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even though his business was the unpleasant one of killing cattle. He took us aboard with an exceeding warmth of spirit. Maybe he was lonesome; but he said anywhere we wanted to go, he 'd take us there. We liked him for that,-who would n't?and when the road forked, and he slowed down to let us decide whether we wanted to go on to Wading River or continue with him to Smithtown, we of course told him Smithtown was good enough for any sane traveler, particularly as it was his village, and he had praised it as I have heard few residents praise their own birthplace. Smithtown was, according to him, the finest little place on the whole island, and we would n't be making any mistake if we spent the night there. Hotels? Of course; several of them, and he, being an old inhabitant, would take us personally to whichever inn we chose, and make sure we were put up comfortably. A thriving place, a most progressive town, full of nice people. Oh, yes, Smithtown was O. K., and he did n't care who heard him say so, and he 'd tell the world. He did n't mean to be boastful, but

Thus he rambled proudly on as we drove through desolate country, and almost wished we had gone our own way. We came at last to the entrance to Camp Upton, now almost deserted of soldiers, but with the rifle range still active. Then we passed down shadowy roads, with here and there a farm-house that seemed miles from anywhere, for this is a sparsely settled district. A gorgeous sunset was before us, and as the twilight came down like a slow curtain at the opera, we wondered why more people did not know about this fine road through the middle of the island, and use it instead

of the more sociable thoroughfares that lead to town. that lead to town. We went by beautiful Artists' Lake, through Coram, Selden, and New Village, and I kept thinking that surely the next town must be our destination. It was getting chilly, and of course we had no coats, and our butcher did drive fast and was everlastingly chatty.

Finally I ventured to ask him how much farther we had to go, and he answered nonchalantly, "Oh, maybe eight or nine miles." But it seemed to us we must have traveled twenty, and it was getting on to half-past eight, and both of us were disgracefully hungry, when some straggling houses at length came in view. These, I thought with relief, must form the outskirts of humming little Smithtown. In a moment the electric signs of the movietheaters would greet our eyes, and we would eat in a brilliantly lighted dining-room (I could visualize the typical American hotel), and then we would swiftly fall into a deep sleep, despite the fact that glittering signs winked in at us through our windows.

"Are we nearing your home town?" Ernest inquired.

"We 're in it," our butcher replied. Every goose was a swan to him. Instead of the roaring main street we had thought of, we found ourselves in what was virtually a pasture, with houses scattered all about us; and in a moment the hotel, around which I had imagined trolleys would heave and dash, was before us-a calm, somnolent frame building on a little knoll, with only one lamp in the window, and an innkeeper and his wife who welcomed us with true bucolic hospitality. We were overjoyed with the silence and the peace of it. Cobblestones? We found none in Smithtown; only soft,

clean, winding streets and lovely trees bon beneath the wheels of one's car. and birds and flowers.

The country in this neighborhood is delightful, and one can ramble about it for miles and never grow weary of it. There are little hills and cozy turnings, waterfalls and sequestered farmhouses and larger estates, some of real magnificence.

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Running through the middle of Long Island is the fascinating line of the Motor Parkway, built several years ago for the delight of the motorist who revels in high speed, and is happy only when he has the right of way. It begins just north of Floral Park, and leads direct to Lake Ronkonkoma, where the French restaurant called Petit Trianon has been for many seasons a dream spot, if ever there was The lucky motorist! How many places there are of mushroom growth that are only for him! But coming for luncheon at this inn, he will be likely, being a speed fiend, to go back as he came, on the glistening Parkway, and miss the rustic beauties of the town of Ronkonkoma, where Maude Adams lives in seclusion during the summer. So, while he gains much, he also loses a great deal; and while the king's highway is beautiful, like all things kingly, it is lonesome; and save for an occasional toll-gatekeeper one encounters few people on this level, gleaming stretch that runs like a long, smooth, brown-velvet rib

