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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 17, 1924)
.RURAL MORALS NO BETTER THAN CITY—RUPERT HUGHES By RUPERT HUGHES. It has always puzzled ms to under stand why peopls assume that God made the country and men made the towns; for If God made the country He also made the men who make the. towns, and he put Into men’s breasts the lovo of gathering together for mutual help, comfort and improve ment. Furthermore, tho towns aro mostly filled with people who were born In tho country or who actually live In tho country. The number of rich people in Now Vorlc or any other city who go out to a farm every evening is enormous. Damning tlio Arts. Tho wickedness of cities Is suffic ient, but city peoplo are less wicked than they might bo just because they have at hand so many amusements and diversions. Of course many mor alists find these amusements wicked in thomselves. If we listened to all the sects there would be no theaters, art galleries, dance hails, or moving pic ture emporiums, and libraries would be cut down to theological debate. Tho cities aro indeed vicious if all who either patronize or rnakp pos sible the dramatic and fictional arts are damned to begin with. But the world without the actor, playwright and theatrical manager known as Shakesperean would be much Impov erished. If It came to a question of doing without Shakespeare or Dr. John Roach Straton, I’m afraid I’d not hesitate long. The records of crimes committed In the rural regions include the most ** apalling known to mankind. Viola tions of women flourish to an extent Undreamed of except by the sheriffs and constables who pursue In vain. Earn-bumlng has been a favorite out door sport. Theft and murder are as frequent as convictions are rare. The feud finds its breeding-ground in ru ral sections, and many lonely com munities are simply festering with abominations, * Some Sobering Facts. I was foreman of a county grand jury onco for six weeks, and I don't want anybody to talk to me about rural innocence or noble purity. Even if my oath did not forbid my telling what I heard, my discretion would, for nobody would print it. My father's first client was a big brute wTio was accused of burning numerous barns for the sheer pleas ure of the fire-works. When I was about a year old my father helped to prosecute a Missouri farmer charged with visiting a neigh bor’s home and chopping open the, heads of a man, his wife and their six children. The jury acquitted him, but the -neighbors promptly lynched him. In a small city where I lived for a time a young 16-year-old girl took part in a wild all-night carousal with five young men, and the next day she was dead. A distinguished lecturer told me re cently that the principal of the high school in a certain city of moderate population told him that during the last year 24 of his girl pupils had had illegitimate children. Sordid Chronicles. About a year ago the whole coun try was torn up by the trial of a case in which tlie professor of a small town university brought suit ngainst a local clothing merchant to force him to support a child of which the professor’s wife had confessed liis paternity. More recently a small city in the northern part of the south made some excitement over the fact that alx men and women had been shot to death In a Lovers’ Lane just outside. None of the couples were married to each other. ' A letter recently received from a woman in a small New England town told me that three young couples had ridden over to a neighboring village for a brisk evening, from the effects of which four of them had died. Not a word appeared In the newspapers. We should not let ourselves be de ceived by publicity. Tho tragedies of humble people in small communities do not make headlines. Publicity and Sin. A divorce suit by a woman or a man of national prominence for some professional, social or financial rea son will fill columns in every news paper of the land. A hundred di vorces by obccure people will not even be listed. A Texas judge recently granted 213 divorces in 230 minutes. Nobody probably even read the names of any of the 213. Yet you can hardly pick up a paper In which you do not find a dally reference to the unpleasant domestic squabble of a certain New Yorker who has the unfortunate com bination of big money and a bad tem per. It Is a ridiculous, a wicked habit of thought to deduce general opinions from headlines. Because rich and fa mous people get large space when their affairs go wrong, nearly every body assumes that rich and famous people are more reckless and wicked than poor and humble folk. A clubman in New York was found dead In his pajamas with a handful of letters in hls hand and a bullet In his heart. The newspapers made him famous, and calle'd him richer than he was. The whole nation puzzled Its head for months over the still un solved mystery of his death, and a number