cluded the makers of opinion from fashionables to labor union chiefs, so that the Tiger's personality, as well as his words, had a chance to reach all classes.

Personally, he has made upon the public a distinctly favorable impression. His onion soup, his pawky humor, his quaint gestures, his eyebrows, his nightcap, and his willfulness appeal to us and create a "character" with appropriate stage properties. Closer up, one sees a cynical attitude towards poor old mankind which makes one feel naked and curious to know what is going on in his head. The one passion, among the many which he interprets, which strikes one as genuine is love of his France. He is so French that it is a handicap to his comprehension of Western American psychology. In some passages of his speech he has evidently tried to correct this defect with the peculiar brand of clumsiness for which Woodrow Wilson and Colonel House were once famous. While protesting that he and France asked nothing, he made it plain that he wanted America to replace England in

a partnership wherein England was not sufficiently anti-German, and then he proved up to the hilt that it would be a bad bargain for us and a good one for France. His pictures of French sufferings, losses, crushing taxation, Asiatic entanglements, and impending bankruptcy, of French suspicion and fear of Germany-even his devotion and patriotism frightened us as we thought what even a beau geste might let us in for. The sentimental appeal, which might have taken the mind off the conse quences of an approach to France, and the demonstration of identity of aims and interests were entirely wanting.

The introduction by General Dawes was most effective. For half an hour the audience listened breathlessly to Clemenceau, but his clipped English and his obstinate avoidance of the amplifier, without which only a few could hear him at all, soon began to count against him. He would sidle off to the right wing, and attempts by Colonel Bonsal, General Dawes, and the audience, to persuade him to stand where he could be heard were first refused and then ac

ceded to with bad grace. In a few moments he was off again to the extreme right, to be recalled by the audience. The device had been explained to him, but he insisted that his voice could carry without mechanical aid. *

To summarize the views of those with whom I have spoken: Chicago gave Clemenceau the great reception to which his place in history entitles him; his personality made a distinct impression; his speech might have done much to create a sympathy and sentiment for France full of possibilities; but Clemenceau failed to seize his opportunity; he frightened his hearers, displayed a touch of French selfishness and French hatred of Germany and a list of French liabilities enough to scare off any thought or suggestion of partnership. We may be fond of the picturesque Tiger, sorry for the sufferings of France, but we are not going to ruin ourselves by touching the European mess until it is demonstrated that we have got to in the interests of America. The touch or two of Wilsonian idealism interjected in the great Frenchman's speech clinched opposition.

OLDIER, sailor, explorer, scribbler,

events, the consecrated impudence of the devout humorist-a prime requisite

to find himself as hard up for thrills as for cash, so decided, "A colporteur I'll be, and roam the earth, at other people's expense, handing out Bibles."

However, the American Bible Society thought differently, though there have been worse triflers than Spaulding-for example, the young novelist who heard of free rooms, free tuition, aid money, and abundant leisure for writing at the General Theological Seminary, and forthwith demanded admission. Said the dean, "Are you an Episcopalian?" Said the applicant, "No, I'm an atheist." To which the dean replied, "I don't see that that need stand in the way; this institution will soon cure you."

True it is that the young novelist was not admitted to the Seminary; true, also, that his subsequent frivolities have amply justified the rejection. But Spaulding-behold him to-day! He has "ranged himself," as the French say. Father of a family, pillar in the church, author of at least a dozen admirable books, and General Secretary of a great National organization every whit as disinterested, in its way, as the American Bible Society, he feels that vindication is his-and laughs. Whereas the Society, after all these years and the changes they have brought, still glories in having scorned him. Indeed, it appears to feel that he was guilty, at the time, of something remarkably like impudence.

But is not impudence-or, at all

ing into a camp of five hundred Tibetan brigands, the delightful Huston Edgar was a bit "nonplused and uneasy," he admits, though his cheek never deserted him. To the outlaws' bewilderment, he not only sold them Bibles, hand over fist, but "insisted on getting the money." In Siam a colporteur coolly "visited fifty-six temples;" only one refused Bibles. In Mexico, during Holy Week, a colporteur came to a lonely ranch where the peons were assembled for mass. No priest had arrived. With a fine sense of impropriety, the Protestant read aloud from the "Protestant" Bible and "sold several books." A solemn-looking affair is the old-fogy red-brick Bible House on New York's lower East Side, yet sometimes I suspect it of suppressing a grin. Out from that building go New Testaments in Yiddish, to say nothing of Bibles in Russian for Soviet Russia itself. Leon Brauenstein, the Russian Jew known as Trotsky, used often to stroll past the Bible House-with a sneer. To-day it outwits him. It has outwitted others many a time. Mr. A. B. Howell writes as follows:

"My father, a merchant and receiving agent, had removed to Port Isabel, on the Gulf of Mexico. One day, as a ship was unloading a cargo from New York the captain said: 'I have a box on board consigned to nobody, and I was told that wherever I unloaded I was to put it ashore. The freight is all paid, and there are no charges connected with it.'

