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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58c102b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60060 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60060) diff --git a/old/60060-0.txt b/old/60060-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b2d08c7..0000000 --- a/old/60060-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9034 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of With Poor Immigrants to America, by Stephen Graham - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: With Poor Immigrants to America - -Author: Stephen Graham - -Release Date: August 5, 2019 [eBook #60060] -[Most recently updated: April 28, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA *** - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -[Illustration: Logo] - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS -ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO - -MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED -LONDON· BOMBAY · CALCUTTA -MELBOURNE - -THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. -TORONTO - - -[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN SIGHT OF THE GREY-GREEN STATUE OF -LIBERTY IN NEW YORK HARBOUR.] - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -BY - -STEPHEN GRAHAM - -AUTHOR OF - -"WITH THE RUSSIAN PILGRIMS TO JERUSALEM" - -_WITH 32 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS -BY THE AUTHOR_ - -New York -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - -1914 - -_All rights reserved_ - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY HARPER AND BROTHERS. - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. - - -Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914. - - -Norwood Press -J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. -Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - -NOTE - - -A translation of this book has appeared serially in Russia before -publication in Great Britain and America. The matter has accordingly -been copyrighted in Russia. - -My acknowledgments are due to the Editor of _Harper's Magazine_ for -permission to republish the story of the journey. - -I wish to express my thanks to Mrs. James Muirhead, Miss M. A. Best, -and to Mr. J. Cotton Dana, who, with unsparing energy and hospitality, -helped me to see America as she is. - -STEPHEN GRAHAM. - -VLADIKAVKAZ, RUSSIA. - - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE - PROLOGUE xi - -CHAPTER - I. THE VOYAGE 1 - - II. THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT 41 - - III. THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION - OF BRITAIN 54 - - IV. INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK 73 - - V. THE AMERICAN ROAD 85 - - VI. THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE 103 - - VII. RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON 123 - -VIII. AMERICAN HOSPITALITY 141 - - IX. OVER THE ALLEGHANIES 161 - - X. DECORATION DAY 177 - - XI. WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES 188 - - XII. CHARACTERISTICS 209 - -XIII. ALONG ERIE SHORE 225 - - XIV. THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE 245 - - XV. THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY 252 - - XVI. THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES 274 - -XVII. FAREWELL, AMERICA! 294 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - 1. The emigrants in sight of the grey-green statue of - Liberty in New York Harbour _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - 2. Russian women on board-- - (_a_) The peasant 12 - (_b_) The intellectual and revolutionary type 12 - - 3. The boisterous Flemings 14 - - 4. (_a_) The dreamy Norwegian with the concertina 18 - (_b_) The endless dancing 18 - - 5. (_a_) A Russian Jew 26 - (_b_) "A patriarchal Jew, very tall and gaunt, - hauled along a small fat woman of his race" 26 - - 6. "One of the young ladies was being tossed up in a - blanket with a young Irish lad" (p. 25) 30 - - 7. (_a_) English 36 - (_b_) Russians--Fedya, Satiron, Alexy, Yoosha, Karl, - Maxim Holost 36 - - 8. Dainty Swedish girls and their partners looking over the sea 44 - - 9. Apple orchards in blossom on the spurs of the Catskills 84 - -10. On the way to school: my breakfast party 92 - -11. The tramp's dressing-room 110 - -12. By the side of the highway to Michigan: the electric freight - train 120 - -13. An Indiana farm: the wind-well behind it, the wheatfield - in front 142 - -14. "The cream-vans come along and buy up all the cream" (p. 261) 152 - -15. "Ploughed upland all dotted over with white heaps of - fertiliser" (p. 161) 158 - -16. "Slovaks working on the line with pick and shovel" 166 - -17. The Slav children of Snow-Shoe Creek 174 - -18. Italians working with the "mixer" on the Meadville Pike 200 - -19. Ingenious photographs of American types 212 - -20. The Lithuanian who sat behind the asphalt and coal-oil - scatterer 226 - -21. "Johnny Kishman, a German boy, got off his bicycle to - find out what manner of man I was" (p. 233) 234 - -22. Erie Shore. "Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow - tree, I made my bed" (p. 235) 238 - -23. The sower 252 - -24. The store on wheels 258 - -25. "I had an interesting talk with an ancient man by the side - of the road" 262 - -26. "Old Samuel Judie, lying on a bank, and philosophising on - life" 270 - -27. At the fountain in the park: a hot day in Chicago 276 - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -From Russia to America; from the most backward to the most forward -country in the world; from the place where machinery is merely imported -or applied, to the place where it is invented; from the land of Tolstoy -to the land of Edison; from the most mystical to the most material; -from the religion of suffering to the religion of philanthropy. - -Russia and America are the Eastern and Western poles of thought. Russia -is evolving as the greatest artistic philosophical and mystical nation -of the world, and Moscow may be said already to be the literary capital -of Europe. America is showing itself as the site of the New Jerusalem, -the place where a nation is really in earnest in its attempt to realise -the great dream of human progress. Russia is the living East; America -is the living West--as India is the dead East and Britain is the dying -West. Siberia will no doubt be the West of the future. - -For one who knows Russia well America is full of a great revelation. -The contrast in national spirit is so sharp that each helps you to see -the other more clearly. The American people are now on the threshold -of a great progressive era; they feel themselves within sight of the -realisation of many of their ideals. They have been hampered badly by -the trusts and the "bosses" and the corrupt police, but they are now -proving that these obstacles are merely temporary anomalies, caused by -the overwhelmingly sudden growth of population and prosperity. A few -years ago it could with truth be said that material conditions were -worse in the United States than in the Old World. But it has been clear -all the time that the corruption existent in the country was truly -foreign to the country's temper. - -The common citizen is becoming the watchdog of the police-service. -Tammany has fallen. Women are getting the suffrage, state by state. -The nation is unanimous in its cry for a pure state, a clean country, -and an uncorrupted people. All diseases are to be healed. Couples who -wish to be married must produce health-certificates. The mentally -deficient and hereditary criminals are to be segregated. Blue-books, -or rather what the Americans call White-books, are going to form the -Bible of a new nation. The day is going to be _rationally_ divided -into eight hours' work, eight hours' pleasure, eight hours' sleep--or -rather, eight hours' looking at machinery, eight hours' pleasure, eight -hours' sleep, for machinery is going to accomplish all the ugly toil. -Everybody is to be well dressed, well housed, comfortable. America -is raging against drink, against the exploitation of immigrants, -against the fate of the white slave, against any one who has done -anything immoral. It will nationally expel a Russian genius like -Gorky. It makes great difficulty of admitting to its shores any one -who has ever been in prison. It is so in earnest about the future of -America that it has set up what is almost an insult to Europe--the -examination of Ellis Island. Any one who has gone through the ordeal -of the poor emigrant, as I did, going into America with a party of -poor Russians in the steerage, and has been medically examined and -clerically cross-questioned about his life and ethics, knows that -America is a materialist and progressive country, and that she is no -longer a harbour of refuge for the weak, but a place where a nation is -determined to have health and strength and prosperity. - -Now in Russia, when you arrive there, you find no such tyranny as that -of Ellis Island awaiting you. You have come to the land of charity. If -there is any question it is of whether you are a Russian Jew wanting to -be recognised as an American citizen. Their charity does not extend to -the Jews. But disease does not stand in your way, neither does crime; -ethics are not inquired into; Mylius or Mrs. Pankhurst or Miss Marie -Lloyd receive their passports without a frown. You have come to the -nation to whom are precious the sick, the mentally deficient, the -criminal, the waste-ends of humanity, the poor woman on the streets, -the drunkard. Her greatest novelist, Dostoievsky, was an epileptic; -her national poet, Nekrasof, was a drunkard; Vrubel, one of her -greatest painters, was an imbecile; Chekhof, her great tale-writer, -was a hopeless consumptive. She is not opposed to the good and the -sound, but the suffering are dearer to her, more comprehensible. She -loves the drunkard, and says "Yes, you are right to be drunk; you are -probably a good man. It is what you are likely to be in this world of -enigmas." She loves the white slave, but does not wish to shut her in -a home for such. The Russians, so far from segregating the diseased -and the fallen, frequently fall in love with them and marry them. They -are sorry for the crippled children, but do not wish they had never -been born. They see in them a reminder of the true lot of man upon the -world. They make such children holy, and set them at the church doors. -Russia does not execute the murderer except under martial law, but she -sends him to Siberia to understand life and be _resurrected_. Thus, in -_The Crime and Punishment_, Raskolnikof the murderer, goes to Siberia -with little Sonia, the white slave, who whispers to him all the way the -promises of St. John's Gospel. - -In America the man who is tramping the road and will not work is an -object of enmity. He is almost a criminal. He is not wanted. He will -receive little hospitality, must chop wood for his breakfast or steal. -His life is a blasphemy breathed against the American ideal. But in -Russia none is looked upon more kindly than the man on the road, the -tramp or the pilgrim. There are a million or so of them on the road -in the summer. They are characteristic of Russia. In them the Russian -confesses that he is a stranger and a pilgrim upon the earth. - -The Christianity of Russia is the Christianity of death, of -renunciation, of what is called the _podvig_, the turning away from the -empire of "the world" as proposed by Satan on the mountain, the wasting -of the ointment rather than the raising of the poor, the giving the lie -to Satan, the part of Mary rather than the part of Martha. - -But the Christianity of America is the Christianity of Life, of -affirmation, of "making good," of accepting "the world" and preparing -for Christ's second coming, of obedience to the law, of almsgiving. -America is the great almsgiver, appealed to for money from the ends -of the earth, and for every object. If Russia can give faith, America -can give the rest. It is impossible for America to say with St. Peter, -"Silver and gold have I none, but _such as I have_ give I thee." The -Americans believe in money, and the pastor of a fashionable church is -able to say, "I preach to fifty million dollars every Sunday morning." -But as Mme. Novikof, in one of her brilliant conversations, once said, -"What is greater than the power of money? Why, contempt of money." -There are no people in the world who keep fewer account-books than the -Russians. They fling about their wealth or the pennies of their poverty -with the generous assurance that the bond of brotherhood is greater -than their fear of personal deprivation. - -The Americans are great collectors. It may be said collecting is the -genius of the West; empty-handedness is the glory of the East. - -The Russians are a sad and melancholy people. But they do not want to -lose their melancholy or to exchange it for Western self-satisfaction. -It is a divine melancholy. As their great contemporary poet Balmont -writes: - - - I know what it is to moan endlessly-- - In the long cold Winter to wait in vain for Spring, - But I know also that the nightingale's song is beautiful to us just - because of its sadness, - And that the silence of the snowy mountain peaks is more beautiful - than the lisping of streams-- - - -which is somewhat of a contrast to a conversation reported in one of -Professor Jacks' books: - - - _Passenger, looking out of the train window at the snowy ranges of - the Rockies_: "What mountains!" - - _American, puzzled for a moment_: "I guess I h'ant got any use for - those, but ef you're thinking of buying real estate...." - - -The phrase, _real estate_! - -Britain is seated in the mean. Compared with America she is -semi-Eastern. Despite the blood-relationship of the American and -British peoples they are more than an ocean apart. We receive without -much thanks American songs and dances, boxers, Carnegie libraries, -and plenty of money for all sorts of purposes. But our backs are to -America; we look towards Russia and are all agog about the next Russian -book or ballet or music. We are an old nation; as far as the little -island is concerned hope has died down. We have explored the island. -America will take a long time to explore _her_ territory. No vast -tracts and inexhaustible resources and terrific upheavals of Nature -reflect themselves in our national mood. The American working man has -a true passion for work, for his country, for everything; the British -working man does his duty. We have not the belief in life that the -American has--we have not yet the Russian's belief in death. - -The American breathes full into his lungs the air of life. The American -is glad at the sight of the strong, the victorious, the healthful. How -often, in novels and in life, does the American woman, returning from -a sojourn in the far West, confess to her admiration of the cowboy! -She is thrilled by the sight of such strong wild "husky" fellows, each -of them equal to four New Yorkers. In England, however, the town girl -has no smiles for the strong peasant; he is a country bumpkin, no -more. She wants the ideal, the unearthly. In Russia weakness attracts -far more than strength; love is towards consumptives, cripples, the -half-deranged, the impossibles. The Americans do not want the weak -one; England backs the "little un" to win; Russia loves the weak one, -feeling he will be eternally beaten, and loves him because he will be -beaten. But America loves the strong, the healthy, the pure, because -she is tired of Europe and the weakness and disease and sorrow of -Europeans. - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - - - - -I - -THE VOYAGE - - -At Easter 1912 I was with seven thousand Russian peasants at the Holy -Sepulchre in Jerusalem. On Easter Day 1913 I arrived with Russian -emigrants at New York, and so accomplished in two consecutive years two -very different kinds of pilgrimage, following up two very significant -life-movements in the history of the world of to-day. One of these -belongs to the old life of Europe, showing the Middle Ages as it still -survives under the conservative regime of the Tsars; the other is -fraught with all the possibilities of the future in the making of the -New America. - -It was in March that I decided to follow up the movements of the people -out of the depths of Europe into America, and with that purpose sought -out I---- K----, a well-known immigration agent in the East End of -London. He transhipped Russians coming _via_ Libau and London, and -could tell me just when he expected the next large detachment of them. - -"Have you a letter of introduction?" asked the agent. - -"I shouldn't have thought any was necessary," I answered. "A Russian -friend advised me to go to you. You don't stand to lose anything by -telling me what I want to know." - -He would do nothing for me without an introduction, without knowing -exactly with whom he had to deal. I might be a political spy. The hand -of the Tsar was long, and could ruin men's lives even in America. At -least so he thought. - -I mentioned the name of a revolutionary anarchist, a militant -suffragette. He said a letter from her would suffice. I went to -Hampstead and explained my predicament to the lady. She wrote me a note -to a mysterious revolutionary who was living above Israel's shop, and -this missive, when presented, was promptly taken as a full credential. -The mysterious revolutionary was on the point of death, and could not -see me, but Israel read the letter, and at once agreed that he was -ready to be of any service to me he could. There was a large party of -Russians coming soon, not Russian Jews, but real Russian peasants, -and he would let me know as soon as he could just when they might be -expected. I returned to my ordinary avocations, and every now and then -rang up "I. K." on the telephone, and asked, "Had the Russians come?" -"When were they coming?" At last the intelligence came, "They are just -arriving. Hurry down to Hayes wharf at once." - -The news took me in the midst of other things, but I dropped all and -rushed to London Bridge. There, at Tooley Street, I witnessed one of -the happenings you'd never think was going on in London. - -A long procession of Russian peasants was just filing out from the -miserable steamship _Perm_. They were in black, white, and brown -sheepskins and in astrakhan hats, some in blue blouses and peak-hats, -some in brightly embroidered linen shirts; none wore collars, but some -had new shiny bowlers, on which the litter and dust of the port was -continually falling,--bowlers which they had evidently purchased from -German hawkers who had come on board at some point in the journey. The -women wore sheepskins also, many of them, and their heads were covered -with shawls; they had their babies sewn up in little red quilts. Beside -them there were pretty town girls and Jewesses dressed in cottons and -serges and cheap hats. There were few old people and many young ones, -and they carried under their arms clumsy, red-painted wooden boxes -and baskets from which kettles and saucepans dangled. On their backs -they had sacks, and in their hands several of them had crusts of bread -picked up in their hurry as they were hustled from their berths and -through the mess-room. Some of the sacks on their backs, as I afterward -saw, contained nothing but crusts of white and black bread, on which, -perhaps, they trusted to live during the first weeks in America! - -They were all rather bewildered for the moment, and a trifle anxious -about the Customs officers. - -"What is this town?" they asked. - -"For what are the Customs men looking?" - -"Where is our agent--the man they said would be here?" - -I entered into conversation with them, and over and over again answered -the question, "What is this town?" I told them it was London. - -"Is it a beautiful town?" they asked. - -"Is it a large town?" - -"Do we have to go in a train?" - -"How far is it?" - -"Look at my ticket; what does it say?" - -They made a miscellaneous crowd on the quay-side, and I talked to them -freely, answered their questions, and in turn put questions of my own. -They came from all parts of Russia, even from remote parts, and were -going to just as diverse places in America: to villages in Minnesota, -in Michigan, in Iowa; to Brooklyn, to Boston, to Chicago. I realised -the meaning of the phrase, "the magic word Chicago." I told them how -many people there were in London, how much dock labourers get a week, -pointed out the Tower Bridge, and calmed them about the non-appearance -of their agent. I knew him, and if he didn't turn up I would lead them -to him. They might be calm; he knew Russian, he would arrange all for -them. - -At last a representative of my East End friend appeared--David the Jew. -He was known to all the dockers as David, but he had a gilt I. K. on -the collar of his coat, wore a collar, had his hair brushed, and was a -person of tremendous importance to the eager and humble emigrants. Not -a Jew, no! No Jew has authority in Russia. No Jew looked like David, -and so the patient Christians thought him an important official when -he rated them, and shouted to them, and cursed them like a herdsman -driving home a contrary lot of cows and sheep and pigs. - -Another Jew appeared, in a green hat and fancy waistcoat, and he -produced a sheaf of papers having the names, ages, and destinations of -the emigrants all tabulated. He began a roll-call in one of the empty -warehouses of the dock. Each peasant as his name was called was ticked -off, and was allowed to gather up his belongings and bolt through the -warehouse as if to catch a train. I ran to the other side and found -a series of vans and brakes, such as take the East-enders to Happy -Hampstead on a Bank Holiday. Into these the emigrants were guided, -and they took their seats with great satisfaction. They clambered in -from all sides, showing a preference for getting up by the wheels, and -nearly pulling away the sides of the frail vehicles. - -The vanmen jested after their knowledge of jests, and put their arms -round the pretty girls' waists. David rushed to and fro, fretting and -scolding. Loafers and clerks collected to look at the girls. - -"Why does that old man look at us so? he ought to be ashamed of -himself," said a pretty Moscow girl to me. "He is dressed like twenty -or twenty-five, but he is quite old. How quizzically he looks at us." - -"He is forty," said I. - -"Sixty!" - -"That's a pretty one," said a young man whose firm imported Koslof eggs. - -"What does he say?" - -"He says that you are pretty." - -"Tell him I thank him for the compliment; but he is not interesting--he -has not a moustache." - -All the vans filled, and there was a noise and a smell of Russia in the -grim and dreary dockyard, and such a chatter of young men and women, -all very excited. At last David got them all in order. I stepped up -myself, and one by one we went off through the East End of the city. - -We went to St. Pancras station. On the way one of the peasants stepped -down from his brake and, entering a Jewish hat-shop, bought himself a -soft green felt and put his astrakhan hat away in his sack. He was the -subject of some mirth, and also of some envy in the crowd that sat down -to coffee and bread and butter at the Great Midland terminus. Under the -terms of their tickets the emigrants were fed all the way from Libau -to New York without extra charge. - -They were all going from Liverpool, some by the Allan Line, some by the -White Star, and others by the Cunard. As by far the greatest number -were going on the Cunard boat, I went to I. K. and booked a passage on -that line. There was much to arrange and write, my sack to pack, and -many good-byes to utter--all in the briefest space of time. - -At midnight I returned to the station and took my seat in the last -train for Liverpool. Till the moment before departure I had a -compartment to myself; but away down at the back of the train were -coach after coach of Russians, all stretched on their sheepskins on -the narrow seats and on the floor, with their children in the string -cradles of the parcel-racks. They were crowded with bundles and baskets -and kettles and saucepans, and yet they had disposed themselves to -sleep. As I walked along the corridor I heard the chorus of heavy -breathing and snoring. In one of the end carriages a woman was on her -knees praying--prostrating and crossing herself. As we moved out of St. -Pancras I felt as I did when upon the pilgrim boat going to Jerusalem, -and I said to myself with a thrill, "We have mysterious passengers on -board." The sleeping Russians gave an atmosphere to the English train. -It was like the peculiar feeling that comes to the other people in a -house when news is given downstairs that a new baby has arrived. - -A man stepped into my compartment just as the train was moving--a -jovial Briton who asked me to have a cigar, and said, when I refused, -that he was glad, for he really wanted to give it to the guard. He -wanted the guard to stop the express for him at Wellingborough, and -reckoned that the cigar would put him on friendly terms. He inquired -whether I was a Mason, and when I said I was not, proceeded to reveal -Masonic secrets, unbuttoning his waistcoat to show me a little golden -sphere which opened to make a cross. - -At St. Albans he gave the guard the cigar, and the charm worked, for he -was enabled to alight at Wellingborough. And I was left alone with my -dreams. - - -In a thunderstorm, with a high gale and showers of blinding hail -and snow, with occasional flashing forth of amazing sunshine, to be -followed by deepest gloom of threatening cloud, we collected on the -quay at Liverpool--English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Swedes, Finns--all -staring at one another curiously, and trying to understand languages -we had never heard before. Three hundred yards out in the harbour -stood the red-funnelled Cunarder which was to bear us to America; and -we waited impatiently for the boat which should take us alongside. -We carried baskets and portmanteaus in our strained hands; most of -us were wearing heavy cloaks, and some had sacks upon their backs, -so we were all very ready to rush aboard the ferry-boat and dump our -burdens on its damp decks. What a stampede there was--people pushing -into portmanteaus, baskets pushing into people! At last we had all -crossed the little gangway, and all that remained on shore were -the few relatives and friends who had come to see the English off. -This pathetic little crowd sang ragtime songs, waved their hats and -handkerchiefs, and shouted. There was a bandying of farewells: - -"Ta-ta, ta-ta-ta!" - -"Wish you luck!" - -"Ta-ta-a, ole Lloyd George! No more stamp-licking!" - -"Good luck, old boy!" - -"The last of old England!" - -The foreign people looked on and smiled non-comprehendingly; the -English and Americans huzzaed and grinned. Then away we went over the -water, and thoughts of England passed rapidly away in the interest -of coming nearer to civilisation's toy, the great liner. We felt the -romance of ocean travel, and also the tremulous fear which the ocean -inspires. Then as we lay in the lee of the vast, steep, blood- and -soot-coloured liner, each one of us thought of the _Titanic_ and the -third-class passengers who went down beneath her into the abyss. - -The vastness of the liner made our ferry-boat look like a matchbox. -A door opened in the great red wall and a little gangway came out of -it like a tongue coming out of a mouth. We all picked up our bags and -baggage and pushed and squirmed along this narrow footway that led -into the mouth of the steamer and away down into its vast, cavernous, -hungry stomach: English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Poles, Swedes, -Finns, Flemings, Spaniards, Italians, Canadians, passed along and -disappeared--among them all, I myself. - -There were fifteen hundred of us; each man and woman, still carrying -handbags and baskets, filed past a doctor and two assistants, and was -cursorily examined for diseases of the eye or skin. - -"Hats and gloves off!" was our first greeting on the liner. We marched -slowly up to the medical trio, and each one as he passed had his eyelid -seized by the doctor and turned inside out with a little instrument. -It was a strange liberty to take with one's person; but doctors are -getting their own way nowadays, and they were looking for _trachoma_. -For the rest the passing of hands through our hair and examination of -our skin for signs of scabies was not so rough, and the cleaner-looking -people were not molested. - -Still carrying our things we took our medical-inspection cards and -had them stamped by a young man on duty for that purpose. Then we were -shown our berths. - -There was a spring bed for each person, a towel, a bar of soap, and -a life-preserver. The berths were arranged, two, four, and six in a -cabin. Married couples could have a room to themselves, but for the -rest men and women were kept in different sets of cabins. British were -put together, Scandinavians together, Russians and Jews together. It -was so arranged that the people in the cabins understood one another's -language. Notices on the walls warned that all emigrants would be -vaccinated on deck, whether they had been vaccinated before or not; -that all couples making love too warmly would be married compulsorily -at New York if the authorities deemed it fit, or should be fined or -imprisoned; that in case of fire or smoke being seen anywhere we were -to report to chief steward, but not to our fellow-passengers; that -smoking was not allowed except on the upper deck, and so on. The cabins -were a glittering, shining white; they were small and box-like; they -possessed wash-basins and water for the first day of the voyage, but -not to be replenished on succeeding days. There were general lavatories -where you might wash in hot or cold water, and there were bathrooms -which were locked and never used. Each cabin had a little mirror. -The cabins were steam-heated, and when the passengers were dirty -the air was foul. Fresh air was to be found on the fore and after -decks, except in time of storm, when we were barred down. In time of -storm the smell below was necessarily worse--atrocious, for most of -the people were very sick. We had, however, a great quantity of dark -space to ourselves, and could prowl into the most lonesome parts of -the vessel. The dark recesses were always occupied by spooning couples -who looked as if they had embarked on this journey only to make love -to one another. There were parts of the ship wholly given over to -dancing, other parts to horse-play and feats of strength. There was an -immense dining-room with ante-chambers and there, to the sound of the -jangling dinner-bell echoing and wandering far or near over the ship, -we assembled to meals. - -[Illustration: RUSSIAN WOMEN ON BOARD. - -The peasant woman. - -The intellectual and revolutionary type.] - - -The emigrants flocked into the mess-room from the four doors to twenty -immense tables spread with knives and forks and toppling platters of -bread. Nearly all the men came in in their hats,--in black glistening -ringlety sheepskin hats, in fur caps, in bowlers, in sombreros, in -felt hats with high crowns, in Austrian cloth hats, in caps so green -that the wearer could only be Irish. Most of the young men were -curious to see what girls there were on board, and looked eagerly to -the daintily clad Swedish women, blonde and auburn-haired beauties -in tight-fitting, speckless jerseys. The British girls came in in -their poor cotton dresses, or old silk ones, things that had once -looked grand for Sunday wear but now bore miserable crippled hooks -and eyes, threadbare seams, gaping fastenings--cheerful daughters of -John Bull trapesing along in the shabbiest of floppy old boots. Then -there were the dark and somewhat forward Jewesses, talking animatedly -with little Jew men in queer-shaped trousers and skimpy coats; there -were slatternly looking Italian women with their children, intent on -being at home in whatever circumstances. There was a party of shapely -and attractive Austrian girls that attracted attention from the others -and a regular scramble to try to sit next to them or near them. No one -ever saw a greater miscellaneity and promiscuity of peoples brought -together by accident. I sat between a sheepskin-wrapped peasant wife -from the depths of Russia and a neat Danish engineer, who looked no -different from British or American. Opposite me were two cowboys going -back to the Far West, a dandified Spanish Jew sat next them on one hand -and two Norwegians in voluminous knitted jackets on the other. At the -next table was a row of boisterous Flemings, with huge caps and gaudy -scarfs. There were Americans, spruce and smart and polite; there were -Italians, swarthy and dirty, having their black felt hats on their -heads all through the meal and resting their elbows on the table as -if they'd just come into a public-house in their native land. There -were gentle youths in shirts which womenfolk had embroidered in Little -Russia; there were black-bearded Jewish patriarchs in their gaberdines, -tall and gaunt. - -[Illustration: THE BOISTEROUS FLEMINGS.] - -A strange gathering of seekers, despairers, wanderers, pioneers, -criminals, scapegoats. I thought of all the reasons that had brought -these various folk together to make a community, that had brought -them all together to form a Little America. From Great Britain it is -so often the drunkard who is sent. Some young fellow turns out to be -wilder than the rest of his family; he won't settle down to the sober, -righteous, and godly life that has been the destiny of the others; he -is likely to disgrace respectability, so parents or friends give him -his passage-money and a little capital and send him away across the -sea. Henceforth his name is mentioned at home with a 'ssh, or with a -tear--till the day that he makes his fortune. With the drunkard go -the young forger or embezzler whose shame has been covered up and -hidden, but who can get no "character" from his last employer. Then -there are the unemployed, and those discontented with their jobs, the -out-of-works, the men who have seen no prospect in the old land and -felt no freedom. There are the wanderers, the rovers, the wastrels, so -called, who have never been able to settle down; there are also the -prudent and thoughtful men who have read of better conditions and go -simply to take advantage of them. There are those who are there almost -against their will, persuaded by the agents of the shipping companies -and the various people interested to keep up the flow of people into -America. There are the women who are going out to their sweethearts to -be married, and the wives who are going to the husbands who have "made -good"; there are the girls who have got into trouble at home and have -slid away to America to hide their shame; there are girls going to be -domestic servants, and girls doomed to walk the streets,--all sitting -down together, equals, at a table where no grace is said but the -whisper of hope which rises from each heart. - -But it is not only just these people whom I have so materially and -separately indicated. The cheerful lad who is beginning to flirt with -his first girl acquaintance on the boat has only a few hours since -dried the tears off his cheeks; they are nearly all young people on -the boat, and they mostly have loving mothers and fathers in the -background, and friends and sweethearts, some of them. And there are -some lonely ones who have none who care for them in all the world. -There are young men who are following a lucky star, and who will never -be so poor again in their lives, boys who have guardian angels who -will never let them injure their foot on the ground, boys who have in -their favour good fairies, boys and girls who have old folk praying -for them. And there is the prodigal son, as well as the too-prodigal -daughter. There are youngest brothers in plenty, going to win the -princess in a way their elder brothers never thought of; young Hans is -there, Aladdin, Norwegian Ashepattle, Ivan Durak--the Angel of Life is -there; there is also the Angel of Death. - -We sat down together to our first meal,--the whole company of the -emigrant passengers broke bread together and became thereby one -body,--a little American nation in ourselves. I am sure that had the -rest of the world's people been lost we could have run a civilization -by ourselves. We had peasants to till the soil, colliers to give us -fuel, weavers and spinners to make cloth, tailors to sew it into -garments, comely girls of all nations to be our wives; we had clerks -and shop-keepers and Jews with which to make cities; musicians and -music-hall artists to divert us, and an author to write about it all. - -Mugs half-full of celery soup were whisked along the tables; not a -chunk of bread on the platters was less than an inch thick; the hash of -gristly beef and warm potato was what would not have been tolerated in -the poorest restaurant, but we set ourselves to eat it, knowing that -trials in plenty awaited us and that the time might come when we should -have worse things than these to bear. The Swedes and the British were -finicky; the Russians and the Jews ate voraciously as if they'd never -seen anything so good in their lives. - -The peasant woman next to me crossed herself before and after the meal; -her Russian compatriots removed their hats and some of them said grace -in a whisper to themselves. But most ate even with their hats on, and -most with their hands dirty. You would not say we ate as if in the -presence of God and with the memories, in the mind, of prayers for the -future and heart-break at parting with home; yet this meal was for the -seeing eye a wonderful religious ceremony, a very real first communion -service. The rough food so roughly dispensed was the bread and wine, -making them all of one body and of one spirit in America. Henceforth -all these people will come nearer and nearer to one another, and drift -farther and farther from the old nations to which they belonged. They -will marry one another, British and Jewish, Swedish and Irish, Russian -and German; they will be always eating at America's board; they will -be speaking the one language, their children will learn America's -ideals in America's school. Even from the most aboriginal, illiterate -peasant on board, there must come one day a little child, his grandson -or great-grandson, who will have forgotten the old country and the old -customs, whose heart will thrill to America's idea as if he had himself -begotten it. - -On Sunday morning when we came upstairs from our stuffy little cabin -we were gliding past the green coast of Ireland, and shortly after -breakfast-time we entered the beautiful harbour of Queenstown, -blue-green, gleaming, and perfect under a bright spring sun. Hawkers -came aboard with apples, knotted sticks, and green favours--the day -following would be St. Patrick's. And we shipped a score of Irish -passengers. - -Outside Queenstown a different weather raged over the Atlantic, and -as we steamed out of the lagoon it came forward to meet us. The -clouds came drifting toward us, and the wind rattled in the masts. -The ocean was full of glorious life and wash of wave and sea. A crowd -of emigrants stood in the aft and watched the surf thundering away -behind us; the great hillsides of green water rose into being and -then fell out of being in grand prodigality. Gulls hung over us as we -rushed forward and poised themselves with gentle feet outstretched, -or flew about us, skirling and crying, or went forward and overtook -us. Meanwhile Ireland and Britain passed out of view, and we were left -alone with the wide ocean. We knew that for a week we should not see -land again, and when we did see land that land would be America. - -[Illustration: THE DREAMY NORWEGIAN WITH THE CONCERTINA.] - -[Illustration: THE ENDLESS DANCING.] - - -Then we all began to know one another, to talk, to dance, to sing, to -play together. All the cabins were a-buzz with chatter, and along -the decks young couples began to find one another out and to walk -arm and arm. Two dreamy Norwegians produced concertinas, and without -persuasion sat down in dark corners and played dance music for hours, -for days. Rough men danced with one another, and the more fortunate -danced with the girls, dance after dance, endlessly. The buffets were -crowded with navvies clamouring for beer; the smoking-rooms were full -of excited gamblers thumbing filthy cards. The first deck was wholly -in electric light, you mounted to the second and it was all in shadow, -you went higher still and you came to daylight. You could spend your -waking hours on any of these levels, but the lower you went the warmer -it was. On the electric-light deck were to be found the cleaner and -more respectable passengers; they sat and talked in the mess-room, -played the piano, sang songs. Up above them all the hooligans rushed -about, and there also, in the shadow, in the many recesses and dark -empty corners young men and women were making love, looking moonily at -one another, kissing furtively and giving by suggestion an unwonted -atmosphere to the ship. It was also on this deck that the wild couples -danced and the card-players shuffled and dealt. Up on the open deck -were the sad people, and those who loved to pace to and fro to the -march music of the racing steamer and the breaking waves. - -I wandered from deck to deck, everywhere; opened many doors, peered -into many faces, sat at the card-table, crushed my way into the bar, -entered into the mob of dancers, found a Russian girl and talked to -her. But I was soon much sought for. When the Russian-speaking people -found out I had their language they followed me everywhere, asking -elementary questions about life and work and wages in America. Even -after I had gone to bed and was fast asleep my cabin door would open -and some woolly-faced Little Russian would cry out, "Gospodin Graham, -forgive me, please, I have a little prayer to make you; write me also a -letter to a farmer." - -I had written for several of them notes which they might present at -their journey's end. - -All day long I was in converse with Russians, Poles, Jews, Georgians, -Lithuanians, Finns. - -"Look at these Russian fatheads (_duraki_)," said a young Jew. "Why -do they go to America? Why do they leave their native land to go to a -country where they will be exploited by every one?" - -"Why do _you_ leave it, then?" asked a Russian. - -"Because I have no rights there," replied the Jew. - -"Have we rights?" the Russian retorted. - -"If I had your rights in Russia I'd never leave that country. I'd find -something to do that would make me richer than I could ever be in -America." - -There were three or four peasants around, and another rejoined. "But -you could have our rights if you wished." - -Whereupon I broke in: - -"But only by renouncing the Jewish faith." - -"That is exactly the truth," said the Jew. - -"Yes," said a Russian called Alexy Mitrophanovitch, "he can have all -our rights if he renounces his faith." - -"If I am baptized to get your rights what use is that to you? Why do -Christians ask for such an empty thing?" - -"All the same," said another Russian, "in going to America you will -break your faith, and so will we. I have heard how it happens. They -don't keep the Saints' days there." - -Alexy Mitrophanovitch was a fine, tall, healthy-looking peasant workman -in a black sheepskin. With him, and as an inseparable, walked a -broad-faced Gorky-like tramp in a dusty peak-hat. The latter was called -Yoosha. - -"You see, all I've got," said Alexy to me, "is just what I stand up in. -Not a copeck of my own in my pocket, and not a basket of clothes. My -friend Yoosha is lending me eighty roubles so as to pass the officials -at New York, but of course I give it back to him when we pass the -barrier. We worked together at Astrakhan." - -"Have you a bride in Russia?" - -No, he was alone. He did not think to marry; but he had a father and a -mother. At Astrakhan he had been three thousand versts away from his -village home, so he wouldn't be so much farther away in America. - -He was going to a village in Wisconsin. A mate of his had written that -work was good there, and he and Yoosha had decided to go. They would -seek the same farmer, a German, Mr. Joseph Stamb--would I perhaps write -a letter in English to Mr. Stamb?... - -Both he and Yoosha took communion before leaving Astrakhan. I asked -Alexy whether he thought he was going to break his faith as the other -Russians had said to the Jew. How was he going to live without his Tsar -and his Church? - -He struck his breast and said, "There, that is where my Church is! -However far away I go I am no farther from God!" - -Would he go back to Russia? - -He would like to go back to die there. - -"Tell me," said he, "do they burn dead bodies in America? I would not -like my body to be burned. It was made of earth, and should return to -the earth." - -The man who slept parallel with me in my cabin was an English collier -from the North Country. He had been a bad boy in the old country, and -his father had helped him off to America. Whenever he had a chance to -talk to me, it was of whippet-racing and ledgers and prizes and his pet -dog. - -"As soon as a get tha monny a'll enter that dawg aht Sheffield. A took -er to Durby; they wawn't look at 'er there. There is no dawg's can -stan' agin her. At Durby they run the rabbits in the dusk, an' the -little dawg as 'ad the start could see 'em, but ourn moight a been at -Bradford fur all she could see. A'll bet yer that dawg's either dead -or run away. She fair lived fer me. Every night she slep in my bed. -Ef ah locked 'er aht, she kick up such a ra. Then I open the door an' -she'd come straight an' jump into bed an' snuggle 'erself up an' fall -asleep...." - -The dirtiest cabins in the ship were allotted to the Russians and the -Jews, and down there at nine at night the Slavs were saying their -prayers whilst just above them we British were singing comic songs or -listening to them. Most of us, I reckon, also said our prayers later -on, quietly, under our sheets; for we were, below the surface, very -solitary, very apprehensive, very child-like, very much in need of the -comfort of an all-seeing Father. - -The weather was stormy, and the boat lost thirty-six hours on the way -over. The skies were mostly grey, the wind swept the vessel, and the -sea deluged her. The storm on the third night considerably reduced the -gaiety of the ship; all night long we rolled to and fro, listening to -the crash of the waves and the chorus of the spring-mattresses creaking -in all the cabins. My boy who had left the "dawg" behind him got badly -"queered up." He said it was "mackerel as done it," a certain warm, -evil-looking mackerel that had been served him for tea on the Tuesday -evening. Indeed the food served us was not of a sort calculated to -prepare us for an Atlantic storm--roast corned beef, sausage and mash, -dubious eggs, tea that tasted strongly of soda, promiscuously poked -melting butter, ice cream. On tumultuous Tuesday the last thing we ate -was ice cream! We all felt pretty abject on Wednesday morning. - -Our sickness was the stewards' opportunity. They interviewed us, sold -us bovril and hawked plates of decent ham and eggs, obtained from the -second-class table or their own mess. The British found the journey -hard to bear, though they didn't suffer so much as the Poles and the -Austrians and the Russians. I found the whole journey comparatively -comfortable, stormy weather having no effect on me, and this being -neither my first nor worst voyage. Any one who has travelled with -the Russian pilgrims from Constantinople to Jaffa in bad weather has -nothing to fear from any shipboard horror on a Cunarder on the Atlantic. - -Only two of the Russians went through the storm happily, Alexy and -Yoosha. They had worked for nights and months on the Caspian Sea in a -little boat, almost capsizing each moment as they strained at their -draughts of salmon and sturgeon; one moment deep down among the seas, -the next plunging upward, shooting over the waves, stopping short, -slithering round--as they graphically described it to me. - -When the storm subsided the pale and convalescent emigrants came -upstairs to get sea air and save themselves from further illness. -Corpse-like women lay on the park seats, on the coiled rope, on the -stairs, uttering not a word, scarcely interested to exist. Other women -were being walked up and down by their young men. A patriarchal Jew, -very tall and gaunt, hauled along a small, fat woman of his race, and -made her walk up and down with him for her health--a funny pair they -looked. On Wednesday afternoon, about the time the sun came out, one of -the boisterous Flemings tied a long string to a tape that was hanging -under a pretty French girl's skirts, and he pulled a little and watched -her face, pulled a little more and watched the trouble, pulled a little -more and was found out. Then several of the corpse-like ones smiled, -and interest in life was seen to be reviving. - -Next morning when I was up forward with my kodak, one of the young -ladies who had been so ill was being tossed in a blanket with a young -Irish lad of whom she was fond, struggling and scratching and rolling -with a young fellow who was kissing her, whilst four companions were -dangerously hoisting them shoulder high, laughing and bandying Irish -remarks. Life only hides itself when these folk are ill; they will -survive more than sea-sickness. - - -The white dawn is haggard behind us over the black waves, and our great -strong boat goes thundering away ahead of the sun. It is mid-Atlantic, -and we stare into the same great circle of hungry emptiness, as did -Columbus and his mariners. Our gaze yearns for land, but finds none; -it rests sadly on the solitary places of the ocean, on the forlorn -waves lifting themselves far away, falling into nothingness, and then -wandering to rebirth. - -Nothing is happening in the wide ocean. The minutes add themselves and -become hours. We know ourselves far from home, and we cannot say how -far from the goal, but still very far, and there is no turning back. -"Would there were," says the foolish heart. "Would I had never come -away from the warm home, the mother's love, the friends who care for -me, the woman who loves me, the girl who has such a lot of empty time -on her hands now that I have gone away, her lover." How lonely it is -on the steerage deck in the crowd of a thousand strangers, hearing a -score of unknown tongues about your ears, hearing your own language so -pronounced you scarce recognise it! - -[Illustration: A RUSSIAN JEW.] - -[Illustration: "A PATRIARCHAL JEW, VERY TALL AND GAUNT, HAULED ALONG A -SMALL FAT WOMAN OF HIS RACE."] - -The mirth of others is almost unpardonable, the romping of Flemish -boys, pushing people right and left in a breakneck game of touch; the -excitement of a group of Russians doing feats of strength; the sweet -happiness of dainty Swedish girls dancing with their rough partners -to the strains of an accordion. How good to escape from it all and -trespass on the steward's promenade at the very extremity of the -after-deck, where the emigrants may not go, and where they are out of -sight and out of hearing. - -The ocean is retreating behind us with storm-scud and smoke of foam -threshed out from our riven road. Vast theatres of waves are falling -away behind us and slipping out of our ken backward into the homeward -horizon. Above us the sky is grey, and the sea also is grey, waving now -and then a miserable flag of green. - -What an empty ocean! There is nothing happening in it but our ship. -And for me, that ship is just part of my own purpose: there is nothing -happening but what I willed. The slanting red funnels are full of -purpose, and the volumes of smoke that fly backward are like our sighs, -regrets, hopes, despairs, the outward sign of the fire that is driving -us on. - - -Up on the steward's promenade on Thursday morning I fell into -conversation with a young Englishman, and he poured out his heart to -me. He was very homesick, and had spoken to no one up till then. He was -in a long cloak, with the collar turned up, and a large cloth cap was -stuck tightly on his head to keep it from the wind. His face was red -with health, but his forehead was puckered, and his eyes seemed ready -to shed tears. - -"Never been so far away from the old country before?" I hazarded. - -"No." - -"Would you like to go back?" - -"No." - -"Are you going to friends in America?" - -He shook his head. - -"I'm going on my own." - -"You are the sort that America wants," I ventured. He did not reply, -and I was about to walk away, snubbed, when another thought occurred to -me. - -"I once left the old country to seek my fortune elsewhere," said I. "I -felt as you do, I expect. But it was to go to Russia." - -He looked up at me with an inquisitive grimace. I suggested that I -knew what it was to part with a girl I loved, and a mother and friends -and comforts, and to go to a strange country where I knew no one, and -thought I had no friends. At the mention of parting with the girl he -seemed to freeze, but curiosity tempted him and he let me tell him some -of my story. - -"I reckon that England's pretty well played out," said he. - -"Not whilst it sends its sons out into the world--you to America, and -me to Russia," said I with a smile. "It will only be played out when we -haven't the courage to go." - -"Well," said he, "I reckon I _had_ to go, there wasn't anything else -for me to do. It wasn't courage on my part. I didn't want to go. I -reckon there ought to be room in England for the likes of me. It isn't -as if I had no guts. I'm as fit as they make them, only no good at -figures. I think I had the right to a place in England and a decent -screw, and England might be proud of me. I should always have been -ready to fight against the Germans for her. I joined the Territorials, -I learned to shoot, I can ride a horse." - -"Why didn't you go into the army?" - -"That's not the place for a decent fellow. Besides, my people wouldn't -allow it, and my girl's folks would be cut up. And I reckon there's -something better to do than be drilled and wait for a war. My people -wanted me to be something respectable, to go into the Civil Service, -or a bank, or an insurance office, or even into the wholesale fruit -business. I was put into Jacob's, the fruit firm, but I couldn't work -their rate. I've been hunting for work the last five months. That takes -it out of you, don't it? How mean I felt! Everybody looked at me in -such a way--you know, as much as to say 'You loafer, you lout, you -good-for-nothing,' so that I jolly well began to feel I was that, too, -especially when my clothes got shabby and I had nothing decent to put -on to see people." - -As my acquaintance talked he rapidly became simpler, more child-like, -confiding, and tears stole down his cheek. The reserved and surly lad -became a boy. "What a life," said he, "to search work all day, beg a -shilling or so from my mother in the evening, meet my girl, tell her -all that's happened, then at night to finish the day lying in bed -trying to imagine what I'd do if I had a thousand a year! - -"I reckon I could have earned a living with my hands, but my people -were too proud; yes, and I was too proud also, and my girl might not -have liked it. Still, I'd have done anything to earn a sovereign and -take her to the theatre, or go out with her to the country for a day, -or make her a nice present and prove I wasn't mean. I used to be -generous. When I had a job I gave plenty of presents; but you can't -give things away when you have to borrow each day. You even walk -instead of taking a car, and you are mean, mean, mean--mean all day. -Then in the evening you talk of marrying a girl, of having a little -home, and you dare to kiss her as much as you can or she will let, and -all the while you have in the wide world only a few coppers--and a -mother." - -[Illustration: "ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES WAS BEING TOSSED UP IN A -BLANKET WITH A YOUNG IRISH LAD."] - -We went and leaned over the ship and stared down at the sea. - -Tears! I suppose millions had come there before and made that great -salt ocean of them. - -The boy now lisped his confidence to me hurriedly, happily, tenderly. - -"But I reckon I've got a good mother, eh? She loved me more than I -dreamed. How she cried on Friday! how she cried! It was wild. Sometimes -I used to say I hated her. I used to shout out angrily at her that I'd -run away and never come back. That was when she said hasty things to -me, or when she wouldn't give me money. I used to think I'd go and be -a tramp, and pick up a living here and there in the country, and live -on fruit and birds' eggs, sleeping anywhere. It would be better than -feeling so mean at home. But then, my girl--every night I had to see -her. I felt I could not go away like that, never to come home with a -fortune--never, never to be able to marry her. Every night she put her -arms round my neck and kissed me, and called me her old soldier, her -dear one--all sorts of sweet things. I reckon we didn't miss one night -all this last year. - -"Her father's all right. I had thought he would be different. I was a -bit afraid of what he'd say if he got to hear. But she told him on her -own, and one night she took me home. They had fixed it up themselves -without asking me, and he was very kind. I told him I wanted a job, and -I thought p'raps he was going to get me one. But no; he was a queer -sort, rather. 'I'm going to wipe out that story of yours,' he says. -Then he goes to his bureau and writes a note and puts it in an envelope -and addresses it to me. 'Here you are, young man,' says he. I opened -the envelope and read one word on a slip of paper--AMERICA. -'Millions have told your story before,' says he, 'and have had that -word given them in answer. You get ready to go to America; I'll find -you your passage-money and something to start you off in the new -country. You'll do well; you'll make good, my boy,' and he slapped me -on the back. - -"You bet I felt excited. He saw my mother and told her his plan. She -said she couldn't stand in my way. I got the _Government Handbook on -the United States_, and the emigration circular. I read up America at -the public library. I wonder I hadn't thought of it before. America is -a great country, eh? They look at you differently, I bet, and a strong -young man's worth something there. My word, when I come back.... - -"I wonder if I shall come back or if she'll come out to me. I wonder if -her father would let her. I guess he would.... - -"She loves me. My word, how she loves me! I didn't dream of it before. -I used to think the harder you kissed, the more it meant; but she -kissed me in a new way, so softly, so differently. She said I was hers, -that I would be safe wherever I went in the wide world, and I was -never to feel afraid. I've got to do without her now. I reckon no other -girl is going to mean much to me." - -He looked rather scornfully at a troop of pretty Swedes who had invaded -our sanctuary. - -"It is queer how sure I feel of good luck because of her and what she -did. I feel as if everything must turn my way. Downstairs yesterday -they challenged me to play a game of cards, and I won fifty cents; but -I felt it was wrong to spend my luck that way. The chap wouldn't play -any more; he said I was in a lucky vein. He was quite right. Whatever I -turn my hand to, I'm bound to have unexpected good luck. I feel so sure -I'm going to get a job, and a real good one, too. I shan't play any -more cards this journey." - -The sun had come out, and the bright light blazed through our smoke, -and I felt that the boy's faith was blazing just that way through his -regrets. - -The sun crept on and overtook us on his own path, and then at last went -down in front of us, far away in the waste of waters. - -My acquaintance and I went away to the last meal of the day, to the -strangely mixed crowd of prospective Americans at the table, where men -sat and ate with their hats on, and where no grace was said. "What -matter that they throw the food at us?" I asked. "We are men with -stout hearts in our bosoms; we are going to a great country, where a -great people will look at us with creative eyes, making the beautiful -out of the ugly, the big and generous out of the little and mean, the -headstone out of the rock that the builders rejected." - -After supper I left my friend and went upstairs alone. The weather had -changed, and the electric lights of the ship were blazing through the -rain, the decks were wet and windswept, and the black smoke our funnels -were belching forth went hurrying back into the murky evening sky. The -vessel, however, went on. - -Downstairs some were dancing, some singing, some writing home -laboriously, others gossiping, others lying down to sleep in the little -white cabins. There was a satisfaction in hearing the throbbing of the -engines and feeling the pulse of the ship. We were idle, we passed the -time, but we knew that the ship went on. - -Going above once more at nine, I found the rain had passed, the sky was -clear and the night full of stars. In the sea rested dim reflections of -the stars, like the sad faces we see reflected in our memory several -days after we have gone from home. I stood at the vessel's edge and -looked far over the glimmering waves to the horizon where the stars -were walking on the sea. "What will it be like in America?" whispered -the foolish heart. "What will it be like for him?" Then sadness -came--the long, long thoughts of a boy. I whispered the Russian verse: - - - "There is a road to happiness, - But the way is afar." - - -And yet, next morning, I saw the Englishman dancing for hours with a -pretty Russian girl from a village near Kiev--Phrosia, the sister of -Maxim Holost, a fine boy of eighteen going out to North Dakota. I had -noticed the Englishman looking on at the dancing, and then suddenly, to -my surprise, at a break in the tinkling of the accordion, he offered -his arm to the Russian and took her down the middle as the music -resumed.... - -I was much in demand among the Russians on Friday and Saturday, for -they wanted to take the English language by storm at the week-end. I -taught Alexy by writing out words for him, and six or seven peasants -had copied from him and were busy conning "man," "woman," "farm," -"work," "give me," "please," "bread," "meat," "is," "Mister," "show," -"and," "how much," "like," "more," "half," "good," "bad," the numbers, -and so on. They pronounced these words with willing gusto, and made -phrases for themselves, calling out to me: - -"Show me worrk, pleez." - -"Wer is Meester Stamb?" - -"Khao match eez bread?" - -"Give mee haaf." - -Alexy tried his English on one of the waiters at dinner time. - -"Littel meet, _littel_, give mee more meet." - -The steward grinned appreciatively, and told him to lie down and be -quiet. - -Maxim and his sister were accompanied by a grizzled peasant of sixty or -so, wearing a high sugar-loaf hat sloping back from an aged, wrinkled -brow. This was Satiron Federovitch, the only old man on deck. His black -cloak, deep lined with wadding, was buttoned up to his throat, and the -simplicity of his attire and the elemental lines of his face gave him -a look of imperturbable calm. Asked why he was going to America, he -said that almost every one else in the village had gone before him. A -Russian village had as it were vanished from the Russian countryside -and from the Russian map and had transplanted itself to Dakota. Poor -old greybeard, he didn't want to go at all, but all his friends and -relatives had gone, and he felt he must follow. - -Holost told every one how at Libau the officials doubted the -genuineness of his passport, and he had to telegraph to his village -police, at his own expense, to verify his age and appearance. The -authorities didn't relish the idea of such a fine young man being -lost by any chance to the army. If only they had as much care for the -villages as they have for their legions! - -[Illustration: ENGLISH.] - -[Illustration: RUSSIANS. - -Fedya. Satiron. Alexy. Yoosha. Karl. Maxim Holost.] - -I was up betimes on Saturday morning and watched the vessel glide -out of the darkness of night into the dusk of the dawn. The electric -light up in the mainmast, the eye of the mast, squinted lividly in -the half-light, and the great phantom-like ship seemed as if cut out -of shiny-white and blood-red cardboard as it moved forward toward -the west. The smoke from the funnels lay in two long streamers to -the horizon, and the rising sun made a sooty shadow under it on the -gleaming waves. As the night-cloud vanished a great wind sprang up, -blowing off America. Old Satiron was coming laboriously upstairs, and -he slipped out on to the deck incautiously. - -"Gee whizz!" The mocking American wind caught his astrakhan hat and -gave it to the sea. Poor old Satiron, he'll turn up in Dakota with a -derby on, perhaps. - -Saturday was a day of preparation. We packed our things, we wrote -letters to catch the mail, we were medically inspected--some of us -were vaccinated. All the girls had to take off their blouses and the -young men their coats, and we filed past a doctor and two assistants. -One man washed each bare arm with a brush and some acid. The doctor -looked and examined. The other assistant stood with lymph and lancet -and rapidly jabbed us. The operation was performed at an amazing pace, -and was only an unpleasant formality. Many of those who were thus -vaccinated got their neighbours to suck out the vaccine directly they -returned to their cabins. This was what the boy who had left the dog -behind him did. He didn't want blood-poisoning, he said. Nearly all the -Russians had been vaccinated five or six times already. In Russia there -is much disease and much faith in medicine. In England good drainage, -many people not vaccinated, little smallpox; in Russia, no drains, much -vaccination, and much of the dread disease. - -On Saturday night there was a concert, at which all the steerage -were present, and in which any one who liked took part. But English -music-hall songs had all the platform--no foreign musicians -participated. - -Sunday was Easter Day, and I was up in the dark hours of the morning -and saw the dawn. Sunrise showed the clouds in the east, but in north -and south and west the other clouds still lay asleep. Up on the -after-deck of the great tireless steamer little groups of cloaked and -muffled emigrants stood gazing over the now familiar ocean. We knew it -was our last day on the ship, and that before the dawn on the morrow we -should be at the American shore. How fittingly was it Easter, first day -of resurrection, festive day of spring, day of promise and hope, the -anniversary of happy days, of first communions! - -In the wan east the shadowy wings of gulls were flickering. The -blood-red sun was just coming into view, streaked and segmented with -blackest cloud. He was striving with night, fighting, and at last -gaining the victory. High above the east and the wide circle of glory -stood hundreds of attendant cloudlets, arrayed by the sun in robes of -lovely tinting, and they fled before him with messages for us. Then, -astonishing thing, the sun disappeared entirely into shadow. Night -seemed to have gotten the victory. But we knew night could not win. - -The sun reappeared almost at once, in resplendent silver, now a rim, in -a moment a perfect shield. The shield had for a sign a maiden, and from -her bosom a lovely light flooded forth upon the world. We felt that we -ourselves, looking at it, were growing in stature in the morning. The -light enveloped us--it was divine. - -But the victory still waited. All the wavelets of the eastern sea were -living in the morning, dancing and mingling, bewildering, baffling, -delighting, but the west lay all unconquered, a great black ocean of -waves, each edged with signs of foam, as if docketed and numbered. -All seemed fixed and rigid in death. The sun disappeared again and -reappeared anew, and this time he threw into the world ochre and fire. -The wide half-circle of the east steamed an ochreous radiance to the -zenith. The sun was pallid against the beauty he had shed; the lenses -of the eye fainted upon the unearthly whiteness. It was hard to look -upon the splendid one, but only at that moment might he be seen with -the traces of his mystery upon him. Now he was in his grave-clothes, -all glistening white, but at noon he would be sitting on the right hand -of God. - -Easter! - - -"Will there be any service in the steerage to-day?" - -"No, there will only be service for first and second-class passengers." - -"Is that because they need it more than we?" - -There was no answer to that impolite remark. Still it was rather -amusing to find that the Church's office was part of the luxury of the -first and second class. - -The third class played cards and danced and sang and flirted much as -usual. They had need of blessing. - -So at night a Baptist preacher organised a prayer-meeting on his own -account, and the English-speaking people sang "Onward, Christian -soldiers," in a rather half-hearted way at eight o'clock, and "Jesus, -lover of my soul, let me to Thy Bosom fly," at nine; and there was a -prayer and a sermon. - -A few hours after I had lain down to sleep Maxim Holost put his head in -at my cabin and cried out: - -"America! Come up and see the lights of America." - -And without waiting for me to follow, he rushed away to say the same -thing to others, "America! America!" - - - - -II - -THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT - - -The day of the emigrants' arrival in New York was the nearest earthly -likeness to the final Day of Judgment, when we have to prove our -fitness to enter Heaven. Our trial might well have been prefaced by a -few edifying reminders from a priest. - -It was the hardest day since leaving Europe and home. From 5 -A.M., when we had breakfast, to three in the afternoon, when -we landed at the Battery, we were driven in herds from one place to -another, ranged into single files, passed in review before doctors, -poked in the eyes by the eye-inspectors, cross-questioned by the -pocket-inspectors, vice detectives, and blue-book compilers. - -Nobody had slept the night before. Those who approached America for -the first time stood on the open deck and stared at the lights of -Long Island. Others packed their trunks. Lovers took long adieus and -promised to write one another letters. There was a hum of talking in -the cabins, a continual pattering of feet in the gangways, a splashing -of water in the lavatories where cleanly emigrants were trying to wash -their whole bodies at hand-basins. At last the bell rang for breakfast: -we made that meal before dawn. When it was finished we all went up on -the forward deck to see what America looked like by morning light. A -little after six we were all chased to the after-deck and made to file -past two detectives and an officer. The detectives eyed us; the officer -counted to see that no one was hiding. - -At seven o'clock our boat lifted anchor and we glided up the still -waters of the harbour. The whole prow was a black mass of passengers -staring at the ferry-boats, the distant factories, and sky-scrapers. -Every point of vantage was seized, and some scores of emigrants were -clinging to the rigging. At length we came into sight of the green-grey -statue of Liberty, far away and diminutive at first, but later on, a -celestial figure in a blaze of sunlight. An American waved a starry -flag in greeting, and some emigrants were disposed to cheer, some shed -silent tears. Many, however, did not know what the statue was. I heard -one Russian telling another that it was the tombstone of Columbus. - -We carried our luggage out at eight, and in a pushing crowd prepared -to disembark. At 8.30 we were quick-marched out of the ship to the -Customs Wharf and there ranged in six or seven long lines. All the -officials were running and hustling, shouting out, "Come on!" "Hurry!" -"Move along!" and clapping their hands. Our trunks were examined and -chalk-marked on the run--no delving for diamonds--and then we were -quick-marched further to a waiting ferry-boat. Here for the time being -hustle ended. We waited three-quarters of an hour in the seatless -ferry, and every one was anxiously speculating on the coming ordeal -of medical and pocket examination. At a quarter to ten we steamed for -Ellis Island. We were then marched to another ferry-boat, and expected -to be transported somewhere else, but this second vessel was simply -a floating waiting-room. We were crushed and almost suffocated upon -it. A hot sun beat upon its wooden roof; the windows in the sides -were fixed; we could not move an inch from the places where we were -awkwardly standing, for the boxes and baskets were so thick about our -feet; babies kept crying sadly, and irritated emigrants swore at the -sound of them. All were thinking--"Shall I get through?" "Have I enough -money?" "Shall I pass the doctor?" and for a whole hour, in the heat -and noise and discomfort, we were kept thinking thus. At a quarter-past -eleven we were released in detachments. Every twenty minutes each and -every passenger picked up his luggage and tried to stampede through -with the party, a lucky few would bolt past the officer in charge, and -the rest would flood back with heart-broken desperate looks on their -faces. Every time they failed to get included in the outgoing party -the emigrants seemed to feel that they had lost their chance of a job, -or that America was a failure, or their coming there a great mistake. -At last, at a quarter-past twelve, it was my turn to rush out and find -what Fate and America had in store for me. - -Once more it was "Quick march!" and hurrying about with bags and -baskets in our hands, we were put into lines. Then we slowly filed up -to a doctor who turned our eyelids inside out with a metal instrument. -Another doctor scanned faces and hands for skin diseases, and then we -carried our ship-inspection cards to an official who stamped them. We -passed into the vast hall of judgment, and were classified and put into -lines again, this time according to our nationality. It was interesting -to observe at the very threshold of the United States the mechanical -obsession of the American people. This ranging and guiding and hurrying -and sifting was like nothing so much as the screening of coal in a -great breaker tower. - -It is not good to be like a hurrying, bumping, wandering piece of coal -being mechanically guided to the sacks of its type and size, but such -is the lot of the immigrant at Ellis Island. - -[Illustration: DAINTY SWEDISH GIRLS AND THEIR PARTNERS LOOKING OVER THE -SEA.] - -But we had now reached a point in the examination when we could rest. -In our new lines we were marched into stalls, and were allowed to -sit and look about us, and in comparative ease await the pleasure of -officials. The hall of judgment was crowned by two immense American -flags. The centre, and indeed the great body of the hall, was -filled with immigrants in their stalls, a long series of classified -third-class men and women. The walls of the hall were booking-offices, -bank counters, inspectors' tables, stools of statisticians. Up above -was a visitors' gallery where journalists and the curious might -promenade and talk about the melting-pot, and America, "the refuge of -the oppressed." Down below, among the clerks' offices, were exits; one -gate led to Freedom and New York, another to quarantine, a third to the -railway ferry, a fourth to the hospital and dining-room, to the place -where unsuitable emigrants are imprisoned until there is a ship to take -them back to their native land. - -Somewhere also there was a place where marriages were solemnised. -Engaged couples were there made man and wife before landing in New -York. I was helping a girl who struggled with a huge basket, and a -detective asked me if she were my sweetheart. If I could have said -"Yes," as like as not we'd have been married off before we landed. -America is extremely solicitous about the welfare of women, especially -of poor unmarried women who come to her shores. So many women fall -into the clutches of evil directly they land in the New World. The -authorities generally refuse to admit a poor friendless girl, though -there is a great demand for female labour all over the United States, -and it is easy to get a place and earn an honest living. - -It was a pathetic sight to see the doubtful men and women pass into -the chamber where examination is prolonged, pathetic also to see the -Russians and Poles empty their purses, exhibiting to men with good -clothes and lasting "jobs" all the money they had in the world. - -At half-past two I gave particulars of myself and showed the coin I -had, and was passed. - -"Have you ever been arrested?" asked the inspector. - -Well, yes, I had. I was not disposed to lie. I had been arrested four -or five times. In Russia you can't escape that. - -"For a crime involving moral turpitude?" he went on. - -"No, no." - -"Have you got a job in America?" (This is a dangerous question; if you -say 'Yes' you probably get sent back home; it is against American law -to contract for foreign labour.) - -I explained that I was a tramp. - -This did not at all please the inspector. He would not accept that -definition of my occupation, so he put me down as author. - -"Are you an anarchist?" - -"No." - -"Are you willing to live in subordination to the laws of the United -States?" - -"Yes." - -"Are you a polygamist?" - -"What does that mean?" I asked. - -"Do you believe a man may possess more than one wife at a time?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Have you any friends in New York?" - -"Acquaintances, yes." - -"Give me the address." - -I gave him an address. - -"How much money have you got?" ... "Show me, please!" ... And so on. I -was let go. - -At three in the afternoon I stood in another ferry-boat, and with a -crowd of approved immigrants passed the City of New York. Success had -melted most of us, and though we were terribly hungry, we had words and -confidences for one another on that ferry-boat. We were ready to help -one another to any extent in our power. That is what it feels like to -have passed the Last Day and still believe in Heaven, to pass Ellis -Island and still believe in America. - -Two or three of us hastened to a restaurant. I sat down at a little -table, and waited. So did the others, but we were making a mistake, -for there were no waiters. We had as yet to learn the mechanism of a -"Quick Lunch" shop; there was a certain procedure to be observed and -followed, we must learn it if we wanted a dinner. I watched the first -American citizen who came in, and did as he did. First I went to the -cashier and got a paper slip on which were printed many numbers 5, 10, -15, 25, and so on in intervals of fives. These represented cents, and -were so arranged for convenience in adding and for solid profit. At -this restaurant nothing cost less than five cents (twopence halfpenny), -and there were no intermediaries between five and ten, ten and fifteen, -and so forth. The unit then was five cents, and not as in England two -cents (one penny). Obviously this means enormous increase of takings in -the long run. That five-cent unit is part of the foundation of American -prosperity. I obtained my slip so numbered. Then I took a tray from a -stack of trays and a glass from an array of glasses, a fork and a knife -from the fork basket, and I went to the roast chicken counter and asked -for roast chicken. A plate of hot roast chicken was put on my tray, and -the white-hatted cook punched off twenty-five cents on my slip. I went -to another counter and received a plate of bread and butter, and to -yet another and sprinkled pepper and salt from the general sprinklers. -I went and drew iced water. Then, like the slave of the lamp working -for himself, I put the whole on my little table. When I had finished -my first course I put my plate aside and took my tray to the cook and -received a second, and when I had finished that I fetched my coffee. - -"Well," thought I, looking round, "no waiters, that means no tips; -there is not even a superfluous mendicant boy in charge of the swinging -doors." So I began to learn that in America the working man pays no -tips. - -My companions at the other tables were getting through with their -dinners and looking across at one another with congratulatory smiles. -We would have sat together, but in this shop one table accommodated one -customer only--an unsociable arrangement. I waited for them to finish, -so that we could go out together. - -Whilst doing so a man came up to me from another table and said very -quietly: - -"Just come over?" - -"This morning," I replied. - -He brightened up and asked: - -"Looking for a job?" - -"You don't mean to say I am being offered one already?" said I. - -"That's about it, two dollars." - -"Two dollars a day?" - -"That's the idea." - -"What's the work?" - -"Brick-making." - -It was brick-making up country for some Trust Company. I said I -was staying in New York, couldn't go just yet. He might try my -acquaintances. I pointed them out. - -One of them, a Pole, said he would go. The contractor went out with us, -and we accompanied him to his office. We took a street car. The fare -was five cents, a "nickel," and it was necessary to put the coin in the -slot of the conductor's money-box before entering. The conductor stood -stiff, like an intelligent bit of machinery, and we were to him fares -not humans. The five cents would take me to the other end of the city -if I wished it, but there was no two-cent fare in case I wished to go a -mile. That five-cent unit again! - -We sat in the car and looked out of the windows, interested in every -sight and sound. First we had glimpses of the East Side streets, all -push-carts and barrows, like Sukhareva at Moscow. Then we saw the dark -overhead railway and heard the first thunder of the Elevated train. -We went up the Bowery, unlike any other street in the world; we noted -that it was possible to get a room there for twenty cents a night. We -stared curiously at the life-sized carved and painted Indians outside -the cigar stores, and at the gay red-and-white stripe of the barbers' -revolving poles. - -We alighted just by a barber's shop. The agent showed us his office -and told us to come in if we changed our minds and would like the job. -There we left the Pole, and indeed saw him no more. - -There were two others beside myself--a Russian and a Russian Jew. -As the Jew and I both wanted a shave we all went into the barber's -shop. We were still carrying our bags, and were rather a strange -party to enter a shop together. But the barbers, a pleasant array of -close-shaven smiling Italians, were not put out in the least. They were -ready to shave any living thing. Their job was to shave and take the -cash, and not to be amused at the appearance of the customers. - -In America the barber's shop has a notice outside stating the number of -barbers. If the number is high it is considerable recommendation. Then -the briskly revolving pole suggests that it's your turn next and no -waiting. - -I was put into an immense, velvet-bottomed adjustable chair, my legs -were steadied on a three-foot stand, and the barber turning a handle -caused the back of the chair to collapse gently so that my head and -body pointed towards the doorway like the cannon mouth. Then the shave -commenced, and the barber twirled my head about and around as if it -were on a revolving hinge. And how laborious he was! In America, quick -lunch and slow shave; in England quick shave and slow lunch. And -fifteen cents for a shave, and thirty-five for a hair-cut. - -"That's a high price," said I. - -"Union rate," said he. "We are now protected against the public." - -The Jew, however, paid five cents less; he had bargained beforehand. -He said it was the last cent he'd pay for a shave in that country; -he'd buy a safety razor. The Russian smiled; he hadn't shaved yet, and -didn't intend to, ever. - -At this point the Jew parted company with us. He was going to find -a friend of his in Stanton Street. The Russian and I made for a -lodging-house in Third Avenue. At a place ticketed "Rooms by the day -or month," we rang the bell, rang the bell and waited, rang again. We -were to be initiated into another mystery of New York, the mechanical -door, the door which has almost an intelligence of its own. Down came a -German woman at last, and gave us a rare scolding. Why hadn't we turned -the handle and come in? Why had we brought her down so many flights of -stairs? - -It appeared that by turning a handle in her room on the second floor -she liberated the catch in the lock, and all the visitor had to do was -to turn the handle and walk in. - -"I heard a rattle in the lock," said I. "I wondered what it meant." - -"How long've you been in America?" she asked. - -"A few hours. We want rooms for a few days while we look about." - -"Days? My lodgers take rooms for years. I haven't any one staying less -than six months." - -This was just "boosting" her rooms, but I didn't know. I took it for -a good sign. If her tenants stayed long terms the place must be very -clean. But it was only "boosting." Still the rooms looked decent, and -we took them. They were the same price as similar rooms in the centre -of London, ten shillings a week, but dearer than in Moscow where -one would pay fifteen roubles (seven and a half dollars or thirty -shillings) a month for such accommodation. The floors were carpeted, -the sheets were white, there was a good bathroom for each four lodgers, -no children, and all was quiet. Laundry was collected, there was no -charge for the use of electric light, you received a latch-key on the -deposit of twenty-five cents, and could come in any hour of the day or -night. In signing the registration book I saw I was the only person of -Anglo-Saxon name, all were Germans, Swedes, Italians, Russians. With -British caution I hid a twenty-five dollar bill in the binding of one -of the most insignificant of my books, so that if I were robbed of -the contents of my pocket-book I should still have a stand-by. But my -suspicions were begotten only of ignorance. My fellow-lodgers were all -hard working, self-absorbed New Yorkers, who took no thought of their -neighbours, either for good or evil. - - - - -III - -THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION OF BRITAIN - - -I came to America to see men and women and not simply bricks and -mortar, to understand a national life rather than to moan over sooty -cities and industrial wildernesses. Hundreds of thousands of healthy -Europeans passed annually to America. I wanted to know what this asylum -or refuge of our wanderers actually was, what was the life and hope it -offered, what America was doing with her hands, what she was yearning -for with her heart. I wished to know also what was her despair. - -On my second day in New York I was deploring the sky-scraper, when -a young American lifted her arms above her head in yearning and -aspiration saying, "Have you seen the Woolworth Building? It is a -bird's flight of stone right away up into the sky, it is higher -and newer than anything else in New York, its cream-coloured walls -are pure and undefiled. It is a commercial house, to be let to ten -thousand business tenants. But it is like a cathedral; its foundations -are on the earth, but its spire is up among the stars; if you go to -it at sundown and look upward you will see the angels ascending and -descending, and hear the murmur of Eternity about it." - -I had always thought of the sky-scraper as a black grimy street-front -that went up to an unearthly height, a Noah's Ark of sodden and smoky -bricks. That is what a sky-scraper would tend to be in London. I had -forgotten the drier, cleaner atmosphere of New York. - -I went to see the Woolworth Building, and I found it something new. It -was beautiful. It was even awe-inspiring. - -In the evening I asked an American literary man whom I met at a club -what he thought was the _raison d'être_ of the Woolworth; was it not -simply the desire to build higher than all other houses--the wish to -make a distinct commercial hit? - -He "put me wise." - -"First of all," said he, "New York is built on the little island of -Manhattan. The island is all built over, and so, as we cannot expand -outward we've got to build upward. Ground rent, too, has become so high -that we must build high for economy's sake." - -I remarked on the number of men who lost their lives in the building of -sky-scrapers. "For every minute of the day there was a man injured in -some town or other of the United States," so I had read in an evening -paper. - -He said the Americans were playing large, and must expect to lose -a few men in the game. He expected the America of the future would -justify all sacrifices made just now, and he gave me in the course of a -long talk his view of the passion of America. - -"The Woolworth Building is only an inadequate symbol of our faith," -said he. "You British and the Germans and French are working on a -different principle, you are playing the small game, and playing it -well. You stake your efficiency on the perfection of details. In -the German life, for instance, nothing is too small to be thought -unmeriting of attention." - -I told him the watchword of the old chess champion Steinitz, "I do not -vant to vin a pawn; it is enough if I only veakens a pawn." - -"You play chess?" said he, laughing. "That's it exactly. He did not -care to sacrifice pieces; he was entirely on the defensive in his -chess, eh? And in life he would be the same, hoarding his pennies and -his dollars, and economising and saving. That's just how the American -is different. He doesn't mind taking great risks; he is playing -the large game, sacrificing small things, hurrying on, building, -destroying, building again, conquering, dreaming. We are always selling -out and re-investing. You are concentrating on yourselves as you are; -we want to leave our old bodies and conditions behind and jump to a new -humanity. If an American youth could inherit the whole world he would -not care to improve it if he saw a chance of selling it to some one -and getting something better." - -"The spirit of business," I suggested. - -"Call it what you will." - -"But," said I, "does not this merely result in a town full of a -hustling, mannerless crowd; trolley-cars dashing along at life-careless -speed; a nation at work with loosely constructed machinery; callous -indifference on the part of the living towards those whom they kill in -their rush to the goal?" - -My new acquaintance looked at me in a way that seemed to say -"You--Britisher." He was a great enthusiast for his country, and I had -been sent to him by friends in London who wanted me to get to the heart -of America, and not simply have my teeth set on edge by the bitter rind. - -"You think the end will justify the proceedings?" I added. - -"Oh yes," he said. "You know we've only been fifty years on this job; -there's nothing in modern America more than fifty years old. Think of -what we've done in the time--clearing, building, engineering; think of -the bridges we've built, the harbours, the canals, the great factories, -the schools. We've been taxed to the last limit of physical strength, -and only to put down the pavement and the gas-pipes so to speak, the -things you found ready made for you when you were born, but which we -had to lay on the prairie. We are only now beginning to look round and -survey the foundations of civilisation. Still most of us are hurrying -on, but the end will be worth the trials by the way; we - - - "Are whirling from heaven to heaven - And less will be lost than won." - - -"But is it not a miserable, heartless struggle for the individual?" -said I. "For instance, to judge by the story of _The Jungle_ I should -gather that the lot of a Russian family come fresh to Chicago was -terrible." - -"Oh, you mustn't take Sinclair literally. He is a Socialist who wants -to show that society, as it is at present constituted, is so bad that -there is no hope except in revolution. There is heartbreak often, -but the struggle is not heartless. It is amazingly full of hope. If -you go into the worst of our slums you'll find the people hopeful, -even in extremity. I've been across to London, and I never saw such -hopeless-looking people as those who live in your East Ham and West Ham -and Poplar and the rest of them." - -"There is hope with us too," I protested. "The people in our slums are -very rebellious, they look forward to the dictatorship of Will Thorne -or George Lansbury." - -"Ah well," my friend assented, "that's your kind of -hope--rebelliousness, hatred of the splendid and safe machine. That's -just it. We haven't your rebelliousness and quarrelsomeness. The -new-come immigrant is always quarrelling with his neighbours. It is -only after a while that America softens him and enriches his heart. The -vastness of America, the abundance of its riches, is infectious; it -makes the heart larger. The immigrant feels he has room, life is born -in him." - -"But," said I, "the great machine is here as in Europe. A man is known -by his job here just as much as with us, isn't he? He is labelled and -known, he fills a fixed place and has a definite rotation. Every man -says to him 'I see what you are, I know what you are; you are just what -I see and no more.' His neighbour takes him for granted thus. Out of -that horrible taking-for-granted springs rebelliousness and hate of the -great machine. You must be as rebellious as we are." - -"No, no." My companion wouldn't have it. "We don't look at people that -way in America. But you're right about looks. It's looks that make -people hate. It's eyes that make them curse and swear and hate. Every -day hundreds and thousands of eyes look at one. I think eyes have power -to create. If thousands and thousands of people pass by a man and look -at him with their eyes they almost change him into what they see. If -in the course of years millions of eyes look at an individual and see -in him just some little bolt in a great machine, then his tender human -heart wants to turn into iron. The ego of that man has a forlorn and -terrible battle to fight. He thinks he is fighting himself; he is -really fighting the millions of creative eyes who by faith are changing -flesh and blood into soulless machinery." - -"And here?" I queried. - -He laughed a moment, and then said seriously, "Here it is different. -Here we are playing large. Oh, the dwarfing power, the power to make -you mean, that the millions of eyes possess in a country that is -playing the small game! They make you feel mean and little, and then -you become mean. They kill your heart. Your dead little heart withdraws -the human films and the tenderness and imaginativeness from your eyes, -and you also begin to look out narrowly, dwarfingly, compellingly. You -eye the people in the streets, in the cars, in the office, and they -can't help becoming what you are." - -"But some escape," said I. - -"Yes, some go and smash windows and get sent to gaol, some become -tramps, and some come to America. In Giant Despair's dungeon poor -Christian exclaims, 'What a fool I am to remain here when I have in my -heart a key which I am persuaded will unlock any of the doors of this -castle. Strange that it has only now occurred to me that all I need -to do is to lift my hand and open the door and go away.' Then poor -Christian books a passage to America or Australia. He starts for the -New World; and the moment he puts his foot on the vessel he begins to -outgrow. He was his very smallest and meanest under the pressure of -the Old World; when the pressure is removed he begins to expand. He is -free. He is on his own. He is sailing to God as himself. The exception -has beaten the rule. Now I hold as a personal belief that we are all -exceptions, that we take our stand before God as tender human creatures -of His, each unique in itself. The emigrant on the boat has the -delicious feelings of convalescence, of getting to be himself again. He -basks in the sun of freedom. The sun itself seems like the all-merciful -Father, the Good Shepherd who cares for each one and knows each by -name, leading him out to an earthly paradise." - -"That paradise is America, eh?" said I rather mockingly, and then I -paused and added, "But America ought to be really a paradise; it is -pathetic to think of the difference between America as the Russian -thinks it to be and America as it is. It is a shame that your trusts -and tariffs and corrupt police should have made America a worse place -to live in than the Old World. I know it is the land of opportunity, -opportunity to become rich, to get on, to be famous; but for the poor -immigrant it is rather the land of opportunism, a land where he himself -is the opportunity, which not he but other people have the chance to -seize." - -My friend was scandalised. "I think it gives every one an -opportunity," said he, "even the drunkard and the thief and the -embezzler whom you so incharitably hand over to us. You know the -saying, 'It takes an ocean to receive a muddy stream without -defilement.' The ocean of American life cleanses many a muddy stream of -the Old World." - -"Still," said I, "not to abandon oneself utterly to ideas, is it not -true that Pittsburg actually destroys thousands of Slav immigrants -yearly? It utterly destroys them. They have no children who come -to anything--they are just wiped out. I gather so much from your -Government survey of Pittsburg." - -"Well," said he, "that survey is just part of the New America, of -the new national conscience. Terrible things do happen, witness the -enormous white-slave traffic. You have just come to us at the right -moment to see the initiation of sweeping changes. President Wilson is -like your David Lloyd George, only he has more power, because he has -more people at his back. We are just beginning a great progressive era. -On the other hand, America is not the place of the weak. That's why we -send so many back home from Ellis Island. We've got something else to -do than try and put Humpty Dumpty up on the wall again. When the weaker -get past Ellis Island into our fierce national life they are bound to -go to the wall. We haven't time even to be sorry, and if questioned we -can only answer that we believe the sacrifice will be justified." - -I recall to my mind the startling objection of Ivan Karamazof in the -greatest of Russian novels. "When God's providence is fulfilled we -shall understand all things; we shall see how the pain and death of, -for instance, a little child could be necessary. I understand of course -what an upheaval of the universe it will be when everything in heaven -and earth blends in one hymn of praise, and everything that lives -and has lived cries aloud, 'Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are -revealed'; but to my mind the pain of one little child were too high a -price to pay." Ivan Karamazof would certainly have renounced the grand -future of America bought by the exploitation of thousands of weak and -helpless ones. - -Still I suppose the past must take care of itself, and the America -which stands to-day on the threshold of a new era has more thought and -tenderness for the victims of its commercial progress. It is making up -its mind to save the foreign women and their little babies. For the -rest, America plays large, as my friend said. There is a spaciousness -with her, there is contrast, there is life and death, virtue and sin, -things to laugh over and things to cry over. The little baby buds are -taken away and branches are lopped, but the mustard grows a great tree. - -There is a chance in America, a chance that you may be a victim, but -also a chance that you may be in at the mating of the King. - - * * * * * * * - -Several months later, when I had tramped some six hundred American -miles, and talked to all manner of persons, I realised that America -was superlatively a place of hope. I had been continually asking -myself, "What _is_ America? What _is_ this new nation? How are they -different from us at home in England?" And one morning, sitting under -a bush in Indiana, the answer came to me and I wrote it down. They are -fundamentally people who have crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and we are -stay-at-homes. They are adventurous, hopeful people. They are people -who have thrown themselves on the mercy of God and Nature. - -We live in a tradition; they live in an expectation. We are remedying -the old state; they are building the new. We are loyal to the ideas of -our predecessors, they are agape to divine the ideas of generations yet -to come. - -It is possible to come to Britain and see what Britain is, but if you -go to America the utmost you can see is what America is becoming. And -when you see the Briton you see a man steadfast at some post of duty, -but the American is something to-day but God-knows-what to-morrow. Our -noblest epitaph is "He knew his job"; theirs, "He sacrificed himself to -a cause." - -Observe, "that state of life unto which it shall please God to call -me," puts the Briton in a static order of things. He is in his little -shop, or at the forge, or in the coal yard. Within his sight is the -Norman tower of the village church. He is known to the priest by his -name and his job. He is part of the priests' cure of souls. His life -is functionised at the village altar and not at the far shrines of -ambition. He belongs to the peasant world. Even though he is English he -is as the Russian, "one of God's faithful slaves." - -Thousands of English, Scotch, and Irish, simple souls, say their -prayers to God each night, not because they are pillars of a chapel -or have lately been "saved," but because they have been brought up in -that way of life and in that relation to God. They pray God sometimes -in anguish that they may be helped _to do their duty_. They say the -Lord's Prayer, not as a patter, but with the stark simplicity which you -associate with the grey wall of the old church. - -These village folk of ours are like old trees. Close your eyes to the -visible and open them to the invisible world, and you see the young -man of to-day as the stem, his father as the branch, his grandfather -the greater branch. You see in the shadow rising out of the earth the -ancient trunk. You think of many people, and yet it is not father and -grandfather, and grandfather and great-grandfather, and so on, but -one tree, the name of which is the young man leafing in the world -of to-day. That man is no shoot, no seedling, he has behind him the -consciousness of the vast umbrageous oak. When he says "Our Father, -which art in heaven," the voice comes out of the depths of the earth, -and it comes from father and grandfather, and from greybeard after -greybeard standing behind one another's shoulders, innumerably. - -The place to which it shall please God to call you is not a definite -locality in the United States of America; the dream of wealth is -dreamed inside each cottage door. Each man is intent on getting on, on -realising something new. He is revolving in his mind ways of doing more -business; of doing what he has more quickly, more economically; ways of -"boosting," ways of buying. Our customers _buy from_ us: his customers -_trade with_ him--they enter into harmony with him. Store-keepers and -customers sing together like gnats over the oak trees; they make things -hum. There is a feeling that whether buying or selling you are getting -forward. - -The British, however, put a great question-mark in front of this -American life. Do those who are striving know what they want in the end -of ends? Do those toiling in the wood know what is on the other side? - -The late Price Collier remarked that the German thinks he has done -something when he has an idea and the Frenchman when he has made an -epigram; it may be inferred that the American thinks he has done -something when he has made his pile. The ultimate earthly prize for -"boosting" and bargaining is a vulgar solatium,--a big house, an -abundant person, a few gold rings, an adorned wife, a high-power -touring car. Out in those wider spaces where lagging and outdistanced -competitors are not taken into your counsel you still handle business. -But now it is in "graft" that you deal. You are engineering trusts, and -cornering commodities, you develop political "pull," you own saloons, -and have ledgers full of the bought votes of Italians and Slavs. - -You are great ... sitting at the steering-wheel of this great -ramshackle political and commercial machine, your coat off and your -immaculate lawn sleeves tucked up above your elbows, you own to -wolfish-eyed reporters that you have an enormous appetite for work and -zest for life. - -And yet.... - -What is the crown? You die in the midst of it. There is no goal, no -priceless treasure that even in the death-struggle your hands grasp -after. - -Some of your children are going in for a life of pleasure. They go to -be the envy of waiters and hotel-porters and all people waiting about -for tips, but often to be the laughing-stock of the cultured. One of -your sweet but simple-souled daughters is going to marry a broken-down -English peer. He will not marry her for less than a million dollars. -In the old store where you began business, gossiping over bacon and -flour, you would have looked rather blank if some one had said that a -foreigner would consent to marry your daughter only on the payment of -an indemnity. - -"Well," said my road-companion to me under a bush in Indiana, "the game -goes to pass the time. The world is a prison-house, and a good game -has been invented, commerce, and it saves us from ennui, that is the -philosophy of it all. Scores of years pass like an hour over cards. -Those who win are most interested and take least stock of the time--and -they have invented happiness." - -But I cannot believe that the American destiny leads up a cul-de-sac. -We have been following out a cross-road. There is a high road somewhere -that leads onward. - -There are two sorts of immigrant, one that makes his pile and returns -to Europe, the other who thinks America a desirable place to settle in. -The second class is vastly more numerous than the first, for faith in -American life is even greater than faith in America's wealth. - -Quite apart from the opportunities for vulgar success America has -wonderful promise. It can offer to the newcomer colonist a share in a -great enterprise. It is quite clear to the sympathetic observer that -something is afoot in the land which in Great Britain seems to be -best known by police scandals, ugly dances, sentimental novels, and -boastful, purse-conscious travellers. - -The dream of Progress by which Westerners live is going to be carried -forward to some realisation in America. There is a great band of -workers united in the idea of making America the most pleasant and -happy place to live in that the world has ever known. I refer to those -working with such Americans as J. Cotton Dana, the fervent librarian; -Mr. Fred Howe, who is visualising the cities of the future; the -President of the City College, who has such regard not only for the -cultural but for the physical well-being of young men; Jane Addams, who -with such precision is diagnosing social evils; President Wilson, who -promises to uproot the tree of corruption; to mention only the chief -of those with whom I was brought in contact in my first experience of -America. - -The political struggles of America form truly a sad spectacle, but by a -thousand non-political signs one is aware that there is a real passion -in the breast of the individual. - -Going through the public gardens at Newark I see written up: "Citizens, -this park is yours. It was planted for you, that the beauty of its -flowers and the tender greenery of tree and lawn might refresh you. You -will therefore take care of it...." - -Going through Albany I find it placarded: "Dirt is the origin of sin; -get rid of dirt, and other evils will go with it," and the whole -city is having a clean-up week, all the school children formed into -anti-dirt regiments making big bonfires of rubbish and burying the -tomato-cans and rusty iron. - -Every city in America has been stirring itself to get clean. Even in a -remote little place like Clarion, Pa., I read on every lamp-post: "Let -your slogan be 'Do it for Home, Sweet Home'--clean up!" and again in -another place, "Develop your social conscience; you've got one, make -the country beautiful." In New York I have handed me the following -prayer, which has seemed to me like the breath of the new passion: - - - We pray for our sisters who are leaving the ancient shelter of - the home to earn their wage in the store and shop amid the press - of modern life. Grant them strength of body to bear the strain - of unremitting toil, and may no present pressure unfit them for - the holy duties of home and motherhood which the future may lay - upon them. Give them grace to cherish under the new surroundings - the old sweetness and gentleness of womanhood, and in the rough - mingling of life to keep the purity of their hearts and lives - untarnished. Save them from the terrors of utter want. Teach them - to stand by their sisters loyally, that by united action they - may better their common lot. And to us all grant wisdom and firm - determination that we may not suffer the women of our nation to be - drained of strength and hope for the enrichment of a few, lest our - homes grow poor in the wifely sweetness and motherly love which - have been the saving strength and glory of our country. If it must - be so that our women toil like men, help us still to reverence in - them the mothers of the future. If they yearn for love and the - sovereign freedom of their own home, give them in due time the - fulfilment of their sweet desires. By Mary the beloved, who bore - the world's redemption in her bosom; by the memory of our own dear - mothers who kissed our souls awake; by the little daughters who - must soon go out into that world which we are now fashioning for - others, we pray that we may deal aright by all women. - - -Men are praying for women, and women are working for themselves. -Commercial rapacity is tempered by women's tears, and the tender -stories of the shop-girl that O. Henry wrote are more read to-day than -they were in the author's lifetime. The newspapers are all agog with -the "vice-probes," scandals, questions of eugenics, the menace of -organised capital, the woman's movement. And they are not so because -vice is more prolific than in Europe, or the race more inclined to -fail, or the working men and working women more tyrannised over. They -are so because this generation wishes to realise something of the New -Jerusalem in its own lifetime. It may be only a foolish dream, but it -provides the present atmosphere of America. It discounts the despair -which on the one hand prudery and on the other rag-time dancing -invite. It discounts the commercial and mechanical obsession of the -people. It discounts the wearisome shouting of the cynic who has money -in his pocket, and makes America a place in which it is still possible -for the simple immigrant to put his trust. In the light of this -passion, and never forgetful of it, I view all that comes to my notice -in America of to-day. - - - - -IV - -INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK - - -First, the flood of the homeward tide at six-thirty in the evening, the -thousands and tens of thousands of smartly dressed shop-girls hurrying -and flocking from the lighted West to the shadowy East--their bright, -hopeful, almost expectant features, their vivacity and energy even at -the end of the long day. I felt the contrast with the London crowd, -which is so much gloomier and wearier as it throngs into our Great -Eastern terminus of Liverpool Street. New York has a stronger class of -girl than London. Our shop-girls are London-bred, but your Sadie and -Dulcie are the children of foreigners; they have peasant blood in them -and immigrant hope. They have a zest for the life that New York can -offer them after shop-hours. - -The average wage of the American shop-girl is stated to be seven -dollars (twenty-eight shillings) per week; the average wage in London -is about ten shillings, or two and a half dollars.[1] I suppose that -is another reason why our New York sisters are more cheerful. Despite -the high price of food in New York there must be a comparatively broad -margin left to the American girl to do what she likes with. The cult of -the poor little girl of the Department Store is perhaps only a cult. -For there are many women in New York more exploited than she. When the -shop-girl sells herself to rich men for marriage or otherwise she does -so because she has been infected by the craze for finery and wealth, is -energetic and vivacious, and is morally undermined. It is not because -she is worn out and ill-paid. If New York is evil it is not because -New York is a failure. The city is prosperous and evil as well. The -freshness and health and vigour of the rank and file of New York were -amazing to one familiar with the drab and dreary procession of workers -filing into the city of London at eight in the morning and away from it -at the same hour in the evening. - - -Then the Grand Central Station, with its vast high hall of marble, -surmounted by a blue-green ceiling which, aping heaven itself, is -fretted and perforated and painted to represent the clear night sky. -That starry roof astonished me. It reminded me of a story I heard of G. -K. Chesterton, that he lay in bed on a Sunday morning and with a crayon -mounted on a long handle drew pictures on the white ceiling. It was -like some dream of Chesterton's realised. - -For a long time I looked at the painted roof and picked out my -beloved stars and constellations,--the planets under which I like to -sleep,--and then I thought, "Strange, that out in the glowing Broadway, -not far away, the real stars are hidden from the gaze of New York by -flashing and twinkling and changing sky-signs in manifold colour and -allurement. Every night the dancing-girl is dancing in the sky, and -the hand pours out the yellow beer into the foaming glass which, like -the vision of the Grail, appears but to vanish; every night the steeds -prance with the Greek chariot, the athletes box, the kitten plays with -the reel. These are the real stars and constellations of Broadway, for -Charles's Wain is never seen, neither Orion nor the chair of Cassiopeia -nor the Seven Sisters. To see them you must come in here, into the -Grand Central Station." - -But apart from this paradox, what a station this is--a great silent -temple, a place wherein to come to meditate and to pray. It is more -beautiful than any of the churches of America. How much more beautiful -than the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, for instance. That cathedral -will be the largest church in the world when it is finished, and, -vanity of vanities, how much more secular it is than the station! It is -almost conceivable that after some revolution in the future, New York -might change its mind and go to worship at the Grand Central Station -and run its trains into the Cathedral of St. John. - -Americans are proud of saying that the Woolworth Building, the Grand -Central Station, the Pennsylvania Railway Station, and the New York -Central Library show the New York of the future. Almost everything else -will be pulled down and built to match these. They are new buildings, -they are the soul of the New America finding expression. They are -temples of a new religion. Americans pray more and aspire more to God -in these than they do in their churches. - - * * * * * * * - -There stands out in my memory the East Side, and the slums which I -walked night after night in quest of some idea, some redeeming feature, -something that would explain them to me. I walked almost at random, -taking ever the first turning to the left, the first to the right, and -the first to the left again, coming ever and anon to the river and the -harbour, and having to turn and change. - -The East Side is more spectacular than the East End of London. The -houses are so high, and there is so much more crowding, that you get -into ten streets of New York what we get into a hundred streets. The -New York slums are slums at the intensest. The buildings, great frames -of rags and dirt, hang over the busy street below, and are wildly alive -from base to summit. All day long the bedding hangs out at the windows -or on the iron fire-escapes attached to the houses. Women are shouting -and children are crying on the extraordinary stairs which lead from -room to room and story to story in the vast honeycomb of dens. On the -side-walk is a rough crowd speaking all tongues. The toy doors of the -saloons swing to and fro, simple couples sit on high stools in the -soda-bars and suck various kinds of "dope." Lithuanian and Polish boys -are rushing after one another with toy pistols, the girls are going -round and round the barber's pole, singing and playing, with hands -joined. The stores are crowded, and notices tell the outsider that he -can buy two quarts of Grade B milk for eleven cents, or ten State eggs -for twenty-five cents. You come to streets where all the bakers' shops -are "panneterias," and you know you are among the Italians. One Hundred -and Thirteenth Street as it goes down from Second Avenue to First -Avenue is full of Greeks and Italians, and is extraordinarily dark and -wild; men of murderous aspect are prowling about, there is howling -across the street from tenement to tenement. Dark, plump women stand at -doorways and stare at you, and occasionally a negress in finery trapes -past. - -You come to little Italian theatres where the price of admission is -only five cents, and find them crammed with families, so that you -cannot hear _Rigoletto_ for the squalling of the babies. There are mean -cinema houses where you see only worn-out and spoiled films giving -broken and incoherent stories. And all the while the lights and -shadows play, the Greek hawker of confectionery shouts: - -"Soh-dah!" - -"Can-dee!" - -You continue your wanderings and you strike a nigger district. -Negresses and their beaux are flirting in corners and on doorsteps. -Darky boys and girls are skirling in the roadway. Smartly dressed young -men, carrying canes, come giggling and pushing one another on the -pavement, crying out music-hall catches--"Who was you with last night?" -and the like. - -You know the habitat of the Jew by the abundance of junk-shops, -old-clothes shops, and offices of counsellors-at-law. It seems the -Jews are very litigious, and even the poorest families go to law for -their rights. You find windows full of boxing-gloves, for the Jews are -great boxers in America. You find stalls and push-carts without end. -And every now and then rubbish comes sailing down from a window up -above. That is one of the surest signs of the Jews being installed--the -pitching of cabbage-leaves and fish-bones and sausage-parings from -upper windows. - -What a sight was Delancey Street, with its five lines of naphtha-lit -stalls, its array of tubs of fish and heaps of cranberries, its -pavements slippery with scales, the air heavy with the odour of fish! - -On one of the first of my nights out in the New York streets I came on -a most wonderful sight. After prolonging a journey that started in -the centre of the city I found myself suddenly plunging downward among -dark and wretched streets. I was following out my zigzag plan, and came -at last to a cul-de-sac. This was at the end of East Ninth Street. It -was very dark and forbidding; there were no shops, only warehouses and -yards. There were no people. I expected to find a new turning to the -left, and was rather fearsome of taking it even should I find it. But -at length I saw I had come to the East River. At the end of the street -the water lapped against a wooden landing-stage, and there I saw a -picture of wonder and mystery. - -High over the glimmering water stood Brooklyn Bridge, with its long -array of blazing electric torches and its procession of scores of -little car-lights trickling past. The bridge hung from the high heaven -by dark shadows. It was the brightest ornament of the night. I sat on -an overturned barrow and looked out. Up to me and past me came stalking -majestic ferry-boats, all lights and white or shadowy faces. Far away -on the river lay anchored boats with red and green lights, and beyond -all were the black silhouettes of the building and shipping on Long -Island Shore. - - * * * * * * * - -It was interesting to me to participate in the Russian Easter in New -York, having lived in the Protestant and Roman Catholic Easters a whole -month before on the emigrant ship on the day we reached New York. I -came to the diminutive Russian cathedral in East Ninety-Fifth Street -on Easter Eve at midnight. I had been at a fancy-dress party in the -evening, and as fortune would have it, had gone in Russian attire; that -is, in a blue blouse like a Moscow workman. What was my astonishment to -find myself the only person so dressed in the great throng of Russians -surging in and out of the cathedral and the side street where the -overflow of them talked and chattered. They were all in bowler hats, -and wore collars and ties and American coats and waistcoats. They even -looked askance at me for coming in a blouse; they thought I might be a -Jew or a German, or a foolish spy trying to gain confidences. - -I shall never forget the inside of the cathedral at one in the morning, -the vociferous singing, the beshawled peasant girls, the tear-stained -faces. Priest after priest came forward and praised the Orthodox Church -and the Russian people, and appealed to the worshippers to remember -that all over the Russian world the same service was being held, not -only in the great cathedrals and monasteries, but in the village -churches, in the far-away forest settlements, at the shrines in lonely -Arctic islands, in the Siberian wildernesses, on the Urals, in the -fastnesses of the Caucasus, on the Asian deserts, in Jerusalem itself. -It was pathetic to hear the priests exhort these young men and women -to remain Russians--they were all young, and they all or nearly all -looked to America as their new home. On all ordinary occasions they -longed to be Americans and to be called Americans; but this night a -flood of feeling engulfed them, and in the New York night they set sail -and looked hungrily to the East whence they came. They held tapers. -They had tenderly brought their cakes, their chickens and joints of -pork, to be sprinkled with holy water and blessed by the priest for -their Easter _breakfast_. It was sad to surmise how few had really -fasted through Lent, and yet to see how they clung to departing -tradition. - -Coming out of the cathedral we each received a verbose revolutionary -circular printed in the Russian tongue: "Keep holy the First of May! -Hail to the war of the Classes! Hurrah for Socialism! Workmen of all -classes, combine!"--and so on. In Russia a person distributing such -circulars would be rushed off to gaol at once. In New York it is -different, and "influences" of all kinds are in full blast. I looked -over the shoulders of many groups outside the cathedral on Easter Day -and found them reading those New York rags, which are conceived in -ignorance and dedicated to anarchism. It seems the Russian who comes -to New York is at once grabbed by the existent Social-Democratic -organisations, and though he go to church still, he begins to be -more and more attached to revolutionism. It is strange that these -organisations are directed, not against the Tsar and the officialdom -of Russia, but against the Government of the United States and the -commercial machine. There is no question of America being a refuge for -the persecuted Russian. The latter is assured at once that America is -a place of even worse tyranny than the land he has come from. But if -he does not take other people's word he soon comes to that conclusion -on his own account. For he finds himself and his brothers working like -slaves and drinking themselves to death through sheer boredom, and he -finds his sisters in the "sweat-shops" of the garment-workers, or loses -them in houses of evil. - - * * * * * * * - -I shall long remember the Night Court on Sixth Avenue, and several -occasions when I entered there after midnight and found the same -shrewd, tireless Irish judge nonchalantly fining and sentencing -negresses and white girls found in the streets under suspicious -circumstances. Many a poor Russian girl was brought forward, and called -upon to defend herself against the allegations of the soulless spies -and secret agents of the American Police. I listened to their sobs and -cries, their protests of innocence, their promises of repentance, till -I was ready to rise in Court and rave aloud and shriek, and be pounced -upon by the great fat pompous usher who represses even the expression -on your features. "Why," I wanted to cry aloud, "it is America that -ought to be tried, and not these innocent victims of America--they are -the evidence of America's guilt and not the committers of her crimes!" -But I was fixed in silence, like the reporters doing their jobs in the -front bench, and the unmoved, hard-faced attendants and police by whom -the order of the Court was kept. - -Then, not far along the same road in which the Night Court stands, -I came one evening into a wax-work show of venereal disease. It was -quite by chance I went in, for there was nothing outside to indicate -what was within. Only the spirit of adventure, which prompted me to -go in and look round wherever I saw an open door, betrayed me to -this chamber of horrors. There I saw, in pink and white and red, the -human body in the loathsome inflammation and corruption of the city's -disease. Chief of all I remember the queen of the establishment, a -hypnotic-seeming corpse of wax, lying full-length in a shroud in a -glass case. Just enough of the linen was held aside to show or suggest -the terrible cause of her decease. The show was no more than a doctor's -advertisement, and it was open in the name of science, but it was an -unforgettable vision of death at the heart of this great city pulsating -with life. - - * * * * * * * - -Then the splendour of Broadway, the great White Way, "calling moths -from leagues, from hundreds of leagues," as O. Henry wrote. What a city -of enchantment and wonder New York must seem to the traveller from some -dreary Russian or Siberian town, if seen aright. It is a thrilling -spectacle. Now that I have looked at it I say to myself, "Fancy any man -having lived and died in this era without having seen it!" Five hundred -years ago the island was dark and empty, with the serene stars shining -over it; but now the creatures of the earth have found it and built -this city on it, lit by a myriad lights. Thousands of years hence it -will be dark again belike, and empty, and uninhabited, and once more -the serene stars will shine over the island. - -[Illustration: APPLE ORCHARDS IN BLOSSOM ON THE SPURS OF THE CATSKILLS.] - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] In Russia the average wage of the shop-girl is 12 roubles a month -(_i.e._, 1½ dollars, or 6s. a week), but then she is a humble creature -and lives simply. - - - - -V - -THE AMERICAN ROAD - - -Out in the country was a different America. The maples were all red, -the first blush of the dawn of summer. In the gardens the ficacia was -shooting her yellow arrows, in the woods the American dogwood tree was -covered with white blossoms like thousands of little dolls' nightcaps. -Down at Caldwell, New Jersey, I picked many violets and anemones--large -blue fragrant violets. The bride's veil was in lovely wisps and armfuls -of white. The unfolding oak turned all rose, like the peach tree in -bloom. Each morning when I awakened and went out into the woods I found -something new had happened overnight,--thus I discovered the sycamore -in leaf, fringing and fanning, and then the veils which the naked birch -trees were wearing. The birches began to look like maidens doing their -hair. The fern fronds and azalea buds opened their hands. The chestnut -tree lit up her many candles. The shaggy hickory, the tree giant whose -bark hangs in rags and clots, had looked quite dead, but with the -coming of May it was seen to be awaking tenderly. In the glades the -little columbines put on their pink bonnets. Only the pines and cedars -were dark and changeless, as if grown old in sin beside the tender -innocence of the birches. - -It is very pleasant living in the half-country--living, that is, -in the outer suburbs of the great American city or in the ordinary -suburbs of the small city. New York has very little corresponding to -our Walthamstow, Enfield, Catford, Ilford, Camberwell, and all those -dreary congested parishes that lie eight to ten miles from the centre -of London. The American suburbs are garden cities without being called -so. Each house is detached from its neighbour, there is a stretch of -greenest lawn in front of it, there is a verandah on which are fixed -hammocks and porch-swings, there are flower-beds, blossoming shrubs, -the shade of maples and cherry trees. There are no railings or fences, -and the people on the verandah look down their lawn to the road and -take stock of all the people passing to and fro. - -Working men and women live a long way out, and are content to spend an -hour or an hour and a half a day in trains and cars if only to be quite -free of the city when work is over. - -Twelve miles of garden city is very wearisome to the pedestrian; but he -tramps them gaily when he remembers that the country is ahead, and that -he has not simply to retrace his footsteps to a town-dwelling which for -the time being he calls home. - -I set off for Chicago in the beginning of May--not in a Pullman car, -but on my own feet; for in order to understand America it is necessary -to go to America, and the only way she can be graciously approached -is humbly, on one's feet. I travelled just in the same way as I have -done the last four years in Russia--viz. with a knapsack on my back, a -staff in my hand, and a stout pair of boots on my feet. I carried my -pot, I had matches, and I reckoned to buy my own provisions as I went -along, and to cook what was necessary over my own fire by the side of -the road. At night I proposed to sleep at farmhouses in cold weather, -and under the stars when it was warm. I was ready in mind and body for -whatever might happen to me. If the farmers proved to be inhospitable, -and would not take me in on cold or rainy nights, I would quite -cheerfully tramp on till I came to a hotel, or a barn, or a cave, or -a bridge, or any place where man, the wanderer, could reasonably find -shelter from the elements. - -I took the road with great spirits. There is something unusually -invigorating in the American air. It is marvellously healthy and -strength-giving, this virginal land. Every tree and shrub seems to -have a full grasp of life, and outbreathes a robust joy. It is as if -the earth itself had greater supplies of unexhausted strength than -Europe has--as if, indeed, it were a newer world, and had spent less of -the primeval potencies and energies bequeathed to this planet at her -birth. How different from tranquil and melancholy Russia! - -America is more spacious in New York State than in New York City. The -landscape is so broad that could Atlas have held it up, you feel he -must have had fine arms. Your eyes, but lately imprisoned so closely -by unscalable sky-scrapers, run wild in freedom to traverse the long -valleys and forested ridges, waking the imagination to realise the -country of the Indians. There is a vast sky over you. The men and women -on the road have time to talk to you, and the farmer ambling along in -his buggy is interested to give you a lift and ask after your life and -your fortunes; and when he puts you down, and you thank him, he answers -in an old-fashioned way: - -"You're welcome; hand on my heart." - -In the city no one has a word to say to you, but in the country every -one is curious. It is more neighbourly to be curious and to ask -questions. I rejoiced in every scrap of talk, even in such triviality -as my chat with Otto Friedrichs, a workman, who hailed me at East Berne. - -"Are you an Amarikan?" - -"No." - -"Sprechen Sie deutsch, mein Herr?" - -"No; I'm English." - -"That bag on your back is made in Germany." - -"Very likely," said I; "I bought it in London." - -"You running avay in case dere should be ze war, eh?" - -"Well, it would be safer here, even for you." - -"What you think of our Kaiser?" - -"Fine man," said I. - -"Some say ze Kaiser is too English to make ze war. But do you know wat -I read in ze newspaper? Der Kaiser cut his hand by accident, zen he -hold up his finger--so, viz ze blood on it, and he say, 'Dat is my las' -blood of English tropp,' and he ... the blood away." - -Not knowing the word for "flicked" Otto told me in dumb show with his -fingers. - -"Last drop of English blood, eh?" said I. - -"Yes." - -"So he's quite German now, and ready to fight." - -As I sat at the side of the road every passer-by was interested in my -fire and my pot. They pitied me when they saw me trudging along the -road, and when I told them I was tramping to Chicago they commonly -exclaimed: - -"Gee! I wouldn't do that for ten thousand dollars." - -But when they saw me cooking my meals they stopped and looked at -me wistfully--that was their weakness; a hankering, not after the -wilderness, but for the manna there. They addressed to me such -non-pertinent remarks as: - -"So that's how you fix it." - -"I say, you'll get burned up." - -"Are yer making yer coffee?" - -There was a great doubt as to my business, as the following -interlocutions will suggest. In Russia I should be asked: - -"Where are you going?" - -"To Kieff," I might answer. - -"To pray," the Russian would conclude. But in America I was most -commonly taken to be a pedlar. - -"Whar you going?" - -"Chicago," I answered. - -"Peddling?" - -It astonished me to be taken for a pedlar. But I was almost as -commonly taken to be walking for a wager. I was walking under certain -conditions. I must not take a lift. I must keep up thirty miles a day. -I was walking to Chicago on a bet. Some one had betted some one else -I wouldn't do it in a certain time. I took only a dollar in my pocket -and was supporting myself by my work. I lectured in schoolhouses, -mended spades, would lend a hand in the hayfield. Or I was walking to -advertise a certain sort of boot. Or I was walking on a certain sort -of diet to advertise somebody's patent food. I was repairer of village -telephones. I was hawking toothpicks, which I very cunningly made in my -fire at the side of the road. I was a tramping juggler, and would give -a show in the town next night. - -Every one thought I accomplished a prodigious number of miles a day. At -least a hundred times I was called upon to state what was my average -"hike" for the day. Some were sympathetic and explained that they would -like to do the same, to camp out, it was the only way to see America. A -girl in a baker's shop told me she had long wanted to tramp to Chicago -and sleep out every night, but could get no friend to accompany her. -Jews slapped me on the back and told me I was doing fine. Especially -I remember a young man who walked by my side through the streets of -Wilkes Barre. He told me his average per day had been forty-five miles. - -"How long did you keep that up?" I asked. - -"A week, we went to Washington." - -"That's going some," said I. - -"How far do you usually go?" asked he. - -"Oh, five or six miles when the weather's fine," said I. - -"Yer kiddin us!" - -I was told that I wasn't the only person on the road. The great Weston -was behind me, patriarch of "hikers," aged seventy-five. He wore ice -under his hat and was walking from New York to St. Paul at twenty-five -miles a day, and was accompanied by an automobile full of liquid food. -Far ahead of me was a woman in high-heeled boots tramping from New -York to San Francisco. She carried only a small handbag, walked with -incredible rapidity, and was proving for newspaper that it was just as -easy to walk in Vienna boots as in any other. Several weeks before me a -cripple had passed, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of picture-post-cards -of himself, which he sold at a nickel each, thereby supporting himself. -He was going from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, but had five years to do -it in. - -For all and sundry upon the road I had a ready smile and a greeting; -almost every one replied to me at least as heartily, and many were -ready to talk at length. Some, however, to whom I gave greeting either -took me for a disreputable tramp or felt themselves too important in -the sight of the Lord. When I said, "How d'ye do?" or "Good morning" -they simply stared at me as if I were a cow that had mooed. In my whole -journey I encountered no hostility whatever. Only once or twice I would -hear a woman in a car say truculently to her husband, "There goes Weary -Willie." - -I had pleasant encounters innumerable, and many a talk with children. -I felt that as I was in search for the emerging American, the American -of to-morrow and the day after, I ought to take the children I met -rather seriously. It was surprising to me that the grown-ups upon the -road said to me always, "How-do?" but the children said, "Hullo." The -children always spoke as if they had met me before, or as if they were -dying for me to stop and talk to them and tell them all about the road, -and who I was and what I was doing. - -[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL: MY BREAKFAST PARTY.] - -At a little place called Clarkville I had a breakfast party. Perhaps I -had better begin at the beginning. It had been a hard frosty night, and -I slept in a barn on two planks beside an old rusty reaping-machine. At -five in the morning I made my first fire of the day, and I shared a pot -of hot tea with a disreputable tramp, who had come to warm himself at -the blaze. By seven o'clock I had walked into the next village, about -five miles on, and I was ready for a second breakfast. My first had -been for the purpose of getting warm; now I was hungry for something to -eat. - -It was a beautiful morning; on each side of the road were orchards in -full bloom, the gnarled and angular apple trees were showing themselves -lovely in myriad outbreaking of blossom, and there were thousands of -dandelions in the rank green grass beneath them. The sides of the -roadway and the banks of the village stream were deep in grass and -clover, and every hollow of the world seemed brimming with sunshine. -The sun had been radiant, and he stood over a shoulder of the Catskills -and poured warmth on the whole Western world. - -On the bank of the stream I spread out my things, emptying out of my -pack, pots, cups, provisions, books, paper, pen, and ink. I gathered -wisps of last year's weeds, and on a convenient spot started my little -fire. I had just put eggs in to boil when the first of my party -arrived. This was little Charles van Wie and his friend. Charles was -hired to come early to the school-house and light the fire, so that the -school would be warm by the time the teacher and the other boys and -girls arrived. I did not know that I had pitched my camp just between -the village and the school, on the way all the children would have to -come. In America the school-house is always some distance from the -village--this is so that mothers may not come running in and out every -minute, and it is a good arrangement for other reasons. It gives every -little boy and girl a walk, and the chance of having upon occasion -extraordinary adventures. - -Charles and his friend set to work to gather sticks for me, and saved -me the trouble of rushing every now and then for fuel to keep up -the fire. Then they hurried away to the school-house, but promised, -excitedly, to come back as soon as they could. - -Charles returned and asked me where I was going to, and what was my -name and where I'd come from. I told him, and he took out a pocket-book -and pencil and wrote all down. - -Then other boys came and watched me make my coffee. The boys--they were -all under twelve--had bunches of white lilac fixed in their coats. I -sat and ate my food and chattered. - -"Is the lilac for your teacher?" I asked of a boy. - -"I guess _not_," he replied. - -There was a look of disgust on his face. - -"Is your teacher strict?" - -"Some." - -The boys all sat or sprawled on the grass and chaffed one another. - -One of them was wearing a badge in his buttonhole, a white enamelled -button, on which was printed very distinctly: - - - Every - D A M - Booster. - - -But the DAM, when you looked at it closely, turned out to be "Dayton's -Adding Machines." - -"What does 'booster' mean?" I asked. - -"A feller that makes a job go," it was explained to me. - -After breakfast I took a photograph of them sitting in the grass. They -were much pleased. - -"If Skinny Atlas had been here he'd have broke the camera," said one of -them. - -An extremely fat boy came into view and approached our party. The -others all cried at him "Skinny Atlas," so I asked: - -"Is that a nickname? Is his surname Atlas?" - -"No," they replied, "his surname is Higgins. But he's so darned fat -that we call him Skinny Atlas. We have a saying, 'Put a nickel in the -slot and up comes Skinny Atlas.'" - -Accordingly all the boys cried out, "Put a nickel in the slot and up -comes Skinny Atlas." - -The fat boy, wearing a big straw sun-bonnet, came up and walloped -several little boys. There was some horseplay round the embers of my -fire, but Charles van Wie set an example by giving warning-- - -"Next person who pushes me I baste." - -But it was getting late, and three little girls who had been hovering -shyly at a distance cried out that it was time for the boys to go in. - -The school had only fifteen pupils, boys and girls together, and they -were all in one class, and they learned "the three R's," physiology, -and the geography of the county they lived in. - -The making of an American citizen is a simple matter in the country. -And little Charles van Wie would make one of the best that are turned -out, I should think. - -Later on in the morning I went along to the school-house and peeped in -at the window. There they all were, under the stern sway of a little -school-mistress. But they didn't see me. - -How useful to the tramp is the custom of hanging in the school-room -a map of the county or of the state in which the children live. -Often when I have wanted to know where I was I have clambered to the -school-house window and consulted the map on the wall. - -Once more to the road. The American high-road differs considerably -from any way in Europe. Every farm-house has a white letter-box on -a post outside its main entrance, and the farmer posts his letter -and hoists a metal flag as a signal to the peripatetic postman that -there are letters to collect. There are no thatched cottages; the -homesteads stand back from the road, they are always of wood, and -have shady verandahs and cosily furnished front rooms. The fields on -each side of the road are protected by six-inch mesh steel netting, -turned out by some great factory in Pittsburg I suppose. There are very -few country guide-posts, and in New York State those there are come -rather as a reward to you after you have guessed right. They are put -up at a distance from the cross-roads. The pointers of the guide-posts -are of tin. The telephone cones are of green glass, the poles are -mostly chestnut, are not straight, and rot quickly. There are many -advertisements by the way, and as you approach a town of importance -they are as thick as fungi. They are not written for tramps to jeer at, -but as hints to rich motorists. Still one necessarily smiles at: - - - CLOTHE YOUR WHOLE FAMILY ON CREDIT - $1 A WEEK. - - -or - - - DUTCHESS TROUSERS. TEN CENTS A BUTTON. - A DOLLAR A RIP. - - -A great portion of the State of Indiana seems to be devoted to Dutchess -trousers, and I often wonder whether the company had to pay many -indemnities to customers. - -One sorry feature of country advertising was the number of notices -scrawled in black with charcoal or painted in tar. In Europe picnickers -write their names or the names of their sweethearts on the rocks and -the walls and palings, but in America they write their trade, the -thing they sell, and the price a pound, what O. Henry would call their -especial sort of "graft." - -Then "rrrrrrr! rhrhrh--whaup--ssh!" the automobile appears on the -horizon, passes you, and is gone. I have no prejudice against -automobilists; they were very hospitable to me, and carried me many -miles. If I had accepted all the lifts offered me I should have been -in Chicago in a week, instead of taking two months on the journey. -But the farmers curse them. On one Sunday late in June I counted -everything that passed me. The farmer commonly tells you that hundreds -of automobiles whirl past his door every day. This day there were just -one hundred and ten, of which thirty-two were auto-cycles and the rest -cars. As a set-off against this there were only five buggies and three -ordinary cyclists. That was one of the last days of June, when I was -seventy miles from Chicago. I had two offers to take me into the city -that day! - -Besides counting the vehicles that passed me I took stock of the -automobilists themselves. No one passed till 7 A.M., and then -came a loving couple, looking like a runaway match. He was clasping her -waist, and their trunks were roped on to the car behind. Then six young -men, all in their wind-blown shirts, came tearing along on auto-cycles. -Scarcely had the noise of these subsided when a smart picnic party -rolled past in a smooth-running car, flying purple flags on which was -printed the name of their home city--Michigan. This is a common custom -in America, to carry a flag with the name of your city. It boosts your -own town, and is thought to bring trade there. - -Six townsmen came past me in a grand car. Their hats were all off; they -were all clean shaven and bald. Coats had been left at home, and the -six were in radiantly clean coloured shirts. They smiled at me; I was -one of the sights of the road. - -Many picnic parties passed me, and men and women called out to me -facetiously. Six shop-girls on a joy ride came past, and one of them -kissed her hand to me--that is one of the things the girl in the car -can safely do when she is passing a pedestrian. - -Family parties went by, and also placid husbands and wives having a -spin before lunch, and bashful happy pairs sitting behind the back of -the discreet chauffeurs. There came an auto-cycle with a frantic man -in front and a girl astride on his carrier behind. She was wiping the -sand out of her eyes as she passed, her skirt was blown by the wind, -and she showed a pair of dainty legs; the funny way in which she was -obliged to sit made her look like a stalk bending over among reeds. - -One of the few cyclists I met came up after this, and he dismounted -to talk to me. He was a tender of gasoline engines "on vacation." I -learned from him about the single auto-cycle for two. It appears that -in America they manufacture special seats to screw on the back of a -motor-cycle; some use that. Many, however, just strap a cushion on. -Young men who have auto-cycles have a "pull" with the girls; they pick -them up and take them to business, or take them home from business, and -on holidays they take them for rides of joy. Several similar couples -passed me during the day. - -All sorts of gear went by; rich gentlemen in stately pride, workmen -with their week-day grime scarcely cleared from their faces, gay girls -with parasols, honeymoon pairs, cars with men driving, cars with -women at the wheel. The automobile is far more of a general utility -in the United States than in England. Workmen, and, indeed, farmers -themselves--not those who curse--have their own cars. They mortgage -their property to get them, but they get them all the same. Even women -buy cars for themselves, and are to be seen driving them themselves. In -Great Britain it is very rare that you see a woman travelling alone in -a car, but in America it is a frequent sight. Of course in Russia, in -the country, an automobile is still a rarity. I passed last summer in a -populous part of the Urals and did not see a single car. I did not even -see an ordinary bicycle. The farther west you go the more you find the -inventions of the day taken advantage of. It is an important phenomenon -in America; it shows that there is a readiness to adopt and utilise any -new thing right off, directly it is discovered. - -This readiness, however, results in a lack of seriousness. -Inexpert driving is no crime; accidents are nothing to weep over; -badly constructed cars are driven along loose springy roads with -blood-curdling speed and recklessness. The pedestrian is vexed to see a -car come towards him, leaping, bounding, dodging, dribbling, like some -tricky centre-forward in a game of football. The nervous pedestrian has -to climb trees or walls upon occasion to be sure he won't be killed. -And then the cars themselves go frequently into ditches, or overturn -and take fire. The car has become a toy, but it's dangerous for the -children to play with. - -Then the dust! Carlyle said there was nothing but Justice in this -world, and he used the law of gravity as his metaphor, but he didn't -consider the wind--alas, that the dust does not fly in front of the car -and get into the motorist's eyes, but only drifts away over the poor -tramp who never did him any harm. - -The only horse vehicle I remarked on the road was the buggy, a gig with -disproportionately large wheels, the direct descendant of the home-made -cart. The buggy is still popular. - -"Where've you been?" asks one American of another. - -"Oh, just buggying around," he replies. - -But the buggy is staid and conventional. It belongs to the old -censorious religious America. It is supremely the vehicle of the -consciously virtuous. It is also a specially rural vehicle. I think -those who ride in buggies despise motorists from the bottom of their -hearts; they think them vulgar townspeople, and consider motoring a -form of trespass. But the automobilists are not prevented, and they -bear no rancour. They haven't time to consider the countryman. The man -in the buggy belongs to the past. In the future there will not be time -to be condemnatory, and the man who stands still to feel self-virtuous -will go to the wall. - -The people who will continue to feel superior to the motorists will be -tramps sitting on palings, grinning at them as they pass by. They also -will remain the only people the motorists, rushing abreast of Time, -will ever envy. However much progress progresses there will always -remain those who sit on the palings and grin. - - - - -VI - -THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE - - -As I tramped from village to village I was surprised to see -so much stained glass in the churches of the Methodists, the -Congregationalists, and other Puritans. Until quite modern times -stained glass belonged exclusively to the ritualistic denominations. -The Puritan, believing in simplicity of service, and in spirit rather -than in form, put stained glass in the same category as the burning of -incense, singing in a minor key, and praying in Latin. It partook of -the glamour of idolatry; it had a sensuous appeal; it blurred the pure -light of understanding. The true Puritan meeting-place is one of clear -glass windows, hard seats, and a big Bible. It seems a pity that a very -clear profession of faith should be blurred by picture windows--and, -let me add by way of parenthesis, cushioned seats and revivalist -preachers. - -I examined in detail the coloured glass of a fine "Reform Church" that -I passed on the road. The windows were rather impressive. They were not -representations of scenes in Holy Writ, they contained no pictures of -saints or angels, of the Saviour, or of the Virgin. So they escaped the -imputation of idolatry. They were just pictures of symbolical objects -or of significant letters. Thus, one window was the bird and symbolised -Freedom, another was an anchor and symbolised Hope, another was a -crown and symbolised Eternal Life. In one window the letters C.E. were -illuminated--meaning Christian Endeavour, I presume; on another window -was the open Bible, symbolising the foundation of belief. In every case -the whole window was stained, and the little symbolical picture was set -against a brilliant background. - -It was all in good taste, and was a pleasant ornament, which made the -church look very attractive exteriorly. But it was a compromise with -a spirit not its own. My explanation is, some one must have wanted -chapels to put in stained glass. Some one now has a great interest -in making them put in stained glass. He is the manufacturer of that -commodity. He has put stained glass on the market in such a way that -every church is bound to have it. And he has devised a way of not -offending the rigorous Puritans. "What is wrong in coloured light?" -said he. "Nothing. It is only what you use it for. We can use it to -show the things in which we believe." If incense could be manufactured -in such a way as to make millions of dollars it would find its way -somehow into the chapels. I was walking one day with an itinerant -preacher, a man who called himself "a creed smasher." He wanted to -weld all creeds into one and unify the Church of Christ. "Think of -commerce," said he, "already it has stopped the wars of the nations; -in time it will calm the wars of the sects. If only the churches were -corporations, and Methodists could hold shares in Roman Catholicism, -and Roman Catholics in Methodism!" - -Commerce is exerting an influence that cannot be withstood. To take -another instance, it has provided America with rocking-chairs and -porch-swings. Although the Americans are an extremely active people, -much more so than the British, yet their houses are all full of -rocking-chairs, and on their verandahs they have porch-swings and -hammocks. The British have straight-backs. - -The Americans did not all cry out with one voice for rocking-chairs and -swings. The Pilgrim Fathers did not bring them over. The reason they -have them lies in the fact that some manufacturer started making them -for the few. Then ambition took possession of him and he said, "There's -something in rocking-chairs. I'm going to turn them out on a large -scale." - -"But there aren't the customers to buy them," some one objected. - -"Never mind, we'll make the customers. We'll put them to the people in -such a way that they gotta buy. We'll make 'em feel there's going to -be such an opportunity for buyin' 'em as never was and never will be -again." - -"You believe you'll succeed?" - -"We'll make it so universal that if a man goes into a house and doesn't -see a rocking-chair and a porch-swing he'll think, 'My Lord, they've -had the brokers in!'" - -So rocking-chairs and porch-swings came. So, many things have come to -humanity--many worse things. - -I had just written this note, for I have written most of my book by the -road, when I heard the following interesting talk about the town of -Benton, Pennsylvania. I was walking from Wilkes Barre to Williamsport, -and Benton is on the way. It is a place that has had many fires lately. - -"Ah reckon ah know wot cleared Benton out more'n fires." - -"What's that?" - -"Wy, otomobeeles; mortgaging their farms to get 'em. There's not much -in Benton. You couldn't raise a hundred dollars. It's the agents and -the boosters of the companies that are mos' to blame, no doubt, but -they're fools all the same who buy otomobeeles when they cahn pay their -bills at the stores." - -"What agents?" I asked. "D'you mean commercial travellers?" - -"No. The agents in the town. Every little town has a man, sometimes -two or three men, who are agents for the companies who manufacture the -cars; they are just like the insurance agents, and are always talking -about their business, comparing makes of car, praising this one and -that, and getting folks on to want them." - -"I suppose the companies want to make the motor car a domestic -necessity, a thing no one can do without," I remarked. - -"You're right; they do and they will. They'll fix that in time, you -betcher, we'll all be having them. Then when we cahn do without 'em -they'll raise the prices on us. Already they've started it with the -gasoline; there's plenty motor spirit in the world, but the company -gets possession of it and regulates the prices. An' you cahn make an -oto go without gasoline. They can put it on us every time." - -I should say society at Benton was suffering very badly from the -influence of depraved commercialism. Some years ago Miss Ida Tarbell -exposed what has been called "The Arson Trust," a company formed for -setting fire to insured establishments on a basis of 10 per cent profit -on the spoil. Benton might have furnished her with some interesting -examples. There have been so many fires in the little town of late that -tramps are refused the shelter even of barns, as if their match-ends -were responsible. On the Fourth of July three years ago half the town -was burnt down. Last year in a gale the shirt factory was gutted; the -workmen had banked the fire up for the night, and about twenty minutes -after the last man had left the works there was an explosion, and the -red coals were scattered over the wooden building. Two months ago a -large house took fire, and just a week before I reached the settlement -the large Presbyterian church was consumed. Indeed, as I came into the -town I remarked with some surprise the charred walls and beams of the -church, and read the pathetic printing on the stone of foundation, -"This stone was laid in 1903." - -I had an interesting account of the church from the wife of a farmer at -whose house I stayed a night. The church had been insured for seventeen -thousand dollars, and it was twelve thousand dollars in debt. The money -borrowed was not secured on the church building, but on the personal -estates of many people in the town. Consequently, several people were -liable to be sold up if the money were not forthcoming. Two days before -settling day the fire took place, and there was doubtless rejoicing in -some hearts. The villagers had tried hard to make the place pay, they -had even let a portion of the church building to be used as a bank! -Bazaars had failed. The debt-raiser had tried "to put a revival over -on to them," but had failed. The minister, not receiving his salary, -had abandoned them, and at last the bare fact remained of the big white -church and the big unpaid debt. Then occurred the providential fire. - -But the insurance company would not pay the seventeen thousand dollars. -The fire had taken place under suspicious circumstances, and it was -said there would be a legal fight over it. The conflagration had -occurred on the night of a school-opening meeting. Choice flowers -had been sent from many houses in the town, and it was beautifully -decorated. There was, however, nothing obviously inflammable in the -church; it was built largely of brick and stone. But about an hour -after the people had gone home the fire broke out. Next day it was -found that the big Bible had been soaked in coal oil. Oiled newspaper -was found, and it was alleged that the fire brigade would have saved -the church, but that as fast as they put it out in front somebody else -was lighting it up behind. Anyhow, the insurance company refused to pay -the seventeen thousand dollars. But it cannot refuse absolutely; the -advertisement of failure to pay would be too damaging--it will put up a -new church instead! The Presbyterian church will be resurrected. - -"I put Benton up against the world for fires," said my hostess. "For a -small place, only a thousand people, I reckon there isn't its like." - -For my part I felt sorry for the Bentonians, even for those who set the -fire alight, supposing it was deliberately lighted. When commercial -interest is the greatest thing in the world there are opportunities -for a few men to feel themselves great and powerful, but that glory -of mankind is far overbalanced by the occasions on which it causes -man to be mean. Commercial tricks bring the holy spirit of man -into disrepute. To find oneself mixed up in certain machinations is -poignantly humiliating. We have all of us been wounded in that way ere -now. The just pride of the soul has been offended, and we have thought -how shameful a thing it was to have become mixed up in it at all, by -_it_ meaning the world, the whole shady business, call it what you will. - -As I went along from village to village in New York and Pennsylvania -I was struck by the uniformity of the architecture. Every church -and school and store and farmstead seemed standard size and "as -supplied." There seemed to be a passion for having known units. Not -only in architecture was this evident, but in every utensil, machine, -carriage, dress of the people. It was evident in the people themselves. -Americans have the name of being extremely conventional. I think that -is because, under the present domination of the _commercial machine_, -American boys and girls and men and women are all turned into standard -sizes. If Americans have rigid principles of ethics it is because -they believe all the parts of the great machine are standardised, and -that when any one part wears out there must always be an accurately -fitting other part ready to be fixed where the old one has fallen out. -Personality itself is standardised; thus the tailor-priest advertises -his wear, "Preserve your Personality in Clothes. Occasionally you -have observed some article of wear that has led you to the mental -conclusion--'That's my style--that's me.'" - -[Illustration: THE TRAMP'S DRESSING-ROOM.] - -It was strange to me to find that even tramps and outcasts, who fulfil -little function in the machine, were expected to conform to type. I -was stared at, questioned; my rough tweeds, so suitable to me, were an -object of mirth; my action of washing my face and my teeth by the side -of the road was a portentous aberration. I remember how astonished a -motorist and his wife appeared when they came upon me in the act of -drawing a pail of water for a thirsty calf one morning in Indiana. The -temperature stood at ninety-five in the shade--all nature was parched, -and as I came along the highway a calf, fastened by a chain to the -steel netting of a field, came up and rubbed his nose on my knees. As -calves don't usually take the initiative in this way, I concluded he -expected me to do something for him. There was an empty pail beside -him. I took it to the farmhouse pump and drew water. As I did so, the -farmer and his wife drew up at the farm in their motor, and they looked -at me curiously. The calf came bounding towards me and almost upset the -pail in his eagerness to drink. Then he gulped down all the water, and -whilst I went to draw another pailful he executed a sort of war-dance -or joy-dance, throwing out his hind legs and bounding about in a way -that testified his happiness. The farmer's wife broke silence: - -"Wha' yer doing?" - -"I'm giving the calf some water." - -"Nao," said she, and looked at her husband, "giving the calf some -water, can--you--beat--that?" - -I gave the calf his second bucketful and then started off down the way -again, and the farmer and his wife looked after me in blank surprise. -In America no tramp has any compassion for thirsty calves, he is not -expected to look after the thirst of any one but himself. The farmer -and his wife looked at one another, and their eyes seemed to say, "But -tramps don't do these things!" - -Thence it may be surmised that America is no place for individuals -as such. Originality is a sin. Americans hate to give an individual -special attention, special notice. Even personal salvation is merged -in mass salvation. The revivalist, his press agents, and stewards are -a means of wholesale salvation. A revival meeting is a machine for -saving souls on a large scale. It might be thought that the revivalist -himself took his stand as an exceptional individual. Not at all: he is -only a type. American public opinion does not allow a man to stand out -as superior. It is surprising the dearth of noble men in the popular -estimate of to-day. Mockery follows on the heels of noble action or -individual action, and reduces it to type. That is a great function of -the American Press of to-day, the defaming of men of originality and -the explaining away of noble action. I remember a conversation I heard -at Cleveland. Roosevelt had just cleared himself of the press libel of -drunkenness. - -"Wasn't it a good thing to clear the air, so," said one man, "and get -clear of the charge once for all?" - -"I don't think he got clear of it," said the other. "It's all very -well to bring an action against the editor of a provincial paper, but -why didn't he take up the cudgels against one of the powerful New -York journals, who said the same thing? They had money and could have -defended their case." - -"I don't think money was needed--except to buy evidence." - -"If you ask me," said the other, "it was all a very shrewd -electioneering dodge. Roosevelt is an expert politician. He knows -the value of being in the limelight, and he knows that nothing will -fetch more votes in the United States just now than a reputation for -sobriety. He was just boosting himself and the home products." - -That is a fair example of the way people think of striking -personalities and original views. - -Then every man is considered a booster. Boosting is accepted as a -national and individual function. Towns are placarded: "Boost for your -own city and its own industries. Make a habit of it." In Oil City, for -instance, I found in every shop a ticket announcing "Booster Week June -9-16." In that week Oil City was going to do all it could to call -attention to itself. Citizens would pledge themselves to speak of Oil -City to strangers in the train and when on visits to other towns. The -city of Newark, New Jersey, is always recommending its own people and -visitors to "Think of Newark." Whenever you enter into conversation -with an American you find him suddenly drifting towards telling you -the name of a hotel to stay at, or of an establishment where they sell -"dandy cream," or he is praising the bricks turned out by the local -brick works, or the conditions of the employment of labour in some silk -works on which his native town is dependent for prosperity. In a widely -distributed "Creed of the American" I read, "I remember always that I -am a booster." Even fathers refer to their new-born babies as "little -boosters." It should be remembered when Americans are boasting of their -native land and its institutions that they were cradled in boosting. -It is a habit that in many ways has profited America. It has attracted -the emigrant more than all that has ever been printed about it. It is a -great commercial habit. But it is in the end degrading. - -What is the name of the fairy who has muttered an incantation over the -Pilgrim Father and changed him into a booster? And is a booster only a -Pilgrim Father who brags about the stuff he manufactures? - -It seemed to me that by substituting the idea _booster_ for the idea -_man_ you get rid of so many of the weaknesses of flesh and blood. A -man who is boosting day in and day out, using his tongue as a sort of -living stores' catalogue, is necessarily loyal to the great machine. -But loyalty to the machine has its dangers. On my journey to Chicago I -made some interesting observations in Natural History. I got into the -train at Franklin to go to Oil City, some five or six urban miles. What -was my astonishment to see that each of the eight or nine passengers in -my car had fixed their railway tickets in the ribbons of their hats, -and they themselves were deep in their newspapers. The conductor came -along and took the tickets from their hats and examined them, collected -those that were due to be given up and punched those that were not, and -stuck them back in the ribbons of the hats, the wearers reading their -newspapers all the time and making not the slightest sign that they -noticed what the conductor was doing. The only sign of consciousness I -observed was a sort of subtle pleasure in acting so--the sort of mild -pleasure which suffuses the faces of lunatics when they are humoured by -visitors to the asylum. They were shamming that they were machinery, -and in almost the same style as the man who is under the delusion that -he is a teapot, one arm being his spout and the other his handle. - -Thus the elevator man in the Department Store also thinks himself a bit -of machinery. He seems to be trained to act mechanically, and never to -alter the staccato patter that comes from his mouth at each floor. He -speaks like a human phonograph. - -Then all waiters, shop-attendants, barbers, and the like try to behave -like manikins. Most of all, in the language of Americans is the -mechanical obsession apparent. A man who is confined in a hospital -writes: "I'm _holding down a bed_ in the hospital over here." The -man who meets another and brings him along, simply "collects" him in -America. The baseball team that beats another 6-0 "slips a six-nothing -defeat" on them. Especially in baseball reports, commercialism and -rhythms heard in great "works" abound. - -The influence of great machinery gets to the heart of the people. A -man when he joins a gang of workmen is taught to co-operate; he has to -trim off any original or personal way of doing things, and fit in with -the rest of the gang. When the gang is going mechanically and easily, a -man quicker than the rest is taken as leader, and the speed of the work -is raised. The mechanical action in each individual is intensified, is -perfected. Cinematograph films are even taken of gangs at work; the -pictures are shown before experts, who indicate weak points, recommend -discharges or alterations and show how the gangs can be reconstituted -to work more smoothly. Each man is drilled to act like a machine, and -the drilling enters into the fibre of his being to such an extent that -when work is over his muscles move habitually in certain directions, -and the rhythm of his day's labour controls his language and his -thought. - -In the factory it is the same. In a vast mechanical contrivance there -is just one thing that machinery cannot do; so between two immense -complicated engines it is necessary to place a human link. A man goes -there, and flesh and blood is grafted into steel and oil. The man -performs his function all day, but he also senses the great machine in -his mind and his soul; and when he goes out to vote for his President, -or talk to men and women about the world in which he lives, he does so -more as a standardised bit of mechanism, than as a tender human being. - -Alas, for the men and women who wear out and cease to be serviceable! -They are the old iron, and their place is the scrap-heap. "White trash" -is the name by which they go. - -Bernard Shaw, and indeed many others, look forward to the diminution of -toil by machinery. The minimising of toil is to them a great blessing. -Because machinery lessens toil they are on the side of machinery. -Meanwhile life shows a paradox. The Russian peasant who works without -machines toils less than the American who takes advantage of every -invention. The Russian emigrant who comes to America simply does not -know what work is, and he stares in amazement at the angry foreman who -tells him, when he is at it at his hardest, to "get a move on yer." - -In America the Americans slave; they slave for dollars, for more -business, for advancement, but in the end for dollars only, I suppose. -They will fill up any odd moment with some work that will bring in -money. They will make others work, and take the last ounce of energy -out of their employees. The machine itself is the size of America, and -only in little nooks and corners can anything spring up that is not -of the machine. Even millionaires know nothing more to do than to go -on making millions. Yet there is not a feverish anxiety to get money. -Losses are borne with equanimity. It's just a matter of "the apple -tree's loaded with fruit. I'm going up to get another apple." - -Present experience shows that machinery increases the toil of mankind. -It need not increase it, but it does. It might diminish it, but there -are many reasons why it does not. For one thing, it increases the -standard of living. It makes rocking-chairs, porch-swings, automobiles, -and the like indispensable things. First, machinery makes the things, -then the things make the machinery duplicate themselves. So it raises -the standard of living and increases the toil of mankind. It is going -on increasing the standard of living for the rich, for the middle-class -aping the rich, and for the working men aping the middle-class. - -Is it good, then, that the standard of living is being raised? Well, -no; because the standard of living now means the standard of luxury. I -should have used that phrase from the beginning. - -I said this to a man on the road, and he asked me what I thought a -man should live for, but I could not answer him. Each man has his -individual destiny to fulfil. Destiny is not a matter of the clothes -you wear or of the cushions you sit upon. The beggar pilgrim going -in rags to Jerusalem may be more happy than a Pierpont Morgan, who -writes pathetically at the head of the bequest of his millions that he -believes in the blood of Jesus. - -One thing I noted in America, that the blossom of religion seems to -have been pressed between Bible leaves, withered and dried long ago. -What is called religion is a sort of ethical rampage. The descendants -of the Puritans are "probing sin" and "whipping vice." The rich are -signing cheques, the hospitals are receiving cheques. The women of -the upper classes are visiting the poor and adopting the waifs. But -seldom did I come in contact with a man or a woman who stood in humble -relation to God or the mystery of life. Even the great passion to put -things right, lift the masses, stop corruption, and build beautiful -cities and states is begotten in the sureness of science rather than -in the fear of the Lord. Far from fearing God, preachers announce from -their pulpits that they are "working with Him," or "co-operating with -the inevitable tendencies of the world," or "hastening on the work -of evolution." For my part I believe that it is my sacred due to my -brother that he be given an opportunity of facing this world, the -mystery of its beauty and of his life upon it, that he find out God -for himself and learn to pray to Him. But that is at once Eastern and -personal. - -The Y.M.C.A. informs me as I sit in a car that "The great asset of this -town is the young men of this town." Must it be put that way? Is that -the only way in which the people of the town can be got to understand -how wonderful is the life and promise of any young man, how tender and -gentle and lovable he is personally, how unformed, how fresh from his -mother and his Creator? - -As I go along the road I pick up tracts, sown by the devil, I suppose. -Here is one of them: - - - Verily I say unto you that each and every one of you may be a - Count of Monte Christo, and some day exclaim, "The World is mine!" - - The world was made for you, that I know. That you were made for - the world goes without saying. - - Therefore hear me and believe me. If you desire wealth it _can_ be - yours. If you desire _fame_ it can be yours. - - But you cannot get something for nothing. You must pay for - everything worth having. You must pay the price set upon it, and - in the coin of the realm. - - The coin of the realm is industry--just that. Industry and only - industry. Nothing but industry. - - -[Illustration: BY THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY TO MICHIGAN: THE ELECTRIC -FREIGHT TRAIN.] - -Poor immigrant, who thinks it would be grand to be a Count of Monte -Christo, or, to bring it nearer home, a John D. Rockefeller or an -Andrew Carnegie, and who thinks that honest labour will take him there! -Even were American success a thing worth striving for it is not won -by that means. It is a game of halma. It's not the man who moves all -his pieces out one square at a time who wins, but the sagacious player -who knows both to plan in advance and to hop over others when the -opportunity arises. - -But the good American young man, "the greatest asset of the town," -believes this gospel, and he gives his body and mind to the great -machine, and fills the gap between two otherwise disconnected -mechanisms. If he has been brought up "well," he just fits the -gap and is standard size. He feels in his soul every throb of the -engines, and registers in his integuments every rhythm and rhyme of -the great, accurate, definite, circulating, oscillating machine. He -behaves like a machine in his leisure hours. He even dances like a -mechanical contrivance. On none of the occasions when the Fatherland -requires his sober human judgment can he stand as a man. He seems -spoilt for the true citizenship. What he does understand is the -improvement, adjustment, and significance of machinery, and he can -look intelligently at America the Great Machine. Perhaps this is his -function whilst America is realising the dream of materialism and -progress. But America would take care of itself if the American were -all right. I could not but have that opinion as I left the cities and -walked through the rich country, the new world, as yet scarcely visibly -shopsoiled by commercialism. - - - - -VII - -RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON - - -I came into Forest City along a road made of coal-dust. A black by-path -led off to the right down a long gradual slope, and was lost among -the culm-heaps of a devastated country side. Miners with sooty faces -and heavy coal-dusty moustaches came up in ones and twos and threes, -wearing old peak-hats, from the centre of the front of which rose -their black nine-inch lamps looking like cockades. They carried large -tarnished "grub-cans," they wore old cotton blouses, and showed by -unbuttoned buttons their packed, muscular bodies. Shuffling forward up -the hill they looked like a different race of men--these divers of the -earth. And they were nearly all Russians or Lithuanians or Slavs of one -kind or another. - -"Mostly foreigners here," said I to an American whom I overtook. - -"You can go into that saloon among the crowd and not hear a word of -white the whole night," he replied. - -I addressed a collier in English. - -"Are you an American?" - -"No speak English," he replied, and frowned. - -"From Russia?" I inquired, in his own tongue. - -"And you from where?" he asked with a smile. "Are you looking for a -job?" - -But before I could answer he sped away to meet a trolly that was -just whizzing along to a stopping-place. Presently I myself got into -a car and watched in rapid procession the suburbs of Carbondale -and Scranton. Black-faced miners waited in knots at the stations -all along the road. I read on many rocks and railings the scrawled -advertisement, "Buy diamonds from Scurry." Girls crowded into the car -from the emptying silk-mills, and they were in slashed skirts, some -of them, and all in loud colours, and over-decorated with frills, -ribbons, and shoddy jewellery. We came to dreary Iceville, all little -grey houses in the shadow of an immense slack mountain. We came into -the fumes of Carbondale, where the mines have been on fire ten years; -we got glimpses of the far, beautiful hills and the tender green of -spring woods set against the soft darkness of abundant mountains. We -dived into wretched purlieus where the frame-buildings seemed like -flotsam that had drifted together into ridges on the bending earth. -We saw dainty little wooden churches with green and yellow domes, the -worshipping places of Orthodox Greeks, Hungarians, Ruthenians, and at -every turn of the road saw the broad-faced, cavernous-eyed men and the -bright-eyed, full-bosomed women of the Slavish nations. I realised that -I had reached the barracks of a portion of America's great army of -industrial mercenaries. - -I stayed three days at Casey's Hotel in Scranton, and slept nights -under a roof once more, after many under the stars. I suppose there was -a journalist in the foyer of the hotel, for next morning, when I opened -one of the local papers, I read the following impression of my arrival: - - - With an Alpine rucksack strapped to his back, his shoes thick with - coal-dust, and a slouch hat pulled down on all sides to shut out - the sun, a tall, raw-boned stranger walked up Lackawanna Avenue - yesterday afternoon, walked into the rotunda of the Hotel Casey - and actually obtained a room. - - -Every paper told that I was an Englishman specially interested in -Russians and the America of the immigrant. So I needed no further -introduction to the people of the town. - -Just as I was going into the breakfast-room a bright boy came up to me -and asked me in Russian if I were Stephen Graham. "My name is Kuzma," -said he. "I am a Little Russian. I read you wanted to know about the -Russians here, so I came along to see you." - -"Come and have breakfast," said I. - -We sat down at a table for two, and considered each a delicately -printed sheet entitled, "Some suggestions for your breakfast." Kuzma -was thrilled to sit in such a place; he had never been inside the hotel -before. It was pretty daring of him to come and seek me there. But -Russians are like that, and America is a free country. - -As we had our grape-fruit and our coffee and banana cream and various -other "suggestions," Kuzma told me his story. He was a Little Russian, -or rather a Red Russian or Ruthenian, and came from Galicia. Three -years previously he had arrived in New York and found a job as -dish-washer at a restaurant, after three months of that he progressed -to being bottle-washer at a druggist's, then he became ice-carrier at -a hotel. Then another friendly Ruthenian introduced him to a Polish -estate agent, who was doing a large business in selling farms to Polish -immigrants. As Kuzma knew half a dozen Slavonic dialects the Pole took -him away from New York, and sat him in his office at Scranton, putting -him into smart American attire, and making a citizen out of a "Kike." I -should say for the benefit of English readers that illiterate Russians -and Russian Jews are called Kikes, illiterate Italians are "Wops," -Hungarians are "Hunkies." These are rather terms of contempt, and the -immigrant is happy when he can speak and understand and answer in -English, and so can take his stand as an American. After six months' -clerking and interpreting Kuzma began to do a little business on his -own account, and actually learned how to deal in real estate and sell -to his brother Slavs at a profit. - -Kuzma, as he sat before me at breakfast, was a bright, well-dressed -business American. You'd never guess that but three years before he had -entered the New World and taken a job as dish-washer. He had seized the -opportunity. - -"You're a rich man now?" said I. - -"So-so. Richer than I could ever be in Galicia. I'm learning English at -the High School here, and when I pass my examination I shall begin to -do well." - -"You are studying?" - -"I do a composition every day, on any subject, sometimes I write a -little story. I try to write my life for the teacher, but he says I am -too ambitious." - -"Do you love your Ruthenian brothers and sisters here?" - -"No; I prefer the Great Russians." - -"You're a very handsome young man. I expect you've got a young lady in -your mind now. Is she an American, or one of your own people? Does she -live here, or did you leave her away over there, in Europe?" - -"I don't think of them. I shall, however, marry a Russian girl." - -"Have you many friends here?" - -"Very many." - -"You will take me to them?" - -"Oh yes, with pleasure." - -"And where shall we go first? It is Sunday morning. Shall we go to -church?" - -We left the hotel and went to a large Baptist chapel. When we arrived -there we found the whole congregation engaged in Bible study. The -people were divided into three sections,--Russians, Ruthenians, Poles. -Russians sat together, Ruthenians and Little Russians together, and -Poles together. I was most heartily welcomed, and took a place among -the circle of Russians, Kuzma being admitted there also, though by -rights he should have gone to the other Ruthenians. He was evidently a -favourite. - -We took the forty-second chapter of Genesis, reading aloud the first -verse in Russian, the second in Ruthenian, and the third in Polish. -When that was accomplished we prayed in Ruthenian, then we listened to -an evangelical sermon in Russian, and then sang, "Nearer, my God, to -Thee!" in the same manner as we had read the chapter of Genesis--first -verse in Russian, second in Ruthenian, third in Polish. It was strange -to find myself singing with Kuzma: - - - Do Ciebie Boze moj! - Przyblizam sie. - - -I have never seen Poles and Ruthenians and Russians so happy together -as in this chapel, and indeed in America generally. In Russia they more -or less detest one another. They are certainly of different faiths, and -they do not care about one another's language. But here there is a real -Pan-Slavism. It will hold the Slavic peoples together a long time, and -separate them from other Americans. Still there are not many cities in -the United States resembling Scranton ethnologically. The wandering -Slav when he moves to another city is generally obliged to go to a -chapel where only English is spoken, and he strains his mind and his -emotions to comprehend the American spirit. - -After the hymn the congregation divided into classes, and talked about -the Sermon on the Mount, and to me they were like very earnest children -at a Sunday School. I was able to look round. There were few women in -the place; nearly all of us were working men, miners whose wan faces -peered out from the grime that showed the limit of their washing. -At least half the men were suffering from blood-poisoning caused -by coal bruises, and their foreheads and temples showed dents and -discolorations. They had been "up against it." They would not have been -marked that way in Russia, but I don't think they grudged anything to -America. They had smiles on their lips and warmth in their eyes; they -were very much alive. "Tough fellows, these Russians," wrote Gorky. -"Pound them to bits and they'll come up smiling." - -They were nearly all peasants who had been Orthodox, but had been -"converted"; they were strictly abstinent; they sighed for Russia, -but they were proud to feel themselves part of the great Baptist -community, and knit to America by religious ties. None of them entirely -approved of Scranton. They felt that a mining town was worse than -anything they had come from in Russia, but they were glad of the high -wages they obtained, and were saving up either to go back to Russia and -buy land or to buy land in America. They craved to settle on the land -again. - -It seemed to me Kuzma's business of agent for real estate among the -Slavs was likely to prove a very profitable one. I shall come back -to Scranton one day and find him a millionaire. He evidently had the -business instinct--an example of the Slav who does not want the land -again. The fact that he sought me out showed that he was on the _qui -vive_ in life. - -When the service was concluded we went over the church with a young -Russian who had fled to America to escape conscription, and who averred -that he would never go back to his own country. His nose was broken, -and of a peculiar blue hue, owing to blood-poisoning. His finger-nails -were cut short to the quick, but even so, the coal-dust was deep -between the flesh and the nail. He was most cordial, his handshake was -something to remember, even to rue a little. He had been one of those -who took the collection, and he emptied the money on to a table--a -clatter of cents and nickels. He showed us with much edification the -big bath behind the pulpit where the converted miners upon occasion -walked the plank to the songs of fellow-worshippers. They were no -doubt attracted by the holiness of water, considering the dirt in which -they lived. - -"He is a Socialist," said Kuzma, as we went away to have lunch. "A -Socialist and a Baptist as well. He has a Socialist gathering in the -afternoon and Russian tea and speeches, and he wants me to go. But they -hold there should be no private property. I want private property. I -want to travel and to have books of my own, so I can't call myself a -Socialist." - -In the afternoon Kuzma took me to the Public Library and showed me its -resources. In the evening we went to supper at the house of a dear old -Slovak lady, who had come from Hungary on a visit thirty years ago, and -had never returned to her native land. She had been courted and won and -married within three weeks of her arrival--her husband a rich Galician -Slav. Now she was a widow, and had three or four daughters, who were so -American you'd never suspect their foreign parentage. - -She told me of the many Austrian and Hungarian Slavs in Pennsylvania, -and gave it as her opinion that whenever a political party was badly -worsted in south-eastern Europe the beaten wanted to emigrate _en bloc_ -to the land of freedom. When they came over they held to the national -traditions and discussed national happenings for a while, but they -gradually forgot, and seldom went back to the European imbroglio. - -A touching thing about this lady's house was a ruined chapel I found on -the lawn--a broken-down wooden hut with a cross above it, built when -the Slav tradition had been strong, and used then to pray in before -the Ikon, but now only accommodating the spade and the rake and a -garden-roller. - -We had a long talk, partly in Russian, partly in English--the old -lady had forgotten the one and only knew the other badly. So it was a -strange conversation, but very informing and pleasant. - -Slavs always talk of human, interesting things. - -Kuzma was very happy, having spent a long day with an Englishman whose -name had been in the newspaper. We walked back to the hotel, and for a -memory he took away with him a newspaper-cutting of a review of one of -my books and a portrait of the tramp himself. - -Next day, through the kindness of a young American whom I had met the -week before entirely by chance, I was enabled to go down one of the -coal-mines of Scranton, and see the place where the men work. The whole -of the city is undermined, and during the daytime there are more men -under Scranton than above it. - -I was put into the charge of a very intelligent Welshman, who was a -foreman, and we stepped into the cage and shot down the black shaft -through a blizzard of coal-dust, crouching because the cage was so -small, and holding on to a grimy steel bar to steady ourselves in the -swift descent. In a few seconds we reached the foot--a place where -there was ceaseless drip of water on glistening coal--and we walked out -into the gloom. - -Black men were moving about with flaming lamps at their heads, electric -cars came whizzing out of the darkness, drawing trucks of coal. Whole -trucks were elevated in the opposite shaft from that in which we had -descended, elevated to the pit-mouth with a roar and a rush and a -scattering of lumps of coal. I gained a lively realisation of one way -in which it is possible to get a coal-bruise. - -My guide showed me a map of the mine, and we went along dark tunnels -to the telephone cavern, and were enabled to give greeting to miners -as far as three miles away underground. Every man working in the mine -was in telephonic communication with the pit-mouth. I saw the men at -work, watched small trucks of coal being drawn by asses to the main -line where the train was made up. I talked with Poles, Ruthenians, -Russians--actually meeting underground several of those whom I had seen -the day before in the Baptist Chapel. They were all very cheerful, -and smiled as they worked with their picks. Some were miners, some -labourers. The miner directs the blasting and drilling, puts in the -powder and blows out the coal; the labourer works with pick and shovel. -A man has to serve two years in a mine as a labourer before he can be -a miner. Even a British immigrant, who has worked in South Wales or -Northumberland or elsewhere, has to serve his term as a labourer. This -discourages British men. Scranton used to be almost entirely Welsh; -but it goes against the grain in an English-speaking man to fetch and -carry for a Slovak or a Pole. On the other hand, this rule safeguards -American strikers against imported miners. - -After I had wandered about the mine a while I went up to the -"Breaker's" tower, to the top of which each truck of coal was hoisted -by the elevator; and I watched the fanning and screening and guiding -and sifting of this wonderful machine, which in collaboration with -the force of gravity can sort a ton of coal a second. I talked with -Polish boys sitting in the stream of the rolling, hurrying coal; their -task was to pick out bits of slate and ore; and I watched the platemen -splitting lumps of coal with their long-handled hammers, and casting -out the impurities. I saw the wee washhouse where the collier may bathe -if he wish. - -"Well, America or Russia, which is it?" I asked of almost every Russian -I met. "Which do you prefer? Are you Americans now or Russians?" - -And nearly all replied, "America; we will be Americans. What does one -get in Russia?