cially when the latter might not be adaptable or easy of operation. Both he and his elder brother, Li Han Chang, began life poor, but accumulated large fortunes, which for the most part could have come only through their official positions. They have therefore, with some reason, been criticised as corrupt, even by those foreigners and Chinese who have used corrupt methods to gain their own ends.

This feature of his political creed and practice illustrates his attitude toward religion. He was more moved by material results in religion, whatever the name, than by its spiritual character. He observed certain religious rites, but rather as rites than as matters of principle. He was a typical Confucianist in thinking little of the future life, and in concerning himself little with dogmas as distinct from conduct. And yet for years he had prepared his coffin, desiring to enter on his long journey according to respectable Chinese usage. He did not believe that death ends all, neither did he try to think out what life hereafter is to be. He was an indifferentist rather than an agnostic, and was inclined to materialism rather than to spiritualism. As to Christianity, he favored the practice of missionary physicians more than the preaching of missionary evangelists. He preferred the Roman Catholic missions for their organization, and Protestant missions for intermeddling less in the native courts, and for the benefits accruing through their schools, hospitals, and translations of scientific books. He often complained that missionaries were a great nuisance, but he was prompt to give them such protection as the treaties required. Being an indifferentist he made less objection to religious toleration than a more religious but more bigoted man would have done. He read the Bible at times, for he had no fear of being made a convert.

In the course of my first conversation with him, after I had lived as missionary for seven years in a region near the sacred birthplace of Confucius and Mencius, he magnified Confucianism by catechizing me as follows: "Why do you missionaries come to China?" "To reform the Chinese people," I replied. "Oh, you needn't do that; we have all our sages who can do that." "But we have heard that there are some who cannot be reformed by Confucianism, and so we thought to try what Christianity could do." "Oh, if our religion cannot reform them, a foreign religion cannot." "But," I insisted, "give it a chance. If Christianity cannot do any good to your people, reject it; but if it can do good, accept it." "Useless! - with a shake of the head-"useless!" As a parting shaft, when he accompanied me to the door, he asked: "How soon are you leaving for your home country?" "In three weeks," was

the innocent reply. "Well," with a twinkle, "you needn't come back. You had better stay in America to reform the Americans, so that they will treat our people a little better."

As a key to his character he might be termed a fatalist. He was a remarkable example of resignation. During the China-Japan war, when all China's woes and defeats were being traced to his mismanagement, and edicts were being issued for his condemnation, he went about his yamen at Tientsin quietly attending to his duties, and as complacent as in the former days of his widest renown. Whatever Fate decided it was useless for him to try to alter. "Whatever is, is," was his creed. Circumstances he might try to modify, but the force of circumstances he took as inexorable law, yielded to it, and was content. This feature of his character was conspicuous during the trying negotiations for peace which he, with Prince Ching, carried on with the plenipotentiaries of eleven powers. What he thought to be for the interests of his country he exerted himself to secure; but when he received an ultimatum he submitted, and made the best of an unpleasant situation. He did not bewail the inevitable. He went ahead to do the next possible thing, however inferior it might be to his wish or ideal. Very few can equal the Chinese in patience and cheerfulness in unpleasant circumstances, and Li Hung Chang in this gift stands first.

At the same time he was a man of strong passion. He would denounce his attendants, rage at any who opposed him, blurt out contemptuous remarks to inferior rivals, and hurl anathemas at those who differed. It was hard for self-respect to endure his contempt and anger. And yet his greatest fits of passion had a humorous side, and in consequence could be gently overlooked. In his last years one could feel that his disposition was mellowing, and could admire him for his self-mastery.

As an outcome of his peculiar temperament he became a champion tease. Sometimes his teasing was tinctured with a small spice of spite, but more generally it was made palatable by the essence of real goodhumor. He loved a joke, but still more loved to joke others. Pleasantry was a relief to him. To "poke fun" was his evening recreation after the performance of arduous duties. Even serious deliberations were facilitated by laughter. Probably no other Chinese official shows this trait of humor and sarcasm to as large a degree. Dignity is the more usual characteristic. Chinese have more humor than foreigners suppose, but teasing is seldom indulged in by those high in rank. In fact, it would generally be regarded as unbecoming; even with such a great man as Li Hung Chang many found an inclination to resent it. To ap

preciate it placidly one needed a long acquaintance and an easy attitude of give and take.

Not only was he a champion tease, but a first-class quiz. Those who came to interview him found, on leaving, that they themselves had been interviewed. His familiarity through forty years with persons of all classes and countries made it natural for him to ask questions. His pseudonym might well be an interrogation point. Many of his questions seemed to a stranger childish or perhaps disrespectful, but through them all might be seen an inquiring mind eager for knowledge. He was especially keen on knowing how much money a man had or had made. It seemed to him as practical a theme as any. Cash is the common talk of all China; and Li Hung Chang was eager to discuss with others their way of getting a fortune, as he himself was eager to possess one and to make the wisest investments. One's age was always inquired into, as it generally is by all Chinese. In addition, he would ask if his

visitor, whether gentleman or lady, was married, and if not, why not. Seeing that all respectable Chinese are married, he esteemed marriage an honorable theme for discussion, as also an honorable custom to observe. His queries soon showed there was "method in his madness" of quizzing. If he granted an interview, he proposed to compensate himself by gaining light upon some points. This was his purpose, even when flattered by persons who asked to be allowed an interview because of his greatness.