"The box was brought into my father's store, and I remember, then a lad of ten or twelve, how curiously I desired to see what it contained. When the lid was pried open, we found it full of Bibles and Testaments in Spanish.

"His commercial instinct told my father that he ought not to waste this material, so we put the books on the counter, took the covers off, and used the paper for wrapping up cigars, matches, spools of thread, etc., little realizing that by that very act we became distributing agents of the Bible Society and put pages of Scripture in every home. It was not strange that in after years, when I went back to Port Isabel, I found a Protestant congregation there."

Then, too, recall how Goble first printed the Scripture in Japan fifty years ago, when the thing was danger ous. Says he: "I tried in Yokohama to get the blocks cut for printing, but all seemed afraid to undertake it. I was only able to get it done in Tokyoby a man who did not know the nature of the book on which he was working!"

In the light of all this, does it not seem a little strange that a Society gifted with such a charming sense of humor should have frowned so inhospitably upon young Spaulding? If he lacked a certain deference toward his elders and betters, he lacked also a deference toward peril. He has been three times shipwrecked. The sensation, he declares, is always the same-a sensation, namely, "of disgust." What a

colporteur he would have made-in so far as intrepidity counts!

By all I hear, it is indispensable. Not long ago a colporteur in Mexico fell among bandits, who stole his mule, kicked away his Bibles, tumbled him down a cliff, and left him for dead. The first colporteurs in the Philippines were poisoned. In Bulgaria a colporteur was arrested so often that it became almost a habit. In China, just before the Boxer Rising, three colporteurs were hung up by their thumbs and bastinadoed. During the Rising eighteen went into the disturbed district. Four returned.

Are we to conclude, then, that the Bible Society's attitude toward Spaulding indicates a degree of-what shall I say?-Narrowness? It is a contention difficult to sustain. Narrowness, if it existed, would betray itself in sectarianism. Whereas, you will find that all the Protestant denominations are represented together in the Society's management, and that all the Protestant denominations unite to support it, and that it. ranks as the first-and the one magnificently enduring-interchurch world movement of North America. Since the beginning, in 1816, it has distributed the Bible "without note or comment" or any sectarian coloration whatever.

But there is another type of narrowness-the academic-and the Bible Society stands dangerously high among learned societies, having mastered nearly eight hundred languages and dialects. Do you happen to read Benga? Or Bulu? Or Mortlock? Or Luragoli? Or Chamorro? Or Dikele? If not, then doff your hat to the Bible Society. Time and again it has had to begin by "picking out the words from between the teeth of the heathen." Just now it is preparing a Bible for the Quecha Indians, and other Bibles in Moro, Moro Lanas, and Samarens, and a Bible for China in Chu Yen Tzu Mu, the new phonetic system, in which a Mandarin version of Mark has already been completed.

A great advance this new phonetic system represents. In the old Chinese system a single character may consist of as many as sixty-two strokes, and translation involved heroic patience. Bishop Schereschewsky, a converted Jew, spent forty years in turning the Bible into Chinese. As both hands were partly paralyzed, he wrote the entire text of his Wenli Bible with the middle finger of each hand.

And there are languages within languages. Japan requires four different Bibles-one to suit classical scholars enamored of the Chinese style, another for less cultured Japanese, still another to attract lovers of plain Japanese writing, and finally a version for Japanese newly learning to read.

Very curious technical niceties now and then attend such labors as these. When translating Chinese, where it is a puzzle to find a word for God, you must choose between "Shen" and "Shangti"

and meet difficulties either way. After two generations the question remains unsettled. In Arabic-speaking countries, meanwhile, the paramount problem is typographical, as everything depends on the curves and slopes of letters, and books in Arabic printed from type made in Europe disgust the Orient.

