ances undoubtedly was great, but I am convinced that it was decreased by the good impression which already had been made throughout Latin America by the Wilson policy of coöperation. It is to be conceded also, I think, that the disposition of Latin Americans generally to accept the President's assurances at par value acted as a strong counter influence to the irritation which at one time seemed likely to inflame the Carranza government against the United States.

III

I have endeavored in the foregoing review of Mr. Wilson's Mexican policy to present the main facts, as separated from opinion. Such a review seems to me more necessary than anything else to the formulation of an unbiased judgment on the policy. The tension of our relations with Mexico has been so extreme because of various special incidents that many persons have lost utterly their perspective of the policy as a whole. The significance of the purpose of the American government to stand off, -attentive, but not interfering,while the people of the sister republic fought their way through the intricacies of their destiny to a fuller measure of freedom, might easily be forgotten at a time of stress such as that created by the murder of nearly a score of American citizens. Mr. Wilson's larger purpose might be ignored in the assertion by so sane a publicist as Senator Borah that 'retribution moves swiftly for the nation which forgets or abandons its own.'

Mr. Wilson, however, at each such critical stage has been capable of an admirable detachment which permitted him to give full consideration to the fact that the wrongs done Americans were not committed by the government establishing itself there, but by irresponsible bandits,-in recent times

by bandits who desired to provoke the intervention of the United States, and that, therefore, our grievance was not against the Mexican people. There never has been a time since Mr. Wilson became President that general intervention in Mexico would not have solidified all factions there and forced upon the body of the Mexican people the suffering of atonement for wrongs which had been done to Americans by an irresponsible few. It was a moral judgment, formed despite the traditions of international policy, that led Mr. Wilson to conclude that the United States should not make the whole Mexican people suffer for the misdeeds of an uncontrolled minority. Misleading political debates have served to deter the American people from recalling that wars may properly be fought only between governments, between organized peoples. One hears so much of 'Americanism' in these debates that he may overlook the fact that weakness is not an offense punishable in the American code of ethics.

The President has hoped unceasingly for the evolution of order in Mexico through the advancement of the movement for constitutional government. Pending such an eventuality he has striven to keep Americans out of the danger-infested areas. It cannot be questioned that if the advice of our government had been observed by Americans in Mexico most of the offenses against their persons would have been avoided. Had this been done it would now be possible to have an unclouded appreciation of the fact that a constitutional government is establishing itself in Mexico. It would be possible for the American people to realize that by degrees this government is growing stronger; that the ultimate pacification of all Mexico is growing nearer; that the resumption of all its international obligations on the part of

the Republic may not be far off, and that the high purpose of the Wilson Mexican policy may be on the threshold of realization. Should we be surprised that, when this goal seemingly is at last in view, Mr. Wilson's adherence to his policy should be more stubborn than ever before?

The issue which faced the United States at the outset of the Wilson administration was the life or death of the democratic idea in Mexico. It was entirely within the power of the United States to protect the lives and material interests of its citizens in Mexico. This was possible through intervention or the recognition of Huerta - at least, the opinion seems to me defensible that Huerta's iron-handed methods might have succeeded in establishing order. Either course would have meant the end of the aspirations toward free selfgovernment represented by the Madero revolutionary movement and the later movement headed by Carranza. American lives and property would have been safe at the cost of Mexican liberty; and the responsibility lay upon the government of the United States to say whether their safety should be purchased at such high cost.

The responsibilities of our government were peculiar, not only because of our historical relationship with Mexico and of the declarations embodied in the Monroe Doctrine: we were not without responsibilities as the greatest free government in the world. This country has been called the world's great adventure in government, and it has been said that the hopes of all peoples aspiring to freedom are aligned with us. What killing irony it would have been for this custodian of mankind's ideals - herself composite of all the peoples of the earth to say to Mexico, or to any people for that matter: The germ

of self-government in you is incapable of fructifying. Your revolutions lead only to new revolutions and not to freedom and peace as did the revolutions of France. You must be governed by an iron hand, and the United States will see to it that you are.

And, in withholding recognition from Huerta, Mr. Wilson did nothing more than declare that the United States would not close the door of opportunity to a movement to establish constitutional government. 'Watchful waiting' since that time has been nothing other than a courageous adherence to this resolve.