--fifty cents a day."[2] Only a few said that America was -bad, that the mining was dangerous and degrading. Strange to say, the -astonishment at America's wealth and the wages they get from her had -not died away. They admired America for the wages she gave; not for -the things for which the people of culture in the great cities admire -her. America gave them money, the power to buy land, the power to buy -low pleasures, the power to get back to Russia, or to journey onward to -some other country--to the Argentine or to Canada. - -I then spent a day visiting people at random. I went into Police -Station No. 4, and found Sergeant Goerlitz sitting at a desk reading -his morning paper, and he was very ready to talk to me. From him I -gathered that the Slavs were the best citizens--quiet, industrious, and -law-abiding. By Slavs he meant Huns, Bulgarians, Galicians, Ruthenians. -The Russians were vulgar and pushing. He probably meant Russian Jews -and Russians. The Italians were the most dangerous people; they -committed most crimes, and never gave one another away to the police. -The Poles and Jews were the most successful people. - -I went to the house of a communicative, broad-nosed, broad-lipped -little Ruthenian priest--an Austrian subject--and he told me that -Russia could take India whenever she wanted to, America could take -Canada, and that Germany would break our naval power. But the English -would still be the greatest people in the world. In the near future -the whole of North America would be one empire, and the whole of South -America another--one Anglo-Saxon, the other Latin. He was evidently -a student of contemporary possibilities. Despite his belief in -America he was proud of his own nationality, and jealous of the loss -of any of his flock. To his church there came three hundred Little -Russians and about thirty Great Russians. He reckoned there were fifty -families in Scranton purely Nihilist--by that he meant atheistic and -pleasure-seeking. At his church the service was in Slavonic and the -sermon in Ruthenian. He was sorry to say there were comparatively few -marriages. People came to the town to make money rather than to live. - -Then I went to the official Russian priest, away on Division Street. He -shepherded one hundred and thirty-seven families, and four hundred and -sixty-two unmarried people. His church had been burned down the year -before, but had sprung up again immediately. Some of the congregation -had succeeded in business, and having come as poor colonists were now -rich and respected citizens, professional men, large storekeepers, -responsible clerks. Scranton was more like a Russian city than an -American, and it was possible to flourish as a lawyer or a doctor or -an estate agent although you knew very little of the English language. -And out in the country round about were many Russian farms with -real Russian peasants on them; and he spent many weeks in the year -travelling about in the rural districts giving the consolation of -Orthodoxy to the faithful. - -A pathetic thing happened whilst I was taking leave of the priest; a -young workman came in to ask advice, and in salutation he took the -priest's hand to kiss it, but the latter was ashamed to receive that -homage before me, and so tried to pull his hand away. Despite the -churchman's enthusiastic account of his work I felt that little action -was symbolical of the ebb-tide. It was to me as if I had looked at the -sea of faith, and said, "The tide is just turning." - -I visited the Y.M.C.A., so important an institution in America, giving -a good room for fifty cents a day, and having its club-rooms, its -swimming-baths, its classes for learning English. It wanted to raise -seventeen thousand dollars in the forthcoming week, and many posters -reminded passers-by that Scranton's greatest asset was not its coal or -its factories or its shops, its buildings, its business, but its young -men. - -I walked the many streets at evening time when the wild crowd was -surging in and out of the cinema houses and the saloons, and heard -the American chaff and music-hall catch-words mixed with half a dozen -Slavonic dialects. A young American engineer took me to several -resorts, and initiated me in the mysteries of bull-dogs and fizzes, -and as we went along the street he gave a running comment on the -gaudily attired girls of the town, which he classified as "pick-ups," -"chickens," and the like. At ten o'clock at night the streets were full -of mirth, and all given over to sweethearting and flirting. Scranton's -safety lies in the interest which the people have in one another, their -sociability and general disposition to talk and hope. What it would -be like if all these foreign mercenaries were mirthless and brutal -it would be loathsome to picture. But I was surprised to find such -lightness, such Southern frivolity in the people. It is strange that -a people, most of whom are working all day in darkness, should take -life so gaily. Even when they come up to the air of the outside world -it is a bad air that is theirs, vitiated by the fumes of the burning -mines; for at Scranton also the coal has been on fire ten years, and -the smoke rolls from the slag-coloured wastes in volumes, and diffuses -itself into the general atmosphere. One would think that the wretched -frame-dwellings, ruined by the subsidence of the ground on which they -were built, and begrimed with the smoke which factories belch all day, -would disgust humanity. But it seems the man who works in dirt and ruin -accepts dirt and disorder as something not wrong in themselves, quite -tolerable, something even to be desired, a condition of freedom. - -One day I met a young reporter, who was also a poet, and he took me to -a point where there was a view of the city which he specially admired. -It was a grey day--surely all days there are grey. We looked to the -ridge of the West Mountain, a long dark wall built up to the sky, and -many-roofed Scranton lay below it; the thin spires of many conventicles -pointed upward, and from numberless chimneys and spouts proceeded -hardly moving white steams and smokes, all in strange curls and twists. -Here and there were black chutes and shafts and mountains of slag, and -the slates of the roofs of the houses glimmered appallingly under the -wanness and darkening dusty grey of the sky. - -"This sight does my heart good," said the poet. "It's good to live in a -place like this where we're doing something." - -"It would be a beautiful place if there were no Scranton here at all," -I ventured. - -"That's the glory of it," said he. "We have the faith to smash up the -beauty of Nature in the hope of getting something better. It would be a -beautiful world entirely if there were no such thing as man. Nature's -beauty has no need of us. But we happen to be here. We have something -in us that Nature could never think of. Scranton expresses man's -passion more truly than the virginal beauty of the Alleghany mountains -or the valley of the young Susquehanna." - -"A revolt against Eden," said I, "a fixed sullenness, man's -determination to live in grime if he wants to--the children's -infatuation for playing with the dirt." - -"Oh, more than that," said the reporter poet. "Much more." - -Perhaps. - -That was perhaps a glimpse of the religion of America. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[2] Fifty cents a day is very good pay for a miner in Russia, thirty -cents is quite a common wage. - - - - -VIII - -AMERICAN HOSPITALITY - - -It is possible to distinguish two sorts of hospitality, one which is -given to a person because of his introductions, and the other which -is given to the person who has no introductions, the one given on the -strength of a man's importance, the other on the strength of the common -love of mankind. America is rich in the one species, she is not so rich -in the other. - -There is no country in the world where an introduction helps you more -than in the United States. In this respect how vastly more hospitable -the Americans are than the British! It is wonderful the extent to which -an American will put himself to trouble in order to help a properly -introduced visitor to see America. It is a real hospitality, and it -springs from a great belief in America and in the American people, -and a realisation of the fact that if nation and individuals are to -co-operate to do things in the world, they must unbend and think of -others beside themselves. - -To me, in the literary and artistic clubs of New York, in the city -institutions and schools, in the houses of the rich and cultured, and -in the homes of the poor, America breathed kindness. New York seemed -to me more friendly and hospitable than any other great city I had -lived in. There also, as in Russia, one person came out and took me by -the hand, and was America to me. - -But when I shed respectability and the cheap fame of having one's -portrait and pages of "write-up" in the papers and put pack on back, -and sallied forth merely as a man I found that the other and more -precious kind of hospitality was not easily come by. Little is given -anonymously in the United States. - -Not that the country people despise the tramp, or hate him or set the -dogs on him or even refuse him a breakfast now and then, but that they -simply won't have him in their houses for the night, and are otherwise -indifferent to his hardships. They do not look on the stranger as a -fellow-man but as a loose wheel, a utility lying rusting in a field; -or at best they look upon him as a man who will "make good," who -will get a job later on and _earn_ his living. No one is good enough -for the American till he has "made good." But this is the same in -all commercialised countries, commercialism kills the old Christian -charity, the hospitality of house and mind and heart. - -[Illustration: AN INDIANA FARM: THE WIND-WELL BEHIND IT, THE WHEATFIELD -IN FRONT.] - -In the old colonial days there was extraordinary hospitality in -America, and this still survives in the West and North and South in -places out of touch with the great industrial beehive of the East -and Centre. The feeling still survives in the spirit that prevents -Americans printing prohibitions. You never see the notice "Trespassers -will be Prosecuted," though I do not know what one is to make of the -uncharitable poster that frequently met my gaze in Indiana and Illinois: - - - KEEP OUT! - THAT MEANS YOU. - - -That is brutal. - -Tramping up to Williamsport from Scranton I encountered forty-eight -hours' rain, and only with difficulty on the second night did I obtain -shelter. After being refused three times the first rainy evening, I -found an old covered well beside an empty, padlocked shed. In this I -spent twenty hours, sleeping the night and waking to a day of down-pour. - -It was an interesting little hermitage, the three walls were of -stone but the roof and floor of wood. One side of the building was -completely open to wind and weather. In a corner was a dark square of -clear water--the well. Half-way up the stone wall was a narrow ledge, -and there I slept. I covered the ledge with two sacks, for pillow I -had a book, a duplicate pair of boots, and a silken scarf. I slept -with my feet in a sack and a thick tweed coat spread over the rest of -me,--slept well. By day I sat on a box and looked out at a deserted -garden, and the rain pouring on the trees and rank grass. There were -young pines and hemlocks and maples, and a shaggy hickory tree. Beyond -them an apple orchard climbed over a very green hill, and the branches -were all crooked and gnarled and pointing. The blossoms had shed their -petals, and there was much young fruit. - -I gathered dry wood and made a fire on the threshold, and dried wet -wood and boiled a kettle, the smoke blowing in to me all the while, and -the raindrops hissing and dying as they fell into the embers. - -About mid-day a Dutch farmer came and stood in front of the little -house, and stared for some minutes and said nought. - -I hailed him: "Good-day!" - -He did not reply to this but inquired: - -"Hev you not seen that notice on the wall--'Any one meddling with this -house will be treated as he deserves'?" - -I had not. - -"Waal," said he, "it's there. So you'll put that fire out." - -I complied. - -"It's a wet day," said I. - -"Yes, it's wet." - -"I'd like to get put up for the night somewhere, and get a good meal. -Do you know of any one who would do it?" - -He was silent for some while, and stared at me as if irritated, and -then he said: - -"Guess about no one in this hollow'd take any one in. But you might try -at the store at the top of the hill." - -"Couldn't you take me in?" - -"No; couldn't do it." - -"Then, could you put me up a meal?" - -"We have been out of food and are living on buckwheat cakes." - -"I wouldn't mind some of them and some milk." - -"No, no. No use. Wife wouldn't have any one in." - -After some converse he learned that I was British, and he said, "There -was one of yours here two-three years back." - -"What did he think of this country?" - -"He said it was the darndest country he ever saw." - -There was no help for it. I had to abandon the well and go out through -the never-ceasing down-pour and seek shelter and a decent meal. On my -way to the store I met another farmer, and we had this interchange of -talk: - -"Can you put me up for the night?" - -"No." - -"Can you make me up a meal?" - -"No." - -"I'll pay you for it. You can have a quarter or so for a hot meal." - -"We've just had our supper, and the women are doing other things now. -There is a place on top of the hill." - -A mile farther on I came to a General Store. It was locked up, and as I -stared into the window the owner eyed me from a house over the way. - -He came out, looking at me apprehensively. - -"Can you put me up for the night?" I asked. - -"No; not to-night." - -"Why not?" - -"We don't take only our own people. There's a place two miles on." - -"Two miles through the wet." - -"You're right." - -"I can pay you what you get from your own people, and a little extra -perhaps." - -The storekeeper shook his head and answered: - -"My wife is a little unwell and does not want the trouble." - -"I can tell you you wouldn't get turned away like this in my country," -said I. - -"Where are you from?" - -"From England." - -"Oh, wouldn't they?" - -"There are plenty of places where they'd take you in without charging -for it. There are places in Europe where they'd come out and ask you -into their houses on such a night." - -"I dessay, I dessay." - -"Well, I think the people about here are very inhospitable." - -"I reckon you're right." - -"I think you are inhospitable." - -"Um!" - -"Well, you're a storekeeper, I want some bread and some butter, and -anything else you've got that doesn't need to be cooked." - -"Are you hungry?" - -I told him I was, and he determined to be more charitable than I had -given him the name for. - -"Well," said he, "I can let you have a slice of bread and butter and a -cup of cawfee I dessay." - -"Thanks. I should like to buy a loaf of bread and a quarter pound of -butter all the same," said I. - -"We haven't any bread in the store. The baker leaves it three times a -week, and we've only enough for ourselves; but I can let you have a -slice, and that'll keep you going till you get to Unityville. It's only -about two miles away. There's a hotel there. The folks have taken away -the keeper's licence, and you won't be able to get anything to drink. -But he'll take you in for a dollar. You'll get all you want. In half -an hour you'll be there. There are two more big hills, and then you're -there." - -He brought the bread, and as I was ravenous I was tamed thereby, and I -thanked him. The bread and butter and coffee were gratis. He was really -a kindly man. I shouldn't wonder if his wife had an acid temperament. -The night's lodging, no doubt, depended more on her than on him. - -I sat on rolls of wire-netting outside the store and finished the -little meal. Then I went away. Over the hills in the dusk! It was real -colonial weather; the light of kerosene lamps streamed through the -downpour of rain, the dark woods on each side of the strange high road -grew more mysterious and lonesome, silent except for the throbbing -of the rain on the leaves and on the ground. I stopped at a house to -ask the way, but when I knocked no one answered. I looked through the -kitchen window at the glow of the fire and at the family round the -well-spread table, and the farmer's wife directed me through the glass. - -At last--in a flow of liquid mud, as if arrested in floating -down-hill--a miserable town and a hotel. - -When I asked the host to put me up he said his wife had gone to bed -with a headache, and if I had not rated him soundly I should have been -turned into the rain once again. - -"Well," said he, "I cahnt give you any hot supper, you'll have to take -what's on hand." - -So saying, he opened a tin of Boston beans, emptied them on to a plate, -and put before me a saucerful of those little salt biscuits called -oysterettes. My supper! - -In the bar, deprived of ale, sat half a dozen youths eating chocolate -and birch beer, and talking excitedly of a baseball match that was -to be played on the morrow. Mine host was a portly American of the -white-nigger type. The villagers, exercising their local option, had -taken away his right to sell intoxicating liquor, and now on the wall -he had an oleographic picture of an angel guiding a little girl over a -footbridge, and saving her _from the water_. Somehow I think this was -unintentional humour on the part of mine host. He was an obtuse fellow, -who mixed the name Jesus Christ inextricably with his talk, and swore -b'God. But he gave me a warm bed. And he had his dollar. - -Another evening, about a month later, I sought a lodging in a town -on Erie Shore. The weather was very hot, and I was tramping beside -marshes over which clouds of mosquitoes were swarming. There was no -good resting-place in the bosom of Nature, so I imagined in my heart, -vainly, that I might find refuge with man. - -I came to a town and went into the store and asked where I would be -likely to find a night's lodging. The storekeeper mentioned a house -in one of the bye-streets. But when I applied there the landlady said -her husband was away, and she would be afraid to have a stranger in -his absence. I went to another house: they hadn't any room. I went to -a third: they told me a man there was on the point of death and must -not be disturbed. I returned to the store, and the storekeeper said it -would be impossible to be put up for the night anywhere in the village. -I told him I considered the harbouring of travellers a Christian duty. - -"They don't feel it so about here," said he politely. - -There was an empty park-seat at the end of the main street, I went and -sat on it and made my supper. Whilst I sat there several folk came and -gazed at me, and thought I might be plotting revenge. In America they -are very much afraid of the refused tramp--he may set houses on fire. - -But I was quite cheerful and patient. I had been sleeping out regularly -for weeks, and shelter refused did not stir a spirit of revenge in -me. In any case, I was out to see America as she is, not simply to be -entertained. I was having my little lesson--"and very cheap at the -price." - -But I found hospitality that night. As I sat on the park-seat a tall -labourer with two water-pails came across some fields to me, passed me, -and went to the town pump and drew water. "Surely," said I to myself, -"that is a Russian." - -I hailed him as he came back. - -"_Zdrastvitye! Roosky?_" - -I had guessed aright; he replied in Russian. - -"Are you working in a gang?" I inquired. - -"No, only on the section of the railway; there are six of us. We have -charge of this section. Where are you going to? To Chicago? Looking -for a job? Going to friends there? Where are you going to sleep? This -village is not a good one. _Ne dobry._ If you sleep there, on the seat, -up comes the politzman, and he locks you up. So you be three weeks late -in getting to Chicago perhaps. Why do you walk? You get on freight -train and you be there to-morrow or the day after. You come with me -now. I sleep in a closed truck with five mates, four are Magyars, one -is a Serb. It's very full up, and I don't know how the Magyars would -take it if I brought you in. But I know a good place. A freight train -is waiting here all night. There are plenty of places to sleep, and you -go on in it to-morrow morning to Toledo." - -He showed me an empty truck. I was very much touched, and I thanked him -warmly. - -"How do you believe," he asked in parting, "are you a Pole or are you -Orthodox?" - -"Oh," said I, "I'm not Russian, I've only lived some years there. I'm a -British subject." - -This somewhat perplexed him. But he smiled. "Ah well," said he, -"good-bye, _Sbogom_--be with God," and we parted. - -A little later he returned and said that if I were lonely and didn't -mind a crush, the Magyars would not object to my presence. But by that -time I had swept the sawdusty floor of the truck, made a bed, and was -nearly asleep. "Thanks, brother," said I, "but I'm quite comfortable -now." - -The Russians are a peculiarly hospitable people. Their attitude of mind -is charitable, and even in commercial America they retain much of the -spirit that distinguishes them in Europe. I met a queer old Russian -tramp in Eastern Pennsylvania; he exemplified what I mean. He was, -however, rather an original. - -In a district inhospitable to tramps I obtained my dinner by paying for -it. In this way and by these words: - -"Can you give me a meal for a quarter?" - -"Well, if you've got the coin I reckon we can do that." - -I was sitting at a meal of canned beef, beans, and red-currant jelly, -sipping from a mug of coffee, in which might possibly be discerned the -influence of a spoonful of milk. The farmer was cross-examining me on -my business--where had I come from? Was I looking for a job? Was I -walking for wager?--when a strange figure appeared at the window, a -broad-faced, long-haired, long-bearded tramp in a tattered cloak. - -He approached the house, and about ten feet from the window where we -were sitting he stood stock-still, leaning on his staff and staring at -us. - -"A hobo--looks a bit fierce," said the farmer, opening the window. "How -do? Wha--yer--want?" - -[Illustration: "THE CREAM-VANS COME TO BUY UP ALL THE CREAM."] - -"Give me a piece and a cup o' milk," said the foreigner. - -"A Polander," said the farmer. "I guess I turn him over to the missus. -Sue, here's a man wants a crust and some sour milk." - -"Ee caant 'ave it," cried the farmer's wife. - -"No go," said the farmer, and shook his head at the tramp. - -The latter did not utter a word of reproach, but what was my -astonishment to see him cross himself delicately, and whisper a -benediction. A Russian, I surmised. - -"It is not over-safe refusing them fellers," said the farmer. "They -may burn your barn next night. I reckon Sue might have put him up -something. Hear him curse as he went." - -The old Russian was going eastward, I westward; but I resolved to turn -back, carry him some bread, make some coffee, and exchange those tokens -of the heart which are due from one wanderer to another upon the road. -I hurried back and overtook him. - -The old man was nothing loth to sit on a bank of grass whilst I bought -a quart of milk at a farm. "Coffee, uncle," said I. "Russian coffee. -Varshaffsky, such as you get at home in Russia, eh?" Uncle smiled -incredulously. - -"Twigs, uncle, sticks, dry grasses; we must make a fire," said I. Uncle -got up and collected a heap of wood. My coffee-pot soon reposed on a -cheerful blaze. The creamy milk soon began to effervesce and boil. In -went six lumps of sugar and eight spoonfuls of coffee. Uncle recognised -he was going to have a good drink when he saw that no water was to be -added. It was a pleasure to see him with a mug of it in one hand and a -hunk of good white bread in the other. - -I learned that my friend was tramping his way to New York. At that city -he would buy a ticket to Libau, and from Libau would walk home to his -native village, or he would get under a seat in a train. He had come -250 miles of his journey from Minnesota in an empty truck of a freight -train; perhaps he would get another good lift before long. - -"Why are you going home? Can't you find work?" - -"Going to pray," said he. "I am going to my village to see my father's -grave, and then to a monastery. I would finish my years in Russia and -be buried in Russian ground." - -"I suppose you didn't take root here; American life doesn't suit you? -Didn't you like Americans?" - -"Well, I lived with other fellows from our village, and we succeeded -sufficiently well. Some seasons we gained a lot of money. But I never -felt quite at home. We reckoned we would build a church after a -while--a high wooden one that one could see from the wheat-fields when -we were at work. But my friend turned evangelical; he became a sort of -molokan, and one by one all the other fellows joined him and they went -to meetings. I was the only one who remained orthodox. They reckoned I -got drunk because I was orthodox; but I reckon I got drunk because they -were evangelicals--because they had all deserted me, and I was lonely. -It's hard on a man to be all alone." - -"And why did you leave, uncle? What determined you to go?" - -"I'll tell you. I had a strange dream. I saw my father, who is, as -you know, dead long since and in his grave, and I saw a figure of -St. Serge--St. Serge was his angel--and both lifted their arms and -pointed to the East. I knew it was the East because there was a great -red sunset behind them, and they pointed right away from it, in the -other direction. When I wakened up I remembered this, and it made -a great impression on me. I told Basil, my friend, who worked with -me lumbering, and he laughed. 'But,' I said, 'that's not the thing -to laugh at.' At last I decided to start for home. The idea that I -might die in America and be buried there was always pricking me. I am -not American. The American God won't take me when I die. Some of the -fellows are going to take out their papers, because a Jew came round -pestering them with books to learn English and prepare for examination, -saying they ought to make themselves citizens; but that is not for me. -I am Russian. Mother Russia! she is mine. They may keep you down and -oppress you there, but the land is holy, and men are brothers. - -"When I started home I was surprised that so many farmers said 'No,' -when I wanted to sleep in their barns. I even got angry and shouted -at them. But as I went further I got patient, and came to pray to God -every day and often, to give me my bread and bring me safely to Russia. -Then I got peace, and never was afraid or angry, reckoning that even -if I did die in America I should be dying on the way home, and my face -would be turned towards Russia. I reckon that if I die my soul will get -there just the same." - -"It's not often that in Russia, when a man is refused bread, he says, -'Glory be to God!'" said I, recalling how the tramp had crossed himself -after the farmer's refusal. - -"No; not often. I thought out that for myself. At first I was silent -when people turned me away. I gave thanks only when they took me in. -But after a while my silence seemed a sort of impatience and angriness. -So I recollected God even then, and crossed myself. A tramp has no -ikons, so he needs all sorts of things to remind him." - -The poor exile had told his story, and looked at me with dim, -affectionate eyes. He held my hand tightly in his as we said, -"Good-bye"; he going eastward, I westward. - -That was a way of living in the fear of God. That old man had real -hospitality in his soul. - -But in depicting the American farmer and storekeeper it would be unfair -to characterise him as an inhospitable person. He is a great deal more -hospitable than his actions would suggest. He is a kindly being. He -has love towards his neighbour, and is more inclined to say "Yes" to -the wanderer than "No." But he has often been victimised. He has been -robbed, assaulted, insulted, his property has been damaged, barns set -on fire, his crops in part destroyed by wilfully malicious vagabonds. -The behaviour of the tramp is often a sort of petty anarchism; he has -suffered in the heartless commercial machine, has got out of it only -by luck, and his hand is against every man. He has cast over honour, -principle, and conscience, and is able to gloat secretly over every -little cynical act or meanness perpetrated at the expense of the -good-natured but established farmer. - -America has more tramps than any other country except Russia, and it -would have more than Russia but for the fact that there are often -about a million pilgrim-tramps on the Russian roads. The Russian tramp -is, moreover, a gentle creature; the American is often a foul-mouthed -hooligan. - -In several little districts that I passed through I was questioned by -the farmers as to whether I belonged to a gang of tramps who had been -lurking in the neighbourhood for weeks. A tramp was evidently regarded -as an enemy of society. Whenever I remarked on the inhospitality of the -people a rueful expression came over the farmer's face, and he would -begin to tell me that the old days were gone, money was tighter, the -cost of living was higher, taxes were double, the land did not yield -what it did of old, there were many demands on them here; but out in -the West it was different. There, as in former times, every farm-house -had open doors and free table to the tramp and wanderer. No one was -more welcome than the tramp, he brought news and stories of personal -adventure; he might even be persuaded to do work in the fields. - -I believe the Americans would be a truly charitable and hospitable -people if the evils of over-commercialism were remedied, and if -business were made kinder and more human, and taxes were evenly -distributed. There is an immense good-will towards man in America: -it is only rendered abortive by mammon. I for my part have to thank -numberless farmers, east and west, for kindly interest and good talks, -loaves of bread, cups of coffee, and pleasant meals. Several times when -I have been cooking by the side of a road a farm wife has come running -out to me with something hot from her kitchen, with an "Eat this, poor -man, and God bless you, you must be hungry." - -[Illustration: "PLOUGHED UPLAND ALL DOTTED OVER WITH WHITE HEAPS OF -FERTILISER."] - -Then the farmer's wife is often mollified when you are able to buy her -milk and eggs. She is the person who counts in the farm. She must be -approached; the husband has very little say in what shall be given to -the wanderer. As a fantastic old tramp said to me: - -"Whilst you are yet afar off the farmer's wife standing on her -threshold, espies you and takes you to be a hungry lion pawing the -road and seeking whom you may devour. She calls to her husband and he -peereth at you. Perchance she fetcheth down the ancient blunderbuss -from the wall; but when you come closer and hail her in English she -says to herself with relief, even with pleasure, 'It is a man,' one of -the attractive male species. You ask for bread and milk,--oh yes she -has it, and with a scared look still on her face, though transfigured -with a mild gladness, she fetcheth you bread and milk and eggs; -and then if you can pay her market price the scared look goes away -entirely; and out of the goodness of her heart and the abundance of -her pantry she addeth cookies and apple butter, and for these you pay -nought--they are her favour. Don't ask her, however, to put you up for -the night." - -The tramp always has a hard time to get a night's lodging. A poor, -weak, bedraggled Jew, whom I met shortly after the forty-eight hours' -rain, told me that he had been all one night in the wet--his pedlar's -pack had got ruined, he was suffering from pneumonia, and had thought -that such weather meant sure death to him. He had tried every house in -five towns and had been refused at every one. It was a sad comment on -modern life. - -In the Middle Ages, and in the days when Christianity meant more -than it does now, the refusal of shelter was almost unheard of. -And in peasant Russia to-day it would be considered a sin. An old -pilgrim-tramp once said to me, "When we leave this world to get to -Heaven we all have to go on tramp, and those find shelter there who -sheltered wanderers here." But Americans will not be judged by that -standard. The early Christians received strangers and often entertained -angels unawares, but the modern American is afraid that in taking in a -strange tramp he may be sheltering an outcast spirit. Once tramps were -angels; now they are rebel-angels. - - - - -IX - -OVER THE ALLEGHANIES - - -Both the weather and the country improved before I reached -Williamsport. On the height of the road to Hughesville I had a grand -view of the mountains and of the sky above them, saw displayed green -hills and forested mountains, and great stretches of ploughed upland -all dotted over with white heaps of fertiliser. And the sky above was -a battle-scene, the sun and his angels having given battle and the -clouds taking ranks like an army. Glad was I to see to eastward whole -battalions in retreat. - -I passed through fine forested land with great hemlocks, maples, and -hickories. A brawling stream poured along through the dark wood, and -as I walked beside it a sudden gleam of sunshine pierced the gloom of -foliage, and lit up boles and wet banks and wet rocks and the crystal -freshets of the stream. Of all weathers I like best convalescent -weather, the getting sunny after much rain. On the Sunday on which I -reached the city the open road was swept by fresh winds, all the birds -were singing, every blade of grass was conscious of rain taken in and -of the sun bringing out. - -Williamsport I found to be a peaceful, provincial town, well kept in -itself and surrounded by beautiful scenery. It was looking its best in -the freshness and radiance of a May morning. On its many hundred bright -green lawns that run down so graciously from pleasant urban villas to -the roadway there was much white linen airing. Williamsport is an old -lumbering town on a branch of the Susquehanna, and though that business -has gone away, prosperity and happiness seem to have remained behind. -There was a feeling of calmness that I had not experienced in other -American cities, and I felt it would be pleasant to live there for a -season. - -I tramped down to Jersey Shore, and the night after my halcyon day at -Williamsport a thunderstorm overtook me, shaking the old barn in which -I slept and tearing away rafters and doors. I witnessed Lockhaven under -depressing circumstances, but in any weather it must be an inferior -town to Williamsport, though it is also an old point for lumbering on -the Susquehanna. - -The weather remained very rainy, and I was obliged to forsake the -atrociously clayey high-road for the cinder track of the railway. In -doing this I passed up into a fine hilly country along the valley of -the Beech Creek. I came to Mapes (to rhyme with Shapes), but found it -a name and no more. A shooting and fishing resort with one house in -it. The Beech Creek was a fine sight, running along the base of the -embankment of the railway, carrying pine logs on its flood and racing -the trains with them, roaring and rushing, the logs pointing, racing, -turning, rolling, toppling, colliding, but always going forward, -willy-nilly getting clear of every obstacle and galloping out of sight. - -With one wet match I lighted a grand fire by the side of the line, and -boiled my kettle and dried myself and chuckled. It might be going to -rain more. I might be going to have a queer night, but for the time -being I was having a splendid tea. It was a matter for consolation in -the future that on the wettest possible day it was not difficult to -light a fire with one match. The secret lies in having plenty of dry -paper in your wallet; and I had a copy of a New York Sunday paper, -which lasted me to light my fire all the way to Elkhart, Indiana, at -least five hundred miles' tramping. - -The district of Mapes is one of the most beauteous in the Alleghanies, -or it was so this quiet evening. The summits of the mountains were -obscured by mists, but up from the profound valleys the woods climbed, -and the lovely tops of trees seemed like so many stepping-stones from -the land up to cloudy heaven. - -By the time I came to Monument it was dark. But a great glowing -brick-kiln looked out into the night, and there were houses with many -lighted windows. I was directed to a workmen's boarding-house, and -spent a night among miners, railway men, and brick-workers. The keeper -of the establishment was doubtful whether he would have me, but thought -there was "one feller on the third floor gone." - -"What will be your charge?" I asked. - -"Well," said he, "a won't charge ye anything for the bed, but the -breakfast to-morrow morning will be twenty-five cents." - -"My!" I thought, "here's something choice coming along in the shape of -a bed." - -It turned out to be four in a room and two in a bed, all sleeping in -their clothes. There was even some doubt as to whether there was not a -fifth coming. - -One man was in bed already; I chose the unoccupied bed, and laid myself -upon it in full tramping attire. You can imagine the state of sheets -and quilts in a bed that brickmakers and soft-coal miners sleep in -their clothes. - -The man in bed was an Anglo-Saxon American. When I said I was from -England he asked me if I had walked it all. - -"I came by steamer of course to New York." - -"How many days?" - -"Eight." - -"Weren't you afraid?" said he. "Quite out of sight of land no doubt? -You wouldn't get me to go, not for many thousand dollars. That -_Titanic_ was an affair, wasn't it. Fifteen hundred--straight to the -bottom! I'd have shot myself had I been there." - -"What do you work at here?" - -"Brick-making." - -"Lot of men?" - -"Plenty of work. Two truck-loads of extra men coming to-morrow." - -"Foreigners?" - -"Italians." - -I told him the story of a storm at sea with the exaggeration to which -one is too prone when addressing simple souls. I rather harrowed him -with an account of cook's enamel ware and kitchen things rolling about -and jangling when every one was saying his prayers. - -Presently I remarked irrelevantly, "My goodness! What a noise the frogs -make here!" - -"That's no noise," said he; "I'm going to sleep." - -After a while his bedfellow came in and he, before turning in, got -down on his knees in the narrow passage between the beds and prayed--I -should say, a whole half-hour, talking half to himself, half-aloud. -Whilst he was doing so my bedfellow came in, a tall, heavy, tired Pole, -who looked neither to right nor left, but just clambered over me and -lay down with his face to the wall and slept and snored. - -It rained heavily all night, and next morning it still poured. -After a disreputably bad breakfast I sat on a chair at the door of -the establishment and watched the thresh of the rain on two great -pools beside a road of coal-dust, looked out at the lank grass, the -tomato-can dump, the sodden refuse of the boarding-house, and away to -the square red chimney of the brick factory belching forth black smoke. - -"Say, stranger," said mine host, "I'm going to wade into that cave and -hand out potatoes; will you take them from me?" This was the first time -I had been called stranger in America, and it sounded pleasant in my -ears. - -About eleven o'clock in the morning the rain ceased, and I went on to -the next point on the railway. The track climbed higher and higher, and -I learned that on the morrow I should reach the top of the Alleghany -Mountains--Snow Shoe Creek. - -It was a fine walk to Orviston under the heavily clouded sky. The -mountain sides were all a-leak with springs and trickling streams and -cascades. There was an accompanying music of the racing Beech Creek -on the one hand, and of the gushing rivulets on the other; but this -would be swallowed up and lost every now and then in the uproar of the -oncoming and passing freight train of coal; the appalling, hammering, -affrighting freight train passing within two feet of me, taking my -breath away with the thought of its power. How pleasant it was, though, -to listen to the rebirth of the music of the waters coming to the ear -in the wind of the last trucks as they passed. - -[Illustration: "SLOVAKS WORKING ON THE LINE WITH PICK AND SHOVEL."] - -Orviston prides itself on its fire-bricks. The whole village is made of -them, and the pavement as well, and every brick is stamped "Orviston," -and is both a commodity and an advertisement. - -After I had visited the village store for provisions I re-entered the -railway enclosure, and read as I did so the following notice typical of -America: "Cultivate the safety habit--if you see anything wrong report -it to the man with the button." - -I met the man with the button after I had walked a mile along the -way; he was a Slovak, working on the line with pick and shovel, a -tall, brawny Slav, and with him a rather tubby little chap of the same -nationality. - -"You haf no räit on these läins," said the Slovak. "You go off. You are -no railway man. What are you? Slavish?" - -I replied in English, but on second thoughts went on in Russian. He -understood, and was mollified at once. He was in America for the second -time, they neither of them liked the old country. I photographed them -as they stood--John Kresica and Paul Cipriela. They were unmarried men, -and lived in a "boarding-house" in Orviston. They worked in a gang. -Would I please send them a copy of the photograph? I agreed to do so; -then, when I moved to go off the lines, the man with the button cried -out, smiling: - -"Hi! All-right, go ahead!" - -I went on blithely. There was a change of weather in the afternoon. At -one o'clock the sun lifted his arms and pulled apart the mist curtains -at the zenith and disclosed himself--a miraculous apparition. The whole -sky was cloudy, but the sun was shining. An apparition, the ghost of -a sun, and then a reality--hot, light-pouring, cloud-dispersing. By -two it was a hot summer day, at three there was not a cloud in the -sky. What a change! It was clear that summer had progressed during -the rain; insects of bright hues were on the wing, huge yellow-winged -butterflies, crimson-thighed grasshoppers, green sun-beetles. A -new-born butterfly settled three times on my sleeve; the fourth time I -just caught him. I held him delicately between two fingers and let him -go. - -During a most exhilarating evening I tramped past houseless Panther and -got to Cato at nightfall. Cato was a railway station of no pretensions; -a broken-down shed with no door, no ticket offices, no porter. -Passengers who wished to take a train had to wave a flag and trust to -the eyesight of the engine-driver. For village, all that I could make -out was a coal-bank, a shaft, and some heaps of old iron. - -It was an extremely cold night, so I slept in the railway shed on a -plank form that ran along the three sides of the building. I lay and -looked out at the bright night shining over the mountains, dozed, -waked, dozed again. Shortly after midnight I had a strange visitor. I -was lying half-asleep, looking at a misshapen star which was resting on -the mountains opposite me, which became a silver thumb pointing upward, -which became at last the young crescent moon just rising. I was in that -somnolent state when you ask, as you see the moon rising behind dark -branches of the forest, Is it the moon in eclipse? is it a comet?--when -a portly man with shovel hat came out of the night, stood in front of -the shed, leaned on a thick cudgel, and looked in. - -"Hallo!" said I. - -"Haffing sum sleep?" queried the visitor. - -"Yes, trying to; but it's a cold night." - -"Ah, you haf bed pretty goot!" - -"Who are you,--the night watchman?" - -"Naw. You don't see a näit wawtchman without 'is lantern." - -The old chap came close up to me, bent down, and whispered, "I'm in the -same box as yourself." - -"Walking all night?" I asked. - -"The only vay to keep varm," said the old man ruefully. He took out a -shining watch from his waistcoat. - -"Three o'clock," said he. "In an hour it will be daylight. Oh, I think -I'll try and sleep here an hour. Say, is there to eat along the road?" - -I wasn't quite sure what he meant. - -"Not much," I hazarded. - -"Wot are you--you don't speak the langwage very goot," said the tramp. - -"English." - -"I am a Cherman." - -The old man lay down on the plank form, resting his head on my feet, -and using them for a pillow. - -"How old are ye?" he went on.... "Hoh, I can give you forty years. If I -were in Germany now I should be getting an army pension." - -"Are you going back?" said I. - -"Naw, naw. I could never give up this country." - -We composed ourselves to sleep, but with his head resting on my feet I -was too uncomfortable. "Presently I'll make a fire," said I, "and we'll -have hot tea and some bread and butter." And after about twenty minutes -I got up, put my boots on, and wandered out to find wood to make a -fire. It was about half an hour before dawn. There was a hoar frost, -and everything was cold and rimy to the touch. But I made up a bundle -of last year's weeds, now sodden straws, and laid them on a half-sheet -of my Sunday newspaper. That made a fine blaze, and with twigs and -sticks and bits of old plank, I soon had a fine bonfire going. The old -German came out and watched me incredulously. He didn't think it was -possible to make a fire on such a morning. But he was soon convinced, -and went about picking up chunks of wood desultorily, alleging the -while that he couldn't have lit such a fire in three hours; evidently I -knew how to do it. - -"Shall I make tea or coffee?" I asked. - -"Cawfee," said the old chap, his mouth watering. The word tea did not -represent to him anything good. - -"After a cup of hot cawfee I can go a long way. Hot cawfee, mind yer. -Varm cawfee 'salright for lunch, but in the morning it must be hot. The -only thing better than a cup of cawfee is a pint of whisky.... Say, -you've enough fire here now to roast a chicken." - -"Wish I had one, we'd roast it." - -I emptied the last of my sugar into the pot, and seven or eight -spoonfuls of coffee. It was to be "Turkish." The old tramp sat down on -the stump of a tree, took out a curly German pipe, and then put a red -coal on it. He had matches, but was economical in the matter of lights. -"Say," he said to me later, pointing to the ground, "you've dropped a -good match." I picked it up. - -The coffee was "real good." The old fellow drank it through his thick -moustache, and dipping his bread into his cup, munched great mouthfuls. -I had offered him butter with his bread, but he refused. "Booter" was -nothing to him. He liked apple-"booter." - -"Say, you've got on a powerful pair of boots!" - -"I need them, tramping to Chicago." - -"Chicago's not a bad town if you know where to go. Say, presently -you'll come to Snow Shoe. Don't go past it. You'll get something there." - -The old man stopped a minute in his talk, and stared at me knowingly, -didactically. - -"Rich miners," he went on. "You need only ask. See this packet of -tobacco, they gave it to me at the Company store. That's the thing I -can't get on without, must have it. If a man asks me for a smoke and I -haf it to give I must give him also. Where've you come from yesterday, -Orviston?" - -"No. Monument." - -"Is there anything there?" he whispered mysteriously. - -"Not much to be had," said I. "But there's a good deal of work, and -they're bringing in a big gang of Italians. You can't get much of -anything at the farms." - -"Where Guineas are, I don't go. I don't like the Eyetaylians." - -"D'you like the Jews?" - -"They're a good people," said he. "Don't say anything against the Jews. -I know a Jew who gives free boots to tramps. Last year I went into his -store, and one of the shopmen came up to me and said, 'I know what you -want, you'll get it. I'll tell the boss when he comes out.' And he -gave me a powerful pair of boots, and sent me across the road to the -Quick-lunch with a letter to the boss there, to give me a good dinner. -So I never say anything against the Jews." - -"Do you know Cleveland?" said I. - -"You bet. Lived there ten years ago, had a job on a Lake steamer. I -worked one summer on a boat." - -The old tramp stared at me as if he had confessed a sin. "Worked like a -mule," he added sententiously, and stared again. "I had a home there, -and lived just like a married man. But when I wanted to move on to -Pittsburg my girl wouldn't go." - -"I expect you're the sort of man who has run away from a wife in -Germany," said I. - -"Naw, naw. Never married." - -Then he began to talk of his loves and conquests. At his age you'd have -thought his mind would not have been filled with such vanities. He -evidently earned money now and then, and went on "sprees." He averred -that he had not a dime now, and was altogether "on the nail." I had -an idea, however, that he had hidden on him, somewhere, passage-money -to take him to Germany, to get that army pension. The Germans are a -cautious people. They are cautious and cogitative, yet I wonder what -the old man thought of me as he stumped away, leaning on his heavy -walking-stick. He had been twenty-seven years on the road, and was very -shrewd and experienced in many ways. Perhaps for a moment he took me -for a gentleman burglar. He was immensely curious to see what was in -my sack, but he probably reflected--"Here is good hot, coffee, a fire, -and a pleasant young man; make the most of it, and ask no inconvenient -questions." - -I put the fire out, shouldered my pack, and resumed the journey to Snow -Shoe. The sun had risen, but his warmth was as yet shut away behind the -wall of the mountains. The hoar-frost of night had not melted yet, and -it was necessary to walk briskly to keep warm. It was so cold that I -got to Snow Shoe before ten o'clock. - -A feature of this tramping along the rails was the danger in crossing -bridges. It was a single line, and as there were some twenty bridges -over the flood of the river, there were twenty ordeals of trusting that -no train would suddenly appear from a corner of the winding track and -run me down. If a train had come whilst I was half-way across a bridge -there was no refuge but the river, and I was always prepared to jump. -For several nights after this bit of tramping I dreamed of crossing -bridges, running on the sleepers and just passing the last beams as -engines swept down on me. But it was pleasant climbing up so high, and -feeling that within an hour or so Snow Shoe would be achieved. I had -lived in the rumour of Snow Shoe for two days, and the name had come -to correspond to something very beautiful in my mind. The sound of the -name is pleasant to the ear, and every now and then, as I hurried -along, I asked, "Snow Shoe, Snow Shoe, what shall I find there?" I -imagined the pioneers who first came up this beautiful valley and -gave to an Indian settlement the dainty name--through what virginal -loveliness they had passed! Then I thought of the reporter-poet -of Scranton who objected to the beauty of Nature because it was -independent of man. - -[Illustration: THE SLAV CHILDREN OF SNOW-SHOE CREEK.] - -Then, man came along, the engine-man with his endless, empty freight -train and his bellowing, steaming engine howling through the valley. -One after another eight freight trains, each about a quarter of a mile -long, came grinding past me, going up to the collieries to take their -daily loads of carbon. Somehow I did not object; it was new America, -the America of to-day careering over the America of 1492, and had to be -accepted. - -But Snow Shoe gave me pause. When I arrived at the little slate-roofed -mining settlement I found there was considerable excitement among the -children there. A cow had just been cut to pieces by the last freight -train. The driver had driven his train over the beast and on without a -word of remark or a hesitation, and a farmer was complaining bitterly, -but the children--young Americans, Russians, Ruthenians, Slovaks, the -ones who have in their keeping the America of to-morrow--were sitting -round the remains, helling and God-damning and asking me facetious -questions. And that was the answer to what I had asked myself--What -shall I see at Snow Shoe? What am I walking so far and so high for to -see? - -Snow Shoe was the dreariest possible mining settlement, and its -inhabitants slouched about its coaly ways and in and out of the -saloons. Scarcely any one could speak English, and the mines were -worked almost exclusively by Poles and Slovaks. The highest point in -the Alleghanies, a hand of earth stretched up to heaven, perhaps a -maledictory hand. - - - - -X - -DECORATION DAY - - -America celebrates no "Whit-Monday," but has Decoration Day instead; -a great national festival, when medals are pinned on to veterans, the -soldiers of the War of North against South are remembered, and the -graves of heroes are decorated with flags and flowers. On Decoration -Day, and again later, on Independence Day, the whole populace ceases -work in the name of America, and flocks the streets, sings national -songs and hymns, goes on procession, fires salutes, listens to -speeches. We British are just wildly glad to get free from toil when -Whit-Monday and August Bank Holiday come round. We have no national -or religious fervour on these days. We have even been known to flock -happily to Hampstead and Epping Forest to the strains of "England's -going down the Hill." Upon occasion the British can be clamorously -patriotic, but only upon occasion. But the American citizen is, to use -his own phrase, "crazy about America" all the while. The "days-off" -that we get are not only off work, but off everything serious. The -American still nurses the hope with which he came across the ocean, -and he is enthusiastically attached to the republic he has made and the -principles of that republic. - -I spent Decoration Day at Clearfield, a little mining and agricultural -town on the other side of the Alleghanies. I put up at a hotel for two -or three days, and just gave myself to the town for the time. Early on -the festival day I was out to see how the workaday world was taking -things. All the shops were closed except the ice-cream soda bars and -the fruiterers. There were flags on the banks and loungers on the -streets. Young men were walking about with flags in their hat ribbons. -The cycles and automobiles on the roadway had their wheels swathed -with the stars and stripes. There were negroes and negresses standing -_endimanche's_ at street corners. Now and then a girl in white dress -and white boots would trip from a house to a shop and back again. There -was an air best expressed by the words of the song: - - - Go along and get yer ready, - Get yer glad rags on, - For there's going to be a meeting - In the good old town. - - -Every town in America is a good old town, and on such occasions as -Decoration Day you may always hear the worthies of the place giving -their reminiscences in the lounge of a hotel. I sat and listened to -many. - -We had a very quiet morning, and it seemed to me there was considerable -boredom in the town. There was a fire in the Opera House about eleven, -and I ran behind the scenes with a crowd of others and stared at the -smoking walls. There was a sort of disappointment that the firemen put -it out so promptly. - -But after dinner the real holiday commenced, and the houses began to -empty and the streets began to fill. About four o'clock the "Parade" -commenced, what we should in England call a procession. Every one who -owned a car had it out, carrying roses and ferns and flags. There was -a continual hooting and coughing of motor-horns, and an increasing -buzz of talk. The "Eighth Regimental Band" appeared, and stood with -their instruments in the roadway, chatting to passers-by and being -admired. The firemen came with new hats on--their work at the Opera -House happily concluded. They now bore on their shoulders wreaths, -which were to be carried to the graves of the heroes in the cemetery -outside the town. The High School band formed up. A tall man brought -a new-bought banner of the Stars and Stripes, which hung from a -bird-headed pole. Boy Scouts came in costume--as it were in the rags of -the war. The marching order was formed, and then came up what I thought -to be the Town Militia, but which turned out to be the representatives -of the Mechanics Union, with special decorations and medals on their -breasts. The bands began to play; the automobiles, full of flowers -and flags, began to cough and shoot forward; the flocks of promenaders -on the side-walk and in the roadway set themselves to march in step -to the festal music. I watched the whole procession, from the Eighth -Regimental Band that went first to the eight veterans of the Spanish -War, who, with muskets on their shoulders, took up the rear. I stopped -several people in the procession and asked them who they were, what -exactly was their rôle, for what reason were they decorated with -medals,--and every one was glad to satisfy my curiosity. I found that -the eight veterans considered themselves technically a squad, and their -function was to fire a salute over the graves of the "heroes." - -The procession marched round the town to the strains of "Onward, -Christian soldiers" and "O come, all ye faithful." All the people of -Clearfield accompanied--Americans, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks--for -Clearfield has its foreign mining population as well as its Anglo-Saxon -urban Americans. As I was going alongside, a young boy ran up and put -his hand on my shoulder and addressed me in Polish. - -"What's that you say?" I asked. - -"Vairy good!" said he, and pointed to the procession. "I like it." - -"What are you,--Ruthenian, Polish?" I asked. - -"Slavish." - -I spoke to him in Russian. - -"Oh-ho, he-he, da-da, I thought you were a Polak." - -And now he thought I was a Russian! It touched me rather tenderly. I -was dressed like an American, and my attire was not like that of a -Russian at all. How enthusiastic this boy was! It was a real holiday -for him. The Slav peoples are emotional; they need every now and then a -means of publicly expressing their feelings. This procession from the -town to the graveyard was a link with the customs of their native land, -where at least twice a year the living have a feast among the crosses -and mounds of the cemetery, and share their joys and interests with the -dear dead, whose bodies have been given back to earth. - -Among those accompanying the procession were Austrian Slavs, in -soot-coloured, broad-brimmed, broken-crowned hats, not yet cast away; -and I noted solemn-faced, placid Russian peasants in overalls staring -with half-awakened comprehension. I saw a negro attired in faultless -black cloth, having a bunchy umbrella in his hand, a heavy gold chain -across his waistcoat, a cigar in his mouth, a soft smoky hat on his -head. He tried to get to the front, and I heard one white man say to -another, "Make way for him, it's not _your_ funeral." The negro is a -pretty important person--considering that the war was really fought for -him. Perhaps not many actively remember that now; it is not soothing -to do so. It is the American hero who matters more than the cause -for which he fell; though of course America, the idea of America, -matters more than either the heroes or the cause. It is a pity that -on Decoration Day there is a tendency to decorate the graves of those -who fell in the Spanish War and to pin medals on the survivors of that -conflict rather than to perpetuate the memory of the struggle for the -emancipation of the negro. America's great problem is the negro whom -she has released; but the Spanish War meant no more than that America's -arm proved strong enough to defeat a European power inclined to meddle -with her civilisation. - -It was, however, at the oldest grave in the cemetery that the -procession stopped and the people gathered. All the men were uncovered, -and there was a feeling of unusual respect and emotion in the crowd. -The wreaths were put down and the flags lowered as the little memorial -service commenced. We sang an old hymn, slowly, sweetly, and very -sadly, so that one's very soul melted. A hymn of the war, I suppose: - - - _Let him sleep,_ - _Calmly sleep,_ - _While the days and the years roll by._ - _Let him sleep,_ - _Sweetly sleep,_ - _Till the call of the roll on high._ - - -In the time of the war, in the dark hours of danger and distress, in -the times of loss and appalling personal sorrow the Americans were -very near and dear to God and to one another--nearer than they are -to-day in their peace and prosperity. - -When the hymn had been sung, an old grey-headed man came to the foot of -the grave and read a portion of the speech made by Abraham Lincoln at -the great cemetery at Gettysburg: - - - _Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this - continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the - proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in - a great Civil War, testing whether that nation so conceived and so - dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield ... - to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for - those who have given their lives that the nation might live. It is - altogether fitting and proper that we should do this._ - - _But in a larger sense we cannot consecrate this ground. The dead - themselves have consecrated it. It is rather for us, the living, - to consecrate ourselves to the work they died for, that we resolve - that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation - shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the - people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the - earth._ - - -The reading of these words was most impressive. I realised in it the -Gospel of America--something more national than even the starry flag. - -When the reading was accomplished the eight veterans fired their -salute, not up at heaven, but across and over the people's heads, as at -an unseen enemy. Then the old grey-headed man who had read the words of -Lincoln pronounced the blessing: - - - _The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your - hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God...._ - - -And we dispersed to wander among the graves and see the decorations, -and add decorations of our own if we willed. Wherever I went, the -haunting air was in my ears: - - - Let him sleep, - Sweetly sleep, - Till the call of the roll on high. - - -Americans believe very really in the roll-call. They believe that -they will answer to their names on a great last day--"When the roll -is called up yonder, I'll be there," says a popular hymn. It is all -important to the American that he feels he lives and dies for the -Right, for the moral virtues. The glory of the wars which the Americans -have fought in their history is not only that they, the Americans, were -victorious, but that they were morally right before ever they started -out to fight. - -Well, civilisation has approved the abolition of slavery. The great -mass of people nowadays consider slavery as something wrong in itself. -The North took up its weapons and convinced the South, and the negro -was freed. The peculiar horrors of slavery no longer exist--no one -man has power of life and death over the African. That much the war -has achieved. But it is strange that for the rest the negro seems -to have become worse off, and that America feels that she cannot -extend the personal privileges of democracy to the blacks. America has -brutalised the nigger; has made of a very gentle, loving and lovable -if very simple creature, an outcast, a beast, who may not sit beside -an ordinary man. It has in its own nervous imagination accused him of -hideous crimes which he did not commit, did not even imagine; it has -deprived him of the law, tortured him, flayed him, burned him at the -stake. It has made a black man a bogey; so that a fluttering white -woman, finding herself alone in the presence of a negro, will rush -away in terror, crying "murder," "rape," "fire," just because she has -seen the whites of his eyes. Then the hot-blooded southern crowd comes -out.... - -The war was a healthy war. It did much good, it strengthened the roots -of many American families; it gave the nation a criterion for future -development; it brought many individuals nearer to reality, brought -them to the mystery of life, caused them to say each day their prayers -to God. But if a war must be judged by its political effect, then as -regards the happiness of the negro the war has not yet proved to be a -success. The service by the graveside, and the apt words of Abraham -Lincoln were a reminder to the American people that though they realise -to themselves the maximum of prosperity the New World affords, and yet -lose their souls, it profits them nothing. America by her unwritten -but infallible charter is consecrated to freedom. If America is going -to be true to itself it must work for freedom, it must carry out the -idea of freedom. The emigrant from Europe expects to realise in America -the idea of freedom, the opportunity for personal and individual -development. He does not expect to find repeated there the caste system -and relative industrial slavery of the East. - - * * * * * * * - -Clearfield was much touched by the graveside service. The whole evening -after it the men in the hotel lounge talked American sentiment. The -lads and lasses crowded into the cinema houses, and watched with -much edification the specially instructive set of films which, on -the recommendation of the town council, had been specially installed -for the occasion,--the perils of life for a young girl going to -dance-halls, the Soudanese at work, Japanese children at play, the -ferocious habits of the hundred-legs, a review of troops at Tiflis, -a portrait of the Governor of Mississippi wearing a high silk hat, -pottery-making in North Borneo, the Pathé news. It was good to see -so many pictures of foreign and dark-skinned people presented in an -interesting and sympathetic manner. The Americans need to care more -for the national life of other races. For they are often strangely -contemptuous of the people they conceive to be wasting their time. - -I had a pleasant talk with a doctor who was extremely keen on -"temperance." He struck up acquaintance with me by complimenting me -on my complexion, and betting I didn't touch spirituous liquors. "The -war's still going on," said he. "I wage my part against drink and -disease. I'd like to make the medical profession a poor one to enter, -yes, sirr. I'd like to uproot disease, and if I could stop the drinking -in America I'd do it. Never touch liquor and you'll never have gout, -live to a good age, and be happy. I am glad to meet you, sir, glad -to meet a Briton. America will stand shoulder and shoulder with the -British in war or peace. They are of the same blood. The only two -civilised nations in the world." - -All the same, Clearfield regarded me with some suspicion, and as I sat -at my bedroom window at night a young man called up: - -"English Gawd: Lord Salisbury." - - - - -XI - -WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES - - -The men whom you meet during the day are like a hand of cards dealt out -to you by Providence. But they are more than that, for you feel that -luck does not enter into it. You feel there is no such thing as luck, -and that the wayfarer is in his way a messenger sent to you by the -hospitable spirit of man. He brings a sacred opportunity. - -I sit tending my fire, and watching and balancing the kettle upon it; -or I sit beside the cheerful blaze on which I have cooked my breakfast -or my dinner, and I hold my mug of coffee in my hand and my piece -of bread; I chip my just-boiled eggs, or I am digging into a pot of -apple-jelly or cutting up a pine-apple, and I feel very tender towards -the man who comes along the road and stops to pass a greeting and give -and take the news of the day and the intelligence of the district. - -There is a sort of hermit's charity. It is to have a spirit that is -quietly joyful, to be in that state towards man that a gentle woodsman -is towards the shy birds who are not afraid of him as he lies on a -forest bank and watches them tripping to and from their little nests. -Your fellow-man instinctively knows you and trusts you, and he puts -aside the mask in which he takes refuge from other fellow-travellers -who are alert and busy. I cherish as very precious all the little talks -I had with this man and that man who came up to me in America. - -As I sat one day by the side of my pleasant Susquehanna road, an -oil-carrier met me, a gentle-voiced man in charge of four tons of -kerosene and petrol, which his horses were dragging over the mountains -from village to village and store to store. I was an opportunity to -rest the horses, and the driver pulled up, relaxed his reins and -entered into converse with me. Was I going far? Why was I tramping? -What nationality was I? I told him what I was doing, and he said he -would like to give up his job and do the same; he also was of British -origin, though his mother was a German. He was a descendant of Sir -Robert Downing. "There used to be many English about here," said he, -"but they wore off." He went on to tell me what a wild district it -had once been. His grandfather had shot a panther on the mountains. -But there were no panthers now. The railways and the automobiles -had frightened the wild things away. The change had come about very -suddenly. He remembered when there were no telephone-poles along the -road, but only road-poles. It used to be a posting-road, and a good -one too; but now the automobiles had torn up all the surface, and no -one would take any trouble about the needs of horse vehicles. - -One hot noontide, on the road to Shippenville and Oil City, I was -having luncheon when a very pleasant Swede came down the road carrying -a bucket in his hand,--Mr. G. B. Olson, bossing a gang of workers on -the highway. He was going down the hill to a special spring to draw -water for his thirsty men, but he could hardly resist the smoke of my -wayside fire, and he told me, as it seemed, his whole story. He had -come to America in 1873, and had worked on a farm in Illinois before -the great Chicago fire. He was twenty-four then, and was sixty-five now. - -When he heard I was British he told me how he had come from Europe -_via_ Leith and Glasgow, and had been fifteen and a half days crossing -the Atlantic. - -"Have you ever been back to Sweden?" I asked. - -"No, sirr, never." - -"Are you content with America?" - -"Yes, sirr; it's the finest country under the sun. It gives the working -man a show." - -"The Americans speak very kindly of your countrymen. They like them." - -"Yes. We gave the Americans a good lift, we Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, -and Germans, by settling the land when the rest of the colonists were -running to the towns. We came in and did the rough pioneer work that -had to be done if America was going to be more than a mushroom growth. -Where would America be to-day if it were not for us in Minnesota, -Wisconsin, Iowa? You can't keep up big cities unless you've got plenty -of men working in the background on the land." - -The Swede went on to compliment me on my English. I spoke pretty clear -for one who had been only three months in the country. He had met many -British who spoke "very broken," especially Scotch. "I shouldn't have -been able to understand them," said he, "but that I am a foreigner -myself, and know what it is not to speak good." - -"Well, I must be off," he added, and pointed to the bucket. - -"You've got a gang of men working up above?" - -"Yes. I'm bossing them for the State. A good job it is too, good money, -and I don't have to work much." - -"I should say you'd make a kind boss!" - -"Yes. I never do anything against them. I get a good day's work out of -the men, but I never put myself above them. I've got authority, that's -all--it doesn't make me better'n they. I've got to boss them, they've -got to work. That's how it's turned out.... Well, I must be off to -water my hands!" - -And he hastened away down the hill, whilst I put my things together and -shouldered my pack. - -The strange thing about this American journey was the diversity of -nationality I encountered, and the friendly terms in which it was -possible for me as a man on the road to converse with them. - -On leaving Clearfield I fell in with Peter Deemeff, a clever little -Bulgarian immigrant, and spent two days in his company. He was -an unpractical, rebellious boy, a student by inclination, but a -labourer by necessity, nervous in temperament, and alternately gay -and despondent. He was thin-bodied, broad-browed, clean-shaven, but -blue-black with the multitude of his hair-roots; he had two rows of -faultless, little, milk-white teeth; an angelic Bulgarian smile, and an -occasional ugly American grimace. - -We tramped along the most beautiful Susquehanna road to Curwenville, -and then through magnificent gorges to the height of Luthersburg. - -"Ho! Where you going?" said one of a group of Italian labourers at -Curwenville. - -"Oil City," I answered. - -"You'll be sore," the Italian rejoined, and slapped his thigh. "Why not -stop here and get good job?" - -But Peter and I were not looking for a job just then, and we went on. I -was glad the Bulgarian was not tempted, for I relished his company, and -he was pleasantly loquacious. - -"Do you like the Americans?" I asked him. - -He raised his eyebrows. Evidently he did not like them very much. - -"Half-civilise," said he. "When I say my boss, 'I go,' he want me -fight. He offens me. I say, 'You Americans--bulldogs, no more, -half-civilise.' And I go all the same and no fight great big fat -American." - -"You think Bulgaria a better country?" - -"'S a poor country, that's all. There's more life in Europe. Americans -don't know what they live for." - -I looked with some astonishment on this day-labourer in shabby attire -talking thus intelligently, and withal so frankly. - -He told me he hated the English. They had said, anent the Balkan War, -"The fruits must not be taken from the victors"; but when Montenegro -took Scutari they were the first to say to King Nicholas "Go back, go -back." He thought I was a Slav immigrant like himself, or he would not -have struck up acquaintance with me. But he seemed relieved when I told -him my sympathies were entirely with the Slavs. - -We talked of Russian literature, and of Tolstoy in particular. - -"Tolstoy understood about God," said he. "He said God is within you, -not far away or everywhere, but in yourself. By that I understand life. -All life springs from inside. What comes from outside is nahthing. That -is how Americans live--in outside things, going to shows, baseball -matches.... I know Shakespeare was the mirror of life, that's not -what I mean.... To be educated mentally is light and life; to be -developed only physically is death and.... That's why I say bulldogs, -not civilise. When I was in Philadelphia I hear a Socialist in the Park -and he asked, 'How d'ye fellows live?--eat--work, eat--work--drink, -eat--work--sleep, eat--work--sleep. Machines, that's what y'are.'" - -The most astonishing evidence of thought and culture that Peter Deemeff -gave me was contained in a reflection he made half-aloud, in a pause in -the conversation--"A great writer once said, 'If God had not existed, -man would have invented his God'--that is a good idea, eh?" Fancy that -from the lips of an unskilled labourer! These foreign working-men are -bringing something new to America. If they only settle down to be -American citizens and look after their children's education! - -"Do many Bulgarians think?" I asked him. - -"Yes, many--they think more than I do." - -We spent the night under great rocks; he under one, I under another. -My bed, which I made soft with last year's bracken, was under three -immense boulders, a natural shelter, a deep dark cavern with an opening -that looked across the river-gorge to the forested cliff on the other -side. The Bulgarian, less careful about his comfort, lay in a ferny -hollow, just sheltered by an overhanging stone. Before lying down he -commended himself to God, and crossed himself very delicately and -trustfully. With all his philosophy he had not cast off the habits of -the homeland. And almost directly he laid himself down he fell asleep. - -It was a wonderful night. As I lay in my cave and the first star was -looking down at me from over the great wooded cliff, what was my -astonishment to see a living spark go past the entrance of the cave, -a flame on wings--the firefly. I lay and watched the forest lose its -trees, and the cliff become one great black wall, ragged all along the -crest. Mists crept up and hid the wall for a while, and then passed. -An hour and a half after I had lain down, and the Bulgarian had fallen -asleep, I opened my eyes and looked out at the black wall--little lamps -were momentarily appearing and disappearing far away in the mysterious -dark depths of the cliff. It seemed to me that if when we die we perish -utterly, then that living flame moving past my door was something -like the passing of man's life. It was strange to lie on the plucked -rustling bracken, and have the consciousness of the cold sepulchre-like -roof of the cave, and look out at the figure of man's life. But the -river chorus lulled me to sleep. Whenever I reawakened and looked out I -saw the little lights once more, appearing and vanishing, like minutest -sprites searching the forest with lanterns. - -Peter and I woke almost at the same time in the morning in a dense -mist. I sent him for water, and I collected wood for a fire. We made -tea, took in warmth, and then set off once more. - -"Let us go to a farmhouse and get some breakfast," said I. - -"We get it most likely for nothing, because it's Sunday," said Peter -with a smile. - -The Americans are much more hospitable on Sundays than on week days. -They do not, however, like to see you tramping the road on the day of -rest; it is thought to be an infraction of the Sabbath--though it is -difficult to see what tramps can do but tramp on a Sunday. - -We had a splendid breakfast for ten cents apiece at a stock-breeding -farm below Luthersburg,--pork and beans, bread and butter and cookies, -strawberry jam and home-canned plums, pear-jelly. I thanked the lady of -the establishment when we had finished, and remarked that I thought it -very cheap at the price. She answered that she didn't serve out lunches -for a profit, but wouldn't let decent men pass hungry. - -"Are you hiking to the next burg?" she asked. - -"Chicago," said I. - -"Gee!" - -We came to Luthersburg, high up on the crest of the hills, a large -village, with two severe-looking churches. - -"When I see these narrow spires I'm afraid," said the Bulgarian. "I -should have to wither my soul and make it small to get into one of -these churches. I like a church with walls of praise and a spire of -yearning,--Tolstoy, eh? That spire says to me 'I feared Thee, O God, -because Thou art an austere man.'" - -I, for my part, thought it strange that Americans, taking so many risks -in business, and daring and imagining so large-heartedly in the secular -world, should be satisfied with so cramped an expression of their -religion. - -Peter and I went down on the other side of the hills to Helvetia, the -first town in a wild coaling district, a place of many Austrians, -Poles, and Huns. It was the Sunday evening promenade, and every one -was out of doors, hundreds of miners and labourers in straight-creased -trousers (how soon obtained) and cheap felt hats, a similar number -of dark, interesting-looking Polish girls in their gaudy Sunday -best. We passed a hundred yards of grey coke-ovens glowing at all -their doors and emitting hundreds of fires and flames. Peter seemed -unusually attracted by the coke-ovens or by the Slav population, and -he decided to remain at Helvetia and seek for a job on the morrow. So -I accompanied him into a "boarding-house," and was ready to spend the -night with him. But when I saw the accommodation of coaly beds I cried -off. So the Bulgarian and I parted. I went on to Sykesville and the -Hotel Sykes. Obviously I was in America,--fancy calling a hotel in -England "Hotel Sykes." But I did not stay there, preferring to hasten -up country and get a long step beyond black breaker-towers, the sooty -inclines up which trucks ran from the mines, the coke-ovens, the fields -full of black stumps and rotting grass, the seemingly poverty-stricken -frame-buildings, and more dirt and misery than you would see even in -a bad district in Russia. It surprised me to see the Sunday clothes -of Sykesville, the white collars, the bright red ties, the blue serge -trousers with creases, the bowler hats, and American smiles. Despite -all the dirt, these new-come immigrants say _Yes_ to American life -and American hopes. But to my eyes it was a terrible place in which -to live. It was an astonishing change, moreover, to pass from the -magnificent loveliness of the Susquehanna gorges to this inferno of a -colliery. But I managed to pass out of this region almost as quickly -as I came into it, and next day was in the lovely country about -Reynoldsville; and I tramped through beautiful agricultural or forested -country to the bright towns of Brookville, Clarion, and Shippenville, -clean, new, handsome settlements, with green lawns, shady avenues, fine -houses, and well-stocked shops. In such places I saw America at its -best, just as at Helvetia and Sykesville I saw it at about its worst. I -suppose Sykesville will never be made as beautiful as Brookville; the -one is the coal-cellar, the other is the drawing-room in the house of -modern America. - -But I had definitely left the coal region behind, now I was striking -north, for oil. In three days I came into Oil City, so wonderfully -situated on the wide and stately Alleghany river--the river having -brown rings here and there, glimmering with wandering oil. The city -is built up five or six hills, and is only a unity by virtue of its -fine bridges. It is a clean town compared with Scranton, as oil is -cleaner to deal with than coal. But the houses are more ramshackle. -The poor people's dwellings suggest to the eye that they were made in -a great hurry many years ago, and are now falling to bits; they are -set one behind another up the hills, and you climb to them by wooden -stairways. Some seem veritably tumbling down the hill. There were a -fair number of foreign immigrants there, mostly Italians; but the -oil business seems to be worked by Americans, the foreigners being -too stupid to understand. Oil City is a cheap town to live in. I was -boarded at a hotel for a dollar a day; and when I bought provisions for -my next tramp to Erie Shore I found everything cheaper than in Eastern -Pennsylvania. There appeared to be little cultured life, however, no -theatre but the cinema, and little offered for sale in the shape of -books. - -I set out for Meadville on the "Meadville Pike." A feature of the new -landscape and of the road and fields was the oil-pump, working all by -itself, the long cables, connecting the pump with the engine, often -coming across the roadway, the _jig, jig, jig_ of the pumping movement, -the _clump, clump, clump, stump_ of the engine--the pulse of the -industrial countryside. - -I met a Dutchman. He asked: - -"What's on? What is it for?" - -I told him I was studying the emerging American, and he told me what a -menace the fecund Slavs were to the barren Americans. According to him -the extinction of the American was a matter of mathematics. - -I came upon an enormous gang of Americans, Russians, Slavs, Italians at -work on the highroad, digging it out, laying a bed of mortar, putting -down bricks; some hundreds of workmen, extending over a mile and a half -of closed road. Many of the American workmen were dressed as smartly as -stockbrokers' clerks and city men, and they kept themselves neat and -clean--a new phenomenon in labouring. Americans, however, were working -together, Italians together, and Russians together. A fine-looking -American workman said to me knowingly, "You can photograph me if you -like, but the Guineas won't want to be photographed--most of them shot -some one sometime or other, you bet!" - -[Illustration: ITALIANS WORKING WITH THE "MIXER" ON THE MEADVILLE PIKE.] - -Near Cochranton I made the acquaintance of four little girls--Julia, -Margaret, Elinor, Cora, and Georgiana--scampering about in bare legs -and week-day frocks, whilst father and mother, with gauze bags on -their heads, were "boxing the bees." It was the first swarm of summer; -two lots of bees had been boxed, but the third was giving much trouble. -Julia, aged twelve, was a very pretty girl, and when at her mother's -recommendation she went indoors, washed her face and put on a Sunday -frock, she looked a very smart young lady. She was conscious of that -fact, and informed me in course of conversation that she was going -to travel when she was grown up. She was dying to see Paris, and she -wanted to visit all the European towns! - -Some miles north, near Frenchville, I met one of the French colonists -of Northern Pennsylvania,--a tall, well-built stripling,--and he told -me how the Breton peasants had settled at Boussot and Frenchville, -bringing all their French ways of farming and economy, and becoming -the admiration of the district round--a little Brittany. The young -man's father-in-law had been the first Frenchman to come and settle -in the district. After him had come, straight from France, relatives -and friends, and relatives of friends and friends of friends in -widening circles. They were beginning to speak English well now, but -the newcomers were still without the new language. It was interesting -for me to realise what a great gain such people were to America--to -the American nation in the making. It is good to think of such -agricultural settlements lying in the background of industrial -America--the whole villages of Swedes, of Russians, of Danes, Finns, -Germans, French. They are ethnic reserves; they mature and improve -in the background. They are Capital. If urban America can subsist on -the interest, the surplus of the ambitious, how much richer she will -be than if the population of whole country-sides is tempted to rush -_pêle-mêle_ to the places of fortune-making and body-wasting. - -Coming into Meadville, a town of twelve thousand inhabitants, most -of the labourers of whom are Italians employed at the great railway -works, I was attracted to Nicola Hiagg, a Syrian, sitting outside his -ice-cream shop, reading the Syrian paper. Whilst I had a "pine-apple -soda," I drew him into talk. It was a matter of pleasing interest to -him that I had myself tramped in Syria, and knew the conditions in his -native land. Nicola had first left Syria twelve years ago, had come -to Philadelphia, and started making his living selling "soft drinks" -in the street. After five years he had saved enough to take a holiday -and go back to the old land. He and his brother had been merchants in -Jerusalem before he set out for America; the brother had had charge of -the store, and Nicola had convoyed the merchandise and the train of -thirty asses to and from the country. He had many friends in Syria, but -it was a poor country. The Turks were bloodsuckers, and drained it of -every drop of vital energy. - -"I lived in a poor little town between Beyrout and Damascus, not with -my brother in Jerusalem. So poor! You cannot start anything new in -Syria--the Turk interferes. No bizness! What you think of the war? The -Turk is beaten, hey? Now is the time for the Syrians to unite and throw -off the Turk. There are Syrians all over the world; they are prosperous -everywhere but in Syria.... America is a fine country; but if Syria -became independent I'd go back...." - -Nicola, when he had his holiday, found a Syrian girl and brought her -back to America as his wife. She was not visible now, however; for the -Syrian kept her in the background, and he told me he didn't believe in -women's rights to public life. A bit of a Turk himself! - -He was very proud of his little girl, who is being brought up as an -American in the town school. "Already she can write, and when you say -to her, 'Write something,' she does not look up at you and say, 'How -d'you spell it?' She just writes it." - -"She's sharp." - -"You bet." - -The Turks, the Greeks, and the Syrians, and to some extent the -Italians, are engaged in the sweet-stuff and ice-cream business. -Turkish Delight, the most characteristic thing of the Levant, seems to -be their bond of union. It is a great business in America, for the -Americans are, beyond all comparison, fonder of sweet things than we -are. I stopped one day at a great candy shop in South Bend, Indiana. It -was kept by a Mr. Poledor, who was so pleased that I had been in Greece -and knew the habits of the Greek Orthodox, that he gave me the freedom -of the shop and bade me order anything I liked--he would "stand treat." -There were over a hundred ways of having ice-cream, twenty sorts of -ice-cream soda, thirteen sorts of lemonade, twelve frappes, and the -menu card was something like a band programme. Mr. Poledor was a man of -inventiveness, and the names of some of the dishes were as delicious as -the dishes themselves. I transcribe a few: - - - Merry Widow. - Don't Care. - John D. (is very rich). - Yankee Doodle. - Upside down. - New Moon. - Sweet Smile. - Twin Beauties. - Nôtre Dame. - Lover's Delight. - Black-eyed Susan. - - -A young man could take his girl there and give her anything she asked -for, were it the moon itself. The Greek was a magician. - -But to return. As I was going out of Meadville, two young men swung out -of a saloon and addressed me thus strangely: - -"Have you had a benevolent? We're giving them away." - -One of them showed me a stylographic pen. - -"Wha're you doing?" said the other. - -"Oh, I'm travelling," I replied. - -"How d'ye get your living?" - -"I write in the magazines now and then." - -A look of disappointment crept over the faces of the young men. The -stylographic pen was replaced in waistcoat pocket. - -"Did you say you were working for a magazine? So are we--_The -Homestead_. I was about to ask you to become a subscriber." - -"And the benevolent?" I asked. - -"Oh, these are given away to subscribers." - -I explained that I wasn't a commercial traveller, but one of those who -wrote sometimes in magazines. - -"You'd be a sort of reporter?" - -"Well, not quite." - -"A poet?" - -"No. I earn my living by writing." - -"Better than a poet, I suppose. Well, good-day, wish you luck!" - -So I won free of my last big town in mighty Pennsylvania, and set out -for the State of Ohio. - -I had a "still-creation-day" in quiet country, and towards evening came -through the woods to the store and house of Padan-Aram. And just on -the border of Ohio an elf-like person skipped out of a large farm and -conducted me across, a boy of about twenty years, who cried out to me -shrilly as he caught me up: - -"I say, you're still in Pennsylvania." - -"Yes," said I. - -"Yes, but that house over there is in Ohio. Say! Would you like some -candy?" - -"I thought you were fumbling in your pocket for tobacco," said I. - -"No use for it," said the boy. "I've found God. I used to chew it, but -I've stopped it." - -"That is good. You've a strong will," said I. - -"I reckon God can break any will," said the boy. "Once I ran away from -home with five hundred dollars. You're walking? I can walk. I walked a -hundred miles in five days and five nights. Feet were sore for a week. -Five times I ran away. The sixth time I stayed away four years and -worked on the steel works." - -"Were your parents unkind?" I asked. "Or did you run away to see life?" - -"Ran to show them I could," said the boy. - -"They lay in to me I can tell you. There were Chinamen and -niggers--all sorts. Hit a fellow over the head with an ice-cream -refrigerator--killed him dead." - -"Where was this?" - -"Poke. At the institution. I showed them I could fight." - -"What are you, American?" - -"Pennsylvanian Dutch." - -"I suppose there is a church about here that you go to?" - -"Yes; a Methodist. But I don't go. Family service. We get many -blessings." - -"Is there a hotel at Padan-Aram?" - -"No; but at Leon. If you go there, you'll get a Christian woman. You'll -find God. She'll lighten your load. She's a saint. I know her well." - -"What's your name? I'll mention you to her." - -"Dull." - -"I'll tell her I met you." - -"Tell her you met Ralph Dillie--she'll know." - -"All right," said I. - -"Now you're in Ohio," said the boy. "Are you going into the store at -Padan-Aram?" - -"No." - -"Don't you want to buy some candy?" - -"No. I don't eat it along the road." - -"Buy some for me." - -"All right; yes." - -"Buy a nickel's worth." - -"Yes." - -Ralph Dillie rejoiced. We went into the store and ordered a nickel's -worth of candy. And directly the boy got it he started back for home -on the run. And I watched him re-cross the border once more--into -Pennsylvania. - - - - -XII - -CHARACTERISTICS - - -The chief characteristic of America is an immense patriotism, and out -of that patriotism spring a thousand minor characteristics, which, -taken by themselves, may be considered blemishes by the critical -foreigner,--such troublesome little characteristics as national -pride and thin-skinnedness, national bluster and cocksureness. But -personal annoyance should not blind the critic or appreciator to the -fundamental fact of the American's belief in America. This belief is -not a narrow partizanship, though it may seem unpleasantly like that -to those who listen to the clamour of excited Americans at the Olympic -games and other competitions of an international interest. It is not -merely the commercial instinct ever on the watch for opportunities for -self-advertisement. It is a real, hearty patriotic fervour, the deepest -thing in an American. It is something that cannot be shaken. - -"_It is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen_," says -a Presbyterian circular. "_Being an American is a sacred mission._ Our -whole life must be enthralled by a holy passion." - -You could never hear it said, except in an imperial way, that being a -Briton, or being a German, or being a Russian was a sacred mission. -In Britain it would be bad form, in Germany absurd, in Russia quite -untrue. It is part of the greatness of America that she can come -forward unashamed and call herself the handmaiden of the Lord. - -Now there is a fine healthy spirit abroad in the land counteracting -the more sentimental and sanctimonious self-honour of the Americans. -Something more in deeds than in words, a pulse that beats for America, -a greater purpose that breathes through myriads of personal acts, done -for personal ends. Outside, beyond the degrading commercialism of the -nation, there is a feeling that building for a man is building also for -America; that buying and selling in the store is buying and selling -for the great nation; that writing or singing or painting, though done -in self-conceited cities and before limited numbers, is really all -consecrated to the idea of the new America. - -In several schools of America the children take the following pledge: - - - I am a citizen of America and an heir to all her greatness and - renown. The health and happiness of my own body depend upon each - muscle and nerve and drop of blood doing its work in its place. So - the health and happiness of my country depend upon each citizen - doing his work in his place. - - I will not fill any post or pursue any business where I can - live upon my fellow-citizens without doing them useful service - in return; for I plainly see that this must bring suffering and - want to some of them. I will do nothing to desecrate the soil of - America, or pollute her air or degrade her children, my brothers - and sisters. - - I will try to make her cities beautiful, and her citizens healthy - and happy, so that she may be a desired home for myself now, and - for her children in days to come. - - -Teachers are recommended to explain to children that patriotism means -love of your own country and not hate of other countries; and that -the best mode of patriotism is love and care for the ideals of the -fatherland. - - - The most obvious fields of activity are the school, the building, - the yard or playgrounds, and the surrounding streets. Whatsoever - is offensive and unsightly, detrimental to health, or in violation - of law, is a proper field for action. The litter of papers and - refuse; marks on side walks, buildings, and fences; mutilation, - vandalism, and damage of any kind to property; cleanliness of - the school building and the surrounding streets, door-yards, - and pavements; observance of the ordinances for the disposal of - garbage by the scavenger and people in the community; protection - and care of shade trees; improper advertisements, illegal signs - and bill-boards; unnecessary noises in the streets around the - school, including cries of street-vendors and barking of dogs - and blowing of horns; the display of objectionable pictures and - postcards in the windows of stores--all supply opportunities to - the teachers to train pupils for good citizenship. - -Circulars like the following are scattered broadcast to citizens, and -they breathe the patriotism of the American: - - - _Do you approve of your Home City?_ - - I mean, do you like her looks, her streets, her schools, her - public buildings, her stores, factories, parks, railways, trolleys - and all that makes her what she is? Do you approve of these things - as they are? Do you think they could be better? Do you think you - know how they can be made better? - - If you do you are unusual. Few take the trouble to approve or - disapprove. Many may think they care about the city; but few, very - few, act as if they did! - - When you see something you think can be improved you go straight - and find out who is the man who has that something in charge; - whatever it is, factories, smoke, stores, saloons, parks, paving, - playgrounds, lawns, back-yards, ash-cans, overhead signs, - newspapers, bill-boards, side-walks, street cars, street lighting, - motor traffic, freight yards, or what not, you find out who is the - man who has in charge that thing you dislike; then you talk to - him, or write to him, and tell him what you disapprove of, and ask - him if he can and will make it better, or tell you why he can't. - He wants to make it better. He will if he can. Almost invariably - he wants to do his work of looking after that thing better than - it was ever done before. He will welcome your complaint; he will - explain his handicaps; he will ask your help. Then you give the - help. - - J. C. D. - - -[Illustration: INGENIOUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF AMERICAN TYPES.] - -Making the city beautiful and fostering a love for the home-city, -however dingy and dreary that city may at present be, is one of the -most potent and attractive expressions of American patriotism, and -it is well to note the characteristic. It has great promise for the -America of the future, the America which the sons and daughters of the -immigrants will inherit. The America of the future is to be one of -artistically imagined cities and proud, responsible citizens. Even now, -despite the unlovely state of New York and Chicago and the reputation -for devastating ugliness which America has in Europe, there are clear -signs of the commencement of an era of grace and order. Already the -parks of the American cities are the finest in the world, and are worth -much study in themselves. American townsmen have loved Nature enough -to plant trees so that every decent town on the western continent has -become a cluster of shady avenues. Some cities favour limes, some -maples; New Haven is known as "The City of Elms"; in Washington alone -it is said that there are 78,000 street trees; Cleveland has been -called "The City of the Forest." Wherever I tramped in America I found -the most delicious shade in the town streets--excepting, of course, the -streets of the coaling infernos of Pennsylvania. No idea of the expense -of land deters the American from getting space and greenery into the -midst of his wilderness of brick and mortar. It is said that the value -of the parks in such a city as Newark, for instance, is over two and a -quarter millions of pounds (nine million dollars). "Our aim," says a -Newark circular, "is the city beautiful, and it requires the aid of -everyday patriots to make it so. Pericles said, 'Make Athens beautiful, -for beauty is now the most victorious power in the world.'" - -America has become the place of continuous crusades--against dirt, -against municipal corruption, immorality, noise. It would surprise -many Europeans to know the fight which is being made against -bell-advertisement, steam whistles, organ-grinders' music, shouts of -street hawkers, and the exuberance of holiday-makers. - -"Don't be ashamed to fight for your city to get it clean and beautiful, -to rid it of its sweat-shops and hells," I read in a Chicago paper. -"Some folk call our disease Chicagoitis, but that is a thousand times -better than Chicagophobia. Those suffering from Chicagophobia are as -dangerous to society as those who have hydrophobia." - -Then, most potent expression of all in American patriotism is the -American's belief in the future of its democracy, the faith which is -not shattered by the seeming bad habits of the common people, the -flocking to music halls and cinema shows, the reading of the yellow -press. - -It has been noted in the last few years that there is a distinct -falling off in the acceleration of reading at the public libraries. -This is attributed to the extraordinary amount of time spent by men -and women at the "movies," when they would otherwise be reading. -Such a fact would breed pessimism in Great Britain or Europe were it -established. But America has such trust in the hearts and hopes of the -common people that it approves of the picture show. "If readers of -books go back to the cinema, let them go," says the American; "it is -like a child in the third class voluntarily going back to the first -class, because the work being done there is more suited to his state of -mind." The cinema show is doing the absolutely elementary work among -the vast number of immigrants, who are almost illiterate. It is not -a be-all and an end-all, but stimulates the mind and sets it moving, -thinking, striving. The picture show will bring good readers to the -libraries in time. It is the first step in the cultural ladder of the -democracy. - -Then people of good taste in Europe decry the reading of newspapers; -a leader of thought and politics like A. J. Balfour can boast that -he never reads the papers. But America says, "You have the newspaper -habit. This habit is one of the most beneficial and entertaining -habits you have. Few people read too many newspapers. Most people do -not read enough." This, of American papers of all papers in the world. -But let me go on quoting the most significant words of America's great -librarian, J. Cotton Dana: - - - Readers of newspapers are the best critics of them. The more they - are read the wiser the readers; the wiser the readers the more - criticisms, and the more the newspapers are criticised the better - they become. - - Do you say this does not apply to the yellow journal? I would - reply that it does. The yellow journal caters all the time to the - beginners in reading, who are also the beginners in newspaper - reading. A new crop of these beginners in reading is born every - year. This new crop likes its reading simply printed, in large - letters, and with plenty of pictures. The more of this new crop - of readers there are the more the yellow journals flourish; and - the more the yellow journals flourish the sooner this new crop is - educated by the yellow journals, by the mere process of reading - them, and the sooner they get into the habit of reading journals - that are not yellow and contain a larger quantity of more reliable - information, until at last the yellow journals are overpassed by - the readers they have themselves trained. - - -The yellow press is the second rung on the cultural ladder of -democracy. America is glad of it, glad also of the princess novelette, -the pirate story, glad of Hall Caine and Marie Corelli; all these are, -as it were, divining-rods for better things. The American says "Yes" to -the novels of Florence Barclay, as indeed most sensible Britons would -also. _The Rosary_ was a most helpful book--so much more helpful to the -unformed intellect and young intelligence of the mass of the people -than, for instance, Tolstoy's dangerously overpraised _Resurrection_ -or Wells's _New Machiavelli_. America recognises the truth that the -ugly has power to make those who look at it ugly like itself; but that -the crude and elementary stuff, however poor it may be artistically, -is nevertheless most useful to democracy if it speaks in language -and sentiment which is common knowledge to the reader. How useful to -America is such a book as Churchill's _Inside of the Cup_. - -It is a very true dictum that "reading makes more reading"; and in -a young, hopeful nation, striving to divine its own destiny and to -visualise its future, "more reading" always means _better reading_. - -Perhaps the cultured ladder of democracy may be seen allegorically as -the ladder of Jacob's dream. Religion, which may be thought to have -flown from the churches, is in evidence at the libraries. It is a -librarian who is able to say in _The Inside of the Cup_ that we are on -the threshold of a greater religious era than the world has ever seen. - - -In America to-day we are confronted with two parties,--one the great -multifarious, unformed mass of the people, and the other the strong, -emancipated, cultured American nation, which is at work shaping the -democracy. The aspect of the "rabble," the commercial heathen, and -horde of unknowing, unknown immigrants, gives you the first but not the -final impression of America. You remark first of all the slouching, -blank-eyed, broad-browed immigrant, who indulges still his European -vices and craves his European pleasures, flocking into saloons, -debauching his body, or at best looking dirty and out of hand, a -reproach to the American flag. You see the Jews leaping over one -another's backs in the orgy of mean trade. You see the fat American, -clever enough to bluff even the Jew--the strange emerging bourgeois -type of what I call the "white nigger," low-browed, heavy-cheeked, -thick-lipped, huge-bodied, but _white_; men who seem made of rubber -so elastic they are; men who seem to get their thoughts from below -upward. I've often watched one of these "white negroes" reflecting; he -seems to sense his thoughts in his body first of all--you can watch his -idea rise up to him from the earth, pass along his body and flicker at -last in a true American smile across his lips--a transition type of -man I should say. One wonders where these men, who are originally Jews -or Anglo-Saxons or Dutch or Germans, got their negro souls. It would -almost tempt one to think that there were negro souls floating about, -and that they found homes in white babies. - -Beside the fat American is the more familiar lean, hatchet-faced type, -which is thought to correspond to the Red Indian in physiognomy. -Perhaps too much importance is attached to the Darwinian idea that -the climate of America is breeding a race of men with physique and -types similar to the aborigines. The American is still a long way -from the red-skin. Meanwhile, however, one may note with a smile -the extraordinary passion of Americans for collecting autographs, -curios, snippets of the clothes of famous men, Italian art, British -castles,--which seems to be scalp-hunting in disguise. The Americans -are great scalp-hunters. - -On the whole, the dry, lean Americans are the most trustworthy and -honourable among the masses of the people. In England we trust fat men, -men "who sleep o' nights," but in America one prefers the lean man. -Shakespeare would not have written of Cassius as he did if he had been -an American of to-day. Of course too much stress might easily be laid -on the unpleasantness of the "white-nigger" type. There are plenty of -them who are true gentlemen. - -The American populace has also its bad habits. There are those who -chew "honest scrap," and those who chew "spearmint." It is astonishing -to witness the service of the cuspidor in a hotel, the seven or -eight obese, cow-like American men, all sitting round a cuspidor and -chewing tobacco; almost equally astonishing to sit in a tramcar full -of American girls, and see that every jaw is moving up and down in the -mastication of sweet gum. - -America suffers terribly from its own success, its vastness, its great -resources, its commercial scoops, its wealth, vested _en masse_ and -so vulgarly in the person of lucky or astute business men. This has -bred a tendency to chronic exaggeration in the language of the common -people, it has brought on the jaunty airs and tall talk of the man -who, however ignorant he may be, thinks that he knows all. But success -has also brought kindness and an easy-going temperament. There are -no people in the world less disposed to personal ill-temper than the -Americans. They are very generous, and in friendship rampageously -exuberant. They are not mean, and are disinclined to incur or to -collect small debts. They would rather toss who pays for the drinks of -a party than pay each his own score. They have even invented little -gambling machines in cigar stores and saloons where you can put a -nickel over a wheel and run a chance between having five cigars for -five cents, or paying twenty-five cents for no cigars at all. - -So stands on the one hand the "many-headed," sprung from every -country in Europe, an uncouth nation doing what they ought not to -do, and leaving undone what they ought to do, but at least having -in their hearts, every one of them, the idea that America is a fine -thing, a large thing, a wonderful promise. Opposite them stands what -may be called the American _intelligence_, ministering as best it -can to the wants of young America, and helping to fashion the great -desideratum,--a homogeneous nation for the new world. - -It seems perhaps a shame to question the significance of any of the -phenomena of American life of to-day, to tie what may be likened to -a tin can to the end of this chapter; but I feel that this is the -most fitting place to put a few notes which I have made of tendencies -which are apt to give trouble to the mind of Europeans otherwise very -sympathetic to America and America's ideal. They are quite explicable -phenomena, and in realising and understanding them for himself the -reader will be enabled to get a truer idea of the atmosphere of America. - -On my way into Cleveland I read in the _Pittsburg Post_ the following -statistics of life at Princeton College, of the students at the College: - - - 184 men smoke. - - 76 began after entering College, but 51 students have stopped - smoking since entering College. - - 91 students wear glasses, and 57 began to wear them since entering. - - 15 students chew tobacco. - - 19 students consider dancing immoral. - - 16 students consider card-playing immoral. - - 206 students correspond with a total of 579 girls. - - 203 students claim to have kissed girls in their time. - - 24 students have proposed and been rejected. - - * * * * * - -Another day I read in the _New York American_ the story of the -adventures of Watts's "Love and Life" in America: - - - The peripatetic painting, "Love and Life," the beautiful - allegorical work, by George Frederick Watts, once more reposes in - an honoured niche in the White House. The varied career of this - painting in regard to White House residence extends over seventeen - years. - - This picture, painted in 1884, was presented to the national - Government by Watts as a tribute of his esteem and respect for - the United States, and was accepted by virtue of a special act of - Congress. This was during the second administration of President - Cleveland, and he ordered it hung in his study on the second - floor of the White House. Two replicas were made by Watts of the - painting, and one was placed by the National Art Gallery, London, - and the other in the Louvre, Paris. - - The two figures of "Love and Life" are entirely nude, and the - publication of reproductions awoke the protests of purists who - circulated petitions to which they secured hundreds of names to - have it removed to an art gallery. Finally, the Clevelands yielded - to the force of public opinion, and sent the offending masterpiece - to the Corcoran Art Gallery. - - When Theodore Roosevelt became President he brought the art exile - back to the White House. The hue and cry arose again, and he sent - it back to the Gallery, only to bring it back again toward the - close of his administration to hang in the White House once more. - - The Tafts, failing to see the artistic side of the painting, had - it carried back to the Gallery. - - There it seemed destined to stay. The other day Mrs. Woodrow - Wilson, accompanied by her daughter Eleanor, both artists of - merit, toured the Corcoran Art Gallery. They were shown "Love and - Life," and told the tragic story of its wanderings. - - Mrs. Wilson thereupon requested the painting to be returned to - the White House. There once more it hangs and tells its immortal - lesson of how love can help life up the steepest hills. - - - * * * * * - -Whilst in New York I visited the charming Fabians, who were the hosts -of Maxim Gorky before the American Press took upon itself the rôle -of doing the honours of the house to a guest of genius. The story of -Gorky need not be repeated. But it is in itself a question-mark raised -against the American civilisation. - - * * * * * - -Tramping through Sandusky I came upon a suburban house all scrawled -over with chalk inscriptions: - - - "Hurrah for the newly-weds." - - "Oh, you beautiful doll!" - - "Well! _Then_ what?" - - "We should worry." - - "Home, sweet Home." - - "May your troubles be little ones! Ha, He!" - - "You thought we wouldn't guess, but we caught you." - - -As the house seemed to be empty, I inquired at the nearest store what -was the reason for this outburst. The storekeeper told me it was done -by the neighbours as a welcome to a newly-married couple coming home -from their honeymoon on the morrow. It was a custom to do it, but this -was nothing to the way they "tied them up" sometimes. - -"Won't they be distressed?" - -"Oh no, they'll like it." - -"Are the neighbours envious, or what is it?" I asked. The storekeeper -began to sing, "Snookeyookums." - - - "All night long the neighbours shout - - -(to the newly-married couple whose kisses they hear) - - - "'Cut it out, cut it out, cut it out.'" - - -On Independence Day I saw a crowd of roughs assailing a Russian girl -who had gone into the water to bathe, dressed in what we in Britain -would call "full regulation costume." The crowd cried shame on her -because she was not wearing stockings and a skirt in addition to -knickers and vest. - - * * * * * - -In many districts men bathing naked have been arrested as a sort of -breach of the peace. Naked statues in public have been clothed or -locked away. In several towns women wearing the slashed skirt have had -to conform to municipal regulations concerning underwear. - - * * * * * - -I have noted everywhere mockery on the heels of seriousness. - -No doubt these question-marks will be followed by satisfactory answers -in the minds of most readers, especially in the light of the statement -that "it is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen. -Being an American is a sacred mission." - - - - -XIII - -ALONG ERIE SHORE - - -Cleveland exemplifies the characteristics of contemporary America, and -points to the future. It has its horde of foreign mercenaries living -by alien ethics, and committing every now and then atrocious crimes -which shock the American community. But it is a "cleaned-up" town. All -the dens of the city have been raided; there is no gambling, little -drunkenness and immorality. On my first night in the town I had my -supper in a saloon, and as I sat among the beer-drinking couples I -listened to an old man who was haranguing us all on the temptations of -women and drink. The saloon-keeper had no power to turn him out, and -possibly had not even the wish to do so. The passion for cleaning up -America overtakes upon occasion even those whose living depends upon -America remaining "unclean." - -Cleveland is well built, and has fine avenues and broad streets. It -is well kept, and in the drawing-room of the town you'd never suspect -what was going on in the back kitchen and the yard. But take a turn -about and you see that the city is not merely one of good clothes, -white buildings, and upholstery; there are vistas of smoke and sun, -bridges and cranes, endless railway tracks and steaming engines. They -are working in the background, the Slavs and the Italians and the -Hungarians, the Kikes and the Wops and the Hunkies. There is a rumour -of Chicago in the air; you can feel the pulse of the hustling West. - -Perhaps nothing is more promising than the twelve miles of garden -suburb that go westward from the city along Erie Shore. Tchekof, -working in his rose-garden in the Crimea, used to say, "I believe -that in quite a short time the whole world will be a garden." This -growth of Cleveland gives just that promise to the casual observer. -How well these middle-class Americans live? Without the advertisement -of the fact they have finer arrangements of streets and houses than -we have at Golders Green and Letchworth. Nature is kind. There is a -grand freshness and a steeping radiance. The people know how to live -out-of-doors, and the women are public all day. No railings, fences, -bushes, just sweet lawn approaches, verandahs, on the lawns sprinklers -and automatic fountains scattering water to the sparrows' delight. The -iris is out and the honeysuckle is in bloom. - -[Illustration: THE LITHUANIAN WHO SAT BEHIND THE ASPHALT AND COAL-OIL -SCATTERER.] - -I prefer, however, to walk in the sight of wooded hills or great -waters, and as soon as I could find a way to the back of the long -series of suburban villas I went to the sandbanks of the shore and into -the company of the great lake. It was just sunset time, and the sun of -fire was changing to a sun of blood and sinking into the waters. There -was a great suffusion of crimson in the western sky and a reflection of -it in the green and placid lake. But the water in the foreground was -grey, and it rippled past silver reeds. I stood and listened; the great -silence of the vast lake on the one hand and the whizz of automobiles -on the other, the _paup-paup_ of electric-tram signals, the great whoop -of the oncoming freight trains on the Lake-Shore railway. Far out on -the water there were black dashes on the lit surface and little smokes -proceeding from them--steamers. The lake became lucent yellow with -blackness in the West and mystery in the East. A steamer in the East -seemed fixed as if caught in a spell. Then the blackness of the West -came like an intense dye and poured itself into the rest of the sky. -The East became still--indigo, very precious and holy, the colour of -incense smoke. - -I tramped by Clifton through the deep dust of a motor-beaten road -towards Lorain. It was night before I found a suitable place for -sleeping, for most of the ground was private, and there were many -people about. At last I found a deserted plot, where building -operations had evidently been taking place during the day, but from -which the workmen had gone. There were, however, many tools and -covetable properties lying about, and I had hardly settled down before -I heard the baying of dogs on a chain. About half-past eleven Fedka the -watchman came along, singing a Russian song to himself, and he lighted -a large lantern, unloosed two dogs, then went into a shed, lay down and -went to sleep--a nice watchman! My only consideration was the dogs, -a bull-dog and a collie, but they didn't know of my presence. They -had expeditions after tramps on the road, after waggons, automobiles, -tramcars, trains, but never once sniffed at the stranger sleeping -under their noses. However, at about three in the morning the bull-dog -spotted me, and no doubt had rather a queer turn. He actually tripped -on me as he was prowling about, and my heart stood still. He eyed me, -growled low, sniffed at my knees, snorted. "He will spring at my throat -in a moment," I thought; "I'll defend myself with that big saw lying -so handy beside me!" But no, wonder of wonders! the dog did not attack -me, but just lay calmly down beside me and was my gaoler. He dozed and -breathed heavily, but every now and then opened one eye and snarled; -evidently he took his duties seriously. I forgot him and slept. But I -had the consciousness that in the morning I had to get away somehow. - -But about half an hour before dawn some one drove a score of cows -down the road, causing the collie to go mad--so mad that the bull-dog -bestirred himself and followed superciliously, not sure whether -he were needed or not. Then I swiftly put my things together and -decamped--and got away. - -I watched the dawn come up out of a rosy mist over Erie. The lake was -vast and placid and mud-coloured, but there were vague purple shadows -in it. I learned that mud was the real colour at this point, and there -was no clear sparkling water to bathe in, but only a sea stirred up. - -Down by the shore, just after my dip, I caught a young aureole with -red breast and mouth so yellow, and I tried to feed him with sugar and -butter; but he was very angry, and from many trees and low bushes round -about came the scolding and calling of the parents, who had been rashly -giving their progeny his first run. - -I tramped to the long settlement of Lorain with its store-factory and -many Polish workers, but continued to the place called Vermilion, -walking along the grey-black sands of the shore. I came to Crystal -Beach. It was a perfect day, the zenith too radiant to look at, the -western sky ahead of the road a rising smoke of sapphire, but filled -with ineffable sunshine. It was difficult to look otherways but -downward, and I needed all the brim of my hat to protect my neck and -my eyes. The lake was now blue-grey as the sea, but still not very -tempting, though Crystal Beach is a great holiday resort. It seemed -to me more than a lake and yet less than a sea--the water had no -other shore and yet suggested no infinity. The visitor, however, -considered it beautiful. That was clear from the enthusiastic naming -of the villas and resorts on the shore. Again, it was strange to pass -from the workshop of America to the parlour,--from industrial Lorain -to ease-loving Vermilion, and to exchange the vision of unwashed -immigrants in slouch hats for dainty girls all in white and smart young -men in delicate linen. - -I went into the general store and bought butter and sugar and tea, and -then to the baker for a loaf of bread and a peach pie. What a delicacy -is an eight-penny peach pie when you know you are going to sit on a -bank and munch it, drink coffee, and watch your own wood-blaze. - -On my way to Sandusky I got several offers of jobs. A road surveyor and -his man, trundling and springing along the road in their car, nearly -ran me down, and as a compensation for my experience of danger stopped -and gave me a lift, offering also to give me work if I wanted it. All -the highway from Cleveland to Toledo was to be macadamised by next -summer; thousands of men were wanted all along the line, and I could -get to work that very afternoon "farming ditches on each side of the -road" if I wished. - -I jigged along three miles in the automobile and then stepped down to -make my dinner. Whilst I was lighting my fire a Bohemian came and had a -little chat with me. - -"How far ye going?" - -"Chicago." - -"You should get on a freight train. I come up from New York myself on -a freighter and dropped off here two days ago. It's too far to walk; -you carry heavy things. Besides, there's a good job here mending the -road. I've just been taken on. A mile up the road you'll see a waggon; -ask there, they're making up a gang. The work's a bit rough but the pay -good." - -Then I came on a gang of Wops and Huns loading bridge-props and ribbons -and guard-rails on to an electric trolley, and the boss again applied -to me. - -"No, thanks!" - -A man with an asphalt and coal-oil scatterer came past. His was a -dirty job. He sat behind a boiler-shaped cistern, which another -man was dragging along with a petrol engine. It had a rose like a -watering-cart, but instead of water there flowed this dark mixture of -asphalt and oil. The man, a Lithuanian, was sitting on the rose, his -legs were dangling under it, and it was his task to keep his finger on -the tap and regulate the flow of the fast-trickling mixture. Though a -Lithuanian by birth he spoke a fair English, and explained that the -asphalt and oil laid the dust for the whole summer, and solidified the -surface of the road, so that automobiles could go pleasantly along. -There was another machine waiting behind, and they had not men to work -it. If I liked to report myself at the depot I could get a job, it was -quite simple, not hard work, and the pay was good. He got two dollars a -day. - -Then, as I was going through a little town, a Norwegian came running -out of a shop and pulled me in, saying, "You're a professional, no -doubt, stay here and take photographs"; and he showed me his screens -and classical backgrounds. It was interesting to consider the many -occasions on which I might have given up Europe and started as a young -man in America, entering life afresh, and starting a new series of -connections and acquaintances. But I had only come as a make-believe -colonist. - -As the weather was very hot I took a wayside seat erected by a firm -of clothiers to advertise their wares, and it somewhat amused me to -think that as I sat in my somewhat ragged and dust-stained attire the -seat seemed to say I bought my suit at Clayton's. As I sat there six -Boy Scouts came tramping past, walking home from their camping-ground, -boys of twelve or thirteen, all carrying saucepans and kettles, one -of them a bag of medical appliances and medicines, all with heavy -blankets--sun-browned, happy little bodies. - -There is all manner of interest on the road. The gleaming, red-headed -woodpecker that I watch alights on the side of the telegraph-pole, -looks at the wood as at a mirror, and then, to my mild surprise, goes -right into the pole. There must be a hole there and a nest. I hear the -guzzling of the little woodpeckers within. Upon reflection, I remember -that the mother's beak was disparted, and there was something between. -Rather amusing, a woodpecker living in a telegraph-pole--Nature taking -advantage of civilisation! - -Then there are many squirrels in the woods by the road, and they wag -their tails when they squeak. - -At tea-time, by the lake shore, a beautiful white-breasted but speckled -snipe tripped around the sand, showing me his round head, plump body, -and dainty legs. He had his worms and water, I my bread and tea; we -were equals in a way. - -Then after tea I caught a little blind mouse, no bigger than my thumb, -held him in my hand, and put him in his probable hole. - -As I rested by a railway arch Johnny Kishman, a fat German boy, got off -his bicycle to find out what manner of man I was. His chief interest -was to find out how much money I made by walking. And I flabbergasted -him. - -I came into Huron by a road of coal-dust, and left the beautiful -countryside once more for another industrial inferno. Here were many -cranes, black iron bridges, evil smells, an odorous, green river. There -was a continuous noise as of three rolls of thunder in one from the -machinery of the port. I stopped a party of Slavs, who were strolling -out of the town to the strains of an accordion, and asked them by what -the noise was made. I was informed it was the lading of Pennsylvanian -coal and the unlading of Wisconsin and Canadian ore, the tipping of -five to ten tons at a time into the holds of coal boats or into trucks -of freight trains. - -I went into a restaurant in the dreary town, and there, over an -ice-cream, chatted with an American, who hoped I would lick Jack London -and Gibson and the rest of them "to a frazzle." A girl, who came into -the shop, told me that last year she wanted to walk to Chicago and -sleep out, but could not get a companion--a chance for me to step in. -Mine host was one of these waggish commercial men in whom America -abounds, and he had posted above his bar: - - - ELEVEN MEN WHO ASKED - CREDIT - LIE DEAD IN MY CELLAR - - -But he made good ice-cream. - -Every one combined to boost the town and advise me to see this and -that. The port machinery and lading operations were the wonder of Erie -Shore, and provided work for a great number of Hungarians, Italians, -and Slavs. Not so many years back there was no such machinery here, and -the work was done with buckets and derricks. - -[Illustration: "JOHNNY KISHMAN, A GERMAN BOY, GOT OFF HIS BICYCLE TO -FIND OUT WHAT MANNER OF MAN I WAS."] - -I forebore to have supper at the creditless inn, but as I walked out of -the dark town I spied a fire burning on a bit of waste land, and there -I boiled my kettle and made coffee. It was an eerie proceeding, and as -I sat in the dusk I saw several children come peering at me, _hsh_ing -the younger ones, and inferring horrible suspicions as to my identity. -When I had finished my supper I went down to the beach, and there, on -the sand amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed. - -It was a wonderful, placid night after a long, hot day. The -smoke-coloured lake was weakly plashing. There was no sign of the past -sunset in the west, and smoke seemed to be rising from the darkness of -the horizon. The one light on the city pier had its stab of reflection -in the water below. Near me, still trees leant over the water. The -branches and leaves of the willow under which I slept were delicately -figured against the sky as I looked upward, and far away over the -lake the faint stars glimmered. The moon stood high in the south, and -illumined the surface of the waters and the long coast line of the bay. - -When I awoke next morning what a sight! The blue-grey lake so placid, -just breathing, that's all, and crimson ripples stealing over it from -the illuminated smoky east. It was clear that the smokiness of the -horizon came from real smoke--from all the chimneys and stacks of -Huron. I saw massed volumes of it hurrying away from the docks and the -works, and standing out on the lake like a great wall. As I lay on my -spread on the sand, looking out idly with my cheek on my hand, I saw -the sun come sailing through the smoke like a red balloon. No celestial -sunrise this, but Nature beautifully thwarted. - -I made a fire and cooked my breakfast, and sat on a log enjoying it; -and all the while the sun strove to be himself and shine in splendour -over the new world, whose beauties he himself had called into being. -For a whole hour, though there was not a cloud in the sky or a mist on -the lake, he made no more progress than on a foggy January morning in -London. He gave no warmth to speak of; he was an immaterial, luminous -moon. - -But at last he got free, and began to rise indeed, exchanging the -ragged crimson reflection in the water for a broad-bladed flashing -silver dagger. A great glory grew about him; all the wavelets of the -far lake knew him and looked up to him with their tiny faces. His -messengers searched the horizon for the shadows of night, for all -lingering wraiths and mists, and banished them. The smoky door by which -the sun had come out of the east was shut after him. But he shed so -much light that you could not see the door any longer. - -I went in for a swim, and as I was playing about in the sunlit water -the first human messenger of the morning came past me--a fisherman in -a tooting, panting motor-boat, dragging fishing-nets after him. He gave -me greeting in the water. - -Fishing is good here--as a trade. Every day many tons of carp are -unloaded. The fish are caught in gill-nets--nets with a mesh from which -the fishes are unable to extricate themselves, their gills getting -caught. The nets are framed on stakes, floated by corks and steadied by -leads. The fishermen leave them standing two or three days, and when -the fish are wearied out or dead they haul them in. - -This very hot day I marched to an accompaniment of the thunder of the -dock-works, and reached Sandusky,--a very large industrial port, the -junction of three railways, not a place of much wealth, its population -at least half foreign. - -I had a shave at a negro barber's, and chatted with the darkie as he -brandished the razor. - -After the war he and his folks had come north and settled in Michigan. -He sent all his children to college. One was earning a hundred and -twenty-five dollars a month as music-mistress in Washington. - -"They treat you better up here than in the south?" said I. - -"Why, yes!" - -"And in London better still." - -"Oh, I know. My father went to London. He stayed at a big hotel, and -there turned up three Southerners. They went up to the hotel-keeper -and said, 'Look hyar, that coloured feller 'll have to go; we cahn stay -here with him!' And the hotel-keeper said, 'If he don't please you, -_you_ go; we won't keep you back.'" - -"Very affecting," said I. - -"There was a fellah came hyar to play the organ for the Episcopal -Church," the negro went on. "He was called Street. The other fellah was -only fit to turn the music for him. He had the goods, b'God he had. -Tha's what I told them." - -With that I got away. Outside the shop a hawker cried out to me: - -"Kahm'ere!" - -"What d'you want?" said I. - -"I've a good safety razor." - -"Don't use them." - -"A fountain pen to write home to your wife...." - -The hawker had many wares. - -I spent the night in a saloon at Venice, and watched the rate at which -German fishermen can drink beer. - -Next morning I walked across Sandusky Bay by the Lake Shore -railway-bridge, a mile and a half long--an unpleasant business, -watching for the express trains and avoiding being run over. At last I -got to Danbury, and could escape from the rails to the cinder-path at -the side. The engine-drivers and firemen of the freight trains greeted -me as they passed me, and now and then I was able to offer "Casey -Jones" a cup of coffee and exchange gossip. - -[Illustration: ERIE SHORE. - -"Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed."] - -The enormous freight trains told their tale of the internal trade of -America; on no other lines of railway in the world could you witness -such processions of produce. All sorts of things flew past on these -lumberous trains--cars full of hogs with hundreds of motionless black -snouts poking between the bars; refrigerator cars full of ham--dead -hogs, dripping and slopping water as they went along in the heat, and -the sun melted the ice; cars of coal; open cars of bright glistening -tin-scraps going to be molten a second time; cars of agricultural -machinery; cars laden with gangs of immigrant men being taken to work -on a big job by labour contractors; closed cars full of all manner of -unrevealed merchandise and machinery. On the cars, the names of the -railways of America--Illinois Central, Wabash, Big Four, Lake Shore.... - -At Gypsum I returned to the highroad, and there once more had an offer -of a job from a gang. I was surprised to see boys of thirteen or -fourteen hard at work with spade and shovel. - -"I see you're working for your living," said I. - -"What's the matter with you?" - -"I said 'You're working for your living.'" - -"Wahn a jahb?" - -"No; I'm not looking for one. I'm walking to Chicago." - -A contractor came forward, a short Frenchman in waistcoat and -shirt-sleeves. His bowler hat was pushed to the back of his head, and -his hair poked out from under it over his scarred, perspiring brow. He -was not working--only directing. - -"What would _you_ be? A sort of tramp?" said he. "I used to have a -hobo-station at Toledo. I've seen the shiner[3] line up sixty or -seventy of them and send them to work with car fare paid. They'd work -half a day and then disappear mysteriously. We have pay-day once in two -weeks; but these tramps, many of them educated fellers too, would never -work the time through or wait for their pay. Thousands of dollars have -been lost by hoboes who gave up their jobs before pay-day." - -There was an Englishman from Northampton in the gang, and he testified -that America had "England licked ten times over." - -There were fat Germans in blouses, moustachioed Italians with black -felt hats pulled down over sunburnt, furrowed brows. All the men and -the boys were suffering from a sort of "tar blaze" in the face. They -were glad to ease up a little to talk to me; but they had a watchful -eye on the face of the boss, who besides being contractor was a sort of -timekeeper. - -The contractor was vexed that I wouldn't take a job. Labour was scarce. -He averred that before I reached Chicago the farmers would come on to -the road and compel me to work on their fields. Trains had been held up -before now. - -"I thought slavery was abolished?" said I. - -The next town on my route was Port Clinton, a bright little city, and -in the eyes of at least one of its citizens a very important one. -I had a long talk with a chance-met journalist and the keeper of a -fruit-shop. The journalist, by way of interviewing me, told me all I -wanted to know about the district. Fruit-growing was far in advance -here. Perry Camp, the greatest shooting-butts in the world, was near -by. The Lake Shore railway was going to spend a million dollars in -order to shorten the track a quarter of a mile. The greengrocer told -me I had the face of a Scotsman, but spoke English like a Swede--which -just shows how badly Americans speak our tongue, and hear it as a rule. - -In the course of my interview I confessed that for roadside literature -I read the Gospel of St. John and the Book of Revelation, a chapter a -day, and when I came to the end of either book I started again. The -greengrocer interrupted the journalist, and said: - -"When you're tired, you just take out the Bible and read a little, -eh, and you get strength and go on? I knew you were that sort when I -saw you first coming up the other side of the road, and I said to my -friend, 'He reads his Bible.'" - -The greengrocer was much edified, and told me that he was the agent -for the district of Billy Sunday, the revivalist. Wouldn't I stay and -address a mass meeting? - -I fought shy of this offer. The journalist looked somewhat sourly at -the greengrocer for breaking into his interrogatory. But then a third -interrupter appeared, a little boy, who had come to purchase bananas, -and he addressed me thus: - -"On which side did your family fight in the year 1745? On the side of -Prince Charlie? That's the side I'm on." - -No descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers he. - -On the way out to Lacarne two old fishermen in a cart offered me a -ride, and I stepped up. - -"What are you, German?" I asked, always on the look-out for the -immigrant. - -"We are Yankees." - -"Your father or grandfather came from Germany?" - -"No; we're both Yankees, I tell yer." - -"I suppose your ancestors came from England then." - -"No; we've always bin 'ere." - -They had been out three nights seine-fishing on the lake, were very -tired, and rewarded themselves with swigs of rum every now and then, -passing the bottle from one to the other and then to me with real but -suspicious hospitality. Their families had always been in America. The -fact that they came originally from England meant no more to them than -Hengist and Horsa does to some of us. - -By the way, Hengist and Horsa were a couple of savages, were they not? - -The fishermen put me down beside a plantation, which they said was -just the place in which to sleep the night. I wasn't sorry to get on -to my feet again, and I watched them out of sight,--fat, old, sleepy, -hospitable ruffians. - -The plantation was a mosquito-infested swamp, and I did not take the -fishermen's advice. Myriads of "husky" mosquitoes were in the air, the -unpleasanter sort, with feathered antennæ, and whenever I stood still -on the road scores of "Canadian soldiers" settled on me, a loathsome -but innocuous species of diptera. - -I sought shelter of man that night, and through the hospitality of a -Slav workman found a place in a freight train--a strange bed that not -only allows you to sleep, but takes you a dozen miles farther on in the -morning. The engine-driver told me that there was a "whole bunch of -tramps" on the train, but that no one ever turned tramps off an empty -freight train,--not on the Lake Shore railway at any rate. - -When I "dropped" from the freighter I found myself at Elliston, and -commenced there a day of delicious tramping. The opal dawn gave birth -to a great white horse of cloud, and out of the cloud came a strong -fresh breeze, having health and happiness on its wings. A quiet Sunday. -I reached Toledo this day--and parted company with Erie Shore--great, -busy, happy, prosperous Toledo. It was strange to exchange the country -for the town; to come out of the green, fresh, silent landscape into -the close, stifling, bustling town, full of promenaders talking and -laughing among themselves vociferously. - -As I came into the city the day-excursion boat was just about to start -on the return journey to Detroit. Excursionists were flocking together -to the quay, a great spectacle to a Briton. All the men were carrying -their coats in their arms, many had their collars off and the neckbands -of their shirts turned down, bunches of carnations on their naked -chests; many were without waistcoats, and had tickets with the name of -their town pinned to their fancy-coloured shirts; the red, perspiring, -glistening faces of many of them suggested an over-confidence in beer -as a quencher of thirst. The women carried parasols of coloured paper. -They were all in white, and were so thinly clad that you asked yourself -why they were so thin. But despite all precautions the sun had marked -everybody, but marked them kindly. - -Suddenly a bell was rung on the steamer, and a little man came forward -and announced in broken English: - -"Somebody wan' to come on the boat; the time is supp." - -FOOTNOTE: - -[3] Policemen. - - - - -XIV - -THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - - -Even Americans of the highest culture and of Boston families speak -English differently from any people in the old country. The difference -may not be obvious to all, but it is there, and it is a thing to -rejoice in, not to be sorry for. The American nation is different -from the British, has different history and a different hope; it has -a different soul, therefore its expression should be different. The -American face as a type is different; it would be folly to correct the -words of the mouth by Oxford, or Eton, or Granville Barker's theatre, -or the cultured Aberdonian, or any other criterion. The use of American -expressions of quite moderate tone amounts to a breach of good taste in -many British drawing-rooms; and if you tell a story in which American -conversation is repeated with the accent imitated, you can feel the -temperature going down as you proceed; that is, if you are not merely -making fun of the Americans. Making fun of any foreign people is always -tolerable to the British; a truly national and insular trait. The -literary world and the working men and women of Britain can enter into -the American spirit, and even imitate it upon occasion; but that is -only the misfortune of our populace, who ought to be finding national -expression in journalism and music-hall songs and dancing, and who are -merely going off the lines by imitating a foreign country. It is loss -to Britain that the Americans speak a comprehensible dialect of our -tongue, and that the journalist of Fleet Street, when he is hard-up for -wit, should take scissors and paste and snip out stories from American -papers; or that commercial _entrepreneurs_ should bring to the British -public things thought to be sure of success because they have succeeded -in America--"Within the Law," "I Should Worry," "Hullo Ragtime!" and -the rest. The people who are surest in instinct, though they are -sympathetic to a brother-people, hate the importation of foreign -uglinesses, and the substitution of foreign for local talent. - -The American language is chiefly distinguished from the British by -its emphatic expressive character. Britain, as I have said, lives -in a tradition; America in a passion. We are laconic, accidental, -inarticulate; our duty is plain, and we do it without words. But the -American is affirmative, emphatic, striving; he has to find out what -he's going to do next, and he has got to use strong words. Britain also -is the place of an acknowledged Caste system; but America is the place -of equal citizens, and many American expressions are watchdogs of -freedom and instruments of mockery, which reduce to a common dimension -any people who may give themselves airs. - -The subtler difference is that of rhythm. American blood flows in a -different _tempo_, and her hopes keep different measure. - - * * * * * * * - -Americans commonly tell us that theirs is the language of Shakespeare -and Shakespearian England, and that they have in America the "well -of English undefiled." But if they have any purely European English -in that country it must be a curiosity. Shakespeare was a lingual -junction, but we've both gone on a long way since then, and in our -triangle the line subtending the Shakespearian angle gets longer -and longer. O. Henry makes a character in one of his stories write -a telegram in American phraseology, so that it shall be quite -unintelligible to people who only know English: - - - His nibs skedaddled yesterday per jack-rabbit line with all the - coin in the kitty and the bundle of muslin he's spoony about. The - boodle is six figures short. Our crowd in good shape, but we need - the spondulicks. You collar it. The main guy and the dry goods are - headed for the briny. You know what to do.--BOB. - - -This is not Shakespearian English, but of course it is not -Shakespearian American. The worst of the contemporary language of -America is that it is in the act of changing its skin. It is difficult -to say what is permanent and what is merely eruptive and dropping. Such -expressions as those italicised in the following examples are hardly -permanent: - - - "One, two, three, _cut it out_ and work for Socialism." - - "_I should worry_ and get thin as a lamp-post so that tramps - should come and lean against me." - - "_Him with the polished dome._" - - "She hadn't been here two days before I saw her kissing the boss. - Well, said I, _that's going some_." - - "This is Number Nine of the Ibsen, _highbrow_ series." - - "_Do you get me?_" - - "I'll _put you wise_." - - "And how is your _yoke-mate_?" - - "He thinks too much of himself: _too much breathed on by girls_." - - "A low lot of _wops and hunkies_: _white trash_." - - "Poor negroes; _coloured trash_." - - "She is _one good-looker_." - - "She is _one sweetie_." - - "My! You have _a flossy hat_." - - But I suppose "He is a white man" is permanent, and "Buy a - postcard, it'll _only set you back a nickel_." - - "She began to lay down the law: _thus and so_." - - "Now _beat it_!" - - "Roosevelt went ranching, that's how he got so _husky_." - - "Is it far? It is only _a little ways_." - - "Did they _feed that to you_?" - - "When he started he was in a poor way, and carried in his hay in - his arms, but now he is quite _healed_." - - -But the difference in speech is too widespread and too subtle to be -truly indicated by this collection of examples, and the real vital -growth of the language is independent of the flaming reds and yellows -of falling leaves. In the course of conversation with Americans you -hear plenty of turns of expression that are unfamiliar, and that are -not merely the originality of the person talking. Thus in: - - - "How do they get on now they are married?" - - "Oh, she has him feeding out of her hand," - - -though the answer is clear it owes its form to the American atmosphere. - -Or, again in: - - - "I suppose she's sad now he's gone?" - - "Oh! He wasn't a pile of beans to her, believe me," - - -you feel the manner of speech belongs to the new American language. -The following parody of President Wilson's way of speaking is also an -example of the atmosphere of the American language: - - - So far as the prognosticationary and symptomatic problemaciousness - of your inquiry is concerned it appears to me that while the - trusts should be regulated with the most unrelentful and - absquatulatory rigorosity, yet on the other hand their feelings - should not be lacerated by rambunktions and obfusticationary - harshness. Do you bite that off? - - -_Punch_ would have no stomach for such Rabelaisian vigour. - -But wherever you go, not only in the cities, but in the little towns, -you hear things never heard in Britain. I go into a country bakery, and -whilst I ask for bread at one counter I hear behind me at the other: - -"Kendy, ma-ma, kendy!" - -"Cut it out, Kenneth." - -"Kendy, kendy, kendy!" - -"Oh, Kenneth, cut it out!" Or, as I sit on a bank, a girl of twelve and -her little baby sister come toddling up the road. The little one loses -her slipper, and the elder cries out: - -"Slipper off again! Ethel, perish!" - -America must necessarily develop away from us at an ever-increasing -rate. Influenced as she is by Jews, Negroes, Germans, Slavs, more and -more foreign constructions will creep into the language,--such things -as "I should worry," derived from Russian-Jewish girl strikers. "She -ast me for a nickel," said a Jew-girl to me of a passing beggar. "_I -should give her a nickel_, let her work for it same as other people!" -The _I shoulds_ of the Jew can pass into the language of the Americans, -and be understood from New York to San Francisco; but such expressions -make no progress in Great Britain, though brought over there, just -because we have not the big Jewish factor that the Americans have. - -To-day the influence that has come to most fruition is that of the -negro. The negro's way of speaking has become the way of most ordinary -Americans, but that influence is passing, and in ten or twenty years -the Americans will be speaking very differently from what they are -now. The foreigner will have modified much of the language and many -of the rhythms of speech. America will have less self-consciousness -then. She will not be exploiting the immigrant, but will be subject to -a very powerful influence from the immigrants. No one will then be so -cheap as the poor immigrant is to-day. Much mean nomenclature will have -disappeared from the language, many cheap expressions, much mockery; on -the other hand, there will be a great gain in dignity, in richness, in -tenderness. - - - - -XV - -THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY - - -I have come to that portion of my journeying and of my story where all -day, every evening, and all night long I was conscious of the odour of -mown clover, of fields of ambrosia. - -I was tramping along the border of Northern Ohio and Southern Michigan, -from Toledo to Angola, Indiana. I was entering the rich West. The -fields were vast and square, the road was long and flat, and straight -and quiet, the June haze hung over luxuriant meadows, and there was a -wonderful silence and ripening peace over the country. - -One evening, as the red sun sank into night-darkened mist, I talked -with an old farmer, who was smoking his pipe at his gate. - -"I came along this same road like you, with a bundle on my back, forty -years ago," said he, "and I took work on a farm; then I rented a farm. -Many's the lad I've seen go past of an evening. And one or two have -stopped here and worked some days, for the matter of that." - -[Illustration: THE SOWER.] - -The farmer had left England when he was a stripling, and I tried to -talk to him of the old country, but he was not really interested. He -did not want to go back. - -That is the Colonial feeling. - -Strange to plough all day, or sow or reap, and in the evening to return -to the quiet, solitary house of wood beside the great red-painted barn -and not want England or Europe, not be interested in it, not want -anything more than you've got; to have the sun go down red and whisper -nought, and the stars come up and the moon, and yet not yearn; to work, -to eat, to market; to have children growing about you ripening in so -many years, and corn springing up in the fields ripening in so many -weeks; births, marriages, deaths, sowings, harvests.... - -There is all the pathos of man's life in it. - -I slept that night in the dry wayside hay, under the broad sky and the -misty golden moon. It was a quiet night, warm and gentle. Earth held -the wanderer in her cradle and rocked him to sleep. - -They are kind people about here. Next morning as I sat by my fire a -woman sent her son out to me with a quart of milk and a bag of cookies. -And milk is a much commercialised business on this western road,--the -electric freight train carries nearly all the milk away in churns to -Toledo. It was a very welcome talkative boy who brought out the milk. -His father rented one-third of a section (213 acres), but was now laid -up with pneumonia. As a consequence of the father's illness the young -children had to work very hard in the fields. And there was a sick cow -on the farm--sick through eating rank clover. And the boy himself had -had scarlet fever in the spring. The serving-girl had had to go away -"to have her little baby," and the one that came in her place brought -the fever. - -"What's your name?" said I. - -"Charles." - -Cheerful little Charles. He had much responsibility on his shoulders. - -There were some big farms along the road, and near Metamora I had the -privilege of seeing a dozen cows milked simultaneously by a petrol -engine, rubber tubes being fixed to their teats and the milk pumped -out. It was astonishing, the matter-of-fact way in which the latest -invention was applied to farm life. - -"It's rather ugly," said I. - -"Well, what are you to do when labour is so scarce?" was the reply. - -Land is rich here, but labour is scarce. I fell in with a garrulous -farmer who told me that land now sold at 150 dollars (£30) the acre, -and that in a few years it would rise to 250 dollars. The days of large -farmers were over. All the big ranches were being sold up, and the -farmers were taking holdings that they could farm themselves without -help. Labour was expensive, owing to the high wages paid in the towns -for industrial work; even at two and a half dollars (ten shillings) a -day it was difficult to get a decent gang to do the work in the harvest -season. You could do better with a small piece of land. Fields here -were forty and fifty acres, and the steam plough was not used. In the -old days land was dirt cheap, and you could buy vast tracts of it; -there were no taxes, no extra expenses, and you just went in to raise -tremendous crops and make a big scoop. To-day things were different. -To work on a large scale a horde of labourers was necessary. But now -the Socialists were stopping the flow of immigrants into the country. -Socialists said that it was too difficult to organise newcomers. The -newcomers behaved like blacklegs, strike-breakers, all the first year -of their stay in America. They didn't know the language, were very -poor, suspected their brother workmen of jealousy, and just took any -wage offered them. The Socialists wanted to keep the price of labour -up, and my farmer friend bore them a grudge because it was difficult to -develop the land unless the price was reduced. - -A little later, outside Fred M'Gurer's farm, the jovial farmer himself -came and squatted beside the fire and chatted of affairs. He had -insured his house for 1000 dollars, but it would take 1800 dollars to -rebuild it. "I think it's only fair to take some of the risk myself," -said he; "and if the place burns down the company will know I didn't -set it alight o' purpose." - -Fifty-eight years old is Fred M'Gurer, and his son is now coming to -live and work with him altogether, after seven years spent wintering -in the city and summering in the country. Irish once, and of an Irish -family--but they go to no church. The old man feels that he is a -Christian all the same, and will get to heaven at last, because he -"deals square with his fellow-men." - -Fred and his son work the farm all by themselves, outside labour is -so expensive. The beet-fields take all the immigrants. Did I see the -red waggons as I came along, full of Flemish and Russians living by -beet-picking on the beetroot farms near by? - -I saw them. - -"America is a high hill for them that don't speak the language," -said Fred. But he said that because he likes talking himself, and -can't imagine himself in a land where he could not hold converse. The -immigrants manage very well without the language, and scale the hill, -and rake in the dollars easily. Perhaps they do not glean much of the -American ideal, and the hope of the American nation. But I suppose Fred -did not mean that. - -I had a pleasant talk with a successful German farmer, who took me in -a cart from Pioneer to Grizier, through comparatively poor country. He -had possessed a farm of five acres in Germany, but there each acre had -been worth between 450 and 500 dollars. When he came to Grizier land -was selling at 25 dollars an acre, and he was able to buy fifty acres -of it and to bring up his family in health and plenty. His farm was now -worth more than 5000 dollars. - -I slept on an old waggon in a wheat-field near Grizier; but about -midnight it began to rain, and I was obliged to seek shelter in a -crazy, doorless, windowless cottage, and there I sat all next day and -slept all the next night whilst the elements raged. In the cottage were -two chairs, a home-made table, and a broken bedstead. I cooked my meals -on the rainy threshold. The refuge was shared by a great big bumble -bee, two red-admirals, a brown squirrel, and two robins. - -The second morning was Sunday, radiant, fresh, and green. The road -was soft but clean, with yielding cakes of mud; the grass was fresh, -for every blade had been washed on Saturday; the wild strawberry was -a brighter ruby; on spread bushes the wild rose was in bloom; there -were sun-browned country girls upon the road, who were shy but might -be spoken to; the odour of clover was purer, the hay-fields had round -shoulders after the storm, and you'd think cows had been lying down -where the wind had laid the tussocks low. The sun shone as if it had -forgotten it had shone before, and was doing it for the first time. -To-day it became evident that the grain was ripening; the apple trees -in fantastic shapes were knee-deep in yellowing corn. The little oak -trees by the side of the road presented foliage, every leaf of which -looked as if it had been carefully polished. - -In America wild strawberries are three on a stalk, which causes a -pleasant profusion.... - -I got a whole loaf of home-made bread given me at Cooney ..., and a -quart of milk at "Fertile Valley Farm." ... - -Only at sunset did I strike the main Angola Road, and off that road -I made my bed in a wheat-field and fell asleep, watching the bearded -ears disproportionately magnified and black in the flame of the crimson -sky. Next day, when I awoke, life was just creeping into the blue-green -night, a soft radiance as of rose petals was in the East, and a breeze -was wandering like a rat among the stalks of the wheat. I fell asleep -again, and when I reopened my eyes it was bright morning. - -The Sunday gave way to the week-day. There is nothing happening on the -roads on the Sunday; the tramp is left with Nature, but directly Monday -comes the work and life of the people reveal themselves, and adventures -are more frequent. - -[Illustration: THE STORE ON WHEELS.] - -My first visitor this Monday was a man of business. As I was making my -tea he came up towards me driving two lean horses and a great black -oblong box on wheels. At the farm where I had drawn water for my kettle -he pulled up and dismounted. A girl who had seen him from a window of -the farmhouse came tripping to meet him. He exchanged some words with -her, and then from the far side of his hearse-like cart he produced a -black chest, out of which he pulled a pair of boots. The young lady -then hopped back to the house to try them on. Satisfied as to her -purchase she took in addition a pound of tea and a packet of sugar. The -cart was a moving store: here were all manner of things for sale. But -the storekeeper received no money; all his debts were paid in eggs. One -side of the hearse was full of merchandise, the other contained nested -boxes and crates for the accommodation of hundreds of dozens of eggs. - -The storeman gave me a lift and explained to me his business. He -possessed a cold-storage establishment in the city; he credited the -farm people with sixteen cents (eightpence) for every dozen eggs they -gave him, then he stored them in his freezing-house till autumn, when -they could be thrown on the market at twenty-five to thirty cents the -dozen. - -He was a great believer in cold storage. "Meat," said he, "is tenderer -when it has been frozen some weeks." - -Business in eggs used to be better. Now the State set a limit on the -time you could keep them in cold storage. Sometimes he had to sell out -at a loss. The hope was to keep all the farm produce till there was a -real scarcity and prices went high. Then it would be possible to make a -small fortune. - -"But I'm tired of this business," said the storeman, "I'd like to give -it up and buy land." - -We lumbered along the road and stopped at each farmhouse. Sometimes we -sold articles, but whether we sold anything or not we always took a few -dozen eggs; every farmer was in business with my man and used him as a -sort of egg-bank. Even if they were not in debt to him they were glad -to hand over their eggs and be credited with the corresponding amount -of money. We took four or five dozen eggs at least at every farm, and -sometimes as many as twenty and thirty dozen. The storeman left behind -an empty crate at each farm, so that it might be filled for him next -time he came along, and he took aboard the crate already filled. In -exchange he sold kerchiefs, boots, corsets, cloth, brooms, brushes, -coffee, corn-flake, wire-gauze to keep out mosquitoes, etc. At the -end of his round he would have got rid of almost all his merchandise -and have filled both sides of the hearse with eggs. He took home upon -occasion as many as five hundred dozen eggs! - -A cheerful American with a word of news, a titbit of gossip, and the -top of the morning for all the country women. He was eagerly awaited, -and children at farm-gates descried him a long way off and ran in to -tell their mothers. Even the babies were excited at his approach, for -they knew he carried a supply of candy. At each farm where there was -a baby the storeman left a little bag of candy. He knew the value of -good-will. - -"It's a good business," said he; "no expense of keeping a shop, double -profit,--profit on the goods and profit on the eggs; it pays all right. -But I'm tired of it, and I think I shall give it up and buy land." To -several of his customers who asked after his business he replied in -the same terms. He was getting tired of it, and was thinking of buying -land. When I took a photograph of his cart and himself he said he would -be very glad to have a copy, just to remind him of old days--for he was -thinking of giving it up, etc. - -It is interesting to observe the commercialisation that goes on in the -country in America. Not only does the egg-bank and travelling store -come round, but the cream-vans come also and buy up all the cream, -and the baker comes from the bread factory and dumps, twice or three -times a week, huge baskets of damp, tasteless loaves, all wrapped in -grease-paper. Not many people bake their own bread--they save time -and take this astonishing substitute. Then travellers in coffee have -exploited special brands--"Euclid Coffee," "Primus Coffee," "Old -Reliable," and the like, done up in pound packets. Rural Americans do -not realise that good coffee is coffee and no more. - -No one had a quart of milk to spare on the road to Angola, so I hit on -a plan which I recommend to others in like circumstances. I went to a -farmhouse and asked for a cupful of milk to have with my coffee; I got -it easily and freely. The farmer was rather touched. But as you cannot -make decent coffee with one cupful of milk I went to another farm and -begged another cupful, and then to another. I was able to make a good -pot of coffee, despite the scarcity of milk. - -Whilst I was having lunch, I had an interesting talk with an ancient -man who was mowing grass at the side of the road. - -"You look like Father Time," said I. - -"Well, I've mown a good many days," he replied. "I shall soon die now. -There's no strength in me; my day is over." - -"Have you enjoyed life?" I asked. - -"Yes, I have," he replied, his face lighting up. - -"Do you work your farm yourself?" - -"No! My son works it; he is twenty-two. Yes, I married late. Thirty-two -years I wandered as you are doing. I've been in thirty states. I was -ten years on the Lakes, a sailor." - -"Ever across the Atlantic?" - -"Never on the big waters." - -"And how do you think America is going on?" - -[Illustration: "I HAD AN INTERESTING TALK WITH AN ANCIENT MAN BY THE -SIDE OF THE ROAD."] - -"I think she is going bad. The new generation is weak. There'll soon be -no old farmer stock. The old folk work, but the children go to school. -My father was an old Connecticut Yankee--a republican--so am I; but the -party has broken up, the country's going wild." - -The old man had a dog "Colonel," named after Colonel Somebody, who was -his father's Squire in Connecticut. - -"A fine dog," said I. - -"More helpful than a boy," said the old farmer. "He can drive the hog -home straight, and he always helps me up when I tumble down. I'm weak -now--have had two strokes, and after the last I was just like a baby. -I can't mow properly--no strength to move anything. Often I fall of a -heap, and Colonel runs in and gets under my stomach with his head and -raises me. A 'cute dog...." - -A pleasant vision of not unhappy age! - -I passed through Angola--a neat little city round about a shoppy -square; a quiet market-place functionising the agricultural country -round about. I had dinner at one of several restaurants, and had three -quick-lunch courses brought to me at once--an array of nine or ten -plates on a little grey stone table--not very appetising. - -There were three or four country loungers at the ice-cream bar of -the establishment, and a negro was sitting at another table with a -tall glass and a straw and a "soda." At my side was what I took to be -a piano--very dusty, and with the keyboard out of sight. Suddenly, -without any warning, it jumped into music, and thumped out a cake-walk -in its interior. It was as if a lot of niggers were doing the dance in -an empty room. - -I paid no attention, facially. Alas! we are quite familiar with such -marvels, with all that can be shown. We raise no eyebrow. But bring in -an aboriginal Chinee and sit him there where I was, and start this box -a-going, and he'd jump out of his wits. How was it started? Some one -went softly across the room and put a cent in a slot--that's all. Is -it not maddening to be uninterested, unthrilled? None of us paid any -attention. The loungers gossiped with the ice-cream girl, the nigger -drew up his soda, I strove with my hard roast beef. - - * * * * * * * - -St. John's Eve! Unusual things might be expected to happen this night. -I had lived with the growing summer, had caught in my hands one evening -not long since a large dusky lovely emperor-moth, and had received an -invitation from fairyland. The strange thing was that as I tramped out -of Angola on the Lagrange Road, it did not occur to me what day it -was. Only in the middle of the night did I reflect--there is something -unusual astir, something is happening all about me, this is no ordinary -night. And only in the morning did I realise it had been St. John's -Eve. - -I slept by an orchard on a hill. Below me was a little lake, on the -right a straw stack, on the left an apple tree, over me a plum tree -with wee plums. All night long little apples fell from their weak -stalks, the frogs sang--now solos, now choruses, the mosquitoes hummed -in the plum tree. On the surface of the little lake little lights -appeared and disappeared as the wandering fireflies carried messages -from reed to reed. Processions of clouds stole over the starry sky, and -I thought of rain, but the whole night was hot and odorous and full of -dreams. - -I did not awake next morning till it was bright day. Between me and the -straw stack there was a fluttering and squawking of young birds being -taught to fly by their mother. Every time a young bird alighted after -a little flutter, it always fell on its nose. My attention was divided -between the birds and a big bee, who thought I had made my bed over his -nest. What a distressing way the bumble-bee has of losing himself and -thinking you are to blame! - -I tramped to the reedy lake of Whip-poor-Will. The wind blew now hot -from the sun's mouth, now cold from a cloud's shoulder. The question -was, Would the Midsummer day turn to heat or come to rain? It turned -to heat. What a day of happiness I spent on the sandy ups and downs of -country roads! After weeks among plains, I was glad of a countryside -that had corners again. I was among "dear little lakes," the children -of the great lakes--in the nursery. - -I came to Flint, and met the "pike road" from Detroit to Chicago. Flint -has a large general store and a barber's shop. I bought three oranges -out of the refrigerator of the store, and, to make them last longer, -half a pound of honey-cakes. - -At noon I made my mid-day fire in the bed of a dried-up rivulet. The -weather was almost too hot for tending a fire; tawny spots appeared -on my wrists, and, viewing my face in the metal back of my soapbox, I -was startled to see the fire in my eyebrows and cheeks. But with the -heat there was a wind, and in the afternoon great cumuli grew up in the -sky, and it was possible to think the earth was a ship and the clouds -the billows which we were rolling over. Up hill and down dale, round -corners, by snug farms with green and crimson cherry orchards, over -hills where miles of corn were blanching and waving! I came to Brushy -Prairie and camped for the night in an angle of the road beside the -village cemetery. - -I read and wrote, mended my clothes, cleaned my pack of waste dust, -collected hay to make a bed. Many carts came past, and the people in -them hailed me with facetious remarks. After I had lain down one old -village wife came to see if I were sick and wanted medicine. It was -strange to lie by the cemetery and hear a party of girls go by in a -buggy, singing, "When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there." - -I lay and watched the sky, scanning the clouds for a certitude of a dry -night. A great war was going on between the forces of the clear sky -and of the clouds. There was a party of skirmishers advancing from the -south-west. There was a long array of clouds in the north and in the -south, and the main army lay heavy and invincible in the north-west. -But the clear sky scattered the enemy wherever it encountered them, and -even forced the main army to take up a new position. The camp of the -clouds was made far away, and lights came out in their leaguer. - -The night became silent and brilliant and perfect, and I lay with my -eyes open, and did not look, but just saw.... - -I slept. Whilst my eyes were closed there was a great night attack, -and when I woke again I found the armies of the clear sky completely -routed. There was a shower of rain, and I jumped up and tripped along -to the church. The door was open. I struck a match and saw all the pews -and prayer-books and hymn-sheets, and away in the shadows the platform -and the pulpit. - -But the shower ceased. I reflected that if heavy rain came on I could -easily come into shelter, so I returned to my hay-spread, and lay down -again and watched the renewed battle in the sky. - -A desperate rally! One star, two stars were shining, and round about -them a great stand was being made. They fought lustily. They seemed -to be gaining ground. Yes. Three, four, five stars showed, six.... I -fell asleep again, knowing that the side I favoured would win. When I -wakened next it was to greet the great General coming from the east in -all his war-paint, and hung all over with silver medals. A glorious day -followed. - -I spent a morning by the clear St. Joseph River. On the road to -Middlebury wild raspberries abounded. I could have picked a pound or so -of berries along the road. Raspberry bushes occur in many places, but -I've seen few raspberries hitherto. That is because the great friends -of the raspberries live so near--human boys and girls--and they are -always taking the raspberries to school, to church, to the corn-field. -If they are going home they insist on taking the little raspberries -home too, to the distress of fathers and mothers sometimes, for the -raspberries know how to disagree with the children upon occasion, -especially the young ones. - -There were not many farm-houses about here, but at one of them I was -given a pot full of ripe cherries, and made a "smash" of them, and ate -them with milk and sugar. - -A motorist took me along a dozen miles in a bouncing, petrol-spurting -runabout car, a Dutchman, who paid me the compliment of saying I spoke -very grammatically for a foreigner. - -There was a thundershower in the afternoon. In the evening I obtained -permission to sleep in a barn, and the farmer talked to me as I lay -in the straw. There had been a runaway team the day before, and his -neighbour's bay mare had twenty-four stitches in her now, and he didn't -reckon she'd be much more good. - -A waggoner taking fowls and dairy produce to sell at restaurants and -quick-lunch shops took me into Elkhart next morning. Elkhart is a large -city, with many car factories and buggy factories, and by comparison -with the country round is very foreign, full of Italians, Poles, and -Jews. It is a well-built, handsome city, with much promise for the -future. - -As I stepped out on the Shipshewaka Road I saw by a notice that a prize -was being offered for the most popular woman and the homeliest man. -What a contrast this implies to the life of the East. Here is a land -where women are public, and where nobility in a man is best expressed -by being handy about the house. - -I tramped along the north side of St. Joseph's River, through beautiful -country under delightful conditions. The cornfields had turned -red-gold, the grass was all in flower, and little brown fluffy bees -considered it the best time of summer. What a sun there was, what a -breeze! I found the "Bachelor's Retreat" on the St. Joseph's River, two -boat-houses, a stairway through the forest banks, and a little wooden -pier stretching out into the pleasant water--a good place for a swim! - -Just before Mishewaka I met old Samuel Judie, seventy-six years of age, -lying on a bank with a stick in his hand, tending the cows of his own -farm and philosophising on life. - -"It's a marvellous thing that the sun stands still and the earth goes -round it," said he. "A marvellous thing that there are stars. They find -out how to make automobiles, and they find out lots of things about the -stars, but the human race won't ever know out the facts." - -To most of the remarks I made Mr. Judie answered "Shah." - -"England has fifty million people." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"London is twenty miles broad and twenty miles long." