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Politics? Our own cartoonists, working the way. They reveal the fact that his within the heart of the struggle that greatest sons have lent him something knits Uncle Sam's brows, share his per- of their outer features, as well as of plexity, know his vast problem, the their souls; one sees him now with the vastest that ever confronted nation or eyes of an Emerson, alert for the ideal human ruler, and fashion him subtly, issue, now with something of the sorhis chin upon his hand in puzzled rowing face of Lincoln, looking out thought, his to make good the aspira- upon the world-war. tion of humanity in the matter of wise So has a national symbol, at first but freedom. By far the most intellectual a derisive attempt to rouse laughter of the personages representing the na- over the rough ways of rustic folk, tions, a thinker trained, not in the taken on great aspects; and the Uncle schools, but in life, he knows himself Sam who was originally but a purveyor the leader of the fairer hope of man- of provisions at Troy, New York, has kind, and gives evidence of profound- already become purveyor of spiritual est meditation, facing the mystery and things. There is about him a certain the uncertainty of the future.
central simplicity of high intent, as We hardly realize, perhaps, how befits the leader of the world's democgreat is our debt to these gentlemen of racy, a singleness of mind. In all the the brush and pen; these ephemeral bewildering variety of his experiences, sketches constantly reveal the poten- his unnumbered dilemmas, his endless tial greatness of our country, and as cogitations, there is a singular intentconstantly suggest a definite ideal, a ness in his gaze, a steady and guiding standard of achievement of which we aspiration that none of his unexampled must not fall short, helping to work material temptations can destroy. He out, in more ways than we know, a has deep faith, and stern conscience, vast destiny.
less changed from Pilgrim Father days One wonders, not only at the imag- than we are prone to think. In these inative insight, but also at the great puzzling moments when, not only ness of the conception which has come must the world be set right, but the into existence, partly by the help of cruelly difficult decision must be made these interpreters. A touch here, a as to what is right, one sees growing stroke there, and it grows wisely and within him a stern strength of resolunobly, Uncle Sam in his quick remorses tion to do his duty at all costs. He is and quicker resolves, done to the very an incorrigible idealist, for all his prelife. Deftly they give gentle prick or occupation with practical matters, and stimulus toward the right path, if he we hardly need the star upon his hathas wandered from it; with conscience band to remind us how irrevocably he as sensitive as his own they often point has hitched his wagon to a star.
THE IRISH OF IT
BY CORNELIA THROOP GEER
He was a curly-haired boy of about She was a brisk, self-sufficient young twenty-five, with a square Irish smile one of eighteen. She had been watchand an expression of sweet stupidity. ing him intently for some little time. He wore a blue shirt, and a red tie set "Well, Kate,' said Dennis, ready with off with a mother-of-pearl brooch in a cordial kiss, 'I'm glad to see you.' the shape of a Celtic harp; his baggy Kate avoided him deftly, set down trousers flared and drooped about his her suit-case, and slapped him sharply ankles. He rushed to and fro like an across the face. eager, nosing dog among that throng 'It's glad I'll be when I see the last of excited immigrants, who were fes- of you.' tooned with children and bundles and "Why did you that, Kate?' blurted shawl-straps and suit-cases, and had Dennis, puzzled and angry, and rubpaper blanks in their hands which bing his cheek. they read as they walked, submitting ‘Move away, whoever ye are, or I'll with a docile other-worldliness to the speak to an officer.' pushing and scolding of the Ellis Island 'Me!' exclaimed the boy, still rubofficials.
bing his smarting face. He was a man with a mission, a crea- cousin I am, Dennis Carney. I thought ture of one idea instead of the frag- you'd surely know me.' ments of two or three which he usually “That's easy said,' Kate answered carried about with him. In this capac- with irony. 'And I'll tell ye something ity he sidled shyly up to every unat- for yer soul's good, Dennis Carney. tached girl he saw, and asked with an I've been living out in Dublin for three ingratiating gesture of his left hand years past, and it was there I learned if she were Katherine O'Sullivan. As there's a deal of talk going around it's disappointment after disappointment
no need to believe. I'm not a greenconfronted him, the beads of perspira- horn at all.' tion on his forehead merged together Bewilderment shot into the blue and rolled down his temples in two eyes of Dennis. or three big drops; he wiped them off 'Come you with me, Katherine,' he with a handkerchief of neutral tint and said genially, stooping for her suitstood up on his rough-shod toes, peer- case. “Is this yours?' ing down the oncoming line. The 'It is. Take yer hands off it.' frown of anxiety between his eyebrows Dennis set it down, straightened up, deepened.
and looked at her, hurt to the quick. Suddenly he smiled, a smile of wide- "What is it, Katherine? Don't you mouthed relief and delight, and laugh- know me?' ed aloud, his worry set at rest.