Few Chinese officials of rank have been more approachable than this First Grand Secretary. If visitors failed to see him, it was generally due to his secretaries or attendants. He lived in the midst of conspicuous exclusiveness; but his guest-room was open to those who sought admittance, especially if they came from abroad and were properly introduced. He had no fear of espionage, neither was he afraid to express himself. One needed to be quick-witted to gain an advantage in argument with him or to obtain a knowledge of any of his secrets. He was generous in manner, but he had the faculty of keeping his own thoughts.

No doubt a large part of his friendly approachableness was due to the influence of the men around him. He knew how to secure the aid of others and to utilize the peculiar ability of each one. For nearly thirtyfive years a well-read, well-balanced, accomplished American, Mr. William W. Pethick, acted as his private secretary, translating books and articles on all manner of topics. Certainly the viceroy's familiarity with all questions depended on this capable assistant, whose biography of the distinguished statesman will be the only comprehensive and standard

one. In the negotiatons for peace between China and Japan, the Chinese envoy was aided not only by Mr. Pethick, but by the Hon. John W. Foster, and the present Chinese ministers to Washington and to the Court of St. James. In the negotiations of 1901, he was much assisted by the diversified talent of different Chinese who were his protégés; the only foreigner to help China being Sir Robert Hart, who was an official in the Chinese Government, and especially designated by the Throne to cooperate with the two Chinese plenipotentiaries.

A man of massive proportions, stupendous will, wide experience, great authority, and a large and amenable following, he was gentle and kind to children. He especially loved to see the children of his foreign friends. This weak, helpless, but intelligent old man, nearing his fourscore years and his journey to the life beyond, would insist on being supported to his feet and shaking the hand of a little one who might be his guest. This interest in children is characteristic of the Chinese, notwithstanding the ruthless massacre which closed the century.

This great man, the "Grand Old Man," entered on the twentieth century, and honorably closed a long and useful career, unparalleled in all China's history, by setting his seal to the protocol of twelve powers for the restoration of peace. His closing task was unpleasant, but no one else in China could have done better, in the face of demands supported by military occupation. The height of his power and popularity was reached from 1874 to 1894, when he was Viceroy of the Metropolitan Province, Superintendent of Northern Trade, and the undelegated but recognized Minister of Foreign Affairs; but his innate greatness was revealed even more fully during the last months of his life, when he was called upon to comply and not to dictate, and when many of his own dreams and enterprises for the good of China had been fraught with catastrophe through the folly of his own countrymen. He was quite willing to say "Farewell"; he saw but little brightness in the coming days for his beloved land. Brave, diligent, high-minded, patriotic, keen, far-seeing, unique in personality, with a grasp on the questions of the hour, born to command but ending life in a great act of submission, appreciating friends and steadfastly true to them, loving life with all its tragedy and romance, and yet resigned to the summons to depart, he stands among men as one deservedly honored, one whose memory will live in China and in all the world. GILBERT REID,

THE REFORMATION OF CRIMINALS.

THERE is probably no subject of greater importance to organized society than the problem of how to deal with the criminal classes so as to reduce their number and thereby prevent crime. Criminals there always will be, and hence some crime. How to minimize both deserves the

best thought of the hour.

Crime is largely a matter of heredity and environment. Men seldom become criminals unaided. A few acts of crime are committed under stress of extreme necessity; but the men by whom these are committed should not be ranked with the criminal classes.

It is often said that crime is on the increase. It would be truer to say that what constitutes crime is constantly being increased by legislation. Our State Legislatures at every session pass one or more statutes, making certain acts misdemeanors which were not so before. Real crime and actual criminals are not on the increase. Professional criminals are rapidly fading away before the advancing light of civilization and education.

Punishment for crime has much to do with making criminals. This statement seems paradoxical, but it is an indisputable fact. Hundreds may be saved from a life of crime by the proper administration of the criminal laws. It used to be thought that severity of punishment was the wise course, indeed the only method, to prevent crime. Fear, no doubt, deters many; but it is not fear that must be chiefly relied upon to save men from crime. Crime existed when men were drawn and quartered, and when death was the penalty not only for murder but for many minor offences. It existed when the death penalty was inflicted in public places, and when the plucking out of an eye, the cutting off of the hand, and various other kinds of torture were common punishments. No man was ever made better by being put in the stocks. Severity is useful only in cases in which reformation is hopeless, and in which absolute removal from all social intercourse is therefore necessary.

We are rapidly coming to believe that kindness and close supervision are the best preventives of crime. There is no more cruel, in