8
' TFTR SUNDAY ORFGOXTAX. PORTLAND, OCTOBER 23, 1921
ESTABUBHED BV HE5RI I- I'lTTWh.
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THE IXKNOH'N DEAD.
In the multiplex hazards of battle
It chanced that many a lad went
down to death among the unknown
slain. They had a rendezvous with
death, "by some disputed barricade,"
and fate decreed that they should
reach the port of missing men. Bat
tered by shell or bomb, or wasted by
the rains that fell so dismally upon
the Btark terrain, the searchers
found them presently and set above
their heads the wooden Crowes that
bade men know there slept a soldier
unidentified unknown. Each "lay
like a warrior taking his rest," but
somewhere overseas there were
hearts that throughout life should
mourn the triple bitterness of that
terse report "Missing."
Perhaps not all of them were
heroes by the test of splendid deeds.
Yet In their grim acceptance of the
humblest role, merely to fight and
forfeit all they had, each symbolized
the spirit of the corps, the soul of
armies splendor enough for any
man who hears the call of country.
No bright battalions on parade, far
from the muddy trenches, would ever
witness one of them stand forth to
claim the medal of valor. When war
had sheathed Its swords and sounded
the recall these might not march
through fond familiar streets, and
hear with pride the cheers of wel
come from the folks at home.
Tommy and pollu and doughboys,
comrades In the fellowship of sacri
fice, fate had no record of their
service save the terse, "Unknown."
The war brought fame to many,
fortune to some. Fame to colonels
and generals and plain privates, who
by circumstances were cast In stellar
parts; fortune to profiteers In every
land to Hugo Stlnnes, the gargan
tuan financier of Germa'ny, for one.
To various nations it gave lands and
ports and even nationalities gifts
above which they growl and grumble
like so many ill-tempered dogs,
threatening to fight again with
harper fangs. But to the man in the
ranks It sufficed that he receive the
wage of wounds and death and quick
forgetfulness. Those who came back
marched at the first through lanes
of shouting patriots right glad to see
the boys again, to know that peace
had come yet soon, and very soon,
to forgot these servants of the rifle
In tha enjoyment and demands of
peace. There was no selfishness In
this, no deep desire to underesti
mate the worth of service, but
merely the natural impulse to forget
as spocdily as might be all that per
tained to war. It was a phase of the
"return to normalcy."
Not long ago In France and Eng
land two soldier sons of these al
lies, two of the unknown dead, were
given sepulchre In princely state.
Boon there will come home from
France the body of an unknown
American, whose tomb shall be a
shrine' of the people. How the heart
leaps and the eyes fill to the thought
that this tribute, more than j any
other, testifies to the intensity of our
feelings for the lost, the unidentified
dead whose worth was more than
aught that could be shown by shoulder-straps
arid stars. A glorious
thing it Is to say that we but render
homage where homage is due, and
celebrate the sacrifice of men whose
very names have been forgot. It is
a symbol, yet on that pregnant No
vember day when the diplomats of
nations take up the task of disarma
ment, this country, and Its fellow
participants, need not to forget the
significance of such a sign. For it
were an empty and vainglorious
thing, and blasphemous, to turn
from such a tribute to smooth de
ceitful ways of renewed intrigue, re
newed sophistries, renewed prepara
tions for another sacrifice and other
symbols.
It was said of the war, when Its
horror was heavy upon us, that come
what might in after years, a certain
lesson had been learned by rote. We
ahould not war again. The Infernal
capabilities of science, the dread re
sources of the human mind. Were so
shudderingly obvious as to preclude
the possibility. A league was formed
to perpetuate the lesson and glean
. profit from its page But bigger
and .blacker and more ominous than
ever before the clouds gathered and
took threatening form. There were
not only rumors of war, but war it
self, to prove the bestial hypocrisy
of the world's new vows. And those
who did not war with one another
bent every resource, every energy, to
the shaping of new and more mur
derous devices against a more dread
ful day. The race for naval su
premacy began, -with super-ships
leaving their ways in splendid mo
notony. The race for chemical su
premacy began, with thousands of
chemists bending eagerly above their
retorts to descry the first v hellish
vapor of some gas that should be as
dreadful as the doom which over
took the Assyrian. All this while the
first nations were laying wreaths of
laurel and bay on the graves of their
gallant unknown.
We must be very sure, Indeed, that
the disarmament conference shall
above all prove incontestably the
sincerity of the participant nations:
that It shall bring to us, as Wells
Imagines, the dawn of a better day
that it shall, at the least, begin to
etrjp from the war-god the trappings
of his terrible trade. For the con
ference is pre-eminently the world's
opportunity to prove its faith in
peace, its wish for peace, its deter
mination to abandon that crushing
weight of militarism which is bar
baric in its exactions. Our trust in
the certainty of civilized progress
may well be shaken or confirmed by
tha discussion which will arise on
Armistice day. Meantime
The world is fussing with poison
gases. The lands that blenched with
horror at the thought of this Prus
sian expedient, that cursed the evil
minds which gave it birth, are
secretly brewing more deadly potions
to make the game of war efficient.
