The tumult, however, is quite as great as before. Many a peasant and peasant woman is still left in the village, and they set about getting drunk and making merry. People guzzle in

'Who knows? At next year's fair perhaps God will be good to us, too'

the houses, in the yards, and drink and dance upon the market-place.

Here and there may be seen intoxicated peasants with filmy eyes, holding flasks of schnapps and little glasses, shouting, cursing, and exchanging affectionate kisses.

In one corner a countryman is playing upon a harmonica, varying the concert with a song in his drunken voice.

From another corner comes the wild, jolly notes of a kamarinskaya, pouring forth from a violin, accompanied by the sound of feet stamping out the rhythm of the dance.

Yonder, at the foot of the green hill from which the forest looks down, merry peasant youths and maidens are whirling in a joyous round. The ample white sleeves of the caftans and the hems of the short skirts sway and flutter as if blown by a strong wind.

The sergeant now struts about the village with his hands folded behind his back; he stops before every house and peeks furtively in through the windows, thrusting in half his beard. Whereupon a Jew or a Jewess with a wearied expression comes dashing out of the house, places one hand in that of the official, and fawningly pats him upon the shoulder. He nods most graciously, and one of his hands disappears

from his back into a pocket. He proceeds on his way, with his hands folded across his back; again his beard is thrust through an open window of some Jewish dwelling, and again a wan-faced man or woman hastens out, and the official once more feels the caress of a hand upon his back.

By nightfall everybody from out of town had ridden home. The last to go was a drunken, bleeding peasant.

Of the Jewish visitors only the two wealthy dealers remained at the money-lender's home; they still had before them the work of arranging the purchased goods upon the wagons; there were a few more men and women who were concluding matches between their sons and daughters.

The village had suddenly fallen asleep, as if after a wild carouse. It was weary and broken up, utterly without strength. Only now did the men and women in the shops begin to feel an aching in their hands and feet, a heaviness in the head and in the eyes. The children were overcome with a burdensome yearning, as after a great holiday, which is followed by long, long, dragging weeks filled with gloom.

And later, when the moon above the wood gazed down upon the village, it beheld upon the market-place heaps of filth, shattered flasks and glasses, broken axles and grease-kegs.

In the houses, too, there was a superabundance of dirt and disorder. The floors were wet, filthy; in the corners lay fragments of broken vessels; on the table stood plates containing abandoned fish soup, fish-bones, and heads of herring. The benches were overturned. The people, too, were covered with grime, and their faces, their hands, and their clothes were no neater than the floor.

But they had no strength now to think of cleanliness. They were unable to think even of the profits that the fair had brought them. They threw themselves upon their beds and resting-places, with heavy heads and eyes, and soon fell asleep, like exhausted beasts.

Not until the next morning did they calculate their gains. Some very early discovered that they had done better

the previous year, that they had earned no fewer than three rubles more a year before. Others found that the present fair had indeed been a profitable one; they had earned fully ten rubles. Others still wrung their hands. "Woe, woe! How hard we labored, and what did we get out of it?"

The money-lender was altogether jubilant. He had made his fifty rubles. Mottel made less this year than the year before; all of three rubles less. His wife sobbed at the news, and he consoled her: "You little goose, you! Can a few rubles make such a difference? We should thank God for what He was pleased to send. Better than nothing."

The rabbi, too, realized less from controversial fees than he did on the previous year. So, at least, said the rabbi's wife to Mottel when she came to his shop next morning to purchase two copeck's worth of oatmeal. Shmerel, the cobbler, on the other hand, was in high spirits. This fair day he had made all of three rubles on patches,

and on the next morning he had gulped down more than one good glass of brandy. He even treated Sholom the Gentile and a few other good fellows to a glass, slapped them across the shoulders, and cried enthusiastically:

"Ha? If every day were only fair day, ha? We 'd live like noblemen, ha? Is n't that so? Your health!"

That same day the whole village knew just how each of its inhabitants had fared. So-and-so was highly elated: his daughter had landed a beau, the son of such-and-such; he was a mighty fine fellow, and had exacted a very small dowry. And some other man's son had made a really excellent match, he had been betrothed to a rich butcher's daughter, and was to get a fat dowry and board and lodging into the bargain.

Öther mothers and daughters felt gnawing envy awaken in their hearts, but the fathers consoled them.

