The most significant fact, the most magnificent testimonial of Chinese adherence to principle, supplied during the recent Chinese civil war, was China's willingness to risk even external menace rather than tolerate domestic disloyalty, an action taken even against the advice of many of China's best, most sincere friends.

Kung-pao was the title given to the imperial guardians of the "days of the empire." No higher honorary official station was open to a Chinese. Yuan, a lifelong servant of the "Old Buddha," became Yuan Kung-pao as Tsu Hsi prepared to "mount the Dragon" (i. e., to die). For an imperial guardian to usurp the Dragon Throne was, in the Chinese mind, an unthinkable thing. It was contrary to Chinese morality. For Yuan to break the oaths which he had taken to uphold the republic was contrary to Chinese morality.

In the minds of many men, Chinese and foreigners, indelible marks were stamped upon Chinese character through the doctrine enunciated by Mo-ti, a philosopher who flourished more than five centuries before Christ. Mo-ti preached the beauty and utility of love and peace. His views undoubtedly influenced very largely the sages who succeeded him-Laotze, Kung Fu-tze, and Men-tze. Wrongs, sufferings innumerable, the rude succession of sharp jolts which belligerent aliens have given China, do not seem to have shaken her out of her belief in and respect for love and peace. True it is that the Chinese, like ourselves, have been compelled to resort to measures of military preparedness; but the difficulties obstructing adequate military preparedness in China are distressingly grave. They are not confined to matters of money or munitions.

A nation cannot consistently subscribe to pacifism through many centuries without internal as well as external dangers; and to China one of the internal dangers just now is that of military intrigue. The old-style soldier is often ignorant and vicious because his profession was proverbially under a ban; sometimes not merely the man in the ranks but even commanding generals were recruited from among the bandits who plagued and preyed upon the millions of peace-practising Chinese. Of such was more than one notorious mili

tary leader who was until recently much under the eyes of the American public in newspaper despatches from China. The Chinese realize that a great deal remains to be done in the way of preaching and practising patriotism in military service before China can risk the creation of an adequate standing army. The Chinese soldier must be taught that his loyalty is to his country and not merely to his general, and that the service is not chiefly a means of livelihood, but rather the performance of a patriotic duty. Lessons of centuries have to be unlearned. Now, for two reasons, chiefly, the Chinese people very deeply resent the pressure which is being put upon them by the Japanese, compelling them to hasten military preparedness. They resent the compulsion, because the time itself is unpropitious to them; but their resentment is even more largely due to the moral objection. The Chinese know that peace is good, that war is bad; that love is good, and that hate is bad. And they fear the effect of militarism, not merely upon themselves, but upon the whole world. They do not wish a large army. Yet Yuan Sh'ih-k'ai built up the nucleus of a well-trained army, and well-trained officers of Europe have testfied to the good work of China's army. The last revolution saw in Szechuan that the Chinese have in them the power to make in due time a real army. For the present the economic and financial preparedness must take precedence. But an army will be created if need be, and a strong beginning has been made. If Japan is sincere in her fear of European aggression in China, she will welcome any such preparations. It will never be used aggressively.

That Japan has given the Chinese good reason to doubt Japanese good faith and to resent the attitude towards China manifested by most Japanese, is frequently admitted by the more conservative observers within the Japanese Empire. While I was in the Orient the Japanese press was agitating with much enthusiasm the advantage of "organizing" Japanese friendship with India "in the interests of business." The Japan Chronicle, having in mind editorials supporting this campaign printed in the Yorodzu and other Japanese newspapers, made the following caustic comment:

