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he likes the island and its people, is a white women from the basin of the Misperpetual aggravation to gossip. And sissippi, - devout readers of Gauguin he minds his own business — here, as and White Shadows in the South Seas, elsewhere, an unpardonable sin. journeyed happily to his retreat and

Gossip - the occupation of the pro- gave him an anxious week. 'Poor felvincial and the dull — makes no allow- low,' they said, 'living out there all ance for variations from type; yet one alone; he must be nice everyone must remember that the European who says he is so kind to the dear natives. does not run to type is the only one We can just as well stop there as in fitted to make a success of life in the Papeete, and the sight of a white face islands far out of the white man's will do him good.' natural range. Consider again, for a They were counting apparently, on a moment, the case of my friend. He has visit of indefinite duration, and he put an income, and his doctoring gives him in some agonizing days before his goodan occupation; the first is a help, the nature gave way at last. second an indispensable accessory to *If you will reflect,' he suggested to

' content. He has eyes for the beautiful his uninvited guests, ‘it will become and imagination for the strange; in evident that I did not leave New York order to live as he chooses, he is willing because I felt lonely there. As for white to sacrifice what most of us would never faces, I can always go to Papeete if I in the world give up. Like the cobbler want to gaze at them a need I have in quest of happiness on Rapa Iti, he is not felt so far.' one of the very rare men who possess To most of us, in the same circumresources within themselves, who are stances, the sight of white faces would able to get enjoyment from their own be welcome - even the forbiddingly minds, and are not dependent on others earnest countenances of æsthetic fefor diversion from dull and paltry males: thin-lipped, leathery, and garthoughts. The only white man in a re- nished with black-rimmed goggles. We mote native community, he lives with do not vary from the type and the the Polynesian on such terms of inti- type is better off at home. A good macy as few Europeans could endure.

many men and women who come from Their confidence is his reward; and be the lands of the white man to seek an cause they are always welcome at his elusive dolce far niente in Polynesia are house, where there is a phonograph and discovering this profound truth for an inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, themselves. the natives do many things for him — The South Seas are no less blue than favors he accepts as gracefully as they when the ships of Cook traversed them, are tendered. Breadfruit, bananas, and and the people of the islands, though taro are brought to his door in greater dying fast, are perhaps not greatly quantities than he can use; when the changed. The palms still rustle soothmen of the village return from the reef, ingly as in the days of Melville's ento divide their fish, his portion is not chanted vision; the same trade-wind forgotten. The fame of his idyllic life blows, and lonely lagoons still ripple has spread abroad, and I wonder some- under the stars. But the islands are not times if, in the end, he will not be forced for people of our race - I say it, though to seek tranquillity in places even more I set at naught an old illusion. They remote.

may be places to visit once; but these are On one occasion a little band of lands in which few white men linger, wanderers, elderly and unattached and to which fewer still return.



MRS. Scott is dead.'

it in the New York Tribune. The New Mrs. Anderson was shocked. She York Tribune still lay on the floor laid down her garden-shears and looked where it had fallen. at Mrs. Hoxie, who was telling her. Tears were in Mrs. Lewis's eyes. It

For Mrs. Anderson had been plan- seemed so wrong, now, that they had ning to call; and she turned involun- lived so long almost back to back and tarily toward Mrs. Scott's house just in ha

had never spoken. 'I have met her on back of her. Mrs. Scott had bought the street too,' said Mrs. Lewis, with that house just six years ago. She had profound regret. planted the most wonderful red peonies Going back to her garden, Mrs. An— they were blooming now if she derson looked at Mrs. Scott's sightless was dead

windows. She had often wondered if Mrs. Anderson turned rather indig- Mrs. Scott was looking. Now she knew nantly on Mrs. Hoxie. How should she there was no one behind those windows. know? She lived a whole block away - It was dreadful certainty.

Mrs. Wilson saw the hearse at the She wished she had called. door.'

She saw Mrs. Allen, next door on the A hearse!

other side, and wondered if she knew. Mrs. Anderson gazed at the silent She stepped to the hedge, irresistibly house just behind. She had been plan- impelled. ning to call.