HE drift toward democracy in the far East began

T long before the Great

T

War. Constitutional government in Persia, simulacrum though it was, at least registered a wish. For years India was insistently demanding greater autonomy. China astonished the world by overthrowing the Manchu Empire, and establishing in its place a republictwo republics, unfortunately for her peace. Since the close of the war, events in India, in Korea, in Java, and in the Philippines have shown the extent to which the idea for which we fought has stimulated the imagination and the ambitions of subject people in the Orient. Ancient pride of race has revived, and the desire for more or less complete self-government has expressed itself in no uncertain terms.

Even a country as autocratically and efficiently governed as Japan has felt the rising tide of public feeling, strong, indeed, before the war, and vastly stronger now. But neither rulers nor ruling classes willingly yield their power. Therefore, for the Genro, long the real rulers of Japan, to consent to the appointment of Okuma, Japan's Grand Old Man, was a certain indication that they, literally the "Elder Statesmen," were realizing the absolute necessity of listening to a popular demand. True, probably, they counted a bit on his age. It was the war, however, that came to their rescue; for, despite reforms already under way, he was then obliged to work with the military party. Finally he resigned, and Terauchi, the minister of war, became

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prime minister. Terauchi is one of the greatest personalities of the East, able. honorable, patriotic, but an autocrat and a soldier. The people protested. Just before the end of the war he was succeeded by the present premier, Kei Hara, a liberal by comparison, almost a Red liberal. He is a trained lawyer, a successful journalist, an executive, a diplomat of considerable experience, and a man of the world. Two great Japanese, Inouye and Ito, were his intellectual parents. He is a genuine democrat and has proved his belief in civilian rule. Under his leadership, the military governor of Kwangtung has been superseded by a civilian, and, what is much more significant, the same change has taken place in Korea. Moreover, the military gendarmerie, one of the causes of anti-Japanese feeling in Korea, has been succeeded by a civilian police force under civilian control. Local municipal self-government, with popular suffrage, is now promised. It should not be forgotten that in Formosa the Japanese themselves called the "Age of Military Administration" there the "Age of Mistakes and Failures," and that the very reforms now promised to Korea were actually carried out in Formosa by Kodama and Goto.

This is certainly a next step for Korea, even if it does not entirely satisfy the Korean Nationalists in this country. One must remember that while complete self-government is the ideal for nations, and even for individual men, the three indispensable conditions enunciated by John Stuart Mill are: first, that the great majority of the people shall desire it; second,

Ob

that they shall be capable of exercising it; and, third, that they shall be able and willing to undertake the responsibilities, among them external and internal defense, which it entails. viously, not even those who best know the situation, the Koreans themselves and the Japanese, can say when these conditions are likely to be fulfilled.

In the beginning of the year the Korean National Association issued an Appeal to the World, followed shortly after by their Declaration of Independence, written in Seul, signed by representatives from all religions, including even Buddhists. It contained this significant and statesmanlike sentence:

Today Korean independence would mean not only life and happiness for us, but it would mean Japan's departure from an evil way and exaltation to the place of true protector of the East; so that China, too, even in her dreams, would put all fear of Japan aside.

Later the same committee issued a manifesto, begging that no Korean disgrace his nation by taking part in destruction of property or violence against people.

Nevertheless, apparently sporadic uprisings began in February. In April the spirit of rebellion spread to hundreds of towns. The local police were utterly unable to control the situation until Japan finally sent over an additional military contingent. There is no doubt that men and women, especially Christians, and in the smaller villages, have been brutally punished and even massacred. Churches and villages have been burned. Missionaries have been assaulted and imprisoned. It may be true that some of the latter were close to the line of what was legally wrong, but certainly there was nothing to justify some of the sentences. In point of fact, Japan has not attempted to justify any atrocity. For example, an Englishman, Mr. Thomas, of the Oriental Mission, has been awarded 5000 yen ($2500) by the Government because of an uncalled-for attack upon him by Japanese officers and civilians.

In July official assurance was given the Koreans, and, according to report,

to Washington, not only that these crimes had no sanction from the Government, but also that, as soon as possible, reforms would be carried into effect, and a more liberal policy toward Korea adopted. Indeed, from the time. of Inouye many of the ablest Japanese have recognized the unwisdom of military rule in Korea.

An imperial rescript in August confirmed the earlier promises of the premier. We must wait to read the new chapter in the history of an old and interesting nation. That we may understand it better when it comes, let us review the history and the geography of the country.

Korea looks small on the map, but this is because China is large. Korea stretches as far as from northern Massachusetts to southern South Carolina. In area it includes almost as many square miles as Great Britain, and almost a half more than all New England.