"It is rather singular that, holding such views as they do about Indian friendship, Japanese journalists and politicians should concern themselves so little about Chinese good-will. There are, from time to time, it is true, pronouncements in favor of improving Sino-Japanese relations, but they seldom take the form of a demand for meticulously respecting Chinese rights. Yet there are 400,000,000 people in China who, unless their human nature is of a different quality from that of the Indians, should be all the better customers of Japan for being on the friendliest possible footing. Indeed, if the Yorodzu's argument applies to any country, it is to China, which is almost the only land where a boycott has been proved to be an effective means of protest against the doings of foreign countries which do not meet with Chinese approval. We hear little enough of the necessity of maintaining a warm friendship with the Chinese Government, and at the same time refraining from action which may give umbrage to Chinese who are not satisfied with that government. On the contrary, the demand is always that an excuse be found for intervention and for the establishment of the 'fundamental policy.' It is curious that simultaneously with Japanese in Peking issuing a manifesto declaring that no other interests in China but those of Japan are worthy of consideration (a statement frequently made in Japanese newspapers and political speeches), a prominent newspaper should argue that Britain has no right to question Japan's claim to the reversion of the whole of Germany's and Austria's trade in India and the East generally, and that, whilst a mythical ancient friendship with India is invoked, the real and undeniable indebtedness of Japan to China is forgotten."

Mention has already been made of Chinese reverence for their fatherland. Often one may see deeply affecting evidences of this devotion. A Chinese leaving home for foreign parts will take with him a handful of the soil of his country, and this he will guard as his most precious possession. Laboring hard among strangers, in America or in Europe, he will save his money, no matter how small his earnings, so that if he should die his ashes may be returned to the land which

gave him birth. While the sages warned. against pampering the flesh, exalting the soul and mind, and deeming the body merely a corrupt thing, at best-"the stinking bag," as Sinologues express itearth was given place immediately below heaven in the worship and in the thoughts of the people. It was Chinese disinclination to trifle with the earth which retarded so long the opening up of roads and railways and the development of China's great mineral wealth. Bearing these facts in mind, it is easy enough to understand something at least of how the Chinese are stirred by Japanese efforts to alienate the natural resources of China.

There is sentiment in their attitude; filial piety and patriotism, too. Also, of course, there is a shrewd sense of the practical elements in the matter. The industrial leaders of China cannot, under present circumstances, accept as a convincing argument against their own interests the Japanese plea that "Japan must have possession of China's mines because Japan needs steel so badly that she is compelled to import seventy-five per cent of her metals." The Chinese are disposed to utilize Chinese ores for works of peace. They feel that Japan is inclined to exploit them against the interests of China and of China's friends. The way in which Japanese have schemed to seize possession of the Hanyehping properties, including the great Tayeh mines and the Hanyang Iron Works in the very heart of China, has aroused indignation among Chinese industrial promoters, and wageearners, too.

The Chinese desire to develop properties like the Hanyehping with American capital and American-made machinery. Japan, they say, interferes with such investments. Japan, they add, is blocking the development of urgently needed new railways, in the same way and for the selfsame purpose. They ridicule Japanese assertions that "America can best serve her own interests by co-operating through Japan in China." They interpret this suggestion as actually meaning Japanese employment of American capital to alienate the resources of China. Is it a wrong interpretation?

The Chinese people are very well informed as to the manner in which Japanese writers and others have labored in

cessantly to create in America and in Europe false impressions of everything Chinese. Naturally, such unfair propaganda has not served to allay suspicions and remove resentment. The mission of Baron Shibusawa in America was fully reported in China. Numerous Japanese flippancies regarding Chinese technical skill and "the necessity for the employment of Japanese superintendents and foremen" in China produced a very bad impression. And is this strange? Many of the best judges consider Chinese workmanship and Chinese art distinctly superior to that of Japan. And while the Japanese have shown great skill in military organization, they have nothing that can compare with the great voluntary cooperative companies of Chinese that work thousands of men in the tin mines of the Federated Malay States.

Chinese speak of Japan's expressed policy in the wooing of American finance for the ultimate undoing of China as "a proposal for an unholy alliance of dollar, despot, and dupe." Its acceptance by us, they say, would threaten the relegation of the Chinese people to the mean parts of hewers of wood and drawers of water in their own land, when their capacity for leadership in industry is great.

The record left in China by the Okuma administration-whatever may have been the actual intentions of the aged marquis -was not a good one. The Chinese point to the sharp conflict between Okuma's words and his acts. "He pledged us peace and friendship," they say, "and then he struck at the very foundations of our national sovereignty." Some of the younger men speak of him as "the Japanese Ja

nus."