In passing judgment upon the President's Mexican policy it should be realized that, coincidentally with the handling of the Mexican situation, Mr. Wilson has been busy with the formulation of a common policy for our relations with all the republics of the Western Hemisphere. All these republics have looked on intently as we dealt with Mexico. Mr. Wilson's policy, taken in toto, has promoted immeasur ably the friendliness with which these republics view the United States. In the great unknown to which American international relations are tending, the United States may come to a realization that Mr. Wilson rendered an inestimable service to his country by the conscious development of this PanAmerican sentiment. The foremost critic of Mr. Wilson's Mexican policy has asserted that the United States is without a friend among the great powers of Europe. Is not the prediction defensible that the future may produce a favorable judgment upon that policy as having aided in procuring for the United States in the two Americas that abundance of friendship which we are told is utterly lacking in the Eastern Hemisphere?

I

THE Petty Sessions court at Linstowe was crowded. Miracles do not happen every day, nor are rectors always charged with larceny. The interest roused would have relieved all those who doubt the vitality of our ancient Church. People who never went outside their farms or plots of garden had walked as much as three miles to see the show. Mrs. Gloyn, the sandy-haired little keeper of the shop, where soap and herrings, cheese, matches, bootlaces, bull's eyes, and the other luxuries of a countryside could be procured, remarked to Mrs. Redland, the farmer's wife," "T is quite a gatherin' like.' To which Mrs. Redland replied,' 'Most like Church of a Sunday.'

More women, it is true, than men, were present, because of their greater piety, and because most of them had parted with pounds of butter, chickens, ducks, potatoes, or some such offertory in kind during the past two years, at the instance of the rector. They had a vested interest in this matter, and were present, accompanied by their grief at value unreceived. From Trover, their little village on the top of the hill two miles from Linstowe, with the squat church-tower, beautifully untouched, and ruined by the perfect restoration of the body of the building, they had trooped in; some even coming from the shore of the Atlantic, a mile beyond, across the downs, whence other upland square church-towers could be viewed on the sky-line against the gray Janu

ary heavens. The occasion was in a sense unique, and its piquancy strengthened by that rivalry which is the essence of religion.

For there was no love lost between Church and Chapel in Trover, and the rector's flock had long been fortified in their power of 'parting' by fear lest 'Chapel' (also present that day in court) should mock at his impecuniousness. Not that his flock approved of his poverty. It had seemed 'sillylike,' ever since the news had spread that his difficulties had been caused by a faith in shares. To improve a secure if moderate position by speculation would not have seemed wrong, if he had not failed instead, and made himself dependent on their butter, their potatoes, their eggs and chickens. In that parish, as in others, the saying 'Nothing succeeds like success' was true, nor had the villagers any abnormal disposition to question the title deeds of affluence.

But it is equally true that nothing irritates so much as finding that one of whom you have the right to beg is begging of you. This was why the rector's tall, thin, black figure, down which a ramrod surely had been passed at birth; his narrow, hairless, white and wasted face, with red eyebrows over eyes that seemed now burning and now melting; his grizzled red hair under a hat almost green with age; his abrupt and dictatorial voice; his abrupt and mirthless laugh- all were on their nerves. His barked-out utterances, 'I want a pound of butter of butter pay you Monday!' 'I

want some potatoes -pay you soon!' had sounded too often in the ears of those who had found his repayments so far purely spiritual. Now and then one of the more cynical would remark, 'Ah! I told un my butter was all to market.' Or, 'The man can't 'ave no principles

he did n' get no chicken out o' me.' And yet it was impossible to let him and his old mother die on them-it would give too much pleasure 'over the way.' And they never dreamed of losing him in any other manner, because they knew his living had been purchased. Money had passed in that transaction; the whole fabric of the Church and of Society was involved. His professional conduct, too, was flawless; his sermons long and fiery; he was always ready to perform those supernumerary duties - weddings, baptisms, and burials—which yielded him what revenue he had, now that his income from the living was mortgaged up to the hilt. Their loyalty held as the loyalty of people will when some great institution of which they are members is endangered.

Gossip said that things were in a dreadful way at the Rectory; the external prosperity of that red brick building surrounded by laurels which did not flower heightened ironically the conditions within. The old lady, his mother, eighty years of age, was reported never to leave her bed this winter, because they had no coal. She lay there, with her three birds flying about dirtying the room, for neither she nor her son would ever let a cage-door be shut — deplorable state of things! The one servant was supposed never to be paid. The tradesmen would no longer leave goods because they could not get their money. Most of the furniture had been sold; and the dust made you sneeze 'fit to bust yourself like.'

