situation. It is very hard, for instance, for a layman to understand why the provisions for transporting people across New York are so hopelessly inadequate. At the foot of West Twenty-third Street four large railways have their city terminals and pour in every day an army of men and women. To distribute this army over the city there is a single railway through Twenty-third Street. Between four and six o'clock in the evening the accommodations for passengers who wish to go to the ferries at the foot of West Twenty-third Street are hopelessly inadequate; and in the morning, from eight to ten, when the army of commuters. and shoppers come in from the various roads across the Hudson River, they swarm around the insufficient cars like bees around a hive. The disproportion between these commuters and travelers and the means of carrying them would be ridiculous if it were not exasperating. There ought to be a conference of the passenger agents of the four railways that have terminals in West Twenty-third Street and the managers of the Twentythird Street electric car line to provide for a proper distribution of the multitude that is landed there every day and is often obliged to wait in the bitter winds of winter until a number of cars have passed before it is possible to obtain even foot-room. To the lay mind the construction of some kind of a loop at West Twenty-third Street would seem imperative, or the building of parallel lines through Twenty-second or Twenty-fourth Streets. Under any circumstances, the number of cars in use during the rush hours ought to be very largely increased.

Another source of discomfort in New York is the multitude of unnecessary noises. The daily life of a modern city cannot be conducted without a great deal of noise, but probably two-thirds of the most irritating sounds that pierce the ears of residents of New York are unnecessary. Mrs. Rice, who has organized the Society for the Suppression of Unnecessary Noises, is in the way of rendering the public a great service if she succeeds in carrying out the work which she has planned. She has interested a number of the most prominent men of the metropolis, and proposes, in the first

place, to secure relief for the hospitals. She calls attention to the fact that the street-car company that operates a line of cars passing St. Vincent's Hospital on Seventh Avenue agreed, at the time of securing its franchise, that no bells should be rung in front of the building, and she asks very pertinently why the same rule cannot be enforced in the neighborhood of other hospitals. She hopes to secure the co-operation of automobile clubs in order that, in passing the hospitals, noises may be avoided. She intends to ask that a policeman be assigned on every block on which there is a hospital. Several physicians in different hospitals who have been consulted are agreed that street noises in the neighborhood of these institutions are a serious menace to the well-being of patients, and one of them expressed the opinion that two patients in the hospital with which he is connected became insane during the year owing, partly, to the constant noises prevailing about the building. If Mrs. Rice is able to effect, even in part, what she has in mind, she will render a very important service not only to the hospitals but to residents of New York, and the movement may lead the way to a marked diminution of one of the most uncomfortable concomitants of city residence. It is high time to study the possibilities of diminishing the discomforts of living in one of the most interesting cities of America.

During the last few months residents of New York have endured the discomforts of traveling across the Desert of Sahara or over the alkali plains of Montana without securing novelty of surroundings or unusual scenery. Not in the memory of this generation have the streets of the city been in such a deplorable condition. In wet weather the mud in many places is inches deep; in dry and windy weather the streets are filled with clouds of dust. The condition is deplorable; and unless circumstances exist which are unknown to the public, it is unpardonable. What has happened to the street-cleaning department? has it gone into the hands of a receiver? It is giving New York the reputation of being the dirtiest city in America. Not many years ago, under

the leadership of Colonel Waring, it was one of the cleanest cities in the world.

Self-Condemned

Last week a number of well-known men in New York assured the Secretary of State by letter of their conviction that for any measure he might adopt in order to give the European Powers the moral support of the United States in "any undertaking to secure conditions in the Congo that will not disgrace civilization," he would have their "earnest and urgent approval." The signers of this letter pointed to the fact that over a year has passed "since the report of the Commission chosen by the Chief Executive and virtual owner of the Congo to investigate conditions in. that State was published," and that those Commissioners "felt constrained to report the existence of measures and practices of flagrant inhumanity." In view of the repeated assertions that the criticism of the Congo Government is based upon the tales of prejudiced missionaries and superficial travelers, it is important to remember that there is no occasion for looking any further for an indictment of the Congo Government than the report of these Commissioners. From that report were selected seven points for specific mention. One needs only to turn to that report to see how well established are those seven statements made by the writers of the letter. We here quote those seven points, and under each point certain portions of the report which substantiate the statement. We shall use the