A Chinese said this of Japan:

"She sends her emissaries to the United States to talk to you, Americans, of her great friendship for us and her fatherly interest in our welfare. We try to understand what she is saying, but we cannot hear her because of the noise which she is making in our house with her twenty-one demands."

The appointment of Baron Hayashi, "a substantive ambassador," to be Japanese minister at Peking awakened very favorable hopes-they would have been glad to have them expectations in China. The baron had won his diplomatic

spurs in the Chinese capital. Everything possible was done by Chinese and others to fortify the friendship he expressed towards China. Scarcely had he presented his credentials when these were followed by new demands based upon the act of unwarranted aggression apparently committed, according to Chinese reports, by war-hungry Japanese soldiers at Chengchiatung.

Since I returned from the Orient several minor changes have been made in the Japanese legation staff at Peking. In order that Americans may appreciate one of the causes of Japanese diplomatic failure in China, it may be well to reproduce here (without editing or altering as much as a punctuation mark) a first-hand Japanese account of how a Japanese official approaches the service of his country in China:

"Mr. Kenkichi Yoshizawa, newly appointed counselor of the Japanese Legation in Peking, when about to leave for China, was guest of honor at a banquet given by the Kasumi Club, or the Foreign Office Press Club. In response to a farewell address Mr. Yoshizawa said in part:

"China is like an incompetent person whose monetary allowances are limited by the administrator of his property,' said Mr. Yoshizawa. 'She has been incompetent to manage her financial affairs in the past and is incompetent now.'

One is tempted to inquire whether Japan would be competent to manage her financial affairs if foreigners held her customs tariffs down to about three per cent, and tied up other income at will as they did China's last year. Take hands off China-and see.

The tactful diplomat continued:

"There are only two world powers now which can give attention to China in any appreciable degree. They are Japan and the United States. The United States is a rich country and can afford to invest capital in China. She is likely to do so from now on. America's interests in China will grow rapidly. But Japan, for geographical reasons and because of her political and other relations in the past, is in a more convenient position than America to assist China. The responsibility of Japan, therefore, is very great. Japan should treat China as if she were Japan's own relative. This task requires

a great deal of patience on the part of Japan. Japan must care for China as a mother cares for her child. It is my idea that we should be patient with China. If she listens to our friendly suggestions, she should be encouraged; if she does not, she should be chastised as a father punishes his wayward son. I expect to assist Baron Hayashi, my chief, in Peking, with that policy in mind. We should avoid doing things which will only invite the suspicion of the Chinese and foreign nations.'"

The Chinese newspapers, of course, receive such news reports in due course by cable and by mail. Mr. Yoshizawa's impertinent speech preceded this "discreet" official to the capital of China. Supposing an American official accredited by our government to Japan or by China to Japan should speak of Japan in such impudent, insulting terms, what would inevitably happen? Would he be persona grata at Tokyo? Would our government or the government of China overlook such a rank offense against international propriety? Not likely. A very few Americans appointed to our diplomatic corps have been indiscreet-although never insulting, as in this case-and swift and condign has been their punishment, even when the "offense" was more or less technical, and open to reasonable explanation. As a real friend of Japan's I call the attention of her rulers to these facts. I want to see Japan and China friends as I desire to see America and Japan even closer friends than now. But her government cannot expect friendship and confidence when such childishly foolish diplomats run at large unrebuked. A wiser policy, such as was outlined to me in Tokyo, would strengthen her greatly in both China and America, and would insure her future. Will she not adopt it?

Unless there is a change not only in tone, but in deeds, Japan, with her own hand and pen, has written the brief indicting her policy towards China. Her own acts comprise the evidence in the case. The circumstances surrounding these acts intensify their baleful character and consequences.

What must be the sum total of all these cankerous circumstances? Eating into the sound heart of China, as they have

eaten through the years covered by China's indictment of Japan's unfriendly course, could there be any effect but one? Not if the Chinese possessed the patience of Job.