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"There are plenty of farms of only ten acres." - -"Oh, shah!" - -He grumbled a great deal at the automobiles. - -[Illustration: "OLD SAMUEL JUDIE, LYING ON A BANK, AND PHILOSOPHISING -ON LIFE."] - -"Last Sunday," said he, "a man and his wife were knocked down just -here. They had been saving and pinching for years, and had at last -cleared the mortgage off their farm, and were reckoning to live -decently. The automobile cut the woman's head right off, and the man is -lying in the hospital. There ought to be a law against the automobiles -rushing through from Elkhart to South Bend on Sundays." - -"I suppose South Bend is a rich place?" - -"Shah!" - -"What do they make there?" - -"Boots, waggons, ploughs, the wooden parts of Singer's -sewing-machines.... They are terribly hard up for hands.... You'd get -a job easy.... There is a great lot of girls working in the factories, -many foreign. They soon marry and go on to a farm. Factory folks make -a pile of money; get tired, and then buy a few acres of land and live -on it. Farms about here are split up into small portions and sold to -poor folk. Some want me to divide up my farm and sell part of it, but I -won't do it." - -Mr. Judie had had to work all his life, and to work hard a good deal of -it, and he felt entitled to have his own mind on any subject, and to -act accordingly. - -A wealthy American took me along in his car through Mishewaka to South -Bend, and showed me the great factory of wind-mill sails, Dodge's -factory of "transmission power" of pulleys and connections and all -things that join up engines and plant; then the famous Studebaker's -factory of plough-handles, shafts, waggons, etc., the rubber-boot -factory, Singer's frame factory, and several other establishments -which indicated how busy these Indiana cities are. - -I tramped out to New Carlisle, spending a night there under a deep -dark maple tree, which after sunset looked like a great overlapping -thatch--not a poke of light came through. As I lay beside the highroad, -and as the American holidays had just commenced, scores of cars came -by, and as each one appeared on the road horizon it lit up my leafy -ceiling with its great flashlights. How hot the night was.... I slept -without covering. It was hot even at dawn. - -It was next day on the road to Michigan City that I gave water to a -thirsty calf, who actually ran to me and butted into me to persuade me -to fill his bucket. It was on this road that having thrown a potful of -water at some sheep they followed me down the dusty road, crying to me -to do it again. - -Michigan City was sweltering. I took refuge from the heat in the -waiting-room of the large railway station, and watched the crowds in -the New York and Chicago trains, and the rush of the restaurant boys -with hundreds of cones of ice-cream. - -A pretty negress came and sat next me and began talking. - -"Ah come over heer two manths ago to the carnaval, and have been -playing _vaudy-ville_, but the home folks said ah mus' come back. Mai, -how I cried when I heard. I did take on...." - -She was under police supervision, and a big Irish policeman came -and took her away when he saw her talking with me. She stood on the -platform until the train came in, and then she was put in charge of a -guard. She had, no doubt, been arrested under suspicious circumstances -in the streets of Michigan, and had been brought before a kind -magistrate, who had forborne to punish her on condition that she went -back to her mother. - -The road from Michigan undulated over a weedy wilderness and -gnat-swarming marshes. I had a bad time as to the heat and the -mosquitoes, and, despite use of strong disinfectants, I got badly -stung, and was consequently feverish for some days. I was also very -idle, very much inclined to sit on palings and consider how hot it was. -On the Sunday, just to see whether the plaints of the farmers were -justified, I made a census of all the vehicles that passed me. On the -Monday I got to Hammond, and on Tuesday came in by car to Chicago. That -day was the hottest of the year. Fifty-three people died from the heat -in the city that day. I could have understood a few tramps dying even -on the road. - - - - -XVI - -THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES - - -The road into Chicago was one of increasing noise and smoke and -desolation, of heat and gloom, and the rumour of a sordid defeat of -life. I remember Calumet City by the factory stacks, the chimneys whose -blackness seemed fainting out of sight in the haze of the heat. Dark -smokes and white steams curled above many workshops; along the roadside -black rivulets flowed from the factories. There were heaps of ashes -and tin cans lying in odorous ponds. The leaves of the trees and the -grasses of the fields were wilted and yellowed by the airs and fumes -of Chicago. At Hammond a drunken, one-armed man followed me for about -a mile, attracting a crowd of street Arabs by his foul language. East -Chicago looked to me like parts of suburban London, and I was reminded -in turns of Peckham, Hackney Marshes, Commercial Road, Whitechapel. -There was, however, much that was unlike anything in London--the -ominous squads of factory chimneys; clouds of heavy-rolling, ochreous -fumes and smoke; palings with such advertisements as "Read no scab -newspapers" or "You'll Holler"; wooden houses; dilapidated, ramshackle -frame-buildings of grey wood; broken-down verandahs; black stairways; -grey washing hanging on strings from stairway to stairway; half-naked -children; piles of old cans and rusty iron. - -The vehicles increased on the highway, the lumber of much traffic -commenced, the red and yellow tramcars multiplied, railway lines -crossed the road, and by the rush of trains one felt that all the -traffic of Eastern and Central America was converging to one point. The -open country disappeared. The air of the roadway became full of dust. -The heat increased ten degrees, and to move a limb was to perspire. -Foreigners jostled one another on the sidewalks, negroes and negresses -sat in doorways. The odour of carcases came to the nostrils from -Packing-town, and at last the great central roar of traffic--Chicago. - -I can give no account of the great city here--it would be only to -recount and add together the uglinesses and the promises of other -cities. It was at once worse and better than I had expected. The -hopelessness of the picture given by Upton Sinclair in _The Jungle_ I -felt to be exaggerated. I was told at Hull House that the novelist had -got all his stories at the stockyards, but that the massed calamities -that are so appalling in the story never occurred to one family in -real life. The effect of accumulated horrible detail in _The Jungle_ -deprives you at the time of any love towards America; it made me, a -Briton, feel hatred towards America, and when first I read the book I -felt that no Russian who read it carefully would entertain willingly -the idea of going to America. If he had entertained the idea, having -read _The Jungle_ he would abandon it. It is an astonishing tract on -the fate of a Russian peasant family leaving the land of so-called -tyranny for a land of so-called freedom; and its obvious moral is -that Russia is a better country for the individual than America--that -America takes the fine peasant stock of Europe and shatters it to bits. - -It is true that Chicago makes a convenience of men, and that there man -exists that commerce may thrive rather than that commerce exists that -man may thrive. It is a place where the physical and psychical savings -of Europeans are wasted like water, and where no one understands what -the waste means. Spending is always joyful, and Chicago is a gay city. -It is full of a light-hearted people, pushing, bantering, laughing, -blindfolded over their spiritual eyes. In such places as Chicago the -immigrant finds a market for things he could never sell at home--his -body, his nerve, his vital energy; a ready market, and he sells -them and has money in his pocket and beer in plenty. Listen to the -loud-voiced, God-invoking crowd in the saloons! They have the proceeds -that come of selling the savings of Europe. They have come out of the -quiet villages and forests where, from generation to generation and -age to age, the peasantry live quiet lives, and grow richer and richer -in spirit and nerve. But these in the Chicago streets and saloons have -found their mysterious destiny, to lavish in a life, and for seemingly -worthless ends, what hundreds of quiet-living ancestors have saved. The -tree of a hundred years falls in a day and becomes timber, supporting a -part of the fabric of civilisation for a while. - -[Illustration: AT THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK: A HOT DAY IN CHICAGO.] - -The strangest thing is the clamour of the Chicago crowd--it is -dead-sure about everything in the world, ignorant, cocksure, mocking. -It does not know it is losing, does not know that it is blind-folded, -because it is the victim of destiny. - -Part of the spiritual blindness of the great city is the belief it -holds that there is no other place of importance but itself. And -many outsiders take the city at its own estimate. But Chicago is not -America, neither is New York or any other great city. If going to -America meant going only to the great cities, then few but the Jews -would emigrate from Europe. - -The ideals of America cannot be worked out merely in the great cities. -The cities are places of death, of the destruction of national tissue, -and of human combustion, necessary, no doubt, as such, certainly not -places where one need worry about national health. The national health -is on the farms of Pennsylvania and Indiana and Minnesota, Michigan, -Iowa, the Dakotas, the Far West. The men range big out there; the -stand-by of the people will always be found in these places and not in -the cities. - -And New York and Chicago, though necessary, are abnormal. They are -not so much America as unassimilated Europe. The population of a city -should be the natural sacrifice of the population of the country. It -is often deplored that the country people are forsaking the land and -flocking to the towns; but the proper people to replenish the failing -stock of the cities is just those whom instinct and destiny prompt to -leave the country. It is most bewildering to the student of America -that her city-populations are replenished by the foreign immigrants, -by people nursing, it is true, American sentiments, but not yet born -into the American ideal, not made America's own. The natural place for -the first generation of immigrants is on the land. If Chicago seems -too large, too sudden a growth, disorderly, unanticipated, altogether -out of hand, it is because of the hordes of foreigners who are there, -who have not the impulse to co-operate, and who do not readily respond -to the efforts of the idealist and politician. And they do not readily -respond because they have not lived long enough in the true American -atmosphere, have not served a quiet apprenticeship in the country, but -have been dumped into an industrial wilderness served with the yellow -press and "sped up." - -America will have to guide the flow of the immigrants, and learn to -irrigate with it and make fertile the Middle and the Far West. It is -over-commercialisation and near-sightedness that clamours for more -labour in the great cities. The size of a city is never too small. In -the normal state of a nation the city functionises the country, and -according to the strength of the people in the background the state of -the great town will be busy or slack. It is good news that negotiations -are being made with the trans-Atlantic shipping companies to ship -immigrants to the Far Western coast _via_ the Panama Canal, at rates -not very much heavier than at present exist for shipment to Boston and -Philadelphia and New York. A man and his wife planted on the land in -the East are worth ten given to the greedy cities of the West. - -In the matter of the colonisation of her own country America might -learn a great deal from Russia, especially in the matter of railway -transit. It is all to the advantage of a country that means of transit -are cheap, and that there be a brisk circulation of the blood of the -body-politic. As a newspaper realises that the cheaper its price the -greater its success, the greater its circulation, so America might -realise that the cheaper were its railway fares the more facility -would there be for the mingling of the peoples, the assimilation of -foreigners, and the development of the country. - -In America it costs 39 dollars 60 cents to go as far as Denver, -Colorado, which is about 2000 miles, and $76.20 to go to San Francisco. -A comparison with the Russian rates will give an idea how much more -cheaply it is possible to carry people: - - -+-----------+------------------+---------------------------------------+ -| | | Russian Rates. | -| Distance. | American Rates. +------------+------------+-------------| -| | | 3rd Class. | 4th Class. | Immigrants' | -| | | | | Rate. | -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ -|2000 miles | 39.60 dollars |9 dollars |4.20 dollars| 1 dollar | -| | | | | | -|3230 " | 76.20 " |12.50 " | 6 " | 1.60 dollars| -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ - - -Of course, the cost of working is more in America than in Russia, and -the trains are twice as fast; but that is not enough to set off against -the enormous differences in fares. A great profit is made out of the -railway business, and the profit is at the expense of America as a -whole. It is absurd to compare the prices of fares in America with the -prices of fares in Great Britain. It is bad enough with us, but ours -is a small territory; it does not cost much to go from end to end. -But America is a vast country. It costs almost a year's wages to pay -the fare of a family across it. You think twice before determining to -travel even a thousand miles. The consequence is that the circulation -of people is sluggish in the extreme. The East begins to get congested, -and the cities are packed with people who would gladly have gone -straight to the West if facilities had been granted them. - -In the development of democracy it is circulation that is important, -the circulation of opinion, of sentiment, of ideals. The large -circulation of interest and affection caused by the reduction of -postage rates down to a penny in Britain and two cents in America -has given an immense impetus to democratic development; the larger -circulation of ideas and opinions caused by the reduction of the price -of newspapers to a cent has also been advantageous. But how much more -important than the circulation of opinions, ideas, and sentiments is -the circulation of the people themselves, controlled by the price of -fares on railways! How much more swiftly would the American democracy -become homogeneous if it were possible to travel a thousand miles for -five dollars. That would entail either nationalisation of railways -or subsidisation by the Government. But it would be worth it to the -American people. - -Because of the heavy expense of railway travelling America is only -dimly conscious of itself, geographically and ethnologically. Americans -even boast of the distances between their towns and between different -points of the country. Chicago, only one-third of the way across the -continent, is called "The West." Indiana and Illinois and Minnesota are -"out West." It is as if we referred to Berkshire or Warwickshire as the -West of England. - -In due course, it may be imagined, the United States Government will -assume state-control of many of the railways, and ten dollars will pay -your fare from New York right across. Immigrants will not be allowed -to settle in great cities till they have spent ten years on the land. -Such a provision would make it easier to admit all sorts and conditions -of Europeans at Ellis Island; and at the corresponding Immigration -stations at other ports a great deal of the White Slave trouble would -be averted, and the shelter of immigrants would not absorb so much of -the urban attention so urgently needed elsewhere. - - * * * * * * * - -Railways have as much power to make the new American as the newspaper -has. Perhaps they have more power; for the railways can afford great -opportunities for social mingling. The railway can take any immigrant -to a place where he will be not merely a hireling, but a living -organism grafted into the vast body of America. At present the high -fares deter the immigrant, and he is cooped up in districts which he -would like to leave, but cannot; in districts where he must remain -foreign and not American. - -For there is an impulse to move and to mingle. If railway facilities -were granted there would be a great deal more social and commercial -intercourse over the surface of America. Each new immigrant who comes -into the United States is particularly wanted somewhere; his landing -is not an accident. Some village or countryside has called him, and -will still call him, though he be frustrated at first, doing the wrong -sort of work among the wrong group of people. - -The great heterogeneous mass of peoples wants to become one nation. -There is a power which works through the peoples for that end. The -people are ready to mingle; they are already mingling; they are going -to and fro and in twos and threes, and every step and every transaction -is something essential in the making of the coming homogeneous nation. - -It is a choir dance, a dance of molecules or atoms, if you will, but a -dance of human atoms, and one that yields a mystic music that can be -heard by the poet's ear. Leading the peoples in the involutions and -evolutions of the choir dance is a masked figure, not itself one of the -people. What is that figure? Not trade, I think, though it helps; not -common interest, though it is perhaps a rule of the dance; not even -the American idea. The masked figure that leads is a fate; it is an -instinct of Destiny. - -The dance is being played out on a vast stage with much scenery--the -three-thousand-mile stretch of America, East to West: the Industrial -East, with its hills; the corn plains and forests of the middle West; -the wild West; the luxuriant and wonderful South. - -There are waiting throngs cooped up in cities and at temporary -standing-places. - -The welter of negroes and Spaniards and half-castes in the South, in -the black pale; the Swedes and Norwegians and Finns in the Middle -West; the million Jews in New York; the millions of them elsewhere, -saying, as Mary Antin, that America and not Judea is the Promised -Land, the place where the tribes will be gathered together again and -form a nation; the great Anglo-Saxon stock of America, who would feel -themselves to be the leaven, the ruling principle in the choir dance; -the Dutch-Americans of Pennsylvania; the Irish, of whom there tend -to be more in America than in Ireland; the Slovaks and Ruthenians on -the Pennsylvanian collieries; the Italian gangs on the road and the -Italian quarters of a thousand towns; the Poles, of whom in New York -alone there are more than in any city in Poland; the enormous number of -Germans living on the land; the hundred thousand Russian working men in -Pennsylvania alone; the Molokan Russians in California, and the Russian -gold-washers; the Red Indians on the Reservations; the composite gangs -of all nations in the world going up and down the country doing jobs. - -The Jews bring music, mathematical instinct, a sense of justice, -industry, commercial organisation, and commercial tyranny, national -wealth, material prosperity, restlessness. - -The English bring ignorance, pluck, and honour; the Scottish bring -their brains and their morals; the Irish bring generosity, cleverness, -laziness, hatred of Jews and of meanness. - -The Germans bring the idea of growth and development, evolution, and -with it their own music. They also bring an instinct for efficiency and -shining armour. - -The negro brings sensual music and dancing, a taste for barbaric -splendour, the gentleness of little children, and the wildness of -the beasts of the forest at night; and he brings imitativeness, -subserviency, a taste for slavery. - -The Red Indians bring the remembrance of the Virgin -Continent--litheness of limb, subtler ear and nose and eyes for the -things of the earth. - -The Italians bring their emotionalism and excitability, their songs, -their passion, their fighting spirit. - -The Little Russians, Slovaks, Poles, Great Russians bring patience -to endure suffering, but withal a spirit of anarchism which prompts -them to do astonishing things without apparent cause, mystical piety, -charity, much sin, much intemperance, much love and human tenderness. -They bring also the Tartar commercial spirit, and a zest for haggling -over prices and for making deals. - -The French bring economy, vivacity, journalistic genius. - -But what do they not bring, all these peoples? There are marvellous -gifts closed in all of them, mysterious potentialities that it were -folly to attempt to name. - -Each race has its special function, its organic suitability and psychic -value. There are male races like the Jews; female races like the -Germans. There are races that bring spirit, races that bring body. - -German goes down the middle with English; Swedish with Irish; Russian -with Pole; Jew with each and all. It is not always with the negro -that the negro dances, not always with the Italian that the Italian -is partnered, nor Hungarian with Hungarian, nor Lithuanian with -Lithuanian. Secretively, unexpectedly, on unanticipated impulses, -strangers obey the magic wand and rhythmical gestures of the Great -Conductor of the dance, and become one with another in the evolution of -America. The dance has been open some time, but it is only now becoming -general. The waiting throngs on all sides are just beginning to break -up and go mingling up and down and in and out, carrying messages, -making sacrifices, performing rites. The victims are blindfolded; the -conquerors have the light of destiny on their brows. - -A spectacle for the Gods! In the Old World the heavenly powers have -looked down more or less on the antagonism of the races, war and enmity -and all that results from great battles, the rout of armies, the -sacking of cities, the sinking of ships-- - - - Looking over wasted lands. - Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery - sands, - Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying - hands. - - -But in the New World the peoples are joined in co-operation and -friendship, working out in peace and trade the synthesis of a new race. -The gods look down on factory-chimneys belching smoke, on kingdoms -covered with red-gold corn uncoveted by men of arms, on hurrying -trains and the dancing peoples going hither and thither, with smiles -and little enchantments and allurements. They look upon the Protestant -pulpits where the Puritans preach, on the Roman Catholic Church and the -confessionals, on the Orthodox Church, on the Baptists, on the Mormons; -and on the way the varying peoples flock around temples, and in and -out of church doors, carrying messages, receiving messages. They look -upon many developments that we have so aptly called movements, the -mysterious "woman's movement", the Romanising movement, the Socialistic -movement. They look upon a million schools where the children, the -second generation of the dancers, are polished and tested and clothed -before they in their turn join the throng at the side and go down the -middle with their partners. - -It is like a kaleidoscope, and at each successive revolution the -peoples change their aspects and their pattern; but there is no -reverting to the original pattern, as in the kaleidoscope. The -constituents of the pattern are divining what the next pattern will be, -and it is always a new pattern, something nearer to the great coming -unity, the new American nation. In no one particular bosom is the -destiny of America; one man by himself means nothing there. It is a -whole people that is living or will live. Once the foreigner parts from -the waiting throngs at the side and enters the mystic dance, his own -little consciousness and purpose become but a part of the much greater -consciousness and purpose of the whole. It is not the development of -one sort of person, but the combination of a million sorts to make one. -It is not the development of a race, as is our own British progress in -Great Britain, but something which seems rather novel in the history -of mankind, the making of a new democracy. It is not a Gladstone or a -Bismarck or an Alexander the Liberator, who is leading this development -that I have called a Choir Dance, not a Lincoln or a Roosevelt or a -Wilson. Men have only their parts to play in the making of a democracy; -if they could make it all by themselves, or originate the making, or -achieve the making, it would not be a democracy that they were making. -As I said, it is a masked figure that leads the mystic movement--a -fate. In one sense there are many fates also among the dancers and -mingled with them,--a mysterious and wonderful ballet, perfect in idea -and in fulfilment. - -And as it is with men so it is with the rites they perform. There are -myriads of rites in the movement of the dance, but not one of them is -charged with absolute significance. Thus in the mazes of evolution -there stands impregnable, as it would seem, the historic open Bible of -America. Around it, marking time, is a massed host of Americans, now -reinforced by newcomers, now diminished by secessions, swayed to this -way and to that by streams of Catholics, streams of Hebrews, streams of -pleasure-lovers, but as yet holding its own, and claiming in sonorous -choruses that the Bible shall be the leaven of the New America. - -At another point of vantage on the stage you may see the Jews -proclaiming by vote that America is no longer a Christian country, -and calling the intellectuals and pleasure-wanters to support, if not -Judaism, at least rationalism and "intelligent" materialism. - -At another point you see the menace of the half-civilised negro, the -spectacle of the rapid multiplication of a people over whom there is -no control, and in whose nature lies, apparently, an enormous physical -power to degrade the type of the whites. - -There is the phenomenon of the wholesale slaughter and sacrifice of -blindfolded foreigners exploited in industrial cities; forests of men -used up as the forests of wood are worn away into daily newspapers and -rubbish. - -You see the booths where dancers make voluntary abdication of European -nationality and take the oaths of American citizenship. - -You see the prizes for which, in the dance, whole crowds seem to be -straining and yearning and even struggling, the prize of wealth, of -even a little wealth, of a name printed in a newspaper, of a name -printed in all newspapers, the prize of fame, of political position, of -premiership. You see the wild political campaigns. - -You see the places where the ambitious laze by the way, the baseball -races where men are shouting themselves and others mad for an empty -game, the halls of rag-time and trotting. You see in thousands of -instances actions which seem to disgrace the name of America and to -augur ill for her future,--women sold into evil, negroes burned at the -stake, heinous crimes committed against children. But the destiny of -the great choric dance cannot be thwarted by any of these things. Death -is useful to life, darkness to brightness, sin to virtue--useful in a -way which it is not necessary for the individual to penetrate. Each -man fulfils his destiny, guides others according to his light, acts -according to his inclination, temptation, and conscience. The whole -nation takes care of itself. - - * * * * * * * - -Wherever I went in the States I was asked by journalists to say what I -thought the resultant type of American was going to be. America seemed -feverishly anxious to get an answer to that question. No one can answer -it, but it is exciting to speculate. - -"Are you aware that in a few years we shall come to such a pass that it -will be a stand-up fight, Americans _versus_ Jews?" said one man to me. -"The influence of the other races goes for nothing beside the influence -of the Jews. The Jews are buying up all the real estate, they make any -sacrifice for education, they get the better of Christians nine times -out of ten. A Jewish pedlar comes past this door one day, and I think, -'Poor wretch!' Next year he comes past in a buggy; next year I find he -owns a big general store in the town; next year he owns a department -store and employs a thousand hands. He is too much for us." - -What is to be the emerging American? At New York I was inclined to -answer, "A sort of English-speaking Russian Jew who believes in dollars -and sensual pleasures before all else, who, however, reads advanced -literature, and whilst he is poor is an anarchist, and when he is rich -is more tyrannous than the Tsar--more tyrannous, but never illegally -so." But when I escaped into the country I found that New York was not -America, but only a great hostelry on the threshold of that country. I -learned the great control power of the Anglo-Saxon and Dutch Americans, -the subtle influence of the Russian people, who after all not only -dominate the Jews in Russia, but give them many traits of the Russian -national character, making out of a materialist something which is -almost a sentimentalist. There are many Jews in Russia who have become -de-judaised by the Russians, and indeed the Christian Jew has become -part of the very fabric of that bureaucracy which the poor persecuted -mob of Hebrews hate and fear. The Russians are a strong influence in -the development of the American. And the Germans and Norwegians and -Swedes and Danes, who swiftly change to a species of American hardly -distinguishable from the old Anglo-Saxon and Dutch type? They cannot -go for nothing, they are not simply raw material, but are moulders and -fashioners as well. The coming American will be a very recognisable -relation of the Teutonic peoples. But he will nevertheless be clearly -and decidedly different from any one race on the Continent. - -Even to-day an American is distinctly recognisable as such on the -pavements of London, Berlin, or Paris. You know him by his face; he -does not need to speak to reveal his nationality. You can even tell a -man who has spent five years in the country; something new has been -moulded into his face and has crept into his eyes. I have even noticed -it in the face of Russian peasants returning from America after two -years away from Russia, travelling in a Russian train to their little -village home. - -"You are American?" I asked of them. - -"Yes, boss, you are rait," they replied, and smiled knowingly. - -They then began to enlarge on what a wonderful place America was--just -like American tourists in Switzerland. - -But the American of to-day is not the American of to-morrow. The -Tsar's subjects coming into America at the rate of a quarter of a -million a year ensure that, the flocking of almost whole nations from -South-Eastern Europe ensure it. As I said, none can tell what the new -American nation will be. We can only watch the wonderful patterns and -colours that form in the great ballet and choir dance, the mingling -in the labyrinths of destiny, the disappearances and the emergences, -the involution and the evolution. It is something enacted within the -mystery of the human race itself. - - - - -XVII - -FAREWELL, AMERICA! - - -I observed many interesting things in Chicago, the following circular -for instance: - - - Balsok aut John J. Casey. - Hlasujte na John J. Casey. - Glosujgie na John J. Casey. - Votate per John J. Casey. - Vote for John J. Casey, - Labour candidate for Congress. - - -Ten years hence that farrago will have changed to simply "Vote for -Casey." - -My neighbours in the hotel spelt their name in two ways, one way for -Polish friends and the other for American understanding: - - - Nawrozke. - Navrozky. - - -It is the latter name that will endure; or perhaps that also will be -shed for some cognomen that sounds more familiar and reliable,--to -Harris or Jones or Brown. - -I had a talk in a slum with a family of Roumanian Jews who had come to -Chicago twenty years ago. Chicago was a good place, they intended never -to leave it, the family had come there for ever. - -I met an Alsatian who told me how he had fled from home when he was -twelve years old. He crossed the Swiss frontier, and got into Basle -at midnight, and had travelled to America _via_ Paris and Havre, and -had never gone back. He did not want to serve in the German Army. His -father had been a great French soldier in the Franco-German war. - -"If you went back now would the German authorities bring you to trial?" -I asked. - -"No. I have the Emperor's pardon in black and white." - -"Do many of those who run away get pardon?" - -"Only when there is good cause. I used to send money home regularly to -keep my sister. The mayor of the town heard of my generosity, reported -it to Berlin, and a pardon was written out for me." - -"They thought it a pity to keep a good citizen out of his own country, -even though he had cheated the army. A wise action, eh?" said I. - -"The Germans are 'cute," he replied. - -I met a Russian revolutionary who complained that his compatriots in -the towns spent all their spare time getting drunk, fighting, and -praying. The Russian who made his pile went and opened a beer-shop. -He thought the priests of the Orthodox Church kept the immigrants -down; they got more money from drunkards than from the virtuous, and -therefore they made no efforts to encourage sobriety. He would like to -see the Orthodox Greek and Russian Churches demolished, and the priests -and deacons packed back to Europe. America was a new country, and -needed a new church. - -At Chicago also I received a letter from Andray Dubovoy, a young -Russian farmer, whose acquaintance I made by chance in the Russian -quarter of New York. He was rich enough to come travelling from North -Dakota to New York to see the sights of America, a wonderfully keen -and happy Russian, full of ideas about the future and stories of the -settlement where he lived. He gave me a most interesting account of the -Russian pioneers in North Dakota. In the towns where he lived every one -spoke Russian, and few spoke English. If you went into a shop and asked -for something in English the shopkeeper would shrug her shoulders and -send for a little child to interpret. The children went to school and -knew English, but the old folks could not master it, and had long given -up attempts to learn the language. The town was called Kief, and was -named after the province of Russia from which they originally came. - -He told me the history of two villages in Kiefsky Government in -Russia. They had heard of America, but thought it was a place in a -fairy-tale--not a real place at all. They were even incredulous when -the Jews began to depart for America in numbers. But they were destined -to understand. - -The villagers were people who asked themselves serious questions and -searched their hearts. They ceased going to monasteries and making -pilgrimages and kissing relics, and instead gathered together and read -the Gospel. - -Many were arrested for going to illegal meetings. Those who were sent -to prison or to Siberia went gladly, as on the Lord's business, to be -missionaries to those who sat in darkness. - -But there was so much persecution that a great number of the villagers -thought of following the example of the Jews and emigrating to America. -It was in 1894 that they resolved to go; but at that time a large party -of Stundists, who had gone out to Virginia the year before, came back -with tidings of bad life and poor wages, and damped the enthusiasm. Ten -families, however, were tempted by what the Stundists said, and they -took tickets to go to the very district of Virginia that the Stundists -had abandoned. - -On their way out they fell in with a party of German colonists going -back, after a holiday, to North Dakota. Such tales they told that five -of the families changed their minds and determined to throw in their -lot with the Germans. - -The five families received land free, homesteads, they were given -credit to purchase horses and cattle and carts and agricultural -implements, and they liked the new country and wrote glowingly to the -others in Virginia and in the two villages of Kiefsky Government. As a -result, twenty-five new families came at once, and in a few years there -were 200 families installed. - -Each man brought 20 to 30 dollars but no more, and each became indebted -to companies for 1000 to 1500 dollars, a debt which they hoped to pay, -but which hung on their necks like the instalments their ancestors had -to pay to the Land Banks of Russia for the land they had been granted. - -However, they ploughed and sowed and hoped for harvests, built log -cabins and even American houses. They had hard times, and were on the -verge of starvation--famine and death staring at them from the barren -fields. They were forced to make an appeal through the newspapers of -Eastern America, and as a result truck-loads of provisions were sent to -them, and "clothes to last five years." - -Succeeding years made up for their sufferings. There was a plentiful -flax harvest; and though in 1909 hail destroyed the wheat and in 1910 -and 1911 there was drought, the Russians bore up. And 1912 was a most -fruitful year, some farmers garnering as many as 25,000 bushels of -wheat. - -Each year they were able to add to their stock, to build a little more, -and to do various things. As a result of good harvests Andray Dubovoy -himself was able to go a-travelling, and to meet me and tell me his -story. He had himself come to America when a little child, and did not -know of his native land except by repute. He had not, however, had the -advantage of education in an American school as a child, and so was as -yet more Russian than American; but he was unlike the Russian type, he -was clean of limb, clear of eye and of skin, calm--almost a Quaker in -faith and morals. No one drank spirits or smoked tobacco in Kief, North -Dakota, he told me with pride. The Russians there were living in a new -way. - -"Are the people as religious now as they were in Russia?" I asked. - -"Not quite," said he, "they feel they don't need religion so much in -America. At first the struggle for life was so hard, we had little -thought for religion. It was only as we gained a footing on the land -that we began to think of our religion seriously, and we built a -chapel. We have a chapel of our own now." - -"I suppose when you were no longer persecuted you did not need to -affirm your way of religion so emphatically," I hazarded. - -Andray did not know. - -"Have you any bosses in Kief?" I asked. - -Andray smiled. - -"Our sheriff is a cabman." - -"You feel no tyranny at all now?" - -He was glad to say they never had need of a policeman; there were -no robberies, every one lived in mutual love and kindness. Only, of -course, they were heavily in debt to the companies, and felt they were -never solvent. - -"Perhaps, when you have improved your land and made it really valuable -you will be sold up by the companies and you will lose your property," -said I. - -He did not think that possible. - -"And what is the cost of living with you?" - -"Cheap," said my friend; "beef is 2½ cents a pound, eggs 10 cents the -dozen, butter 12 cents the pound, potatoes 35 cents the bushel; but the -things we import, such as boots, clothes, fruits, are very dear, much -too dear for our pockets." - -"Food is cheaper than in the country in Russia, then?" - -"Meat and butter and milk are cheaper, but other things are more -than twice as dear. Still we do not complain. It is a good life out -there; our children are growing up stalwart, happy, earnest. God's own -blessing is upon our enterprise." - -"Are you ever going back to Russia with its persecutions, its sins, its -crimes, its pilgrimages, the secret police, the hermits who live in -forest huts, its moujiks and babas, who think that America is a place -in a fairy-tale, at the other side of endless forests?" - -The farmer smiled in a peculiar way. He would like to go to see it. - -Was he quite sure he was going to be an American and not a Russian? - -"We have Russian classes in the summer," said he. "We must never forget -Russia, evil as she is." - - * * * * * * * - -It must not be forgotten that this little settlement of which I write -here is only one of many in North Dakota. There are already thirty -thousand Russians living in that state, and there are many people of -other nationalities living in the same way--Swedes, Germans, Danes. The -story of the young colonies is marvellously touching; when you read one -of the excellent novels of to-day, such as Miss Cather's _O Pioneers_, -which tells of the growth of a Swedish colony in the Middle West, you -are obliged to admit that it is no wonder the Americans find their own -such an exclusively interesting country. - - * * * * * * * - -I returned to New York by train, and on the way saw the Niagara Falls, -one morning at dawn; the procession of white-headed rapids, the vapour -and mist rising in volumes veiling the sun, darkening it. A sight of -holiness and wonder that left me breathless. I was glad to be alone, -and just close the picture into the heart, in silence! - -Late one Saturday night I arrived in New York and stepped out of the -Grand Central Station, pack on back, and searched for a hotel. The -grand "Knickerbocker," with sky-sign the length of the Great Bear, -was not for me. I wandered into a queer-looking little palace, all -mirrors, deep carpets, white paint, and niggers. My room faced the -street, and opposite me was a pleasure-resort, a cabaret, a dancehall, -a pool-house, with three stories of billiard-rooms, through whose open -windows I saw many white-sleeved billiard-players leaning over green -tables. - -The weather was so hot that all the windows in the city were wide open. -I heard the throbbing of music and dancing, even in my dreams. - -Some days later I booked my passage back to England. But I was in -America till the last moment. The American who was so kind to me, -and who was in herself a little America, "fed to me" daily the facts -of American life, and the hope of all those who were working with -her. We visited Patterson, where half a dozen "Jim Larkins" had been -fighting for fighting's sake, and leading the well-paid silk-workers to -strike for the sun and moon, and accept no compromise. We visited the -President of the City College and saw the wonderful modern equipment -of that institution. We called on J. Cotton Dana, the librarian of -Newark. I was enabled to visit a maternity hospital, heavily endowed by -Pierpont Morgan, and to see all the provision made for the happy birth -of the emerging Americans. One vision remains in my memory of a dozen -babies on a tray, each baby having its mother's name written on a piece -of paper pinned to its swaddling-bands. - -We visited five or six settlements, and invitations were given me to -visit several thousand establishments in the United States, and miss -nothing. I would have liked to go farther afield and have a thousand -more conversations, but perhaps, since brevity is the soul of wit, -I have done enough. As it is, I have only made a small selection of -instances and adventures and thoughts from the immense amount of -material which I carried back to England and to Russia. I think America -has been brought to the touch-stone of my own intelligence, experience, -and personality. - - * * * * * * * - -My friend took me to the charming play, _Peg-o'-my-Heart_. - -"Isn't it delicious?" - -"The thrilling thing is that the fifth act is not played out here, but -on the _Campania_, and I have to play that part myself," said I. - -We got out of the theatre at eleven. I saw her home. As midnight -was striking I claimed my luggage at the cloak-room at Christopher -Street Ferry. At 12.15 I entered the Cunard Dock and saw the great, -washed-over, shadowy, twenty-year-old Atlantic Liner. Crowds of -drunkards were gesticulating and waving flags--Stars and Stripes and -Union Jacks--singing songs, embracing one another. Heavily laden -dock-porters, carrying sacks, moved in procession along the gangways. -Portly Chief Steward Macrady, with mutton-chop whiskers, weather-beaten -face, and wordless lips, sat in his little kiosk and motioned to me to -pass on when I showed my ticket. I got aboard. - -I returned with the home-going tide of immigrants; with flocks of Irish -who were going boisterously back to the Green Isle to spend small -fortunes; with Russians returning to Russia because their time was up -and they were due to serve in the army; with British rolling-stones, -grumbling at all countries; with people going home because they were -ill; with men and women returning to see aged fathers or mothers; -with a whole American family going from Butte, Montana, to settle in -Newcastle, England. - -It was a placid six-day voyage; six days of merriment, relaxation, and -happiness. The atmosphere was entirely a holiday one--not one of hope -and anxiety and faith, as that of going out had been. Every one had -money, almost every one was a person who had succeeded, who had tall -tales to tell when he got home to his native village in his native -hollow. - -Thousands of opinions were expressed about America. I heard few of -disillusion. Most people who go to America are disillusioned sooner -or later, but they re-catch their dreams and illusions, and gild their -memories when they set sail upon the Atlantic once more. They have -become Americans, and have a stake in America, and are ready to back -the New World against anything in the Old. - -"Do you like the Yankees?" - -"They're all right--on the level," answers an Irish boy. - -"Do you like America? Would you like to live there and settle down -there?" asks a friend of me, the wanderer. - -A smile answers that question. - -We stood, my friend and I, looking over the placid ocean as the moon -just pierced the clouds and glimmered on the waters. - -Evening splendours were upon the surface of the sea, the delicate light -of the moon just showing the waves, most beautiful and alluring. - -"It is like first acquaintance with one's beloved," said I; "like the -first smile that life gives you, bidding you follow her and woo her. -Later on, in the rich splendour, when the golden road is clear and -certain and ours, we do not care for the quest. We look back to those -first enchanting glances, those promising reconnaissances. The promise -of love is more precious than love itself, for it promises more than -itself; it promises the unearthly; it touches a note of a song that -we heard once, and have been all our lives aching to remember and sing -again." - -America is too happy and certain and prosperous a place for some. It -is a place where the soul falls into a happy sleep. The more America -improves, the more will it prove a place of success, of material -well-being, of physical health, and sound, eugenically established men -and women. But to me, personally, success is a reproach; and failure, -danger, calamity, incertitude is a glory. For this world is not a -satisfying home, and there are those who confess themselves strangers -and pilgrims upon the earth. - - * * * * * * * - -Back to Russia! From the most forward country to the most backward -country in the world; from the place where "time is money" to where the -trains run at eighteen miles an hour; from the land of Edison to the -land of Tolstoy; from the religion of philanthropy to the religion of -suffering--home once more. - - - - -The following pages contain advertisements of -books by the same author or on kindred subjects - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -With the Russian Pilgrims to Jerusalem - -_Decorated cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $2.75 net_ - -The journey of the Russian peasants to Jerusalem has never been -described before in any language, not even in Russian. Yet it is the -most significant thing in the Russian life of to-day. In the story lies -a great national epic. - -"Mr. Stephen Graham writes with full sympathy for the point of view of -the devout, simple-minded, credulous peasants whose companion he became -in the trip by boat from Constantinople to Jaffa and thence on foot to -the holy places."--_The Nation._ - -"Apart from the value which must be attached to the authenticity of -the glimpses of Russian life that Mr. Graham gives in his latest book, -it also clearly ranks him as the best modern writer of the saga of -vagabondage."--_N. Y. Times._ - -"Mr. Graham has written an intensely interesting book, one that is a -delightful mixture of description, impression, and delineation of a -peculiar but colorful character."--_Book News Monthly._ - -"A book of intensely human interest."--_The Continent._ - -"The book is beautifully produced, illustrated with thirty-eight -exceptionally fine snapshots, and is of commanding interest, whether -read as a mere piece of adventure or as revelation of an almost unknown -tract of religious belief."--_Christian Advocate._ - -"The story is written with a graphic and eloquent pen."--_The -Congregationalist._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Tramp's Sketches - -_Cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $1.75 net_ - -"The author's notes on people and places, jotted down in the open -air, while sitting on logs in the forests or on bridges over mountain -streams, form a simple narrative of a walking trip through Russia. -The sketches read like those of a rebel against modern conditions and -commercialism, who prefers to these the life of a wanderer in the -wilderness."--_Outdoor World._ - -"A book throbbing with life which cannot help but prove of interest -to many readers. The book is a treasury of information, and will be a -source of great inspiration to those who love mankind; while the author -tells us much of the sorrow and degradation of the world he also tells -as much of his own high and noble thinking."--_The Examiner._ - -"It is with life itself rather than the countries visited that this -collection of sketches is concerned. It is personal and friendly in -tone, and was written mostly in the open air while the author was -tramping along the Caucasian and Crimean shores of the Black Sea, and -on a pilgrimage with Russian peasants to Jerusalem."--_Country Life in -America._ - -"Mr. Graham has seen many interesting parts of the world, and he tells -of his travels in a pleasing way."--_Suburban Life._ - -" ... there is much that the reader will heartily appreciate and -enjoy."--_Boston Transcript._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - - - -_NEW ILLUSTRATED BOOKS OF TRAVEL AND DESCRIPTION_ - - -Through the Grand Canyon from Wyoming to Mexico - -BY ELLSWORTH L. KOLB - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY OWEN WISTER - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Mr. Owen Wister, surely no mean judge, has pronounced this one of the -most interesting narratives of adventure ever written about the West. -In it is described the first trip made successfully through the Grand -Canyon by boat with photographic apparatus. Not only did Mr. Kolb -carry with him the ordinary cameras, but a moving picture machine, -and the tale of his experiences in securing both kinds Of pictures -is one replete with adventure. Of the many people who have attempted -this journey before only three succeeded, and none of these with the -peculiar conditions governing the author of this book and his brother, -who accompanied him. Shooting the rapids, a thrilling upset now and -then, the overcoming of obstinate natural barriers, incidents in which -there was more than an ordinary amount of danger and excitement, the -wonders of the country and of the wild life, seen with the eye of -an artist and made vivid for the reader,--these, the themes of the -different chapters, combine to make a work of fascinating interest. The -illustrations, of which there are many, are exceptionally fine. - - -Japan To-day and To-morrow - -BY HAMILTON W. MABIE - -Author of "American Ideals, Character, and Life" - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -The purpose of this volume is to convey a clear and definite impression -of the spirit of the Japanese people--what they are interested in -and what we may expect of them in the future. Pursuant to its aim, -it offers chapters on the manners and habits of the Japanese, their -family life, their love of art and of nature and their attitude toward -religion. Their historical development is very lightly sketched and -their education and political development somewhat more fully. No -American is perhaps better fitted to write such a book as this than Dr. -Mabie. As lecturer to Japan on the Carnegie Peace Endowment a year or -so ago he had splendid opportunity for a close study of the country and -its people. Added to this is his power of clearly analyzing that which -he sees and of expressing his thought in English that it is a pleasure -to read. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Wanderer in Venice - -BY E. V. LUCAS - -Author of "A Wanderer in Holland," "A Wanderer in Paris," etc. - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR AND IN BLACK AND WHITE - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.75 net: leather, $2.50 net_ - -Mr. Lucas's "Wanderer" books have made many friends. Much of the charm -of Florence, London, Paris and Holland has been caught by him and -transferred to the printed page along with bits of their histories, -interesting anecdotes and legends. To these four volumes Mr. Lucas now -adds one on Venice. What a place of hidden treasure that wonderful city -is to one of Mr. Lucas's very original genius all who have read the -preceding works in this series can easily understand. And Mr. Lucas -has fully realized his opportunities. The book is perhaps the most -fascinating of all. With its colored illustrations and its black and -white plates, with its no less vivid and appreciative text, it is a -publication which no one who has ever been to Venice should overlook, -while to those who have not been it will open up new vistas of -undreamed-of beauties. - - -California - -BY MARY AUSTIN - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY SUTTON PALMER - -_Cloth, 12mo, boxed, $4.00 net_ - -That Mrs. Austin has a subject worthy of a fluent pen and that she is -fully qualified to do justice to it no one will deny. There have been -books about California before, but none of them written with so real an -appreciation of its wonders as this one in which the grandeur of the -state has been so vividly presented. Not only does Mrs. Austin know -California, she loves it. Her volume will serve as a guide to the many -tourists who will be visiting the coast during the coming exposition, a -guide which is neither formal nor stilted, but interpretative, replete -with beautiful descriptions of beautiful spots. It will be none the -less interesting reading to those who have never seen the places and -have no prospect of doing so. Mr. Palmer's colored pictures are a -splendid supplement to the text. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -Panama: The Canal, The Country, and The People - -BY ARTHUR BULLARD (ALBERT EDWARDS) - -REVISED EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS AND NEW ILLUSTRATIONS - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Not only has Mr. Bullard revised such material of the first edition -of his book as has been retained in the present issue, but he has -added to that several chapters. These have to do largely with the -canal since its completion. This work has probably enjoyed greater -popularity than any other volume on Panama, a fact due, no doubt, to -its comprehensiveness. It is not confined to any one matter. There are -descriptions of the natural beauties of the locality, discussions of -the customs and life of its inhabitants and sections devoted to the -canal, its history, construction and those concerned with it. Besides -the new text there are also many new and fascinating illustrations. - - -Southern Italy and Sicily - -BY F. MARION CRAWFORD - -NEW EDITION IN TWO VOLUMES, WITH MANY HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS IN -THE TEXT AND THIRTY-ONE PHOTOGRAVURES - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, $5.00 net_ - -This book is a rare combination of text and pictures. Mr. Crawford -and Mr. Brokman, the illustrator, worked together in an almost ideal -fashion. The vivid description of the one and the sympathetic drawings -of the other make a narrative of travel set off now and then by a bit -of history that is of most fascinating interest. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: With Poor Immigrants to America</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Stephen Graham</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 5, 2019 [eBook #60060]<br /> -[Most recently updated: April 28, 2021]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA ***</div> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<p class="center">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br />NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS<br />ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO</p> - -<p class="center">MACMILLAN & CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br />LONDON· BOMBAY · CALCUTTA<br />MELBOURNE</p> - -<p class="center">THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br />TORONTO</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="frontis.jpg" id="frontis.jpg"></a><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="THE EMIGRANTS IN SIGHT OF THE GREY-GREEN STATUE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE EMIGRANTS IN SIGHT OF THE GREY-GREEN STATUE OF LIBERTY IN NEW YORK HARBOUR.</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<h1>WITH<br /> POOR IMMIGRANTS<br /> TO AMERICA</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">STEPHEN GRAHAM</p> - -<p class="bold">AUTHOR OF<br />"WITH THE RUSSIAN PILGRIMS TO JERUSALEM"</p> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>WITH 32 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS<br />BY THE AUTHOR</i></p> - -<p class="bold space-above">New York<br />THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /><br />1914<br /><br /><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914,<br />By HARPER and BROTHERS.</span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914,<br />By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.</span> -<br />———<br /> -Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">Norwood Press<br />J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.<br />Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<h2>NOTE</h2> - -<p>A translation of this book has appeared serially in Russia before -publication in Great Britain and America. The matter has accordingly -been copyrighted in Russia.</p> - -<p>My acknowledgments are due to the Editor of <i>Harper's Magazine</i> for -permission to republish the story of the journey.</p> - -<p>I wish to express my thanks to Mrs. James Muirhead, Miss M. A. Best, -and to Mr. J. Cotton Dana, who, with unsparing energy and hospitality, -helped me to see America as she is.</p> - -<p class="right">STEPHEN GRAHAM.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Vladikavkaz, Russia.</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Voyage</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Arrival of the Immigrant</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Passion of America and the Tradition of Britain</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Ineffaceable Memories of New York</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The American Road</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Reflection of the Machine</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Russians and Slavs at Scranton</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">American Hospitality</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Over the Alleghanies</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Decoration Day</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Wayfarers of all Nationalities</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Characteristics</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Along Erie Shore</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The American Language</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Through the Heart of the Country</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Choir Dance of the Races</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Farewell, America!</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> - -<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="ILLUSTRATIONS"> - <tr> - <td>1. </td> - <td class="left">The emigrants in sight of the grey-green statue of Liberty in New York Harbour</td> - <td><a href="#frontis.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"></td> - <td><span class="smaller">FACING PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>2. </td> - <td class="left">Russian women on board—</td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left"> (<i>a</i>) The peasant</td> - <td><a href="#i012.jpg">12</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left"> (<i>b</i>) The intellectual and revolutionary type</td> - <td><a href="#i012.jpg">12</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>3. </td> - <td class="left">The boisterous Flemings</td> - <td><a href="#i014.jpg">14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>4. </td> - <td class="left">(<i>a</i>) The dreamy Norwegian with the concertina</td> - <td><a href="#i018.jpg">18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left">(<i>b</i>) The endless dancing</td> - <td><a href="#i018.jpg">18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>5. </td> - <td class="left">(<i>a</i>) A Russian Jew</td> - <td><a href="#i026.jpg">26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left">(<i>b</i>) "A patriarchal Jew, very tall and gaunt, hauled along a small fat woman of his race" </td> - <td><a href="#i026.jpg">26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>6. </td> - <td class="left">"One of the young ladies was being tossed up in a blanket with a young Irish lad" (p. 25)</td> - <td><a href="#i030.jpg">30</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>7. </td> - <td class="left">(<i>a</i>) English</td> - <td><a href="#i036.jpg">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left">(<i>b</i>) Russians—Fedya, Satiron, Alexy, Yoosha, Karl, Maxim Holost</td> - <td><a href="#i036.jpg">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>8. </td> - <td class="left">Dainty Swedish girls and their partners looking over the sea</td> - <td><a href="#i044.jpg">44</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>9. </td> - <td class="left">Apple orchards in blossom on the spurs of the Catskills</td> - <td><a href="#i084.jpg">84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>10. </td> - <td class="left">On the way to school: my breakfast party</td> - <td><a href="#i092.jpg">92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>11. </td> - <td class="left">The tramp's dressing-room</td> - <td><a href="#i110.jpg">110</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>12. </td> - <td class="left">By the side of the highway to Michigan: the electric freight train</td> - <td><a href="#i120.jpg">120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>13. </td> - <td class="left">An Indiana farm: the wind-well behind it, the wheatfield in front</td> - <td><a href="#i142.jpg">142</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>14. </td> - <td class="left">"The cream-vans come along and buy up all the cream" (p. 261)</td> - <td><a href="#i152.jpg">152</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>15. </td> - <td class="left">"Ploughed upland all dotted over with white heaps of fertiliser" (p. 161)</td> - <td><a href="#i158.jpg">158</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>16. </td> - <td class="left">"Slovaks working on the line with pick and shovel"</td> - <td><a href="#i166.jpg">166</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>17. </td> - <td class="left">The Slav children of Snow-Shoe Creek</td> - <td><a href="#i174.jpg">174</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>18. </td> - <td class="left">Italians working with the "mixer" on the Meadville Pike</td> - <td><a href="#i200.jpg">200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>19. </td> - <td class="left">Ingenious photographs of American types</td> - <td><a href="#i212.jpg">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>20. </td> - <td class="left">The Lithuanian who sat behind the asphalt and coal-oil scatterer</td> - <td><a href="#i226.jpg">226</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>21. </td> - <td class="left">"Johnny Kishman, a German boy, got off his bicycle to find out what manner of man I was" (p. 233)</td> - <td><a href="#i234.jpg">234</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>22. </td> - <td class="left">Erie Shore. "Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed" (p. 235)</td> - <td><a href="#i238.jpg">238</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>23. </td> - <td class="left">The sower</td> - <td><a href="#i252.jpg">252</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>24. </td> - <td class="left">The store on wheels</td> - <td><a href="#i258.jpg">258</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>25. </td> - <td class="left">"I had an interesting talk with an ancient man by the side of the road"</td> - <td><a href="#i262.jpg">262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>26. </td> - <td class="left">"Old Samuel Judie, lying on a bank, and philosophising on life"</td> - <td><a href="#i270.jpg">270</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>27. </td> - <td class="left">At the fountain in the park: a hot day in Chicago</td> - <td><a href="#i276.jpg">276</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PROLOGUE</h2> - -<p>From Russia to America; from the most backward to the most forward -country in the world; from the place where machinery is merely imported -or applied, to the place where it is invented; from the land of Tolstoy -to the land of Edison; from the most mystical to the most material; -from the religion of suffering to the religion of philanthropy.</p> - -<p>Russia and America are the Eastern and Western poles of thought. Russia -is evolving as the greatest artistic philosophical and mystical nation -of the world, and Moscow may be said already to be the literary capital -of Europe. America is showing itself as the site of the New Jerusalem, -the place where a nation is really in earnest in its attempt to realise -the great dream of human progress. Russia is the living East; America -is the living West—as India is the dead East and Britain is the dying -West. Siberia will no doubt be the West of the future.</p> - -<p>For one who knows Russia well America is full of a great revelation. -The contrast in national spirit is so sharp that each helps you to see -the other more clearly. The American people are now on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>threshold -of a great progressive era; they feel themselves within sight of the -realisation of many of their ideals. They have been hampered badly by -the trusts and the "bosses" and the corrupt police, but they are now -proving that these obstacles are merely temporary anomalies, caused by -the overwhelmingly sudden growth of population and prosperity. A few -years ago it could with truth be said that material conditions were -worse in the United States than in the Old World. But it has been clear -all the time that the corruption existent in the country was truly -foreign to the country's temper.</p> - -<p>The common citizen is becoming the watchdog of the police-service. -Tammany has fallen. Women are getting the suffrage, state by state. -The nation is unanimous in its cry for a pure state, a clean country, -and an uncorrupted people. All diseases are to be healed. Couples who -wish to be married must produce health-certificates. The mentally -deficient and hereditary criminals are to be segregated. Blue-books, -or rather what the Americans call White-books, are going to form the -Bible of a new nation. The day is going to be <i>rationally</i> divided -into eight hours' work, eight hours' pleasure, eight hours' sleep—or -rather, eight hours' looking at machinery, eight hours' pleasure, eight -hours' sleep, for machinery is going to accomplish all the ugly toil. -Everybody is to be well dressed, well housed, comfortable. America -is raging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> against drink, against the exploitation of immigrants, -against the fate of the white slave, against any one who has done -anything immoral. It will nationally expel a Russian genius like -Gorky. It makes great difficulty of admitting to its shores any one -who has ever been in prison. It is so in earnest about the future of -America that it has set up what is almost an insult to Europe—the -examination of Ellis Island. Any one who has gone through the ordeal -of the poor emigrant, as I did, going into America with a party of -poor Russians in the steerage, and has been medically examined and -clerically cross-questioned about his life and ethics, knows that -America is a materialist and progressive country, and that she is no -longer a harbour of refuge for the weak, but a place where a nation is -determined to have health and strength and prosperity.</p> - -<p>Now in Russia, when you arrive there, you find no such tyranny as that -of Ellis Island awaiting you. You have come to the land of charity. If -there is any question it is of whether you are a Russian Jew wanting to -be recognised as an American citizen. Their charity does not extend to -the Jews. But disease does not stand in your way, neither does crime; -ethics are not inquired into; Mylius or Mrs. Pankhurst or Miss Marie -Lloyd receive their passports without a frown. You have come to the -nation to whom are precious the sick, the mentally deficient,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> the -criminal, the waste-ends of humanity, the poor woman on the streets, -the drunkard. Her greatest novelist, Dostoievsky, was an epileptic; -her national poet, Nekrasof, was a drunkard; Vrubel, one of her -greatest painters, was an imbecile; Chekhof, her great tale-writer, -was a hopeless consumptive. She is not opposed to the good and the -sound, but the suffering are dearer to her, more comprehensible. She -loves the drunkard, and says "Yes, you are right to be drunk; you are -probably a good man. It is what you are likely to be in this world of -enigmas." She loves the white slave, but does not wish to shut her in -a home for such. The Russians, so far from segregating the diseased -and the fallen, frequently fall in love with them and marry them. They -are sorry for the crippled children, but do not wish they had never -been born. They see in them a reminder of the true lot of man upon the -world. They make such children holy, and set them at the church doors. -Russia does not execute the murderer except under martial law, but she -sends him to Siberia to understand life and be <i>resurrected</i>. Thus, in -<i>The Crime and Punishment</i>, Raskolnikof the murderer, goes to Siberia -with little Sonia, the white slave, who whispers to him all the way the -promises of St. John's Gospel.</p> - -<p>In America the man who is tramping the road and will not work is an -object of enmity. He is almost a criminal. He is not wanted. He will -receive little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> hospitality, must chop wood for his breakfast or steal. -His life is a blasphemy breathed against the American ideal. But in -Russia none is looked upon more kindly than the man on the road, the -tramp or the pilgrim. There are a million or so of them on the road -in the summer. They are characteristic of Russia. In them the Russian -confesses that he is a stranger and a pilgrim upon the earth.</p> - -<p>The Christianity of Russia is the Christianity of death, of -renunciation, of what is called the <i>podvig</i>, the turning away from the -empire of "the world" as proposed by Satan on the mountain, the wasting -of the ointment rather than the raising of the poor, the giving the lie -to Satan, the part of Mary rather than the part of Martha.</p> - -<p>But the Christianity of America is the Christianity of Life, of -affirmation, of "making good," of accepting "the world" and preparing -for Christ's second coming, of obedience to the law, of almsgiving. -America is the great almsgiver, appealed to for money from the ends -of the earth, and for every object. If Russia can give faith, America -can give the rest. It is impossible for America to say with St. Peter, -"Silver and gold have I none, but <i>such as I have</i> give I thee." The -Americans believe in money, and the pastor of a fashionable church is -able to say, "I preach to fifty million dollars every Sunday morning." -But as Mme. Novikof, in one of her brilliant conversations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> once said, -"What is greater than the power of money? Why, contempt of money." -There are no people in the world who keep fewer account-books than the -Russians. They fling about their wealth or the pennies of their poverty -with the generous assurance that the bond of brotherhood is greater -than their fear of personal deprivation.</p> - -<p>The Americans are great collectors. It may be said collecting is the -genius of the West; empty-handedness is the glory of the East.</p> - -<p>The Russians are a sad and melancholy people. But they do not want to -lose their melancholy or to exchange it for Western self-satisfaction. -It is a divine melancholy. As their great contemporary poet Balmont -writes:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>I know what it is to moan endlessly—</div> -<div>In the long cold Winter to wait in vain for Spring,</div> -<div>But I know also that the nightingale's song is beautiful to us just because of its sadness,</div> -<div>And that the silence of the snowy mountain peaks is more beautiful than the lisping of streams—</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which is somewhat of a contrast to a conversation reported in one of -Professor Jacks' books:</p> - -<blockquote><p><i>Passenger, looking out of the train window at the snowy ranges of -the Rockies</i>: "What mountains!"</p> - -<p><i>American, puzzled for a moment</i>: "I guess I h'ant got any use for -those, but ef you're thinking of buying real estate...."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The phrase, <i>real estate</i>!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span></p> - -<p>Britain is seated in the mean. Compared with America she is -semi-Eastern. Despite the blood-relationship of the American and -British peoples they are more than an ocean apart. We receive without -much thanks American songs and dances, boxers, Carnegie libraries, -and plenty of money for all sorts of purposes. But our backs are to -America; we look towards Russia and are all agog about the next Russian -book or ballet or music. We are an old nation; as far as the little -island is concerned hope has died down. We have explored the island. -America will take a long time to explore <i>her</i> territory. No vast -tracts and inexhaustible resources and terrific upheavals of Nature -reflect themselves in our national mood. The American working man has -a true passion for work, for his country, for everything; the British -working man does his duty. We have not the belief in life that the -American has—we have not yet the Russian's belief in death.</p> - -<p>The American breathes full into his lungs the air of life. The American -is glad at the sight of the strong, the victorious, the healthful. How -often, in novels and in life, does the American woman, returning from -a sojourn in the far West, confess to her admiration of the cowboy! -She is thrilled by the sight of such strong wild "husky" fellows, each -of them equal to four New Yorkers. In England, however, the town girl -has no smiles for the strong peasant; he is a country bumpkin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> no -more. She wants the ideal, the unearthly. In Russia weakness attracts -far more than strength; love is towards consumptives, cripples, the -half-deranged, the impossibles. The Americans do not want the weak -one; England backs the "little un" to win; Russia loves the weak one, -feeling he will be eternally beaten, and loves him because he will be -beaten. But America loves the strong, the healthy, the pure, because -she is tired of Europe and the weakness and disease and sorrow of Europeans.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA</p> - -<h2><span>I</span> <span class="smaller">THE VOYAGE</span></h2> - -<p>At Easter 1912 I was with seven thousand Russian peasants at the Holy -Sepulchre in Jerusalem. On Easter Day 1913 I arrived with Russian -emigrants at New York, and so accomplished in two consecutive years two -very different kinds of pilgrimage, following up two very significant -life-movements in the history of the world of to-day. One of these -belongs to the old life of Europe, showing the Middle Ages as it still -survives under the conservative regime of the Tsars; the other is -fraught with all the possibilities of the future in the making of the -New America.</p> - -<p>It was in March that I decided to follow up the movements of the people -out of the depths of Europe into America, and with that purpose sought -out I—— K——, a well-known immigration agent in the East End of -London. He transhipped Russians coming <i>via</i> Libau and London, and -could tell me just when he expected the next large detachment of them.</p> - -<p>"Have you a letter of introduction?" asked the agent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I shouldn't have thought any was necessary," I answered. "A Russian -friend advised me to go to you. You don't stand to lose anything by -telling me what I want to know."</p> - -<p>He would do nothing for me without an introduction, without knowing -exactly with whom he had to deal. I might be a political spy. The hand -of the Tsar was long, and could ruin men's lives even in America. At -least so he thought.</p> - -<p>I mentioned the name of a revolutionary anarchist, a militant -suffragette. He said a letter from her would suffice. I went to -Hampstead and explained my predicament to the lady. She wrote me a note -to a mysterious revolutionary who was living above Israel's shop, and -this missive, when presented, was promptly taken as a full credential. -The mysterious revolutionary was on the point of death, and could not -see me, but Israel read the letter, and at once agreed that he was -ready to be of any service to me he could. There was a large party of -Russians coming soon, not Russian Jews, but real Russian peasants, -and he would let me know as soon as he could just when they might be -expected. I returned to my ordinary avocations, and every now and then -rang up "I. K." on the telephone, and asked, "Had the Russians come?" -"When were they coming?" At last the intelligence came, "They are just -arriving. Hurry down to Hayes wharf at once."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p>The news took me in the midst of other things, but I dropped all and -rushed to London Bridge. There, at Tooley Street, I witnessed one of -the happenings you'd never think was going on in London.</p> - -<p>A long procession of Russian peasants was just filing out from the -miserable steamship <i>Perm</i>. They were in black, white, and brown -sheepskins and in astrakhan hats, some in blue blouses and peak-hats, -some in brightly embroidered linen shirts; none wore collars, but some -had new shiny bowlers, on which the litter and dust of the port was -continually falling,—bowlers which they had evidently purchased from -German hawkers who had come on board at some point in the journey. The -women wore sheepskins also, many of them, and their heads were covered -with shawls; they had their babies sewn up in little red quilts. Beside -them there were pretty town girls and Jewesses dressed in cottons and -serges and cheap hats. There were few old people and many young ones, -and they carried under their arms clumsy, red-painted wooden boxes -and baskets from which kettles and saucepans dangled. On their backs -they had sacks, and in their hands several of them had crusts of bread -picked up in their hurry as they were hustled from their berths and -through the mess-room. Some of the sacks on their backs, as I afterward -saw, contained nothing but crusts of white and black bread, on which, -perhaps, they trusted to live during the first weeks in America!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> - -<p>They were all rather bewildered for the moment, and a trifle anxious -about the Customs officers.</p> - -<p>"What is this town?" they asked.</p> - -<p>"For what are the Customs men looking?"</p> - -<p>"Where is our agent—the man they said would be here?"</p> - -<p>I entered into conversation with them, and over and over again answered -the question, "What is this town?" I told them it was London.</p> - -<p>"Is it a beautiful town?" they asked.</p> - -<p>"Is it a large town?"</p> - -<p>"Do we have to go in a train?"</p> - -<p>"How far is it?"</p> - -<p>"Look at my ticket; what does it say?"</p> - -<p>They made a miscellaneous crowd on the quay-side, and I talked to them -freely, answered their questions, and in turn put questions of my own. -They came from all parts of Russia, even from remote parts, and were -going to just as diverse places in America: to villages in Minnesota, -in Michigan, in Iowa; to Brooklyn, to Boston, to Chicago. I realised -the meaning of the phrase, "the magic word Chicago." I told them how -many people there were in London, how much dock labourers get a week, -pointed out the Tower Bridge, and calmed them about the non-appearance -of their agent. I knew him, and if he didn't turn up I would lead them -to him. They might be calm; he knew Russian, he would arrange all for -them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<p>At last a representative of my East End friend appeared—David the Jew. -He was known to all the dockers as David, but he had a gilt I. K. on -the collar of his coat, wore a collar, had his hair brushed, and was a -person of tremendous importance to the eager and humble emigrants. Not -a Jew, no! No Jew has authority in Russia. No Jew looked like David, -and so the patient Christians thought him an important official when -he rated them, and shouted to them, and cursed them like a herdsman -driving home a contrary lot of cows and sheep and pigs.</p> - -<p>Another Jew appeared, in a green hat and fancy waistcoat, and he -produced a sheaf of papers having the names, ages, and destinations of -the emigrants all tabulated. He began a roll-call in one of the empty -warehouses of the dock. Each peasant as his name was called was ticked -off, and was allowed to gather up his belongings and bolt through the -warehouse as if to catch a train. I ran to the other side and found -a series of vans and brakes, such as take the East-enders to Happy -Hampstead on a Bank Holiday. Into these the emigrants were guided, -and they took their seats with great satisfaction. They clambered in -from all sides, showing a preference for getting up by the wheels, and -nearly pulling away the sides of the frail vehicles.</p> - -<p>The vanmen jested after their knowledge of jests, and put their arms -round the pretty girls' waists.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> David rushed to and fro, fretting and -scolding. Loafers and clerks collected to look at the girls.</p> - -<p>"Why does that old man look at us so? he ought to be ashamed of -himself," said a pretty Moscow girl to me. "He is dressed like twenty -or twenty-five, but he is quite old. How quizzically he looks at us."</p> - -<p>"He is forty," said I.</p> - -<p>"Sixty!"</p> - -<p>"That's a pretty one," said a young man whose firm imported Koslof eggs.</p> - -<p>"What does he say?"</p> - -<p>"He says that you are pretty."</p> - -<p>"Tell him I thank him for the compliment; but he is not interesting—he -has not a moustache."</p> - -<p>All the vans filled, and there was a noise and a smell of Russia in the -grim and dreary dockyard, and such a chatter of young men and women, -all very excited. At last David got them all in order. I stepped up -myself, and one by one we went off through the East End of the city.</p> - -<p>We went to St. Pancras station. On the way one of the peasants stepped -down from his brake and, entering a Jewish hat-shop, bought himself a -soft green felt and put his astrakhan hat away in his sack. He was the -subject of some mirth, and also of some envy in the crowd that sat down -to coffee and bread and butter at the Great Midland terminus. Under the -terms of their tickets the emigrants were fed all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the way from Libau -to New York without extra charge.</p> - -<p>They were all going from Liverpool, some by the Allan Line, some by the -White Star, and others by the Cunard. As by far the greatest number -were going on the Cunard boat, I went to I. K. and booked a passage on -that line. There was much to arrange and write, my sack to pack, and -many good-byes to utter—all in the briefest space of time.</p> - -<p>At midnight I returned to the station and took my seat in the last -train for Liverpool. Till the moment before departure I had a -compartment to myself; but away down at the back of the train were -coach after coach of Russians, all stretched on their sheepskins on -the narrow seats and on the floor, with their children in the string -cradles of the parcel-racks. They were crowded with bundles and baskets -and kettles and saucepans, and yet they had disposed themselves to -sleep. As I walked along the corridor I heard the chorus of heavy -breathing and snoring. In one of the end carriages a woman was on her -knees praying—prostrating and crossing herself. As we moved out of St. -Pancras I felt as I did when upon the pilgrim boat going to Jerusalem, -and I said to myself with a thrill, "We have mysterious passengers on -board." The sleeping Russians gave an atmosphere to the English train. -It was like the peculiar feeling that comes to the other people in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -house when news is given downstairs that a new baby has arrived.</p> - -<p>A man stepped into my compartment just as the train was moving—a -jovial Briton who asked me to have a cigar, and said, when I refused, -that he was glad, for he really wanted to give it to the guard. He -wanted the guard to stop the express for him at Wellingborough, and -reckoned that the cigar would put him on friendly terms. He inquired -whether I was a Mason, and when I said I was not, proceeded to reveal -Masonic secrets, unbuttoning his waistcoat to show me a little golden -sphere which opened to make a cross.</p> - -<p>At St. Albans he gave the guard the cigar, and the charm worked, for he -was enabled to alight at Wellingborough. And I was left alone with my -dreams.</p> - -<p class="space-above">In a thunderstorm, with a high gale and showers of blinding hail -and snow, with occasional flashing forth of amazing sunshine, to be -followed by deepest gloom of threatening cloud, we collected on the -quay at Liverpool—English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Swedes, Finns—all -staring at one another curiously, and trying to understand languages -we had never heard before. Three hundred yards out in the harbour -stood the red-funnelled Cunarder which was to bear us to America; and -we waited impatiently for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> the boat which should take us alongside. -We carried baskets and portmanteaus in our strained hands; most of -us were wearing heavy cloaks, and some had sacks upon their backs, -so we were all very ready to rush aboard the ferry-boat and dump our -burdens on its damp decks. What a stampede there was—people pushing -into portmanteaus, baskets pushing into people! At last we had all -crossed the little gangway, and all that remained on shore were -the few relatives and friends who had come to see the English off. -This pathetic little crowd sang ragtime songs, waved their hats and -handkerchiefs, and shouted. There was a bandying of farewells:</p> - -<p>"Ta-ta, ta-ta-ta!"</p> - -<p>"Wish you luck!"</p> - -<p>"Ta-ta-a, ole Lloyd George! No more stamp-licking!"</p> - -<p>"Good luck, old boy!"</p> - -<p>"The last of old England!"</p> - -<p>The foreign people looked on and smiled non-comprehendingly; the -English and Americans huzzaed and grinned. Then away we went over the -water, and thoughts of England passed rapidly away in the interest -of coming nearer to civilisation's toy, the great liner. We felt the -romance of ocean travel, and also the tremulous fear which the ocean -inspires. Then as we lay in the lee of the vast, steep, blood- and -soot-coloured liner, each one of us thought of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> the <i>Titanic</i> and the -third-class passengers who went down beneath her into the abyss.</p> - -<p>The vastness of the liner made our ferry-boat look like a matchbox. -A door opened in the great red wall and a little gangway came out of -it like a tongue coming out of a mouth. We all picked up our bags and -baggage and pushed and squirmed along this narrow footway that led -into the mouth of the steamer and away down into its vast, cavernous, -hungry stomach: English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Poles, Swedes, -Finns, Flemings, Spaniards, Italians, Canadians, passed along and -disappeared—among them all, I myself.</p> - -<p>There were fifteen hundred of us; each man and woman, still carrying -handbags and baskets, filed past a doctor and two assistants, and was -cursorily examined for diseases of the eye or skin.</p> - -<p>"Hats and gloves off!" was our first greeting on the liner. We marched -slowly up to the medical trio, and each one as he passed had his eyelid -seized by the doctor and turned inside out with a little instrument. -It was a strange liberty to take with one's person; but doctors are -getting their own way nowadays, and they were looking for <i>trachoma</i>. -For the rest the passing of hands through our hair and examination of -our skin for signs of scabies was not so rough, and the cleaner-looking -people were not molested.</p> - -<p>Still carrying our things we took our medical-inspection <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>cards and -had them stamped by a young man on duty for that purpose. Then we were -shown our berths.</p> - -<p>There was a spring bed for each person, a towel, a bar of soap, and -a life-preserver. The berths were arranged, two, four, and six in a -cabin. Married couples could have a room to themselves, but for the -rest men and women were kept in different sets of cabins. British were -put together, Scandinavians together, Russians and Jews together. It -was so arranged that the people in the cabins understood one another's -language. Notices on the walls warned that all emigrants would be -vaccinated on deck, whether they had been vaccinated before or not; -that all couples making love too warmly would be married compulsorily -at New York if the authorities deemed it fit, or should be fined or -imprisoned; that in case of fire or smoke being seen anywhere we were -to report to chief steward, but not to our fellow-passengers; that -smoking was not allowed except on the upper deck, and so on. The cabins -were a glittering, shining white; they were small and box-like; they -possessed wash-basins and water for the first day of the voyage, but -not to be replenished on succeeding days. There were general lavatories -where you might wash in hot or cold water, and there were bathrooms -which were locked and never used. Each cabin had a little mirror. -The cabins were steam-heated, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> when the passengers were dirty -the air was foul. Fresh air was to be found on the fore and after -decks, except in time of storm, when we were barred down. In time of -storm the smell below was necessarily worse—atrocious, for most of -the people were very sick. We had, however, a great quantity of dark -space to ourselves, and could prowl into the most lonesome parts of -the vessel. The dark recesses were always occupied by spooning couples -who looked as if they had embarked on this journey only to make love -to one another. There were parts of the ship wholly given over to -dancing, other parts to horse-play and feats of strength. There was an -immense dining-room with ante-chambers and there, to the sound of the -jangling dinner-bell echoing and wandering far or near over the ship, -we assembled to meals.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i012.jpg" id="i012.jpg"></a><img src="images/i012.jpg" alt="RUSSIAN WOMEN ON BOARD" /></div> - -<p class="bold">RUSSIAN WOMEN ON BOARD.</p> - -<p class="bold">The peasant woman.<span class="s3"> </span>The intellectual and revolutionary type.</p> - -<p class="space-above">The emigrants flocked into the mess-room from the four doors to twenty -immense tables spread with knives and forks and toppling platters of -bread. Nearly all the men came in in their hats,—in black glistening -ringlety sheepskin hats, in fur caps, in bowlers, in sombreros, in -felt hats with high crowns, in Austrian cloth hats, in caps so green -that the wearer could only be Irish. Most of the young men were -curious to see what girls there were on board, and looked eagerly to -the daintily clad Swedish women, blonde and auburn-haired beauties -in tight-fitting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> speckless jerseys. The British girls came in in -their poor cotton dresses, or old silk ones, things that had once -looked grand for Sunday wear but now bore miserable crippled hooks -and eyes, threadbare seams, gaping fastenings—cheerful daughters of -John Bull trapesing along in the shabbiest of floppy old boots. Then -there were the dark and somewhat forward Jewesses, talking animatedly -with little Jew men in queer-shaped trousers and skimpy coats; there -were slatternly looking Italian women with their children, intent on -being at home in whatever circumstances. There was a party of shapely -and attractive Austrian girls that attracted attention from the others -and a regular scramble to try to sit next to them or near them. No one -ever saw a greater miscellaneity and promiscuity of peoples brought -together by accident. I sat between a sheepskin-wrapped peasant wife -from the depths of Russia and a neat Danish engineer, who looked no -different from British or American. Opposite me were two cowboys going -back to the Far West, a dandified Spanish Jew sat next them on one hand -and two Norwegians in voluminous knitted jackets on the other. At the -next table was a row of boisterous Flemings, with huge caps and gaudy -scarfs. There were Americans, spruce and smart and polite; there were -Italians, swarthy and dirty, having their black felt hats on their -heads all through the meal and resting their elbows on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> table as -if they'd just come into a public-house in their native land. There -were gentle youths in shirts which womenfolk had embroidered in Little -Russia; there were black-bearded Jewish patriarchs in their gaberdines, -tall and gaunt.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i014.jpg" id="i014.jpg"></a><img src="images/i014.jpg" alt="THE BOISTEROUS FLEMINGS" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE BOISTEROUS FLEMINGS.</p> - -<p>A strange gathering of seekers, despairers, wanderers, pioneers, -criminals, scapegoats. I thought of all the reasons that had brought -these various folk together to make a community, that had brought -them all together to form a Little America. From Great Britain it is -so often the drunkard who is sent. Some young fellow turns out to be -wilder than the rest of his family; he won't settle down to the sober, -righteous, and godly life that has been the destiny of the others; he -is likely to disgrace respectability, so parents or friends give him -his passage-money and a little capital and send him away across the -sea. Henceforth his name is mentioned at home with a 'ssh, or with a -tear—till the day that he makes his fortune. With the drunkard go -the young forger or embezzler whose shame has been covered up and -hidden, but who can get no "character" from his last employer. Then -there are the unemployed, and those discontented with their jobs, the -out-of-works, the men who have seen no prospect in the old land and -felt no freedom. There are the wanderers, the rovers, the wastrels, so -called, who have never been able to settle down; there are also the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> -prudent and thoughtful men who have read of better conditions and go -simply to take advantage of them. There are those who are there almost -against their will, persuaded by the agents of the shipping companies -and the various people interested to keep up the flow of people into -America. There are the women who are going out to their sweethearts to -be married, and the wives who are going to the husbands who have "made -good"; there are the girls who have got into trouble at home and have -slid away to America to hide their shame; there are girls going to be -domestic servants, and girls doomed to walk the streets,—all sitting -down together, equals, at a table where no grace is said but the -whisper of hope which rises from each heart.</p> - -<p>But it is not only just these people whom I have so materially and -separately indicated. The cheerful lad who is beginning to flirt with -his first girl acquaintance on the boat has only a few hours since -dried the tears off his cheeks; they are nearly all young people on -the boat, and they mostly have loving mothers and fathers in the -background, and friends and sweethearts, some of them. And there are -some lonely ones who have none who care for them in all the world. -There are young men who are following a lucky star, and who will never -be so poor again in their lives, boys who have guardian angels who -will never let them injure their foot on the ground, boys who have in -their favour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> good fairies, boys and girls who have old folk praying -for them. And there is the prodigal son, as well as the too-prodigal -daughter. There are youngest brothers in plenty, going to win the -princess in a way their elder brothers never thought of; young Hans is -there, Aladdin, Norwegian Ashepattle, Ivan Durak—the Angel of Life is -there; there is also the Angel of Death.</p> - -<p>We sat down together to our first meal,—the whole company of the -emigrant passengers broke bread together and became thereby one -body,—a little American nation in ourselves. I am sure that had the -rest of the world's people been lost we could have run a civilization -by ourselves. We had peasants to till the soil, colliers to give us -fuel, weavers and spinners to make cloth, tailors to sew it into -garments, comely girls of all nations to be our wives; we had clerks -and shop-keepers and Jews with which to make cities; musicians and -music-hall artists to divert us, and an author to write about it all.</p> - -<p>Mugs half-full of celery soup were whisked along the tables; not a -chunk of bread on the platters was less than an inch thick; the hash of -gristly beef and warm potato was what would not have been tolerated in -the poorest restaurant, but we set ourselves to eat it, knowing that -trials in plenty awaited us and that the time might come when we should -have worse things than these to bear. The Swedes and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> British were -finicky; the Russians and the Jews ate voraciously as if they'd never -seen anything so good in their lives.</p> - -<p>The peasant woman next to me crossed herself before and after the meal; -her Russian compatriots removed their hats and some of them said grace -in a whisper to themselves. But most ate even with their hats on, and -most with their hands dirty. You would not say we ate as if in the -presence of God and with the memories, in the mind, of prayers for the -future and heart-break at parting with home; yet this meal was for the -seeing eye a wonderful religious ceremony, a very real first communion -service. The rough food so roughly dispensed was the bread and wine, -making them all of one body and of one spirit in America. Henceforth -all these people will come nearer and nearer to one another, and drift -farther and farther from the old nations to which they belonged. They -will marry one another, British and Jewish, Swedish and Irish, Russian -and German; they will be always eating at America's board; they will -be speaking the one language, their children will learn America's -ideals in America's school. Even from the most aboriginal, illiterate -peasant on board, there must come one day a little child, his grandson -or great-grandson, who will have forgotten the old country and the old -customs, whose heart will thrill to America's idea as if he had himself -begotten it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<p>On Sunday morning when we came upstairs from our stuffy little cabin -we were gliding past the green coast of Ireland, and shortly after -breakfast-time we entered the beautiful harbour of Queenstown, -blue-green, gleaming, and perfect under a bright spring sun. Hawkers -came aboard with apples, knotted sticks, and green favours—the day -following would be St. Patrick's. And we shipped a score of Irish -passengers.</p> - -<p>Outside Queenstown a different weather raged over the Atlantic, and -as we steamed out of the lagoon it came forward to meet us. The -clouds came drifting toward us, and the wind rattled in the masts. -The ocean was full of glorious life and wash of wave and sea. A crowd -of emigrants stood in the aft and watched the surf thundering away -behind us; the great hillsides of green water rose into being and -then fell out of being in grand prodigality. Gulls hung over us as we -rushed forward and poised themselves with gentle feet outstretched, -or flew about us, skirling and crying, or went forward and overtook -us. Meanwhile Ireland and Britain passed out of view, and we were left -alone with the wide ocean. We knew that for a week we should not see -land again, and when we did see land that land would be America.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i018.jpg" id="i018.jpg"></a><img src="images/i018.jpg" alt="THE DREAMY NORWEGIAN WITH THE CONCERTINA" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE DREAMY NORWEGIAN WITH THE CONCERTINA. THE ENDLESS DANCING.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Then we all began to know one another, to talk, to dance, to sing, to -play together. All the cabins<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> were a-buzz with chatter, and along -the decks young couples began to find one another out and to walk -arm and arm. Two dreamy Norwegians produced concertinas, and without -persuasion sat down in dark corners and played dance music for hours, -for days. Rough men danced with one another, and the more fortunate -danced with the girls, dance after dance, endlessly. The buffets were -crowded with navvies clamouring for beer; the smoking-rooms were full -of excited gamblers thumbing filthy cards. The first deck was wholly -in electric light, you mounted to the second and it was all in shadow, -you went higher still and you came to daylight. You could spend your -waking hours on any of these levels, but the lower you went the warmer -it was. On the electric-light deck were to be found the cleaner and -more respectable passengers; they sat and talked in the mess-room, -played the piano, sang songs. Up above them all the hooligans rushed -about, and there also, in the shadow, in the many recesses and dark -empty corners young men and women were making love, looking moonily at -one another, kissing furtively and giving by suggestion an unwonted -atmosphere to the ship. It was also on this deck that the wild couples -danced and the card-players shuffled and dealt. Up on the open deck -were the sad people, and those who loved to pace to and fro to the -march music of the racing steamer and the breaking waves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p>I wandered from deck to deck, everywhere; opened many doors, peered -into many faces, sat at the card-table, crushed my way into the bar, -entered into the mob of dancers, found a Russian girl and talked to -her. But I was soon much sought for. When the Russian-speaking people -found out I had their language they followed me everywhere, asking -elementary questions about life and work and wages in America. Even -after I had gone to bed and was fast asleep my cabin door would open -and some woolly-faced Little Russian would cry out, "Gospodin Graham, -forgive me, please, I have a little prayer to make you; write me also a -letter to a farmer."</p> - -<p>I had written for several of them notes which they might present at -their journey's end.</p> - -<p>All day long I was in converse with Russians, Poles, Jews, Georgians, -Lithuanians, Finns.</p> - -<p>"Look at these Russian fatheads (<i>duraki</i>)," said a young Jew. "Why -do they go to America? Why do they leave their native land to go to a -country where they will be exploited by every one?"</p> - -<p>"Why do <i>you</i> leave it, then?" asked a Russian.</p> - -<p>"Because I have no rights there," replied the Jew.</p> - -<p>"Have we rights?" the Russian retorted.</p> - -<p>"If I had your rights in Russia I'd never leave that country. I'd find -something to do that would make me richer than I could ever be in -America."</p> - -<p>There were three or four peasants around, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> another rejoined. "But -you could have our rights if you wished."</p> - -<p>Whereupon I broke in:</p> - -<p>"But only by renouncing the Jewish faith."</p> - -<p>"That is exactly the truth," said the Jew.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said a Russian called Alexy Mitrophanovitch, "he can have all -our rights if he renounces his faith."</p> - -<p>"If I am baptized to get your rights what use is that to you? Why do -Christians ask for such an empty thing?"</p> - -<p>"All the same," said another Russian, "in going to America you will -break your faith, and so will we. I have heard how it happens. They -don't keep the Saints' days there."</p> - -<p>Alexy Mitrophanovitch was a fine, tall, healthy-looking peasant workman -in a black sheepskin. With him, and as an inseparable, walked a -broad-faced Gorky-like tramp in a dusty peak-hat. The latter was called -Yoosha.</p> - -<p>"You see, all I've got," said Alexy to me, "is just what I stand up in. -Not a copeck of my own in my pocket, and not a basket of clothes. My -friend Yoosha is lending me eighty roubles so as to pass the officials -at New York, but of course I give it back to him when we pass the -barrier. We worked together at Astrakhan."</p> - -<p>"Have you a bride in Russia?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<p>No, he was alone. He did not think to marry; but he had a father and a -mother. At Astrakhan he had been three thousand versts away from his -village home, so he wouldn't be so much farther away in America.</p> - -<p>He was going to a village in Wisconsin. A mate of his had written that -work was good there, and he and Yoosha had decided to go. They would -seek the same farmer, a German, Mr. Joseph Stamb—would I perhaps write -a letter in English to Mr. Stamb?...</p> - -<p>Both he and Yoosha took communion before leaving Astrakhan. I asked -Alexy whether he thought he was going to break his faith as the other -Russians had said to the Jew. How was he going to live without his Tsar -and his Church?</p> - -<p>He struck his breast and said, "There, that is where my Church is! -However far away I go I am no farther from God!"</p> - -<p>Would he go back to Russia?</p> - -<p>He would like to go back to die there.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," said he, "do they burn dead bodies in America? I would not -like my body to be burned. It was made of earth, and should return to -the earth."</p> - -<p>The man who slept parallel with me in my cabin was an English collier -from the North Country. He had been a bad boy in the old country, and -his father had helped him off to America. Whenever he had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> chance to -talk to me, it was of whippet-racing and ledgers and prizes and his pet -dog.</p> - -<p>"As soon as a get tha monny a'll enter that dawg aht Sheffield. A took -er to Durby; they wawn't look at 'er there. There is no dawg's can -stan' agin her. At Durby they run the rabbits in the dusk, an' the -little dawg as 'ad the start could see 'em, but ourn moight a been at -Bradford fur all she could see. A'll bet yer that dawg's either dead -or run away. She fair lived fer me. Every night she slep in my bed. -Ef ah locked 'er aht, she kick up such a ra. Then I open the door an' -she'd come straight an' jump into bed an' snuggle 'erself up an' fall -asleep...."</p> - -<p>The dirtiest cabins in the ship were allotted to the Russians and the -Jews, and down there at nine at night the Slavs were saying their -prayers whilst just above them we British were singing comic songs or -listening to them. Most of us, I reckon, also said our prayers later -on, quietly, under our sheets; for we were, below the surface, very -solitary, very apprehensive, very child-like, very much in need of the -comfort of an all-seeing Father.</p> - -<p>The weather was stormy, and the boat lost thirty-six hours on the way -over. The skies were mostly grey, the wind swept the vessel, and the -sea deluged her. The storm on the third night considerably reduced the -gaiety of the ship; all night long we rolled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> to and fro, listening to -the crash of the waves and the chorus of the spring-mattresses creaking -in all the cabins. My boy who had left the "dawg" behind him got badly -"queered up." He said it was "mackerel as done it," a certain warm, -evil-looking mackerel that had been served him for tea on the Tuesday -evening. Indeed the food served us was not of a sort calculated to -prepare us for an Atlantic storm—roast corned beef, sausage and mash, -dubious eggs, tea that tasted strongly of soda, promiscuously poked -melting butter, ice cream. On tumultuous Tuesday the last thing we ate -was ice cream! We all felt pretty abject on Wednesday morning.</p> - -<p>Our sickness was the stewards' opportunity. They interviewed us, sold -us bovril and hawked plates of decent ham and eggs, obtained from the -second-class table or their own mess. The British found the journey -hard to bear, though they didn't suffer so much as the Poles and the -Austrians and the Russians. I found the whole journey comparatively -comfortable, stormy weather having no effect on me, and this being -neither my first nor worst voyage. Any one who has travelled with -the Russian pilgrims from Constantinople to Jaffa in bad weather has -nothing to fear from any shipboard horror on a Cunarder on the Atlantic.</p> - -<p>Only two of the Russians went through the storm happily, Alexy and -Yoosha. They had worked for nights and months on the Caspian Sea in a -little boat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> almost capsizing each moment as they strained at their -draughts of salmon and sturgeon; one moment deep down among the seas, -the next plunging upward, shooting over the waves, stopping short, -slithering round—as they graphically described it to me.</p> - -<p>When the storm subsided the pale and convalescent emigrants came -upstairs to get sea air and save themselves from further illness. -Corpse-like women lay on the park seats, on the coiled rope, on the -stairs, uttering not a word, scarcely interested to exist. Other women -were being walked up and down by their young men. A patriarchal Jew, -very tall and gaunt, hauled along a small, fat woman of his race, and -made her walk up and down with him for her health—a funny pair they -looked. On Wednesday afternoon, about the time the sun came out, one of -the boisterous Flemings tied a long string to a tape that was hanging -under a pretty French girl's skirts, and he pulled a little and watched -her face, pulled a little more and watched the trouble, pulled a little -more and was found out. Then several of the corpse-like ones smiled, -and interest in life was seen to be reviving.</p> - -<p>Next morning when I was up forward with my kodak, one of the young -ladies who had been so ill was being tossed in a blanket with a young -Irish lad of whom she was fond, struggling and scratching and rolling -with a young fellow who was kissing her, whilst four companions were -dangerously hoisting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> them shoulder high, laughing and bandying Irish -remarks. Life only hides itself when these folk are ill; they will -survive more than sea-sickness.</p> - -<p class="space-above">The white dawn is haggard behind us over the black waves, and our great -strong boat goes thundering away ahead of the sun. It is mid-Atlantic, -and we stare into the same great circle of hungry emptiness, as did -Columbus and his mariners. Our gaze yearns for land, but finds none; -it rests sadly on the solitary places of the ocean, on the forlorn -waves lifting themselves far away, falling into nothingness, and then -wandering to rebirth.</p> - -<p>Nothing is happening in the wide ocean. The minutes add themselves and -become hours. We know ourselves far from home, and we cannot say how -far from the goal, but still very far, and there is no turning back. -"Would there were," says the foolish heart. "Would I had never come -away from the warm home, the mother's love, the friends who care for -me, the woman who loves me, the girl who has such a lot of empty time -on her hands now that I have gone away, her lover." How lonely it is -on the steerage deck in the crowd of a thousand strangers, hearing a -score of unknown tongues about your ears, hearing your own language so -pronounced you scarce recognise it!</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i026.jpg" id="i026.jpg"></a><img src="images/i026.jpg" alt="A RUSSIAN JEW" /></div> - -<p>The mirth of others is almost unpardonable, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> romping of Flemish -boys, pushing people right and left in a breakneck game of touch; the -excitement of a group of Russians doing feats of strength; the sweet -happiness of dainty Swedish girls dancing with their rough partners -to the strains of an accordion. How good to escape from it all and -trespass on the steward's promenade at the very extremity of the -after-deck, where the emigrants may not go, and where they are out of -sight and out of hearing.</p> - -<p>The ocean is retreating behind us with storm-scud and smoke of foam -threshed out from our riven road. Vast theatres of waves are falling -away behind us and slipping out of our ken backward into the homeward -horizon. Above us the sky is grey, and the sea also is grey, waving now -and then a miserable flag of green.</p> - -<p>What an empty ocean! There is nothing happening in it but our ship. -And for me, that ship is just part of my own purpose: there is nothing -happening but what I willed. The slanting red funnels are full of -purpose, and the volumes of smoke that fly backward are like our sighs, -regrets, hopes, despairs, the outward sign of the fire that is driving -us on.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Up on the steward's promenade on Thursday morning I fell into -conversation with a young Englishman, and he poured out his heart to -me. He was very homesick, and had spoken to no one up till then. He was -in a long cloak, with the collar turned up, and a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> cloth cap was -stuck tightly on his head to keep it from the wind. His face was red -with health, but his forehead was puckered, and his eyes seemed ready -to shed tears.</p> - -<p>"Never been so far away from the old country before?" I hazarded.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Would you like to go back?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to friends in America?"</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I'm going on my own."</p> - -<p>"You are the sort that America wants," I ventured. He did not reply, -and I was about to walk away, snubbed, when another thought occurred to -me.</p> - -<p>"I once left the old country to seek my fortune elsewhere," said I. "I -felt as you do, I expect. But it was to go to Russia."</p> - -<p>He looked up at me with an inquisitive grimace. I suggested that I -knew what it was to part with a girl I loved, and a mother and friends -and comforts, and to go to a strange country where I knew no one, and -thought I had no friends. At the mention of parting with the girl he -seemed to freeze, but curiosity tempted him and he let me tell him some -of my story.</p> - -<p>"I reckon that England's pretty well played out," said he.</p> - -<p>"Not whilst it sends its sons out into the world—you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>to America, and -me to Russia," said I with a smile. "It will only be played out when we -haven't the courage to go."</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, "I reckon I <i>had</i> to go, there wasn't anything else -for me to do. It wasn't courage on my part. I didn't want to go. I -reckon there ought to be room in England for the likes of me. It isn't -as if I had no guts. I'm as fit as they make them, only no good at -figures. I think I had the right to a place in England and a decent -screw, and England might be proud of me. I should always have been -ready to fight against the Germans for her. I joined the Territorials, -I learned to shoot, I can ride a horse."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you go into the army?"</p> - -<p>"That's not the place for a decent fellow. Besides, my people wouldn't -allow it, and my girl's folks would be cut up. And I reckon there's -something better to do than be drilled and wait for a war. My people -wanted me to be something respectable, to go into the Civil Service, -or a bank, or an insurance office, or even into the wholesale fruit -business. I was put into Jacob's, the fruit firm, but I couldn't work -their rate. I've been hunting for work the last five months. That takes -it out of you, don't it? How mean I felt! Everybody looked at me in -such a way—you know, as much as to say 'You loafer, you lout, you -good-for-nothing,' so that I jolly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> well began to feel I was that, too, -especially when my clothes got shabby and I had nothing decent to put -on to see people."</p> - -<p>As my acquaintance talked he rapidly became simpler, more child-like, -confiding, and tears stole down his cheek. The reserved and surly lad -became a boy. "What a life," said he, "to search work all day, beg a -shilling or so from my mother in the evening, meet my girl, tell her -all that's happened, then at night to finish the day lying in bed -trying to imagine what I'd do if I had a thousand a year!</p> - -<p>"I reckon I could have earned a living with my hands, but my people -were too proud; yes, and I was too proud also, and my girl might not -have liked it. Still, I'd have done anything to earn a sovereign and -take her to the theatre, or go out with her to the country for a day, -or make her a nice present and prove I wasn't mean. I used to be -generous. When I had a job I gave plenty of presents; but you can't -give things away when you have to borrow each day. You even walk -instead of taking a car, and you are mean, mean, mean—mean all day. -Then in the evening you talk of marrying a girl, of having a little -home, and you dare to kiss her as much as you can or she will let, and -all the while you have in the wide world only a few coppers—and a mother."</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i030.jpg" id="i030.jpg"></a><img src="images/i030.jpg" alt="ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES WAS BEING TOSSED UP IN A -BLANKET WITH A YOUNG IRISH LAD."</p> - -<p>We went and leaned over the ship and stared down at the sea.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<p>Tears! I suppose millions had come there before and made that great -salt ocean of them.</p> - -<p>The boy now lisped his confidence to me hurriedly, happily, tenderly.</p> - -<p>"But I reckon I've got a good mother, eh? She loved me more than I -dreamed. How she cried on Friday! how she cried! It was wild. Sometimes -I used to say I hated her. I used to shout out angrily at her that I'd -run away and never come back. That was when she said hasty things to -me, or when she wouldn't give me money. I used to think I'd go and be -a tramp, and pick up a living here and there in the country, and live -on fruit and birds' eggs, sleeping anywhere. It would be better than -feeling so mean at home. But then, my girl—every night I had to see -her. I felt I could not go away like that, never to come home with a -fortune—never, never to be able to marry her. Every night she put her -arms round my neck and kissed me, and called me her old soldier, her -dear one—all sorts of sweet things. I reckon we didn't miss one night -all this last year.</p> - -<p>"Her father's all right. I had thought he would be different. I was a -bit afraid of what he'd say if he got to hear. But she told him on her -own, and one night she took me home. They had fixed it up themselves -without asking me, and he was very kind. I told him I wanted a job, and -I thought p'raps he was going to get me one. But no; he was a queer -sort,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> rather. 'I'm going to wipe out that story of yours,' he says. -Then he goes to his bureau and writes a note and puts it in an envelope -and addresses it to me. 'Here you are, young man,' says he. I opened -the envelope and read one word on a slip of paper—<span class="smcap">America</span>. -'Millions have told your story before,' says he, 'and have had that -word given them in answer. You get ready to go to America; I'll find -you your passage-money and something to start you off in the new -country. You'll do well; you'll make good, my boy,' and he slapped me -on the back.</p> - -<p>"You bet I felt excited. He saw my mother and told her his plan. She -said she couldn't stand in my way. I got the <i>Government Handbook on -the United States</i>, and the emigration circular. I read up America at -the public library. I wonder I hadn't thought of it before. America is -a great country, eh? They look at you differently, I bet, and a strong -young man's worth something there. My word, when I come back....</p> - -<p>"I wonder if I shall come back or if she'll come out to me. I wonder if -her father would let her. I guess he would....</p> - -<p>"She loves me. My word, how she loves me! I didn't dream of it before. -I used to think the harder you kissed, the more it meant; but she -kissed me in a new way, so softly, so differently. She said I was hers, -that I would be safe wherever I went in the wide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> world, and I was -never to feel afraid. I've got to do without her now. I reckon no other -girl is going to mean much to me."</p> - -<p>He looked rather scornfully at a troop of pretty Swedes who had invaded -our sanctuary.</p> - -<p>"It is queer how sure I feel of good luck because of her and what she -did. I feel as if everything must turn my way. Downstairs yesterday -they challenged me to play a game of cards, and I won fifty cents; but -I felt it was wrong to spend my luck that way. The chap wouldn't play -any more; he said I was in a lucky vein. He was quite right. Whatever I -turn my hand to, I'm bound to have unexpected good luck. I feel so sure -I'm going to get a job, and a real good one, too. I shan't play any -more cards this journey."</p> - -<p>The sun had come out, and the bright light blazed through our smoke, -and I felt that the boy's faith was blazing just that way through his -regrets.</p> - -<p>The sun crept on and overtook us on his own path, and then at last went -down in front of us, far away in the waste of waters.</p> - -<p>My acquaintance and I went away to the last meal of the day, to the -strangely mixed crowd of prospective Americans at the table, where men -sat and ate with their hats on, and where no grace was said. "What -matter that they throw the food at us?" I asked. "We are men with -stout hearts in our bosoms; we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> are going to a great country, where a -great people will look at us with creative eyes, making the beautiful -out of the ugly, the big and generous out of the little and mean, the -headstone out of the rock that the builders rejected."</p> - -<p>After supper I left my friend and went upstairs alone. The weather had -changed, and the electric lights of the ship were blazing through the -rain, the decks were wet and windswept, and the black smoke our funnels -were belching forth went hurrying back into the murky evening sky. The -vessel, however, went on.</p> - -<p>Downstairs some were dancing, some singing, some writing home -laboriously, others gossiping, others lying down to sleep in the little -white cabins. There was a satisfaction in hearing the throbbing of the -engines and feeling the pulse of the ship. We were idle, we passed the -time, but we knew that the ship went on.</p> - -<p>Going above once more at nine, I found the rain had passed, the sky was -clear and the night full of stars. In the sea rested dim reflections of -the stars, like the sad faces we see reflected in our memory several -days after we have gone from home. I stood at the vessel's edge and -looked far over the glimmering waves to the horizon where the stars -were walking on the sea. "What will it be like in America?" whispered -the foolish heart. "What will it be like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> for him?" Then sadness -came—the long, long thoughts of a boy. I whispered the Russian verse:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"There is a road to happiness,</div> -<div>But the way is afar."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And yet, next morning, I saw the Englishman dancing for hours with a -pretty Russian girl from a village near Kiev—Phrosia, the sister of -Maxim Holost, a fine boy of eighteen going out to North Dakota. I had -noticed the Englishman looking on at the dancing, and then suddenly, to -my surprise, at a break in the tinkling of the accordion, he offered -his arm to the Russian and took her down the middle as the music -resumed....</p> - -<p>I was much in demand among the Russians on Friday and Saturday, for -they wanted to take the English language by storm at the week-end. I -taught Alexy by writing out words for him, and six or seven peasants -had copied from him and were busy conning "man," "woman," "farm," -"work," "give me," "please," "bread," "meat," "is," "Mister," "show," -"and," "how much," "like," "more," "half," "good," "bad," the numbers, -and so on. They pronounced these words with willing gusto, and made -phrases for themselves, calling out to me:</p> - -<p>"Show me worrk, pleez."</p> - -<p>"Wer is Meester Stamb?"</p> - -<p>"Khao match eez bread?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Give mee haaf."</p> - -<p>Alexy tried his English on one of the waiters at dinner time.</p> - -<p>"Littel meet, <i>littel</i>, give mee more meet."</p> - -<p>The steward grinned appreciatively, and told him to lie down and be -quiet.</p> - -<p>Maxim and his sister were accompanied by a grizzled peasant of sixty or -so, wearing a high sugar-loaf hat sloping back from an aged, wrinkled -brow. This was Satiron Federovitch, the only old man on deck. His black -cloak, deep lined with wadding, was buttoned up to his throat, and the -simplicity of his attire and the elemental lines of his face gave him -a look of imperturbable calm. Asked why he was going to America, he -said that almost every one else in the village had gone before him. A -Russian village had as it were vanished from the Russian countryside -and from the Russian map and had transplanted itself to Dakota. Poor -old greybeard, he didn't want to go at all, but all his friends and -relatives had gone, and he felt he must follow.</p> - -<p>Holost told every one how at Libau the officials doubted the -genuineness of his passport, and he had to telegraph to his village -police, at his own expense, to verify his age and appearance. The -authorities didn't relish the idea of such a fine young man being -lost by any chance to the army. If only they had as much care for the -villages as they have for their legions!</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i036.jpg" id="i036.jpg"></a><img src="images/i036.jpg" alt="ENGLISH RUSSIANS" /></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was up betimes on Saturday morning and watched the vessel glide -out of the darkness of night into the dusk of the dawn. The electric -light up in the mainmast, the eye of the mast, squinted lividly in -the half-light, and the great phantom-like ship seemed as if cut out -of shiny-white and blood-red cardboard as it moved forward toward -the west. The smoke from the funnels lay in two long streamers to -the horizon, and the rising sun made a sooty shadow under it on the -gleaming waves. As the night-cloud vanished a great wind sprang up, -blowing off America. Old Satiron was coming laboriously upstairs, and -he slipped out on to the deck incautiously.</p> - -<p>"Gee whizz!" The mocking American wind caught his astrakhan hat and -gave it to the sea. Poor old Satiron, he'll turn up in Dakota with a -derby on, perhaps.</p> - -<p>Saturday was a day of preparation. We packed our things, we wrote -letters to catch the mail, we were medically inspected—some of us -were vaccinated. All the girls had to take off their blouses and the -young men their coats, and we filed past a doctor and two assistants. -One man washed each bare arm with a brush and some acid. The doctor -looked and examined. The other assistant stood with lymph and lancet -and rapidly jabbed us. The operation was performed at an amazing pace, -and was only an unpleasant formality. Many of those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> were thus -vaccinated got their neighbours to suck out the vaccine directly they -returned to their cabins. This was what the boy who had left the dog -behind him did. He didn't want blood-poisoning, he said. Nearly all the -Russians had been vaccinated five or six times already. In Russia there -is much disease and much faith in medicine. In England good drainage, -many people not vaccinated, little smallpox; in Russia, no drains, much -vaccination, and much of the dread disease.</p> - -<p>On Saturday night there was a concert, at which all the steerage -were present, and in which any one who liked took part. But English -music-hall songs had all the platform—no foreign musicians -participated.</p> - -<p>Sunday was Easter Day, and I was up in the dark hours of the morning -and saw the dawn. Sunrise showed the clouds in the east, but in north -and south and west the other clouds still lay asleep. Up on the -after-deck of the great tireless steamer little groups of cloaked and -muffled emigrants stood gazing over the now familiar ocean. We knew it -was our last day on the ship, and that before the dawn on the morrow we -should be at the American shore. How fittingly was it Easter, first day -of resurrection, festive day of spring, day of promise and hope, the -anniversary of happy days, of first communions!</p> - -<p>In the wan east the shadowy wings of gulls were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> flickering. The -blood-red sun was just coming into view, streaked and segmented with -blackest cloud. He was striving with night, fighting, and at last -gaining the victory. High above the east and the wide circle of glory -stood hundreds of attendant cloudlets, arrayed by the sun in robes of -lovely tinting, and they fled before him with messages for us. Then, -astonishing thing, the sun disappeared entirely into shadow. Night -seemed to have gotten the victory. But we knew night could not win.</p> - -<p>The sun reappeared almost at once, in resplendent silver, now a rim, in -a moment a perfect shield. The shield had for a sign a maiden, and from -her bosom a lovely light flooded forth upon the world. We felt that we -ourselves, looking at it, were growing in stature in the morning. The -light enveloped us—it was divine.</p> - -<p>But the victory still waited. All the wavelets of the eastern sea were -living in the morning, dancing and mingling, bewildering, baffling, -delighting, but the west lay all unconquered, a great black ocean of -waves, each edged with signs of foam, as if docketed and numbered. -All seemed fixed and rigid in death. The sun disappeared again and -reappeared anew, and this time he threw into the world ochre and fire. -The wide half-circle of the east steamed an ochreous radiance to the -zenith. The sun was pallid against the beauty he had shed; the lenses -of the eye fainted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> upon the unearthly whiteness. It was hard to look -upon the splendid one, but only at that moment might he be seen with -the traces of his mystery upon him. Now he was in his grave-clothes, -all glistening white, but at noon he would be sitting on the right hand -of God.</p> - -<p>Easter!</p> - -<p class="space-above">"Will there be any service in the steerage to-day?"</p> - -<p>"No, there will only be service for first and second-class passengers."</p> - -<p>"Is that because they need it more than we?"</p> - -<p>There was no answer to that impolite remark. Still it was rather -amusing to find that the Church's office was part of the luxury of the -first and second class.</p> - -<p>The third class played cards and danced and sang and flirted much as -usual. They had need of blessing.</p> - -<p>So at night a Baptist preacher organised a prayer-meeting on his own -account, and the English-speaking people sang "Onward, Christian -soldiers," in a rather half-hearted way at eight o'clock, and "Jesus, -lover of my soul, let me to Thy Bosom fly," at nine; and there was a -prayer and a sermon.</p> - -<p>A few hours after I had lain down to sleep Maxim Holost put his head in -at my cabin and cried out:</p> - -<p>"America! Come up and see the lights of America."</p> - -<p>And without waiting for me to follow, he rushed away to say the same -thing to others, "America! America!"</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>II</span> <span class="smaller">THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT</span></h2> - -<p>The day of the emigrants' arrival in New York was the nearest earthly -likeness to the final Day of Judgment, when we have to prove our -fitness to enter Heaven. Our trial might well have been prefaced by a -few edifying reminders from a priest.</p> - -<p>It was the hardest day since leaving Europe and home. From 5 -<span class="smaller">A.M.</span>, when we had breakfast, to three in the afternoon, when -we landed at the Battery, we were driven in herds from one place to -another, ranged into single files, passed in review before doctors, -poked in the eyes by the eye-inspectors, cross-questioned by the -pocket-inspectors, vice detectives, and blue-book compilers.</p> - -<p>Nobody had slept the night before. Those who approached America for -the first time stood on the open deck and stared at the lights of -Long Island. Others packed their trunks. Lovers took long adieus and -promised to write one another letters. There was a hum of talking in -the cabins, a continual pattering of feet in the gangways, a splashing -of water in the lavatories where cleanly emigrants were trying to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> wash -their whole bodies at hand-basins. At last the bell rang for breakfast: -we made that meal before dawn. When it was finished we all went up on -the forward deck to see what America looked like by morning light. A -little after six we were all chased to the after-deck and made to file -past two detectives and an officer. The detectives eyed us; the officer -counted to see that no one was hiding.</p> - -<p>At seven o'clock our boat lifted anchor and we glided up the still -waters of the harbour. The whole prow was a black mass of passengers -staring at the ferry-boats, the distant factories, and sky-scrapers. -Every point of vantage was seized, and some scores of emigrants were -clinging to the rigging. At length we came into sight of the green-grey -statue of Liberty, far away and diminutive at first, but later on, a -celestial figure in a blaze of sunlight. An American waved a starry -flag in greeting, and some emigrants were disposed to cheer, some shed -silent tears. Many, however, did not know what the statue was. I heard -one Russian telling another that it was the tombstone of Columbus.</p> - -<p>We carried our luggage out at eight, and in a pushing crowd prepared -to disembark. At 8.30 we were quick-marched out of the ship to the -Customs Wharf and there ranged in six or seven long lines. All the -officials were running and hustling, shouting out, "Come on!" "Hurry!" -"Move along!" and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>clapping their hands. Our trunks were examined and -chalk-marked on the run—no delving for diamonds—and then we were -quick-marched further to a waiting ferry-boat. Here for the time being -hustle ended. We waited three-quarters of an hour in the seatless -ferry, and every one was anxiously speculating on the coming ordeal -of medical and pocket examination. At a quarter to ten we steamed for -Ellis Island. We were then marched to another ferry-boat, and expected -to be transported somewhere else, but this second vessel was simply -a floating waiting-room. We were crushed and almost suffocated upon -it. A hot sun beat upon its wooden roof; the windows in the sides -were fixed; we could not move an inch from the places where we were -awkwardly standing, for the boxes and baskets were so thick about our -feet; babies kept crying sadly, and irritated emigrants swore at the -sound of them. All were thinking—"Shall I get through?" "Have I enough -money?" "Shall I pass the doctor?" and for a whole hour, in the heat -and noise and discomfort, we were kept thinking thus. At a quarter-past -eleven we were released in detachments. Every twenty minutes each and -every passenger picked up his luggage and tried to stampede through -with the party, a lucky few would bolt past the officer in charge, and -the rest would flood back with heart-broken desperate looks on their -faces. Every time they failed to get included in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> outgoing party -the emigrants seemed to feel that they had lost their chance of a job, -or that America was a failure, or their coming there a great mistake. -At last, at a quarter-past twelve, it was my turn to rush out and find -what Fate and America had in store for me.</p> - -<p>Once more it was "Quick march!" and hurrying about with bags and -baskets in our hands, we were put into lines. Then we slowly filed up -to a doctor who turned our eyelids inside out with a metal instrument. -Another doctor scanned faces and hands for skin diseases, and then we -carried our ship-inspection cards to an official who stamped them. We -passed into the vast hall of judgment, and were classified and put into -lines again, this time according to our nationality. It was interesting -to observe at the very threshold of the United States the mechanical -obsession of the American people. This ranging and guiding and hurrying -and sifting was like nothing so much as the screening of coal in a -great breaker tower.</p> - -<p>It is not good to be like a hurrying, bumping, wandering piece of coal -being mechanically guided to the sacks of its type and size, but such -is the lot of the immigrant at Ellis Island.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i044.jpg" id="i044.jpg"></a><img src="images/i044.jpg" alt="DAINTY SWEDISH GIRLS" /></div> - -<p class="bold">DAINTY SWEDISH GIRLS AND THEIR PARTNERS LOOKING OVER THE SEA.</p> - -<p>But we had now reached a point in the examination when we could rest. -In our new lines we were marched into stalls, and were allowed to -sit and look about us, and in comparative ease await the pleasure of -officials.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> The hall of judgment was crowned by two immense American -flags. The centre, and indeed the great body of the hall, was -filled with immigrants in their stalls, a long series of classified -third-class men and women. The walls of the hall were booking-offices, -bank counters, inspectors' tables, stools of statisticians. Up above -was a visitors' gallery where journalists and the curious might -promenade and talk about the melting-pot, and America, "the refuge of -the oppressed." Down below, among the clerks' offices, were exits; one -gate led to Freedom and New York, another to quarantine, a third to the -railway ferry, a fourth to the hospital and dining-room, to the place -where unsuitable emigrants are imprisoned until there is a ship to take -them back to their native land.</p> - -<p>Somewhere also there was a place where marriages were solemnised. -Engaged couples were there made man and wife before landing in New -York. I was helping a girl who struggled with a huge basket, and a -detective asked me if she were my sweetheart. If I could have said -"Yes," as like as not we'd have been married off before we landed. -America is extremely solicitous about the welfare of women, especially -of poor unmarried women who come to her shores. So many women fall -into the clutches of evil directly they land in the New World. The -authorities generally refuse to admit a poor friendless girl, though -there is a great demand for female labour all over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> United States, -and it is easy to get a place and earn an honest living.</p> - -<p>It was a pathetic sight to see the doubtful men and women pass into -the chamber where examination is prolonged, pathetic also to see the -Russians and Poles empty their purses, exhibiting to men with good -clothes and lasting "jobs" all the money they had in the world.</p> - -<p>At half-past two I gave particulars of myself and showed the coin I -had, and was passed.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever been arrested?" asked the inspector.</p> - -<p>Well, yes, I had. I was not disposed to lie. I had been arrested four -or five times. In Russia you can't escape that.</p> - -<p>"For a crime involving moral turpitude?" he went on.</p> - -<p>"No, no."</p> - -<p>"Have you got a job in America?" (This is a dangerous question; if you -say 'Yes' you probably get sent back home; it is against American law -to contract for foreign labour.)</p> - -<p>I explained that I was a tramp.</p> - -<p>This did not at all please the inspector. He would not accept that -definition of my occupation, so he put me down as author.</p> - -<p>"Are you an anarchist?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Are you willing to live in subordination to the laws of the United -States?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Are you a polygamist?"</p> - -<p>"What does that mean?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Do you believe a man may possess more than one wife at a time?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not."</p> - -<p>"Have you any friends in New York?"</p> - -<p>"Acquaintances, yes."</p> - -<p>"Give me the address."</p> - -<p>I gave him an address.</p> - -<p>"How much money have you got?" ... "Show me, please!" ... And so on. I -was let go.</p> - -<p>At three in the afternoon I stood in another ferry-boat, and with a -crowd of approved immigrants passed the City of New York. Success had -melted most of us, and though we were terribly hungry, we had words and -confidences for one another on that ferry-boat. We were ready to help -one another to any extent in our power. That is what it feels like to -have passed the Last Day and still believe in Heaven, to pass Ellis -Island and still believe in America.</p> - -<p>Two or three of us hastened to a restaurant. I sat down at a little -table, and waited. So did the others, but we were making a mistake, -for there were no waiters. We had as yet to learn the mechanism of a -"Quick Lunch" shop; there was a certain procedure to be observed and -followed, we must learn it if we wanted a dinner. I watched the first -American <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>citizen who came in, and did as he did. First I went to the -cashier and got a paper slip on which were printed many numbers 5, 10, -15, 25, and so on in intervals of fives. These represented cents, and -were so arranged for convenience in adding and for solid profit. At -this restaurant nothing cost less than five cents (twopence halfpenny), -and there were no intermediaries between five and ten, ten and fifteen, -and so forth. The unit then was five cents, and not as in England two -cents (one penny). Obviously this means enormous increase of takings in -the long run. That five-cent unit is part of the foundation of American -prosperity. I obtained my slip so numbered. Then I took a tray from a -stack of trays and a glass from an array of glasses, a fork and a knife -from the fork basket, and I went to the roast chicken counter and asked -for roast chicken. A plate of hot roast chicken was put on my tray, and -the white-hatted cook punched off twenty-five cents on my slip. I went -to another counter and received a plate of bread and butter, and to -yet another and sprinkled pepper and salt from the general sprinklers. -I went and drew iced water. Then, like the slave of the lamp working -for himself, I put the whole on my little table. When I had finished -my first course I put my plate aside and took my tray to the cook and -received a second, and when I had finished that I fetched my coffee.</p> - -<p>"Well," thought I, looking round, "no waiters,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> that means no tips; -there is not even a superfluous mendicant boy in charge of the swinging -doors." So I began to learn that in America the working man pays no -tips.</p> - -<p>My companions at the other tables were getting through with their -dinners and looking across at one another with congratulatory smiles. -We would have sat together, but in this shop one table accommodated one -customer only—an unsociable arrangement. I waited for them to finish, -so that we could go out together.</p> - -<p>Whilst doing so a man came up to me from another table and said very -quietly:</p> - -<p>"Just come over?"</p> - -<p>"This morning," I replied.</p> - -<p>He brightened up and asked:</p> - -<p>"Looking for a job?"</p> - -<p>"You don't mean to say I am being offered one already?" said I.</p> - -<p>"That's about it, two dollars."</p> - -<p>"Two dollars a day?"</p> - -<p>"That's the idea."</p> - -<p>"What's the work?"</p> - -<p>"Brick-making."</p> - -<p>It was brick-making up country for some Trust Company. I said I -was staying in New York, couldn't go just yet. He might try my -acquaintances. I pointed them out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> - -<p>One of them, a Pole, said he would go. The contractor went out with us, -and we accompanied him to his office. We took a street car. The fare -was five cents, a "nickel," and it was necessary to put the coin in the -slot of the conductor's money-box before entering. The conductor stood -stiff, like an intelligent bit of machinery, and we were to him fares -not humans. The five cents would take me to the other end of the city -if I wished it, but there was no two-cent fare in case I wished to go a -mile. That five-cent unit again!</p> - -<p>We sat in the car and looked out of the windows, interested in every -sight and sound. First we had glimpses of the East Side streets, all -push-carts and barrows, like Sukhareva at Moscow. Then we saw the dark -overhead railway and heard the first thunder of the Elevated train. -We went up the Bowery, unlike any other street in the world; we noted -that it was possible to get a room there for twenty cents a night. We -stared curiously at the life-sized carved and painted Indians outside -the cigar stores, and at the gay red-and-white stripe of the barbers' -revolving poles.</p> - -<p>We alighted just by a barber's shop. The agent showed us his office -and told us to come in if we changed our minds and would like the job. -There we left the Pole, and indeed saw him no more.</p> - -<p>There were two others beside myself—a Russian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> and a Russian Jew. -As the Jew and I both wanted a shave we all went into the barber's -shop. We were still carrying our bags, and were rather a strange -party to enter a shop together. But the barbers, a pleasant array of -close-shaven smiling Italians, were not put out in the least. They were -ready to shave any living thing. Their job was to shave and take the -cash, and not to be amused at the appearance of the customers.</p> - -<p>In America the barber's shop has a notice outside stating the number of -barbers. If the number is high it is considerable recommendation. Then -the briskly revolving pole suggests that it's your turn next and no -waiting.</p> - -<p>I was put into an immense, velvet-bottomed adjustable chair, my legs -were steadied on a three-foot stand, and the barber turning a handle -caused the back of the chair to collapse gently so that my head and -body pointed towards the doorway like the cannon mouth. Then the shave -commenced, and the barber twirled my head about and around as if it -were on a revolving hinge. And how laborious he was! In America, quick -lunch and slow shave; in England quick shave and slow lunch. And -fifteen cents for a shave, and thirty-five for a hair-cut.</p> - -<p>"That's a high price," said I.</p> - -<p>"Union rate," said he. "We are now protected against the public."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Jew, however, paid five cents less; he had bargained beforehand. -He said it was the last cent he'd pay for a shave in that country; -he'd buy a safety razor. The Russian smiled; he hadn't shaved yet, and -didn't intend to, ever.</p> - -<p>At this point the Jew parted company with us. He was going to find -a friend of his in Stanton Street. The Russian and I made for a -lodging-house in Third Avenue. At a place ticketed "Rooms by the day -or month," we rang the bell, rang the bell and waited, rang again. We -were to be initiated into another mystery of New York, the mechanical -door, the door which has almost an intelligence of its own. Down came a -German woman at last, and gave us a rare scolding. Why hadn't we turned -the handle and come in? Why had we brought her down so many flights of -stairs?</p> - -<p>It appeared that by turning a handle in her room on the second floor -she liberated the catch in the lock, and all the visitor had to do was -to turn the handle and walk in.</p> - -<p>"I heard a rattle in the lock," said I. "I wondered what it meant."</p> - -<p>"How long've you been in America?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"A few hours. We want rooms for a few days while we look about."</p> - -<p>"Days? My lodgers take rooms for years. I haven't any one staying less -than six months."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<p>This was just "boosting" her rooms, but I didn't know. I took it for -a good sign. If her tenants stayed long terms the place must be very -clean. But it was only "boosting." Still the rooms looked decent, and -we took them. They were the same price as similar rooms in the centre -of London, ten shillings a week, but dearer than in Moscow where -one would pay fifteen roubles (seven and a half dollars or thirty -shillings) a month for such accommodation. The floors were carpeted, -the sheets were white, there was a good bathroom for each four lodgers, -no children, and all was quiet. Laundry was collected, there was no -charge for the use of electric light, you received a latch-key on the -deposit of twenty-five cents, and could come in any hour of the day or -night. In signing the registration book I saw I was the only person of -Anglo-Saxon name, all were Germans, Swedes, Italians, Russians. With -British caution I hid a twenty-five dollar bill in the binding of one -of the most insignificant of my books, so that if I were robbed of -the contents of my pocket-book I should still have a stand-by. But my -suspicions were begotten only of ignorance. My fellow-lodgers were all -hard working, self-absorbed New Yorkers, who took no thought of their -neighbours, either for good or evil.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>III</span> <span class="smaller">THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION OF BRITAIN</span></h2> - -<p>I came to America to see men and women and not simply bricks and -mortar, to understand a national life rather than to moan over sooty -cities and industrial wildernesses. Hundreds of thousands of healthy -Europeans passed annually to America. I wanted to know what this asylum -or refuge of our wanderers actually was, what was the life and hope it -offered, what America was doing with her hands, what she was yearning -for with her heart. I wished to know also what was her despair.</p> - -<p>On my second day in New York I was deploring the sky-scraper, when -a young American lifted her arms above her head in yearning and -aspiration saying, "Have you seen the Woolworth Building? It is a -bird's flight of stone right away up into the sky, it is higher -and newer than anything else in New York, its cream-coloured walls -are pure and undefiled. It is a commercial house, to be let to ten -thousand business tenants. But it is like a cathedral; its foundations -are on the earth, but its spire is up among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> stars; if you go to -it at sundown and look upward you will see the angels ascending and -descending, and hear the murmur of Eternity about it."</p> - -<p>I had always thought of the sky-scraper as a black grimy street-front -that went up to an unearthly height, a Noah's Ark of sodden and smoky -bricks. That is what a sky-scraper would tend to be in London. I had -forgotten the drier, cleaner atmosphere of New York.</p> - -<p>I went to see the Woolworth Building, and I found it something new. It -was beautiful. It was even awe-inspiring.</p> - -<p>In the evening I asked an American literary man whom I met at a club -what he thought was the <i>raison d'être</i> of the Woolworth; was it not -simply the desire to build higher than all other houses—the wish to -make a distinct commercial hit?</p> - -<p>He "put me wise."</p> - -<p>"First of all," said he, "New York is built on the little island of -Manhattan. The island is all built over, and so, as we cannot expand -outward we've got to build upward. Ground rent, too, has become so high -that we must build high for economy's sake."</p> - -<p>I remarked on the number of men who lost their lives in the building of -sky-scrapers. "For every minute of the day there was a man injured in -some town or other of the United States," so I had read in an evening -paper.</p> - -<p>He said the Americans were playing large, and must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> expect to lose -a few men in the game. He expected the America of the future would -justify all sacrifices made just now, and he gave me in the course of a -long talk his view of the passion of America.</p> - -<p>"The Woolworth Building is only an inadequate symbol of our faith," -said he. "You British and the Germans and French are working on a -different principle, you are playing the small game, and playing it -well. You stake your efficiency on the perfection of details. In -the German life, for instance, nothing is too small to be thought -unmeriting of attention."</p> - -<p>I told him the watchword of the old chess champion Steinitz, "I do not -vant to vin a pawn; it is enough if I only veakens a pawn."</p> - -<p>"You play chess?" said he, laughing. "That's it exactly. He did not -care to sacrifice pieces; he was entirely on the defensive in his -chess, eh? And in life he would be the same, hoarding his pennies and -his dollars, and economising and saving. That's just how the American -is different. He doesn't mind taking great risks; he is playing -the large game, sacrificing small things, hurrying on, building, -destroying, building again, conquering, dreaming. We are always selling -out and re-investing. You are concentrating on yourselves as you are; -we want to leave our old bodies and conditions behind and jump to a new -humanity. If an American youth could inherit the whole world he would -not care to improve it if he saw a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> chance of selling it to some one -and getting something better."</p> - -<p>"The spirit of business," I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Call it what you will."</p> - -<p>"But," said I, "does not this merely result in a town full of a -hustling, mannerless crowd; trolley-cars dashing along at life-careless -speed; a nation at work with loosely constructed machinery; callous -indifference on the part of the living towards those whom they kill in -their rush to the goal?"</p> - -<p>My new acquaintance looked at me in a way that seemed to say -"You—Britisher." He was a great enthusiast for his country, and I had -been sent to him by friends in London who wanted me to get to the heart -of America, and not simply have my teeth set on edge by the bitter rind.</p> - -<p>"You think the end will justify the proceedings?" I added.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes," he said. "You know we've only been fifty years on this job; -there's nothing in modern America more than fifty years old. Think of -what we've done in the time—clearing, building, engineering; think of -the bridges we've built, the harbours, the canals, the great factories, -the schools. We've been taxed to the last limit of physical strength, -and only to put down the pavement and the gas-pipes so to speak, the -things you found ready made for you when you were born, but which we -had to lay on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> prairie. We are only now beginning to look round and -survey the foundations of civilisation. Still most of us are hurrying -on, but the end will be worth the trials by the way; we</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Are whirling from heaven to heaven</div> -<div>And less will be lost than won."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"But is it not a miserable, heartless struggle for the individual?" -said I. "For instance, to judge by the story of <i>The Jungle</i> I should -gather that the lot of a Russian family come fresh to Chicago was -terrible."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you mustn't take Sinclair literally. He is a Socialist who wants -to show that society, as it is at present constituted, is so bad that -there is no hope except in revolution. There is heartbreak often, -but the struggle is not heartless. It is amazingly full of hope. If -you go into the worst of our slums you'll find the people hopeful, -even in extremity. I've been across to London, and I never saw such -hopeless-looking people as those who live in your East Ham and West Ham -and Poplar and the rest of them."</p> - -<p>"There is hope with us too," I protested. "The people in our slums are -very rebellious, they look forward to the dictatorship of Will Thorne -or George Lansbury."</p> - -<p>"Ah well," my friend assented, "that's your kind of -hope—rebelliousness, hatred of the splendid and safe machine. That's -just it. We haven't your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>rebelliousness and quarrelsomeness. The -new-come immigrant is always quarrelling with his neighbours. It is -only after a while that America softens him and enriches his heart. The -vastness of America, the abundance of its riches, is infectious; it -makes the heart larger. The immigrant feels he has room, life is born -in him."</p> - -<p>"But," said I, "the great machine is here as in Europe. A man is known -by his job here just as much as with us, isn't he? He is labelled and -known, he fills a fixed place and has a definite rotation. Every man -says to him 'I see what you are, I know what you are; you are just what -I see and no more.' His neighbour takes him for granted thus. Out of -that horrible taking-for-granted springs rebelliousness and hate of the -great machine. You must be as rebellious as we are."</p> - -<p>"No, no." My companion wouldn't have it. "We don't look at people that -way in America. But you're right about looks. It's looks that make -people hate. It's eyes that make them curse and swear and hate. Every -day hundreds and thousands of eyes look at one. I think eyes have power -to create. If thousands and thousands of people pass by a man and look -at him with their eyes they almost change him into what they see. If -in the course of years millions of eyes look at an individual and see -in him just some little bolt in a great machine, then his tender human -heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> wants to turn into iron. The ego of that man has a forlorn and -terrible battle to fight. He thinks he is fighting himself; he is -really fighting the millions of creative eyes who by faith are changing -flesh and blood into soulless machinery."</p> - -<p>"And here?" I queried.</p> - -<p>He laughed a moment, and then said seriously, "Here it is different. -Here we are playing large. Oh, the dwarfing power, the power to make -you mean, that the millions of eyes possess in a country that is -playing the small game! They make you feel mean and little, and then -you become mean. They kill your heart. Your dead little heart withdraws -the human films and the tenderness and imaginativeness from your eyes, -and you also begin to look out narrowly, dwarfingly, compellingly. You -eye the people in the streets, in the cars, in the office, and they -can't help becoming what you are."</p> - -<p>"But some escape," said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes, some go and smash windows and get sent to gaol, some become -tramps, and some come to America. In Giant Despair's dungeon poor -Christian exclaims, 'What a fool I am to remain here when I have in my -heart a key which I am persuaded will unlock any of the doors of this -castle. Strange that it has only now occurred to me that all I need -to do is to lift my hand and open the door and go away.' Then poor -Christian books a passage to America or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> Australia. He starts for the -New World; and the moment he puts his foot on the vessel he begins to -outgrow. He was his very smallest and meanest under the pressure of -the Old World; when the pressure is removed he begins to expand. He is -free. He is on his own. He is sailing to God as himself. The exception -has beaten the rule. Now I hold as a personal belief that we are all -exceptions, that we take our stand before God as tender human creatures -of His, each unique in itself. The emigrant on the boat has the -delicious feelings of convalescence, of getting to be himself again. He -basks in the sun of freedom. The sun itself seems like the all-merciful -Father, the Good Shepherd who cares for each one and knows each by -name, leading him out to an earthly paradise."</p> - -<p>"That paradise is America, eh?" said I rather mockingly, and then I -paused and added, "But America ought to be really a paradise; it is -pathetic to think of the difference between America as the Russian -thinks it to be and America as it is. It is a shame that your trusts -and tariffs and corrupt police should have made America a worse place -to live in than the Old World. I know it is the land of opportunity, -opportunity to become rich, to get on, to be famous; but for the poor -immigrant it is rather the land of opportunism, a land where he himself -is the opportunity, which not he but other people have the chance to -seize."</p> - -<p>My friend was scandalised. "I think it gives every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> one an -opportunity," said he, "even the drunkard and the thief and the -embezzler whom you so incharitably hand over to us. You know the -saying, 'It takes an ocean to receive a muddy stream without -defilement.' The ocean of American life cleanses many a muddy stream of -the Old World."</p> - -<p>"Still," said I, "not to abandon oneself utterly to ideas, is it not -true that Pittsburg actually destroys thousands of Slav immigrants -yearly? It utterly destroys them. They have no children who come -to anything—they are just wiped out. I gather so much from your -Government survey of Pittsburg."</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, "that survey is just part of the New America, of -the new national conscience. Terrible things do happen, witness the -enormous white-slave traffic. You have just come to us at the right -moment to see the initiation of sweeping changes. President Wilson is -like your David Lloyd George, only he has more power, because he has -more people at his back. We are just beginning a great progressive era. -On the other hand, America is not the place of the weak. That's why we -send so many back home from Ellis Island. We've got something else to -do than try and put Humpty Dumpty up on the wall again. When the weaker -get past Ellis Island into our fierce national life they are bound to -go to the wall. We haven't time even to be sorry, and if questioned we -can only answer that we believe the sacrifice will be justified."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<p>I recall to my mind the startling objection of Ivan Karamazof in the -greatest of Russian novels. "When God's providence is fulfilled we -shall understand all things; we shall see how the pain and death of, -for instance, a little child could be necessary. I understand of course -what an upheaval of the universe it will be when everything in heaven -and earth blends in one hymn of praise, and everything that lives -and has lived cries aloud, 'Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are -revealed'; but to my mind the pain of one little child were too high a -price to pay." Ivan Karamazof would certainly have renounced the grand -future of America bought by the exploitation of thousands of weak and -helpless ones.</p> - -<p>Still I suppose the past must take care of itself, and the America -which stands to-day on the threshold of a new era has more thought and -tenderness for the victims of its commercial progress. It is making up -its mind to save the foreign women and their little babies. For the -rest, America plays large, as my friend said. There is a spaciousness -with her, there is contrast, there is life and death, virtue and sin, -things to laugh over and things to cry over. The little baby buds are -taken away and branches are lopped, but the mustard grows a great tree.</p> - -<p>There is a chance in America, a chance that you may be a victim, but -also a chance that you may be in at the mating of the King.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Several months later, when I had tramped some six hundred American -miles, and talked to all manner of persons, I realised that America -was superlatively a place of hope. I had been continually asking -myself, "What <i>is</i> America? What <i>is</i> this new nation? How are they -different from us at home in England?" And one morning, sitting under -a bush in Indiana, the answer came to me and I wrote it down. They are -fundamentally people who have crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and we are -stay-at-homes. They are adventurous, hopeful people. They are people -who have thrown themselves on the mercy of God and Nature.</p> - -<p>We live in a tradition; they live in an expectation. We are remedying -the old state; they are building the new. We are loyal to the ideas of -our predecessors, they are agape to divine the ideas of generations yet -to come.</p> - -<p>It is possible to come to Britain and see what Britain is, but if you -go to America the utmost you can see is what America is becoming. And -when you see the Briton you see a man steadfast at some post of duty, -but the American is something to-day but God-knows-what to-morrow. Our -noblest epitaph is "He knew his job"; theirs, "He sacrificed himself to -a cause."</p> - -<p>Observe, "that state of life unto which it shall please God to call -me," puts the Briton in a static order of things. He is in his little -shop, or at the forge, or in the coal yard. Within his sight is the -Norman tower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> of the village church. He is known to the priest by his -name and his job. He is part of the priests' cure of souls. His life -is functionised at the village altar and not at the far shrines of -ambition. He belongs to the peasant world. Even though he is English he -is as the Russian, "one of God's faithful slaves."</p> - -<p>Thousands of English, Scotch, and Irish, simple souls, say their -prayers to God each night, not because they are pillars of a chapel -or have lately been "saved," but because they have been brought up in -that way of life and in that relation to God. They pray God sometimes -in anguish that they may be helped <i>to do their duty</i>. They say the -Lord's Prayer, not as a patter, but with the stark simplicity which you -associate with the grey wall of the old church.</p> - -<p>These village folk of ours are like old trees. Close your eyes to the -visible and open them to the invisible world, and you see the young -man of to-day as the stem, his father as the branch, his grandfather -the greater branch. You see in the shadow rising out of the earth the -ancient trunk. You think of many people, and yet it is not father and -grandfather, and grandfather and great-grandfather, and so on, but -one tree, the name of which is the young man leafing in the world -of to-day. That man is no shoot, no seedling, he has behind him the -consciousness of the vast umbrageous oak. When he says "Our Father, -which art in heaven," the voice comes out of the depths of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> earth, -and it comes from father and grandfather, and from greybeard after -greybeard standing behind one another's shoulders, innumerably.</p> - -<p>The place to which it shall please God to call you is not a definite -locality in the United States of America; the dream of wealth is -dreamed inside each cottage door. Each man is intent on getting on, on -realising something new. He is revolving in his mind ways of doing more -business; of doing what he has more quickly, more economically; ways of -"boosting," ways of buying. Our customers <i>buy from</i> us: his customers -<i>trade with</i> him—they enter into harmony with him. Store-keepers and -customers sing together like gnats over the oak trees; they make things -hum. There is a feeling that whether buying or selling you are getting -forward.</p> - -<p>The British, however, put a great question-mark in front of this -American life. Do those who are striving know what they want in the end -of ends? Do those toiling in the wood know what is on the other side?</p> - -<p>The late Price Collier remarked that the German thinks he has done -something when he has an idea and the Frenchman when he has made an -epigram; it may be inferred that the American thinks he has done -something when he has made his pile. The ultimate earthly prize for -"boosting" and bargaining is a vulgar solatium,—a big house, an -abundant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> person, a few gold rings, an adorned wife, a high-power -touring car. Out in those wider spaces where lagging and outdistanced -competitors are not taken into your counsel you still handle business. -But now it is in "graft" that you deal. You are engineering trusts, and -cornering commodities, you develop political "pull," you own saloons, -and have ledgers full of the bought votes of Italians and Slavs.</p> - -<p>You are great ... sitting at the steering-wheel of this great -ramshackle political and commercial machine, your coat off and your -immaculate lawn sleeves tucked up above your elbows, you own to -wolfish-eyed reporters that you have an enormous appetite for work and -zest for life.</p> - -<p>And yet....</p> - -<p>What is the crown? You die in the midst of it. There is no goal, no -priceless treasure that even in the death-struggle your hands grasp -after.</p> - -<p>Some of your children are going in for a life of pleasure. They go to -be the envy of waiters and hotel-porters and all people waiting about -for tips, but often to be the laughing-stock of the cultured. One of -your sweet but simple-souled daughters is going to marry a broken-down -English peer. He will not marry her for less than a million dollars. -In the old store where you began business, gossiping over bacon and -flour, you would have looked rather blank if some one had said that a -foreigner would consent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> to marry your daughter only on the payment of -an indemnity.</p> - -<p>"Well," said my road-companion to me under a bush in Indiana, "the game -goes to pass the time. The world is a prison-house, and a good game -has been invented, commerce, and it saves us from ennui, that is the -philosophy of it all. Scores of years pass like an hour over cards. -Those who win are most interested and take least stock of the time—and -they have invented happiness."</p> - -<p>But I cannot believe that the American destiny leads up a cul-de-sac. -We have been following out a cross-road. There is a high road somewhere -that leads onward.</p> - -<p>There are two sorts of immigrant, one that makes his pile and returns -to Europe, the other who thinks America a desirable place to settle in. -The second class is vastly more numerous than the first, for faith in -American life is even greater than faith in America's wealth.</p> - -<p>Quite apart from the opportunities for vulgar success America has -wonderful promise. It can offer to the newcomer colonist a share in a -great enterprise. It is quite clear to the sympathetic observer that -something is afoot in the land which in Great Britain seems to be -best known by police scandals, ugly dances, sentimental novels, and -boastful, purse-conscious travellers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<p>The dream of Progress by which Westerners live is going to be carried -forward to some realisation in America. There is a great band of -workers united in the idea of making America the most pleasant and -happy place to live in that the world has ever known. I refer to those -working with such Americans as J. Cotton Dana, the fervent librarian; -Mr. Fred Howe, who is visualising the cities of the future; the -President of the City College, who has such regard not only for the -cultural but for the physical well-being of young men; Jane Addams, who -with such precision is diagnosing social evils; President Wilson, who -promises to uproot the tree of corruption; to mention only the chief -of those with whom I was brought in contact in my first experience of -America.</p> - -<p>The political struggles of America form truly a sad spectacle, but by a -thousand non-political signs one is aware that there is a real passion -in the breast of the individual.</p> - -<p>Going through the public gardens at Newark I see written up: "Citizens, -this park is yours. It was planted for you, that the beauty of its -flowers and the tender greenery of tree and lawn might refresh you. You -will therefore take care of it...."</p> - -<p>Going through Albany I find it placarded: "Dirt is the origin of sin; -get rid of dirt, and other evils will go with it," and the whole -city is having a clean-up week, all the school children formed into -anti-dirt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> regiments making big bonfires of rubbish and burying the -tomato-cans and rusty iron.</p> - -<p>Every city in America has been stirring itself to get clean. Even in a -remote little place like Clarion, Pa., I read on every lamp-post: "Let -your slogan be 'Do it for Home, Sweet Home'—clean up!" and again in -another place, "Develop your social conscience; you've got one, make -the country beautiful." In New York I have handed me the following -prayer, which has seemed to me like the breath of the new passion:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>We pray for our sisters who are leaving the ancient shelter of -the home to earn their wage in the store and shop amid the press -of modern life. Grant them strength of body to bear the strain -of unremitting toil, and may no present pressure unfit them for -the holy duties of home and motherhood which the future may lay -upon them. Give them grace to cherish under the new surroundings -the old sweetness and gentleness of womanhood, and in the rough -mingling of life to keep the purity of their hearts and lives -untarnished. Save them from the terrors of utter want. Teach them -to stand by their sisters loyally, that by united action they -may better their common lot. And to us all grant wisdom and firm -determination that we may not suffer the women of our nation to be -drained of strength and hope for the enrichment of a few, lest our -homes grow poor in the wifely sweetness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> and motherly love which -have been the saving strength and glory of our country. If it must -be so that our women toil like men, help us still to reverence in -them the mothers of the future. If they yearn for love and the -sovereign freedom of their own home, give them in due time the -fulfilment of their sweet desires. By Mary the beloved, who bore -the world's redemption in her bosom; by the memory of our own dear -mothers who kissed our souls awake; by the little daughters who -must soon go out into that world which we are now fashioning for -others, we pray that we may deal aright by all women.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Men are praying for women, and women are working for themselves. -Commercial rapacity is tempered by women's tears, and the tender -stories of the shop-girl that O. Henry wrote are more read to-day than -they were in the author's lifetime. The newspapers are all agog with -the "vice-probes," scandals, questions of eugenics, the menace of -organised capital, the woman's movement. And they are not so because -vice is more prolific than in Europe, or the race more inclined to -fail, or the working men and working women more tyrannised over. They -are so because this generation wishes to realise something of the New -Jerusalem in its own lifetime. It may be only a foolish dream, but it -provides the present atmosphere of America. It discounts the despair -which on the one hand prudery and on the other rag-time dancing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> -invite. It discounts the commercial and mechanical obsession of the -people. It discounts the wearisome shouting of the cynic who has money -in his pocket, and makes America a place in which it is still possible -for the simple immigrant to put his trust. In the light of this -passion, and never forgetful of it, I view all that comes to my notice -in America of to-day.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>IV</span> <span class="smaller">INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK</span></h2> - -<p>First, the flood of the homeward tide at six-thirty in the evening, the -thousands and tens of thousands of smartly dressed shop-girls hurrying -and flocking from the lighted West to the shadowy East—their bright, -hopeful, almost expectant features, their vivacity and energy even at -the end of the long day. I felt the contrast with the London crowd, -which is so much gloomier and wearier as it throngs into our Great -Eastern terminus of Liverpool Street. New York has a stronger class of -girl than London. Our shop-girls are London-bred, but your Sadie and -Dulcie are the children of foreigners; they have peasant blood in them -and immigrant hope. They have a zest for the life that New York can -offer them after shop-hours.</p> - -<p>The average wage of the American shop-girl is stated to be seven -dollars (twenty-eight shillings) per week; the average wage in London -is about ten shillings, or two and a half dollars.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I suppose that -is another reason why our New York sisters are more cheerful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> Despite -the high price of food in New York there must be a comparatively broad -margin left to the American girl to do what she likes with. The cult of -the poor little girl of the Department Store is perhaps only a cult. -For there are many women in New York more exploited than she. When the -shop-girl sells herself to rich men for marriage or otherwise she does -so because she has been infected by the craze for finery and wealth, is -energetic and vivacious, and is morally undermined. It is not because -she is worn out and ill-paid. If New York is evil it is not because -New York is a failure. The city is prosperous and evil as well. The -freshness and health and vigour of the rank and file of New York were -amazing to one familiar with the drab and dreary procession of workers -filing into the city of London at eight in the morning and away from it -at the same hour in the evening.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Then the Grand Central Station, with its vast high hall of marble, -surmounted by a blue-green ceiling which, aping heaven itself, is -fretted and perforated and painted to represent the clear night sky. -That starry roof astonished me. It reminded me of a story I heard of G. -K. Chesterton, that he lay in bed on a Sunday morning and with a crayon -mounted on a long handle drew pictures on the white ceiling. It was -like some dream of Chesterton's realised.</p> - -<p>For a long time I looked at the painted roof and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> picked out my -beloved stars and constellations,—the planets under which I like to -sleep,—and then I thought, "Strange, that out in the glowing Broadway, -not far away, the real stars are hidden from the gaze of New York by -flashing and twinkling and changing sky-signs in manifold colour and -allurement. Every night the dancing-girl is dancing in the sky, and -the hand pours out the yellow beer into the foaming glass which, like -the vision of the Grail, appears but to vanish; every night the steeds -prance with the Greek chariot, the athletes box, the kitten plays with -the reel. These are the real stars and constellations of Broadway, for -Charles's Wain is never seen, neither Orion nor the chair of Cassiopeia -nor the Seven Sisters. To see them you must come in here, into the -Grand Central Station."</p> - -<p>But apart from this paradox, what a station this is—a great silent -temple, a place wherein to come to meditate and to pray. It is more -beautiful than any of the churches of America. How much more beautiful -than the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, for instance. That cathedral -will be the largest church in the world when it is finished, and, -vanity of vanities, how much more secular it is than the station! It is -almost conceivable that after some revolution in the future, New York -might change its mind and go to worship at the Grand Central Station -and run its trains into the Cathedral of St. John.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> - -<p>Americans are proud of saying that the Woolworth Building, the Grand -Central Station, the Pennsylvania Railway Station, and the New York -Central Library show the New York of the future. Almost everything else -will be pulled down and built to match these. They are new buildings, -they are the soul of the New America finding expression. They are -temples of a new religion. Americans pray more and aspire more to God -in these than they do in their churches.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>There stands out in my memory the East Side, and the slums which I -walked night after night in quest of some idea, some redeeming feature, -something that would explain them to me. I walked almost at random, -taking ever the first turning to the left, the first to the right, and -the first to the left again, coming ever and anon to the river and the -harbour, and having to turn and change.</p> - -<p>The East Side is more spectacular than the East End of London. The -houses are so high, and there is so much more crowding, that you get -into ten streets of New York what we get into a hundred streets. The -New York slums are slums at the intensest. The buildings, great frames -of rags and dirt, hang over the busy street below, and are wildly alive -from base to summit. All day long the bedding hangs out at the windows -or on the iron fire-escapes attached to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> houses. Women are shouting -and children are crying on the extraordinary stairs which lead from -room to room and story to story in the vast honeycomb of dens. On the -side-walk is a rough crowd speaking all tongues. The toy doors of the -saloons swing to and fro, simple couples sit on high stools in the -soda-bars and suck various kinds of "dope." Lithuanian and Polish boys -are rushing after one another with toy pistols, the girls are going -round and round the barber's pole, singing and playing, with hands -joined. The stores are crowded, and notices tell the outsider that he -can buy two quarts of Grade B milk for eleven cents, or ten State eggs -for twenty-five cents. You come to streets where all the bakers' shops -are "panneterias," and you know you are among the Italians. One Hundred -and Thirteenth Street as it goes down from Second Avenue to First -Avenue is full of Greeks and Italians, and is extraordinarily dark and -wild; men of murderous aspect are prowling about, there is howling -across the street from tenement to tenement. Dark, plump women stand at -doorways and stare at you, and occasionally a negress in finery trapes -past.</p> - -<p>You come to little Italian theatres where the price of admission is -only five cents, and find them crammed with families, so that you -cannot hear <i>Rigoletto</i> for the squalling of the babies. There are mean -cinema houses where you see only worn-out and spoiled films giving -broken and incoherent stories. And all the while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> the lights and -shadows play, the Greek hawker of confectionery shouts:</p> - -<p>"Soh-dah!"</p> - -<p>"Can-dee!"</p> - -<p>You continue your wanderings and you strike a nigger district. -Negresses and their beaux are flirting in corners and on doorsteps. -Darky boys and girls are skirling in the roadway. Smartly dressed young -men, carrying canes, come giggling and pushing one another on the -pavement, crying out music-hall catches—"Who was you with last night?" -and the like.</p> - -<p>You know the habitat of the Jew by the abundance of junk-shops, -old-clothes shops, and offices of counsellors-at-law. It seems the -Jews are very litigious, and even the poorest families go to law for -their rights. You find windows full of boxing-gloves, for the Jews are -great boxers in America. You find stalls and push-carts without end. -And every now and then rubbish comes sailing down from a window up -above. That is one of the surest signs of the Jews being installed—the -pitching of cabbage-leaves and fish-bones and sausage-parings from -upper windows.</p> - -<p>What a sight was Delancey Street, with its five lines of naphtha-lit -stalls, its array of tubs of fish and heaps of cranberries, its -pavements slippery with scales, the air heavy with the odour of fish!</p> - -<p>On one of the first of my nights out in the New York streets I came on -a most wonderful sight. After <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>prolonging a journey that started in -the centre of the city I found myself suddenly plunging downward among -dark and wretched streets. I was following out my zigzag plan, and came -at last to a cul-de-sac. This was at the end of East Ninth Street. It -was very dark and forbidding; there were no shops, only warehouses and -yards. There were no people. I expected to find a new turning to the -left, and was rather fearsome of taking it even should I find it. But -at length I saw I had come to the East River. At the end of the street -the water lapped against a wooden landing-stage, and there I saw a -picture of wonder and mystery.</p> - -<p>High over the glimmering water stood Brooklyn Bridge, with its long -array of blazing electric torches and its procession of scores of -little car-lights trickling past. The bridge hung from the high heaven -by dark shadows. It was the brightest ornament of the night. I sat on -an overturned barrow and looked out. Up to me and past me came stalking -majestic ferry-boats, all lights and white or shadowy faces. Far away -on the river lay anchored boats with red and green lights, and beyond -all were the black silhouettes of the building and shipping on Long -Island Shore.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>It was interesting to me to participate in the Russian Easter in New -York, having lived in the Protestant and Roman Catholic Easters a whole -month before on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the emigrant ship on the day we reached New York. I -came to the diminutive Russian cathedral in East Ninety-Fifth Street -on Easter Eve at midnight. I had been at a fancy-dress party in the -evening, and as fortune would have it, had gone in Russian attire; that -is, in a blue blouse like a Moscow workman. What was my astonishment to -find myself the only person so dressed in the great throng of Russians -surging in and out of the cathedral and the side street where the -overflow of them talked and chattered. They were all in bowler hats, -and wore collars and ties and American coats and waistcoats. They even -looked askance at me for coming in a blouse; they thought I might be a -Jew or a German, or a foolish spy trying to gain confidences.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget the inside of the cathedral at one in the morning, -the vociferous singing, the beshawled peasant girls, the tear-stained -faces. Priest after priest came forward and praised the Orthodox Church -and the Russian people, and appealed to the worshippers to remember -that all over the Russian world the same service was being held, not -only in the great cathedrals and monasteries, but in the village -churches, in the far-away forest settlements, at the shrines in lonely -Arctic islands, in the Siberian wildernesses, on the Urals, in the -fastnesses of the Caucasus, on the Asian deserts, in Jerusalem itself. -It was pathetic to hear the priests exhort these young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> men and women -to remain Russians—they were all young, and they all or nearly all -looked to America as their new home. On all ordinary occasions they -longed to be Americans and to be called Americans; but this night a -flood of feeling engulfed them, and in the New York night they set sail -and looked hungrily to the East whence they came. They held tapers. -They had tenderly brought their cakes, their chickens and joints of -pork, to be sprinkled with holy water and blessed by the priest for -their Easter <i>breakfast</i>. It was sad to surmise how few had really -fasted through Lent, and yet to see how they clung to departing -tradition.</p> - -<p>Coming out of the cathedral we each received a verbose revolutionary -circular printed in the Russian tongue: "Keep holy the First of May! -Hail to the war of the Classes! Hurrah for Socialism! Workmen of all -classes, combine!"—and so on. In Russia a person distributing such -circulars would be rushed off to gaol at once. In New York it is -different, and "influences" of all kinds are in full blast. I looked -over the shoulders of many groups outside the cathedral on Easter Day -and found them reading those New York rags, which are conceived in -ignorance and dedicated to anarchism. It seems the Russian who comes -to New York is at once grabbed by the existent Social-Democratic -organisations, and though he go to church still, he begins to be -more and more attached to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>revolutionism. It is strange that these -organisations are directed, not against the Tsar and the officialdom -of Russia, but against the Government of the United States and the -commercial machine. There is no question of America being a refuge for -the persecuted Russian. The latter is assured at once that America is -a place of even worse tyranny than the land he has come from. But if -he does not take other people's word he soon comes to that conclusion -on his own account. For he finds himself and his brothers working like -slaves and drinking themselves to death through sheer boredom, and he -finds his sisters in the "sweat-shops" of the garment-workers, or loses -them in houses of evil.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>I shall long remember the Night Court on Sixth Avenue, and several -occasions when I entered there after midnight and found the same -shrewd, tireless Irish judge nonchalantly fining and sentencing -negresses and white girls found in the streets under suspicious -circumstances. Many a poor Russian girl was brought forward, and called -upon to defend herself against the allegations of the soulless spies -and secret agents of the American Police. I listened to their sobs and -cries, their protests of innocence, their promises of repentance, till -I was ready to rise in Court and rave aloud and shriek, and be pounced -upon by the great fat pompous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> usher who represses even the expression -on your features. "Why," I wanted to cry aloud, "it is America that -ought to be tried, and not these innocent victims of America—they are -the evidence of America's guilt and not the committers of her crimes!" -But I was fixed in silence, like the reporters doing their jobs in the -front bench, and the unmoved, hard-faced attendants and police by whom -the order of the Court was kept.</p> - -<p>Then, not far along the same road in which the Night Court stands, -I came one evening into a wax-work show of venereal disease. It was -quite by chance I went in, for there was nothing outside to indicate -what was within. Only the spirit of adventure, which prompted me to -go in and look round wherever I saw an open door, betrayed me to -this chamber of horrors. There I saw, in pink and white and red, the -human body in the loathsome inflammation and corruption of the city's -disease. Chief of all I remember the queen of the establishment, a -hypnotic-seeming corpse of wax, lying full-length in a shroud in a -glass case. Just enough of the linen was held aside to show or suggest -the terrible cause of her decease. The show was no more than a doctor's -advertisement, and it was open in the name of science, but it was an -unforgettable vision of death at the heart of this great city pulsating -with life.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the splendour of Broadway, the great White Way, "calling moths -from leagues, from hundreds of leagues," as O. Henry wrote. What a city -of enchantment and wonder New York must seem to the traveller from some -dreary Russian or Siberian town, if seen aright. It is a thrilling -spectacle. Now that I have looked at it I say to myself, "Fancy any man -having lived and died in this era without having seen it!" Five hundred -years ago the island was dark and empty, with the serene stars shining -over it; but now the creatures of the earth have found it and built -this city on it, lit by a myriad lights. Thousands of years hence it -will be dark again belike, and empty, and uninhabited, and once more -the serene stars will shine over the island.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i084.jpg" id="i084.jpg"></a><img src="images/i084.jpg" alt="APPLE ORCHARDS IN BLOSSOM ON THE SPURS OF THE CATSKILLS" /></div> - -<p class="bold">APPLE ORCHARDS IN BLOSSOM ON THE SPURS OF THE CATSKILLS.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In Russia the average wage of the shop-girl is 12 roubles -a month (<i>i.e.</i>, 1½ dollars, or 6s. a week), but then she is a -humble creature and lives simply.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>V</span> <span class="smaller">THE AMERICAN ROAD</span></h2> - -<p>Out in the country was a different America. The maples were all red, -the first blush of the dawn of summer. In the gardens the ficacia was -shooting her yellow arrows, in the woods the American dogwood tree was -covered with white blossoms like thousands of little dolls' nightcaps. -Down at Caldwell, New Jersey, I picked many violets and anemones—large -blue fragrant violets. The bride's veil was in lovely wisps and armfuls -of white. The unfolding oak turned all rose, like the peach tree in -bloom. Each morning when I awakened and went out into the woods I found -something new had happened overnight,—thus I discovered the sycamore -in leaf, fringing and fanning, and then the veils which the naked birch -trees were wearing. The birches began to look like maidens doing their -hair. The fern fronds and azalea buds opened their hands. The chestnut -tree lit up her many candles. The shaggy hickory, the tree giant whose -bark hangs in rags and clots, had looked quite dead, but with the -coming of May it was seen to be awaking tenderly. In the glades the -little columbines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> put on their pink bonnets. Only the pines and cedars -were dark and changeless, as if grown old in sin beside the tender -innocence of the birches.</p> - -<p>It is very pleasant living in the half-country—living, that is, -in the outer suburbs of the great American city or in the ordinary -suburbs of the small city. New York has very little corresponding to -our Walthamstow, Enfield, Catford, Ilford, Camberwell, and all those -dreary congested parishes that lie eight to ten miles from the centre -of London. The American suburbs are garden cities without being called -so. Each house is detached from its neighbour, there is a stretch of -greenest lawn in front of it, there is a verandah on which are fixed -hammocks and porch-swings, there are flower-beds, blossoming shrubs, -the shade of maples and cherry trees. There are no railings or fences, -and the people on the verandah look down their lawn to the road and -take stock of all the people passing to and fro.</p> - -<p>Working men and women live a long way out, and are content to spend an -hour or an hour and a half a day in trains and cars if only to be quite -free of the city when work is over.</p> - -<p>Twelve miles of garden city is very wearisome to the pedestrian; but he -tramps them gaily when he remembers that the country is ahead, and that -he has not simply to retrace his footsteps to a town-dwelling which for -the time being he calls home.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<p>I set off for Chicago in the beginning of May—not in a Pullman car, -but on my own feet; for in order to understand America it is necessary -to go to America, and the only way she can be graciously approached -is humbly, on one's feet. I travelled just in the same way as I have -done the last four years in Russia—viz. with a knapsack on my back, a -staff in my hand, and a stout pair of boots on my feet. I carried my -pot, I had matches, and I reckoned to buy my own provisions as I went -along, and to cook what was necessary over my own fire by the side of -the road. At night I proposed to sleep at farmhouses in cold weather, -and under the stars when it was warm. I was ready in mind and body for -whatever might happen to me. If the farmers proved to be inhospitable, -and would not take me in on cold or rainy nights, I would quite -cheerfully tramp on till I came to a hotel, or a barn, or a cave, or -a bridge, or any place where man, the wanderer, could reasonably find -shelter from the elements.</p> - -<p>I took the road with great spirits. There is something unusually -invigorating in the American air. It is marvellously healthy and -strength-giving, this virginal land. Every tree and shrub seems to -have a full grasp of life, and outbreathes a robust joy. It is as if -the earth itself had greater supplies of unexhausted strength than -Europe has—as if, indeed, it were a newer world, and had spent less of -the primeval potencies and energies bequeathed to this planet at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> her -birth. How different from tranquil and melancholy Russia!</p> - -<p>America is more spacious in New York State than in New York City. The -landscape is so broad that could Atlas have held it up, you feel he -must have had fine arms. Your eyes, but lately imprisoned so closely -by unscalable sky-scrapers, run wild in freedom to traverse the long -valleys and forested ridges, waking the imagination to realise the -country of the Indians. There is a vast sky over you. The men and women -on the road have time to talk to you, and the farmer ambling along in -his buggy is interested to give you a lift and ask after your life and -your fortunes; and when he puts you down, and you thank him, he answers -in an old-fashioned way:</p> - -<p>"You're welcome; hand on my heart."