the problem? "Let them get out their citizenship papers. Get them out to vote -straight Republican, of course, and they'll no longer be aliens. They'll be Americans, sir." He carried out his own precepts. And so, since it was he who got the foreigners out to vote and patted them on the shoulder, he naturally became a force in local politics.

An efficiency system enabled him to combine his two activities. He was "Our Leading Citizen" at home and he began to make shy faltering steps abroad. He attended educational conferences and noted how big educators spoke and acted. He attended State Republican conventions and noted how big politicians conducted themselves. And he patterned his behavior on a combination of the two. In a few years he became mayor. Thereafter his public activity alternated between the mayoralty and the school principalship. (Something in some constitution somewhere prevented one person from holding the two offices at the same time.) Then he became a power. His college conferred upon him the honorary degree of doctor of laws. He attended a Republican convention, at which he made a fairly forceful speech seconding the nomination of Hiram Parsons of Watertown for state engineer. The speech attracted the attention of some of Metropole's politicians, among whom was the trustee of Harmonia.

So, when Harmonia needed a new president, one who could inaugurate a campaign of expansion and obtain a large endowment fund, Doctor Cook was chosen. He came to Metropole with his wife, one of his former students in the normal kindergarten department, and four children, good-looking but a little stupid.

III

THE college now had caught up the loose threads of Doctor Cook's previous existence and, without praise or censure, was willing enough to see what the new man could do. Evidently, Doctor Cook had decided against the aping of foppish city manners. He came to the college each morning in a loose, baggy suit, carefully chosen to suggest straw and God's own country. Nor did he surround

his position with aloof dignity. Weren't we all one family? So the college girls were encouraged to drop in familiarly at his office to hear a good story or to "talk over what's on your mind." Mrs. Cook came down to the college to sit on clubroom divans under bas-reliefs of the Muses, to throw her arms about the girls' shoulders, and to have heart-toheart talks with them. But it was noticed that no Catholics or Jews or Negroes and none of those "Well, of course, they are ambitious and bright; but why do they come to America?" foreigners were singled out for such president-wifely recognition.

Chapel, naturally compulsory, was the climactic occasion of the college week. Doctor Cook would unfold his long legs, rise majestically-with the majesty not of the polished but of the natural man-— and make his announcements. A delightful piquancy was given them by his Yankee intonation, by frequent inclusions of "I want cher" and "won't cher" and by a slight disregard of grammar and of rhetoric. When some chapel speaker failed to appear, Doctor Cook would throw himself into the breach and talk for the allotted thirty minutes on some subject nearest his heart. His speeches were not without humor. They would include a story or two about a drummer, or beginning: "It seems there were two men"; they would end with a quotation that contained the gist of his remarks. A favorite one was:

"But the man worth while
Is the man who can smile

When everything goes dead wrong."

There were changes in the faculty. Some members were dropped. "They're really too good for Harmonia," was the president's explanation. Some members. preferred to go. Then, too, the natural growth of the college demanded new professors. These places were filled by "big men," with proper fraternity connections. Some, mistakenly chosen, came with fire and ideals in their souls, stood out for their convictions, and at the end of a probationary year-left. Those who stayed were able to read a text-book on their subject, assemble the facts therein presented, and deliver them again in lec

tures. Their voices were loud and carried conviction. Their views coincided with those of the president. The new women of the faculty were delightfully feminine creatures who, after a few years of professorial duties, left to be married.

This habit of his women professors delighted Doctor Cook. He believed in marriage. He believed in families. His favorite address to his alumnæ was a capitulation of vital statistics, an announcement of the number of married alumnæ and of their children. The alumnæ stationery carried the slogan, suggested by him: "Every Alumna a Potential Mother." In fact, so firm was his belief in the sanctity of the family as an American institution that in a now famous interview with one who was anxious to help establish some connection between the undergraduate and the world after graduation he said: "We don't want to train our girls to receive large salaries. If they get good salaries, they won't want to marry. And we want them to marry." It was possibly this evidence of conservatism, together with his being a regular fellow-the college janitor reported having seen the Big Boss at the League baseball games-that endeared Doctor Cook to his board of trustees. He and they did pull together. A steadily, if slowly, increasing stream of money flowed to Harmonia. The college grew. An era of "Advertise Harmonia" was entered upon. The college grew larger. Members of the faculty joined the Chamber of Commerce. Members spoke before the local branches of the Y. M. C. A. Some of them even made political speeches during the gubernatorial campaign.

At last the time was ripe for the endowment-fund drive. No orthodox drive may be conducted without professional moneygatherers and without rallies. Harmonia's drive was orthodox. Harmonia began a whirl of dinners at which alumnæ campaign workers were urged to sing "Smiles" and "Pack up Your Troubles,' to sing until such a state of frenzy was reached that the campaign should go over big. But the alumnæ wanted to have facts and refused to sing. It was somewhat disheartening and not quite up to form. The money was collected more slowly than had been expected. Doctor Cook sometimes wondered whether this would have happened if the alumnæ had sung those songs. But he concealed his disappointment and wrote a letter to each worker: "The army has its back to the wall. But we won't give up the ship.” And the money was raised.

