroom he also was second class. 

"No, I couldn't afford to buy new furniture for that room, so I did theonly thing I could think of. I mixed the furniture in such a way as tomake the two rooms look practically alike. I hired another girl andrelegated the man to the kitchen except in case of emergency. 

"Although my custom fell off in summer to a bare sprinkling of guestsafternoons and evenings and to almost no one at lunch, I kept the samenumber of employees and had them put up preserves, jams, syrups, andpickles for use the coming season. I knew it would not only be aneconomical plan but also a great drawing card, especially with certainof the professors, to be able to say that everything served was made onthe place and under my own supervision. 

"My second winter proved so successful that I determined to buy a homefor my business so that I might have things exactly as I wished. I wasable to pay the first instalment, $2, 500, on the purchase price andstill have enough in bank to make alterations and buy the necessaryfurnishings. 

"The move was made during the summer, and when I opened up in the autumnI had such crowds afternoons and evenings that I had to put extra tablesin the halls until I could get a room on the second floor ready. Atpresent I have two entire floors and often have so many waiting that itis next to impossible to pass through the entrance hall. 

"Three summers ago I opened a second tea room at a seashore resort onthe New England coast. I heard of the place through a classmate whosefamily owned a cottage down there. She described it as deadly dull, because there was nothing to do but bathe and boat unless you were thehappy possessor of an automobile or a horse. 

"I was so much interested in her description of the place that I wentdown one warm day in April and looked things over. I found a stretch ofabout three miles of beach lined with well appearing and handsomecottages and not a single place of amusement. The village behind thebeach is a lovely old place, with twenty or more handsome old homessurrounded by grand trees. There are two or three small stores, a postoffice, two liveries and the railroad station half a mile away. 

"Before I left that afternoon I had paid the first month's rent on thebest of the only two cottages to be rented on the beach. Of course itneeded considerable fixing up and that had to be done at my own expense, but as I was getting it at a rental of $200 for the season I was notworried at the outlay. The cottages told me enough of the character ofthe people who summered on that beach to make me sure that I would getgood interest on all the money spent. 

"Immediately after commencement I shut up my college tea rooms, leavingonly the kitchen and storeroom open and in charge of an experiencedwoman with instructions to get more help when putting up preserves andpickles made it necessary. Then I moved. 

"The two first days on the beach my tea room didn't have a visitor. People strolled by and stared at the sign, but nobody came in to try mytea. The third day I had a call from my landlord, who informed me thathe had been misled into letting me have his cottage, and offering toreturn the amount paid for the first month's rent, he very politelyrequested me to move out. 

"After considerable talking I discovered that the cottagers didn't likethe way my waitresses dressed. They were too stylish and my roomsappeared from the outside to be so brilliantly lighted that they thoughtI intended to sell liquor. 

"I didn't accept the offered rent, neither did I agree to move out, butI did assure my landlord that I would go the very day anything reallyobjectionable happened on my premises. I told him of my success in thecollege town and then invited him to bring his family the followingafternoon to try my tea. 

"Well, they came, they saw, and I conquered. That evening all the tableson my piazza were filled and there was a slight sprinkling indoors. Afew days later the classmate who had told me of the place came down forthe summer and my troubles were at an end. 

"The secret of my success is hard work and catering to the taste of mypatrons. Had I opened either a cheap or a showy place in the collegetown, I would not have gained the good will of the faculty or thepatronage of the best class of students. If my prices had been too highor the refreshments served not up to the notch, the result would nothave been so satisfactory. 

"Knowing one college town pretty well, I knew just about what was neededin the student's life; that is, an attractive looking place, eminentlyrespectable, where you can take your best girl and get good things toeat well served at a reasonable cost. 

"The needs of the beach were pretty much the same. People can't stay inthe water all the time, neither can they spin around the country or goto an unlighted village at night in their carriages and automobiles. Mytea room offers a recreation, without being a dissipation. 

"Another point about which many people question me is the effect of mybeing a business woman on my social standing. I haven't noticed anyslights. I receive many more invitations than it is possible for me toaccept. I go with the same set of girls that I did while I was incollege. 

"Two of my classmates are lawyers, more than one is a doctor, and threehave gone on the stage. I know that my earnings are far more than any oftheirs, and I am sure they do not enjoy their business any more than Ido. If I had to begin again I would do exactly as I have done, with oneexception--I would lay out the whole of my $300 in furnishing that firsttea room instead of keeping $75 as a nest egg in bank. "

 * * * * *

(_Country Gentleman_)

Two illustrations: 1. Half-tone reproducing photograph of dressed chickens with the caption, "There is this rule you must observe: Pick your chickens clean. " 2. Reproduction in type of shipping label. 

BY PARCEL POST

ONE MAN'S WAY OF SERVING THE DIRECT-TO-CONSUMER MARKET

By A. L. SARRAN

If you live within a hundred and fifty miles of a city, if you possessordinary common sense and have the ability to write a readable andunderstandable letter, you may, from September to April of each year, when other farmers and their wives are consuming instead of producing, earn from fifty to a hundred and fifty dollars net profit each month. You may do this by fattening and dressing chickens for city folks, andby supplying regularly fresh country sausage, hams, lard and eggs. 

This is not an idle theory. Last September I began with one customer;today--this was written the end of March--I have nearly 500 customers towhom I am supplying farm products by parcel post. 

Instead of selling my chickens to the huckster or to the local poultryhouse for twelve cents a pound, I am selling them to the consumer in thecity for twenty cents a pound, live weight, plus the cost of boxing andpostage. Not only that, I am buying chickens from my neighbors at apremium of one to two cents over the huckster's prices, "milk feeding"them, and selling them to my city customers at a profit of six to sevencents a pound. 

I buy young hogs from my neighbors at market prices and make them intoextra good country sausage that nets me twenty-five cents a pound in thecity, and into hams for which I get twenty-five cents a pound, delivered. The only pork product on which I do not make an excellentprofit is lard. I get fifteen cents a pound for it, delivered to thecity customer, and it costs me almost that much to render and pack it. 

At this writing storekeepers and egg buyers in my county are paying thefarmer seventeen cents for his eggs. I am getting twenty-five cents adozen for eggs in thirty-dozen eases and twenty-nine cents a dozen intwo-dozen boxes. My prices to the city man are based upon the WaterStreet, Chicago, quotation for "firsts, " which, at this writing, isnineteen cents. If this price goes up I go up; if it goes down I godown. 

I got my customers by newspaper advertising--almost exclusively. It is acomforting belief that one satisfied customer will get you another, andthat that customer will get you another, and so on, but it has not soworked out in my experience. Out of all my customers less than twelvehave become customers through the influence of friends. 

My experience has taught me another thing: That direct advertising doesnot pay. By direct advertising I mean the mailing of letters andcirculars to a list of names in the hope of selling something to personswhose names are on that list. 

I tried it three times--once to a list of names I bought from a dealerin such lists; once to a list that I myself compiled from the societycolumns of two Chicago dailies; and once to a classified list that Isecured from a directory. 

The results in these cases were about the same. The net cost of each newcustomer that I secured by circulars and letters was $2. 19. The net costof each new customer that I secured by newspaper advertising wasfifty-four cents. 

Not every city newspaper will get such results. In my case I selectedthat paper in Chicago which in my judgment went into the greatest numberof prosperous homes, and whose pages were kept clean of quack andswindling advertisements. I used only the Sunday issues, because Ibelieve the Sunday issues are most thoroughly read. 

The farmer will want to use, and properly so, the classified columns ofthe paper for his advertising. But he should patronize only that paperwhose columns provide a classification especially for farm and foodproducts. 

I spent twelve dollars for advertising in one clean Chicago daily with agood circulation, and got three orders. The trouble was that myadvertisement went into a column headed "Business Personals, " along witha lot of manicure and massage advertising. 

He on the farm who proposes to compete with the shipper, commission manand retailer for the city man's trade should devote his efforts toproducing food of a better quality than the city man is accustomed toget via the shipper-commission-man-retailer route. Wherefore I proposedto give the city man the fattest, tenderest, juiciest, cleanest, freshest chicken he could get--and charge him a profitable price in sodoing. 