The Chinese are, at last, coming into their own. It is much too late for any nation to attempt to stem the flood of Chinese progress. That is the one Star of Hope for China-she has been misunderstood, her defensive strength underestimated until, at last, Time and the vigorous labors of her youth have tolled the curfew against further aggression or spoliation. The Japanese press and Japan's friends in America never weary of telling of Japan's marvellous progress during the last few decades. I rejoice to agree with them. But when, after a twelve years' absence from Peking, I re-entered the ancient walls I did not find the old city. Twelve years had sufficed to build a new Peking, more marvellously changed than our new western cities. I question if the same brief span of years ever witnessed so great improvements in Tokyo. And, most encouraging of all, the change in the awakened progressive spirit of rulers and people was no less marked.

In Japan, progress, as we understand it, has been a thing of exotic growth. "More than any Westerner can realize," says Dr. Sidney L. Gulick, an ardent admirer and eager defender of Japan, in "Evolution of the Japanese,' "the Japanese people have been dependent on governmental initiative from time immemorial. . . . The Occidentalized order now dominant in Japan was adopted, not by the people, but by the rulers, and imposed by them on the people."

În China, the impulse came from below, not from above. The Manchu edicts accepting foreign innovations were compelled by agitation among the Chinese people themselves. The people led, the mandarins merely followed, in China. Not the old government, but the people are building this wonderful new China.

And that is one reason why the present situation, while it may and does annoy, does not greatly alarm the Chinese people. I have been surprised at their confidence. They have faith in themselves. They also repose faith in their friends. They will succeed.

T

HIRTY years ago I spent a year in a remote hamlet in the Ozark Mountains; and to the best of my knowledge and belief it was during my stay there that the first copies of the once-popular and famous Seaside Library made their appearance in that part of the world.

Cleburne, as the ancient settlement was called, was thirty miles from a railroad. Its isolation was more complete than that of any other place I have ever known. A band of outlaws could scarcely have sought a remoter retreat than the unimpeachable citizens of Cleburne had chosen for their homes. The few roads which approached the settlement wound interminably through mountain passes and up precipitous slopes. And these thoroughfares, unimproved in any modern sense, were things to try the stoutest heart when they traversed narrow shoulders of mountain and looked down into bottomless abysses on the one side and hugged high walls of stone on the other.

There were times when the settlement was snow-bound in just such a fashion as has been described by Whittier or by Bret Harte the "Snow-Bound at Eagle's" description answering better, because of its depiction of profound loneliness. The people seemed really to hibernate on these occasions, their dwelling-places presenting as few evidences of life as you will find about the shelters of bees or bears in midwinter.

Nevertheless, the town was noted throughout a limited radius for its denominational college, for its iron and sulphur springs, and for what was called in the prospectus of the college "a moral influence."

As the college, standing on its windswept hilltop, passed away in flames a good many years ago, I may say that it was a fairly good institution of its kind. The mineral springs were not attractive to the olfactory unsophistication of a boy,

and I used to drink from the well in the middle of the main street, in front of the drug-store, where man and beast stopped after their arduous journeys from the surrounding country on market days.

As for the "moral influence," that was only a phrase to me in those years, but my abiding impression is that Cleburne was not so far away from the busier haunts of men that it could safely withdraw its offensive against the forces of evil. In the boarding-house kept by a Mrs. Sprague, and patronized by out-of-town boys who were attending the college, there was much mystery and secrecy in certain directions. Tobacco and playing-cards were smuggled into the rooms-and these most emphatically were not factors which conduced to morality, as morality was regarded from the Cleburne standards. Demijohns found their way into the settlement, too, and were the subject of many furtive manœuvres.

The only regular means of communication between this fastness and the outside world was a ramshackle hack which made the trip once a week from Cleburne to the nearest railroad point and back, to bring mail and passengers. To be sure, this was a "regular" means rather in intention than achievement, and the arrival of the picturesque vehicle was always an event of deep interest. In truth, when Enos Philbrick drove forth out of town on Monday morning Cleburne looked after him as the people of Palos must have looked after Christopher Columbus in his Santa Maria

with the feeling that by rights he ought never to come back. It was not alone the physical difficulties which lay in the way of a safe return which were pondered: it was the moral risks also. For there was a feeling in Cleburne that anybody who went within reach of a railroad might at any time come to an evil end.

I can scarcely hope to impart a convincing quality to some of the events I am about to record until I have made it plain that the mental seclusion of Cleburne was