English translation of the report, published by G. P. Putnam's Sons, entitled "The Congo: A Report of the Commission of Inquiry." The numbers in parentheses refer to the pages of this edition. Readers of The Outlook who wish to follow this matter further will find these references useful. The measures and practices which the writers of this letter note are as follows:

The first point in this letter is, "The exaction of a labor tax so oppressive that many natives on whom it falls have little, if any, freedom." The Commissioners remark (p. 30) that “a labor tax,

as in the case of all taxes, should absorb only a small portion of the activities of the individuals; it ought to supply simply the needs of the government, be in relation to the benefits which the contributors receive therefrom; it ought finally, as we propose, be in harmony as far as possible with the principle of individual liberty, and we believe that within these limits it cannot be criticised." By decree of the King-Sovereign (p. 37) the total amount of the labor tax cannot exceed during any one month forty hours of actual labor." As a matter of fact, however, what do we find? In the first place (p. 39), it is not labor but produce that is exacted, and so great an amount of produce that in some cases the native has little or no time for anything but the toil of gathering it and conveying it to his taskmasters. Thus, concerning the collection of chikwangue (p. 46, 47, 48):

All of the witnesses who were heard by the Commission on this subject were unanimous in criticising the large amount that was imposed upon the women of certain vil lages, the continuity of the imposition, and the long journeys that had to be made. The worst feature of this imposition is its continuity. As the chikwangue can be preserved only a few days, the native, even by doubling his activities, cannot at one time discharge his obligation extending over a long period. The imposition. . . becomes a sort of obligatory labor, since there is ever before the native the thought of delivery that must soon be made. It is inadmissible that he should be obliged to travel 150 kilometers [over ninety miles] to bring to the place of delivery a tax which represents a value of about one franc and a half [about thirty cents]. . . . Following the rule that we have observed in vogue, the labor is thrown upon the weaker members of the family, so that it is the women, children, and domestic slaves who are forced to be the agencies of transport. This peculiarity, instead of attenuating the bad features of the system, rather increases them. For it is these who form the industrious element of the village, by the exigencies of the impost and procurand if a great part of their time is taken up ing the means for their own subsistence, they have not, however great may be their desire, a chance to perform other labor; hence the abandonment of native industries and impoverishment of villages.

So the report gives a similar picture of wretched conditions as a result of

forced labor for porterage (p. 57 seq.):

Without doubt the form of impressed labor that weighs most heavily upon the natives is the service as porters. ... Caravans

of native porters could be seen in a constant stream carrying upon their heads innumerable articles that were impatiently awaited by the whites on the upper reaches of the Congo. . . . The caravan route where black and white, united in the same effort, had paid such a heavy tribute to fatigue and fever, the dark pathway holding in its keeping so many lifeless bodies, has been invaded by the plants and trees of the forest. In two days the trains now go from Matadi to Leopoldville and from the Pool to the lower river; the natives are born again to a new life. . . . But for every route which has disappeared, many others have been called into existence as the new regions have been opened up by the State.

The practical slavery of the native who is forced to gather rubber is thus described by the Commissioners (p. 63):

In the majority of cases he must make a journey every fortnight which takes two or three days, sometimes more, in order to reach that part of the forest where he can find in sufficient quantities the rubber vines. There, for a certain number of days, he leads an uncomfortable existence. He must construct for himself a temporary shelter; . . . he does not have the food to which he is accustomed; . . . he is . . . exposed . . . to the attacks of wild beasts. He must carry what he has gathered to the State post or to the company, and not until then does he return to his village, where he can tarry only two or three days before the time for the next delivery is close at hand. . . . The native... sees the greater part of his time taken up in the gathering of rubber.

The second point in the letter is the "Appropriation of land to such an extent that the natives are practically prisoners within their own territory."

The Commissioners explain that the State has ordained that to it belong all vacant lands, which means (p. 19) all the land except those parts of the territory that are included within their [the natives'] villages or under their cultivation." The Commissioners continue (p. 19 seq.):

As the greater part of the land in the Congo has never been under cultivation, this interpretation gives to the State a proprietary right, absolute and exclusive, to almost all the land, and as a consequence it can grant to itself all the product of the soil and prosecute as robbers those who gather the smallest fruit and as accomplices those who buy the same. . . . It thus happens sometimes that not only have the natives been prohibited from moving their villages, but they have been refused permission to go, even for a time, to a neighboring village without a special permit.