I know yer kind, and that's "This is Katherine O'Sullivan.' enough.' 'It is,' replied the girl.
'What do ye mean, child?'
Kate's eyes were narrow with doubt was n't certain, it seemed well to me born of sophistication.
to ask any girl who was standing wait'Have n't I been watching you with ing with no one by her my two eyes going about speaking to 'I'm sure of it!' this girl and that girl? Sure, there's '— the way
I would n't make any no good in that kind of a man, and it's mistake and you pass out unremarked.' myself that knows it. Warned I've 'What would I be passing out for, been against them, thanks be to the and I waiting here for my brother, Almighty God!'
Patrick O'Sullivan?' ‘And how would I know it was you ‘Pat had his foot hurt the way he then, but to ask?' exploded Dennis could n't come, and he sent me here to
, putting his hands on his hips in exas- meet you and to take his place.' peration, ‘and I not having seen you "That's easy said,' was the indiffersince you were a child of six years?' ent comment. ‘And how came you to know me at
‘But how would I know your name, the latter end, so,' parried Kate in Kate, if Patrick had n't sent me?' triumph, ‘not having seen me since I Kate gave some thought to this. was a child of six years?'
"That I don't know,' she said at last, Dennis took out his handkerchief, slowly, 'if ye did n't read it in some
‘ and wiped his face and neck.
list or in some sort of an article in one “Why would n't I know you when I of the morning papers.' saw you? Many's the time it's been ‘But where would I get a list or an given in to me that the two of us looks article, Kate, that I'd read the name as much alike as if we were two peas.
of Katherine O'Sullivan in?' pleaded Why would n't I know my own fea- Dennis in desperation. tures and my own appearance when I She turned this over in her mind besee them before me?'
fore she answered. This was true, but like many truths ‘Or you might be some sort of a it should not have been uttered. false friend to Patrick. It might be it Katherine reddened angrily.
was you hurt his foot on him the way 'I to look like you, is it!' She he could n't come down.' laughed. “Ye should have spared yer- This was too much for Dennis. self yer carfare, Dennis Carney, and What would I want hurting my bought a mirror instead. Ye could
Ye could cousin's foot?'he burst out indignantly. have made a better use of it.'
'Or it might be you to have done 'It was n't me said it, Kate,' mut- away with him altogether, and to take tered Dennis sheepishly. 'It's been a paper from his body with my name given in to me so.'
in it and a word saying I was coming ‘And did you think them other girls in on the boat the day.' had yer own features and yer own ap- 'In heaven's name, Kate,' exclaimed pearance too? It seems yer own face the boy in horror, ‘are you crazy? is walking about on every pretty girl What would I want with killing Pat,
that used to run through the paddocks She tossed her head, and set her with me when we were boys together arms akimbo.
in the Old Country!” 'I did n't rightly know it was you, ‘What paddocks?' asked Kate, Kate,' explained Dennis slowly, feel- speaking now with real interest. ing his way; ‘and I did n't surely think 'Why the paddocks and fields in Donthem other girls was you. But when I egal. What paddocks would it be?'
'What would they be like, Dennis?' They're kept in cages in another place.'
What were they like! You ought to ‘But are ye Dennis Carney?' she inknow, just having left them. Why, sisted. they were like any other paddocks' — "I am.' he paused, and ran his hand across his 'Tell me, then, what does my mother forehead, - '
- ‘with green grass, and look like that's home in Donegal?' broken fences, and an old well stand- 'Surely, Kate, you've not forgotten ing, and the dogs running about after in so short a time!' he exclaimed in a hares and it might be after a fox.' shocked voice.
Katherine rubbed her sleeve across "Tell me.' her eyes.
'Well, then,' he began, with his "That's them,' she said, with a trem- hand on his crisp, black curls, ‘as near ble in her throat.
as I can remember after twelve
years, Dennis picked up her bag again. she is a thin
hair 'Come now, Kate,' he coaxed indul- 'It's white now,' amended Kate, gently, “this is some sickness is on you, wiping her eyes. brought on by the heaving of the sea. "Tall — We'll soon be home now.'
