upon the citizens by the mere operation of natural laws with which he has nothing to do. The rain falls and the sun shines upon the just and the unjust alike; the fruits of good government, however, can be enjoyed only by those citizens who do some reasonable planting and cultivation.

The present municipal government of the city of New York is the product of a nonpartisan fusion movement which resulted in the nomination of Mayor Mitchel in 1913 by the "Fusion Committee of 107," composed of representatives of the leading and often conflicting political parties of the city.

Mayor Mitchel regards the city of New York as a corporation, of which the citizens and taxpayers are the stockholders, and of which he is the executive head. He believes that he is bound to give his stockholders dividends and keep them informed of the progress of the corporation as a "going concern."

With this idea in mind, a year ago Mayor Mitchel met a group of citizens at dinner, and made a report of the accomplishments of his administration for the preceding twelve months. He has continued this excellent plan this year. Last week, at the Hotel Astor, the Committee of 107 gave a dinner to several hundred citizens, at which Mayor Mitchel reported in some detail what he and his associates in the municipal government had accomplished during the year 1915. It took the Mayor nearly two hours to deliver his address, and in print it makes a fairly good-sized booklet of 102 pages. Even in this volume he hardly does more than give a bird's-eye survey of the work of the city government. We can hardly, therefore, be expected in a paragraph to give any detailed account of the Mayor's report. The fact that several hundred men sat, not merely in patience, but with manifest interest, for two hours to listen to an account of their city government, is the best testimony to the Mayor's efficiency and skill as a public speaker and as a business executive.

New York City spends in the conduct of its municipal business about two hundred million dollars a year. What folly it is to intrust the spending of this enormous sum to a government which is run on a partisan political basis! Mayor Mitchel's report shows that, when the city is run like a business, financial economies may be made and at the same time service to the public may be greatly extended. The entire administration of the city has been put upon a

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non-partisan business basis. If Mayor Mitchel is willing to become the head of this business corporation for another term, the stockholders will be very foolish if they do not avail themselves of their opportunity to re-elect him.

FEEDING WILD ANIMALS

At a time when human life is being so bloodily and ruthlessly destroyed on European battlefields, it will be a relief to our readers, we think, to turn to the remarkable picture in our alcogravure section this week which illustrates how wild animal life is being fostered and preserved in one of our great National parks. Through the courtesy of the Northern Pacific Railway Company, whose line reaches Gardiner, the northern entrance to Yellowstone Park, we have been enabled to examine a series of very unusual photographs of wild animals on the winter feeding-grounds of the Park. These photographs were taken last February by the official photographers of the railway company. The unusually heavy snowfall in the surrounding mountain regions had driven the game down from its usual feeding-grounds in large numbers to get the alfalfa hay which is harvested by the Government each year and distributed in the period of starvation time. The picture we have selected for reproduction is typical of what the tourist may see at this winter dining-room provided by Uncle Sam for his wild wards.

Yellowstone Park is the greatest natural game preserve, probably, in the world. There live in the Park between fifty and a hundred bighorn sheep, several hundred deer of both the black and white tailed species, the same number of antelope, numerous black and grizzly bears, and about three hundred buffaloes or bison. In addition, between thirty-five and forty thousand elk frequent the Park. Buffaloes, bears, antelopes. and a few deer may be seen by the summer tourist, but in the hot season the mountain sheep and elk seek the seclusion of the wild glens, ravines, and slopes high up in the hills. In the winter, however, the shyer kinds of wild animals come down to the lower levels for food. Last February there was a more remarkable gathering of these wild animals on the Government feeding-ground than has ever been seen before. More than two hundred tons of Government alfalfa were stacked awaiting their coming. From Fort Yellowstone, at Mammoth Hot Springs, comes the big four-horse hay wagon in the mornings to

the hay corral on the flats beyond the lava entrance arch at Gardiner. As soon as it appears at the mouth of the canyon, so the railway officials inform us, the elk and antelope, which usually sleep out on the lower hills above the hay bottom, begin to troop in, at first slowly in single file, and then, as those behind press forward, on the run. They mass together, reach the corral in hundreds and occasionally in thousands, and wait patiently until the wagon starts on its round of scattering the alfalfa where they can conveniently reach it.

The hay is distributed in long rows along the road, and the elk and antelope follow it like ordinary sheep or cattle. Teams, pedestrians, or photographers disturb the animals but little. Sometimes the elk move clumsily off for a rod or two, or the sheep plunge up or down the bank for a short distance. Sometimes a deer will kick its heels in the air as it runs, in sheer playfulness. Where these wild animals keep themselves before the wagon appears and how they know of its arrival is a mystery. But from the hills where they lie more or less hidden their sharp eyes, and possibly their noses, give them all the information they need.