of women who had the bad luck to know him had the same fame thrust upon them. Yet hundreds, thousands of unknown poor men and women are found dead, exhibited In morgues and stuffed Into Potters’ Helds without comment. A famous case that tilled the front pages for years concerned a bank president who accused 1i!s wife of an illicit affair with an Indian guide. Where the guilt—if any—lay, who shall know? But It was credited to the corruptions of city life though the 3in, if sin there was, was commit ted in the most beautiful rural re gions, close to nature’s heart, in the very core of the country little troubled by mankind. Before me lies a paper describing the finding of tho body of a young girl who was an organist in a village church. Her father refused to go to her funeral, saying, "She was always gallivanting around witli the boys. She never, stayed -at home much.” The day before she disappeared she mailed postcards to six of her attendants, three of them married men. Before me lies an account of an orgy in a small southern town with a drunken riot in the village square. Comparative Wickedness. In the same region a firmer was so disgusted because crowds of young people used to visit a pond on his farm at night and bathe there, that one night he stole nil their clothes. A wild farce ensued in the effort to get everybody home without discov ery. One could go on forever quoting in stances of depravity in country-side and village peace. But the very mention of them would be charged against me as an unpardonable offense. Tet things go on and are well known to everybody who lives In such regions. And still the cry goes up that the cities are more wicked than tho small communities. Wickedness is not a matter, how ever, of populations. It Is a matter of the coincidence of temperaments in the wrong mood with the favorable opportunity. Temptation and Opportunity. I assail the small community and the rur&i reputation, not because I consider them worse than the city evils, but because they are universal ly acclaimed as better. There is safety in numbers. There is also danger in numbers. There is solitude in crowds, there Is also pro tection in crowds. Crowds make an excellent chaperon. On tho other hand opportunity is In itself rather a hindrance to temp tation than a help to it. The greatest sins are due to unexpected encoun ters, to peculiar and unusual moods. They are not sins of intention or of character; they are accidental'mis steps. They may happen in a city or in the most bucolic scenes. In the great cities there are mil lions of people who live modestly, virtuously, meekly. The country re gions have their swaggering brutes and their untamed rakes. In both realms all sorts of people dwell. Americans in Paris. No sharp line can bo drawn be tween the two. There is much ado over the vices that cities purvey to visitors from out of town, to the buy ers and small merchants and coun I try folk out for a lark. BuT surely if people come in from the country to hunt wickedness, they bring with them as much ns they find. Paris has long had a bad name because of the misbehavior of Ameri cans and other tourists there. But the Americans must share the blame. In the great cities one finds many virUies as well as many vices that the country and the small town can not provide. The great movements for the prevention of disease, of cruelty to children and to animals; all the great endeavors of charity find their highest expression there. And-1 consider the love and the cul ture of beauty Ir all Its forms a vir tuous act. I consider a great work of archi tecture a nohle deed whether it be a cathedral, an art gallery, a custom house, a theater, a movie palace or a residence. • I consider a great play a virtuous achievement, and grand opera a high attainment of human merit striving to bo divine. I consider a symphonic concert or a gorgeous ballet or a su perb moving picture among the most worthy achievements of tho human soul at Its best. I consider a great fresco, a great sculpture or painting, a magnificent hsidge, a subway sys tem, a railroad, a steamship, an air ship—all of these and many more, to be downright acts of virtue. For virtue is not to me a matter of avoiding the doing of a great number of things. It Is not “I don't!" or "I didn't!" that proves a s^r.l worth while, but "I do!" "I did!" The man who. In his passionate eagerness to beautify and cheer his fellow men and women and to adorn the scene of the drapery of his life, is now and then swept beyond the Jjounda of discretion or propriety, Is not to me one-half the sinner that he or she Is who abstains from every thing civilized and glorious for fear of a misstep. The great goodn|ss of the city to me Is that In It men and women band together and co-operate for beauty and joy. for health and com fort. Vftst municipal enterprises are to mo heroisms of the loftiest kind. I thrill ns fiercely as anybody to a