When I wrote my advertisements I did not stint myself for space. Anadvertisement that tells no reason why the reader should buy from theadvertiser is, in my opinion, a poor advertisement. Therefore, I told mystory in full to the readers of the Sunday paper, although it cost mesix cents a word to do it. Here is a sample of my advertising:

 I send young, milk-fed chickens, ready for the cook, direct to you from the farm. These chickens are fattened in wire-bottomed, sanitary coops, thus insuring absolute cleanliness, on a ration of meal, middlings and milk. The chicken you get from me is fresh; it is killed AFTER your order is received; is dressed, drawn, cooled out for 24 hours in dry air, wrapped in waxed paper and delivered to you on the morning of the third day after your order is mailed; it is fat, tender and sweet. The ordinary chicken that is fattened on unspeakable filth in the farmer's barnyard, and finds its way to your table via the huckster-shipper-commission-man-retailer route cannot compare with one of mine. Send me your check--no stamps--for $1. 15 and I will send you a five-pound--live-weight--roasting chicken for a sample. If it does not please you I'll give your money back. Add 62 cents to that check and I'll mail you in a separate box a two-pound package of the most delicious fresh-ground sausage meat you ever ate. Made from the selected meats of young hogs only; not highly seasoned. These sausage cakes make a breakfast fit for a President. Money back if you don't like them. 

 A. L. SARRAN. 

Notice that I told why the reader should buy one of my chickens ratherthan a chicken of whose antecedents he knew nothing. That it paid tospend six cents a word to tell him so is proved by the fact that thisparticular advertisement brought me, in four days, twenty-three orders, each accompanied by a check. I repeated my advertisements in Sundayissues, stopping only when I had as many customers as I could take careof. 

Getting a customer and keeping him are two different propositions. Acustomer's first order is sent because of the representation made in theadvertisement that he read. His second and his subsequent orders dependupon how you satisfy him and continue to satisfy him. 

My rule is to select, weigh, dress, draw, handle, wrap and box thechicken with the same scrupulous care that I would exercise if thecustomer were actually present and watching me. 

I have another rule: The customer is always right. If he complains Isatisfy him, immediately and cheerfully. It is better to lose a chickenthan to lose a customer. 

I am now about to make a statement with which many of my readers willnot agree. It is more than true; it is so important that the success ofa mail-order business in dressed chickens depends upon a realization ofit. It is this: _A majority of farmers and their wives do not know whatconstitutes a fat chicken. _

I make this statement because of the experience I have had with countryfolks in buying their chickens for my feeding coops. If they reallyconsider to be fat the chickens which they have assured me were fat, then they do not know fat chickens. A chicken can be fat to a degreewithout being so fat as he can or should be made for the purpose ofmarketing. 

There is a flavor about a well-fattened, milk-fed chicken that no otherchicken has. Every interstice of his flesh is juicy and oily. No part ofhim is tough, stringy muscle, as is the case if he is "farm-fattened"while being allowed to range where he will. 

If you think your chicken is a fat one, pick it up and rub the ball ofyour thumb across its backbone about an inch behind the base of thewings. If the backbone is felt clearly and distinctly the chicken is notfat. 

I fatten my chickens in coops the floors of which are made of heavy wirehaving one-inch mesh; underneath the wire is a droppings pan, which isemptied every day. My coops are built in tiers and long sections. I haveninety of them, each one accommodating nine chickens. I have enoughportable feeding coops with wire bottoms and droppings pans underneathto enable me to feed, in all, about one thousand chickens at one time. 

Chickens should be fed from ten to fourteen days in the coops. I give nofeed whatever to the chicken the first day he is in the coop, but I keepa supply of sour milk in the trough for him. I feed my chickens threetimes a day. 

At seven A. M. I give them a fairly thick batter of meal, middlings oroat flour, about half and half, and sour milk. I feed them only whatthey will clean up in the course of half an hour. At noon I feed themagain only what they will clean up in half an hour. This feed is thesame as the morning feed except that it is thinner. About four o'clock Igive them a trough full of the same feed, but so thick it will barelypour out from the bucket into the trough. 

The next morning the troughs are emptied--if anything remains inthem--into the big kettle where the feed is mixed for the morningfeeding. The idea is this: More fat and flesh are made at night than inthe daytime; therefore see that no chicken goes to bed with an emptycrop. 

About the eighth to tenth day force the feeding--see to it that thechicken gets all it will eat three times a day. 

By keeping an accurate account of the costs of meal, milk, and so on, Ifind that I can put a pound of fat on a coop-fed chicken for sevencents. When one considers that this same pound brings twenty cents, andthat milk feeding in coops raises the per pound value of the chickenfrom twelve to twenty cents, one must admit that feeding chickens ismore profitable than feeding cattle. 

Do not feed your chicken anything for twenty-four hours before killingit. Do not worry about loss in weight. The only weight it will lose willbe the weight of the feed in its crop and gizzard, and the offal in itsintestines--and you are going to lose that anyway when you dress anddraw it. If you will keep the bird off feed for twenty-four hours youwill find that it will draw much more easily and cleanly. 

Hang the chicken up by the feet and kill it by bleeding it away back inthe mouth. Let it bleed to death. Grasp the chicken's head in your lefthand, the back of its head against the palm of your hand. Do not hold itby the neck, but grasp it by the bony part of its head and jaws. Reachinto the throat with a three-inch, narrow, sharp knife and cut towardthe top and front of the head. 

You will sever the big cross vein that connects the two "jugular" veinsin the neck, and the blood will pour out of the mouth. If you know howto dry-pick you will not need to be told anything by me; if you do notknow it will do you no good to have me tell you, because I do notbelieve a person can learn to dry-pick chickens by following printedinstructions. At any rate, I could not. I never learned until I hired aprofessional picker to come out from town to teach me. 

So far as I can judge, it makes no difference to the consumer in thecity whether the chicken is scalded or dry-picked. There is this to besaid for the scalded chicken--that it is a more cleanly picked chickenthan the dry-picked one. The pin feathers are more easily removed whenthe chicken is scalded. 

On the other hand, there are those feed-specializing, accurate-to-the-ten-thousandth-part-of-an-inch experts, who say that thedry-picked chicken keeps better than the scalded one. If the weather iswarmer than, say, seventy-five degrees, it might; under that, there isno difference. 

I do the most of my selling in Chicago, and my place is a hundred andfifty miles south of that city; if a scalded chicken will keep when I amselling it that far away it will keep for almost anyone, because none ofyou is going to sell many chickens at any point more than a hundred andfifty miles from your place. 

There is this caution to be observed in scalding a chicken: Do not havethe water too hot. I had trouble on this score, and as a result mychickens were dark and did not present an appetizing appearance. FinallyI bought a candy thermometer--one that registered up to 400 degrees. Byexperimenting I found that 180 degrees was the point at which a chickenscalded to pick the easiest, but that a chicken scalded at 165 degreespresented a better appearance after being picked and cooled. Whichevermethod you use, observe this rule: Pick your chicken clean. 

After my chicken has cooled out enough so the flesh will cut easily, Idraw it. I chop off the head close up, draw back the skin of the neck acouple of inches, and then cut off the neck. The flap of skin thus leftserves to cover the bloody and unsightly stub of the neck. Next I openup the chicken from behind and below the vent and pull out thegizzard--if the chicken has been kept off feed for twenty-four hours theempty crop will come with it--intestines and liver. I remove the gallbladder from the liver, open and clean the gizzard, and replace it andthe liver in the chicken. 

Then I cut a slit across the chicken just back of the keel of the breastbone. I cut the feet off at the knee joint and slip the drumstickthrough this slit. Then I lay the chicken up to cool out overnight. Thenext morning it may be wrapped and boxed, and is then ready for mailing. 

Wrapping and boxing must not be slighted. The clean, sanitary appearanceof the chicken when it is unpacked in the kitchen of your customer goesa long way toward prejudicing that customer in your favor. I buy thirtypounds of waxed paper, twenty-four by thirty-six inches, and have thepaper house cut it in two. This gives me 1000 sheets, each eighteen bytwenty-four inches, for the price of a ream of the full size--at thistime about five dollars, or a half cent a sheet. 

Each chicken is wrapped in one sheet of this waxed paper, and is thenpacked in a corrugated paper box made especially for sending chickens byparcel post. 

I buy three sizes of these boxes. One size, which costs me four centseach, will hold one four-pound chicken when dressed and drawn. The nextsize, costing five cents each, will hold two very small chickens, or onelarge chicken. The third size, costing six cents each, will hold twolarge chickens, three medium-sized ones, or four small ones. 

Do not use makeshifts, such as old shoe boxes. In the first place, yourshipment is not properly protected by such a box; in the second place, your postmaster is likely to refuse to accept it for mailing, as hewould be justified in doing; and in the third place, your customerreceives his chicken in a box that has been used for he wonders what, and has been in he wonders what places. 

It is for this reason that I never ask a customer to return a box to me. I do not want to use a box a second time. If I were a city man, gettingmy chickens by mail, I should want them sent to me in a brand-new box, made for the special purpose of sending chickens by mail--and I'd wantthem in no other box. Then I'd feel sure of them. 