Efficiency in warfare has attained a
new definition. Today it means the
total subjection, by most treacherous
and unforeseen death, of an enemy
people. There were fifty different
varieties of lethal gases at the beck
of the allies when the war came to
end, each springing from the cruel
inspiration of that April day, in 1915,
when the British line perceived a
strange cloud of colored vapor
writhing and twisting toward its
trenches. How many there are today
only the cheraists know the chem
ists and the war departments but
that there are gases more deadly
than the lightning stroke is an open
secret. , Science has been degraded,
prostituted, as never before, to the
service of slaughter.
The American soldier, unknown,
will be buried at 'home on the day
that the conference convenes. The
world knows what he died for. It
was no "port to export prunes." The
world knows as well what his allies,
the two who sleep in France and
England under their magnificent
monuments, yielded up life to pre
serve. It was peace, was it not,
when the reason is stripped of its
verbiage? It must keep faith with
them.
BULKING CP A RIVAL'S COMMERCE.
There is a prevailing impression
that one use of. the shipping board
vessels is to build up commerce
through American ports and over
American railroads, but according to
the following extract from the Oc
tober 1 issue of the Nautical Gazette,
a reliable weekly shipping paper,
that Impression is erroneous:
Canadian Pacific ports are expecting
much from the fact that the United States
shipping board liner 6ilver State, operated
in the oriental service by the Admiral
line, recently reached Victoria In the com
pletion of her maiden voyage a day ahead
of schedule, and with the best record of
any ships of ths Una on the trans-Pacifio
route. The Silver State landed 31)0 bales
of silk to be sent to Vancouver. Tha gen
eral passenger agent of the line stated that
the silk was to ba sent to Newark. A. J.,
over the Canadian Paclfio as an experi
ment. "What we are seeking is fast time across
the continent." be said, "and if we can
effect a aaving in tlma over Canadian
roads, we intend to do so. Instead of
the 800 bales we are putting ashore to
night, on future voyages we may be ship
ping 30O0 or more."
The Admiral line la free of connections
and agreements with the United States
roads and can do what routine; is thought
advisable. Silk, with Its liability to dam
age and consequent high Insurance rates.
Is the most valuable trans-Pacific freight
carried, and time Is. the main factor tn
lta transport
In view of the large sums drawn
from the United States treasury to
make good deficits incurred on op
eration of shipping board vessels by
the Admiral line, some consideration
should be given to the development
of traffic through American ports,
especially as the Canadian govern
ment and the Canadian Pacific rail
road operate ships from Victoria in
competition with those of the United
States. Any one of several American
transcontinental railroads and their
connecting lines could probably
transport silk from Pacific ports to
the Atlantic coast in as short time as
the Canadian Pacific, and would be
willing to make the attempt, even to
the extent of attaching a few freight
cars to a passenger train, or if the
shipment were large enough, of run
ning express freight trains across the
continent.
When adverse comment is made
on traffic contracts between Ameri
can rajlroads and foreign steamship
lines, it is hardly consistent for the
shipping board to permit its vessels
to show preference for a Canadian
port and a Canadian railroad. On
account of its high value, silk would
make a valuable addition to the im
ports of our ports and to the traffic
of our railroads.
THE HEART OP A WOMAN.
A most positive person is the
correspondent, "Secretary," who joins
the discussion of "Why Some Men
Drink" by flatly asserting that If she
had such a husband she would re
nounce hor wifely vows and leave
him to his maudlin fate. This she
would do, she declares, in all pity
and forgiving kindness. There, In
the solitude of his forsaken home,
the black bottle before him, he might
sit and ponder on the price of his
folly. Meanwhile the unshackled
"Secretary," superbly sure of herself,
would be wresting her own living
from a world too dazed to decline.
Fortunately for the world, and for
the peace of its hearths and hearts,
this secretarial coldness toward the
frailties of husbands is more honored
in the breach than the observance.
"Secretary" is so complacently con
fident of her own hypothetical course
that it seems cruel to remind her of
the many, many women, through
many years, who have vowed the
same vow and been spared from its
bitterness by the depth of compas
sionate love that finds its well In
woman's heart. All of which is
rather reminiscent of the late Ella
Wheeler Wilcox or Dorothy Dix, but
true enough nevertheless. Leave It
to a woman to know the heart of a
sister. It Is the undeniable fact that
wives for the most part are moved
by the strong urge of a maternal
affection, if not by the memory of
the marriage pledge, to sorrowful
faith in the redemption of the rogues
they wedded.
Thus it appears that the woman
who is sure of herself, certain that
an erring husband must be punished,
discovers in the test that she is far
too fine for such Spartan philosophy
and that there is a prompting
stronger than reason which bids her
wring a cold towel and lave the brow
of her miscreant lord, and feel a
womanly pity for his folly and its
aftermath. It is likely that, how
ever wasted such affection may
sometimes be, it often is more provoc
ative of remorse and penitence and
reform than- the shrill cries of the
scold or the calm dignity of the
woman who prepares to quit the
house.
This is no brief for the sins of the
husband. Poor witless duffer, he
too often lingers where convivial
spirits congregate; too often has he
quaffed so deeply that debt follows
his debauch: too often has he am
bitiously essayed to drink all the
liquor in the world. He is a sorry
scamp, and his wife would be well
rid, of him. But it is a plain state
ment of the eternal truth that
women are not made that way.
Theirs is a faith and charity such
a no drunkard deserve., but which J
he receives nevertheless. It Is one
of the inexplicable verities.