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Though we missed the province between Wading River and Port Jefferson and Setauket at one time, we took the trail on another occasion, passing through such lovely villages as Shoreham, Rocky Point, and Miller's Place. The towns themselves, which are very popular as summer colonies, are not literally on the water, but some of them reach out to the sound, and bathing pavilions, like jeweled fingers, touch the sandy shore. This has always been for me one of the high spots of Long Island, perhaps because

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Smithtown

I can never forget a paradisial week I spent here several years ago at the lonely cottage of a friend, with only one servant to look after my needs. I recall sunrises of tropic beauty, and flaming sunsets that could not be matched even along the Mediterranean, and hours of such complete solitude that I completely erased the thundering city from my brain and existed only in a realm of dreams.

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One thinks of Long Island as flat. So it is in many parts; but roundabout Roslyn, Oyster Bay, and Locust Valley, and even at the Westburys, Old and New, there are hills, if not mountains; and nature has been lavish in her gift of water, so that a house built on a rise of ground commands a fine view, with clean mirrors reflecting the sun and moon.

There are no end of byways here, and plenty of back roads to ride horseback. Often, in going to Huntington, where William Faversham has a home, I had looked from the train window as we came to Cold Spring Harbor, and determined one day to take that shadowy path leading from the station, so cool and fragrant did it seem. This is really one of Long Island's pleasantest localities. There is fashion, if you care for it, and country simplicity rubbing elbows over the fences and hedges, if you want that.

The Piping Rock Club is here, with the house that Guy Lowell designed, a club-house with massive wooden pillars, and sensitively and sensibly conceived. A double polo-field sprawls directly in front of the wide porch, and beyond that the golf-links, among the most beautiful in America, meander away. At Fox's Point, a few miles down on the north shore, is the private bathing-beach for Piping Rock members, and the lanes that lead to it, for

equestrians and motorists, are haunted, cool hallways, with canopies of green leaves and a soft carpet of earth. I do not know a prettier beach, or one where the water looks bluer and where, afar, the ships sail by so gracefully. In this region there are heavenly roads, and quaint thatched cottages, and neat hedges that make one think of rural England.

At fashionable Old Westbury there is the Meadowbrook Club, and polo is played here during the season by young men of stalwart frame. There are hunt meets, also, and the whole country-side is forever alive with sport of one sort or another. The late Robert Bacon, once our ambassador to France, made his home at Old Westbury, and his widow and sons still live there. Otto Kahn has a splendid villa not far off; likewise J. P. Morgan.

Plandome, Manhasset, and Port Washington, particularly the latter, which is on Manhasset Bay, are charming spots in summer, and Sand's Point, jutting out into the sound, is beautiful in an Old-World way. Great Neck is a hive of theatrical celebrities. Their motors dash in and out, and many an actor commutes all the year round from here, finding it no trouble at all to reach his theater in time.

Of course there are hundreds of little places on the south shore equally attractive. One thinks of Cedarhurst and Lawrence, prim with box hedges and barbered grass; and if one likes to mingle with the crowd, the first spot that comes to mind is Long Beach, with wheel-chairs and loud bands and jazz, and thousands upon thousands of bathers seeking what will always seem to me a hollow form of pleasure in the thickly populated sea.

Are Mandates a Sacred Trust?

By HERBERT ADAMS GIBBONS

URING the peace conference I wrote to THE CENTURY from Paris that the mandatory scheme for the disposition of the German colonies was adopted in order to disguise under a cloak of virtuous self-abnegation the intention of the conquerors of Germany to divide among themselves Germany's overseas possessions. A number of Wilsonians complained that I was questioning the President's good faith. I never questioned Mr. Wilson's good faith at Paris, but I did question his judgment and statesmanship. The mandatory scheme was undoubtedly proposed with a high ideal and an altruistic end in view. It was adopted, however, only after the statesmen against whom Mr. Wilson was pitted had agreed that they would not have to observe either the spirit or the letter of the mandatory clauses in the Covenant of the League of Nations.