The cost of shipping by parcel post is low. I live ten miles from mycounty seat, and the postage required to send a five-pound, live-weightchicken, dressed and boxed, from my place to town is eight cents. Thepostage required to send that same five-pound chicken from here toChicago, one hundred and fifty miles, is eight cents. The expresscompany charges twenty-six cents for the same service, and does notdeliver so quickly. 

But parcel-post delivery was not always so admirably done in Chicago. When I began shipping up there last September it was no uncommon thingfor my packages to be so delayed that many chickens would spoil. 

I recall the "straw that broke the camel's back. " I mailed twenty-sixchickens one day--and in due course I received thirteen letters, eachadvising me of the same mournful event. The chicken had spoiled becauseof delay in delivery. My wife wanted to quit. I didn't. I made good thelosses to the customers and prepared a label, a copy of which Iforwarded to the Third Assistant Postmaster General at Washington, asking his permission to use it, and telling him of the vexatious andexpensive delays in delivering my packages in Chicago. 

In due time I received the desired permission, and ordered the labelsprinted. The scheme worked. Every time a package was not delivered onschedule time the customer notified me, and I made complaint to thepostmaster at Chicago. 

Gradually the service improved until now I have no trouble at all. If Iwere to ship two packages today to the same address in Chicago, sendingone by parcel post and the other by express, I believe the parcel-postpackage would be delivered first. At any rate, it has been done for me. 

The weakness in the parcel-post delivery lies in the fact thatperishable products--such as dressed chickens--cannot be handled in warmweather. I think that if the Post Office Department would cut some ofits red tape and permit the shipment of air-tight packages in air-tightconveyors this particular problem could be solved. 

You will, of course, have more or less correspondence with yourcustomers. By all means use your own letterheads, but do not let yourprinter embellish them with cuts of roosters, chickens, pigs, or thelike. Not that we are ashamed of them; far be it from such. You do not, however, need to have a sheet of paper littered up with pictures ofimaginary animals in order to convince your customer that you areselling the meats of that animal. I like a plainly printed letterheadthat carries my name, my address and my business. That's all. 

By all means keep books on your farm-to-table venture, if you undertakeit. Set down on one side of the page what you pay for boxes, labels, postage, and so on, including what you pay yourself for chickens at yourhuckster's prices. On the other side of the page set down what your citycustomer pays you. Add up the pages, do a simple sum in subtraction, andyou will know just how much you have made. 

If I kept only twenty-five hens I should sell my eggs and my chickensdirect to the city consumer. When the farmer learns to sell directinstead of letting the huckster, the poultry house, the commission man, the dresser and the retailer stand between him and the consumer, thenpoultry raising will become really profitable. 

There are too many folks who sell their eggs and "take it out in trade. "

 * * * *

_(Saturday Evening Post)_

One large illustration, a wash drawing, made by a staff artist. 

SALES WITHOUT SALESMANSHIP

BY JAMES H. COLLINS

"Say, you're a funny salesman!" exclaimed the business man. "Here I makeup my own mind that I need two motor trucks and decide to buy 'em fromyour company. Then I send for a salesman. You come down and spend a weeklooking into my horse delivery, and now you tell me to keep my horses. What kind of a salesman do you call yourself anyway?"

"What made you think you needed motor trucks?" was the counterquestionof the serious, thick-spectacled young chap. 

"Everyone else seems to be turning to gasoline delivery. I want to be upto date. "

"Your delivery problem lies outside the gasoline field, " said thesalesman. "Your drivers make an average of ninety stops each trip. Theyclimb stairs and wait for receipts. Their rigs are standing at the curbmore than half the time. Nothing in gasoline equipment can compete withthe horse and wagon under such conditions. If you had loads of severaltons to be kept moving steadily I'd be glad to sell you two trucks. "

"Suppose I wanted to buy them anyway?"

"We could not accept your order. "

"But you'd make your commission and the company its profit. "

"Yes; but you'd make a loss, and within a year your experience wouldreact unfavorably upon us. "

So no sale was effected. Facts learned during his investigation of thisbusiness man's delivery problem led the salesman to make suggestionsthat eliminated waste and increased the effectiveness of his horse rigs. 

About a year later, however, this business man sent for the salesmanagain. He contemplated motorized hauling for another company of which hewas the president. After two days' study the salesman reported thatmotor trucks were practicable and that he needed about five of them. 

"All right--fill out the contract, " directed the business man. 

"Don't you want to know how these trucks are going to make you money?"asked the salesman. 

"No; if you say I need five trucks, then I know that's just what Ineed!"

A new kind of salesmanship is being developed in many lines ofbusiness--and particularly in the rebuilding of sales organizations madenecessary by the ending of the war and return to peace production. "Study your goods, " was the salesman's axiom yesterday. "Study yourcustomer's problem, " is the viewpoint to-day; and it is transforming thesalesman and sales methods. 

Indeed, the word salesman tends to disappear under this new viewpoint, for the organization which was once charged largely with disposing ofgoods may now be so intimately involved in technical studies of thecustomers' problems that selling is a secondary part of its work. TheSales Department is being renamed, and known as the Advisory Departmentor the Research Staff; while the salesman himself becomes a TechnicalCounsel or Engineering Adviser. 

Camouflage? No; simply better expression of broader functions. 

As a salesman, probably he gave much attention to the approach andargument with which he gained his customer's attention and confidence. But, with his new viewpoint and method of attack, perhaps the first stepis asking permission to study the customer's transportation needs, oraccounting routine, or power plant--or whatever section of the latter'sbusiness is involved. 

The experience of the thick-spectacled motor-truck salesman was typical. Originally he sold passenger cars. Then came the war, with factoryfacilities centered on munitions and motor trucks. There being no morepassenger cars to sell, they switched him over into the motor-trucksection. There he floundered for a while, trying to develop salesarguments along the old lines. But the old arguments did not seem tofit, somehow. 

It might have been possible to demonstrate the superior construction ofhis motor truck; but competitors would meet point with point, andcustomers were not interested in technicalities anyway. He tried serviceas an argument; but that was largely a promise of what motor truckswould do for people after they bought them, and competitors could alwayspromise just as much, and a little more. 

Company reputation? His company had a fine one--but motor-truckpurchasers wanted to know the cost of moving freight. Price? No argumentat all, because only one other concern made motor trucks calling for sogreat an initial investment. 

So Thick-Specs, being naturally serious and solid, began to dig intomotor trucks from the standpoint of the customer. He got permission toinvestigate delivery outfits in many lines. Selling a five-ton motortruck to many a business man was often equivalent to letting Johnny playwith a loaded machine gun. Such a vehicle combined the potentiality ofmoving from fifty to seventy-five tons of freight daily, according torouting and the number of hours employed; but it involved a dailyexpense of twenty-five dollars. 

The purchaser could lose money in two ways at swift ratios, and perhapsunsuspectingly: He might not use his full hauling capacity each day orwould use it only half the year, during his busy season. Or he mightunderestimate costs by overlooking such items as interest anddepreciation. 

Thick-Specs' first actual sale was not a motor truck at all, but amotorcycle, made by another company. Within three months, however, thismotorcycle added two big trucks to a fleet of one dozen operated by awholesale firm. That concern had good trucks, and kept them in awell-equipped garage, where maintenance was good. But at least oncedaily there would be a road breakdown. Usually this is a minor matter, but it ties up the truck while its puzzled driver tries to locate thetrouble. 

When a motorcycle was bought for the garage, drivers were forbidden totamper with machinery on the road--they telephoned in to thesuperintendent. By answering each call on his own motorcycle--about anhour daily--the repairman kept equipment in such good shape thatvaluable extra service was secured from the fleet each day. 

The salesman-adviser did not originate this scheme himself, butdiscovered it in another concern's motor-truck organization; in fact, this is the advantage the salesman-adviser enjoys--acquaintance with awide range of methods and the knack of carrying a good wrinkle from onebusiness to another. He brings the outside point of view; and, becausemodern business runs toward narrow specialization, the outside point ofview is pretty nearly always welcome, provided it is honest andsensible. 

In another case he had to dig and invent to meet a peculiar situation. 

There was a coal company working under a handicap in householddeliveries. Where a residence stood back from the sidewalk coal hadoften to be carried from the motor truck in baskets. This kept the truckwaiting nearly an hour. A motor truck's time is worth several dollarshourly. If the coal could have been dumped on the sidewalk and carriedin later, releasing the truck, that would have saved expense and mademore deliveries possible. 

A city ordinance prohibited dumping coal on the sidewalk except bypermit. Coal men had never tried to have that ordinance changed. But thesalesman-adviser went straight to the city authorities and, by figuresshowing the expense and waste involved, secured a modification, so thathis customer, the coal company, got a blanket permit for dumping coaland gave bonds as an assurance against abuse of the privilege. Then alittle old last year's runabout was bought and followed the coal truckswith a crew to carry the coal indoors, clearing sidewalks quickly. 