Marriage, as "Secretary" must
know, is a contract of mutual con
cessions and forbearance. The
document attesting it is no more
than a fleeting record of sentiments
that may never be expressed in the
inadequacy of the printed word. It
is a partnership that now and again,
on either hand, proudly or fondly
refuses to admit its disillusionment,
but smiles and forges on and there
by attains much happiness.
WHY THE CIULDRKX 8HOCLD BE
SAVED.
In centering its efforts on salva
tion of the children of the war
stricken countries the American Red
Cross does the greatest permanent
good poroible with the means at its
disposal. To restore to health and
strength all the afflicted of a whole
continent is a task that would tax
the resources of the American people
and might weaken the incentive for
many to make an effort on their
rown behalf. The only course was to
concentrate on that part of the pop
ulation which was least able to help
Itself and the preservation of which
would confer the most benefit on
their country and the world.
This part was certainly the chil
dren. If they should die off, an en
tire generation would be almost lost
and a permanent decrease in popu
lation would result. If they should
grow up stunted in mind and body,
future generations would be debili
tated and whole nations might de
cay. By keeping the children alive,
feeding and clothing them well and
keeping them free from disease, the
Rd Cross insures the greatest pos
sible vigor for the next generation,
and for those that will follow. Men
and women in the prime of life can
fend for themselves, and all that can
be done for them is to fight epi
demics and guard them from actual
famine, but the children are the
hope of the nations.
Broad policy is behind the de
cision of the Red Cross to do that
which appeals most strongly to
sentiments of humanity. Notwith
standing the crime of war, the white
race still leads all others In all that
goes to make civilization, and its
preservation is necessary to prevent
a disastrous halt in human progress.
If it should shrink both in numbers
and physical and mental vigor, it
might be overwhelmed by the vastly
superior numbers of Asia. Then our
civilization might perish as did that
of the ancient empires of Greece
and Rome, and the race might again
begin the toilsome climb upward, as
it did after the barbarians overran
Europe. From the beginning of
those incursions to the. renaissance,
from which we date modern civil
ization, was about a thousand years.
It is not pleasant to contemplate
another thousand years of barbarism
before another renaissance.
DO THE DEAD SPEAK f
The wrong way to approach the
field of psychic research is by the
path of levity and intolerance. Such
a mood) gains nothing, learns noth
ing, and achieves nothing. In occa
sional discussion of spiritualism The
Oregonian believes that it has never
violated the rule of fairness, however
much it may be reproached because
it will not accept that which science
herself is muddled over. It holds
that this Inquiry Into the after-life,
this earthly search for definite proof
of communication with the dead is
not to be smirched with ridicule,
though unbelief be strong. Too many
hearts are bound to it, too many pa
tient minds are consecrated to the
quest and fine minds, at that for
the cynic to avail himself of the
target.
Is there proof through spiritualism
that the dead speak? The answers
clash in argument, and more than
ever before is fostered that splendid
faith which believes, and will con
tinue to believe, in the survival of
the spirit; that seeks no proof, that
asks no inquiry. It is not that the
world is loth to believe in the de
clared visions of spiritualism, but
that it will not grasp these things as
certainties until irrefutable proof is
before it. It watches with eagerness
the scientists who attempt to read
the riddle, it waits impatiently for
some word of scientific confirmation,
and all that comes to it is the" old
message-"We do not know." There
is disagreement, of course, but dis
agreement in science signifies to
those who wait the futility of any
save a passive attitude as to the so
called psychic phenomenon. If our
savants are in argument, what then
is left to us save personal inquiry,
each for himself, and faith in these
individual findings? Too bitterly are
we aware that there are rogues in
the temple. Too constantly does
there arise before us the warning to
be temperate in our enthusiasms, at
least until we know the mysteries of
the mind itself.
Unthinkably distant is that day
when man first dreamed of his soul;
when, musing, he said to himself
"There are two of me." The faith
in soul survival was not born, as
cynics profess to think, from the
mean wish to live forever. Rather
did it arise from the awed conviction
that the Intellect, the conscience,. the
spiritual nature, If you please, were
an entity aside and apart from the
unworthy caravanserai of the flesh.
Men said, "Surely omnipotence has
another destiny for this inhabitant of
mine a destiny beyond the lusts, the
hatreds; the drossness of life in the
physical sense." There has been
through all the ages, if we except
religious belief, no definite answer
to this speculation.
But there have been, as the rec
ords of every race attest, mysteri
ous manifestations that seem super
natural, metaphysical, in their essen
tial oddity. Telepathy swept aside
innumerable instances as natural
phenomena. There were abundant
proofs that in some mental fourth
dimension the mind had powers and
freedom such as we had not ven
tured to dream. There were, as well,
problems that have not yet been
solved; mysteries that continue to
baffle. These, say the true believers,
are the messages of eternity. Per
haps. One would most dearly desire
to think they were. Even now we
may be at the verge of proof, but
none shall say with full authority
that we are. The veil still holds.
Three French scientists have re
cently, after years of research and
opportunities that the laity cannot
hope for. given to the world their
findings on the materialization of
spirits. They are Camllle Flamma
rion. the astronomer; Doctor Geley,
director of the Metaphysical Insti
tute; and Professor Charles RIchet,
famous scientist. They answer:
Flammsrlon I have studied for sixty
oa Vuev. HuTiIr-l
will answer, "I do not know." I will atata
one thing, however, and that Is that la un
questionably genuine demonstrations of
spiritualism or of psychic phenomena it
has been proved that auto-suggestion
plays the greatest part.