sunrise or a sunset, to a mountain nr a violet, a sea In storm or a sky full of pink clouds. But why should I rave over these as the wonderful and perfect works of a benevolent Creator who made them all for me V.'lth HU» own Incomprehensible hand, and then turn and curse some city whebe a million or more human hearts have combined to build homes and offices and factories, and to pro vide hospitals, orphan asylums, thea ters, opera houses, athletic clubs and what not for the welfare of one an other? How. can a man gaze upon the vast sierras of the skyscrapers of New York. Chicago, Philadelphia, Los An geles, Ban Francisco, Kansas City and other cities and call them the evil works of Babylon? Is the dirty tramp who slinks down the lane and cooks his stolen chicken in a thicket with his boozy compan ions nearer God than the engineer who drives his crowded train along the trestles of the elevated, carrying thousands to their toll and home again to their families? I have seen as wonderful sunsets and moon skies down the canyons of city streets as I ever saw in the deserts or the mountains, f have seer as much brotherly love and gentle kindness among city policemen as I have ever found among the dear old village folk or the God-fearing farmers. So have you. So has everybody. I love the country and I own a farm where I apend many happy daye and nights among the moat pleasant people. But I love also the vast throngs of the football game?, or the gleaming horseshoe of the Metropolitan opera house. Not Place, But People. The shop girl or the stenographer at her task or hurrying home or (sauntering to a movie with her steady Is to me neither less nor more poeti cal than a sweet country lass lugging her smoking mllkpall or scattering her panful of corn among the chick ens, or drifting down the twilight lane with the hired man "to see the view.” Crimes are committed In all places —all sorts of crimes. And they look ugly and hateful In the result; but they are the gestures of people In torment and they are pitiful In their origins. There are rich people who have gentle, simple hearts, and thecp are poor people who are cruel and con ceited. There arc palaces whers there is contentment and cottages where there is horror. The reverse is true. And the man who has self-respect enough to wish to hold and to voice only such opinions as are based on truth and on mercy will be ashamed of silly Impulses to denounce one class of society in general or to praise an other unduly. He will avoid the an cient and dishonorable folly of re peating the mossgrown lie that cities p_re bad and villages good. It is not the cities or the villages that are either good or bad, but the people in~lhem. And people are only people all the world over, world with out end, Amen! (Copyright, 1*24.) DOHENEY’S INNER LIFE PRESENTS PATHETIC PICTURE By MARK SULLIVAN. Washington, Feb. 16.—Here In Washington we haven’t yet got used to the picture Mr. Doheny gave us of himself. Most of us whose work takes us among public characters had run across him from time to time. Doheny didn’t even seem to make any effort to put his case in a light favorable to himself. When ho was on the stand tbe first time, and told frankly of his own initiative, the story of the $100,600 loan—if it was a loan—to Fall, nearly everybody who knew the background felt rather kindly toward Doheny. At that time the tendency of most ob servers was to put most of the od^um on Fall and partly, at least, to excul pate Doheny. As to Fall, the condemnation was severe. Fall was an experienced pub lic man who knew the law and the proprieties. Also, Fall had already lied about the money; had said he got It from one man and later ad mitted he did not get it from that man. Fall Asked for Loan. And so, when Doheny came for v.ard and said he was the man who gave the $100,000 to Fall, the result was Increased condemnation of Fall, coupled with a disposition to try to find some amelioration for Doheny. Doheny - said Fall had initiated the transaction, had asked for the loan. That caused everybody in Washing ton to turr* thumbs down on Fall. As to Doheny^ one could see how he might have made the loan on the basis he said he made It on, namely, that this old friend and companion of his desert prospecting days had said he needed the money, and Doheny want ed to let him have if for old times’ sake. But after Doheny went on the stand the second time it was impos sible to make this kind of excuse, or to construct a case of thinking so charitably of him. That second ap pearance of Doheny’s was the one, in which he recited the list of pub lic men he had hired. He had the air of calling the roll of them like an ostentatious king giving an In ventory of his possessions. "Paid for Influence." He used such . bald phrases os "I paid them for their Influence." If some hostile lawyer had set out to put the worst poelblo words into Doheny’s mouth he couldn't have done