This salesman-adviser's philosophy was as simple as it was sound. Confidence is the big factor in selling, he reasoned. Your customer willhave confidence in you if he feels that you are square and also knowswhat you are talking about. By diligent study of gasoline haulingproblems in various lines of business he gained practical knowledge andafter that had only to apply his knowledge from the customer's side ofthe problem. 

"Put it another way, " he said: "Suppose you had a factory and expectedto run it only one year. There would not be time to get returns on acostly machine showing economies over a five-year period; but if youintended to run your factory on a five-year basis, then that machinemight be highly profitable. 

"In sales work it was just the same; if you were selling for this year'sprofit alone, you'd close every sale regardless of your customer'swelfare. Let the purchaser beware! But if you meant to sell on thefive-year basis, then confidence is the big investment, and the mostprofitable sale very often one you refuse to make for immediateresults. "

He had a fine following when the draft reached him; and during the eightmonths he spent in an Army uniform he utilized his knowledge of gasolinetransportation as an expert in Uncle Sam's motor service. Upon beingdischarged he returned to his job and his customers, and to-day theconcern with which he is connected is taking steps to put all itsmotor-truck salesmen on this advisory basis. 

War shot its sales force to pieces--the Army and the Navy reached outfor men and tied up production facilities; so there was nothing to sell. But war also gave a clean slate for planning a new sales force. 

As old salesmen return and new men are taken on for sales instruction, this concern trains them--not with the old sales manual, by standardapproach and systematic sales argument, but by sending them out into thefield to study gasoline hauling problems. They secure permission toinvestigate trucking methods of contractors, department stores, wholesale merchants, coal dealers, truck owners hauling interstatefreight, mills, factories and other lines of business. They investigatethe kinds and quantities of stuff to be moved, the territory and roadscovered, the drivers, the garage facilities. They ride behind typicalloads and check up running time, delays, breakdowns, gasoline and oilconsumption. 

Engineering teaches people to think in curves. This youngster had tomake a curve of the grocer's trucking before he could visualize ithimself. His curve included factors like increase in stuff that had beenhauled during the past three years and additions to the motor equipment. When you have a healthy curve showing any business activity, the logicalthing to do, after bringing it right down to date, is to let it run outinto the future at its own angle. This was done with the grocery curve, and its future extension indicated that not more than three months laterthe grocery house would need about four more five-ton motor trucks. 

Closer investigation of facts behind the curve revealed an unusualgrowth in sugar hauling, due to the increase in supply and removal ofconsumer war restrictions. And that grocery concern bought additionaltrucks for sugar within two months. With the insight made possible bysuch a curve a salesman might safely have ordered the trucks without hiscustomer's knowledge and driven them up to his door the day the curveshowed they were needed. 

"Here are the trucks you wanted to haul that sugar. "

"Good work! Drive 'em in!"

What has been found to be sound sales policy in the motor truck businessapplies to many other lines. Yesterday the salesman of technicalapparatus sought the customer with a catalogue and a smile--and a largeignorance of the technical problems. To-day that kind of selling isunder suspicion, because purchasers of technical equipment have been ledto buy on superficial selling points and left to work out for themselvescomplex technicalities that belong to the manufacturer of the equipment. 

In the West during recent years a large number of pumps of a certaintype have been sold for irrigating purposes. Purchasers bought from thecatalogue-and-smile type of salesman, hooked their pumps up to a powerplant--and found that they lifted only about half the number of gallonsa minute promised in the catalogue. Manufacturers honestly believedthose pumps would do the work indicated in their ratings. They had notallowed for variations in capacity where pumps were installed under manydifferent conditions and run by different men. The situation called forinvestigation at the customer's end; when it was discovered that thesepumps ought to be rated with an allowance for loss of capacity a half totwo-thirds of the power, due to friction and lost power. 

It might have been dangerous for the salesman to show up again in anirrigation district where a lot of his pumps were "acting up, " armedonly with his catalogue and smile. But when an engineer appeared fromthe pump company to help customers out of their difficulties, he wonconfidence immediately and made additional sales because people feltthat he knew what he was talking about. 

The superintendent of a big machinery concern found that his expense forcutting oils was constantly rising. Salesmen had followed salesmen, recommending magic brands of the stuff; yet each new barrel of oilseemed to do less work than the last--and cost more in dollars. 

One day a new kind of visitor showed up and sent in the card of a largeoil company. He was not a salesman, but an investigator of oil problems. The superintendent took him through the plant. He studied the work beingdone by screw-cutting machines, lathes and other equipment operated withcutting oil. Where salesmen had recommended brands without technicalknowledge of either the work to be done or the composition of the oil, this stranger wrote specifications that cut down the percentage ofcostly lard oil used on some work; and he eliminated it altogether onothers. 

Moreover, he pointed out sheer losses of oil by picking up a handful ofmetal cuttings from a box, letting them drip, measuring the oil thataccumulated and recommending a simple device for reclaiming that oilbefore the waste metal was sold. 

This new viewpoint in selling is developing in so many lines that toenumerate them would be to make a national directory of businessconcerns manufacturing milling machinery, office devices, manufacturingand structural materials, equipment for the farm and the mine. 

People who purchase such products have been accustomed to meeting twodifferent representatives of manufacturers: First, the salesman skilledin selling, but deficient in technical knowledge. 

"This chap is here to see how much he can get out of me, " said theprospective consumer to himself; and he was on his guard to see that thevisitor got as little as possible, either in the way of orders orinformation. 

The other representative came from the mechanical department to see howpresent equipment was running, or perhaps to "shoot trouble. " He waslong on technical knowledge, but probably dumb when it came tosalesmanship. 

"This fellow is here to help me out of my troubles, " said the customer. "I'll see how much I can get out of him. "

Presently manufacturers of equipment woke up to the fact that theirmechanical men--inspectors and trouble shooters--had a basis ofconfidence which the salesman pure and simple was rapidly losing. Moreover, the technical man gained a knowledge of the customer'srequirements that furnished the best foundation for selling newequipment. 

The salesman discovered the technical man and went to him for tips onnew equipment needed by customers whose plants he had visited. Thetechnical man also discovered the salesman, for it was plain enough thatequipment well sold--skillfully adjusted to the customer's needs--gavethe least margin for trouble shooting. 

So there has been a meeting of minds; and to-day the salesman studiesthe technicalities, and the technical man is learning salesmanship, andtheir boss is standing behind them both with a new policy. This is thepolicy of performance, not promises--service before sales. Under thatpolicy the very terms salesmanship and sales department are beginning todisappear, to be replaced by new nomenclature, which more accuratelyindicates what a manufacturer's representative can do for the customer, and gives him access to the latter on the basis of confidence and goodwill. 

 * * * * *

_(Munsey's Magazine)_

THE ACCIDENT THAT GAVE US WOOD-PULP PAPER

HOW A MIGHTY MODERN INDUSTRY OWED ITS BEGINNING TO GOTTFRIED KELLER ANDA WASP

BY PARKE F. HANLEY

On the day when President Wilson was inaugurated to his second term, this country had its fiftieth anniversary of the introduction ofwood-pulp. Were it not for a series of lucky chances that developed intoopportunity, this wood-pulp anniversary might have remained for ourchildren's children. 

Have you ever given thought to the accidentalism of many greatdiscoveries? The element of haphazard is generally combined with aseries of coincidences. Looking back over the developments that led togigantic contributions to our civilization, one cannot fail to be struckby the coordination of events. Apparently there always has been aconspiracy of natural forces to compel men of thought andresourcefulness to add another asset to progress. 

Your earliest school readers have been full of these--for instance, Wattand his steam-kettle, Franklin and his kite. Now the youngsters arereading that the Wrights derived a fundamental principle ofaviation--the warping-tip--from the flight of crows. With the awe comesa disquieting thought. How far back should we be were it not for thesefortuitous circumstances?

Among all the great things that have been given to the world in the lastthree-quarters of a century, few measure beside the wood-pulp industry. With its related trades and sciences, it is comprised within the tengreat activities of mankind. In manufacture and distribution, it employsan army matching in size the Russian battle hordes. Its figures ofinvestment and production are comparable to the debts of the great war. 

Yet it remained for a wasp and Gottfried Keller to bring us out of theera of rag paper. Together, they saved us from a retardation ofuniversal thought. Therefore, let us consider the agents. 