</p> - -<p>In the city no one has a word to say to you, but in the country every -one is curious. It is more neighbourly to be curious and to ask -questions. I rejoiced in every scrap of talk, even in such triviality -as my chat with Otto Friedrichs, a workman, who hailed me at East Berne.</p> - -<p>"Are you an Amarikan?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Sprechen Sie deutsch, mein Herr?"</p> - -<p>"No; I'm English."</p> - -<p>"That bag on your back is made in Germany."</p> - -<p>"Very likely," said I; "I bought it in London."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You running avay in case dere should be ze war, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it would be safer here, even for you."</p> - -<p>"What you think of our Kaiser?"</p> - -<p>"Fine man," said I.</p> - -<p>"Some say ze Kaiser is too English to make ze war. But do you know wat -I read in ze newspaper? Der Kaiser cut his hand by accident, zen he -hold up his finger—so, viz ze blood on it, and he say, 'Dat is my las' -blood of English tropp,' and he ... the blood away."</p> - -<p>Not knowing the word for "flicked" Otto told me in dumb show with his -fingers.</p> - -<p>"Last drop of English blood, eh?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"So he's quite German now, and ready to fight."</p> - -<p>As I sat at the side of the road every passer-by was interested in my -fire and my pot. They pitied me when they saw me trudging along the -road, and when I told them I was tramping to Chicago they commonly -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"Gee! I wouldn't do that for ten thousand dollars."</p> - -<p>But when they saw me cooking my meals they stopped and looked at -me wistfully—that was their weakness; a hankering, not after the -wilderness, but for the manna there. They addressed to me such -non-pertinent remarks as:</p> - -<p>"So that's how you fix it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I say, you'll get burned up."</p> - -<p>"Are yer making yer coffee?"</p> - -<p>There was a great doubt as to my business, as the following -interlocutions will suggest. In Russia I should be asked:</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"To Kieff," I might answer.</p> - -<p>"To pray," the Russian would conclude. But in America I was most -commonly taken to be a pedlar.</p> - -<p>"Whar you going?"</p> - -<p>"Chicago," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Peddling?"</p> - -<p>It astonished me to be taken for a pedlar. But I was almost as -commonly taken to be walking for a wager. I was walking under certain -conditions. I must not take a lift. I must keep up thirty miles a day. -I was walking to Chicago on a bet. Some one had betted some one else -I wouldn't do it in a certain time. I took only a dollar in my pocket -and was supporting myself by my work. I lectured in schoolhouses, -mended spades, would lend a hand in the hayfield. Or I was walking to -advertise a certain sort of boot. Or I was walking on a certain sort -of diet to advertise somebody's patent food. I was repairer of village -telephones. I was hawking toothpicks, which I very cunningly made in my -fire at the side of the road. I was a tramping juggler, and would give -a show in the town next night.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - -<p>Every one thought I accomplished a prodigious number of miles a day. At -least a hundred times I was called upon to state what was my average -"hike" for the day. Some were sympathetic and explained that they would -like to do the same, to camp out, it was the only way to see America. A -girl in a baker's shop told me she had long wanted to tramp to Chicago -and sleep out every night, but could get no friend to accompany her. -Jews slapped me on the back and told me I was doing fine. Especially -I remember a young man who walked by my side through the streets of -Wilkes Barre. He told me his average per day had been forty-five miles.</p> - -<p>"How long did you keep that up?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"A week, we went to Washington."</p> - -<p>"That's going some," said I.</p> - -<p>"How far do you usually go?" asked he.</p> - -<p>"Oh, five or six miles when the weather's fine," said I.</p> - -<p>"Yer kiddin us!"</p> - -<p>I was told that I wasn't the only person on the road. The great Weston -was behind me, patriarch of "hikers," aged seventy-five. He wore ice -under his hat and was walking from New York to St. Paul at twenty-five -miles a day, and was accompanied by an automobile full of liquid food. -Far ahead of me was a woman in high-heeled boots tramping from New -York to San Francisco. She carried only a small handbag, walked with -incredible rapidity, and was proving for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>newspaper that it was just as -easy to walk in Vienna boots as in any other. Several weeks before me a -cripple had passed, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of picture-post-cards -of himself, which he sold at a nickel each, thereby supporting himself. -He was going from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, but had five years to do -it in.</p> - -<p>For all and sundry upon the road I had a ready smile and a greeting; -almost every one replied to me at least as heartily, and many were -ready to talk at length. Some, however, to whom I gave greeting either -took me for a disreputable tramp or felt themselves too important in -the sight of the Lord. When I said, "How d'ye do?" or "Good morning" -they simply stared at me as if I were a cow that had mooed. In my whole -journey I encountered no hostility whatever. Only once or twice I would -hear a woman in a car say truculently to her husband, "There goes Weary -Willie."</p> - -<p>I had pleasant encounters innumerable, and many a talk with children. -I felt that as I was in search for the emerging American, the American -of to-morrow and the day after, I ought to take the children I met -rather seriously. It was surprising to me that the grown-ups upon the -road said to me always, "How-do?" but the children said, "Hullo." The -children always spoke as if they had met me before, or as if they were -dying for me to stop and talk to them and tell them all about the road, -and who I was and what I was doing.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i092.jpg" id="i092.jpg"></a><img src="images/i092.jpg" alt="ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL: MY BREAKFAST PARTY" /></div> - -<p class="bold">ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL: MY BREAKFAST PARTY.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>At a little place called Clarkville I had a breakfast party. Perhaps I -had better begin at the beginning. It had been a hard frosty night, and -I slept in a barn on two planks beside an old rusty reaping-machine. At -five in the morning I made my first fire of the day, and I shared a pot -of hot tea with a disreputable tramp, who had come to warm himself at -the blaze. By seven o'clock I had walked into the next village, about -five miles on, and I was ready for a second breakfast. My first had -been for the purpose of getting warm; now I was hungry for something to eat.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful morning; on each side of the road were orchards in -full bloom, the gnarled and angular apple trees were showing themselves -lovely in myriad outbreaking of blossom, and there were thousands of -dandelions in the rank green grass beneath them. The sides of the -roadway and the banks of the village stream were deep in grass and -clover, and every hollow of the world seemed brimming with sunshine. -The sun had been radiant, and he stood over a shoulder of the Catskills -and poured warmth on the whole Western world.</p> - -<p>On the bank of the stream I spread out my things, emptying out of my -pack, pots, cups, provisions, books, paper, pen, and ink. I gathered -wisps of last year's weeds, and on a convenient spot started my little -fire. I had just put eggs in to boil when the first of my party -arrived. This was little Charles van Wie and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> friend. Charles was -hired to come early to the school-house and light the fire, so that the -school would be warm by the time the teacher and the other boys and -girls arrived. I did not know that I had pitched my camp just between -the village and the school, on the way all the children would have to -come. In America the school-house is always some distance from the -village—this is so that mothers may not come running in and out every -minute, and it is a good arrangement for other reasons. It gives every -little boy and girl a walk, and the chance of having upon occasion -extraordinary adventures.</p> - -<p>Charles and his friend set to work to gather sticks for me, and saved -me the trouble of rushing every now and then for fuel to keep up -the fire. Then they hurried away to the school-house, but promised, -excitedly, to come back as soon as they could.</p> - -<p>Charles returned and asked me where I was going to, and what was my -name and where I'd come from. I told him, and he took out a pocket-book -and pencil and wrote all down.</p> - -<p>Then other boys came and watched me make my coffee. The boys—they were -all under twelve—had bunches of white lilac fixed in their coats. I -sat and ate my food and chattered.</p> - -<p>"Is the lilac for your teacher?" I asked of a boy.</p> - -<p>"I guess <i>not</i>," he replied.</p> - -<p>There was a look of disgust on his face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Is your teacher strict?"</p> - -<p>"Some."</p> - -<p>The boys all sat or sprawled on the grass and chaffed one another.</p> - -<p>One of them was wearing a badge in his buttonhole, a white enamelled -button, on which was printed very distinctly:</p> - -<p class="center">Every<br />D A M<br />Booster.</p> - -<p>But the DAM, when you looked at it closely, turned out to be "Dayton's -Adding Machines."</p> - -<p>"What does 'booster' mean?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"A feller that makes a job go," it was explained to me.</p> - -<p>After breakfast I took a photograph of them sitting in the grass. They -were much pleased.</p> - -<p>"If Skinny Atlas had been here he'd have broke the camera," said one of -them.</p> - -<p>An extremely fat boy came into view and approached our party. The -others all cried at him "Skinny Atlas," so I asked:</p> - -<p>"Is that a nickname? Is his surname Atlas?"</p> - -<p>"No," they replied, "his surname is Higgins. But he's so darned fat -that we call him Skinny Atlas. We have a saying, 'Put a nickel in the -slot and up comes Skinny Atlas.'"</p> - -<p>Accordingly all the boys cried out, "Put a nickel in the slot and up -comes Skinny Atlas."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>The fat boy, wearing a big straw sun-bonnet, came up and walloped -several little boys. There was some horseplay round the embers of my -fire, but Charles van Wie set an example by giving warning—</p> - -<p>"Next person who pushes me I baste."</p> - -<p>But it was getting late, and three little girls who had been hovering -shyly at a distance cried out that it was time for the boys to go in.</p> - -<p>The school had only fifteen pupils, boys and girls together, and they -were all in one class, and they learned "the three R's," physiology, -and the geography of the county they lived in.</p> - -<p>The making of an American citizen is a simple matter in the country. -And little Charles van Wie would make one of the best that are turned -out, I should think.</p> - -<p>Later on in the morning I went along to the school-house and peeped in -at the window. There they all were, under the stern sway of a little -school-mistress. But they didn't see me.</p> - -<p>How useful to the tramp is the custom of hanging in the school-room -a map of the county or of the state in which the children live. -Often when I have wanted to know where I was I have clambered to the -school-house window and consulted the map on the wall.</p> - -<p>Once more to the road. The American high-road differs considerably -from any way in Europe. Every farm-house has a white letter-box on -a post outside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> its main entrance, and the farmer posts his letter -and hoists a metal flag as a signal to the peripatetic postman that -there are letters to collect. There are no thatched cottages; the -homesteads stand back from the road, they are always of wood, and -have shady verandahs and cosily furnished front rooms. The fields on -each side of the road are protected by six-inch mesh steel netting, -turned out by some great factory in Pittsburg I suppose. There are very -few country guide-posts, and in New York State those there are come -rather as a reward to you after you have guessed right. They are put -up at a distance from the cross-roads. The pointers of the guide-posts -are of tin. The telephone cones are of green glass, the poles are -mostly chestnut, are not straight, and rot quickly. There are many -advertisements by the way, and as you approach a town of importance -they are as thick as fungi. They are not written for tramps to jeer at, -but as hints to rich motorists. Still one necessarily smiles at:</p> - -<p class="center">CLOTHE YOUR WHOLE FAMILY ON CREDIT<br />$1 A WEEK.</p> - -<p>or</p> - -<p class="center">DUTCHESS TROUSERS. TEN CENTS A BUTTON.<br />A DOLLAR A RIP.</p> - -<p>A great portion of the State of Indiana seems to be devoted to Dutchess -trousers, and I often wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> whether the company had to pay many -indemnities to customers.</p> - -<p>One sorry feature of country advertising was the number of notices -scrawled in black with charcoal or painted in tar. In Europe picnickers -write their names or the names of their sweethearts on the rocks and -the walls and palings, but in America they write their trade, the -thing they sell, and the price a pound, what O. Henry would call their -especial sort of "graft."</p> - -<p>Then "rrrrrrr! rhrhrh—whaup—ssh!" the automobile appears on the -horizon, passes you, and is gone. I have no prejudice against -automobilists; they were very hospitable to me, and carried me many -miles. If I had accepted all the lifts offered me I should have been -in Chicago in a week, instead of taking two months on the journey. -But the farmers curse them. On one Sunday late in June I counted -everything that passed me. The farmer commonly tells you that hundreds -of automobiles whirl past his door every day. This day there were just -one hundred and ten, of which thirty-two were auto-cycles and the rest -cars. As a set-off against this there were only five buggies and three -ordinary cyclists. That was one of the last days of June, when I was -seventy miles from Chicago. I had two offers to take me into the city -that day!</p> - -<p>Besides counting the vehicles that passed me I took stock of the -automobilists themselves. No one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> passed till 7 <span class="smaller">A.M.</span>, and then -came a loving couple, looking like a runaway match. He was clasping her -waist, and their trunks were roped on to the car behind. Then six young -men, all in their wind-blown shirts, came tearing along on auto-cycles. -Scarcely had the noise of these subsided when a smart picnic party -rolled past in a smooth-running car, flying purple flags on which was -printed the name of their home city—Michigan. This is a common custom -in America, to carry a flag with the name of your city. It boosts your -own town, and is thought to bring trade there.</p> - -<p>Six townsmen came past me in a grand car. Their hats were all off; they -were all clean shaven and bald. Coats had been left at home, and the -six were in radiantly clean coloured shirts. They smiled at me; I was -one of the sights of the road.</p> - -<p>Many picnic parties passed me, and men and women called out to me -facetiously. Six shop-girls on a joy ride came past, and one of them -kissed her hand to me—that is one of the things the girl in the car -can safely do when she is passing a pedestrian.</p> - -<p>Family parties went by, and also placid husbands and wives having a -spin before lunch, and bashful happy pairs sitting behind the back of -the discreet chauffeurs. There came an auto-cycle with a frantic man -in front and a girl astride on his carrier behind. She was wiping the -sand out of her eyes as she passed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> her skirt was blown by the wind, -and she showed a pair of dainty legs; the funny way in which she was -obliged to sit made her look like a stalk bending over among reeds.</p> - -<p>One of the few cyclists I met came up after this, and he dismounted -to talk to me. He was a tender of gasoline engines "on vacation." I -learned from him about the single auto-cycle for two. It appears that -in America they manufacture special seats to screw on the back of a -motor-cycle; some use that. Many, however, just strap a cushion on. -Young men who have auto-cycles have a "pull" with the girls; they pick -them up and take them to business, or take them home from business, and -on holidays they take them for rides of joy. Several similar couples -passed me during the day.</p> - -<p>All sorts of gear went by; rich gentlemen in stately pride, workmen -with their week-day grime scarcely cleared from their faces, gay girls -with parasols, honeymoon pairs, cars with men driving, cars with -women at the wheel. The automobile is far more of a general utility -in the United States than in England. Workmen, and, indeed, farmers -themselves—not those who curse—have their own cars. They mortgage -their property to get them, but they get them all the same. Even women -buy cars for themselves, and are to be seen driving them themselves. In -Great Britain it is very rare that you see a woman travelling alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> in -a car, but in America it is a frequent sight. Of course in Russia, in -the country, an automobile is still a rarity. I passed last summer in a -populous part of the Urals and did not see a single car. I did not even -see an ordinary bicycle. The farther west you go the more you find the -inventions of the day taken advantage of. It is an important phenomenon -in America; it shows that there is a readiness to adopt and utilise any -new thing right off, directly it is discovered.</p> - -<p>This readiness, however, results in a lack of seriousness. -Inexpert driving is no crime; accidents are nothing to weep over; -badly constructed cars are driven along loose springy roads with -blood-curdling speed and recklessness. The pedestrian is vexed to see a -car come towards him, leaping, bounding, dodging, dribbling, like some -tricky centre-forward in a game of football. The nervous pedestrian has -to climb trees or walls upon occasion to be sure he won't be killed. -And then the cars themselves go frequently into ditches, or overturn -and take fire. The car has become a toy, but it's dangerous for the -children to play with.</p> - -<p>Then the dust! Carlyle said there was nothing but Justice in this -world, and he used the law of gravity as his metaphor, but he didn't -consider the wind—alas, that the dust does not fly in front of the car -and get into the motorist's eyes, but only drifts away over the poor -tramp who never did him any harm.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - -<p>The only horse vehicle I remarked on the road was the buggy, a gig with -disproportionately large wheels, the direct descendant of the home-made -cart. The buggy is still popular.</p> - -<p>"Where've you been?" asks one American of another.</p> - -<p>"Oh, just buggying around," he replies.</p> - -<p>But the buggy is staid and conventional. It belongs to the old -censorious religious America. It is supremely the vehicle of the -consciously virtuous. It is also a specially rural vehicle. I think -those who ride in buggies despise motorists from the bottom of their -hearts; they think them vulgar townspeople, and consider motoring a -form of trespass. But the automobilists are not prevented, and they -bear no rancour. They haven't time to consider the countryman. The man -in the buggy belongs to the past. In the future there will not be time -to be condemnatory, and the man who stands still to feel self-virtuous -will go to the wall.</p> - -<p>The people who will continue to feel superior to the motorists will be -tramps sitting on palings, grinning at them as they pass by. They also -will remain the only people the motorists, rushing abreast of Time, -will ever envy. However much progress progresses there will always -remain those who sit on the palings and grin.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>VI</span> <span class="smaller">THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE</span></h2> - -<p>As I tramped from village to village I was surprised to see -so much stained glass in the churches of the Methodists, the -Congregationalists, and other Puritans. Until quite modern times -stained glass belonged exclusively to the ritualistic denominations. -The Puritan, believing in simplicity of service, and in spirit rather -than in form, put stained glass in the same category as the burning of -incense, singing in a minor key, and praying in Latin. It partook of -the glamour of idolatry; it had a sensuous appeal; it blurred the pure -light of understanding. The true Puritan meeting-place is one of clear -glass windows, hard seats, and a big Bible. It seems a pity that a very -clear profession of faith should be blurred by picture windows—and, -let me add by way of parenthesis, cushioned seats and revivalist -preachers.</p> - -<p>I examined in detail the coloured glass of a fine "Reform Church" that -I passed on the road. The windows were rather impressive. They were not -representations of scenes in Holy Writ, they contained no pictures of -saints or angels, of the Saviour, or of the Virgin. So they escaped the -imputation of idolatry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> They were just pictures of symbolical objects -or of significant letters. Thus, one window was the bird and symbolised -Freedom, another was an anchor and symbolised Hope, another was a -crown and symbolised Eternal Life. In one window the letters C.E. were -illuminated—meaning Christian Endeavour, I presume; on another window -was the open Bible, symbolising the foundation of belief. In every case -the whole window was stained, and the little symbolical picture was set -against a brilliant background.</p> - -<p>It was all in good taste, and was a pleasant ornament, which made the -church look very attractive exteriorly. But it was a compromise with -a spirit not its own. My explanation is, some one must have wanted -chapels to put in stained glass. Some one now has a great interest -in making them put in stained glass. He is the manufacturer of that -commodity. He has put stained glass on the market in such a way that -every church is bound to have it. And he has devised a way of not -offending the rigorous Puritans. "What is wrong in coloured light?" -said he. "Nothing. It is only what you use it for. We can use it to -show the things in which we believe." If incense could be manufactured -in such a way as to make millions of dollars it would find its way -somehow into the chapels. I was walking one day with an itinerant -preacher, a man who called himself "a creed smasher." He wanted to -weld all creeds into one and unify the Church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> of Christ. "Think of -commerce," said he, "already it has stopped the wars of the nations; -in time it will calm the wars of the sects. If only the churches were -corporations, and Methodists could hold shares in Roman Catholicism, -and Roman Catholics in Methodism!"</p> - -<p>Commerce is exerting an influence that cannot be withstood. To take -another instance, it has provided America with rocking-chairs and -porch-swings. Although the Americans are an extremely active people, -much more so than the British, yet their houses are all full of -rocking-chairs, and on their verandahs they have porch-swings and -hammocks. The British have straight-backs.</p> - -<p>The Americans did not all cry out with one voice for rocking-chairs and -swings. The Pilgrim Fathers did not bring them over. The reason they -have them lies in the fact that some manufacturer started making them -for the few. Then ambition took possession of him and he said, "There's -something in rocking-chairs. I'm going to turn them out on a large -scale."</p> - -<p>"But there aren't the customers to buy them," some one objected.</p> - -<p>"Never mind, we'll make the customers. We'll put them to the people in -such a way that they gotta buy. We'll make 'em feel there's going to -be such an opportunity for buyin' 'em as never was and never will be -again."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You believe you'll succeed?"</p> - -<p>"We'll make it so universal that if a man goes into a house and doesn't -see a rocking-chair and a porch-swing he'll think, 'My Lord, they've -had the brokers in!'"</p> - -<p>So rocking-chairs and porch-swings came. So, many things have come to -humanity—many worse things.</p> - -<p>I had just written this note, for I have written most of my book by the -road, when I heard the following interesting talk about the town of -Benton, Pennsylvania. I was walking from Wilkes Barre to Williamsport, -and Benton is on the way. It is a place that has had many fires lately.</p> - -<p>"Ah reckon ah know wot cleared Benton out more'n fires."</p> - -<p>"What's that?"</p> - -<p>"Wy, otomobeeles; mortgaging their farms to get 'em. There's not much -in Benton. You couldn't raise a hundred dollars. It's the agents and -the boosters of the companies that are mos' to blame, no doubt, but -they're fools all the same who buy otomobeeles when they cahn pay their -bills at the stores."</p> - -<p>"What agents?" I asked. "D'you mean commercial travellers?"</p> - -<p>"No. The agents in the town. Every little town has a man, sometimes -two or three men, who are agents for the companies who manufacture the -cars; they are just like the insurance agents, and are always talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> -about their business, comparing makes of car, praising this one and -that, and getting folks on to want them."</p> - -<p>"I suppose the companies want to make the motor car a domestic -necessity, a thing no one can do without," I remarked.</p> - -<p>"You're right; they do and they will. They'll fix that in time, you -betcher, we'll all be having them. Then when we cahn do without 'em -they'll raise the prices on us. Already they've started it with the -gasoline; there's plenty motor spirit in the world, but the company -gets possession of it and regulates the prices. An' you cahn make an -oto go without gasoline. They can put it on us every time."</p> - -<p>I should say society at Benton was suffering very badly from the -influence of depraved commercialism. Some years ago Miss Ida Tarbell -exposed what has been called "The Arson Trust," a company formed for -setting fire to insured establishments on a basis of 10 per cent profit -on the spoil. Benton might have furnished her with some interesting -examples. There have been so many fires in the little town of late that -tramps are refused the shelter even of barns, as if their match-ends -were responsible. On the Fourth of July three years ago half the town -was burnt down. Last year in a gale the shirt factory was gutted; the -workmen had banked the fire up for the night, and about twenty minutes -after the last man had left the works there was an explosion, and the -red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> coals were scattered over the wooden building. Two months ago a -large house took fire, and just a week before I reached the settlement -the large Presbyterian church was consumed. Indeed, as I came into the -town I remarked with some surprise the charred walls and beams of the -church, and read the pathetic printing on the stone of foundation, -"This stone was laid in 1903."</p> - -<p>I had an interesting account of the church from the wife of a farmer at -whose house I stayed a night. The church had been insured for seventeen -thousand dollars, and it was twelve thousand dollars in debt. The money -borrowed was not secured on the church building, but on the personal -estates of many people in the town. Consequently, several people were -liable to be sold up if the money were not forthcoming. Two days before -settling day the fire took place, and there was doubtless rejoicing in -some hearts. The villagers had tried hard to make the place pay, they -had even let a portion of the church building to be used as a bank! -Bazaars had failed. The debt-raiser had tried "to put a revival over -on to them," but had failed. The minister, not receiving his salary, -had abandoned them, and at last the bare fact remained of the big white -church and the big unpaid debt. Then occurred the providential fire.</p> - -<p>But the insurance company would not pay the seventeen thousand dollars. -The fire had taken place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> under suspicious circumstances, and it was -said there would be a legal fight over it. The conflagration had -occurred on the night of a school-opening meeting. Choice flowers -had been sent from many houses in the town, and it was beautifully -decorated. There was, however, nothing obviously inflammable in the -church; it was built largely of brick and stone. But about an hour -after the people had gone home the fire broke out. Next day it was -found that the big Bible had been soaked in coal oil. Oiled newspaper -was found, and it was alleged that the fire brigade would have saved -the church, but that as fast as they put it out in front somebody else -was lighting it up behind. Anyhow, the insurance company refused to pay -the seventeen thousand dollars. But it cannot refuse absolutely; the -advertisement of failure to pay would be too damaging—it will put up a -new church instead! The Presbyterian church will be resurrected.</p> - -<p>"I put Benton up against the world for fires," said my hostess. "For a -small place, only a thousand people, I reckon there isn't its like."</p> - -<p>For my part I felt sorry for the Bentonians, even for those who set the -fire alight, supposing it was deliberately lighted. When commercial -interest is the greatest thing in the world there are opportunities -for a few men to feel themselves great and powerful, but that glory -of mankind is far overbalanced by the occasions on which it causes -man to be mean.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Commercial tricks bring the holy spirit of man -into disrepute. To find oneself mixed up in certain machinations is -poignantly humiliating. We have all of us been wounded in that way ere -now. The just pride of the soul has been offended, and we have thought -how shameful a thing it was to have become mixed up in it at all, by -<i>it</i> meaning the world, the whole shady business, call it what you will.</p> - -<p>As I went along from village to village in New York and Pennsylvania -I was struck by the uniformity of the architecture. Every church -and school and store and farmstead seemed standard size and "as -supplied." There seemed to be a passion for having known units. Not -only in architecture was this evident, but in every utensil, machine, -carriage, dress of the people. It was evident in the people themselves. -Americans have the name of being extremely conventional. I think that -is because, under the present domination of the <i>commercial machine</i>, -American boys and girls and men and women are all turned into standard -sizes. If Americans have rigid principles of ethics it is because -they believe all the parts of the great machine are standardised, and -that when any one part wears out there must always be an accurately -fitting other part ready to be fixed where the old one has fallen out. -Personality itself is standardised; thus the tailor-priest advertises -his wear, "Preserve your Personality in Clothes. Occasionally you -have observed some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> article of wear that has led you to the mental -conclusion—'That's my style—that's me.'"</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i110.jpg" id="i110.jpg"></a><img src="images/i110.jpg" alt="THE TRAMP'S DRESSING-ROOM" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE TRAMP'S DRESSING-ROOM.</p> - -<p>It was strange to me to find that even tramps and outcasts, who fulfil -little function in the machine, were expected to conform to type. I -was stared at, questioned; my rough tweeds, so suitable to me, were an -object of mirth; my action of washing my face and my teeth by the side -of the road was a portentous aberration. I remember how astonished a -motorist and his wife appeared when they came upon me in the act of -drawing a pail of water for a thirsty calf one morning in Indiana. The -temperature stood at ninety-five in the shade—all nature was parched, -and as I came along the highway a calf, fastened by a chain to the -steel netting of a field, came up and rubbed his nose on my knees. As -calves don't usually take the initiative in this way, I concluded he -expected me to do something for him. There was an empty pail beside -him. I took it to the farmhouse pump and drew water. As I did so, the -farmer and his wife drew up at the farm in their motor, and they looked -at me curiously. The calf came bounding towards me and almost upset the -pail in his eagerness to drink. Then he gulped down all the water, and -whilst I went to draw another pailful he executed a sort of war-dance -or joy-dance, throwing out his hind legs and bounding about in a way -that testified his happiness. The farmer's wife broke silence:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Wha' yer doing?"</p> - -<p>"I'm giving the calf some water."</p> - -<p>"Nao," said she, and looked at her husband, "giving the calf some -water, can—you—beat—that?"</p> - -<p>I gave the calf his second bucketful and then started off down the way -again, and the farmer and his wife looked after me in blank surprise. -In America no tramp has any compassion for thirsty calves, he is not -expected to look after the thirst of any one but himself. The farmer -and his wife looked at one another, and their eyes seemed to say, "But -tramps don't do these things!"</p> - -<p>Thence it may be surmised that America is no place for individuals -as such. Originality is a sin. Americans hate to give an individual -special attention, special notice. Even personal salvation is merged -in mass salvation. The revivalist, his press agents, and stewards are -a means of wholesale salvation. A revival meeting is a machine for -saving souls on a large scale. It might be thought that the revivalist -himself took his stand as an exceptional individual. Not at all: he is -only a type. American public opinion does not allow a man to stand out -as superior. It is surprising the dearth of noble men in the popular -estimate of to-day. Mockery follows on the heels of noble action or -individual action, and reduces it to type. That is a great function of -the American Press of to-day, the defaming of men of originality and -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> explaining away of noble action. I remember a conversation I heard -at Cleveland. Roosevelt had just cleared himself of the press libel of -drunkenness.</p> - -<p>"Wasn't it a good thing to clear the air, so," said one man, "and get -clear of the charge once for all?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think he got clear of it," said the other. "It's all very -well to bring an action against the editor of a provincial paper, but -why didn't he take up the cudgels against one of the powerful New -York journals, who said the same thing? They had money and could have -defended their case."</p> - -<p>"I don't think money was needed—except to buy evidence."</p> - -<p>"If you ask me," said the other, "it was all a very shrewd -electioneering dodge. Roosevelt is an expert politician. He knows -the value of being in the limelight, and he knows that nothing will -fetch more votes in the United States just now than a reputation for -sobriety. He was just boosting himself and the home products."</p> - -<p>That is a fair example of the way people think of striking -personalities and original views.</p> - -<p>Then every man is considered a booster. Boosting is accepted as a -national and individual function. Towns are placarded: "Boost for your -own city and its own industries. Make a habit of it." In Oil City, for -instance, I found in every shop a ticket announcing "Booster Week June -9-16." In that week<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Oil City was going to do all it could to call -attention to itself. Citizens would pledge themselves to speak of Oil -City to strangers in the train and when on visits to other towns. The -city of Newark, New Jersey, is always recommending its own people and -visitors to "Think of Newark." Whenever you enter into conversation -with an American you find him suddenly drifting towards telling you -the name of a hotel to stay at, or of an establishment where they sell -"dandy cream," or he is praising the bricks turned out by the local -brick works, or the conditions of the employment of labour in some silk -works on which his native town is dependent for prosperity. In a widely -distributed "Creed of the American" I read, "I remember always that I -am a booster." Even fathers refer to their new-born babies as "little -boosters." It should be remembered when Americans are boasting of their -native land and its institutions that they were cradled in boosting. -It is a habit that in many ways has profited America. It has attracted -the emigrant more than all that has ever been printed about it. It is a -great commercial habit. But it is in the end degrading.</p> - -<p>What is the name of the fairy who has muttered an incantation over the -Pilgrim Father and changed him into a booster? And is a booster only a -Pilgrim Father who brags about the stuff he manufactures?</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that by substituting the idea <i>booster</i> for the idea -<i>man</i> you get rid of so many of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>weaknesses of flesh and blood. A -man who is boosting day in and day out, using his tongue as a sort of -living stores' catalogue, is necessarily loyal to the great machine. -But loyalty to the machine has its dangers. On my journey to Chicago I -made some interesting observations in Natural History. I got into the -train at Franklin to go to Oil City, some five or six urban miles. What -was my astonishment to see that each of the eight or nine passengers in -my car had fixed their railway tickets in the ribbons of their hats, -and they themselves were deep in their newspapers. The conductor came -along and took the tickets from their hats and examined them, collected -those that were due to be given up and punched those that were not, and -stuck them back in the ribbons of the hats, the wearers reading their -newspapers all the time and making not the slightest sign that they -noticed what the conductor was doing. The only sign of consciousness I -observed was a sort of subtle pleasure in acting so—the sort of mild -pleasure which suffuses the faces of lunatics when they are humoured by -visitors to the asylum. They were shamming that they were machinery, -and in almost the same style as the man who is under the delusion that -he is a teapot, one arm being his spout and the other his handle.</p> - -<p>Thus the elevator man in the Department Store also thinks himself a bit -of machinery. He seems to be trained to act mechanically, and never to -alter the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> staccato patter that comes from his mouth at each floor. He -speaks like a human phonograph.</p> - -<p>Then all waiters, shop-attendants, barbers, and the like try to behave -like manikins. Most of all, in the language of Americans is the -mechanical obsession apparent. A man who is confined in a hospital -writes: "I'm <i>holding down a bed</i> in the hospital over here." The -man who meets another and brings him along, simply "collects" him in -America. The baseball team that beats another 6-0 "slips a six-nothing -defeat" on them. Especially in baseball reports, commercialism and -rhythms heard in great "works" abound.</p> - -<p>The influence of great machinery gets to the heart of the people. A -man when he joins a gang of workmen is taught to co-operate; he has to -trim off any original or personal way of doing things, and fit in with -the rest of the gang. When the gang is going mechanically and easily, a -man quicker than the rest is taken as leader, and the speed of the work -is raised. The mechanical action in each individual is intensified, is -perfected. Cinematograph films are even taken of gangs at work; the -pictures are shown before experts, who indicate weak points, recommend -discharges or alterations and show how the gangs can be reconstituted -to work more smoothly. Each man is drilled to act like a machine, and -the drilling enters into the fibre of his being to such an extent that -when work is over his muscles move habitually in certain directions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -and the rhythm of his day's labour controls his language and his -thought.</p> - -<p>In the factory it is the same. In a vast mechanical contrivance there -is just one thing that machinery cannot do; so between two immense -complicated engines it is necessary to place a human link. A man goes -there, and flesh and blood is grafted into steel and oil. The man -performs his function all day, but he also senses the great machine in -his mind and his soul; and when he goes out to vote for his President, -or talk to men and women about the world in which he lives, he does so -more as a standardised bit of mechanism, than as a tender human being.</p> - -<p>Alas, for the men and women who wear out and cease to be serviceable! -They are the old iron, and their place is the scrap-heap. "White trash" -is the name by which they go.</p> - -<p>Bernard Shaw, and indeed many others, look forward to the diminution of -toil by machinery. The minimising of toil is to them a great blessing. -Because machinery lessens toil they are on the side of machinery. -Meanwhile life shows a paradox. The Russian peasant who works without -machines toils less than the American who takes advantage of every -invention. The Russian emigrant who comes to America simply does not -know what work is, and he stares in amazement at the angry foreman who -tells him, when he is at it at his hardest, to "get a move on yer."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> - -<p>In America the Americans slave; they slave for dollars, for more -business, for advancement, but in the end for dollars only, I suppose. -They will fill up any odd moment with some work that will bring in -money. They will make others work, and take the last ounce of energy -out of their employees. The machine itself is the size of America, and -only in little nooks and corners can anything spring up that is not -of the machine. Even millionaires know nothing more to do than to go -on making millions. Yet there is not a feverish anxiety to get money. -Losses are borne with equanimity. It's just a matter of "the apple -tree's loaded with fruit. I'm going up to get another apple."</p> - -<p>Present experience shows that machinery increases the toil of mankind. -It need not increase it, but it does. It might diminish it, but there -are many reasons why it does not. For one thing, it increases the -standard of living. It makes rocking-chairs, porch-swings, automobiles, -and the like indispensable things. First, machinery makes the things, -then the things make the machinery duplicate themselves. So it raises -the standard of living and increases the toil of mankind. It is going -on increasing the standard of living for the rich, for the middle-class -aping the rich, and for the working men aping the middle-class.</p> - -<p>Is it good, then, that the standard of living is being raised? Well, -no; because the standard of living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> now means the standard of luxury. I -should have used that phrase from the beginning.</p> - -<p>I said this to a man on the road, and he asked me what I thought a -man should live for, but I could not answer him. Each man has his -individual destiny to fulfil. Destiny is not a matter of the clothes -you wear or of the cushions you sit upon. The beggar pilgrim going -in rags to Jerusalem may be more happy than a Pierpont Morgan, who -writes pathetically at the head of the bequest of his millions that he -believes in the blood of Jesus.</p> - -<p>One thing I noted in America, that the blossom of religion seems to -have been pressed between Bible leaves, withered and dried long ago. -What is called religion is a sort of ethical rampage. The descendants -of the Puritans are "probing sin" and "whipping vice." The rich are -signing cheques, the hospitals are receiving cheques. The women of -the upper classes are visiting the poor and adopting the waifs. But -seldom did I come in contact with a man or a woman who stood in humble -relation to God or the mystery of life. Even the great passion to put -things right, lift the masses, stop corruption, and build beautiful -cities and states is begotten in the sureness of science rather than -in the fear of the Lord. Far from fearing God, preachers announce from -their pulpits that they are "working with Him," or "co-operating with -the inevitable tendencies of the world," or "hastening on the work -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> evolution." For my part I believe that it is my sacred due to my -brother that he be given an opportunity of facing this world, the -mystery of its beauty and of his life upon it, that he find out God -for himself and learn to pray to Him. But that is at once Eastern and -personal.</p> - -<p>The Y.M.C.A. informs me as I sit in a car that "The great asset of this -town is the young men of this town." Must it be put that way? Is that -the only way in which the people of the town can be got to understand -how wonderful is the life and promise of any young man, how tender and -gentle and lovable he is personally, how unformed, how fresh from his -mother and his Creator?</p> - -<p>As I go along the road I pick up tracts, sown by the devil, I suppose. -Here is one of them:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Verily I say unto you that each and every one of you may be a -Count of Monte Christo, and some day exclaim, "The World is mine!"</p> - -<p>The world was made for you, that I know. That you were made for -the world goes without saying.</p> - -<p>Therefore hear me and believe me. If you desire wealth it <i>can</i> be -yours. If you desire <i>fame</i> it can be yours.</p> - -<p>But you cannot get something for nothing. You must pay for -everything worth having. You must pay the price set upon it, and -in the coin of the realm.</p> - -<p>The coin of the realm is industry—just that. Industry and only -industry. Nothing but industry.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="center"><a name="i120.jpg" id="i120.jpg"></a><img src="images/i120.jpg" alt="BY THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY TO MICHIGAN" /></div> - -<p class="bold">BY THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY TO MICHIGAN: THE ELECTRIC FREIGHT TRAIN.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<p>Poor immigrant, who thinks it would be grand to be a Count of Monte -Christo, or, to bring it nearer home, a John D. Rockefeller or an -Andrew Carnegie, and who thinks that honest labour will take him there! -Even were American success a thing worth striving for it is not won -by that means. It is a game of halma. It's not the man who moves all -his pieces out one square at a time who wins, but the sagacious player -who knows both to plan in advance and to hop over others when the -opportunity arises.</p> - -<p>But the good American young man, "the greatest asset of the town," -believes this gospel, and he gives his body and mind to the great -machine, and fills the gap between two otherwise disconnected -mechanisms. If he has been brought up "well," he just fits the -gap and is standard size. He feels in his soul every throb of the -engines, and registers in his integuments every rhythm and rhyme of -the great, accurate, definite, circulating, oscillating machine. He -behaves like a machine in his leisure hours. He even dances like a -mechanical contrivance. On none of the occasions when the Fatherland -requires his sober human judgment can he stand as a man. He seems -spoilt for the true citizenship. What he does understand is the -improvement, adjustment, and significance of machinery, and he can -look intelligently at America the Great Machine. Perhaps this is his -function whilst America is realising the dream of materialism and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> -progress. But America would take care of itself if the American were -all right. I could not but have that opinion as I left the cities and -walked through the rich country, the new world, as yet scarcely visibly -shopsoiled by commercialism.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>VII</span> <span class="smaller">RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON</span></h2> - -<p>I came into Forest City along a road made of coal-dust. A black by-path -led off to the right down a long gradual slope, and was lost among -the culm-heaps of a devastated country side. Miners with sooty faces -and heavy coal-dusty moustaches came up in ones and twos and threes, -wearing old peak-hats, from the centre of the front of which rose -their black nine-inch lamps looking like cockades. They carried large -tarnished "grub-cans," they wore old cotton blouses, and showed by -unbuttoned buttons their packed, muscular bodies. Shuffling forward up -the hill they looked like a different race of men—these divers of the -earth. And they were nearly all Russians or Lithuanians or Slavs of one -kind or another.</p> - -<p>"Mostly foreigners here," said I to an American whom I overtook.</p> - -<p>"You can go into that saloon among the crowd and not hear a word of -white the whole night," he replied.</p> - -<p>I addressed a collier in English.</p> - -<p>"Are you an American?"</p> - -<p>"No speak English," he replied, and frowned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<p>"From Russia?" I inquired, in his own tongue.</p> - -<p>"And you from where?" he asked with a smile. "Are you looking for a -job?"</p> - -<p>But before I could answer he sped away to meet a trolly that was -just whizzing along to a stopping-place. Presently I myself got into -a car and watched in rapid procession the suburbs of Carbondale -and Scranton. Black-faced miners waited in knots at the stations -all along the road. I read on many rocks and railings the scrawled -advertisement, "Buy diamonds from Scurry." Girls crowded into the car -from the emptying silk-mills, and they were in slashed skirts, some -of them, and all in loud colours, and over-decorated with frills, -ribbons, and shoddy jewellery. We came to dreary Iceville, all little -grey houses in the shadow of an immense slack mountain. We came into -the fumes of Carbondale, where the mines have been on fire ten years; -we got glimpses of the far, beautiful hills and the tender green of -spring woods set against the soft darkness of abundant mountains. We -dived into wretched purlieus where the frame-buildings seemed like -flotsam that had drifted together into ridges on the bending earth. -We saw dainty little wooden churches with green and yellow domes, the -worshipping places of Orthodox Greeks, Hungarians, Ruthenians, and at -every turn of the road saw the broad-faced, cavernous-eyed men and the -bright-eyed, full-bosomed women of the Slavish nations. I realised that -I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> reached the barracks of a portion of America's great army of -industrial mercenaries.</p> - -<p>I stayed three days at Casey's Hotel in Scranton, and slept nights -under a roof once more, after many under the stars. I suppose there was -a journalist in the foyer of the hotel, for next morning, when I opened -one of the local papers, I read the following impression of my arrival:</p> - -<blockquote><p>With an Alpine rucksack strapped to his back, his shoes thick with -coal-dust, and a slouch hat pulled down on all sides to shut out -the sun, a tall, raw-boned stranger walked up Lackawanna Avenue -yesterday afternoon, walked into the rotunda of the Hotel Casey -and actually obtained a room.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Every paper told that I was an Englishman specially interested in -Russians and the America of the immigrant. So I needed no further -introduction to the people of the town.</p> - -<p>Just as I was going into the breakfast-room a bright boy came up to me -and asked me in Russian if I were Stephen Graham. "My name is Kuzma," -said he. "I am a Little Russian. I read you wanted to know about the -Russians here, so I came along to see you."</p> - -<p>"Come and have breakfast," said I.</p> - -<p>We sat down at a table for two, and considered each a delicately -printed sheet entitled, "Some suggestions for your breakfast." Kuzma -was thrilled to sit in such a place; he had never been inside the hotel -before. It was pretty daring of him to come and seek me there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> But -Russians are like that, and America is a free country.</p> - -<p>As we had our grape-fruit and our coffee and banana cream and various -other "suggestions," Kuzma told me his story. He was a Little Russian, -or rather a Red Russian or Ruthenian, and came from Galicia. Three -years previously he had arrived in New York and found a job as -dish-washer at a restaurant, after three months of that he progressed -to being bottle-washer at a druggist's, then he became ice-carrier at -a hotel. Then another friendly Ruthenian introduced him to a Polish -estate agent, who was doing a large business in selling farms to Polish -immigrants. As Kuzma knew half a dozen Slavonic dialects the Pole took -him away from New York, and sat him in his office at Scranton, putting -him into smart American attire, and making a citizen out of a "Kike." I -should say for the benefit of English readers that illiterate Russians -and Russian Jews are called Kikes, illiterate Italians are "Wops," -Hungarians are "Hunkies." These are rather terms of contempt, and the -immigrant is happy when he can speak and understand and answer in -English, and so can take his stand as an American. After six months' -clerking and interpreting Kuzma began to do a little business on his -own account, and actually learned how to deal in real estate and sell -to his brother Slavs at a profit.</p> - -<p>Kuzma, as he sat before me at breakfast, was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> bright, well-dressed -business American. You'd never guess that but three years before he had -entered the New World and taken a job as dish-washer. He had seized the -opportunity.</p> - -<p>"You're a rich man now?" said I.</p> - -<p>"So-so. Richer than I could ever be in Galicia. I'm learning English at -the High School here, and when I pass my examination I shall begin to -do well."</p> - -<p>"You are studying?"</p> - -<p>"I do a composition every day, on any subject, sometimes I write a -little story. I try to write my life for the teacher, but he says I am -too ambitious."</p> - -<p>"Do you love your Ruthenian brothers and sisters here?"</p> - -<p>"No; I prefer the Great Russians."</p> - -<p>"You're a very handsome young man. I expect you've got a young lady in -your mind now. Is she an American, or one of your own people? Does she -live here, or did you leave her away over there, in Europe?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think of them. I shall, however, marry a Russian girl."</p> - -<p>"Have you many friends here?"</p> - -<p>"Very many."</p> - -<p>"You will take me to them?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, with pleasure."</p> - -<p>"And where shall we go first? It is Sunday morning. Shall we go to -church?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<p>We left the hotel and went to a large Baptist chapel. When we arrived -there we found the whole congregation engaged in Bible study. The -people were divided into three sections,—Russians, Ruthenians, Poles. -Russians sat together, Ruthenians and Little Russians together, and -Poles together. I was most heartily welcomed, and took a place among -the circle of Russians, Kuzma being admitted there also, though by -rights he should have gone to the other Ruthenians. He was evidently a -favourite.</p> - -<p>We took the forty-second chapter of Genesis, reading aloud the first -verse in Russian, the second in Ruthenian, and the third in Polish. -When that was accomplished we prayed in Ruthenian, then we listened to -an evangelical sermon in Russian, and then sang, "Nearer, my God, to -Thee!" in the same manner as we had read the chapter of Genesis—first -verse in Russian, second in Ruthenian, third in Polish. It was strange -to find myself singing with Kuzma:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Do Ciebie Boze moj!</div> -<div>Przyblizam sie.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I have never seen Poles and Ruthenians and Russians so happy together -as in this chapel, and indeed in America generally. In Russia they more -or less detest one another. They are certainly of different faiths, and -they do not care about one another's language. But here there is a real -Pan-Slavism. It will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> hold the Slavic peoples together a long time, and -separate them from other Americans. Still there are not many cities in -the United States resembling Scranton ethnologically. The wandering -Slav when he moves to another city is generally obliged to go to a -chapel where only English is spoken, and he strains his mind and his -emotions to comprehend the American spirit.</p> - -<p>After the hymn the congregation divided into classes, and talked about -the Sermon on the Mount, and to me they were like very earnest children -at a Sunday School. I was able to look round. There were few women in -the place; nearly all of us were working men, miners whose wan faces -peered out from the grime that showed the limit of their washing. -At least half the men were suffering from blood-poisoning caused -by coal bruises, and their foreheads and temples showed dents and -discolorations. They had been "up against it." They would not have been -marked that way in Russia, but I don't think they grudged anything to -America. They had smiles on their lips and warmth in their eyes; they -were very much alive. "Tough fellows, these Russians," wrote Gorky. -"Pound them to bits and they'll come up smiling."</p> - -<p>They were nearly all peasants who had been Orthodox, but had been -"converted"; they were strictly abstinent; they sighed for Russia, -but they were proud to feel themselves part of the great Baptist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> -community, and knit to America by religious ties. None of them entirely -approved of Scranton. They felt that a mining town was worse than -anything they had come from in Russia, but they were glad of the high -wages they obtained, and were saving up either to go back to Russia and -buy land or to buy land in America. They craved to settle on the land -again.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me Kuzma's business of agent for real estate among the -Slavs was likely to prove a very profitable one. I shall come back -to Scranton one day and find him a millionaire. He evidently had the -business instinct—an example of the Slav who does not want the land -again. The fact that he sought me out showed that he was on the <i>qui -vive</i> in life.</p> - -<p>When the service was concluded we went over the church with a young -Russian who had fled to America to escape conscription, and who averred -that he would never go back to his own country. His nose was broken, -and of a peculiar blue hue, owing to blood-poisoning. His finger-nails -were cut short to the quick, but even so, the coal-dust was deep -between the flesh and the nail. He was most cordial, his handshake was -something to remember, even to rue a little. He had been one of those -who took the collection, and he emptied the money on to a table—a -clatter of cents and nickels. He showed us with much edification the -big bath behind the pulpit where the converted miners upon occasion -walked the plank to the songs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> of fellow-worshippers. They were no -doubt attracted by the holiness of water, considering the dirt in which -they lived.</p> - -<p>"He is a Socialist," said Kuzma, as we went away to have lunch. "A -Socialist and a Baptist as well. He has a Socialist gathering in the -afternoon and Russian tea and speeches, and he wants me to go. But they -hold there should be no private property. I want private property. I -want to travel and to have books of my own, so I can't call myself a -Socialist."</p> - -<p>In the afternoon Kuzma took me to the Public Library and showed me its -resources. In the evening we went to supper at the house of a dear old -Slovak lady, who had come from Hungary on a visit thirty years ago, and -had never returned to her native land. She had been courted and won and -married within three weeks of her arrival—her husband a rich Galician -Slav. Now she was a widow, and had three or four daughters, who were so -American you'd never suspect their foreign parentage.</p> - -<p>She told me of the many Austrian and Hungarian Slavs in Pennsylvania, -and gave it as her opinion that whenever a political party was badly -worsted in south-eastern Europe the beaten wanted to emigrate <i>en bloc</i> -to the land of freedom. When they came over they held to the national -traditions and discussed national happenings for a while, but they -gradually forgot, and seldom went back to the European imbroglio.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>A touching thing about this lady's house was a ruined chapel I found on -the lawn—a broken-down wooden hut with a cross above it, built when -the Slav tradition had been strong, and used then to pray in before -the Ikon, but now only accommodating the spade and the rake and a -garden-roller.</p> - -<p>We had a long talk, partly in Russian, partly in English—the old -lady had forgotten the one and only knew the other badly. So it was a -strange conversation, but very informing and pleasant.</p> - -<p>Slavs always talk of human, interesting things.</p> - -<p>Kuzma was very happy, having spent a long day with an Englishman whose -name had been in the newspaper. We walked back to the hotel, and for a -memory he took away with him a newspaper-cutting of a review of one of -my books and a portrait of the tramp himself.</p> - -<p>Next day, through the kindness of a young American whom I had met the -week before entirely by chance, I was enabled to go down one of the -coal-mines of Scranton, and see the place where the men work. The whole -of the city is undermined, and during the daytime there are more men -under Scranton than above it.</p> - -<p>I was put into the charge of a very intelligent Welshman, who was a -foreman, and we stepped into the cage and shot down the black shaft -through a blizzard of coal-dust, crouching because the cage was so -small, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> holding on to a grimy steel bar to steady ourselves in the -swift descent. In a few seconds we reached the foot—a place where -there was ceaseless drip of water on glistening coal—and we walked out -into the gloom.</p> - -<p>Black men were moving about with flaming lamps at their heads, electric -cars came whizzing out of the darkness, drawing trucks of coal. Whole -trucks were elevated in the opposite shaft from that in which we had -descended, elevated to the pit-mouth with a roar and a rush and a -scattering of lumps of coal. I gained a lively realisation of one way -in which it is possible to get a coal-bruise.</p> - -<p>My guide showed me a map of the mine, and we went along dark tunnels -to the telephone cavern, and were enabled to give greeting to miners -as far as three miles away underground. Every man working in the mine -was in telephonic communication with the pit-mouth. I saw the men at -work, watched small trucks of coal being drawn by asses to the main -line where the train was made up. I talked with Poles, Ruthenians, -Russians—actually meeting underground several of those whom I had seen -the day before in the Baptist Chapel. They were all very cheerful, -and smiled as they worked with their picks. Some were miners, some -labourers. The miner directs the blasting and drilling, puts in the -powder and blows out the coal; the labourer works with pick and shovel. -A man has to serve two years in a mine as a labourer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> before he can be -a miner. Even a British immigrant, who has worked in South Wales or -Northumberland or elsewhere, has to serve his term as a labourer. This -discourages British men. Scranton used to be almost entirely Welsh; -but it goes against the grain in an English-speaking man to fetch and -carry for a Slovak or a Pole. On the other hand, this rule safeguards -American strikers against imported miners.</p> - -<p>After I had wandered about the mine a while I went up to the -"Breaker's" tower, to the top of which each truck of coal was hoisted -by the elevator; and I watched the fanning and screening and guiding -and sifting of this wonderful machine, which in collaboration with -the force of gravity can sort a ton of coal a second. I talked with -Polish boys sitting in the stream of the rolling, hurrying coal; their -task was to pick out bits of slate and ore; and I watched the platemen -splitting lumps of coal with their long-handled hammers, and casting -out the impurities. I saw the wee washhouse where the collier may bathe -if he wish.</p> - -<p>"Well, America or Russia, which is it?" I asked of almost every Russian -I met. "Which do you prefer? Are you Americans now or Russians?"</p> - -<p>And nearly all replied, "America; we will be Americans. What does one -get in Russia?—fifty cents a day."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Only a few said that America was -bad, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> the mining was dangerous and degrading. Strange to say, the -astonishment at America's wealth and the wages they get from her had -not died away. They admired America for the wages she gave; not for -the things for which the people of culture in the great cities admire -her. America gave them money, the power to buy land, the power to buy -low pleasures, the power to get back to Russia, or to journey onward to -some other country—to the Argentine or to Canada.</p> - -<p>I then spent a day visiting people at random. I went into Police -Station No. 4, and found Sergeant Goerlitz sitting at a desk reading -his morning paper, and he was very ready to talk to me. From him I -gathered that the Slavs were the best citizens—quiet, industrious, and -law-abiding. By Slavs he meant Huns, Bulgarians, Galicians, Ruthenians. -The Russians were vulgar and pushing. He probably meant Russian Jews -and Russians. The Italians were the most dangerous people; they -committed most crimes, and never gave one another away to the police. -The Poles and Jews were the most successful people.</p> - -<p>I went to the house of a communicative, broad-nosed, broad-lipped -little Ruthenian priest—an Austrian subject—and he told me that -Russia could take India whenever she wanted to, America could take -Canada, and that Germany would break our naval power. But the English -would still be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> greatest people in the world. In the near future -the whole of North America would be one empire, and the whole of South -America another—one Anglo-Saxon, the other Latin. He was evidently -a student of contemporary possibilities. Despite his belief in -America he was proud of his own nationality, and jealous of the loss -of any of his flock. To his church there came three hundred Little -Russians and about thirty Great Russians. He reckoned there were fifty -families in Scranton purely Nihilist—by that he meant atheistic and -pleasure-seeking. At his church the service was in Slavonic and the -sermon in Ruthenian. He was sorry to say there were comparatively few -marriages. People came to the town to make money rather than to live.</p> - -<p>Then I went to the official Russian priest, away on Division Street. He -shepherded one hundred and thirty-seven families, and four hundred and -sixty-two unmarried people. His church had been burned down the year -before, but had sprung up again immediately. Some of the congregation -had succeeded in business, and having come as poor colonists were now -rich and respected citizens, professional men, large storekeepers, -responsible clerks. Scranton was more like a Russian city than an -American, and it was possible to flourish as a lawyer or a doctor or -an estate agent although you knew very little of the English language. -And out in the country round<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> about were many Russian farms with -real Russian peasants on them; and he spent many weeks in the year -travelling about in the rural districts giving the consolation of -Orthodoxy to the faithful.</p> - -<p>A pathetic thing happened whilst I was taking leave of the priest; a -young workman came in to ask advice, and in salutation he took the -priest's hand to kiss it, but the latter was ashamed to receive that -homage before me, and so tried to pull his hand away. Despite the -churchman's enthusiastic account of his work I felt that little action -was symbolical of the ebb-tide. It was to me as if I had looked at the -sea of faith, and said, "The tide is just turning."</p> - -<p>I visited the Y.M.C.A., so important an institution in America, giving -a good room for fifty cents a day, and having its club-rooms, its -swimming-baths, its classes for learning English. It wanted to raise -seventeen thousand dollars in the forthcoming week, and many posters -reminded passers-by that Scranton's greatest asset was not its coal or -its factories or its shops, its buildings, its business, but its young -men.</p> - -<p>I walked the many streets at evening time when the wild crowd was -surging in and out of the cinema houses and the saloons, and heard -the American chaff and music-hall catch-words mixed with half a dozen -Slavonic dialects. A young American engineer took me to several -resorts, and initiated me in the mysteries of bull-dogs and fizzes, -and as we went along the street<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> he gave a running comment on the -gaudily attired girls of the town, which he classified as "pick-ups," -"chickens," and the like. At ten o'clock at night the streets were full -of mirth, and all given over to sweethearting and flirting. Scranton's -safety lies in the interest which the people have in one another, their -sociability and general disposition to talk and hope. What it would -be like if all these foreign mercenaries were mirthless and brutal -it would be loathsome to picture. But I was surprised to find such -lightness, such Southern frivolity in the people. It is strange that -a people, most of whom are working all day in darkness, should take -life so gaily. Even when they come up to the air of the outside world -it is a bad air that is theirs, vitiated by the fumes of the burning -mines; for at Scranton also the coal has been on fire ten years, and -the smoke rolls from the slag-coloured wastes in volumes, and diffuses -itself into the general atmosphere. One would think that the wretched -frame-dwellings, ruined by the subsidence of the ground on which they -were built, and begrimed with the smoke which factories belch all day, -would disgust humanity. But it seems the man who works in dirt and ruin -accepts dirt and disorder as something not wrong in themselves, quite -tolerable, something even to be desired, a condition of freedom.</p> - -<p>One day I met a young reporter, who was also a poet, and he took me to -a point where there was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> view of the city which he specially admired. -It was a grey day—surely all days there are grey. We looked to the -ridge of the West Mountain, a long dark wall built up to the sky, and -many-roofed Scranton lay below it; the thin spires of many conventicles -pointed upward, and from numberless chimneys and spouts proceeded -hardly moving white steams and smokes, all in strange curls and twists. -Here and there were black chutes and shafts and mountains of slag, and -the slates of the roofs of the houses glimmered appallingly under the -wanness and darkening dusty grey of the sky.</p> - -<p>"This sight does my heart good," said the poet. "It's good to live in a -place like this where we're doing something."</p> - -<p>"It would be a beautiful place if there were no Scranton here at all," -I ventured.</p> - -<p>"That's the glory of it," said he. "We have the faith to smash up the -beauty of Nature in the hope of getting something better. It would be a -beautiful world entirely if there were no such thing as man. Nature's -beauty has no need of us. But we happen to be here. We have something -in us that Nature could never think of. Scranton expresses man's -passion more truly than the virginal beauty of the Alleghany mountains -or the valley of the young Susquehanna."</p> - -<p>"A revolt against Eden," said I, "a fixed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>sullenness, man's -determination to live in grime if he wants to—the children's -infatuation for playing with the dirt."</p> - -<p>"Oh, more than that," said the reporter poet. "Much more."</p> - -<p>Perhaps.</p> - -<p>That was perhaps a glimpse of the religion of America.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Fifty cents a day is very good pay for a miner in Russia, -thirty cents is quite a common wage.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>VIII</span> <span class="smaller">AMERICAN HOSPITALITY</span></h2> - -<p>It is possible to distinguish two sorts of hospitality, one which is -given to a person because of his introductions, and the other which -is given to the person who has no introductions, the one given on the -strength of a man's importance, the other on the strength of the common -love of mankind. America is rich in the one species, she is not so rich -in the other.</p> - -<p>There is no country in the world where an introduction helps you more -than in the United States. In this respect how vastly more hospitable -the Americans are than the British! It is wonderful the extent to which -an American will put himself to trouble in order to help a properly -introduced visitor to see America. It is a real hospitality, and it -springs from a great belief in America and in the American people, -and a realisation of the fact that if nation and individuals are to -co-operate to do things in the world, they must unbend and think of -others beside themselves.</p> - -<p>To me, in the literary and artistic clubs of New York, in the city -institutions and schools, in the houses of the rich and cultured, and -in the homes of the poor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> America breathed kindness. New York seemed -to me more friendly and hospitable than any other great city I had -lived in. There also, as in Russia, one person came out and took me by -the hand, and was America to me.</p> - -<p>But when I shed respectability and the cheap fame of having one's -portrait and pages of "write-up" in the papers and put pack on back, -and sallied forth merely as a man I found that the other and more -precious kind of hospitality was not easily come by. Little is given -anonymously in the United States.</p> - -<p>Not that the country people despise the tramp, or hate him or set the -dogs on him or even refuse him a breakfast now and then, but that they -simply won't have him in their houses for the night, and are otherwise -indifferent to his hardships. They do not look on the stranger as a -fellow-man but as a loose wheel, a utility lying rusting in a field; -or at best they look upon him as a man who will "make good," who -will get a job later on and <i>earn</i> his living. No one is good enough -for the American till he has "made good." But this is the same in -all commercialised countries, commercialism kills the old Christian -charity, the hospitality of house and mind and heart.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i142.jpg" id="i142.jpg"></a><img src="images/i142.jpg" alt="AN INDIANA FARM" /></div> - -<p class="bold">AN INDIANA FARM: THE WIND-WELL BEHIND IT, THE WHEATFIELD IN FRONT.</p> - -<p>In the old colonial days there was extraordinary hospitality in -America, and this still survives in the West and North and South in -places out of touch with the great industrial beehive of the East -and Centre.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> The feeling still survives in the spirit that prevents -Americans printing prohibitions. You never see the notice "Trespassers -will be Prosecuted," though I do not know what one is to make of the -uncharitable poster that frequently met my gaze in Indiana and Illinois:</p> - -<p class="center">KEEP OUT!<br />THAT MEANS YOU.</p> - -<p>That is brutal.</p> - -<p>Tramping up to Williamsport from Scranton I encountered forty-eight -hours' rain, and only with difficulty on the second night did I obtain -shelter. After being refused three times the first rainy evening, I -found an old covered well beside an empty, padlocked shed. In this I -spent twenty hours, sleeping the night and waking to a day of down-pour.</p> - -<p>It was an interesting little hermitage, the three walls were of -stone but the roof and floor of wood. One side of the building was -completely open to wind and weather. In a corner was a dark square of -clear water—the well. Half-way up the stone wall was a narrow ledge, -and there I slept. I covered the ledge with two sacks, for pillow I -had a book, a duplicate pair of boots, and a silken scarf. I slept -with my feet in a sack and a thick tweed coat spread over the rest of -me,—slept well. By day I sat on a box and looked out at a deserted -garden, and the rain pouring on the trees and rank grass. There were -young pines and hemlocks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> and maples, and a shaggy hickory tree. Beyond -them an apple orchard climbed over a very green hill, and the branches -were all crooked and gnarled and pointing. The blossoms had shed their -petals, and there was much young fruit.</p> - -<p>I gathered dry wood and made a fire on the threshold, and dried wet -wood and boiled a kettle, the smoke blowing in to me all the while, and -the raindrops hissing and dying as they fell into the embers.</p> - -<p>About mid-day a Dutch farmer came and stood in front of the little -house, and stared for some minutes and said nought.</p> - -<p>I hailed him: "Good-day!"</p> - -<p>He did not reply to this but inquired:</p> - -<p>"Hev you not seen that notice on the wall—'Any one meddling with this -house will be treated as he deserves'?"</p> - -<p>I had not.</p> - -<p>"Waal," said he, "it's there. So you'll put that fire out."</p> - -<p>I complied.</p> - -<p>"It's a wet day," said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's wet."</p> - -<p>"I'd like to get put up for the night somewhere, and get a good meal. -Do you know of any one who would do it?"</p> - -<p>He was silent for some while, and stared at me as if irritated, and -then he said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Guess about no one in this hollow'd take any one in. But you might try -at the store at the top of the hill."</p> - -<p>"Couldn't you take me in?"</p> - -<p>"No; couldn't do it."</p> - -<p>"Then, could you put me up a meal?"</p> - -<p>"We have been out of food and are living on buckwheat cakes."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't mind some of them and some milk."</p> - -<p>"No, no. No use. Wife wouldn't have any one in."</p> - -<p>After some converse he learned that I was British, and he said, "There -was one of yours here two-three years back."</p> - -<p>"What did he think of this country?"</p> - -<p>"He said it was the darndest country he ever saw."</p> - -<p>There was no help for it. I had to abandon the well and go out through -the never-ceasing down-pour and seek shelter and a decent meal. On my -way to the store I met another farmer, and we had this interchange of -talk:</p> - -<p>"Can you put me up for the night?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Can you make me up a meal?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"I'll pay you for it. You can have a quarter or so for a hot meal."</p> - -<p>"We've just had our supper, and the women are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> doing other things now. -There is a place on top of the hill."</p> - -<p>A mile farther on I came to a General Store. It was locked up, and as I -stared into the window the owner eyed me from a house over the way.</p> - -<p>He came out, looking at me apprehensively.</p> - -<p>"Can you put me up for the night?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No; not to-night."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"We don't take only our own people. There's a place two miles on."</p> - -<p>"Two miles through the wet."</p> - -<p>"You're right."</p> - -<p>"I can pay you what you get from your own people, and a little extra -perhaps."</p> - -<p>The storekeeper shook his head and answered:</p> - -<p>"My wife is a little unwell and does not want the trouble."</p> - -<p>"I can tell you you wouldn't get turned away like this in my country," -said I.</p> - -<p>"Where are you from?"</p> - -<p>"From England."</p> - -<p>"Oh, wouldn't they?"</p> - -<p>"There are plenty of places where they'd take you in without charging -for it. There are places in Europe where they'd come out and ask you -into their houses on such a night."</p> - -<p>"I dessay, I dessay."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, I think the people about here are very inhospitable."</p> - -<p>"I reckon you're right."</p> - -<p>"I think you are inhospitable."</p> - -<p>"Um!"</p> - -<p>"Well, you're a storekeeper, I want some bread and some butter, and -anything else you've got that doesn't need to be cooked."</p> - -<p>"Are you hungry?"</p> - -<p>I told him I was, and he determined to be more charitable than I had -given him the name for.</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, "I can let you have a slice of bread and butter and a -cup of cawfee I dessay."</p> - -<p>"Thanks. I should like to buy a loaf of bread and a quarter pound of -butter all the same," said I.</p> - -<p>"We haven't any bread in the store. The baker leaves it three times a -week, and we've only enough for ourselves; but I can let you have a -slice, and that'll keep you going till you get to Unityville. It's only -about two miles away. There's a hotel there. The folks have taken away -the keeper's licence, and you won't be able to get anything to drink. -But he'll take you in for a dollar. You'll get all you want. In half -an hour you'll be there. There are two more big hills, and then you're -there."</p> - -<p>He brought the bread, and as I was ravenous I was tamed thereby, and I -thanked him. The bread and butter and coffee were gratis. He was really -a kindly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> man. I shouldn't wonder if his wife had an acid temperament. -The night's lodging, no doubt, depended more on her than on him.</p> - -<p>I sat on rolls of wire-netting outside the store and finished the -little meal. Then I went away. Over the hills in the dusk! It was real -colonial weather; the light of kerosene lamps streamed through the -downpour of rain, the dark woods on each side of the strange high road -grew more mysterious and lonesome, silent except for the throbbing -of the rain on the leaves and on the ground. I stopped at a house to -ask the way, but when I knocked no one answered. I looked through the -kitchen window at the glow of the fire and at the family round the -well-spread table, and the farmer's wife directed me through the glass.</p> - -<p>At last—in a flow of liquid mud, as if arrested in floating -down-hill—a miserable town and a hotel.</p> - -<p>When I asked the host to put me up he said his wife had gone to bed -with a headache, and if I had not rated him soundly I should have been -turned into the rain once again.</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, "I cahnt give you any hot supper, you'll have to take -what's on hand."</p> - -<p>So saying, he opened a tin of Boston beans, emptied them on to a plate, -and put before me a saucerful of those little salt biscuits called -oysterettes. My supper!</p> - -<p>In the bar, deprived of ale, sat half a dozen youths eating chocolate -and birch beer, and talking excitedly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> of a baseball match that was -to be played on the morrow. Mine host was a portly American of the -white-nigger type. The villagers, exercising their local option, had -taken away his right to sell intoxicating liquor, and now on the wall -he had an oleographic picture of an angel guiding a little girl over a -footbridge, and saving her <i>from the water</i>. Somehow I think this was -unintentional humour on the part of mine host. He was an obtuse fellow, -who mixed the name Jesus Christ inextricably with his talk, and swore -b'God. But he gave me a warm bed. And he had his dollar.</p> - -<p>Another evening, about a month later, I sought a lodging in a town -on Erie Shore. The weather was very hot, and I was tramping beside -marshes over which clouds of mosquitoes were swarming. There was no -good resting-place in the bosom of Nature, so I imagined in my heart, -vainly, that I might find refuge with man.</p> - -<p>I came to a town and went into the store and asked where I would be -likely to find a night's lodging. The storekeeper mentioned a house -in one of the bye-streets. But when I applied there the landlady said -her husband was away, and she would be afraid to have a stranger in -his absence. I went to another house: they hadn't any room. I went to -a third: they told me a man there was on the point of death and must -not be disturbed. I returned to the store,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> and the storekeeper said it -would be impossible to be put up for the night anywhere in the village. -I told him I considered the harbouring of travellers a Christian duty.</p> - -<p>"They don't feel it so about here," said he politely.</p> - -<p>There was an empty park-seat at the end of the main street, I went and -sat on it and made my supper. Whilst I sat there several folk came and -gazed at me, and thought I might be plotting revenge. In America they -are very much afraid of the refused tramp—he may set houses on fire.</p> - -<p>But I was quite cheerful and patient. I had been sleeping out regularly -for weeks, and shelter refused did not stir a spirit of revenge in -me. In any case, I was out to see America as she is, not simply to be -entertained. I was having my little lesson—"and very cheap at the -price."</p> - -<p>But I found hospitality that night. As I sat on the park-seat a tall -labourer with two water-pails came across some fields to me, passed me, -and went to the town pump and drew water. "Surely," said I to myself, -"that is a Russian."</p> - -<p>I hailed him as he came back.</p> - -<p>"<i>Zdrastvitye! Roosky?</i>"</p> - -<p>I had guessed aright; he replied in Russian.</p> - -<p>"Are you working in a gang?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>"No, only on the section of the railway; there are six of us. We have -charge of this section. Where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> are you going to? To Chicago? Looking -for a job? Going to friends there? Where are you going to sleep? This -village is not a good one. <i>Ne dobry.</i> If you sleep there, on the seat, -up comes the politzman, and he locks you up. So you be three weeks late -in getting to Chicago perhaps. Why do you walk? You get on freight -train and you be there to-morrow or the day after. You come with me -now. I sleep in a closed truck with five mates, four are Magyars, one -is a Serb. It's very full up, and I don't know how the Magyars would -take it if I brought you in. But I know a good place. A freight train -is waiting here all night. There are plenty of places to sleep, and you -go on in it to-morrow morning to Toledo."</p> - -<p>He showed me an empty truck. I was very much touched, and I thanked him -warmly.</p> - -<p>"How do you believe," he asked in parting, "are you a Pole or are you -Orthodox?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said I, "I'm not Russian, I've only lived some years there. I'm a -British subject."</p> - -<p>This somewhat perplexed him. But he smiled. "Ah well," said he, -"good-bye, <i>Sbogom</i>—be with God," and we parted.</p> - -<p>A little later he returned and said that if I were lonely and didn't -mind a crush, the Magyars would not object to my presence. But by that -time I had swept the sawdusty floor of the truck, made a bed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> and was -nearly asleep. "Thanks, brother," said I, "but I'm quite comfortable -now."</p> - -<p>The Russians are a peculiarly hospitable people. Their attitude of mind -is charitable, and even in commercial America they retain much of the -spirit that distinguishes them in Europe. I met a queer old Russian -tramp in Eastern Pennsylvania; he exemplified what I mean. He was, -however, rather an original.</p> - -<p>In a district inhospitable to tramps I obtained my dinner by paying for -it. In this way and by these words:</p> - -<p>"Can you give me a meal for a quarter?"</p> - -<p>"Well, if you've got the coin I reckon we can do that."</p> - -<p>I was sitting at a meal of canned beef, beans, and red-currant jelly, -sipping from a mug of coffee, in which might possibly be discerned the -influence of a spoonful of milk. The farmer was cross-examining me on -my business—where had I come from? Was I looking for a job? Was I -walking for wager?—when a strange figure appeared at the window, a -broad-faced, long-haired, long-bearded tramp in a tattered cloak.</p> - -<p>He approached the house, and about ten feet from the window where we -were sitting he stood stock-still, leaning on his staff and staring at -us.</p> - -<p>"A hobo—looks a bit fierce," said the farmer, opening the window. "How -do? Wha—yer—want?"</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i152.jpg" id="i152.jpg"></a><img src="images/i152.jpg" alt="THE CREAM-VANS COME TO BUY UP ALL THE CREAM" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"THE CREAM-VANS COME TO BUY UP ALL THE CREAM."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Give me a piece and a cup o' milk," said the foreigner.</p> - -<p>"A Polander," said the farmer. "I guess I turn him over to the missus. -Sue, here's a man wants a crust and some sour milk."</p> - -<p>"Ee caant 'ave it," cried the farmer's wife.</p> - -<p>"No go," said the farmer, and shook his head at the tramp.</p> - -<p>The latter did not utter a word of reproach, but what was my -astonishment to see him cross himself delicately, and whisper a -benediction. A Russian, I surmised.</p> - -<p>"It is not over-safe refusing them fellers," said the farmer. "They -may burn your barn next night. I reckon Sue might have put him up -something. Hear him curse as he went."</p> - -<p>The old Russian was going eastward, I westward; but I resolved to turn -back, carry him some bread, make some coffee, and exchange those tokens -of the heart which are due from one wanderer to another upon the road. -I hurried back and overtook him.</p> - -<p>The old man was nothing loth to sit on a bank of grass whilst I bought -a quart of milk at a farm. "Coffee, uncle," said I. "Russian coffee. -Varshaffsky, such as you get at home in Russia, eh?" Uncle smiled -incredulously.</p> - -<p>"Twigs, uncle, sticks, dry grasses; we must make a fire," said I. Uncle -got up and collected a heap of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> wood. My coffee-pot soon reposed on a -cheerful blaze. The creamy milk soon began to effervesce and boil. In -went six lumps of sugar and eight spoonfuls of coffee. Uncle recognised -he was going to have a good drink when he saw that no water was to be -added. It was a pleasure to see him with a mug of it in one hand and a -hunk of good white bread in the other.</p> - -<p>I learned that my friend was tramping his way to New York. At that city -he would buy a ticket to Libau, and from Libau would walk home to his -native village, or he would get under a seat in a train. He had come -250 miles of his journey from Minnesota in an empty truck of a freight -train; perhaps he would get another good lift before long.</p> - -<p>"Why are you going home? Can't you find work?"</p> - -<p>"Going to pray," said he. "I am going to my village to see my father's -grave, and then to a monastery. I would finish my years in Russia and -be buried in Russian ground."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you didn't take root here; American life doesn't suit you? -Didn't you like Americans?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I lived with other fellows from our village, and we succeeded -sufficiently well. Some seasons we gained a lot of money. But I never -felt quite at home. We reckoned we would build a church after a -while—a high wooden one that one could see from the wheat-fields when -we were at work. But my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> friend turned evangelical; he became a sort of -molokan, and one by one all the other fellows joined him and they went -to meetings. I was the only one who remained orthodox. They reckoned I -got drunk because I was orthodox; but I reckon I got drunk because they -were evangelicals—because they had all deserted me, and I was lonely. -It's hard on a man to be all alone."</p> - -<p>"And why did you leave, uncle? What determined you to go?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you. I had a strange dream. I saw my father, who is, as -you know, dead long since and in his grave, and I saw a figure of -St. Serge—St. Serge was his angel—and both lifted their arms and -pointed to the East. I knew it was the East because there was a great -red sunset behind them, and they pointed right away from it, in the -other direction. When I wakened up I remembered this, and it made -a great impression on me. I told Basil, my friend, who worked with -me lumbering, and he laughed. 'But,' I said, 'that's not the thing -to laugh at.' At last I decided to start for home. The idea that I -might die in America and be buried there was always pricking me. I am -not American. The American God won't take me when I die. Some of the -fellows are going to take out their papers, because a Jew came round -pestering them with books to learn English and prepare for examination, -saying they ought to make themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> citizens; but that is not for me. -I am Russian. Mother Russia! she is mine. They may keep you down and -oppress you there, but the land is holy, and men are brothers.</p> - -<p>"When I started home I was surprised that so many farmers said 'No,' -when I wanted to sleep in their barns. I even got angry and shouted -at them. But as I went further I got patient, and came to pray to God -every day and often, to give me my bread and bring me safely to Russia. -Then I got peace, and never was afraid or angry, reckoning that even -if I did die in America I should be dying on the way home, and my face -would be turned towards Russia. I reckon that if I die my soul will get -there just the same."</p> - -<p>"It's not often that in Russia, when a man is refused bread, he says, -'Glory be to God!'" said I, recalling how the tramp had crossed himself -after the farmer's refusal.</p> - -<p>"No; not often. I thought out that for myself. At first I was silent -when people turned me away. I gave thanks only when they took me in. -But after a while my silence seemed a sort of impatience and angriness. -So I recollected God even then, and crossed myself. A tramp has no -ikons, so he needs all sorts of things to remind him."</p> - -<p>The poor exile had told his story, and looked at me with dim, -affectionate eyes. He held my hand tightly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> in his as we said, -"Good-bye"; he going eastward, I westward.</p> - -<p>That was a way of living in the fear of God. That old man had real -hospitality in his soul.</p> - -<p>But in depicting the American farmer and storekeeper it would be unfair -to characterise him as an inhospitable person. He is a great deal more -hospitable than his actions would suggest. He is a kindly being. He -has love towards his neighbour, and is more inclined to say "Yes" to -the wanderer than "No." But he has often been victimised. He has been -robbed, assaulted, insulted, his property has been damaged, barns set -on fire, his crops in part destroyed by wilfully malicious vagabonds. -The behaviour of the tramp is often a sort of petty anarchism; he has -suffered in the heartless commercial machine, has got out of it only -by luck, and his hand is against every man. He has cast over honour, -principle, and conscience, and is able to gloat secretly over every -little cynical act or meanness perpetrated at the expense of the -good-natured but established farmer.</p> - -<p>America has more tramps than any other country except Russia, and it -would have more than Russia but for the fact that there are often -about a million pilgrim-tramps on the Russian roads. The Russian tramp -is, moreover, a gentle creature; the American is often a foul-mouthed -hooligan.</p> - -<p>In several little districts that I passed through I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> was questioned by -the farmers as to whether I belonged to a gang of tramps who had been -lurking in the neighbourhood for weeks. A tramp was evidently regarded -as an enemy of society. Whenever I remarked on the inhospitality of the -people a rueful expression came over the farmer's face, and he would -begin to tell me that the old days were gone, money was tighter, the -cost of living was higher, taxes were double, the land did not yield -what it did of old, there were many demands on them here; but out in -the West it was different. There, as in former times, every farm-house -had open doors and free table to the tramp and wanderer. No one was -more welcome than the tramp, he brought news and stories of personal -adventure; he might even be persuaded to do work in the fields.</p> - -<p>I believe the Americans would be a truly charitable and hospitable -people if the evils of over-commercialism were remedied, and if -business were made kinder and more human, and taxes were evenly -distributed. There is an immense good-will towards man in America: -it is only rendered abortive by mammon. I for my part have to thank -numberless farmers, east and west, for kindly interest and good talks, -loaves of bread, cups of coffee, and pleasant meals. Several times when -I have been cooking by the side of a road a farm wife has come running -out to me with something hot from her kitchen, with an "Eat this, poor -man, and God bless you, you must be hungry."</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i158.jpg" id="i158.jpg"></a><img src="images/i158.jpg" alt="PLOUGHED UPLAND ALL DOTTED OVER WITH WHITE HEAPS OF FERTILISER" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"PLOUGHED UPLAND ALL DOTTED OVER WITH WHITE HEAPS OF FERTILISER."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the farmer's wife is often mollified when you are able to buy her -milk and eggs. She is the person who counts in the farm. She must be -approached; the husband has very little say in what shall be given to -the wanderer. As a fantastic old tramp said to me:</p> - -<p>"Whilst you are yet afar off the farmer's wife standing on her -threshold, espies you and takes you to be a hungry lion pawing the -road and seeking whom you may devour. She calls to her husband and he -peereth at you. Perchance she fetcheth down the ancient blunderbuss -from the wall; but when you come closer and hail her in English she -says to herself with relief, even with pleasure, 'It is a man,' one of -the attractive male species. You ask for bread and milk,—oh yes she -has it, and with a scared look still on her face, though transfigured -with a mild gladness, she fetcheth you bread and milk and eggs; -and then if you can pay her market price the scared look goes away -entirely; and out of the goodness of her heart and the abundance of -her pantry she addeth cookies and apple butter, and for these you pay -nought—they are her favour. Don't ask her, however, to put you up for -the night."</p> - -<p>The tramp always has a hard time to get a night's lodging. A poor, -weak, bedraggled Jew, whom I met shortly after the forty-eight hours' -rain, told me that he had been all one night in the wet—his pedlar's -pack had got ruined, he was suffering from pneumonia,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and had thought -that such weather meant sure death to him. He had tried every house in -five towns and had been refused at every one. It was a sad comment on -modern life.</p> - -<p>In the Middle Ages, and in the days when Christianity meant more -than it does now, the refusal of shelter was almost unheard of. -And in peasant Russia to-day it would be considered a sin. An old -pilgrim-tramp once said to me, "When we leave this world to get to -Heaven we all have to go on tramp, and those find shelter there who -sheltered wanderers here." But Americans will not be judged by that -standard. The early Christians received strangers and often entertained -angels unawares, but the modern American is afraid that in taking in a -strange tramp he may be sheltering an outcast spirit. Once tramps were -angels; now they are rebel-angels.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>IX</span> <span class="smaller">OVER THE ALLEGHANIES</span></h2> - -<p>Both the weather and the country improved before I reached -Williamsport. On the height of the road to Hughesville I had a grand -view of the mountains and of the sky above them, saw displayed green -hills and forested mountains, and great stretches of ploughed upland -all dotted over with white heaps of fertiliser. And the sky above was -a battle-scene, the sun and his angels having given battle and the -clouds taking ranks like an army. Glad was I to see to eastward whole -battalions in retreat.</p> - -<p>I passed through fine forested land with great hemlocks, maples, and -hickories. A brawling stream poured along through the dark wood, and -as I walked beside it a sudden gleam of sunshine pierced the gloom of -foliage, and lit up boles and wet banks and wet rocks and the crystal -freshets of the stream. Of all weathers I like best convalescent -weather, the getting sunny after much rain. On the Sunday on which I -reached the city the open road was swept by fresh winds, all the birds -were singing, every blade of grass was conscious of rain taken in and -of the sun bringing out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>Williamsport I found to be a peaceful, provincial town, well kept in -itself and surrounded by beautiful scenery. It was looking its best in -the freshness and radiance of a May morning. On its many hundred bright -green lawns that run down so graciously from pleasant urban villas to -the roadway there was much white linen airing. Williamsport is an old -lumbering town on a branch of the Susquehanna, and though that business -has gone away, prosperity and happiness seem to have remained behind. -There was a feeling of calmness that I had not experienced in other -American cities, and I felt it would be pleasant to live there for a -season.</p> - -<p>I tramped down to Jersey Shore, and the night after my halcyon day at -Williamsport a thunderstorm overtook me, shaking the old barn in which -I slept and tearing away rafters and doors. I witnessed Lockhaven under -depressing circumstances, but in any weather it must be an inferior -town to Williamsport, though it is also an old point for lumbering on -the Susquehanna.</p> - -<p>The weather remained very rainy, and I was obliged to forsake the -atrociously clayey high-road for the cinder track of the railway. In -doing this I passed up into a fine hilly country along the valley of -the Beech Creek. I came to Mapes (to rhyme with Shapes), but found it -a name and no more. A shooting and fishing resort with one house in -it. The Beech<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> Creek was a fine sight, running along the base of the -embankment of the railway, carrying pine logs on its flood and racing -the trains with them, roaring and rushing, the logs pointing, racing, -turning, rolling, toppling, colliding, but always going forward, -willy-nilly getting clear of every obstacle and galloping out of sight.</p> - -<p>With one wet match I lighted a grand fire by the side of the line, and -boiled my kettle and dried myself and chuckled. It might be going to -rain more. I might be going to have a queer night, but for the time -being I was having a splendid tea. It was a matter for consolation in -the future that on the wettest possible day it was not difficult to -light a fire with one match. The secret lies in having plenty of dry -paper in your wallet; and I had a copy of a New York Sunday paper, -which lasted me to light my fire all the way to Elkhart, Indiana, at -least five hundred miles' tramping.</p> - -<p>The district of Mapes is one of the most beauteous in the Alleghanies, -or it was so this quiet evening. The summits of the mountains were -obscured by mists, but up from the profound valleys the woods climbed, -and the lovely tops of trees seemed like so many stepping-stones from -the land up to cloudy heaven.</p> - -<p>By the time I came to Monument it was dark. But a great glowing -brick-kiln looked out into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> night, and there were houses with many -lighted windows. I was directed to a workmen's boarding-house, and -spent a night among miners, railway men, and brick-workers. The keeper -of the establishment was doubtful whether he would have me, but thought -there was "one feller on the third floor gone."</p> - -<p>"What will be your charge?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, "a won't charge ye anything for the bed, but the -breakfast to-morrow morning will be twenty-five cents."</p> - -<p>"My!" I thought, "here's something choice coming along in the shape of -a bed."</p> - -<p>It turned out to be four in a room and two in a bed, all sleeping in -their clothes. There was even some doubt as to whether there was not a -fifth coming.</p> - -<p>One man was in bed already; I chose the unoccupied bed, and laid myself -upon it in full tramping attire. You can imagine the state of sheets -and quilts in a bed that brickmakers and soft-coal miners sleep in -their clothes.</p> - -<p>The man in bed was an Anglo-Saxon American. When I said I was from -England he asked me if I had walked it all.</p> - -<p>"I came by steamer of course to New York."</p> - -<p>"How many days?"</p> - -<p>"Eight."</p> - -<p>"Weren't you afraid?" said he. "Quite out of sight of land no doubt? -You wouldn't get me to go,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> not for many thousand dollars. That -<i>Titanic</i> was an affair, wasn't it. Fifteen hundred—straight to the -bottom! I'd have shot myself had I been there."</p> - -<p>"What do you work at here?"</p> - -<p>"Brick-making."</p> - -<p>"Lot of men?"</p> - -<p>"Plenty of work. Two truck-loads of extra men coming to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Foreigners?"</p> - -<p>"Italians."</p> - -<p>I told him the story of a storm at sea with the exaggeration to which -one is too prone when addressing simple souls. I rather harrowed him -with an account of cook's enamel ware and kitchen things rolling about -and jangling when every one was saying his prayers.</p> - -<p>Presently I remarked irrelevantly, "My goodness! What a noise the frogs -make here!"</p> - -<p>"That's no noise," said he; "I'm going to sleep."</p> - -<p>After a while his bedfellow came in and he, before turning in, got -down on his knees in the narrow passage between the beds and prayed—I -should say, a whole half-hour, talking half to himself, half-aloud. -Whilst he was doing so my bedfellow came in, a tall, heavy, tired Pole, -who looked neither to right nor left, but just clambered over me and -lay down with his face to the wall and slept and snored.</p> - -<p>It rained heavily all night, and next morning it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> still poured. -After a disreputably bad breakfast I sat on a chair at the door of -the establishment and watched the thresh of the rain on two great -pools beside a road of coal-dust, looked out at the lank grass, the -tomato-can dump, the sodden refuse of the boarding-house, and away to -the square red chimney of the brick factory belching forth black smoke.</p> - -<p>"Say, stranger," said mine host, "I'm going to wade into that cave and -hand out potatoes; will you take them from me?" This was the first time -I had been called stranger in America, and it sounded pleasant in my -ears.</p> - -<p>About eleven o'clock in the morning the rain ceased, and I went on to -the next point on the railway. The track climbed higher and higher, and -I learned that on the morrow I should reach the top of the Alleghany -Mountains—Snow Shoe Creek.</p> - -<p>It was a fine walk to Orviston under the heavily clouded sky. The -mountain sides were all a-leak with springs and trickling streams and -cascades. There was an accompanying music of the racing Beech Creek -on the one hand, and of the gushing rivulets on the other; but this -would be swallowed up and lost every now and then in the uproar of the -oncoming and passing freight train of coal; the appalling, hammering, -affrighting freight train passing within two feet of me, taking my -breath away with the thought of its power. How pleasant it was, though, -to listen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> to the rebirth of the music of the waters coming to the ear -in the wind of the last trucks as they passed.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i166.jpg" id="i166.jpg"></a><img src="images/i166.jpg" alt="SLOVAKS WORKING ON THE LINE WITH PICK AND SHOVEL" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"SLOVAKS WORKING ON THE LINE WITH PICK AND SHOVEL."</p> - -<p>Orviston prides itself on its fire-bricks. The whole village is made of -them, and the pavement as well, and every brick is stamped "Orviston," -and is both a commodity and an advertisement.</p> - -<p>After I had visited the village store for provisions I re-entered the -railway enclosure, and read as I did so the following notice typical of -America: "Cultivate the safety habit—if you see anything wrong report -it to the man with the button."</p> - -<p>I met the man with the button after I had walked a mile along the -way; he was a Slovak, working on the line with pick and shovel, a -tall, brawny Slav, and with him a rather tubby little chap of the same -nationality.</p> - -<p>"You haf no räit on these läins," said the Slovak. "You go off. You are -no railway man. What are you? Slavish?"</p> - -<p>I replied in English, but on second thoughts went on in Russian. He -understood, and was mollified at once. He was in America for the second -time, they neither of them liked the old country. I photographed them -as they stood—John Kresica and Paul Cipriela. They were unmarried men, -and lived in a "boarding-house" in Orviston. They worked in a gang. -Would I please send them a copy of the photograph? I agreed to do so; -then, when I moved to go off the lines, the man with the button cried -out, smiling:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Hi! All-right, go ahead!"</p> - -<p>I went on blithely. There was a change of weather in the afternoon. At -one o'clock the sun lifted his arms and pulled apart the mist curtains -at the zenith and disclosed himself—a miraculous apparition. The whole -sky was cloudy, but the sun was shining. An apparition, the ghost of -a sun, and then a reality—hot, light-pouring, cloud-dispersing. By -two it was a hot summer day, at three there was not a cloud in the -sky. What a change! It was clear that summer had progressed during -the rain; insects of bright hues were on the wing, huge yellow-winged -butterflies, crimson-thighed grasshoppers, green sun-beetles. A -new-born butterfly settled three times on my sleeve; the fourth time I -just caught him. I held him delicately between two fingers and let him -go.</p> - -<p>During a most exhilarating evening I tramped past houseless Panther and -got to Cato at nightfall. Cato was a railway station of no pretensions; -a broken-down shed with no door, no ticket offices, no porter. -Passengers who wished to take a train had to wave a flag and trust to -the eyesight of the engine-driver. For village, all that I could make -out was a coal-bank, a shaft, and some heaps of old iron.</p> - -<p>It was an extremely cold night, so I slept in the railway shed on a -plank form that ran along the three sides of the building. I lay and -looked out at the bright night shining over the mountains, dozed, -waked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> dozed again. Shortly after midnight I had a strange visitor. I -was lying half-asleep, looking at a misshapen star which was resting on -the mountains opposite me, which became a silver thumb pointing upward, -which became at last the young crescent moon just rising. I was in that -somnolent state when you ask, as you see the moon rising behind dark -branches of the forest, Is it the moon in eclipse? is it a comet?—when -a portly man with shovel hat came out of the night, stood in front of -the shed, leaned on a thick cudgel, and looked in.</p> - -<p>"Hallo!" said I.</p> - -<p>"Haffing sum sleep?" queried the visitor.</p> - -<p>"Yes, trying to; but it's a cold night."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you haf bed pretty goot!"</p> - -<p>"Who are you,—the night watchman?"</p> - -<p>"Naw. You don't see a näit wawtchman without 'is lantern."</p> - -<p>The old chap came close up to me, bent down, and whispered, "I'm in the -same box as yourself."</p> - -<p>"Walking all night?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"The only vay to keep varm," said the old man ruefully. He took out a -shining watch from his waistcoat.</p> - -<p>"Three o'clock," said he. "In an hour it will be daylight. Oh, I think -I'll try and sleep here an hour. Say, is there to eat along the road?"</p> - -<p>I wasn't quite sure what he meant.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Not much," I hazarded.</p> - -<p>"Wot are you—you don't speak the langwage very goot," said the tramp.</p> - -<p>"English."</p> - -<p>"I am a Cherman."</p> - -<p>The old man lay down on the plank form, resting his head on my feet, -and using them for a pillow.</p> - -<p>"How old are ye?" he went on.... "Hoh, I can give you forty years. If I -were in Germany now I should be getting an army pension."</p> - -<p>"Are you going back?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Naw, naw. I could never give up this country."</p> - -<p>We composed ourselves to sleep, but with his head resting on my feet I -was too uncomfortable. "Presently I'll make a fire," said I, "and we'll -have hot tea and some bread and butter." And after about twenty minutes -I got up, put my boots on, and wandered out to find wood to make a -fire. It was about half an hour before dawn. There was a hoar frost, -and everything was cold and rimy to the touch. But I made up a bundle -of last year's weeds, now sodden straws, and laid them on a half-sheet -of my Sunday newspaper. That made a fine blaze, and with twigs and -sticks and bits of old plank, I soon had a fine bonfire going. The old -German came out and watched me incredulously. He didn't think it was -possible to make a fire on such a morning. But he was soon convinced, -and went about picking up chunks of wood desultorily, alleging the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -while that he couldn't have lit such a fire in three hours; evidently I -knew how to do it.</p> - -<p>"Shall I make tea or coffee?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Cawfee," said the old chap, his mouth watering. The word tea did not -represent to him anything good.</p> - -<p>"After a cup of hot cawfee I can go a long way. Hot cawfee, mind yer. -Varm cawfee 'salright for lunch, but in the morning it must be hot. The -only thing better than a cup of cawfee is a pint of whisky.... Say, -you've enough fire here now to roast a chicken."</p> - -<p>"Wish I had one, we'd roast it."</p> - -<p>I emptied the last of my sugar into the pot, and seven or eight -spoonfuls of coffee. It was to be "Turkish." The old tramp sat down on -the stump of a tree, took out a curly German pipe, and then put a red -coal on it. He had matches, but was economical in the matter of lights. -"Say," he said to me later, pointing to the ground, "you've dropped a -good match." I picked it up.</p> - -<p>The coffee was "real good." The old fellow drank it through his thick -moustache, and dipping his bread into his cup, munched great mouthfuls. -I had offered him butter with his bread, but he refused. "Booter" was -nothing to him. He liked apple-"booter."</p> - -<p>"Say, you've got on a powerful pair of boots!"</p> - -<p>"I need them, tramping to Chicago."</p> - -<p>"Chicago's not a bad town if you know where to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> go. Say, presently -you'll come to Snow Shoe. Don't go past it. You'll get something there."</p> - -<p>The old man stopped a minute in his talk, and stared at me knowingly, -didactically.</p> - -<p>"Rich miners," he went on. "You need only ask. See this packet of -tobacco, they gave it to me at the Company store. That's the thing I -can't get on without, must have it. If a man asks me for a smoke and I -haf it to give I must give him also. Where've you come from yesterday, -Orviston?"</p> - -<p>"No. Monument."</p> - -<p>"Is there anything there?" he whispered mysteriously.</p> - -<p>"Not much to be had," said I. "But there's a good deal of work, and -they're bringing in a big gang of Italians. You can't get much of -anything at the farms."</p> - -<p>"Where Guineas are, I don't go. I don't like the Eyetaylians."</p> - -<p>"D'you like the Jews?"</p> - -<p>"They're a good people," said he. "Don't say anything against the Jews. -I know a Jew who gives free boots to tramps. Last year I went into his -store, and one of the shopmen came up to me and said, 'I know what you -want, you'll get it. I'll tell the boss when he comes out.' And he -gave me a powerful pair of boots, and sent me across the road to the -Quick-lunch with a letter to the boss there, to give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> me a good dinner. -So I never say anything against the Jews."</p> - -<p>"Do you know Cleveland?" said I.</p> - -<p>"You bet. Lived there ten years ago, had a job on a Lake steamer. I -worked one summer on a boat."</p> - -<p>The old tramp stared at me as if he had confessed a sin. "Worked like a -mule," he added sententiously, and stared again. "I had a home there, -and lived just like a married man. But when I wanted to move on to -Pittsburg my girl wouldn't go."</p> - -<p>"I expect you're the sort of man who has run away from a wife in -Germany," said I.</p> - -<p>"Naw, naw. Never married."</p> - -<p>Then he began to talk of his loves and conquests. At his age you'd have -thought his mind would not have been filled with such vanities. He -evidently earned money now and then, and went on "sprees." He averred -that he had not a dime now, and was altogether "on the nail." I had -an idea, however, that he had hidden on him, somewhere, passage-money -to take him to Germany, to get that army pension. The Germans are a -cautious people. They are cautious and cogitative, yet I wonder what -the old man thought of me as he stumped away, leaning on his heavy -walking-stick. He had been twenty-seven years on the road, and was very -shrewd and experienced in many ways. Perhaps for a moment he took me -for a gentleman burglar. He was immensely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> curious to see what was in -my sack, but he probably reflected—"Here is good hot, coffee, a fire, -and a pleasant young man; make the most of it, and ask no inconvenient -questions."</p> - -<p>I put the fire out, shouldered my pack, and resumed the journey to Snow -Shoe. The sun had risen, but his warmth was as yet shut away behind the -wall of the mountains. The hoar-frost of night had not melted yet, and -it was necessary to walk briskly to keep warm. It was so cold that I -got to Snow Shoe before ten o'clock.</p> - -<p>A feature of this tramping along the rails was the danger in crossing -bridges. It was a single line, and as there were some twenty bridges -over the flood of the river, there were twenty ordeals of trusting that -no train would suddenly appear from a corner of the winding track and -run me down. If a train had come whilst I was half-way across a bridge -there was no refuge but the river, and I was always prepared to jump. -For several nights after this bit of tramping I dreamed of crossing -bridges, running on the sleepers and just passing the last beams as -engines swept down on me. But it was pleasant climbing up so high, and -feeling that within an hour or so Snow Shoe would be achieved. I had -lived in the rumour of Snow Shoe for two days, and the name had come -to correspond to something very beautiful in my mind. The sound of the -name is pleasant to the ear, and every now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> then, as I hurried -along, I asked, "Snow Shoe, Snow Shoe, what shall I find there?" I -imagined the pioneers who first came up this beautiful valley and -gave to an Indian settlement the dainty name—through what virginal -loveliness they had passed! Then I thought of the reporter-poet -of Scranton who objected to the beauty of Nature because it was -independent of man.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i174.jpg" id="i174.jpg"></a><img src="images/i174.jpg" alt="THE SLAV CHILDREN OF SNOW-SHOE CREEK" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE SLAV CHILDREN OF SNOW-SHOE CREEK.</p> - -<p>Then, man came along, the engine-man with his endless, empty freight -train and his bellowing, steaming engine howling through the valley. -One after another eight freight trains, each about a quarter of a mile -long, came grinding past me, going up to the collieries to take their -daily loads of carbon. Somehow I did not object; it was new America, -the America of to-day careering over the America of 1492, and had to be -accepted.</p> - -<p>But Snow Shoe gave me pause. When I arrived at the little slate-roofed -mining settlement I found there was considerable excitement among the -children there. A cow had just been cut to pieces by the last freight -train. The driver had driven his train over the beast and on without a -word of remark or a hesitation, and a farmer was complaining bitterly, -but the children—young Americans, Russians, Ruthenians, Slovaks, the -ones who have in their keeping the America of to-morrow—were sitting -round the remains, helling and God-damning and asking me facetious -questions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> And that was the answer to what I had asked myself—What -shall I see at Snow Shoe? What am I walking so far and so high for to -see?</p> - -<p>Snow Shoe was the dreariest possible mining settlement, and its -inhabitants slouched about its coaly ways and in and out of the -saloons. Scarcely any one could speak English, and the mines were -worked almost exclusively by Poles and Slovaks. The highest point in -the Alleghanies, a hand of earth stretched up to heaven, perhaps a -maledictory hand.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>X</span> <span class="smaller">DECORATION DAY</span></h2> - -<p>America celebrates no "Whit-Monday," but has Decoration Day instead; -a great national festival, when medals are pinned on to veterans, the -soldiers of the War of North against South are remembered, and the -graves of heroes are decorated with flags and flowers. On Decoration -Day, and again later, on Independence Day, the whole populace ceases -work in the name of America, and flocks the streets, sings national -songs and hymns, goes on procession, fires salutes, listens to -speeches. We British are just wildly glad to get free from toil when -Whit-Monday and August Bank Holiday come round. We have no national -or religious fervour on these days. We have even been known to flock -happily to Hampstead and Epping Forest to the strains of "England's -going down the Hill." Upon occasion the British can be clamorously -patriotic, but only upon occasion. But the American citizen is, to use -his own phrase, "crazy about America" all the while. The "days-off" -that we get are not only off work, but off everything serious. The -American still nurses the hope with which he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> across the ocean, -and he is enthusiastically attached to the republic he has made and the -principles of that republic.</p> - -<p>I spent Decoration Day at Clearfield, a little mining and agricultural -town on the other side of the Alleghanies. I put up at a hotel for two -or three days, and just gave myself to the town for the time. Early on -the festival day I was out to see how the workaday world was taking -things. All the shops were closed except the ice-cream soda bars and -the fruiterers. There were flags on the banks and loungers on the -streets. Young men were walking about with flags in their hat ribbons. -The cycles and automobiles on the roadway had their wheels swathed -with the stars and stripes. There were negroes and negresses standing -<i>endimanche's</i> at street corners. Now and then a girl in white dress -and white boots would trip from a house to a shop and back again. There -was an air best expressed by the words of the song:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Go along and get yer ready,</div> -<div>Get yer glad rags on,</div> -<div>For there's going to be a meeting</div> -<div>In the good old town.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Every town in America is a good old town, and on such occasions as -Decoration Day you may always hear the worthies of the place giving -their reminiscences in the lounge of a hotel. I sat and listened to -many.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had a very quiet morning, and it seemed to me there was considerable -boredom in the town. There was a fire in the Opera House about eleven, -and I ran behind the scenes with a crowd of others and stared at the -smoking walls. There was a sort of disappointment that the firemen put -it out so promptly.</p> - -<p>But after dinner the real holiday commenced, and the houses began to -empty and the streets began to fill. About four o'clock the "Parade" -commenced, what we should in England call a procession. Every one who -owned a car had it out, carrying roses and ferns and flags. There was -a continual hooting and coughing of motor-horns, and an increasing -buzz of talk. The "Eighth Regimental Band" appeared, and stood with -their instruments in the roadway, chatting to passers-by and being -admired. The firemen came with new hats on—their work at the Opera -House happily concluded. They now bore on their shoulders wreaths, -which were to be carried to the graves of the heroes in the cemetery -outside the town. The High School band formed up. A tall man brought -a new-bought banner of the Stars and Stripes, which hung from a -bird-headed pole. Boy Scouts came in costume—as it were in the rags of -the war. The marching order was formed, and then came up what I thought -to be the Town Militia, but which turned out to be the representatives -of the Mechanics Union, with special decorations and medals on their -breasts. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> bands began to play; the automobiles, full of flowers -and flags, began to cough and shoot forward; the flocks of promenaders -on the side-walk and in the roadway set themselves to march in step -to the festal music. I watched the whole procession, from the Eighth -Regimental Band that went first to the eight veterans of the Spanish -War, who, with muskets on their shoulders, took up the rear. I stopped -several people in the procession and asked them who they were, what -exactly was their rôle, for what reason were they decorated with -medals,—and every one was glad to satisfy my curiosity. I found that -the eight veterans considered themselves technically a squad, and their -function was to fire a salute over the graves of the "heroes."</p> - -<p>The procession marched round the town to the strains of "Onward, -Christian soldiers" and "O come, all ye faithful." All the people of -Clearfield accompanied—Americans, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks—for -Clearfield has its foreign mining population as well as its Anglo-Saxon -urban Americans. As I was going alongside, a young boy ran up and put -his hand on my shoulder and addressed me in Polish.</p> - -<p>"What's that you say?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Vairy good!" said he, and pointed to the procession. "I like it."</p> - -<p>"What are you,—Ruthenian, Polish?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Slavish."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<p>I spoke to him in Russian.</p> - -<p>"Oh-ho, he-he, da-da, I thought you were a Polak."</p> - -<p>And now he thought I was a Russian! It touched me rather tenderly. I -was dressed like an American, and my attire was not like that of a -Russian at all. How enthusiastic this boy was! It was a real holiday -for him. The Slav peoples are emotional; they need every now and then a -means of publicly expressing their feelings. This procession from the -town to the graveyard was a link with the customs of their native land, -where at least twice a year the living have a feast among the crosses -and mounds of the cemetery, and share their joys and interests with the -dear dead, whose bodies have been given back to earth.</p> - -<p>Among those accompanying the procession were Austrian Slavs, in -soot-coloured, broad-brimmed, broken-crowned hats, not yet cast away; -and I noted solemn-faced, placid Russian peasants in overalls staring -with half-awakened comprehension. I saw a negro attired in faultless -black cloth, having a bunchy umbrella in his hand, a heavy gold chain -across his waistcoat, a cigar in his mouth, a soft smoky hat on his -head. He tried to get to the front, and I heard one white man say to -another, "Make way for him, it's not <i>your</i> funeral." The negro is a -pretty important person—considering that the war was really fought for -him. Perhaps not many actively remember that now; it is not soothing -to do so. It is the American<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> hero who matters more than the cause -for which he fell; though of course America, the idea of America, -matters more than either the heroes or the cause. It is a pity that -on Decoration Day there is a tendency to decorate the graves of those -who fell in the Spanish War and to pin medals on the survivors of that -conflict rather than to perpetuate the memory of the struggle for the -emancipation of the negro. America's great problem is the negro whom -she has released; but the Spanish War meant no more than that America's -arm proved strong enough to defeat a European power inclined to meddle -with her civilisation.</p> - -<p>It was, however, at the oldest grave in the cemetery that the -procession stopped and the people gathered. All the men were uncovered, -and there was a feeling of unusual respect and emotion in the crowd. -The wreaths were put down and the flags lowered as the little memorial -service commenced. We sang an old hymn, slowly, sweetly, and very -sadly, so that one's very soul melted. A hymn of the war, I suppose:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div><i>Let him sleep,</i></div> -<div class="i2"><i>Calmly sleep,</i></div> -<div><i>While the days and the years roll by.</i></div> -<div><i>Let him sleep,</i></div> -<div class="i2"><i>Sweetly sleep,</i></div> -<div><i>Till the call of the roll on high.</i></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the time of the war, in the dark hours of danger and distress, in -the times of loss and appalling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>personal sorrow the Americans were -very near and dear to God and to one another—nearer than they are -to-day in their peace and prosperity.</p> - -<p>When the hymn had been sung, an old grey-headed man came to the foot of -the grave and read a portion of the speech made by Abraham Lincoln at -the great cemetery at Gettysburg:</p> - -<blockquote><p><i>Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this -continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the -proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in -a great Civil War, testing whether that nation so conceived and so -dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield ... -to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for -those who have given their lives that the nation might live. It is -altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.</i></p> - -<p><i>But in a larger sense we cannot consecrate this ground. The dead -themselves have consecrated it. It is rather for us, the living, -to consecrate ourselves to the work they died for, that we resolve -that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation -shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the -people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the -earth.</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>The reading of these words was most impressive. I realised in it the -Gospel of America—something more national than even the starry flag.</p> - -<p>When the reading was accomplished the eight veterans fired their -salute, not up at heaven, but across and over the people's heads, as at -an unseen enemy. Then the old grey-headed man who had read the words of -Lincoln pronounced the blessing:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote><p><i>The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your -hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God....</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>And we dispersed to wander among the graves and see the decorations, -and add decorations of our own if we willed. Wherever I went, the -haunting air was in my ears:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Let him sleep,</div> -<div class="i2">Sweetly sleep,</div> -<div>Till the call of the roll on high.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Americans believe very really in the roll-call. They believe that -they will answer to their names on a great last day—"When the roll -is called up yonder, I'll be there," says a popular hymn. It is all -important to the American that he feels he lives and dies for the -Right, for the moral virtues. The glory of the wars which the Americans -have fought in their history is not only that they, the Americans, were -victorious, but that they were morally right before ever they started -out to fight.</p> - -<p>Well, civilisation has approved the abolition of slavery. The great -mass of people nowadays consider slavery as something wrong in itself. -The North took up its weapons and convinced the South, and the negro -was freed. The peculiar horrors of slavery no longer exist—no one -man has power of life and death over the African. That much the war -has achieved. But it is strange that for the rest the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> negro seems -to have become worse off, and that America feels that she cannot -extend the personal privileges of democracy to the blacks. America has -brutalised the nigger; has made of a very gentle, loving and lovable -if very simple creature, an outcast, a beast, who may not sit beside -an ordinary man. It has in its own nervous imagination accused him of -hideous crimes which he did not commit, did not even imagine; it has -deprived him of the law, tortured him, flayed him, burned him at the -stake. It has made a black man a bogey; so that a fluttering white -woman, finding herself alone in the presence of a negro, will rush -away in terror, crying "murder," "rape," "fire," just because she has -seen the whites of his eyes. Then the hot-blooded southern crowd comes -out....</p> - -<p>The war was a healthy war. It did much good, it strengthened the roots -of many American families; it gave the nation a criterion for future -development; it brought many individuals nearer to reality, brought -them to the mystery of life, caused them to say each day their prayers -to God. But if a war must be judged by its political effect, then as -regards the happiness of the negro the war has not yet proved to be a -success. The service by the graveside, and the apt words of Abraham -Lincoln were a reminder to the American people that though they realise -to themselves the maximum of prosperity the New World affords, and yet -lose their souls, it profits them nothing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> America by her unwritten -but infallible charter is consecrated to freedom. If America is going -to be true to itself it must work for freedom, it must carry out the -idea of freedom. The emigrant from Europe expects to realise in America -the idea of freedom, the opportunity for personal and individual -development. He does not expect to find repeated there the caste system -and relative industrial slavery of the East.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Clearfield was much touched by the graveside service. The whole evening -after it the men in the hotel lounge talked American sentiment. The -lads and lasses crowded into the cinema houses, and watched with -much edification the specially instructive set of films which, on -the recommendation of the town council, had been specially installed -for the occasion,—the perils of life for a young girl going to -dance-halls, the Soudanese at work, Japanese children at play, the -ferocious habits of the hundred-legs, a review of troops at Tiflis, -a portrait of the Governor of Mississippi wearing a high silk hat, -pottery-making in North Borneo, the Pathé news. It was good to see -so many pictures of foreign and dark-skinned people presented in an -interesting and sympathetic manner. The Americans need to care more -for the national life of other races. For they are often strangely -contemptuous of the people they conceive to be wasting their time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had a pleasant talk with a doctor who was extremely keen on -"temperance." He struck up acquaintance with me by complimenting me -on my complexion, and betting I didn't touch spirituous liquors. "The -war's still going on," said he. "I wage my part against drink and -disease. I'd like to make the medical profession a poor one to enter, -yes, sirr. I'd like to uproot disease, and if I could stop the drinking -in America I'd do it. Never touch liquor and you'll never have gout, -live to a good age, and be happy. I am glad to meet you, sir, glad -to meet a Briton. America will stand shoulder and shoulder with the -British in war or peace. They are of the same blood. The only two -civilised nations in the world."</p> - -<p>All the same, Clearfield regarded me with some suspicion, and as I sat -at my bedroom window at night a young man called up:</p> - -<p>"English Gawd: Lord Salisbury."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XI</span> <span class="smaller">WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES</span></h2> - -<p>The men whom you meet during the day are like a hand of cards dealt out -to you by Providence. But they are more than that, for you feel that -luck does not enter into it. You feel there is no such thing as luck, -and that the wayfarer is in his way a messenger sent to you by the -hospitable spirit of man. He brings a sacred opportunity.</p> - -<p>I sit tending my fire, and watching and balancing the kettle upon it; -or I sit beside the cheerful blaze on which I have cooked my breakfast -or my dinner, and I hold my mug of coffee in my hand and my piece -of bread; I chip my just-boiled eggs, or I am digging into a pot of -apple-jelly or cutting up a pine-apple, and I feel very tender towards -the man who comes along the road and stops to pass a greeting and give -and take the news of the day and the intelligence of the district.</p> - -<p>There is a sort of hermit's charity. It is to have a spirit that is -quietly joyful, to be in that state towards man that a gentle woodsman -is towards the shy birds who are not afraid of him as he lies on a -forest bank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> and watches them tripping to and from their little nests. -Your fellow-man instinctively knows you and trusts you, and he puts -aside the mask in which he takes refuge from other fellow-travellers -who are alert and busy. I cherish as very precious all the little talks -I had with this man and that man who came up to me in America.</p> - -<p>As I sat one day by the side of my pleasant Susquehanna road, an -oil-carrier met me, a gentle-voiced man in charge of four tons of -kerosene and petrol, which his horses were dragging over the mountains -from village to village and store to store. I was an opportunity to -rest the horses, and the driver pulled up, relaxed his reins and -entered into converse with me. Was I going far? Why was I tramping? -What nationality was I? I told him what I was doing, and he said he -would like to give up his job and do the same; he also was of British -origin, though his mother was a German. He was a descendant of Sir -Robert Downing. "There used to be many English about here," said he, -"but they wore off." He went on to tell me what a wild district it -had once been. His grandfather had shot a panther on the mountains. -But there were no panthers now. The railways and the automobiles -had frightened the wild things away. The change had come about very -suddenly. He remembered when there were no telephone-poles along the -road, but only road-poles. It used to be a posting-road, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>and a good -one too; but now the automobiles had torn up all the surface, and no -one would take any trouble about the needs of horse vehicles.</p> - -<p>One hot noontide, on the road to Shippenville and Oil City, I was -having luncheon when a very pleasant Swede came down the road carrying -a bucket in his hand,—Mr. G. B. Olson, bossing a gang of workers on -the highway. He was going down the hill to a special spring to draw -water for his thirsty men, but he could hardly resist the smoke of my -wayside fire, and he told me, as it seemed, his whole story. He had -come to America in 1873, and had worked on a farm in Illinois before -the great Chicago fire. He was twenty-four then, and was sixty-five now.</p> - -<p>When he heard I was British he told me how he had come from Europe -<i>via</i> Leith and Glasgow, and had been fifteen and a half days crossing -the Atlantic.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever been back to Sweden?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No, sirr, never."</p> - -<p>"Are you content with America?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sirr; it's the finest country under the sun. It gives the working -man a show."</p> - -<p>"The Americans speak very kindly of your countrymen. They like them."</p> - -<p>"Yes. We gave the Americans a good lift, we Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, -and Germans, by settling the land when the rest of the colonists were -running to the towns. We came in and did the rough pioneer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> work that -had to be done if America was going to be more than a mushroom growth. -Where would America be to-day if it were not for us in Minnesota, -Wisconsin, Iowa? You can't keep up big cities unless you've got plenty -of men working in the background on the land."</p> - -<p>The Swede went on to compliment me on my English. I spoke pretty clear -for one who had been only three months in the country. He had met many -British who spoke "very broken," especially Scotch. "I shouldn't have -been able to understand them," said he, "but that I am a foreigner -myself, and know what it is not to speak good."</p> - -<p>"Well, I must be off," he added, and pointed to the bucket.</p> - -<p>"You've got a gang of men working up above?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I'm bossing them for the State. A good job it is too, good money, -and I don't have to work much."</p> - -<p>"I should say you'd make a kind boss!"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I never do anything against them. I get a good day's work out of -the men, but I never put myself above them. I've got authority, that's -all—it doesn't make me better'n they. I've got to boss them, they've -got to work. That's how it's turned out.... Well, I must be off to -water my hands!"</p> - -<p>And he hastened away down the hill, whilst I put my things together and -shouldered my pack.</p> - -<p>The strange thing about this American journey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> was the diversity of -nationality I encountered, and the friendly terms in which it was -possible for me as a man on the road to converse with them.</p> - -<p>On leaving Clearfield I fell in with Peter Deemeff, a clever little -Bulgarian immigrant, and spent two days in his company. He was -an unpractical, rebellious boy, a student by inclination, but a -labourer by necessity, nervous in temperament, and alternately gay -and despondent. He was thin-bodied, broad-browed, clean-shaven, but -blue-black with the multitude of his hair-roots; he had two rows of -faultless, little, milk-white teeth; an angelic Bulgarian smile, and an -occasional ugly American grimace.</p> - -<p>We tramped along the most beautiful Susquehanna road to Curwenville, -and then through magnificent gorges to the height of Luthersburg.</p> - -<p>"Ho! Where you going?" said one of a group of Italian labourers at -Curwenville.</p> - -<p>"Oil City," I answered.</p> - -<p>"You'll be sore," the Italian rejoined, and slapped his thigh. "Why not -stop here and get good job?"</p> - -<p>But Peter and I were not looking for a job just then, and we went on. I -was glad the Bulgarian was not tempted, for I relished his company, and -he was pleasantly loquacious.</p> - -<p>"Do you like the Americans?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>He raised his eyebrows. Evidently he did not like them very much.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Half-civilise," said he. "When I say my boss, 'I go,' he want me -fight. He offens me. I say, 'You Americans—bulldogs, no more, -half-civilise.' And I go all the same and no fight great big fat -American."</p> - -<p>"You think Bulgaria a better country?"</p> - -<p>"'S a poor country, that's all. There's more life in Europe. Americans -don't know what they live for."</p> - -<p>I looked with some astonishment on this day-labourer in shabby attire -talking thus intelligently, and withal so frankly.</p> - -<p>He told me he hated the English. They had said, anent the Balkan War, -"The fruits must not be taken from the victors"; but when Montenegro -took Scutari they were the first to say to King Nicholas "Go back, go -back." He thought I was a Slav immigrant like himself, or he would not -have struck up acquaintance with me. But he seemed relieved when I told -him my sympathies were entirely with the Slavs.</p> - -<p>We talked of Russian literature, and of Tolstoy in particular.</p> - -<p>"Tolstoy understood about God," said he. "He said God is within you, -not far away or everywhere, but in yourself. By that I understand life. -All life springs from inside. What comes from outside is nahthing. That -is how Americans live—in outside things, going to shows, baseball -matches.... I know Shakespeare was the mirror of life, that's not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -what I mean.... To be educated mentally is light and life; to be -developed only physically is death and.... That's why I say bulldogs, -not civilise. When I was in Philadelphia I hear a Socialist in the Park -and he asked, 'How d'ye fellows live?—eat—work, eat—work—drink, -eat—work—sleep, eat—work—sleep. Machines, that's what y'are.'"</p> - -<p>The most astonishing evidence of thought and culture that Peter Deemeff -gave me was contained in a reflection he made half-aloud, in a pause in -the conversation—"A great writer once said, 'If God had not existed, -man would have invented his God'—that is a good idea, eh?" Fancy that -from the lips of an unskilled labourer! These foreign working-men are -bringing something new to America. If they only settle down to be -American citizens and look after their children's education!</p> - -<p>"Do many Bulgarians think?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Yes, many—they think more than I do."</p> - -<p>We spent the night under great rocks; he under one, I under another. -My bed, which I made soft with last year's bracken, was under three -immense boulders, a natural shelter, a deep dark cavern with an opening -that looked across the river-gorge to the forested cliff on the other -side. The Bulgarian, less careful about his comfort, lay in a ferny -hollow, just sheltered by an overhanging stone. Before lying down he -commended himself to God, and crossed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> himself very delicately and -trustfully. With all his philosophy he had not cast off the habits of -the homeland. And almost directly he laid himself down he fell asleep.</p> - -<p>It was a wonderful night. As I lay in my cave and the first star was -looking down at me from over the great wooded cliff, what was my -astonishment to see a living spark go past the entrance of the cave, -a flame on wings—the firefly. I lay and watched the forest lose its -trees, and the cliff become one great black wall, ragged all along the -crest. Mists crept up and hid the wall for a while, and then passed. -An hour and a half after I had lain down, and the Bulgarian had fallen -asleep, I opened my eyes and looked out at the black wall—little lamps -were momentarily appearing and disappearing far away in the mysterious -dark depths of the cliff. It seemed to me that if when we die we perish -utterly, then that living flame moving past my door was something -like the passing of man's life. It was strange to lie on the plucked -rustling bracken, and have the consciousness of the cold sepulchre-like -roof of the cave, and look out at the figure of man's life. But the -river chorus lulled me to sleep. Whenever I reawakened and looked out I -saw the little lights once more, appearing and vanishing, like minutest -sprites searching the forest with lanterns.</p> - -<p>Peter and I woke almost at the same time in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> morning in a dense -mist. I sent him for water, and I collected wood for a fire. We made -tea, took in warmth, and then set off once more.</p> - -<p>"Let us go to a farmhouse and get some breakfast," said I.</p> - -<p>"We get it most likely for nothing, because it's Sunday," said Peter -with a smile.</p> - -<p>The Americans are much more hospitable on Sundays than on week days. -They do not, however, like to see you tramping the road on the day of -rest; it is thought to be an infraction of the Sabbath—though it is -difficult to see what tramps can do but tramp on a Sunday.</p> - -<p>We had a splendid breakfast for ten cents apiece at a stock-breeding -farm below Luthersburg,—pork and beans, bread and butter and cookies, -strawberry jam and home-canned plums, pear-jelly. I thanked the lady of -the establishment when we had finished, and remarked that I thought it -very cheap at the price. She answered that she didn't serve out lunches -for a profit, but wouldn't let decent men pass hungry.</p> - -<p>"Are you hiking to the next burg?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Chicago," said I.</p> - -<p>"Gee!"</p> - -<p>We came to Luthersburg, high up on the crest of the hills, a large -village, with two severe-looking churches.</p> - -<p>"When I see these narrow spires I'm afraid," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> the Bulgarian. "I -should have to wither my soul and make it small to get into one of -these churches. I like a church with walls of praise and a spire of -yearning,—Tolstoy, eh? That spire says to me 'I feared Thee, O God, -because Thou art an austere man.'"</p> - -<p>I, for my part, thought it strange that Americans, taking so many risks -in business, and daring and imagining so large-heartedly in the secular -world, should be satisfied with so cramped an expression of their -religion.</p> - -<p>Peter and I went down on the other side of the hills to Helvetia, the -first town in a wild coaling district, a place of many Austrians, -Poles, and Huns. It was the Sunday evening promenade, and every one -was out of doors, hundreds of miners and labourers in straight-creased -trousers (how soon obtained) and cheap felt hats, a similar number -of dark, interesting-looking Polish girls in their gaudy Sunday -best. We passed a hundred yards of grey coke-ovens glowing at all -their doors and emitting hundreds of fires and flames. Peter seemed -unusually attracted by the coke-ovens or by the Slav population, and -he decided to remain at Helvetia and seek for a job on the morrow. So -I accompanied him into a "boarding-house," and was ready to spend the -night with him. But when I saw the accommodation of coaly beds I cried -off. So the Bulgarian and I parted. I went on to Sykesville<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> and the -Hotel Sykes. Obviously I was in America,—fancy calling a hotel in -England "Hotel Sykes." But I did not stay there, preferring to hasten -up country and get a long step beyond black breaker-towers, the sooty -inclines up which trucks ran from the mines, the coke-ovens, the fields -full of black stumps and rotting grass, the seemingly poverty-stricken -frame-buildings, and more dirt and misery than you would see even in -a bad district in Russia. It surprised me to see the Sunday clothes -of Sykesville, the white collars, the bright red ties, the blue serge -trousers with creases, the bowler hats, and American smiles. Despite -all the dirt, these new-come immigrants say <i>Yes</i> to American life -and American hopes. But to my eyes it was a terrible place in which -to live. It was an astonishing change, moreover, to pass from the -magnificent loveliness of the Susquehanna gorges to this inferno of a -colliery. But I managed to pass out of this region almost as quickly -as I came into it, and next day was in the lovely country about -Reynoldsville; and I tramped through beautiful agricultural or forested -country to the bright towns of Brookville, Clarion, and Shippenville, -clean, new, handsome settlements, with green lawns, shady avenues, fine -houses, and well-stocked shops. In such places I saw America at its -best, just as at Helvetia and Sykesville I saw it at about its worst. I -suppose Sykesville will never be made as beautiful as Brookville;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> the -one is the coal-cellar, the other is the drawing-room in the house of -modern America.</p> - -<p>But I had definitely left the coal region behind, now I was striking -north, for oil. In three days I came into Oil City, so wonderfully -situated on the wide and stately Alleghany river—the river having -brown rings here and there, glimmering with wandering oil. The city -is built up five or six hills, and is only a unity by virtue of its -fine bridges. It is a clean town compared with Scranton, as oil is -cleaner to deal with than coal. But the houses are more ramshackle. -The poor people's dwellings suggest to the eye that they were made in -a great hurry many years ago, and are now falling to bits; they are -set one behind another up the hills, and you climb to them by wooden -stairways. Some seem veritably tumbling down the hill. There were a -fair number of foreign immigrants there, mostly Italians; but the -oil business seems to be worked by Americans, the foreigners being -too stupid to understand. Oil City is a cheap town to live in. I was -boarded at a hotel for a dollar a day; and when I bought provisions for -my next tramp to Erie Shore I found everything cheaper than in Eastern -Pennsylvania. There appeared to be little cultured life, however, no -theatre but the cinema, and little offered for sale in the shape of -books.</p> - -<p>I set out for Meadville on the "Meadville Pike." A feature of the new -landscape and of the road and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> fields was the oil-pump, working all by -itself, the long cables, connecting the pump with the engine, often -coming across the roadway, the <i>jig, jig, jig</i> of the pumping movement, -the <i>clump, clump, clump, stump</i> of the engine—the pulse of the -industrial countryside.</p> - -<p>I met a Dutchman. He asked:</p> - -<p>"What's on? What is it for?"</p> - -<p>I told him I was studying the emerging American, and he told me what a -menace the fecund Slavs were to the barren Americans. According to him -the extinction of the American was a matter of mathematics.</p> - -<p>I came upon an enormous gang of Americans, Russians, Slavs, Italians at -work on the highroad, digging it out, laying a bed of mortar, putting -down bricks; some hundreds of workmen, extending over a mile and a half -of closed road. Many of the American workmen were dressed as smartly as -stockbrokers' clerks and city men, and they kept themselves neat and -clean—a new phenomenon in labouring. Americans, however, were working -together, Italians together, and Russians together. A fine-looking -American workman said to me knowingly, "You can photograph me if you -like, but the Guineas won't want to be photographed—most of them shot -some one sometime or other, you bet!"</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i200.jpg" id="i200.jpg"></a><img src="images/i200.jpg" alt="ITALIANS WORKING WITH THE MIXER ON THE MEADVILLE PIKE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">ITALIANS WORKING WITH THE "MIXER" ON THE MEADVILLE PIKE.</p> - -<p>Near Cochranton I made the acquaintance of four little girls—Julia, -Margaret, Elinor, Cora, and Georgiana—scampering about in bare legs -and week-day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> frocks, whilst father and mother, with gauze bags on -their heads, were "boxing the bees." It was the first swarm of summer; -two lots of bees had been boxed, but the third was giving much trouble. -Julia, aged twelve, was a very pretty girl, and when at her mother's -recommendation she went indoors, washed her face and put on a Sunday -frock, she looked a very smart young lady. She was conscious of that -fact, and informed me in course of conversation that she was going -to travel when she was grown up. She was dying to see Paris, and she -wanted to visit all the European towns!</p> - -<p>Some miles north, near Frenchville, I met one of the French colonists -of Northern Pennsylvania,—a tall, well-built stripling,—and he told -me how the Breton peasants had settled at Boussot and Frenchville, -bringing all their French ways of farming and economy, and becoming -the admiration of the district round—a little Brittany. The young -man's father-in-law had been the first Frenchman to come and settle -in the district. After him had come, straight from France, relatives -and friends, and relatives of friends and friends of friends in -widening circles. They were beginning to speak English well now, but -the newcomers were still without the new language. It was interesting -for me to realise what a great gain such people were to America—to -the American nation in the making. It is good to think of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -agricultural settlements lying in the background of industrial -America—the whole villages of Swedes, of Russians, of Danes, Finns, -Germans, French. They are ethnic reserves; they mature and improve -in the background. They are Capital. If urban America can subsist on -the interest, the surplus of the ambitious, how much richer she will -be than if the population of whole country-sides is tempted to rush -<i>pêle-mêle</i> to the places of fortune-making and body-wasting.</p> - -<p>Coming into Meadville, a town of twelve thousand inhabitants, most -of the labourers of whom are Italians employed at the great railway -works, I was attracted to Nicola Hiagg, a Syrian, sitting outside his -ice-cream shop, reading the Syrian paper. Whilst I had a "pine-apple -soda," I drew him into talk. It was a matter of pleasing interest to -him that I had myself tramped in Syria, and knew the conditions in his -native land. Nicola had first left Syria twelve years ago, had come -to Philadelphia, and started making his living selling "soft drinks" -in the street. After five years he had saved enough to take a holiday -and go back to the old land. He and his brother had been merchants in -Jerusalem before he set out for America; the brother had had charge of -the store, and Nicola had convoyed the merchandise and the train of -thirty asses to and from the country. He had many friends in Syria, but -it was a poor country. The Turks were bloodsuckers, and drained it of -every drop of vital energy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I lived in a poor little town between Beyrout and Damascus, not with -my brother in Jerusalem. So poor! You cannot start anything new in -Syria—the Turk interferes. No bizness! What you think of the war? The -Turk is beaten, hey? Now is the time for the Syrians to unite and throw -off the Turk. There are Syrians all over the world; they are prosperous -everywhere but in Syria.... America is a fine country; but if Syria -became independent I'd go back...."</p> - -<p>Nicola, when he had his holiday, found a Syrian girl and brought her -back to America as his wife. She was not visible now, however; for the -Syrian kept her in the background, and he told me he didn't believe in -women's rights to public life. A bit of a Turk himself!</p> - -<p>He was very proud of his little girl, who is being brought up as an -American in the town school. "Already she can write, and when you say -to her, 'Write something,' she does not look up at you and say, 'How -d'you spell it?' She just writes it."</p> - -<p>"She's sharp."</p> - -<p>"You bet."</p> - -<p>The Turks, the Greeks, and the Syrians, and to some extent the -Italians, are engaged in the sweet-stuff and ice-cream business. -Turkish Delight, the most characteristic thing of the Levant, seems to -be their bond of union. It is a great business in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> America, for the -Americans are, beyond all comparison, fonder of sweet things than we -are. I stopped one day at a great candy shop in South Bend, Indiana. It -was kept by a Mr. Poledor, who was so pleased that I had been in Greece -and knew the habits of the Greek Orthodox, that he gave me the freedom -of the shop and bade me order anything I liked—he would "stand treat." -There were over a hundred ways of having ice-cream, twenty sorts of -ice-cream soda, thirteen sorts of lemonade, twelve frappes, and the -menu card was something like a band programme. Mr. Poledor was a man of -inventiveness, and the names of some of the dishes were as delicious as -the dishes themselves. I transcribe a few:</p> - -<blockquote><p>Merry Widow.<br />Don't Care.<br />John D. (is very rich).<br /> -Yankee Doodle.<br />Upside down.<br />New Moon.<br />Sweet Smile.<br /> -Twin Beauties.<br />Nôtre Dame.<br />Lover's Delight.<br />Black-eyed Susan.</p></blockquote> - -<p>A young man could take his girl there and give her anything she asked -for, were it the moon itself. The Greek was a magician.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<p>But to return. As I was going out of Meadville, two young men swung out -of a saloon and addressed me thus strangely:</p> - -<p>"Have you had a benevolent? We're giving them away."</p> - -<p>One of them showed me a stylographic pen.</p> - -<p>"Wha're you doing?" said the other.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm travelling," I replied.</p> - -<p>"How d'ye get your living?"</p> - -<p>"I write in the magazines now and then."</p> - -<p>A look of disappointment crept over the faces of the young men. The -stylographic pen was replaced in waistcoat pocket.</p> - -<p>"Did you say you were working for a magazine? So are we—<i>The -Homestead</i>. I was about to ask you to become a subscriber."</p> - -<p>"And the benevolent?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, these are given away to subscribers."</p> - -<p>I explained that I wasn't a commercial traveller, but one of those who -wrote sometimes in magazines.</p> - -<p>"You'd be a sort of reporter?"</p> - -<p>"Well, not quite."</p> - -<p>"A poet?"</p> - -<p>"No. I earn my living by writing."</p> - -<p>"Better than a poet, I suppose. Well, good-day, wish you luck!"</p> - -<p>So I won free of my last big town in mighty Pennsylvania, and set out -for the State of Ohio.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had a "still-creation-day" in quiet country, and towards evening came -through the woods to the store and house of Padan-Aram. And just on -the border of Ohio an elf-like person skipped out of a large farm and -conducted me across, a boy of about twenty years, who cried out to me -shrilly as he caught me up:</p> - -<p>"I say, you're still in Pennsylvania."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but that house over there is in Ohio. Say! Would you like some -candy?"</p> - -<p>"I thought you were fumbling in your pocket for tobacco," said I.</p> - -<p>"No use for it," said the boy. "I've found God. I used to chew it, but -I've stopped it."</p> - -<p>"That is good. You've a strong will," said I.</p> - -<p>"I reckon God can break any will," said the boy. "Once I ran away from -home with five hundred dollars. You're walking? I can walk. I walked a -hundred miles in five days and five nights. Feet were sore for a week. -Five times I ran away. The sixth time I stayed away four years and -worked on the steel works."</p> - -<p>"Were your parents unkind?" I asked. "Or did you run away to see life?"</p> - -<p>"Ran to show them I could," said the boy.</p> - -<p>"They lay in to me I can tell you. There were Chinamen and -niggers—all sorts. Hit a fellow over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> the head with an ice-cream -refrigerator—killed him dead."</p> - -<p>"Where was this?"</p> - -<p>"Poke. At the institution. I showed them I could fight."</p> - -<p>"What are you, American?"</p> - -<p>"Pennsylvanian Dutch."</p> - -<p>"I suppose there is a church about here that you go to?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; a Methodist. But I don't go. Family service. We get many -blessings."</p> - -<p>"Is there a hotel at Padan-Aram?"</p> - -<p>"No; but at Leon. If you go there, you'll get a Christian woman. You'll -find God. She'll lighten your load. She's a saint. I know her well."</p> - -<p>"What's your name? I'll mention you to her."</p> - -<p>"Dull."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell her I met you."</p> - -<p>"Tell her you met Ralph Dillie—she'll know."</p> - -<p>"All right," said I.</p> - -<p>"Now you're in Ohio," said the boy. "Are you going into the store at -Padan-Aram?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Don't you want to buy some candy?"</p> - -<p>"No. I don't eat it along the road."</p> - -<p>"Buy some for me."</p> - -<p>"All right; yes."</p> - -<p>"Buy a nickel's worth."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Ralph Dillie rejoiced. We went into the store and ordered a nickel's -worth of candy. And directly the boy got it he started back for home -on the run. And I watched him re-cross the border once more—into -Pennsylvania.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XII</span> <span class="smaller">CHARACTERISTICS</span></h2> - -<p>The chief characteristic of America is an immense patriotism, and out -of that patriotism spring a thousand minor characteristics, which, -taken by themselves, may be considered blemishes by the critical -foreigner,—such troublesome little characteristics as national -pride and thin-skinnedness, national bluster and cocksureness. But -personal annoyance should not blind the critic or appreciator to the -fundamental fact of the American's belief in America. This belief is -not a narrow partizanship, though it may seem unpleasantly like that -to those who listen to the clamour of excited Americans at the Olympic -games and other competitions of an international interest. It is not -merely the commercial instinct ever on the watch for opportunities for -self-advertisement. It is a real, hearty patriotic fervour, the deepest -thing in an American. It is something that cannot be shaken.</p> - -<p>"<i>It is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen</i>," says -a Presbyterian circular. "<i>Being an American is a sacred mission.</i> Our -whole life must be enthralled by a holy passion."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> - -<p>You could never hear it said, except in an imperial way, that being a -Briton, or being a German, or being a Russian was a sacred mission. -In Britain it would be bad form, in Germany absurd, in Russia quite -untrue. It is part of the greatness of America that she can come -forward unashamed and call herself the handmaiden of the Lord.</p> - -<p>Now there is a fine healthy spirit abroad in the land counteracting -the more sentimental and sanctimonious self-honour of the Americans. -Something more in deeds than in words, a pulse that beats for America, -a greater purpose that breathes through myriads of personal acts, done -for personal ends. Outside, beyond the degrading commercialism of the -nation, there is a feeling that building for a man is building also for -America; that buying and selling in the store is buying and selling -for the great nation; that writing or singing or painting, though done -in self-conceited cities and before limited numbers, is really all -consecrated to the idea of the new America.</p> - -<p>In several schools of America the children take the following pledge:</p> - -<blockquote><p>I am a citizen of America and an heir to all her greatness and -renown. The health and happiness of my own body depend upon each -muscle and nerve and drop of blood doing its work in its place. So -the health and happiness of my country depend upon each citizen -doing his work in his place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>I will not fill any post or pursue any business where I can -live upon my fellow-citizens without doing them useful service -in return; for I plainly see that this must bring suffering and -want to some of them. I will do nothing to desecrate the soil of -America, or pollute her air or degrade her children, my brothers -and sisters.</p> - -<p>I will try to make her cities beautiful, and her citizens healthy -and happy, so that she may be a desired home for myself now, and -for her children in days to come.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Teachers are recommended to explain to children that patriotism means -love of your own country and not hate of other countries; and that -the best mode of patriotism is love and care for the ideals of the -fatherland.</p> - -<blockquote><p>The most obvious fields of activity are the school, the building, -the yard or playgrounds, and the surrounding streets. Whatsoever -is offensive and unsightly, detrimental to health, or in violation -of law, is a proper field for action. The litter of papers and -refuse; marks on side walks, buildings, and fences; mutilation, -vandalism, and damage of any kind to property; cleanliness of -the school building and the surrounding streets, door-yards, -and pavements; observance of the ordinances for the disposal of -garbage by the scavenger and people in the community; protection -and care of shade trees; improper advertisements, illegal signs -and bill-boards; unnecessary noises in the streets around the -school, including cries of street-vendors and barking of dogs -and blowing of horns; the display of objectionable pictures and -postcards in the windows of stores—all supply opportunities to -the teachers to train pupils for good citizenship.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<p>Circulars like the following are scattered broadcast to citizens, and -they breathe the patriotism of the American:</p> - -<blockquote><p class="center"><i>Do you approve of your Home City?</i></p> - -<p>I mean, do you like her looks, her streets, her schools, her -public buildings, her stores, factories, parks, railways, trolleys -and all that makes her what she is? Do you approve of these things -as they are? Do you think they could be better? Do you think you -know how they can be made better?</p> - -<p>If you do you are unusual. Few take the trouble to approve or -disapprove. Many may think they care about the city; but few, very -few, act as if they did!</p> - -<p>When you see something you think can be improved you go straight -and find out who is the man who has that something in charge; -whatever it is, factories, smoke, stores, saloons, parks, paving, -playgrounds, lawns, back-yards, ash-cans, overhead signs, -newspapers, bill-boards, side-walks, street cars, street lighting, -motor traffic, freight yards, or what not, you find out who is the -man who has in charge that thing you dislike; then you talk to -him, or write to him, and tell him what you disapprove of, and ask -him if he can and will make it better, or tell you why he can't. -He wants to make it better. He will if he can. Almost invariably -he wants to do his work of looking after that thing better than -it was ever done before. He will welcome your complaint; he will -explain his handicaps; he will ask your help. Then you give the help.</p> - -<p class="right">J. C. D.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="center"><a name="i212.jpg" id="i212.jpg"></a><img src="images/i212.jpg" alt="INGENIOUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF AMERICAN TYPES" /></div> - -<p class="bold">INGENIOUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF AMERICAN TYPES.</p> - -<p>Making the city beautiful and fostering a love for the home-city, -however dingy and dreary that city may at present be, is one of the -most potent and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> attractive expressions of American patriotism, and -it is well to note the characteristic. It has great promise for the -America of the future, the America which the sons and daughters of the -immigrants will inherit. The America of the future is to be one of -artistically imagined cities and proud, responsible citizens. Even now, -despite the unlovely state of New York and Chicago and the reputation -for devastating ugliness which America has in Europe, there are clear -signs of the commencement of an era of grace and order. Already the -parks of the American cities are the finest in the world, and are worth -much study in themselves. American townsmen have loved Nature enough -to plant trees so that every decent town on the western continent has -become a cluster of shady avenues. Some cities favour limes, some -maples; New Haven is known as "The City of Elms"; in Washington alone -it is said that there are 78,000 street trees; Cleveland has been -called "The City of the Forest." Wherever I tramped in America I found -the most delicious shade in the town streets—excepting, of course, the -streets of the coaling infernos of Pennsylvania. No idea of the expense -of land deters the American from getting space and greenery into the -midst of his wilderness of brick and mortar. It is said that the value -of the parks in such a city as Newark, for instance, is over two and a -quarter millions of pounds (nine million dollars). "Our aim," says a -Newark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> circular, "is the city beautiful, and it requires the aid of -everyday patriots to make it so. Pericles said, 'Make Athens beautiful, -for beauty is now the most victorious power in the world.'"</p> - -<p>America has become the place of continuous crusades—against dirt, -against municipal corruption, immorality, noise. It would surprise -many Europeans to know the fight which is being made against -bell-advertisement, steam whistles, organ-grinders' music, shouts of -street hawkers, and the exuberance of holiday-makers.</p> - -<p>"Don't be ashamed to fight for your city to get it clean and beautiful, -to rid it of its sweat-shops and hells," I read in a Chicago paper. -"Some folk call our disease Chicagoitis, but that is a thousand times -better than Chicagophobia. Those suffering from Chicagophobia are as -dangerous to society as those who have hydrophobia."</p> - -<p>Then, most potent expression of all in American patriotism is the -American's belief in the future of its democracy, the faith which is -not shattered by the seeming bad habits of the common people, the -flocking to music halls and cinema shows, the reading of the yellow -press.</p> - -<p>It has been noted in the last few years that there is a distinct -falling off in the acceleration of reading at the public libraries. -This is attributed to the extraordinary amount of time spent by men -and women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> at the "movies," when they would otherwise be reading. -Such a fact would breed pessimism in Great Britain or Europe were it -established. But America has such trust in the hearts and hopes of the -common people that it approves of the picture show. "If readers of -books go back to the cinema, let them go," says the American; "it is -like a child in the third class voluntarily going back to the first -class, because the work being done there is more suited to his state of -mind." The cinema show is doing the absolutely elementary work among -the vast number of immigrants, who are almost illiterate. It is not -a be-all and an end-all, but stimulates the mind and sets it moving, -thinking, striving. The picture show will bring good readers to the -libraries in time. It is the first step in the cultural ladder of the -democracy.</p> - -<p>Then people of good taste in Europe decry the reading of newspapers; -a leader of thought and politics like A. J. Balfour can boast that -he never reads the papers. But America says, "You have the newspaper -habit. This habit is one of the most beneficial and entertaining -habits you have. Few people read too many newspapers. Most people do -not read enough." This, of American papers of all papers in the world. -But let me go on quoting the most significant words of America's great -librarian, J. Cotton Dana:</p> - -<blockquote><p>Readers of newspapers are the best critics of them. The more they -are read the wiser the readers; the wiser the readers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> the more -criticisms, and the more the newspapers are criticised the better -they become.</p> - -<p>Do you say this does not apply to the yellow journal? I would -reply that it does. The yellow journal caters all the time to the -beginners in reading, who are also the beginners in newspaper -reading. A new crop of these beginners in reading is born every -year. This new crop likes its reading simply printed, in large -letters, and with plenty of pictures. The more of this new crop -of readers there are the more the yellow journals flourish; and -the more the yellow journals flourish the sooner this new crop is -educated by the yellow journals, by the mere process of reading -them, and the sooner they get into the habit of reading journals -that are not yellow and contain a larger quantity of more reliable -information, until at last the yellow journals are overpassed by -the readers they have themselves trained.</p></blockquote> - -<p>The yellow press is the second rung on the cultural ladder of -democracy. America is glad of it, glad also of the princess novelette, -the pirate story, glad of Hall Caine and Marie Corelli; all these are, -as it were, divining-rods for better things. The American says "Yes" to -the novels of Florence Barclay, as indeed most sensible Britons would -also. <i>The Rosary</i> was a most helpful book—so much more helpful to the -unformed intellect and young intelligence of the mass of the people -than, for instance, Tolstoy's dangerously overpraised <i>Resurrection</i> -or Wells's <i>New Machiavelli</i>. America recognises the truth that the -ugly has power to make those who look at it ugly like itself; but that -the crude and elementary stuff, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>however poor it may be artistically, -is nevertheless most useful to democracy if it speaks in language -and sentiment which is common knowledge to the reader. How useful to -America is such a book as Churchill's <i>Inside of the Cup</i>.</p> - -<p>It is a very true dictum that "reading makes more reading"; and in -a young, hopeful nation, striving to divine its own destiny and to -visualise its future, "more reading" always means <i>better reading</i>.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the cultured ladder of democracy may be seen allegorically as -the ladder of Jacob's dream. Religion, which may be thought to have -flown from the churches, is in evidence at the libraries. It is a -librarian who is able to say in <i>The Inside of the Cup</i> that we are on -the threshold of a greater religious era than the world has ever seen.</p> - -<p class="space-above">In America to-day we are confronted with two parties,—one the great -multifarious, unformed mass of the people, and the other the strong, -emancipated, cultured American nation, which is at work shaping the -democracy. The aspect of the "rabble," the commercial heathen, and -horde of unknowing, unknown immigrants, gives you the first but not the -final impression of America. You remark first of all the slouching, -blank-eyed, broad-browed immigrant, who indulges still his European -vices and craves his European pleasures, flocking into saloons, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>debauching his body, or at best looking dirty and out of hand, a -reproach to the American flag. You see the Jews leaping over one -another's backs in the orgy of mean trade. You see the fat American, -clever enough to bluff even the Jew—the strange emerging bourgeois -type of what I call the "white nigger," low-browed, heavy-cheeked, -thick-lipped, huge-bodied, but <i>white</i>; men who seem made of rubber -so elastic they are; men who seem to get their thoughts from below -upward. I've often watched one of these "white negroes" reflecting; he -seems to sense his thoughts in his body first of all—you can watch his -idea rise up to him from the earth, pass along his body and flicker at -last in a true American smile across his lips—a transition type of -man I should say. One wonders where these men, who are originally Jews -or Anglo-Saxons or Dutch or Germans, got their negro souls. It would -almost tempt one to think that there were negro souls floating about, -and that they found homes in white babies.</p> - -<p>Beside the fat American is the more familiar lean, hatchet-faced type, -which is thought to correspond to the Red Indian in physiognomy. -Perhaps too much importance is attached to the Darwinian idea that -the climate of America is breeding a race of men with physique and -types similar to the aborigines. The American is still a long way -from the red-skin. Meanwhile, however, one may note with a smile -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>extraordinary passion of Americans for collecting autographs, -curios, snippets of the clothes of famous men, Italian art, British -castles,—which seems to be scalp-hunting in disguise. The Americans -are great scalp-hunters.</p> - -<p>On the whole, the dry, lean Americans are the most trustworthy and -honourable among the masses of the people. In England we trust fat men, -men "who sleep o' nights," but in America one prefers the lean man. -Shakespeare would not have written of Cassius as he did if he had been -an American of to-day. Of course too much stress might easily be laid -on the unpleasantness of the "white-nigger" type. There are plenty of -them who are true gentlemen.</p> - -<p>The American populace has also its bad habits. There are those who -chew "honest scrap," and those who chew "spearmint." It is astonishing -to witness the service of the cuspidor in a hotel, the seven or -eight obese, cow-like American men, all sitting round a cuspidor and -chewing tobacco; almost equally astonishing to sit in a tramcar full -of American girls, and see that every jaw is moving up and down in the -mastication of sweet gum.</p> - -<p>America suffers terribly from its own success, its vastness, its great -resources, its commercial scoops, its wealth, vested <i>en masse</i> and -so vulgarly in the person of lucky or astute business men. This has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> -bred a tendency to chronic exaggeration in the language of the common -people, it has brought on the jaunty airs and tall talk of the man -who, however ignorant he may be, thinks that he knows all. But success -has also brought kindness and an easy-going temperament. There are -no people in the world less disposed to personal ill-temper than the -Americans. They are very generous, and in friendship rampageously -exuberant. They are not mean, and are disinclined to incur or to -collect small debts. They would rather toss who pays for the drinks of -a party than pay each his own score. They have even invented little -gambling machines in cigar stores and saloons where you can put a -nickel over a wheel and run a chance between having five cigars for -five cents, or paying twenty-five cents for no cigars at all.</p> - -<p>So stands on the one hand the "many-headed," sprung from every -country in Europe, an uncouth nation doing what they ought not to -do, and leaving undone what they ought to do, but at least having -in their hearts, every one of them, the idea that America is a fine -thing, a large thing, a wonderful promise. Opposite them stands what -may be called the American <i>intelligence</i>, ministering as best it -can to the wants of young America, and helping to fashion the great -desideratum,—a homogeneous nation for the new world.</p> - -<p>It seems perhaps a shame to question the significance of any of the -phenomena of American life of to-day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> to tie what may be likened to -a tin can to the end of this chapter; but I feel that this is the -most fitting place to put a few notes which I have made of tendencies -which are apt to give trouble to the mind of Europeans otherwise very -sympathetic to America and America's ideal. They are quite explicable -phenomena, and in realising and understanding them for himself the -reader will be enabled to get a truer idea of the atmosphere of America.</p> - -<p>On my way into Cleveland I read in the <i>Pittsburg Post</i> the following -statistics of life at Princeton College, of the students at the College:</p> - -<blockquote><p>184 men smoke.</p> - -<p>76 began after entering College, but 51 students have stopped -smoking since entering College.</p> - -<p>91 students wear glasses, and 57 began to wear them since entering.</p> - -<p>15 students chew tobacco.</p> - -<p>19 students consider dancing immoral.</p> - -<p>16 students consider card-playing immoral.</p> - -<p>206 students correspond with a total of 579 girls.</p> - -<p>203 students claim to have kissed girls in their time.</p> - -<p>24 students have proposed and been rejected.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="space-above">Another day I read in the <i>New York American</i> the story of the -adventures of Watts's "Love and Life" in America:</p> - -<blockquote><p>The peripatetic painting, "Love and Life," the beautiful -allegorical work, by George Frederick Watts, once more <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>reposes in -an honoured niche in the White House. The varied career of this -painting in regard to White House residence extends over seventeen years.</p> - -<p>This picture, painted in 1884, was presented to the national -Government by Watts as a tribute of his esteem and respect for -the United States, and was accepted by virtue of a special act of -Congress. This was during the second administration of President -Cleveland, and he ordered it hung in his study on the second -floor of the White House. Two replicas were made by Watts of the -painting, and one was placed by the National Art Gallery, London, -and the other in the Louvre, Paris.</p> - -<p>The two figures of "Love and Life" are entirely nude, and the -publication of reproductions awoke the protests of purists who -circulated petitions to which they secured hundreds of names to -have it removed to an art gallery. Finally, the Clevelands yielded -to the force of public opinion, and sent the offending masterpiece -to the Corcoran Art Gallery.</p> - -<p>When Theodore Roosevelt became President he brought the art exile -back to the White House. The hue and cry arose again, and he sent -it back to the Gallery, only to bring it back again toward the -close of his administration to hang in the White House once more.</p> - -<p>The Tafts, failing to see the artistic side of the painting, had -it carried back to the Gallery.</p> - -<p>There it seemed destined to stay. The other day Mrs. Woodrow -Wilson, accompanied by her daughter Eleanor, both artists of -merit, toured the Corcoran Art Gallery. They were shown "Love and -Life," and told the tragic story of its wanderings.