worse. When he described himself In the case of several democrats he em ployed, ns a rich man dlong business with the government who wants in fluence and buys it, he could not thereafter go back to the claim that as to Fall it was not a ease of toy ing influence, but merely a ras^ of doing a favor for “fluid lang syne.” He seemed to exult in making the case seem as bad as possible for Me Adoo and the others—and therefore for himself as well. There were a good many surmises as to Doheny's motive. There was talk of his being "put up to it” by republican lawyers, or by Jim Reed, in order to discredit McAdoo 'and the others. Probably a morp complete explanation is that Doheny was angry, it is said that Doheny on occasion can get very angry Indeed, and that when he gets angry there's no stopping him. The story is that after his first testimony he road the speeches made about him and Fall by Senator Heflin and some other democrats and thereupon made up his mind to go on the stand again and tell what he could tell about democrats he had employed; and tell It In a way to put It in the worst possible light. No “Coal Oil Johnnie." Doheny was no "coal oil Johnnie.” He gives the impression of a modest man of stable character and depend able substance. He is quite a differ ent type from Sinclair. If you should meet Doheny and talk with him and did not know his background you might say that he was the professor of philosophy in some backwater college. He is dis tinctly a man of thought and enthus iasm for ideas, although Doheny him self had comparatively little fortnal education. Doheny, in dinner table conversa tion with friends, used to recount his own experiences in Mexico and from them draw generalizations about the philosophy of social organization and the individual conduct of life. Before he set up his great refineries in Mex ico he said the native used to get up in the-morning, put on an antique hat his granfather had woven 75 years before, go out and sit on what ever side of the adobe hut was sunny, and as the sun moved on, keep chang ing to the sunny side. This was the Indian philosophy of life. * Made Mexicans Work. Doheny needed labor. He wanted those Mexicans to work for him. And they, by all thair Ideas of the con duct of individual existence and by all their traditions, set no value on continuous daily toil or on the fruits thereof, Doheny put his mind on the problem of giving these Indians an incentive to labor. He did it by setting up stores In which he sold straw hats with bright colored bands, from the United States; phonographs and other things tempting to a sim ple people. Then he offered them $3 a day to work for him. The wish to get American hats and other things noTe! to them tempted them to work for the money they had to have in order to buy. Doheny thought, with all the ear nestness of his soul, that he had done’ a fine thing for these Indians and for the world. It was difficult to realize that Do heny was not a professor of philos^ ophy and economics, but an old pros pector for oil who had finally struck it and grown greatly rich, one who had spent most of his youth and much of his mature life as a grub staked wanderer. That was the sort of conversation that casual acquaintances had with Doheny. and the kind of man he re vealed himself to be when one had the opportunity of leisurely lunching with him. Doheny spent most of his formative years, not in schools, but as a lone ly, grubstaked, poverty stricken wan derer on the d»sert. Doubtless it was fh the quiet of these lonely days and nights that he became a man of re flection. For 20 years he prospected for gold and silver. Then he turned to oil, and found it In several places In our own southwest and in Merica He found ene spot where a well poured forth upward of 2,000 barrels of oil every hour for years. After he found his oil he organized his com panies with business skill. He cast away none of his vitality in dissipa tion and very little of it in any form of recreation. He built a fine home In California, but aside from that he lived simply. He seemed^ neither to care for money for the sake of keep ing It nor for the sake of ostentatious display. When, in testifying in the Fall case, he said It was his custom to give money to any old acquaintance who asked for it, he told the truth. He gave much money to technical engineering schools and that sort of thing. Loyal to Associates. An acquaintance asked Doheny when he was telling his difficulties with the then government of Mexico, why he kept it up—why should he, then 63, stick to the harassments of hustling back and forth from Mexico to Washington, to Los Angeles, to New Yqfk, fratting his spirit and •wearing himself out to safeguard his corporations. He merely smiled and said some thing about obligations of loyalty to associates whose 'prosperity was bound up with his. One wonders if he wishes now that he had retired. There is something