First, the wasp. She was one of a family of several hundreds, born inthe Hartz Mountains in the year 1839. When death claimed most of herrelatives at the end of the season allotted as the life of a wasp, thissurvivor, a queen wasp, became the foundress of a family of her own. She built her nest of selected wood-fibers, softened them to a pulp withher saliva, and kneaded them into cells for her larvæ. Her family cameforth in due course, and their young wings bore them out into the world. The nest, having served its purpose, was abandoned to the sun and therain. 

Maeterlinck, who attributes emotions to plants and souls to bees, mightwrap a drama of destiny about this insect. She would command a leadingplace in a cast which included the butterfly that gave silk to theworld, the mosquito that helped to prove the germ theory of disease, andthe caterpillar that loosed the apple which revealed the law ofgravitation to Sir Isaac Newton. 

As to Keller, he was a simple German, by trade a paper-maker and byavocation a scientist of sorts. One day in 1840--and this marks thebeginning of the accidents--returning home from his mill, he trod uponthe abandoned nest. Had not the tiny dwelling been deserted, he probablywould have cherished nothing but bitter reflections about theirascibility of wasps. As it was, he stooped to see the ruin he hadwrought. 

The crushed nest lay soft in his hand, soft and pliable, and yet toughin texture. It was as soft as his own rag-made paper. It was not paper, and yet it was very much like paper. Crumbling It in his fingers, hedecided that its material was wood-pulp. 

Keller was puzzled to know how so minute a creature had welded wood intoa paperlike nest. His state of mind passed to interest, thence tospeculation, and finally to investigation. He carried his problem andits possibilities to his friend, Heinrich Voelter, a master mechanic. Together they began experiments. They decided to emulate the wasp. Theywould have to granulate the wood as she had done. The insect hadapparently used spruce; they used spruce under an ordinary grindstone. Hot water served as a substitute for the wasp's salivary juices. 

Their first attempts gave them a pulp astonishingly similar to thatresulting from the choicest rags. They carried the pulp through tomanufacture, with a small proportion of rags added--and they had paper. It was good paper, paper that had strength. They found that it possessedan unlooked-for advantage in its quick absorption of printing-ink. 

Have you followed the chain of accidents, coincidences, and fortunatecircumstances? Suppose the wasp had not left her nest in Keller's path. What if he had been in haste, or had been driven off by the queen'syellow-jacketed soldiers? What if he had no curiosity, if he had notbeen a paper-maker, if he had not enjoyed acquaintance with Voelter?Wood-pulp might never have been found. 

Leaving Gottfried Keller and Voelter in their hour of success, we find, sixteen years afterward, two other Germans, Albrecht and RudolfPagenstecher, brothers, in the export trade in New York. They werepioneering in another field. They were shipping petroleum to Europe forthose rising young business men, John D. And William Rockefeller. Theywere seeking commodities for import when their cousin, AlbertoPagenstecher, arrived from the fatherland with an interesting bit ofnews. 

"A few weeks ago, in a paper-mill in the Hartz, I found them using a newprocess, " he said. "They are making paper out of wood. It serves. Germany is printing its newspapers on wood-pulp paper. "

To his cousins it seemed preposterous that wood could be so converted, but Alberto was convincing. He showed them Voelter's patent grants andpictures of the grinders. The Pagenstechers went to Germany, and whenthey returned they brought two of the grinders--crude affairs devisedfor the simple purpose of pressing wood upon a stone. They also broughtwith them several German mechanics. 

A printer in New York, named Strang, had already secured the UnitedStates rights of the new process. He was engaged in the manufacture ofcalendered paper, and, therefore, had no occasion to use wood-pulp; sohe was willing to surrender the patents in exchange for a smallinterest. 

The Pagenstechers wanted water-power for their grinders, and theylocated their first mill beside Stockbridge Bowl, in Curtisville, nowInterlaken, Massachusetts. On an outlay of eleven thousand dollars theirmill was built and their machinery installed. Two or three trials, withcotton waste added to the ground wood, gave them their paper. Theirfirst product was completed on the 5th of March, 1867. 

It was a matter of greater difficulty to dispose of the stock. The tradefought against the innovation. Finally Wellington Smith, of the near-bytown of Lee, Massachusetts, was persuaded to try it. Rag-paper had beenselling at twenty-four cents a pound. Smith's mill still exhibits thefirst invoice with the Pagenstechers, which shows the purchase ofwood-paper at eleven cents. 

The paper was hauled to Lee in the dead of night, for Smith'ssubordinates wished to spare him from the laughter of his fellowmillmen. It was sold, and proved successful, and the Pagenstechers wererushed with orders. They built a second mill in Luzeme, New York, butabandoned it soon afterward for the greater water-power to be obtainedat Palmer's Falls, where now stands the second largest mill in theUnited States. 

Manufacturers tumbled over themselves to get the benefit of the newprocess. The originators in this country held the patent rights until1884, letting them out on royalties until that time. With each new plantthe price of paper fell, until at one period it sold at one and a halfcents a pound. 

Trial had proved that spruce was the only suitable wood for the pulp. Until 1891 rags were combined in about one-quarter proportion. Then itwas found that other coniferous woods might be used to replace the rags, after being submitted to what is called the sulfite process. In thistreatment small cubes of wood, placed in a vat, have their resinousproperties extracted, and the wood is disintegrated. A combination ofground and sulfite wood makes the paper now used for news-print. 

As has been told, the primary advantage of the wood-pulp paper was itsimmediate absorption of ink. This made possible much greater speed inprinting, and led in turn to the development of the great modernnewspaper and magazine presses, fed by huge rolls of paper, which theyprint on both sides simultaneously. These wonderful machines have nowreached the double-octuple stage--monsters capable of turning out noless than five thousand eight-page newspapers in a single minute, orthree hundred thousand in an hour. 

With the evolution from the flat-bed to the web or rotary presses therecame further development in typesetting-machines--the linotype, themonotype, and others. With paper and presses brought to suchsimplification, newspapers have sprouted in every town, almost everyvillage, and the total number of American periodicals is counted by tensof thousands. There are magazines that have a circulation of more than amillion copies weekly. The leading daily newspapers in New York printanywhere from one hundred thousand copies to four times as many, andthey can put extra editions on the streets at fifteen-minute intervals. 

The aggregate circulation of daily newspapers in the United States isclose to forty million copies. Weekly newspapers and periodicals reachfifty millions, and monthly publications mount almost to one hundredmillions; and all this would be impossible without wood-pulp paper. 

The annual production of wood-pulp in the United States and Canada isestimated by Albrecht Pagenstecher, the survivor of the innovators, tobe worth nearly five hundred millions of dollars. Take intoconsideration the hundreds of thousands employed in the mills, the menwho cut and bring in the raw product, the countless number in theprinting, publishing, and distributing trades. Then hark back to theaccident that put the wasp's nest under the toe of Gottfried Keller!

 * * * * *

(_Providence Journal_)

One zinc-etching illustration reproducing an old wood-cut of the ship, with the caption, "The Savannah, First Steamship That Crossed theOcean. "

CENTENNIAL OF THE FIRST STEAMSHIP TO CROSS THE ATLANTIC

(7-column head)

One hundred years ago this week there was launched at New York the shipSavannah, which may be called the father of the scores of steamers thatare now carrying our soldiers and supplies from the New World to the OldWorld. 

The Savannah was the first ship equipped with steam power to cross theAtlantic ocean. It made the trip in 25 days, using both sails andengine, and the arrival of the strange craft at Liverpool was the causeof unusual stir among our English cousins. Like every step from thebeaten path the idea of steam travel between the New World and the OldWorld was looked upon with much scepticism and it was not until about 20years later that regular, or nearly regular, steamer service wasestablished. 

The launching of the Savannah took place on Aug. 22, 1818. It was notaccompanied by the ceremony that is accorded many of the boats uponsimilar occasions to-day. As a matter of fact, it is probable that onlya few persons knew that the craft was intended for a transatlantic trip. The keel of the boat was laid with the idea of building a sailing ship, and the craft was practically completed before Capt. Moses Rogers, theoriginator of the venture, induced Scarborough & Isaacs, ship merchantsof Savannah, to buy her and fit her with a steam engine for servicebetween Savannah and Liverpool. 

The ship, which was built by Francis Fickett, was 100 feet long, 28 feetbroad and 14 feet deep. It had three masts which, of course, were of fargreater importance in making progress toward its destination than wasthe steam engine. 

Capt. Rogers had gained a reputation for great courage and skill insailing. He had already had the honor of navigating the sea with asteamer, taking the New Jersey from New York to the Chesapeake in 1816, a voyage which was then thought to be one of great danger for such avessel. 

It was natural, then, that he was especially ambitious to go down inhistory as the first master of a steam ship to cross the ocean. As soonas the vessel had been purchased by the Savannah ship merchants, thework of installing the engine was begun. This was built by Stephen Vailof Speedwell, N. J. , and the boiler by David Dod of Elizabeth, N. J. 