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wilson thereupon requested the painting to be returned to -the White House. There once more it hangs and tells its immortal -lesson of how love can help life up the steepest hills.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Whilst in New York I visited the charming Fabians, who were the hosts -of Maxim Gorky before the American Press took upon itself the rôle -of doing the honours of the house to a guest of genius. The story of -Gorky need not be repeated. But it is in itself a question-mark raised -against the American civilisation.</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>Tramping through Sandusky I came upon a suburban house all scrawled -over with chalk inscriptions:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"Hurrah for the newly-weds."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you beautiful doll!"</p> - -<p>"Well! <i>Then</i> what?"</p> - -<p>"We should worry."</p> - -<p>"Home, sweet Home."</p> - -<p>"May your troubles be little ones! Ha, He!"</p> - -<p>"You thought we wouldn't guess, but we caught you."</p></blockquote> - -<p>As the house seemed to be empty, I inquired at the nearest store what -was the reason for this outburst. The storekeeper told me it was done -by the neighbours as a welcome to a newly-married couple coming home -from their honeymoon on the morrow. It was a custom to do it, but this -was nothing to the way they "tied them up" sometimes.</p> - -<p>"Won't they be distressed?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no, they'll like it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Are the neighbours envious, or what is it?" I asked. The storekeeper -began to sing, "Snookeyookums."</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"All night long the neighbours shout</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>(to the newly-married couple whose kisses they hear)</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'Cut it out, cut it out, cut it out.'"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>On Independence Day I saw a crowd of roughs assailing a Russian girl -who had gone into the water to bathe, dressed in what we in Britain -would call "full regulation costume." The crowd cried shame on her -because she was not wearing stockings and a skirt in addition to -knickers and vest.</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>In many districts men bathing naked have been arrested as a sort of -breach of the peace. Naked statues in public have been clothed or -locked away. In several towns women wearing the slashed skirt have had -to conform to municipal regulations concerning underwear.</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p>I have noted everywhere mockery on the heels of seriousness.</p> - -<p>No doubt these question-marks will be followed by satisfactory answers -in the minds of most readers, especially in the light of the statement -that "it is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen. -Being an American is a sacred mission."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XIII</span> <span class="smaller">ALONG ERIE SHORE</span></h2> - -<p>Cleveland exemplifies the characteristics of contemporary America, and -points to the future. It has its horde of foreign mercenaries living -by alien ethics, and committing every now and then atrocious crimes -which shock the American community. But it is a "cleaned-up" town. All -the dens of the city have been raided; there is no gambling, little -drunkenness and immorality. On my first night in the town I had my -supper in a saloon, and as I sat among the beer-drinking couples I -listened to an old man who was haranguing us all on the temptations of -women and drink. The saloon-keeper had no power to turn him out, and -possibly had not even the wish to do so. The passion for cleaning up -America overtakes upon occasion even those whose living depends upon -America remaining "unclean."</p> - -<p>Cleveland is well built, and has fine avenues and broad streets. It -is well kept, and in the drawing-room of the town you'd never suspect -what was going on in the back kitchen and the yard. But take a turn -about and you see that the city is not merely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> one of good clothes, -white buildings, and upholstery; there are vistas of smoke and sun, -bridges and cranes, endless railway tracks and steaming engines. They -are working in the background, the Slavs and the Italians and the -Hungarians, the Kikes and the Wops and the Hunkies. There is a rumour -of Chicago in the air; you can feel the pulse of the hustling West.</p> - -<p>Perhaps nothing is more promising than the twelve miles of garden -suburb that go westward from the city along Erie Shore. Tchekof, -working in his rose-garden in the Crimea, used to say, "I believe -that in quite a short time the whole world will be a garden." This -growth of Cleveland gives just that promise to the casual observer. -How well these middle-class Americans live? Without the advertisement -of the fact they have finer arrangements of streets and houses than -we have at Golders Green and Letchworth. Nature is kind. There is a -grand freshness and a steeping radiance. The people know how to live -out-of-doors, and the women are public all day. No railings, fences, -bushes, just sweet lawn approaches, verandahs, on the lawns sprinklers -and automatic fountains scattering water to the sparrows' delight. The -iris is out and the honeysuckle is in bloom.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i226.jpg" id="i226.jpg"></a><img src="images/i226.jpg" alt="THE LITHUANIAN WHO SAT BEHIND THE ASPHALT AND COAL-OIL SCATTERER" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE LITHUANIAN WHO SAT BEHIND THE ASPHALT AND COAL-OIL SCATTERER.</p> - -<p>I prefer, however, to walk in the sight of wooded hills or great -waters, and as soon as I could find a way to the back of the long -series of suburban villas I went to the sandbanks of the shore and into -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> company of the great lake. It was just sunset time, and the sun of -fire was changing to a sun of blood and sinking into the waters. There -was a great suffusion of crimson in the western sky and a reflection of -it in the green and placid lake. But the water in the foreground was -grey, and it rippled past silver reeds. I stood and listened; the great -silence of the vast lake on the one hand and the whizz of automobiles -on the other, the <i>paup-paup</i> of electric-tram signals, the great whoop -of the oncoming freight trains on the Lake-Shore railway. Far out on -the water there were black dashes on the lit surface and little smokes -proceeding from them—steamers. The lake became lucent yellow with -blackness in the West and mystery in the East. A steamer in the East -seemed fixed as if caught in a spell. Then the blackness of the West -came like an intense dye and poured itself into the rest of the sky. -The East became still—indigo, very precious and holy, the colour of -incense smoke.</p> - -<p>I tramped by Clifton through the deep dust of a motor-beaten road -towards Lorain. It was night before I found a suitable place for -sleeping, for most of the ground was private, and there were many -people about. At last I found a deserted plot, where building -operations had evidently been taking place during the day, but from -which the workmen had gone. There were, however, many tools and -covetable properties lying about, and I had hardly settled down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> before -I heard the baying of dogs on a chain. About half-past eleven Fedka the -watchman came along, singing a Russian song to himself, and he lighted -a large lantern, unloosed two dogs, then went into a shed, lay down and -went to sleep—a nice watchman! My only consideration was the dogs, -a bull-dog and a collie, but they didn't know of my presence. They -had expeditions after tramps on the road, after waggons, automobiles, -tramcars, trains, but never once sniffed at the stranger sleeping -under their noses. However, at about three in the morning the bull-dog -spotted me, and no doubt had rather a queer turn. He actually tripped -on me as he was prowling about, and my heart stood still. He eyed me, -growled low, sniffed at my knees, snorted. "He will spring at my throat -in a moment," I thought; "I'll defend myself with that big saw lying -so handy beside me!" But no, wonder of wonders! the dog did not attack -me, but just lay calmly down beside me and was my gaoler. He dozed and -breathed heavily, but every now and then opened one eye and snarled; -evidently he took his duties seriously. I forgot him and slept. But I -had the consciousness that in the morning I had to get away somehow.</p> - -<p>But about half an hour before dawn some one drove a score of cows -down the road, causing the collie to go mad—so mad that the bull-dog -bestirred himself and followed superciliously, not sure whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> -he were needed or not. Then I swiftly put my things together and -decamped—and got away.</p> - -<p>I watched the dawn come up out of a rosy mist over Erie. The lake was -vast and placid and mud-coloured, but there were vague purple shadows -in it. I learned that mud was the real colour at this point, and there -was no clear sparkling water to bathe in, but only a sea stirred up.</p> - -<p>Down by the shore, just after my dip, I caught a young aureole with -red breast and mouth so yellow, and I tried to feed him with sugar and -butter; but he was very angry, and from many trees and low bushes round -about came the scolding and calling of the parents, who had been rashly -giving their progeny his first run.</p> - -<p>I tramped to the long settlement of Lorain with its store-factory and -many Polish workers, but continued to the place called Vermilion, -walking along the grey-black sands of the shore. I came to Crystal -Beach. It was a perfect day, the zenith too radiant to look at, the -western sky ahead of the road a rising smoke of sapphire, but filled -with ineffable sunshine. It was difficult to look otherways but -downward, and I needed all the brim of my hat to protect my neck and -my eyes. The lake was now blue-grey as the sea, but still not very -tempting, though Crystal Beach is a great holiday resort. It seemed -to me more than a lake and yet less than a sea—the water had no -other shore and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> yet suggested no infinity. The visitor, however, -considered it beautiful. That was clear from the enthusiastic naming -of the villas and resorts on the shore. Again, it was strange to pass -from the workshop of America to the parlour,—from industrial Lorain -to ease-loving Vermilion, and to exchange the vision of unwashed -immigrants in slouch hats for dainty girls all in white and smart young -men in delicate linen.</p> - -<p>I went into the general store and bought butter and sugar and tea, and -then to the baker for a loaf of bread and a peach pie. What a delicacy -is an eight-penny peach pie when you know you are going to sit on a -bank and munch it, drink coffee, and watch your own wood-blaze.</p> - -<p>On my way to Sandusky I got several offers of jobs. A road surveyor and -his man, trundling and springing along the road in their car, nearly -ran me down, and as a compensation for my experience of danger stopped -and gave me a lift, offering also to give me work if I wanted it. All -the highway from Cleveland to Toledo was to be macadamised by next -summer; thousands of men were wanted all along the line, and I could -get to work that very afternoon "farming ditches on each side of the -road" if I wished.</p> - -<p>I jigged along three miles in the automobile and then stepped down to -make my dinner. Whilst I was lighting my fire a Bohemian came and had a -little chat with me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How far ye going?"</p> - -<p>"Chicago."</p> - -<p>"You should get on a freight train. I come up from New York myself on -a freighter and dropped off here two days ago. It's too far to walk; -you carry heavy things. Besides, there's a good job here mending the -road. I've just been taken on. A mile up the road you'll see a waggon; -ask there, they're making up a gang. The work's a bit rough but the pay -good."</p> - -<p>Then I came on a gang of Wops and Huns loading bridge-props and ribbons -and guard-rails on to an electric trolley, and the boss again applied -to me.</p> - -<p>"No, thanks!"</p> - -<p>A man with an asphalt and coal-oil scatterer came past. His was a -dirty job. He sat behind a boiler-shaped cistern, which another -man was dragging along with a petrol engine. It had a rose like a -watering-cart, but instead of water there flowed this dark mixture of -asphalt and oil. The man, a Lithuanian, was sitting on the rose, his -legs were dangling under it, and it was his task to keep his finger on -the tap and regulate the flow of the fast-trickling mixture. Though a -Lithuanian by birth he spoke a fair English, and explained that the -asphalt and oil laid the dust for the whole summer, and solidified the -surface of the road, so that automobiles could go pleasantly along. -There was another machine waiting behind, and they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> not men to work -it. If I liked to report myself at the depot I could get a job, it was -quite simple, not hard work, and the pay was good. He got two dollars a -day.</p> - -<p>Then, as I was going through a little town, a Norwegian came running -out of a shop and pulled me in, saying, "You're a professional, no -doubt, stay here and take photographs"; and he showed me his screens -and classical backgrounds. It was interesting to consider the many -occasions on which I might have given up Europe and started as a young -man in America, entering life afresh, and starting a new series of -connections and acquaintances. But I had only come as a make-believe -colonist.</p> - -<p>As the weather was very hot I took a wayside seat erected by a firm -of clothiers to advertise their wares, and it somewhat amused me to -think that as I sat in my somewhat ragged and dust-stained attire the -seat seemed to say I bought my suit at Clayton's. As I sat there six -Boy Scouts came tramping past, walking home from their camping-ground, -boys of twelve or thirteen, all carrying saucepans and kettles, one -of them a bag of medical appliances and medicines, all with heavy -blankets—sun-browned, happy little bodies.</p> - -<p>There is all manner of interest on the road. The gleaming, red-headed -woodpecker that I watch alights on the side of the telegraph-pole, -looks at the wood as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> at a mirror, and then, to my mild surprise, goes -right into the pole. There must be a hole there and a nest. I hear the -guzzling of the little woodpeckers within. Upon reflection, I remember -that the mother's beak was disparted, and there was something between. -Rather amusing, a woodpecker living in a telegraph-pole—Nature taking -advantage of civilisation!</p> - -<p>Then there are many squirrels in the woods by the road, and they wag -their tails when they squeak.</p> - -<p>At tea-time, by the lake shore, a beautiful white-breasted but speckled -snipe tripped around the sand, showing me his round head, plump body, -and dainty legs. He had his worms and water, I my bread and tea; we -were equals in a way.</p> - -<p>Then after tea I caught a little blind mouse, no bigger than my thumb, -held him in my hand, and put him in his probable hole.</p> - -<p>As I rested by a railway arch Johnny Kishman, a fat German boy, got off -his bicycle to find out what manner of man I was. His chief interest -was to find out how much money I made by walking. And I flabbergasted -him.</p> - -<p>I came into Huron by a road of coal-dust, and left the beautiful -countryside once more for another industrial inferno. Here were many -cranes, black iron bridges, evil smells, an odorous, green river. There -was a continuous noise as of three rolls of thunder in one from the -machinery of the port. I stopped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> a party of Slavs, who were strolling -out of the town to the strains of an accordion, and asked them by what -the noise was made. I was informed it was the lading of Pennsylvanian -coal and the unlading of Wisconsin and Canadian ore, the tipping of -five to ten tons at a time into the holds of coal boats or into trucks -of freight trains.</p> - -<p>I went into a restaurant in the dreary town, and there, over an -ice-cream, chatted with an American, who hoped I would lick Jack London -and Gibson and the rest of them "to a frazzle." A girl, who came into -the shop, told me that last year she wanted to walk to Chicago and -sleep out, but could not get a companion—a chance for me to step in. -Mine host was one of these waggish commercial men in whom America -abounds, and he had posted above his bar:</p> - -<p class="center">ELEVEN MEN WHO ASKED<br />CREDIT<br />LIE DEAD IN MY CELLAR</p> - -<p>But he made good ice-cream.</p> - -<p>Every one combined to boost the town and advise me to see this and -that. The port machinery and lading operations were the wonder of Erie -Shore, and provided work for a great number of Hungarians, Italians, -and Slavs. Not so many years back there was no such machinery here, and -the work was done with buckets and derricks.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i234.jpg" id="i234.jpg"></a><img src="images/i234.jpg" alt="JOHNNY KISHMAN, A GERMAN BOY, GOT OFF HIS BICYCLE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"JOHNNY KISHMAN, A GERMAN BOY, GOT OFF HIS BICYCLE TO FIND OUT WHAT MANNER OF MAN I WAS."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>I forebore to have supper at the creditless inn, but as I walked out of -the dark town I spied a fire burning on a bit of waste land, and there -I boiled my kettle and made coffee. It was an eerie proceeding, and as -I sat in the dusk I saw several children come peering at me, <i>hsh</i>ing -the younger ones, and inferring horrible suspicions as to my identity. -When I had finished my supper I went down to the beach, and there, on -the sand amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed.</p> - -<p>It was a wonderful, placid night after a long, hot day. The -smoke-coloured lake was weakly plashing. There was no sign of the past -sunset in the west, and smoke seemed to be rising from the darkness of -the horizon. The one light on the city pier had its stab of reflection -in the water below. Near me, still trees leant over the water. The -branches and leaves of the willow under which I slept were delicately -figured against the sky as I looked upward, and far away over the -lake the faint stars glimmered. The moon stood high in the south, and -illumined the surface of the waters and the long coast line of the bay.</p> - -<p>When I awoke next morning what a sight! The blue-grey lake so placid, -just breathing, that's all, and crimson ripples stealing over it from -the illuminated smoky east. It was clear that the smokiness of the -horizon came from real smoke—from all the chimneys and stacks of -Huron. I saw massed volumes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> it hurrying away from the docks and the -works, and standing out on the lake like a great wall. As I lay on my -spread on the sand, looking out idly with my cheek on my hand, I saw -the sun come sailing through the smoke like a red balloon. No celestial -sunrise this, but Nature beautifully thwarted.</p> - -<p>I made a fire and cooked my breakfast, and sat on a log enjoying it; -and all the while the sun strove to be himself and shine in splendour -over the new world, whose beauties he himself had called into being. -For a whole hour, though there was not a cloud in the sky or a mist on -the lake, he made no more progress than on a foggy January morning in -London. He gave no warmth to speak of; he was an immaterial, luminous -moon.</p> - -<p>But at last he got free, and began to rise indeed, exchanging the -ragged crimson reflection in the water for a broad-bladed flashing -silver dagger. A great glory grew about him; all the wavelets of the -far lake knew him and looked up to him with their tiny faces. His -messengers searched the horizon for the shadows of night, for all -lingering wraiths and mists, and banished them. The smoky door by which -the sun had come out of the east was shut after him. But he shed so -much light that you could not see the door any longer.</p> - -<p>I went in for a swim, and as I was playing about in the sunlit water -the first human messenger of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> morning came past me—a fisherman in -a tooting, panting motor-boat, dragging fishing-nets after him. He gave -me greeting in the water.</p> - -<p>Fishing is good here—as a trade. Every day many tons of carp are -unloaded. The fish are caught in gill-nets—nets with a mesh from which -the fishes are unable to extricate themselves, their gills getting -caught. The nets are framed on stakes, floated by corks and steadied by -leads. The fishermen leave them standing two or three days, and when -the fish are wearied out or dead they haul them in.</p> - -<p>This very hot day I marched to an accompaniment of the thunder of the -dock-works, and reached Sandusky,—a very large industrial port, the -junction of three railways, not a place of much wealth, its population -at least half foreign.</p> - -<p>I had a shave at a negro barber's, and chatted with the darkie as he -brandished the razor.</p> - -<p>After the war he and his folks had come north and settled in Michigan. -He sent all his children to college. One was earning a hundred and -twenty-five dollars a month as music-mistress in Washington.</p> - -<p>"They treat you better up here than in the south?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Why, yes!"</p> - -<p>"And in London better still."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know. My father went to London. He stayed at a big hotel, and -there turned up three <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>Southerners. They went up to the hotel-keeper -and said, 'Look hyar, that coloured feller 'll have to go; we cahn stay -here with him!' And the hotel-keeper said, 'If he don't please you, -<i>you</i> go; we won't keep you back.'"</p> - -<p>"Very affecting," said I.</p> - -<p>"There was a fellah came hyar to play the organ for the Episcopal -Church," the negro went on. "He was called Street. The other fellah was -only fit to turn the music for him. He had the goods, b'God he had. -Tha's what I told them."</p> - -<p>With that I got away. Outside the shop a hawker cried out to me:</p> - -<p>"Kahm'ere!"</p> - -<p>"What d'you want?" said I.</p> - -<p>"I've a good safety razor."</p> - -<p>"Don't use them."</p> - -<p>"A fountain pen to write home to your wife...."</p> - -<p>The hawker had many wares.</p> - -<p>I spent the night in a saloon at Venice, and watched the rate at which -German fishermen can drink beer.</p> - -<p>Next morning I walked across Sandusky Bay by the Lake Shore -railway-bridge, a mile and a half long—an unpleasant business, -watching for the express trains and avoiding being run over. At last I -got to Danbury, and could escape from the rails to the cinder-path at -the side. The engine-drivers and firemen of the freight trains greeted -me as they passed me, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> now and then I was able to offer "Casey -Jones" a cup of coffee and exchange gossip.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i238.jpg" id="i238.jpg"></a><img src="images/i238.jpg" alt="ERIE SHORE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">ERIE SHORE.<br />"Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed."</p> - -<p>The enormous freight trains told their tale of the internal trade of -America; on no other lines of railway in the world could you witness -such processions of produce. All sorts of things flew past on these -lumberous trains—cars full of hogs with hundreds of motionless black -snouts poking between the bars; refrigerator cars full of ham—dead -hogs, dripping and slopping water as they went along in the heat, and -the sun melted the ice; cars of coal; open cars of bright glistening -tin-scraps going to be molten a second time; cars of agricultural -machinery; cars laden with gangs of immigrant men being taken to work -on a big job by labour contractors; closed cars full of all manner of -unrevealed merchandise and machinery. On the cars, the names of the -railways of America—Illinois Central, Wabash, Big Four, Lake Shore....</p> - -<p>At Gypsum I returned to the highroad, and there once more had an offer -of a job from a gang. I was surprised to see boys of thirteen or -fourteen hard at work with spade and shovel.</p> - -<p>"I see you're working for your living," said I.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"I said 'You're working for your living.'"</p> - -<p>"Wahn a jahb?"</p> - -<p>"No; I'm not looking for one. I'm walking to Chicago."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<p>A contractor came forward, a short Frenchman in waistcoat and -shirt-sleeves. His bowler hat was pushed to the back of his head, and -his hair poked out from under it over his scarred, perspiring brow. He -was not working—only directing.</p> - -<p>"What would <i>you</i> be? A sort of tramp?" said he. "I used to have a -hobo-station at Toledo. I've seen the shiner<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> line up sixty or -seventy of them and send them to work with car fare paid. They'd work -half a day and then disappear mysteriously. We have pay-day once in two -weeks; but these tramps, many of them educated fellers too, would never -work the time through or wait for their pay. Thousands of dollars have -been lost by hoboes who gave up their jobs before pay-day."</p> - -<p>There was an Englishman from Northampton in the gang, and he testified -that America had "England licked ten times over."</p> - -<p>There were fat Germans in blouses, moustachioed Italians with black -felt hats pulled down over sunburnt, furrowed brows. All the men and -the boys were suffering from a sort of "tar blaze" in the face. They -were glad to ease up a little to talk to me; but they had a watchful -eye on the face of the boss, who besides being contractor was a sort of -timekeeper.</p> - -<p>The contractor was vexed that I wouldn't take a job. Labour was scarce. -He averred that before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> I reached Chicago the farmers would come on to -the road and compel me to work on their fields. Trains had been held up -before now.</p> - -<p>"I thought slavery was abolished?" said I.</p> - -<p>The next town on my route was Port Clinton, a bright little city, and -in the eyes of at least one of its citizens a very important one. -I had a long talk with a chance-met journalist and the keeper of a -fruit-shop. The journalist, by way of interviewing me, told me all I -wanted to know about the district. Fruit-growing was far in advance -here. Perry Camp, the greatest shooting-butts in the world, was near -by. The Lake Shore railway was going to spend a million dollars in -order to shorten the track a quarter of a mile. The greengrocer told -me I had the face of a Scotsman, but spoke English like a Swede—which -just shows how badly Americans speak our tongue, and hear it as a rule.</p> - -<p>In the course of my interview I confessed that for roadside literature -I read the Gospel of St. John and the Book of Revelation, a chapter a -day, and when I came to the end of either book I started again. The -greengrocer interrupted the journalist, and said:</p> - -<p>"When you're tired, you just take out the Bible and read a little, -eh, and you get strength and go on? I knew you were that sort when I -saw you first coming up the other side of the road, and I said to my -friend, 'He reads his Bible.'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> - -<p>The greengrocer was much edified, and told me that he was the agent -for the district of Billy Sunday, the revivalist. Wouldn't I stay and -address a mass meeting?</p> - -<p>I fought shy of this offer. The journalist looked somewhat sourly at -the greengrocer for breaking into his interrogatory. But then a third -interrupter appeared, a little boy, who had come to purchase bananas, -and he addressed me thus:</p> - -<p>"On which side did your family fight in the year 1745? On the side of -Prince Charlie? That's the side I'm on."</p> - -<p>No descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers he.</p> - -<p>On the way out to Lacarne two old fishermen in a cart offered me a -ride, and I stepped up.</p> - -<p>"What are you, German?" I asked, always on the look-out for the -immigrant.</p> - -<p>"We are Yankees."</p> - -<p>"Your father or grandfather came from Germany?"</p> - -<p>"No; we're both Yankees, I tell yer."</p> - -<p>"I suppose your ancestors came from England then."</p> - -<p>"No; we've always bin 'ere."</p> - -<p>They had been out three nights seine-fishing on the lake, were very -tired, and rewarded themselves with swigs of rum every now and then, -passing the bottle from one to the other and then to me with real but -suspicious hospitality. Their families had always been in America. The -fact that they came originally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> from England meant no more to them than -Hengist and Horsa does to some of us.</p> - -<p>By the way, Hengist and Horsa were a couple of savages, were they not?</p> - -<p>The fishermen put me down beside a plantation, which they said was -just the place in which to sleep the night. I wasn't sorry to get on -to my feet again, and I watched them out of sight,—fat, old, sleepy, -hospitable ruffians.</p> - -<p>The plantation was a mosquito-infested swamp, and I did not take the -fishermen's advice. Myriads of "husky" mosquitoes were in the air, the -unpleasanter sort, with feathered antennæ, and whenever I stood still -on the road scores of "Canadian soldiers" settled on me, a loathsome -but innocuous species of diptera.</p> - -<p>I sought shelter of man that night, and through the hospitality of a -Slav workman found a place in a freight train—a strange bed that not -only allows you to sleep, but takes you a dozen miles farther on in the -morning. The engine-driver told me that there was a "whole bunch of -tramps" on the train, but that no one ever turned tramps off an empty -freight train,—not on the Lake Shore railway at any rate.</p> - -<p>When I "dropped" from the freighter I found myself at Elliston, and -commenced there a day of delicious tramping. The opal dawn gave birth -to a great white horse of cloud, and out of the cloud came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> a strong -fresh breeze, having health and happiness on its wings. A quiet Sunday. -I reached Toledo this day—and parted company with Erie Shore—great, -busy, happy, prosperous Toledo. It was strange to exchange the country -for the town; to come out of the green, fresh, silent landscape into -the close, stifling, bustling town, full of promenaders talking and -laughing among themselves vociferously.</p> - -<p>As I came into the city the day-excursion boat was just about to start -on the return journey to Detroit. Excursionists were flocking together -to the quay, a great spectacle to a Briton. All the men were carrying -their coats in their arms, many had their collars off and the neckbands -of their shirts turned down, bunches of carnations on their naked -chests; many were without waistcoats, and had tickets with the name of -their town pinned to their fancy-coloured shirts; the red, perspiring, -glistening faces of many of them suggested an over-confidence in beer -as a quencher of thirst. The women carried parasols of coloured paper. -They were all in white, and were so thinly clad that you asked yourself -why they were so thin. But despite all precautions the sun had marked -everybody, but marked them kindly.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a bell was rung on the steamer, and a little man came forward -and announced in broken English:</p> - -<p>"Somebody wan' to come on the boat; the time is supp."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Policemen.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE</span></h2> - -<p>Even Americans of the highest culture and of Boston families speak -English differently from any people in the old country. The difference -may not be obvious to all, but it is there, and it is a thing to -rejoice in, not to be sorry for. The American nation is different -from the British, has different history and a different hope; it has -a different soul, therefore its expression should be different. The -American face as a type is different; it would be folly to correct the -words of the mouth by Oxford, or Eton, or Granville Barker's theatre, -or the cultured Aberdonian, or any other criterion. The use of American -expressions of quite moderate tone amounts to a breach of good taste in -many British drawing-rooms; and if you tell a story in which American -conversation is repeated with the accent imitated, you can feel the -temperature going down as you proceed; that is, if you are not merely -making fun of the Americans. Making fun of any foreign people is always -tolerable to the British; a truly national and insular trait. The -literary world and the working men and women of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> Britain can enter into -the American spirit, and even imitate it upon occasion; but that is -only the misfortune of our populace, who ought to be finding national -expression in journalism and music-hall songs and dancing, and who are -merely going off the lines by imitating a foreign country. It is loss -to Britain that the Americans speak a comprehensible dialect of our -tongue, and that the journalist of Fleet Street, when he is hard-up for -wit, should take scissors and paste and snip out stories from American -papers; or that commercial <i>entrepreneurs</i> should bring to the British -public things thought to be sure of success because they have succeeded -in America—"Within the Law," "I Should Worry," "Hullo Ragtime!" and -the rest. The people who are surest in instinct, though they are -sympathetic to a brother-people, hate the importation of foreign -uglinesses, and the substitution of foreign for local talent.</p> - -<p>The American language is chiefly distinguished from the British by -its emphatic expressive character. Britain, as I have said, lives -in a tradition; America in a passion. We are laconic, accidental, -inarticulate; our duty is plain, and we do it without words. But the -American is affirmative, emphatic, striving; he has to find out what -he's going to do next, and he has got to use strong words. Britain also -is the place of an acknowledged Caste system; but America is the place -of equal citizens, and many American<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> expressions are watchdogs of -freedom and instruments of mockery, which reduce to a common dimension -any people who may give themselves airs.</p> - -<p>The subtler difference is that of rhythm. American blood flows in a -different <i>tempo</i>, and her hopes keep different measure.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Americans commonly tell us that theirs is the language of Shakespeare -and Shakespearian England, and that they have in America the "well -of English undefiled." But if they have any purely European English -in that country it must be a curiosity. Shakespeare was a lingual -junction, but we've both gone on a long way since then, and in our -triangle the line subtending the Shakespearian angle gets longer -and longer. O. Henry makes a character in one of his stories write -a telegram in American phraseology, so that it shall be quite -unintelligible to people who only know English:</p> - -<blockquote><p>His nibs skedaddled yesterday per jack-rabbit line with all the -coin in the kitty and the bundle of muslin he's spoony about. The -boodle is six figures short. Our crowd in good shape, but we need -the spondulicks. You collar it. The main guy and the dry goods are -headed for the briny. You know what to do.—<span class="smcap">Bob.</span></p></blockquote> - -<p>This is not Shakespearian English, but of course it is not -Shakespearian American. The worst of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> the contemporary language of -America is that it is in the act of changing its skin. It is difficult -to say what is permanent and what is merely eruptive and dropping. Such -expressions as those italicised in the following examples are hardly -permanent:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"One, two, three, <i>cut it out</i> and work for Socialism."</p> - -<p>"<i>I should worry</i> and get thin as a lamp-post so that tramps -should come and lean against me."</p> - -<p>"<i>Him with the polished dome.</i>"</p> - -<p>"She hadn't been here two days before I saw her kissing the boss. -Well, said I, <i>that's going some</i>."</p> - -<p>"This is Number Nine of the Ibsen, <i>highbrow</i> series."</p> - -<p>"<i>Do you get me?</i>"</p> - -<p>"I'll <i>put you wise</i>."</p> - -<p>"And how is your <i>yoke-mate</i>?"</p> - -<p>"He thinks too much of himself: <i>too much breathed on by girls</i>."</p> - -<p>"A low lot of <i>wops and hunkies</i>: <i>white trash</i>."</p> - -<p>"Poor negroes; <i>coloured trash</i>."</p> - -<p>"She is <i>one good-looker</i>."</p> - -<p>"She is <i>one sweetie</i>."</p> - -<p>"My! You have <i>a flossy hat</i>."</p> - -<p>But I suppose "He is a white man" is permanent, and "Buy a -postcard, it'll <i>only set you back a nickel</i>."</p> - -<p>"She began to lay down the law: <i>thus and so</i>."</p> - -<p>"Now <i>beat it</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Roosevelt went ranching, that's how he got so <i>husky</i>."</p> - -<p>"Is it far? It is only <i>a little ways</i>."</p> - -<p>"Did they <i>feed that to you</i>?"</p> - -<p>"When he started he was in a poor way, and carried in his hay in -his arms, but now he is quite <i>healed</i>."</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<p>But the difference in speech is too widespread and too subtle to be -truly indicated by this collection of examples, and the real vital -growth of the language is independent of the flaming reds and yellows -of falling leaves. In the course of conversation with Americans you -hear plenty of turns of expression that are unfamiliar, and that are -not merely the originality of the person talking. Thus in:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"How do they get on now they are married?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, she has him feeding out of her hand,"</p></blockquote> - -<p>though the answer is clear it owes its form to the American atmosphere.</p> - -<p>Or, again in:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"I suppose she's sad now he's gone?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! He wasn't a pile of beans to her, believe me,"</p></blockquote> - -<p>you feel the manner of speech belongs to the new American language. -The following parody of President Wilson's way of speaking is also an -example of the atmosphere of the American language:</p> - -<blockquote><p>So far as the prognosticationary and symptomatic problemaciousness -of your inquiry is concerned it appears to me that while the -trusts should be regulated with the most unrelentful and -absquatulatory rigorosity, yet on the other hand their feelings -should not be lacerated by rambunktions and obfusticationary -harshness. Do you bite that off?</p></blockquote> - -<p><i>Punch</i> would have no stomach for such Rabelaisian vigour.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<p>But wherever you go, not only in the cities, but in the little towns, -you hear things never heard in Britain. I go into a country bakery, and -whilst I ask for bread at one counter I hear behind me at the other:</p> - -<p>"Kendy, ma-ma, kendy!"</p> - -<p>"Cut it out, Kenneth."</p> - -<p>"Kendy, kendy, kendy!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Kenneth, cut it out!" Or, as I sit on a bank, a girl of twelve and -her little baby sister come toddling up the road. The little one loses -her slipper, and the elder cries out:</p> - -<p>"Slipper off again! Ethel, perish!"</p> - -<p>America must necessarily develop away from us at an ever-increasing -rate. Influenced as she is by Jews, Negroes, Germans, Slavs, more and -more foreign constructions will creep into the language,—such things -as "I should worry," derived from Russian-Jewish girl strikers. "She -ast me for a nickel," said a Jew-girl to me of a passing beggar. "<i>I -should give her a nickel</i>, let her work for it same as other people!" -The <i>I shoulds</i> of the Jew can pass into the language of the Americans, -and be understood from New York to San Francisco; but such expressions -make no progress in Great Britain, though brought over there, just -because we have not the big Jewish factor that the Americans have.</p> - -<p>To-day the influence that has come to most fruition is that of the -negro. The negro's way of speaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> has become the way of most ordinary -Americans, but that influence is passing, and in ten or twenty years -the Americans will be speaking very differently from what they are -now. The foreigner will have modified much of the language and many -of the rhythms of speech. America will have less self-consciousness -then. She will not be exploiting the immigrant, but will be subject to -a very powerful influence from the immigrants. No one will then be so -cheap as the poor immigrant is to-day. Much mean nomenclature will have -disappeared from the language, many cheap expressions, much mockery; on -the other hand, there will be a great gain in dignity, in richness, in tenderness.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XV</span> <span class="smaller">THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY</span></h2> - -<p>I have come to that portion of my journeying and of my story where all -day, every evening, and all night long I was conscious of the odour of -mown clover, of fields of ambrosia.</p> - -<p>I was tramping along the border of Northern Ohio and Southern Michigan, -from Toledo to Angola, Indiana. I was entering the rich West. The -fields were vast and square, the road was long and flat, and straight -and quiet, the June haze hung over luxuriant meadows, and there was a -wonderful silence and ripening peace over the country.</p> - -<p>One evening, as the red sun sank into night-darkened mist, I talked -with an old farmer, who was smoking his pipe at his gate.</p> - -<p>"I came along this same road like you, with a bundle on my back, forty -years ago," said he, "and I took work on a farm; then I rented a farm. -Many's the lad I've seen go past of an evening. And one or two have -stopped here and worked some days, for the matter of that."</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i252.jpg" id="i252.jpg"></a><img src="images/i252.jpg" alt="THE SOWER" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE SOWER.</p> - -<p>The farmer had left England when he was a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>stripling, and I tried to -talk to him of the old country, but he was not really interested. He -did not want to go back.</p> - -<p>That is the Colonial feeling.</p> - -<p>Strange to plough all day, or sow or reap, and in the evening to return -to the quiet, solitary house of wood beside the great red-painted barn -and not want England or Europe, not be interested in it, not want -anything more than you've got; to have the sun go down red and whisper -nought, and the stars come up and the moon, and yet not yearn; to work, -to eat, to market; to have children growing about you ripening in so -many years, and corn springing up in the fields ripening in so many -weeks; births, marriages, deaths, sowings, harvests....</p> - -<p>There is all the pathos of man's life in it.</p> - -<p>I slept that night in the dry wayside hay, under the broad sky and the -misty golden moon. It was a quiet night, warm and gentle. Earth held -the wanderer in her cradle and rocked him to sleep.</p> - -<p>They are kind people about here. Next morning as I sat by my fire a -woman sent her son out to me with a quart of milk and a bag of cookies. -And milk is a much commercialised business on this western road,—the -electric freight train carries nearly all the milk away in churns to -Toledo. It was a very welcome talkative boy who brought out the milk. -His father rented one-third of a section (213 acres),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> but was now laid -up with pneumonia. As a consequence of the father's illness the young -children had to work very hard in the fields. And there was a sick cow -on the farm—sick through eating rank clover. And the boy himself had -had scarlet fever in the spring. The serving-girl had had to go away -"to have her little baby," and the one that came in her place brought -the fever.</p> - -<p>"What's your name?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Charles."</p> - -<p>Cheerful little Charles. He had much responsibility on his shoulders.</p> - -<p>There were some big farms along the road, and near Metamora I had the -privilege of seeing a dozen cows milked simultaneously by a petrol -engine, rubber tubes being fixed to their teats and the milk pumped -out. It was astonishing, the matter-of-fact way in which the latest -invention was applied to farm life.</p> - -<p>"It's rather ugly," said I.</p> - -<p>"Well, what are you to do when labour is so scarce?" was the reply.</p> - -<p>Land is rich here, but labour is scarce. I fell in with a garrulous -farmer who told me that land now sold at 150 dollars (£30) the acre, -and that in a few years it would rise to 250 dollars. The days of large -farmers were over. All the big ranches were being sold up, and the -farmers were taking holdings that they could farm themselves without -help. Labour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> was expensive, owing to the high wages paid in the towns -for industrial work; even at two and a half dollars (ten shillings) a -day it was difficult to get a decent gang to do the work in the harvest -season. You could do better with a small piece of land. Fields here -were forty and fifty acres, and the steam plough was not used. In the -old days land was dirt cheap, and you could buy vast tracts of it; -there were no taxes, no extra expenses, and you just went in to raise -tremendous crops and make a big scoop. To-day things were different. -To work on a large scale a horde of labourers was necessary. But now -the Socialists were stopping the flow of immigrants into the country. -Socialists said that it was too difficult to organise newcomers. The -newcomers behaved like blacklegs, strike-breakers, all the first year -of their stay in America. They didn't know the language, were very -poor, suspected their brother workmen of jealousy, and just took any -wage offered them. The Socialists wanted to keep the price of labour -up, and my farmer friend bore them a grudge because it was difficult to -develop the land unless the price was reduced.</p> - -<p>A little later, outside Fred M'Gurer's farm, the jovial farmer himself -came and squatted beside the fire and chatted of affairs. He had -insured his house for 1000 dollars, but it would take 1800 dollars to -rebuild it. "I think it's only fair to take some of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> risk myself," -said he; "and if the place burns down the company will know I didn't -set it alight o' purpose."</p> - -<p>Fifty-eight years old is Fred M'Gurer, and his son is now coming to -live and work with him altogether, after seven years spent wintering -in the city and summering in the country. Irish once, and of an Irish -family—but they go to no church. The old man feels that he is a -Christian all the same, and will get to heaven at last, because he -"deals square with his fellow-men."</p> - -<p>Fred and his son work the farm all by themselves, outside labour is -so expensive. The beet-fields take all the immigrants. Did I see the -red waggons as I came along, full of Flemish and Russians living by -beet-picking on the beetroot farms near by?</p> - -<p>I saw them.</p> - -<p>"America is a high hill for them that don't speak the language," -said Fred. But he said that because he likes talking himself, and -can't imagine himself in a land where he could not hold converse. The -immigrants manage very well without the language, and scale the hill, -and rake in the dollars easily. Perhaps they do not glean much of the -American ideal, and the hope of the American nation. But I suppose Fred -did not mean that.</p> - -<p>I had a pleasant talk with a successful German farmer, who took me in -a cart from Pioneer to Grizier, through comparatively poor country. He -had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>possessed a farm of five acres in Germany, but there each acre had -been worth between 450 and 500 dollars. When he came to Grizier land -was selling at 25 dollars an acre, and he was able to buy fifty acres -of it and to bring up his family in health and plenty. His farm was now -worth more than 5000 dollars.</p> - -<p>I slept on an old waggon in a wheat-field near Grizier; but about -midnight it began to rain, and I was obliged to seek shelter in a -crazy, doorless, windowless cottage, and there I sat all next day and -slept all the next night whilst the elements raged. In the cottage were -two chairs, a home-made table, and a broken bedstead. I cooked my meals -on the rainy threshold. The refuge was shared by a great big bumble -bee, two red-admirals, a brown squirrel, and two robins.</p> - -<p>The second morning was Sunday, radiant, fresh, and green. The road -was soft but clean, with yielding cakes of mud; the grass was fresh, -for every blade had been washed on Saturday; the wild strawberry was -a brighter ruby; on spread bushes the wild rose was in bloom; there -were sun-browned country girls upon the road, who were shy but might -be spoken to; the odour of clover was purer, the hay-fields had round -shoulders after the storm, and you'd think cows had been lying down -where the wind had laid the tussocks low. The sun shone as if it had -forgotten it had shone before, and was doing it for the first time. -To-day it became evident that the grain was ripening; the apple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> trees -in fantastic shapes were knee-deep in yellowing corn. The little oak -trees by the side of the road presented foliage, every leaf of which -looked as if it had been carefully polished.</p> - -<p>In America wild strawberries are three on a stalk, which causes a -pleasant profusion....</p> - -<p>I got a whole loaf of home-made bread given me at Cooney ..., and a -quart of milk at "Fertile Valley Farm." ...</p> - -<p>Only at sunset did I strike the main Angola Road, and off that road -I made my bed in a wheat-field and fell asleep, watching the bearded -ears disproportionately magnified and black in the flame of the crimson -sky. Next day, when I awoke, life was just creeping into the blue-green -night, a soft radiance as of rose petals was in the East, and a breeze -was wandering like a rat among the stalks of the wheat. I fell asleep -again, and when I reopened my eyes it was bright morning.</p> - -<p>The Sunday gave way to the week-day. There is nothing happening on the -roads on the Sunday; the tramp is left with Nature, but directly Monday -comes the work and life of the people reveal themselves, and adventures -are more frequent.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i258.jpg" id="i258.jpg"></a><img src="images/i258.jpg" alt="THE STORE ON WHEELS" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE STORE ON WHEELS.</p> - -<p>My first visitor this Monday was a man of business. As I was making my -tea he came up towards me driving two lean horses and a great black -oblong box on wheels. At the farm where I had drawn water for my kettle -he pulled up and dismounted. A girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> who had seen him from a window of -the farmhouse came tripping to meet him. He exchanged some words with -her, and then from the far side of his hearse-like cart he produced a -black chest, out of which he pulled a pair of boots. The young lady -then hopped back to the house to try them on. Satisfied as to her -purchase she took in addition a pound of tea and a packet of sugar. The -cart was a moving store: here were all manner of things for sale. But -the storekeeper received no money; all his debts were paid in eggs. One -side of the hearse was full of merchandise, the other contained nested -boxes and crates for the accommodation of hundreds of dozens of eggs.</p> - -<p>The storeman gave me a lift and explained to me his business. He -possessed a cold-storage establishment in the city; he credited the -farm people with sixteen cents (eightpence) for every dozen eggs they -gave him, then he stored them in his freezing-house till autumn, when -they could be thrown on the market at twenty-five to thirty cents the -dozen.</p> - -<p>He was a great believer in cold storage. "Meat," said he, "is tenderer -when it has been frozen some weeks."</p> - -<p>Business in eggs used to be better. Now the State set a limit on the -time you could keep them in cold storage. Sometimes he had to sell out -at a loss. The hope was to keep all the farm produce till there was a -real scarcity and prices went high. Then it would be possible to make a -small fortune.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But I'm tired of this business," said the storeman, "I'd like to give -it up and buy land."</p> - -<p>We lumbered along the road and stopped at each farmhouse. Sometimes we -sold articles, but whether we sold anything or not we always took a few -dozen eggs; every farmer was in business with my man and used him as a -sort of egg-bank. Even if they were not in debt to him they were glad -to hand over their eggs and be credited with the corresponding amount -of money. We took four or five dozen eggs at least at every farm, and -sometimes as many as twenty and thirty dozen. The storeman left behind -an empty crate at each farm, so that it might be filled for him next -time he came along, and he took aboard the crate already filled. In -exchange he sold kerchiefs, boots, corsets, cloth, brooms, brushes, -coffee, corn-flake, wire-gauze to keep out mosquitoes, etc. At the -end of his round he would have got rid of almost all his merchandise -and have filled both sides of the hearse with eggs. He took home upon -occasion as many as five hundred dozen eggs!</p> - -<p>A cheerful American with a word of news, a titbit of gossip, and the -top of the morning for all the country women. He was eagerly awaited, -and children at farm-gates descried him a long way off and ran in to -tell their mothers. Even the babies were excited at his approach, for -they knew he carried a supply of candy. At each farm where there was -a baby the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> storeman left a little bag of candy. He knew the value of -good-will.</p> - -<p>"It's a good business," said he; "no expense of keeping a shop, double -profit,—profit on the goods and profit on the eggs; it pays all right. -But I'm tired of it, and I think I shall give it up and buy land." To -several of his customers who asked after his business he replied in -the same terms. He was getting tired of it, and was thinking of buying -land. When I took a photograph of his cart and himself he said he would -be very glad to have a copy, just to remind him of old days—for he was -thinking of giving it up, etc.</p> - -<p>It is interesting to observe the commercialisation that goes on in the -country in America. Not only does the egg-bank and travelling store -come round, but the cream-vans come also and buy up all the cream, -and the baker comes from the bread factory and dumps, twice or three -times a week, huge baskets of damp, tasteless loaves, all wrapped in -grease-paper. Not many people bake their own bread—they save time -and take this astonishing substitute. Then travellers in coffee have -exploited special brands—"Euclid Coffee," "Primus Coffee," "Old -Reliable," and the like, done up in pound packets. Rural Americans do -not realise that good coffee is coffee and no more.</p> - -<p>No one had a quart of milk to spare on the road to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> Angola, so I hit on -a plan which I recommend to others in like circumstances. I went to a -farmhouse and asked for a cupful of milk to have with my coffee; I got -it easily and freely. The farmer was rather touched. But as you cannot -make decent coffee with one cupful of milk I went to another farm and -begged another cupful, and then to another. I was able to make a good -pot of coffee, despite the scarcity of milk.</p> - -<p>Whilst I was having lunch, I had an interesting talk with an ancient -man who was mowing grass at the side of the road.</p> - -<p>"You look like Father Time," said I.</p> - -<p>"Well, I've mown a good many days," he replied. "I shall soon die now. -There's no strength in me; my day is over."</p> - -<p>"Have you enjoyed life?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have," he replied, his face lighting up.</p> - -<p>"Do you work your farm yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No! My son works it; he is twenty-two. Yes, I married late. Thirty-two -years I wandered as you are doing. I've been in thirty states. I was -ten years on the Lakes, a sailor."</p> - -<p>"Ever across the Atlantic?"</p> - -<p>"Never on the big waters."</p> - -<p>"And how do you think America is going on?"</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i262.jpg" id="i262.jpg"></a><img src="images/i262.jpg" alt="I HAD AN INTERESTING TALK WITH AN ANCIENT MAN BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"I HAD AN INTERESTING TALK WITH AN ANCIENT MAN BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD."</p> - -<p>"I think she is going bad. The new generation is weak. There'll soon be -no old farmer stock. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> old folk work, but the children go to school. -My father was an old Connecticut Yankee—a republican—so am I; but the -party has broken up, the country's going wild."</p> - -<p>The old man had a dog "Colonel," named after Colonel Somebody, who was -his father's Squire in Connecticut.</p> - -<p>"A fine dog," said I.</p> - -<p>"More helpful than a boy," said the old farmer. "He can drive the hog -home straight, and he always helps me up when I tumble down. I'm weak -now—have had two strokes, and after the last I was just like a baby. -I can't mow properly—no strength to move anything. Often I fall of a -heap, and Colonel runs in and gets under my stomach with his head and -raises me. A 'cute dog...."</p> - -<p>A pleasant vision of not unhappy age!</p> - -<p>I passed through Angola—a neat little city round about a shoppy -square; a quiet market-place functionising the agricultural country -round about. I had dinner at one of several restaurants, and had three -quick-lunch courses brought to me at once—an array of nine or ten -plates on a little grey stone table—not very appetising.</p> - -<p>There were three or four country loungers at the ice-cream bar of -the establishment, and a negro was sitting at another table with a -tall glass and a straw and a "soda." At my side was what I took to be -a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> piano—very dusty, and with the keyboard out of sight. Suddenly, -without any warning, it jumped into music, and thumped out a cake-walk -in its interior. It was as if a lot of niggers were doing the dance in -an empty room.</p> - -<p>I paid no attention, facially. Alas! we are quite familiar with such -marvels, with all that can be shown. We raise no eyebrow. But bring in -an aboriginal Chinee and sit him there where I was, and start this box -a-going, and he'd jump out of his wits. How was it started? Some one -went softly across the room and put a cent in a slot—that's all. Is -it not maddening to be uninterested, unthrilled? None of us paid any -attention. The loungers gossiped with the ice-cream girl, the nigger -drew up his soda, I strove with my hard roast beef.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>St. John's Eve! Unusual things might be expected to happen this night. -I had lived with the growing summer, had caught in my hands one evening -not long since a large dusky lovely emperor-moth, and had received an -invitation from fairyland. The strange thing was that as I tramped out -of Angola on the Lagrange Road, it did not occur to me what day it -was. Only in the middle of the night did I reflect—there is something -unusual astir, something is happening all about me, this is no ordinary -night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> And only in the morning did I realise it had been St. John's -Eve.</p> - -<p>I slept by an orchard on a hill. Below me was a little lake, on the -right a straw stack, on the left an apple tree, over me a plum tree -with wee plums. All night long little apples fell from their weak -stalks, the frogs sang—now solos, now choruses, the mosquitoes hummed -in the plum tree. On the surface of the little lake little lights -appeared and disappeared as the wandering fireflies carried messages -from reed to reed. Processions of clouds stole over the starry sky, and -I thought of rain, but the whole night was hot and odorous and full of -dreams.</p> - -<p>I did not awake next morning till it was bright day. Between me and the -straw stack there was a fluttering and squawking of young birds being -taught to fly by their mother. Every time a young bird alighted after -a little flutter, it always fell on its nose. My attention was divided -between the birds and a big bee, who thought I had made my bed over his -nest. What a distressing way the bumble-bee has of losing himself and -thinking you are to blame!</p> - -<p>I tramped to the reedy lake of Whip-poor-Will. The wind blew now hot -from the sun's mouth, now cold from a cloud's shoulder. The question -was, Would the Midsummer day turn to heat or come to rain? It turned -to heat. What a day of happiness I spent on the sandy ups and downs of -country roads!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> After weeks among plains, I was glad of a countryside -that had corners again. I was among "dear little lakes," the children -of the great lakes—in the nursery.</p> - -<p>I came to Flint, and met the "pike road" from Detroit to Chicago. Flint -has a large general store and a barber's shop. I bought three oranges -out of the refrigerator of the store, and, to make them last longer, -half a pound of honey-cakes.</p> - -<p>At noon I made my mid-day fire in the bed of a dried-up rivulet. The -weather was almost too hot for tending a fire; tawny spots appeared -on my wrists, and, viewing my face in the metal back of my soapbox, I -was startled to see the fire in my eyebrows and cheeks. But with the -heat there was a wind, and in the afternoon great cumuli grew up in the -sky, and it was possible to think the earth was a ship and the clouds -the billows which we were rolling over. Up hill and down dale, round -corners, by snug farms with green and crimson cherry orchards, over -hills where miles of corn were blanching and waving! I came to Brushy -Prairie and camped for the night in an angle of the road beside the -village cemetery.</p> - -<p>I read and wrote, mended my clothes, cleaned my pack of waste dust, -collected hay to make a bed. Many carts came past, and the people in -them hailed me with facetious remarks. After I had lain down one old -village wife came to see if I were sick and wanted medicine. It was -strange to lie by the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>cemetery and hear a party of girls go by in a -buggy, singing, "When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there."</p> - -<p>I lay and watched the sky, scanning the clouds for a certitude of a dry -night. A great war was going on between the forces of the clear sky -and of the clouds. There was a party of skirmishers advancing from the -south-west. There was a long array of clouds in the north and in the -south, and the main army lay heavy and invincible in the north-west. -But the clear sky scattered the enemy wherever it encountered them, and -even forced the main army to take up a new position. The camp of the -clouds was made far away, and lights came out in their leaguer.</p> - -<p>The night became silent and brilliant and perfect, and I lay with my -eyes open, and did not look, but just saw....</p> - -<p>I slept. Whilst my eyes were closed there was a great night attack, -and when I woke again I found the armies of the clear sky completely -routed. There was a shower of rain, and I jumped up and tripped along -to the church. The door was open. I struck a match and saw all the pews -and prayer-books and hymn-sheets, and away in the shadows the platform -and the pulpit.</p> - -<p>But the shower ceased. I reflected that if heavy rain came on I could -easily come into shelter, so I returned to my hay-spread, and lay down -again and watched the renewed battle in the sky.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p>A desperate rally! One star, two stars were shining, and round about -them a great stand was being made. They fought lustily. They seemed -to be gaining ground. Yes. Three, four, five stars showed, six.... I -fell asleep again, knowing that the side I favoured would win. When I -wakened next it was to greet the great General coming from the east in -all his war-paint, and hung all over with silver medals. A glorious day -followed.</p> - -<p>I spent a morning by the clear St. Joseph River. On the road to -Middlebury wild raspberries abounded. I could have picked a pound or so -of berries along the road. Raspberry bushes occur in many places, but -I've seen few raspberries hitherto. That is because the great friends -of the raspberries live so near—human boys and girls—and they are -always taking the raspberries to school, to church, to the corn-field. -If they are going home they insist on taking the little raspberries -home too, to the distress of fathers and mothers sometimes, for the -raspberries know how to disagree with the children upon occasion, -especially the young ones.</p> - -<p>There were not many farm-houses about here, but at one of them I was -given a pot full of ripe cherries, and made a "smash" of them, and ate -them with milk and sugar.</p> - -<p>A motorist took me along a dozen miles in a bouncing, petrol-spurting -runabout car, a Dutchman, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> paid me the compliment of saying I spoke -very grammatically for a foreigner.</p> - -<p>There was a thundershower in the afternoon. In the evening I obtained -permission to sleep in a barn, and the farmer talked to me as I lay -in the straw. There had been a runaway team the day before, and his -neighbour's bay mare had twenty-four stitches in her now, and he didn't -reckon she'd be much more good.</p> - -<p>A waggoner taking fowls and dairy produce to sell at restaurants and -quick-lunch shops took me into Elkhart next morning. Elkhart is a large -city, with many car factories and buggy factories, and by comparison -with the country round is very foreign, full of Italians, Poles, and -Jews. It is a well-built, handsome city, with much promise for the -future.</p> - -<p>As I stepped out on the Shipshewaka Road I saw by a notice that a prize -was being offered for the most popular woman and the homeliest man. -What a contrast this implies to the life of the East. Here is a land -where women are public, and where nobility in a man is best expressed -by being handy about the house.</p> - -<p>I tramped along the north side of St. Joseph's River, through beautiful -country under delightful conditions. The cornfields had turned -red-gold, the grass was all in flower, and little brown fluffy bees -considered it the best time of summer. What a sun there was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> what a -breeze! I found the "Bachelor's Retreat" on the St. Joseph's River, two -boat-houses, a stairway through the forest banks, and a little wooden -pier stretching out into the pleasant water—a good place for a swim!</p> - -<p>Just before Mishewaka I met old Samuel Judie, seventy-six years of age, -lying on a bank with a stick in his hand, tending the cows of his own -farm and philosophising on life.</p> - -<p>"It's a marvellous thing that the sun stands still and the earth goes -round it," said he. "A marvellous thing that there are stars. They find -out how to make automobiles, and they find out lots of things about the -stars, but the human race won't ever know out the facts."</p> - -<p>To most of the remarks I made Mr. Judie answered "Shah."</p> - -<p>"England has fifty million people."</p> - -<p>"Oh, shah!"</p> - -<p>"London is twenty miles broad and twenty miles long."</p> - -<p>"Oh, shah!"</p> - -<p>"There are plenty of farms of only ten acres."</p> - -<p>"Oh, shah!"</p> - -<p>He grumbled a great deal at the automobiles.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i270.jpg" id="i270.jpg"></a><img src="images/i270.jpg" alt="OLD SAMUEL JUDIE, LYING ON A BANK, AND PHILOSOPHISING ON LIFE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"OLD SAMUEL JUDIE, LYING ON A BANK, AND PHILOSOPHISING ON LIFE."</p> - -<p>"Last Sunday," said he, "a man and his wife were knocked down just -here. They had been saving and pinching for years, and had at last -cleared the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>mortgage off their farm, and were reckoning to live -decently. The automobile cut the woman's head right off, and the man is -lying in the hospital. There ought to be a law against the automobiles -rushing through from Elkhart to South Bend on Sundays."</p> - -<p>"I suppose South Bend is a rich place?"</p> - -<p>"Shah!"</p> - -<p>"What do they make there?"</p> - -<p>"Boots, waggons, ploughs, the wooden parts of Singer's -sewing-machines.... They are terribly hard up for hands.... You'd get -a job easy.... There is a great lot of girls working in the factories, -many foreign. They soon marry and go on to a farm. Factory folks make -a pile of money; get tired, and then buy a few acres of land and live -on it. Farms about here are split up into small portions and sold to -poor folk. Some want me to divide up my farm and sell part of it, but I -won't do it."</p> - -<p>Mr. Judie had had to work all his life, and to work hard a good deal of -it, and he felt entitled to have his own mind on any subject, and to -act accordingly.</p> - -<p>A wealthy American took me along in his car through Mishewaka to South -Bend, and showed me the great factory of wind-mill sails, Dodge's -factory of "transmission power" of pulleys and connections and all -things that join up engines and plant; then the famous Studebaker's -factory of plough-handles, shafts, waggons, etc., the rubber-boot -factory, Singer's frame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> factory, and several other establishments -which indicated how busy these Indiana cities are.</p> - -<p>I tramped out to New Carlisle, spending a night there under a deep -dark maple tree, which after sunset looked like a great overlapping -thatch—not a poke of light came through. As I lay beside the highroad, -and as the American holidays had just commenced, scores of cars came -by, and as each one appeared on the road horizon it lit up my leafy -ceiling with its great flashlights. How hot the night was.... I slept -without covering. It was hot even at dawn.</p> - -<p>It was next day on the road to Michigan City that I gave water to a -thirsty calf, who actually ran to me and butted into me to persuade me -to fill his bucket. It was on this road that having thrown a potful of -water at some sheep they followed me down the dusty road, crying to me -to do it again.</p> - -<p>Michigan City was sweltering. I took refuge from the heat in the -waiting-room of the large railway station, and watched the crowds in -the New York and Chicago trains, and the rush of the restaurant boys -with hundreds of cones of ice-cream.</p> - -<p>A pretty negress came and sat next me and began talking.</p> - -<p>"Ah come over heer two manths ago to the carnaval, and have been -playing <i>vaudy-ville</i>, but the home folks said ah mus' come back. Mai, -how I cried when I heard. I did take on...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> - -<p>She was under police supervision, and a big Irish policeman came -and took her away when he saw her talking with me. She stood on the -platform until the train came in, and then she was put in charge of a -guard. She had, no doubt, been arrested under suspicious circumstances -in the streets of Michigan, and had been brought before a kind -magistrate, who had forborne to punish her on condition that she went -back to her mother.</p> - -<p>The road from Michigan undulated over a weedy wilderness and -gnat-swarming marshes. I had a bad time as to the heat and the -mosquitoes, and, despite use of strong disinfectants, I got badly -stung, and was consequently feverish for some days. I was also very -idle, very much inclined to sit on palings and consider how hot it was. -On the Sunday, just to see whether the plaints of the farmers were -justified, I made a census of all the vehicles that passed me. On the -Monday I got to Hammond, and on Tuesday came in by car to Chicago. That -day was the hottest of the year. Fifty-three people died from the heat -in the city that day. I could have understood a few tramps dying even -on the road.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES</span></h2> - -<p>The road into Chicago was one of increasing noise and smoke and -desolation, of heat and gloom, and the rumour of a sordid defeat of -life. I remember Calumet City by the factory stacks, the chimneys whose -blackness seemed fainting out of sight in the haze of the heat. Dark -smokes and white steams curled above many workshops; along the roadside -black rivulets flowed from the factories. There were heaps of ashes -and tin cans lying in odorous ponds. The leaves of the trees and the -grasses of the fields were wilted and yellowed by the airs and fumes -of Chicago. At Hammond a drunken, one-armed man followed me for about -a mile, attracting a crowd of street Arabs by his foul language. East -Chicago looked to me like parts of suburban London, and I was reminded -in turns of Peckham, Hackney Marshes, Commercial Road, Whitechapel. -There was, however, much that was unlike anything in London—the -ominous squads of factory chimneys; clouds of heavy-rolling, ochreous -fumes and smoke; palings with such advertisements as "Read no scab -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>newspapers" or "You'll Holler"; wooden houses; dilapidated, ramshackle -frame-buildings of grey wood; broken-down verandahs; black stairways; -grey washing hanging on strings from stairway to stairway; half-naked -children; piles of old cans and rusty iron.</p> - -<p>The vehicles increased on the highway, the lumber of much traffic -commenced, the red and yellow tramcars multiplied, railway lines -crossed the road, and by the rush of trains one felt that all the -traffic of Eastern and Central America was converging to one point. The -open country disappeared. The air of the roadway became full of dust. -The heat increased ten degrees, and to move a limb was to perspire. -Foreigners jostled one another on the sidewalks, negroes and negresses -sat in doorways. The odour of carcases came to the nostrils from -Packing-town, and at last the great central roar of traffic—Chicago.</p> - -<p>I can give no account of the great city here—it would be only to -recount and add together the uglinesses and the promises of other -cities. It was at once worse and better than I had expected. The -hopelessness of the picture given by Upton Sinclair in <i>The Jungle</i> I -felt to be exaggerated. I was told at Hull House that the novelist had -got all his stories at the stockyards, but that the massed calamities -that are so appalling in the story never occurred to one family in -real life. The effect of accumulated horrible detail in <i>The Jungle</i> -deprives you at the time of any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> love towards America; it made me, a -Briton, feel hatred towards America, and when first I read the book I -felt that no Russian who read it carefully would entertain willingly -the idea of going to America. If he had entertained the idea, having -read <i>The Jungle</i> he would abandon it. It is an astonishing tract on -the fate of a Russian peasant family leaving the land of so-called -tyranny for a land of so-called freedom; and its obvious moral is -that Russia is a better country for the individual than America—that -America takes the fine peasant stock of Europe and shatters it to bits.</p> - -<p>It is true that Chicago makes a convenience of men, and that there man -exists that commerce may thrive rather than that commerce exists that -man may thrive. It is a place where the physical and psychical savings -of Europeans are wasted like water, and where no one understands what -the waste means. Spending is always joyful, and Chicago is a gay city. -It is full of a light-hearted people, pushing, bantering, laughing, -blindfolded over their spiritual eyes. In such places as Chicago the -immigrant finds a market for things he could never sell at home—his -body, his nerve, his vital energy; a ready market, and he sells -them and has money in his pocket and beer in plenty. Listen to the -loud-voiced, God-invoking crowd in the saloons! They have the proceeds -that come of selling the savings of Europe. They have come out of the -quiet villages and forests where, from generation to generation and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -age to age, the peasantry live quiet lives, and grow richer and richer -in spirit and nerve. But these in the Chicago streets and saloons have -found their mysterious destiny, to lavish in a life, and for seemingly -worthless ends, what hundreds of quiet-living ancestors have saved. The -tree of a hundred years falls in a day and becomes timber, supporting a -part of the fabric of civilisation for a while.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i276.jpg" id="i276.jpg"></a><img src="images/i276.jpg" alt="AT THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK: A HOT DAY IN CHICAGO" /></div> - -<p class="bold">AT THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK: A HOT DAY IN CHICAGO.</p> - -<p>The strangest thing is the clamour of the Chicago crowd—it is -dead-sure about everything in the world, ignorant, cocksure, mocking. -It does not know it is losing, does not know that it is blind-folded, -because it is the victim of destiny.</p> - -<p>Part of the spiritual blindness of the great city is the belief it -holds that there is no other place of importance but itself. And -many outsiders take the city at its own estimate. But Chicago is not -America, neither is New York or any other great city. If going to -America meant going only to the great cities, then few but the Jews -would emigrate from Europe.</p> - -<p>The ideals of America cannot be worked out merely in the great cities. -The cities are places of death, of the destruction of national tissue, -and of human combustion, necessary, no doubt, as such, certainly not -places where one need worry about national health. The national health -is on the farms of Pennsylvania and Indiana and Minnesota, Michigan, -Iowa, the Dakotas, the Far West. The men range big out there;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> the -stand-by of the people will always be found in these places and not in -the cities.</p> - -<p>And New York and Chicago, though necessary, are abnormal. They are -not so much America as unassimilated Europe. The population of a city -should be the natural sacrifice of the population of the country. It -is often deplored that the country people are forsaking the land and -flocking to the towns; but the proper people to replenish the failing -stock of the cities is just those whom instinct and destiny prompt to -leave the country. It is most bewildering to the student of America -that her city-populations are replenished by the foreign immigrants, -by people nursing, it is true, American sentiments, but not yet born -into the American ideal, not made America's own. The natural place for -the first generation of immigrants is on the land. If Chicago seems -too large, too sudden a growth, disorderly, unanticipated, altogether -out of hand, it is because of the hordes of foreigners who are there, -who have not the impulse to co-operate, and who do not readily respond -to the efforts of the idealist and politician. And they do not readily -respond because they have not lived long enough in the true American -atmosphere, have not served a quiet apprenticeship in the country, but -have been dumped into an industrial wilderness served with the yellow -press and "sped up."</p> - -<p>America will have to guide the flow of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>immigrants, and learn to -irrigate with it and make fertile the Middle and the Far West. It is -over-commercialisation and near-sightedness that clamours for more -labour in the great cities. The size of a city is never too small. In -the normal state of a nation the city functionises the country, and -according to the strength of the people in the background the state of -the great town will be busy or slack. It is good news that negotiations -are being made with the trans-Atlantic shipping companies to ship -immigrants to the Far Western coast <i>via</i> the Panama Canal, at rates -not very much heavier than at present exist for shipment to Boston and -Philadelphia and New York. A man and his wife planted on the land in -the East are worth ten given to the greedy cities of the West.</p> - -<p>In the matter of the colonisation of her own country America might -learn a great deal from Russia, especially in the matter of railway -transit. It is all to the advantage of a country that means of transit -are cheap, and that there be a brisk circulation of the blood of the -body-politic. As a newspaper realises that the cheaper its price the -greater its success, the greater its circulation, so America might -realise that the cheaper were its railway fares the more facility -would there be for the mingling of the peoples, the assimilation of -foreigners, and the development of the country.</p> - -<p>In America it costs 39 dollars 60 cents to go as far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> as Denver, -Colorado, which is about 2000 miles, and $76.20 to go to San Francisco. -A comparison with the Russian rates will give an idea how much more -cheaply it is possible to carry people:</p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/table.jpg" alt="railway rates" /></div> - -<p>Of course, the cost of working is more in America than in Russia, and -the trains are twice as fast; but that is not enough to set off against -the enormous differences in fares. A great profit is made out of the -railway business, and the profit is at the expense of America as a -whole. It is absurd to compare the prices of fares in America with the -prices of fares in Great Britain. It is bad enough with us, but ours -is a small territory; it does not cost much to go from end to end. -But America is a vast country. It costs almost a year's wages to pay -the fare of a family across it. You think twice before determining to -travel even a thousand miles. The consequence is that the circulation -of people is sluggish in the extreme. The East begins to get congested, -and the cities are packed with people who would gladly have gone -straight to the West if facilities had been granted them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the development of democracy it is circulation that is important, -the circulation of opinion, of sentiment, of ideals. The large -circulation of interest and affection caused by the reduction of -postage rates down to a penny in Britain and two cents in America -has given an immense impetus to democratic development; the larger -circulation of ideas and opinions caused by the reduction of the price -of newspapers to a cent has also been advantageous. But how much more -important than the circulation of opinions, ideas, and sentiments is -the circulation of the people themselves, controlled by the price of -fares on railways! How much more swiftly would the American democracy -become homogeneous if it were possible to travel a thousand miles for -five dollars. That would entail either nationalisation of railways -or subsidisation by the Government. But it would be worth it to the -American people.</p> - -<p>Because of the heavy expense of railway travelling America is only -dimly conscious of itself, geographically and ethnologically. Americans -even boast of the distances between their towns and between different -points of the country. Chicago, only one-third of the way across the -continent, is called "The West." Indiana and Illinois and Minnesota are -"out West." It is as if we referred to Berkshire or Warwickshire as the -West of England.</p> - -<p>In due course, it may be imagined, the United<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> States Government will -assume state-control of many of the railways, and ten dollars will pay -your fare from New York right across. Immigrants will not be allowed -to settle in great cities till they have spent ten years on the land. -Such a provision would make it easier to admit all sorts and conditions -of Europeans at Ellis Island; and at the corresponding Immigration -stations at other ports a great deal of the White Slave trouble would -be averted, and the shelter of immigrants would not absorb so much of -the urban attention so urgently needed elsewhere.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Railways have as much power to make the new American as the newspaper -has. Perhaps they have more power; for the railways can afford great -opportunities for social mingling. The railway can take any immigrant -to a place where he will be not merely a hireling, but a living -organism grafted into the vast body of America. At present the high -fares deter the immigrant, and he is cooped up in districts which he -would like to leave, but cannot; in districts where he must remain -foreign and not American.</p> - -<p>For there is an impulse to move and to mingle. If railway facilities -were granted there would be a great deal more social and commercial -intercourse over the surface of America. Each new immigrant who comes -into the United States is particularly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> wanted somewhere; his landing -is not an accident. Some village or countryside has called him, and -will still call him, though he be frustrated at first, doing the wrong -sort of work among the wrong group of people.</p> - -<p>The great heterogeneous mass of peoples wants to become one nation. -There is a power which works through the peoples for that end. The -people are ready to mingle; they are already mingling; they are going -to and fro and in twos and threes, and every step and every transaction -is something essential in the making of the coming homogeneous nation.</p> - -<p>It is a choir dance, a dance of molecules or atoms, if you will, but a -dance of human atoms, and one that yields a mystic music that can be -heard by the poet's ear. Leading the peoples in the involutions and -evolutions of the choir dance is a masked figure, not itself one of the -people. What is that figure? Not trade, I think, though it helps; not -common interest, though it is perhaps a rule of the dance; not even -the American idea. The masked figure that leads is a fate; it is an -instinct of Destiny.</p> - -<p>The dance is being played out on a vast stage with much scenery—the -three-thousand-mile stretch of America, East to West: the Industrial -East, with its hills; the corn plains and forests of the middle West; -the wild West; the luxuriant and wonderful South.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> - -<p>There are waiting throngs cooped up in cities and at temporary -standing-places.</p> - -<p>The welter of negroes and Spaniards and half-castes in the South, in -the black pale; the Swedes and Norwegians and Finns in the Middle -West; the million Jews in New York; the millions of them elsewhere, -saying, as Mary Antin, that America and not Judea is the Promised -Land, the place where the tribes will be gathered together again and -form a nation; the great Anglo-Saxon stock of America, who would feel -themselves to be the leaven, the ruling principle in the choir dance; -the Dutch-Americans of Pennsylvania; the Irish, of whom there tend -to be more in America than in Ireland; the Slovaks and Ruthenians on -the Pennsylvanian collieries; the Italian gangs on the road and the -Italian quarters of a thousand towns; the Poles, of whom in New York -alone there are more than in any city in Poland; the enormous number of -Germans living on the land; the hundred thousand Russian working men in -Pennsylvania alone; the Molokan Russians in California, and the Russian -gold-washers; the Red Indians on the Reservations; the composite gangs -of all nations in the world going up and down the country doing jobs.</p> - -<p>The Jews bring music, mathematical instinct, a sense of justice, -industry, commercial organisation, and commercial tyranny, national -wealth, material prosperity, restlessness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> - -<p>The English bring ignorance, pluck, and honour; the Scottish bring -their brains and their morals; the Irish bring generosity, cleverness, -laziness, hatred of Jews and of meanness.</p> - -<p>The Germans bring the idea of growth and development, evolution, and -with it their own music. They also bring an instinct for efficiency and -shining armour.</p> - -<p>The negro brings sensual music and dancing, a taste for barbaric -splendour, the gentleness of little children, and the wildness of -the beasts of the forest at night; and he brings imitativeness, -subserviency, a taste for slavery.</p> - -<p>The Red Indians bring the remembrance of the Virgin -Continent—litheness of limb, subtler ear and nose and eyes for the -things of the earth.</p> - -<p>The Italians bring their emotionalism and excitability, their songs, -their passion, their fighting spirit.</p> - -<p>The Little Russians, Slovaks, Poles, Great Russians bring patience -to endure suffering, but withal a spirit of anarchism which prompts -them to do astonishing things without apparent cause, mystical piety, -charity, much sin, much intemperance, much love and human tenderness. -They bring also the Tartar commercial spirit, and a zest for haggling -over prices and for making deals.</p> - -<p>The French bring economy, vivacity, journalistic genius.</p> - -<p>But what do they not bring, all these peoples?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> There are marvellous -gifts closed in all of them, mysterious potentialities that it were -folly to attempt to name.</p> - -<p>Each race has its special function, its organic suitability and psychic -value. There are male races like the Jews; female races like the -Germans. There are races that bring spirit, races that bring body.</p> - -<p>German goes down the middle with English; Swedish with Irish; Russian -with Pole; Jew with each and all. It is not always with the negro -that the negro dances, not always with the Italian that the Italian -is partnered, nor Hungarian with Hungarian, nor Lithuanian with -Lithuanian. Secretively, unexpectedly, on unanticipated impulses, -strangers obey the magic wand and rhythmical gestures of the Great -Conductor of the dance, and become one with another in the evolution of -America. The dance has been open some time, but it is only now becoming -general. The waiting throngs on all sides are just beginning to break -up and go mingling up and down and in and out, carrying messages, -making sacrifices, performing rites. The victims are blindfolded; the -conquerors have the light of destiny on their brows.</p> - -<p>A spectacle for the Gods! In the Old World the heavenly powers have -looked down more or less on the antagonism of the races, war and enmity -and all that results from great battles, the rout of armies, the -sacking of cities, the sinking of ships—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i8">Looking over wasted lands.</div> -<div>Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,</div> -<div>Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But in the New World the peoples are joined in co-operation and -friendship, working out in peace and trade the synthesis of a new race. -The gods look down on factory-chimneys belching smoke, on kingdoms -covered with red-gold corn uncoveted by men of arms, on hurrying -trains and the dancing peoples going hither and thither, with smiles -and little enchantments and allurements. They look upon the Protestant -pulpits where the Puritans preach, on the Roman Catholic Church and the -confessionals, on the Orthodox Church, on the Baptists, on the Mormons; -and on the way the varying peoples flock around temples, and in and -out of church doors, carrying messages, receiving messages. They look -upon many developments that we have so aptly called movements, the -mysterious "woman's movement", the Romanising movement, the Socialistic -movement. They look upon a million schools where the children, the -second generation of the dancers, are polished and tested and clothed -before they in their turn join the throng at the side and go down the -middle with their partners.</p> - -<p>It is like a kaleidoscope, and at each successive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> revolution the -peoples change their aspects and their pattern; but there is no -reverting to the original pattern, as in the kaleidoscope. The -constituents of the pattern are divining what the next pattern will be, -and it is always a new pattern, something nearer to the great coming -unity, the new American nation. In no one particular bosom is the -destiny of America; one man by himself means nothing there. It is a -whole people that is living or will live. Once the foreigner parts from -the waiting throngs at the side and enters the mystic dance, his own -little consciousness and purpose become but a part of the much greater -consciousness and purpose of the whole. It is not the development of -one sort of person, but the combination of a million sorts to make one. -It is not the development of a race, as is our own British progress in -Great Britain, but something which seems rather novel in the history -of mankind, the making of a new democracy. It is not a Gladstone or a -Bismarck or an Alexander the Liberator, who is leading this development -that I have called a Choir Dance, not a Lincoln or a Roosevelt or a -Wilson. Men have only their parts to play in the making of a democracy; -if they could make it all by themselves, or originate the making, or -achieve the making, it would not be a democracy that they were making. -As I said, it is a masked figure that leads the mystic movement—a -fate. In one sense there are many fates also among the dancers and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> -mingled with them,—a mysterious and wonderful ballet, perfect in idea -and in fulfilment.</p> - -<p>And as it is with men so it is with the rites they perform. There are -myriads of rites in the movement of the dance, but not one of them is -charged with absolute significance. Thus in the mazes of evolution -there stands impregnable, as it would seem, the historic open Bible of -America. Around it, marking time, is a massed host of Americans, now -reinforced by newcomers, now diminished by secessions, swayed to this -way and to that by streams of Catholics, streams of Hebrews, streams of -pleasure-lovers, but as yet holding its own, and claiming in sonorous -choruses that the Bible shall be the leaven of the New America.</p> - -<p>At another point of vantage on the stage you may see the Jews -proclaiming by vote that America is no longer a Christian country, -and calling the intellectuals and pleasure-wanters to support, if not -Judaism, at least rationalism and "intelligent" materialism.</p> - -<p>At another point you see the menace of the half-civilised negro, the -spectacle of the rapid multiplication of a people over whom there is -no control, and in whose nature lies, apparently, an enormous physical -power to degrade the type of the whites.</p> - -<p>There is the phenomenon of the wholesale slaughter and sacrifice of -blindfolded foreigners exploited in industrial cities; forests of men -used up as the forests of wood are worn away into daily newspapers and -rubbish.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> - -<p>You see the booths where dancers make voluntary abdication of European -nationality and take the oaths of American citizenship.</p> - -<p>You see the prizes for which, in the dance, whole crowds seem to be -straining and yearning and even struggling, the prize of wealth, of -even a little wealth, of a name printed in a newspaper, of a name -printed in all newspapers, the prize of fame, of political position, of -premiership. You see the wild political campaigns.</p> - -<p>You see the places where the ambitious laze by the way, the baseball -races where men are shouting themselves and others mad for an empty -game, the halls of rag-time and trotting. You see in thousands of -instances actions which seem to disgrace the name of America and to -augur ill for her future,—women sold into evil, negroes burned at the -stake, heinous crimes committed against children. But the destiny of -the great choric dance cannot be thwarted by any of these things. Death -is useful to life, darkness to brightness, sin to virtue—useful in a -way which it is not necessary for the individual to penetrate. Each -man fulfils his destiny, guides others according to his light, acts -according to his inclination, temptation, and conscience. The whole -nation takes care of itself.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Wherever I went in the States I was asked by journalists to say what I -thought the resultant type of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> American was going to be. America seemed -feverishly anxious to get an answer to that question. No one can answer -it, but it is exciting to speculate.</p> - -<p>"Are you aware that in a few years we shall come to such a pass that it -will be a stand-up fight, Americans <i>versus</i> Jews?" said one man to me. -"The influence of the other races goes for nothing beside the influence -of the Jews. The Jews are buying up all the real estate, they make any -sacrifice for education, they get the better of Christians nine times -out of ten. A Jewish pedlar comes past this door one day, and I think, -'Poor wretch!' Next year he comes past in a buggy; next year I find he -owns a big general store in the town; next year he owns a department -store and employs a thousand hands. He is too much for us."</p> - -<p>What is to be the emerging American? At New York I was inclined to -answer, "A sort of English-speaking Russian Jew who believes in dollars -and sensual pleasures before all else, who, however, reads advanced -literature, and whilst he is poor is an anarchist, and when he is rich -is more tyrannous than the Tsar—more tyrannous, but never illegally -so." But when I escaped into the country I found that New York was not -America, but only a great hostelry on the threshold of that country. I -learned the great control power of the Anglo-Saxon and Dutch Americans, -the subtle influence of the Russian people, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> after all not only -dominate the Jews in Russia, but give them many traits of the Russian -national character, making out of a materialist something which is -almost a sentimentalist. There are many Jews in Russia who have become -de-judaised by the Russians, and indeed the Christian Jew has become -part of the very fabric of that bureaucracy which the poor persecuted -mob of Hebrews hate and fear. The Russians are a strong influence in -the development of the American. And the Germans and Norwegians and -Swedes and Danes, who swiftly change to a species of American hardly -distinguishable from the old Anglo-Saxon and Dutch type? They cannot -go for nothing, they are not simply raw material, but are moulders and -fashioners as well. The coming American will be a very recognisable -relation of the Teutonic peoples. But he will nevertheless be clearly -and decidedly different from any one race on the Continent.</p> - -<p>Even to-day an American is distinctly recognisable as such on the -pavements of London, Berlin, or Paris. You know him by his face; he -does not need to speak to reveal his nationality. You can even tell a -man who has spent five years in the country; something new has been -moulded into his face and has crept into his eyes. I have even noticed -it in the face of Russian peasants returning from America after two -years away from Russia, travelling in a Russian train to their little -village home.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You are American?" I asked of them.</p> - -<p>"Yes, boss, you are rait," they replied, and smiled knowingly.</p> - -<p>They then began to enlarge on what a wonderful place America was—just -like American tourists in Switzerland.</p> - -<p>But the American of to-day is not the American of to-morrow. The -Tsar's subjects coming into America at the rate of a quarter of a -million a year ensure that, the flocking of almost whole nations from -South-Eastern Europe ensure it. As I said, none can tell what the new -American nation will be. We can only watch the wonderful patterns and -colours that form in the great ballet and choir dance, the mingling -in the labyrinths of destiny, the disappearances and the emergences, -the involution and the evolution. It is something enacted within the -mystery of the human race itself.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>XVII</span> <span class="smaller">FAREWELL, AMERICA!</span></h2> - -<p>I observed many interesting things in Chicago, the following circular -for instance:</p> - -<blockquote><p>Balsok aut John J. Casey.<br />Hlasujte na John J. Casey.<br /> -Glosujgie na John J. Casey.<br />Votate per John J. Casey.<br /> -Vote for John J. Casey,<br />Labour candidate for Congress.</p></blockquote> - -<p>Ten years hence that farrago will have changed to simply "Vote for -Casey."</p> - -<p>My neighbours in the hotel spelt their name in two ways, one way for -Polish friends and the other for American understanding:</p> - -<blockquote><p>Nawrozke.<br />Navrozky.</p></blockquote> - -<p>It is the latter name that will endure; or perhaps that also will be -shed for some cognomen that sounds more familiar and reliable,—to -Harris or Jones or Brown.</p> - -<p>I had a talk in a slum with a family of Roumanian Jews who had come to -Chicago twenty years ago. Chicago was a good place, they intended never -to leave it, the family had come there for ever.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> - -<p>I met an Alsatian who told me how he had fled from home when he was -twelve years old. He crossed the Swiss frontier, and got into Basle -at midnight, and had travelled to America <i>via</i> Paris and Havre, and -had never gone back. He did not want to serve in the German Army. His -father had been a great French soldier in the Franco-German war.</p> - -<p>"If you went back now would the German authorities bring you to trial?" -I asked.</p> - -<p>"No. I have the Emperor's pardon in black and white."</p> - -<p>"Do many of those who run away get pardon?"</p> - -<p>"Only when there is good cause. I used to send money home regularly to -keep my sister. The mayor of the town heard of my generosity, reported -it to Berlin, and a pardon was written out for me."</p> - -<p>"They thought it a pity to keep a good citizen out of his own country, -even though he had cheated the army. A wise action, eh?" said I.</p> - -<p>"The Germans are 'cute," he replied.</p> - -<p>I met a Russian revolutionary who complained that his compatriots in -the towns spent all their spare time getting drunk, fighting, and -praying. The Russian who made his pile went and opened a beer-shop. -He thought the priests of the Orthodox Church kept the immigrants -down; they got more money from drunkards than from the virtuous, and -therefore they made no efforts to encourage sobriety. He would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> like to -see the Orthodox Greek and Russian Churches demolished, and the priests -and deacons packed back to Europe. America was a new country, and -needed a new church.</p> - -<p>At Chicago also I received a letter from Andray Dubovoy, a young -Russian farmer, whose acquaintance I made by chance in the Russian -quarter of New York. He was rich enough to come travelling from North -Dakota to New York to see the sights of America, a wonderfully keen -and happy Russian, full of ideas about the future and stories of the -settlement where he lived. He gave me a most interesting account of the -Russian pioneers in North Dakota. In the towns where he lived every one -spoke Russian, and few spoke English. If you went into a shop and asked -for something in English the shopkeeper would shrug her shoulders and -send for a little child to interpret. The children went to school and -knew English, but the old folks could not master it, and had long given -up attempts to learn the language. The town was called Kief, and was -named after the province of Russia from which they originally came.</p> - -<p>He told me the history of two villages in Kiefsky Government in -Russia. They had heard of America, but thought it was a place in a -fairy-tale—not a real place at all. They were even incredulous when -the Jews began to depart for America in numbers. But they were destined -to understand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> - -<p>The villagers were people who asked themselves serious questions and -searched their hearts. They ceased going to monasteries and making -pilgrimages and kissing relics, and instead gathered together and read -the Gospel.</p> - -<p>Many were arrested for going to illegal meetings. Those who were sent -to prison or to Siberia went gladly, as on the Lord's business, to be -missionaries to those who sat in darkness.</p> - -<p>But there was so much persecution that a great number of the villagers -thought of following the example of the Jews and emigrating to America. -It was in 1894 that they resolved to go; but at that time a large party -of Stundists, who had gone out to Virginia the year before, came back -with tidings of bad life and poor wages, and damped the enthusiasm. Ten -families, however, were tempted by what the Stundists said, and they -took tickets to go to the very district of Virginia that the Stundists -had abandoned.</p> - -<p>On their way out they fell in with a party of German colonists going -back, after a holiday, to North Dakota. Such tales they told that five -of the families changed their minds and determined to throw in their -lot with the Germans.</p> - -<p>The five families received land free, homesteads, they were given -credit to purchase horses and cattle and carts and agricultural -implements, and they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> liked the new country and wrote glowingly to the -others in Virginia and in the two villages of Kiefsky Government. As a -result, twenty-five new families came at once, and in a few years there -were 200 families installed.</p> - -<p>Each man brought 20 to 30 dollars but no more, and each became indebted -to companies for 1000 to 1500 dollars, a debt which they hoped to pay, -but which hung on their necks like the instalments their ancestors had -to pay to the Land Banks of Russia for the land they had been granted.</p> - -<p>However, they ploughed and sowed and hoped for harvests, built log -cabins and even American houses. They had hard times, and were on the -verge of starvation—famine and death staring at them from the barren -fields. They were forced to make an appeal through the newspapers of -Eastern America, and as a result truck-loads of provisions were sent to -them, and "clothes to last five years."</p> - -<p>Succeeding years made up for their sufferings. There was a plentiful -flax harvest; and though in 1909 hail destroyed the wheat and in 1910 -and 1911 there was drought, the Russians bore up. And 1912 was a most -fruitful year, some farmers garnering as many as 25,000 bushels of -wheat.</p> - -<p>Each year they were able to add to their stock, to build a little more, -and to do various things. As a result of good harvests Andray Dubovoy -himself was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> able to go a-travelling, and to meet me and tell me his -story. He had himself come to America when a little child, and did not -know of his native land except by repute. He had not, however, had the -advantage of education in an American school as a child, and so was as -yet more Russian than American; but he was unlike the Russian type, he -was clean of limb, clear of eye and of skin, calm—almost a Quaker in -faith and morals. No one drank spirits or smoked tobacco in Kief, North -Dakota, he told me with pride. The Russians there were living in a new -way.</p> - -<p>"Are the people as religious now as they were in Russia?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Not quite," said he, "they feel they don't need religion so much in -America. At first the struggle for life was so hard, we had little -thought for religion. It was only as we gained a footing on the land -that we began to think of our religion seriously, and we built a -chapel. We have a chapel of our own now."</p> - -<p>"I suppose when you were no longer persecuted you did not need to -affirm your way of religion so emphatically," I hazarded.</p> - -<p>Andray did not know.</p> - -<p>"Have you any bosses in Kief?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Andray smiled.</p> - -<p>"Our sheriff is a cabman."</p> - -<p>"You feel no tyranny at all now?"</p> - -<p>He was glad to say they never had need of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>policeman; there were -no robberies, every one lived in mutual love and kindness. Only, of -course, they were heavily in debt to the companies, and felt they were -never solvent.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps, when you have improved your land and made it really valuable -you will be sold up by the companies and you will lose your property," -said I.</p> - -<p>He did not think that possible.</p> - -<p>"And what is the cost of living with you?"</p> - -<p>"Cheap," said my friend; "beef is 2½ cents a pound, eggs 10 cents -the dozen, butter 12 cents the pound, potatoes 35 cents the bushel; but -the things we import, such as boots, clothes, fruits, are very dear, -much too dear for our pockets."</p> - -<p>"Food is cheaper than in the country in Russia, then?"</p> - -<p>"Meat and butter and milk are cheaper, but other things are more -than twice as dear. Still we do not complain. It is a good life out -there; our children are growing up stalwart, happy, earnest. God's own -blessing is upon our enterprise."</p> - -<p>"Are you ever going back to Russia with its persecutions, its sins, its -crimes, its pilgrimages, the secret police, the hermits who live in -forest huts, its moujiks and babas, who think that America is a place -in a fairy-tale, at the other side of endless forests?"</p> - -<p>The farmer smiled in a peculiar way. He would like to go to see it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> - -<p>Was he quite sure he was going to be an American and not a Russian?</p> - -<p>"We have Russian classes in the summer," said he. "We must never forget -Russia, evil as she is."</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>It must not be forgotten that this little settlement of which I write -here is only one of many in North Dakota. There are already thirty -thousand Russians living in that state, and there are many people of -other nationalities living in the same way—Swedes, Germans, Danes. The -story of the young colonies is marvellously touching; when you read one -of the excellent novels of to-day, such as Miss Cather's <i>O Pioneers</i>, -which tells of the growth of a Swedish colony in the Middle West, you -are obliged to admit that it is no wonder the Americans find their own -such an exclusively interesting country.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>I returned to New York by train, and on the way saw the Niagara Falls, -one morning at dawn; the procession of white-headed rapids, the vapour -and mist rising in volumes veiling the sun, darkening it. A sight of -holiness and wonder that left me breathless. I was glad to be alone, -and just close the picture into the heart, in silence!</p> - -<p>Late one Saturday night I arrived in New York<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> and stepped out of the -Grand Central Station, pack on back, and searched for a hotel. The -grand "Knickerbocker," with sky-sign the length of the Great Bear, -was not for me. I wandered into a queer-looking little palace, all -mirrors, deep carpets, white paint, and niggers. My room faced the -street, and opposite me was a pleasure-resort, a cabaret, a dancehall, -a pool-house, with three stories of billiard-rooms, through whose open -windows I saw many white-sleeved billiard-players leaning over green -tables.</p> - -<p>The weather was so hot that all the windows in the city were wide open. -I heard the throbbing of music and dancing, even in my dreams.</p> - -<p>Some days later I booked my passage back to England. But I was in -America till the last moment. The American who was so kind to me, -and who was in herself a little America, "fed to me" daily the facts -of American life, and the hope of all those who were working with -her. We visited Patterson, where half a dozen "Jim Larkins" had been -fighting for fighting's sake, and leading the well-paid silk-workers to -strike for the sun and moon, and accept no compromise. We visited the -President of the City College and saw the wonderful modern equipment -of that institution. We called on J. Cotton Dana, the librarian of -Newark. I was enabled to visit a maternity hospital, heavily endowed by -Pierpont Morgan, and to see all the provision made for the happy birth -of the emerging <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>Americans. One vision remains in my memory of a dozen -babies on a tray, each baby having its mother's name written on a piece -of paper pinned to its swaddling-bands.</p> - -<p>We visited five or six settlements, and invitations were given me to -visit several thousand establishments in the United States, and miss -nothing. I would have liked to go farther afield and have a thousand -more conversations, but perhaps, since brevity is the soul of wit, -I have done enough. As it is, I have only made a small selection of -instances and adventures and thoughts from the immense amount of -material which I carried back to England and to Russia. I think America -has been brought to the touch-stone of my own intelligence, experience, -and personality.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>My friend took me to the charming play, <i>Peg-o'-my-Heart</i>.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it delicious?"</p> - -<p>"The thrilling thing is that the fifth act is not played out here, but -on the <i>Campania</i>, and I have to play that part myself," said I.</p> - -<p>We got out of the theatre at eleven. I saw her home. As midnight -was striking I claimed my luggage at the cloak-room at Christopher -Street Ferry. At 12.15 I entered the Cunard Dock and saw the great, -washed-over, shadowy, twenty-year-old Atlantic Liner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> Crowds of -drunkards were gesticulating and waving flags—Stars and Stripes and -Union Jacks—singing songs, embracing one another. Heavily laden -dock-porters, carrying sacks, moved in procession along the gangways. -Portly Chief Steward Macrady, with mutton-chop whiskers, weather-beaten -face, and wordless lips, sat in his little kiosk and motioned to me to -pass on when I showed my ticket. I got aboard.</p> - -<p>I returned with the home-going tide of immigrants; with flocks of Irish -who were going boisterously back to the Green Isle to spend small -fortunes; with Russians returning to Russia because their time was up -and they were due to serve in the army; with British rolling-stones, -grumbling at all countries; with people going home because they were -ill; with men and women returning to see aged fathers or mothers; -with a whole American family going from Butte, Montana, to settle in -Newcastle, England.</p> - -<p>It was a placid six-day voyage; six days of merriment, relaxation, and -happiness. The atmosphere was entirely a holiday one—not one of hope -and anxiety and faith, as that of going out had been. Every one had -money, almost every one was a person who had succeeded, who had tall -tales to tell when he got home to his native village in his native -hollow.</p> - -<p>Thousands of opinions were expressed about America. I heard few of -disillusion. Most people who go to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> America are disillusioned sooner -or later, but they re-catch their dreams and illusions, and gild their -memories when they set sail upon the Atlantic once more. They have -become Americans, and have a stake in America, and are ready to back -the New World against anything in the Old.</p> - -<p>"Do you like the Yankees?"</p> - -<p>"They're all right—on the level," answers an Irish boy.</p> - -<p>"Do you like America? Would you like to live there and settle down -there?" asks a friend of me, the wanderer.</p> - -<p>A smile answers that question.</p> - -<p>We stood, my friend and I, looking over the placid ocean as the moon -just pierced the clouds and glimmered on the waters.</p> - -<p>Evening splendours were upon the surface of the sea, the delicate light -of the moon just showing the waves, most beautiful and alluring.</p> - -<p>"It is like first acquaintance with one's beloved," said I; "like the -first smile that life gives you, bidding you follow her and woo her. -Later on, in the rich splendour, when the golden road is clear and -certain and ours, we do not care for the quest. We look back to those -first enchanting glances, those promising reconnaissances. The promise -of love is more precious than love itself, for it promises more than -itself; it promises the unearthly; it touches a note of a song<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> that -we heard once, and have been all our lives aching to remember and sing -again."</p> - -<p>America is too happy and certain and prosperous a place for some. It -is a place where the soul falls into a happy sleep. The more America -improves, the more will it prove a place of success, of material -well-being, of physical health, and sound, eugenically established men -and women. But to me, personally, success is a reproach; and failure, -danger, calamity, incertitude is a glory. For this world is not a -satisfying home, and there are those who confess themselves strangers -and pilgrims upon the earth.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Back to Russia! From the most forward country to the most backward -country in the world; from the place where "time is money" to where the -trains run at eighteen miles an hour; from the land of Edison to the -land of Tolstoy; from the religion of philanthropy to the religion of -suffering—home once more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>ADVERTISEMENTS</h2> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/box.jpg" alt="box" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad1.jpg" alt="advert1" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad2.jpg" alt="advert2" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad3.jpg" alt="advert3" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad4.jpg" alt="advert4" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad5.jpg" alt="advert5" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 60060-h.htm or 60060-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/6/60060/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: With Poor Immigrants in America - -Author: Stephen Graham - -Release Date: August 5, 2019 [EBook #60060] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS IN AMERICA *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -[Illustration: Logo] - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS -ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO - -MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED -LONDON· BOMBAY · CALCUTTA -MELBOURNE - -THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. -TORONTO - - -[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN SIGHT OF THE GREY-GREEN STATUE OF -LIBERTY IN NEW YORK HARBOUR.] - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -BY - -STEPHEN GRAHAM - -AUTHOR OF - -"WITH THE RUSSIAN PILGRIMS TO JERUSALEM" - -_WITH 32 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS -BY THE AUTHOR_ - -New York -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - -1914 - -_All rights reserved_ - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY HARPER AND BROTHERS. - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. - - -Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914. - - -Norwood Press -J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. -Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - -NOTE - - -A translation of this book has appeared serially in Russia before -publication in Great Britain and America. The matter has accordingly -been copyrighted in Russia. - -My acknowledgments are due to the Editor of _Harper's Magazine_ for -permission to republish the story of the journey. - -I wish to express my thanks to Mrs. James Muirhead, Miss M. A. Best, -and to Mr. J. Cotton Dana, who, with unsparing energy and hospitality, -helped me to see America as she is. - -STEPHEN GRAHAM. - -VLADIKAVKAZ, RUSSIA. - - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE - PROLOGUE xi - -CHAPTER - I. THE VOYAGE 1 - - II. THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT 41 - - III. THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION - OF BRITAIN 54 - - IV. INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK 73 - - V. THE AMERICAN ROAD 85 - - VI. THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE 103 - - VII. RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON 123 - -VIII. AMERICAN HOSPITALITY 141 - - IX. OVER THE ALLEGHANIES 161 - - X. DECORATION DAY 177 - - XI. WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES 188 - - XII. CHARACTERISTICS 209 - -XIII. ALONG ERIE SHORE 225 - - XIV. THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE 245 - - XV. THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY 252 - - XVI. THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES 274 - -XVII. FAREWELL, AMERICA! 294 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - 1. The emigrants in sight of the grey-green statue of - Liberty in New York Harbour _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - 2. Russian women on board-- - (_a_) The peasant 12 - (_b_) The intellectual and revolutionary type 12 - - 3. The boisterous Flemings 14 - - 4. (_a_) The dreamy Norwegian with the concertina 18 - (_b_) The endless dancing 18 - - 5. (_a_) A Russian Jew 26 - (_b_) "A patriarchal Jew, very tall and gaunt, - hauled along a small fat woman of his race" 26 - - 6. "One of the young ladies was being tossed up in a - blanket with a young Irish lad" (p. 25) 30 - - 7. (_a_) English 36 - (_b_) Russians--Fedya, Satiron, Alexy, Yoosha, Karl, - Maxim Holost 36 - - 8. Dainty Swedish girls and their partners looking over the sea 44 - - 9. Apple orchards in blossom on the spurs of the Catskills 84 - -10. On the way to school: my breakfast party 92 - -11. The tramp's dressing-room 110 - -12. By the side of the highway to Michigan: the electric freight - train 120 - -13. An Indiana farm: the wind-well behind it, the wheatfield - in front 142 - -14. "The cream-vans come along and buy up all the cream" (p. 261) 152 - -15. "Ploughed upland all dotted over with white heaps of - fertiliser" (p. 161) 158 - -16. "Slovaks working on the line with pick and shovel" 166 - -17. The Slav children of Snow-Shoe Creek 174 - -18. Italians working with the "mixer" on the Meadville Pike 200 - -19. Ingenious photographs of American types 212 - -20. The Lithuanian who sat behind the asphalt and coal-oil - scatterer 226 - -21. "Johnny Kishman, a German boy, got off his bicycle to - find out what manner of man I was" (p. 233) 234 - -22. Erie Shore. "Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow - tree, I made my bed" (p. 235) 238 - -23. The sower 252 - -24. The store on wheels 258 - -25. "I had an interesting talk with an ancient man by the side - of the road" 262 - -26. "Old Samuel Judie, lying on a bank, and philosophising on - life" 270 - -27. At the fountain in the park: a hot day in Chicago 276 - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -From Russia to America; from the most backward to the most forward -country in the world; from the place where machinery is merely imported -or applied, to the place where it is invented; from the land of Tolstoy -to the land of Edison; from the most mystical to the most material; -from the religion of suffering to the religion of philanthropy. - -Russia and America are the Eastern and Western poles of thought. Russia -is evolving as the greatest artistic philosophical and mystical nation -of the world, and Moscow may be said already to be the literary capital -of Europe. America is showing itself as the site of the New Jerusalem, -the place where a nation is really in earnest in its attempt to realise -the great dream of human progress. Russia is the living East; America -is the living West--as India is the dead East and Britain is the dying -West. Siberia will no doubt be the West of the future. - -For one who knows Russia well America is full of a great revelation. -The contrast in national spirit is so sharp that each helps you to see -the other more clearly. The American people are now on the threshold -of a great progressive era; they feel themselves within sight of the -realisation of many of their ideals. They have been hampered badly by -the trusts and the "bosses" and the corrupt police, but they are now -proving that these obstacles are merely temporary anomalies, caused by -the overwhelmingly sudden growth of population and prosperity. A few -years ago it could with truth be said that material conditions were -worse in the United States than in the Old World. But it has been clear -all the time that the corruption existent in the country was truly -foreign to the country's temper. - -The common citizen is becoming the watchdog of the police-service. -Tammany has fallen. Women are getting the suffrage, state by state. -The nation is unanimous in its cry for a pure state, a clean country, -and an uncorrupted people. All diseases are to be healed. Couples who -wish to be married must produce health-certificates. The mentally -deficient and hereditary criminals are to be segregated. Blue-books, -or rather what the Americans call White-books, are going to form the -Bible of a new nation. The day is going to be _rationally_ divided -into eight hours' work, eight hours' pleasure, eight hours' sleep--or -rather, eight hours' looking at machinery, eight hours' pleasure, eight -hours' sleep, for machinery is going to accomplish all the ugly toil. -Everybody is to be well dressed, well housed, comfortable. America -is raging against drink, against the exploitation of immigrants, -against the fate of the white slave, against any one who has done -anything immoral. It will nationally expel a Russian genius like -Gorky. It makes great difficulty of admitting to its shores any one -who has ever been in prison. It is so in earnest about the future of -America that it has set up what is almost an insult to Europe--the -examination of Ellis Island. Any one who has gone through the ordeal -of the poor emigrant, as I did, going into America with a party of -poor Russians in the steerage, and has been medically examined and -clerically cross-questioned about his life and ethics, knows that -America is a materialist and progressive country, and that she is no -longer a harbour of refuge for the weak, but a place where a nation is -determined to have health and strength and prosperity. - -Now in Russia, when you arrive there, you find no such tyranny as that -of Ellis Island awaiting you. You have come to the land of charity. If -there is any question it is of whether you are a Russian Jew wanting to -be recognised as an American citizen. Their charity does not extend to -the Jews. But disease does not stand in your way, neither does crime; -ethics are not inquired into; Mylius or Mrs. Pankhurst or Miss Marie -Lloyd receive their passports without a frown. You have come to the -nation to whom are precious the sick, the mentally deficient, the -criminal, the waste-ends of humanity, the poor woman on the streets, -the drunkard. Her greatest novelist, Dostoievsky, was an epileptic; -her national poet, Nekrasof, was a drunkard; Vrubel, one of her -greatest painters, was an imbecile; Chekhof, her great tale-writer, -was a hopeless consumptive. She is not opposed to the good and the -sound, but the suffering are dearer to her, more comprehensible. She -loves the drunkard, and says "Yes, you are right to be drunk; you are -probably a good man. It is what you are likely to be in this world of -enigmas." She loves the white slave, but does not wish to shut her in -a home for such. The Russians, so far from segregating the diseased -and the fallen, frequently fall in love with them and marry them. They -are sorry for the crippled children, but do not wish they had never -been born. They see in them a reminder of the true lot of man upon the -world. They make such children holy, and set them at the church doors. -Russia does not execute the murderer except under martial law, but she -sends him to Siberia to understand life and be _resurrected_. Thus, in -_The Crime and Punishment_, Raskolnikof the murderer, goes to Siberia -with little Sonia, the white slave, who whispers to him all the way the -promises of St. John's Gospel. - -In America the man who is tramping the road and will not work is an -object of enmity. He is almost a criminal. He is not wanted. He will -receive little hospitality, must chop wood for his breakfast or steal. -His life is a blasphemy breathed against the American ideal. But in -Russia none is looked upon more kindly than the man on the road, the -tramp or the pilgrim. There are a million or so of them on the road -in the summer. They are characteristic of Russia. In them the Russian -confesses that he is a stranger and a pilgrim upon the earth. - -The Christianity of Russia is the Christianity of death, of -renunciation, of what is called the _podvig_, the turning away from the -empire of "the world" as proposed by Satan on the mountain, the wasting -of the ointment rather than the raising of the poor, the giving the lie -to Satan, the part of Mary rather than the part of Martha. - -But the Christianity of America is the Christianity of Life, of -affirmation, of "making good," of accepting "the world" and preparing -for Christ's second coming, of obedience to the law, of almsgiving. -America is the great almsgiver, appealed to for money from the ends -of the earth, and for every object. If Russia can give faith, America -can give the rest. It is impossible for America to say with St. Peter, -"Silver and gold have I none, but _such as I have_ give I thee." The -Americans believe in money, and the pastor of a fashionable church is -able to say, "I preach to fifty million dollars every Sunday morning." -But as Mme. Novikof, in one of her brilliant conversations, once said, -"What is greater than the power of money? Why, contempt of money." -There are no people in the world who keep fewer account-books than the -Russians. They fling about their wealth or the pennies of their poverty -with the generous assurance that the bond of brotherhood is greater -than their fear of personal deprivation. - -The Americans are great collectors. It may be said collecting is the -genius of the West; empty-handedness is the glory of the East. - -The Russians are a sad and melancholy people. But they do not want to -lose their melancholy or to exchange it for Western self-satisfaction. -It is a divine melancholy. As their great contemporary poet Balmont -writes: - - - I know what it is to moan endlessly-- - In the long cold Winter to wait in vain for Spring, - But I know also that the nightingale's song is beautiful to us just - because of its sadness, - And that the silence of the snowy mountain peaks is more beautiful - than the lisping of streams-- - - -which is somewhat of a contrast to a conversation reported in one of -Professor Jacks' books: - - - _Passenger, looking out of the train window at the snowy ranges of - the Rockies_: "What mountains!" - - _American, puzzled for a moment_: "I guess I h'ant got any use for - those, but ef you're thinking of buying real estate...." - - -The phrase, _real estate_! - -Britain is seated in the mean. Compared with America she is -semi-Eastern. Despite the blood-relationship of the American and -British peoples they are more than an ocean apart. We receive without -much thanks American songs and dances, boxers, Carnegie libraries, -and plenty of money for all sorts of purposes. But our backs are to -America; we look towards Russia and are all agog about the next Russian -book or ballet or music. We are an old nation; as far as the little -island is concerned hope has died down. We have explored the island. -America will take a long time to explore _her_ territory. No vast -tracts and inexhaustible resources and terrific upheavals of Nature -reflect themselves in our national mood. The American working man has -a true passion for work, for his country, for everything; the British -working man does his duty. We have not the belief in life that the -American has--we have not yet the Russian's belief in death. - -The American breathes full into his lungs the air of life. The American -is glad at the sight of the strong, the victorious, the healthful. How -often, in novels and in life, does the American woman, returning from -a sojourn in the far West, confess to her admiration of the cowboy! -She is thrilled by the sight of such strong wild "husky" fellows, each -of them equal to four New Yorkers. In England, however, the town girl -has no smiles for the strong peasant; he is a country bumpkin, no -more. She wants the ideal, the unearthly. In Russia weakness attracts -far more than strength; love is towards consumptives, cripples, the -half-deranged, the impossibles. The Americans do not want the weak -one; England backs the "little un" to win; Russia loves the weak one, -feeling he will be eternally beaten, and loves him because he will be -beaten. But America loves the strong, the healthy, the pure, because -she is tired of Europe and the weakness and disease and sorrow of -Europeans. - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - - - - -I - -THE VOYAGE - - -At Easter 1912 I was with seven thousand Russian peasants at the Holy -Sepulchre in Jerusalem. On Easter Day 1913 I arrived with Russian -emigrants at New York, and so accomplished in two consecutive years two -very different kinds of pilgrimage, following up two very significant -life-movements in the history of the world of to-day. One of these -belongs to the old life of Europe, showing the Middle Ages as it still -survives under the conservative regime of the Tsars; the other is -fraught with all the possibilities of the future in the making of the -New America. - -It was in March that I decided to follow up the movements of the people -out of the depths of Europe into America, and with that purpose sought -out I---- K----, a well-known immigration agent in the East End of -London. He transhipped Russians coming _via_ Libau and London, and -could tell me just when he expected the next large detachment of them. - -"Have you a letter of introduction?" asked the agent. - -"I shouldn't have thought any was necessary," I answered. "A Russian -friend advised me to go to you. You don't stand to lose anything by -telling me what I want to know." - -He would do nothing for me without an introduction, without knowing -exactly with whom he had to deal. I might be a political spy. The hand -of the Tsar was long, and could ruin men's lives even in America. At -least so he thought. - -I mentioned the name of a revolutionary anarchist, a militant -suffragette. He said a letter from her would suffice. I went to -Hampstead and explained my predicament to the lady. She wrote me a note -to a mysterious revolutionary who was living above Israel's shop, and -this missive, when presented, was promptly taken as a full credential. -The mysterious revolutionary was on the point of death, and could not -see me, but Israel read the letter, and at once agreed that he was -ready to be of any service to me he could. There was a large party of -Russians coming soon, not Russian Jews, but real Russian peasants, -and he would let me know as soon as he could just when they might be -expected. I returned to my ordinary avocations, and every now and then -rang up "I. K." on the telephone, and asked, "Had the Russians come?" -"When were they coming?" At last the intelligence came, "They are just -arriving. Hurry down to Hayes wharf at once." - -The news took me in the midst of other things, but I dropped all and -rushed to London Bridge. There, at Tooley Street, I witnessed one of -the happenings you'd never think was going on in London. - -A long procession of Russian peasants was just filing out from the -miserable steamship _Perm_. They were in black, white, and brown -sheepskins and in astrakhan hats, some in blue blouses and peak-hats, -some in brightly embroidered linen shirts; none wore collars, but some -had new shiny bowlers, on which the litter and dust of the port was -continually falling,--bowlers which they had evidently purchased from -German hawkers who had come on board at some point in the journey. The -women wore sheepskins also, many of them, and their heads were covered -with shawls; they had their babies sewn up in little red quilts. Beside -them there were pretty town girls and Jewesses dressed in cottons and -serges and cheap hats. There were few old people and many young ones, -and they carried under their arms clumsy, red-painted wooden boxes -and baskets from which kettles and saucepans dangled. On their backs -they had sacks, and in their hands several of them had crusts of bread -picked up in their hurry as they were hustled from their berths and -through the mess-room. Some of the sacks on their backs, as I afterward -saw, contained nothing but crusts of white and black bread, on which, -perhaps, they trusted to live during the first weeks in America! - -They were all rather bewildered for the moment, and a trifle anxious -about the Customs officers. - -"What is this town?" they asked. - -"For what are the Customs men looking?" - -"Where is our agent--the man they said would be here?" - -I entered into conversation with them, and over and over again answered -the question, "What is this town?" I told them it was London. - -"Is it a beautiful town?" they asked. - -"Is it a large town?" - -"Do we have to go in a train?" - -"How far is it?" - -"Look at my ticket; what does it say?" - -They made a miscellaneous crowd on the quay-side, and I talked to them -freely, answered their questions, and in turn put questions of my own. -They came from all parts of Russia, even from remote parts, and were -going to just as diverse places in America: to villages in Minnesota, -in Michigan, in Iowa; to Brooklyn, to Boston, to Chicago. I realised -the meaning of the phrase, "the magic word Chicago." I told them how -many people there were in London, how much dock labourers get a week, -pointed out the Tower Bridge, and calmed them about the non-appearance -of their agent. I knew him, and if he didn't turn up I would lead them -to him. They might be calm; he knew Russian, he would arrange all for -them. - -At last a representative of my East End friend appeared--David the Jew. -He was known to all the dockers as David, but he had a gilt I. K. on -the collar of his coat, wore a collar, had his hair brushed, and was a -person of tremendous importance to the eager and humble emigrants. Not -a Jew, no! No Jew has authority in Russia. No Jew looked like David, -and so the patient Christians thought him an important official when -he rated them, and shouted to them, and cursed them like a herdsman -driving home a contrary lot of cows and sheep and pigs. - -Another Jew appeared, in a green hat and fancy waistcoat, and he -produced a sheaf of papers having the names, ages, and destinations of -the emigrants all tabulated. He began a roll-call in one of the empty -warehouses of the dock. Each peasant as his name was called was ticked -off, and was allowed to gather up his belongings and bolt through the -warehouse as if to catch a train. I ran to the other side and found -a series of vans and brakes, such as take the East-enders to Happy -Hampstead on a Bank Holiday. Into these the emigrants were guided, -and they took their seats with great satisfaction. They clambered in -from all sides, showing a preference for getting up by the wheels, and -nearly pulling away the sides of the frail vehicles. - -The vanmen jested after their knowledge of jests, and put their arms -round the pretty girls' waists. David rushed to and fro, fretting and -scolding. Loafers and clerks collected to look at the girls. - -"Why does that old man look at us so? he ought to be ashamed of -himself," said a pretty Moscow girl to me. "He is dressed like twenty -or twenty-five, but he is quite old. How quizzically he looks at us." - -"He is forty," said I. - -"Sixty!" - -"That's a pretty one," said a young man whose firm imported Koslof eggs. - -"What does he say?" - -"He says that you are pretty." - -"Tell him I thank him for the compliment; but he is not interesting--he -has not a moustache." - -All the vans filled, and there was a noise and a smell of Russia in the -grim and dreary dockyard, and such a chatter of young men and women, -all very excited. At last David got them all in order. I stepped up -myself, and one by one we went off through the East End of the city. - -We went to St. Pancras station. On the way one of the peasants stepped -down from his brake and, entering a Jewish hat-shop, bought himself a -soft green felt and put his astrakhan hat away in his sack. He was the -subject of some mirth, and also of some envy in the crowd that sat down -to coffee and bread and butter at the Great Midland terminus. Under the -terms of their tickets the emigrants were fed all the way from Libau -to New York without extra charge. - -They were all going from Liverpool, some by the Allan Line, some by the -White Star, and others by the Cunard. As by far the greatest number -were going on the Cunard boat, I went to I. K. and booked a passage on -that line. There was much to arrange and write, my sack to pack, and -many good-byes to utter--all in the briefest space of time. - -At midnight I returned to the station and took my seat in the last -train for Liverpool. Till the moment before departure I had a -compartment to myself; but away down at the back of the train were -coach after coach of Russians, all stretched on their sheepskins on -the narrow seats and on the floor, with their children in the string -cradles of the parcel-racks. They were crowded with bundles and baskets -and kettles and saucepans, and yet they had disposed themselves to -sleep. As I walked along the corridor I heard the chorus of heavy -breathing and snoring. In one of the end carriages a woman was on her -knees praying--prostrating and crossing herself. As we moved out of St. -Pancras I felt as I did when upon the pilgrim boat going to Jerusalem, -and I said to myself with a thrill, "We have mysterious passengers on -board." The sleeping Russians gave an atmosphere to the English train. -It was like the peculiar feeling that comes to the other people in a -house when news is given downstairs that a new baby has arrived. - -A man stepped into my compartment just as the train was moving--a -jovial Briton who asked me to have a cigar, and said, when I refused, -that he was glad, for he really wanted to give it to the guard. He -wanted the guard to stop the express for him at Wellingborough, and -reckoned that the cigar would put him on friendly terms. He inquired -whether I was a Mason, and when I said I was not, proceeded to reveal -Masonic secrets, unbuttoning his waistcoat to show me a little golden -sphere which opened to make a cross. - -At St. Albans he gave the guard the cigar, and the charm worked, for he -was enabled to alight at Wellingborough. And I was left alone with my -dreams. - - -In a thunderstorm, with a high gale and showers of blinding hail -and snow, with occasional flashing forth of amazing sunshine, to be -followed by deepest gloom of threatening cloud, we collected on the -quay at Liverpool--English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Swedes, Finns--all -staring at one another curiously, and trying to understand languages -we had never heard before. Three hundred yards out in the harbour -stood the red-funnelled Cunarder which was to bear us to America; and -we waited impatiently for the boat which should take us alongside. -We carried baskets and portmanteaus in our strained hands; most of -us were wearing heavy cloaks, and some had sacks upon their backs, -so we were all very ready to rush aboard the ferry-boat and dump our -burdens on its damp decks. What a stampede there was--people pushing -into portmanteaus, baskets pushing into people! At last we had all -crossed the little gangway, and all that remained on shore were -the few relatives and friends who had come to see the English off. -This pathetic little crowd sang ragtime songs, waved their hats and -handkerchiefs, and shouted. There was a bandying of farewells: - -"Ta-ta, ta-ta-ta!" - -"Wish you luck!" - -"Ta-ta-a, ole Lloyd George! No more stamp-licking!" - -"Good luck, old boy!" - -"The last of old England!" - -The foreign people looked on and smiled non-comprehendingly; the -English and Americans huzzaed and grinned. Then away we went over the -water, and thoughts of England passed rapidly away in the interest -of coming nearer to civilisation's toy, the great liner. We felt the -romance of ocean travel, and also the tremulous fear which the ocean -inspires. Then as we lay in the lee of the vast, steep, blood- and -soot-coloured liner, each one of us thought of the _Titanic_ and the -third-class passengers who went down beneath her into the abyss. - -The vastness of the liner made our ferry-boat look like a matchbox. -A door opened in the great red wall and a little gangway came out of -it like a tongue coming out of a mouth. We all picked up our bags and -baggage and pushed and squirmed along this narrow footway that led -into the mouth of the steamer and away down into its vast, cavernous, -hungry stomach: English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Poles, Swedes, -Finns, Flemings, Spaniards, Italians, Canadians, passed along and -disappeared--among them all, I myself. - -There were fifteen hundred of us; each man and woman, still carrying -handbags and baskets, filed past a doctor and two assistants, and was -cursorily examined for diseases of the eye or skin. - -"Hats and gloves off!" was our first greeting on the liner. We marched -slowly up to the medical trio, and each one as he passed had his eyelid -seized by the doctor and turned inside out with a little instrument. -It was a strange liberty to take with one's person; but doctors are -getting their own way nowadays, and they were looking for _trachoma_. -For the rest the passing of hands through our hair and examination of -our skin for signs of scabies was not so rough, and the cleaner-looking -people were not molested. - -Still carrying our things we took our medical-inspection cards and -had them stamped by a young man on duty for that purpose. Then we were -shown our berths. - -There was a spring bed for each person, a towel, a bar of soap, and -a life-preserver. The berths were arranged, two, four, and six in a -cabin. Married couples could have a room to themselves, but for the -rest men and women were kept in different sets of cabins. British were -put together, Scandinavians together, Russians and Jews together. It -was so arranged that the people in the cabins understood one another's -language. Notices on the walls warned that all emigrants would be -vaccinated on deck, whether they had been vaccinated before or not; -that all couples making love too warmly would be married compulsorily -at New York if the authorities deemed it fit, or should be fined or -imprisoned; that in case of fire or smoke being seen anywhere we were -to report to chief steward, but not to our fellow-passengers; that -smoking was not allowed except on the upper deck, and so on. The cabins -were a glittering, shining white; they were small and box-like; they -possessed wash-basins and water for the first day of the voyage, but -not to be replenished on succeeding days. There were general lavatories -where you might wash in hot or cold water, and there were bathrooms -which were locked and never used. Each cabin had a little mirror. -The cabins were steam-heated, and when the passengers were dirty -the air was foul. Fresh air was to be found on the fore and after -decks, except in time of storm, when we were barred down. In time of -storm the smell below was necessarily worse--atrocious, for most of -the people were very sick. We had, however, a great quantity of dark -space to ourselves, and could prowl into the most lonesome parts of -the vessel. The dark recesses were always occupied by spooning couples -who looked as if they had embarked on this journey only to make love -to one another. There were parts of the ship wholly given over to -dancing, other parts to horse-play and feats of strength. There was an -immense dining-room with ante-chambers and there, to the sound of the -jangling dinner-bell echoing and wandering far or near over the ship, -we assembled to meals. - -[Illustration: RUSSIAN WOMEN ON BOARD. - -The peasant woman. - -The intellectual and revolutionary type.] - - -The emigrants flocked into the mess-room from the four doors to twenty -immense tables spread with knives and forks and toppling platters of -bread. Nearly all the men came in in their hats,--in black glistening -ringlety sheepskin hats, in fur caps, in bowlers, in sombreros, in -felt hats with high crowns, in Austrian cloth hats, in caps so green -that the wearer could only be Irish. Most of the young men were -curious to see what girls there were on board, and looked eagerly to -the daintily clad Swedish women, blonde and auburn-haired beauties -in tight-fitting, speckless jerseys. The British girls came in in -their poor cotton dresses, or old silk ones, things that had once -looked grand for Sunday wear but now bore miserable crippled hooks -and eyes, threadbare seams, gaping fastenings--cheerful daughters of -John Bull trapesing along in the shabbiest of floppy old boots. Then -there were the dark and somewhat forward Jewesses, talking animatedly -with little Jew men in queer-shaped trousers and skimpy coats; there -were slatternly looking Italian women with their children, intent on -being at home in whatever circumstances. There was a party of shapely -and attractive Austrian girls that attracted attention from the others -and a regular scramble to try to sit next to them or near them. No one -ever saw a greater miscellaneity and promiscuity of peoples brought -together by accident. I sat between a sheepskin-wrapped peasant wife -from the depths of Russia and a neat Danish engineer, who looked no -different from British or American. Opposite me were two cowboys going -back to the Far West, a dandified Spanish Jew sat next them on one hand -and two Norwegians in voluminous knitted jackets on the other. At the -next table was a row of boisterous Flemings, with huge caps and gaudy -scarfs. There were Americans, spruce and smart and polite; there were -Italians, swarthy and dirty, having their black felt hats on their -heads all through the meal and resting their elbows on the table as -if they'd just come into a public-house in their native land. There -were gentle youths in shirts which womenfolk had embroidered in Little -Russia; there were black-bearded Jewish patriarchs in their gaberdines, -tall and gaunt. - -[Illustration: THE BOISTEROUS FLEMINGS.] - -A strange gathering of seekers, despairers, wanderers, pioneers, -criminals, scapegoats. I thought of all the reasons that had brought -these various folk together to make a community, that had brought -them all together to form a Little America. From Great Britain it is -so often the drunkard who is sent. Some young fellow turns out to be -wilder than the rest of his family; he won't settle down to the sober, -righteous, and godly life that has been the destiny of the others; he -is likely to disgrace respectability, so parents or friends give him -his passage-money and a little capital and send him away across the -sea. Henceforth his name is mentioned at home with a 'ssh, or with a -tear--till the day that he makes his fortune. With the drunkard go -the young forger or embezzler whose shame has been covered up and -hidden, but who can get no "character" from his last employer. Then -there are the unemployed, and those discontented with their jobs, the -out-of-works, the men who have seen no prospect in the old land and -felt no freedom. There are the wanderers, the rovers, the wastrels, so -called, who have never been able to settle down; there are also the -prudent and thoughtful men who have read of better conditions and go -simply to take advantage of them. There are those who are there almost -against their will, persuaded by the agents of the shipping companies -and the various people interested to keep up the flow of people into -America. There are the women who are going out to their sweethearts to -be married, and the wives who are going to the husbands who have "made -good"; there are the girls who have got into trouble at home and have -slid away to America to hide their shame; there are girls going to be -domestic servants, and girls doomed to walk the streets,--all sitting -down together, equals, at a table where no grace is said but the -whisper of hope which rises from each heart. - -But it is not only just these people whom I have so materially and -separately indicated. The cheerful lad who is beginning to flirt with -his first girl acquaintance on the boat has only a few hours since -dried the tears off his cheeks; they are nearly all young people on -the boat, and they mostly have loving mothers and fathers in the -background, and friends and sweethearts, some of them. And there are -some lonely ones who have none who care for them in all the world. -There are young men who are following a lucky star, and who will never -be so poor again in their lives, boys who have guardian angels who -will never let them injure their foot on the ground, boys who have in -their favour good fairies, boys and girls who have old folk praying -for them. And there is the prodigal son, as well as the too-prodigal -daughter. There are youngest brothers in plenty, going to win the -princess in a way their elder brothers never thought of; young Hans is -there, Aladdin, Norwegian Ashepattle, Ivan Durak--the Angel of Life is -there; there is also the Angel of Death. - -We sat down together to our first meal,--the whole company of the -emigrant passengers broke bread together and became thereby one -body,--a little American nation in ourselves. I am sure that had the -rest of the world's people been lost we could have run a civilization -by ourselves. We had peasants to till the soil, colliers to give us -fuel, weavers and spinners to make cloth, tailors to sew it into -garments, comely girls of all nations to be our wives; we had clerks -and shop-keepers and Jews with which to make cities; musicians and -music-hall artists to divert us, and an author to write about it all. - -Mugs half-full of celery soup were whisked along the tables; not a -chunk of bread on the platters was less than an inch thick; the hash of -gristly beef and warm potato was what would not have been tolerated in -the poorest restaurant, but we set ourselves to eat it, knowing that -trials in plenty awaited us and that the time might come when we should -have worse things than these to bear. The Swedes and the British were -finicky; the Russians and the Jews ate voraciously as if they'd never -seen anything so good in their lives. - -The peasant woman next to me crossed herself before and after the meal; -her Russian compatriots removed their hats and some of them said grace -in a whisper to themselves. But most ate even with their hats on, and -most with their hands dirty. You would not say we ate as if in the -presence of God and with the memories, in the mind, of prayers for the -future and heart-break at parting with home; yet this meal was for the -seeing eye a wonderful religious ceremony, a very real first communion -service. The rough food so roughly dispensed was the bread and wine, -making them all of one body and of one spirit in America. Henceforth -all these people will come nearer and nearer to one another, and drift -farther and farther from the old nations to which they belonged. They -will marry one another, British and Jewish, Swedish and Irish, Russian -and German; they will be always eating at America's board; they will -be speaking the one language, their children will learn America's -ideals in America's school. Even from the most aboriginal, illiterate -peasant on board, there must come one day a little child, his grandson -or great-grandson, who will have forgotten the old country and the old -customs, whose heart will thrill to America's idea as if he had himself -begotten it. - -On Sunday morning when we came upstairs from our stuffy little cabin -we were gliding past the green coast of Ireland, and shortly after -breakfast-time we entered the beautiful harbour of Queenstown, -blue-green, gleaming, and perfect under a bright spring sun. Hawkers -came aboard with apples, knotted sticks, and green favours--the day -following would be St. Patrick's. And we shipped a score of Irish -passengers. - -Outside Queenstown a different weather raged over the Atlantic, and -as we steamed out of the lagoon it came forward to meet us. The -clouds came drifting toward us, and the wind rattled in the masts. -The ocean was full of glorious life and wash of wave and sea. A crowd -of emigrants stood in the aft and watched the surf thundering away -behind us; the great hillsides of green water rose into being and -then fell out of being in grand prodigality. Gulls hung over us as we -rushed forward and poised themselves with gentle feet outstretched, -or flew about us, skirling and crying, or went forward and overtook -us. Meanwhile Ireland and Britain passed out of view, and we were left -alone with the wide ocean. We knew that for a week we should not see -land again, and when we did see land that land would be America. - -[Illustration: THE DREAMY NORWEGIAN WITH THE CONCERTINA.] - -[Illustration: THE ENDLESS DANCING.] - - -Then we all began to know one another, to talk, to dance, to sing, to -play together. All the cabins were a-buzz with chatter, and along -the decks young couples began to find one another out and to walk -arm and arm. Two dreamy Norwegians produced concertinas, and without -persuasion sat down in dark corners and played dance music for hours, -for days. Rough men danced with one another, and the more fortunate -danced with the girls, dance after dance, endlessly. The buffets were -crowded with navvies clamouring for beer; the smoking-rooms were full -of excited gamblers thumbing filthy cards. The first deck was wholly -in electric light, you mounted to the second and it was all in shadow, -you went higher still and you came to daylight. You could spend your -waking hours on any of these levels, but the lower you went the warmer -it was. On the electric-light deck were to be found the cleaner and -more respectable passengers; they sat and talked in the mess-room, -played the piano, sang songs. Up above them all the hooligans rushed -about, and there also, in the shadow, in the many recesses and dark -empty corners young men and women were making love, looking moonily at -one another, kissing furtively and giving by suggestion an unwonted -atmosphere to the ship. It was also on this deck that the wild couples -danced and the card-players shuffled and dealt. Up on the open deck -were the sad people, and those who loved to pace to and fro to the -march music of the racing steamer and the breaking waves. - -I wandered from deck to deck, everywhere; opened many doors, peered -into many faces, sat at the card-table, crushed my way into the bar, -entered into the mob of dancers, found a Russian girl and talked to -her. But I was soon much sought for. When the Russian-speaking people -found out I had their language they followed me everywhere, asking -elementary questions about life and work and wages in America. Even -after I had gone to bed and was fast asleep my cabin door would open -and some woolly-faced Little Russian would cry out, "Gospodin Graham, -forgive me, please, I have a little prayer to make you; write me also a -letter to a farmer." - -I had written for several of them notes which they might present at -their journey's end. - -All day long I was in converse with Russians, Poles, Jews, Georgians, -Lithuanians, Finns. - -"Look at these Russian fatheads (_duraki_)," said a young Jew. "Why -do they go to America? Why do they leave their native land to go to a -country where they will be exploited by every one?" - -"Why do _you_ leave it, then?" asked a Russian. - -"Because I have no rights there," replied the Jew. - -"Have we rights?" the Russian retorted. - -"If I had your rights in Russia I'd never leave that country. I'd find -something to do that would make me richer than I could ever be in -America." - -There were three or four peasants around, and another rejoined. "But -you could have our rights if you wished." - -Whereupon I broke in: - -"But only by renouncing the Jewish faith." - -"That is exactly the truth," said the Jew. - -"Yes," said a Russian called Alexy Mitrophanovitch, "he can have all -our rights if he renounces his faith." - -"If I am baptized to get your rights what use is that to you? Why do -Christians ask for such an empty thing?" - -"All the same," said another Russian, "in going to America you will -break your faith, and so will we. I have heard how it happens. They -don't keep the Saints' days there." - -Alexy Mitrophanovitch was a fine, tall, healthy-looking peasant workman -in a black sheepskin. With him, and as an inseparable, walked a -broad-faced Gorky-like tramp in a dusty peak-hat. The latter was called -Yoosha. - -"You see, all I've got," said Alexy to me, "is just what I stand up in. -Not a copeck of my own in my pocket, and not a basket of clothes. My -friend Yoosha is lending me eighty roubles so as to pass the officials -at New York, but of course I give it back to him when we pass the -barrier. We worked together at Astrakhan." - -"Have you a bride in Russia?" - -No, he was alone. He did not think to marry; but he had a father and a -mother. At Astrakhan he had been three thousand versts away from his -village home, so he wouldn't be so much farther away in America. - -He was going to a village in Wisconsin. A mate of his had written that -work was good there, and he and Yoosha had decided to go. They would -seek the same farmer, a German, Mr. Joseph Stamb--would I perhaps write -a letter in English to Mr. Stamb?... - -Both he and Yoosha took communion before leaving Astrakhan. I asked -Alexy whether he thought he was going to break his faith as the other -Russians had said to the Jew. How was he going to live without his Tsar -and his Church? - -He struck his breast and said, "There, that is where my Church is! -However far away I go I am no farther from God!" - -Would he go back to Russia? - -He would like to go back to die there. - -"Tell me," said he, "do they burn dead bodies in America? I would not -like my body to be burned. It was made of earth, and should return to -the earth." - -The man who slept parallel with me in my cabin was an English collier -from the North Country. He had been a bad boy in the old country, and -his father had helped him off to America. Whenever he had a chance to -talk to me, it was of whippet-racing and ledgers and prizes and his pet -dog. - -"As soon as a get tha monny a'll enter that dawg aht Sheffield. A took -er to Durby; they wawn't look at 'er there. There is no dawg's can -stan' agin her. At Durby they run the rabbits in the dusk, an' the -little dawg as 'ad the start could see 'em, but ourn moight a been at -Bradford fur all she could see. A'll bet yer that dawg's either dead -or run away. She fair lived fer me. Every night she slep in my bed. -Ef ah locked 'er aht, she kick up such a ra. Then I open the door an' -she'd come straight an' jump into bed an' snuggle 'erself up an' fall -asleep...." - -The dirtiest cabins in the ship were allotted to the Russians and the -Jews, and down there at nine at night the Slavs were saying their -prayers whilst just above them we British were singing comic songs or -listening to them. Most of us, I reckon, also said our prayers later -on, quietly, under our sheets; for we were, below the surface, very -solitary, very apprehensive, very child-like, very much in need of the -comfort of an all-seeing Father. - -The weather was stormy, and the boat lost thirty-six hours on the way -over. The skies were mostly grey, the wind swept the vessel, and the -sea deluged her. The storm on the third night considerably reduced the -gaiety of the ship; all night long we rolled to and fro, listening to -the crash of the waves and the chorus of the spring-mattresses creaking -in all the cabins. My boy who had left the "dawg" behind him got badly -"queered up." He said it was "mackerel as done it," a certain warm, -evil-looking mackerel that had been served him for tea on the Tuesday -evening. Indeed the food served us was not of a sort calculated to -prepare us for an Atlantic storm--roast corned beef, sausage and mash, -dubious eggs, tea that tasted strongly of soda, promiscuously poked -melting butter, ice cream. On tumultuous Tuesday the last thing we ate -was ice cream! We all felt pretty abject on Wednesday morning. - -Our sickness was the stewards' opportunity. They interviewed us, sold -us bovril and hawked plates of decent ham and eggs, obtained from the -second-class table or their own mess. The British found the journey -hard to bear, though they didn't suffer so much as the Poles and the -Austrians and the Russians. I found the whole journey comparatively -comfortable, stormy weather having no effect on me, and this being -neither my first nor worst voyage. Any one who has travelled with -the Russian pilgrims from Constantinople to Jaffa in bad weather has -nothing to fear from any shipboard horror on a Cunarder on the Atlantic. - -Only two of the Russians went through the storm happily, Alexy and -Yoosha. They had worked for nights and months on the Caspian Sea in a -little boat, almost capsizing each moment as they strained at their -draughts of salmon and sturgeon; one moment deep down among the seas, -the next plunging upward, shooting over the waves, stopping short, -slithering round--as they graphically described it to me. - -When the storm subsided the pale and convalescent emigrants came -upstairs to get sea air and save themselves from further illness. -Corpse-like women lay on the park seats, on the coiled rope, on the -stairs, uttering not a word, scarcely interested to exist. Other women -were being walked up and down by their young men. A patriarchal Jew, -very tall and gaunt, hauled along a small, fat woman of his race, and -made her walk up and down with him for her health--a funny pair they -looked. On Wednesday afternoon, about the time the sun came out, one of -the boisterous Flemings tied a long string to a tape that was hanging -under a pretty French girl's skirts, and he pulled a little and watched -her face, pulled a little more and watched the trouble, pulled a little -more and was found out. Then several of the corpse-like ones smiled, -and interest in life was seen to be reviving. - -Next morning when I was up forward with my kodak, one of the young -ladies who had been so ill was being tossed in a blanket with a young -Irish lad of whom she was fond, struggling and scratching and rolling -with a young fellow who was kissing her, whilst four companions were -dangerously hoisting them shoulder high, laughing and bandying Irish -remarks. Life only hides itself when these folk are ill; they will -survive more than sea-sickness. - - -The white dawn is haggard behind us over the black waves, and our great -strong boat goes thundering away ahead of the sun. It is mid-Atlantic, -and we stare into the same great circle of hungry emptiness, as did -Columbus and his mariners. Our gaze yearns for land, but finds none; -it rests sadly on the solitary places of the ocean, on the forlorn -waves lifting themselves far away, falling into nothingness, and then -wandering to rebirth. - -Nothing is happening in the wide ocean. The minutes add themselves and -become hours. We know ourselves far from home, and we cannot say how -far from the goal, but still very far, and there is no turning back. -"Would there were," says the foolish heart. "Would I had never come -away from the warm home, the mother's love, the friends who care for -me, the woman who loves me, the girl who has such a lot of empty time -on her hands now that I have gone away, her lover." How lonely it is -on the steerage deck in the crowd of a thousand strangers, hearing a -score of unknown tongues about your ears, hearing your own language so -pronounced you scarce recognise it! - -[Illustration: A RUSSIAN JEW.] - -[Illustration: "A PATRIARCHAL JEW, VERY TALL AND GAUNT, HAULED ALONG A -SMALL FAT WOMAN OF HIS RACE."] - -The mirth of others is almost unpardonable, the romping of Flemish -boys, pushing people right and left in a breakneck game of touch; the -excitement of a group of Russians doing feats of strength; the sweet -happiness of dainty Swedish girls dancing with their rough partners -to the strains of an accordion. How good to escape from it all and -trespass on the steward's promenade at the very extremity of the -after-deck, where the emigrants may not go, and where they are out of -sight and out of hearing. - -The ocean is retreating behind us with storm-scud and smoke of foam -threshed out from our riven road. Vast theatres of waves are falling -away behind us and slipping out of our ken backward into the homeward -horizon. Above us the sky is grey, and the sea also is grey, waving now -and then a miserable flag of green. - -What an empty ocean! There is nothing happening in it but our ship. -And for me, that ship is just part of my own purpose: there is nothing -happening but what I willed. The slanting red funnels are full of -purpose, and the volumes of smoke that fly backward are like our sighs, -regrets, hopes, despairs, the outward sign of the fire that is driving -us on. - - -Up on the steward's promenade on Thursday morning I fell into -conversation with a young Englishman, and he poured out his heart to -me. He was very homesick, and had spoken to no one up till then. He was -in a long cloak, with the collar turned up, and a large cloth cap was -stuck tightly on his head to keep it from the wind. His face was red -with health, but his forehead was puckered, and his eyes seemed ready -to shed tears. - -"Never been so far away from the old country before?" I hazarded. - -"No." - -"Would you like to go back?" - -"No." - -"Are you going to friends in America?" - -He shook his head. - -"I'm going on my own." - -"You are the sort that America wants," I ventured. He did not reply, -and I was about to walk away, snubbed, when another thought occurred to -me. - -"I once left the old country to seek my fortune elsewhere," said I. "I -felt as you do, I expect. But it was to go to Russia." - -He looked up at me with an inquisitive grimace. I suggested that I -knew what it was to part with a girl I loved, and a mother and friends -and comforts, and to go to a strange country where I knew no one, and -thought I had no friends. At the mention of parting with the girl he -seemed to freeze, but curiosity tempted him and he let me tell him some -of my story. - -"I reckon that England's pretty well played out," said he. - -"Not whilst it sends its sons out into the world--you to America, and -me to Russia," said I with a smile. "It will only be played out when we -haven't the courage to go." - -"Well," said he, "I reckon I _had_ to go, there wasn't anything else -for me to do. It wasn't courage on my part. I didn't want to go. I -reckon there ought to be room in England for the likes of me. It isn't -as if I had no guts. I'm as fit as they make them, only no good at -figures. I think I had the right to a place in England and a decent -screw, and England might be proud of me. I should always have been -ready to fight against the Germans for her. I joined the Territorials, -I learned to shoot, I can ride a horse." - -"Why didn't you go into the army?" - -"That's not the place for a decent fellow. Besides, my people wouldn't -allow it, and my girl's folks would be cut up. And I reckon there's -something better to do than be drilled and wait for a war. My people -wanted me to be something respectable, to go into the Civil Service, -or a bank, or an insurance office, or even into the wholesale fruit -business. I was put into Jacob's, the fruit firm, but I couldn't work -their rate. I've been hunting for work the last five months. That takes -it out of you, don't it? How mean I felt! Everybody looked at me in -such a way--you know, as much as to say 'You loafer, you lout, you -good-for-nothing,' so that I jolly well began to feel I was that, too, -especially when my clothes got shabby and I had nothing decent to put -on to see people." - -As my acquaintance talked he rapidly became simpler, more child-like, -confiding, and tears stole down his cheek. The reserved and surly lad -became a boy. "What a life," said he, "to search work all day, beg a -shilling or so from my mother in the evening, meet my girl, tell her -all that's happened, then at night to finish the day lying in bed -trying to imagine what I'd do if I had a thousand a year! - -"I reckon I could have earned a living with my hands, but my people -were too proud; yes, and I was too proud also, and my girl might not -have liked it. Still, I'd have done anything to earn a sovereign and -take her to the theatre, or go out with her to the country for a day, -or make her a nice present and prove I wasn't mean. I used to be -generous. When I had a job I gave plenty of presents; but you can't -give things away when you have to borrow each day. You even walk -instead of taking a car, and you are mean, mean, mean--mean all day. -Then in the evening you talk of marrying a girl, of having a little -home, and you dare to kiss her as much as you can or she will let, and -all the while you have in the wide world only a few coppers--and a -mother." - -[Illustration: "ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES WAS BEING TOSSED UP IN A -BLANKET WITH A YOUNG IRISH LAD."] - -We went and leaned over the ship and stared down at the sea. - -Tears! I suppose millions had come there before and made that great -salt ocean of them. - -The boy now lisped his confidence to me hurriedly, happily, tenderly. - -"But I reckon I've got a good mother, eh? She loved me more than I -dreamed. How she cried on Friday! how she cried! It was wild. Sometimes -I used to say I hated her. I used to shout out angrily at her that I'd -run away and never come back. That was when she said hasty things to -me, or when she wouldn't give me money. I used to think I'd go and be -a tramp, and pick up a living here and there in the country, and live -on fruit and birds' eggs, sleeping anywhere. It would be better than -feeling so mean at home. But then, my girl--every night I had to see -her. I felt I could not go away like that, never to come home with a -fortune--never, never to be able to marry her. Every night she put her -arms round my neck and kissed me, and called me her old soldier, her -dear one--all sorts of sweet things. I reckon we didn't miss one night -all this last year. - -"Her father's all right. I had thought he would be different. I was a -bit afraid of what he'd say if he got to hear. But she told him on her -own, and one night she took me home. They had fixed it up themselves -without asking me, and he was very kind. I told him I wanted a job, and -I thought p'raps he was going to get me one. But no; he was a queer -sort, rather. 'I'm going to wipe out that story of yours,' he says. -Then he goes to his bureau and writes a note and puts it in an envelope -and addresses it to me. 'Here you are, young man,' says he. I opened -the envelope and read one word on a slip of paper--AMERICA. -'Millions have told your story before,' says he, 'and have had that -word given them in answer. You get ready to go to America; I'll find -you your passage-money and something to start you off in the new -country. You'll do well; you'll make good, my boy,' and he slapped me -on the back. - -"You bet I felt excited. He saw my mother and told her his plan. She -said she couldn't stand in my way. I got the _Government Handbook on -the United States_, and the emigration circular. I read up America at -the public library. I wonder I hadn't thought of it before. America is -a great country, eh? They look at you differently, I bet, and a strong -young man's worth something there. My word, when I come back.... - -"I wonder if I shall come back or if she'll come out to me. I wonder if -her father would let her. I guess he would.... - -"She loves me. My word, how she loves me! I didn't dream of it before. -I used to think the harder you kissed, the more it meant; but she -kissed me in a new way, so softly, so differently. She said I was hers, -that I would be safe wherever I went in the wide world, and I was -never to feel afraid. I've got to do without her now. I reckon no other -girl is going to mean much to me." - -He looked rather scornfully at a troop of pretty Swedes who had invaded -our sanctuary. - -"It is queer how sure I feel of good luck because of her and what she -did. I feel as if everything must turn my way. Downstairs yesterday -they challenged me to play a game of cards, and I won fifty cents; but -I felt it was wrong to spend my luck that way. The chap wouldn't play -any more; he said I was in a lucky vein. He was quite right. Whatever I -turn my hand to, I'm bound to have unexpected good luck. I feel so sure -I'm going to get a job, and a real good one, too. I shan't play any -more cards this journey." - -The sun had come out, and the bright light blazed through our smoke, -and I felt that the boy's faith was blazing just that way through his -regrets. - -The sun crept on and overtook us on his own path, and then at last went -down in front of us, far away in the waste of waters. - -My acquaintance and I went away to the last meal of the day, to the -strangely mixed crowd of prospective Americans at the table, where men -sat and ate with their hats on, and where no grace was said. "What -matter that they throw the food at us?" I asked. "We are men with -stout hearts in our bosoms; we are going to a great country, where a -great people will look at us with creative eyes, making the beautiful -out of the ugly, the big and generous out of the little and mean, the -headstone out of the rock that the builders rejected." - -After supper I left my friend and went upstairs alone. The weather had -changed, and the electric lights of the ship were blazing through the -rain, the decks were wet and windswept, and the black smoke our funnels -were belching forth went hurrying back into the murky evening sky. The -vessel, however, went on. - -Downstairs some were dancing, some singing, some writing home -laboriously, others gossiping, others lying down to sleep in the little -white cabins. There was a satisfaction in hearing the throbbing of the -engines and feeling the pulse of the ship. We were idle, we passed the -time, but we knew that the ship went on. - -Going above once more at nine, I found the rain had passed, the sky was -clear and the night full of stars. In the sea rested dim reflections of -the stars, like the sad faces we see reflected in our memory several -days after we have gone from home. I stood at the vessel's edge and -looked far over the glimmering waves to the horizon where the stars -were walking on the sea. "What will it be like in America?" whispered -the foolish heart. "What will it be like for him?" Then sadness -came--the long, long thoughts of a boy. I whispered the Russian verse: - - - "There is a road to happiness, - But the way is afar." - - -And yet, next morning, I saw the Englishman dancing for hours with a -pretty Russian girl from a village near Kiev--Phrosia, the sister of -Maxim Holost, a fine boy of eighteen going out to North Dakota. I had -noticed the Englishman looking on at the dancing, and then suddenly, to -my surprise, at a break in the tinkling of the accordion, he offered -his arm to the Russian and took her down the middle as the music -resumed.... - -I was much in demand among the Russians on Friday and Saturday, for -they wanted to take the English language by storm at the week-end. I -taught Alexy by writing out words for him, and six or seven peasants -had copied from him and were busy conning "man," "woman," "farm," -"work," "give me," "please," "bread," "meat," "is," "Mister," "show," -"and," "how much," "like," "more," "half," "good," "bad," the numbers, -and so on. They pronounced these words with willing gusto, and made -phrases for themselves, calling out to me: - -"Show me worrk, pleez." - -"Wer is Meester Stamb?" - -"Khao match eez bread?" - -"Give mee haaf." - -Alexy tried his English on one of the waiters at dinner time. - -"Littel meet, _littel_, give mee more meet." - -The steward grinned appreciatively, and told him to lie down and be -quiet. - -Maxim and his sister were accompanied by a grizzled peasant of sixty or -so, wearing a high sugar-loaf hat sloping back from an aged, wrinkled -brow. This was Satiron Federovitch, the only old man on deck. His black -cloak, deep lined with wadding, was buttoned up to his throat, and the -simplicity of his attire and the elemental lines of his face gave him -a look of imperturbable calm. Asked why he was going to America, he -said that almost every one else in the village had gone before him. A -Russian village had as it were vanished from the Russian countryside -and from the Russian map and had transplanted itself to Dakota. Poor -old greybeard, he didn't want to go at all, but all his friends and -relatives had gone, and he felt he must follow. - -Holost told every one how at Libau the officials doubted the -genuineness of his passport, and he had to telegraph to his village -police, at his own expense, to verify his age and appearance. The -authorities didn't relish the idea of such a fine young man being -lost by any chance to the army. If only they had as much care for the -villages as they have for their legions! - -[Illustration: ENGLISH.] - -[Illustration: RUSSIANS. - -Fedya. Satiron. Alexy. Yoosha. Karl. Maxim Holost.] - -I was up betimes on Saturday morning and watched the vessel glide -out of the darkness of night into the dusk of the dawn. The electric -light up in the mainmast, the eye of the mast, squinted lividly in -the half-light, and the great phantom-like ship seemed as if cut out -of shiny-white and blood-red cardboard as it moved forward toward -the west. The smoke from the funnels lay in two long streamers to -the horizon, and the rising sun made a sooty shadow under it on the -gleaming waves. As the night-cloud vanished a great wind sprang up, -blowing off America. Old Satiron was coming laboriously upstairs, and -he slipped out on to the deck incautiously. - -"Gee whizz!" The mocking American wind caught his astrakhan hat and -gave it to the sea. Poor old Satiron, he'll turn up in Dakota with a -derby on, perhaps. - -Saturday was a day of preparation. We packed our things, we wrote -letters to catch the mail, we were medically inspected--some of us -were vaccinated. All the girls had to take off their blouses and the -young men their coats, and we filed past a doctor and two assistants. -One man washed each bare arm with a brush and some acid. The doctor -looked and examined. The other assistant stood with lymph and lancet -and rapidly jabbed us. The operation was performed at an amazing pace, -and was only an unpleasant formality. Many of those who were thus -vaccinated got their neighbours to suck out the vaccine directly they -returned to their cabins. This was what the boy who had left the dog -behind him did. He didn't want blood-poisoning, he said. Nearly all the -Russians had been vaccinated five or six times already. In Russia there -is much disease and much faith in medicine. In England good drainage, -many people not vaccinated, little smallpox; in Russia, no drains, much -vaccination, and much of the dread disease. - -On Saturday night there was a concert, at which all the steerage -were present, and in which any one who liked took part. But English -music-hall songs had all the platform--no foreign musicians -participated. - -Sunday was Easter Day, and I was up in the dark hours of the morning -and saw the dawn. Sunrise showed the clouds in the east, but in north -and south and west the other clouds still lay asleep. Up on the -after-deck of the great tireless steamer little groups of cloaked and -muffled emigrants stood gazing over the now familiar ocean. We knew it -was our last day on the ship, and that before the dawn on the morrow we -should be at the American shore. How fittingly was it Easter, first day -of resurrection, festive day of spring, day of promise and hope, the -anniversary of happy days, of first communions! - -In the wan east the shadowy wings of gulls were flickering. The -blood-red sun was just coming into view, streaked and segmented with -blackest cloud. He was striving with night, fighting, and at last -gaining the victory. High above the east and the wide circle of glory -stood hundreds of attendant cloudlets, arrayed by the sun in robes of -lovely tinting, and they fled before him with messages for us. Then, -astonishing thing, the sun disappeared entirely into shadow. Night -seemed to have gotten the victory. But we knew night could not win. - -The sun reappeared almost at once, in resplendent silver, now a rim, in -a moment a perfect shield. The shield had for a sign a maiden, and from -her bosom a lovely light flooded forth upon the world. We felt that we -ourselves, looking at it, were growing in stature in the morning. The -light enveloped us--it was divine. - -But the victory still waited. All the wavelets of the eastern sea were -living in the morning, dancing and mingling, bewildering, baffling, -delighting, but the west lay all unconquered, a great black ocean of -waves, each edged with signs of foam, as if docketed and numbered. -All seemed fixed and rigid in death. The sun disappeared again and -reappeared anew, and this time he threw into the world ochre and fire. -The wide half-circle of the east steamed an ochreous radiance to the -zenith. The sun was pallid against the beauty he had shed; the lenses -of the eye fainted upon the unearthly whiteness. It was hard to look -upon the splendid one, but only at that moment might he be seen with -the traces of his mystery upon him. Now he was in his grave-clothes, -all glistening white, but at noon he would be sitting on the right hand -of God. - -Easter! - - -"Will there be any service in the steerage to-day?" - -"No, there will only be service for first and second-class passengers." - -"Is that because they need it more than we?" - -There was no answer to that impolite remark. Still it was rather -amusing to find that the Church's office was part of the luxury of the -first and second class. - -The third class played cards and danced and sang and flirted much as -usual. They had need of blessing. - -So at night a Baptist preacher organised a prayer-meeting on his own -account, and the English-speaking people sang "Onward, Christian -soldiers," in a rather half-hearted way at eight o'clock, and "Jesus, -lover of my soul, let me to Thy Bosom fly," at nine; and there was a -prayer and a sermon. - -A few hours after I had lain down to sleep Maxim Holost put his head in -at my cabin and cried out: - -"America! Come up and see the lights of America." - -And without waiting for me to follow, he rushed away to say the same -thing to others, "America! America!" - - - - -II - -THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT - - -The day of the emigrants' arrival in New York was the nearest earthly -likeness to the final Day of Judgment, when we have to prove our -fitness to enter Heaven. Our trial might well have been prefaced by a -few edifying reminders from a priest. - -It was the hardest day since leaving Europe and home. From 5 -A.M., when we had breakfast, to three in the afternoon, when -we landed at the Battery, we were driven in herds from one place to -another, ranged into single files, passed in review before doctors, -poked in the eyes by the eye-inspectors, cross-questioned by the -pocket-inspectors, vice detectives, and blue-book compilers. - -Nobody had slept the night before. Those who approached America for -the first time stood on the open deck and stared at the lights of -Long Island. Others packed their trunks. Lovers took long adieus and -promised to write one another letters. There was a hum of talking in -the cabins, a continual pattering of feet in the gangways, a splashing -of water in the lavatories where cleanly emigrants were trying to wash -their whole bodies at hand-basins. At last the bell rang for breakfast: -we made that meal before dawn. When it was finished we all went up on -the forward deck to see what America looked like by morning light. A -little after six we were all chased to the after-deck and made to file -past two detectives and an officer. The detectives eyed us; the officer -counted to see that no one was hiding. - -At seven o'clock our boat lifted anchor and we glided up the still -waters of the harbour. The whole prow was a black mass of passengers -staring at the ferry-boats, the distant factories, and sky-scrapers. -Every point of vantage was seized, and some scores of emigrants were -clinging to the rigging. At length we came into sight of the green-grey -statue of Liberty, far away and diminutive at first, but later on, a -celestial figure in a blaze of sunlight. An American waved a starry -flag in greeting, and some emigrants were disposed to cheer, some shed -silent tears. Many, however, did not know what the statue was. I heard -one Russian telling another that it was the tombstone of Columbus. - -We carried our luggage out at eight, and in a pushing crowd prepared -to disembark. At 8.30 we were quick-marched out of the ship to the -Customs Wharf and there ranged in six or seven long lines. All the -officials were running and hustling, shouting out, "Come on!" "Hurry!" -"Move along!" and clapping their hands. Our trunks were examined and -chalk-marked on the run--no delving for diamonds--and then we were -quick-marched further to a waiting ferry-boat. Here for the time being -hustle ended. We waited three-quarters of an hour in the seatless -ferry, and every one was anxiously speculating on the coming ordeal -of medical and pocket examination. At a quarter to ten we steamed for -Ellis Island. We were then marched to another ferry-boat, and expected -to be transported somewhere else, but this second vessel was simply -a floating waiting-room. We were crushed and almost suffocated upon -it. A hot sun beat upon its wooden roof; the windows in the sides -were fixed; we could not move an inch from the places where we were -awkwardly standing, for the boxes and baskets were so thick about our -feet; babies kept crying sadly, and irritated emigrants swore at the -sound of them. All were thinking--"Shall I get through?" "Have I enough -money?" "Shall I pass the doctor?" and for a whole hour, in the heat -and noise and discomfort, we were kept thinking thus. At a quarter-past -eleven we were released in detachments. Every twenty minutes each and -every passenger picked up his luggage and tried to stampede through -with the party, a lucky few would bolt past the officer in charge, and -the rest would flood back with heart-broken desperate looks on their -faces. Every time they failed to get included in the outgoing party -the emigrants seemed to feel that they had lost their chance of a job, -or that America was a failure, or their coming there a great mistake. -At last, at a quarter-past twelve, it was my turn to rush out and find -what Fate and America had in store for me. - -Once more it was "Quick march!" and hurrying about with bags and -baskets in our hands, we were put into lines. Then we slowly filed up -to a doctor who turned our eyelids inside out with a metal instrument. -Another doctor scanned faces and hands for skin diseases, and then we -carried our ship-inspection cards to an official who stamped them. We -passed into the vast hall of judgment, and were classified and put into -lines again, this time according to our nationality. It was interesting -to observe at the very threshold of the United States the mechanical -obsession of the American people. This ranging and guiding and hurrying -and sifting was like nothing so much as the screening of coal in a -great breaker tower. - -It is not good to be like a hurrying, bumping, wandering piece of coal -being mechanically guided to the sacks of its type and size, but such -is the lot of the immigrant at Ellis Island. - -[Illustration: DAINTY SWEDISH GIRLS AND THEIR PARTNERS LOOKING OVER THE -SEA.] - -But we had now reached a point in the examination when we could rest. -In our new lines we were marched into stalls, and were allowed to -sit and look about us, and in comparative ease await the pleasure of -officials. The hall of judgment was crowned by two immense American -flags. The centre, and indeed the great body of the hall, was -filled with immigrants in their stalls, a long series of classified -third-class men and women. The walls of the hall were booking-offices, -bank counters, inspectors' tables, stools of statisticians. Up above -was a visitors' gallery where journalists and the curious might -promenade and talk about the melting-pot, and America, "the refuge of -the oppressed." Down below, among the clerks' offices, were exits; one -gate led to Freedom and New York, another to quarantine, a third to the -railway ferry, a fourth to the hospital and dining-room, to the place -where unsuitable emigrants are imprisoned until there is a ship to take -them back to their native land. - -Somewhere also there was a place where marriages were solemnised. -Engaged couples were there made man and wife before landing in New -York. I was helping a girl who struggled with a huge basket, and a -detective asked me if she were my sweetheart. If I could have said -"Yes," as like as not we'd have been married off before we landed. -America is extremely solicitous about the welfare of women, especially -of poor unmarried women who come to her shores. So many women fall -into the clutches of evil directly they land in the New World. The -authorities generally refuse to admit a poor friendless girl, though -there is a great demand for female labour all over the United States, -and it is easy to get a place and earn an honest living. - -It was a pathetic sight to see the doubtful men and women pass into -the chamber where examination is prolonged, pathetic also to see the -Russians and Poles empty their purses, exhibiting to men with good -clothes and lasting "jobs" all the money they had in the world. - -At half-past two I gave particulars of myself and showed the coin I -had, and was passed. - -"Have you ever been arrested?" asked the inspector. - -Well, yes, I had. I was not disposed to lie. I had been arrested four -or five times. In Russia you can't escape that. - -"For a crime involving moral turpitude?" he went on. - -"No, no." - -"Have you got a job in America?" (This is a dangerous question; if you -say 'Yes' you probably get sent back home; it is against American law -to contract for foreign labour.) - -I explained that I was a tramp. - -This did not at all please the inspector. He would not accept that -definition of my occupation, so he put me down as author. - -"Are you an anarchist?" - -"No." - -"Are you willing to live in subordination to the laws of the United -States?" - -"Yes." - -"Are you a polygamist?" - -"What does that mean?" I asked. - -"Do you believe a man may possess more than one wife at a time?