Though the Commissioners hasten to add that agents have not rigidly enforced the law, they acknowledge that it is "the incontrovertible law," and they point out elsewhere (pp. 21 and 24) that it practically prevents the natives from profiting by the natural resources of the country, and from engaging in any trade. The third point in the letter is "The employment under the authority of the Government as sentries of cruel brutish blacks, chosen from hostile tribes, who murder, pillage, and rape the people for whose protection the Government is avowedly established."

These words of the Commissioners are sufficient to indicate the conditions of which the details would be too revolting to include even in their report (p. 71):

According to these witnesses, these auxiliaries, especially those who are detailed to the villages, abuse the authority committed to them, transform themselves into despots, demanding wives, food not only for themselves but also for a retinue of parasites and vagrants who, drawn by a love for rapine, become their associates and form a sort of bodyguard; they kill without pity those who make the least show of resistance to complying with their demands or caprice. . . . It is not possible for us to say, even approximately, how many abuses these sentries have committed. Several chiefs in the Baringa region brought to us a bunch of sticks, each one of which was said to represent a subject killed by the capitas [the less offensive of the two classes of sentries]. One of them declared that in his village one hundred and twenty had been killed during the past years. ... None of the agents who testified before the Commission, or were present at the sessions, made any attempt to refute the charges against the sentries.

The fourth point in the letter is "The abuse of the natives by white representatives of officially recognized companies."

These are some of the things the Commissioners have to say on the subject (pp. 66, 67, 69, 144–5, 110):

In the absence of a specific law and precise instruction upon the subject, the agents charged with the exercise of coercion, applying the principle of solidarity which exists among those who are the subjects of the same chief, often trouble themselves but little to seek out the real culprit. The prestations were due from the village as a whole; when they were not forthcoming the chiefs were arrested and some of the inhabitants taken at random, often the women were held as hostages. . . . At the different posts in the Abir which we visited it was never denied

that the imprisonment of women as hostages, the imposition of servile work on chiefs, the administration of the lash to delinquents, and the abuse of authority by the black overseers, were, as a rule, habitual.... The punishment most frequently used is the lash (chicotte).... The regulations fix fifty strokes as the maximum, and the convict cannot receive more than twenty-five in any one day. . . . Private parties, and notably the agents of the commercial companies, are not permitted to use the lash on their black employees. In spite of the restrictions imposed by law upon the use of the chicotte, it is often abused, either in resorting too frequently for slight offenses or in exceeding the limits prescribed. . . . Still it is undeniable that the chiefs of stations are led to violate the provisions by the desire to inflict a punishment that will serve as an example. . . . These companies have done nothing in the interests of the natives nor improved the conditions in the regions occupied.

The fifth point in the letter is "The binding of little children to years of labor at uncertain wages by contracts they do not understand, and, even more serious, maltreatment of children supposedly under the immediate care of the Government."

This is a part of what the Commis sioners say on this subject (pp. 141, 142):

The unfortunate features of long engagements are especially noticeable in the case of children. It happens that the District Commissioners employ, particularly for the fields, children of seven and eight years who are bound for a period of several years by a contract whose provisions they probably do not thoroughly understand. The average life of the native is much shorter than that of the white man. So that the term, which at the time of making the contract is not fully appreciated, will consume the greater part of his life. . . . It often happens that after a very short time the intrinsic value of the wage specified in the contract is not the same.

The Commissioners also (p. 122) call attention to the fact that the State itself often takes the children from their relatives-their natural protectors-and puts them into educational colonies in order to make out of them "excellent servants, good soldiers, and workmen of all sorts;" and has thus been forced to endure the reproach of recruiting,' under the guise of assistance, but against the wishes of those interested, the young people destined to fill the ranks of its constabulary." Later (pp. 125–129) the Commissioners refer to the abuse of

children in the missions which have accepted the authority of caring for certain children who have come under the guardianship of the State.

The sixth point in the letter is the "Great injustice in the administration of the courts, so that the natives dread the name of Boma, the place where the judicial system is centralized."

...