The paddle-wheels were made of iron and were "detachable, " so that thesections could be removed and laid on the deck. This was done when itwas desired to proceed under canvas exclusively and was also aprecaution in rough weather. 

In short, the Savannah was an auxiliary steamer, a combination of steamand sail that later became well known in shipping. This is much like theearly development of the gasoline marine engine, which was an auxiliaryto the sail, a combination that is still used. 

Capt. Rogers took the boat from New York to Savannah in eight days and15 hours, using steam on this trip for 41½ hours. On May 26, 1819, under Capt. Rogers, the Savannah set sail from her home port forLiverpool and made the trip in 25 days. 

As long as the trip took, the voyage was considerably shorter than theaverage for the sailing ship in 1819, and this reduction in time wasaccomplished in spite of the fact that the Savannah ran into muchunfavorable weather. Capt. Rogers used steam on 18 of the 25 days anddoubtless would have resorted to engine power more of the time exceptfor the fact that at one stage of the voyage the fuel was exhausted. 

It was natural that the arrival of the steamer in English waters shouldnot have been looked upon with any great favor by the Englishmen. Inaddition to the jeers of the sceptical, the presence of vessels wasaccompanied by suspicion on the part of the naval authorities, and themerchants were not favorably impressed. 

When the Savannah approached the English coast with her single stackgiving forth volumes of dense black smoke, it was thought by those onshore that she was a ship on fire, and British men-of-war and revenuecutters set out to aid her. When the truth was known, consternationreigned among the English officers. They were astonished at the way thecraft steamed away from them after they had rushed to assist what theythought was a ship in distress. 

The reception of the Savannah at Liverpool was not particularly cordial. Some of the newspapers even suggested that "this steam operation may, insome manner, be connected with the ambitious views of the UnitedStates. "

A close watch was kept on the boat while she lay in British waters, andher departure was welcome. In the second volume of "Memoranda of aResidence at the Court of St. James, " Richard Rush, then AmericanMinister in London, includes a complete log of the Savannah. DispatchNo. 76 from Minister Rush reports the arrival of the ship and thecomment that was caused by its presence as follows:

 London, July 3, 1819. 

 Sir--On the 20th of last month arrived at Liverpool from the United States the steamship Savannah, Capt. Rogers, being the first vessel of that description that ever crossed the sea, and having excited equal admiration and astonishment as she entered port under the power of her steam. 

 She is a fine ship of 320 tons burden and exhibits in her construction, no less than she has done in her navigation across the Atlantic, a signal trophy of American enterprise and skill upon the ocean. 

 I learn from Capt. Rogers, who has come to London and been with me, that she worked with great ease and safety on the voyage, and used her steam full 18 days. 

 Her engine acts horizontally and is equal to a 72 horsepower. Her wheels, which are of iron, are on the sides, and removable at pleasure. The fuel laid in was 1500 bushels of coal, which got exhausted on her entrance into the Irish Channel. 

 The captain assures me that the weather in general was extremely unfavorable, or he would have made a much shorter passage; besides that, he was five days delayed in the channel for want of coal. I have the honor to be, etc. , RICHARD RUSH. 

To have made the first voyage across the Atlantic Ocean under steam wasa great accomplishment and brought no little credit to Capt. Rogers andthe United States. Pioneers in many ventures, the American people hadadded another honor to their record. And this was even more of a creditbecause in those early days skilled workmen were comparatively few onthese shores and the machine shops had not reached a stage of efficiencythat came a short time later. 

There were, of course, in 1819 men who had developed into mechanics andthere were shops of some account, as the steamboat for short trips hadbeen in existence for some years. But the whole enterprise of planning asteam voyage in which the boat should be headed due east wascharacteristic of the boldness and bravery of the Americans. 

The Savannah did not return to the States directly from England. Itsteamed from Liverpool to St. Petersburg and brought forth furthercomment from the Old World. She proved that the marine steam engine andside-wheels were practicable for deep-sea navigation. The idea oftransatlantic travel under steam had been born and it was only necessaryto develop the idea to "shorten the distance" between the twocontinents. 

This pioneer voyage, however, was then looked upon more as a noveltythan as the inception of a new method of long-distance travel. The triphad failed to demonstrate that steam was an entirely adequate substitutefor the mast and sail in regular service. 

Since the Savannah was primarily a sailing vessel, the loss of steampower by the crippling of the engine would not be serious, as she couldcontinue on her way with paddle-wheels removed and under full sail. 

It was 19 years later that the idea of employing vessels propelled bysteam in trade between the United States and England came under theserious consideration of merchants and ship builders. In the intervalthe marine boiler and the engines had been improved until they hadpassed the stage of experiment, and coasting voyages had become commonon both sides of the Atlantic. 

The beginning of real transatlantic steam voyages was made by the Siriusand the Great Western. The latter boat had been built especially fortrips across the ocean and the former was taken from the Cork and Londonline. The Sirius started from Liverpool on April 4, 1838, and the GreatWestern four days later. They arrived in New York within 24 hours ofeach other, the Sirius at 10 p. M. On April 22 and the Great Western at 3o'clock the following afternoon. Neither of the vessels carried muchsail. 

These boats gave more or less irregular service until withdrawn becauseof their failure to pay expenses. In 1839 the Cunard Company was formedand the paddle steamers Britannia, Arcadia, Columbia, and Caledonia wereput into service. 

From that time on the steamer developed with great rapidity, the valueof which was never more demonstrated than at the present time. It willalways be remembered, however, that this Capt. Rogers with his crudelittle Savannah was the man whose bold enterprise gave birth to the ideaof transatlantic travel under steam. 

 * * * * *

(A syndicate Sunday magazine section of the _Harrisburg Patriot_)

SEARCHING FOR THE LOST ATLANTIS

By GROSVENOR A. PARKER

Not so long ago a stubby tramp steamer nosed its way down the EnglishChannel and out into the Atlantic. Her rusty black bow sturdilyshouldered the seas aside or shoved through them with an insistence thatbrought an angry hail of spray on deck. The tramp cared little for thisprotest of the sea or for the threats of more hostile resistance. Through the rainbow kicked up by her forefoot there glimmered andbeckoned a mirage of wealthy cities sunk fathoms deep and tenanted onlyby strange sea creatures. For the tramp and her crew there was astranger goal than was ever sought by an argosy of legend. The lostcities of Atlantis and all the wealth that they contain was the portawaiting the searchers under the rim of the western ocean. 

It's no wild-goose chase that had started thus unromantically. The menwho hope to gain fame and fortune by this search are sure of theirground and they have all the most modern mechanical and electrical aidsfor their quest. On the decks of their ship two submarine boats arecradled in heavy timbers. One of them is of the usual type, but theother looks like a strange fantasy of another Jules Verne. A greatelectric eye peers cyclops-wise over the bow and reaching ahead of theblunt nose are huge crab-like claws delicate enough to pick up a goldpiece and strong enough to tear a wall apart. 

These under-water craft are only a part of the equipment that BernardMeeker, a young Englishman, has provided to help him in his search forthe lost city. There are divers' uniforms specially strengthened toresist the great pressure under which the men must work. Huge electriclamps like searchlights to be lowered into the ocean depths and givelight to the workers are stacked close beside powerful generators in theship's hold. In the chart room there are rolls of strange maps plottingout the ocean floor, and on a shelf by itself rests the tangibleevidence that this search means gold. It is a little bowl of strangedesign which was brought up by a diver from the bottom of the Caribbean. When this bowl first came to light it was supposed to be part of lootfrom a sunken Spanish galleon, but antiquarians could find nothing inthe art of the Orient, or Africa, or of Peru and Mexico to bear out thistheory. Even the gold of which it was made was an alloy of a differenttype from anything on record. 

It was this that gave Meeker his first idea that there was a city underthe sea. He found out the exact spot from which the divers had recoveredthe bowl, and compared the reckonings with all the ancient charts whichspoke of the location of fabled Atlantis. In one old book he located thelost city as being close to the spot where the divers had been, and withthis as a foundation for his theories he asked other questions of themen who had explored that hidden country. Their tale only confirmed hisbelief. 

"The floor of the sea is covered with unusual coral formation, " one ofthem told him, "but it was the queerest coral I ever saw. It looked morelike stone walls and there was a pointed sort of arch which wasdifferent from any coral arch I had ever seen. "

That was enough to take Meeker to the Caribbean to see for himself. Hewon't tell what he found, beyond the fact that he satisfied himself thatthe "coral" was really stone walls pierced by arched doors and windows. 