One gets a better idea of the range and character of the climate of Korea by paralleling its length on the Pacific coast. It is in almost the same latitude as California, reaching southward to Los Angeles. It has not so great a variety of climate as this State, for its extremes are modified by the fact that it is a peninsula. Moreover, the southwest winds of summer, coming from the ocean and over a warm current, bring a rainy season at that time. Korea is at its brilliant best in the dry, bright autumn, though the spring months are also very beautiful.

The coast-line is long and irregular. There are several excellent harbors on both sides. Fusan, in the south, was the first to be adequately developed. It is the nearest port to Japan. Almost all of its history is tied up with that country. Before the discovery of America the Lord of Tsushima secured an agreement that gave the Japanese the right of permanent settlement. Here landed the forces of Hideyoshi, at the close of the sixteenth century, in their two devastating expeditions against Korea. In all the history that followed Japan managed to keep her hold on that port, so that for years her settlers here had the distinction of being "the only Japanese colony in the world.” Fusan

is now a thriving modern port, connected by rail with Seul, the capital.

The most important northern port and eastern port is Gensan. It has a magnificent, deep, spacious harbor, well protected by islands and promontories. Steamboat service connects it with China and with Japan, and it is connected with Seul by rail. Russia has had her eyes on this port since 1854. Doubtless it would have become the eastern terminus of the Transsiberian had she been victorious in her war against Japan.

There are three important ports on the west coast, all on navigable rivers: Kusan, port of Chunju; Chemulpo, port of Seul, famous as the site of naval victories in both the wars waged by Japan for Korea, against China in 1894 and against Russia in 1904; and Chinampo, port of Pyeng-Yang. Unfortunately, there are very high tides (thirty feet) on the west coast. The navigation of the Yellow Sea is dangerous, too, on account of the innumerable small islands.

This long, irregular coast, the numerous islands, the meeting there of warm and cold currents, have given Korea much in the way of marine food. Over a hundred different kinds have been found. The most important are sardine, lobster, bream, mackerel, tunny, swordfish, salmon, codfish, herring, shark, whale, sea-slug, and various seaweeds.

To each mile of coast there are now fifteen fishermen, in contrast to three hundred to each mile of coast in Japan. But the Koreans eat more meat than the Japanese, and of course their population is still much smaller.

The population of Korea has increased from over thirteen and a half millions in 1910 to nearly seventeen millions in 1917, and probably to twenty millions now. The Japanese have nearly doubled in numbers, and the foreigners have increased nearly fifty per cent. (1910-17).

The backbone of Korea is a chain of granitic mountains, highest in the north, disappearing in the extreme south, but again raising its heads in the form of varied and beautiful islands off the west coast. The highest peaks, about eight thousand feet, lie on the

boundary between Manchuria and Korea. The heavy rains of summer and the melting snows of spring make them the mothers of the Yalu and the Tumen, both boundary rivers, and also of one of the tributaries of the great Amur. The name of the most famous of these peaks, the Ever White, is due not to a mantel of perpetual snow, but to a robe of glistening pumice. In the crater of this extinct volcano lies a beautiful lake, the Dragon Prince's Pool, and on its sides grow primeval forests. It is a sacred mountain to Koreans and Chinese alike, and its beauties have been sung not only in their literature, but also in that of Japan.

The enchantments of the Diamond Mountains, mother of the River Han, have been well described by Mrs. Bishop. Even the tourist is likely to visit Pouk-han, near Seul, and there realize the mysterious charm and exquisite color of bare and lonely mountains.

The mountains used to be full of tigers, deer, antelopes, leopards, wild boars, and many fur-bearers, but the introduction of the rifle and the high price brought by furs of all kinds have steadily diminished the numbers of . wild animals. Over five hundred tigerskins were recently exported in a single season from Gensan, the northern port on the Sea of Japan, an index of the past rather than a promise for the future.

There is slate as well as granite in the Korean mountains. Both are now yielding their characteristic treasures of coal and graphite on the one hand, and of gold, iron, copper, silver, zinc (since 1915), and lead and tungsten (since 1916) on the other. Beautiful building stones are found, and in one place in the south a good quality of rock crystal. In the mountains grows the precious ginseng, so rare and valuable that the finding of a single root a season will support an ordinary family in comfort for a year.

But valuable as are these gifts of the mountains, it is on the arable land that the prosperity of these people depends. The mountains are very near the eastern coast, and their slopes there are