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Have you any friends in New York?" - -"Acquaintances, yes." - -"Give me the address." - -I gave him an address. - -"How much money have you got?" ... "Show me, please!" ... And so on. I -was let go. - -At three in the afternoon I stood in another ferry-boat, and with a -crowd of approved immigrants passed the City of New York. Success had -melted most of us, and though we were terribly hungry, we had words and -confidences for one another on that ferry-boat. We were ready to help -one another to any extent in our power. That is what it feels like to -have passed the Last Day and still believe in Heaven, to pass Ellis -Island and still believe in America. - -Two or three of us hastened to a restaurant. I sat down at a little -table, and waited. So did the others, but we were making a mistake, -for there were no waiters. We had as yet to learn the mechanism of a -"Quick Lunch" shop; there was a certain procedure to be observed and -followed, we must learn it if we wanted a dinner. I watched the first -American citizen who came in, and did as he did. First I went to the -cashier and got a paper slip on which were printed many numbers 5, 10, -15, 25, and so on in intervals of fives. These represented cents, and -were so arranged for convenience in adding and for solid profit. At -this restaurant nothing cost less than five cents (twopence halfpenny), -and there were no intermediaries between five and ten, ten and fifteen, -and so forth. The unit then was five cents, and not as in England two -cents (one penny). Obviously this means enormous increase of takings in -the long run. That five-cent unit is part of the foundation of American -prosperity. I obtained my slip so numbered. Then I took a tray from a -stack of trays and a glass from an array of glasses, a fork and a knife -from the fork basket, and I went to the roast chicken counter and asked -for roast chicken. A plate of hot roast chicken was put on my tray, and -the white-hatted cook punched off twenty-five cents on my slip. I went -to another counter and received a plate of bread and butter, and to -yet another and sprinkled pepper and salt from the general sprinklers. -I went and drew iced water. Then, like the slave of the lamp working -for himself, I put the whole on my little table. When I had finished -my first course I put my plate aside and took my tray to the cook and -received a second, and when I had finished that I fetched my coffee. - -"Well," thought I, looking round, "no waiters, that means no tips; -there is not even a superfluous mendicant boy in charge of the swinging -doors." So I began to learn that in America the working man pays no -tips. - -My companions at the other tables were getting through with their -dinners and looking across at one another with congratulatory smiles. -We would have sat together, but in this shop one table accommodated one -customer only--an unsociable arrangement. I waited for them to finish, -so that we could go out together. - -Whilst doing so a man came up to me from another table and said very -quietly: - -"Just come over?" - -"This morning," I replied. - -He brightened up and asked: - -"Looking for a job?" - -"You don't mean to say I am being offered one already?" said I. - -"That's about it, two dollars." - -"Two dollars a day?" - -"That's the idea." - -"What's the work?" - -"Brick-making." - -It was brick-making up country for some Trust Company. I said I -was staying in New York, couldn't go just yet. He might try my -acquaintances. I pointed them out. - -One of them, a Pole, said he would go. The contractor went out with us, -and we accompanied him to his office. We took a street car. The fare -was five cents, a "nickel," and it was necessary to put the coin in the -slot of the conductor's money-box before entering. The conductor stood -stiff, like an intelligent bit of machinery, and we were to him fares -not humans. The five cents would take me to the other end of the city -if I wished it, but there was no two-cent fare in case I wished to go a -mile. That five-cent unit again! - -We sat in the car and looked out of the windows, interested in every -sight and sound. First we had glimpses of the East Side streets, all -push-carts and barrows, like Sukhareva at Moscow. Then we saw the dark -overhead railway and heard the first thunder of the Elevated train. -We went up the Bowery, unlike any other street in the world; we noted -that it was possible to get a room there for twenty cents a night. We -stared curiously at the life-sized carved and painted Indians outside -the cigar stores, and at the gay red-and-white stripe of the barbers' -revolving poles. - -We alighted just by a barber's shop. The agent showed us his office -and told us to come in if we changed our minds and would like the job. -There we left the Pole, and indeed saw him no more. - -There were two others beside myself--a Russian and a Russian Jew. -As the Jew and I both wanted a shave we all went into the barber's -shop. We were still carrying our bags, and were rather a strange -party to enter a shop together. But the barbers, a pleasant array of -close-shaven smiling Italians, were not put out in the least. They were -ready to shave any living thing. Their job was to shave and take the -cash, and not to be amused at the appearance of the customers. - -In America the barber's shop has a notice outside stating the number of -barbers. If the number is high it is considerable recommendation. Then -the briskly revolving pole suggests that it's your turn next and no -waiting. - -I was put into an immense, velvet-bottomed adjustable chair, my legs -were steadied on a three-foot stand, and the barber turning a handle -caused the back of the chair to collapse gently so that my head and -body pointed towards the doorway like the cannon mouth. Then the shave -commenced, and the barber twirled my head about and around as if it -were on a revolving hinge. And how laborious he was! In America, quick -lunch and slow shave; in England quick shave and slow lunch. And -fifteen cents for a shave, and thirty-five for a hair-cut. - -"That's a high price," said I. - -"Union rate," said he. "We are now protected against the public." - -The Jew, however, paid five cents less; he had bargained beforehand. -He said it was the last cent he'd pay for a shave in that country; -he'd buy a safety razor. The Russian smiled; he hadn't shaved yet, and -didn't intend to, ever. - -At this point the Jew parted company with us. He was going to find -a friend of his in Stanton Street. The Russian and I made for a -lodging-house in Third Avenue. At a place ticketed "Rooms by the day -or month," we rang the bell, rang the bell and waited, rang again. We -were to be initiated into another mystery of New York, the mechanical -door, the door which has almost an intelligence of its own. Down came a -German woman at last, and gave us a rare scolding. Why hadn't we turned -the handle and come in? Why had we brought her down so many flights of -stairs? - -It appeared that by turning a handle in her room on the second floor -she liberated the catch in the lock, and all the visitor had to do was -to turn the handle and walk in. - -"I heard a rattle in the lock," said I. "I wondered what it meant." - -"How long've you been in America?" she asked. - -"A few hours. We want rooms for a few days while we look about." - -"Days? My lodgers take rooms for years. I haven't any one staying less -than six months." - -This was just "boosting" her rooms, but I didn't know. I took it for -a good sign. If her tenants stayed long terms the place must be very -clean. But it was only "boosting." Still the rooms looked decent, and -we took them. They were the same price as similar rooms in the centre -of London, ten shillings a week, but dearer than in Moscow where -one would pay fifteen roubles (seven and a half dollars or thirty -shillings) a month for such accommodation. The floors were carpeted, -the sheets were white, there was a good bathroom for each four lodgers, -no children, and all was quiet. Laundry was collected, there was no -charge for the use of electric light, you received a latch-key on the -deposit of twenty-five cents, and could come in any hour of the day or -night. In signing the registration book I saw I was the only person of -Anglo-Saxon name, all were Germans, Swedes, Italians, Russians. With -British caution I hid a twenty-five dollar bill in the binding of one -of the most insignificant of my books, so that if I were robbed of -the contents of my pocket-book I should still have a stand-by. But my -suspicions were begotten only of ignorance. My fellow-lodgers were all -hard working, self-absorbed New Yorkers, who took no thought of their -neighbours, either for good or evil. - - - - -III - -THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION OF BRITAIN - - -I came to America to see men and women and not simply bricks and -mortar, to understand a national life rather than to moan over sooty -cities and industrial wildernesses. Hundreds of thousands of healthy -Europeans passed annually to America. I wanted to know what this asylum -or refuge of our wanderers actually was, what was the life and hope it -offered, what America was doing with her hands, what she was yearning -for with her heart. I wished to know also what was her despair. - -On my second day in New York I was deploring the sky-scraper, when -a young American lifted her arms above her head in yearning and -aspiration saying, "Have you seen the Woolworth Building? It is a -bird's flight of stone right away up into the sky, it is higher -and newer than anything else in New York, its cream-coloured walls -are pure and undefiled. It is a commercial house, to be let to ten -thousand business tenants. But it is like a cathedral; its foundations -are on the earth, but its spire is up among the stars; if you go to -it at sundown and look upward you will see the angels ascending and -descending, and hear the murmur of Eternity about it." - -I had always thought of the sky-scraper as a black grimy street-front -that went up to an unearthly height, a Noah's Ark of sodden and smoky -bricks. That is what a sky-scraper would tend to be in London. I had -forgotten the drier, cleaner atmosphere of New York. - -I went to see the Woolworth Building, and I found it something new. It -was beautiful. It was even awe-inspiring. - -In the evening I asked an American literary man whom I met at a club -what he thought was the _raison d'être_ of the Woolworth; was it not -simply the desire to build higher than all other houses--the wish to -make a distinct commercial hit? - -He "put me wise." - -"First of all," said he, "New York is built on the little island of -Manhattan. The island is all built over, and so, as we cannot expand -outward we've got to build upward. Ground rent, too, has become so high -that we must build high for economy's sake." - -I remarked on the number of men who lost their lives in the building of -sky-scrapers. "For every minute of the day there was a man injured in -some town or other of the United States," so I had read in an evening -paper. - -He said the Americans were playing large, and must expect to lose -a few men in the game. He expected the America of the future would -justify all sacrifices made just now, and he gave me in the course of a -long talk his view of the passion of America. - -"The Woolworth Building is only an inadequate symbol of our faith," -said he. "You British and the Germans and French are working on a -different principle, you are playing the small game, and playing it -well. You stake your efficiency on the perfection of details. In -the German life, for instance, nothing is too small to be thought -unmeriting of attention." - -I told him the watchword of the old chess champion Steinitz, "I do not -vant to vin a pawn; it is enough if I only veakens a pawn." - -"You play chess?" said he, laughing. "That's it exactly. He did not -care to sacrifice pieces; he was entirely on the defensive in his -chess, eh? And in life he would be the same, hoarding his pennies and -his dollars, and economising and saving. That's just how the American -is different. He doesn't mind taking great risks; he is playing -the large game, sacrificing small things, hurrying on, building, -destroying, building again, conquering, dreaming. We are always selling -out and re-investing. You are concentrating on yourselves as you are; -we want to leave our old bodies and conditions behind and jump to a new -humanity. If an American youth could inherit the whole world he would -not care to improve it if he saw a chance of selling it to some one -and getting something better." - -"The spirit of business," I suggested. - -"Call it what you will." - -"But," said I, "does not this merely result in a town full of a -hustling, mannerless crowd; trolley-cars dashing along at life-careless -speed; a nation at work with loosely constructed machinery; callous -indifference on the part of the living towards those whom they kill in -their rush to the goal?" - -My new acquaintance looked at me in a way that seemed to say -"You--Britisher." He was a great enthusiast for his country, and I had -been sent to him by friends in London who wanted me to get to the heart -of America, and not simply have my teeth set on edge by the bitter rind. - -"You think the end will justify the proceedings?" I added. - -"Oh yes," he said. "You know we've only been fifty years on this job; -there's nothing in modern America more than fifty years old. Think of -what we've done in the time--clearing, building, engineering; think of -the bridges we've built, the harbours, the canals, the great factories, -the schools. We've been taxed to the last limit of physical strength, -and only to put down the pavement and the gas-pipes so to speak, the -things you found ready made for you when you were born, but which we -had to lay on the prairie. We are only now beginning to look round and -survey the foundations of civilisation. Still most of us are hurrying -on, but the end will be worth the trials by the way; we - - - "Are whirling from heaven to heaven - And less will be lost than won." - - -"But is it not a miserable, heartless struggle for the individual?" -said I. "For instance, to judge by the story of _The Jungle_ I should -gather that the lot of a Russian family come fresh to Chicago was -terrible." - -"Oh, you mustn't take Sinclair literally. He is a Socialist who wants -to show that society, as it is at present constituted, is so bad that -there is no hope except in revolution. There is heartbreak often, -but the struggle is not heartless. It is amazingly full of hope. If -you go into the worst of our slums you'll find the people hopeful, -even in extremity. I've been across to London, and I never saw such -hopeless-looking people as those who live in your East Ham and West Ham -and Poplar and the rest of them." - -"There is hope with us too," I protested. "The people in our slums are -very rebellious, they look forward to the dictatorship of Will Thorne -or George Lansbury." - -"Ah well," my friend assented, "that's your kind of -hope--rebelliousness, hatred of the splendid and safe machine. That's -just it. We haven't your rebelliousness and quarrelsomeness. The -new-come immigrant is always quarrelling with his neighbours. It is -only after a while that America softens him and enriches his heart. The -vastness of America, the abundance of its riches, is infectious; it -makes the heart larger. The immigrant feels he has room, life is born -in him." - -"But," said I, "the great machine is here as in Europe. A man is known -by his job here just as much as with us, isn't he? He is labelled and -known, he fills a fixed place and has a definite rotation. Every man -says to him 'I see what you are, I know what you are; you are just what -I see and no more.' His neighbour takes him for granted thus. Out of -that horrible taking-for-granted springs rebelliousness and hate of the -great machine. You must be as rebellious as we are." - -"No, no." My companion wouldn't have it. "We don't look at people that -way in America. But you're right about looks. It's looks that make -people hate. It's eyes that make them curse and swear and hate. Every -day hundreds and thousands of eyes look at one. I think eyes have power -to create. If thousands and thousands of people pass by a man and look -at him with their eyes they almost change him into what they see. If -in the course of years millions of eyes look at an individual and see -in him just some little bolt in a great machine, then his tender human -heart wants to turn into iron. The ego of that man has a forlorn and -terrible battle to fight. He thinks he is fighting himself; he is -really fighting the millions of creative eyes who by faith are changing -flesh and blood into soulless machinery." - -"And here?" I queried. - -He laughed a moment, and then said seriously, "Here it is different. -Here we are playing large. Oh, the dwarfing power, the power to make -you mean, that the millions of eyes possess in a country that is -playing the small game! They make you feel mean and little, and then -you become mean. They kill your heart. Your dead little heart withdraws -the human films and the tenderness and imaginativeness from your eyes, -and you also begin to look out narrowly, dwarfingly, compellingly. You -eye the people in the streets, in the cars, in the office, and they -can't help becoming what you are." - -"But some escape," said I. - -"Yes, some go and smash windows and get sent to gaol, some become -tramps, and some come to America. In Giant Despair's dungeon poor -Christian exclaims, 'What a fool I am to remain here when I have in my -heart a key which I am persuaded will unlock any of the doors of this -castle. Strange that it has only now occurred to me that all I need -to do is to lift my hand and open the door and go away.' Then poor -Christian books a passage to America or Australia. He starts for the -New World; and the moment he puts his foot on the vessel he begins to -outgrow. He was his very smallest and meanest under the pressure of -the Old World; when the pressure is removed he begins to expand. He is -free. He is on his own. He is sailing to God as himself. The exception -has beaten the rule. Now I hold as a personal belief that we are all -exceptions, that we take our stand before God as tender human creatures -of His, each unique in itself. The emigrant on the boat has the -delicious feelings of convalescence, of getting to be himself again. He -basks in the sun of freedom. The sun itself seems like the all-merciful -Father, the Good Shepherd who cares for each one and knows each by -name, leading him out to an earthly paradise." - -"That paradise is America, eh?" said I rather mockingly, and then I -paused and added, "But America ought to be really a paradise; it is -pathetic to think of the difference between America as the Russian -thinks it to be and America as it is. It is a shame that your trusts -and tariffs and corrupt police should have made America a worse place -to live in than the Old World. I know it is the land of opportunity, -opportunity to become rich, to get on, to be famous; but for the poor -immigrant it is rather the land of opportunism, a land where he himself -is the opportunity, which not he but other people have the chance to -seize." - -My friend was scandalised. "I think it gives every one an -opportunity," said he, "even the drunkard and the thief and the -embezzler whom you so incharitably hand over to us. You know the -saying, 'It takes an ocean to receive a muddy stream without -defilement.' The ocean of American life cleanses many a muddy stream of -the Old World." - -"Still," said I, "not to abandon oneself utterly to ideas, is it not -true that Pittsburg actually destroys thousands of Slav immigrants -yearly? It utterly destroys them. They have no children who come -to anything--they are just wiped out. I gather so much from your -Government survey of Pittsburg." - -"Well," said he, "that survey is just part of the New America, of -the new national conscience. Terrible things do happen, witness the -enormous white-slave traffic. You have just come to us at the right -moment to see the initiation of sweeping changes. President Wilson is -like your David Lloyd George, only he has more power, because he has -more people at his back. We are just beginning a great progressive era. -On the other hand, America is not the place of the weak. That's why we -send so many back home from Ellis Island. We've got something else to -do than try and put Humpty Dumpty up on the wall again. When the weaker -get past Ellis Island into our fierce national life they are bound to -go to the wall. We haven't time even to be sorry, and if questioned we -can only answer that we believe the sacrifice will be justified." - -I recall to my mind the startling objection of Ivan Karamazof in the -greatest of Russian novels. "When God's providence is fulfilled we -shall understand all things; we shall see how the pain and death of, -for instance, a little child could be necessary. I understand of course -what an upheaval of the universe it will be when everything in heaven -and earth blends in one hymn of praise, and everything that lives -and has lived cries aloud, 'Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are -revealed'; but to my mind the pain of one little child were too high a -price to pay." Ivan Karamazof would certainly have renounced the grand -future of America bought by the exploitation of thousands of weak and -helpless ones. - -Still I suppose the past must take care of itself, and the America -which stands to-day on the threshold of a new era has more thought and -tenderness for the victims of its commercial progress. It is making up -its mind to save the foreign women and their little babies. For the -rest, America plays large, as my friend said. There is a spaciousness -with her, there is contrast, there is life and death, virtue and sin, -things to laugh over and things to cry over. The little baby buds are -taken away and branches are lopped, but the mustard grows a great tree. - -There is a chance in America, a chance that you may be a victim, but -also a chance that you may be in at the mating of the King. - - * * * * * * * - -Several months later, when I had tramped some six hundred American -miles, and talked to all manner of persons, I realised that America -was superlatively a place of hope. I had been continually asking -myself, "What _is_ America? What _is_ this new nation? How are they -different from us at home in England?" And one morning, sitting under -a bush in Indiana, the answer came to me and I wrote it down. They are -fundamentally people who have crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and we are -stay-at-homes. They are adventurous, hopeful people. They are people -who have thrown themselves on the mercy of God and Nature. - -We live in a tradition; they live in an expectation. We are remedying -the old state; they are building the new. We are loyal to the ideas of -our predecessors, they are agape to divine the ideas of generations yet -to come. - -It is possible to come to Britain and see what Britain is, but if you -go to America the utmost you can see is what America is becoming. And -when you see the Briton you see a man steadfast at some post of duty, -but the American is something to-day but God-knows-what to-morrow. Our -noblest epitaph is "He knew his job"; theirs, "He sacrificed himself to -a cause." - -Observe, "that state of life unto which it shall please God to call -me," puts the Briton in a static order of things. He is in his little -shop, or at the forge, or in the coal yard. Within his sight is the -Norman tower of the village church. He is known to the priest by his -name and his job. He is part of the priests' cure of souls. His life -is functionised at the village altar and not at the far shrines of -ambition. He belongs to the peasant world. Even though he is English he -is as the Russian, "one of God's faithful slaves." - -Thousands of English, Scotch, and Irish, simple souls, say their -prayers to God each night, not because they are pillars of a chapel -or have lately been "saved," but because they have been brought up in -that way of life and in that relation to God. They pray God sometimes -in anguish that they may be helped _to do their duty_. They say the -Lord's Prayer, not as a patter, but with the stark simplicity which you -associate with the grey wall of the old church. - -These village folk of ours are like old trees. Close your eyes to the -visible and open them to the invisible world, and you see the young -man of to-day as the stem, his father as the branch, his grandfather -the greater branch. You see in the shadow rising out of the earth the -ancient trunk. You think of many people, and yet it is not father and -grandfather, and grandfather and great-grandfather, and so on, but -one tree, the name of which is the young man leafing in the world -of to-day. That man is no shoot, no seedling, he has behind him the -consciousness of the vast umbrageous oak. When he says "Our Father, -which art in heaven," the voice comes out of the depths of the earth, -and it comes from father and grandfather, and from greybeard after -greybeard standing behind one another's shoulders, innumerably. - -The place to which it shall please God to call you is not a definite -locality in the United States of America; the dream of wealth is -dreamed inside each cottage door. Each man is intent on getting on, on -realising something new. He is revolving in his mind ways of doing more -business; of doing what he has more quickly, more economically; ways of -"boosting," ways of buying. Our customers _buy from_ us: his customers -_trade with_ him--they enter into harmony with him. Store-keepers and -customers sing together like gnats over the oak trees; they make things -hum. There is a feeling that whether buying or selling you are getting -forward. - -The British, however, put a great question-mark in front of this -American life. Do those who are striving know what they want in the end -of ends? Do those toiling in the wood know what is on the other side? - -The late Price Collier remarked that the German thinks he has done -something when he has an idea and the Frenchman when he has made an -epigram; it may be inferred that the American thinks he has done -something when he has made his pile. The ultimate earthly prize for -"boosting" and bargaining is a vulgar solatium,--a big house, an -abundant person, a few gold rings, an adorned wife, a high-power -touring car. Out in those wider spaces where lagging and outdistanced -competitors are not taken into your counsel you still handle business. -But now it is in "graft" that you deal. You are engineering trusts, and -cornering commodities, you develop political "pull," you own saloons, -and have ledgers full of the bought votes of Italians and Slavs. - -You are great ... sitting at the steering-wheel of this great -ramshackle political and commercial machine, your coat off and your -immaculate lawn sleeves tucked up above your elbows, you own to -wolfish-eyed reporters that you have an enormous appetite for work and -zest for life. - -And yet.... - -What is the crown? You die in the midst of it. There is no goal, no -priceless treasure that even in the death-struggle your hands grasp -after. - -Some of your children are going in for a life of pleasure. They go to -be the envy of waiters and hotel-porters and all people waiting about -for tips, but often to be the laughing-stock of the cultured. One of -your sweet but simple-souled daughters is going to marry a broken-down -English peer. He will not marry her for less than a million dollars. -In the old store where you began business, gossiping over bacon and -flour, you would have looked rather blank if some one had said that a -foreigner would consent to marry your daughter only on the payment of -an indemnity. - -"Well," said my road-companion to me under a bush in Indiana, "the game -goes to pass the time. The world is a prison-house, and a good game -has been invented, commerce, and it saves us from ennui, that is the -philosophy of it all. Scores of years pass like an hour over cards. -Those who win are most interested and take least stock of the time--and -they have invented happiness." - -But I cannot believe that the American destiny leads up a cul-de-sac. -We have been following out a cross-road. There is a high road somewhere -that leads onward. - -There are two sorts of immigrant, one that makes his pile and returns -to Europe, the other who thinks America a desirable place to settle in. -The second class is vastly more numerous than the first, for faith in -American life is even greater than faith in America's wealth. - -Quite apart from the opportunities for vulgar success America has -wonderful promise. It can offer to the newcomer colonist a share in a -great enterprise. It is quite clear to the sympathetic observer that -something is afoot in the land which in Great Britain seems to be -best known by police scandals, ugly dances, sentimental novels, and -boastful, purse-conscious travellers. - -The dream of Progress by which Westerners live is going to be carried -forward to some realisation in America. There is a great band of -workers united in the idea of making America the most pleasant and -happy place to live in that the world has ever known. I refer to those -working with such Americans as J. Cotton Dana, the fervent librarian; -Mr. Fred Howe, who is visualising the cities of the future; the -President of the City College, who has such regard not only for the -cultural but for the physical well-being of young men; Jane Addams, who -with such precision is diagnosing social evils; President Wilson, who -promises to uproot the tree of corruption; to mention only the chief -of those with whom I was brought in contact in my first experience of -America. - -The political struggles of America form truly a sad spectacle, but by a -thousand non-political signs one is aware that there is a real passion -in the breast of the individual. - -Going through the public gardens at Newark I see written up: "Citizens, -this park is yours. It was planted for you, that the beauty of its -flowers and the tender greenery of tree and lawn might refresh you. You -will therefore take care of it...." - -Going through Albany I find it placarded: "Dirt is the origin of sin; -get rid of dirt, and other evils will go with it," and the whole -city is having a clean-up week, all the school children formed into -anti-dirt regiments making big bonfires of rubbish and burying the -tomato-cans and rusty iron. - -Every city in America has been stirring itself to get clean. Even in a -remote little place like Clarion, Pa., I read on every lamp-post: "Let -your slogan be 'Do it for Home, Sweet Home'--clean up!" and again in -another place, "Develop your social conscience; you've got one, make -the country beautiful." In New York I have handed me the following -prayer, which has seemed to me like the breath of the new passion: - - - We pray for our sisters who are leaving the ancient shelter of - the home to earn their wage in the store and shop amid the press - of modern life. Grant them strength of body to bear the strain - of unremitting toil, and may no present pressure unfit them for - the holy duties of home and motherhood which the future may lay - upon them. Give them grace to cherish under the new surroundings - the old sweetness and gentleness of womanhood, and in the rough - mingling of life to keep the purity of their hearts and lives - untarnished. Save them from the terrors of utter want. Teach them - to stand by their sisters loyally, that by united action they - may better their common lot. And to us all grant wisdom and firm - determination that we may not suffer the women of our nation to be - drained of strength and hope for the enrichment of a few, lest our - homes grow poor in the wifely sweetness and motherly love which - have been the saving strength and glory of our country. If it must - be so that our women toil like men, help us still to reverence in - them the mothers of the future. If they yearn for love and the - sovereign freedom of their own home, give them in due time the - fulfilment of their sweet desires. By Mary the beloved, who bore - the world's redemption in her bosom; by the memory of our own dear - mothers who kissed our souls awake; by the little daughters who - must soon go out into that world which we are now fashioning for - others, we pray that we may deal aright by all women. - - -Men are praying for women, and women are working for themselves. -Commercial rapacity is tempered by women's tears, and the tender -stories of the shop-girl that O. Henry wrote are more read to-day than -they were in the author's lifetime. The newspapers are all agog with -the "vice-probes," scandals, questions of eugenics, the menace of -organised capital, the woman's movement. And they are not so because -vice is more prolific than in Europe, or the race more inclined to -fail, or the working men and working women more tyrannised over. They -are so because this generation wishes to realise something of the New -Jerusalem in its own lifetime. It may be only a foolish dream, but it -provides the present atmosphere of America. It discounts the despair -which on the one hand prudery and on the other rag-time dancing -invite. It discounts the commercial and mechanical obsession of the -people. It discounts the wearisome shouting of the cynic who has money -in his pocket, and makes America a place in which it is still possible -for the simple immigrant to put his trust. In the light of this -passion, and never forgetful of it, I view all that comes to my notice -in America of to-day. - - - - -IV - -INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK - - -First, the flood of the homeward tide at six-thirty in the evening, the -thousands and tens of thousands of smartly dressed shop-girls hurrying -and flocking from the lighted West to the shadowy East--their bright, -hopeful, almost expectant features, their vivacity and energy even at -the end of the long day. I felt the contrast with the London crowd, -which is so much gloomier and wearier as it throngs into our Great -Eastern terminus of Liverpool Street. New York has a stronger class of -girl than London. Our shop-girls are London-bred, but your Sadie and -Dulcie are the children of foreigners; they have peasant blood in them -and immigrant hope. They have a zest for the life that New York can -offer them after shop-hours. - -The average wage of the American shop-girl is stated to be seven -dollars (twenty-eight shillings) per week; the average wage in London -is about ten shillings, or two and a half dollars.[1] I suppose that -is another reason why our New York sisters are more cheerful. Despite -the high price of food in New York there must be a comparatively broad -margin left to the American girl to do what she likes with. The cult of -the poor little girl of the Department Store is perhaps only a cult. -For there are many women in New York more exploited than she. When the -shop-girl sells herself to rich men for marriage or otherwise she does -so because she has been infected by the craze for finery and wealth, is -energetic and vivacious, and is morally undermined. It is not because -she is worn out and ill-paid. If New York is evil it is not because -New York is a failure. The city is prosperous and evil as well. The -freshness and health and vigour of the rank and file of New York were -amazing to one familiar with the drab and dreary procession of workers -filing into the city of London at eight in the morning and away from it -at the same hour in the evening. - - -Then the Grand Central Station, with its vast high hall of marble, -surmounted by a blue-green ceiling which, aping heaven itself, is -fretted and perforated and painted to represent the clear night sky. -That starry roof astonished me. It reminded me of a story I heard of G. -K. Chesterton, that he lay in bed on a Sunday morning and with a crayon -mounted on a long handle drew pictures on the white ceiling. It was -like some dream of Chesterton's realised. - -For a long time I looked at the painted roof and picked out my -beloved stars and constellations,--the planets under which I like to -sleep,--and then I thought, "Strange, that out in the glowing Broadway, -not far away, the real stars are hidden from the gaze of New York by -flashing and twinkling and changing sky-signs in manifold colour and -allurement. Every night the dancing-girl is dancing in the sky, and -the hand pours out the yellow beer into the foaming glass which, like -the vision of the Grail, appears but to vanish; every night the steeds -prance with the Greek chariot, the athletes box, the kitten plays with -the reel. These are the real stars and constellations of Broadway, for -Charles's Wain is never seen, neither Orion nor the chair of Cassiopeia -nor the Seven Sisters. To see them you must come in here, into the -Grand Central Station." - -But apart from this paradox, what a station this is--a great silent -temple, a place wherein to come to meditate and to pray. It is more -beautiful than any of the churches of America. How much more beautiful -than the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, for instance. That cathedral -will be the largest church in the world when it is finished, and, -vanity of vanities, how much more secular it is than the station! It is -almost conceivable that after some revolution in the future, New York -might change its mind and go to worship at the Grand Central Station -and run its trains into the Cathedral of St. John. - -Americans are proud of saying that the Woolworth Building, the Grand -Central Station, the Pennsylvania Railway Station, and the New York -Central Library show the New York of the future. Almost everything else -will be pulled down and built to match these. They are new buildings, -they are the soul of the New America finding expression. They are -temples of a new religion. Americans pray more and aspire more to God -in these than they do in their churches. - - * * * * * * * - -There stands out in my memory the East Side, and the slums which I -walked night after night in quest of some idea, some redeeming feature, -something that would explain them to me. I walked almost at random, -taking ever the first turning to the left, the first to the right, and -the first to the left again, coming ever and anon to the river and the -harbour, and having to turn and change. - -The East Side is more spectacular than the East End of London. The -houses are so high, and there is so much more crowding, that you get -into ten streets of New York what we get into a hundred streets. The -New York slums are slums at the intensest. The buildings, great frames -of rags and dirt, hang over the busy street below, and are wildly alive -from base to summit. All day long the bedding hangs out at the windows -or on the iron fire-escapes attached to the houses. Women are shouting -and children are crying on the extraordinary stairs which lead from -room to room and story to story in the vast honeycomb of dens. On the -side-walk is a rough crowd speaking all tongues. The toy doors of the -saloons swing to and fro, simple couples sit on high stools in the -soda-bars and suck various kinds of "dope." Lithuanian and Polish boys -are rushing after one another with toy pistols, the girls are going -round and round the barber's pole, singing and playing, with hands -joined. The stores are crowded, and notices tell the outsider that he -can buy two quarts of Grade B milk for eleven cents, or ten State eggs -for twenty-five cents. You come to streets where all the bakers' shops -are "panneterias," and you know you are among the Italians. One Hundred -and Thirteenth Street as it goes down from Second Avenue to First -Avenue is full of Greeks and Italians, and is extraordinarily dark and -wild; men of murderous aspect are prowling about, there is howling -across the street from tenement to tenement. Dark, plump women stand at -doorways and stare at you, and occasionally a negress in finery trapes -past. - -You come to little Italian theatres where the price of admission is -only five cents, and find them crammed with families, so that you -cannot hear _Rigoletto_ for the squalling of the babies. There are mean -cinema houses where you see only worn-out and spoiled films giving -broken and incoherent stories. And all the while the lights and -shadows play, the Greek hawker of confectionery shouts: - -"Soh-dah!" - -"Can-dee!" - -You continue your wanderings and you strike a nigger district. -Negresses and their beaux are flirting in corners and on doorsteps. -Darky boys and girls are skirling in the roadway. Smartly dressed young -men, carrying canes, come giggling and pushing one another on the -pavement, crying out music-hall catches--"Who was you with last night?" -and the like. - -You know the habitat of the Jew by the abundance of junk-shops, -old-clothes shops, and offices of counsellors-at-law. It seems the -Jews are very litigious, and even the poorest families go to law for -their rights. You find windows full of boxing-gloves, for the Jews are -great boxers in America. You find stalls and push-carts without end. -And every now and then rubbish comes sailing down from a window up -above. That is one of the surest signs of the Jews being installed--the -pitching of cabbage-leaves and fish-bones and sausage-parings from -upper windows. - -What a sight was Delancey Street, with its five lines of naphtha-lit -stalls, its array of tubs of fish and heaps of cranberries, its -pavements slippery with scales, the air heavy with the odour of fish! - -On one of the first of my nights out in the New York streets I came on -a most wonderful sight. After prolonging a journey that started in -the centre of the city I found myself suddenly plunging downward among -dark and wretched streets. I was following out my zigzag plan, and came -at last to a cul-de-sac. This was at the end of East Ninth Street. It -was very dark and forbidding; there were no shops, only warehouses and -yards. There were no people. I expected to find a new turning to the -left, and was rather fearsome of taking it even should I find it. But -at length I saw I had come to the East River. At the end of the street -the water lapped against a wooden landing-stage, and there I saw a -picture of wonder and mystery. - -High over the glimmering water stood Brooklyn Bridge, with its long -array of blazing electric torches and its procession of scores of -little car-lights trickling past. The bridge hung from the high heaven -by dark shadows. It was the brightest ornament of the night. I sat on -an overturned barrow and looked out. Up to me and past me came stalking -majestic ferry-boats, all lights and white or shadowy faces. Far away -on the river lay anchored boats with red and green lights, and beyond -all were the black silhouettes of the building and shipping on Long -Island Shore. - - * * * * * * * - -It was interesting to me to participate in the Russian Easter in New -York, having lived in the Protestant and Roman Catholic Easters a whole -month before on the emigrant ship on the day we reached New York. I -came to the diminutive Russian cathedral in East Ninety-Fifth Street -on Easter Eve at midnight. I had been at a fancy-dress party in the -evening, and as fortune would have it, had gone in Russian attire; that -is, in a blue blouse like a Moscow workman. What was my astonishment to -find myself the only person so dressed in the great throng of Russians -surging in and out of the cathedral and the side street where the -overflow of them talked and chattered. They were all in bowler hats, -and wore collars and ties and American coats and waistcoats. They even -looked askance at me for coming in a blouse; they thought I might be a -Jew or a German, or a foolish spy trying to gain confidences. - -I shall never forget the inside of the cathedral at one in the morning, -the vociferous singing, the beshawled peasant girls, the tear-stained -faces. Priest after priest came forward and praised the Orthodox Church -and the Russian people, and appealed to the worshippers to remember -that all over the Russian world the same service was being held, not -only in the great cathedrals and monasteries, but in the village -churches, in the far-away forest settlements, at the shrines in lonely -Arctic islands, in the Siberian wildernesses, on the Urals, in the -fastnesses of the Caucasus, on the Asian deserts, in Jerusalem itself. -It was pathetic to hear the priests exhort these young men and women -to remain Russians--they were all young, and they all or nearly all -looked to America as their new home. On all ordinary occasions they -longed to be Americans and to be called Americans; but this night a -flood of feeling engulfed them, and in the New York night they set sail -and looked hungrily to the East whence they came. They held tapers. -They had tenderly brought their cakes, their chickens and joints of -pork, to be sprinkled with holy water and blessed by the priest for -their Easter _breakfast_. It was sad to surmise how few had really -fasted through Lent, and yet to see how they clung to departing -tradition. - -Coming out of the cathedral we each received a verbose revolutionary -circular printed in the Russian tongue: "Keep holy the First of May! -Hail to the war of the Classes! Hurrah for Socialism! Workmen of all -classes, combine!"--and so on. In Russia a person distributing such -circulars would be rushed off to gaol at once. In New York it is -different, and "influences" of all kinds are in full blast. I looked -over the shoulders of many groups outside the cathedral on Easter Day -and found them reading those New York rags, which are conceived in -ignorance and dedicated to anarchism. It seems the Russian who comes -to New York is at once grabbed by the existent Social-Democratic -organisations, and though he go to church still, he begins to be -more and more attached to revolutionism. It is strange that these -organisations are directed, not against the Tsar and the officialdom -of Russia, but against the Government of the United States and the -commercial machine. There is no question of America being a refuge for -the persecuted Russian. The latter is assured at once that America is -a place of even worse tyranny than the land he has come from. But if -he does not take other people's word he soon comes to that conclusion -on his own account. For he finds himself and his brothers working like -slaves and drinking themselves to death through sheer boredom, and he -finds his sisters in the "sweat-shops" of the garment-workers, or loses -them in houses of evil. - - * * * * * * * - -I shall long remember the Night Court on Sixth Avenue, and several -occasions when I entered there after midnight and found the same -shrewd, tireless Irish judge nonchalantly fining and sentencing -negresses and white girls found in the streets under suspicious -circumstances. Many a poor Russian girl was brought forward, and called -upon to defend herself against the allegations of the soulless spies -and secret agents of the American Police. I listened to their sobs and -cries, their protests of innocence, their promises of repentance, till -I was ready to rise in Court and rave aloud and shriek, and be pounced -upon by the great fat pompous usher who represses even the expression -on your features. "Why," I wanted to cry aloud, "it is America that -ought to be tried, and not these innocent victims of America--they are -the evidence of America's guilt and not the committers of her crimes!" -But I was fixed in silence, like the reporters doing their jobs in the -front bench, and the unmoved, hard-faced attendants and police by whom -the order of the Court was kept. - -Then, not far along the same road in which the Night Court stands, -I came one evening into a wax-work show of venereal disease. It was -quite by chance I went in, for there was nothing outside to indicate -what was within. Only the spirit of adventure, which prompted me to -go in and look round wherever I saw an open door, betrayed me to -this chamber of horrors. There I saw, in pink and white and red, the -human body in the loathsome inflammation and corruption of the city's -disease. Chief of all I remember the queen of the establishment, a -hypnotic-seeming corpse of wax, lying full-length in a shroud in a -glass case. Just enough of the linen was held aside to show or suggest -the terrible cause of her decease. The show was no more than a doctor's -advertisement, and it was open in the name of science, but it was an -unforgettable vision of death at the heart of this great city pulsating -with life. - - * * * * * * * - -Then the splendour of Broadway, the great White Way, "calling moths -from leagues, from hundreds of leagues," as O. Henry wrote. What a city -of enchantment and wonder New York must seem to the traveller from some -dreary Russian or Siberian town, if seen aright. It is a thrilling -spectacle. Now that I have looked at it I say to myself, "Fancy any man -having lived and died in this era without having seen it!" Five hundred -years ago the island was dark and empty, with the serene stars shining -over it; but now the creatures of the earth have found it and built -this city on it, lit by a myriad lights. Thousands of years hence it -will be dark again belike, and empty, and uninhabited, and once more -the serene stars will shine over the island. - -[Illustration: APPLE ORCHARDS IN BLOSSOM ON THE SPURS OF THE CATSKILLS.] - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] In Russia the average wage of the shop-girl is 12 roubles a month -(_i.e._, 1½ dollars, or 6s. a week), but then she is a humble creature -and lives simply. - - - - -V - -THE AMERICAN ROAD - - -Out in the country was a different America. The maples were all red, -the first blush of the dawn of summer. In the gardens the ficacia was -shooting her yellow arrows, in the woods the American dogwood tree was -covered with white blossoms like thousands of little dolls' nightcaps. -Down at Caldwell, New Jersey, I picked many violets and anemones--large -blue fragrant violets. The bride's veil was in lovely wisps and armfuls -of white. The unfolding oak turned all rose, like the peach tree in -bloom. Each morning when I awakened and went out into the woods I found -something new had happened overnight,--thus I discovered the sycamore -in leaf, fringing and fanning, and then the veils which the naked birch -trees were wearing. The birches began to look like maidens doing their -hair. The fern fronds and azalea buds opened their hands. The chestnut -tree lit up her many candles. The shaggy hickory, the tree giant whose -bark hangs in rags and clots, had looked quite dead, but with the -coming of May it was seen to be awaking tenderly. In the glades the -little columbines put on their pink bonnets. Only the pines and cedars -were dark and changeless, as if grown old in sin beside the tender -innocence of the birches. - -It is very pleasant living in the half-country--living, that is, -in the outer suburbs of the great American city or in the ordinary -suburbs of the small city. New York has very little corresponding to -our Walthamstow, Enfield, Catford, Ilford, Camberwell, and all those -dreary congested parishes that lie eight to ten miles from the centre -of London. The American suburbs are garden cities without being called -so. Each house is detached from its neighbour, there is a stretch of -greenest lawn in front of it, there is a verandah on which are fixed -hammocks and porch-swings, there are flower-beds, blossoming shrubs, -the shade of maples and cherry trees. There are no railings or fences, -and the people on the verandah look down their lawn to the road and -take stock of all the people passing to and fro. - -Working men and women live a long way out, and are content to spend an -hour or an hour and a half a day in trains and cars if only to be quite -free of the city when work is over. - -Twelve miles of garden city is very wearisome to the pedestrian; but he -tramps them gaily when he remembers that the country is ahead, and that -he has not simply to retrace his footsteps to a town-dwelling which for -the time being he calls home. - -I set off for Chicago in the beginning of May--not in a Pullman car, -but on my own feet; for in order to understand America it is necessary -to go to America, and the only way she can be graciously approached -is humbly, on one's feet. I travelled just in the same way as I have -done the last four years in Russia--viz. with a knapsack on my back, a -staff in my hand, and a stout pair of boots on my feet. I carried my -pot, I had matches, and I reckoned to buy my own provisions as I went -along, and to cook what was necessary over my own fire by the side of -the road. At night I proposed to sleep at farmhouses in cold weather, -and under the stars when it was warm. I was ready in mind and body for -whatever might happen to me. If the farmers proved to be inhospitable, -and would not take me in on cold or rainy nights, I would quite -cheerfully tramp on till I came to a hotel, or a barn, or a cave, or -a bridge, or any place where man, the wanderer, could reasonably find -shelter from the elements. - -I took the road with great spirits. There is something unusually -invigorating in the American air. It is marvellously healthy and -strength-giving, this virginal land. Every tree and shrub seems to -have a full grasp of life, and outbreathes a robust joy. It is as if -the earth itself had greater supplies of unexhausted strength than -Europe has--as if, indeed, it were a newer world, and had spent less of -the primeval potencies and energies bequeathed to this planet at her -birth. How different from tranquil and melancholy Russia! - -America is more spacious in New York State than in New York City. The -landscape is so broad that could Atlas have held it up, you feel he -must have had fine arms. Your eyes, but lately imprisoned so closely -by unscalable sky-scrapers, run wild in freedom to traverse the long -valleys and forested ridges, waking the imagination to realise the -country of the Indians. There is a vast sky over you. The men and women -on the road have time to talk to you, and the farmer ambling along in -his buggy is interested to give you a lift and ask after your life and -your fortunes; and when he puts you down, and you thank him, he answers -in an old-fashioned way: - -"You're welcome; hand on my heart." - -In the city no one has a word to say to you, but in the country every -one is curious. It is more neighbourly to be curious and to ask -questions. I rejoiced in every scrap of talk, even in such triviality -as my chat with Otto Friedrichs, a workman, who hailed me at East Berne. - -"Are you an Amarikan?" - -"No." - -"Sprechen Sie deutsch, mein Herr?" - -"No; I'm English." - -"That bag on your back is made in Germany." - -"Very likely," said I; "I bought it in London." - -"You running avay in case dere should be ze war, eh?" - -"Well, it would be safer here, even for you." - -"What you think of our Kaiser?" - -"Fine man," said I. - -"Some say ze Kaiser is too English to make ze war. But do you know wat -I read in ze newspaper? Der Kaiser cut his hand by accident, zen he -hold up his finger--so, viz ze blood on it, and he say, 'Dat is my las' -blood of English tropp,' and he ... the blood away." - -Not knowing the word for "flicked" Otto told me in dumb show with his -fingers. - -"Last drop of English blood, eh?" said I. - -"Yes." - -"So he's quite German now, and ready to fight." - -As I sat at the side of the road every passer-by was interested in my -fire and my pot. They pitied me when they saw me trudging along the -road, and when I told them I was tramping to Chicago they commonly -exclaimed: - -"Gee! I wouldn't do that for ten thousand dollars." - -But when they saw me cooking my meals they stopped and looked at -me wistfully--that was their weakness; a hankering, not after the -wilderness, but for the manna there. They addressed to me such -non-pertinent remarks as: - -"So that's how you fix it." - -"I say, you'll get burned up." - -"Are yer making yer coffee?" - -There was a great doubt as to my business, as the following -interlocutions will suggest. In Russia I should be asked: - -"Where are you going?" - -"To Kieff," I might answer. - -"To pray," the Russian would conclude. But in America I was most -commonly taken to be a pedlar. - -"Whar you going?" - -"Chicago," I answered. - -"Peddling?" - -It astonished me to be taken for a pedlar. But I was almost as -commonly taken to be walking for a wager. I was walking under certain -conditions. I must not take a lift. I must keep up thirty miles a day. -I was walking to Chicago on a bet. Some one had betted some one else -I wouldn't do it in a certain time. I took only a dollar in my pocket -and was supporting myself by my work. I lectured in schoolhouses, -mended spades, would lend a hand in the hayfield. Or I was walking to -advertise a certain sort of boot. Or I was walking on a certain sort -of diet to advertise somebody's patent food. I was repairer of village -telephones. I was hawking toothpicks, which I very cunningly made in my -fire at the side of the road. I was a tramping juggler, and would give -a show in the town next night. - -Every one thought I accomplished a prodigious number of miles a day. At -least a hundred times I was called upon to state what was my average -"hike" for the day. Some were sympathetic and explained that they would -like to do the same, to camp out, it was the only way to see America. A -girl in a baker's shop told me she had long wanted to tramp to Chicago -and sleep out every night, but could get no friend to accompany her. -Jews slapped me on the back and told me I was doing fine. Especially -I remember a young man who walked by my side through the streets of -Wilkes Barre. He told me his average per day had been forty-five miles. - -"How long did you keep that up?" I asked. - -"A week, we went to Washington." - -"That's going some," said I. - -"How far do you usually go?" asked he. - -"Oh, five or six miles when the weather's fine," said I. - -"Yer kiddin us!" - -I was told that I wasn't the only person on the road. The great Weston -was behind me, patriarch of "hikers," aged seventy-five. He wore ice -under his hat and was walking from New York to St. Paul at twenty-five -miles a day, and was accompanied by an automobile full of liquid food. -Far ahead of me was a woman in high-heeled boots tramping from New -York to San Francisco. She carried only a small handbag, walked with -incredible rapidity, and was proving for newspaper that it was just as -easy to walk in Vienna boots as in any other. Several weeks before me a -cripple had passed, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of picture-post-cards -of himself, which he sold at a nickel each, thereby supporting himself. -He was going from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, but had five years to do -it in. - -For all and sundry upon the road I had a ready smile and a greeting; -almost every one replied to me at least as heartily, and many were -ready to talk at length. Some, however, to whom I gave greeting either -took me for a disreputable tramp or felt themselves too important in -the sight of the Lord. When I said, "How d'ye do?" or "Good morning" -they simply stared at me as if I were a cow that had mooed. In my whole -journey I encountered no hostility whatever. Only once or twice I would -hear a woman in a car say truculently to her husband, "There goes Weary -Willie." - -I had pleasant encounters innumerable, and many a talk with children. -I felt that as I was in search for the emerging American, the American -of to-morrow and the day after, I ought to take the children I met -rather seriously. It was surprising to me that the grown-ups upon the -road said to me always, "How-do?" but the children said, "Hullo." The -children always spoke as if they had met me before, or as if they were -dying for me to stop and talk to them and tell them all about the road, -and who I was and what I was doing. - -[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL: MY BREAKFAST PARTY.] - -At a little place called Clarkville I had a breakfast party. Perhaps I -had better begin at the beginning. It had been a hard frosty night, and -I slept in a barn on two planks beside an old rusty reaping-machine. At -five in the morning I made my first fire of the day, and I shared a pot -of hot tea with a disreputable tramp, who had come to warm himself at -the blaze. By seven o'clock I had walked into the next village, about -five miles on, and I was ready for a second breakfast. My first had -been for the purpose of getting warm; now I was hungry for something to -eat. - -It was a beautiful morning; on each side of the road were orchards in -full bloom, the gnarled and angular apple trees were showing themselves -lovely in myriad outbreaking of blossom, and there were thousands of -dandelions in the rank green grass beneath them. The sides of the -roadway and the banks of the village stream were deep in grass and -clover, and every hollow of the world seemed brimming with sunshine. -The sun had been radiant, and he stood over a shoulder of the Catskills -and poured warmth on the whole Western world. - -On the bank of the stream I spread out my things, emptying out of my -pack, pots, cups, provisions, books, paper, pen, and ink. I gathered -wisps of last year's weeds, and on a convenient spot started my little -fire. I had just put eggs in to boil when the first of my party -arrived. This was little Charles van Wie and his friend. Charles was -hired to come early to the school-house and light the fire, so that the -school would be warm by the time the teacher and the other boys and -girls arrived. I did not know that I had pitched my camp just between -the village and the school, on the way all the children would have to -come. In America the school-house is always some distance from the -village--this is so that mothers may not come running in and out every -minute, and it is a good arrangement for other reasons. It gives every -little boy and girl a walk, and the chance of having upon occasion -extraordinary adventures. - -Charles and his friend set to work to gather sticks for me, and saved -me the trouble of rushing every now and then for fuel to keep up -the fire. Then they hurried away to the school-house, but promised, -excitedly, to come back as soon as they could. - -Charles returned and asked me where I was going to, and what was my -name and where I'd come from. I told him, and he took out a pocket-book -and pencil and wrote all down. - -Then other boys came and watched me make my coffee. The boys--they were -all under twelve--had bunches of white lilac fixed in their coats. I -sat and ate my food and chattered. - -"Is the lilac for your teacher?" I asked of a boy. - -"I guess _not_," he replied. - -There was a look of disgust on his face. - -"Is your teacher strict?" - -"Some." - -The boys all sat or sprawled on the grass and chaffed one another. - -One of them was wearing a badge in his buttonhole, a white enamelled -button, on which was printed very distinctly: - - - Every - D A M - Booster. - - -But the DAM, when you looked at it closely, turned out to be "Dayton's -Adding Machines." - -"What does 'booster' mean?" I asked. - -"A feller that makes a job go," it was explained to me. - -After breakfast I took a photograph of them sitting in the grass. They -were much pleased. - -"If Skinny Atlas had been here he'd have broke the camera," said one of -them. - -An extremely fat boy came into view and approached our party. The -others all cried at him "Skinny Atlas," so I asked: - -"Is that a nickname? Is his surname Atlas?" - -"No," they replied, "his surname is Higgins. But he's so darned fat -that we call him Skinny Atlas. We have a saying, 'Put a nickel in the -slot and up comes Skinny Atlas.'" - -Accordingly all the boys cried out, "Put a nickel in the slot and up -comes Skinny Atlas." - -The fat boy, wearing a big straw sun-bonnet, came up and walloped -several little boys. There was some horseplay round the embers of my -fire, but Charles van Wie set an example by giving warning-- - -"Next person who pushes me I baste." - -But it was getting late, and three little girls who had been hovering -shyly at a distance cried out that it was time for the boys to go in. - -The school had only fifteen pupils, boys and girls together, and they -were all in one class, and they learned "the three R's," physiology, -and the geography of the county they lived in. - -The making of an American citizen is a simple matter in the country. -And little Charles van Wie would make one of the best that are turned -out, I should think. - -Later on in the morning I went along to the school-house and peeped in -at the window. There they all were, under the stern sway of a little -school-mistress. But they didn't see me. - -How useful to the tramp is the custom of hanging in the school-room -a map of the county or of the state in which the children live. -Often when I have wanted to know where I was I have clambered to the -school-house window and consulted the map on the wall. - -Once more to the road. The American high-road differs considerably -from any way in Europe. Every farm-house has a white letter-box on -a post outside its main entrance, and the farmer posts his letter -and hoists a metal flag as a signal to the peripatetic postman that -there are letters to collect. There are no thatched cottages; the -homesteads stand back from the road, they are always of wood, and -have shady verandahs and cosily furnished front rooms. The fields on -each side of the road are protected by six-inch mesh steel netting, -turned out by some great factory in Pittsburg I suppose. There are very -few country guide-posts, and in New York State those there are come -rather as a reward to you after you have guessed right. They are put -up at a distance from the cross-roads. The pointers of the guide-posts -are of tin. The telephone cones are of green glass, the poles are -mostly chestnut, are not straight, and rot quickly. There are many -advertisements by the way, and as you approach a town of importance -they are as thick as fungi. They are not written for tramps to jeer at, -but as hints to rich motorists. Still one necessarily smiles at: - - - CLOTHE YOUR WHOLE FAMILY ON CREDIT - $1 A WEEK. - - -or - - - DUTCHESS TROUSERS. TEN CENTS A BUTTON. - A DOLLAR A RIP. - - -A great portion of the State of Indiana seems to be devoted to Dutchess -trousers, and I often wonder whether the company had to pay many -indemnities to customers. - -One sorry feature of country advertising was the number of notices -scrawled in black with charcoal or painted in tar. In Europe picnickers -write their names or the names of their sweethearts on the rocks and -the walls and palings, but in America they write their trade, the -thing they sell, and the price a pound, what O. Henry would call their -especial sort of "graft." - -Then "rrrrrrr! rhrhrh--whaup--ssh!" the automobile appears on the -horizon, passes you, and is gone. I have no prejudice against -automobilists; they were very hospitable to me, and carried me many -miles. If I had accepted all the lifts offered me I should have been -in Chicago in a week, instead of taking two months on the journey. -But the farmers curse them. On one Sunday late in June I counted -everything that passed me. The farmer commonly tells you that hundreds -of automobiles whirl past his door every day. This day there were just -one hundred and ten, of which thirty-two were auto-cycles and the rest -cars. As a set-off against this there were only five buggies and three -ordinary cyclists. That was one of the last days of June, when I was -seventy miles from Chicago. I had two offers to take me into the city -that day! - -Besides counting the vehicles that passed me I took stock of the -automobilists themselves. No one passed till 7 A.M., and then -came a loving couple, looking like a runaway match. He was clasping her -waist, and their trunks were roped on to the car behind. Then six young -men, all in their wind-blown shirts, came tearing along on auto-cycles. -Scarcely had the noise of these subsided when a smart picnic party -rolled past in a smooth-running car, flying purple flags on which was -printed the name of their home city--Michigan. This is a common custom -in America, to carry a flag with the name of your city. It boosts your -own town, and is thought to bring trade there. - -Six townsmen came past me in a grand car. Their hats were all off; they -were all clean shaven and bald. Coats had been left at home, and the -six were in radiantly clean coloured shirts. They smiled at me; I was -one of the sights of the road. - -Many picnic parties passed me, and men and women called out to me -facetiously. Six shop-girls on a joy ride came past, and one of them -kissed her hand to me--that is one of the things the girl in the car -can safely do when she is passing a pedestrian. - -Family parties went by, and also placid husbands and wives having a -spin before lunch, and bashful happy pairs sitting behind the back of -the discreet chauffeurs. There came an auto-cycle with a frantic man -in front and a girl astride on his carrier behind. She was wiping the -sand out of her eyes as she passed, her skirt was blown by the wind, -and she showed a pair of dainty legs; the funny way in which she was -obliged to sit made her look like a stalk bending over among reeds. - -One of the few cyclists I met came up after this, and he dismounted -to talk to me. He was a tender of gasoline engines "on vacation." I -learned from him about the single auto-cycle for two. It appears that -in America they manufacture special seats to screw on the back of a -motor-cycle; some use that. Many, however, just strap a cushion on. -Young men who have auto-cycles have a "pull" with the girls; they pick -them up and take them to business, or take them home from business, and -on holidays they take them for rides of joy. Several similar couples -passed me during the day. - -All sorts of gear went by; rich gentlemen in stately pride, workmen -with their week-day grime scarcely cleared from their faces, gay girls -with parasols, honeymoon pairs, cars with men driving, cars with -women at the wheel. The automobile is far more of a general utility -in the United States than in England. Workmen, and, indeed, farmers -themselves--not those who curse--have their own cars. They mortgage -their property to get them, but they get them all the same. Even women -buy cars for themselves, and are to be seen driving them themselves. In -Great Britain it is very rare that you see a woman travelling alone in -a car, but in America it is a frequent sight. Of course in Russia, in -the country, an automobile is still a rarity. I passed last summer in a -populous part of the Urals and did not see a single car. I did not even -see an ordinary bicycle. The farther west you go the more you find the -inventions of the day taken advantage of. It is an important phenomenon -in America; it shows that there is a readiness to adopt and utilise any -new thing right off, directly it is discovered. - -This readiness, however, results in a lack of seriousness. -Inexpert driving is no crime; accidents are nothing to weep over; -badly constructed cars are driven along loose springy roads with -blood-curdling speed and recklessness. The pedestrian is vexed to see a -car come towards him, leaping, bounding, dodging, dribbling, like some -tricky centre-forward in a game of football. The nervous pedestrian has -to climb trees or walls upon occasion to be sure he won't be killed. -And then the cars themselves go frequently into ditches, or overturn -and take fire. The car has become a toy, but it's dangerous for the -children to play with. - -Then the dust! Carlyle said there was nothing but Justice in this -world, and he used the law of gravity as his metaphor, but he didn't -consider the wind--alas, that the dust does not fly in front of the car -and get into the motorist's eyes, but only drifts away over the poor -tramp who never did him any harm. - -The only horse vehicle I remarked on the road was the buggy, a gig with -disproportionately large wheels, the direct descendant of the home-made -cart. The buggy is still popular. - -"Where've you been?" asks one American of another. - -"Oh, just buggying around," he replies. - -But the buggy is staid and conventional. It belongs to the old -censorious religious America. It is supremely the vehicle of the -consciously virtuous. It is also a specially rural vehicle. I think -those who ride in buggies despise motorists from the bottom of their -hearts; they think them vulgar townspeople, and consider motoring a -form of trespass. But the automobilists are not prevented, and they -bear no rancour. They haven't time to consider the countryman. The man -in the buggy belongs to the past. In the future there will not be time -to be condemnatory, and the man who stands still to feel self-virtuous -will go to the wall. - -The people who will continue to feel superior to the motorists will be -tramps sitting on palings, grinning at them as they pass by. They also -will remain the only people the motorists, rushing abreast of Time, -will ever envy. However much progress progresses there will always -remain those who sit on the palings and grin. - - - - -VI - -THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE - - -As I tramped from village to village I was surprised to see -so much stained glass in the churches of the Methodists, the -Congregationalists, and other Puritans. Until quite modern times -stained glass belonged exclusively to the ritualistic denominations. -The Puritan, believing in simplicity of service, and in spirit rather -than in form, put stained glass in the same category as the burning of -incense, singing in a minor key, and praying in Latin. It partook of -the glamour of idolatry; it had a sensuous appeal; it blurred the pure -light of understanding. The true Puritan meeting-place is one of clear -glass windows, hard seats, and a big Bible. It seems a pity that a very -clear profession of faith should be blurred by picture windows--and, -let me add by way of parenthesis, cushioned seats and revivalist -preachers. - -I examined in detail the coloured glass of a fine "Reform Church" that -I passed on the road. The windows were rather impressive. They were not -representations of scenes in Holy Writ, they contained no pictures of -saints or angels, of the Saviour, or of the Virgin. So they escaped the -imputation of idolatry. They were just pictures of symbolical objects -or of significant letters. Thus, one window was the bird and symbolised -Freedom, another was an anchor and symbolised Hope, another was a -crown and symbolised Eternal Life. In one window the letters C.E. were -illuminated--meaning Christian Endeavour, I presume; on another window -was the open Bible, symbolising the foundation of belief. In every case -the whole window was stained, and the little symbolical picture was set -against a brilliant background. - -It was all in good taste, and was a pleasant ornament, which made the -church look very attractive exteriorly. But it was a compromise with -a spirit not its own. My explanation is, some one must have wanted -chapels to put in stained glass. Some one now has a great interest -in making them put in stained glass. He is the manufacturer of that -commodity. He has put stained glass on the market in such a way that -every church is bound to have it. And he has devised a way of not -offending the rigorous Puritans. "What is wrong in coloured light?" -said he. "Nothing. It is only what you use it for. We can use it to -show the things in which we believe." If incense could be manufactured -in such a way as to make millions of dollars it would find its way -somehow into the chapels. I was walking one day with an itinerant -preacher, a man who called himself "a creed smasher." He wanted to -weld all creeds into one and unify the Church of Christ. "Think of -commerce," said he, "already it has stopped the wars of the nations; -in time it will calm the wars of the sects. If only the churches were -corporations, and Methodists could hold shares in Roman Catholicism, -and Roman Catholics in Methodism!" - -Commerce is exerting an influence that cannot be withstood. To take -another instance, it has provided America with rocking-chairs and -porch-swings. Although the Americans are an extremely active people, -much more so than the British, yet their houses are all full of -rocking-chairs, and on their verandahs they have porch-swings and -hammocks. The British have straight-backs. - -The Americans did not all cry out with one voice for rocking-chairs and -swings. The Pilgrim Fathers did not bring them over. The reason they -have them lies in the fact that some manufacturer started making them -for the few. Then ambition took possession of him and he said, "There's -something in rocking-chairs. I'm going to turn them out on a large -scale." - -"But there aren't the customers to buy them," some one objected. - -"Never mind, we'll make the customers. We'll put them to the people in -such a way that they gotta buy. We'll make 'em feel there's going to -be such an opportunity for buyin' 'em as never was and never will be -again." - -"You believe you'll succeed?" - -"We'll make it so universal that if a man goes into a house and doesn't -see a rocking-chair and a porch-swing he'll think, 'My Lord, they've -had the brokers in!'" - -So rocking-chairs and porch-swings came. So, many things have come to -humanity--many worse things. - -I had just written this note, for I have written most of my book by the -road, when I heard the following interesting talk about the town of -Benton, Pennsylvania. I was walking from Wilkes Barre to Williamsport, -and Benton is on the way. It is a place that has had many fires lately. - -"Ah reckon ah know wot cleared Benton out more'n fires." - -"What's that?" - -"Wy, otomobeeles; mortgaging their farms to get 'em. There's not much -in Benton. You couldn't raise a hundred dollars. It's the agents and -the boosters of the companies that are mos' to blame, no doubt, but -they're fools all the same who buy otomobeeles when they cahn pay their -bills at the stores." - -"What agents?" I asked. "D'you mean commercial travellers?" - -"No. The agents in the town. Every little town has a man, sometimes -two or three men, who are agents for the companies who manufacture the -cars; they are just like the insurance agents, and are always talking -about their business, comparing makes of car, praising this one and -that, and getting folks on to want them." - -"I suppose the companies want to make the motor car a domestic -necessity, a thing no one can do without," I remarked. - -"You're right; they do and they will. They'll fix that in time, you -betcher, we'll all be having them. Then when we cahn do without 'em -they'll raise the prices on us. Already they've started it with the -gasoline; there's plenty motor spirit in the world, but the company -gets possession of it and regulates the prices. An' you cahn make an -oto go without gasoline. They can put it on us every time." - -I should say society at Benton was suffering very badly from the -influence of depraved commercialism. Some years ago Miss Ida Tarbell -exposed what has been called "The Arson Trust," a company formed for -setting fire to insured establishments on a basis of 10 per cent profit -on the spoil. Benton might have furnished her with some interesting -examples. There have been so many fires in the little town of late that -tramps are refused the shelter even of barns, as if their match-ends -were responsible. On the Fourth of July three years ago half the town -was burnt down. Last year in a gale the shirt factory was gutted; the -workmen had banked the fire up for the night, and about twenty minutes -after the last man had left the works there was an explosion, and the -red coals were scattered over the wooden building. Two months ago a -large house took fire, and just a week before I reached the settlement -the large Presbyterian church was consumed. Indeed, as I came into the -town I remarked with some surprise the charred walls and beams of the -church, and read the pathetic printing on the stone of foundation, -"This stone was laid in 1903." - -I had an interesting account of the church from the wife of a farmer at -whose house I stayed a night. The church had been insured for seventeen -thousand dollars, and it was twelve thousand dollars in debt. The money -borrowed was not secured on the church building, but on the personal -estates of many people in the town. Consequently, several people were -liable to be sold up if the money were not forthcoming. Two days before -settling day the fire took place, and there was doubtless rejoicing in -some hearts. The villagers had tried hard to make the place pay, they -had even let a portion of the church building to be used as a bank! -Bazaars had failed. The debt-raiser had tried "to put a revival over -on to them," but had failed. The minister, not receiving his salary, -had abandoned them, and at last the bare fact remained of the big white -church and the big unpaid debt. Then occurred the providential fire. - -But the insurance company would not pay the seventeen thousand dollars. -The fire had taken place under suspicious circumstances, and it was -said there would be a legal fight over it. The conflagration had -occurred on the night of a school-opening meeting. Choice flowers -had been sent from many houses in the town, and it was beautifully -decorated. There was, however, nothing obviously inflammable in the -church; it was built largely of brick and stone. But about an hour -after the people had gone home the fire broke out. Next day it was -found that the big Bible had been soaked in coal oil. Oiled newspaper -was found, and it was alleged that the fire brigade would have saved -the church, but that as fast as they put it out in front somebody else -was lighting it up behind. Anyhow, the insurance company refused to pay -the seventeen thousand dollars. But it cannot refuse absolutely; the -advertisement of failure to pay would be too damaging--it will put up a -new church instead! The Presbyterian church will be resurrected. - -"I put Benton up against the world for fires," said my hostess. "For a -small place, only a thousand people, I reckon there isn't its like." - -For my part I felt sorry for the Bentonians, even for those who set the -fire alight, supposing it was deliberately lighted. When commercial -interest is the greatest thing in the world there are opportunities -for a few men to feel themselves great and powerful, but that glory -of mankind is far overbalanced by the occasions on which it causes -man to be mean. Commercial tricks bring the holy spirit of man -into disrepute. To find oneself mixed up in certain machinations is -poignantly humiliating. We have all of us been wounded in that way ere -now. The just pride of the soul has been offended, and we have thought -how shameful a thing it was to have become mixed up in it at all, by -_it_ meaning the world, the whole shady business, call it what you will. - -As I went along from village to village in New York and Pennsylvania -I was struck by the uniformity of the architecture. Every church -and school and store and farmstead seemed standard size and "as -supplied." There seemed to be a passion for having known units. Not -only in architecture was this evident, but in every utensil, machine, -carriage, dress of the people. It was evident in the people themselves. -Americans have the name of being extremely conventional. I think that -is because, under the present domination of the _commercial machine_, -American boys and girls and men and women are all turned into standard -sizes. If Americans have rigid principles of ethics it is because -they believe all the parts of the great machine are standardised, and -that when any one part wears out there must always be an accurately -fitting other part ready to be fixed where the old one has fallen out. -Personality itself is standardised; thus the tailor-priest advertises -his wear, "Preserve your Personality in Clothes. Occasionally you -have observed some article of wear that has led you to the mental -conclusion--'That's my style--that's me.'" - -[Illustration: THE TRAMP'S DRESSING-ROOM.] - -It was strange to me to find that even tramps and outcasts, who fulfil -little function in the machine, were expected to conform to type. I -was stared at, questioned; my rough tweeds, so suitable to me, were an -object of mirth; my action of washing my face and my teeth by the side -of the road was a portentous aberration. I remember how astonished a -motorist and his wife appeared when they came upon me in the act of -drawing a pail of water for a thirsty calf one morning in Indiana. The -temperature stood at ninety-five in the shade--all nature was parched, -and as I came along the highway a calf, fastened by a chain to the -steel netting of a field, came up and rubbed his nose on my knees. As -calves don't usually take the initiative in this way, I concluded he -expected me to do something for him. There was an empty pail beside -him. I took it to the farmhouse pump and drew water. As I did so, the -farmer and his wife drew up at the farm in their motor, and they looked -at me curiously. The calf came bounding towards me and almost upset the -pail in his eagerness to drink. Then he gulped down all the water, and -whilst I went to draw another pailful he executed a sort of war-dance -or joy-dance, throwing out his hind legs and bounding about in a way -that testified his happiness. The farmer's wife broke silence: - -"Wha' yer doing?" - -"I'm giving the calf some water." - -"Nao," said she, and looked at her husband, "giving the calf some -water, can--you--beat--that?" - -I gave the calf his second bucketful and then started off down the way -again, and the farmer and his wife looked after me in blank surprise. -In America no tramp has any compassion for thirsty calves, he is not -expected to look after the thirst of any one but himself. The farmer -and his wife looked at one another, and their eyes seemed to say, "But -tramps don't do these things!" - -Thence it may be surmised that America is no place for individuals -as such. Originality is a sin. Americans hate to give an individual -special attention, special notice. Even personal salvation is merged -in mass salvation. The revivalist, his press agents, and stewards are -a means of wholesale salvation. A revival meeting is a machine for -saving souls on a large scale. It might be thought that the revivalist -himself took his stand as an exceptional individual. Not at all: he is -only a type. American public opinion does not allow a man to stand out -as superior. It is surprising the dearth of noble men in the popular -estimate of to-day. Mockery follows on the heels of noble action or -individual action, and reduces it to type. That is a great function of -the American Press of to-day, the defaming of men of originality and -the explaining away of noble action. I remember a conversation I heard -at Cleveland. Roosevelt had just cleared himself of the press libel of -drunkenness. - -"Wasn't it a good thing to clear the air, so," said one man, "and get -clear of the charge once for all?" - -"I don't think he got clear of it," said the other. "It's all very -well to bring an action against the editor of a provincial paper, but -why didn't he take up the cudgels against one of the powerful New -York journals, who said the same thing? They had money and could have -defended their case." - -"I don't think money was needed--except to buy evidence." - -"If you ask me," said the other, "it was all a very shrewd -electioneering dodge. Roosevelt is an expert politician. He knows -the value of being in the limelight, and he knows that nothing will -fetch more votes in the United States just now than a reputation for -sobriety. He was just boosting himself and the home products." - -That is a fair example of the way people think of striking -personalities and original views. - -Then every man is considered a booster. Boosting is accepted as a -national and individual function. Towns are placarded: "Boost for your -own city and its own industries. Make a habit of it." In Oil City, for -instance, I found in every shop a ticket announcing "Booster Week June -9-16." In that week Oil City was going to do all it could to call -attention to itself. Citizens would pledge themselves to speak of Oil -City to strangers in the train and when on visits to other towns. The -city of Newark, New Jersey, is always recommending its own people and -visitors to "Think of Newark." Whenever you enter into conversation -with an American you find him suddenly drifting towards telling you -the name of a hotel to stay at, or of an establishment where they sell -"dandy cream," or he is praising the bricks turned out by the local -brick works, or the conditions of the employment of labour in some silk -works on which his native town is dependent for prosperity. In a widely -distributed "Creed of the American" I read, "I remember always that I -am a booster." Even fathers refer to their new-born babies as "little -boosters." It should be remembered when Americans are boasting of their -native land and its institutions that they were cradled in boosting. -It is a habit that in many ways has profited America. It has attracted -the emigrant more than all that has ever been printed about it. It is a -great commercial habit. But it is in the end degrading. - -What is the name of the fairy who has muttered an incantation over the -Pilgrim Father and changed him into a booster? And is a booster only a -Pilgrim Father who brags about the stuff he manufactures? - -It seemed to me that by substituting the idea _booster_ for the idea -_man_ you get rid of so many of the weaknesses of flesh and blood. A -man who is boosting day in and day out, using his tongue as a sort of -living stores' catalogue, is necessarily loyal to the great machine. -But loyalty to the machine has its dangers. On my journey to Chicago I -made some interesting observations in Natural History. I got into the -train at Franklin to go to Oil City, some five or six urban miles. What -was my astonishment to see that each of the eight or nine passengers in -my car had fixed their railway tickets in the ribbons of their hats, -and they themselves were deep in their newspapers. The conductor came -along and took the tickets from their hats and examined them, collected -those that were due to be given up and punched those that were not, and -stuck them back in the ribbons of the hats, the wearers reading their -newspapers all the time and making not the slightest sign that they -noticed what the conductor was doing. The only sign of consciousness I -observed was a sort of subtle pleasure in acting so--the sort of mild -pleasure which suffuses the faces of lunatics when they are humoured by -visitors to the asylum. They were shamming that they were machinery, -and in almost the same style as the man who is under the delusion that -he is a teapot, one arm being his spout and the other his handle. - -Thus the elevator man in the Department Store also thinks himself a bit -of machinery. He seems to be trained to act mechanically, and never to -alter the staccato patter that comes from his mouth at each floor. He -speaks like a human phonograph. - -Then all waiters, shop-attendants, barbers, and the like try to behave -like manikins. Most of all, in the language of Americans is the -mechanical obsession apparent. A man who is confined in a hospital -writes: "I'm _holding down a bed_ in the hospital over here." The -man who meets another and brings him along, simply "collects" him in -America. The baseball team that beats another 6-0 "slips a six-nothing -defeat" on them. Especially in baseball reports, commercialism and -rhythms heard in great "works" abound. - -The influence of great machinery gets to the heart of the people. A -man when he joins a gang of workmen is taught to co-operate; he has to -trim off any original or personal way of doing things, and fit in with -the rest of the gang. When the gang is going mechanically and easily, a -man quicker than the rest is taken as leader, and the speed of the work -is raised. The mechanical action in each individual is intensified, is -perfected. Cinematograph films are even taken of gangs at work; the -pictures are shown before experts, who indicate weak points, recommend -discharges or alterations and show how the gangs can be reconstituted -to work more smoothly. Each man is drilled to act like a machine, and -the drilling enters into the fibre of his being to such an extent that -when work is over his muscles move habitually in certain directions, -and the rhythm of his day's labour controls his language and his -thought. - -In the factory it is the same. In a vast mechanical contrivance there -is just one thing that machinery cannot do; so between two immense -complicated engines it is necessary to place a human link. A man goes -there, and flesh and blood is grafted into steel and oil. The man -performs his function all day, but he also senses the great machine in -his mind and his soul; and when he goes out to vote for his President, -or talk to men and women about the world in which he lives, he does so -more as a standardised bit of mechanism, than as a tender human being. - -Alas, for the men and women who wear out and cease to be serviceable! -They are the old iron, and their place is the scrap-heap. "White trash" -is the name by which they go. - -Bernard Shaw, and indeed many others, look forward to the diminution of -toil by machinery. The minimising of toil is to them a great blessing. -Because machinery lessens toil they are on the side of machinery. -Meanwhile life shows a paradox. The Russian peasant who works without -machines toils less than the American who takes advantage of every -invention. The Russian emigrant who comes to America simply does not -know what work is, and he stares in amazement at the angry foreman who -tells him, when he is at it at his hardest, to "get a move on yer." - -In America the Americans slave; they slave for dollars, for more -business, for advancement, but in the end for dollars only, I suppose. -They will fill up any odd moment with some work that will bring in -money. They will make others work, and take the last ounce of energy -out of their employees. The machine itself is the size of America, and -only in little nooks and corners can anything spring up that is not -of the machine. Even millionaires know nothing more to do than to go -on making millions. Yet there is not a feverish anxiety to get money. -Losses are borne with equanimity. It's just a matter of "the apple -tree's loaded with fruit. I'm going up to get another apple." - -Present experience shows that machinery increases the toil of mankind. -It need not increase it, but it does. It might diminish it, but there -are many reasons why it does not. For one thing, it increases the -standard of living. It makes rocking-chairs, porch-swings, automobiles, -and the like indispensable things. First, machinery makes the things, -then the things make the machinery duplicate themselves. So it raises -the standard of living and increases the toil of mankind. It is going -on increasing the standard of living for the rich, for the middle-class -aping the rich, and for the working men aping the middle-class. - -Is it good, then, that the standard of living is being raised? Well, -no; because the standard of living now means the standard of luxury. I -should have used that phrase from the beginning. - -I said this to a man on the road, and he asked me what I thought a -man should live for, but I could not answer him. Each man has his -individual destiny to fulfil. Destiny is not a matter of the clothes -you wear or of the cushions you sit upon. The beggar pilgrim going -in rags to Jerusalem may be more happy than a Pierpont Morgan, who -writes pathetically at the head of the bequest of his millions that he -believes in the blood of Jesus. - -One thing I noted in America, that the blossom of religion seems to -have been pressed between Bible leaves, withered and dried long ago. -What is called religion is a sort of ethical rampage. The descendants -of the Puritans are "probing sin" and "whipping vice." The rich are -signing cheques, the hospitals are receiving cheques. The women of -the upper classes are visiting the poor and adopting the waifs. But -seldom did I come in contact with a man or a woman who stood in humble -relation to God or the mystery of life. Even the great passion to put -things right, lift the masses, stop corruption, and build beautiful -cities and states is begotten in the sureness of science rather than -in the fear of the Lord. Far from fearing God, preachers announce from -their pulpits that they are "working with Him," or "co-operating with -the inevitable tendencies of the world," or "hastening on the work -of evolution." For my part I believe that it is my sacred due to my -brother that he be given an opportunity of facing this world, the -mystery of its beauty and of his life upon it, that he find out God -for himself and learn to pray to Him. But that is at once Eastern and -personal. - -The Y.M.C.A. informs me as I sit in a car that "The great asset of this -town is the young men of this town." Must it be put that way? Is that -the only way in which the people of the town can be got to understand -how wonderful is the life and promise of any young man, how tender and -gentle and lovable he is personally, how unformed, how fresh from his -mother and his Creator? - -As I go along the road I pick up tracts, sown by the devil, I suppose. -Here is one of them: - - - Verily I say unto you that each and every one of you may be a - Count of Monte Christo, and some day exclaim, "The World is mine!" - - The world was made for you, that I know. That you were made for - the world goes without saying. - - Therefore hear me and believe me. If you desire wealth it _can_ be - yours. If you desire _fame_ it can be yours. - - But you cannot get something for nothing. You must pay for - everything worth having. You must pay the price set upon it, and - in the coin of the realm. - - The coin of the realm is industry--just that. Industry and only - industry. Nothing but industry. - - -[Illustration: BY THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY TO MICHIGAN: THE ELECTRIC -FREIGHT TRAIN.] - -Poor immigrant, who thinks it would be grand to be a Count of Monte -Christo, or, to bring it nearer home, a John D. Rockefeller or an -Andrew Carnegie, and who thinks that honest labour will take him there! -Even were American success a thing worth striving for it is not won -by that means. It is a game of halma. It's not the man who moves all -his pieces out one square at a time who wins, but the sagacious player -who knows both to plan in advance and to hop over others when the -opportunity arises. - -But the good American young man, "the greatest asset of the town," -believes this gospel, and he gives his body and mind to the great -machine, and fills the gap between two otherwise disconnected -mechanisms. If he has been brought up "well," he just fits the -gap and is standard size. He feels in his soul every throb of the -engines, and registers in his integuments every rhythm and rhyme of -the great, accurate, definite, circulating, oscillating machine. He -behaves like a machine in his leisure hours. He even dances like a -mechanical contrivance. On none of the occasions when the Fatherland -requires his sober human judgment can he stand as a man. He seems -spoilt for the true citizenship. What he does understand is the -improvement, adjustment, and significance of machinery, and he can -look intelligently at America the Great Machine. Perhaps this is his -function whilst America is realising the dream of materialism and -progress. But America would take care of itself if the American were -all right. I could not but have that opinion as I left the cities and -walked through the rich country, the new world, as yet scarcely visibly -shopsoiled by commercialism. - - - - -VII - -RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON - - -I came into Forest City along a road made of coal-dust. A black by-path -led off to the right down a long gradual slope, and was lost among -the culm-heaps of a devastated country side. Miners with sooty faces -and heavy coal-dusty moustaches came up in ones and twos and threes, -wearing old peak-hats, from the centre of the front of which rose -their black nine-inch lamps looking like cockades. They carried large -tarnished "grub-cans," they wore old cotton blouses, and showed by -unbuttoned buttons their packed, muscular bodies. Shuffling forward up -the hill they looked like a different race of men--these divers of the -earth. And they were nearly all Russians or Lithuanians or Slavs of one -kind or another. - -"Mostly foreigners here," said I to an American whom I overtook. - -"You can go into that saloon among the crowd and not hear a word of -white the whole night," he replied. - -I addressed a collier in English. - -"Are you an American?" - -"No speak English," he replied, and frowned. - -"From Russia?" I inquired, in his own tongue. - -"And you from where?" he asked with a smile. "Are you looking for a -job?" - -But before I could answer he sped away to meet a trolly that was -just whizzing along to a stopping-place. Presently I myself got into -a car and watched in rapid procession the suburbs of Carbondale -and Scranton. Black-faced miners waited in knots at the stations -all along the road. I read on many rocks and railings the scrawled -advertisement, "Buy diamonds from Scurry." Girls crowded into the car -from the emptying silk-mills, and they were in slashed skirts, some -of them, and all in loud colours, and over-decorated with frills, -ribbons, and shoddy jewellery. We came to dreary Iceville, all little -grey houses in the shadow of an immense slack mountain. We came into -the fumes of Carbondale, where the mines have been on fire ten years; -we got glimpses of the far, beautiful hills and the tender green of -spring woods set against the soft darkness of abundant mountains. We -dived into wretched purlieus where the frame-buildings seemed like -flotsam that had drifted together into ridges on the bending earth. -We saw dainty little wooden churches with green and yellow domes, the -worshipping places of Orthodox Greeks, Hungarians, Ruthenians, and at -every turn of the road saw the broad-faced, cavernous-eyed men and the -bright-eyed, full-bosomed women of the Slavish nations. I realised that -I had reached the barracks of a portion of America's great army of -industrial mercenaries. - -I stayed three days at Casey's Hotel in Scranton, and slept nights -under a roof once more, after many under the stars. I suppose there was -a journalist in the foyer of the hotel, for next morning, when I opened -one of the local papers, I read the following impression of my arrival: - - - With an Alpine rucksack strapped to his back, his shoes thick with - coal-dust, and a slouch hat pulled down on all sides to shut out - the sun, a tall, raw-boned stranger walked up Lackawanna Avenue - yesterday afternoon, walked into the rotunda of the Hotel Casey - and actually obtained a room. - - -Every paper told that I was an Englishman specially interested in -Russians and the America of the immigrant. So I needed no further -introduction to the people of the town. - -Just as I was going into the breakfast-room a bright boy came up to me -and asked me in Russian if I were Stephen Graham. "My name is Kuzma," -said he. "I am a Little Russian. I read you wanted to know about the -Russians here, so I came along to see you." - -"Come and have breakfast," said I. - -We sat down at a table for two, and considered each a delicately -printed sheet entitled, "Some suggestions for your breakfast." Kuzma -was thrilled to sit in such a place; he had never been inside the hotel -before. It was pretty daring of him to come and seek me there. But -Russians are like that, and America is a free country. - -As we had our grape-fruit and our coffee and banana cream and various -other "suggestions," Kuzma told me his story. He was a Little Russian, -or rather a Red Russian or Ruthenian, and came from Galicia. Three -years previously he had arrived in New York and found a job as -dish-washer at a restaurant, after three months of that he progressed -to being bottle-washer at a druggist's, then he became ice-carrier at -a hotel. Then another friendly Ruthenian introduced him to a Polish -estate agent, who was doing a large business in selling farms to Polish -immigrants. As Kuzma knew half a dozen Slavonic dialects the Pole took -him away from New York, and sat him in his office at Scranton, putting -him into smart American attire, and making a citizen out of a "Kike." I -should say for the benefit of English readers that illiterate Russians -and Russian Jews are called Kikes, illiterate Italians are "Wops," -Hungarians are "Hunkies." These are rather terms of contempt, and the -immigrant is happy when he can speak and understand and answer in -English, and so can take his stand as an American. After six months' -clerking and interpreting Kuzma began to do a little business on his -own account, and actually learned how to deal in real estate and sell -to his brother Slavs at a profit. - -Kuzma, as he sat before me at breakfast, was a bright, well-dressed -business American. You'd never guess that but three years before he had -entered the New World and taken a job as dish-washer. He had seized the -opportunity. - -"You're a rich man now?" said I. - -"So-so. Richer than I could ever be in Galicia. I'm learning English at -the High School here, and when I pass my examination I shall begin to -do well." - -"You are studying?" - -"I do a composition every day, on any subject, sometimes I write a -little story. I try to write my life for the teacher, but he says I am -too ambitious." - -"Do you love your Ruthenian brothers and sisters here?" - -"No; I prefer the Great Russians." - -"You're a very handsome young man. I expect you've got a young lady in -your mind now. Is she an American, or one of your own people? Does she -live here, or did you leave her away over there, in Europe?" - -"I don't think of them. I shall, however, marry a Russian girl." - -"Have you many friends here?" - -"Very many." - -"You will take me to them?" - -"Oh yes, with pleasure." - -"And where shall we go first? It is Sunday morning. Shall we go to -church?" - -We left the hotel and went to a large Baptist chapel. When we arrived -there we found the whole congregation engaged in Bible study. The -people were divided into three sections,--Russians, Ruthenians, Poles. -Russians sat together, Ruthenians and Little Russians together, and -Poles together. I was most heartily welcomed, and took a place among -the circle of Russians, Kuzma being admitted there also, though by -rights he should have gone to the other Ruthenians. He was evidently a -favourite. - -We took the forty-second chapter of Genesis, reading aloud the first -verse in Russian, the second in Ruthenian, and the third in Polish. -When that was accomplished we prayed in Ruthenian, then we listened to -an evangelical sermon in Russian, and then sang, "Nearer, my God, to -Thee!" in the same manner as we had read the chapter of Genesis--first -verse in Russian, second in Ruthenian, third in Polish. It was strange -to find myself singing with Kuzma: - - - Do Ciebie Boze moj! - Przyblizam sie. - - -I have never seen Poles and Ruthenians and Russians so happy together -as in this chapel, and indeed in America generally. In Russia they more -or less detest one another. They are certainly of different faiths, and -they do not care about one another's language. But here there is a real -Pan-Slavism. It will hold the Slavic peoples together a long time, and -separate them from other Americans. Still there are not many cities in -the United States resembling Scranton ethnologically. The wandering -Slav when he moves to another city is generally obliged to go to a -chapel where only English is spoken, and he strains his mind and his -emotions to comprehend the American spirit. - -After the hymn the congregation divided into classes, and talked about -the Sermon on the Mount, and to me they were like very earnest children -at a Sunday School. I was able to look round. There were few women in -the place; nearly all of us were working men, miners whose wan faces -peered out from the grime that showed the limit of their washing. -At least half the men were suffering from blood-poisoning caused -by coal bruises, and their foreheads and temples showed dents and -discolorations. They had been "up against it." They would not have been -marked that way in Russia, but I don't think they grudged anything to -America. They had smiles on their lips and warmth in their eyes; they -were very much alive. "Tough fellows, these Russians," wrote Gorky. -"Pound them to bits and they'll come up smiling." - -They were nearly all peasants who had been Orthodox, but had been -"converted"; they were strictly abstinent; they sighed for Russia, -but they were proud to feel themselves part of the great Baptist -community, and knit to America by religious ties. None of them entirely -approved of Scranton. They felt that a mining town was worse than -anything they had come from in Russia, but they were glad of the high -wages they obtained, and were saving up either to go back to Russia and -buy land or to buy land in America. They craved to settle on the land -again. - -It seemed to me Kuzma's business of agent for real estate among the -Slavs was likely to prove a very profitable one. I shall come back -to Scranton one day and find him a millionaire. He evidently had the -business instinct--an example of the Slav who does not want the land -again. The fact that he sought me out showed that he was on the _qui -vive_ in life. - -When the service was concluded we went over the church with a young -Russian who had fled to America to escape conscription, and who averred -that he would never go back to his own country. His nose was broken, -and of a peculiar blue hue, owing to blood-poisoning. His finger-nails -were cut short to the quick, but even so, the coal-dust was deep -between the flesh and the nail. He was most cordial, his handshake was -something to remember, even to rue a little. He had been one of those -who took the collection, and he emptied the money on to a table--a -clatter of cents and nickels. He showed us with much edification the -big bath behind the pulpit where the converted miners upon occasion -walked the plank to the songs of fellow-worshippers. They were no -doubt attracted by the holiness of water, considering the dirt in which -they lived. - -"He is a Socialist," said Kuzma, as we went away to have lunch. "A -Socialist and a Baptist as well. He has a Socialist gathering in the -afternoon and Russian tea and speeches, and he wants me to go. But they -hold there should be no private property. I want private property. I -want to travel and to have books of my own, so I can't call myself a -Socialist." - -In the afternoon Kuzma took me to the Public Library and showed me its -resources. In the evening we went to supper at the house of a dear old -Slovak lady, who had come from Hungary on a visit thirty years ago, and -had never returned to her native land. She had been courted and won and -married within three weeks of her arrival--her husband a rich Galician -Slav. Now she was a widow, and had three or four daughters, who were so -American you'd never suspect their foreign parentage. - -She told me of the many Austrian and Hungarian Slavs in Pennsylvania, -and gave it as her opinion that whenever a political party was badly -worsted in south-eastern Europe the beaten wanted to emigrate _en bloc_ -to the land of freedom. When they came over they held to the national -traditions and discussed national happenings for a while, but they -gradually forgot, and seldom went back to the European imbroglio. - -A touching thing about this lady's house was a ruined chapel I found on -the lawn--a broken-down wooden hut with a cross above it, built when -the Slav tradition had been strong, and used then to pray in before -the Ikon, but now only accommodating the spade and the rake and a -garden-roller. - -We had a long talk, partly in Russian, partly in English--the old -lady had forgotten the one and only knew the other badly. So it was a -strange conversation, but very informing and pleasant. - -Slavs always talk of human, interesting things. - -Kuzma was very happy, having spent a long day with an Englishman whose -name had been in the newspaper. We walked back to the hotel, and for a -memory he took away with him a newspaper-cutting of a review of one of -my books and a portrait of the tramp himself. - -Next day, through the kindness of a young American whom I had met the -week before entirely by chance, I was enabled to go down one of the -coal-mines of Scranton, and see the place where the men work. The whole -of the city is undermined, and during the daytime there are more men -under Scranton than above it. - -I was put into the charge of a very intelligent Welshman, who was a -foreman, and we stepped into the cage and shot down the black shaft -through a blizzard of coal-dust, crouching because the cage was so -small, and holding on to a grimy steel bar to steady ourselves in the -swift descent. In a few seconds we reached the foot--a place where -there was ceaseless drip of water on glistening coal--and we walked out -into the gloom. - -Black men were moving about with flaming lamps at their heads, electric -cars came whizzing out of the darkness, drawing trucks of coal. Whole -trucks were elevated in the opposite shaft from that in which we had -descended, elevated to the pit-mouth with a roar and a rush and a -scattering of lumps of coal. I gained a lively realisation of one way -in which it is possible to get a coal-bruise. - -My guide showed me a map of the mine, and we went along dark tunnels -to the telephone cavern, and were enabled to give greeting to miners -as far as three miles away underground. Every man working in the mine -was in telephonic communication with the pit-mouth. I saw the men at -work, watched small trucks of coal being drawn by asses to the main -line where the train was made up. I talked with Poles, Ruthenians, -Russians--actually meeting underground several of those whom I had seen -the day before in the Baptist Chapel. They were all very cheerful, -and smiled as they worked with their picks. Some were miners, some -labourers. The miner directs the blasting and drilling, puts in the -powder and blows out the coal; the labourer works with pick and shovel. -A man has to serve two years in a mine as a labourer before he can be -a miner. Even a British immigrant, who has worked in South Wales or -Northumberland or elsewhere, has to serve his term as a labourer. This -discourages British men. Scranton used to be almost entirely Welsh; -but it goes against the grain in an English-speaking man to fetch and -carry for a Slovak or a Pole. On the other hand, this rule safeguards -American strikers against imported miners. - -After I had wandered about the mine a while I went up to the -"Breaker's" tower, to the top of which each truck of coal was hoisted -by the elevator; and I watched the fanning and screening and guiding -and sifting of this wonderful machine, which in collaboration with -the force of gravity can sort a ton of coal a second. I talked with -Polish boys sitting in the stream of the rolling, hurrying coal; their -task was to pick out bits of slate and ore; and I watched the platemen -splitting lumps of coal with their long-handled hammers, and casting -out the impurities. I saw the wee washhouse where the collier may bathe -if he wish. - -"Well, America or Russia, which is it?" I asked of almost every Russian -I met. "Which do you prefer? Are you Americans now or Russians?" - -And nearly all replied, "America; we will be Americans. What does one -get in Russia?--fifty cents a day."[2] Only a few said that America was -bad, that the mining was dangerous and degrading. Strange to say, the -astonishment at America's wealth and the wages they get from her had -not died away. They admired America for the wages she gave; not for -the things for which the people of culture in the great cities admire -her. America gave them money, the power to buy land, the power to buy -low pleasures, the power to get back to Russia, or to journey onward to -some other country--to the Argentine or to Canada. - -I then spent a day visiting people at random. I went into Police -Station No. 4, and found Sergeant Goerlitz sitting at a desk reading -his morning paper, and he was very ready to talk to me. From him I -gathered that the Slavs were the best citizens--quiet, industrious, and -law-abiding. By Slavs he meant Huns, Bulgarians, Galicians, Ruthenians. -The Russians were vulgar and pushing. He probably meant Russian Jews -and Russians. The Italians were the most dangerous people; they -committed most crimes, and never gave one another away to the police. -The Poles and Jews were the most successful people. - -I went to the house of a communicative, broad-nosed, broad-lipped -little Ruthenian priest--an Austrian subject--and he told me that -Russia could take India whenever she wanted to, America could take -Canada, and that Germany would break our naval power. But the English -would still be the greatest people in the world. In the near future -the whole of North America would be one empire, and the whole of South -America another--one Anglo-Saxon, the other Latin. He was evidently -a student of contemporary possibilities. Despite his belief in -America he was proud of his own nationality, and jealous of the loss -of any of his flock. To his church there came three hundred Little -Russians and about thirty Great Russians. He reckoned there were fifty -families in Scranton purely Nihilist--by that he meant atheistic and -pleasure-seeking. At his church the service was in Slavonic and the -sermon in Ruthenian. He was sorry to say there were comparatively few -marriages. People came to the town to make money rather than to live. - -Then I went to the official Russian priest, away on Division Street. He -shepherded one hundred and thirty-seven families, and four hundred and -sixty-two unmarried people. His church had been burned down the year -before, but had sprung up again immediately. Some of the congregation -had succeeded in business, and having come as poor colonists were now -rich and respected citizens, professional men, large storekeepers, -responsible clerks. Scranton was more like a Russian city than an -American, and it was possible to flourish as a lawyer or a doctor or -an estate agent although you knew very little of the English language. -And out in the country round about were many Russian farms with -real Russian peasants on them; and he spent many weeks in the year -travelling about in the rural districts giving the consolation of -Orthodoxy to the faithful. - -A pathetic thing happened whilst I was taking leave of the priest; a -young workman came in to ask advice, and in salutation he took the -priest's hand to kiss it, but the latter was ashamed to receive that -homage before me, and so tried to pull his hand away. Despite the -churchman's enthusiastic account of his work I felt that little action -was symbolical of the ebb-tide. It was to me as if I had looked at the -sea of faith, and said, "The tide is just turning." - -I visited the Y.M.C.A., so important an institution in America, giving -a good room for fifty cents a day, and having its club-rooms, its -swimming-baths, its classes for learning English. It wanted to raise -seventeen thousand dollars in the forthcoming week, and many posters -reminded passers-by that Scranton's greatest asset was not its coal or -its factories or its shops, its buildings, its business, but its young -men. - -I walked the many streets at evening time when the wild crowd was -surging in and out of the cinema houses and the saloons, and heard -the American chaff and music-hall catch-words mixed with half a dozen -Slavonic dialects. A young American engineer took me to several -resorts, and initiated me in the mysteries of bull-dogs and fizzes, -and as we went along the street he gave a running comment on the -gaudily attired girls of the town, which he classified as "pick-ups," -"chickens," and the like. At ten o'clock at night the streets were full -of mirth, and all given over to sweethearting and flirting. Scranton's -safety lies in the interest which the people have in one another, their -sociability and general disposition to talk and hope. What it would -be like if all these foreign mercenaries were mirthless and brutal -it would be loathsome to picture. But I was surprised to find such -lightness, such Southern frivolity in the people. It is strange that -a people, most of whom are working all day in darkness, should take -life so gaily. Even when they come up to the air of the outside world -it is a bad air that is theirs, vitiated by the fumes of the burning -mines; for at Scranton also the coal has been on fire ten years, and -the smoke rolls from the slag-coloured wastes in volumes, and diffuses -itself into the general atmosphere. One would think that the wretched -frame-dwellings, ruined by the subsidence of the ground on which they -were built, and begrimed with the smoke which factories belch all day, -would disgust humanity. But it seems the man who works in dirt and ruin -accepts dirt and disorder as something not wrong in themselves, quite -tolerable, something even to be desired, a condition of freedom. - -One day I met a young reporter, who was also a poet, and he took me to -a point where there was a view of the city which he specially admired. -It was a grey day--surely all days there are grey. We looked to the -ridge of the West Mountain, a long dark wall built up to the sky, and -many-roofed Scranton lay below it; the thin spires of many conventicles -pointed upward, and from numberless chimneys and spouts proceeded -hardly moving white steams and smokes, all in strange curls and twists. -Here and there were black chutes and shafts and mountains of slag, and -the slates of the roofs of the houses glimmered appallingly under the -wanness and darkening dusty grey of the sky. - -"This sight does my heart good," said the poet. "It's good to live in a -place like this where we're doing something." - -"It would be a beautiful place if there were no Scranton here at all," -I ventured. - -"That's the glory of it," said he. "We have the faith to smash up the -beauty of Nature in the hope of getting something better. It would be a -beautiful world entirely if there were no such thing as man. Nature's -beauty has no need of us. But we happen to be here. We have something -in us that Nature could never think of. Scranton expresses man's -passion more truly than the virginal beauty of the Alleghany mountains -or the valley of the young Susquehanna." - -"A revolt against Eden," said I, "a fixed sullenness, man's -determination to live in grime if he wants to--the children's -infatuation for playing with the dirt." - -"Oh, more than that," said the reporter poet. "Much more." - -Perhaps. - -That was perhaps a glimpse of the religion of America. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[2] Fifty cents a day is very good pay for a miner in Russia, thirty -cents is quite a common wage. - - - - -VIII - -AMERICAN HOSPITALITY - - -It is possible to distinguish two sorts of hospitality, one which is -given to a person because of his introductions, and the other which -is given to the person who has no introductions, the one given on the -strength of a man's importance, the other on the strength of the common -love of mankind. America is rich in the one species, she is not so rich -in the other. - -There is no country in the world where an introduction helps you more -than in the United States. In this respect how vastly more hospitable -the Americans are than the British! It is wonderful the extent to which -an American will put himself to trouble in order to help a properly -introduced visitor to see America. It is a real hospitality, and it -springs from a great belief in America and in the American people, -and a realisation of the fact that if nation and individuals are to -co-operate to do things in the world, they must unbend and think of -others beside themselves. - -To me, in the literary and artistic clubs of New York, in the city -institutions and schools, in the houses of the rich and cultured, and -in the homes of the poor, America breathed kindness. New York seemed -to me more friendly and hospitable than any other great city I had -lived in. There also, as in Russia, one person came out and took me by -the hand, and was America to me. - -But when I shed respectability and the cheap fame of having one's -portrait and pages of "write-up" in the papers and put pack on back, -and sallied forth merely as a man I found that the other and more -precious kind of hospitality was not easily come by. Little is given -anonymously in the United States. - -Not that the country people despise the tramp, or hate him or set the -dogs on him or even refuse him a breakfast now and then, but that they -simply won't have him in their houses for the night, and are otherwise -indifferent to his hardships. They do not look on the stranger as a -fellow-man but as a loose wheel, a utility lying rusting in a field; -or at best they look upon him as a man who will "make good," who -will get a job later on and _earn_ his living. No one is good enough -for the American till he has "made good." But this is the same in -all commercialised countries, commercialism kills the old Christian -charity, the hospitality of house and mind and heart. - -[Illustration: AN INDIANA FARM: THE WIND-WELL BEHIND IT, THE WHEATFIELD -IN FRONT.] - -In the old colonial days there was extraordinary hospitality in -America, and this still survives in the West and North and South in -places out of touch with the great industrial beehive of the East -and Centre. The feeling still survives in the spirit that prevents -Americans printing prohibitions. You never see the notice "Trespassers -will be Prosecuted," though I do not know what one is to make of the -uncharitable poster that frequently met my gaze in Indiana and Illinois: - - - KEEP OUT! - THAT MEANS YOU. - - -That is brutal. - -Tramping up to Williamsport from Scranton I encountered forty-eight -hours' rain, and only with difficulty on the second night did I obtain -shelter. After being refused three times the first rainy evening, I -found an old covered well beside an empty, padlocked shed. In this I -spent twenty hours, sleeping the night and waking to a day of down-pour. - -It was an interesting little hermitage, the three walls were of -stone but the roof and floor of wood. One side of the building was -completely open to wind and weather. In a corner was a dark square of -clear water--the well. Half-way up the stone wall was a narrow ledge, -and there I slept. I covered the ledge with two sacks, for pillow I -had a book, a duplicate pair of boots, and a silken scarf. I slept -with my feet in a sack and a thick tweed coat spread over the rest of -me,--slept well. By day I sat on a box and looked out at a deserted -garden, and the rain pouring on the trees and rank grass. There were -young pines and hemlocks and maples, and a shaggy hickory tree. Beyond -them an apple orchard climbed over a very green hill, and the branches -were all crooked and gnarled and pointing. The blossoms had shed their -petals, and there was much young fruit. - -I gathered dry wood and made a fire on the threshold, and dried wet -wood and boiled a kettle, the smoke blowing in to me all the while, and -the raindrops hissing and dying as they fell into the embers. - -About mid-day a Dutch farmer came and stood in front of the little -house, and stared for some minutes and said nought. - -I hailed him: "Good-day!" - -He did not reply to this but inquired: - -"Hev you not seen that notice on the wall--'Any one meddling with this -house will be treated as he deserves'?" - -I had not. - -"Waal," said he, "it's there. So you'll put that fire out." - -I complied. - -"It's a wet day," said I. - -"Yes, it's wet." - -"I'd like to get put up for the night somewhere, and get a good meal. -Do you know of any one who would do it?" - -He was silent for some while, and stared at me as if irritated, and -then he said: - -"Guess about no one in this hollow'd take any one in. But you might try -at the store at the top of the hill." - -"Couldn't you take me in?" - -"No; couldn't do it." - -"Then, could you put me up a meal?" - -"We have been out of food and are living on buckwheat cakes." - -"I wouldn't mind some of them and some milk." - -"No, no. No use. Wife wouldn't have any one in." - -After some converse he learned that I was British, and he said, "There -was one of yours here two-three years back." - -"What did he think of this country?" - -"He said it was the darndest country he ever saw." - -There was no help for it. I had to abandon the well and go out through -the never-ceasing down-pour and seek shelter and a decent meal. On my -way to the store I met another farmer, and we had this interchange of -talk: - -"Can you put me up for the night?" - -"No." - -"Can you make me up a meal?" - -"No." - -"I'll pay you for it. You can have a quarter or so for a hot meal." - -"We've just had our supper, and the women are doing other things now. -There is a place on top of the hill." - -A mile farther on I came to a General Store. It was locked up, and as I -stared into the window the owner eyed me from a house over the way. - -He came out, looking at me apprehensively. - -"Can you put me up for the night?" I asked. - -"No; not to-night." - -"Why not?" - -"We don't take only our own people. There's a place two miles on." - -"Two miles through the wet." - -"You're right." - -"I can pay you what you get from your own people, and a little extra -perhaps." - -The storekeeper shook his head and answered: - -"My wife is a little unwell and does not want the trouble." - -"I can tell you you wouldn't get turned away like this in my country," -said I. - -"Where are you from?" - -"From England." - -"Oh, wouldn't they?" - -"There are plenty of places where they'd take you in without charging -for it. There are places in Europe where they'd come out and ask you -into their houses on such a night." - -"I dessay, I dessay." - -"Well, I think the people about here are very inhospitable." - -"I reckon you're right." - -"I think you are inhospitable." - -"Um!" - -"Well, you're a storekeeper, I want some bread and some butter, and -anything else you've got that doesn't need to be cooked." - -"Are you hungry?" - -I told him I was, and he determined to be more charitable than I had -given him the name for. - -"Well," said he, "I can let you have a slice of bread and butter and a -cup of cawfee I dessay." - -"Thanks. I should like to buy a loaf of bread and a quarter pound of -butter all the same," said I. - -"We haven't any bread in the store. The baker leaves it three times a -week, and we've only enough for ourselves; but I can let you have a -slice, and that'll keep you going till you get to Unityville. It's only -about two miles away. There's a hotel there. The folks have taken away -the keeper's licence, and you won't be able to get anything to drink. -But he'll take you in for a dollar. You'll get all you want. In half -an hour you'll be there. There are two more big hills, and then you're -there." - -He brought the bread, and as I was ravenous I was tamed thereby, and I -thanked him. The bread and butter and coffee were gratis. He was really -a kindly man. I shouldn't wonder if his wife had an acid temperament. -The night's lodging, no doubt, depended more on her than on him. - -I sat on rolls of wire-netting outside the store and finished the -little meal. Then I went away. Over the hills in the dusk! It was real -colonial weather; the light of kerosene lamps streamed through the -downpour of rain, the dark woods on each side of the strange high road -grew more mysterious and lonesome, silent except for the throbbing -of the rain on the leaves and on the ground. I stopped at a house to -ask the way, but when I knocked no one answered. I looked through the -kitchen window at the glow of the fire and at the family round the -well-spread table, and the farmer's wife directed me through the glass. - -At last--in a flow of liquid mud, as if arrested in floating -down-hill--a miserable town and a hotel. - -When I asked the host to put me up he said his wife had gone to bed -with a headache, and if I had not rated him soundly I should have been -turned into the rain once again. - -"Well," said he, "I cahnt give you any hot supper, you'll have to take -what's on hand." - -So saying, he opened a tin of Boston beans, emptied them on to a plate, -and put before me a saucerful of those little salt biscuits called -oysterettes. My supper! - -In the bar, deprived of ale, sat half a dozen youths eating chocolate -and birch beer, and talking excitedly of a baseball match that was -to be played on the morrow. Mine host was a portly American of the -white-nigger type. The villagers, exercising their local option, had -taken away his right to sell intoxicating liquor, and now on the wall -he had an oleographic picture of an angel guiding a little girl over a -footbridge, and saving her _from the water_. Somehow I think this was -unintentional humour on the part of mine host. He was an obtuse fellow, -who mixed the name Jesus Christ inextricably with his talk, and swore -b'God. But he gave me a warm bed. And he had his dollar. - -Another evening, about a month later, I sought a lodging in a town -on Erie Shore. The weather was very hot, and I was tramping beside -marshes over which clouds of mosquitoes were swarming. There was no -good resting-place in the bosom of Nature, so I imagined in my heart, -vainly, that I might find refuge with man. - -I came to a town and went into the store and asked where I would be -likely to find a night's lodging. The storekeeper mentioned a house -in one of the bye-streets. But when I applied there the landlady said -her husband was away, and she would be afraid to have a stranger in -his absence. I went to another house: they hadn't any room. I went to -a third: they told me a man there was on the point of death and must -not be disturbed. I returned to the store, and the storekeeper said it -would be impossible to be put up for the night anywhere in the village. -I told him I considered the harbouring of travellers a Christian duty. - -"They don't feel it so about here," said he politely. - -There was an empty park-seat at the end of the main street, I went and -sat on it and made my supper. Whilst I sat there several folk came and -gazed at me, and thought I might be plotting revenge. In America they -are very much afraid of the refused tramp--he may set houses on fire. - -But I was quite cheerful and patient. I had been sleeping out regularly -for weeks, and shelter refused did not stir a spirit of revenge in -me. In any case, I was out to see America as she is, not simply to be -entertained. I was having my little lesson--"and very cheap at the -price." - -But I found hospitality that night. As I sat on the park-seat a tall -labourer with two water-pails came across some fields to me, passed me, -and went to the town pump and drew water. "Surely," said I to myself, -"that is a Russian." - -I hailed him as he came back. - -"_Zdrastvitye! Roosky?_" - -I had guessed aright; he replied in Russian. - -"Are you working in a gang?" I inquired. - -"No, only on the section of the railway; there are six of us. We have -charge of this section. Where are you going to? To Chicago? Looking -for a job? Going to friends there? Where are you going to sleep? This -village is not a good one. _Ne dobry._ If you sleep there, on the seat, -up comes the politzman, and he locks you up. So you be three weeks late -in getting to Chicago perhaps. Why do you walk? You get on freight -train and you be there to-morrow or the day after. You come with me -now. I sleep in a closed truck with five mates, four are Magyars, one -is a Serb. It's very full up, and I don't know how the Magyars would -take it if I brought you in. But I know a good place. A freight train -is waiting here all night. There are plenty of places to sleep, and you -go on in it to-morrow morning to Toledo." - -He showed me an empty truck. I was very much touched, and I thanked him -warmly. - -"How do you believe," he asked in parting, "are you a Pole or are you -Orthodox?" - -"Oh," said I, "I'm not Russian, I've only lived some years there. I'm a -British subject." - -This somewhat perplexed him. But he smiled. "Ah well," said he, -"good-bye, _Sbogom_--be with God," and we parted. - -A little later he returned and said that if I were lonely and didn't -mind a crush, the Magyars would not object to my presence. But by that -time I had swept the sawdusty floor of the truck, made a bed, and was -nearly asleep. "Thanks, brother," said I, "but I'm quite comfortable -now." - -The Russians are a peculiarly hospitable people. Their attitude of mind -is charitable, and even in commercial America they retain much of the -spirit that distinguishes them in Europe. I met a queer old Russian -tramp in Eastern Pennsylvania; he exemplified what I mean. He was, -however, rather an original. - -In a district inhospitable to tramps I obtained my dinner by paying for -it. In this way and by these words: - -"Can you give me a meal for a quarter?" - -"Well, if you've got the coin I reckon we can do that." - -I was sitting at a meal of canned beef, beans, and red-currant jelly, -sipping from a mug of coffee, in which might possibly be discerned the -influence of a spoonful of milk. The farmer was cross-examining me on -my business--where had I come from? Was I looking for a job? Was I -walking for wager?--when a strange figure appeared at the window, a -broad-faced, long-haired, long-bearded tramp in a tattered cloak. - -He approached the house, and about ten feet from the window where we -were sitting he stood stock-still, leaning on his staff and staring at -us. - -"A hobo--looks a bit fierce," said the farmer, opening the window. "How -do? Wha--yer--want?" - -[Illustration: "THE CREAM-VANS COME TO BUY UP ALL THE CREAM."] - -"Give me a piece and a cup o' milk," said the foreigner. - -"A Polander," said the farmer. "I guess I turn him over to the missus. -Sue, here's a man wants a crust and some sour milk." - -"Ee caant 'ave it," cried the farmer's wife. - -"No go," said the farmer, and shook his head at the tramp. - -The latter did not utter a word of reproach, but what was my -astonishment to see him cross himself delicately, and whisper a -benediction. A Russian, I surmised. - -"It is not over-safe refusing them fellers," said the farmer. "They -may burn your barn next night. I reckon Sue might have put him up -something. Hear him curse as he went." - -The old Russian was going eastward, I westward; but I resolved to turn -back, carry him some bread, make some coffee, and exchange those tokens -of the heart which are due from one wanderer to another upon the road. -I hurried back and overtook him. - -The old man was nothing loth to sit on a bank of grass whilst I bought -a quart of milk at a farm. "Coffee, uncle," said I. "Russian coffee. -Varshaffsky, such as you get at home in Russia, eh?" Uncle smiled -incredulously. - -"Twigs, uncle, sticks, dry grasses; we must make a fire," said I. Uncle -got up and collected a heap of wood. My coffee-pot soon reposed on a -cheerful blaze. The creamy milk soon began to effervesce and boil. In -went six lumps of sugar and eight spoonfuls of coffee. Uncle recognised -he was going to have a good drink when he saw that no water was to be -added. It was a pleasure to see him with a mug of it in one hand and a -hunk of good white bread in the other. - -I learned that my friend was tramping his way to New York. At that city -he would buy a ticket to Libau, and from Libau would walk home to his -native village, or he would get under a seat in a train. He had come -250 miles of his journey from Minnesota in an empty truck of a freight -train; perhaps he would get another good lift before long. - -"Why are you going home? Can't you find work?" - -"Going to pray," said he. "I am going to my village to see my father's -grave, and then to a monastery. I would finish my years in Russia and -be buried in Russian ground." - -"I suppose you didn't take root here; American life doesn't suit you? -Didn't you like Americans?" - -"Well, I lived with other fellows from our village, and we succeeded -sufficiently well. Some seasons we gained a lot of money. But I never -felt quite at home. We reckoned we would build a church after a -while--a high wooden one that one could see from the wheat-fields when -we were at work. But my friend turned evangelical; he became a sort of -molokan, and one by one all the other fellows joined him and they went -to meetings. I was the only one who remained orthodox. They reckoned I -got drunk because I was orthodox; but I reckon I got drunk because they -were evangelicals--because they had all deserted me, and I was lonely. -It's hard on a man to be all alone." - -"And why did you leave, uncle? What determined you to go?" - -"I'll tell you. I had a strange dream. I saw my father, who is, as -you know, dead long since and in his grave, and I saw a figure of -St. Serge--St. Serge was his angel--and both lifted their arms and -pointed to the East. I knew it was the East because there was a great -red sunset behind them, and they pointed right away from it, in the -other direction. When I wakened up I remembered this, and it made -a great impression on me. I told Basil, my friend, who worked with -me lumbering, and he laughed. 'But,' I said, 'that's not the thing -to laugh at.' At last I decided to start for home. The idea that I -might die in America and be buried there was always pricking me. I am -not American. The American God won't take me when I die. Some of the -fellows are going to take out their papers, because a Jew came round -pestering them with books to learn English and prepare for examination, -saying they ought to make themselves citizens; but that is not for me. -I am Russian. Mother Russia! she is mine. They may keep you down and -oppress you there, but the land is holy, and men are brothers. - -"When I started home I was surprised that so many farmers said 'No,' -when I wanted to sleep in their barns. I even got angry and shouted -at them. But as I went further I got patient, and came to pray to God -every day and often, to give me my bread and bring me safely to Russia. -Then I got peace, and never was afraid or angry, reckoning that even -if I did die in America I should be dying on the way home, and my face -would be turned towards Russia. I reckon that if I die my soul will get -there just the same." - -"It's not often that in Russia, when a man is refused bread, he says, -'Glory be to God!'" said I, recalling how the tramp had crossed himself -after the farmer's refusal. - -"No; not often. I thought out that for myself. At first I was silent -when people turned me away. I gave thanks only when they took me in. -But after a while my silence seemed a sort of impatience and angriness. -So I recollected God even then, and crossed myself. A tramp has no -ikons, so he needs all sorts of things to remind him." - -The poor exile had told his story, and looked at me with dim, -affectionate eyes. He held my hand tightly in his as we said, -"Good-bye"; he going eastward, I westward. - -That was a way of living in the fear of God. That old man had real -hospitality in his soul. - -But in depicting the American farmer and storekeeper it would be unfair -to characterise him as an inhospitable person. He is a great deal more -hospitable than his actions would suggest. He is a kindly being. He -has love towards his neighbour, and is more inclined to say "Yes" to -the wanderer than "No." But he has often been victimised. He has been -robbed, assaulted, insulted, his property has been damaged, barns set -on fire, his crops in part destroyed by wilfully malicious vagabonds. -The behaviour of the tramp is often a sort of petty anarchism; he has -suffered in the heartless commercial machine, has got out of it only -by luck, and his hand is against every man. He has cast over honour, -principle, and conscience, and is able to gloat secretly over every -little cynical act or meanness perpetrated at the expense of the -good-natured but established farmer. - -America has more tramps than any other country except Russia, and it -would have more than Russia but for the fact that there are often -about a million pilgrim-tramps on the Russian roads. The Russian tramp -is, moreover, a gentle creature; the American is often a foul-mouthed -hooligan. - -In several little districts that I passed through I was questioned by -the farmers as to whether I belonged to a gang of tramps who had been -lurking in the neighbourhood for weeks. A tramp was evidently regarded -as an enemy of society. Whenever I remarked on the inhospitality of the -people a rueful expression came over the farmer's face, and he would -begin to tell me that the old days were gone, money was tighter, the -cost of living was higher, taxes were double, the land did not yield -what it did of old, there were many demands on them here; but out in -the West it was different. There, as in former times, every farm-house -had open doors and free table to the tramp and wanderer. No one was -more welcome than the tramp, he brought news and stories of personal -adventure; he might even be persuaded to do work in the fields. - -I believe the Americans would be a truly charitable and hospitable -people if the evils of over-commercialism were remedied, and if -business were made kinder and more human, and taxes were evenly -distributed. There is an immense good-will towards man in America: -it is only rendered abortive by mammon. I for my part have to thank -numberless farmers, east and west, for kindly interest and good talks, -loaves of bread, cups of coffee, and pleasant meals. Several times when -I have been cooking by the side of a road a farm wife has come running -out to me with something hot from her kitchen, with an "Eat this, poor -man, and God bless you, you must be hungry." - -[Illustration: "PLOUGHED UPLAND ALL DOTTED OVER WITH WHITE HEAPS OF -FERTILISER."] - -Then the farmer's wife is often mollified when you are able to buy her -milk and eggs. She is the person who counts in the farm. She must be -approached; the husband has very little say in what shall be given to -the wanderer. As a fantastic old tramp said to me: - -"Whilst you are yet afar off the farmer's wife standing on her -threshold, espies you and takes you to be a hungry lion pawing the -road and seeking whom you may devour. She calls to her husband and he -peereth at you. Perchance she fetcheth down the ancient blunderbuss -from the wall; but when you come closer and hail her in English she -says to herself with relief, even with pleasure, 'It is a man,' one of -the attractive male species. You ask for bread and milk,--oh yes she -has it, and with a scared look still on her face, though transfigured -with a mild gladness, she fetcheth you bread and milk and eggs; -and then if you can pay her market price the scared look goes away -entirely; and out of the goodness of her heart and the abundance of -her pantry she addeth cookies and apple butter, and for these you pay -nought--they are her favour. Don't ask her, however, to put you up for -the night." - -The tramp always has a hard time to get a night's lodging. A poor, -weak, bedraggled Jew, whom I met shortly after the forty-eight hours' -rain, told me that he had been all one night in the wet--his pedlar's -pack had got ruined, he was suffering from pneumonia, and had thought -that such weather meant sure death to him. He had tried every house in -five towns and had been refused at every one. It was a sad comment on -modern life. - -In the Middle Ages, and in the days when Christianity meant more -than it does now, the refusal of shelter was almost unheard of. -And in peasant Russia to-day it would be considered a sin. An old -pilgrim-tramp once said to me, "When we leave this world to get to -Heaven we all have to go on tramp, and those find shelter there who -sheltered wanderers here." But Americans will not be judged by that -standard. The early Christians received strangers and often entertained -angels unawares, but the modern American is afraid that in taking in a -strange tramp he may be sheltering an outcast spirit. Once tramps were -angels; now they are rebel-angels. - - - - -IX - -OVER THE ALLEGHANIES - - -Both the weather and the country improved before I reached -Williamsport. On the height of the road to Hughesville I had a grand -view of the mountains and of the sky above them, saw displayed green -hills and forested mountains, and great stretches of ploughed upland -all dotted over with white heaps of fertiliser. And the sky above was -a battle-scene, the sun and his angels having given battle and the -clouds taking ranks like an army. Glad was I to see to eastward whole -battalions in retreat. - -I passed through fine forested land with great hemlocks, maples, and -hickories. A brawling stream poured along through the dark wood, and -as I walked beside it a sudden gleam of sunshine pierced the gloom of -foliage, and lit up boles and wet banks and wet rocks and the crystal -freshets of the stream. Of all weathers I like best convalescent -weather, the getting sunny after much rain. On the Sunday on which I -reached the city the open road was swept by fresh winds, all the birds -were singing, every blade of grass was conscious of rain taken in and -of the sun bringing out. - -Williamsport I found to be a peaceful, provincial town, well kept in -itself and surrounded by beautiful scenery. It was looking its best in -the freshness and radiance of a May morning. On its many hundred bright -green lawns that run down so graciously from pleasant urban villas to -the roadway there was much white linen airing. Williamsport is an old -lumbering town on a branch of the Susquehanna, and though that business -has gone away, prosperity and happiness seem to have remained behind. -There was a feeling of calmness that I had not experienced in other -American cities, and I felt it would be pleasant to live there for a -season. - -I tramped down to Jersey Shore, and the night after my halcyon day at -Williamsport a thunderstorm overtook me, shaking the old barn in which -I slept and tearing away rafters and doors. I witnessed Lockhaven under -depressing circumstances, but in any weather it must be an inferior -town to Williamsport, though it is also an old point for lumbering on -the Susquehanna. - -The weather remained very rainy, and I was obliged to forsake the -atrociously clayey high-road for the cinder track of the railway. In -doing this I passed up into a fine hilly country along the valley of -the Beech Creek. I came to Mapes (to rhyme with Shapes), but found it -a name and no more. A shooting and fishing resort with one house in -it. The Beech Creek was a fine sight, running along the base of the -embankment of the railway, carrying pine logs on its flood and racing -the trains with them, roaring and rushing, the logs pointing, racing, -turning, rolling, toppling, colliding, but always going forward, -willy-nilly getting clear of every obstacle and galloping out of sight. - -With one wet match I lighted a grand fire by the side of the line, and -boiled my kettle and dried myself and chuckled. It might be going to -rain more. I might be going to have a queer night, but for the time -being I was having a splendid tea. It was a matter for consolation in -the future that on the wettest possible day it was not difficult to -light a fire with one match. The secret lies in having plenty of dry -paper in your wallet; and I had a copy of a New York Sunday paper, -which lasted me to light my fire all the way to Elkhart, Indiana, at -least five hundred miles' tramping. - -The district of Mapes is one of the most beauteous in the Alleghanies, -or it was so this quiet evening. The summits of the mountains were -obscured by mists, but up from the profound valleys the woods climbed, -and the lovely tops of trees seemed like so many stepping-stones from -the land up to cloudy heaven. - -By the time I came to Monument it was dark. But a great glowing -brick-kiln looked out into the night, and there were houses with many -lighted windows. I was directed to a workmen's boarding-house, and -spent a night among miners, railway men, and brick-workers. The keeper -of the establishment was doubtful whether he would have me, but thought -there was "one feller on the third floor gone." - -"What will be your charge?" I asked. - -"Well," said he, "a won't charge ye anything for the bed, but the -breakfast to-morrow morning will be twenty-five cents." - -"My!" I thought, "here's something choice coming along in the shape of -a bed." - -It turned out to be four in a room and two in a bed, all sleeping in -their clothes. There was even some doubt as to whether there was not a -fifth coming. - -One man was in bed already; I chose the unoccupied bed, and laid myself -upon it in full tramping attire. You can imagine the state of sheets -and quilts in a bed that brickmakers and soft-coal miners sleep in -their clothes. - -The man in bed was an Anglo-Saxon American. When I said I was from -England he asked me if I had walked it all. - -"I came by steamer of course to New York." - -"How many days?" - -"Eight." - -"Weren't you afraid?" said he. "Quite out of sight of land no doubt? -You wouldn't get me to go, not for many thousand dollars. That -_Titanic_ was an affair, wasn't it. Fifteen hundred--straight to the -bottom! I'd have shot myself had I been there." - -"What do you work at here?" - -"Brick-making." - -"Lot of men?" - -"Plenty of work. Two truck-loads of extra men coming to-morrow." - -"Foreigners?" - -"Italians." - -I told him the story of a storm at sea with the exaggeration to which -one is too prone when addressing simple souls. I rather harrowed him -with an account of cook's enamel ware and kitchen things rolling about -and jangling when every one was saying his prayers. - -Presently I remarked irrelevantly, "My goodness! What a noise the frogs -make here!" - -"That's no noise," said he; "I'm going to sleep." - -After a while his bedfellow came in and he, before turning in, got -down on his knees in the narrow passage between the beds and prayed--I -should say, a whole half-hour, talking half to himself, half-aloud. -Whilst he was doing so my bedfellow came in, a tall, heavy, tired Pole, -who looked neither to right nor left, but just clambered over me and -lay down with his face to the wall and slept and snored. - -It rained heavily all night, and next morning it still poured. -After a disreputably bad breakfast I sat on a chair at the door of -the establishment and watched the thresh of the rain on two great -pools beside a road of coal-dust, looked out at the lank grass, the -tomato-can dump, the sodden refuse of the boarding-house, and away to -the square red chimney of the brick factory belching forth black smoke. - -"Say, stranger," said mine host, "I'm going to wade into that cave and -hand out potatoes; will you take them from me?" This was the first time -I had been called stranger in America, and it sounded pleasant in my -ears. - -About eleven o'clock in the morning the rain ceased, and I went on to -the next point on the railway. The track climbed higher and higher, and -I learned that on the morrow I should reach the top of the Alleghany -Mountains--Snow Shoe Creek. - -It was a fine walk to Orviston under the heavily clouded sky. The -mountain sides were all a-leak with springs and trickling streams and -cascades. There was an accompanying music of the racing Beech Creek -on the one hand, and of the gushing rivulets on the other; but this -would be swallowed up and lost every now and then in the uproar of the -oncoming and passing freight train of coal; the appalling, hammering, -affrighting freight train passing within two feet of me, taking my -breath away with the thought of its power. How pleasant it was, though, -to listen to the rebirth of the music of the waters coming to the ear -in the wind of the last trucks as they passed. - -[Illustration: "SLOVAKS WORKING ON THE LINE WITH PICK AND SHOVEL."] - -Orviston prides itself on its fire-bricks. The whole village is made of -them, and the pavement as well, and every brick is stamped "Orviston," -and is both a commodity and an advertisement. - -After I had visited the village store for provisions I re-entered the -railway enclosure, and read as I did so the following notice typical of -America: "Cultivate the safety habit--if you see anything wrong report -it to the man with the button." - -I met the man with the button after I had walked a mile along the -way; he was a Slovak, working on the line with pick and shovel, a -tall, brawny Slav, and with him a rather tubby little chap of the same -nationality. - -"You haf no räit on these läins," said the Slovak. "You go off. You are -no railway man. What are you? Slavish?" - -I replied in English, but on second thoughts went on in Russian. He -understood, and was mollified at once. He was in America for the second -time, they neither of them liked the old country. I photographed them -as they stood--John Kresica and Paul Cipriela. They were unmarried men, -and lived in a "boarding-house" in Orviston. They worked in a gang. -Would I please send them a copy of the photograph? I agreed to do so; -then, when I moved to go off the lines, the man with the button cried -out, smiling: - -"Hi! All-right, go ahead!" - -I went on blithely. There was a change of weather in the afternoon. At -one o'clock the sun lifted his arms and pulled apart the mist curtains -at the zenith and disclosed himself--a miraculous apparition. The whole -sky was cloudy, but the sun was shining. An apparition, the ghost of -a sun, and then a reality--hot, light-pouring, cloud-dispersing. By -two it was a hot summer day, at three there was not a cloud in the -sky. What a change! It was clear that summer had progressed during -the rain; insects of bright hues were on the wing, huge yellow-winged -butterflies, crimson-thighed grasshoppers, green sun-beetles. A -new-born butterfly settled three times on my sleeve; the fourth time I -just caught him. I held him delicately between two fingers and let him -go. - -During a most exhilarating evening I tramped past houseless Panther and -got to Cato at nightfall. Cato was a railway station of no pretensions; -a broken-down shed with no door, no ticket offices, no porter. -Passengers who wished to take a train had to wave a flag and trust to -the eyesight of the engine-driver. For village, all that I could make -out was a coal-bank, a shaft, and some heaps of old iron. - -It was an extremely cold night, so I slept in the railway shed on a -plank form that ran along the three sides of the building. I lay and -looked out at the bright night shining over the mountains, dozed, -waked, dozed again. Shortly after midnight I had a strange visitor. I -was lying half-asleep, looking at a misshapen star which was resting on -the mountains opposite me, which became a silver thumb pointing upward, -which became at last the young crescent moon just rising. I was in that -somnolent state when you ask, as you see the moon rising behind dark -branches of the forest, Is it the moon in eclipse? is it a comet?--when -a portly man with shovel hat came out of the night, stood in front of -the shed, leaned on a thick cudgel, and looked in. - -"Hallo!" said I. - -"Haffing sum sleep?" queried the visitor. - -"Yes, trying to; but it's a cold night." - -"Ah, you haf bed pretty goot!" - -"Who are you,--the night watchman?" - -"Naw. You don't see a näit wawtchman without 'is lantern." - -The old chap came close up to me, bent down, and whispered, "I'm in the -same box as yourself." - -"Walking all night?" I asked. - -"The only vay to keep varm," said the old man ruefully. He took out a -shining watch from his waistcoat. - -"Three o'clock," said he. "In an hour it will be daylight. Oh, I think -I'll try and sleep here an hour. Say, is there to eat along the road?" - -I wasn't quite sure what he meant. - -"Not much," I hazarded. - -"Wot are you--you don't speak the langwage very goot," said the tramp. - -"English." - -"I am a Cherman." - -The old man lay down on the plank form, resting his head on my feet, -and using them for a pillow. - -"How old are ye?" he went on.... "Hoh, I can give you forty years. If I -were in Germany now I should be getting an army pension." - -"Are you going back?" said I. - -"Naw, naw. I could never give up this country." - -We composed ourselves to sleep, but with his head resting on my feet I -was too uncomfortable. "Presently I'll make a fire," said I, "and we'll -have hot tea and some bread and butter." And after about twenty minutes -I got up, put my boots on, and wandered out to find wood to make a -fire. It was about half an hour before dawn. There was a hoar frost, -and everything was cold and rimy to the touch. But I made up a bundle -of last year's weeds, now sodden straws, and laid them on a half-sheet -of my Sunday newspaper. That made a fine blaze, and with twigs and -sticks and bits of old plank, I soon had a fine bonfire going. The old -German came out and watched me incredulously. He didn't think it was -possible to make a fire on such a morning. But he was soon convinced, -and went about picking up chunks of wood desultorily, alleging the -while that he couldn't have lit such a fire in three hours; evidently I -knew how to do it. - -"Shall I make tea or coffee?" I asked. - -"Cawfee," said the old chap, his mouth watering. The word tea did not -represent to him anything good. - -"After a cup of hot cawfee I can go a long way. Hot cawfee, mind yer. -Varm cawfee 'salright for lunch, but in the morning it must be hot. The -only thing better than a cup of cawfee is a pint of whisky.... Say, -you've enough fire here now to roast a chicken." - -"Wish I had one, we'd roast it." - -I emptied the last of my sugar into the pot, and seven or eight -spoonfuls of coffee. It was to be "Turkish." The old tramp sat down on -the stump of a tree, took out a curly German pipe, and then put a red -coal on it. He had matches, but was economical in the matter of lights. -"Say," he said to me later, pointing to the ground, "you've dropped a -good match." I picked it up. - -The coffee was "real good." The old fellow drank it through his thick -moustache, and dipping his bread into his cup, munched great mouthfuls. -I had offered him butter with his bread, but he refused. "Booter" was -nothing to him. He liked apple-"booter." - -"Say, you've got on a powerful pair of boots!" - -"I need them, tramping to Chicago." - -"Chicago's not a bad town if you know where to go. Say, presently -you'll come to Snow Shoe. Don't go past it. You'll get something there." - -The old man stopped a minute in his talk, and stared at me knowingly, -didactically. - -"Rich miners," he went on. "You need only ask. See this packet of -tobacco, they gave it to me at the Company store. That's the thing I -can't get on without, must have it. If a man asks me for a smoke and I -haf it to give I must give him also. Where've you come from yesterday, -Orviston?" - -"No. Monument." - -"Is there anything there?" he whispered mysteriously. - -"Not much to be had," said I. "But there's a good deal of work, and -they're bringing in a big gang of Italians. You can't get much of -anything at the farms." - -"Where Guineas are, I don't go. I don't like the Eyetaylians." - -"D'you like the Jews?" - -"They're a good people," said he. "Don't say anything against the Jews. -I know a Jew who gives free boots to tramps. Last year I went into his -store, and one of the shopmen came up to me and said, 'I know what you -want, you'll get it. I'll tell the boss when he comes out.' And he -gave me a powerful pair of boots, and sent me across the road to the -Quick-lunch with a letter to the boss there, to give me a good dinner. -So I never say anything against the Jews." - -"Do you know Cleveland?" said I. - -"You bet. Lived there ten years ago, had a job on a Lake steamer. I -worked one summer on a boat." - -The old tramp stared at me as if he had confessed a sin. "Worked like a -mule," he added sententiously, and stared again. "I had a home there, -and lived just like a married man. But when I wanted to move on to -Pittsburg my girl wouldn't go." - -"I expect you're the sort of man who has run away from a wife in -Germany," said I. - -"Naw, naw. Never married." - -Then he began to talk of his loves and conquests. At his age you'd have -thought his mind would not have been filled with such vanities. He -evidently earned money now and then, and went on "sprees." He averred -that he had not a dime now, and was altogether "on the nail." I had -an idea, however, that he had hidden on him, somewhere, passage-money -to take him to Germany, to get that army pension. The Germans are a -cautious people. They are cautious and cogitative, yet I wonder what -the old man thought of me as he stumped away, leaning on his heavy -walking-stick. He had been twenty-seven years on the road, and was very -shrewd and experienced in many ways. Perhaps for a moment he took me -for a gentleman burglar. He was immensely curious to see what was in -my sack, but he probably reflected--"Here is good hot, coffee, a fire, -and a pleasant young man; make the most of it, and ask no inconvenient -questions." - -I put the fire out, shouldered my pack, and resumed the journey to Snow -Shoe. The sun had risen, but his warmth was as yet shut away behind the -wall of the mountains. The hoar-frost of night had not melted yet, and -it was necessary to walk briskly to keep warm. It was so cold that I -got to Snow Shoe before ten o'clock. - -A feature of this tramping along the rails was the danger in crossing -bridges. It was a single line, and as there were some twenty bridges -over the flood of the river, there were twenty ordeals of trusting that -no train would suddenly appear from a corner of the winding track and -run me down. If a train had come whilst I was half-way across a bridge -there was no refuge but the river, and I was always prepared to jump. -For several nights after this bit of tramping I dreamed of crossing -bridges, running on the sleepers and just passing the last beams as -engines swept down on me. But it was pleasant climbing up so high, and -feeling that within an hour or so Snow Shoe would be achieved. I had -lived in the rumour of Snow Shoe for two days, and the name had come -to correspond to something very beautiful in my mind. The sound of the -name is pleasant to the ear, and every now and then, as I hurried -along, I asked, "Snow Shoe, Snow Shoe, what shall I find there?" I -imagined the pioneers who first came up this beautiful valley and -gave to an Indian settlement the dainty name--through what virginal -loveliness they had passed! Then I thought of the reporter-poet -of Scranton who objected to the beauty of Nature because it was -independent of man. - -[Illustration: THE SLAV CHILDREN OF SNOW-SHOE CREEK.] - -Then, man came along, the engine-man with his endless, empty freight -train and his bellowing, steaming engine howling through the valley. -One after another eight freight trains, each about a quarter of a mile -long, came grinding past me, going up to the collieries to take their -daily loads of carbon. Somehow I did not object; it was new America, -the America of to-day careering over the America of 1492, and had to be -accepted. - -But Snow Shoe gave me pause. When I arrived at the little slate-roofed -mining settlement I found there was considerable excitement among the -children there. A cow had just been cut to pieces by the last freight -train. The driver had driven his train over the beast and on without a -word of remark or a hesitation, and a farmer was complaining bitterly, -but the children--young Americans, Russians, Ruthenians, Slovaks, the -ones who have in their keeping the America of to-morrow--were sitting -round the remains, helling and God-damning and asking me facetious -questions. And that was the answer to what I had asked myself--What -shall I see at Snow Shoe? What am I walking so far and so high for to -see? - -Snow Shoe was the dreariest possible mining settlement, and its -inhabitants slouched about its coaly ways and in and out of the -saloons. Scarcely any one could speak English, and the mines were -worked almost exclusively by Poles and Slovaks. The highest point in -the Alleghanies, a hand of earth stretched up to heaven, perhaps a -maledictory hand. - - - - -X - -DECORATION DAY - - -America celebrates no "Whit-Monday," but has Decoration Day instead; -a great national festival, when medals are pinned on to veterans, the -soldiers of the War of North against South are remembered, and the -graves of heroes are decorated with flags and flowers. On Decoration -Day, and again later, on Independence Day, the whole populace ceases -work in the name of America, and flocks the streets, sings national -songs and hymns, goes on procession, fires salutes, listens to -speeches. We British are just wildly glad to get free from toil when -Whit-Monday and August Bank Holiday come round. We have no national -or religious fervour on these days. We have even been known to flock -happily to Hampstead and Epping Forest to the strains of "England's -going down the Hill." Upon occasion the British can be clamorously -patriotic, but only upon occasion. But the American citizen is, to use -his own phrase, "crazy about America" all the while. The "days-off" -that we get are not only off work, but off everything serious. The -American still nurses the hope with which he came across the ocean, -and he is enthusiastically attached to the republic he has made and the -principles of that republic. - -I spent Decoration Day at Clearfield, a little mining and agricultural -town on the other side of the Alleghanies. I put up at a hotel for two -or three days, and just gave myself to the town for the time. Early on -the festival day I was out to see how the workaday world was taking -things. All the shops were closed except the ice-cream soda bars and -the fruiterers. There were flags on the banks and loungers on the -streets. Young men were walking about with flags in their hat ribbons. -The cycles and automobiles on the roadway had their wheels swathed -with the stars and stripes. There were negroes and negresses standing -_endimanche's_ at street corners. Now and then a girl in white dress -and white boots would trip from a house to a shop and back again. There -was an air best expressed by the words of the song: - - - Go along and get yer ready, - Get yer glad rags on, - For there's going to be a meeting - In the good old town. - - -Every town in America is a good old town, and on such occasions as -Decoration Day you may always hear the worthies of the place giving -their reminiscences in the lounge of a hotel. I sat and listened to -many. - -We had a very quiet morning, and it seemed to me there was considerable -boredom in the town. There was a fire in the Opera House about eleven, -and I ran behind the scenes with a crowd of others and stared at the -smoking walls. There was a sort of disappointment that the firemen put -it out so promptly. - -But after dinner the real holiday commenced, and the houses began to -empty and the streets began to fill. About four o'clock the "Parade" -commenced, what we should in England call a procession. Every one who -owned a car had it out, carrying roses and ferns and flags. There was -a continual hooting and coughing of motor-horns, and an increasing -buzz of talk. The "Eighth Regimental Band" appeared, and stood with -their instruments in the roadway, chatting to passers-by and being -admired. The firemen came with new hats on--their work at the Opera -House happily concluded. They now bore on their shoulders wreaths, -which were to be carried to the graves of the heroes in the cemetery -outside the town. The High School band formed up. A tall man brought -a new-bought banner of the Stars and Stripes, which hung from a -bird-headed pole. Boy Scouts came in costume--as it were in the rags of -the war. The marching order was formed, and then came up what I thought -to be the Town Militia, but which turned out to be the representatives -of the Mechanics Union, with special decorations and medals on their -breasts. The bands began to play; the automobiles, full of flowers -and flags, began to cough and shoot forward; the flocks of promenaders -on the side-walk and in the roadway set themselves to march in step -to the festal music. I watched the whole procession, from the Eighth -Regimental Band that went first to the eight veterans of the Spanish -War, who, with muskets on their shoulders, took up the rear. I stopped -several people in the procession and asked them who they were, what -exactly was their rôle, for what reason were they decorated with -medals,--and every one was glad to satisfy my curiosity. I found that -the eight veterans considered themselves technically a squad, and their -function was to fire a salute over the graves of the "heroes." - -The procession marched round the town to the strains of "Onward, -Christian soldiers" and "O come, all ye faithful." All the people of -Clearfield accompanied--Americans, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks--for -Clearfield has its foreign mining population as well as its Anglo-Saxon -urban Americans. As I was going alongside, a young boy ran up and put -his hand on my shoulder and addressed me in Polish. - -"What's that you say?" I asked. - -"Vairy good!" said he, and pointed to the procession. "I like it." - -"What are you,--Ruthenian, Polish?" I asked. - -"Slavish." - -I spoke to him in Russian. - -"Oh-ho, he-he, da-da, I thought you were a Polak." - -And now he thought I was a Russian! It touched me rather tenderly. I -was dressed like an American, and my attire was not like that of a -Russian at all. How enthusiastic this boy was! It was a real holiday -for him. The Slav peoples are emotional; they need every now and then a -means of publicly expressing their feelings. This procession from the -town to the graveyard was a link with the customs of their native land, -where at least twice a year the living have a feast among the crosses -and mounds of the cemetery, and share their joys and interests with the -dear dead, whose bodies have been given back to earth. - -Among those accompanying the procession were Austrian Slavs, in -soot-coloured, broad-brimmed, broken-crowned hats, not yet cast away; -and I noted solemn-faced, placid Russian peasants in overalls staring -with half-awakened comprehension. I saw a negro attired in faultless -black cloth, having a bunchy umbrella in his hand, a heavy gold chain -across his waistcoat, a cigar in his mouth, a soft smoky hat on his -head. He tried to get to the front, and I heard one white man say to -another, "Make way for him, it's not _your_ funeral." The negro is a -pretty important person--considering that the war was really fought for -him. Perhaps not many actively remember that now; it is not soothing -to do so. It is the American hero who matters more than the cause -for which he fell; though of course America, the idea of America, -matters more than either the heroes or the cause. It is a pity that -on Decoration Day there is a tendency to decorate the graves of those -who fell in the Spanish War and to pin medals on the survivors of that -conflict rather than to perpetuate the memory of the struggle for the -emancipation of the negro. America's great problem is the negro whom -she has released; but the Spanish War meant no more than that America's -arm proved strong enough to defeat a European power inclined to meddle -with her civilisation. - -It was, however, at the oldest grave in the cemetery that the -procession stopped and the people gathered. All the men were uncovered, -and there was a feeling of unusual respect and emotion in the crowd. -The wreaths were put down and the flags lowered as the little memorial -service commenced. We sang an old hymn, slowly, sweetly, and very -sadly, so that one's very soul melted. A hymn of the war, I suppose: - - - _Let him sleep,_ - _Calmly sleep,_ - _While the days and the years roll by._ - _Let him sleep,_ - _Sweetly sleep,_ - _Till the call of the roll on high._ - - -In the time of the war, in the dark hours of danger and distress, in -the times of loss and appalling personal sorrow the Americans were -very near and dear to God and to one another--nearer than they are -to-day in their peace and prosperity. - -When the hymn had been sung, an old grey-headed man came to the foot of -the grave and read a portion of the speech made by Abraham Lincoln at -the great cemetery at Gettysburg: - - - _Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this - continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the - proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in - a great Civil War, testing whether that nation so conceived and so - dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield ... - to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for - those who have given their lives that the nation might live. It is - altogether fitting and proper that we should do this._ - - _But in a larger sense we cannot consecrate this ground. The dead - themselves have consecrated it. It is rather for us, the living, - to consecrate ourselves to the work they died for, that we resolve - that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation - shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the - people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the - earth._ - - -The reading of these words was most impressive. I realised in it the -Gospel of America--something more national than even the starry flag. - -When the reading was accomplished the eight veterans fired their -salute, not up at heaven, but across and over the people's heads, as at -an unseen enemy. Then the old grey-headed man who had read the words of -Lincoln pronounced the blessing: - - - _The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your - hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God...._ - - -And we dispersed to wander among the graves and see the decorations, -and add decorations of our own if we willed. Wherever I went, the -haunting air was in my ears: - - - Let him sleep, - Sweetly sleep, - Till the call of the roll on high. - - -Americans believe very really in the roll-call. They believe that -they will answer to their names on a great last day--"When the roll -is called up yonder, I'll be there," says a popular hymn. It is all -important to the American that he feels he lives and dies for the -Right, for the moral virtues. The glory of the wars which the Americans -have fought in their history is not only that they, the Americans, were -victorious, but that they were morally right before ever they started -out to fight. - -Well, civilisation has approved the abolition of slavery. The great -mass of people nowadays consider slavery as something wrong in itself. -The North took up its weapons and convinced the South, and the negro -was freed. The peculiar horrors of slavery no longer exist--no one -man has power of life and death over the African. That much the war -has achieved. But it is strange that for the rest the negro seems -to have become worse off, and that America feels that she cannot -extend the personal privileges of democracy to the blacks. America has -brutalised the nigger; has made of a very gentle, loving and lovable -if very simple creature, an outcast, a beast, who may not sit beside -an ordinary man. It has in its own nervous imagination accused him of -hideous crimes which he did not commit, did not even imagine; it has -deprived him of the law, tortured him, flayed him, burned him at the -stake. It has made a black man a bogey; so that a fluttering white -woman, finding herself alone in the presence of a negro, will rush -away in terror, crying "murder," "rape," "fire," just because she has -seen the whites of his eyes. Then the hot-blooded southern crowd comes -out.... - -The war was a healthy war. It did much good, it strengthened the roots -of many American families; it gave the nation a criterion for future -development; it brought many individuals nearer to reality, brought -them to the mystery of life, caused them to say each day their prayers -to God. But if a war must be judged by its political effect, then as -regards the happiness of the negro the war has not yet proved to be a -success. The service by the graveside, and the apt words of Abraham -Lincoln were a reminder to the American people that though they realise -to themselves the maximum of prosperity the New World affords, and yet -lose their souls, it profits them nothing. America by her unwritten -but infallible charter is consecrated to freedom. If America is going -to be true to itself it must work for freedom, it must carry out the -idea of freedom. The emigrant from Europe expects to realise in America -the idea of freedom, the opportunity for personal and individual -development. He does not expect to find repeated there the caste system -and relative industrial slavery of the East. - - * * * * * * * - -Clearfield was much touched by the graveside service. The whole evening -after it the men in the hotel lounge talked American sentiment. The -lads and lasses crowded into the cinema houses, and watched with -much edification the specially instructive set of films which, on -the recommendation of the town council, had been specially installed -for the occasion,--the perils of life for a young girl going to -dance-halls, the Soudanese at work, Japanese children at play, the -ferocious habits of the hundred-legs, a review of troops at Tiflis, -a portrait of the Governor of Mississippi wearing a high silk hat, -pottery-making in North Borneo, the Pathé news. It was good to see -so many pictures of foreign and dark-skinned people presented in an -interesting and sympathetic manner. The Americans need to care more -for the national life of other races. For they are often strangely -contemptuous of the people they conceive to be wasting their time. - -I had a pleasant talk with a doctor who was extremely keen on -"temperance." He struck up acquaintance with me by complimenting me -on my complexion, and betting I didn't touch spirituous liquors. "The -war's still going on," said he. "I wage my part against drink and -disease. I'd like to make the medical profession a poor one to enter, -yes, sirr. I'd like to uproot disease, and if I could stop the drinking -in America I'd do it. Never touch liquor and you'll never have gout, -live to a good age, and be happy. I am glad to meet you, sir, glad -to meet a Briton. America will stand shoulder and shoulder with the -British in war or peace. They are of the same blood. The only two -civilised nations in the world." - -All the same, Clearfield regarded me with some suspicion, and as I sat -at my bedroom window at night a young man called up: - -"English Gawd: Lord Salisbury." - - - - -XI - -WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES - - -The men whom you meet during the day are like a hand of cards dealt out -to you by Providence. But they are more than that, for you feel that -luck does not enter into it. You feel there is no such thing as luck, -and that the wayfarer is in his way a messenger sent to you by the -hospitable spirit of man. He brings a sacred opportunity. - -I sit tending my fire, and watching and balancing the kettle upon it; -or I sit beside the cheerful blaze on which I have cooked my breakfast -or my dinner, and I hold my mug of coffee in my hand and my piece -of bread; I chip my just-boiled eggs, or I am digging into a pot of -apple-jelly or cutting up a pine-apple, and I feel very tender towards -the man who comes along the road and stops to pass a greeting and give -and take the news of the day and the intelligence of the district. - -There is a sort of hermit's charity. It is to have a spirit that is -quietly joyful, to be in that state towards man that a gentle woodsman -is towards the shy birds who are not afraid of him as he lies on a -forest bank and watches them tripping to and from their little nests. -Your fellow-man instinctively knows you and trusts you, and he puts -aside the mask in which he takes refuge from other fellow-travellers -who are alert and busy. I cherish as very precious all the little talks -I had with this man and that man who came up to me in America. - -As I sat one day by the side of my pleasant Susquehanna road, an -oil-carrier met me, a gentle-voiced man in charge of four tons of -kerosene and petrol, which his horses were dragging over the mountains -from village to village and store to store. I was an opportunity to -rest the horses, and the driver pulled up, relaxed his reins and -entered into converse with me. Was I going far? Why was I tramping? -What nationality was I? I told him what I was doing, and he said he -would like to give up his job and do the same; he also was of British -origin, though his mother was a German. He was a descendant of Sir -Robert Downing. "There used to be many English about here," said he, -"but they wore off." He went on to tell me what a wild district it -had once been. His grandfather had shot a panther on the mountains. -But there were no panthers now. The railways and the automobiles -had frightened the wild things away. The change had come about very -suddenly. He remembered when there were no telephone-poles along the -road, but only road-poles. It used to be a posting-road, and a good -one too; but now the automobiles had torn up all the surface, and no -one would take any trouble about the needs of horse vehicles. - -One hot noontide, on the road to Shippenville and Oil City, I was -having luncheon when a very pleasant Swede came down the road carrying -a bucket in his hand,--Mr. G. B. Olson, bossing a gang of workers on -the highway. He was going down the hill to a special spring to draw -water for his thirsty men, but he could hardly resist the smoke of my -wayside fire, and he told me, as it seemed, his whole story. He had -come to America in 1873, and had worked on a farm in Illinois before -the great Chicago fire. He was twenty-four then, and was sixty-five now. - -When he heard I was British he told me how he had come from Europe -_via_ Leith and Glasgow, and had been fifteen and a half days crossing -the Atlantic. - -"Have you ever been back to Sweden?" I asked. - -"No, sirr, never." - -"Are you content with America?" - -"Yes, sirr; it's the finest country under the sun. It gives the working -man a show." - -"The Americans speak very kindly of your countrymen. They like them." - -"Yes. We gave the Americans a good lift, we Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, -and Germans, by settling the land when the rest of the colonists were -running to the towns. We came in and did the rough pioneer work that -had to be done if America was going to be more than a mushroom growth. -Where would America be to-day if it were not for us in Minnesota, -Wisconsin, Iowa? You can't keep up big cities unless you've got plenty -of men working in the background on the land." - -The Swede went on to compliment me on my English. I spoke pretty clear -for one who had been only three months in the country. He had met many -British who spoke "very broken," especially Scotch. "I shouldn't have -been able to understand them," said he, "but that I am a foreigner -myself, and know what it is not to speak good." - -"Well, I must be off," he added, and pointed to the bucket. - -"You've got a gang of men working up above?" - -"Yes. I'm bossing them for the State. A good job it is too, good money, -and I don't have to work much." - -"I should say you'd make a kind boss!" - -"Yes. I never do anything against them. I get a good day's work out of -the men, but I never put myself above them. I've got authority, that's -all--it doesn't make me better'n they. I've got to boss them, they've -got to work. That's how it's turned out.... Well, I must be off to -water my hands!" - -And he hastened away down the hill, whilst I put my things together and -shouldered my pack. - -The strange thing about this American journey was the diversity of -nationality I encountered, and the friendly terms in which it was -possible for me as a man on the road to converse with them. - -On leaving Clearfield I fell in with Peter Deemeff, a clever little -Bulgarian immigrant, and spent two days in his company. He was -an unpractical, rebellious boy, a student by inclination, but a -labourer by necessity, nervous in temperament, and alternately gay -and despondent. He was thin-bodied, broad-browed, clean-shaven, but -blue-black with the multitude of his hair-roots; he had two rows of -faultless, little, milk-white teeth; an angelic Bulgarian smile, and an -occasional ugly American grimace. - -We tramped along the most beautiful Susquehanna road to Curwenville, -and then through magnificent gorges to the height of Luthersburg. - -"Ho! Where you going?" said one of a group of Italian labourers at -Curwenville. - -"Oil City," I answered. - -"You'll be sore," the Italian rejoined, and slapped his thigh. "Why not -stop here and get good job?" - -But Peter and I were not looking for a job just then, and we went on. I -was glad the Bulgarian was not tempted, for I relished his company, and -he was pleasantly loquacious. - -"Do you like the Americans?" I asked him. - -He raised his eyebrows. Evidently he did not like them very much. - -"Half-civilise," said he. "When I say my boss, 'I go,' he want me -fight. He offens me. I say, 'You Americans--bulldogs, no more, -half-civilise.' And I go all the same and no fight great big fat -American." - -"You think Bulgaria a better country?" - -"'S a poor country, that's all. There's more life in Europe. Americans -don't know what they live for." - -I looked with some astonishment on this day-labourer in shabby attire -talking thus intelligently, and withal so frankly. - -He told me he hated the English. They had said, anent the Balkan War, -"The fruits must not be taken from the victors"; but when Montenegro -took Scutari they were the first to say to King Nicholas "Go back, go -back." He thought I was a Slav immigrant like himself, or he would not -have struck up acquaintance with me. But he seemed relieved when I told -him my sympathies were entirely with the Slavs. - -We talked of Russian literature, and of Tolstoy in particular. - -"Tolstoy understood about God," said he. "He said God is within you, -not far away or everywhere, but in yourself. By that I understand life. -All life springs from inside. What comes from outside is nahthing. That -is how Americans live--in outside things, going to shows, baseball -matches.... I know Shakespeare was the mirror of life, that's not -what I mean.... To be educated mentally is light and life; to be -developed only physically is death and.... That's why I say bulldogs, -not civilise. When I was in Philadelphia I hear a Socialist in the Park -and he asked, 'How d'ye fellows live?