Meeker kept all his plans secret and might have sailed away on histreasure hunt without making any stir if he had not been careless enoughto name one of his submarines "Atlantis. " He had given out that he wassailing for Yucatan to search for evidence of prehistoric civilization. It is true that the shores of Yucatan are covered with the remnants ofgreat cities but the word "Atlantis" awoke suspicion. Questions followedand Meeker had to admit the bare facts of his secret. 

"Only half a dozen men know the supposed location of Atlantis, " hesaid, just before sailing, "and we don't intend to let any others intothe secret. Those who have furnished the money for the expedition havedone so in the hope of solving the mystery of the lost continent, andwithout thought for the profit. The divers and the other men of the crewhave the wildest dreams of finding hoarded wealth. It is not at allimpossible that their dreams will come true, and that they will berichly rewarded. At any rate they deserve it, for the work will bedangerous. 

"Our plans are simple enough. With the submarine of the usual type wewill first explore that part of the sea bottom which our charts cover. This vessel has in its conning tower a powerful searchlight which willreveal at least the upper portions of any buildings that may be there. For work in greater depths we will have to depend on the 'Atlantis' withits special equipment of ballast tanks and its hatch-ways for thedivers. 

"You see, we do not plan to lower the divers from the steamer or from araft. Instead they will step directly out on the sea floor from a doorin the submarine which opens out of an air chamber. In this the divercan be closed and the air pressure increased until it is high enough tokeep out the water. All that he has to do then is to open the door andstep out, trailing behind him a much shorter air hose and life line thanwould hamper him if he worked from the surface. The air hose is armoredwith steel links so that there will be no danger of an inquisitive sharkchopping it in two. "

Previous to the diver's exploration the claws of the "Atlantis" willsearch out the more promising places in the ruins. These claws work on ajoint operated electrically, and on the tip of each is a sensitiveelectrical apparatus which sets off a signal in the conning tower of thesubmarine. Crawling over the bottom like a strange monster, the clawswill also help to avoid collisions with walls when the depths of thewater veils the power of the searchlight. 

There is, in addition, a small electric crane on the nose of thesubmarine so that heavy objects can be borne to the surface. Meeker doesnot expect to gain much in the way of heavy relics of the lost city, forcertain parts of the sea bottom are so covered with ooze that hebelieves it only possible to clear it away through suction hose longenough to make quick observation possible. The subaqueous lights whichwill help this work are powerful Tungsten lamps enclosed in a steelshell with a heavy prismatic lens at the bottom. These lamps areconnected to the power plant on the steamer by armored cables and willdevelop 5, 000 candle power each. 

The generating station on the parent ship of the expedition, as therusty tramp is known, is as extensive as those on a first class liner ora dreadnought. Little of the power will go for the benefit of thesteamer though. Its purpose is to furnish the light for the swingingTungstens and to charge the great storage batteries of the submarines. These batteries run the many motors on which depends the success of thework. If it were not for electricity, the searchers would behandicapped. As it is they call to their aid all the strong magic ofmodern days. 

INDEX

"Accident that Gave Us Wood-Pulp Paper, The, " 356

Adventure as a source of interest, 41. 

Agricultural journals, 11, 20, 23; articles in, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 78; examples of articles in, 81, 248, 341; excerpts from, 127, 128, 156

Aims in feature writing, 46

Alliteration in titles, 179

Amateur writers, opportunities for, 7, 12

_American Magazine_, articles from, 76, 87; excerpt from, 158

Amusements as a source of interest, 42

Analysis of articles on factory school, 107, 116

Analysis of special articles, 22; outline for, 201

Animals as a source of interest, 41

Appeals, kinds of, 39; combinations of, 45

"Arbor Day Advice, " 57

Arrangement of material, 101

Balance in titles, 179

"Bedroom in Burlap, A, " 68

Beginnings, 131; structure of, 131; types of, 132

_Boston Herald_, article from, 204

_Boston Transcript_, articles from, 209, 326; excerpt from, 145

"Boys in Search of Jobs, " 209

"Brennan Mono-Rail Car, " 274

Browning, John M. , personality sketch of, 89

"By Parcel Post, " 341

Camera, use of, for illustrations, 194

Captions for illustrations, 196

"Centennial of First Steamship to Cross the Atlantic, " 360

_Chicago Tribune_, excerpt from, 159

Children as a source of interest, 41

_Christian Science Monitor_, article from, 206

Clark, Thomas Arkle, personality sketch of, 87

Class publications, 11, 20, 23

College training for writing, 16

_Collier's Weekly_, excerpt from, 139

Collins, James H. , article by, 349

Confession articles, 32, 70; examples of, 71

"Confessions of a College Professor's Wife, " 307

Contests for supremacy as a source of interest, 41

Correspondents as feature writers, 6

Cosgrove, John O'Hara, on Sunday magazine sections, 9

"County Service Station, A, " 248

_Country Gentleman_, articles from, 248, 341; excerpt from, 156

Cover page for manuscripts, 183; form for, 184

Crime, presentation of, 47

Curiosity as a qualification for writers, 15

Definition of special feature article, 4

_Delineator_, article from, 293; excerpt from, 152

Descriptive beginnings, 138

_Designer_, article from, 68

_Detroit News_, article from, 260; excerpt from, 125

Diction, 161

Direct address beginnings, 157

Direct address titles, 178

Drawings for illustrations, 197; mailing of, 197

Eaton, Walter Prichard, article by; 326

Editorial readers, 187

Editors, point of view of, 19

Entertainment as purpose of articles, 47; wholesome, 47

Ethics of feature writing, 23, 47

_Everybody's Magazine_, article from, 281

_Every Week_, article from, 72

Examples, methods of presenting, 118

Exposition by narration and description, 52

Factory school, articles on, 102, 107, 115

Familiar things as a source of interest, 42

_Farm and Fireside_, article from, 81

Farm journals, 11, 20, 23, 78; articles in, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34; examples of articles in, 81, 248, 341; excerpts from, 127, 128, 156

Figures of speech, as element of style, 163; in beginnings, 144; in titles, 176

Filing material, 38

"Forty Years Bartered for What?" 76

"Four Men of Humble Birth Hold World Destiny, " 305

Free-Lance writers, 6

Gardiner, A. G. , personality sketch of former kaiser by, 166, 167

"Gentle Art of Blowing Bottles, The, " 233

Gibbon, Perceval, article by, 274

"Girls and a Camp, " 213

_Good Housekeeping_, excerpts from, 141, 151

Greeley Smith, Nixola, article by, 115

"Guarding a City's Water Supply, " 260

_Harper's Monthly_, excerpt from, 150

_Harper's Weekly_, excerpt from, 146

Hartswick, F. Gregory, article by, 233

Headlines, 170; types of, 173; methods of framing, 180

Hendrick, Burton J. , article by, 53

How-to-do-something articles, 49, 78; examples of, 68, 79

How-to-do-something units, 127

Hungerford, Edward, article by, 218

Ideals in feature writing, 23, 47

_Illustrated World_, excerpt from, 144

Illustrations, value of, 193; photographs for, 194; requirements for, 195; captions for, 196; mailing of, 197

Imperative beginnings, 157

Imperative titles, 178

Incidents, methods of presenting, 122

_Independent_, article from, 233; excerpt from, 140

Indian princess, interview with, 59

Information, trivial _vs. _ significant, 49

Informative articles, 49

Instances, methods of presenting, 118

Interest, sources of, 39

Interview type of article, 56; examples of, 57

Interview on Arbor Day, 57; with Indian princess, 59

"Job Lady, The, " 293

Journalism, college courses in, 17

"Just Like Pocahontas of 300 Years Ago, " 59

Kaempffert, Waldemar, on scientific subjects, 27

_Kansas City Star_, article from, 299; excerpts from, 133, 145, 147, 154

Label titles, 173

Length of articles, 100

_Leslie's Weekly_, excerpts from, 135, 148, 157

London _Daily News_, excerpt from, 166, 167

Magazines, as field for articles, 11; contributors to, 11; study of, 21

Manuscripts, form for, 182, 184; mailing, 186; in editorial offices, 187; rejected, 188; accepted, 189

Manuscript record, 190

_McClure's Magazine, _ article from, 274; excerpts from, 53, 151

McClure Newspaper Syndicate, 192

"Mark Twain's First Sweetheart, " 299

_Milwaukee Journal_, article from, 305

_Munsey's Magazine_, article from, 356; excerpts from, 136, 139

Mysteries as a source of interest, 40

Narrative article in third person, 91; examples of, 92

Narrative beginnings, 134

"Neighborhood Playhouse, The, " 240

"New Political Wedge, A, " 281

Newspaper Enterprise Association, 192; articles from, 89, 115; excerpt from, 152

Newspaper Feature Service, 192; excerpt from, 155

Newspaper work as training for magazine writing, 17

Newspapers, as field for articles, 5; characteristics of, 8; Sunday magazine sections of, 9; study of, 21; as source of subjects, 33

