dream that American capital and Japanese energy and ability can work together. They can also make money together. This thing has been translated into many a substantial and profitable fact for years. I know; I can speak from my own little experience. I am interested in a modest gold-mine in Korea. American capital is also interested in it. Chikusan is its name. It was once worked by American interests alone, and was losing money. It is not turning out multimillionaires now, to be sure; still, it is making money in its mod

est way.

In Japan your General Electric Company has been working with Mitsui people for years and in perfect harmony, with profit to both. There are a number of other examples where the combination of American capital and Japanese work has turned out very happily. And these things have been done at the time when the United States was not looking for foreign investments with any enthusiasm.

China, as everybody knows, offers a tremendous field for railway construction. The impression seems to prevail here and in Europe that Japan does not like to see American capital enter that field. It is all wrong. Of course Japan would not like to see American or any other foreign capital build a line competing with the South Manchurian; but in a richer province of China, where the field is virgin and the venture will be profitable to all concerned, Japan would welcome the entrance of American capital as much as would China, if not more, in fact. The additional establishment of transportation facilities means an extension of the market for our goods. There is absolutely no reason for us to try to fence out American capital from China; there is every reason for us to welcome it.

Of course if American capital entered China and established a spinning-mill on the Yang-tse on a big enough scale to compete aggressively against Japanese goods, there would be a number of Osaka mills, for example, that would rather see it removed elsewhere. But the opposition would be purely individual in that case.

Japan as a nation would welcome the establishment of the American mill, for the presence of successful American investment in China spells a number of other things beside competition with some Osaka mills, and competition is by no means unhealthy. In fact, if the Osaka mills cannot survive the competition of a healthy and friendly rivalry, they should not be in business at all; for out there no business can live unless it is healthy enough to stand against the competition of all the world. And we believe that in order to make American investments profitable, Americans would be the first to see the advantage of commanding Japanese energy and ability in its service. That would mean much for the future of commercial and financial Japan.

Japan desires American coöperation. Let me repeat it; let me put it as emphatically as possible and as clearly as can be. She wishes American capital in Japan proper, in Korea, and in China. There is plenty of room in the far East of to-day for all the American money that the United States can spare. And in the far East of to-morrow there will be still more For many years to come we cannot have too much of it.

room.

The international understanding which is based on vested interest has a rather firm foundation. There are few things that make two peoples better acquainted with each other than a community of financial and business interests. I have always maintained that if Americans understood us Japanese, the ax would be laid at the roots of all troubles between the two peoples. A little more sunlight, and all the ghosts and goblins and the haunting shades of suspicion would turn into a scarecrow, the mission in life of which is to scare nothing bigger than a sparrow.

A little more light and a trifle more patience on the part of both, and one thing more: if the Japanese should learn to look at the tangled question through the eyes of the American, I believe our friends the Americans would not find it hard to step into our own shoes and see where and how they pinch.

CE

ERTAINLY I stand for culture; in my business I have to. Even in my city, which does n't pretend to be Chicago or New York, the reputation of a street for culture will add six hundred per cent. to the value of its property. The Yews, for example, my own street.

The Yews began at Fourth Avenue. The corner house on the left was the residence of President Larrabee of the Merchant City Bank. Almost opposite stood the residence of Silas Mandin, whose name may be seen on any grand-opera subscription. Next door, as the phrase is, to President Larrabee lived G. M. Burket, formerly treasurer of the Cereals Company, and across the street from him, but spaced so as not to stand exactly opposite, was the home of President Curtis of the United Street Railways. And so on down the street-bank presidents, retired merchants, captains of industry, first one and then another, to the very edge of the district, nearly a mile farther on, at Twelfth Avenue. There was no question but the Yews had a place in the sun.

And its culture was real culture. The sidewalks were shaded by elm-trees just as in the East; the houses were all set back an even one hundred feet from the curb; there were no fences, but only low stone dividing-walls, hardly ankle-high, to serve as marches between the properties; and the lawns were all as carefully manicured as a lady's hand.