almost pitiful about this old man of 68 rushing up and down the country. One thinks of him not as owning his possessions, but as being owned by them,- driven and harassed by them. Doheny thought passionately that he had a correct philosophy of the world, but one wonders if he really had a correct one for himself. When you saw him going In and out of the committee rdbm you wondered If he were really as happy as one of the elderly watchmen who read the news paper at their ease and doze the af- » ternoon away in freedom from care. Irony of His Work. A good deal of Doheny's thought ran in the direction of maintaining democracy and the whole present sys tem of organized society. He dreaded the thing that was attempted in Russia—dreaded it not so much for the sake of his own possessions, but dreaded it rather as fatal to all that he regarded as being for human good. When Mexico tried an experiment looking in the direction of commun ism Dohenv felt it was another men ace to civilization. And now the ironic fact Is that this unostentatious man, who seemed less concerned about money for his person al sake than about individual owner ship as a theory of organized society —this man is one of the central fig ures in a scandal about which it has been said that no propaganda coming out of Russia has done as much to undermine public confidence In gov ernment and big business as has ths oil scandal. RUSSIA’S FUTURE HANGS ON FAITH OF FINANCIERS By DAVID IXOYD GEORGE. Special Cable to The Omaha Bee. London, Feb. 16.—Great Britain is according a quasi de jure recognition to Russia. J. say "quasi" because questions arising out of recognition have still to be settled. Italy is about to follow suit. These are two im portant facts In the International re lations of Europe which will have a bearing of unknown significance upon its future. For the moment there will be no Russian ambassador at the court of St. James, but the bolshevik charge d’affaires will appear there and a British charge d’affaires will be re ceived In Moscow. There may be a change in the Russian representative in London, but his status will be exalted. Rakovsky is in London to day as the official representative of the soviet republic, but he is merely a trade representative. He was rele gated to the plebian corridors of the board of trade, and even there rarely, it aver, was he allowed to enter the sanctum o.f the president. In the days of the coalition the Russian emissary was received at Downing street, and there discussed wit-h the prime minister matters of common interest to both countries. But diehardism drove the bolshevik lepers outside the gates, and I,ord Curzon flung stones at them with his rhe torical catapult. His intention, no doubt, was to scare them away alto gether. His effort entirely failed. But still there was on reAl intercourse be tween the governments. Now that Rakovsky and O'Grady are arrayed in the panoply of diplo macy, will It make any difference? A great deal. Not because of the change of status, but more because of the improvement in the atmos phere. The frost bitten diplomacy of 1023 has disappeared and a r»al thaw has set in. Must Acknowledge Debts. The proposals of the Genoa con ference stipulated that. as a condi tion of de jure recognition, the Rus slan government should acknowledge the debts incurred by its predecessors to foreign lenders and should re store the confiscated property of for eignera Inside Russia or compensate them for the loss. And. moreover, that the soviet government should undertake not to organize, assist or countenance any hostile propaganda against the laws and institutions of another country. On the main condition there was, at that date, complete accord lw tween the powers negotiating with Russia. When the Russian delegates put iu a plea of poverty for their country and pointed to the desolating ruin of war and civil dissension and to ■the ravages of pestjlence and famine th<e French delegates were scornful. It was only barbarians or bolshevists who repudiated honest debts for hon est • money advanced by neighbors. The argument had its entertaining side for the delegates of Great Rri t.iin. They, however, refrained from pressing home the moral of the French contention. Bat agreement was found to be im possible. Payment Not Made.' The net result has been that the Belgian Investors have not had their property restored or received com pensatioD In respect of It. that each year that property is deteriorating and chances of compensation are be coming more remote, and that the French Investor has received noth ing in respect of his Russian lmnds and Is now less likely than ever to do so. A further result Is that the effort at combined understanding with Rus sia having broken down. Isolated ne gotiations have taken Its place. Italy has no Russian bonds or Rus sian investments to hamper her nego tiations and she Is not likely to risk failure for the sake of