--eat--work, eat--work--drink, -eat--work--sleep, eat--work--sleep. Machines, that's what y'are.'" - -The most astonishing evidence of thought and culture that Peter Deemeff -gave me was contained in a reflection he made half-aloud, in a pause in -the conversation--"A great writer once said, 'If God had not existed, -man would have invented his God'--that is a good idea, eh?" Fancy that -from the lips of an unskilled labourer! These foreign working-men are -bringing something new to America. If they only settle down to be -American citizens and look after their children's education! - -"Do many Bulgarians think?" I asked him. - -"Yes, many--they think more than I do." - -We spent the night under great rocks; he under one, I under another. -My bed, which I made soft with last year's bracken, was under three -immense boulders, a natural shelter, a deep dark cavern with an opening -that looked across the river-gorge to the forested cliff on the other -side. The Bulgarian, less careful about his comfort, lay in a ferny -hollow, just sheltered by an overhanging stone. Before lying down he -commended himself to God, and crossed himself very delicately and -trustfully. With all his philosophy he had not cast off the habits of -the homeland. And almost directly he laid himself down he fell asleep. - -It was a wonderful night. As I lay in my cave and the first star was -looking down at me from over the great wooded cliff, what was my -astonishment to see a living spark go past the entrance of the cave, -a flame on wings--the firefly. I lay and watched the forest lose its -trees, and the cliff become one great black wall, ragged all along the -crest. Mists crept up and hid the wall for a while, and then passed. -An hour and a half after I had lain down, and the Bulgarian had fallen -asleep, I opened my eyes and looked out at the black wall--little lamps -were momentarily appearing and disappearing far away in the mysterious -dark depths of the cliff. It seemed to me that if when we die we perish -utterly, then that living flame moving past my door was something -like the passing of man's life. It was strange to lie on the plucked -rustling bracken, and have the consciousness of the cold sepulchre-like -roof of the cave, and look out at the figure of man's life. But the -river chorus lulled me to sleep. Whenever I reawakened and looked out I -saw the little lights once more, appearing and vanishing, like minutest -sprites searching the forest with lanterns. - -Peter and I woke almost at the same time in the morning in a dense -mist. I sent him for water, and I collected wood for a fire. We made -tea, took in warmth, and then set off once more. - -"Let us go to a farmhouse and get some breakfast," said I. - -"We get it most likely for nothing, because it's Sunday," said Peter -with a smile. - -The Americans are much more hospitable on Sundays than on week days. -They do not, however, like to see you tramping the road on the day of -rest; it is thought to be an infraction of the Sabbath--though it is -difficult to see what tramps can do but tramp on a Sunday. - -We had a splendid breakfast for ten cents apiece at a stock-breeding -farm below Luthersburg,--pork and beans, bread and butter and cookies, -strawberry jam and home-canned plums, pear-jelly. I thanked the lady of -the establishment when we had finished, and remarked that I thought it -very cheap at the price. She answered that she didn't serve out lunches -for a profit, but wouldn't let decent men pass hungry. - -"Are you hiking to the next burg?" she asked. - -"Chicago," said I. - -"Gee!" - -We came to Luthersburg, high up on the crest of the hills, a large -village, with two severe-looking churches. - -"When I see these narrow spires I'm afraid," said the Bulgarian. "I -should have to wither my soul and make it small to get into one of -these churches. I like a church with walls of praise and a spire of -yearning,--Tolstoy, eh? That spire says to me 'I feared Thee, O God, -because Thou art an austere man.'" - -I, for my part, thought it strange that Americans, taking so many risks -in business, and daring and imagining so large-heartedly in the secular -world, should be satisfied with so cramped an expression of their -religion. - -Peter and I went down on the other side of the hills to Helvetia, the -first town in a wild coaling district, a place of many Austrians, -Poles, and Huns. It was the Sunday evening promenade, and every one -was out of doors, hundreds of miners and labourers in straight-creased -trousers (how soon obtained) and cheap felt hats, a similar number -of dark, interesting-looking Polish girls in their gaudy Sunday -best. We passed a hundred yards of grey coke-ovens glowing at all -their doors and emitting hundreds of fires and flames. Peter seemed -unusually attracted by the coke-ovens or by the Slav population, and -he decided to remain at Helvetia and seek for a job on the morrow. So -I accompanied him into a "boarding-house," and was ready to spend the -night with him. But when I saw the accommodation of coaly beds I cried -off. So the Bulgarian and I parted. I went on to Sykesville and the -Hotel Sykes. Obviously I was in America,--fancy calling a hotel in -England "Hotel Sykes." But I did not stay there, preferring to hasten -up country and get a long step beyond black breaker-towers, the sooty -inclines up which trucks ran from the mines, the coke-ovens, the fields -full of black stumps and rotting grass, the seemingly poverty-stricken -frame-buildings, and more dirt and misery than you would see even in -a bad district in Russia. It surprised me to see the Sunday clothes -of Sykesville, the white collars, the bright red ties, the blue serge -trousers with creases, the bowler hats, and American smiles. Despite -all the dirt, these new-come immigrants say _Yes_ to American life -and American hopes. But to my eyes it was a terrible place in which -to live. It was an astonishing change, moreover, to pass from the -magnificent loveliness of the Susquehanna gorges to this inferno of a -colliery. But I managed to pass out of this region almost as quickly -as I came into it, and next day was in the lovely country about -Reynoldsville; and I tramped through beautiful agricultural or forested -country to the bright towns of Brookville, Clarion, and Shippenville, -clean, new, handsome settlements, with green lawns, shady avenues, fine -houses, and well-stocked shops. In such places I saw America at its -best, just as at Helvetia and Sykesville I saw it at about its worst. I -suppose Sykesville will never be made as beautiful as Brookville; the -one is the coal-cellar, the other is the drawing-room in the house of -modern America. - -But I had definitely left the coal region behind, now I was striking -north, for oil. In three days I came into Oil City, so wonderfully -situated on the wide and stately Alleghany river--the river having -brown rings here and there, glimmering with wandering oil. The city -is built up five or six hills, and is only a unity by virtue of its -fine bridges. It is a clean town compared with Scranton, as oil is -cleaner to deal with than coal. But the houses are more ramshackle. -The poor people's dwellings suggest to the eye that they were made in -a great hurry many years ago, and are now falling to bits; they are -set one behind another up the hills, and you climb to them by wooden -stairways. Some seem veritably tumbling down the hill. There were a -fair number of foreign immigrants there, mostly Italians; but the -oil business seems to be worked by Americans, the foreigners being -too stupid to understand. Oil City is a cheap town to live in. I was -boarded at a hotel for a dollar a day; and when I bought provisions for -my next tramp to Erie Shore I found everything cheaper than in Eastern -Pennsylvania. There appeared to be little cultured life, however, no -theatre but the cinema, and little offered for sale in the shape of -books. - -I set out for Meadville on the "Meadville Pike." A feature of the new -landscape and of the road and fields was the oil-pump, working all by -itself, the long cables, connecting the pump with the engine, often -coming across the roadway, the _jig, jig, jig_ of the pumping movement, -the _clump, clump, clump, stump_ of the engine--the pulse of the -industrial countryside. - -I met a Dutchman. He asked: - -"What's on? What is it for?" - -I told him I was studying the emerging American, and he told me what a -menace the fecund Slavs were to the barren Americans. According to him -the extinction of the American was a matter of mathematics. - -I came upon an enormous gang of Americans, Russians, Slavs, Italians at -work on the highroad, digging it out, laying a bed of mortar, putting -down bricks; some hundreds of workmen, extending over a mile and a half -of closed road. Many of the American workmen were dressed as smartly as -stockbrokers' clerks and city men, and they kept themselves neat and -clean--a new phenomenon in labouring. Americans, however, were working -together, Italians together, and Russians together. A fine-looking -American workman said to me knowingly, "You can photograph me if you -like, but the Guineas won't want to be photographed--most of them shot -some one sometime or other, you bet!" - -[Illustration: ITALIANS WORKING WITH THE "MIXER" ON THE MEADVILLE PIKE.] - -Near Cochranton I made the acquaintance of four little girls--Julia, -Margaret, Elinor, Cora, and Georgiana--scampering about in bare legs -and week-day frocks, whilst father and mother, with gauze bags on -their heads, were "boxing the bees." It was the first swarm of summer; -two lots of bees had been boxed, but the third was giving much trouble. -Julia, aged twelve, was a very pretty girl, and when at her mother's -recommendation she went indoors, washed her face and put on a Sunday -frock, she looked a very smart young lady. She was conscious of that -fact, and informed me in course of conversation that she was going -to travel when she was grown up. She was dying to see Paris, and she -wanted to visit all the European towns! - -Some miles north, near Frenchville, I met one of the French colonists -of Northern Pennsylvania,--a tall, well-built stripling,--and he told -me how the Breton peasants had settled at Boussot and Frenchville, -bringing all their French ways of farming and economy, and becoming -the admiration of the district round--a little Brittany. The young -man's father-in-law had been the first Frenchman to come and settle -in the district. After him had come, straight from France, relatives -and friends, and relatives of friends and friends of friends in -widening circles. They were beginning to speak English well now, but -the newcomers were still without the new language. It was interesting -for me to realise what a great gain such people were to America--to -the American nation in the making. It is good to think of such -agricultural settlements lying in the background of industrial -America--the whole villages of Swedes, of Russians, of Danes, Finns, -Germans, French. They are ethnic reserves; they mature and improve -in the background. They are Capital. If urban America can subsist on -the interest, the surplus of the ambitious, how much richer she will -be than if the population of whole country-sides is tempted to rush -_pêle-mêle_ to the places of fortune-making and body-wasting. - -Coming into Meadville, a town of twelve thousand inhabitants, most -of the labourers of whom are Italians employed at the great railway -works, I was attracted to Nicola Hiagg, a Syrian, sitting outside his -ice-cream shop, reading the Syrian paper. Whilst I had a "pine-apple -soda," I drew him into talk. It was a matter of pleasing interest to -him that I had myself tramped in Syria, and knew the conditions in his -native land. Nicola had first left Syria twelve years ago, had come -to Philadelphia, and started making his living selling "soft drinks" -in the street. After five years he had saved enough to take a holiday -and go back to the old land. He and his brother had been merchants in -Jerusalem before he set out for America; the brother had had charge of -the store, and Nicola had convoyed the merchandise and the train of -thirty asses to and from the country. He had many friends in Syria, but -it was a poor country. The Turks were bloodsuckers, and drained it of -every drop of vital energy. - -"I lived in a poor little town between Beyrout and Damascus, not with -my brother in Jerusalem. So poor! You cannot start anything new in -Syria--the Turk interferes. No bizness! What you think of the war? The -Turk is beaten, hey? Now is the time for the Syrians to unite and throw -off the Turk. There are Syrians all over the world; they are prosperous -everywhere but in Syria.... America is a fine country; but if Syria -became independent I'd go back...." - -Nicola, when he had his holiday, found a Syrian girl and brought her -back to America as his wife. She was not visible now, however; for the -Syrian kept her in the background, and he told me he didn't believe in -women's rights to public life. A bit of a Turk himself! - -He was very proud of his little girl, who is being brought up as an -American in the town school. "Already she can write, and when you say -to her, 'Write something,' she does not look up at you and say, 'How -d'you spell it?' She just writes it." - -"She's sharp." - -"You bet." - -The Turks, the Greeks, and the Syrians, and to some extent the -Italians, are engaged in the sweet-stuff and ice-cream business. -Turkish Delight, the most characteristic thing of the Levant, seems to -be their bond of union. It is a great business in America, for the -Americans are, beyond all comparison, fonder of sweet things than we -are. I stopped one day at a great candy shop in South Bend, Indiana. It -was kept by a Mr. Poledor, who was so pleased that I had been in Greece -and knew the habits of the Greek Orthodox, that he gave me the freedom -of the shop and bade me order anything I liked--he would "stand treat." -There were over a hundred ways of having ice-cream, twenty sorts of -ice-cream soda, thirteen sorts of lemonade, twelve frappes, and the -menu card was something like a band programme. Mr. Poledor was a man of -inventiveness, and the names of some of the dishes were as delicious as -the dishes themselves. I transcribe a few: - - - Merry Widow. - Don't Care. - John D. (is very rich). - Yankee Doodle. - Upside down. - New Moon. - Sweet Smile. - Twin Beauties. - Nôtre Dame. - Lover's Delight. - Black-eyed Susan. - - -A young man could take his girl there and give her anything she asked -for, were it the moon itself. The Greek was a magician. - -But to return. As I was going out of Meadville, two young men swung out -of a saloon and addressed me thus strangely: - -"Have you had a benevolent? We're giving them away." - -One of them showed me a stylographic pen. - -"Wha're you doing?" said the other. - -"Oh, I'm travelling," I replied. - -"How d'ye get your living?" - -"I write in the magazines now and then." - -A look of disappointment crept over the faces of the young men. The -stylographic pen was replaced in waistcoat pocket. - -"Did you say you were working for a magazine? So are we--_The -Homestead_. I was about to ask you to become a subscriber." - -"And the benevolent?" I asked. - -"Oh, these are given away to subscribers." - -I explained that I wasn't a commercial traveller, but one of those who -wrote sometimes in magazines. - -"You'd be a sort of reporter?" - -"Well, not quite." - -"A poet?" - -"No. I earn my living by writing." - -"Better than a poet, I suppose. Well, good-day, wish you luck!" - -So I won free of my last big town in mighty Pennsylvania, and set out -for the State of Ohio. - -I had a "still-creation-day" in quiet country, and towards evening came -through the woods to the store and house of Padan-Aram. And just on -the border of Ohio an elf-like person skipped out of a large farm and -conducted me across, a boy of about twenty years, who cried out to me -shrilly as he caught me up: - -"I say, you're still in Pennsylvania." - -"Yes," said I. - -"Yes, but that house over there is in Ohio. Say! Would you like some -candy?" - -"I thought you were fumbling in your pocket for tobacco," said I. - -"No use for it," said the boy. "I've found God. I used to chew it, but -I've stopped it." - -"That is good. You've a strong will," said I. - -"I reckon God can break any will," said the boy. "Once I ran away from -home with five hundred dollars. You're walking? I can walk. I walked a -hundred miles in five days and five nights. Feet were sore for a week. -Five times I ran away. The sixth time I stayed away four years and -worked on the steel works." - -"Were your parents unkind?" I asked. "Or did you run away to see life?" - -"Ran to show them I could," said the boy. - -"They lay in to me I can tell you. There were Chinamen and -niggers--all sorts. Hit a fellow over the head with an ice-cream -refrigerator--killed him dead." - -"Where was this?" - -"Poke. At the institution. I showed them I could fight." - -"What are you, American?" - -"Pennsylvanian Dutch." - -"I suppose there is a church about here that you go to?" - -"Yes; a Methodist. But I don't go. Family service. We get many -blessings." - -"Is there a hotel at Padan-Aram?" - -"No; but at Leon. If you go there, you'll get a Christian woman. You'll -find God. She'll lighten your load. She's a saint. I know her well." - -"What's your name? I'll mention you to her." - -"Dull." - -"I'll tell her I met you." - -"Tell her you met Ralph Dillie--she'll know." - -"All right," said I. - -"Now you're in Ohio," said the boy. "Are you going into the store at -Padan-Aram?" - -"No." - -"Don't you want to buy some candy?" - -"No. I don't eat it along the road." - -"Buy some for me." - -"All right; yes." - -"Buy a nickel's worth." - -"Yes." - -Ralph Dillie rejoiced. We went into the store and ordered a nickel's -worth of candy. And directly the boy got it he started back for home -on the run. And I watched him re-cross the border once more--into -Pennsylvania. - - - - -XII - -CHARACTERISTICS - - -The chief characteristic of America is an immense patriotism, and out -of that patriotism spring a thousand minor characteristics, which, -taken by themselves, may be considered blemishes by the critical -foreigner,--such troublesome little characteristics as national -pride and thin-skinnedness, national bluster and cocksureness. But -personal annoyance should not blind the critic or appreciator to the -fundamental fact of the American's belief in America. This belief is -not a narrow partizanship, though it may seem unpleasantly like that -to those who listen to the clamour of excited Americans at the Olympic -games and other competitions of an international interest. It is not -merely the commercial instinct ever on the watch for opportunities for -self-advertisement. It is a real, hearty patriotic fervour, the deepest -thing in an American. It is something that cannot be shaken. - -"_It is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen_," says -a Presbyterian circular. "_Being an American is a sacred mission._ Our -whole life must be enthralled by a holy passion." - -You could never hear it said, except in an imperial way, that being a -Briton, or being a German, or being a Russian was a sacred mission. -In Britain it would be bad form, in Germany absurd, in Russia quite -untrue. It is part of the greatness of America that she can come -forward unashamed and call herself the handmaiden of the Lord. - -Now there is a fine healthy spirit abroad in the land counteracting -the more sentimental and sanctimonious self-honour of the Americans. -Something more in deeds than in words, a pulse that beats for America, -a greater purpose that breathes through myriads of personal acts, done -for personal ends. Outside, beyond the degrading commercialism of the -nation, there is a feeling that building for a man is building also for -America; that buying and selling in the store is buying and selling -for the great nation; that writing or singing or painting, though done -in self-conceited cities and before limited numbers, is really all -consecrated to the idea of the new America. - -In several schools of America the children take the following pledge: - - - I am a citizen of America and an heir to all her greatness and - renown. The health and happiness of my own body depend upon each - muscle and nerve and drop of blood doing its work in its place. So - the health and happiness of my country depend upon each citizen - doing his work in his place. - - I will not fill any post or pursue any business where I can - live upon my fellow-citizens without doing them useful service - in return; for I plainly see that this must bring suffering and - want to some of them. I will do nothing to desecrate the soil of - America, or pollute her air or degrade her children, my brothers - and sisters. - - I will try to make her cities beautiful, and her citizens healthy - and happy, so that she may be a desired home for myself now, and - for her children in days to come. - - -Teachers are recommended to explain to children that patriotism means -love of your own country and not hate of other countries; and that -the best mode of patriotism is love and care for the ideals of the -fatherland. - - - The most obvious fields of activity are the school, the building, - the yard or playgrounds, and the surrounding streets. Whatsoever - is offensive and unsightly, detrimental to health, or in violation - of law, is a proper field for action. The litter of papers and - refuse; marks on side walks, buildings, and fences; mutilation, - vandalism, and damage of any kind to property; cleanliness of - the school building and the surrounding streets, door-yards, - and pavements; observance of the ordinances for the disposal of - garbage by the scavenger and people in the community; protection - and care of shade trees; improper advertisements, illegal signs - and bill-boards; unnecessary noises in the streets around the - school, including cries of street-vendors and barking of dogs - and blowing of horns; the display of objectionable pictures and - postcards in the windows of stores--all supply opportunities to - the teachers to train pupils for good citizenship. - -Circulars like the following are scattered broadcast to citizens, and -they breathe the patriotism of the American: - - - _Do you approve of your Home City?_ - - I mean, do you like her looks, her streets, her schools, her - public buildings, her stores, factories, parks, railways, trolleys - and all that makes her what she is? Do you approve of these things - as they are? Do you think they could be better? Do you think you - know how they can be made better? - - If you do you are unusual. Few take the trouble to approve or - disapprove. Many may think they care about the city; but few, very - few, act as if they did! - - When you see something you think can be improved you go straight - and find out who is the man who has that something in charge; - whatever it is, factories, smoke, stores, saloons, parks, paving, - playgrounds, lawns, back-yards, ash-cans, overhead signs, - newspapers, bill-boards, side-walks, street cars, street lighting, - motor traffic, freight yards, or what not, you find out who is the - man who has in charge that thing you dislike; then you talk to - him, or write to him, and tell him what you disapprove of, and ask - him if he can and will make it better, or tell you why he can't. - He wants to make it better. He will if he can. Almost invariably - he wants to do his work of looking after that thing better than - it was ever done before. He will welcome your complaint; he will - explain his handicaps; he will ask your help. Then you give the - help. - - J. C. D. - - -[Illustration: INGENIOUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF AMERICAN TYPES.] - -Making the city beautiful and fostering a love for the home-city, -however dingy and dreary that city may at present be, is one of the -most potent and attractive expressions of American patriotism, and -it is well to note the characteristic. It has great promise for the -America of the future, the America which the sons and daughters of the -immigrants will inherit. The America of the future is to be one of -artistically imagined cities and proud, responsible citizens. Even now, -despite the unlovely state of New York and Chicago and the reputation -for devastating ugliness which America has in Europe, there are clear -signs of the commencement of an era of grace and order. Already the -parks of the American cities are the finest in the world, and are worth -much study in themselves. American townsmen have loved Nature enough -to plant trees so that every decent town on the western continent has -become a cluster of shady avenues. Some cities favour limes, some -maples; New Haven is known as "The City of Elms"; in Washington alone -it is said that there are 78,000 street trees; Cleveland has been -called "The City of the Forest." Wherever I tramped in America I found -the most delicious shade in the town streets--excepting, of course, the -streets of the coaling infernos of Pennsylvania. No idea of the expense -of land deters the American from getting space and greenery into the -midst of his wilderness of brick and mortar. It is said that the value -of the parks in such a city as Newark, for instance, is over two and a -quarter millions of pounds (nine million dollars). "Our aim," says a -Newark circular, "is the city beautiful, and it requires the aid of -everyday patriots to make it so. Pericles said, 'Make Athens beautiful, -for beauty is now the most victorious power in the world.'" - -America has become the place of continuous crusades--against dirt, -against municipal corruption, immorality, noise. It would surprise -many Europeans to know the fight which is being made against -bell-advertisement, steam whistles, organ-grinders' music, shouts of -street hawkers, and the exuberance of holiday-makers. - -"Don't be ashamed to fight for your city to get it clean and beautiful, -to rid it of its sweat-shops and hells," I read in a Chicago paper. -"Some folk call our disease Chicagoitis, but that is a thousand times -better than Chicagophobia. Those suffering from Chicagophobia are as -dangerous to society as those who have hydrophobia." - -Then, most potent expression of all in American patriotism is the -American's belief in the future of its democracy, the faith which is -not shattered by the seeming bad habits of the common people, the -flocking to music halls and cinema shows, the reading of the yellow -press. - -It has been noted in the last few years that there is a distinct -falling off in the acceleration of reading at the public libraries. -This is attributed to the extraordinary amount of time spent by men -and women at the "movies," when they would otherwise be reading. -Such a fact would breed pessimism in Great Britain or Europe were it -established. But America has such trust in the hearts and hopes of the -common people that it approves of the picture show. "If readers of -books go back to the cinema, let them go," says the American; "it is -like a child in the third class voluntarily going back to the first -class, because the work being done there is more suited to his state of -mind." The cinema show is doing the absolutely elementary work among -the vast number of immigrants, who are almost illiterate. It is not -a be-all and an end-all, but stimulates the mind and sets it moving, -thinking, striving. The picture show will bring good readers to the -libraries in time. It is the first step in the cultural ladder of the -democracy. - -Then people of good taste in Europe decry the reading of newspapers; -a leader of thought and politics like A. J. Balfour can boast that -he never reads the papers. But America says, "You have the newspaper -habit. This habit is one of the most beneficial and entertaining -habits you have. Few people read too many newspapers. Most people do -not read enough." This, of American papers of all papers in the world. -But let me go on quoting the most significant words of America's great -librarian, J. Cotton Dana: - - - Readers of newspapers are the best critics of them. The more they - are read the wiser the readers; the wiser the readers the more - criticisms, and the more the newspapers are criticised the better - they become. - - Do you say this does not apply to the yellow journal? I would - reply that it does. The yellow journal caters all the time to the - beginners in reading, who are also the beginners in newspaper - reading. A new crop of these beginners in reading is born every - year. This new crop likes its reading simply printed, in large - letters, and with plenty of pictures. The more of this new crop - of readers there are the more the yellow journals flourish; and - the more the yellow journals flourish the sooner this new crop is - educated by the yellow journals, by the mere process of reading - them, and the sooner they get into the habit of reading journals - that are not yellow and contain a larger quantity of more reliable - information, until at last the yellow journals are overpassed by - the readers they have themselves trained. - - -The yellow press is the second rung on the cultural ladder of -democracy. America is glad of it, glad also of the princess novelette, -the pirate story, glad of Hall Caine and Marie Corelli; all these are, -as it were, divining-rods for better things. The American says "Yes" to -the novels of Florence Barclay, as indeed most sensible Britons would -also. _The Rosary_ was a most helpful book--so much more helpful to the -unformed intellect and young intelligence of the mass of the people -than, for instance, Tolstoy's dangerously overpraised _Resurrection_ -or Wells's _New Machiavelli_. America recognises the truth that the -ugly has power to make those who look at it ugly like itself; but that -the crude and elementary stuff, however poor it may be artistically, -is nevertheless most useful to democracy if it speaks in language -and sentiment which is common knowledge to the reader. How useful to -America is such a book as Churchill's _Inside of the Cup_. - -It is a very true dictum that "reading makes more reading"; and in -a young, hopeful nation, striving to divine its own destiny and to -visualise its future, "more reading" always means _better reading_. - -Perhaps the cultured ladder of democracy may be seen allegorically as -the ladder of Jacob's dream. Religion, which may be thought to have -flown from the churches, is in evidence at the libraries. It is a -librarian who is able to say in _The Inside of the Cup_ that we are on -the threshold of a greater religious era than the world has ever seen. - - -In America to-day we are confronted with two parties,--one the great -multifarious, unformed mass of the people, and the other the strong, -emancipated, cultured American nation, which is at work shaping the -democracy. The aspect of the "rabble," the commercial heathen, and -horde of unknowing, unknown immigrants, gives you the first but not the -final impression of America. You remark first of all the slouching, -blank-eyed, broad-browed immigrant, who indulges still his European -vices and craves his European pleasures, flocking into saloons, -debauching his body, or at best looking dirty and out of hand, a -reproach to the American flag. You see the Jews leaping over one -another's backs in the orgy of mean trade. You see the fat American, -clever enough to bluff even the Jew--the strange emerging bourgeois -type of what I call the "white nigger," low-browed, heavy-cheeked, -thick-lipped, huge-bodied, but _white_; men who seem made of rubber -so elastic they are; men who seem to get their thoughts from below -upward. I've often watched one of these "white negroes" reflecting; he -seems to sense his thoughts in his body first of all--you can watch his -idea rise up to him from the earth, pass along his body and flicker at -last in a true American smile across his lips--a transition type of -man I should say. One wonders where these men, who are originally Jews -or Anglo-Saxons or Dutch or Germans, got their negro souls. It would -almost tempt one to think that there were negro souls floating about, -and that they found homes in white babies. - -Beside the fat American is the more familiar lean, hatchet-faced type, -which is thought to correspond to the Red Indian in physiognomy. -Perhaps too much importance is attached to the Darwinian idea that -the climate of America is breeding a race of men with physique and -types similar to the aborigines. The American is still a long way -from the red-skin. Meanwhile, however, one may note with a smile -the extraordinary passion of Americans for collecting autographs, -curios, snippets of the clothes of famous men, Italian art, British -castles,--which seems to be scalp-hunting in disguise. The Americans -are great scalp-hunters. - -On the whole, the dry, lean Americans are the most trustworthy and -honourable among the masses of the people. In England we trust fat men, -men "who sleep o' nights," but in America one prefers the lean man. -Shakespeare would not have written of Cassius as he did if he had been -an American of to-day. Of course too much stress might easily be laid -on the unpleasantness of the "white-nigger" type. There are plenty of -them who are true gentlemen. - -The American populace has also its bad habits. There are those who -chew "honest scrap," and those who chew "spearmint." It is astonishing -to witness the service of the cuspidor in a hotel, the seven or -eight obese, cow-like American men, all sitting round a cuspidor and -chewing tobacco; almost equally astonishing to sit in a tramcar full -of American girls, and see that every jaw is moving up and down in the -mastication of sweet gum. - -America suffers terribly from its own success, its vastness, its great -resources, its commercial scoops, its wealth, vested _en masse_ and -so vulgarly in the person of lucky or astute business men. This has -bred a tendency to chronic exaggeration in the language of the common -people, it has brought on the jaunty airs and tall talk of the man -who, however ignorant he may be, thinks that he knows all. But success -has also brought kindness and an easy-going temperament. There are -no people in the world less disposed to personal ill-temper than the -Americans. They are very generous, and in friendship rampageously -exuberant. They are not mean, and are disinclined to incur or to -collect small debts. They would rather toss who pays for the drinks of -a party than pay each his own score. They have even invented little -gambling machines in cigar stores and saloons where you can put a -nickel over a wheel and run a chance between having five cigars for -five cents, or paying twenty-five cents for no cigars at all. - -So stands on the one hand the "many-headed," sprung from every -country in Europe, an uncouth nation doing what they ought not to -do, and leaving undone what they ought to do, but at least having -in their hearts, every one of them, the idea that America is a fine -thing, a large thing, a wonderful promise. Opposite them stands what -may be called the American _intelligence_, ministering as best it -can to the wants of young America, and helping to fashion the great -desideratum,--a homogeneous nation for the new world. - -It seems perhaps a shame to question the significance of any of the -phenomena of American life of to-day, to tie what may be likened to -a tin can to the end of this chapter; but I feel that this is the -most fitting place to put a few notes which I have made of tendencies -which are apt to give trouble to the mind of Europeans otherwise very -sympathetic to America and America's ideal. They are quite explicable -phenomena, and in realising and understanding them for himself the -reader will be enabled to get a truer idea of the atmosphere of America. - -On my way into Cleveland I read in the _Pittsburg Post_ the following -statistics of life at Princeton College, of the students at the College: - - - 184 men smoke. - - 76 began after entering College, but 51 students have stopped - smoking since entering College. - - 91 students wear glasses, and 57 began to wear them since entering. - - 15 students chew tobacco. - - 19 students consider dancing immoral. - - 16 students consider card-playing immoral. - - 206 students correspond with a total of 579 girls. - - 203 students claim to have kissed girls in their time. - - 24 students have proposed and been rejected. - - * * * * * - -Another day I read in the _New York American_ the story of the -adventures of Watts's "Love and Life" in America: - - - The peripatetic painting, "Love and Life," the beautiful - allegorical work, by George Frederick Watts, once more reposes in - an honoured niche in the White House. The varied career of this - painting in regard to White House residence extends over seventeen - years. - - This picture, painted in 1884, was presented to the national - Government by Watts as a tribute of his esteem and respect for - the United States, and was accepted by virtue of a special act of - Congress. This was during the second administration of President - Cleveland, and he ordered it hung in his study on the second - floor of the White House. Two replicas were made by Watts of the - painting, and one was placed by the National Art Gallery, London, - and the other in the Louvre, Paris. - - The two figures of "Love and Life" are entirely nude, and the - publication of reproductions awoke the protests of purists who - circulated petitions to which they secured hundreds of names to - have it removed to an art gallery. Finally, the Clevelands yielded - to the force of public opinion, and sent the offending masterpiece - to the Corcoran Art Gallery. - - When Theodore Roosevelt became President he brought the art exile - back to the White House. The hue and cry arose again, and he sent - it back to the Gallery, only to bring it back again toward the - close of his administration to hang in the White House once more. - - The Tafts, failing to see the artistic side of the painting, had - it carried back to the Gallery. - - There it seemed destined to stay. The other day Mrs. Woodrow - Wilson, accompanied by her daughter Eleanor, both artists of - merit, toured the Corcoran Art Gallery. They were shown "Love and - Life," and told the tragic story of its wanderings. - - Mrs. Wilson thereupon requested the painting to be returned to - the White House. There once more it hangs and tells its immortal - lesson of how love can help life up the steepest hills. - - - * * * * * - -Whilst in New York I visited the charming Fabians, who were the hosts -of Maxim Gorky before the American Press took upon itself the rôle -of doing the honours of the house to a guest of genius. The story of -Gorky need not be repeated. But it is in itself a question-mark raised -against the American civilisation. - - * * * * * - -Tramping through Sandusky I came upon a suburban house all scrawled -over with chalk inscriptions: - - - "Hurrah for the newly-weds." - - "Oh, you beautiful doll!" - - "Well! _Then_ what?" - - "We should worry." - - "Home, sweet Home." - - "May your troubles be little ones! Ha, He!" - - "You thought we wouldn't guess, but we caught you." - - -As the house seemed to be empty, I inquired at the nearest store what -was the reason for this outburst. The storekeeper told me it was done -by the neighbours as a welcome to a newly-married couple coming home -from their honeymoon on the morrow. It was a custom to do it, but this -was nothing to the way they "tied them up" sometimes. - -"Won't they be distressed?" - -"Oh no, they'll like it." - -"Are the neighbours envious, or what is it?" I asked. The storekeeper -began to sing, "Snookeyookums." - - - "All night long the neighbours shout - - -(to the newly-married couple whose kisses they hear) - - - "'Cut it out, cut it out, cut it out.'" - - -On Independence Day I saw a crowd of roughs assailing a Russian girl -who had gone into the water to bathe, dressed in what we in Britain -would call "full regulation costume." The crowd cried shame on her -because she was not wearing stockings and a skirt in addition to -knickers and vest. - - * * * * * - -In many districts men bathing naked have been arrested as a sort of -breach of the peace. Naked statues in public have been clothed or -locked away. In several towns women wearing the slashed skirt have had -to conform to municipal regulations concerning underwear. - - * * * * * - -I have noted everywhere mockery on the heels of seriousness. - -No doubt these question-marks will be followed by satisfactory answers -in the minds of most readers, especially in the light of the statement -that "it is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen. -Being an American is a sacred mission." - - - - -XIII - -ALONG ERIE SHORE - - -Cleveland exemplifies the characteristics of contemporary America, and -points to the future. It has its horde of foreign mercenaries living -by alien ethics, and committing every now and then atrocious crimes -which shock the American community. But it is a "cleaned-up" town. All -the dens of the city have been raided; there is no gambling, little -drunkenness and immorality. On my first night in the town I had my -supper in a saloon, and as I sat among the beer-drinking couples I -listened to an old man who was haranguing us all on the temptations of -women and drink. The saloon-keeper had no power to turn him out, and -possibly had not even the wish to do so. The passion for cleaning up -America overtakes upon occasion even those whose living depends upon -America remaining "unclean." - -Cleveland is well built, and has fine avenues and broad streets. It -is well kept, and in the drawing-room of the town you'd never suspect -what was going on in the back kitchen and the yard. But take a turn -about and you see that the city is not merely one of good clothes, -white buildings, and upholstery; there are vistas of smoke and sun, -bridges and cranes, endless railway tracks and steaming engines. They -are working in the background, the Slavs and the Italians and the -Hungarians, the Kikes and the Wops and the Hunkies. There is a rumour -of Chicago in the air; you can feel the pulse of the hustling West. - -Perhaps nothing is more promising than the twelve miles of garden -suburb that go westward from the city along Erie Shore. Tchekof, -working in his rose-garden in the Crimea, used to say, "I believe -that in quite a short time the whole world will be a garden." This -growth of Cleveland gives just that promise to the casual observer. -How well these middle-class Americans live? Without the advertisement -of the fact they have finer arrangements of streets and houses than -we have at Golders Green and Letchworth. Nature is kind. There is a -grand freshness and a steeping radiance. The people know how to live -out-of-doors, and the women are public all day. No railings, fences, -bushes, just sweet lawn approaches, verandahs, on the lawns sprinklers -and automatic fountains scattering water to the sparrows' delight. The -iris is out and the honeysuckle is in bloom. - -[Illustration: THE LITHUANIAN WHO SAT BEHIND THE ASPHALT AND COAL-OIL -SCATTERER.] - -I prefer, however, to walk in the sight of wooded hills or great -waters, and as soon as I could find a way to the back of the long -series of suburban villas I went to the sandbanks of the shore and into -the company of the great lake. It was just sunset time, and the sun of -fire was changing to a sun of blood and sinking into the waters. There -was a great suffusion of crimson in the western sky and a reflection of -it in the green and placid lake. But the water in the foreground was -grey, and it rippled past silver reeds. I stood and listened; the great -silence of the vast lake on the one hand and the whizz of automobiles -on the other, the _paup-paup_ of electric-tram signals, the great whoop -of the oncoming freight trains on the Lake-Shore railway. Far out on -the water there were black dashes on the lit surface and little smokes -proceeding from them--steamers. The lake became lucent yellow with -blackness in the West and mystery in the East. A steamer in the East -seemed fixed as if caught in a spell. Then the blackness of the West -came like an intense dye and poured itself into the rest of the sky. -The East became still--indigo, very precious and holy, the colour of -incense smoke. - -I tramped by Clifton through the deep dust of a motor-beaten road -towards Lorain. It was night before I found a suitable place for -sleeping, for most of the ground was private, and there were many -people about. At last I found a deserted plot, where building -operations had evidently been taking place during the day, but from -which the workmen had gone. There were, however, many tools and -covetable properties lying about, and I had hardly settled down before -I heard the baying of dogs on a chain. About half-past eleven Fedka the -watchman came along, singing a Russian song to himself, and he lighted -a large lantern, unloosed two dogs, then went into a shed, lay down and -went to sleep--a nice watchman! My only consideration was the dogs, -a bull-dog and a collie, but they didn't know of my presence. They -had expeditions after tramps on the road, after waggons, automobiles, -tramcars, trains, but never once sniffed at the stranger sleeping -under their noses. However, at about three in the morning the bull-dog -spotted me, and no doubt had rather a queer turn. He actually tripped -on me as he was prowling about, and my heart stood still. He eyed me, -growled low, sniffed at my knees, snorted. "He will spring at my throat -in a moment," I thought; "I'll defend myself with that big saw lying -so handy beside me!" But no, wonder of wonders! the dog did not attack -me, but just lay calmly down beside me and was my gaoler. He dozed and -breathed heavily, but every now and then opened one eye and snarled; -evidently he took his duties seriously. I forgot him and slept. But I -had the consciousness that in the morning I had to get away somehow. - -But about half an hour before dawn some one drove a score of cows -down the road, causing the collie to go mad--so mad that the bull-dog -bestirred himself and followed superciliously, not sure whether -he were needed or not. Then I swiftly put my things together and -decamped--and got away. - -I watched the dawn come up out of a rosy mist over Erie. The lake was -vast and placid and mud-coloured, but there were vague purple shadows -in it. I learned that mud was the real colour at this point, and there -was no clear sparkling water to bathe in, but only a sea stirred up. - -Down by the shore, just after my dip, I caught a young aureole with -red breast and mouth so yellow, and I tried to feed him with sugar and -butter; but he was very angry, and from many trees and low bushes round -about came the scolding and calling of the parents, who had been rashly -giving their progeny his first run. - -I tramped to the long settlement of Lorain with its store-factory and -many Polish workers, but continued to the place called Vermilion, -walking along the grey-black sands of the shore. I came to Crystal -Beach. It was a perfect day, the zenith too radiant to look at, the -western sky ahead of the road a rising smoke of sapphire, but filled -with ineffable sunshine. It was difficult to look otherways but -downward, and I needed all the brim of my hat to protect my neck and -my eyes. The lake was now blue-grey as the sea, but still not very -tempting, though Crystal Beach is a great holiday resort. It seemed -to me more than a lake and yet less than a sea--the water had no -other shore and yet suggested no infinity. The visitor, however, -considered it beautiful. That was clear from the enthusiastic naming -of the villas and resorts on the shore. Again, it was strange to pass -from the workshop of America to the parlour,--from industrial Lorain -to ease-loving Vermilion, and to exchange the vision of unwashed -immigrants in slouch hats for dainty girls all in white and smart young -men in delicate linen. - -I went into the general store and bought butter and sugar and tea, and -then to the baker for a loaf of bread and a peach pie. What a delicacy -is an eight-penny peach pie when you know you are going to sit on a -bank and munch it, drink coffee, and watch your own wood-blaze. - -On my way to Sandusky I got several offers of jobs. A road surveyor and -his man, trundling and springing along the road in their car, nearly -ran me down, and as a compensation for my experience of danger stopped -and gave me a lift, offering also to give me work if I wanted it. All -the highway from Cleveland to Toledo was to be macadamised by next -summer; thousands of men were wanted all along the line, and I could -get to work that very afternoon "farming ditches on each side of the -road" if I wished. - -I jigged along three miles in the automobile and then stepped down to -make my dinner. Whilst I was lighting my fire a Bohemian came and had a -little chat with me. - -"How far ye going?" - -"Chicago." - -"You should get on a freight train. I come up from New York myself on -a freighter and dropped off here two days ago. It's too far to walk; -you carry heavy things. Besides, there's a good job here mending the -road. I've just been taken on. A mile up the road you'll see a waggon; -ask there, they're making up a gang. The work's a bit rough but the pay -good." - -Then I came on a gang of Wops and Huns loading bridge-props and ribbons -and guard-rails on to an electric trolley, and the boss again applied -to me. - -"No, thanks!" - -A man with an asphalt and coal-oil scatterer came past. His was a -dirty job. He sat behind a boiler-shaped cistern, which another -man was dragging along with a petrol engine. It had a rose like a -watering-cart, but instead of water there flowed this dark mixture of -asphalt and oil. The man, a Lithuanian, was sitting on the rose, his -legs were dangling under it, and it was his task to keep his finger on -the tap and regulate the flow of the fast-trickling mixture. Though a -Lithuanian by birth he spoke a fair English, and explained that the -asphalt and oil laid the dust for the whole summer, and solidified the -surface of the road, so that automobiles could go pleasantly along. -There was another machine waiting behind, and they had not men to work -it. If I liked to report myself at the depot I could get a job, it was -quite simple, not hard work, and the pay was good. He got two dollars a -day. - -Then, as I was going through a little town, a Norwegian came running -out of a shop and pulled me in, saying, "You're a professional, no -doubt, stay here and take photographs"; and he showed me his screens -and classical backgrounds. It was interesting to consider the many -occasions on which I might have given up Europe and started as a young -man in America, entering life afresh, and starting a new series of -connections and acquaintances. But I had only come as a make-believe -colonist. - -As the weather was very hot I took a wayside seat erected by a firm -of clothiers to advertise their wares, and it somewhat amused me to -think that as I sat in my somewhat ragged and dust-stained attire the -seat seemed to say I bought my suit at Clayton's. As I sat there six -Boy Scouts came tramping past, walking home from their camping-ground, -boys of twelve or thirteen, all carrying saucepans and kettles, one -of them a bag of medical appliances and medicines, all with heavy -blankets--sun-browned, happy little bodies. - -There is all manner of interest on the road. The gleaming, red-headed -woodpecker that I watch alights on the side of the telegraph-pole, -looks at the wood as at a mirror, and then, to my mild surprise, goes -right into the pole. There must be a hole there and a nest. I hear the -guzzling of the little woodpeckers within. Upon reflection, I remember -that the mother's beak was disparted, and there was something between. -Rather amusing, a woodpecker living in a telegraph-pole--Nature taking -advantage of civilisation! - -Then there are many squirrels in the woods by the road, and they wag -their tails when they squeak. - -At tea-time, by the lake shore, a beautiful white-breasted but speckled -snipe tripped around the sand, showing me his round head, plump body, -and dainty legs. He had his worms and water, I my bread and tea; we -were equals in a way. - -Then after tea I caught a little blind mouse, no bigger than my thumb, -held him in my hand, and put him in his probable hole. - -As I rested by a railway arch Johnny Kishman, a fat German boy, got off -his bicycle to find out what manner of man I was. His chief interest -was to find out how much money I made by walking. And I flabbergasted -him. - -I came into Huron by a road of coal-dust, and left the beautiful -countryside once more for another industrial inferno. Here were many -cranes, black iron bridges, evil smells, an odorous, green river. There -was a continuous noise as of three rolls of thunder in one from the -machinery of the port. I stopped a party of Slavs, who were strolling -out of the town to the strains of an accordion, and asked them by what -the noise was made. I was informed it was the lading of Pennsylvanian -coal and the unlading of Wisconsin and Canadian ore, the tipping of -five to ten tons at a time into the holds of coal boats or into trucks -of freight trains. - -I went into a restaurant in the dreary town, and there, over an -ice-cream, chatted with an American, who hoped I would lick Jack London -and Gibson and the rest of them "to a frazzle." A girl, who came into -the shop, told me that last year she wanted to walk to Chicago and -sleep out, but could not get a companion--a chance for me to step in. -Mine host was one of these waggish commercial men in whom America -abounds, and he had posted above his bar: - - - ELEVEN MEN WHO ASKED - CREDIT - LIE DEAD IN MY CELLAR - - -But he made good ice-cream. - -Every one combined to boost the town and advise me to see this and -that. The port machinery and lading operations were the wonder of Erie -Shore, and provided work for a great number of Hungarians, Italians, -and Slavs. Not so many years back there was no such machinery here, and -the work was done with buckets and derricks. - -[Illustration: "JOHNNY KISHMAN, A GERMAN BOY, GOT OFF HIS BICYCLE TO -FIND OUT WHAT MANNER OF MAN I WAS."] - -I forebore to have supper at the creditless inn, but as I walked out of -the dark town I spied a fire burning on a bit of waste land, and there -I boiled my kettle and made coffee. It was an eerie proceeding, and as -I sat in the dusk I saw several children come peering at me, _hsh_ing -the younger ones, and inferring horrible suspicions as to my identity. -When I had finished my supper I went down to the beach, and there, on -the sand amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed. - -It was a wonderful, placid night after a long, hot day. The -smoke-coloured lake was weakly plashing. There was no sign of the past -sunset in the west, and smoke seemed to be rising from the darkness of -the horizon. The one light on the city pier had its stab of reflection -in the water below. Near me, still trees leant over the water. The -branches and leaves of the willow under which I slept were delicately -figured against the sky as I looked upward, and far away over the -lake the faint stars glimmered. The moon stood high in the south, and -illumined the surface of the waters and the long coast line of the bay. - -When I awoke next morning what a sight! The blue-grey lake so placid, -just breathing, that's all, and crimson ripples stealing over it from -the illuminated smoky east. It was clear that the smokiness of the -horizon came from real smoke--from all the chimneys and stacks of -Huron. I saw massed volumes of it hurrying away from the docks and the -works, and standing out on the lake like a great wall. As I lay on my -spread on the sand, looking out idly with my cheek on my hand, I saw -the sun come sailing through the smoke like a red balloon. No celestial -sunrise this, but Nature beautifully thwarted. - -I made a fire and cooked my breakfast, and sat on a log enjoying it; -and all the while the sun strove to be himself and shine in splendour -over the new world, whose beauties he himself had called into being. -For a whole hour, though there was not a cloud in the sky or a mist on -the lake, he made no more progress than on a foggy January morning in -London. He gave no warmth to speak of; he was an immaterial, luminous -moon. - -But at last he got free, and began to rise indeed, exchanging the -ragged crimson reflection in the water for a broad-bladed flashing -silver dagger. A great glory grew about him; all the wavelets of the -far lake knew him and looked up to him with their tiny faces. His -messengers searched the horizon for the shadows of night, for all -lingering wraiths and mists, and banished them. The smoky door by which -the sun had come out of the east was shut after him. But he shed so -much light that you could not see the door any longer. - -I went in for a swim, and as I was playing about in the sunlit water -the first human messenger of the morning came past me--a fisherman in -a tooting, panting motor-boat, dragging fishing-nets after him. He gave -me greeting in the water. - -Fishing is good here--as a trade. Every day many tons of carp are -unloaded. The fish are caught in gill-nets--nets with a mesh from which -the fishes are unable to extricate themselves, their gills getting -caught. The nets are framed on stakes, floated by corks and steadied by -leads. The fishermen leave them standing two or three days, and when -the fish are wearied out or dead they haul them in. - -This very hot day I marched to an accompaniment of the thunder of the -dock-works, and reached Sandusky,--a very large industrial port, the -junction of three railways, not a place of much wealth, its population -at least half foreign. - -I had a shave at a negro barber's, and chatted with the darkie as he -brandished the razor. - -After the war he and his folks had come north and settled in Michigan. -He sent all his children to college. One was earning a hundred and -twenty-five dollars a month as music-mistress in Washington. - -"They treat you better up here than in the south?" said I. - -"Why, yes!" - -"And in London better still." - -"Oh, I know. My father went to London. He stayed at a big hotel, and -there turned up three Southerners. They went up to the hotel-keeper -and said, 'Look hyar, that coloured feller 'll have to go; we cahn stay -here with him!' And the hotel-keeper said, 'If he don't please you, -_you_ go; we won't keep you back.'" - -"Very affecting," said I. - -"There was a fellah came hyar to play the organ for the Episcopal -Church," the negro went on. "He was called Street. The other fellah was -only fit to turn the music for him. He had the goods, b'God he had. -Tha's what I told them." - -With that I got away. Outside the shop a hawker cried out to me: - -"Kahm'ere!" - -"What d'you want?" said I. - -"I've a good safety razor." - -"Don't use them." - -"A fountain pen to write home to your wife...." - -The hawker had many wares. - -I spent the night in a saloon at Venice, and watched the rate at which -German fishermen can drink beer. - -Next morning I walked across Sandusky Bay by the Lake Shore -railway-bridge, a mile and a half long--an unpleasant business, -watching for the express trains and avoiding being run over. At last I -got to Danbury, and could escape from the rails to the cinder-path at -the side. The engine-drivers and firemen of the freight trains greeted -me as they passed me, and now and then I was able to offer "Casey -Jones" a cup of coffee and exchange gossip. - -[Illustration: ERIE SHORE. - -"Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed."] - -The enormous freight trains told their tale of the internal trade of -America; on no other lines of railway in the world could you witness -such processions of produce. All sorts of things flew past on these -lumberous trains--cars full of hogs with hundreds of motionless black -snouts poking between the bars; refrigerator cars full of ham--dead -hogs, dripping and slopping water as they went along in the heat, and -the sun melted the ice; cars of coal; open cars of bright glistening -tin-scraps going to be molten a second time; cars of agricultural -machinery; cars laden with gangs of immigrant men being taken to work -on a big job by labour contractors; closed cars full of all manner of -unrevealed merchandise and machinery. On the cars, the names of the -railways of America--Illinois Central, Wabash, Big Four, Lake Shore.... - -At Gypsum I returned to the highroad, and there once more had an offer -of a job from a gang. I was surprised to see boys of thirteen or -fourteen hard at work with spade and shovel. - -"I see you're working for your living," said I. - -"What's the matter with you?" - -"I said 'You're working for your living.'" - -"Wahn a jahb?" - -"No; I'm not looking for one. I'm walking to Chicago." - -A contractor came forward, a short Frenchman in waistcoat and -shirt-sleeves. His bowler hat was pushed to the back of his head, and -his hair poked out from under it over his scarred, perspiring brow. He -was not working--only directing. - -"What would _you_ be? A sort of tramp?" said he. "I used to have a -hobo-station at Toledo. I've seen the shiner[3] line up sixty or -seventy of them and send them to work with car fare paid. They'd work -half a day and then disappear mysteriously. We have pay-day once in two -weeks; but these tramps, many of them educated fellers too, would never -work the time through or wait for their pay. Thousands of dollars have -been lost by hoboes who gave up their jobs before pay-day." - -There was an Englishman from Northampton in the gang, and he testified -that America had "England licked ten times over." - -There were fat Germans in blouses, moustachioed Italians with black -felt hats pulled down over sunburnt, furrowed brows. All the men and -the boys were suffering from a sort of "tar blaze" in the face. They -were glad to ease up a little to talk to me; but they had a watchful -eye on the face of the boss, who besides being contractor was a sort of -timekeeper. - -The contractor was vexed that I wouldn't take a job. Labour was scarce. -He averred that before I reached Chicago the farmers would come on to -the road and compel me to work on their fields. Trains had been held up -before now. - -"I thought slavery was abolished?" said I. - -The next town on my route was Port Clinton, a bright little city, and -in the eyes of at least one of its citizens a very important one. -I had a long talk with a chance-met journalist and the keeper of a -fruit-shop. The journalist, by way of interviewing me, told me all I -wanted to know about the district. Fruit-growing was far in advance -here. Perry Camp, the greatest shooting-butts in the world, was near -by. The Lake Shore railway was going to spend a million dollars in -order to shorten the track a quarter of a mile. The greengrocer told -me I had the face of a Scotsman, but spoke English like a Swede--which -just shows how badly Americans speak our tongue, and hear it as a rule. - -In the course of my interview I confessed that for roadside literature -I read the Gospel of St. John and the Book of Revelation, a chapter a -day, and when I came to the end of either book I started again. The -greengrocer interrupted the journalist, and said: - -"When you're tired, you just take out the Bible and read a little, -eh, and you get strength and go on? I knew you were that sort when I -saw you first coming up the other side of the road, and I said to my -friend, 'He reads his Bible.'" - -The greengrocer was much edified, and told me that he was the agent -for the district of Billy Sunday, the revivalist. Wouldn't I stay and -address a mass meeting? - -I fought shy of this offer. The journalist looked somewhat sourly at -the greengrocer for breaking into his interrogatory. But then a third -interrupter appeared, a little boy, who had come to purchase bananas, -and he addressed me thus: - -"On which side did your family fight in the year 1745? On the side of -Prince Charlie? That's the side I'm on." - -No descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers he. - -On the way out to Lacarne two old fishermen in a cart offered me a -ride, and I stepped up. - -"What are you, German?" I asked, always on the look-out for the -immigrant. - -"We are Yankees." - -"Your father or grandfather came from Germany?" - -"No; we're both Yankees, I tell yer." - -"I suppose your ancestors came from England then." - -"No; we've always bin 'ere." - -They had been out three nights seine-fishing on the lake, were very -tired, and rewarded themselves with swigs of rum every now and then, -passing the bottle from one to the other and then to me with real but -suspicious hospitality. Their families had always been in America. The -fact that they came originally from England meant no more to them than -Hengist and Horsa does to some of us. - -By the way, Hengist and Horsa were a couple of savages, were they not? - -The fishermen put me down beside a plantation, which they said was -just the place in which to sleep the night. I wasn't sorry to get on -to my feet again, and I watched them out of sight,--fat, old, sleepy, -hospitable ruffians. - -The plantation was a mosquito-infested swamp, and I did not take the -fishermen's advice. Myriads of "husky" mosquitoes were in the air, the -unpleasanter sort, with feathered antennæ, and whenever I stood still -on the road scores of "Canadian soldiers" settled on me, a loathsome -but innocuous species of diptera. - -I sought shelter of man that night, and through the hospitality of a -Slav workman found a place in a freight train--a strange bed that not -only allows you to sleep, but takes you a dozen miles farther on in the -morning. The engine-driver told me that there was a "whole bunch of -tramps" on the train, but that no one ever turned tramps off an empty -freight train,--not on the Lake Shore railway at any rate. - -When I "dropped" from the freighter I found myself at Elliston, and -commenced there a day of delicious tramping. The opal dawn gave birth -to a great white horse of cloud, and out of the cloud came a strong -fresh breeze, having health and happiness on its wings. A quiet Sunday. -I reached Toledo this day--and parted company with Erie Shore--great, -busy, happy, prosperous Toledo. It was strange to exchange the country -for the town; to come out of the green, fresh, silent landscape into -the close, stifling, bustling town, full of promenaders talking and -laughing among themselves vociferously. - -As I came into the city the day-excursion boat was just about to start -on the return journey to Detroit. Excursionists were flocking together -to the quay, a great spectacle to a Briton. All the men were carrying -their coats in their arms, many had their collars off and the neckbands -of their shirts turned down, bunches of carnations on their naked -chests; many were without waistcoats, and had tickets with the name of -their town pinned to their fancy-coloured shirts; the red, perspiring, -glistening faces of many of them suggested an over-confidence in beer -as a quencher of thirst. The women carried parasols of coloured paper. -They were all in white, and were so thinly clad that you asked yourself -why they were so thin. But despite all precautions the sun had marked -everybody, but marked them kindly. - -Suddenly a bell was rung on the steamer, and a little man came forward -and announced in broken English: - -"Somebody wan' to come on the boat; the time is supp." - -FOOTNOTE: - -[3] Policemen. - - - - -XIV - -THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - - -Even Americans of the highest culture and of Boston families speak -English differently from any people in the old country. The difference -may not be obvious to all, but it is there, and it is a thing to -rejoice in, not to be sorry for. The American nation is different -from the British, has different history and a different hope; it has -a different soul, therefore its expression should be different. The -American face as a type is different; it would be folly to correct the -words of the mouth by Oxford, or Eton, or Granville Barker's theatre, -or the cultured Aberdonian, or any other criterion. The use of American -expressions of quite moderate tone amounts to a breach of good taste in -many British drawing-rooms; and if you tell a story in which American -conversation is repeated with the accent imitated, you can feel the -temperature going down as you proceed; that is, if you are not merely -making fun of the Americans. Making fun of any foreign people is always -tolerable to the British; a truly national and insular trait. The -literary world and the working men and women of Britain can enter into -the American spirit, and even imitate it upon occasion; but that is -only the misfortune of our populace, who ought to be finding national -expression in journalism and music-hall songs and dancing, and who are -merely going off the lines by imitating a foreign country. It is loss -to Britain that the Americans speak a comprehensible dialect of our -tongue, and that the journalist of Fleet Street, when he is hard-up for -wit, should take scissors and paste and snip out stories from American -papers; or that commercial _entrepreneurs_ should bring to the British -public things thought to be sure of success because they have succeeded -in America--"Within the Law," "I Should Worry," "Hullo Ragtime!" and -the rest. The people who are surest in instinct, though they are -sympathetic to a brother-people, hate the importation of foreign -uglinesses, and the substitution of foreign for local talent. - -The American language is chiefly distinguished from the British by -its emphatic expressive character. Britain, as I have said, lives -in a tradition; America in a passion. We are laconic, accidental, -inarticulate; our duty is plain, and we do it without words. But the -American is affirmative, emphatic, striving; he has to find out what -he's going to do next, and he has got to use strong words. Britain also -is the place of an acknowledged Caste system; but America is the place -of equal citizens, and many American expressions are watchdogs of -freedom and instruments of mockery, which reduce to a common dimension -any people who may give themselves airs. - -The subtler difference is that of rhythm. American blood flows in a -different _tempo_, and her hopes keep different measure. - - * * * * * * * - -Americans commonly tell us that theirs is the language of Shakespeare -and Shakespearian England, and that they have in America the "well -of English undefiled." But if they have any purely European English -in that country it must be a curiosity. Shakespeare was a lingual -junction, but we've both gone on a long way since then, and in our -triangle the line subtending the Shakespearian angle gets longer -and longer. O. Henry makes a character in one of his stories write -a telegram in American phraseology, so that it shall be quite -unintelligible to people who only know English: - - - His nibs skedaddled yesterday per jack-rabbit line with all the - coin in the kitty and the bundle of muslin he's spoony about. The - boodle is six figures short. Our crowd in good shape, but we need - the spondulicks. You collar it. The main guy and the dry goods are - headed for the briny. You know what to do.--BOB. - - -This is not Shakespearian English, but of course it is not -Shakespearian American. The worst of the contemporary language of -America is that it is in the act of changing its skin. It is difficult -to say what is permanent and what is merely eruptive and dropping. Such -expressions as those italicised in the following examples are hardly -permanent: - - - "One, two, three, _cut it out_ and work for Socialism." - - "_I should worry_ and get thin as a lamp-post so that tramps - should come and lean against me." - - "_Him with the polished dome._" - - "She hadn't been here two days before I saw her kissing the boss. - Well, said I, _that's going some_." - - "This is Number Nine of the Ibsen, _highbrow_ series." - - "_Do you get me?_" - - "I'll _put you wise_." - - "And how is your _yoke-mate_?" - - "He thinks too much of himself: _too much breathed on by girls_." - - "A low lot of _wops and hunkies_: _white trash_." - - "Poor negroes; _coloured trash_." - - "She is _one good-looker_." - - "She is _one sweetie_." - - "My! You have _a flossy hat_." - - But I suppose "He is a white man" is permanent, and "Buy a - postcard, it'll _only set you back a nickel_." - - "She began to lay down the law: _thus and so_." - - "Now _beat it_!" - - "Roosevelt went ranching, that's how he got so _husky_." - - "Is it far? It is only _a little ways_." - - "Did they _feed that to you_?" - - "When he started he was in a poor way, and carried in his hay in - his arms, but now he is quite _healed_." - - -But the difference in speech is too widespread and too subtle to be -truly indicated by this collection of examples, and the real vital -growth of the language is independent of the flaming reds and yellows -of falling leaves. In the course of conversation with Americans you -hear plenty of turns of expression that are unfamiliar, and that are -not merely the originality of the person talking. Thus in: - - - "How do they get on now they are married?" - - "Oh, she has him feeding out of her hand," - - -though the answer is clear it owes its form to the American atmosphere. - -Or, again in: - - - "I suppose she's sad now he's gone?" - - "Oh! He wasn't a pile of beans to her, believe me," - - -you feel the manner of speech belongs to the new American language. -The following parody of President Wilson's way of speaking is also an -example of the atmosphere of the American language: - - - So far as the prognosticationary and symptomatic problemaciousness - of your inquiry is concerned it appears to me that while the - trusts should be regulated with the most unrelentful and - absquatulatory rigorosity, yet on the other hand their feelings - should not be lacerated by rambunktions and obfusticationary - harshness. Do you bite that off? - - -_Punch_ would have no stomach for such Rabelaisian vigour. - -But wherever you go, not only in the cities, but in the little towns, -you hear things never heard in Britain. I go into a country bakery, and -whilst I ask for bread at one counter I hear behind me at the other: - -"Kendy, ma-ma, kendy!" - -"Cut it out, Kenneth." - -"Kendy, kendy, kendy!" - -"Oh, Kenneth, cut it out!" Or, as I sit on a bank, a girl of twelve and -her little baby sister come toddling up the road. The little one loses -her slipper, and the elder cries out: - -"Slipper off again! Ethel, perish!" - -America must necessarily develop away from us at an ever-increasing -rate. Influenced as she is by Jews, Negroes, Germans, Slavs, more and -more foreign constructions will creep into the language,--such things -as "I should worry," derived from Russian-Jewish girl strikers. "She -ast me for a nickel," said a Jew-girl to me of a passing beggar. "_I -should give her a nickel_, let her work for it same as other people!" -The _I shoulds_ of the Jew can pass into the language of the Americans, -and be understood from New York to San Francisco; but such expressions -make no progress in Great Britain, though brought over there, just -because we have not the big Jewish factor that the Americans have. - -To-day the influence that has come to most fruition is that of the -negro. The negro's way of speaking has become the way of most ordinary -Americans, but that influence is passing, and in ten or twenty years -the Americans will be speaking very differently from what they are -now. The foreigner will have modified much of the language and many -of the rhythms of speech. America will have less self-consciousness -then. She will not be exploiting the immigrant, but will be subject to -a very powerful influence from the immigrants. No one will then be so -cheap as the poor immigrant is to-day. Much mean nomenclature will have -disappeared from the language, many cheap expressions, much mockery; on -the other hand, there will be a great gain in dignity, in richness, in -tenderness. - - - - -XV - -THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY - - -I have come to that portion of my journeying and of my story where all -day, every evening, and all night long I was conscious of the odour of -mown clover, of fields of ambrosia. - -I was tramping along the border of Northern Ohio and Southern Michigan, -from Toledo to Angola, Indiana. I was entering the rich West. The -fields were vast and square, the road was long and flat, and straight -and quiet, the June haze hung over luxuriant meadows, and there was a -wonderful silence and ripening peace over the country. - -One evening, as the red sun sank into night-darkened mist, I talked -with an old farmer, who was smoking his pipe at his gate. - -"I came along this same road like you, with a bundle on my back, forty -years ago," said he, "and I took work on a farm; then I rented a farm. -Many's the lad I've seen go past of an evening. And one or two have -stopped here and worked some days, for the matter of that." - -[Illustration: THE SOWER.] - -The farmer had left England when he was a stripling, and I tried to -talk to him of the old country, but he was not really interested. He -did not want to go back. - -That is the Colonial feeling. - -Strange to plough all day, or sow or reap, and in the evening to return -to the quiet, solitary house of wood beside the great red-painted barn -and not want England or Europe, not be interested in it, not want -anything more than you've got; to have the sun go down red and whisper -nought, and the stars come up and the moon, and yet not yearn; to work, -to eat, to market; to have children growing about you ripening in so -many years, and corn springing up in the fields ripening in so many -weeks; births, marriages, deaths, sowings, harvests.... - -There is all the pathos of man's life in it. - -I slept that night in the dry wayside hay, under the broad sky and the -misty golden moon. It was a quiet night, warm and gentle. Earth held -the wanderer in her cradle and rocked him to sleep. - -They are kind people about here. Next morning as I sat by my fire a -woman sent her son out to me with a quart of milk and a bag of cookies. -And milk is a much commercialised business on this western road,--the -electric freight train carries nearly all the milk away in churns to -Toledo. It was a very welcome talkative boy who brought out the milk. -His father rented one-third of a section (213 acres), but was now laid -up with pneumonia. As a consequence of the father's illness the young -children had to work very hard in the fields. And there was a sick cow -on the farm--sick through eating rank clover. And the boy himself had -had scarlet fever in the spring. The serving-girl had had to go away -"to have her little baby," and the one that came in her place brought -the fever. - -"What's your name?" said I. - -"Charles." - -Cheerful little Charles. He had much responsibility on his shoulders. - -There were some big farms along the road, and near Metamora I had the -privilege of seeing a dozen cows milked simultaneously by a petrol -engine, rubber tubes being fixed to their teats and the milk pumped -out. It was astonishing, the matter-of-fact way in which the latest -invention was applied to farm life. - -"It's rather ugly," said I. - -"Well, what are you to do when labour is so scarce?" was the reply. - -Land is rich here, but labour is scarce. I fell in with a garrulous -farmer who told me that land now sold at 150 dollars (£30) the acre, -and that in a few years it would rise to 250 dollars. The days of large -farmers were over. All the big ranches were being sold up, and the -farmers were taking holdings that they could farm themselves without -help. Labour was expensive, owing to the high wages paid in the towns -for industrial work; even at two and a half dollars (ten shillings) a -day it was difficult to get a decent gang to do the work in the harvest -season. You could do better with a small piece of land. Fields here -were forty and fifty acres, and the steam plough was not used. In the -old days land was dirt cheap, and you could buy vast tracts of it; -there were no taxes, no extra expenses, and you just went in to raise -tremendous crops and make a big scoop. To-day things were different. -To work on a large scale a horde of labourers was necessary. But now -the Socialists were stopping the flow of immigrants into the country. -Socialists said that it was too difficult to organise newcomers. The -newcomers behaved like blacklegs, strike-breakers, all the first year -of their stay in America. They didn't know the language, were very -poor, suspected their brother workmen of jealousy, and just took any -wage offered them. The Socialists wanted to keep the price of labour -up, and my farmer friend bore them a grudge because it was difficult to -develop the land unless the price was reduced. - -A little later, outside Fred M'Gurer's farm, the jovial farmer himself -came and squatted beside the fire and chatted of affairs. He had -insured his house for 1000 dollars, but it would take 1800 dollars to -rebuild it. "I think it's only fair to take some of the risk myself," -said he; "and if the place burns down the company will know I didn't -set it alight o' purpose." - -Fifty-eight years old is Fred M'Gurer, and his son is now coming to -live and work with him altogether, after seven years spent wintering -in the city and summering in the country. Irish once, and of an Irish -family--but they go to no church. The old man feels that he is a -Christian all the same, and will get to heaven at last, because he -"deals square with his fellow-men." - -Fred and his son work the farm all by themselves, outside labour is -so expensive. The beet-fields take all the immigrants. Did I see the -red waggons as I came along, full of Flemish and Russians living by -beet-picking on the beetroot farms near by? - -I saw them. - -"America is a high hill for them that don't speak the language," -said Fred. But he said that because he likes talking himself, and -can't imagine himself in a land where he could not hold converse. The -immigrants manage very well without the language, and scale the hill, -and rake in the dollars easily. Perhaps they do not glean much of the -American ideal, and the hope of the American nation. But I suppose Fred -did not mean that. - -I had a pleasant talk with a successful German farmer, who took me in -a cart from Pioneer to Grizier, through comparatively poor country. He -had possessed a farm of five acres in Germany, but there each acre had -been worth between 450 and 500 dollars. When he came to Grizier land -was selling at 25 dollars an acre, and he was able to buy fifty acres -of it and to bring up his family in health and plenty. His farm was now -worth more than 5000 dollars. - -I slept on an old waggon in a wheat-field near Grizier; but about -midnight it began to rain, and I was obliged to seek shelter in a -crazy, doorless, windowless cottage, and there I sat all next day and -slept all the next night whilst the elements raged. In the cottage were -two chairs, a home-made table, and a broken bedstead. I cooked my meals -on the rainy threshold. The refuge was shared by a great big bumble -bee, two red-admirals, a brown squirrel, and two robins. - -The second morning was Sunday, radiant, fresh, and green. The road -was soft but clean, with yielding cakes of mud; the grass was fresh, -for every blade had been washed on Saturday; the wild strawberry was -a brighter ruby; on spread bushes the wild rose was in bloom; there -were sun-browned country girls upon the road, who were shy but might -be spoken to; the odour of clover was purer, the hay-fields had round -shoulders after the storm, and you'd think cows had been lying down -where the wind had laid the tussocks low. The sun shone as if it had -forgotten it had shone before, and was doing it for the first time. -To-day it became evident that the grain was ripening; the apple trees -in fantastic shapes were knee-deep in yellowing corn. The little oak -trees by the side of the road presented foliage, every leaf of which -looked as if it had been carefully polished. - -In America wild strawberries are three on a stalk, which causes a -pleasant profusion.... - -I got a whole loaf of home-made bread given me at Cooney ..., and a -quart of milk at "Fertile Valley Farm." ... - -Only at sunset did I strike the main Angola Road, and off that road -I made my bed in a wheat-field and fell asleep, watching the bearded -ears disproportionately magnified and black in the flame of the crimson -sky. Next day, when I awoke, life was just creeping into the blue-green -night, a soft radiance as of rose petals was in the East, and a breeze -was wandering like a rat among the stalks of the wheat. I fell asleep -again, and when I reopened my eyes it was bright morning. - -The Sunday gave way to the week-day. There is nothing happening on the -roads on the Sunday; the tramp is left with Nature, but directly Monday -comes the work and life of the people reveal themselves, and adventures -are more frequent. - -[Illustration: THE STORE ON WHEELS.] - -My first visitor this Monday was a man of business. As I was making my -tea he came up towards me driving two lean horses and a great black -oblong box on wheels. At the farm where I had drawn water for my kettle -he pulled up and dismounted. A girl who had seen him from a window of -the farmhouse came tripping to meet him. He exchanged some words with -her, and then from the far side of his hearse-like cart he produced a -black chest, out of which he pulled a pair of boots. The young lady -then hopped back to the house to try them on. Satisfied as to her -purchase she took in addition a pound of tea and a packet of sugar. The -cart was a moving store: here were all manner of things for sale. But -the storekeeper received no money; all his debts were paid in eggs. One -side of the hearse was full of merchandise, the other contained nested -boxes and crates for the accommodation of hundreds of dozens of eggs. - -The storeman gave me a lift and explained to me his business. He -possessed a cold-storage establishment in the city; he credited the -farm people with sixteen cents (eightpence) for every dozen eggs they -gave him, then he stored them in his freezing-house till autumn, when -they could be thrown on the market at twenty-five to thirty cents the -dozen. - -He was a great believer in cold storage. "Meat," said he, "is tenderer -when it has been frozen some weeks." - -Business in eggs used to be better. Now the State set a limit on the -time you could keep them in cold storage. Sometimes he had to sell out -at a loss. The hope was to keep all the farm produce till there was a -real scarcity and prices went high. Then it would be possible to make a -small fortune. - -"But I'm tired of this business," said the storeman, "I'd like to give -it up and buy land." - -We lumbered along the road and stopped at each farmhouse. Sometimes we -sold articles, but whether we sold anything or not we always took a few -dozen eggs; every farmer was in business with my man and used him as a -sort of egg-bank. Even if they were not in debt to him they were glad -to hand over their eggs and be credited with the corresponding amount -of money. We took four or five dozen eggs at least at every farm, and -sometimes as many as twenty and thirty dozen. The storeman left behind -an empty crate at each farm, so that it might be filled for him next -time he came along, and he took aboard the crate already filled. In -exchange he sold kerchiefs, boots, corsets, cloth, brooms, brushes, -coffee, corn-flake, wire-gauze to keep out mosquitoes, etc. At the -end of his round he would have got rid of almost all his merchandise -and have filled both sides of the hearse with eggs. He took home upon -occasion as many as five hundred dozen eggs! - -A cheerful American with a word of news, a titbit of gossip, and the -top of the morning for all the country women. He was eagerly awaited, -and children at farm-gates descried him a long way off and ran in to -tell their mothers. Even the babies were excited at his approach, for -they knew he carried a supply of candy. At each farm where there was -a baby the storeman left a little bag of candy. He knew the value of -good-will. - -"It's a good business," said he; "no expense of keeping a shop, double -profit,--profit on the goods and profit on the eggs; it pays all right. -But I'm tired of it, and I think I shall give it up and buy land." To -several of his customers who asked after his business he replied in -the same terms. He was getting tired of it, and was thinking of buying -land. When I took a photograph of his cart and himself he said he would -be very glad to have a copy, just to remind him of old days--for he was -thinking of giving it up, etc. - -It is interesting to observe the commercialisation that goes on in the -country in America. Not only does the egg-bank and travelling store -come round, but the cream-vans come also and buy up all the cream, -and the baker comes from the bread factory and dumps, twice or three -times a week, huge baskets of damp, tasteless loaves, all wrapped in -grease-paper. Not many people bake their own bread--they save time -and take this astonishing substitute. Then travellers in coffee have -exploited special brands--"Euclid Coffee," "Primus Coffee," "Old -Reliable," and the like, done up in pound packets. Rural Americans do -not realise that good coffee is coffee and no more. - -No one had a quart of milk to spare on the road to Angola, so I hit on -a plan which I recommend to others in like circumstances. I went to a -farmhouse and asked for a cupful of milk to have with my coffee; I got -it easily and freely. The farmer was rather touched. But as you cannot -make decent coffee with one cupful of milk I went to another farm and -begged another cupful, and then to another. I was able to make a good -pot of coffee, despite the scarcity of milk. - -Whilst I was having lunch, I had an interesting talk with an ancient -man who was mowing grass at the side of the road. - -"You look like Father Time," said I. - -"Well, I've mown a good many days," he replied. "I shall soon die now. -There's no strength in me; my day is over." - -"Have you enjoyed life?" I asked. - -"Yes, I have," he replied, his face lighting up. - -"Do you work your farm yourself?" - -"No! My son works it; he is twenty-two. Yes, I married late. Thirty-two -years I wandered as you are doing. I've been in thirty states. I was -ten years on the Lakes, a sailor." - -"Ever across the Atlantic?" - -"Never on the big waters." - -"And how do you think America is going on?" - -[Illustration: "I HAD AN INTERESTING TALK WITH AN ANCIENT MAN BY THE -SIDE OF THE ROAD."] - -"I think she is going bad. The new generation is weak. There'll soon be -no old farmer stock. The old folk work, but the children go to school. -My father was an old Connecticut Yankee--a republican--so am I; but the -party has broken up, the country's going wild." - -The old man had a dog "Colonel," named after Colonel Somebody, who was -his father's Squire in Connecticut. - -"A fine dog," said I. - -"More helpful than a boy," said the old farmer. "He can drive the hog -home straight, and he always helps me up when I tumble down. I'm weak -now--have had two strokes, and after the last I was just like a baby. -I can't mow properly--no strength to move anything. Often I fall of a -heap, and Colonel runs in and gets under my stomach with his head and -raises me. A 'cute dog...." - -A pleasant vision of not unhappy age! - -I passed through Angola--a neat little city round about a shoppy -square; a quiet market-place functionising the agricultural country -round about. I had dinner at one of several restaurants, and had three -quick-lunch courses brought to me at once--an array of nine or ten -plates on a little grey stone table--not very appetising. - -There were three or four country loungers at the ice-cream bar of -the establishment, and a negro was sitting at another table with a -tall glass and a straw and a "soda." At my side was what I took to be -a piano--very dusty, and with the keyboard out of sight. Suddenly, -without any warning, it jumped into music, and thumped out a cake-walk -in its interior. It was as if a lot of niggers were doing the dance in -an empty room. - -I paid no attention, facially. Alas! we are quite familiar with such -marvels, with all that can be shown. We raise no eyebrow. But bring in -an aboriginal Chinee and sit him there where I was, and start this box -a-going, and he'd jump out of his wits. How was it started? Some one -went softly across the room and put a cent in a slot--that's all. Is -it not maddening to be uninterested, unthrilled? None of us paid any -attention. The loungers gossiped with the ice-cream girl, the nigger -drew up his soda, I strove with my hard roast beef. - - * * * * * * * - -St. John's Eve! Unusual things might be expected to happen this night. -I had lived with the growing summer, had caught in my hands one evening -not long since a large dusky lovely emperor-moth, and had received an -invitation from fairyland. The strange thing was that as I tramped out -of Angola on the Lagrange Road, it did not occur to me what day it -was. Only in the middle of the night did I reflect--there is something -unusual astir, something is happening all about me, this is no ordinary -night. And only in the morning did I realise it had been St. John's -Eve. - -I slept by an orchard on a hill. Below me was a little lake, on the -right a straw stack, on the left an apple tree, over me a plum tree -with wee plums. All night long little apples fell from their weak -stalks, the frogs sang--now solos, now choruses, the mosquitoes hummed -in the plum tree. On the surface of the little lake little lights -appeared and disappeared as the wandering fireflies carried messages -from reed to reed. Processions of clouds stole over the starry sky, and -I thought of rain, but the whole night was hot and odorous and full of -dreams. - -I did not awake next morning till it was bright day. Between me and the -straw stack there was a fluttering and squawking of young birds being -taught to fly by their mother. Every time a young bird alighted after -a little flutter, it always fell on its nose. My attention was divided -between the birds and a big bee, who thought I had made my bed over his -nest. What a distressing way the bumble-bee has of losing himself and -thinking you are to blame! - -I tramped to the reedy lake of Whip-poor-Will. The wind blew now hot -from the sun's mouth, now cold from a cloud's shoulder. The question -was, Would the Midsummer day turn to heat or come to rain? It turned -to heat. What a day of happiness I spent on the sandy ups and downs of -country roads! After weeks among plains, I was glad of a countryside -that had corners again. I was among "dear little lakes," the children -of the great lakes--in the nursery. - -I came to Flint, and met the "pike road" from Detroit to Chicago. Flint -has a large general store and a barber's shop. I bought three oranges -out of the refrigerator of the store, and, to make them last longer, -half a pound of honey-cakes. - -At noon I made my mid-day fire in the bed of a dried-up rivulet. The -weather was almost too hot for tending a fire; tawny spots appeared -on my wrists, and, viewing my face in the metal back of my soapbox, I -was startled to see the fire in my eyebrows and cheeks. But with the -heat there was a wind, and in the afternoon great cumuli grew up in the -sky, and it was possible to think the earth was a ship and the clouds -the billows which we were rolling over. Up hill and down dale, round -corners, by snug farms with green and crimson cherry orchards, over -hills where miles of corn were blanching and waving! I came to Brushy -Prairie and camped for the night in an angle of the road beside the -village cemetery. - -I read and wrote, mended my clothes, cleaned my pack of waste dust, -collected hay to make a bed. Many carts came past, and the people in -them hailed me with facetious remarks. After I had lain down one old -village wife came to see if I were sick and wanted medicine. It was -strange to lie by the cemetery and hear a party of girls go by in a -buggy, singing, "When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there." - -I lay and watched the sky, scanning the clouds for a certitude of a dry -night. A great war was going on between the forces of the clear sky -and of the clouds. There was a party of skirmishers advancing from the -south-west. There was a long array of clouds in the north and in the -south, and the main army lay heavy and invincible in the north-west. -But the clear sky scattered the enemy wherever it encountered them, and -even forced the main army to take up a new position. The camp of the -clouds was made far away, and lights came out in their leaguer. - -The night became silent and brilliant and perfect, and I lay with my -eyes open, and did not look, but just saw.... - -I slept. Whilst my eyes were closed there was a great night attack, -and when I woke again I found the armies of the clear sky completely -routed. There was a shower of rain, and I jumped up and tripped along -to the church. The door was open. I struck a match and saw all the pews -and prayer-books and hymn-sheets, and away in the shadows the platform -and the pulpit. - -But the shower ceased. I reflected that if heavy rain came on I could -easily come into shelter, so I returned to my hay-spread, and lay down -again and watched the renewed battle in the sky. - -A desperate rally! One star, two stars were shining, and round about -them a great stand was being made. They fought lustily. They seemed -to be gaining ground. Yes. Three, four, five stars showed, six.... I -fell asleep again, knowing that the side I favoured would win. When I -wakened next it was to greet the great General coming from the east in -all his war-paint, and hung all over with silver medals. A glorious day -followed. - -I spent a morning by the clear St. Joseph River. On the road to -Middlebury wild raspberries abounded. I could have picked a pound or so -of berries along the road. Raspberry bushes occur in many places, but -I've seen few raspberries hitherto. That is because the great friends -of the raspberries live so near--human boys and girls--and they are -always taking the raspberries to school, to church, to the corn-field. -If they are going home they insist on taking the little raspberries -home too, to the distress of fathers and mothers sometimes, for the -raspberries know how to disagree with the children upon occasion, -especially the young ones. - -There were not many farm-houses about here, but at one of them I was -given a pot full of ripe cherries, and made a "smash" of them, and ate -them with milk and sugar. - -A motorist took me along a dozen miles in a bouncing, petrol-spurting -runabout car, a Dutchman, who paid me the compliment of saying I spoke -very grammatically for a foreigner. - -There was a thundershower in the afternoon. In the evening I obtained -permission to sleep in a barn, and the farmer talked to me as I lay -in the straw. There had been a runaway team the day before, and his -neighbour's bay mare had twenty-four stitches in her now, and he didn't -reckon she'd be much more good. - -A waggoner taking fowls and dairy produce to sell at restaurants and -quick-lunch shops took me into Elkhart next morning. Elkhart is a large -city, with many car factories and buggy factories, and by comparison -with the country round is very foreign, full of Italians, Poles, and -Jews. It is a well-built, handsome city, with much promise for the -future. - -As I stepped out on the Shipshewaka Road I saw by a notice that a prize -was being offered for the most popular woman and the homeliest man. -What a contrast this implies to the life of the East. Here is a land -where women are public, and where nobility in a man is best expressed -by being handy about the house. - -I tramped along the north side of St. Joseph's River, through beautiful -country under delightful conditions. The cornfields had turned -red-gold, the grass was all in flower, and little brown fluffy bees -considered it the best time of summer. What a sun there was, what a -breeze! I found the "Bachelor's Retreat" on the St. Joseph's River, two -boat-houses, a stairway through the forest banks, and a little wooden -pier stretching out into the pleasant water--a good place for a swim! - -Just before Mishewaka I met old Samuel Judie, seventy-six years of age, -lying on a bank with a stick in his hand, tending the cows of his own -farm and philosophising on life. - -"It's a marvellous thing that the sun stands still and the earth goes -round it," said he. "A marvellous thing that there are stars. They find -out how to make automobiles, and they find out lots of things about the -stars, but the human race won't ever know out the facts." - -To most of the remarks I made Mr. Judie answered "Shah." - -"England has fifty million people." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"London is twenty miles broad and twenty miles long." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"There are plenty of farms of only ten acres." - -"Oh, shah!" - -He grumbled a great deal at the automobiles. - -[Illustration: "OLD SAMUEL JUDIE, LYING ON A BANK, AND PHILOSOPHISING -ON LIFE."] - -"Last Sunday," said he, "a man and his wife were knocked down just -here. They had been saving and pinching for years, and had at last -cleared the mortgage off their farm, and were reckoning to live -decently. The automobile cut the woman's head right off, and the man is -lying in the hospital. There ought to be a law against the automobiles -rushing through from Elkhart to South Bend on Sundays." - -"I suppose South Bend is a rich place?" - -"Shah!" - -"What do they make there?" - -"Boots, waggons, ploughs, the wooden parts of Singer's -sewing-machines.... They are terribly hard up for hands.... You'd get -a job easy.... There is a great lot of girls working in the factories, -many foreign. They soon marry and go on to a farm. Factory folks make -a pile of money; get tired, and then buy a few acres of land and live -on it. Farms about here are split up into small portions and sold to -poor folk. Some want me to divide up my farm and sell part of it, but I -won't do it." - -Mr. Judie had had to work all his life, and to work hard a good deal of -it, and he felt entitled to have his own mind on any subject, and to -act accordingly. - -A wealthy American took me along in his car through Mishewaka to South -Bend, and showed me the great factory of wind-mill sails, Dodge's -factory of "transmission power" of pulleys and connections and all -things that join up engines and plant; then the famous Studebaker's -factory of plough-handles, shafts, waggons, etc., the rubber-boot -factory, Singer's frame factory, and several other establishments -which indicated how busy these Indiana cities are. - -I tramped out to New Carlisle, spending a night there under a deep -dark maple tree, which after sunset looked like a great overlapping -thatch--not a poke of light came through. As I lay beside the highroad, -and as the American holidays had just commenced, scores of cars came -by, and as each one appeared on the road horizon it lit up my leafy -ceiling with its great flashlights. How hot the night was.... I slept -without covering. It was hot even at dawn. - -It was next day on the road to Michigan City that I gave water to a -thirsty calf, who actually ran to me and butted into me to persuade me -to fill his bucket. It was on this road that having thrown a potful of -water at some sheep they followed me down the dusty road, crying to me -to do it again. - -Michigan City was sweltering. I took refuge from the heat in the -waiting-room of the large railway station, and watched the crowds in -the New York and Chicago trains, and the rush of the restaurant boys -with hundreds of cones of ice-cream. - -A pretty negress came and sat next me and began talking. - -"Ah come over heer two manths ago to the carnaval, and have been -playing _vaudy-ville_, but the home folks said ah mus' come back. Mai, -how I cried when I heard. I did take on...." - -She was under police supervision, and a big Irish policeman came -and took her away when he saw her talking with me. She stood on the -platform until the train came in, and then she was put in charge of a -guard. She had, no doubt, been arrested under suspicious circumstances -in the streets of Michigan, and had been brought before a kind -magistrate, who had forborne to punish her on condition that she went -back to her mother. - -The road from Michigan undulated over a weedy wilderness and -gnat-swarming marshes. I had a bad time as to the heat and the -mosquitoes, and, despite use of strong disinfectants, I got badly -stung, and was consequently feverish for some days. I was also very -idle, very much inclined to sit on palings and consider how hot it was. -On the Sunday, just to see whether the plaints of the farmers were -justified, I made a census of all the vehicles that passed me. On the -Monday I got to Hammond, and on Tuesday came in by car to Chicago. That -day was the hottest of the year. Fifty-three people died from the heat -in the city that day. I could have understood a few tramps dying even -on the road. - - - - -XVI - -THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES - - -The road into Chicago was one of increasing noise and smoke and -desolation, of heat and gloom, and the rumour of a sordid defeat of -life. I remember Calumet City by the factory stacks, the chimneys whose -blackness seemed fainting out of sight in the haze of the heat. Dark -smokes and white steams curled above many workshops; along the roadside -black rivulets flowed from the factories. There were heaps of ashes -and tin cans lying in odorous ponds. The leaves of the trees and the -grasses of the fields were wilted and yellowed by the airs and fumes -of Chicago. At Hammond a drunken, one-armed man followed me for about -a mile, attracting a crowd of street Arabs by his foul language. East -Chicago looked to me like parts of suburban London, and I was reminded -in turns of Peckham, Hackney Marshes, Commercial Road, Whitechapel. -There was, however, much that was unlike anything in London--the -ominous squads of factory chimneys; clouds of heavy-rolling, ochreous -fumes and smoke; palings with such advertisements as "Read no scab -newspapers" or "You'll Holler"; wooden houses; dilapidated, ramshackle -frame-buildings of grey wood; broken-down verandahs; black stairways; -grey washing hanging on strings from stairway to stairway; half-naked -children; piles of old cans and rusty iron. - -The vehicles increased on the highway, the lumber of much traffic -commenced, the red and yellow tramcars multiplied, railway lines -crossed the road, and by the rush of trains one felt that all the -traffic of Eastern and Central America was converging to one point. The -open country disappeared. The air of the roadway became full of dust. -The heat increased ten degrees, and to move a limb was to perspire. -Foreigners jostled one another on the sidewalks, negroes and negresses -sat in doorways. The odour of carcases came to the nostrils from -Packing-town, and at last the great central roar of traffic--Chicago. - -I can give no account of the great city here--it would be only to -recount and add together the uglinesses and the promises of other -cities. It was at once worse and better than I had expected. The -hopelessness of the picture given by Upton Sinclair in _The Jungle_ I -felt to be exaggerated. I was told at Hull House that the novelist had -got all his stories at the stockyards, but that the massed calamities -that are so appalling in the story never occurred to one family in -real life. The effect of accumulated horrible detail in _The Jungle_ -deprives you at the time of any love towards America; it made me, a -Briton, feel hatred towards America, and when first I read the book I -felt that no Russian who read it carefully would entertain willingly -the idea of going to America. If he had entertained the idea, having -read _The Jungle_ he would abandon it. It is an astonishing tract on -the fate of a Russian peasant family leaving the land of so-called -tyranny for a land of so-called freedom; and its obvious moral is -that Russia is a better country for the individual than America--that -America takes the fine peasant stock of Europe and shatters it to bits. - -It is true that Chicago makes a convenience of men, and that there man -exists that commerce may thrive rather than that commerce exists that -man may thrive. It is a place where the physical and psychical savings -of Europeans are wasted like water, and where no one understands what -the waste means. Spending is always joyful, and Chicago is a gay city. -It is full of a light-hearted people, pushing, bantering, laughing, -blindfolded over their spiritual eyes. In such places as Chicago the -immigrant finds a market for things he could never sell at home--his -body, his nerve, his vital energy; a ready market, and he sells -them and has money in his pocket and beer in plenty. Listen to the -loud-voiced, God-invoking crowd in the saloons! They have the proceeds -that come of selling the savings of Europe. They have come out of the -quiet villages and forests where, from generation to generation and -age to age, the peasantry live quiet lives, and grow richer and richer -in spirit and nerve. But these in the Chicago streets and saloons have -found their mysterious destiny, to lavish in a life, and for seemingly -worthless ends, what hundreds of quiet-living ancestors have saved. The -tree of a hundred years falls in a day and becomes timber, supporting a -part of the fabric of civilisation for a while. - -[Illustration: AT THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK: A HOT DAY IN CHICAGO.] - -The strangest thing is the clamour of the Chicago crowd--it is -dead-sure about everything in the world, ignorant, cocksure, mocking. -It does not know it is losing, does not know that it is blind-folded, -because it is the victim of destiny. - -Part of the spiritual blindness of the great city is the belief it -holds that there is no other place of importance but itself. And -many outsiders take the city at its own estimate. But Chicago is not -America, neither is New York or any other great city. If going to -America meant going only to the great cities, then few but the Jews -would emigrate from Europe. - -The ideals of America cannot be worked out merely in the great cities. -The cities are places of death, of the destruction of national tissue, -and of human combustion, necessary, no doubt, as such, certainly not -places where one need worry about national health. The national health -is on the farms of Pennsylvania and Indiana and Minnesota, Michigan, -Iowa, the Dakotas, the Far West. The men range big out there; the -stand-by of the people will always be found in these places and not in -the cities. - -And New York and Chicago, though necessary, are abnormal. They are -not so much America as unassimilated Europe. The population of a city -should be the natural sacrifice of the population of the country. It -is often deplored that the country people are forsaking the land and -flocking to the towns; but the proper people to replenish the failing -stock of the cities is just those whom instinct and destiny prompt to -leave the country. It is most bewildering to the student of America -that her city-populations are replenished by the foreign immigrants, -by people nursing, it is true, American sentiments, but not yet born -into the American ideal, not made America's own. The natural place for -the first generation of immigrants is on the land. If Chicago seems -too large, too sudden a growth, disorderly, unanticipated, altogether -out of hand, it is because of the hordes of foreigners who are there, -who have not the impulse to co-operate, and who do not readily respond -to the efforts of the idealist and politician. And they do not readily -respond because they have not lived long enough in the true American -atmosphere, have not served a quiet apprenticeship in the country, but -have been dumped into an industrial wilderness served with the yellow -press and "sped up." - -America will have to guide the flow of the immigrants, and learn to -irrigate with it and make fertile the Middle and the Far West. It is -over-commercialisation and near-sightedness that clamours for more -labour in the great cities. The size of a city is never too small. In -the normal state of a nation the city functionises the country, and -according to the strength of the people in the background the state of -the great town will be busy or slack. It is good news that negotiations -are being made with the trans-Atlantic shipping companies to ship -immigrants to the Far Western coast _via_ the Panama Canal, at rates -not very much heavier than at present exist for shipment to Boston and -Philadelphia and New York. A man and his wife planted on the land in -the East are worth ten given to the greedy cities of the West. - -In the matter of the colonisation of her own country America might -learn a great deal from Russia, especially in the matter of railway -transit. It is all to the advantage of a country that means of transit -are cheap, and that there be a brisk circulation of the blood of the -body-politic. As a newspaper realises that the cheaper its price the -greater its success, the greater its circulation, so America might -realise that the cheaper were its railway fares the more facility -would there be for the mingling of the peoples, the assimilation of -foreigners, and the development of the country. - -In America it costs 39 dollars 60 cents to go as far as Denver, -Colorado, which is about 2000 miles, and $76.20 to go to San Francisco. -A comparison with the Russian rates will give an idea how much more -cheaply it is possible to carry people: - - -+-----------+------------------+---------------------------------------+ -| | | Russian Rates. | -| Distance. | American Rates. +------------+------------+-------------| -| | | 3rd Class. | 4th Class. | Immigrants' | -| | | | | Rate. | -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ -|2000 miles | 39.60 dollars |9 dollars |4.20 dollars| 1 dollar | -| | | | | | -|3230 " | 76.20 " |12.50 " | 6 " | 1.60 dollars| -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ - - -Of course, the cost of working is more in America than in Russia, and -the trains are twice as fast; but that is not enough to set off against -the enormous differences in fares. A great profit is made out of the -railway business, and the profit is at the expense of America as a -whole. It is absurd to compare the prices of fares in America with the -prices of fares in Great Britain. It is bad enough with us, but ours -is a small territory; it does not cost much to go from end to end. -But America is a vast country. It costs almost a year's wages to pay -the fare of a family across it. You think twice before determining to -travel even a thousand miles. The consequence is that the circulation -of people is sluggish in the extreme. The East begins to get congested, -and the cities are packed with people who would gladly have gone -straight to the West if facilities had been granted them. - -In the development of democracy it is circulation that is important, -the circulation of opinion, of sentiment, of ideals. The large -circulation of interest and affection caused by the reduction of -postage rates down to a penny in Britain and two cents in America -has given an immense impetus to democratic development; the larger -circulation of ideas and opinions caused by the reduction of the price -of newspapers to a cent has also been advantageous. But how much more -important than the circulation of opinions, ideas, and sentiments is -the circulation of the people themselves, controlled by the price of -fares on railways! How much more swiftly would the American democracy -become homogeneous if it were possible to travel a thousand miles for -five dollars. That would entail either nationalisation of railways -or subsidisation by the Government. But it would be worth it to the -American people. - -Because of the heavy expense of railway travelling America is only -dimly conscious of itself, geographically and ethnologically. Americans -even boast of the distances between their towns and between different -points of the country. Chicago, only one-third of the way across the -continent, is called "The West." Indiana and Illinois and Minnesota are -"out West." It is as if we referred to Berkshire or Warwickshire as the -West of England. - -In due course, it may be imagined, the United States Government will -assume state-control of many of the railways, and ten dollars will pay -your fare from New York right across. Immigrants will not be allowed -to settle in great cities till they have spent ten years on the land. -Such a provision would make it easier to admit all sorts and conditions -of Europeans at Ellis Island; and at the corresponding Immigration -stations at other ports a great deal of the White Slave trouble would -be averted, and the shelter of immigrants would not absorb so much of -the urban attention so urgently needed elsewhere. - - * * * * * * * - -Railways have as much power to make the new American as the newspaper -has. Perhaps they have more power; for the railways can afford great -opportunities for social mingling. The railway can take any immigrant -to a place where he will be not merely a hireling, but a living -organism grafted into the vast body of America. At present the high -fares deter the immigrant, and he is cooped up in districts which he -would like to leave, but cannot; in districts where he must remain -foreign and not American. - -For there is an impulse to move and to mingle. If railway facilities -were granted there would be a great deal more social and commercial -intercourse over the surface of America. Each new immigrant who comes -into the United States is particularly wanted somewhere; his landing -is not an accident. Some village or countryside has called him, and -will still call him, though he be frustrated at first, doing the wrong -sort of work among the wrong group of people. - -The great heterogeneous mass of peoples wants to become one nation. -There is a power which works through the peoples for that end. The -people are ready to mingle; they are already mingling; they are going -to and fro and in twos and threes, and every step and every transaction -is something essential in the making of the coming homogeneous nation. - -It is a choir dance, a dance of molecules or atoms, if you will, but a -dance of human atoms, and one that yields a mystic music that can be -heard by the poet's ear. Leading the peoples in the involutions and -evolutions of the choir dance is a masked figure, not itself one of the -people. What is that figure? Not trade, I think, though it helps; not -common interest, though it is perhaps a rule of the dance; not even -the American idea. The masked figure that leads is a fate; it is an -instinct of Destiny. - -The dance is being played out on a vast stage with much scenery--the -three-thousand-mile stretch of America, East to West: the Industrial -East, with its hills; the corn plains and forests of the middle West; -the wild West; the luxuriant and wonderful South. - -There are waiting throngs cooped up in cities and at temporary -standing-places. - -The welter of negroes and Spaniards and half-castes in the South, in -the black pale; the Swedes and Norwegians and Finns in the Middle -West; the million Jews in New York; the millions of them elsewhere, -saying, as Mary Antin, that America and not Judea is the Promised -Land, the place where the tribes will be gathered together again and -form a nation; the great Anglo-Saxon stock of America, who would feel -themselves to be the leaven, the ruling principle in the choir dance; -the Dutch-Americans of Pennsylvania; the Irish, of whom there tend -to be more in America than in Ireland; the Slovaks and Ruthenians on -the Pennsylvanian collieries; the Italian gangs on the road and the -Italian quarters of a thousand towns; the Poles, of whom in New York -alone there are more than in any city in Poland; the enormous number of -Germans living on the land; the hundred thousand Russian working men in -Pennsylvania alone; the Molokan Russians in California, and the Russian -gold-washers; the Red Indians on the Reservations; the composite gangs -of all nations in the world going up and down the country doing jobs. - -The Jews bring music, mathematical instinct, a sense of justice, -industry, commercial organisation, and commercial tyranny, national -wealth, material prosperity, restlessness. - -The English bring ignorance, pluck, and honour; the Scottish bring -their brains and their morals; the Irish bring generosity, cleverness, -laziness, hatred of Jews and of meanness. - -The Germans bring the idea of growth and development, evolution, and -with it their own music. They also bring an instinct for efficiency and -shining armour. - -The negro brings sensual music and dancing, a taste for barbaric -splendour, the gentleness of little children, and the wildness of -the beasts of the forest at night; and he brings imitativeness, -subserviency, a taste for slavery. - -The Red Indians bring the remembrance of the Virgin -Continent--litheness of limb, subtler ear and nose and eyes for the -things of the earth. - -The Italians bring their emotionalism and excitability, their songs, -their passion, their fighting spirit. - -The Little Russians, Slovaks, Poles, Great Russians bring patience -to endure suffering, but withal a spirit of anarchism which prompts -them to do astonishing things without apparent cause, mystical piety, -charity, much sin, much intemperance, much love and human tenderness. -They bring also the Tartar commercial spirit, and a zest for haggling -over prices and for making deals. - -The French bring economy, vivacity, journalistic genius. - -But what do they not bring, all these peoples? There are marvellous -gifts closed in all of them, mysterious potentialities that it were -folly to attempt to name. - -Each race has its special function, its organic suitability and psychic -value. There are male races like the Jews; female races like the -Germans. There are races that bring spirit, races that bring body. - -German goes down the middle with English; Swedish with Irish; Russian -with Pole; Jew with each and all. It is not always with the negro -that the negro dances, not always with the Italian that the Italian -is partnered, nor Hungarian with Hungarian, nor Lithuanian with -Lithuanian. Secretively, unexpectedly, on unanticipated impulses, -strangers obey the magic wand and rhythmical gestures of the Great -Conductor of the dance, and become one with another in the evolution of -America. The dance has been open some time, but it is only now becoming -general. The waiting throngs on all sides are just beginning to break -up and go mingling up and down and in and out, carrying messages, -making sacrifices, performing rites. The victims are blindfolded; the -conquerors have the light of destiny on their brows. - -A spectacle for the Gods! In the Old World the heavenly powers have -looked down more or less on the antagonism of the races, war and enmity -and all that results from great battles, the rout of armies, the -sacking of cities, the sinking of ships-- - - - Looking over wasted lands. - Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery - sands, - Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying - hands. - - -But in the New World the peoples are joined in co-operation and -friendship, working out in peace and trade the synthesis of a new race. -The gods look down on factory-chimneys belching smoke, on kingdoms -covered with red-gold corn uncoveted by men of arms, on hurrying -trains and the dancing peoples going hither and thither, with smiles -and little enchantments and allurements. They look upon the Protestant -pulpits where the Puritans preach, on the Roman Catholic Church and the -confessionals, on the Orthodox Church, on the Baptists, on the Mormons; -and on the way the varying peoples flock around temples, and in and -out of church doors, carrying messages, receiving messages. They look -upon many developments that we have so aptly called movements, the -mysterious "woman's movement", the Romanising movement, the Socialistic -movement. They look upon a million schools where the children, the -second generation of the dancers, are polished and tested and clothed -before they in their turn join the throng at the side and go down the -middle with their partners. - -It is like a kaleidoscope, and at each successive revolution the -peoples change their aspects and their pattern; but there is no -reverting to the original pattern, as in the kaleidoscope. The -constituents of the pattern are divining what the next pattern will be, -and it is always a new pattern, something nearer to the great coming -unity, the new American nation. In no one particular bosom is the -destiny of America; one man by himself means nothing there. It is a -whole people that is living or will live. Once the foreigner parts from -the waiting throngs at the side and enters the mystic dance, his own -little consciousness and purpose become but a part of the much greater -consciousness and purpose of the whole. It is not the development of -one sort of person, but the combination of a million sorts to make one. -It is not the development of a race, as is our own British progress in -Great Britain, but something which seems rather novel in the history -of mankind, the making of a new democracy. It is not a Gladstone or a -Bismarck or an Alexander the Liberator, who is leading this development -that I have called a Choir Dance, not a Lincoln or a Roosevelt or a -Wilson. Men have only their parts to play in the making of a democracy; -if they could make it all by themselves, or originate the making, or -achieve the making, it would not be a democracy that they were making. -As I said, it is a masked figure that leads the mystic movement--a -fate. In one sense there are many fates also among the dancers and -mingled with them,--a mysterious and wonderful ballet, perfect in idea -and in fulfilment. - -And as it is with men so it is with the rites they perform. There are -myriads of rites in the movement of the dance, but not one of them is -charged with absolute significance. Thus in the mazes of evolution -there stands impregnable, as it would seem, the historic open Bible of -America. Around it, marking time, is a massed host of Americans, now -reinforced by newcomers, now diminished by secessions, swayed to this -way and to that by streams of Catholics, streams of Hebrews, streams of -pleasure-lovers, but as yet holding its own, and claiming in sonorous -choruses that the Bible shall be the leaven of the New America. - -At another point of vantage on the stage you may see the Jews -proclaiming by vote that America is no longer a Christian country, -and calling the intellectuals and pleasure-wanters to support, if not -Judaism, at least rationalism and "intelligent" materialism. - -At another point you see the menace of the half-civilised negro, the -spectacle of the rapid multiplication of a people over whom there is -no control, and in whose nature lies, apparently, an enormous physical -power to degrade the type of the whites. - -There is the phenomenon of the wholesale slaughter and sacrifice of -blindfolded foreigners exploited in industrial cities; forests of men -used up as the forests of wood are worn away into daily newspapers and -rubbish. - -You see the booths where dancers make voluntary abdication of European -nationality and take the oaths of American citizenship. - -You see the prizes for which, in the dance, whole crowds seem to be -straining and yearning and even struggling, the prize of wealth, of -even a little wealth, of a name printed in a newspaper, of a name -printed in all newspapers, the prize of fame, of political position, of -premiership. You see the wild political campaigns. - -You see the places where the ambitious laze by the way, the baseball -races where men are shouting themselves and others mad for an empty -game, the halls of rag-time and trotting. You see in thousands of -instances actions which seem to disgrace the name of America and to -augur ill for her future,--women sold into evil, negroes burned at the -stake, heinous crimes committed against children. But the destiny of -the great choric dance cannot be thwarted by any of these things. Death -is useful to life, darkness to brightness, sin to virtue--useful in a -way which it is not necessary for the individual to penetrate. Each -man fulfils his destiny, guides others according to his light, acts -according to his inclination, temptation, and conscience. The whole -nation takes care of itself. - - * * * * * * * - -Wherever I went in the States I was asked by journalists to say what I -thought the resultant type of American was going to be. America seemed -feverishly anxious to get an answer to that question. No one can answer -it, but it is exciting to speculate. - -"Are you aware that in a few years we shall come to such a pass that it -will be a stand-up fight, Americans _versus_ Jews?" said one man to me. -"The influence of the other races goes for nothing beside the influence -of the Jews. The Jews are buying up all the real estate, they make any -sacrifice for education, they get the better of Christians nine times -out of ten. A Jewish pedlar comes past this door one day, and I think, -'Poor wretch!' Next year he comes past in a buggy; next year I find he -owns a big general store in the town; next year he owns a department -store and employs a thousand hands. He is too much for us." - -What is to be the emerging American? At New York I was inclined to -answer, "A sort of English-speaking Russian Jew who believes in dollars -and sensual pleasures before all else, who, however, reads advanced -literature, and whilst he is poor is an anarchist, and when he is rich -is more tyrannous than the Tsar--more tyrannous, but never illegally -so." But when I escaped into the country I found that New York was not -America, but only a great hostelry on the threshold of that country. I -learned the great control power of the Anglo-Saxon and Dutch Americans, -the subtle influence of the Russian people, who after all not only -dominate the Jews in Russia, but give them many traits of the Russian -national character, making out of a materialist something which is -almost a sentimentalist. There are many Jews in Russia who have become -de-judaised by the Russians, and indeed the Christian Jew has become -part of the very fabric of that bureaucracy which the poor persecuted -mob of Hebrews hate and fear. The Russians are a strong influence in -the development of the American. And the Germans and Norwegians and -Swedes and Danes, who swiftly change to a species of American hardly -distinguishable from the old Anglo-Saxon and Dutch type? They cannot -go for nothing, they are not simply raw material, but are moulders and -fashioners as well. The coming American will be a very recognisable -relation of the Teutonic peoples. But he will nevertheless be clearly -and decidedly different from any one race on the Continent. - -Even to-day an American is distinctly recognisable as such on the -pavements of London, Berlin, or Paris. You know him by his face; he -does not need to speak to reveal his nationality. You can even tell a -man who has spent five years in the country; something new has been -moulded into his face and has crept into his eyes. I have even noticed -it in the face of Russian peasants returning from America after two -years away from Russia, travelling in a Russian train to their little -village home. - -"You are American?" I asked of them. - -"Yes, boss, you are rait," they replied, and smiled knowingly. - -They then began to enlarge on what a wonderful place America was--just -like American tourists in Switzerland. - -But the American of to-day is not the American of to-morrow. The -Tsar's subjects coming into America at the rate of a quarter of a -million a year ensure that, the flocking of almost whole nations from -South-Eastern Europe ensure it. As I said, none can tell what the new -American nation will be. We can only watch the wonderful patterns and -colours that form in the great ballet and choir dance, the mingling -in the labyrinths of destiny, the disappearances and the emergences, -the involution and the evolution. It is something enacted within the -mystery of the human race itself. - - - - -XVII - -FAREWELL, AMERICA! - - -I observed many interesting things in Chicago, the following circular -for instance: - - - Balsok aut John J. Casey. - Hlasujte na John J. Casey. - Glosujgie na John J. Casey. - Votate per John J. Casey. - Vote for John J. Casey, - Labour candidate for Congress. - - -Ten years hence that farrago will have changed to simply "Vote for -Casey." - -My neighbours in the hotel spelt their name in two ways, one way for -Polish friends and the other for American understanding: - - - Nawrozke. - Navrozky. - - -It is the latter name that will endure; or perhaps that also will be -shed for some cognomen that sounds more familiar and reliable,--to -Harris or Jones or Brown. - -I had a talk in a slum with a family of Roumanian Jews who had come to -Chicago twenty years ago. Chicago was a good place, they intended never -to leave it, the family had come there for ever. - -I met an Alsatian who told me how he had fled from home when he was -twelve years old. He crossed the Swiss frontier, and got into Basle -at midnight, and had travelled to America _via_ Paris and Havre, and -had never gone back. He did not want to serve in the German Army. His -father had been a great French soldier in the Franco-German war. - -"If you went back now would the German authorities bring you to trial?" -I asked. - -"No. I have the Emperor's pardon in black and white." - -"Do many of those who run away get pardon?" - -"Only when there is good cause. I used to send money home regularly to -keep my sister. The mayor of the town heard of my generosity, reported -it to Berlin, and a pardon was written out for me." - -"They thought it a pity to keep a good citizen out of his own country, -even though he had cheated the army. A wise action, eh?" said I. - -"The Germans are 'cute," he replied. - -I met a Russian revolutionary who complained that his compatriots in -the towns spent all their spare time getting drunk, fighting, and -praying. The Russian who made his pile went and opened a beer-shop. -He thought the priests of the Orthodox Church kept the immigrants -down; they got more money from drunkards than from the virtuous, and -therefore they made no efforts to encourage sobriety. He would like to -see the Orthodox Greek and Russian Churches demolished, and the priests -and deacons packed back to Europe. America was a new country, and -needed a new church. - -At Chicago also I received a letter from Andray Dubovoy, a young -Russian farmer, whose acquaintance I made by chance in the Russian -quarter of New York. He was rich enough to come travelling from North -Dakota to New York to see the sights of America, a wonderfully keen -and happy Russian, full of ideas about the future and stories of the -settlement where he lived. He gave me a most interesting account of the -Russian pioneers in North Dakota. In the towns where he lived every one -spoke Russian, and few spoke English. If you went into a shop and asked -for something in English the shopkeeper would shrug her shoulders and -send for a little child to interpret. The children went to school and -knew English, but the old folks could not master it, and had long given -up attempts to learn the language. The town was called Kief, and was -named after the province of Russia from which they originally came. - -He told me the history of two villages in Kiefsky Government in -Russia. They had heard of America, but thought it was a place in a -fairy-tale--not a real place at all. They were even incredulous when -the Jews began to depart for America in numbers. But they were destined -to understand. - -The villagers were people who asked themselves serious questions and -searched their hearts. They ceased going to monasteries and making -pilgrimages and kissing relics, and instead gathered together and read -the Gospel. - -Many were arrested for going to illegal meetings. Those who were sent -to prison or to Siberia went gladly, as on the Lord's business, to be -missionaries to those who sat in darkness. - -But there was so much persecution that a great number of the villagers -thought of following the example of the Jews and emigrating to America. -It was in 1894 that they resolved to go; but at that time a large party -of Stundists, who had gone out to Virginia the year before, came back -with tidings of bad life and poor wages, and damped the enthusiasm. Ten -families, however, were tempted by what the Stundists said, and they -took tickets to go to the very district of Virginia that the Stundists -had abandoned. - -On their way out they fell in with a party of German colonists going -back, after a holiday, to North Dakota. Such tales they told that five -of the families changed their minds and determined to throw in their -lot with the Germans. - -The five families received land free, homesteads, they were given -credit to purchase horses and cattle and carts and agricultural -implements, and they liked the new country and wrote glowingly to the -others in Virginia and in the two villages of Kiefsky Government. As a -result, twenty-five new families came at once, and in a few years there -were 200 families installed. - -Each man brought 20 to 30 dollars but no more, and each became indebted -to companies for 1000 to 1500 dollars, a debt which they hoped to pay, -but which hung on their necks like the instalments their ancestors had -to pay to the Land Banks of Russia for the land they had been granted. - -However, they ploughed and sowed and hoped for harvests, built log -cabins and even American houses. They had hard times, and were on the -verge of starvation--famine and death staring at them from the barren -fields. They were forced to make an appeal through the newspapers of -Eastern America, and as a result truck-loads of provisions were sent to -them, and "clothes to last five years." - -Succeeding years made up for their sufferings. There was a plentiful -flax harvest; and though in 1909 hail destroyed the wheat and in 1910 -and 1911 there was drought, the Russians bore up. And 1912 was a most -fruitful year, some farmers garnering as many as 25,000 bushels of -wheat. - -Each year they were able to add to their stock, to build a little more, -and to do various things. As a result of good harvests Andray Dubovoy -himself was able to go a-travelling, and to meet me and tell me his -story. He had himself come to America when a little child, and did not -know of his native land except by repute. He had not, however, had the -advantage of education in an American school as a child, and so was as -yet more Russian than American; but he was unlike the Russian type, he -was clean of limb, clear of eye and of skin, calm--almost a Quaker in -faith and morals. No one drank spirits or smoked tobacco in Kief, North -Dakota, he told me with pride. The Russians there were living in a new -way. - -"Are the people as religious now as they were in Russia?" I asked. - -"Not quite," said he, "they feel they don't need religion so much in -America. At first the struggle for life was so hard, we had little -thought for religion. It was only as we gained a footing on the land -that we began to think of our religion seriously, and we built a -chapel. We have a chapel of our own now." - -"I suppose when you were no longer persecuted you did not need to -affirm your way of religion so emphatically," I hazarded. - -Andray did not know. - -"Have you any bosses in Kief?" I asked. - -Andray smiled. - -"Our sheriff is a cabman." - -"You feel no tyranny at all now?" - -He was glad to say they never had need of a policeman; there were -no robberies, every one lived in mutual love and kindness. Only, of -course, they were heavily in debt to the companies, and felt they were -never solvent. - -"Perhaps, when you have improved your land and made it really valuable -you will be sold up by the companies and you will lose your property," -said I. - -He did not think that possible. - -"And what is the cost of living with you?" - -"Cheap," said my friend; "beef is 2½ cents a pound, eggs 10 cents the -dozen, butter 12 cents the pound, potatoes 35 cents the bushel; but the -things we import, such as boots, clothes, fruits, are very dear, much -too dear for our pockets." - -"Food is cheaper than in the country in Russia, then?" - -"Meat and butter and milk are cheaper, but other things are more -than twice as dear. Still we do not complain. It is a good life out -there; our children are growing up stalwart, happy, earnest. God's own -blessing is upon our enterprise." - -"Are you ever going back to Russia with its persecutions, its sins, its -crimes, its pilgrimages, the secret police, the hermits who live in -forest huts, its moujiks and babas, who think that America is a place -in a fairy-tale, at the other side of endless forests?" - -The farmer smiled in a peculiar way. He would like to go to see it. - -Was he quite sure he was going to be an American and not a Russian? - -"We have Russian classes in the summer," said he. "We must never forget -Russia, evil as she is." - - * * * * * * * - -It must not be forgotten that this little settlement of which I write -here is only one of many in North Dakota. There are already thirty -thousand Russians living in that state, and there are many people of -other nationalities living in the same way--Swedes, Germans, Danes. The -story of the young colonies is marvellously touching; when you read one -of the excellent novels of to-day, such as Miss Cather's _O Pioneers_, -which tells of the growth of a Swedish colony in the Middle West, you -are obliged to admit that it is no wonder the Americans find their own -such an exclusively interesting country. - - * * * * * * * - -I returned to New York by train, and on the way saw the Niagara Falls, -one morning at dawn; the procession of white-headed rapids, the vapour -and mist rising in volumes veiling the sun, darkening it. A sight of -holiness and wonder that left me breathless. I was glad to be alone, -and just close the picture into the heart, in silence! - -Late one Saturday night I arrived in New York and stepped out of the -Grand Central Station, pack on back, and searched for a hotel. The -grand "Knickerbocker," with sky-sign the length of the Great Bear, -was not for me. I wandered into a queer-looking little palace, all -mirrors, deep carpets, white paint, and niggers. My room faced the -street, and opposite me was a pleasure-resort, a cabaret, a dancehall, -a pool-house, with three stories of billiard-rooms, through whose open -windows I saw many white-sleeved billiard-players leaning over green -tables. - -The weather was so hot that all the windows in the city were wide open. -I heard the throbbing of music and dancing, even in my dreams. - -Some days later I booked my passage back to England. But I was in -America till the last moment. The American who was so kind to me, -and who was in herself a little America, "fed to me" daily the facts -of American life, and the hope of all those who were working with -her. We visited Patterson, where half a dozen "Jim Larkins" had been -fighting for fighting's sake, and leading the well-paid silk-workers to -strike for the sun and moon, and accept no compromise. We visited the -President of the City College and saw the wonderful modern equipment -of that institution. We called on J. Cotton Dana, the librarian of -Newark. I was enabled to visit a maternity hospital, heavily endowed by -Pierpont Morgan, and to see all the provision made for the happy birth -of the emerging Americans. One vision remains in my memory of a dozen -babies on a tray, each baby having its mother's name written on a piece -of paper pinned to its swaddling-bands. - -We visited five or six settlements, and invitations were given me to -visit several thousand establishments in the United States, and miss -nothing. I would have liked to go farther afield and have a thousand -more conversations, but perhaps, since brevity is the soul of wit, -I have done enough. As it is, I have only made a small selection of -instances and adventures and thoughts from the immense amount of -material which I carried back to England and to Russia. I think America -has been brought to the touch-stone of my own intelligence, experience, -and personality. - - * * * * * * * - -My friend took me to the charming play, _Peg-o'-my-Heart_. - -"Isn't it delicious?" - -"The thrilling thing is that the fifth act is not played out here, but -on the _Campania_, and I have to play that part myself," said I. - -We got out of the theatre at eleven. I saw her home. As midnight -was striking I claimed my luggage at the cloak-room at Christopher -Street Ferry. At 12.15 I entered the Cunard Dock and saw the great, -washed-over, shadowy, twenty-year-old Atlantic Liner. Crowds of -drunkards were gesticulating and waving flags--Stars and Stripes and -Union Jacks--singing songs, embracing one another. Heavily laden -dock-porters, carrying sacks, moved in procession along the gangways. -Portly Chief Steward Macrady, with mutton-chop whiskers, weather-beaten -face, and wordless lips, sat in his little kiosk and motioned to me to -pass on when I showed my ticket. I got aboard. - -I returned with the home-going tide of immigrants; with flocks of Irish -who were going boisterously back to the Green Isle to spend small -fortunes; with Russians returning to Russia because their time was up -and they were due to serve in the army; with British rolling-stones, -grumbling at all countries; with people going home because they were -ill; with men and women returning to see aged fathers or mothers; -with a whole American family going from Butte, Montana, to settle in -Newcastle, England. - -It was a placid six-day voyage; six days of merriment, relaxation, and -happiness. The atmosphere was entirely a holiday one--not one of hope -and anxiety and faith, as that of going out had been. Every one had -money, almost every one was a person who had succeeded, who had tall -tales to tell when he got home to his native village in his native -hollow. - -Thousands of opinions were expressed about America. I heard few of -disillusion. Most people who go to America are disillusioned sooner -or later, but they re-catch their dreams and illusions, and gild their -memories when they set sail upon the Atlantic once more. They have -become Americans, and have a stake in America, and are ready to back -the New World against anything in the Old. - -"Do you like the Yankees?" - -"They're all right--on the level," answers an Irish boy. - -"Do you like America? Would you like to live there and settle down -there?" asks a friend of me, the wanderer. - -A smile answers that question. - -We stood, my friend and I, looking over the placid ocean as the moon -just pierced the clouds and glimmered on the waters. - -Evening splendours were upon the surface of the sea, the delicate light -of the moon just showing the waves, most beautiful and alluring. - -"It is like first acquaintance with one's beloved," said I; "like the -first smile that life gives you, bidding you follow her and woo her. -Later on, in the rich splendour, when the golden road is clear and -certain and ours, we do not care for the quest. We look back to those -first enchanting glances, those promising reconnaissances. The promise -of love is more precious than love itself, for it promises more than -itself; it promises the unearthly; it touches a note of a song that -we heard once, and have been all our lives aching to remember and sing -again." - -America is too happy and certain and prosperous a place for some. It -is a place where the soul falls into a happy sleep. The more America -improves, the more will it prove a place of success, of material -well-being, of physical health, and sound, eugenically established men -and women. But to me, personally, success is a reproach; and failure, -danger, calamity, incertitude is a glory. For this world is not a -satisfying home, and there are those who confess themselves strangers -and pilgrims upon the earth. - - * * * * * * * - -Back to Russia! From the most forward country to the most backward -country in the world; from the place where "time is money" to where the -trains run at eighteen miles an hour; from the land of Edison to the -land of Tolstoy; from the religion of philanthropy to the religion of -suffering--home once more. - - - - -The following pages contain advertisements of -books by the same author or on kindred subjects - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -With the Russian Pilgrims to Jerusalem - -_Decorated cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $2.75 net_ - -The journey of the Russian peasants to Jerusalem has never been -described before in any language, not even in Russian. Yet it is the -most significant thing in the Russian life of to-day. In the story lies -a great national epic. - -"Mr. Stephen Graham writes with full sympathy for the point of view of -the devout, simple-minded, credulous peasants whose companion he became -in the trip by boat from Constantinople to Jaffa and thence on foot to -the holy places."--_The Nation._ - -"Apart from the value which must be attached to the authenticity of -the glimpses of Russian life that Mr. Graham gives in his latest book, -it also clearly ranks him as the best modern writer of the saga of -vagabondage."--_N. Y. Times._ - -"Mr. Graham has written an intensely interesting book, one that is a -delightful mixture of description, impression, and delineation of a -peculiar but colorful character."--_Book News Monthly._ - -"A book of intensely human interest."--_The Continent._ - -"The book is beautifully produced, illustrated with thirty-eight -exceptionally fine snapshots, and is of commanding interest, whether -read as a mere piece of adventure or as revelation of an almost unknown -tract of religious belief."--_Christian Advocate._ - -"The story is written with a graphic and eloquent pen."--_The -Congregationalist._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Tramp's Sketches - -_Cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $1.75 net_ - -"The author's notes on people and places, jotted down in the open -air, while sitting on logs in the forests or on bridges over mountain -streams, form a simple narrative of a walking trip through Russia. -The sketches read like those of a rebel against modern conditions and -commercialism, who prefers to these the life of a wanderer in the -wilderness."--_Outdoor World._ - -"A book throbbing with life which cannot help but prove of interest -to many readers. The book is a treasury of information, and will be a -source of great inspiration to those who love mankind; while the author -tells us much of the sorrow and degradation of the world he also tells -as much of his own high and noble thinking."--_The Examiner._ - -"It is with life itself rather than the countries visited that this -collection of sketches is concerned. It is personal and friendly in -tone, and was written mostly in the open air while the author was -tramping along the Caucasian and Crimean shores of the Black Sea, and -on a pilgrimage with Russian peasants to Jerusalem."--_Country Life in -America._ - -"Mr. Graham has seen many interesting parts of the world, and he tells -of his travels in a pleasing way."--_Suburban Life._ - -" ... there is much that the reader will heartily appreciate and -enjoy."--_Boston Transcript._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - - - -_NEW ILLUSTRATED BOOKS OF TRAVEL AND DESCRIPTION_ - - -Through the Grand Canyon from Wyoming to Mexico - -BY ELLSWORTH L. KOLB - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY OWEN WISTER - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Mr. Owen Wister, surely no mean judge, has pronounced this one of the -most interesting narratives of adventure ever written about the West. -In it is described the first trip made successfully through the Grand -Canyon by boat with photographic apparatus. Not only did Mr. Kolb -carry with him the ordinary cameras, but a moving picture machine, -and the tale of his experiences in securing both kinds Of pictures -is one replete with adventure. Of the many people who have attempted -this journey before only three succeeded, and none of these with the -peculiar conditions governing the author of this book and his brother, -who accompanied him. Shooting the rapids, a thrilling upset now and -then, the overcoming of obstinate natural barriers, incidents in which -there was more than an ordinary amount of danger and excitement, the -wonders of the country and of the wild life, seen with the eye of -an artist and made vivid for the reader,--these, the themes of the -different chapters, combine to make a work of fascinating interest. The -illustrations, of which there are many, are exceptionally fine. - - -Japan To-day and To-morrow - -BY HAMILTON W. MABIE - -Author of "American Ideals, Character, and Life" - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -The purpose of this volume is to convey a clear and definite impression -of the spirit of the Japanese people--what they are interested in -and what we may expect of them in the future. Pursuant to its aim, -it offers chapters on the manners and habits of the Japanese, their -family life, their love of art and of nature and their attitude toward -religion. Their historical development is very lightly sketched and -their education and political development somewhat more fully. No -American is perhaps better fitted to write such a book as this than Dr. -Mabie. As lecturer to Japan on the Carnegie Peace Endowment a year or -so ago he had splendid opportunity for a close study of the country and -its people. Added to this is his power of clearly analyzing that which -he sees and of expressing his thought in English that it is a pleasure -to read. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Wanderer in Venice - -BY E. V. LUCAS - -Author of "A Wanderer in Holland," "A Wanderer in Paris," etc. - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR AND IN BLACK AND WHITE - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.75 net: leather, $2.50 net_ - -Mr. Lucas's "Wanderer" books have made many friends. Much of the charm -of Florence, London, Paris and Holland has been caught by him and -transferred to the printed page along with bits of their histories, -interesting anecdotes and legends. To these four volumes Mr. Lucas now -adds one on Venice. What a place of hidden treasure that wonderful city -is to one of Mr. Lucas's very original genius all who have read the -preceding works in this series can easily understand. And Mr. Lucas -has fully realized his opportunities. The book is perhaps the most -fascinating of all. With its colored illustrations and its black and -white plates, with its no less vivid and appreciative text, it is a -publication which no one who has ever been to Venice should overlook, -while to those who have not been it will open up new vistas of -undreamed-of beauties. - - -California - -BY MARY AUSTIN - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY SUTTON PALMER - -_Cloth, 12mo, boxed, $4.00 net_ - -That Mrs. Austin has a subject worthy of a fluent pen and that she is -fully qualified to do justice to it no one will deny. There have been -books about California before, but none of them written with so real an -appreciation of its wonders as this one in which the grandeur of the -state has been so vividly presented. Not only does Mrs. Austin know -California, she loves it. Her volume will serve as a guide to the many -tourists who will be visiting the coast during the coming exposition, a -guide which is neither formal nor stilted, but interpretative, replete -with beautiful descriptions of beautiful spots. It will be none the -less interesting reading to those who have never seen the places and -have no prospect of doing so. Mr. Palmer's colored pictures are a -splendid supplement to the text. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -Panama: The Canal, The Country, and The People - -BY ARTHUR BULLARD (ALBERT EDWARDS) - -REVISED EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS AND NEW ILLUSTRATIONS - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Not only has Mr. Bullard revised such material of the first edition -of his book as has been retained in the present issue, but he has -added to that several chapters. These have to do largely with the -canal since its completion. This work has probably enjoyed greater -popularity than any other volume on Panama, a fact due, no doubt, to -its comprehensiveness. It is not confined to any one matter. There are -descriptions of the natural beauties of the locality, discussions of -the customs and life of its inhabitants and sections devoted to the -canal, its history, construction and those concerned with it. Besides -the new text there are also many new and fascinating illustrations. - - -Southern Italy and Sicily - -BY F. MARION CRAWFORD - -NEW EDITION IN TWO VOLUMES, WITH MANY HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS IN -THE TEXT AND THIRTY-ONE PHOTOGRAVURES - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, $5.00 net_ - -This book is a rare combination of text and pictures. Mr. Crawford -and Mr. Brokman, the illustrator, worked together in an almost ideal -fashion. The vivid description of the one and the sympathetic drawings -of the other make a narrative of travel set off now and then by a bit -of history that is of most fascinating interest. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/old/60060-8.zip b/old/old/60060-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 24fb4ee..0000000 --- a/old/old/60060-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/60060.txt b/old/old/60060.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f0bc979..0000000 --- a/old/old/60060.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9056 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's With Poor Immigrants in America, by Stephen Graham - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: With Poor Immigrants in America - -Author: Stephen Graham - -Release Date: August 5, 2019 [EBook #60060] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS IN AMERICA *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -[Illustration: Logo] - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -NEW YORK . BOSTON . CHICAGO . DALLAS -ATLANTA . SAN FRANCISCO - -MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED -LONDON. BOMBAY . CALCUTTA -MELBOURNE - -THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. -TORONTO - - -[Illustration: THE EMIGRANTS IN SIGHT OF THE GREY-GREEN STATUE OF -LIBERTY IN NEW YORK HARBOUR.] - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - -BY - -STEPHEN GRAHAM - -AUTHOR OF - -"WITH THE RUSSIAN PILGRIMS TO JERUSALEM" - -_WITH 32 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS -BY THE AUTHOR_ - -New York -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - -1914 - -_All rights reserved_ - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY HARPER AND BROTHERS. - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, -BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. - - -Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914. - - -Norwood Press -J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. -Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - -NOTE - - -A translation of this book has appeared serially in Russia before -publication in Great Britain and America. The matter has accordingly -been copyrighted in Russia. - -My acknowledgments are due to the Editor of _Harper's Magazine_ for -permission to republish the story of the journey. - -I wish to express my thanks to Mrs. James Muirhead, Miss M. A. Best, -and to Mr. J. Cotton Dana, who, with unsparing energy and hospitality, -helped me to see America as she is. - -STEPHEN GRAHAM. - -VLADIKAVKAZ, RUSSIA. - - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE - PROLOGUE xi - -CHAPTER - I. THE VOYAGE 1 - - II. THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT 41 - - III. THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION - OF BRITAIN 54 - - IV. INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK 73 - - V. THE AMERICAN ROAD 85 - - VI. THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE 103 - - VII. RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON 123 - -VIII. AMERICAN HOSPITALITY 141 - - IX. OVER THE ALLEGHANIES 161 - - X. DECORATION DAY 177 - - XI. WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES 188 - - XII. CHARACTERISTICS 209 - -XIII. ALONG ERIE SHORE 225 - - XIV. THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE 245 - - XV. THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY 252 - - XVI. THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES 274 - -XVII. FAREWELL, AMERICA! 