What wonder, then, that a Society engaged in these more than schoolmasterly pursuits should run some risk of acquir ing the academic temper and losing its grip on broadly human considerations? But, the more you look at it, the more clearly you will perceive that under neath the Society's amazing scholarliness throbs a warm and very tender humanitarianism.

Note its work for the blind. Eighty years now it has been supplying them with Braille Bibles-a seven-foot bookshelf, nineteen volumes to each Bible at less than cost. Of late nothing has interested the Society more than Helen Keller's reply to Mr. W. L. Stidger's question, "What is your favorite book?" "Zee Bi-bule," she said. Nothing, that is, unless perhaps it was hearing from Kenneth Bullard, who is blind and crippled and whose fingers have lost the sense of touch, yet who reads the Bible with his upper lip.

Or note the work among lepers, among prisoners, among seamen, among circus people, among Indians, among the Southern mountaineers, and among Negroes. During the first year after the War of Secession 500,000 Negroes learned to read. Then began a campaign that has progressed steadily ever since. And again, note how the Society treats the immigrant. Seeing aliens arriving in unheard-of numbers, the vast majority of them untrained to read the Scriptures, it tempted them with diglot

Bibles-that is to say, Bibles in each of which the English text appears side by side with the text in some foreign language. Aliens anxious to "learn American" found here the most convenient of short cuts. There are now thirty-three different diglots circulated by the Society. Perhaps no other single influence has been of greater service in popularizing our common tongue-and our common ideals also.

Does this seem to bespeak the academic temper the sort of thing that narrows men, instead of broadening them, and tends to dry men up? If that notion-or the faintest ghost of itlurks in your mind, consider these fellows' attitude toward their triumphs. They have issued nearly a hundred and fifty million volumes. Far from glorying in that unparalleled achievement, they observe with sorrow that the need greatly exceeds the supply, not only abroad, but in this so-called Christian land! Colporteurs hear over and over again such stories as, "We lent our Bible, and it never came back," "We had one once, but there was a fire," and, "We lost ours when we moved." A colporteur in the West writes of "counties as large as some of the smaller Eastern States without a store where Bibles are carried in stock." He reports "towns of 40,000 with only a single drug-store handling Bibles, and the cheapest one $7.50." Another writes from Utah, "I have called on many Mormons who do not seem to know what a New Testament is." Still another complains, "Of the 400,000 people in New Orleans, eighty-five per cent are without Bibles." At the Bible House this cuts. And another thing cuts-namely, the increased cost of manufacturing Bibles. For it will soon abandon their manufacture

though not their publication and circulation. But the cost of circulating them has increased. The Society needs funds. Hampered financially, it feels as any group of warm-hearted philanthropists would feel-acutely miserable.

So this is the surprisingly broadminded and the generously human organization that weighed my friend Spaulding in the balance and found him wanting. It freely recognized his courage, his ability, and his are personal charm. I even imagine that it thought him capable of recounting his experiences, had he been permitted to have them, in a book as entertaining as "The Bible in Spain," which, by the way, Theodore Roosevelt took with him to Africa. Indeed, I dare say the Society saw in Spaulding the germs of an executive ability which, properly developed. might have fitted him for a place among its administrators. But-too obviously altogether he lacked a certain quality without which no colporteur can succeed. Talking with Mr. Frank H. Mann, General Secretary, the other day, I mentioned the Spaulding case. He laughed.

For the fact is-and Spaulding himself would recognize it after reading a few thousand letters from the "field"—that colporteurs are not "roaming the earth at other people's expense," for fun, or for a livelihood, or for want of some more attractive thing to do. They are white-hot, flaming zealots, with the mentality, say, of Salvationists or of tent evangelists, regarding the Bible as indubitably "God's Word," the "silent missionary," a "divine Book," which points. now and always, "the only way out of

the dark," so that every man of them cries, "Woe is me if I sell not this Bible!" That impulse, and that alone, is what makes the patient, self-sacrificing, courageous, devout "supersalesman" we term a colporteur.

However, the American Bible Society appears to have thriven mightily without Spaulding. It issues the world's perennial "best-seller." In China the circulation of Bibles is limited only by the supply. In Japan "knowledge of the Bible has so permeated the nation that the words of the prophets, the Apostles, and many sayings of Jesus are quoted in the daily papers." In Cairo "a Mohammedan barber bought a Bible for his customers to read while waiting their turn." Here at home the book becomes not less popular, but more so. An organization of commercial travelers has put 400,000 Bibles in hotels. In New Orleans dealers now keep Bibles in the front of their shops. At least a begin ning has been made toward bringing back the Bible into the class-room; not long ago the Louisville, Kentucky, Board of Education bought Bibles out of its own funds for the Louisville schools.