ensuring the restoration of Belgian properties or the repayment of French loans. Her people need Russian wheat. And a socialist government In Eng land In not likely to embarrass Its understanding with Russia by wor rying the soviet? about claims of French and Belgian Investors. The British worker and the cap italist both need trade with Russia. The soviet government having se cured recognition from Britain. Italy, Germany and possibly Czechoslo vakia will not. In my opinion, think It worth their while burdening Rus sia with the full Genoa terms In or der to purchase recognition from France and Belgium. France anil Belgium Isivcrs, Th« United States of America will come In <m its own terms and only in Its-own good time. Tile American government is hardly likely to take upon itself th-j worries of French and Belgian diplomacy so* that, in the end. French and Belgian invest ors will suffer for the .working of the policy played by the Polio are govern ment during the efforts made at Genoa to restore peace In Kurope. The labor government Is quite Jus tified In entering into separate m-go nations with Russia. The separate action of France and Belgium in the Ruhr has dissolved the entente, and Britain and Italy axe no longer re strained by the bonds of alliance, JIow will it work out? That will depend on what happens In Russia. I have no doubt that the present Russian government Is sincerely dr slroua of establishing good relations with Britain. Russia needs credit on a large scale No country in the world has suffered so much from the war and the upheaval that followed the war, and restoration and recon struction are making slow progress. Tl»r little pedilhyr arrapjenienfs i i rulers have been able to carry through from time to time are ridicu lously - inadequate to Russia's real needs. Estimated Need Modest. Russian delegates at Genoa placed their immediate requirements in the way of foreign credits at 400,000.000 l*nunds. That figure is modest when one thinks of Russia deficiencies in railways, machinery for factories, collieries and oil wells, and especially for agriculture. It will cost Russia much more to purchase (mm outside sources the necessary equipment for repairing th« damage wrought £} tha conflicts of the last Id years. And when res toration is complete, there will ctlll remain the undeveloped possibilities of that w(y<t territory. Russia's future will depend entirely on the confidence its rulers will suc ceed in creating in the money mar kets of Europe and America. These rulers are an eHe l-ndy of mcnia thi tliry have now-acqtltfrd oonsidiWotUr experience in the difficulties of gov ernment. The flirt fact driven Into their minds, by the famine and failure of tho last few years, is that their coun try depends for its restoration on the help of people who detest their doc trines. They know that it is essen tial to their success as a government that they should win the confidence of the moneyed classes In other lands. Can they control the wilder ele ments Inside their own party? Will they remain united, or will personal rivalries lead to further distraction, bloodshed and anarchy? Although there are many capable men at the head of affairs in Russin today. there is no one who possesses the gifts and influence of Lenin. The world is art to write him down as a monster. It is too early yet to esiimate fairly his real qualities In I the past, monsters have been makers of Russia. The history of revolution, after the fall of the central figure, is ominous of troubles. There is no parliament or democracy in Russia in which the ultimate authority is vested. There is. therefore, no arbiter of disputes ex cept force. I nless and until events demonstrate that the Russian gov ernment is stable and can be depended upon, 1 cannot see investors forming queues when the next Russian loan is being floated. iCopyrighl, iStt.l _ U. S. IN WORLD LEAGUE WILL SUPPLANT LATIN UNION ''By H. 0. WELLS/ | Author of The Outline of History. London, Feb. 16.—Belloc has writ •r ten a small and imposing book about America and England called The Contrast.”. Small It Is In length and substance, but Imposing In Its Eng lish edition. It Is the sort of book that has • the first sentence of chapter one on page nine. To tho ntudent of cur rent events It Is a noteworthy book. It betrays the drift of a very complex group of forces at work In our 'dura tional, Journalistic and literary world, a group of forces desiring the sep aration- of America from Europe, clamoring for tho disengagement of America from participation In the • development of a new phase of civil ization and the arrest of that develop ment. Belloc Is too often treated by American and English critics as merely a comic figure. A comic figure, no doubt, this bulky, gesticu lating Frenchman is. Ills proge style Is suggestive of an after dinner talk er at his richest anil Jolliest. tie is quick to imitate any form of dignity. Could anything be more funny for Instance, than this pseudo illuminating experiment tn illustrate the profoud truth that "intense in dividual contact anil energy make for uniformity?” Ingloriously Expressive. But, apart from tho preposterous side of Belloc, there Is much that in terests in him. Ho is vigorously ex pressive and speaks for forces in our community that are more often silent ly active and gives resistance anima tion. 