Ricbet I do not believe in one single
spiritual phenomenon. 1 believe that hu
man intelligence has methods of knowl
edge we do not understand. I believe such
knowledge haa a tendency to attach Itself
to a single personality, and generally
finda this personality among those who
are already dead. It Is absurd to think
that wa as yet know aU the processes Tfl
nature. .
Geley Spiritualism cannot be doubted;
it has already been proved. There la no
need to go Into these things now. because
they are established truths; they have
been exhaustively dealt wltb in doxens of
books. Psychical materialism la possible.
Humility, denial, conviction these
are typical of the varying attitudes
toward the unknown. With the in
tolerant vigor of denial we should be
as wary as of the confirmed assur
ance of belief. Flammarion seems
on safe ground. He has tested the
limitations of mortal comprehension
and is humbled. He does not know.
A REVOLUTION IN TRAFFIC ROUTES.
The principle successfully invoked
by Portland in the Columbia basin
rate case, that In the making of
rates this port has a right to the
natural advantages of its location. Is
being given wide application by other
ports which may bring about many
changes in transportation routes.
Texas ports protest against low rate
from points a couple of hundred
miles inland to Pacific ports, under
which cotton is hauled from their
very back doors to be carried from
the Pacific coast to the orient. At
lantic ports like Philadelphia and
New Tork object to export rates in
steel from Pittsburg to the Pacific
coast, contending that steel should
make the short rail haul to the At
lantic coast and be loaded on ships
there for the orient. Each port
claims a prior right to the traffic
originating in its own tributary ter
ritory and denies the right of other
ports to invade that territory by
means of reduced rail rates for long
hauls. . .
This is a result of the Panama
canal. It has so reduced the distance
between our Pacific coast and our
Atlantic and gulf coast that it has
not only diverted a large amount of
traffic from the railroads to the
water, but it has brought the ports
of the two coasts into direct com
petition for this traffic. Each port
reaches as far inland as possible for
business and its railroads co-operate
with it, for the long haul of train
loads for export is what they most
covet. In so doing they come into
competition irrthe interior at much
shorter distances than before there
was a canal. Then Galveston had no
chance at cotton tor Japan as against
the Pacific ports; now it could draw
cotton from a great distance but for
export rates to the Pacific coast.
The traffic revolution consequent
on opening of the canal is in full
swing, hastened by high rail rates
and a surplus of cheap tonnage. It
makes the short rail haul of a few
hundred miles to the coast and the
sea voyage, either between the two
coasts or to foreign ports, cheaper
than the long rail haul across the
continent. It promises to fix some
central point in mldcontlnent whence
traffic routes will radiate east, west
and south to the coast, or to leave
some debatable ground where the
lines cross and in which all ports
and their railroads will fight for
traffic. If Portland has no right to
take Texas cotton away from Galves
ton, Boston has - no right to take
Oregon wool from Portland with a
competitive rail rate. The result
promises to be 'rapid development
from each coast for several hundred
miles inland, leaving a great central
area which must pay rail rates for
long hauls in every direction. That
situation may turn the energies of
the interior to full development and
use of inland waterways, when water
transportation will come fully into
its own. Railroads are already be
coming extensions of water lines into
the interior instead of being their
competitors.
This adds interest to the Inquiry
now being made by General Beach,
chief of army engineers, into natural
routes of traffic and Into port and
rail terminals. That inquiry may
bring out a strong point of Port
land's position. As a port its water
grade will enable Its railroads to
reach farther into the interior than
any Pacific coast competitor before
they encounter other roads carrying
traffic at lower cost to gulf or At
lantic ports. When the upper Co
lumbia river is improved - by dams
and locks as a slackwater waterway,
it will enable Portland to reach still
farther back into the country. Then
though Texas ports may take all
Texas cotton, Portland will still be
the mouth of the funnel through
which the traffic of the Pacific
northwest will flow to the sea.
I'LL SAT WE ABE!
It appears that Mistress Hylan,
wife of New York's mayor, has at
length and by dint of much denial
succeeded In downing that classic
canard about her breezy employment
of American slang. Two continents
laughed more or less boisterously
over the report that the good woman.
carried away by her enthusiasm for
Gotham's greatness, capped the
praise of the Prince of Wales, who
had voiced the British equivalent for
"Some ' city!" by answering, "Gee,
you said a mouthful!" Another ver
sion of the same merry yarn had it
that the remark was addressed to
Albert, king of the Belgians: The
story caused her much chagrin and
embarrassment, though it was en
tirely the fancy of some wag who
could not resist his favorite demon.
Now that the falsehood is laid by
the heels, it seems pertinent to in
quire whether Americans are slangy,
as they have been represented.
We'll say they are! There is an
epigrammatic terseness about Ameri
can slang that appeals alike to the
loftiest high-brow and the lowliest
urchin. It is expressive of much that
cannot quite be compassed In cul
tured speech, and though it is both
poor taste and diction to drag it con
tinually into conversation, there are
times when, as the deep-sea sailor
yearned for his oath, the true
American yearns for his slang. It
gets across. It got across quite as
neatly In Shakesperian days. The
bard of Avon did greatly delight to
employ it. He was wise in his day
and generation. The basis of slang
is sound and seemly metaphor.