Naturally, the Great War, along with smaller ones that accompanied or followed it, profoundly affected the traffic in Bibles. Thousands on thousands of Bibles were given to soldiers, whose favorite passages, it seems, were the Thirty-seventh and Ninety-third Psalms. On the other hand, whole regions were devastated and whole populations de ported, losing their Bibles, so that one principal effort of the Society is to supply the lack. Moreover, an intense an

tipathy toward everything Christian has developed throughout the Moslem world since the armistice.

Nevertheless the net result is gain. Japanese control in Siberia has facilitated the smuggling of Bibles into Russia. In the South Sea Islands, where German missionaries were ousted from Ponape and Truk, Japanese Christians have replaced them. If China is in ferment, the Christian General Feng Yuhsiang buys New Testaments for his troops. Thanks to Venizelos, the Bible in modern Greek now circulates in Greece. With the collapse of Austria Hungary 850,000 people have joined he Czechoslovak Church; for the first time in a thousand years it is possible to circulate a Slovak Bible, and the American Bible Society has ordered one made.

Because of chaos in Mexico Mexicans have swarmed across the border, where the Society has supplied them with Bibles. Returning home, they take the books with them. And if this, as well as various other indications the world over, seems to show that the Society often elects to work among the humble, pray note that in Porto Rico the colporteurs are taking pains to visit town authorities, literary men, journalists, and merchants. Effort has never been confined to the lower classes anywhere. nor has effect. In Peking several years ago a Chinese official brought to the Society's book-store a slip of paper naïvely inscribed, "One Old Testament, one New Testament." His curiosity aroused by the uncommon look of the writing, Dr. Gatrell asked who had writ ten it, and was told, "The Emperor."

HE question of the Straits-the Dardanelles and the Bosphorusdiscussed at the Lausanne Conference, has a long history.

At the beginning it was a question concerning only two countries-Turkey, the owner of the Straits, and Russia, the country for which the Straits are the door leading to the Mediterranean Sea.

In Russian history the question came up in the end of the seventeenth century, although as far back as the tenth century the Russian rulers at Kiev had engaged in campaigns against Czargrad (Constantinople).

In 1699 Peter the Great, having conquered Azov (a fortress near the mouth of the Don at the Sea of Azov), raised the problem of free navigation for the Russians on the Black Sea and in the Straits. To this the Sultan replied that navigation on the Black Sea is Turkey's

"inviolable sacred right," or, putting it in modern terms, Turkey's monopoly. The great naval Powers of that time did not pay any attention to that controversy. The struggle of England against Holland and France for the supremacy on the seas was at full swing and kept the Powers busy with their own affairs.

In 1739 Russia was obliged, as the result of her and Austria's war against Turkey, to give her consent to the exclusive right of Turkish ships to trade on the Black Sea. But thirty-five years later (1774) Catherine II conquered the Crimea, and Russia acquired the right of free navigation for her merchant ships, not only on the Black Sea, but also in the Straits (the Kutchuk Kainardji Treaty). Later, during Bonaparte's expedition to Egypt, access to the Mediterranean was given by Turkey to

Russian warships. England did not interfere, because Russia was against France.

The subsequent rapprochement between Alexander I and Napoleon alarmed England; she started negotiations and concluded a treaty with Turkey, the object of which was to deprive Russia of her exceptional right. On her side, England bound herself to consider the Straits closed also to her warships.

Thus, despite the fact that England at that time, after the Trafalgar victory, was at the very top of her naval might, she sacrificed the possibility for her fleet to appear in the Black Sea, provided the Russian fleet was not allowed to pass through the Straits and appear in the Mediterranean.

When, a quarter of a century later, Nicholas I, having given the Sultan military help against Egypt, obtained again

for the Russian warships the right of passing through the Straits, England, in the person of Palmerston, raised a protest, and was backed in her protest by France. Russia had to yield. Since that time the question of the Straits, which heretofore had been a Russian-Turkish question, became an international one.