'J’he least original of contemporary writers, he has retained the leading ideas of an upbringing (hat was < s sentlally Catholic nnd Latin in a prac tically inflexible form, lbs world, * pfter a fi w merely preparatory phase* With a polite gesture to the 11reeks, begins uml ends with Home. Ills mind Is like n naughty, grow lug child refusing to bo pu\ Into larger clothes. And yet he Is not Idlnd to the great volume of reality outside that narrow, old-fashioned scheme of his. He foils but denies the passing of'medlevnl Europe, strug gles against his realization of the omlng of a new order In the world which shall comprehend, for example, Siberia, China, America and the worldwide culture Into which Islam, ' hrlstendoin, the wisdom of India and China a.nd the science of Britain, Germany, America, France, north Italy/ Russia and Japan shall ^Ike mil and be fused, English LangtTnge a Farter. One probable factor In this synthe sis Is the English language, the great political and scientific traditions It curries with It end the hand of Eng lish speaking eommunttles. Rome will have a scarcely more Important plain in fti English-knitted world than Babylon. And so Belloe beats himself against the growing strength of this great net of civilized understanding, ll does not exist. The languages diverge. Americans are more foreign to the Britleh than western Europeans. The British are a sltfchtly detached pail i f some general western European culture. The Frenchman can under stand Keuts, the American cannot. Americans are ‘‘egalitarian," th# British profoundly aristocratic. The ill cay of British aristocracy Is ih*‘ end of Britain, but there is always France to fall back upon. The Amer ican military mind Ih French 'In spirit. A Belloclan storin of such as sertions swirls through the entire book. Ho emerges where lin began. Americans do not belong to "our sys Inn," "our" meaning the Intimate, do HO brotherhood tf British, French, Italians, Spanish and so forth. American* Are ‘‘New Tiling." Americans are "a new thing" They are a new culture outsld* of Western Eupropean culture. They are a "new taco." They must follow their own destinies and "we ours." Belloc is writing for Americana as much a-< for KngliFh renders, and he shows care for their susceptibilities. But one or two possibilities gleam through, possibilities of a reassuring rort for this dear old western Euro pean world. There 111‘ay l>e a biological force at work, "a new race, the fate of which, to mtrvive or to die, we know not." For this (treat new world may presently fall Into social disorder' and division—insignificance. This Is the essenes of Belloc s ar ABE MARTIN ■« ■ ' t On PnM/cify __ _; Publicity Friends Meet In' Til' F,dilnr. Th’ present day craze fer publicity Is somethin’ fierce. In th’ ole days If a feller had a articlo of merit, or a reliable establlebhient or a good education, or an enviable reputation, he supposed every’buddy knew It, or Would eventually git onto It, hut not so t’day. Ever’buddy hut bootleggers an’ pnstnfflecB advertise in some el ip« or form. Society women, lone ly bachelors, professional men, purty girls, farmers, business men, an’ climbers, all seek th’ newspaper col umns or billboards. .Magazines used t’*be is thin as a ssidy cracker, blit I day «her bulgin’ with nils. Th’ ole family newspaper wur. light an1 frothy, luit t day Its unwieldy, an’ harder t’ manage tluyi a 14-year ■ le girl, 'cause Its so full o’ ads, both business an’ society, l-ortk at th’ big well lighted an’ nr Untie billboards! Dots of us wouldn’t know what t’ * it, or wear, <tr where f spend our i \o iiln s, If It wuzn' fer billboards. No state*man, no feller with a little money, no prize fighter, no nmhl tb us woman, or buddln’ author, Is complete without a publicity agent, an' they all use th’ same ole system tlijit kept Alice Oates, .!. Iv. Emmet, Huprcz an’ Benedict, an' Oenernl t'oxoy in til’ public eye. Even arctic explorers, who mny ngver return, havn publicity agents. Folks that can't afford th' luxury of a publicity agent git* He r advertisin' In lots o' ways by lulxln' up In over’lhlng go in’ on, by patronizin' Intellect us I treats, by hunglii’ around un' toadyln' after th' prominent, tty gittln' good seats ut coiner stone Inytn's, nit' by [poppln’ up at all public futu tioiis. An' lots o’ folks bum (her publicity. Home folks 'll walk tight Int' a. newspaper office an' tell th' editor right out, when ther gain' f leave town, or that ho an' so's vlsltln 'em, or that a