_New York Evening Post_, articles from, 213, 242; excerpt from, 150

_New York Evening Sun_, excerpt from, 154

_New York Sun_, article from, 336

_New York Times_, excerpts from, 119, 137, 145, 155, 158

_New York Tribune_, excerpts from, 129, 141

_New York World_, articles from, 92, 240; excerpt from, 133

Nose for news in feature writing, 14

Notebook, value of, 37

"Now the Public Kitchen, " 92

Observation, personal, as a source of subjects and material, 28

"Occupation and Exercise Cure, The, " 264

Official documents as a source of material, 34

_Ohio State Journal_, article from, 59

Origin of special feature articles, 3

Outline for analysis of feature articles, 201

Outline of articles on factory schools, 105-07

Outlining articles, value of, 99; method of, 105

_Outlook_, articles from, 95, 264; excerpts from, 126, 133, 135, 146, 156

Overline for illustrations, 197

"Paradise for a Penny, A, " 326

Paradoxical beginnings, 144

Paradoxical titles, 175

Paragraphs, length and structure of, 168

Payment, rate of, 7; time of, 190

Personality sketches, 85; examples of, 87

Personal experience articles, 62; examples of, 63

Personal experience as a source of subjects, 30

Personal observation as a source of subjects, 28

Personal success as a source of interest, 43

_Philadelphia Public Ledger_, excerpt from, 130

Photographs, value of, 193; securing, 194; requirements for, 195; sizes of, 195; captions for, 196; mailing of, 197

_Pictorial Review_, article from, 331

Planning an article, 99, 102

_Popular Science Monthly_, excerpt from, 147

Practical guidance articles, 49, 78; examples of, 79

Practical guidance units, 127

Processes, methods of presenting, 125

Prominence as a source of interest, 42

_Providence Journal_, article from, 360; excerpt from, 142

Purpose, definiteness of, 45; statement of, 50

Qualifications for feature writing, 14

Question beginnings, 153

Question titles, 177

Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur, on jargon, 163

Quotation beginnings, 149

Quotation titles, 176

_Railroad Man's Magazine_, excerpt from, 148

Readers, editorial, 187

Readers, point of view of, 19, 20

Recipes, methods of presenting, 127

Reporters as feature writers, 6, 17

Revision of articles, 168

Rhyme in titles, 179

Romance as a source of interest, 41

"Sales without Salesmanship, " 349

_San Francisco Call_, excerpt from, 155

_Saturday Evening Post_, articles from, 218, 307, 349

Scandal, presentation of, 47

Scientific publications as a source of subjects and material, 27, 35

"Searching for the Lost Atlantis, " 364

Sentences, structure of, 165; length of, 166

Shepherd, William G. , article by, 305

Siddall, John M. , on curiosity, 15; on readers' point of view, 21; on making articles personal, 45

"Singular Story of the Mosquito Man, The, " 242

"Six Years of Tea Rooms, " 336

Slosson, Edwin E. , on scientific and technical subjects, 27

Sources of subjects and material, 25

Space rates for feature articles, 7

Staff system on magazines, 11

Statistics, methods of presenting, 122

Stevenson, Frederick Boyd, on Sunday magazine sections, 10

Stovaine, beginning of article on, 53

Striking statement beginnings, 143

Striking statement titles, 175

Study of newspapers and magazines, 21

Style, 160

Subjects for feature articles, 25

_Successful Farming_, excerpts from, 127, 128

Summary beginnings, 132

Sunday magazine sections, 9

Syndicates, 6, 192

Syndicating articles, 191

_System_, article from, 79; excerpt from, 137

"Taking the School to the Factory, " 107

"Teach Children Love of Art Through Story-Telling, " 204

Technical publications as a source of subjects and material, 27, 35

"Ten Acres and a Living, " 81

"They Call Me the 'Hen Editor, '" 63

"Things We Learned to Do Without, " 72

Time of payment for articles, 190

Timeliness in feature articles, 39

Titles, 170; types of, 173; methods of framing, 180

"Tommy--Who Enjoys Straightening Out Things, " 87

_Tractor and Gas Engine Review_, excerpt from, 153

Trade journals, 11, 23; articles in, 30; article from, 79; excerpts from, 137, 153

Training for feature writing, 16

Types of beginnings, 131

Types of special articles, 55

Types of titles, 170

Typographical style, 183

Units in articles, 117

"Wanted: A Home Assistant, " 331

Weed, Inis H. , article by, 281

Welfare of other persons as a source of interest, 43

Wheeler, Howard, on newspaper men as magazine writers, 18

"Where Girls Learn to Wield Spade and Hoe, " 206

White, Frank Marshall, article by, 264

"Who'll Do John's Work?" 79

_Woman's Home Companion_, article from, 63

Women as feature writers, 13

"Wonderful America! Thinks Little Austrian, " 116

Words, choice of, 161

Writers, opportunities for amateur, 7, 12

"Your Porter, " 218

ENGLISH FOR COLLEGE COURSES

EXPOSITORY WRITINGBy MERVIN J. CURL. Gives freshmen and sophomores something to write about, and helps themin their writing. 

SENTENCES AND THINKINGBy NORMAN FOERSTER, University of North Carolina, and J. M. STEDMAN, Jr. , Emory University. A practice book in sentence-making for college freshmen. 

A HANDBOOK OF ORAL READINGBy LEE EMERSON BASSETT, Leland Stanford Junior University. Especial emphasis is placed on the relation of thought and speech, technical vocal exercises being subordinated to a study of theprinciples underlying the expression of ideas. Illustrative selectionsof both poetry and prose are freely employed. 

ARGUMENTATION AND DEBATING (_Revised Edition_)By WILLIAM T. FOSTER, Reed College. The point of view throughout is that of the student rather than that ofthe teacher. 

THE RHETORICAL PRINCIPLES OF NARRATIONBy CARROLL LEWIS MAXCY, Williams College. A clear and thorough analysis of the three elements of narrativewriting, viz. : setting, character, and plot. 

REPRESENTATIVE NARRATIVESEdited by CARROLL LEWIS MAXCY. This compilation contains twenty-two complete selections of varioustypes of narrative composition. 

THE STUDY AND PRACTICE OF WRITING ENGLISHBy GERHARD R. LOMER, Ph. D. , and MARGARET ASHMUN. A textbook for use in college Freshman courses. 

HOW TO WRITE SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLESBy WILLARD G. BLEYER, University of Wisconsin. A textbook for classes in Journalism and in advanced EnglishComposition. 

NEWSPAPER WRITING AND EDITINGBy WILLARD G. BLEYER. This fully meets the requirements of courses in Journalism as given inour colleges and universities, and at the same time appeals to practicalnewspaper men. 

TYPES OF NEWS WRITINGBy WILLARD G. BLEYER. Over two hundred typical stories taken from representative Americannewspapers are here presented in a form convenient for college classesin Journalism. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY1421

FOR COLLEGE LITERATURE COURSES

HISTORY AND CRITICISM

BOTTA--Handbook of Universal Literature. 

GRUMBINE -- Stories from Browning. 

HINCHMAN AND GUMMERE -- Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer toBrowning. 

MATTHEWS -- A Study of Versification. 

MAYNADIER -- The Arthur of the English Poets. 

PERRY -- A Study of Prose Fiction. 

PERRY -- A Study of Poetry. 

ROOT -- The Poetry of Chaucer. 

SIMONDS --A Student's History of English Literature. 

SIMONDS -- A Student's History of American Literature. 

BAKER -- Dramatic Technique. 

BROOKE -- The Tudor Drama. 

MATTHEWS -- A Study of the Drama. 

SCHELLING -- A History of the Elizabethan Drama. 2 vols. 

ANTHOLOGIES

POETRY

HOLT -- Leading English Poets from Chaucer to Browning. 

NEILSON AND WEBSTER -- The Chief British Poets of the Fourteenth andFifteenth Centuries. 

PAGE -- The Chief American Poets. 

WESTON -- The Chief Middle English Poets. 

PROSE

ALDEN -- Readings in English Prose of the Eighteenth Century. 

ALDEN -- Readings in English Prose of the Nineteenth Century. Part I; Part II; Complete. 

FOERSTER -- The Chief American Prose Writers. 

THE DRAMA

DICKINSON -- Chief Contemporary Dramatists, First Series. 

DICKINSON -- Chief Contemporary Dramatists, Second Series. 

MATTHEWS -- Chief European Dramatists. 

NEILSON -- The Chief Elizabethan Dramatists (except Shakespeare) to theClose of the Theatres. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1825