The Commissioners say (pp. 150-151):

Administrative agents. . . cannot. . . acquire a profound knowledge of the laws of the land. . . . It has therefore been found desirable to refer the most important civil and penal cases to the Boma court for trial. But these long journeys are especially prejudicial to the blacks. It is a sad fact, verified by observation, the judges told us, that a large number of blacks who come down from the Upper Congo as witnesses never see again their native villages, but die during the trip they are forced to make. The number of those who die has created a great impression upon the natives. The simple word "Boma "frightens them.

The seventh point in the letter is "The sending out of punitive expeditions, not for the purpose of establishing peace and order, but for the purpose of terrifying the natives into paying a tax which, as administered, even the Commissioners regard as inhuman.”

Contrary to the law, companies send out such expeditions. This fact the Commissioners (pp. 96-98) say is established by documents and judicial reports as well as the reports of the commercial agents themselves. This is what the Commissioners have to say with regard to punitive expeditions:

During these irregular operations the greatest abuses have been committed; men have been killed as well as women and children, often even when they were fleeing; others have been made prisoners and the wives taken as hostages. . . . The Government has, in fact, placed upon certain contection and supervision of the territory which cessions a police force charged with the prois directly under the authority of the District Commissioner. The directors of the companies may summons them directly in case of extreme need. From what we could see it seems that these troops are devoted to the directors and agents, who call upon them every time the pecuniary interests of the compary are involved.

This is but a fraction of what the King's own Commission have to say about the King's own government of the territory which has been given to him

in trust. We wonder how long it will be before King Leopold will stop talking about the testimony of prejudiced missionaries and superficial travelers, how long before Belgium will stop debating and either accept or decline responsibility, how long before the people of America and of Europe will insist that their Governments interpose between their wards of the Congo and the rapacious guardians who are now over them.

The Spectator

It seems a thousand pities to the Spectator that the impression should be so widespread that New York is all given over to the mammon of haste and greed; that the very conditions of its life necessitate restless striving; that it knows no contemplation. On the contrary, what better conditions of repose can there be than a great sustaining sea of life and purposeful activity on which one may launch one's little bark, secure from molestation? That is the theory of the thing. Now, theory does all very well, but experience does better. And, luckily for the Spectator, it happened that, when he sallied forth to buy a new pad on which to transcribe his theory, he found experience. He will therefore let the theory go, and tell the little story.

It was the tiniest shop imaginable, just off Broadway, on one of the side streets. The rush of the great thoroughfare, in its high noontide acceleration, was bewildering. Dodging people and horses and vehicles and rabbit-women and pea-, nut-men and a dozen distractions else, the Spectator had worked his way along, watching for a stationer's sign, but watching so many other things too that very likely he passed half a dozen abodes of pads and bottles of ink. Finally he pulled himself up. If he was to find that pad! He looked about him, and, not fifteen paces away, he saw a modest Ink. sign: "Pens. Paper. Elastic Bands. All Stationers' Supplies." So then he spun away out of the vortex, descended a narrow flight of steps, and

opened a dusty door. It was almost more than the Spectator could do not to say, "Oh, I beg your pardon !" as he stood on the threshold of that little room. He had entered with all the contagion of the street's haste upon him, brusquely perhaps, and imperatively, his purse already half open to make his purchase and be gone. He was greeted with-pause and silence. A gray cat sat dozing upon the counter, her paws tucked neatly into her breast. An old man sat dozing beneath the window, a newspaper on his knee. On shelves along one side of the wall the advertised articles were arranged-piles of writingpads, bottles of ink, a few books in a dusty row, some boxes of note-paper. But there was no sign of a customer, except the startled, arrested Spectator, and so little evident habit of one that neither the old man nor the cat stirred at the sudden entrance.

A curtain at the end of the room lifted, and a woman came forward. She was evidently the wife of the man, some few years younger, but gray-haired, too, very portly and serene.

"They're both deaf," she answered the Spectator's mute appeal. "You can speak out. Did you want anything?"

"I, oh, yes-" the Spectator stammered. He had forgotten what he did want, in his sudden revulsion of mood, his surprising shock of silence. "I should like a writing-pad, if you please."

"Yes. Well, if you will sit down here, I'll show you what we have."

It was going to be a pondered transaction, seriously and thoroughly done, that was evident. The Spectator settled himself on his stool to summon his best judgment. From one shelf and another the pads came down-thick pads, thin pads, ruled, unruled, glazed, rough-and he viewed them gravely.

"How about those?" he inquired at length, pointing to a pile yet untouched, on one end of the lower shelf.