At the London Conference of 1840 and 1841 the decision was taken to keep the Straits closed for the warships of all nations. However, this international decision was not carried out. In the Crimean War against Russia (1855-6) the British and French fleet sailed into the Black Sea. The Peace Treaty of Paris, having ended the Crimean War, "neutralized" the Black Sea. By this "neutralization" Russia was deprived of the right to have and build ships on the Black Sea; her fleet, arsenals, and docks were destroyed.

In 1870 Prince Gortchakoff, taking advantage of the situation (war between France and Germany), addressed a note to the Powers, announcing that Russia abrogated the treaty of Paris. Thereupon England threatened Russia with war. The United States promised Russia to take her side. Finally the conflict was settled at the London Conference: the neutralization of the Black Sea and the prohibition for Russia to build warships on the Black Sea coast were canceled. Again the principle of keeping the Straits closed for all warships was proclaimed.

A few years later the Russian-Turkish War broke out, after which the San Stefano Treaty was signed (1878). Certain privileges were gained by Russia in that treaty, enabling her to approach the Straits from the land. England became alarmed, and again her warships appeared in the Dardanelles. Subsequently the question of the Straits was submitted to the Berlin Congress, and the principle of keeping the Straits open for commercial navigation only was confirmed at the Congress once more.

In the nineties of the last century the policy of England toward Russia took a turn which came as the result of the growing rivalry of Germany (Germany penetrating into the Near East and constructing the Bagdad Railway), and the English-Russian antagonism changed into English-German antagonism. In the World War England, fighting against Turkey, Germany's ally, was willing to let Russia have Constantinople, and even promised it to the Czar's Government.

From all the historical facts mentioned above it is clear that the free passage of warships was of paramount interest in the whole question of the Straits. It was so, because on the freedom of the Straits for naval operations depended the economic interests of the Powers.

For Russia it was of vital importance to protect her principal artery of trade by keeping the warships of the dominant naval Power outside of the Straits and the Black Sea.

For England, anxious for the safety of her naval communications with India, it was of great importance to keep the Russian warships out of the Mediterranean by bottling them up in the Black

sea.

After the World War the Treaty of Sèvres changed the status of the Straits very materially. It was decided that the question of navigation in the Dardanelles, the Marmora Sea, and the Bosphorus should be placed under the control of a special "Commission of the Straits," made up of representatives of England, France, Italy, the United States, Russia, Greece, Rumania, Turkey, and Bulgaria, the first five countries to have two representatives each, and the latter four one representative each. However, the United States, having not signed the European treaties of peace, did not send her representatives, whereas Russia, Bulgaria, and Turkey were not, for political reasons, admitted to it. The Treaty of Sèvres established also a "Zone of the Straits," formed by the European and Asiatic shores of the Dardanelles, Marmora Sea, and the Bosphorus, including Constantinople. The "Zone," which was to serve as a guaranty that the Treaty of Sèvres will be carried out by the Turks, was placed under military and naval control of England, France, and Italy.

Thus Turkey was deprived of her sovereignty over the Straits and Russia was put aside from taking part in the new arrangement. Such a situation led to the signing of the Russian-Turkish treaty of 1921, in which with regard to the Straits it was agreed between the two parties that their status should be drafted by a conference of delegates of the riverain states only-that is, states bordering on the Black Sea-"with a view to guaranteeing the freedom of the Straits and their free passage for commercial purposes to all countries."

FORTHCOMING

OUTLOOK ARTICLES

Canada's bold experiment in Government ownership of railways is described in special correspondence from D. M. Le Bourdais.

Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer gives us a delightful essay on Bohemia. It is called "A Lost Land."

Lewis Edwin Theiss asks, "Why Not Clean up the Milk in the Country?" His article will appeal both to producers and consumers.

Captain L. M. Overstreet, now on the Naval Mission to Brazil, left with us just before his departure a clear and readable discussion of "Naval Strategy as Affected by Aircraft and Battleships." His article will be profusely illustrated.

A new change in the political situation was brought by the Turkish victory over the Greeks. As the result of that victory the whole of Anatolia and Eastern Thrace, which after the World War had been turned over to Greece, got under Turkish control. However, the Zone of Allied occupation remained, although it was somewhat altered by the Mudania armistice. At present it consists of parts of the Constantinople, Ismid, and Gallipoli peninsulas and Chanak and is held only by British troops, France and Italy having withdrawn their troops from Asia Minor before the Turkish victory. In such a way the territory of the Straits and the navigation in the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus are under the de facto control of England.