Photographing the wild life gathered on this winter feeding-ground is a sport which furnishes many of the allurements and none of the remorse of big-game shooting. Yellowstone Park is well known to summer tourists, but here is a phase of its winter life which is well worth the consideration of the traveler and wild animal lover.

JOSIAH STRONG

In the death of Dr. Josiah Strong, April 28, our country has lost an eminent representative of a fine type of American citizenship. A patriot to his heart's core, his ideal of patriotism was not devotion to our country only, but rather to our country for the world. To him our country meant our countrymen, who make it what it is, and should make it what it must become, an inspiring example of the equality of high and low in reciprocal duties, rights, and oppor

tunities.

Of this patriotic ideal Dr. Strong, for five of his earlier years in home missionary service, has been for the past thirty years our foremost missionary by voice and pen at home and abroad. His pioneer book, “Our Country," appeared in 1886. Pronounced by Mr. Spofford, then chief librarian of Con

gress, "one of the best books in the world," it gave a stimulus to Christian work fairly comparable to that of "Uncle Tom's Cabin " to the anti-slavery movement. Nearly the whole of it has been republished in portions by pamphlets and the daily press, American and British, some of it even in Chinese, and it has gone into European tongues.

Other works followed rapidly, among them "The New Era," "The Twentieth Century City," "Religious Movements for Social Betterment," "The Next Great Awakening," "Social Progress," "The Challenge of the City," ," "Our World: The New World-Life," "Our World: The New World-Religion." This last remains unfinished. In 1898 Dr. Strong organized the American Institute of Social Service, of which he was president till his death. Organizations on its plan have been formed in five European countries and in Australia. Several of Dr. Strong's publications have been translated into European and Asiatic languages. Some have been used in our colleges, seminaries, Bible classes, prayer-meetings, and daily readings at family worship.

What the great Belgian economist, Émile de Laveleye, had asserted, "The earthly welfare of mankind was a capital principle of the Founder of Christianity," Dr. Strong saw on the face of the Gospel. He saw that its neglect by a Church intent only on the salvation of individual souls had alienated the masses of workingmen suffering under social wrongs. Only Christ's Gospel of social as well as individual salvation could regain their respect, their confidence. "Try the untried half of the Gospel," was his awakening cry. Among the now manifest signs of this "conversion of the Church to Christ" that Dr. Strong preached is the programme of social reform put forth some years ago by the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ, and emphasized lately by the Men and Religion Forward Movement.

A MEMORIAL TO

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE

In the spring of 1914 we were glad to publish a letter from Mrs. Susan Huntington Hooker asking the friends of Harriet Beecher Stowe to help place a memorial window in the little Church of Our Saviour in Mandarin, Florida, where Professor and Mrs. Stowe so long made their home. Before Mrs. Stowe's death, many years ago, she hoped that such a window would be

Mrs. Hooker now writes us that the work of the Committee is completed, and that a beautiful memorial window has been constructed by the Tiffany Studios of New York, which the Committee believes will be a source of satisfaction to Mrs. Stowe's friends, "and the many pilgrims who come to Mandarin every year to worship at her shrine." The window is now on exhibition at the Tiffany Studios. Mrs. Hooker adds:

The first dollar that came from the appeal in The Outlook was from a farmer in Iowa whose mother had read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" to him when it appeared in the "National Era," and, although he was only seven years old, it had influenced his character and opinions through life.

A letter from Andrew D. White gave a most charming description of his visit to Mrs. Stowe in Mandarin; of their ride with the mule in the cart, gathering oranges in a market basket, and while eating them discussing all kinds of vital questions.

A letter from Cambridge tells of a visit as a child in the delightful Stowe home, and says that "the little buzzing Mary Draper" referred to in "Palmetto Leaves" was named for the writer of the letter.

A well-known banker in New York recalls the fact that his father was one of the students at Lane Seminary when Lyman Beecher was president and there was so much agitation over the pros and cons of slavery.

In sending a contribution from the colored school-children of Mandarin, their teacher writes: "It goes as a tribute to that noble woman who, by writing Uncle Tom's Cabin,' achieved so much for the emancipation of their race."

A son of the artist who painted "The Signing of the Emancipation Proclamation" at the Capitol in Washington asked to share in the work; Mandarin friends who had returned to England even in the stress of war did not wish to be left out; the colored people of Mandarin, many of whom she had taught to read and write, were all glad to help. Letters and money from her old friends in Hartford and all New England have been full of reminiscences and tributes

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Dr. Richard Strauss's latest work, "An Alpine Symphony," in which he returns to orchestral music after ten years spent in writing music-dramas, received its first performances in America by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra on April 27, and by the Philadelphia Orchestra on April 28 and 29. This symphony has been much talked about since its first European performance in Berlin, on October 28, 1915, because of the enormous orchestral resources demanded (including, for example, sixteen horns, six trumpets, four tenor tubas, two bass tubas, and six trombones in the brass alone, besides such "freak" instruments as a wind machine and a thunder machine), and because of the extreme to which he has pushed in it his practice of writing programme music-music, that is, that attempts to paint scenes as well as express feelings and ideas.