With a little basket on his arm the rector collected for his household three

times a week, pursuing a kind of method, always in the apparent belief that he would pay on Monday, and observing the Sabbath as a day of rest. His mind seemed ever to cherish the faith that his shares were on the point of recovery; his spirit never to lose belief in his divine right to be supported. It was extremely difficult to refuse him; the postman had twice seen him standing on the railway line that ran past just below the village, 'with 'is 'at off, like as if he was in two minds.' This vision of him close to the shining metals had powerfully impressed many good souls who loved to make flesh creep. They would say, 'I would n' never be surprised if something 'appened to 'im one of these days!' Others, less romantic, shook their heads, insisting that 'he would n' never do nothin', while his old mother lived.' Others again, more devout, maintained that 'he would n' never go against the Scriptures, settin' an example like that!'

II

The Petty Sessions court that morning resembled Church on the occasion of a wedding; for the villagers of Trover had put on their black clothes and grouped themselves according to their religious faiths - 'Church' in the right, 'Chapel' in the left-hand aisle. They presented all that rich variety of type and monotony of costume which the remoter country still affords to the observer; their mouths were almost all a little open, and their eyes fixed with intensity on the Bench. The three magistrates - Squire Pleydell in the chair, Dr. Becket on his left, and 'the Honble.' Calmady on his right — were by most seen for the first time in their judicial capacity; and curiosity was divided between their proceedings and observation of the rector's prosecutor, a small baker from the town whence

the village of Trover derived its necessaries. The face of this fellow, like that of a white walrus, and the back of his bald head were of interest to every one until the case was called, and the rector himself entered. In his thin black overcoat he advanced and stood as if a little dazed. Then, turning his ravaged face to the Bench, he jerked out,

'Good morning! Lot of people!'
A constable behind him murmured,
'Into the dock, sir, please.'

Moving across, he entered the wooden edifice.

says, "that's the rector." "Yes," I says, "I ought to know that, seein' 'e's owed me money a matter of eighteen months. I think I'll drive on," I says. Well, I drove on, and come up to this gentleman. 'E turns 'is 'ead, and looks at me. "Good afternoon!" he says like that. "Good afternoon, sir," I says. "You 'ave n't seen a loaf, 'ave you?" 'E pulls the loaf out of 'is pocket. "On the ground," 'e says; dirty," 'e says. "Do for my birds! Ha! ha!" like that. "Oh!" I says, "indeed! Now I know!" I says. I kept my

66

Through the court ran a stir and shuffle, as it might be of sympathy with his lost divinity, and every eye was fixed on that tall, lean figure, with the red, gray-streaked hair.

'Last Tuesday afternoon, your Honors, I 'appened to be drivin' my cart meself up through Trover on to the cottages just above the dip, and I'd gone in to Mrs. 'Oney's, the laundress, leavin' my cart standin' same as I always do. I'ad a bit o' gossip, an' when I come out I see this gentleman walkin' away in front towards the village street. It so 'appens I 'appened to look in the back o' my cart, and I thinks to meself, That's funny! There's only two flat rounds 'ave I left two 'ere by mistake? I calls to Mrs. 'Oney, an' I says, "I 'aven't been absent, 'ave I, an' left yer two?" "No," she says, "only one 'ere 't is! Why?" she says. "Well," I says, "I'ad four when I come in to you, there's only two now. "Tis funny!" I says. "'Ave you dropped one?" she says. "No," I says, "I counted 'em." "That's funny," she says; "perhaps a dog's 'ad it."""E may 'ave," I says, "but the only thing I see on the road is that there." An' I pointed to this gentleman. "Oh!" she

-

bread.'

Passing a dirty handkerchief over his white face and huge gingery moustache, the baker was silent. Suddenly from the dock the rector called out,

'Bit of dirty bread- feed my birds. Ha, ha!'

There was a deathly little silence. Then the baker said slowly,

-

'What's more, I say he ate it 'imself. I call two witnesses to that.'

The Chairman, passing his hand over his hard, alert face, that of a master of hounds, asked,

'Did you see any dirt on the loaf? Be careful!'

The baker answered stolidly, -
'Not a speck.'

Dr. Becket, a slight man with a short gray beard, and eyes restive from having to notice painful things, spoke. 'Had your horse moved?' "E never moves.' 'Ha, ha!'

The Chairman said sharply,

'Well, stand down; call the next witness. witness. Charles Stodder, carpenter.