I say nothing of the houses. Inside and

out they spoke for themselves. All of them were new and modern, with oilpaintings on the walls and Turkish rugs on the floors. Money could buy no finer.

But

You will have guessed before this that my specialty is real estate. I can tell you the value of land in six questions. people? Sometimes I think I know people, and sometimes I think I don't. As, for instance, John Burden.

I am the man who sold John Burden his lot in the Yews. I picked him out. I knew all about him, too,-as much as a man could know from private reports and Bradstreet's, and see what he did!

This story really begins when Richard Graney, whose place adjoined Burket's, got caught in a bull movement in wheat. Graney was a man who almost had to put up a good front. I've heard say he was not much of a lawyer; but he was good enough to keep his clients impressed. That 's me, too. Give me a man who will play up to his part,-a chap with deep, bass-viol chest and big voice and clear skin, and I'll groom him to be a college president. I'm a large man myself.

Now, Graney was hit near the waterline, and yet, for business reasons, he could n't very well slow down to ten knots. So he came to me; but everybody knew he was hit, just the same. You see, he owned a frontage of three hundred feet on the Yews, exactly twice what his immediate neighbors had, and had been sensible enough to build on the north half

of it. That gave him one hundred and fifty feet he could turn into cash-one hundred and fifty feet on the Yews, at, let us say, three hundred dollars a foot.

"Find me a purchaser who will be a congenial neighbor, you know; some one who can build-ah-suitably, and who has ideals of culture."

"Do you know John Burden?" I asked. "I know who he is."

I knew he did n't, but no matter. I understood.

"I was wondering if Burden would n't take it," I said. "I'll see him, if you like."

"By all means," he replied heartily.

"I happen to know he 's looking for a city place."

Now, my statement was true, for Burden had commissioned me to act as his agent in the premises.

"Burden would make a very satisfactory neighbor," said Graney. "The Yews, I'm sure, would welcome him."

So I got Burden on long distance, and had him run down. John Burden had made his name as a builder of railroads, mostly in the West. It was he who pushed through the D., M. H. & P. trunkline to the Pacific three months ahead of contract time. It was he who built the Cameron Viaduct. The great Wasatch Tunnel on the R. & E. was also his work. People said he was absolutely honest. That does n't mean much to me, because I always figure on looking out for myself whatever a man is or is n't.

In appearance Burden was tall and gaunt, with high shoulders and long arms out of Ireland; but his square forehead and bushy brows and heavy chin were Scotch. It must have been the Scotch in him that was responsible for his low ideals and lack of artistic perception. I'm part Irish myself. The Irish are artistic.

There was considerable comment when my neighbors learned that Graney had sold to an outsider. Did they come to me with their questions? Did n't they!

"Who is this man Burden who 's bought the Graney lot?" one of them would ask.

"He's a railroad-builder," I would reply. "He's rated at from three to five millions."

"Where does he live?"

"Out in the country, above Ashton." "How old a man is he?"

"Somewhere between forty and fifty." "How much of a family has he?" "A wife and three children, ages five to eleven."

And then I would go on and explain about the D., M. H. & P. trunk-line and the Cameron Viaduct and the Wasatch Tunnel.

Pretty soon another would drop in. "Who is this man Burden?" he would begin.

"He's a railroad-builder."

And the same questions and answers would follow until the new man knew all that the other knew about Burden and also all that I knew. I did n't altogether like it, for it made it appear too much as if I were personally recommending Burden to all these men, which I was not.

THE Yews watched the growth of Burden's hundred-thousand-dollar house with increasing interest.

"What a lot of windows!" exclaimed

one.

"Such a small house, is n't it, for the money?"

'Anyhow, the deep porches will help.” "Shower-baths instead of tubs! Ugh!" "The library up-stairs!"

"His architect may be all right, but he has to show me. I never heard of him before."

And then I would have to explain that Burden had gone all the way to California for his architect, which was true, though I could n't tell them why. I don't know why. There were plenty of good architects in my office building, down-town.

But my troubles did n't really begin until after Burden's new house was completed and furnished and occupied.

I'll admit it: Burden put the clown's cap on us good and proper!

One Thursday afternoon a long line of