Why, even the term itself slang
was the inspiration of some medieval
slangster. The lexicographers be
lieve that it was born of the archaic
preterite "slang," regarded as a
participle of sling to fling, to throw.
Do you get it? tven though Mis
tress Hylan, forfjetful for the nonce
of her high estate and of the prince- J
ly dignity of her guest, had slipped j
into sling there would or should be
no reason why the lapse should pain 'readily apparent that tome other
i her. She should worry. A great I force besides the antipathy of man
many famous folk, a great many i kind and his strife against obnoxious
literary people, and all of the demo- 1 and dangerous insects is at work to
! cratic average, would bear her com- 1 hold the foe at bay. The prolificacy
pany. The dictionary bristles wltn
words that once were slang, and now
! are of the elite, with phrases that
though colloquial are nevertheless
sound and sane and everywhere ad
missible. The western word for a
swirling, blinding, driving, over
whelming snow storm is blizzard.
Another bit of slang, expressive of
the storm." In a far day, when
Buffalo Bill was earning his sobri
quet, the western camps knew a
blizzard as a blow of the fist, a
knock-out, a fistic finis. It is now
with entire propriety, "a high cold
wind -accompanied by blinding snow."
Ashamed of slang? . Get out! Say,
listen:
The Importance of slang In the semael-
ologlcal development of language can
hardly be overestimated. Not only must a
language be enriched with new words. If It
is to aurvlve. but It must be augmented
by new meanings of tha terms which It al
ready contains: and one of the chief fac
tors of this Increase of slgnlllcations and
applications of words Is slang. The con
demnation of srang. therefore, finds no
support from a linguistic point of view.
On the contrary, tha use of slang tn Itself,
insofar as It does not usurp the functions
of the standard 'language to too great
degree, ts to be encouraged. Slang Is the
the radical counterpart of conservative
purism-
There spoke authority, and, as
Mistress Hylan did not say. It spoke
a mouthful. To speak slang before
kings is not a dire offense, neither
is it necessarily a proof that the
user Is not as well born and well
bred as the king himself. We should
be sorry to Imagine that the sprightly
young Prince of Wales, who seems
to be a little bit of all right. Is not
aware of the bright lexicon of Brit
ish slang-terms, or that in his un
official moments he does not employ
them more or less to his great edifi
cation and advantage. Eh, what?
And, after all, what could possibly
be more expressive of entire accord,
or hearty agreement, than that lowly
but lambent phrase, "You said a
mouthful"? As has been previously
remarked, it matters little whether
Mistress Hylan used the words at
tributed to her by the godless, or
whether she did not use-'em. In
either event, she should worry.
THE SITUATION WEIL IN HAND.
The ant is a comical little chap,
and clever too. The yellow-jacket is
our good friend. The livelong day
he pursues and pounces upon house
files. He who has seen a fairy troop
of trout flies issue from some drip
ping cavern of the rock, to live and
dance their hour or two, has wit
nessed a happy mood of, nature
wherein phe is meticulous for per
fection. ' Great lazy butterflies, sable
and crimson and orange, drifting be
fore a summer breeze are winged
poetry and no less A daddy-longlegs
has been known to indicate the
straying cows. The variety of this
quite interesting planet would be
perceptibly, almost painfully, les
sened if we were to wake some
morning to find that all the insects
had been gathered to their fathers
their unthinkably multitudinous an
cestors. We have warred with the Insect
world, but never have we regarded
its fierce or fragile little citizens as
potential foemen who might conceiv
ably contend with us for the right to
survive. It has not alarmed us par
ticularly to know that many insects
are tartars, indeed, ruthless and ter
ribleeither by sting or depredation.
Most of them are but mildly pestif
erous, and though occasionally they
are the agents of death wa accept
the hazard until such time as science
may have conquered them. Yet oc
casionally some dreamer of phan
tasms, some writer of fearful fiction,
visions a day when mankind will be
engaged In a war for survival with
its insect enemies. Arthur Machen,
an English author with a penchant
for alarming fancies, forecasts such
a struggle with both animals and in
sects. It was H. G. Wells, back in the
years when he wrote fantastic novels,
who caused one of his fictional char
acters, a gentle old English scientist,
to segregate the vital elements of nu
trition, the growth-producing prop
erties, and blend them in a strange
staple that he termed the "food of
the gods." His purpose was to cre
ate a race of mortal giants, thewed
as the gods, and in this he succeeded,
though the Lilliputian majority
made outlaws of them and shot to
kill. But the calamitous by-product
of the experiment, unforeseen by the
old gentleman, was the horrified
proportions to which insects and
animals grew when they bad tasted
his potent rations. Rural England
seized pitchfork and shotgun to fight
for life against the savage attacks of
rats as huge as plow-horses, or wasps
as bulky as eagles. One of the in
escapable conclusions reached on
reading this diverting tale was that
all should be grateful for nature's
limitations in the stature of spar
rows, let us say.
Mr. Machen, however, deems the
unregarded animals and insects to be
sufficiently formidable as they are,
and presupposes for them an hour in
which all shall revolt and turn with
common rancor and enthusiasm
against man. In that dread moment
the nations will forget their petty
bickerings and bend every resource,
every energy, to the stern suppres
sion of this unthinkable insurrection.