wife or daughter has run off. If a ff-ller raises an extry big cucumber, lie sniffs th' publicity value of It In stoutly an tears out for a newspaper office. If a feller drops out o' town t' identify IiIh ford, he drops th' edl tur u line. l,uta o' folks run fcr office • Jest for tli publicity, an' w» ihlnk some!linos that people yd hit tiy rare list t K>t In tli' paper. Some throw jsirMea Jrst t* krrp In th' public eye. o' course thoi's lot* o' parties that never «lt In th" newspapers unless tlier rallied, hut ivo mean nice parties There alius been advertisin' an’ pub Hetty work truin' on, hut we don't know why It's humped so In tli' last few years, unless it's titmouse th’ gover'inent went Ini' It ao sttung durln* tl\' war. folks jest reasoned, “well, If th’ gov'ment kin git folk* t' eat eornbn id by postin' up big sign*, wo kin git 'em F eat raisin's, grupo fruit, an' English walnuts," or "If tli' tbi iii.in* km win converts t' tber cause by published prnpagandy so kin «r “ Hut inivy rtlstiF* great stuff. Tli' fact that over buddy's aisln' tt. or trying t' git In on tt, proves it's groat stuff. * (Copyright 1114.) g* Kliment to estrange America ns and Europeons, particularly Americans anil British, is It sound? So far as differences go, one concedes the vivid ness of Belloc > vision. But do Anipr. ieans present either n new race or even a new culture? I deny both th<*e propositions. They are racially still largely an unfused mixture of Euro peans; the novel features of thefr so cial and cultural life merely mark a new phase Into which British end European and Slav cultures ate all following Amertca. That Is to say, T do not believe America Is diverging upon a hue of its own, hut is simply ahead along the path that the other great constl tuents in the coming world t-.tn munlty must al! presently follow. "Transplanted Europeans." l.et us slate the case briefly and simply. Nobody who knows anything of the fu-ts of the case regard* the ,'ltjxen of the United. States a* a I sort of transplanted Britisher, hut with the exception of certain colored millions, certain Red Indian survival*, they rtre manifestly transplanted Europeans'whose political Institutions "ere originally built up In reaction to the llanovyriau monarchy. •< a development In close sympathy with European literal,*}n and British non oomformlty. This community of transplanted European* had ih* good fortune to nave no strong military neighbor, it had almost a l ogin rontmont Vnto which lo expand This g,x>d fortune enabled the state* to realise the full social ft ml polirh-al ' possihlllt teu of steamboat, railway and electric com municutlon. They have developed a great state on a modern scale with unprecedented unity and uniformity. A little too favored by their im niunitles, they have not perhaps made as .mod pa. e as they might l ave done with their general elementary education, hut altogether their prog ins* has been marvelous. The con j gesii'ii, entangled stales of western | Europe ate destined lo achieve ulti I mate unity under the same force* of I transport that have expanded and I held together the American United States. Their unification may *,-• I complicated or arrested by the Uti a void* hi* interweaving of the Slav I and British systems with their : destines. ' Roman Christendom Doomed. In this new order of life into which our kind is passing, Homan Christen dom will become a local tradition. Just as the empires of Babylon and Egypt became memories and prov inces In the empire of Rome. We are not developing new raob, hut merely mingling those w# have; our culture* do not so much differentiate «s fuse, so they may reasonably hope'to have at lar: one creative culture with many aspects, replacing the partial civilisations of the past. Tile fate* imposed it upon Belloc ihHt he should see these thitms and deny them. Hi* lot, I think, plight have been happier had he lieen born i nd settled In some rich little town in south Fram e, there sat ui a cafe drinking his good red wine, orating and denying, without irritation, of having seen and known. But it was decreed that he should ] go to America and (sene hack to re I port a strange and terrible land, > where moutalns are not really moun tains. nor rivers river*, where a strange race grow* outside the pale. And an exclle in modern Knglsnd. he hr* been forced too. to turn his eyes into the depths of the past to see how life ai> sc how it ha? - • e to he that man will pass' beyond man Ami that. also, he denies with much hang ing of a little round drum of a table on a terrace. The American i* a phantom, ge ology a lie. the only true world is I atm made Hu rope. And If heaven Iliad not created It specially for Jolly linen, Belloc would, and in warmth of congem.il friendliness of It Belloc I "til ait fighting reality with voice end gesture until the good red wine 11tins out and the sun V.*v? down upon | him for the last tint* I tv'egj nght mt)