There are certainly some impressive instances of musical scene-painting in the new symphony. It opens, for instance, with a picture of Night, suggested by a slow downward-creeping minor scale, each tone held until all are sounding in a cloudy mass from the stringed instruments, while the trombones solemnly announce a choral-like theme suggestive of the mountains. There is a silvery flashing Alpine cascade, pictured in gushing arpeggios of flutes, clarinets, violins, harps, and the happily named celesta. There is a truly blood-curdling storm, with ebbing and flowing noise from the gigantic orchestra fit to crack the welkin. And Strauss is such a master of the orchestra, such a magician in rich and ear-seducing sonorities, that there are many passages more nearly approaching the older idea of music which cannot but delight the ear, as a part of the "Entrance into the Woods" does, or astonish and overpower it as the tense, almost painful sounds of "On the Summit" do.

But as this typical modern German composer has gone from work to work, piling up an ever more formidable array of material means, aiming always at more exaggerated,

sensational, and crudely quantitative contrasts, subordinating the mind to the senses, the thought to the sound, expression to depiction, one has been unable to resist the suspicion that there is something fundamentally wrong in such an artistic materialism, such a policy of "frightfulness" in music. Such a policy, it would seem, too much ignores the mental, emotional, and spiritual side of art, which, though less obvious than the physical or sensuous, is, in music especially, far more vital. The essence of music is the thought, the melody. If this thought is commonplace, as it often is with Strauss, no splendor of instrumental embodiment, no glory of its flesh, so to speak, will permanently conceal the poverty of its soul. If, on the other hand, the thought is noble, profound, tender with the tenderness that comes only to a wise and chastened spirit, as so many of the melodies of that other great German of a far different ideal, Beethoven, so constantly are, then it needs no elaborate physical incorporation to make its quiet but potent appeal to our sense of beauty. The greatest of Beethoven's immortal thoughts need no more than two violins, a viola, and a violoncello to give them voice. Yet so full of meaning are they, so rich with garnered experience, with human sympathy, with spiritual aspiration, that it takes a lifetime of study to appreciate them.

Strauss is more easily approachable, infinitely more effective superficially, more satisfying to the man who listens with his ears rather than with his mind and heart. His vivid pictures appeal to many who do not yet respond to the deeper emotional power of music. He gives much, too, especially in such a masterpiece as "Till Eulenspiegel," to the purely musical faculty. But his increasing preoccupation with the body rather than the soul of art is disquieting. It indicates a materialism which may prove disastrous. For in art, as in ordinary life, it is possible in a veritable palace of luxury, fitted with "all the modern conveniences," to starve to death.

NEW GODS FOR OLD

The rapid strides made in industry and commerce during the nineteenth century by the application of science and man's inventive powers to the problems of his material existence have yet shown no indication of slackening in the twentieth century. We may be nearing the end of the era to go down in

history as marked by great inventions and industrial development, but there is nothing to indicate it. The displacement of the horse as a tractive power by the first elementary steam-engine was followed by displacement of this engine by another more complicated, the displacement of that by a type yet more advanced, and so on, till we have come to the turbine and modern complicated steam-engine. Now steam is giving way to electricity as a motive power. So new gods supplant the old.

Recently the United States launched a new dreadnought driven by electricity generated by steam. Several railways have already taken the electrical power that has worked so well on street, elevated, and subway systems and applied it to their regular passenger service. But the Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul Railway has recently been the first one to inaugurate an epoch in transportation by establishing the first long-distance stretch of electrified track.

The Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul is already using mainly electric locomotives over a two-hundred-and-thirty-mile section of road between Harlowton and Deer Lodge, Montana. This section includes two entire "engine divisions" and traverses the great continental divide of the Rocky Mountains as well as the main ridge of the Belt Mountains. Officials of this road promise that in a few weeks not a single steam locomotive will be left on this section. And within a few months it is planned to complete the electrification already begun of two additional engine divisions comprising a stretch of track between Deer Lodge and Avery, Idaho, making the total distance of the four divisions four hundred and forty miles of continuous electrified track.

The advantages of the electric power from the passenger's point of view are evidentless noise, no smoke, and no cinders. From the point of view of the railway management, it is said that the electric locomotive excels the steam locomotive on stiff grades, particularly in winter, when the steam-engine loses much heat by radiation. The elimination of fuel trains, coal and water stations, and ash dumping is another advantage to the railway. The electric locomotive costs more to build than the steam, but costs less to operate, has a greater tractive power, and is much more responsive to an unexpected extra demand on its strength than a steam locomotive. Of course the initial cost of supplanting steam