The tabby will turn upon her mis
tress, the watchdog spring at the
throat of his master, the haltered
horse scream murderously as he
lunges at the groom. The insects,
the redoubtable, fearless insects,
whose cosmos has already been an
eerie mystery to man, will march
forward in never-ending attack
content to die in hordes as zealots
die if but one thrust goes home.
Our thanks to Mr. Machen for a
direful prophecy. The white ants of
Africa, so report hath it, go ever
forward. If .a tree obstruct their
punitive pilgrimage a million gnash
ing mandibles fell it. All living
creatures flee or perish. Leo the lion
roars with dismay and leaps aside,
racing to safety like any terror
stricken kitten. If all creatures were
suddenly to become as valiant as the
white ant, and make united cause
against their, overlord, we should
gain in a day, in an hour. In a mo
ment, the full terror of the author's
fictional forecast. If only the insects
were to revolt, and with intelligence,
the carnage would be dreadful, in
deed. Occasionally we stand in need
of some such tortured visionary as
Mr. Machen, to teach us by contrast
how truly happy and contented we
ought to be.
. There are 400,000 listed species of
Insects, and doubtless as many more
uncatalogued by science, while of all
other species of life there are but
114.500. Mammalian life Is repre
sented by but 4500 specie3. It is
of insect life, if undisturbed by other
agency than our hostility, soon would
cloud the world with terror. The
hop louse, it is said, requires but a
single season in which to become the
venerated ancestor of nine and one
half quadrillions of hop lice hopeful
of duplicating, each for Itself, the
achievement of the original pair.
Against such fecundity, peculiar to
the Insect world, science .would
stand aghast. There it is that Dame
Nature, the' wise old woman of the
universe, steps in with her most
admirable system of checks and bal
ances. Remorselessly she decrees
that the infant mortality among hop
lice shall be tremendous. If it were
not so the hop louse would soon
possess the planet.
The natural system of checks and
balances is a savage one, funda
mentally, but beneficent in its
broader aspects. It is admirably
illustrated by the Pacific coast sal
mon. Cruising up from the ocean,
the fish once took possession of their
spawning beds and deposited their
eggs. There were, as tradition and
memory attest, vast runs of salmon
In those days yet the significant
truth is that the runs never ex
ceeded the natural provisions of the
spawning streams. No time could
possibly arrive when the annual in
crease would choke the river itself,
a presumption of almost arithemat
ical certainty if but the average of
reproduction exceeded the average
of the run of -adult fish. The truth
was that the runs were as large as
they ever were destined to be, and
that Inexorable nature allowed the
migrants but one Infant salmon
apiece. The point of exact balance
had been reached. Multiplied perils
wasted all save two eggs of the, many
hundreds that the mother deposited
and the sire defended. As a matter
of fact, when commercial fishing
first intruded on these virgin
streams, depleting the run itself, the
succeeding runs were increased,
owing to the Improved opportunities
for infant survival.
The methods of nature are so de
liberate, so secret, that they are
mostly unperceived. A million years
from now, what will be will be. But
it would seem that mankind, pos
sessed of superior intelligence. Is
making the most of his superior
chances for a flourishing and pro
longed existence. If he falls, no bug
will have brought him low. He will
be humbled by his own folly.
Have you ever heard of the folly,
the conspicuous folly, of throwing
good money after bad? Something
of the sort is happening in the
Arbuckle case. The San Francisco
Bulletin chronicles the Interesting
report that motion picture magnates
are wishfuL of establishing the fat
ex-comedian's innocence, and are
even now in conference to prepare
his defense. This, you say, is true
fraternalism? The facts are that
something like $2,000,000 is invested
in Arbuckle pictures, and there is
more than a- suspicion that these
friends of Fatty's are urged to his
aid by the hazardous predicament of
so much money. Their solicitude
may be natural but it is ill-advised.
However thoroughly the whitewash
may be applied to Arbuckle's jewel
reputation, the public will never
again permit itself to lauglkwith or
at him. His films are junk.
"I find, as the years go by," said
the hermit of Rocky butte, "that I
am losing my earlier Illusions about
folks. They run average Just aver
age. Every time I hear the quail
whistle for 'Bob White! Bob White!
I catch myself wondering who the
fellow is and whether he is worth it.
There's more silver in that call than
you'll find in a stack of dollars. Was
a quail come to my yard the other
day and squatted there hunched to
fly, but ready to pick around if I'd
let him. He put his head on one
side and looked at me. Well, sir, I
stepped inside and laid my hand on
the old shotgun, for it's a mile to the
butcher shop. But I never took her
down. 'Quail,' I said, 'make yourself
to home seems like I'm happier
when I'm hungry.' "
While the endowment campaign is
on to raise "a million or two" for
Pacific university, the Forest Grove
News-Times is appearing as a daily
newspaper to record progress of the
money-getters mainly and inciden
tally tell the news of the day. Editor
Scott would better beware, though;
people may get the habit and de
mand the daily right along, if the
first numbers are to be taken as
samples.
A Cottage Grove man who, while
drunk, collided with a boxcar, has
had his license taken away. That is
hard punishment for a man so con
siderate in picking something to hit
To be sure, he broke his collarbone
at another time, but it was his own
neck, not that of another. The au
thorities are "picking" on him.
The food show Is a meritorious
display, well worthy of continuance.
Yet the food show that will hold the
public favor at all times and seasons
is the groaning board at home.