So Doctor Cook is a Great College President. Even now nobody knows what his educational programme is; but of his greatness as a college president there is no doubt. Harmonia's new buildings are now being constructed. Doctor Cook drives prospective benefactors out to see them. He points out their glories. "A new Acropolis, sir. The largest pieces of granite in the State. And the best ventilation system in the country."

Between visits to the site of the new college, great Doctor Cook-the students call him "Vergy" or "V. A. C."-sits in his office. There are several questions which he must decide. Should $500,000 or $600,000 be required to name a building for the donor? Would 1928 be a good year to run for mayor of Metropole?

OVER my little town

White clouds are sailing. Above my little town

Five steeples cleave the air.
About my little town

Brown hills are calling.
Within my little town

Beasts have their lair.

Over my little town Great birds go soaring. Above my little town The moon floats pale. About my little town White birches whisper. Within my little town Joy is frail.

C

HINA is slow, but China moves. The movement is perhaps most evident in education. During a recent journey in China I was repeatedly impressed by the rapidity with which the Chinese interest in Western education is accelerating and assuming new and more aggressive forms. As so often happens in Oriental countries, the contrast between the old and the new leaves the traveller bewildered as to which is the real China and which will ultimately prevail.

If you would get some idea of how the new is being grafted upon the old, come with me to the port of Amoy in South China. Walk through the narrow, illsmelling streets, see the pigs and the children, and visit the private school where Chinese employ Americans to bring them foreign education. Then pass the cemetery, one of many, where the gravestones lie so close together that they form an almost complete pavement. We are on our way to the university, perhaps a mile and a half east of the city near the shore. That university is a concrete illustration of the way in which contact with the West, and especially with missionaries

from America, has aroused in China an eager and almost imperious demand for modern education. Some years ago a bright young man from one of the Amoy villages went to Singapore, or thereabouts. He began life as not much more than a coolie, but being uncommonly energetic and capable, he acquired sugarmills, rubber-plantations, and other sources of wealth, and made a fortune. Like most Chinese, he was devoted to his home, and wanted to return there. Unlike the majority, he also wanted to do something for his old village. So he consulted his friends, and built a new Buddhist temple at a reported cost of 30,000 Mexican dollars. Then the merchant sat back and waited. Nothing happened. People came to the temple at first out of curiosity, but when the novelty had worn off, they came no more. The priests conducted services just as before, but the bright new temple was no more useful than the shabby old one.

"No more religion for me," said the disgusted merchant. "Whether it be Buddhist, Confucian, or Christian, I have had enough of it." He consulted his friends again. They advised education. So he built a lower primary school for boys. It covered only the studies taken by our American children between six and

nine years of age, but naturally the age of the Chinese boys was greater. The rich ex-coolie sat back once more and waited. This time something happened. Three hundred boys flocked into the school, with more pressing to come in. Soon some of the boys were ready for an advanced primary school, and the merchant built one. Then the girls wanted education. High schools for both boys and girls had next to be constructed. So the tale was told to me. But neighboring villages saw the good work and were eager to send their children. Boarding-schools were added. In all, some 600,000 Mexican dollars of the wealth of Singapore are said to have been put into the schools of that one district. Even that was not the end. Some of the boys, and even some of the girls, finished the high school and were ready for the university, but there was none in Amoy or the surrounding country. So the merchant built a university, and Mr. Elliot, the American secretary of the Amoy Y. M. C. A., took me to it. We found an excellent set of buildings and some 300 students. A new medical school was in course of construction. The teachers were for the most part bright, wide-awake young Chinese, educated in America, or, in some cases, in Europe. There were only two or three Americans, and they were not in positions of authority, although held in high respect. The teachers gave us an example of the speed with which the Chinese can do things in spite of their reputed slowness. It appeared that some of them had read my books and wanted me to lecture. "No," I said. "My boat leaves at twelvethirty, and I have to start back in an hour at the outside."

"That's all right," was the enterprising answer. "We'll get the students together in ten minutes, and that will give you forty-five minutes to talk." They were as good as their word. Not many universities have a staff who would decide more quickly, or act more promptly, especially when it all had to be done before the president arrived. But he was of the same stripe, and approved what his subordinates had done.