*I don't believe it,' replied Mrs. Allen, ‘Mrs. Wilson was shocked,' Mrs. with the utmost firmness. Hoxie went on. “She said she felt she Mrs. Anderson was aroused. Why a ought to have known it before the tone like that? Toward the dead? But hearse came, living only four houses she replied gently. The hearse had away. A hearse is a shock, of course. been seen at the door. And Mrs. Lewis Mrs. Wilson is a lovely woman.'

had read it in the Tribune. That certainly was no way to speak ‘Oh!' replied Mrs. Allen, unrelentof the dead. Mrs. Anderson looked ing; "the Tribune.' after Mrs. Hoxie with resentment. She had n't known her personally, Then her own remorse deepened. She Mrs. Allen went on, seeming to think had been planning to call, and the red some explanation was due. All she peonies blooming so heartlessly in knew of her was that, the day ter Mrs. Scott's own yard disturbed her. they had moved in, a voice had called It was not right to let them stand that Mr. Allen on the 'phone, and asked way if Mrs. Scott was dead. With a if they were sure they had a buildingdeep pang she wished she had called.

permit to put up exactly that type She went into Mrs. Lewis's next door, of ready-cut garage. to see if Mrs. Lewis knew.

Mrs. Anderson's eyes drooped as she Mrs. Lewis knew. She had just read looked at the garage. And again she wondered, passionately, why she had 'Oh!' cried Mrs. Anderson to herself, n't called on Mrs. Scott.

'I wish I had called.' Young Mrs. Baker was just passing, At a turn of the road she stooped to with little Marjorie.

help a small child with his rebellious 'She's the only other woman in the sandal; and on lifting her head, looked block with just one child, meditated straight at Mrs. Scott, pausing, interyoung Mrs. Baker. 'Is she dead?' ested. asked young Mrs. Baker with energy. 'Oh!' Mrs. Anderson caught herself

The hearse had been seen at the door, in time. And it was in the Tribune.

“Yes,' replied Mrs. Scott amused, 'Just before I left the house, not ten tactful. 'So many did. It was Mr. minutes ago,' continued young Mrs. Scott's mother. She had been visiting Baker, only growing firmer, ‘the Board

us.' of Health called up to say they had Swept on by the current of her relief, been asked to instruct me to keep Mar- Mrs. Anderson felt a great need of say

rie on her own premises until she got ing something. She had been so proover her cough. A neighbor. With one foundly moved. She had experienced child. They are not allowed to give so much in the last hour. It did not names.'

seem possible to have things return to Together they gazed at the silent their former basis. She had always felt house.

that she would have liked Mrs. Scott. A colored woman came out and began She had felt that Mrs. Scott was not to pick the peonies.

quite understood by some. And to have ' I suppose she would know,' said died — actually died, without anyone's

— Mrs. Anderson, with a catch in her knowing it, when she lived just backvoice.

But, no, she had not. She wished she had called.

Mrs. Anderson felt justified in the The colored woman picked all the feeling she had always thought she peonies.

would have had for Mrs. Scott. The house stared at them.

She had felt that Mrs. Scott would 'I was planning to call,' said Mrs. not. Anderson.

'I have been intending to call,' she Mrs. Anderson went in to get her said warmly, trying to crowd all the market-basket. She felt as if she must passionate remorse of the last hour into get away for a little while. But even a few words. the market-basket was on a shelf by the “Yes, do,' replied Mrs. Scott, with window, and through the window she answering cordiality, as she passed on. saw Mrs. Scott's house.

Some time,'



(No sooner had the Armistice been signed, than there followed, not simply a rebound, but a collapse, which no one who lived through it will ever forget. Swiftly, tragically, the high mood of sacrifice yielded to a ruthless selfishness, and the solidarity won by the war was lost, together with most of the idealism that had stood the stress and terror of it. The moral demobilization was terrifying; the disillusionment appalling. Men had lived a generation in five years; and instead of a new world of which they had dreamed, they found themselves in a world embittered, confused, cynical, gray with grief, if not cracked to its foundations

all the old envies working their malign intent. Such a chaos offered free play to every vile and slimy influence, making the earth an auditorium for every hoarse and bitter voice that could make itself heard. It was a time of social irritation, moral reaction, and spiritual fatigue, almost more trying than the war itself, the only joy being that the killing of boys had stopped.

Old jealousies and new envies began to make themselves felt - among them a very emphatic anti-American feeling; a reminiscence, in part, of the impatience at our delay in entering the war, joined with suspicion of our wealth and power. The same was true in America, in its feeling toward England and the other Allies. Mrs. A. Burnett-Smith – Annie S. Swan' - in her admirable book, America at Home, tells how fine and warm the feeling in America was before the Armistice, and how quickly it changed: “There was a reaction, of which was born a coolness, a new, subtle hostility, which one could sense everywhere.' Her book, I may add, is one of the few of its kind that never fails of that fineness of feeling which should always exist between kindred peoples. Her observations are interesting, her comments frank but kindly, and the

whole book is informed with a charming and sympathetic personality. As Mr. W. L. George has said, if the war did not make us love our enemies, it at least taught us to hate our allies.)