When Colonel House laid dignity
aside and visited Mr. Wilson he lent
emphasis to an ancient adage, and a
wise one. There are, after all, no
friends like the old friends.
Those North Dakota banks seem
to be more troublesome than the toy
ones of childhood's day the sort you
bad to operate on with a knife to
remove your nickle.
"Food to be moved in spite of
strike," says a headline. That's
good. If the public ever begins to
miss its meals something is liable to
happen.
A man who asserts he was robbed
by a negress cannot have much
standing in court. These "ladies"
seem to know how to pick their vic
tims.
This is the fretful season of the
year, when Mr. Suburbanite begins
to wonder when In thunderation
those pullets are going to lay.
There's not a smile In Russia, so
one reads. There isn't a doughnut,
either, while we're on the subject.
The spinster who bequeathed $60,
000 to kittycats evidently believed
that cream makes pussy purr.
The roses of Roseway, ah, they're
the fellows who will talk to the
tourist!
The Listening Post.
By DeWItt Harry.
"W
his money and you can tell
what manner of man he is," said a
well-known banker one day. j
Have ypu ever tried it? Your typi
cal American, free with his change,
has It all loose in his trousers pocket.
The frugal man never carries more
money with him than he is likely to
need during the day. It has been
estimated that millions are lost-yearly
in interest on capital that never
works capital that is on a perpetual
vacation in America's pockets.
With the spread of modern banking
facilities greater reliance is being
placed on the checking account. This
Is likely the aystem used by the aver
age business or professional man.
Carelessness with change is not so
fashionable as it was a few years
back. The plethoric bankroll does, not
convey an Impression of wealth any
more the money should be In the
bank.
One of the best fathers it was the
writer's good fortune ever to meet
started his children in on the right
fcot as far as finances were con
cerned. Each one was given a sav
ings accqunt and made to keep his
or her own books. Their allowances
were paid regularly, their extras for
school books and supplies all placed
In their own charge and the children
did their own buying. Dad allowed
for new books, but if the youngsters
could find second-hand books at a
saving they had just that much more
for their bank. One of the first' gifts
they received was a fine pocketbook
so that they would not carry their
cash loose. Notice your thrifty man
and he usually carries a pocketbook
and buys car tickets.
. e a
The spirit of revolt against the new
traffic ordinance recalls some dis
cussion on the subject of parking
abuse with one of the police a few
months ago. He told of people who
persisted in using the streets for a
garage.
"Why, there are many people in
Portland who own cars and have no
place to keep them," was one of his
surprising statements. "What would
you think if you did not have a home?
It's just about that same thing. They
have no right to an automobile.
"One merchant reported to-me that
a certain car had been standing In
front of his place for three days (this
conversation was in August). We
moved the machine to the police ga
rage and the next day the owner
came looking for it. He had been to
the beach for a few days and figured
that it would be cheaper to park his
car than pay garage rent.
"It encourages '.hieves. There are
any number of residents of this city
who drive home in their cars at night
and leave them at the curb in front
of the house during the summer, fig
uring that they will rent garage space
when bad weather comes, and that
this will be cheaper than to build
their own. Many other owners about
tbe city park in nearby vacant lots
at night, some of them using this
property the year round, covering
their cars with canvas during rains."
as
One of the tragedies of modern
commercial life is a closed manufac
turing plant. To the ordinary ob
server it bears no grim omen, yet to
the man in touch with details it
means more than a mere closing. Re
trenchment policies often cause shut
downs. The presumption U that the
operators of mills are saving by slic
ing their payroll. The fact is that in
many cases they lose.
In the first place the main item Is
interest on the investment, and then
comes depreciation. Plants not in
operation cannot pay Interest and
they depreciate much faster than
those in the running and being kept
in repair. Then the trade channels
slack off, the men lose their touch
and have to work under inefficiency
when the start is made again, the
sources of raw materials suffer
through non-functioning. Insurance
charges mount when a factory Is idle,
and there is necessity for watchmen
and frequent Inspection. Fire dan
gers grow, costly machinery rusts,
the sales force has nothing to push,
and the executives worry and lose
some of their efficiency.
It would be an Interesting subject
for an exhaustive analysis, and it ii
likely that it has been done more
than once. An informant states that
frequently the loss from even a
week's holiday Is appalling. Few
local plants are closed even during
this period of difficult times in other
sections, and many of them are work
ing with double crews.
Not all good cooks are married,
and, thdugh it seems to be generally
accepted that the "way to a man's
heart Is via his stomach," there are
many men who marry pretty faces
and eat out.
It was at the Girls' Polytechnic
high school. A rather flashll
dressed woman brought her daughter,
about 14, to the domestic science
teacher.
"I want her to learn to cook and
sew so that she can get a husband."
"Oh, I don't know about that be
ing so sure a way," the teacher ob
served, as her eyes twinkled. "You
see, I teach both, and 1 am not
married."
Banks have a rule against cashing
checks for strangers. The other day
an old man who lives over on tha
east side dropped Into the First Na
tional bank to cash a check. He was
not acquainted in the Institution, but
the bronze button- In his lapel Indi
cated that he was one of those who
answered the call to arms back in
1S61. The man in the teller's cage
didn't know him and directed him to
another window after a question or
two. Then he was sent to still an
other teller, then to an assistant
cashier or two, and finally landed at
the desk of Vice-President Jones.