The lack of opposition to the mandatory scheme made Mr. Wilson believe that his colleagues felt, as he did, that the German colonies were "a sacred trust," for managing which the League of Nations could be appointed "the residuary trustee." The delusion or blindness of Mr. Wilson was disheartening. With the possible exception of Colonel House, the President's associates on the American Commission to Negotiate Peace were unable to get at him to advise and warn him, much less

§ 1

to influence him. In his recent book Mr. Lansing attempts to explain Mr. Wilson's infatuation on the mandate question by a disconcerting analysis of his former chief's mental processes. Mr. Lansing believes that "a sufficient and very practical reason" for the willingness of Clemenceau and Lloyd George to acquiesce in the mandatory plan was that in this way "Germany lost her territorial assets, which might have greatly reduced her financial debt to the Allies, while the latter obtained the German colonial possessions without the loss of any of their claims for indemnity."

An additional and equally compelling reason might have been adduced by Mr. Lansing had he been aware of the embarrassment and alarm of the French and British premiers over Italy's insistence upon the fulfilment of a clearly worded article in the secret treaty of 1915. One of the promises exacted by Italy as the price of her intervention in the war was "adequate territorial compensation" in case the war should bring “an increase in the colonial possessions of France and Great Britain in Africa." President Wilson was the deus ex machina. Togo, Kamerun, German East Africa, German Southwest Africa, belonged to the League of Nations. The Treaty of Versailles did not give them to France and Great Britain as colonies. How could Italy argue that her allies had increased their African

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The French and British governments have never at any time, either before or after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, taken the mandate idea seriously. It is not difficult to prove this assertion. It is based upon hard, cold facts of which the Wilson administration did not seem to be aware until the end of 1920. The prophecy of Isaiah about "seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive" was certainly fulfilled at Paris. Not only in regard to the former German colonies in Africa and the Pacific, but also in regard to the Ottoman races, the mandatory articles of the covenant were being violated at the moment of drafting, and during the two months before the Treaty of Versailles was signed Mr. Wilson should have been aware of the intentions of his associates. As the mandate question has now become an international issue through the notes of secretaries Colby and Hughes, it is important for the American people to realize that the American Government has no reason to be surprised at the attitude of the French and British and Japanese governments.

Concealment of mandatory intentions and denial of the authority of the League of Nations have been the consistent policy of the Allied premiers since April, 1919. The allotment of the mandates, the drawing of boundaries, and the rules for governing mandate territories have been matters of direct negotiation between the powers in actual possession of German and Ottoman territories at the time of the armistices. These powers did not wait until the council of the league was

formed. The residuary-trustee idea is a farce. Since the Entente powers are interested in the League of Nations only as a covenient instrument to use in furthering their own foreign policies, this is natural. Who can deny that the authority and activities of the league, in all matters that count, are under the direct control of the Allied premiers, who think of the league simply as a Dr. Jekyll false front to shield their Mr. Hyde doings?

The mandates for the former German colonies and for the Ottoman Empire were decided upon before the Covenant of the League of Nations was adopted. The ownership of these territories had been a matter of secret negotiations among the Entente powers during the war. Mr. Wilson's intervention at Paris changed nothing. Mr. Wilson was humored to the extent of being allowed to invent a new name; that was all. What 's in a name?

On

The mandates for the former German colonies were allotted to those who held them by those who held them. the day the treaty was handed to the German delegates Mr. Wilson agreed to recognize a de facto situation. He seems to have remonstrated only on the question of Yap. And that reservation was not written into the minutes! France and Great Britain had already made an agreement to swap border-lands in Nigeria and Congo, which indicated that Togo and Kamerun were regarded as old-fashioned territorial acquisitions. When Belgium kicked about being frozen out, before the Treaty of Versailles was signed, her statesmen appealed directly to Great Britain as the owner of German East Africa. King Albert flew to Paris. Lord Milner flew to Paris. An agreement was reached without thought

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