That such was the position at the time when the Lausanne Conference was called is a fact which should not be disregarded by the future historian.

At the present time it is of interest to note that two points of view have come into conflict at the Conference, both relating to the freedom of the Straits, but having different definitions of freedom. One view is English, the other is Russian.

The English want the Straits controlled by an international body with full liberty of merchant ships and warships for all nations. It is the first time in the history of the Straits that England has adopted such a position, her aim always having been to keep the Black Sea as a mare clausum (Palmerston's protest in 1833, the Crimean War, Disraeli interference in 1878) and never make it an international highway. Seeing England's policy now completely reversed, one cannot help thinking that the change may be due to the fact that at present there are no Russian warships in the Black Sea which could use the Straits and appear in the Mediter

ranean.

The Russians, representing the Soviet Government, wish the status of the Straits to be the same as before the World War-that is, Straits free for commercial navigation and forbidden to warships of all nations at all times, with Turkish fortifications to enforce that ruling.

This view, only as far as the barring of warships of the outside Powers from the Black Sea and the Straits is concerned, is also the view expressed by the Russian Nationalists. The latter's argument is that, so long as the Black Sea is open to warships, it will be necessary for Russia to have naval forces on that sea and build fortifications on its coast. Such a situation would not contribute to the limitation of armaments, and consequently to the political, economic, and financial restoration of Russia and Europe. The Nationalists are, furthermore, of the opinion that no decision of a permanent nature should be taken with regard to the status of the Straits so long as Russia is under the control of a Government not recognized by the Powers.

A

COMBINATION of strength, sanity, and the modern approach are sufficiently rare in painting nowadays to make the lover of art who has been bewildered by futurism and its successors hail any instance of it with delight. The work of Russell Cheney, which has recently been exhibited at the Babcock Galleries in New York and in the Athenæum in Hartford, is as modern as radio, but it is firmly based on tradition. It is unsensational and comprehensible; it has nothing in common with the unreconstructed jigsaw puzzles of the so-called modernists; it presents scenes and people who correspond to nature and man as the average layman knows them; and it is as relaxing to the nerves and as stimulating to the mind and spirit as only that art can be which is an authentic expression of immediate experience.

Mr. Cheney's subjects are taken in the main from the hill country of Connecticut and of California, though there are numerous still-lifes which in their delicate and felicitous harmonizing of rich colors have unusual vitality. The range of subject and treatment is extraordinary, from simple depiction of cedars on snowy slopes to stern (and somewhat

startling) reactions to tropic gardens and overwhelming summits under a California sun.

"You note in the living luminosity of midsummer bloom and blossom," says Mr. Christian Brinton in a preface to the catalogue of the exhibition, "in the spare appeal of New England farm land, or the soaring crest of coastal mountain range, a vivid sense of the actual. Something of the painter's own habitual freshness of view and buoyancy of mood are found in each decoratively composed still-life, each landscape expression. Sheer joy of eye can indeed scarcely go further."

There is beauty in every canvas, charm in many, and power in more than a few. The artist is progressing, and, though here and there he is obviously experimenting, there is no suggestion of uncertainty behind the skillful hand. His pictures give the impression of a man who, whatever his mood or his method may happen in any particular case to be, knows what he is trying to do and how and why he is trying to do it. There is nothing accidental or improvised about his work. One is aware, on the contrary, of an exultation in the achievement of a proudly conscious artistry. And yet the art remains sub

servient to the subject. What Mr. Cheney sets out to reveal to us are bits of American landscape seen through the eyes of one who loves them for what they are and knows that they need no editing or prettifying. Now and then he becomes abstract and seems to paint, not the mountain he appears to be regarding, but a blue symbol of a massive idea; but as a rule he is a quiet, cleareyed, and sure-footed realist, whose realism, however, is a revelation, not of harsh facts, but of hidden, implied beauties. "Haling's" is not a pretty farm and life there is obviously not a thing of beauty nor of joy; but partially because the picture is true, distorted neither by artistic nor sociological sentimentalism, and partly because Mr. Cheney has seen in the bleak corner of Connecticut he is depicting colors and relations of colors missed by the less penetrating eye, he has achieved a beautiful and significant expression of contemporary American life.

It is worth noting that one of Mr. Cheney's largest canvases, entitled "Skunkimaug-Morning," has been purchased for the permanent exhibition of the Morgan Memorial Museum in Hartford. HERMANN HAGEDORN.