"Do you know anybody in this
bank?" asked Mr. Jones.
"I know everybody in the bank,"
responded the veteran, "I have been
passed from one to another and you
are the last man."
Mr. Jones cashed the check.
s
She stood Just across from Llcbes'
when Monte Austin spotted , her.
Well-dressed, middle-aged, apparently
prosperous, she wonld hardly differ
on the surface from any of a hundred
similar women encountered every day.
But it was her (occupation. She car
ried a paper bag and was "Shooting
anlpes." WouluV carefully watch to
see that no one was looking her way
and bend over and gather old cigar
or cigarette butts
Roosevelt.
By Grace K. Hall.
One night, led on and on by phantom
hand,
I walked in spirit through a hun
dred vears.
And came at last to my own cherished
land.
To read Its history through loving
tears.
But suddenly In silenced awe I stood
Within a vast salon of priceless
things
Rare treasures that a century called
good
Were massed where Honor, undis
puted, brings
Her very best to Jive forevermore.
And warm the hearts of men with
strong desire;
And. humbled and abashed, Inside tha
door
I felt the presence of the Past in
spire Thrilled with the old devotion strong
and true.
To Ideals of my land, that once I
knew.
Marble and bronze and every work of
art
Stood in this great salon; yet fen
who passed
Of all that eager throng had vital
part
Or interest In ths marvels, that
would last; '
And patina, that speaks uncounted
age.
Lay on the bronxes all a telling
ruBt.
When lo! I stood before a splendid
stage.
Whereon was one imposing master
bust,
And, gathered round, I saw a phan
tom host
Bowed down, and heard their min
gled voices low
Blend In a tender threnody; and moat
Impelled by wonderment, I sought
to know
Why this alone of all the treasures
there
Commanded such deep homage and
so rare.
No patina discolored1 this one face
It shone with such a luster that I
knew
It must embody Ideals of a rare
That all the world acknowledged
great and true.
Then passed this lingering host, and
others came
To gaze and weep and' strength
enedgo their way.
And. 'roused to glimpse this Idol
known to fame
Throughout the years, although of
human clay.
I crowded close and viewed that mas
sive bust,
Kept by a nation's homage brightly
clean.
And sensed at last why never lay the
rest
Upon that countenance, steadfast,
serene:
Yea, knew the reason', too, of dirge
and tears;
For seldom has God built to nobler
plan;
And true Americans through endless
years
Shall hrmor pay to Roosevol'., the
man!
OLD FREACH CHKKK.
Old French creek loafs along Its way
In hazy, sweet September,
As if to lengthen out Its stay
And summer Joys remember.
The goldenrod upon Its brink
It sways with gentle fingers,
And gives, where asters stoop to
drink,
A farewell touch that lingers.
The willows bending o'er its tide
It stirs to tender sighing,
As If In grief they softly sighed,
"Oh, why must time be flying?"
The falling leaves upon Its breast
It bears with kindly current.
And, like a sad-departing guest.
Clasps hands with vines deterrent.
It UnKcrs by an ola oak tree.
It lags beneath an alder.
And searches where the cresses be
Behind an ancient boulder.
Where'er Its lofty banks descend,
It loiters 'mid the grases, '
And murmurs where the rushes bend
A goodby as It passes.
Old French creek BWiftly flows in
May.
But loafs, ns I remember.
As if it welcomed each delay
In hazy, Hweet September.
MARY HESTER FORCE.
LITTLF, FLY, GOODIIV.
MyRterious little Insect
With those all-seeing eyes.
You crawl and creep
When I would sleep
Your antics I despise.
At the first tint of day-dawn
You gyrato, twist and flop
You buzz and burr.
Drone, drum and whirr,
It seems you never stop.
You prance upon my bill-of-fare.
You wallow in my stew
Though I protest
'Tis but a Jest
A princely Joke to you.
Tho niore I try to pass you by
The more you pester me;
I seek retreat
Your plans to beat.
You find me easily.
For in the shade though I have laid,
Where cool sea-breexes blow.
You crawl and sing.
Bite, Jazz and sting
Though it is ten below.
Envoi.
I'm going to Join the submarines
That ply beneath the sea.
So little fly
I'll say, Goodby, s
Don't try to follow me.
MILTON C. ARMSTRONG.
Sf.VSKT ON THE rOl.l'MBIA HIVF.n.
The laboring,, twilight slowly binds
and reaps
The shining harvest of the thrifty
sun;
The waves, the river's children, cease
to run
And play beneath the dyke, and each
one creeps
To soft, translucent dreams within
the Hpens.
And as a soldier rests when strife is
done,
.Mount Hood stands flushed, a glorious
fhnmlllnn.
To keep tha watch while earth's bat
talion sleeps.
As once that lathe. Joyous, ran
greet
His child, tear stained, and weighted
with the world.
So God now comes, my hungry so i
to meet.
So swift 1 run, and in his arms !!
curled!
The ring, the robe, love's light uiion
my face.
The soul at last. In its abiding plure!
MARY ALETHEA WOODWARD.
imiii tiii.i:.
I have done that which men call lil
And found In it much iroodness still
I have done thut which men call good
And found therein no brotherhood.
But in the clash of mortal life
Where manliness is born of strife,
I have learned this, that stood or 111.
I need 40 naught save what I will.
GRACE UAi.NiJ.