'She's bent on a stick now.' She took a moment to settle her hat, ‘Her eyes are blue.'. then turned to go. Suddenly she halted. 'Aye.'
'Stop, Dennis. Put down the bag. 'She used to call you Cathy.' It might be you got it from a picture Kate burst into tears. 'It's her,' Pat would have in his pocket. It's not she sobbed, with her face in the crook a great while since I sent him a card
of her arm. with a picture on it of the paddocks Dennis stooped for the bag again, and the fields that do be in Donegal.' his expression becoming more and more
'Got what?' asked Dennis wearily. alarmed.
Kate went over to him and put both ‘Come now, Kate,' he said gently. hands on his shoulders, looking earn- 'It'll not be long till we're home now. estly up into his bewildered face. Patrick will be wondering what's keep
'Are ye really Dennis Carney?' ing you.'
'What ails you, Kate?' he asked ‘Dennis, dearie, I'll kiss you now,'of. with the first sign of keen annoyance. fered Kate, smiling through her tears. 'Surely you know that you won't be let But Dennis rubbed his cheek remj. to leave this place till you see an officer niscently. “There's no time,' he said. on the other side of that stile the way Just then an official came up. ‘Move he'll know it's the right one is taking on here,' he commanded. This ain't you away.' As he spoke, he gestured a summer resort.' toward the door through which the Kate made a facetious dab at him serpentine column was winding, urged as he passed. She turned to Dennis, and pushed along by glum, blue-coated catching his arm, and laughed up at him. guards. 'It was only an accident that 'What, Dennis!' she exclaimed. I got into this room at all, and by being 'Surely you won't refuse to kiss yer quick. I slipped under the feller's arm, own features and yer own appearance and he yelling out to tell a big Scotchie when ye see them before you.' to come back. Them other people He bent and kissed her trusting, that's passing through won't now be jovial face, absurdly like his own. met by them that's belonging to them Then, blushing, he led the way to the till their names is called by an officer. United States and Patrick.
EDUCATION: THE MASTERY OF THE ARTS OF LIFE
BY ARTHUR E. MORGAN
outward discipline, but by the guided
interest and aspiration of the pupil. THROUGHOUT the long ages during The curriculum of this school is very which education has been of the very old, the best data indicating that it has essence of life, by endless selection and been in continuous use, almost without by the relentless test of time a natural change, for one or two million years. educational method has emerged which I had been watching a mother cat has a wonderful record of successful and her kittens. A cat must be able application under widely varying con- to catch food, to fight, and to distinditions. We are not sailing on an un- guish between fighting and playing; charted sea, for although innovators and these necessities indicate what to it have come and gone, their practices are some of the principal arts of life to warping or thwarting the lives which be mastered. As I observed the group, have come under their influence, al- the kittens in play would repeatedly ways the sound historic method has attack the mother, she would retaliate, survived, being wrought ever more and then would come a tussle, in which firmly into our lives.
the kittens would use all the ability The other day I visited a school they possessed in efforts to parry and where this method is being used with strike, to bite and claw, continually success. It consists in the practice of imitating the mother. Sometimes the the arts of life, sometimes with the mother would begin the play, but usuassistance of the teacher, sometimes ally the kittens, not only would begin, by the pupils working out points of but would continue with such interest technic with each other, when the and vigor that, when the mother, tired teacher is not present. Occasionally out, wanted to stop the game, she the teacher will reprove or punish, would have to punish the kittens semost often because pupils have become verely before they would admit that too interested and boisterous for her the lesson period was over. Once, a comfort. Once I saw her bring a new mouse she had caught became the subproblem to the class, and direct atten- ject of a lesson, the kittens trying to tion to its solution; but in the main the capture it while it attempted to escape. day's work is initiated and sustained As I watched this family at its lesby the interest of the pupils. We have sons, I thought of changes in its currichere two of the fundamentals of sound ulum which would be made by those education: that its method shall in- innovators who in the past few generaclude and mainly consist of the prac- tions have been teaching human chiltice of the arts of life, under the di- dren in accordance with weird theories rection and inspiration of competent of education. We might reasonably teachers; and that effort shall be initi- expect their first dictum to be that we ated and maintained, not primarily by must not trust to the interests of the VOL. 121 - N0.3