Thus far the founder of Amoy University is said to have spent 2,000,000 Mexican dollars on buildings and equip

ment, and is paying all the running expenses. The report is that he is willing to put 10,000,000 more into the university. That shows the wonderful place that modern education is beginning to have in the life of China. The great criticism of Amoy University, so I understand, is that the founder insists on keeping everything in his own hands. In that he simply reflects a weakness that runs through the warp and woof of Chinese character. The Chinese do not trust other people's honesty or judgment as do Europeans and Americans. By this I mean something more than mere honesty in dollars and cents. I mean that the Chinese have not yet learned, and temperamentally find it difficult to learn, the spirit which makes a corporate body of trustees more careful, honest, and wise in the affairs of an endowed university than in their own. A Chinese may be generous and even public-spirited himself, but the idea of feathering one's own nest as fast as possible is so ingrained, that our form of public trusteeship, which we rightly esteem one of our greatest glories, is almost impossible in China.

The keenness of the Chinese in respect to modern education may be judged from the fact that one of the few kinds of philanthropic effort that arouses real enthusiasm in Chinese students is volunteer teaching. From many institutions the young men go out regularly to conduct free schools in surrounding villages.

One interesting phase of the matter was brought to my attention by my friend Mr. Tsao, president of Ching Hwa, the American Indemnity College near Peking. But before I discuss it, I hope Mr. Tsao will pardon me if I tell a little story of the beginnings of our friendship. It illustrates how easy it is for Chinese and Americans to misunderstand one another, and how much is gained by complete frankness. Years ago, when Mr. Tsao was a student at Yale, he was in one of my classes in physical geography. We were studying the desert formation known as loess, a fine yellow deposit, it will be remembered, which is brought by the northwest winds from the deserts of Gobi, and has been deposited over a large area in the provinces of Shansi and Shensi. In discussing this I mentioned the fact that

though loess can be cut with a spade, it is so tenacious that the cut surfaces will remain almost unchanged for decades, even though vertical. That is why many roads take the form of deep, steep-sided trenches. The dust kicked up by the animals, which are fairly numerous in those regions, is blown away, but the walls of the road remain as cliffs. For the same reason, wherever there are cliffs of loess, it is easy to excavate houses in them. In speaking of these houses I incidentally remarked that they must be very dusty and badly ventilated, but the people of China do not mind such things. The next day I received a long letter, two pages of foolscap, closely written on both sides. The gist of the letter was that Mr. Tsao felt grieved that I had spoken slightingly of the civilization of China, that I had misunderstood it, and hence unintentionally misrepresented it to the class. The letter ended with the words: "And as you spoke, the thing that pained me most was the scornful glances which my classmates cast upon me." I had not meant to convey any such impression, for then as now I was a strong admirer of many features of Chinese civilization. I went to Mr. Tsao in his room, and explained the matter. With the broad-minded spirit characteristic of many Chinese, he accepted my explanation fully and completely, and we have been good friends ever since.

This story has a sequel. The next year, in a different class, I had another Chinese student. This time our subject was the geography of Asia. At the beginning of the year, before I had become acquainted with the individual students, I wanted to discuss the character of the Chinese. In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I began with some of the many things which I admire in Chinese character. As a climax I said that, among the admirable qualities, none ranks above universal industry. Thereupon, to my chagrin, the class turned to their Chinese classmate and grinned. I discovered later that he was notoriously lazy.

To come back to Mr. Tsao and the Indemnity College, as we drove thither, and as we were walking about looking at the fine buildings, he told me something of his problems and aims. The origin of the

college, it will be remembered, is this: After the Boxer troubles in 1900, China was obliged to pay an indemnity to each of the foreign nations whose citizens had suffered. The United States returned this indemnity to China for use in educating Chinese students in the United States. The preliminary training of such students is carried on by the Indemnity College. But many thoughtful Chinese, such as Mr. Tsao, are coming to the conclusion that the Chinese students in America are becoming too much Americanized. They go to America while still young. Many study for a year or two in an academy or high school, then take a college course, and add to that several years of graduate work. When they return to China they have become so Americanized, or Europeanized if they have been in Europe, that they have lost touch with their own country. They are neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring-not Americans or Europeans, and yet not thoroughly Chinese. One remedy for this is that the Indemnity College should raise its standards, and carry the students practically through their whole college course. Then they would come to America as men sufficiently mature to be thoroughly grounded in Chinese culture, and yet young enough to profit by a graduate course in an American university.

Another interesting example of the difficulties experienced when foreigners and Chinese try to co-operate in education is seen in the Union Medical College at Peking. The superb buildings, modelled on the old imperial palace, but with green tiles instead of yellow, and with airy convenient laboratories, lecturerooms, and offices, instead of cold spacious audience-chambers and richly draped living-rooms, are typical of the way in which the whole institution is equipped and managed. The staff, under the presidency of Doctor H. S. Houghton, consists of men who would do credit to a great medical college anywhere. The majority of those in the more important positions are Americans; but Chinese are given full scope. The ideal of the Rockefeller Foundation is that this great institution should ultimately be turned over to the Chinese and become a self-supporting Oriental institution. But that day