November 20, 1918. For one who has set great store by the coöperation of English-speaking peoples, the new antiAmerican propaganda is like a personal bereavement. The feeling in England with regard to America is certainly, as the Scotch would say, 'on the north side of friendly,'and manifests itself in many petty, nagging ways. To read the London papers now, one would think that America, and not Germany, had been the enemy of England in the war. Every kind of gibe, slur, and sneer is used to poison the public mind against America. My mail at the City Temple has become almost unreadable. It takes the familiar forms — among the upper classes an insufferably patronizing and contemptuous attitude toward America and all things American; among the lower classes an ignorant ill-will. The middle classes are not much influenced by it, perhaps because, as Emerson said, America is a ‘middle-class country' whereof we ought to be both grateful and proud. This feeling against America is confined, for the most part, to England, - it hardly exists in Scotland or in Wales, — and, like the anti-British feeling in America, it is a fruitful field for the venal press and the stupid demagogue. Naturally, a journal like John Bull - leader of the gutter-press - is in its glory; but even in the better class of papers one reads nasty Alings at



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America and its President. As for the hates of men. He wants a Parliament, Morning Post, no one expects anything he said, in which there shall be no opother than its usual pose of supercilious position, — no criticism, no discussion, condescension and savage satire, and it and this proposal to prostitute Paris at its brilliant worst. Six weeks ago liament was greeted with applause. we were regarded as friends; to-day our There is protest in the Liberal press; country is the target of ridicule as clever but men in the street and tram give as it is brutal. No doubt it is mostly each other the knowing look and the

a part of the inevitable reac- approving nod, praising the Little tion — and will pass away; but it is Welsh Wizard.' It is called a ‘Coupon none the less a tragedy.

Election,' since each Coalition candiNovember 22. It is nothing short of date must have the indorsement of the a calamity that in this ugly hour of Prime Minister, and the food-coupon is reaction and revenge there is to be a the most detestable thing in the public national election. There is no need for mind. Sir George Younger -- master an election, no demand for it. But to brewer of the kingdom - is the organthose who can see beneath the surface, izer and wire-puller of the campaign. there is a deeper meaning. Three As for the Prime Minister, he is both months ago Arthur Henderson said: 'If the author and the hero of the most rewe have a national election in Britain, markable blood-and-thunder movingyou will not get a Wilson peace.' I did picture show in political history; what not realize at the time what he meant; the papers call "The Victory Film, or

, but I can now say to him, 'Sir, I per- How I Won the War' He goes to and ceive that thou art a prophet.' There is fro, shrieking two slogans. First, hang to be a khaki election, such as Cham- the Kaiser! Second, twenty-five thouberlain had following the Boer War, the sand million pounds indemnity! What better to coin into political capital all sublime statesmanship! Behind this the anger, suspicion, resentment, and smoke-screen of rhetoric and revenge disillusionment burning in the public the most sinister forces are busy; and mind. In other words, it is a deliberate the trick will work. Liberals and Laborscheme of the Prime Minister or a ites are unable to unite. Even if they group

of strong men who use him as a should unite, they could not stem the tool to mobilize the least admirable tide. Two things are as plain as if they elements of England, — not the great, were written upon the wall. First, the noble England, but a reactionary, im- President is defeated before he sails; perialistic England, — and have them and second, if the war is won, the peace

— in solid phalanx behind the Peace Con- is lost. ference. And in the mood of the hour November 26. — Once again opinion is the scheme will work, with consequen- sharply divided as to the motives and ces both for England and for the world purposes of the Prime Minister. By which no one can predict. Reaction in some he is held to be a messiah, by England will mean reaction elsewhere, others a light-minded mountebank. Still if not everywhere.

others think he is only a political chameNovember 24.- Nothing was left hazy leon, taking color from the last strong after the speech of the Premier in West

man, or group

of men, he meets. Obviminster Hall, launching his Coalition ously he is none of these things, but campaign. It was a skillful speech, inti- merely an opportunist, without any mating that even the Throne may be in principle or policy, — except to retain danger, and playing upon the fears and power,

power, — feeling his way to get all he

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