294 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - 1. The emigrants in sight of the grey-green statue of - Liberty in New York Harbour _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - 2. Russian women on board-- - (_a_) The peasant 12 - (_b_) The intellectual and revolutionary type 12 - - 3. The boisterous Flemings 14 - - 4. (_a_) The dreamy Norwegian with the concertina 18 - (_b_) The endless dancing 18 - - 5. (_a_) A Russian Jew 26 - (_b_) "A patriarchal Jew, very tall and gaunt, - hauled along a small fat woman of his race" 26 - - 6. "One of the young ladies was being tossed up in a - blanket with a young Irish lad" (p. 25) 30 - - 7. (_a_) English 36 - (_b_) Russians--Fedya, Satiron, Alexy, Yoosha, Karl, - Maxim Holost 36 - - 8. Dainty Swedish girls and their partners looking over the sea 44 - - 9. Apple orchards in blossom on the spurs of the Catskills 84 - -10. On the way to school: my breakfast party 92 - -11. The tramp's dressing-room 110 - -12. By the side of the highway to Michigan: the electric freight - train 120 - -13. An Indiana farm: the wind-well behind it, the wheatfield - in front 142 - -14. "The cream-vans come along and buy up all the cream" (p. 261) 152 - -15. "Ploughed upland all dotted over with white heaps of - fertiliser" (p. 161) 158 - -16. "Slovaks working on the line with pick and shovel" 166 - -17. The Slav children of Snow-Shoe Creek 174 - -18. Italians working with the "mixer" on the Meadville Pike 200 - -19. Ingenious photographs of American types 212 - -20. The Lithuanian who sat behind the asphalt and coal-oil - scatterer 226 - -21. "Johnny Kishman, a German boy, got off his bicycle to - find out what manner of man I was" (p. 233) 234 - -22. Erie Shore. "Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow - tree, I made my bed" (p. 235) 238 - -23. The sower 252 - -24. The store on wheels 258 - -25. "I had an interesting talk with an ancient man by the side - of the road" 262 - -26. "Old Samuel Judie, lying on a bank, and philosophising on - life" 270 - -27. At the fountain in the park: a hot day in Chicago 276 - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -From Russia to America; from the most backward to the most forward -country in the world; from the place where machinery is merely imported -or applied, to the place where it is invented; from the land of Tolstoy -to the land of Edison; from the most mystical to the most material; -from the religion of suffering to the religion of philanthropy. - -Russia and America are the Eastern and Western poles of thought. Russia -is evolving as the greatest artistic philosophical and mystical nation -of the world, and Moscow may be said already to be the literary capital -of Europe. America is showing itself as the site of the New Jerusalem, -the place where a nation is really in earnest in its attempt to realise -the great dream of human progress. Russia is the living East; America -is the living West--as India is the dead East and Britain is the dying -West. Siberia will no doubt be the West of the future. - -For one who knows Russia well America is full of a great revelation. -The contrast in national spirit is so sharp that each helps you to see -the other more clearly. The American people are now on the threshold -of a great progressive era; they feel themselves within sight of the -realisation of many of their ideals. They have been hampered badly by -the trusts and the "bosses" and the corrupt police, but they are now -proving that these obstacles are merely temporary anomalies, caused by -the overwhelmingly sudden growth of population and prosperity. A few -years ago it could with truth be said that material conditions were -worse in the United States than in the Old World. But it has been clear -all the time that the corruption existent in the country was truly -foreign to the country's temper. - -The common citizen is becoming the watchdog of the police-service. -Tammany has fallen. Women are getting the suffrage, state by state. -The nation is unanimous in its cry for a pure state, a clean country, -and an uncorrupted people. All diseases are to be healed. Couples who -wish to be married must produce health-certificates. The mentally -deficient and hereditary criminals are to be segregated. Blue-books, -or rather what the Americans call White-books, are going to form the -Bible of a new nation. The day is going to be _rationally_ divided -into eight hours' work, eight hours' pleasure, eight hours' sleep--or -rather, eight hours' looking at machinery, eight hours' pleasure, eight -hours' sleep, for machinery is going to accomplish all the ugly toil. -Everybody is to be well dressed, well housed, comfortable. America -is raging against drink, against the exploitation of immigrants, -against the fate of the white slave, against any one who has done -anything immoral. It will nationally expel a Russian genius like -Gorky. It makes great difficulty of admitting to its shores any one -who has ever been in prison. It is so in earnest about the future of -America that it has set up what is almost an insult to Europe--the -examination of Ellis Island. Any one who has gone through the ordeal -of the poor emigrant, as I did, going into America with a party of -poor Russians in the steerage, and has been medically examined and -clerically cross-questioned about his life and ethics, knows that -America is a materialist and progressive country, and that she is no -longer a harbour of refuge for the weak, but a place where a nation is -determined to have health and strength and prosperity. - -Now in Russia, when you arrive there, you find no such tyranny as that -of Ellis Island awaiting you. You have come to the land of charity. If -there is any question it is of whether you are a Russian Jew wanting to -be recognised as an American citizen. Their charity does not extend to -the Jews. But disease does not stand in your way, neither does crime; -ethics are not inquired into; Mylius or Mrs. Pankhurst or Miss Marie -Lloyd receive their passports without a frown. You have come to the -nation to whom are precious the sick, the mentally deficient, the -criminal, the waste-ends of humanity, the poor woman on the streets, -the drunkard. Her greatest novelist, Dostoievsky, was an epileptic; -her national poet, Nekrasof, was a drunkard; Vrubel, one of her -greatest painters, was an imbecile; Chekhof, her great tale-writer, -was a hopeless consumptive. She is not opposed to the good and the -sound, but the suffering are dearer to her, more comprehensible. She -loves the drunkard, and says "Yes, you are right to be drunk; you are -probably a good man. It is what you are likely to be in this world of -enigmas." She loves the white slave, but does not wish to shut her in -a home for such. The Russians, so far from segregating the diseased -and the fallen, frequently fall in love with them and marry them. They -are sorry for the crippled children, but do not wish they had never -been born. They see in them a reminder of the true lot of man upon the -world. They make such children holy, and set them at the church doors. -Russia does not execute the murderer except under martial law, but she -sends him to Siberia to understand life and be _resurrected_. Thus, in -_The Crime and Punishment_, Raskolnikof the murderer, goes to Siberia -with little Sonia, the white slave, who whispers to him all the way the -promises of St. John's Gospel. - -In America the man who is tramping the road and will not work is an -object of enmity. He is almost a criminal. He is not wanted. He will -receive little hospitality, must chop wood for his breakfast or steal. -His life is a blasphemy breathed against the American ideal. But in -Russia none is looked upon more kindly than the man on the road, the -tramp or the pilgrim. There are a million or so of them on the road -in the summer. They are characteristic of Russia. In them the Russian -confesses that he is a stranger and a pilgrim upon the earth. - -The Christianity of Russia is the Christianity of death, of -renunciation, of what is called the _podvig_, the turning away from the -empire of "the world" as proposed by Satan on the mountain, the wasting -of the ointment rather than the raising of the poor, the giving the lie -to Satan, the part of Mary rather than the part of Martha. - -But the Christianity of America is the Christianity of Life, of -affirmation, of "making good," of accepting "the world" and preparing -for Christ's second coming, of obedience to the law, of almsgiving. -America is the great almsgiver, appealed to for money from the ends -of the earth, and for every object. If Russia can give faith, America -can give the rest. It is impossible for America to say with St. Peter, -"Silver and gold have I none, but _such as I have_ give I thee." The -Americans believe in money, and the pastor of a fashionable church is -able to say, "I preach to fifty million dollars every Sunday morning." -But as Mme. Novikof, in one of her brilliant conversations, once said, -"What is greater than the power of money? Why, contempt of money." -There are no people in the world who keep fewer account-books than the -Russians. They fling about their wealth or the pennies of their poverty -with the generous assurance that the bond of brotherhood is greater -than their fear of personal deprivation. - -The Americans are great collectors. It may be said collecting is the -genius of the West; empty-handedness is the glory of the East. - -The Russians are a sad and melancholy people. But they do not want to -lose their melancholy or to exchange it for Western self-satisfaction. -It is a divine melancholy. As their great contemporary poet Balmont -writes: - - - I know what it is to moan endlessly-- - In the long cold Winter to wait in vain for Spring, - But I know also that the nightingale's song is beautiful to us just - because of its sadness, - And that the silence of the snowy mountain peaks is more beautiful - than the lisping of streams-- - - -which is somewhat of a contrast to a conversation reported in one of -Professor Jacks' books: - - - _Passenger, looking out of the train window at the snowy ranges of - the Rockies_: "What mountains!" - - _American, puzzled for a moment_: "I guess I h'ant got any use for - those, but ef you're thinking of buying real estate...." - - -The phrase, _real estate_! - -Britain is seated in the mean. Compared with America she is -semi-Eastern. Despite the blood-relationship of the American and -British peoples they are more than an ocean apart. We receive without -much thanks American songs and dances, boxers, Carnegie libraries, -and plenty of money for all sorts of purposes. But our backs are to -America; we look towards Russia and are all agog about the next Russian -book or ballet or music. We are an old nation; as far as the little -island is concerned hope has died down. We have explored the island. -America will take a long time to explore _her_ territory. No vast -tracts and inexhaustible resources and terrific upheavals of Nature -reflect themselves in our national mood. The American working man has -a true passion for work, for his country, for everything; the British -working man does his duty. We have not the belief in life that the -American has--we have not yet the Russian's belief in death. - -The American breathes full into his lungs the air of life. The American -is glad at the sight of the strong, the victorious, the healthful. How -often, in novels and in life, does the American woman, returning from -a sojourn in the far West, confess to her admiration of the cowboy! -She is thrilled by the sight of such strong wild "husky" fellows, each -of them equal to four New Yorkers. In England, however, the town girl -has no smiles for the strong peasant; he is a country bumpkin, no -more. She wants the ideal, the unearthly. In Russia weakness attracts -far more than strength; love is towards consumptives, cripples, the -half-deranged, the impossibles. The Americans do not want the weak -one; England backs the "little un" to win; Russia loves the weak one, -feeling he will be eternally beaten, and loves him because he will be -beaten. But America loves the strong, the healthy, the pure, because -she is tired of Europe and the weakness and disease and sorrow of -Europeans. - - - - -WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS TO AMERICA - - - - -I - -THE VOYAGE - - -At Easter 1912 I was with seven thousand Russian peasants at the Holy -Sepulchre in Jerusalem. On Easter Day 1913 I arrived with Russian -emigrants at New York, and so accomplished in two consecutive years two -very different kinds of pilgrimage, following up two very significant -life-movements in the history of the world of to-day. One of these -belongs to the old life of Europe, showing the Middle Ages as it still -survives under the conservative regime of the Tsars; the other is -fraught with all the possibilities of the future in the making of the -New America. - -It was in March that I decided to follow up the movements of the people -out of the depths of Europe into America, and with that purpose sought -out I---- K----, a well-known immigration agent in the East End of -London. He transhipped Russians coming _via_ Libau and London, and -could tell me just when he expected the next large detachment of them. - -"Have you a letter of introduction?" asked the agent. - -"I shouldn't have thought any was necessary," I answered. "A Russian -friend advised me to go to you. You don't stand to lose anything by -telling me what I want to know." - -He would do nothing for me without an introduction, without knowing -exactly with whom he had to deal. I might be a political spy. The hand -of the Tsar was long, and could ruin men's lives even in America. At -least so he thought. - -I mentioned the name of a revolutionary anarchist, a militant -suffragette. He said a letter from her would suffice. I went to -Hampstead and explained my predicament to the lady. She wrote me a note -to a mysterious revolutionary who was living above Israel's shop, and -this missive, when presented, was promptly taken as a full credential. -The mysterious revolutionary was on the point of death, and could not -see me, but Israel read the letter, and at once agreed that he was -ready to be of any service to me he could. There was a large party of -Russians coming soon, not Russian Jews, but real Russian peasants, -and he would let me know as soon as he could just when they might be -expected. I returned to my ordinary avocations, and every now and then -rang up "I. K." on the telephone, and asked, "Had the Russians come?" -"When were they coming?" At last the intelligence came, "They are just -arriving. Hurry down to Hayes wharf at once." - -The news took me in the midst of other things, but I dropped all and -rushed to London Bridge. There, at Tooley Street, I witnessed one of -the happenings you'd never think was going on in London. - -A long procession of Russian peasants was just filing out from the -miserable steamship _Perm_. They were in black, white, and brown -sheepskins and in astrakhan hats, some in blue blouses and peak-hats, -some in brightly embroidered linen shirts; none wore collars, but some -had new shiny bowlers, on which the litter and dust of the port was -continually falling,--bowlers which they had evidently purchased from -German hawkers who had come on board at some point in the journey. The -women wore sheepskins also, many of them, and their heads were covered -with shawls; they had their babies sewn up in little red quilts. Beside -them there were pretty town girls and Jewesses dressed in cottons and -serges and cheap hats. There were few old people and many young ones, -and they carried under their arms clumsy, red-painted wooden boxes -and baskets from which kettles and saucepans dangled. On their backs -they had sacks, and in their hands several of them had crusts of bread -picked up in their hurry as they were hustled from their berths and -through the mess-room. Some of the sacks on their backs, as I afterward -saw, contained nothing but crusts of white and black bread, on which, -perhaps, they trusted to live during the first weeks in America! - -They were all rather bewildered for the moment, and a trifle anxious -about the Customs officers. - -"What is this town?" they asked. - -"For what are the Customs men looking?" - -"Where is our agent--the man they said would be here?" - -I entered into conversation with them, and over and over again answered -the question, "What is this town?" I told them it was London. - -"Is it a beautiful town?" they asked. - -"Is it a large town?" - -"Do we have to go in a train?" - -"How far is it?" - -"Look at my ticket; what does it say?" - -They made a miscellaneous crowd on the quay-side, and I talked to them -freely, answered their questions, and in turn put questions of my own. -They came from all parts of Russia, even from remote parts, and were -going to just as diverse places in America: to villages in Minnesota, -in Michigan, in Iowa; to Brooklyn, to Boston, to Chicago. I realised -the meaning of the phrase, "the magic word Chicago." I told them how -many people there were in London, how much dock labourers get a week, -pointed out the Tower Bridge, and calmed them about the non-appearance -of their agent. I knew him, and if he didn't turn up I would lead them -to him. They might be calm; he knew Russian, he would arrange all for -them. - -At last a representative of my East End friend appeared--David the Jew. -He was known to all the dockers as David, but he had a gilt I. K. on -the collar of his coat, wore a collar, had his hair brushed, and was a -person of tremendous importance to the eager and humble emigrants. Not -a Jew, no! No Jew has authority in Russia. No Jew looked like David, -and so the patient Christians thought him an important official when -he rated them, and shouted to them, and cursed them like a herdsman -driving home a contrary lot of cows and sheep and pigs. - -Another Jew appeared, in a green hat and fancy waistcoat, and he -produced a sheaf of papers having the names, ages, and destinations of -the emigrants all tabulated. He began a roll-call in one of the empty -warehouses of the dock. Each peasant as his name was called was ticked -off, and was allowed to gather up his belongings and bolt through the -warehouse as if to catch a train. I ran to the other side and found -a series of vans and brakes, such as take the East-enders to Happy -Hampstead on a Bank Holiday. Into these the emigrants were guided, -and they took their seats with great satisfaction. They clambered in -from all sides, showing a preference for getting up by the wheels, and -nearly pulling away the sides of the frail vehicles. - -The vanmen jested after their knowledge of jests, and put their arms -round the pretty girls' waists. David rushed to and fro, fretting and -scolding. Loafers and clerks collected to look at the girls. - -"Why does that old man look at us so? he ought to be ashamed of -himself," said a pretty Moscow girl to me. "He is dressed like twenty -or twenty-five, but he is quite old. How quizzically he looks at us." - -"He is forty," said I. - -"Sixty!" - -"That's a pretty one," said a young man whose firm imported Koslof eggs. - -"What does he say?" - -"He says that you are pretty." - -"Tell him I thank him for the compliment; but he is not interesting--he -has not a moustache." - -All the vans filled, and there was a noise and a smell of Russia in the -grim and dreary dockyard, and such a chatter of young men and women, -all very excited. At last David got them all in order. I stepped up -myself, and one by one we went off through the East End of the city. - -We went to St. Pancras station. On the way one of the peasants stepped -down from his brake and, entering a Jewish hat-shop, bought himself a -soft green felt and put his astrakhan hat away in his sack. He was the -subject of some mirth, and also of some envy in the crowd that sat down -to coffee and bread and butter at the Great Midland terminus. Under the -terms of their tickets the emigrants were fed all the way from Libau -to New York without extra charge. - -They were all going from Liverpool, some by the Allan Line, some by the -White Star, and others by the Cunard. As by far the greatest number -were going on the Cunard boat, I went to I. K. and booked a passage on -that line. There was much to arrange and write, my sack to pack, and -many good-byes to utter--all in the briefest space of time. - -At midnight I returned to the station and took my seat in the last -train for Liverpool. Till the moment before departure I had a -compartment to myself; but away down at the back of the train were -coach after coach of Russians, all stretched on their sheepskins on -the narrow seats and on the floor, with their children in the string -cradles of the parcel-racks. They were crowded with bundles and baskets -and kettles and saucepans, and yet they had disposed themselves to -sleep. As I walked along the corridor I heard the chorus of heavy -breathing and snoring. In one of the end carriages a woman was on her -knees praying--prostrating and crossing herself. As we moved out of St. -Pancras I felt as I did when upon the pilgrim boat going to Jerusalem, -and I said to myself with a thrill, "We have mysterious passengers on -board." The sleeping Russians gave an atmosphere to the English train. -It was like the peculiar feeling that comes to the other people in a -house when news is given downstairs that a new baby has arrived. - -A man stepped into my compartment just as the train was moving--a -jovial Briton who asked me to have a cigar, and said, when I refused, -that he was glad, for he really wanted to give it to the guard. He -wanted the guard to stop the express for him at Wellingborough, and -reckoned that the cigar would put him on friendly terms. He inquired -whether I was a Mason, and when I said I was not, proceeded to reveal -Masonic secrets, unbuttoning his waistcoat to show me a little golden -sphere which opened to make a cross. - -At St. Albans he gave the guard the cigar, and the charm worked, for he -was enabled to alight at Wellingborough. And I was left alone with my -dreams. - - -In a thunderstorm, with a high gale and showers of blinding hail -and snow, with occasional flashing forth of amazing sunshine, to be -followed by deepest gloom of threatening cloud, we collected on the -quay at Liverpool--English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Swedes, Finns--all -staring at one another curiously, and trying to understand languages -we had never heard before. Three hundred yards out in the harbour -stood the red-funnelled Cunarder which was to bear us to America; and -we waited impatiently for the boat which should take us alongside. -We carried baskets and portmanteaus in our strained hands; most of -us were wearing heavy cloaks, and some had sacks upon their backs, -so we were all very ready to rush aboard the ferry-boat and dump our -burdens on its damp decks. What a stampede there was--people pushing -into portmanteaus, baskets pushing into people! At last we had all -crossed the little gangway, and all that remained on shore were -the few relatives and friends who had come to see the English off. -This pathetic little crowd sang ragtime songs, waved their hats and -handkerchiefs, and shouted. There was a bandying of farewells: - -"Ta-ta, ta-ta-ta!" - -"Wish you luck!" - -"Ta-ta-a, ole Lloyd George! No more stamp-licking!" - -"Good luck, old boy!" - -"The last of old England!" - -The foreign people looked on and smiled non-comprehendingly; the -English and Americans huzzaed and grinned. Then away we went over the -water, and thoughts of England passed rapidly away in the interest -of coming nearer to civilisation's toy, the great liner. We felt the -romance of ocean travel, and also the tremulous fear which the ocean -inspires. Then as we lay in the lee of the vast, steep, blood- and -soot-coloured liner, each one of us thought of the _Titanic_ and the -third-class passengers who went down beneath her into the abyss. - -The vastness of the liner made our ferry-boat look like a matchbox. -A door opened in the great red wall and a little gangway came out of -it like a tongue coming out of a mouth. We all picked up our bags and -baggage and pushed and squirmed along this narrow footway that led -into the mouth of the steamer and away down into its vast, cavernous, -hungry stomach: English, Russians, Jews, Germans, Poles, Swedes, -Finns, Flemings, Spaniards, Italians, Canadians, passed along and -disappeared--among them all, I myself. - -There were fifteen hundred of us; each man and woman, still carrying -handbags and baskets, filed past a doctor and two assistants, and was -cursorily examined for diseases of the eye or skin. - -"Hats and gloves off!" was our first greeting on the liner. We marched -slowly up to the medical trio, and each one as he passed had his eyelid -seized by the doctor and turned inside out with a little instrument. -It was a strange liberty to take with one's person; but doctors are -getting their own way nowadays, and they were looking for _trachoma_. -For the rest the passing of hands through our hair and examination of -our skin for signs of scabies was not so rough, and the cleaner-looking -people were not molested. - -Still carrying our things we took our medical-inspection cards and -had them stamped by a young man on duty for that purpose. Then we were -shown our berths. - -There was a spring bed for each person, a towel, a bar of soap, and -a life-preserver. The berths were arranged, two, four, and six in a -cabin. Married couples could have a room to themselves, but for the -rest men and women were kept in different sets of cabins. British were -put together, Scandinavians together, Russians and Jews together. It -was so arranged that the people in the cabins understood one another's -language. Notices on the walls warned that all emigrants would be -vaccinated on deck, whether they had been vaccinated before or not; -that all couples making love too warmly would be married compulsorily -at New York if the authorities deemed it fit, or should be fined or -imprisoned; that in case of fire or smoke being seen anywhere we were -to report to chief steward, but not to our fellow-passengers; that -smoking was not allowed except on the upper deck, and so on. The cabins -were a glittering, shining white; they were small and box-like; they -possessed wash-basins and water for the first day of the voyage, but -not to be replenished on succeeding days. There were general lavatories -where you might wash in hot or cold water, and there were bathrooms -which were locked and never used. Each cabin had a little mirror. -The cabins were steam-heated, and when the passengers were dirty -the air was foul. Fresh air was to be found on the fore and after -decks, except in time of storm, when we were barred down. In time of -storm the smell below was necessarily worse--atrocious, for most of -the people were very sick. We had, however, a great quantity of dark -space to ourselves, and could prowl into the most lonesome parts of -the vessel. The dark recesses were always occupied by spooning couples -who looked as if they had embarked on this journey only to make love -to one another. There were parts of the ship wholly given over to -dancing, other parts to horse-play and feats of strength. There was an -immense dining-room with ante-chambers and there, to the sound of the -jangling dinner-bell echoing and wandering far or near over the ship, -we assembled to meals. - -[Illustration: RUSSIAN WOMEN ON BOARD. - -The peasant woman. - -The intellectual and revolutionary type.] - - -The emigrants flocked into the mess-room from the four doors to twenty -immense tables spread with knives and forks and toppling platters of -bread. Nearly all the men came in in their hats,--in black glistening -ringlety sheepskin hats, in fur caps, in bowlers, in sombreros, in -felt hats with high crowns, in Austrian cloth hats, in caps so green -that the wearer could only be Irish. Most of the young men were -curious to see what girls there were on board, and looked eagerly to -the daintily clad Swedish women, blonde and auburn-haired beauties -in tight-fitting, speckless jerseys. The British girls came in in -their poor cotton dresses, or old silk ones, things that had once -looked grand for Sunday wear but now bore miserable crippled hooks -and eyes, threadbare seams, gaping fastenings--cheerful daughters of -John Bull trapesing along in the shabbiest of floppy old boots. Then -there were the dark and somewhat forward Jewesses, talking animatedly -with little Jew men in queer-shaped trousers and skimpy coats; there -were slatternly looking Italian women with their children, intent on -being at home in whatever circumstances. There was a party of shapely -and attractive Austrian girls that attracted attention from the others -and a regular scramble to try to sit next to them or near them. No one -ever saw a greater miscellaneity and promiscuity of peoples brought -together by accident. I sat between a sheepskin-wrapped peasant wife -from the depths of Russia and a neat Danish engineer, who looked no -different from British or American. Opposite me were two cowboys going -back to the Far West, a dandified Spanish Jew sat next them on one hand -and two Norwegians in voluminous knitted jackets on the other. At the -next table was a row of boisterous Flemings, with huge caps and gaudy -scarfs. There were Americans, spruce and smart and polite; there were -Italians, swarthy and dirty, having their black felt hats on their -heads all through the meal and resting their elbows on the table as -if they'd just come into a public-house in their native land. There -were gentle youths in shirts which womenfolk had embroidered in Little -Russia; there were black-bearded Jewish patriarchs in their gaberdines, -tall and gaunt. - -[Illustration: THE BOISTEROUS FLEMINGS.] - -A strange gathering of seekers, despairers, wanderers, pioneers, -criminals, scapegoats. I thought of all the reasons that had brought -these various folk together to make a community, that had brought -them all together to form a Little America. From Great Britain it is -so often the drunkard who is sent. Some young fellow turns out to be -wilder than the rest of his family; he won't settle down to the sober, -righteous, and godly life that has been the destiny of the others; he -is likely to disgrace respectability, so parents or friends give him -his passage-money and a little capital and send him away across the -sea. Henceforth his name is mentioned at home with a 'ssh, or with a -tear--till the day that he makes his fortune. With the drunkard go -the young forger or embezzler whose shame has been covered up and -hidden, but who can get no "character" from his last employer. Then -there are the unemployed, and those discontented with their jobs, the -out-of-works, the men who have seen no prospect in the old land and -felt no freedom. There are the wanderers, the rovers, the wastrels, so -called, who have never been able to settle down; there are also the -prudent and thoughtful men who have read of better conditions and go -simply to take advantage of them. There are those who are there almost -against their will, persuaded by the agents of the shipping companies -and the various people interested to keep up the flow of people into -America. There are the women who are going out to their sweethearts to -be married, and the wives who are going to the husbands who have "made -good"; there are the girls who have got into trouble at home and have -slid away to America to hide their shame; there are girls going to be -domestic servants, and girls doomed to walk the streets,--all sitting -down together, equals, at a table where no grace is said but the -whisper of hope which rises from each heart. - -But it is not only just these people whom I have so materially and -separately indicated. The cheerful lad who is beginning to flirt with -his first girl acquaintance on the boat has only a few hours since -dried the tears off his cheeks; they are nearly all young people on -the boat, and they mostly have loving mothers and fathers in the -background, and friends and sweethearts, some of them. And there are -some lonely ones who have none who care for them in all the world. -There are young men who are following a lucky star, and who will never -be so poor again in their lives, boys who have guardian angels who -will never let them injure their foot on the ground, boys who have in -their favour good fairies, boys and girls who have old folk praying -for them. And there is the prodigal son, as well as the too-prodigal -daughter. There are youngest brothers in plenty, going to win the -princess in a way their elder brothers never thought of; young Hans is -there, Aladdin, Norwegian Ashepattle, Ivan Durak--the Angel of Life is -there; there is also the Angel of Death. - -We sat down together to our first meal,--the whole company of the -emigrant passengers broke bread together and became thereby one -body,--a little American nation in ourselves. I am sure that had the -rest of the world's people been lost we could have run a civilization -by ourselves. We had peasants to till the soil, colliers to give us -fuel, weavers and spinners to make cloth, tailors to sew it into -garments, comely girls of all nations to be our wives; we had clerks -and shop-keepers and Jews with which to make cities; musicians and -music-hall artists to divert us, and an author to write about it all. - -Mugs half-full of celery soup were whisked along the tables; not a -chunk of bread on the platters was less than an inch thick; the hash of -gristly beef and warm potato was what would not have been tolerated in -the poorest restaurant, but we set ourselves to eat it, knowing that -trials in plenty awaited us and that the time might come when we should -have worse things than these to bear. The Swedes and the British were -finicky; the Russians and the Jews ate voraciously as if they'd never -seen anything so good in their lives. - -The peasant woman next to me crossed herself before and after the meal; -her Russian compatriots removed their hats and some of them said grace -in a whisper to themselves. But most ate even with their hats on, and -most with their hands dirty. You would not say we ate as if in the -presence of God and with the memories, in the mind, of prayers for the -future and heart-break at parting with home; yet this meal was for the -seeing eye a wonderful religious ceremony, a very real first communion -service. The rough food so roughly dispensed was the bread and wine, -making them all of one body and of one spirit in America. Henceforth -all these people will come nearer and nearer to one another, and drift -farther and farther from the old nations to which they belonged. They -will marry one another, British and Jewish, Swedish and Irish, Russian -and German; they will be always eating at America's board; they will -be speaking the one language, their children will learn America's -ideals in America's school. Even from the most aboriginal, illiterate -peasant on board, there must come one day a little child, his grandson -or great-grandson, who will have forgotten the old country and the old -customs, whose heart will thrill to America's idea as if he had himself -begotten it. - -On Sunday morning when we came upstairs from our stuffy little cabin -we were gliding past the green coast of Ireland, and shortly after -breakfast-time we entered the beautiful harbour of Queenstown, -blue-green, gleaming, and perfect under a bright spring sun. Hawkers -came aboard with apples, knotted sticks, and green favours--the day -following would be St. Patrick's. And we shipped a score of Irish -passengers. - -Outside Queenstown a different weather raged over the Atlantic, and -as we steamed out of the lagoon it came forward to meet us. The -clouds came drifting toward us, and the wind rattled in the masts. -The ocean was full of glorious life and wash of wave and sea. A crowd -of emigrants stood in the aft and watched the surf thundering away -behind us; the great hillsides of green water rose into being and -then fell out of being in grand prodigality. Gulls hung over us as we -rushed forward and poised themselves with gentle feet outstretched, -or flew about us, skirling and crying, or went forward and overtook -us. Meanwhile Ireland and Britain passed out of view, and we were left -alone with the wide ocean. We knew that for a week we should not see -land again, and when we did see land that land would be America. - -[Illustration: THE DREAMY NORWEGIAN WITH THE CONCERTINA.] - -[Illustration: THE ENDLESS DANCING.] - - -Then we all began to know one another, to talk, to dance, to sing, to -play together. All the cabins were a-buzz with chatter, and along -the decks young couples began to find one another out and to walk -arm and arm. Two dreamy Norwegians produced concertinas, and without -persuasion sat down in dark corners and played dance music for hours, -for days. Rough men danced with one another, and the more fortunate -danced with the girls, dance after dance, endlessly. The buffets were -crowded with navvies clamouring for beer; the smoking-rooms were full -of excited gamblers thumbing filthy cards. The first deck was wholly -in electric light, you mounted to the second and it was all in shadow, -you went higher still and you came to daylight. You could spend your -waking hours on any of these levels, but the lower you went the warmer -it was. On the electric-light deck were to be found the cleaner and -more respectable passengers; they sat and talked in the mess-room, -played the piano, sang songs. Up above them all the hooligans rushed -about, and there also, in the shadow, in the many recesses and dark -empty corners young men and women were making love, looking moonily at -one another, kissing furtively and giving by suggestion an unwonted -atmosphere to the ship. It was also on this deck that the wild couples -danced and the card-players shuffled and dealt. Up on the open deck -were the sad people, and those who loved to pace to and fro to the -march music of the racing steamer and the breaking waves. - -I wandered from deck to deck, everywhere; opened many doors, peered -into many faces, sat at the card-table, crushed my way into the bar, -entered into the mob of dancers, found a Russian girl and talked to -her. But I was soon much sought for. When the Russian-speaking people -found out I had their language they followed me everywhere, asking -elementary questions about life and work and wages in America. Even -after I had gone to bed and was fast asleep my cabin door would open -and some woolly-faced Little Russian would cry out, "Gospodin Graham, -forgive me, please, I have a little prayer to make you; write me also a -letter to a farmer." - -I had written for several of them notes which they might present at -their journey's end. - -All day long I was in converse with Russians, Poles, Jews, Georgians, -Lithuanians, Finns. - -"Look at these Russian fatheads (_duraki_)," said a young Jew. "Why -do they go to America? Why do they leave their native land to go to a -country where they will be exploited by every one?" - -"Why do _you_ leave it, then?" asked a Russian. - -"Because I have no rights there," replied the Jew. - -"Have we rights?" the Russian retorted. - -"If I had your rights in Russia I'd never leave that country. I'd find -something to do that would make me richer than I could ever be in -America." - -There were three or four peasants around, and another rejoined. "But -you could have our rights if you wished." - -Whereupon I broke in: - -"But only by renouncing the Jewish faith." - -"That is exactly the truth," said the Jew. - -"Yes," said a Russian called Alexy Mitrophanovitch, "he can have all -our rights if he renounces his faith." - -"If I am baptized to get your rights what use is that to you? Why do -Christians ask for such an empty thing?" - -"All the same," said another Russian, "in going to America you will -break your faith, and so will we. I have heard how it happens. They -don't keep the Saints' days there." - -Alexy Mitrophanovitch was a fine, tall, healthy-looking peasant workman -in a black sheepskin. With him, and as an inseparable, walked a -broad-faced Gorky-like tramp in a dusty peak-hat. The latter was called -Yoosha. - -"You see, all I've got," said Alexy to me, "is just what I stand up in. -Not a copeck of my own in my pocket, and not a basket of clothes. My -friend Yoosha is lending me eighty roubles so as to pass the officials -at New York, but of course I give it back to him when we pass the -barrier. We worked together at Astrakhan." - -"Have you a bride in Russia?" - -No, he was alone. He did not think to marry; but he had a father and a -mother. At Astrakhan he had been three thousand versts away from his -village home, so he wouldn't be so much farther away in America. - -He was going to a village in Wisconsin. A mate of his had written that -work was good there, and he and Yoosha had decided to go. They would -seek the same farmer, a German, Mr. Joseph Stamb--would I perhaps write -a letter in English to Mr. Stamb?... - -Both he and Yoosha took communion before leaving Astrakhan. I asked -Alexy whether he thought he was going to break his faith as the other -Russians had said to the Jew. How was he going to live without his Tsar -and his Church? - -He struck his breast and said, "There, that is where my Church is! -However far away I go I am no farther from God!" - -Would he go back to Russia? - -He would like to go back to die there. - -"Tell me," said he, "do they burn dead bodies in America? I would not -like my body to be burned. It was made of earth, and should return to -the earth." - -The man who slept parallel with me in my cabin was an English collier -from the North Country. He had been a bad boy in the old country, and -his father had helped him off to America. Whenever he had a chance to -talk to me, it was of whippet-racing and ledgers and prizes and his pet -dog. - -"As soon as a get tha monny a'll enter that dawg aht Sheffield. A took -er to Durby; they wawn't look at 'er there. There is no dawg's can -stan' agin her. At Durby they run the rabbits in the dusk, an' the -little dawg as 'ad the start could see 'em, but ourn moight a been at -Bradford fur all she could see. A'll bet yer that dawg's either dead -or run away. She fair lived fer me. Every night she slep in my bed. -Ef ah locked 'er aht, she kick up such a ra. Then I open the door an' -she'd come straight an' jump into bed an' snuggle 'erself up an' fall -asleep...." - -The dirtiest cabins in the ship were allotted to the Russians and the -Jews, and down there at nine at night the Slavs were saying their -prayers whilst just above them we British were singing comic songs or -listening to them. Most of us, I reckon, also said our prayers later -on, quietly, under our sheets; for we were, below the surface, very -solitary, very apprehensive, very child-like, very much in need of the -comfort of an all-seeing Father. - -The weather was stormy, and the boat lost thirty-six hours on the way -over. The skies were mostly grey, the wind swept the vessel, and the -sea deluged her. The storm on the third night considerably reduced the -gaiety of the ship; all night long we rolled to and fro, listening to -the crash of the waves and the chorus of the spring-mattresses creaking -in all the cabins. My boy who had left the "dawg" behind him got badly -"queered up." He said it was "mackerel as done it," a certain warm, -evil-looking mackerel that had been served him for tea on the Tuesday -evening. Indeed the food served us was not of a sort calculated to -prepare us for an Atlantic storm--roast corned beef, sausage and mash, -dubious eggs, tea that tasted strongly of soda, promiscuously poked -melting butter, ice cream. On tumultuous Tuesday the last thing we ate -was ice cream! We all felt pretty abject on Wednesday morning. - -Our sickness was the stewards' opportunity. They interviewed us, sold -us bovril and hawked plates of decent ham and eggs, obtained from the -second-class table or their own mess. The British found the journey -hard to bear, though they didn't suffer so much as the Poles and the -Austrians and the Russians. I found the whole journey comparatively -comfortable, stormy weather having no effect on me, and this being -neither my first nor worst voyage. Any one who has travelled with -the Russian pilgrims from Constantinople to Jaffa in bad weather has -nothing to fear from any shipboard horror on a Cunarder on the Atlantic. - -Only two of the Russians went through the storm happily, Alexy and -Yoosha. They had worked for nights and months on the Caspian Sea in a -little boat, almost capsizing each moment as they strained at their -draughts of salmon and sturgeon; one moment deep down among the seas, -the next plunging upward, shooting over the waves, stopping short, -slithering round--as they graphically described it to me. - -When the storm subsided the pale and convalescent emigrants came -upstairs to get sea air and save themselves from further illness. -Corpse-like women lay on the park seats, on the coiled rope, on the -stairs, uttering not a word, scarcely interested to exist. Other women -were being walked up and down by their young men. A patriarchal Jew, -very tall and gaunt, hauled along a small, fat woman of his race, and -made her walk up and down with him for her health--a funny pair they -looked. On Wednesday afternoon, about the time the sun came out, one of -the boisterous Flemings tied a long string to a tape that was hanging -under a pretty French girl's skirts, and he pulled a little and watched -her face, pulled a little more and watched the trouble, pulled a little -more and was found out. Then several of the corpse-like ones smiled, -and interest in life was seen to be reviving. - -Next morning when I was up forward with my kodak, one of the young -ladies who had been so ill was being tossed in a blanket with a young -Irish lad of whom she was fond, struggling and scratching and rolling -with a young fellow who was kissing her, whilst four companions were -dangerously hoisting them shoulder high, laughing and bandying Irish -remarks. Life only hides itself when these folk are ill; they will -survive more than sea-sickness. - - -The white dawn is haggard behind us over the black waves, and our great -strong boat goes thundering away ahead of the sun. It is mid-Atlantic, -and we stare into the same great circle of hungry emptiness, as did -Columbus and his mariners. Our gaze yearns for land, but finds none; -it rests sadly on the solitary places of the ocean, on the forlorn -waves lifting themselves far away, falling into nothingness, and then -wandering to rebirth. - -Nothing is happening in the wide ocean. The minutes add themselves and -become hours. We know ourselves far from home, and we cannot say how -far from the goal, but still very far, and there is no turning back. -"Would there were," says the foolish heart. "Would I had never come -away from the warm home, the mother's love, the friends who care for -me, the woman who loves me, the girl who has such a lot of empty time -on her hands now that I have gone away, her lover." How lonely it is -on the steerage deck in the crowd of a thousand strangers, hearing a -score of unknown tongues about your ears, hearing your own language so -pronounced you scarce recognise it! - -[Illustration: A RUSSIAN JEW.] - -[Illustration: "A PATRIARCHAL JEW, VERY TALL AND GAUNT, HAULED ALONG A -SMALL FAT WOMAN OF HIS RACE."] - -The mirth of others is almost unpardonable, the romping of Flemish -boys, pushing people right and left in a breakneck game of touch; the -excitement of a group of Russians doing feats of strength; the sweet -happiness of dainty Swedish girls dancing with their rough partners -to the strains of an accordion. How good to escape from it all and -trespass on the steward's promenade at the very extremity of the -after-deck, where the emigrants may not go, and where they are out of -sight and out of hearing. - -The ocean is retreating behind us with storm-scud and smoke of foam -threshed out from our riven road. Vast theatres of waves are falling -away behind us and slipping out of our ken backward into the homeward -horizon. Above us the sky is grey, and the sea also is grey, waving now -and then a miserable flag of green. - -What an empty ocean! There is nothing happening in it but our ship. -And for me, that ship is just part of my own purpose: there is nothing -happening but what I willed. The slanting red funnels are full of -purpose, and the volumes of smoke that fly backward are like our sighs, -regrets, hopes, despairs, the outward sign of the fire that is driving -us on. - - -Up on the steward's promenade on Thursday morning I fell into -conversation with a young Englishman, and he poured out his heart to -me. He was very homesick, and had spoken to no one up till then. He was -in a long cloak, with the collar turned up, and a large cloth cap was -stuck tightly on his head to keep it from the wind. His face was red -with health, but his forehead was puckered, and his eyes seemed ready -to shed tears. - -"Never been so far away from the old country before?" I hazarded. - -"No." - -"Would you like to go back?" - -"No." - -"Are you going to friends in America?" - -He shook his head. - -"I'm going on my own." - -"You are the sort that America wants," I ventured. He did not reply, -and I was about to walk away, snubbed, when another thought occurred to -me. - -"I once left the old country to seek my fortune elsewhere," said I. "I -felt as you do, I expect. But it was to go to Russia." - -He looked up at me with an inquisitive grimace. I suggested that I -knew what it was to part with a girl I loved, and a mother and friends -and comforts, and to go to a strange country where I knew no one, and -thought I had no friends. At the mention of parting with the girl he -seemed to freeze, but curiosity tempted him and he let me tell him some -of my story. - -"I reckon that England's pretty well played out," said he. - -"Not whilst it sends its sons out into the world--you to America, and -me to Russia," said I with a smile. "It will only be played out when we -haven't the courage to go." - -"Well," said he, "I reckon I _had_ to go, there wasn't anything else -for me to do. It wasn't courage on my part. I didn't want to go. I -reckon there ought to be room in England for the likes of me. It isn't -as if I had no guts. I'm as fit as they make them, only no good at -figures. I think I had the right to a place in England and a decent -screw, and England might be proud of me. I should always have been -ready to fight against the Germans for her. I joined the Territorials, -I learned to shoot, I can ride a horse." - -"Why didn't you go into the army?" - -"That's not the place for a decent fellow. Besides, my people wouldn't -allow it, and my girl's folks would be cut up. And I reckon there's -something better to do than be drilled and wait for a war. My people -wanted me to be something respectable, to go into the Civil Service, -or a bank, or an insurance office, or even into the wholesale fruit -business. I was put into Jacob's, the fruit firm, but I couldn't work -their rate. I've been hunting for work the last five months. That takes -it out of you, don't it? How mean I felt! Everybody looked at me in -such a way--you know, as much as to say 'You loafer, you lout, you -good-for-nothing,' so that I jolly well began to feel I was that, too, -especially when my clothes got shabby and I had nothing decent to put -on to see people." - -As my acquaintance talked he rapidly became simpler, more child-like, -confiding, and tears stole down his cheek. The reserved and surly lad -became a boy. "What a life," said he, "to search work all day, beg a -shilling or so from my mother in the evening, meet my girl, tell her -all that's happened, then at night to finish the day lying in bed -trying to imagine what I'd do if I had a thousand a year! - -"I reckon I could have earned a living with my hands, but my people -were too proud; yes, and I was too proud also, and my girl might not -have liked it. Still, I'd have done anything to earn a sovereign and -take her to the theatre, or go out with her to the country for a day, -or make her a nice present and prove I wasn't mean. I used to be -generous. When I had a job I gave plenty of presents; but you can't -give things away when you have to borrow each day. You even walk -instead of taking a car, and you are mean, mean, mean--mean all day. -Then in the evening you talk of marrying a girl, of having a little -home, and you dare to kiss her as much as you can or she will let, and -all the while you have in the wide world only a few coppers--and a -mother." - -[Illustration: "ONE OF THE YOUNG LADIES WAS BEING TOSSED UP IN A -BLANKET WITH A YOUNG IRISH LAD."] - -We went and leaned over the ship and stared down at the sea. - -Tears! I suppose millions had come there before and made that great -salt ocean of them. - -The boy now lisped his confidence to me hurriedly, happily, tenderly. - -"But I reckon I've got a good mother, eh? She loved me more than I -dreamed. How she cried on Friday! how she cried! It was wild. Sometimes -I used to say I hated her. I used to shout out angrily at her that I'd -run away and never come back. That was when she said hasty things to -me, or when she wouldn't give me money. I used to think I'd go and be -a tramp, and pick up a living here and there in the country, and live -on fruit and birds' eggs, sleeping anywhere. It would be better than -feeling so mean at home. But then, my girl--every night I had to see -her. I felt I could not go away like that, never to come home with a -fortune--never, never to be able to marry her. Every night she put her -arms round my neck and kissed me, and called me her old soldier, her -dear one--all sorts of sweet things. I reckon we didn't miss one night -all this last year. - -"Her father's all right. I had thought he would be different. I was a -bit afraid of what he'd say if he got to hear. But she told him on her -own, and one night she took me home. They had fixed it up themselves -without asking me, and he was very kind. I told him I wanted a job, and -I thought p'raps he was going to get me one. But no; he was a queer -sort, rather. 'I'm going to wipe out that story of yours,' he says. -Then he goes to his bureau and writes a note and puts it in an envelope -and addresses it to me. 'Here you are, young man,' says he. I opened -the envelope and read one word on a slip of paper--AMERICA. -'Millions have told your story before,' says he, 'and have had that -word given them in answer. You get ready to go to America; I'll find -you your passage-money and something to start you off in the new -country. You'll do well; you'll make good, my boy,' and he slapped me -on the back. - -"You bet I felt excited. He saw my mother and told her his plan. She -said she couldn't stand in my way. I got the _Government Handbook on -the United States_, and the emigration circular. I read up America at -the public library. I wonder I hadn't thought of it before. America is -a great country, eh? They look at you differently, I bet, and a strong -young man's worth something there. My word, when I come back.... - -"I wonder if I shall come back or if she'll come out to me. I wonder if -her father would let her. I guess he would.... - -"She loves me. My word, how she loves me! I didn't dream of it before. -I used to think the harder you kissed, the more it meant; but she -kissed me in a new way, so softly, so differently. She said I was hers, -that I would be safe wherever I went in the wide world, and I was -never to feel afraid. I've got to do without her now. I reckon no other -girl is going to mean much to me." - -He looked rather scornfully at a troop of pretty Swedes who had invaded -our sanctuary. - -"It is queer how sure I feel of good luck because of her and what she -did. I feel as if everything must turn my way. Downstairs yesterday -they challenged me to play a game of cards, and I won fifty cents; but -I felt it was wrong to spend my luck that way. The chap wouldn't play -any more; he said I was in a lucky vein. He was quite right. Whatever I -turn my hand to, I'm bound to have unexpected good luck. I feel so sure -I'm going to get a job, and a real good one, too. I shan't play any -more cards this journey." - -The sun had come out, and the bright light blazed through our smoke, -and I felt that the boy's faith was blazing just that way through his -regrets. - -The sun crept on and overtook us on his own path, and then at last went -down in front of us, far away in the waste of waters. - -My acquaintance and I went away to the last meal of the day, to the -strangely mixed crowd of prospective Americans at the table, where men -sat and ate with their hats on, and where no grace was said. "What -matter that they throw the food at us?" I asked. "We are men with -stout hearts in our bosoms; we are going to a great country, where a -great people will look at us with creative eyes, making the beautiful -out of the ugly, the big and generous out of the little and mean, the -headstone out of the rock that the builders rejected." - -After supper I left my friend and went upstairs alone. The weather had -changed, and the electric lights of the ship were blazing through the -rain, the decks were wet and windswept, and the black smoke our funnels -were belching forth went hurrying back into the murky evening sky. The -vessel, however, went on. - -Downstairs some were dancing, some singing, some writing home -laboriously, others gossiping, others lying down to sleep in the little -white cabins. There was a satisfaction in hearing the throbbing of the -engines and feeling the pulse of the ship. We were idle, we passed the -time, but we knew that the ship went on. - -Going above once more at nine, I found the rain had passed, the sky was -clear and the night full of stars. In the sea rested dim reflections of -the stars, like the sad faces we see reflected in our memory several -days after we have gone from home. I stood at the vessel's edge and -looked far over the glimmering waves to the horizon where the stars -were walking on the sea. "What will it be like in America?" whispered -the foolish heart. "What will it be like for him?" Then sadness -came--the long, long thoughts of a boy. I whispered the Russian verse: - - - "There is a road to happiness, - But the way is afar." - - -And yet, next morning, I saw the Englishman dancing for hours with a -pretty Russian girl from a village near Kiev--Phrosia, the sister of -Maxim Holost, a fine boy of eighteen going out to North Dakota. I had -noticed the Englishman looking on at the dancing, and then suddenly, to -my surprise, at a break in the tinkling of the accordion, he offered -his arm to the Russian and took her down the middle as the music -resumed.... - -I was much in demand among the Russians on Friday and Saturday, for -they wanted to take the English language by storm at the week-end. I -taught Alexy by writing out words for him, and six or seven peasants -had copied from him and were busy conning "man," "woman," "farm," -"work," "give me," "please," "bread," "meat," "is," "Mister," "show," -"and," "how much," "like," "more," "half," "good," "bad," the numbers, -and so on. They pronounced these words with willing gusto, and made -phrases for themselves, calling out to me: - -"Show me worrk, pleez." - -"Wer is Meester Stamb?" - -"Khao match eez bread?" - -"Give mee haaf." - -Alexy tried his English on one of the waiters at dinner time. - -"Littel meet, _littel_, give mee more meet." - -The steward grinned appreciatively, and told him to lie down and be -quiet. - -Maxim and his sister were accompanied by a grizzled peasant of sixty or -so, wearing a high sugar-loaf hat sloping back from an aged, wrinkled -brow. This was Satiron Federovitch, the only old man on deck. His black -cloak, deep lined with wadding, was buttoned up to his throat, and the -simplicity of his attire and the elemental lines of his face gave him -a look of imperturbable calm. Asked why he was going to America, he -said that almost every one else in the village had gone before him. A -Russian village had as it were vanished from the Russian countryside -and from the Russian map and had transplanted itself to Dakota. Poor -old greybeard, he didn't want to go at all, but all his friends and -relatives had gone, and he felt he must follow. - -Holost told every one how at Libau the officials doubted the -genuineness of his passport, and he had to telegraph to his village -police, at his own expense, to verify his age and appearance. The -authorities didn't relish the idea of such a fine young man being -lost by any chance to the army. If only they had as much care for the -villages as they have for their legions! - -[Illustration: ENGLISH.] - -[Illustration: RUSSIANS. - -Fedya. Satiron. Alexy. Yoosha. Karl. Maxim Holost.] - -I was up betimes on Saturday morning and watched the vessel glide -out of the darkness of night into the dusk of the dawn. The electric -light up in the mainmast, the eye of the mast, squinted lividly in -the half-light, and the great phantom-like ship seemed as if cut out -of shiny-white and blood-red cardboard as it moved forward toward -the west. The smoke from the funnels lay in two long streamers to -the horizon, and the rising sun made a sooty shadow under it on the -gleaming waves. As the night-cloud vanished a great wind sprang up, -blowing off America. Old Satiron was coming laboriously upstairs, and -he slipped out on to the deck incautiously. - -"Gee whizz!" The mocking American wind caught his astrakhan hat and -gave it to the sea. Poor old Satiron, he'll turn up in Dakota with a -derby on, perhaps. - -Saturday was a day of preparation. We packed our things, we wrote -letters to catch the mail, we were medically inspected--some of us -were vaccinated. All the girls had to take off their blouses and the -young men their coats, and we filed past a doctor and two assistants. -One man washed each bare arm with a brush and some acid. The doctor -looked and examined. The other assistant stood with lymph and lancet -and rapidly jabbed us. The operation was performed at an amazing pace, -and was only an unpleasant formality. Many of those who were thus -vaccinated got their neighbours to suck out the vaccine directly they -returned to their cabins. This was what the boy who had left the dog -behind him did. He didn't want blood-poisoning, he said. Nearly all the -Russians had been vaccinated five or six times already. In Russia there -is much disease and much faith in medicine. In England good drainage, -many people not vaccinated, little smallpox; in Russia, no drains, much -vaccination, and much of the dread disease. - -On Saturday night there was a concert, at which all the steerage -were present, and in which any one who liked took part. But English -music-hall songs had all the platform--no foreign musicians -participated. - -Sunday was Easter Day, and I was up in the dark hours of the morning -and saw the dawn. Sunrise showed the clouds in the east, but in north -and south and west the other clouds still lay asleep. Up on the -after-deck of the great tireless steamer little groups of cloaked and -muffled emigrants stood gazing over the now familiar ocean. We knew it -was our last day on the ship, and that before the dawn on the morrow we -should be at the American shore. How fittingly was it Easter, first day -of resurrection, festive day of spring, day of promise and hope, the -anniversary of happy days, of first communions! - -In the wan east the shadowy wings of gulls were flickering. The -blood-red sun was just coming into view, streaked and segmented with -blackest cloud. He was striving with night, fighting, and at last -gaining the victory. High above the east and the wide circle of glory -stood hundreds of attendant cloudlets, arrayed by the sun in robes of -lovely tinting, and they fled before him with messages for us. Then, -astonishing thing, the sun disappeared entirely into shadow. Night -seemed to have gotten the victory. But we knew night could not win. - -The sun reappeared almost at once, in resplendent silver, now a rim, in -a moment a perfect shield. The shield had for a sign a maiden, and from -her bosom a lovely light flooded forth upon the world. We felt that we -ourselves, looking at it, were growing in stature in the morning. The -light enveloped us--it was divine. - -But the victory still waited. All the wavelets of the eastern sea were -living in the morning, dancing and mingling, bewildering, baffling, -delighting, but the west lay all unconquered, a great black ocean of -waves, each edged with signs of foam, as if docketed and numbered. -All seemed fixed and rigid in death. The sun disappeared again and -reappeared anew, and this time he threw into the world ochre and fire. -The wide half-circle of the east steamed an ochreous radiance to the -zenith. The sun was pallid against the beauty he had shed; the lenses -of the eye fainted upon the unearthly whiteness. It was hard to look -upon the splendid one, but only at that moment might he be seen with -the traces of his mystery upon him. Now he was in his grave-clothes, -all glistening white, but at noon he would be sitting on the right hand -of God. - -Easter! - - -"Will there be any service in the steerage to-day?" - -"No, there will only be service for first and second-class passengers." - -"Is that because they need it more than we?" - -There was no answer to that impolite remark. Still it was rather -amusing to find that the Church's office was part of the luxury of the -first and second class. - -The third class played cards and danced and sang and flirted much as -usual. They had need of blessing. - -So at night a Baptist preacher organised a prayer-meeting on his own -account, and the English-speaking people sang "Onward, Christian -soldiers," in a rather half-hearted way at eight o'clock, and "Jesus, -lover of my soul, let me to Thy Bosom fly," at nine; and there was a -prayer and a sermon. - -A few hours after I had lain down to sleep Maxim Holost put his head in -at my cabin and cried out: - -"America! Come up and see the lights of America." - -And without waiting for me to follow, he rushed away to say the same -thing to others, "America! America!" - - - - -II - -THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMMIGRANT - - -The day of the emigrants' arrival in New York was the nearest earthly -likeness to the final Day of Judgment, when we have to prove our -fitness to enter Heaven. Our trial might well have been prefaced by a -few edifying reminders from a priest. - -It was the hardest day since leaving Europe and home. From 5 -A.M., when we had breakfast, to three in the afternoon, when -we landed at the Battery, we were driven in herds from one place to -another, ranged into single files, passed in review before doctors, -poked in the eyes by the eye-inspectors, cross-questioned by the -pocket-inspectors, vice detectives, and blue-book compilers. - -Nobody had slept the night before. Those who approached America for -the first time stood on the open deck and stared at the lights of -Long Island. Others packed their trunks. Lovers took long adieus and -promised to write one another letters. There was a hum of talking in -the cabins, a continual pattering of feet in the gangways, a splashing -of water in the lavatories where cleanly emigrants were trying to wash -their whole bodies at hand-basins. At last the bell rang for breakfast: -we made that meal before dawn. When it was finished we all went up on -the forward deck to see what America looked like by morning light. A -little after six we were all chased to the after-deck and made to file -past two detectives and an officer. The detectives eyed us; the officer -counted to see that no one was hiding. - -At seven o'clock our boat lifted anchor and we glided up the still -waters of the harbour. The whole prow was a black mass of passengers -staring at the ferry-boats, the distant factories, and sky-scrapers. -Every point of vantage was seized, and some scores of emigrants were -clinging to the rigging. At length we came into sight of the green-grey -statue of Liberty, far away and diminutive at first, but later on, a -celestial figure in a blaze of sunlight. An American waved a starry -flag in greeting, and some emigrants were disposed to cheer, some shed -silent tears. Many, however, did not know what the statue was. I heard -one Russian telling another that it was the tombstone of Columbus. - -We carried our luggage out at eight, and in a pushing crowd prepared -to disembark. At 8.30 we were quick-marched out of the ship to the -Customs Wharf and there ranged in six or seven long lines. All the -officials were running and hustling, shouting out, "Come on!" "Hurry!" -"Move along!" and clapping their hands. Our trunks were examined and -chalk-marked on the run--no delving for diamonds--and then we were -quick-marched further to a waiting ferry-boat. Here for the time being -hustle ended. We waited three-quarters of an hour in the seatless -ferry, and every one was anxiously speculating on the coming ordeal -of medical and pocket examination. At a quarter to ten we steamed for -Ellis Island. We were then marched to another ferry-boat, and expected -to be transported somewhere else, but this second vessel was simply -a floating waiting-room. We were crushed and almost suffocated upon -it. A hot sun beat upon its wooden roof; the windows in the sides -were fixed; we could not move an inch from the places where we were -awkwardly standing, for the boxes and baskets were so thick about our -feet; babies kept crying sadly, and irritated emigrants swore at the -sound of them. All were thinking--"Shall I get through?" "Have I enough -money?" "Shall I pass the doctor?" and for a whole hour, in the heat -and noise and discomfort, we were kept thinking thus. At a quarter-past -eleven we were released in detachments. Every twenty minutes each and -every passenger picked up his luggage and tried to stampede through -with the party, a lucky few would bolt past the officer in charge, and -the rest would flood back with heart-broken desperate looks on their -faces. Every time they failed to get included in the outgoing party -the emigrants seemed to feel that they had lost their chance of a job, -or that America was a failure, or their coming there a great mistake. -At last, at a quarter-past twelve, it was my turn to rush out and find -what Fate and America had in store for me. - -Once more it was "Quick march!" and hurrying about with bags and -baskets in our hands, we were put into lines. Then we slowly filed up -to a doctor who turned our eyelids inside out with a metal instrument. -Another doctor scanned faces and hands for skin diseases, and then we -carried our ship-inspection cards to an official who stamped them. We -passed into the vast hall of judgment, and were classified and put into -lines again, this time according to our nationality. It was interesting -to observe at the very threshold of the United States the mechanical -obsession of the American people. This ranging and guiding and hurrying -and sifting was like nothing so much as the screening of coal in a -great breaker tower. - -It is not good to be like a hurrying, bumping, wandering piece of coal -being mechanically guided to the sacks of its type and size, but such -is the lot of the immigrant at Ellis Island. - -[Illustration: DAINTY SWEDISH GIRLS AND THEIR PARTNERS LOOKING OVER THE -SEA.] - -But we had now reached a point in the examination when we could rest. -In our new lines we were marched into stalls, and were allowed to -sit and look about us, and in comparative ease await the pleasure of -officials. The hall of judgment was crowned by two immense American -flags. The centre, and indeed the great body of the hall, was -filled with immigrants in their stalls, a long series of classified -third-class men and women. The walls of the hall were booking-offices, -bank counters, inspectors' tables, stools of statisticians. Up above -was a visitors' gallery where journalists and the curious might -promenade and talk about the melting-pot, and America, "the refuge of -the oppressed." Down below, among the clerks' offices, were exits; one -gate led to Freedom and New York, another to quarantine, a third to the -railway ferry, a fourth to the hospital and dining-room, to the place -where unsuitable emigrants are imprisoned until there is a ship to take -them back to their native land. - -Somewhere also there was a place where marriages were solemnised. -Engaged couples were there made man and wife before landing in New -York. I was helping a girl who struggled with a huge basket, and a -detective asked me if she were my sweetheart. If I could have said -"Yes," as like as not we'd have been married off before we landed. -America is extremely solicitous about the welfare of women, especially -of poor unmarried women who come to her shores. So many women fall -into the clutches of evil directly they land in the New World. The -authorities generally refuse to admit a poor friendless girl, though -there is a great demand for female labour all over the United States, -and it is easy to get a place and earn an honest living. - -It was a pathetic sight to see the doubtful men and women pass into -the chamber where examination is prolonged, pathetic also to see the -Russians and Poles empty their purses, exhibiting to men with good -clothes and lasting "jobs" all the money they had in the world. - -At half-past two I gave particulars of myself and showed the coin I -had, and was passed. - -"Have you ever been arrested?" asked the inspector. - -Well, yes, I had. I was not disposed to lie. I had been arrested four -or five times. In Russia you can't escape that. - -"For a crime involving moral turpitude?" he went on. - -"No, no." - -"Have you got a job in America?" (This is a dangerous question; if you -say 'Yes' you probably get sent back home; it is against American law -to contract for foreign labour.) - -I explained that I was a tramp. - -This did not at all please the inspector. He would not accept that -definition of my occupation, so he put me down as author. - -"Are you an anarchist?" - -"No." - -"Are you willing to live in subordination to the laws of the United -States?" - -"Yes." - -"Are you a polygamist?" - -"What does that mean?" I asked. - -"Do you believe a man may possess more than one wife at a time?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Have you any friends in New York?" - -"Acquaintances, yes." - -"Give me the address." - -I gave him an address. - -"How much money have you got?" ... "Show me, please!" ... And so on. I -was let go. - -At three in the afternoon I stood in another ferry-boat, and with a -crowd of approved immigrants passed the City of New York. Success had -melted most of us, and though we were terribly hungry, we had words and -confidences for one another on that ferry-boat. We were ready to help -one another to any extent in our power. That is what it feels like to -have passed the Last Day and still believe in Heaven, to pass Ellis -Island and still believe in America. - -Two or three of us hastened to a restaurant. I sat down at a little -table, and waited. So did the others, but we were making a mistake, -for there were no waiters. We had as yet to learn the mechanism of a -"Quick Lunch" shop; there was a certain procedure to be observed and -followed, we must learn it if we wanted a dinner. I watched the first -American citizen who came in, and did as he did. First I went to the -cashier and got a paper slip on which were printed many numbers 5, 10, -15, 25, and so on in intervals of fives. These represented cents, and -were so arranged for convenience in adding and for solid profit. At -this restaurant nothing cost less than five cents (twopence halfpenny), -and there were no intermediaries between five and ten, ten and fifteen, -and so forth. The unit then was five cents, and not as in England two -cents (one penny). Obviously this means enormous increase of takings in -the long run. That five-cent unit is part of the foundation of American -prosperity. I obtained my slip so numbered. Then I took a tray from a -stack of trays and a glass from an array of glasses, a fork and a knife -from the fork basket, and I went to the roast chicken counter and asked -for roast chicken. A plate of hot roast chicken was put on my tray, and -the white-hatted cook punched off twenty-five cents on my slip. I went -to another counter and received a plate of bread and butter, and to -yet another and sprinkled pepper and salt from the general sprinklers. -I went and drew iced water. Then, like the slave of the lamp working -for himself, I put the whole on my little table. When I had finished -my first course I put my plate aside and took my tray to the cook and -received a second, and when I had finished that I fetched my coffee. - -"Well," thought I, looking round, "no waiters, that means no tips; -there is not even a superfluous mendicant boy in charge of the swinging -doors." So I began to learn that in America the working man pays no -tips. - -My companions at the other tables were getting through with their -dinners and looking across at one another with congratulatory smiles. -We would have sat together, but in this shop one table accommodated one -customer only--an unsociable arrangement. I waited for them to finish, -so that we could go out together. - -Whilst doing so a man came up to me from another table and said very -quietly: - -"Just come over?" - -"This morning," I replied. - -He brightened up and asked: - -"Looking for a job?" - -"You don't mean to say I am being offered one already?" said I. - -"That's about it, two dollars." - -"Two dollars a day?" - -"That's the idea." - -"What's the work?" - -"Brick-making." - -It was brick-making up country for some Trust Company. I said I -was staying in New York, couldn't go just yet. He might try my -acquaintances. I pointed them out. - -One of them, a Pole, said he would go. The contractor went out with us, -and we accompanied him to his office. We took a street car. The fare -was five cents, a "nickel," and it was necessary to put the coin in the -slot of the conductor's money-box before entering. The conductor stood -stiff, like an intelligent bit of machinery, and we were to him fares -not humans. The five cents would take me to the other end of the city -if I wished it, but there was no two-cent fare in case I wished to go a -mile. That five-cent unit again! - -We sat in the car and looked out of the windows, interested in every -sight and sound. First we had glimpses of the East Side streets, all -push-carts and barrows, like Sukhareva at Moscow. Then we saw the dark -overhead railway and heard the first thunder of the Elevated train. -We went up the Bowery, unlike any other street in the world; we noted -that it was possible to get a room there for twenty cents a night. We -stared curiously at the life-sized carved and painted Indians outside -the cigar stores, and at the gay red-and-white stripe of the barbers' -revolving poles. - -We alighted just by a barber's shop. The agent showed us his office -and told us to come in if we changed our minds and would like the job. -There we left the Pole, and indeed saw him no more. - -There were two others beside myself--a Russian and a Russian Jew. -As the Jew and I both wanted a shave we all went into the barber's -shop. We were still carrying our bags, and were rather a strange -party to enter a shop together. But the barbers, a pleasant array of -close-shaven smiling Italians, were not put out in the least. They were -ready to shave any living thing. Their job was to shave and take the -cash, and not to be amused at the appearance of the customers. - -In America the barber's shop has a notice outside stating the number of -barbers. If the number is high it is considerable recommendation. Then -the briskly revolving pole suggests that it's your turn next and no -waiting. - -I was put into an immense, velvet-bottomed adjustable chair, my legs -were steadied on a three-foot stand, and the barber turning a handle -caused the back of the chair to collapse gently so that my head and -body pointed towards the doorway like the cannon mouth. Then the shave -commenced, and the barber twirled my head about and around as if it -were on a revolving hinge. And how laborious he was! In America, quick -lunch and slow shave; in England quick shave and slow lunch. And -fifteen cents for a shave, and thirty-five for a hair-cut. - -"That's a high price," said I. - -"Union rate," said he. "We are now protected against the public." - -The Jew, however, paid five cents less; he had bargained beforehand. -He said it was the last cent he'd pay for a shave in that country; -he'd buy a safety razor. The Russian smiled; he hadn't shaved yet, and -didn't intend to, ever. - -At this point the Jew parted company with us. He was going to find -a friend of his in Stanton Street. The Russian and I made for a -lodging-house in Third Avenue. At a place ticketed "Rooms by the day -or month," we rang the bell, rang the bell and waited, rang again. We -were to be initiated into another mystery of New York, the mechanical -door, the door which has almost an intelligence of its own. Down came a -German woman at last, and gave us a rare scolding. Why hadn't we turned -the handle and come in? Why had we brought her down so many flights of -stairs? - -It appeared that by turning a handle in her room on the second floor -she liberated the catch in the lock, and all the visitor had to do was -to turn the handle and walk in. - -"I heard a rattle in the lock," said I. "I wondered what it meant." - -"How long've you been in America?" she asked. - -"A few hours. We want rooms for a few days while we look about." - -"Days? My lodgers take rooms for years. I haven't any one staying less -than six months." - -This was just "boosting" her rooms, but I didn't know. I took it for -a good sign. If her tenants stayed long terms the place must be very -clean. But it was only "boosting." Still the rooms looked decent, and -we took them. They were the same price as similar rooms in the centre -of London, ten shillings a week, but dearer than in Moscow where -one would pay fifteen roubles (seven and a half dollars or thirty -shillings) a month for such accommodation. The floors were carpeted, -the sheets were white, there was a good bathroom for each four lodgers, -no children, and all was quiet. Laundry was collected, there was no -charge for the use of electric light, you received a latch-key on the -deposit of twenty-five cents, and could come in any hour of the day or -night. In signing the registration book I saw I was the only person of -Anglo-Saxon name, all were Germans, Swedes, Italians, Russians. With -British caution I hid a twenty-five dollar bill in the binding of one -of the most insignificant of my books, so that if I were robbed of -the contents of my pocket-book I should still have a stand-by. But my -suspicions were begotten only of ignorance. My fellow-lodgers were all -hard working, self-absorbed New Yorkers, who took no thought of their -neighbours, either for good or evil. - - - - -III - -THE PASSION OF AMERICA AND THE TRADITION OF BRITAIN - - -I came to America to see men and women and not simply bricks and -mortar, to understand a national life rather than to moan over sooty -cities and industrial wildernesses. Hundreds of thousands of healthy -Europeans passed annually to America. I wanted to know what this asylum -or refuge of our wanderers actually was, what was the life and hope it -offered, what America was doing with her hands, what she was yearning -for with her heart. I wished to know also what was her despair. - -On my second day in New York I was deploring the sky-scraper, when -a young American lifted her arms above her head in yearning and -aspiration saying, "Have you seen the Woolworth Building? It is a -bird's flight of stone right away up into the sky, it is higher -and newer than anything else in New York, its cream-coloured walls -are pure and undefiled. It is a commercial house, to be let to ten -thousand business tenants. But it is like a cathedral; its foundations -are on the earth, but its spire is up among the stars; if you go to -it at sundown and look upward you will see the angels ascending and -descending, and hear the murmur of Eternity about it." - -I had always thought of the sky-scraper as a black grimy street-front -that went up to an unearthly height, a Noah's Ark of sodden and smoky -bricks. That is what a sky-scraper would tend to be in London. I had -forgotten the drier, cleaner atmosphere of New York. - -I went to see the Woolworth Building, and I found it something new. It -was beautiful. It was even awe-inspiring. - -In the evening I asked an American literary man whom I met at a club -what he thought was the _raison d'etre_ of the Woolworth; was it not -simply the desire to build higher than all other houses--the wish to -make a distinct commercial hit? - -He "put me wise." - -"First of all," said he, "New York is built on the little island of -Manhattan. The island is all built over, and so, as we cannot expand -outward we've got to build upward. Ground rent, too, has become so high -that we must build high for economy's sake." - -I remarked on the number of men who lost their lives in the building of -sky-scrapers. "For every minute of the day there was a man injured in -some town or other of the United States," so I had read in an evening -paper. - -He said the Americans were playing large, and must expect to lose -a few men in the game. He expected the America of the future would -justify all sacrifices made just now, and he gave me in the course of a -long talk his view of the passion of America. - -"The Woolworth Building is only an inadequate symbol of our faith," -said he. "You British and the Germans and French are working on a -different principle, you are playing the small game, and playing it -well. You stake your efficiency on the perfection of details. In -the German life, for instance, nothing is too small to be thought -unmeriting of attention." - -I told him the watchword of the old chess champion Steinitz, "I do not -vant to vin a pawn; it is enough if I only veakens a pawn." - -"You play chess?" said he, laughing. "That's it exactly. He did not -care to sacrifice pieces; he was entirely on the defensive in his -chess, eh? And in life he would be the same, hoarding his pennies and -his dollars, and economising and saving. That's just how the American -is different. He doesn't mind taking great risks; he is playing -the large game, sacrificing small things, hurrying on, building, -destroying, building again, conquering, dreaming. We are always selling -out and re-investing. You are concentrating on yourselves as you are; -we want to leave our old bodies and conditions behind and jump to a new -humanity. If an American youth could inherit the whole world he would -not care to improve it if he saw a chance of selling it to some one -and getting something better." - -"The spirit of business," I suggested. - -"Call it what you will." - -"But," said I, "does not this merely result in a town full of a -hustling, mannerless crowd; trolley-cars dashing along at life-careless -speed; a nation at work with loosely constructed machinery; callous -indifference on the part of the living towards those whom they kill in -their rush to the goal?" - -My new acquaintance looked at me in a way that seemed to say -"You--Britisher." He was a great enthusiast for his country, and I had -been sent to him by friends in London who wanted me to get to the heart -of America, and not simply have my teeth set on edge by the bitter rind. - -"You think the end will justify the proceedings?" I added. - -"Oh yes," he said. "You know we've only been fifty years on this job; -there's nothing in modern America more than fifty years old. Think of -what we've done in the time--clearing, building, engineering; think of -the bridges we've built, the harbours, the canals, the great factories, -the schools. We've been taxed to the last limit of physical strength, -and only to put down the pavement and the gas-pipes so to speak, the -things you found ready made for you when you were born, but which we -had to lay on the prairie. We are only now beginning to look round and -survey the foundations of civilisation. Still most of us are hurrying -on, but the end will be worth the trials by the way; we - - - "Are whirling from heaven to heaven - And less will be lost than won." - - -"But is it not a miserable, heartless struggle for the individual?" -said I. "For instance, to judge by the story of _The Jungle_ I should -gather that the lot of a Russian family come fresh to Chicago was -terrible." - -"Oh, you mustn't take Sinclair literally. He is a Socialist who wants -to show that society, as it is at present constituted, is so bad that -there is no hope except in revolution. There is heartbreak often, -but the struggle is not heartless. It is amazingly full of hope. If -you go into the worst of our slums you'll find the people hopeful, -even in extremity. I've been across to London, and I never saw such -hopeless-looking people as those who live in your East Ham and West Ham -and Poplar and the rest of them." - -"There is hope with us too," I protested. "The people in our slums are -very rebellious, they look forward to the dictatorship of Will Thorne -or George Lansbury." - -"Ah well," my friend assented, "that's your kind of -hope--rebelliousness, hatred of the splendid and safe machine. That's -just it. We haven't your rebelliousness and quarrelsomeness. The -new-come immigrant is always quarrelling with his neighbours. It is -only after a while that America softens him and enriches his heart. The -vastness of America, the abundance of its riches, is infectious; it -makes the heart larger. The immigrant feels he has room, life is born -in him." - -"But," said I, "the great machine is here as in Europe. A man is known -by his job here just as much as with us, isn't he? He is labelled and -known, he fills a fixed place and has a definite rotation. Every man -says to him 'I see what you are, I know what you are; you are just what -I see and no more.' His neighbour takes him for granted thus. Out of -that horrible taking-for-granted springs rebelliousness and hate of the -great machine. You must be as rebellious as we are." - -"No, no." My companion wouldn't have it. "We don't look at people that -way in America. But you're right about looks. It's looks that make -people hate. It's eyes that make them curse and swear and hate. Every -day hundreds and thousands of eyes look at one. I think eyes have power -to create. If thousands and thousands of people pass by a man and look -at him with their eyes they almost change him into what they see. If -in the course of years millions of eyes look at an individual and see -in him just some little bolt in a great machine, then his tender human -heart wants to turn into iron. The ego of that man has a forlorn and -terrible battle to fight. He thinks he is fighting himself; he is -really fighting the millions of creative eyes who by faith are changing -flesh and blood into soulless machinery." - -"And here?" I queried. - -He laughed a moment, and then said seriously, "Here it is different. -Here we are playing large. Oh, the dwarfing power, the power to make -you mean, that the millions of eyes possess in a country that is -playing the small game! They make you feel mean and little, and then -you become mean. They kill your heart. Your dead little heart withdraws -the human films and the tenderness and imaginativeness from your eyes, -and you also begin to look out narrowly, dwarfingly, compellingly. You -eye the people in the streets, in the cars, in the office, and they -can't help becoming what you are." - -"But some escape," said I. - -"Yes, some go and smash windows and get sent to gaol, some become -tramps, and some come to America. In Giant Despair's dungeon poor -Christian exclaims, 'What a fool I am to remain here when I have in my -heart a key which I am persuaded will unlock any of the doors of this -castle. Strange that it has only now occurred to me that all I need -to do is to lift my hand and open the door and go away.' Then poor -Christian books a passage to America or Australia. He starts for the -New World; and the moment he puts his foot on the vessel he begins to -outgrow. He was his very smallest and meanest under the pressure of -the Old World; when the pressure is removed he begins to expand. He is -free. He is on his own. He is sailing to God as himself. The exception -has beaten the rule. Now I hold as a personal belief that we are all -exceptions, that we take our stand before God as tender human creatures -of His, each unique in itself. The emigrant on the boat has the -delicious feelings of convalescence, of getting to be himself again. He -basks in the sun of freedom. The sun itself seems like the all-merciful -Father, the Good Shepherd who cares for each one and knows each by -name, leading him out to an earthly paradise." - -"That paradise is America, eh?" said I rather mockingly, and then I -paused and added, "But America ought to be really a paradise; it is -pathetic to think of the difference between America as the Russian -thinks it to be and America as it is. It is a shame that your trusts -and tariffs and corrupt police should have made America a worse place -to live in than the Old World. I know it is the land of opportunity, -opportunity to become rich, to get on, to be famous; but for the poor -immigrant it is rather the land of opportunism, a land where he himself -is the opportunity, which not he but other people have the chance to -seize." - -My friend was scandalised. "I think it gives every one an -opportunity," said he, "even the drunkard and the thief and the -embezzler whom you so incharitably hand over to us. You know the -saying, 'It takes an ocean to receive a muddy stream without -defilement.' The ocean of American life cleanses many a muddy stream of -the Old World." - -"Still," said I, "not to abandon oneself utterly to ideas, is it not -true that Pittsburg actually destroys thousands of Slav immigrants -yearly? It utterly destroys them. They have no children who come -to anything--they are just wiped out. I gather so much from your -Government survey of Pittsburg." - -"Well," said he, "that survey is just part of the New America, of -the new national conscience. Terrible things do happen, witness the -enormous white-slave traffic. You have just come to us at the right -moment to see the initiation of sweeping changes. President Wilson is -like your David Lloyd George, only he has more power, because he has -more people at his back. We are just beginning a great progressive era. -On the other hand, America is not the place of the weak. That's why we -send so many back home from Ellis Island. We've got something else to -do than try and put Humpty Dumpty up on the wall again. When the weaker -get past Ellis Island into our fierce national life they are bound to -go to the wall. We haven't time even to be sorry, and if questioned we -can only answer that we believe the sacrifice will be justified." - -I recall to my mind the startling objection of Ivan Karamazof in the -greatest of Russian novels. "When God's providence is fulfilled we -shall understand all things; we shall see how the pain and death of, -for instance, a little child could be necessary. I understand of course -what an upheaval of the universe it will be when everything in heaven -and earth blends in one hymn of praise, and everything that lives -and has lived cries aloud, 'Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are -revealed'; but to my mind the pain of one little child were too high a -price to pay." Ivan Karamazof would certainly have renounced the grand -future of America bought by the exploitation of thousands of weak and -helpless ones. - -Still I suppose the past must take care of itself, and the America -which stands to-day on the threshold of a new era has more thought and -tenderness for the victims of its commercial progress. It is making up -its mind to save the foreign women and their little babies. For the -rest, America plays large, as my friend said. There is a spaciousness -with her, there is contrast, there is life and death, virtue and sin, -things to laugh over and things to cry over. The little baby buds are -taken away and branches are lopped, but the mustard grows a great tree. - -There is a chance in America, a chance that you may be a victim, but -also a chance that you may be in at the mating of the King. - - * * * * * * * - -Several months later, when I had tramped some six hundred American -miles, and talked to all manner of persons, I realised that America -was superlatively a place of hope. I had been continually asking -myself, "What _is_ America? What _is_ this new nation? How are they -different from us at home in England?" And one morning, sitting under -a bush in Indiana, the answer came to me and I wrote it down. They are -fundamentally people who have crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and we are -stay-at-homes. They are adventurous, hopeful people. They are people -who have thrown themselves on the mercy of God and Nature. - -We live in a tradition; they live in an expectation. We are remedying -the old state; they are building the new. We are loyal to the ideas of -our predecessors, they are agape to divine the ideas of generations yet -to come. - -It is possible to come to Britain and see what Britain is, but if you -go to America the utmost you can see is what America is becoming. And -when you see the Briton you see a man steadfast at some post of duty, -but the American is something to-day but God-knows-what to-morrow. Our -noblest epitaph is "He knew his job"; theirs, "He sacrificed himself to -a cause." - -Observe, "that state of life unto which it shall please God to call -me," puts the Briton in a static order of things. He is in his little -shop, or at the forge, or in the coal yard. Within his sight is the -Norman tower of the village church. He is known to the priest by his -name and his job. He is part of the priests' cure of souls. His life -is functionised at the village altar and not at the far shrines of -ambition. He belongs to the peasant world. Even though he is English he -is as the Russian, "one of God's faithful slaves." - -Thousands of English, Scotch, and Irish, simple souls, say their -prayers to God each night, not because they are pillars of a chapel -or have lately been "saved," but because they have been brought up in -that way of life and in that relation to God. They pray God sometimes -in anguish that they may be helped _to do their duty_. They say the -Lord's Prayer, not as a patter, but with the stark simplicity which you -associate with the grey wall of the old church. - -These village folk of ours are like old trees. Close your eyes to the -visible and open them to the invisible world, and you see the young -man of to-day as the stem, his father as the branch, his grandfather -the greater branch. You see in the shadow rising out of the earth the -ancient trunk. You think of many people, and yet it is not father and -grandfather, and grandfather and great-grandfather, and so on, but -one tree, the name of which is the young man leafing in the world -of to-day. That man is no shoot, no seedling, he has behind him the -consciousness of the vast umbrageous oak. When he says "Our Father, -which art in heaven," the voice comes out of the depths of the earth, -and it comes from father and grandfather, and from greybeard after -greybeard standing behind one another's shoulders, innumerably. - -The place to which it shall please God to call you is not a definite -locality in the United States of America; the dream of wealth is -dreamed inside each cottage door. Each man is intent on getting on, on -realising something new. He is revolving in his mind ways of doing more -business; of doing what he has more quickly, more economically; ways of -"boosting," ways of buying. Our customers _buy from_ us: his customers -_trade with_ him--they enter into harmony with him. Store-keepers and -customers sing together like gnats over the oak trees; they make things -hum. There is a feeling that whether buying or selling you are getting -forward. - -The British, however, put a great question-mark in front of this -American life. Do those who are striving know what they want in the end -of ends? Do those toiling in the wood know what is on the other side? - -The late Price Collier remarked that the German thinks he has done -something when he has an idea and the Frenchman when he has made an -epigram; it may be inferred that the American thinks he has done -something when he has made his pile. The ultimate earthly prize for -"boosting" and bargaining is a vulgar solatium,--a big house, an -abundant person, a few gold rings, an adorned wife, a high-power -touring car. Out in those wider spaces where lagging and outdistanced -competitors are not taken into your counsel you still handle business. -But now it is in "graft" that you deal. You are engineering trusts, and -cornering commodities, you develop political "pull," you own saloons, -and have ledgers full of the bought votes of Italians and Slavs. - -You are great ... sitting at the steering-wheel of this great -ramshackle political and commercial machine, your coat off and your -immaculate lawn sleeves tucked up above your elbows, you own to -wolfish-eyed reporters that you have an enormous appetite for work and -zest for life. - -And yet.... - -What is the crown? You die in the midst of it. There is no goal, no -priceless treasure that even in the death-struggle your hands grasp -after. - -Some of your children are going in for a life of pleasure. They go to -be the envy of waiters and hotel-porters and all people waiting about -for tips, but often to be the laughing-stock of the cultured. One of -your sweet but simple-souled daughters is going to marry a broken-down -English peer. He will not marry her for less than a million dollars. -In the old store where you began business, gossiping over bacon and -flour, you would have looked rather blank if some one had said that a -foreigner would consent to marry your daughter only on the payment of -an indemnity. - -"Well," said my road-companion to me under a bush in Indiana, "the game -goes to pass the time. The world is a prison-house, and a good game -has been invented, commerce, and it saves us from ennui, that is the -philosophy of it all. Scores of years pass like an hour over cards. -Those who win are most interested and take least stock of the time--and -they have invented happiness." - -But I cannot believe that the American destiny leads up a cul-de-sac. -We have been following out a cross-road. There is a high road somewhere -that leads onward. - -There are two sorts of immigrant, one that makes his pile and returns -to Europe, the other who thinks America a desirable place to settle in. -The second class is vastly more numerous than the first, for faith in -American life is even greater than faith in America's wealth. - -Quite apart from the opportunities for vulgar success America has -wonderful promise. It can offer to the newcomer colonist a share in a -great enterprise. It is quite clear to the sympathetic observer that -something is afoot in the land which in Great Britain seems to be -best known by police scandals, ugly dances, sentimental novels, and -boastful, purse-conscious travellers. - -The dream of Progress by which Westerners live is going to be carried -forward to some realisation in America. There is a great band of -workers united in the idea of making America the most pleasant and -happy place to live in that the world has ever known. I refer to those -working with such Americans as J. Cotton Dana, the fervent librarian; -Mr. Fred Howe, who is visualising the cities of the future; the -President of the City College, who has such regard not only for the -cultural but for the physical well-being of young men; Jane Addams, who -with such precision is diagnosing social evils; President Wilson, who -promises to uproot the tree of corruption; to mention only the chief -of those with whom I was brought in contact in my first experience of -America. - -The political struggles of America form truly a sad spectacle, but by a -thousand non-political signs one is aware that there is a real passion -in the breast of the individual. - -Going through the public gardens at Newark I see written up: "Citizens, -this park is yours. It was planted for you, that the beauty of its -flowers and the tender greenery of tree and lawn might refresh you. You -will therefore take care of it...." - -Going through Albany I find it placarded: "Dirt is the origin of sin; -get rid of dirt, and other evils will go with it," and the whole -city is having a clean-up week, all the school children formed into -anti-dirt regiments making big bonfires of rubbish and burying the -tomato-cans and rusty iron. - -Every city in America has been stirring itself to get clean. Even in a -remote little place like Clarion, Pa., I read on every lamp-post: "Let -your slogan be 'Do it for Home, Sweet Home'--clean up!" and again in -another place, "Develop your social conscience; you've got one, make -the country beautiful." In New York I have handed me the following -prayer, which has seemed to me like the breath of the new passion: - - - We pray for our sisters who are leaving the ancient shelter of - the home to earn their wage in the store and shop amid the press - of modern life. Grant them strength of body to bear the strain - of unremitting toil, and may no present pressure unfit them for - the holy duties of home and motherhood which the future may lay - upon them. Give them grace to cherish under the new surroundings - the old sweetness and gentleness of womanhood, and in the rough - mingling of life to keep the purity of their hearts and lives - untarnished. Save them from the terrors of utter want. Teach them - to stand by their sisters loyally, that by united action they - may better their common lot. And to us all grant wisdom and firm - determination that we may not suffer the women of our nation to be - drained of strength and hope for the enrichment of a few, lest our - homes grow poor in the wifely sweetness and motherly love which - have been the saving strength and glory of our country. If it must - be so that our women toil like men, help us still to reverence in - them the mothers of the future. If they yearn for love and the - sovereign freedom of their own home, give them in due time the - fulfilment of their sweet desires. By Mary the beloved, who bore - the world's redemption in her bosom; by the memory of our own dear - mothers who kissed our souls awake; by the little daughters who - must soon go out into that world which we are now fashioning for - others, we pray that we may deal aright by all women. - - -Men are praying for women, and women are working for themselves. -Commercial rapacity is tempered by women's tears, and the tender -stories of the shop-girl that O. Henry wrote are more read to-day than -they were in the author's lifetime. The newspapers are all agog with -the "vice-probes," scandals, questions of eugenics, the menace of -organised capital, the woman's movement. And they are not so because -vice is more prolific than in Europe, or the race more inclined to -fail, or the working men and working women more tyrannised over. They -are so because this generation wishes to realise something of the New -Jerusalem in its own lifetime. It may be only a foolish dream, but it -provides the present atmosphere of America. It discounts the despair -which on the one hand prudery and on the other rag-time dancing -invite. It discounts the commercial and mechanical obsession of the -people. It discounts the wearisome shouting of the cynic who has money -in his pocket, and makes America a place in which it is still possible -for the simple immigrant to put his trust. In the light of this -passion, and never forgetful of it, I view all that comes to my notice -in America of to-day. - - - - -IV - -INEFFACEABLE MEMORIES OF NEW YORK - - -First, the flood of the homeward tide at six-thirty in the evening, the -thousands and tens of thousands of smartly dressed shop-girls hurrying -and flocking from the lighted West to the shadowy East--their bright, -hopeful, almost expectant features, their vivacity and energy even at -the end of the long day. I felt the contrast with the London crowd, -which is so much gloomier and wearier as it throngs into our Great -Eastern terminus of Liverpool Street. New York has a stronger class of -girl than London. Our shop-girls are London-bred, but your Sadie and -Dulcie are the children of foreigners; they have peasant blood in them -and immigrant hope. They have a zest for the life that New York can -offer them after shop-hours. - -The average wage of the American shop-girl is stated to be seven -dollars (twenty-eight shillings) per week; the average wage in London -is about ten shillings, or two and a half dollars.[1] I suppose that -is another reason why our New York sisters are more cheerful. Despite -the high price of food in New York there must be a comparatively broad -margin left to the American girl to do what she likes with. The cult of -the poor little girl of the Department Store is perhaps only a cult. -For there are many women in New York more exploited than she. When the -shop-girl sells herself to rich men for marriage or otherwise she does -so because she has been infected by the craze for finery and wealth, is -energetic and vivacious, and is morally undermined. It is not because -she is worn out and ill-paid. If New York is evil it is not because -New York is a failure. The city is prosperous and evil as well. The -freshness and health and vigour of the rank and file of New York were -amazing to one familiar with the drab and dreary procession of workers -filing into the city of London at eight in the morning and away from it -at the same hour in the evening. - - -Then the Grand Central Station, with its vast high hall of marble, -surmounted by a blue-green ceiling which, aping heaven itself, is -fretted and perforated and painted to represent the clear night sky. -That starry roof astonished me. It reminded me of a story I heard of G. -K. Chesterton, that he lay in bed on a Sunday morning and with a crayon -mounted on a long handle drew pictures on the white ceiling. It was -like some dream of Chesterton's realised. - -For a long time I looked at the painted roof and picked out my -beloved stars and constellations,--the planets under which I like to -sleep,--and then I thought, "Strange, that out in the glowing Broadway, -not far away, the real stars are hidden from the gaze of New York by -flashing and twinkling and changing sky-signs in manifold colour and -allurement. Every night the dancing-girl is dancing in the sky, and -the hand pours out the yellow beer into the foaming glass which, like -the vision of the Grail, appears but to vanish; every night the steeds -prance with the Greek chariot, the athletes box, the kitten plays with -the reel. These are the real stars and constellations of Broadway, for -Charles's Wain is never seen, neither Orion nor the chair of Cassiopeia -nor the Seven Sisters. To see them you must come in here, into the -Grand Central Station." - -But apart from this paradox, what a station this is--a great silent -temple, a place wherein to come to meditate and to pray. It is more -beautiful than any of the churches of America. How much more beautiful -than the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, for instance. That cathedral -will be the largest church in the world when it is finished, and, -vanity of vanities, how much more secular it is than the station! It is -almost conceivable that after some revolution in the future, New York -might change its mind and go to worship at the Grand Central Station -and run its trains into the Cathedral of St. John. - -Americans are proud of saying that the Woolworth Building, the Grand -Central Station, the Pennsylvania Railway Station, and the New York -Central Library show the New York of the future. Almost everything else -will be pulled down and built to match these. They are new buildings, -they are the soul of the New America finding expression. They are -temples of a new religion. Americans pray more and aspire more to God -in these than they do in their churches. - - * * * * * * * - -There stands out in my memory the East Side, and the slums which I -walked night after night in quest of some idea, some redeeming feature, -something that would explain them to me. I walked almost at random, -taking ever the first turning to the left, the first to the right, and -the first to the left again, coming ever and anon to the river and the -harbour, and having to turn and change. - -The East Side is more spectacular than the East End of London. The -houses are so high, and there is so much more crowding, that you get -into ten streets of New York what we get into a hundred streets. The -New York slums are slums at the intensest. The buildings, great frames -of rags and dirt, hang over the busy street below, and are wildly alive -from base to summit. All day long the bedding hangs out at the windows -or on the iron fire-escapes attached to the houses. Women are shouting -and children are crying on the extraordinary stairs which lead from -room to room and story to story in the vast honeycomb of dens. On the -side-walk is a rough crowd speaking all tongues. The toy doors of the -saloons swing to and fro, simple couples sit on high stools in the -soda-bars and suck various kinds of "dope." Lithuanian and Polish boys -are rushing after one another with toy pistols, the girls are going -round and round the barber's pole, singing and playing, with hands -joined. The stores are crowded, and notices tell the outsider that he -can buy two quarts of Grade B milk for eleven cents, or ten State eggs -for twenty-five cents. You come to streets where all the bakers' shops -are "panneterias," and you know you are among the Italians. One Hundred -and Thirteenth Street as it goes down from Second Avenue to First -Avenue is full of Greeks and Italians, and is extraordinarily dark and -wild; men of murderous aspect are prowling about, there is howling -across the street from tenement to tenement. Dark, plump women stand at -doorways and stare at you, and occasionally a negress in finery trapes -past. - -You come to little Italian theatres where the price of admission is -only five cents, and find them crammed with families, so that you -cannot hear _Rigoletto_ for the squalling of the babies. There are mean -cinema houses where you see only worn-out and spoiled films giving -broken and incoherent stories. And all the while the lights and -shadows play, the Greek hawker of confectionery shouts: - -"Soh-dah!" - -"Can-dee!" - -You continue your wanderings and you strike a nigger district. -Negresses and their beaux are flirting in corners and on doorsteps. -Darky boys and girls are skirling in the roadway. Smartly dressed young -men, carrying canes, come giggling and pushing one another on the -pavement, crying out music-hall catches--"Who was you with last night?" -and the like. - -You know the habitat of the Jew by the abundance of junk-shops, -old-clothes shops, and offices of counsellors-at-law. It seems the -Jews are very litigious, and even the poorest families go to law for -their rights. You find windows full of boxing-gloves, for the Jews are -great boxers in America. You find stalls and push-carts without end. -And every now and then rubbish comes sailing down from a window up -above. That is one of the surest signs of the Jews being installed--the -pitching of cabbage-leaves and fish-bones and sausage-parings from -upper windows. - -What a sight was Delancey Street, with its five lines of naphtha-lit -stalls, its array of tubs of fish and heaps of cranberries, its -pavements slippery with scales, the air heavy with the odour of fish! - -On one of the first of my nights out in the New York streets I came on -a most wonderful sight. After prolonging a journey that started in -the centre of the city I found myself suddenly plunging downward among -dark and wretched streets. I was following out my zigzag plan, and came -at last to a cul-de-sac. This was at the end of East Ninth Street. It -was very dark and forbidding; there were no shops, only warehouses and -yards. There were no people. I expected to find a new turning to the -left, and was rather fearsome of taking it even should I find it. But -at length I saw I had come to the East River. At the end of the street -the water lapped against a wooden landing-stage, and there I saw a -picture of wonder and mystery. - -High over the glimmering water stood Brooklyn Bridge, with its long -array of blazing electric torches and its procession of scores of -little car-lights trickling past. The bridge hung from the high heaven -by dark shadows. It was the brightest ornament of the night. I sat on -an overturned barrow and looked out. Up to me and past me came stalking -majestic ferry-boats, all lights and white or shadowy faces. Far away -on the river lay anchored boats with red and green lights, and beyond -all were the black silhouettes of the building and shipping on Long -Island Shore. - - * * * * * * * - -It was interesting to me to participate in the Russian Easter in New -York, having lived in the Protestant and Roman Catholic Easters a whole -month before on the emigrant ship on the day we reached New York. I -came to the diminutive Russian cathedral in East Ninety-Fifth Street -on Easter Eve at midnight. I had been at a fancy-dress party in the -evening, and as fortune would have it, had gone in Russian attire; that -is, in a blue blouse like a Moscow workman. What was my astonishment to -find myself the only person so dressed in the great throng of Russians -surging in and out of the cathedral and the side street where the -overflow of them talked and chattered. They were all in bowler hats, -and wore collars and ties and American coats and waistcoats. They even -looked askance at me for coming in a blouse; they thought I might be a -Jew or a German, or a foolish spy trying to gain confidences. - -I shall never forget the inside of the cathedral at one in the morning, -the vociferous singing, the beshawled peasant girls, the tear-stained -faces. Priest after priest came forward and praised the Orthodox Church -and the Russian people, and appealed to the worshippers to remember -that all over the Russian world the same service was being held, not -only in the great cathedrals and monasteries, but in the village -churches, in the far-away forest settlements, at the shrines in lonely -Arctic islands, in the Siberian wildernesses, on the Urals, in the -fastnesses of the Caucasus, on the Asian deserts, in Jerusalem itself. -It was pathetic to hear the priests exhort these young men and women -to remain Russians--they were all young, and they all or nearly all -looked to America as their new home. On all ordinary occasions they -longed to be Americans and to be called Americans; but this night a -flood of feeling engulfed them, and in the New York night they set sail -and looked hungrily to the East whence they came. They held tapers. -They had tenderly brought their cakes, their chickens and joints of -pork, to be sprinkled with holy water and blessed by the priest for -their Easter _breakfast_. It was sad to surmise how few had really -fasted through Lent, and yet to see how they clung to departing -tradition. - -Coming out of the cathedral we each received a verbose revolutionary -circular printed in the Russian tongue: "Keep holy the First of May! -Hail to the war of the Classes! Hurrah for Socialism! Workmen of all -classes, combine!"--and so on. In Russia a person distributing such -circulars would be rushed off to gaol at once. In New York it is -different, and "influences" of all kinds are in full blast. I looked -over the shoulders of many groups outside the cathedral on Easter Day -and found them reading those New York rags, which are conceived in -ignorance and dedicated to anarchism. It seems the Russian who comes -to New York is at once grabbed by the existent Social-Democratic -organisations, and though he go to church still, he begins to be -more and more attached to revolutionism. It is strange that these -organisations are directed, not against the Tsar and the officialdom -of Russia, but against the Government of the United States and the -commercial machine. There is no question of America being a refuge for -the persecuted Russian. The latter is assured at once that America is -a place of even worse tyranny than the land he has come from. But if -he does not take other people's word he soon comes to that conclusion -on his own account. For he finds himself and his brothers working like -slaves and drinking themselves to death through sheer boredom, and he -finds his sisters in the "sweat-shops" of the garment-workers, or loses -them in houses of evil. - - * * * * * * * - -I shall long remember the Night Court on Sixth Avenue, and several -occasions when I entered there after midnight and found the same -shrewd, tireless Irish judge nonchalantly fining and sentencing -negresses and white girls found in the streets under suspicious -circumstances. Many a poor Russian girl was brought forward, and called -upon to defend herself against the allegations of the soulless spies -and secret agents of the American Police. I listened to their sobs and -cries, their protests of innocence, their promises of repentance, till -I was ready to rise in Court and rave aloud and shriek, and be pounced -upon by the great fat pompous usher who represses even the expression -on your features. "Why," I wanted to cry aloud, "it is America that -ought to be tried, and not these innocent victims of America--they are -the evidence of America's guilt and not the committers of her crimes!" -But I was fixed in silence, like the reporters doing their jobs in the -front bench, and the unmoved, hard-faced attendants and police by whom -the order of the Court was kept. - -Then, not far along the same road in which the Night Court stands, -I came one evening into a wax-work show of venereal disease. It was -quite by chance I went in, for there was nothing outside to indicate -what was within. Only the spirit of adventure, which prompted me to -go in and look round wherever I saw an open door, betrayed me to -this chamber of horrors. There I saw, in pink and white and red, the -human body in the loathsome inflammation and corruption of the city's -disease. Chief of all I remember the queen of the establishment, a -hypnotic-seeming corpse of wax, lying full-length in a shroud in a -glass case. Just enough of the linen was held aside to show or suggest -the terrible cause of her decease. The show was no more than a doctor's -advertisement, and it was open in the name of science, but it was an -unforgettable vision of death at the heart of this great city pulsating -with life. - - * * * * * * * - -Then the splendour of Broadway, the great White Way, "calling moths -from leagues, from hundreds of leagues," as O. Henry wrote. What a city -of enchantment and wonder New York must seem to the traveller from some -dreary Russian or Siberian town, if seen aright. It is a thrilling -spectacle. Now that I have looked at it I say to myself, "Fancy any man -having lived and died in this era without having seen it!" Five hundred -years ago the island was dark and empty, with the serene stars shining -over it; but now the creatures of the earth have found it and built -this city on it, lit by a myriad lights. Thousands of years hence it -will be dark again belike, and empty, and uninhabited, and once more -the serene stars will shine over the island. - -[Illustration: APPLE ORCHARDS IN BLOSSOM ON THE SPURS OF THE CATSKILLS.] - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] In Russia the average wage of the shop-girl is 12 roubles a month -(_i.e._, 11/2 dollars, or 6s. a week), but then she is a humble creature -and lives simply. - - - - -V - -THE AMERICAN ROAD - - -Out in the country was a different America. The maples were all red, -the first blush of the dawn of summer. In the gardens the ficacia was -shooting her yellow arrows, in the woods the American dogwood tree was -covered with white blossoms like thousands of little dolls' nightcaps. -Down at Caldwell, New Jersey, I picked many violets and anemones--large -blue fragrant violets. The bride's veil was in lovely wisps and armfuls -of white. The unfolding oak turned all rose, like the peach tree in -bloom. Each morning when I awakened and went out into the woods I found -something new had happened overnight,--thus I discovered the sycamore -in leaf, fringing and fanning, and then the veils which the naked birch -trees were wearing. The birches began to look like maidens doing their -hair. The fern fronds and azalea buds opened their hands. The chestnut -tree lit up her many candles. The shaggy hickory, the tree giant whose -bark hangs in rags and clots, had looked quite dead, but with the -coming of May it was seen to be awaking tenderly. In the glades the -little columbines put on their pink bonnets. Only the pines and cedars -were dark and changeless, as if grown old in sin beside the tender -innocence of the birches. - -It is very pleasant living in the half-country--living, that is, -in the outer suburbs of the great American city or in the ordinary -suburbs of the small city. New York has very little corresponding to -our Walthamstow, Enfield, Catford, Ilford, Camberwell, and all those -dreary congested parishes that lie eight to ten miles from the centre -of London. The American suburbs are garden cities without being called -so. Each house is detached from its neighbour, there is a stretch of -greenest lawn in front of it, there is a verandah on which are fixed -hammocks and porch-swings, there are flower-beds, blossoming shrubs, -the shade of maples and cherry trees. There are no railings or fences, -and the people on the verandah look down their lawn to the road and -take stock of all the people passing to and fro. - -Working men and women live a long way out, and are content to spend an -hour or an hour and a half a day in trains and cars if only to be quite -free of the city when work is over. - -Twelve miles of garden city is very wearisome to the pedestrian; but he -tramps them gaily when he remembers that the country is ahead, and that -he has not simply to retrace his footsteps to a town-dwelling which for -the time being he calls home. - -I set off for Chicago in the beginning of May--not in a Pullman car, -but on my own feet; for in order to understand America it is necessary -to go to America, and the only way she can be graciously approached -is humbly, on one's feet. I travelled just in the same way as I have -done the last four years in Russia--viz. with a knapsack on my back, a -staff in my hand, and a stout pair of boots on my feet. I carried my -pot, I had matches, and I reckoned to buy my own provisions as I went -along, and to cook what was necessary over my own fire by the side of -the road. At night I proposed to sleep at farmhouses in cold weather, -and under the stars when it was warm. I was ready in mind and body for -whatever might happen to me. If the farmers proved to be inhospitable, -and would not take me in on cold or rainy nights, I would quite -cheerfully tramp on till I came to a hotel, or a barn, or a cave, or -a bridge, or any place where man, the wanderer, could reasonably find -shelter from the elements. - -I took the road with great spirits. There is something unusually -invigorating in the American air. It is marvellously healthy and -strength-giving, this virginal land. Every tree and shrub seems to -have a full grasp of life, and outbreathes a robust joy. It is as if -the earth itself had greater supplies of unexhausted strength than -Europe has--as if, indeed, it were a newer world, and had spent less of -the primeval potencies and energies bequeathed to this planet at her -birth. How different from tranquil and melancholy Russia! - -America is more spacious in New York State than in New York City. The -landscape is so broad that could Atlas have held it up, you feel he -must have had fine arms. Your eyes, but lately imprisoned so closely -by unscalable sky-scrapers, run wild in freedom to traverse the long -valleys and forested ridges, waking the imagination to realise the -country of the Indians. There is a vast sky over you. The men and women -on the road have time to talk to you, and the farmer ambling along in -his buggy is interested to give you a lift and ask after your life and -your fortunes; and when he puts you down, and you thank him, he answers -in an old-fashioned way: - -"You're welcome; hand on my heart." - -In the city no one has a word to say to you, but in the country every -one is curious. It is more neighbourly to be curious and to ask -questions. I rejoiced in every scrap of talk, even in such triviality -as my chat with Otto Friedrichs, a workman, who hailed me at East Berne. - -"Are you an Amarikan?" - -"No." - -"Sprechen Sie deutsch, mein Herr?" - -"No; I'm English." - -"That bag on your back is made in Germany." - -"Very likely," said I; "I bought it in London." - -"You running avay in case dere should be ze war, eh?" - -"Well, it would be safer here, even for you." - -"What you think of our Kaiser?" - -"Fine man," said I. - -"Some say ze Kaiser is too English to make ze war. But do you know wat -I read in ze newspaper? Der Kaiser cut his hand by accident, zen he -hold up his finger--so, viz ze blood on it, and he say, 'Dat is my las' -blood of English tropp,' and he ... the blood away." - -Not knowing the word for "flicked" Otto told me in dumb show with his -fingers. - -"Last drop of English blood, eh?" said I. - -"Yes." - -"So he's quite German now, and ready to fight." - -As I sat at the side of the road every passer-by was interested in my -fire and my pot. They pitied me when they saw me trudging along the -road, and when I told them I was tramping to Chicago they commonly -exclaimed: - -"Gee! I wouldn't do that for ten thousand dollars." - -But when they saw me cooking my meals they stopped and looked at -me wistfully--that was their weakness; a hankering, not after the -wilderness, but for the manna there. They addressed to me such -non-pertinent remarks as: - -"So that's how you fix it." - -"I say, you'll get burned up." - -"Are yer making yer coffee?" - -There was a great doubt as to my business, as the following -interlocutions will suggest. In Russia I should be asked: - -"Where are you going?" - -"To Kieff," I might answer. - -"To pray," the Russian would conclude. But in America I was most -commonly taken to be a pedlar. - -"Whar you going?" - -"Chicago," I answered. - -"Peddling?" - -It astonished me to be taken for a pedlar. But I was almost as -commonly taken to be walking for a wager. I was walking under certain -conditions. I must not take a lift. I must keep up thirty miles a day. -I was walking to Chicago on a bet. Some one had betted some one else -I wouldn't do it in a certain time. I took only a dollar in my pocket -and was supporting myself by my work. I lectured in schoolhouses, -mended spades, would lend a hand in the hayfield. Or I was walking to -advertise a certain sort of boot. Or I was walking on a certain sort -of diet to advertise somebody's patent food. I was repairer of village -telephones. I was hawking toothpicks, which I very cunningly made in my -fire at the side of the road. I was a tramping juggler, and would give -a show in the town next night. - -Every one thought I accomplished a prodigious number of miles a day. At -least a hundred times I was called upon to state what was my average -"hike" for the day. Some were sympathetic and explained that they would -like to do the same, to camp out, it was the only way to see America. A -girl in a baker's shop told me she had long wanted to tramp to Chicago -and sleep out every night, but could get no friend to accompany her. -Jews slapped me on the back and told me I was doing fine. Especially -I remember a young man who walked by my side through the streets of -Wilkes Barre. He told me his average per day had been forty-five miles. - -"How long did you keep that up?" I asked. - -"A week, we went to Washington." - -"That's going some," said I. - -"How far do you usually go?" asked he. - -"Oh, five or six miles when the weather's fine," said I. - -"Yer kiddin us!" - -I was told that I wasn't the only person on the road. The great Weston -was behind me, patriarch of "hikers," aged seventy-five. He wore ice -under his hat and was walking from New York to St. Paul at twenty-five -miles a day, and was accompanied by an automobile full of liquid food. -Far ahead of me was a woman in high-heeled boots tramping from New -York to San Francisco. She carried only a small handbag, walked with -incredible rapidity, and was proving for newspaper that it was just as -easy to walk in Vienna boots as in any other. Several weeks before me a -cripple had passed, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of picture-post-cards -of himself, which he sold at a nickel each, thereby supporting himself. -He was going from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, but had five years to do -it in. - -For all and sundry upon the road I had a ready smile and a greeting; -almost every one replied to me at least as heartily, and many were -ready to talk at length. Some, however, to whom I gave greeting either -took me for a disreputable tramp or felt themselves too important in -the sight of the Lord. When I said, "How d'ye do?" or "Good morning" -they simply stared at me as if I were a cow that had mooed. In my whole -journey I encountered no hostility whatever. Only once or twice I would -hear a woman in a car say truculently to her husband, "There goes Weary -Willie." - -I had pleasant encounters innumerable, and many a talk with children. -I felt that as I was in search for the emerging American, the American -of to-morrow and the day after, I ought to take the children I met -rather seriously. It was surprising to me that the grown-ups upon the -road said to me always, "How-do?" but the children said, "Hullo." The -children always spoke as if they had met me before, or as if they were -dying for me to stop and talk to them and tell them all about the road, -and who I was and what I was doing. - -[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL: MY BREAKFAST PARTY.] - -At a little place called Clarkville I had a breakfast party. Perhaps I -had better begin at the beginning. It had been a hard frosty night, and -I slept in a barn on two planks beside an old rusty reaping-machine. At -five in the morning I made my first fire of the day, and I shared a pot -of hot tea with a disreputable tramp, who had come to warm himself at -the blaze. By seven o'clock I had walked into the next village, about -five miles on, and I was ready for a second breakfast. My first had -been for the purpose of getting warm; now I was hungry for something to -eat. - -It was a beautiful morning; on each side of the road were orchards in -full bloom, the gnarled and angular apple trees were showing themselves -lovely in myriad outbreaking of blossom, and there were thousands of -dandelions in the rank green grass beneath them. The sides of the -roadway and the banks of the village stream were deep in grass and -clover, and every hollow of the world seemed brimming with sunshine. -The sun had been radiant, and he stood over a shoulder of the Catskills -and poured warmth on the whole Western world. - -On the bank of the stream I spread out my things, emptying out of my -pack, pots, cups, provisions, books, paper, pen, and ink. I gathered -wisps of last year's weeds, and on a convenient spot started my little -fire. I had just put eggs in to boil when the first of my party -arrived. This was little Charles van Wie and his friend. Charles was -hired to come early to the school-house and light the fire, so that the -school would be warm by the time the teacher and the other boys and -girls arrived. I did not know that I had pitched my camp just between -the village and the school, on the way all the children would have to -come. In America the school-house is always some distance from the -village--this is so that mothers may not come running in and out every -minute, and it is a good arrangement for other reasons. It gives every -little boy and girl a walk, and the chance of having upon occasion -extraordinary adventures. - -Charles and his friend set to work to gather sticks for me, and saved -me the trouble of rushing every now and then for fuel to keep up -the fire. Then they hurried away to the school-house, but promised, -excitedly, to come back as soon as they could. - -Charles returned and asked me where I was going to, and what was my -name and where I'd come from. I told him, and he took out a pocket-book -and pencil and wrote all down. - -Then other boys came and watched me make my coffee. The boys--they were -all under twelve--had bunches of white lilac fixed in their coats. I -sat and ate my food and chattered. - -"Is the lilac for your teacher?" I asked of a boy. - -"I guess _not_," he replied. - -There was a look of disgust on his face. - -"Is your teacher strict?" - -"Some." - -The boys all sat or sprawled on the grass and chaffed one another. - -One of them was wearing a badge in his buttonhole, a white enamelled -button, on which was printed very distinctly: - - - Every - D A M - Booster. - - -But the DAM, when you looked at it closely, turned out to be "Dayton's -Adding Machines." - -"What does 'booster' mean?" I asked. - -"A feller that makes a job go," it was explained to me. - -After breakfast I took a photograph of them sitting in the grass. They -were much pleased. - -"If Skinny Atlas had been here he'd have broke the camera," said one of -them. - -An extremely fat boy came into view and approached our party. The -others all cried at him "Skinny Atlas," so I asked: - -"Is that a nickname? Is his surname Atlas?" - -"No," they replied, "his surname is Higgins. But he's so darned fat -that we call him Skinny Atlas. We have a saying, 'Put a nickel in the -slot and up comes Skinny Atlas.'" - -Accordingly all the boys cried out, "Put a nickel in the slot and up -comes Skinny Atlas." - -The fat boy, wearing a big straw sun-bonnet, came up and walloped -several little boys. There was some horseplay round the embers of my -fire, but Charles van Wie set an example by giving warning-- - -"Next person who pushes me I baste." - -But it was getting late, and three little girls who had been hovering -shyly at a distance cried out that it was time for the boys to go in. - -The school had only fifteen pupils, boys and girls together, and they -were all in one class, and they learned "the three R's," physiology, -and the geography of the county they lived in. - -The making of an American citizen is a simple matter in the country. -And little Charles van Wie would make one of the best that are turned -out, I should think. - -Later on in the morning I went along to the school-house and peeped in -at the window. There they all were, under the stern sway of a little -school-mistress. But they didn't see me. - -How useful to the tramp is the custom of hanging in the school-room -a map of the county or of the state in which the children live. -Often when I have wanted to know where I was I have clambered to the -school-house window and consulted the map on the wall. - -Once more to the road. The American high-road differs considerably -from any way in Europe. Every farm-house has a white letter-box on -a post outside its main entrance, and the farmer posts his letter -and hoists a metal flag as a signal to the peripatetic postman that -there are letters to collect. There are no thatched cottages; the -homesteads stand back from the road, they are always of wood, and -have shady verandahs and cosily furnished front rooms. The fields on -each side of the road are protected by six-inch mesh steel netting, -turned out by some great factory in Pittsburg I suppose. There are very -few country guide-posts, and in New York State those there are come -rather as a reward to you after you have guessed right. They are put -up at a distance from the cross-roads. The pointers of the guide-posts -are of tin. The telephone cones are of green glass, the poles are -mostly chestnut, are not straight, and rot quickly. There are many -advertisements by the way, and as you approach a town of importance -they are as thick as fungi. They are not written for tramps to jeer at, -but as hints to rich motorists. Still one necessarily smiles at: - - - CLOTHE YOUR WHOLE FAMILY ON CREDIT - $1 A WEEK. - - -or - - - DUTCHESS TROUSERS. TEN CENTS A BUTTON. - A DOLLAR A RIP. - - -A great portion of the State of Indiana seems to be devoted to Dutchess -trousers, and I often wonder whether the company had to pay many -indemnities to customers. - -One sorry feature of country advertising was the number of notices -scrawled in black with charcoal or painted in tar. In Europe picnickers -write their names or the names of their sweethearts on the rocks and -the walls and palings, but in America they write their trade, the -thing they sell, and the price a pound, what O. Henry would call their -especial sort of "graft." - -Then "rrrrrrr! rhrhrh--whaup--ssh!" the automobile appears on the -horizon, passes you, and is gone. I have no prejudice against -automobilists; they were very hospitable to me, and carried me many -miles. If I had accepted all the lifts offered me I should have been -in Chicago in a week, instead of taking two months on the journey. -But the farmers curse them. On one Sunday late in June I counted -everything that passed me. The farmer commonly tells you that hundreds -of automobiles whirl past his door every day. This day there were just -one hundred and ten, of which thirty-two were auto-cycles and the rest -cars. As a set-off against this there were only five buggies and three -ordinary cyclists. That was one of the last days of June, when I was -seventy miles from Chicago. I had two offers to take me into the city -that day! - -Besides counting the vehicles that passed me I took stock of the -automobilists themselves. No one passed till 7 A.M., and then -came a loving couple, looking like a runaway match. He was clasping her -waist, and their trunks were roped on to the car behind. Then six young -men, all in their wind-blown shirts, came tearing along on auto-cycles. -Scarcely had the noise of these subsided when a smart picnic party -rolled past in a smooth-running car, flying purple flags on which was -printed the name of their home city--Michigan. This is a common custom -in America, to carry a flag with the name of your city. It boosts your -own town, and is thought to bring trade there. - -Six townsmen came past me in a grand car. Their hats were all off; they -were all clean shaven and bald. Coats had been left at home, and the -six were in radiantly clean coloured shirts. They smiled at me; I was -one of the sights of the road. - -Many picnic parties passed me, and men and women called out to me -facetiously. Six shop-girls on a joy ride came past, and one of them -kissed her hand to me--that is one of the things the girl in the car -can safely do when she is passing a pedestrian. - -Family parties went by, and also placid husbands and wives having a -spin before lunch, and bashful happy pairs sitting behind the back of -the discreet chauffeurs. There came an auto-cycle with a frantic man -in front and a girl astride on his carrier behind. She was wiping the -sand out of her eyes as she passed, her skirt was blown by the wind, -and she showed a pair of dainty legs; the funny way in which she was -obliged to sit made her look like a stalk bending over among reeds. - -One of the few cyclists I met came up after this, and he dismounted -to talk to me. He was a tender of gasoline engines "on vacation." I -learned from him about the single auto-cycle for two. It appears that -in America they manufacture special seats to screw on the back of a -motor-cycle; some use that. Many, however, just strap a cushion on. -Young men who have auto-cycles have a "pull" with the girls; they pick -them up and take them to business, or take them home from business, and -on holidays they take them for rides of joy. Several similar couples -passed me during the day. - -All sorts of gear went by; rich gentlemen in stately pride, workmen -with their week-day grime scarcely cleared from their faces, gay girls -with parasols, honeymoon pairs, cars with men driving, cars with -women at the wheel. The automobile is far more of a general utility -in the United States than in England. Workmen, and, indeed, farmers -themselves--not those who curse--have their own cars. They mortgage -their property to get them, but they get them all the same. Even women -buy cars for themselves, and are to be seen driving them themselves. In -Great Britain it is very rare that you see a woman travelling alone in -a car, but in America it is a frequent sight. Of course in Russia, in -the country, an automobile is still a rarity. I passed last summer in a -populous part of the Urals and did not see a single car. I did not even -see an ordinary bicycle. The farther west you go the more you find the -inventions of the day taken advantage of. It is an important phenomenon -in America; it shows that there is a readiness to adopt and utilise any -new thing right off, directly it is discovered. - -This readiness, however, results in a lack of seriousness. -Inexpert driving is no crime; accidents are nothing to weep over; -badly constructed cars are driven along loose springy roads with -blood-curdling speed and recklessness. The pedestrian is vexed to see a -car come towards him, leaping, bounding, dodging, dribbling, like some -tricky centre-forward in a game of football. The nervous pedestrian has -to climb trees or walls upon occasion to be sure he won't be killed. -And then the cars themselves go frequently into ditches, or overturn -and take fire. The car has become a toy, but it's dangerous for the -children to play with. - -Then the dust! Carlyle said there was nothing but Justice in this -world, and he used the law of gravity as his metaphor, but he didn't -consider the wind--alas, that the dust does not fly in front of the car -and get into the motorist's eyes, but only drifts away over the poor -tramp who never did him any harm. - -The only horse vehicle I remarked on the road was the buggy, a gig with -disproportionately large wheels, the direct descendant of the home-made -cart. The buggy is still popular. - -"Where've you been?" asks one American of another. - -"Oh, just buggying around," he replies. - -But the buggy is staid and conventional. It belongs to the old -censorious religious America. It is supremely the vehicle of the -consciously virtuous. It is also a specially rural vehicle. I think -those who ride in buggies despise motorists from the bottom of their -hearts; they think them vulgar townspeople, and consider motoring a -form of trespass. But the automobilists are not prevented, and they -bear no rancour. They haven't time to consider the countryman. The man -in the buggy belongs to the past. In the future there will not be time -to be condemnatory, and the man who stands still to feel self-virtuous -will go to the wall. - -The people who will continue to feel superior to the motorists will be -tramps sitting on palings, grinning at them as they pass by. They also -will remain the only people the motorists, rushing abreast of Time, -will ever envy. However much progress progresses there will always -remain those who sit on the palings and grin. - - - - -VI - -THE REFLECTION OF THE MACHINE - - -As I tramped from village to village I was surprised to see -so much stained glass in the churches of the Methodists, the -Congregationalists, and other Puritans. Until quite modern times -stained glass belonged exclusively to the ritualistic denominations. -The Puritan, believing in simplicity of service, and in spirit rather -than in form, put stained glass in the same category as the burning of -incense, singing in a minor key, and praying in Latin. It partook of -the glamour of idolatry; it had a sensuous appeal; it blurred the pure -light of understanding. The true Puritan meeting-place is one of clear -glass windows, hard seats, and a big Bible. It seems a pity that a very -clear profession of faith should be blurred by picture windows--and, -let me add by way of parenthesis, cushioned seats and revivalist -preachers. - -I examined in detail the coloured glass of a fine "Reform Church" that -I passed on the road. The windows were rather impressive. They were not -representations of scenes in Holy Writ, they contained no pictures of -saints or angels, of the Saviour, or of the Virgin. So they escaped the -imputation of idolatry. They were just pictures of symbolical objects -or of significant letters. Thus, one window was the bird and symbolised -Freedom, another was an anchor and symbolised Hope, another was a -crown and symbolised Eternal Life. In one window the letters C.E. were -illuminated--meaning Christian Endeavour, I presume; on another window -was the open Bible, symbolising the foundation of belief. In every case -the whole window was stained, and the little symbolical picture was set -against a brilliant background. - -It was all in good taste, and was a pleasant ornament, which made the -church look very attractive exteriorly. But it was a compromise with -a spirit not its own. My explanation is, some one must have wanted -chapels to put in stained glass. Some one now has a great interest -in making them put in stained glass. He is the manufacturer of that -commodity. He has put stained glass on the market in such a way that -every church is bound to have it. And he has devised a way of not -offending the rigorous Puritans. "What is wrong in coloured light?" -said he. "Nothing. It is only what you use it for. We can use it to -show the things in which we believe." If incense could be manufactured -in such a way as to make millions of dollars it would find its way -somehow into the chapels. I was walking one day with an itinerant -preacher, a man who called himself "a creed smasher." He wanted to -weld all creeds into one and unify the Church of Christ. "Think of -commerce," said he, "already it has stopped the wars of the nations; -in time it will calm the wars of the sects. If only the churches were -corporations, and Methodists could hold shares in Roman Catholicism, -and Roman Catholics in Methodism!" - -Commerce is exerting an influence that cannot be withstood. To take -another instance, it has provided America with rocking-chairs and -porch-swings. Although the Americans are an extremely active people, -much more so than the British, yet their houses are all full of -rocking-chairs, and on their verandahs they have porch-swings and -hammocks. The British have straight-backs. - -The Americans did not all cry out with one voice for rocking-chairs and -swings. The Pilgrim Fathers did not bring them over. The reason they -have them lies in the fact that some manufacturer started making them -for the few. Then ambition took possession of him and he said, "There's -something in rocking-chairs. I'm going to turn them out on a large -scale." - -"But there aren't the customers to buy them," some one objected. - -"Never mind, we'll make the customers. We'll put them to the people in -such a way that they gotta buy. We'll make 'em feel there's going to -be such an opportunity for buyin' 'em as never was and never will be -again." - -"You believe you'll succeed?" - -"We'll make it so universal that if a man goes into a house and doesn't -see a rocking-chair and a porch-swing he'll think, 'My Lord, they've -had the brokers in!'" - -So rocking-chairs and porch-swings came. So, many things have come to -humanity--many worse things. - -I had just written this note, for I have written most of my book by the -road, when I heard the following interesting talk about the town of -Benton, Pennsylvania. I was walking from Wilkes Barre to Williamsport, -and Benton is on the way. It is a place that has had many fires lately. - -"Ah reckon ah know wot cleared Benton out more'n fires." - -"What's that?" - -"Wy, otomobeeles; mortgaging their farms to get 'em. There's not much -in Benton. You couldn't raise a hundred dollars. It's the agents and -the boosters of the companies that are mos' to blame, no doubt, but -they're fools all the same who buy otomobeeles when they cahn pay their -bills at the stores." - -"What agents?" I asked. "D'you mean commercial travellers?" - -"No. The agents in the town. Every little town has a man, sometimes -two or three men, who are agents for the companies who manufacture the -cars; they are just like the insurance agents, and are always talking -about their business, comparing makes of car, praising this one and -that, and getting folks on to want them." - -"I suppose the companies want to make the motor car a domestic -necessity, a thing no one can do without," I remarked. - -"You're right; they do and they will. They'll fix that in time, you -betcher, we'll all be having them. Then when we cahn do without 'em -they'll raise the prices on us. Already they've started it with the -gasoline; there's plenty motor spirit in the world, but the company -gets possession of it and regulates the prices. An' you cahn make an -oto go without gasoline. They can put it on us every time." - -I should say society at Benton was suffering very badly from the -influence of depraved commercialism. Some years ago Miss Ida Tarbell -exposed what has been called "The Arson Trust," a company formed for -setting fire to insured establishments on a basis of 10 per cent profit -on the spoil. Benton might have furnished her with some interesting -examples. There have been so many fires in the little town of late that -tramps are refused the shelter even of barns, as if their match-ends -were responsible. On the Fourth of July three years ago half the town -was burnt down. Last year in a gale the shirt factory was gutted; the -workmen had banked the fire up for the night, and about twenty minutes -after the last man had left the works there was an explosion, and the -red coals were scattered over the wooden building. Two months ago a -large house took fire, and just a week before I reached the settlement -the large Presbyterian church was consumed. Indeed, as I came into the -town I remarked with some surprise the charred walls and beams of the -church, and read the pathetic printing on the stone of foundation, -"This stone was laid in 1903." - -I had an interesting account of the church from the wife of a farmer at -whose house I stayed a night. The church had been insured for seventeen -thousand dollars, and it was twelve thousand dollars in debt. The money -borrowed was not secured on the church building, but on the personal -estates of many people in the town. Consequently, several people were -liable to be sold up if the money were not forthcoming. Two days before -settling day the fire took place, and there was doubtless rejoicing in -some hearts. The villagers had tried hard to make the place pay, they -had even let a portion of the church building to be used as a bank! -Bazaars had failed. The debt-raiser had tried "to put a revival over -on to them," but had failed. The minister, not receiving his salary, -had abandoned them, and at last the bare fact remained of the big white -church and the big unpaid debt. Then occurred the providential fire. - -But the insurance company would not pay the seventeen thousand dollars. -The fire had taken place under suspicious circumstances, and it was -said there would be a legal fight over it. The conflagration had -occurred on the night of a school-opening meeting. Choice flowers -had been sent from many houses in the town, and it was beautifully -decorated. There was, however, nothing obviously inflammable in the -church; it was built largely of brick and stone. But about an hour -after the people had gone home the fire broke out. Next day it was -found that the big Bible had been soaked in coal oil. Oiled newspaper -was found, and it was alleged that the fire brigade would have saved -the church, but that as fast as they put it out in front somebody else -was lighting it up behind. Anyhow, the insurance company refused to pay -the seventeen thousand dollars. But it cannot refuse absolutely; the -advertisement of failure to pay would be too damaging--it will put up a -new church instead! The Presbyterian church will be resurrected. - -"I put Benton up against the world for fires," said my hostess. "For a -small place, only a thousand people, I reckon there isn't its like." - -For my part I felt sorry for the Bentonians, even for those who set the -fire alight, supposing it was deliberately lighted. When commercial -interest is the greatest thing in the world there are opportunities -for a few men to feel themselves great and powerful, but that glory -of mankind is far overbalanced by the occasions on which it causes -man to be mean. Commercial tricks bring the holy spirit of man -into disrepute. To find oneself mixed up in certain machinations is -poignantly humiliating. We have all of us been wounded in that way ere -now. The just pride of the soul has been offended, and we have thought -how shameful a thing it was to have become mixed up in it at all, by -_it_ meaning the world, the whole shady business, call it what you will. - -As I went along from village to village in New York and Pennsylvania -I was struck by the uniformity of the architecture. Every church -and school and store and farmstead seemed standard size and "as -supplied." There seemed to be a passion for having known units. Not -only in architecture was this evident, but in every utensil, machine, -carriage, dress of the people. It was evident in the people themselves. -Americans have the name of being extremely conventional. I think that -is because, under the present domination of the _commercial machine_, -American boys and girls and men and women are all turned into standard -sizes. If Americans have rigid principles of ethics it is because -they believe all the parts of the great machine are standardised, and -that when any one part wears out there must always be an accurately -fitting other part ready to be fixed where the old one has fallen out. -Personality itself is standardised; thus the tailor-priest advertises -his wear, "Preserve your Personality in Clothes. Occasionally you -have observed some article of wear that has led you to the mental -conclusion--'That's my style--that's me.'" - -[Illustration: THE TRAMP'S DRESSING-ROOM.] - -It was strange to me to find that even tramps and outcasts, who fulfil -little function in the machine, were expected to conform to type. I -was stared at, questioned; my rough tweeds, so suitable to me, were an -object of mirth; my action of washing my face and my teeth by the side -of the road was a portentous aberration. I remember how astonished a -motorist and his wife appeared when they came upon me in the act of -drawing a pail of water for a thirsty calf one morning in Indiana. The -temperature stood at ninety-five in the shade--all nature was parched, -and as I came along the highway a calf, fastened by a chain to the -steel netting of a field, came up and rubbed his nose on my knees. As -calves don't usually take the initiative in this way, I concluded he -expected me to do something for him. There was an empty pail beside -him. I took it to the farmhouse pump and drew water. As I did so, the -farmer and his wife drew up at the farm in their motor, and they looked -at me curiously. The calf came bounding towards me and almost upset the -pail in his eagerness to drink. Then he gulped down all the water, and -whilst I went to draw another pailful he executed a sort of war-dance -or joy-dance, throwing out his hind legs and bounding about in a way -that testified his happiness. The farmer's wife broke silence: - -"Wha' yer doing?" - -"I'm giving the calf some water." - -"Nao," said she, and looked at her husband, "giving the calf some -water, can--you--beat--that?" - -I gave the calf his second bucketful and then started off down the way -again, and the farmer and his wife looked after me in blank surprise. -In America no tramp has any compassion for thirsty calves, he is not -expected to look after the thirst of any one but himself. The farmer -and his wife looked at one another, and their eyes seemed to say, "But -tramps don't do these things!" - -Thence it may be surmised that America is no place for individuals -as such. Originality is a sin. Americans hate to give an individual -special attention, special notice. Even personal salvation is merged -in mass salvation. The revivalist, his press agents, and stewards are -a means of wholesale salvation. A revival meeting is a machine for -saving souls on a large scale. It might be thought that the revivalist -himself took his stand as an exceptional individual. Not at all: he is -only a type. American public opinion does not allow a man to stand out -as superior. It is surprising the dearth of noble men in the popular -estimate of to-day. Mockery follows on the heels of noble action or -individual action, and reduces it to type. That is a great function of -the American Press of to-day, the defaming of men of originality and -the explaining away of noble action. I remember a conversation I heard -at Cleveland. Roosevelt had just cleared himself of the press libel of -drunkenness. - -"Wasn't it a good thing to clear the air, so," said one man, "and get -clear of the charge once for all?" - -"I don't think he got clear of it," said the other. "It's all very -well to bring an action against the editor of a provincial paper, but -why didn't he take up the cudgels against one of the powerful New -York journals, who said the same thing? They had money and could have -defended their case." - -"I don't think money was needed--except to buy evidence." - -"If you ask me," said the other, "it was all a very shrewd -electioneering dodge. Roosevelt is an expert politician. He knows -the value of being in the limelight, and he knows that nothing will -fetch more votes in the United States just now than a reputation for -sobriety. He was just boosting himself and the home products." - -That is a fair example of the way people think of striking -personalities and original views. - -Then every man is considered a booster. Boosting is accepted as a -national and individual function. Towns are placarded: "Boost for your -own city and its own industries. Make a habit of it." In Oil City, for -instance, I found in every shop a ticket announcing "Booster Week June -9-16." In that week Oil City was going to do all it could to call -attention to itself. Citizens would pledge themselves to speak of Oil -City to strangers in the train and when on visits to other towns. The -city of Newark, New Jersey, is always recommending its own people and -visitors to "Think of Newark." Whenever you enter into conversation -with an American you find him suddenly drifting towards telling you -the name of a hotel to stay at, or of an establishment where they sell -"dandy cream," or he is praising the bricks turned out by the local -brick works, or the conditions of the employment of labour in some silk -works on which his native town is dependent for prosperity. In a widely -distributed "Creed of the American" I read, "I remember always that I -am a booster." Even fathers refer to their new-born babies as "little -boosters." It should be remembered when Americans are boasting of their -native land and its institutions that they were cradled in boosting. -It is a habit that in many ways has profited America. It has attracted -the emigrant more than all that has ever been printed about it. It is a -great commercial habit. But it is in the end degrading. - -What is the name of the fairy who has muttered an incantation over the -Pilgrim Father and changed him into a booster? And is a booster only a -Pilgrim Father who brags about the stuff he manufactures? - -It seemed to me that by substituting the idea _booster_ for the idea -_man_ you get rid of so many of the weaknesses of flesh and blood. A -man who is boosting day in and day out, using his tongue as a sort of -living stores' catalogue, is necessarily loyal to the great machine. -But loyalty to the machine has its dangers. On my journey to Chicago I -made some interesting observations in Natural History. I got into the -train at Franklin to go to Oil City, some five or six urban miles. What -was my astonishment to see that each of the eight or nine passengers in -my car had fixed their railway tickets in the ribbons of their hats, -and they themselves were deep in their newspapers. The conductor came -along and took the tickets from their hats and examined them, collected -those that were due to be given up and punched those that were not, and -stuck them back in the ribbons of the hats, the wearers reading their -newspapers all the time and making not the slightest sign that they -noticed what the conductor was doing. The only sign of consciousness I -observed was a sort of subtle pleasure in acting so--the sort of mild -pleasure which suffuses the faces of lunatics when they are humoured by -visitors to the asylum. They were shamming that they were machinery, -and in almost the same style as the man who is under the delusion that -he is a teapot, one arm being his spout and the other his handle. - -Thus the elevator man in the Department Store also thinks himself a bit -of machinery. He seems to be trained to act mechanically, and never to -alter the staccato patter that comes from his mouth at each floor. He -speaks like a human phonograph. - -Then all waiters, shop-attendants, barbers, and the like try to behave -like manikins. Most of all, in the language of Americans is the -mechanical obsession apparent. A man who is confined in a hospital -writes: "I'm _holding down a bed_ in the hospital over here." The -man who meets another and brings him along, simply "collects" him in -America. The baseball team that beats another 6-0 "slips a six-nothing -defeat" on them. Especially in baseball reports, commercialism and -rhythms heard in great "works" abound. - -The influence of great machinery gets to the heart of the people. A -man when he joins a gang of workmen is taught to co-operate; he has to -trim off any original or personal way of doing things, and fit in with -the rest of the gang. When the gang is going mechanically and easily, a -man quicker than the rest is taken as leader, and the speed of the work -is raised. The mechanical action in each individual is intensified, is -perfected. Cinematograph films are even taken of gangs at work; the -pictures are shown before experts, who indicate weak points, recommend -discharges or alterations and show how the gangs can be reconstituted -to work more smoothly. Each man is drilled to act like a machine, and -the drilling enters into the fibre of his being to such an extent that -when work is over his muscles move habitually in certain directions, -and the rhythm of his day's labour controls his language and his -thought. - -In the factory it is the same. In a vast mechanical contrivance there -is just one thing that machinery cannot do; so between two immense -complicated engines it is necessary to place a human link. A man goes -there, and flesh and blood is grafted into steel and oil. The man -performs his function all day, but he also senses the great machine in -his mind and his soul; and when he goes out to vote for his President, -or talk to men and women about the world in which he lives, he does so -more as a standardised bit of mechanism, than as a tender human being. - -Alas, for the men and women who wear out and cease to be serviceable! -They are the old iron, and their place is the scrap-heap. "White trash" -is the name by which they go. - -Bernard Shaw, and indeed many others, look forward to the diminution of -toil by machinery. The minimising of toil is to them a great blessing. -Because machinery lessens toil they are on the side of machinery. -Meanwhile life shows a paradox. The Russian peasant who works without -machines toils less than the American who takes advantage of every -invention. The Russian emigrant who comes to America simply does not -know what work is, and he stares in amazement at the angry foreman who -tells him, when he is at it at his hardest, to "get a move on yer." - -In America the Americans slave; they slave for dollars, for more -business, for advancement, but in the end for dollars only, I suppose. -They will fill up any odd moment with some work that will bring in -money. They will make others work, and take the last ounce of energy -out of their employees. The machine itself is the size of America, and -only in little nooks and corners can anything spring up that is not -of the machine. Even millionaires know nothing more to do than to go -on making millions. Yet there is not a feverish anxiety to get money. -Losses are borne with equanimity. It's just a matter of "the apple -tree's loaded with fruit. I'm going up to get another apple." - -Present experience shows that machinery increases the toil of mankind. -It need not increase it, but it does. It might diminish it, but there -are many reasons why it does not. For one thing, it increases the -standard of living. It makes rocking-chairs, porch-swings, automobiles, -and the like indispensable things. First, machinery makes the things, -then the things make the machinery duplicate themselves. So it raises -the standard of living and increases the toil of mankind. It is going -on increasing the standard of living for the rich, for the middle-class -aping the rich, and for the working men aping the middle-class. - -Is it good, then, that the standard of living is being raised? Well, -no; because the standard of living now means the standard of luxury. I -should have used that phrase from the beginning. - -I said this to a man on the road, and he asked me what I thought a -man should live for, but I could not answer him. Each man has his -individual destiny to fulfil. Destiny is not a matter of the clothes -you wear or of the cushions you sit upon. The beggar pilgrim going -in rags to Jerusalem may be more happy than a Pierpont Morgan, who -writes pathetically at the head of the bequest of his millions that he -believes in the blood of Jesus. - -One thing I noted in America, that the blossom of religion seems to -have been pressed between Bible leaves, withered and dried long ago. -What is called religion is a sort of ethical rampage. The descendants -of the Puritans are "probing sin" and "whipping vice." The rich are -signing cheques, the hospitals are receiving cheques. The women of -the upper classes are visiting the poor and adopting the waifs. But -seldom did I come in contact with a man or a woman who stood in humble -relation to God or the mystery of life. Even the great passion to put -things right, lift the masses, stop corruption, and build beautiful -cities and states is begotten in the sureness of science rather than -in the fear of the Lord. Far from fearing God, preachers announce from -their pulpits that they are "working with Him," or "co-operating with -the inevitable tendencies of the world," or "hastening on the work -of evolution." For my part I believe that it is my sacred due to my -brother that he be given an opportunity of facing this world, the -mystery of its beauty and of his life upon it, that he find out God -for himself and learn to pray to Him. But that is at once Eastern and -personal. - -The Y.M.C.A. informs me as I sit in a car that "The great asset of this -town is the young men of this town." Must it be put that way? Is that -the only way in which the people of the town can be got to understand -how wonderful is the life and promise of any young man, how tender and -gentle and lovable he is personally, how unformed, how fresh from his -mother and his Creator? - -As I go along the road I pick up tracts, sown by the devil, I suppose. -Here is one of them: - - - Verily I say unto you that each and every one of you may be a - Count of Monte Christo, and some day exclaim, "The World is mine!" - - The world was made for you, that I know. That you were made for - the world goes without saying. - - Therefore hear me and believe me. If you desire wealth it _can_ be - yours. If you desire _fame_ it can be yours. - - But you cannot get something for nothing. You must pay for - everything worth having. You must pay the price set upon it, and - in the coin of the realm. - - The coin of the realm is industry--just that. Industry and only - industry. Nothing but industry. - - -[Illustration: BY THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY TO MICHIGAN: THE ELECTRIC -FREIGHT TRAIN.] - -Poor immigrant, who thinks it would be grand to be a Count of Monte -Christo, or, to bring it nearer home, a John D. Rockefeller or an -Andrew Carnegie, and who thinks that honest labour will take him there! -Even were American success a thing worth striving for it is not won -by that means. It is a game of halma. It's not the man who moves all -his pieces out one square at a time who wins, but the sagacious player -who knows both to plan in advance and to hop over others when the -opportunity arises. - -But the good American young man, "the greatest asset of the town," -believes this gospel, and he gives his body and mind to the great -machine, and fills the gap between two otherwise disconnected -mechanisms. If he has been brought up "well," he just fits the -gap and is standard size. He feels in his soul every throb of the -engines, and registers in his integuments every rhythm and rhyme of -the great, accurate, definite, circulating, oscillating machine. He -behaves like a machine in his leisure hours. He even dances like a -mechanical contrivance. On none of the occasions when the Fatherland -requires his sober human judgment can he stand as a man. He seems -spoilt for the true citizenship. What he does understand is the -improvement, adjustment, and significance of machinery, and he can -look intelligently at America the Great Machine. Perhaps this is his -function whilst America is realising the dream of materialism and -progress. But America would take care of itself if the American were -all right. I could not but have that opinion as I left the cities and -walked through the rich country, the new world, as yet scarcely visibly -shopsoiled by commercialism. - - - - -VII - -RUSSIANS AND SLAVS AT SCRANTON - - -I came into Forest City along a road made of coal-dust. A black by-path -led off to the right down a long gradual slope, and was lost among -the culm-heaps of a devastated country side. Miners with sooty faces -and heavy coal-dusty moustaches came up in ones and twos and threes, -wearing old peak-hats, from the centre of the front of which rose -their black nine-inch lamps looking like cockades. They carried large -tarnished "grub-cans," they wore old cotton blouses, and showed by -unbuttoned buttons their packed, muscular bodies. Shuffling forward up -the hill they looked like a different race of men--these divers of the -earth. And they were nearly all Russians or Lithuanians or Slavs of one -kind or another. - -"Mostly foreigners here," said I to an American whom I overtook. - -"You can go into that saloon among the crowd and not hear a word of -white the whole night," he replied. - -I addressed a collier in English. - -"Are you an American?" - -"No speak English," he replied, and frowned. - -"From Russia?" I inquired, in his own tongue. - -"And you from where?" he asked with a smile. "Are you looking for a -job?" - -But before I could answer he sped away to meet a trolly that was -just whizzing along to a stopping-place. Presently I myself got into -a car and watched in rapid procession the suburbs of Carbondale -and Scranton. Black-faced miners waited in knots at the stations -all along the road. I read on many rocks and railings the scrawled -advertisement, "Buy diamonds from Scurry." Girls crowded into the car -from the emptying silk-mills, and they were in slashed skirts, some -of them, and all in loud colours, and over-decorated with frills, -ribbons, and shoddy jewellery. We came to dreary Iceville, all little -grey houses in the shadow of an immense slack mountain. We came into -the fumes of Carbondale, where the mines have been on fire ten years; -we got glimpses of the far, beautiful hills and the tender green of -spring woods set against the soft darkness of abundant mountains. We -dived into wretched purlieus where the frame-buildings seemed like -flotsam that had drifted together into ridges on the bending earth. -We saw dainty little wooden churches with green and yellow domes, the -worshipping places of Orthodox Greeks, Hungarians, Ruthenians, and at -every turn of the road saw the broad-faced, cavernous-eyed men and the -bright-eyed, full-bosomed women of the Slavish nations. I realised that -I had reached the barracks of a portion of America's great army of -industrial mercenaries. - -I stayed three days at Casey's Hotel in Scranton, and slept nights -under a roof once more, after many under the stars. I suppose there was -a journalist in the foyer of the hotel, for next morning, when I opened -one of the local papers, I read the following impression of my arrival: - - - With an Alpine rucksack strapped to his back, his shoes thick with - coal-dust, and a slouch hat pulled down on all sides to shut out - the sun, a tall, raw-boned stranger walked up Lackawanna Avenue - yesterday afternoon, walked into the rotunda of the Hotel Casey - and actually obtained a room. - - -Every paper told that I was an Englishman specially interested in -Russians and the America of the immigrant. So I needed no further -introduction to the people of the town. - -Just as I was going into the breakfast-room a bright boy came up to me -and asked me in Russian if I were Stephen Graham. "My name is Kuzma," -said he. "I am a Little Russian. I read you wanted to know about the -Russians here, so I came along to see you." - -"Come and have breakfast," said I. - -We sat down at a table for two, and considered each a delicately -printed sheet entitled, "Some suggestions for your breakfast." Kuzma -was thrilled to sit in such a place; he had never been inside the hotel -before. It was pretty daring of him to come and seek me there. But -Russians are like that, and America is a free country. - -As we had our grape-fruit and our coffee and banana cream and various -other "suggestions," Kuzma told me his story. He was a Little Russian, -or rather a Red Russian or Ruthenian, and came from Galicia. Three -years previously he had arrived in New York and found a job as -dish-washer at a restaurant, after three months of that he progressed -to being bottle-washer at a druggist's, then he became ice-carrier at -a hotel. Then another friendly Ruthenian introduced him to a Polish -estate agent, who was doing a large business in selling farms to Polish -immigrants. As Kuzma knew half a dozen Slavonic dialects the Pole took -him away from New York, and sat him in his office at Scranton, putting -him into smart American attire, and making a citizen out of a "Kike." I -should say for the benefit of English readers that illiterate Russians -and Russian Jews are called Kikes, illiterate Italians are "Wops," -Hungarians are "Hunkies." These are rather terms of contempt, and the -immigrant is happy when he can speak and understand and answer in -English, and so can take his stand as an American. After six months' -clerking and interpreting Kuzma began to do a little business on his -own account, and actually learned how to deal in real estate and sell -to his brother Slavs at a profit. - -Kuzma, as he sat before me at breakfast, was a bright, well-dressed -business American. You'd never guess that but three years before he had -entered the New World and taken a job as dish-washer. He had seized the -opportunity. - -"You're a rich man now?" said I. - -"So-so. Richer than I could ever be in Galicia. I'm learning English at -the High School here, and when I pass my examination I shall begin to -do well." - -"You are studying?" - -"I do a composition every day, on any subject, sometimes I write a -little story. I try to write my life for the teacher, but he says I am -too ambitious." - -"Do you love your Ruthenian brothers and sisters here?" - -"No; I prefer the Great Russians." - -"You're a very handsome young man. I expect you've got a young lady in -your mind now. Is she an American, or one of your own people? Does she -live here, or did you leave her away over there, in Europe?" - -"I don't think of them. I shall, however, marry a Russian girl." - -"Have you many friends here?" - -"Very many." - -"You will take me to them?" - -"Oh yes, with pleasure." - -"And where shall we go first? It is Sunday morning. Shall we go to -church?" - -We left the hotel and went to a large Baptist chapel. When we arrived -there we found the whole congregation engaged in Bible study. The -people were divided into three sections,--Russians, Ruthenians, Poles. -Russians sat together, Ruthenians and Little Russians together, and -Poles together. I was most heartily welcomed, and took a place among -the circle of Russians, Kuzma being admitted there also, though by -rights he should have gone to the other Ruthenians. He was evidently a -favourite. - -We took the forty-second chapter of Genesis, reading aloud the first -verse in Russian, the second in Ruthenian, and the third in Polish. -When that was accomplished we prayed in Ruthenian, then we listened to -an evangelical sermon in Russian, and then sang, "Nearer, my God, to -Thee!" in the same manner as we had read the chapter of Genesis--first -verse in Russian, second in Ruthenian, third in Polish. It was strange -to find myself singing with Kuzma: - - - Do Ciebie Boze moj! - Przyblizam sie. - - -I have never seen Poles and Ruthenians and Russians so happy together -as in this chapel, and indeed in America generally. In Russia they more -or less detest one another. They are certainly of different faiths, and -they do not care about one another's language. But here there is a real -Pan-Slavism. It will hold the Slavic peoples together a long time, and -separate them from other Americans. Still there are not many cities in -the United States resembling Scranton ethnologically. The wandering -Slav when he moves to another city is generally obliged to go to a -chapel where only English is spoken, and he strains his mind and his -emotions to comprehend the American spirit. - -After the hymn the congregation divided into classes, and talked about -the Sermon on the Mount, and to me they were like very earnest children -at a Sunday School. I was able to look round. There were few women in -the place; nearly all of us were working men, miners whose wan faces -peered out from the grime that showed the limit of their washing. -At least half the men were suffering from blood-poisoning caused -by coal bruises, and their foreheads and temples showed dents and -discolorations. They had been "up against it." They would not have been -marked that way in Russia, but I don't think they grudged anything to -America. They had smiles on their lips and warmth in their eyes; they -were very much alive. "Tough fellows, these Russians," wrote Gorky. -"Pound them to bits and they'll come up smiling." - -They were nearly all peasants who had been Orthodox, but had been -"converted"; they were strictly abstinent; they sighed for Russia, -but they were proud to feel themselves part of the great Baptist -community, and knit to America by religious ties. None of them entirely -approved of Scranton. They felt that a mining town was worse than -anything they had come from in Russia, but they were glad of the high -wages they obtained, and were saving up either to go back to Russia and -buy land or to buy land in America. They craved to settle on the land -again. - -It seemed to me Kuzma's business of agent for real estate among the -Slavs was likely to prove a very profitable one. I shall come back -to Scranton one day and find him a millionaire. He evidently had the -business instinct--an example of the Slav who does not want the land -again. The fact that he sought me out showed that he was on the _qui -vive_ in life. - -When the service was concluded we went over the church with a young -Russian who had fled to America to escape conscription, and who averred -that he would never go back to his own country. His nose was broken, -and of a peculiar blue hue, owing to blood-poisoning. His finger-nails -were cut short to the quick, but even so, the coal-dust was deep -between the flesh and the nail. He was most cordial, his handshake was -something to remember, even to rue a little. He had been one of those -who took the collection, and he emptied the money on to a table--a -clatter of cents and nickels. He showed us with much edification the -big bath behind the pulpit where the converted miners upon occasion -walked the plank to the songs of fellow-worshippers. They were no -doubt attracted by the holiness of water, considering the dirt in which -they lived. - -"He is a Socialist," said Kuzma, as we went away to have lunch. "A -Socialist and a Baptist as well. He has a Socialist gathering in the -afternoon and Russian tea and speeches, and he wants me to go. But they -hold there should be no private property. I want private property. I -want to travel and to have books of my own, so I can't call myself a -Socialist." - -In the afternoon Kuzma took me to the Public Library and showed me its -resources. In the evening we went to supper at the house of a dear old -Slovak lady, who had come from Hungary on a visit thirty years ago, and -had never returned to her native land. She had been courted and won and -married within three weeks of her arrival--her husband a rich Galician -Slav. Now she was a widow, and had three or four daughters, who were so -American you'd never suspect their foreign parentage. - -She told me of the many Austrian and Hungarian Slavs in Pennsylvania, -and gave it as her opinion that whenever a political party was badly -worsted in south-eastern Europe the beaten wanted to emigrate _en bloc_ -to the land of freedom. When they came over they held to the national -traditions and discussed national happenings for a while, but they -gradually forgot, and seldom went back to the European imbroglio. - -A touching thing about this lady's house was a ruined chapel I found on -the lawn--a broken-down wooden hut with a cross above it, built when -the Slav tradition had been strong, and used then to pray in before -the Ikon, but now only accommodating the spade and the rake and a -garden-roller. - -We had a long talk, partly in Russian, partly in English--the old -lady had forgotten the one and only knew the other badly. So it was a -strange conversation, but very informing and pleasant. - -Slavs always talk of human, interesting things. - -Kuzma was very happy, having spent a long day with an Englishman whose -name had been in the newspaper. We walked back to the hotel, and for a -memory he took away with him a newspaper-cutting of a review of one of -my books and a portrait of the tramp himself. - -Next day, through the kindness of a young American whom I had met the -week before entirely by chance, I was enabled to go down one of the -coal-mines of Scranton, and see the place where the men work. The whole -of the city is undermined, and during the daytime there are more men -under Scranton than above it. - -I was put into the charge of a very intelligent Welshman, who was a -foreman, and we stepped into the cage and shot down the black shaft -through a blizzard of coal-dust, crouching because the cage was so -small, and holding on to a grimy steel bar to steady ourselves in the -swift descent. In a few seconds we reached the foot--a place where -there was ceaseless drip of water on glistening coal--and we walked out -into the gloom. - -Black men were moving about with flaming lamps at their heads, electric -cars came whizzing out of the darkness, drawing trucks of coal. Whole -trucks were elevated in the opposite shaft from that in which we had -descended, elevated to the pit-mouth with a roar and a rush and a -scattering of lumps of coal. I gained a lively realisation of one way -in which it is possible to get a coal-bruise. - -My guide showed me a map of the mine, and we went along dark tunnels -to the telephone cavern, and were enabled to give greeting to miners -as far as three miles away underground. Every man working in the mine -was in telephonic communication with the pit-mouth. I saw the men at -work, watched small trucks of coal being drawn by asses to the main -line where the train was made up. I talked with Poles, Ruthenians, -Russians--actually meeting underground several of those whom I had seen -the day before in the Baptist Chapel. They were all very cheerful, -and smiled as they worked with their picks. Some were miners, some -labourers. The miner directs the blasting and drilling, puts in the -powder and blows out the coal; the labourer works with pick and shovel. -A man has to serve two years in a mine as a labourer before he can be -a miner. Even a British immigrant, who has worked in South Wales or -Northumberland or elsewhere, has to serve his term as a labourer. This -discourages British men. Scranton used to be almost entirely Welsh; -but it goes against the grain in an English-speaking man to fetch and -carry for a Slovak or a Pole. On the other hand, this rule safeguards -American strikers against imported miners. - -After I had wandered about the mine a while I went up to the -"Breaker's" tower, to the top of which each truck of coal was hoisted -by the elevator; and I watched the fanning and screening and guiding -and sifting of this wonderful machine, which in collaboration with -the force of gravity can sort a ton of coal a second. I talked with -Polish boys sitting in the stream of the rolling, hurrying coal; their -task was to pick out bits of slate and ore; and I watched the platemen -splitting lumps of coal with their long-handled hammers, and casting -out the impurities. I saw the wee washhouse where the collier may bathe -if he wish. - -"Well, America or Russia, which is it?" I asked of almost every Russian -I met. "Which do you prefer? Are you Americans now or Russians?" - -And nearly all replied, "America; we will be Americans. What does one -get in Russia?--fifty cents a day."[2] Only a few said that America was -bad, that the mining was dangerous and degrading. Strange to say, the -astonishment at America's wealth and the wages they get from her had -not died away. They admired America for the wages she gave; not for -the things for which the people of culture in the great cities admire -her. America gave them money, the power to buy land, the power to buy -low pleasures, the power to get back to Russia, or to journey onward to -some other country--to the Argentine or to Canada. - -I then spent a day visiting people at random. I went into Police -Station No. 4, and found Sergeant Goerlitz sitting at a desk reading -his morning paper, and he was very ready to talk to me. From him I -gathered that the Slavs were the best citizens--quiet, industrious, and -law-abiding. By Slavs he meant Huns, Bulgarians, Galicians, Ruthenians. -The Russians were vulgar and pushing. He probably meant Russian Jews -and Russians. The Italians were the most dangerous people; they -committed most crimes, and never gave one another away to the police. -The Poles and Jews were the most successful people. - -I went to the house of a communicative, broad-nosed, broad-lipped -little Ruthenian priest--an Austrian subject--and he told me that -Russia could take India whenever she wanted to, America could take -Canada, and that Germany would break our naval power. But the English -would still be the greatest people in the world. In the near future -the whole of North America would be one empire, and the whole of South -America another--one Anglo-Saxon, the other Latin. He was evidently -a student of contemporary possibilities. Despite his belief in -America he was proud of his own nationality, and jealous of the loss -of any of his flock. To his church there came three hundred Little -Russians and about thirty Great Russians. He reckoned there were fifty -families in Scranton purely Nihilist--by that he meant atheistic and -pleasure-seeking. At his church the service was in Slavonic and the -sermon in Ruthenian. He was sorry to say there were comparatively few -marriages. People came to the town to make money rather than to live. - -Then I went to the official Russian priest, away on Division Street. He -shepherded one hundred and thirty-seven families, and four hundred and -sixty-two unmarried people. His church had been burned down the year -before, but had sprung up again immediately. Some of the congregation -had succeeded in business, and having come as poor colonists were now -rich and respected citizens, professional men, large storekeepers, -responsible clerks. Scranton was more like a Russian city than an -American, and it was possible to flourish as a lawyer or a doctor or -an estate agent although you knew very little of the English language. -And out in the country round about were many Russian farms with -real Russian peasants on them; and he spent many weeks in the year -travelling about in the rural districts giving the consolation of -Orthodoxy to the faithful. - -A pathetic thing happened whilst I was taking leave of the priest; a -young workman came in to ask advice, and in salutation he took the -priest's hand to kiss it, but the latter was ashamed to receive that -homage before me, and so tried to pull his hand away. Despite the -churchman's enthusiastic account of his work I felt that little action -was symbolical of the ebb-tide. It was to me as if I had looked at the -sea of faith, and said, "The tide is just turning." - -I visited the Y.M.C.A., so important an institution in America, giving -a good room for fifty cents a day, and having its club-rooms, its -swimming-baths, its classes for learning English. It wanted to raise -seventeen thousand dollars in the forthcoming week, and many posters -reminded passers-by that Scranton's greatest asset was not its coal or -its factories or its shops, its buildings, its business, but its young -men. - -I walked the many streets at evening time when the wild crowd was -surging in and out of the cinema houses and the saloons, and heard -the American chaff and music-hall catch-words mixed with half a dozen -Slavonic dialects. A young American engineer took me to several -resorts, and initiated me in the mysteries of bull-dogs and fizzes, -and as we went along the street he gave a running comment on the -gaudily attired girls of the town, which he classified as "pick-ups," -"chickens," and the like. At ten o'clock at night the streets were full -of mirth, and all given over to sweethearting and flirting. Scranton's -safety lies in the interest which the people have in one another, their -sociability and general disposition to talk and hope. What it would -be like if all these foreign mercenaries were mirthless and brutal -it would be loathsome to picture. But I was surprised to find such -lightness, such Southern frivolity in the people. It is strange that -a people, most of whom are working all day in darkness, should take -life so gaily. Even when they come up to the air of the outside world -it is a bad air that is theirs, vitiated by the fumes of the burning -mines; for at Scranton also the coal has been on fire ten years, and -the smoke rolls from the slag-coloured wastes in volumes, and diffuses -itself into the general atmosphere. One would think that the wretched -frame-dwellings, ruined by the subsidence of the ground on which they -were built, and begrimed with the smoke which factories belch all day, -would disgust humanity. But it seems the man who works in dirt and ruin -accepts dirt and disorder as something not wrong in themselves, quite -tolerable, something even to be desired, a condition of freedom. - -One day I met a young reporter, who was also a poet, and he took me to -a point where there was a view of the city which he specially admired. -It was a grey day--surely all days there are grey. We looked to the -ridge of the West Mountain, a long dark wall built up to the sky, and -many-roofed Scranton lay below it; the thin spires of many conventicles -pointed upward, and from numberless chimneys and spouts proceeded -hardly moving white steams and smokes, all in strange curls and twists. -Here and there were black chutes and shafts and mountains of slag, and -the slates of the roofs of the houses glimmered appallingly under the -wanness and darkening dusty grey of the sky. - -"This sight does my heart good," said the poet. "It's good to live in a -place like this where we're doing something." - -"It would be a beautiful place if there were no Scranton here at all," -I ventured. - -"That's the glory of it," said he. "We have the faith to smash up the -beauty of Nature in the hope of getting something better. It would be a -beautiful world entirely if there were no such thing as man. Nature's -beauty has no need of us. But we happen to be here. We have something -in us that Nature could never think of. Scranton expresses man's -passion more truly than the virginal beauty of the Alleghany mountains -or the valley of the young Susquehanna." - -"A revolt against Eden," said I, "a fixed sullenness, man's -determination to live in grime if he wants to--the children's -infatuation for playing with the dirt." - -"Oh, more than that," said the reporter poet. "Much more." - -Perhaps. - -That was perhaps a glimpse of the religion of America. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[2] Fifty cents a day is very good pay for a miner in Russia, thirty -cents is quite a common wage. - - - - -VIII - -AMERICAN HOSPITALITY - - -It is possible to distinguish two sorts of hospitality, one which is -given to a person because of his introductions, and the other which -is given to the person who has no introductions, the one given on the -strength of a man's importance, the other on the strength of the common -love of mankind. America is rich in the one species, she is not so rich -in the other. - -There is no country in the world where an introduction helps you more -than in the United States. In this respect how vastly more hospitable -the Americans are than the British! It is wonderful the extent to which -an American will put himself to trouble in order to help a properly -introduced visitor to see America. It is a real hospitality, and it -springs from a great belief in America and in the American people, -and a realisation of the fact that if nation and individuals are to -co-operate to do things in the world, they must unbend and think of -others beside themselves. - -To me, in the literary and artistic clubs of New York, in the city -institutions and schools, in the houses of the rich and cultured, and -in the homes of the poor, America breathed kindness. New York seemed -to me more friendly and hospitable than any other great city I had -lived in. There also, as in Russia, one person came out and took me by -the hand, and was America to me. - -But when I shed respectability and the cheap fame of having one's -portrait and pages of "write-up" in the papers and put pack on back, -and sallied forth merely as a man I found that the other and more -precious kind of hospitality was not easily come by. Little is given -anonymously in the United States. - -Not that the country people despise the tramp, or hate him or set the -dogs on him or even refuse him a breakfast now and then, but that they -simply won't have him in their houses for the night, and are otherwise -indifferent to his hardships. They do not look on the stranger as a -fellow-man but as a loose wheel, a utility lying rusting in a field; -or at best they look upon him as a man who will "make good," who -will get a job later on and _earn_ his living. No one is good enough -for the American till he has "made good." But this is the same in -all commercialised countries, commercialism kills the old Christian -charity, the hospitality of house and mind and heart. - -[Illustration: AN INDIANA FARM: THE WIND-WELL BEHIND IT, THE WHEATFIELD -IN FRONT.] - -In the old colonial days there was extraordinary hospitality in -America, and this still survives in the West and North and South in -places out of touch with the great industrial beehive of the East -and Centre. The feeling still survives in the spirit that prevents -Americans printing prohibitions. You never see the notice "Trespassers -will be Prosecuted," though I do not know what one is to make of the -uncharitable poster that frequently met my gaze in Indiana and Illinois: - - - KEEP OUT! - THAT MEANS YOU. - - -That is brutal. - -Tramping up to Williamsport from Scranton I encountered forty-eight -hours' rain, and only with difficulty on the second night did I obtain -shelter. After being refused three times the first rainy evening, I -found an old covered well beside an empty, padlocked shed. In this I -spent twenty hours, sleeping the night and waking to a day of down-pour. - -It was an interesting little hermitage, the three walls were of -stone but the roof and floor of wood. One side of the building was -completely open to wind and weather. In a corner was a dark square of -clear water--the well. Half-way up the stone wall was a narrow ledge, -and there I slept. I covered the ledge with two sacks, for pillow I -had a book, a duplicate pair of boots, and a silken scarf. I slept -with my feet in a sack and a thick tweed coat spread over the rest of -me,--slept well. By day I sat on a box and looked out at a deserted -garden, and the rain pouring on the trees and rank grass. There were -young pines and hemlocks and maples, and a shaggy hickory tree. Beyond -them an apple orchard climbed over a very green hill, and the branches -were all crooked and gnarled and pointing. The blossoms had shed their -petals, and there was much young fruit. - -I gathered dry wood and made a fire on the threshold, and dried wet -wood and boiled a kettle, the smoke blowing in to me all the while, and -the raindrops hissing and dying as they fell into the embers. - -About mid-day a Dutch farmer came and stood in front of the little -house, and stared for some minutes and said nought. - -I hailed him: "Good-day!" - -He did not reply to this but inquired: - -"Hev you not seen that notice on the wall--'Any one meddling with this -house will be treated as he deserves'?" - -I had not. - -"Waal," said he, "it's there. So you'll put that fire out." - -I complied. - -"It's a wet day," said I. - -"Yes, it's wet." - -"I'd like to get put up for the night somewhere, and get a good meal. -Do you know of any one who would do it?" - -He was silent for some while, and stared at me as if irritated, and -then he said: - -"Guess about no one in this hollow'd take any one in. But you might try -at the store at the top of the hill." - -"Couldn't you take me in?" - -"No; couldn't do it." - -"Then, could you put me up a meal?" - -"We have been out of food and are living on buckwheat cakes." - -"I wouldn't mind some of them and some milk." - -"No, no. No use. Wife wouldn't have any one in." - -After some converse he learned that I was British, and he said, "There -was one of yours here two-three years back." - -"What did he think of this country?" - -"He said it was the darndest country he ever saw." - -There was no help for it. I had to abandon the well and go out through -the never-ceasing down-pour and seek shelter and a decent meal. On my -way to the store I met another farmer, and we had this interchange of -talk: - -"Can you put me up for the night?" - -"No." - -"Can you make me up a meal?" - -"No." - -"I'll pay you for it. You can have a quarter or so for a hot meal." - -"We've just had our supper, and the women are doing other things now. -There is a place on top of the hill." - -A mile farther on I came to a General Store. It was locked up, and as I -stared into the window the owner eyed me from a house over the way. - -He came out, looking at me apprehensively. - -"Can you put me up for the night?" I asked. - -"No; not to-night." - -"Why not?" - -"We don't take only our own people. There's a place two miles on." - -"Two miles through the wet." - -"You're right." - -"I can pay you what you get from your own people, and a little extra -perhaps." - -The storekeeper shook his head and answered: - -"My wife is a little unwell and does not want the trouble." - -"I can tell you you wouldn't get turned away like this in my country," -said I. - -"Where are you from?" - -"From England." - -"Oh, wouldn't they?" - -"There are plenty of places where they'd take you in without charging -for it. There are places in Europe where they'd come out and ask you -into their houses on such a night." - -"I dessay, I dessay." - -"Well, I think the people about here are very inhospitable." - -"I reckon you're right." - -"I think you are inhospitable." - -"Um!" - -"Well, you're a storekeeper, I want some bread and some butter, and -anything else you've got that doesn't need to be cooked." - -"Are you hungry?" - -I told him I was, and he determined to be more charitable than I had -given him the name for. - -"Well," said he, "I can let you have a slice of bread and butter and a -cup of cawfee I dessay." - -"Thanks. I should like to buy a loaf of bread and a quarter pound of -butter all the same," said I. - -"We haven't any bread in the store. The baker leaves it three times a -week, and we've only enough for ourselves; but I can let you have a -slice, and that'll keep you going till you get to Unityville. It's only -about two miles away. There's a hotel there. The folks have taken away -the keeper's licence, and you won't be able to get anything to drink. -But he'll take you in for a dollar. You'll get all you want. In half -an hour you'll be there. There are two more big hills, and then you're -there." - -He brought the bread, and as I was ravenous I was tamed thereby, and I -thanked him. The bread and butter and coffee were gratis. He was really -a kindly man. I shouldn't wonder if his wife had an acid temperament. -The night's lodging, no doubt, depended more on her than on him. - -I sat on rolls of wire-netting outside the store and finished the -little meal. Then I went away. Over the hills in the dusk! It was real -colonial weather; the light of kerosene lamps streamed through the -downpour of rain, the dark woods on each side of the strange high road -grew more mysterious and lonesome, silent except for the throbbing -of the rain on the leaves and on the ground. I stopped at a house to -ask the way, but when I knocked no one answered. I looked through the -kitchen window at the glow of the fire and at the family round the -well-spread table, and the farmer's wife directed me through the glass. - -At last--in a flow of liquid mud, as if arrested in floating -down-hill--a miserable town and a hotel. - -When I asked the host to put me up he said his wife had gone to bed -with a headache, and if I had not rated him soundly I should have been -turned into the rain once again. - -"Well," said he, "I cahnt give you any hot supper, you'll have to take -what's on hand." - -So saying, he opened a tin of Boston beans, emptied them on to a plate, -and put before me a saucerful of those little salt biscuits called -oysterettes. My supper! - -In the bar, deprived of ale, sat half a dozen youths eating chocolate -and birch beer, and talking excitedly of a baseball match that was -to be played on the morrow. Mine host was a portly American of the -white-nigger type. The villagers, exercising their local option, had -taken away his right to sell intoxicating liquor, and now on the wall -he had an oleographic picture of an angel guiding a little girl over a -footbridge, and saving her _from the water_. Somehow I think this was -unintentional humour on the part of mine host. He was an obtuse fellow, -who mixed the name Jesus Christ inextricably with his talk, and swore -b'God. But he gave me a warm bed. And he had his dollar. - -Another evening, about a month later, I sought a lodging in a town -on Erie Shore. The weather was very hot, and I was tramping beside -marshes over which clouds of mosquitoes were swarming. There was no -good resting-place in the bosom of Nature, so I imagined in my heart, -vainly, that I might find refuge with man. - -I came to a town and went into the store and asked where I would be -likely to find a night's lodging. The storekeeper mentioned a house -in one of the bye-streets. But when I applied there the landlady said -her husband was away, and she would be afraid to have a stranger in -his absence. I went to another house: they hadn't any room. I went to -a third: they told me a man there was on the point of death and must -not be disturbed. I returned to the store, and the storekeeper said it -would be impossible to be put up for the night anywhere in the village. -I told him I considered the harbouring of travellers a Christian duty. - -"They don't feel it so about here," said he politely. - -There was an empty park-seat at the end of the main street, I went and -sat on it and made my supper. Whilst I sat there several folk came and -gazed at me, and thought I might be plotting revenge. In America they -are very much afraid of the refused tramp--he may set houses on fire. - -But I was quite cheerful and patient. I had been sleeping out regularly -for weeks, and shelter refused did not stir a spirit of revenge in -me. In any case, I was out to see America as she is, not simply to be -entertained. I was having my little lesson--"and very cheap at the -price." - -But I found hospitality that night. As I sat on the park-seat a tall -labourer with two water-pails came across some fields to me, passed me, -and went to the town pump and drew water. "Surely," said I to myself, -"that is a Russian." - -I hailed him as he came back. - -"_Zdrastvitye! Roosky?_" - -I had guessed aright; he replied in Russian. - -"Are you working in a gang?" I inquired. - -"No, only on the section of the railway; there are six of us. We have -charge of this section. Where are you going to? To Chicago? Looking -for a job? Going to friends there? Where are you going to sleep? This -village is not a good one. _Ne dobry._ If you sleep there, on the seat, -up comes the politzman, and he locks you up. So you be three weeks late -in getting to Chicago perhaps. Why do you walk? You get on freight -train and you be there to-morrow or the day after. You come with me -now. I sleep in a closed truck with five mates, four are Magyars, one -is a Serb. It's very full up, and I don't know how the Magyars would -take it if I brought you in. But I know a good place. A freight train -is waiting here all night. There are plenty of places to sleep, and you -go on in it to-morrow morning to Toledo." - -He showed me an empty truck. I was very much touched, and I thanked him -warmly. - -"How do you believe," he asked in parting, "are you a Pole or are you -Orthodox?" - -"Oh," said I, "I'm not Russian, I've only lived some years there. I'm a -British subject." - -This somewhat perplexed him. But he smiled. "Ah well," said he, -"good-bye, _Sbogom_--be with God," and we parted. - -A little later he returned and said that if I were lonely and didn't -mind a crush, the Magyars would not object to my presence. But by that -time I had swept the sawdusty floor of the truck, made a bed, and was -nearly asleep. "Thanks, brother," said I, "but I'm quite comfortable -now." - -The Russians are a peculiarly hospitable people. Their attitude of mind -is charitable, and even in commercial America they retain much of the -spirit that distinguishes them in Europe. I met a queer old Russian -tramp in Eastern Pennsylvania; he exemplified what I mean. He was, -however, rather an original. - -In a district inhospitable to tramps I obtained my dinner by paying for -it. In this way and by these words: - -"Can you give me a meal for a quarter?" - -"Well, if you've got the coin I reckon we can do that." - -I was sitting at a meal of canned beef, beans, and red-currant jelly, -sipping from a mug of coffee, in which might possibly be discerned the -influence of a spoonful of milk. The farmer was cross-examining me on -my business--where had I come from? Was I looking for a job? Was I -walking for wager?--when a strange figure appeared at the window, a -broad-faced, long-haired, long-bearded tramp in a tattered cloak. - -He approached the house, and about ten feet from the window where we -were sitting he stood stock-still, leaning on his staff and staring at -us. - -"A hobo--looks a bit fierce," said the farmer, opening the window. "How -do? Wha--yer--want?" - -[Illustration: "THE CREAM-VANS COME TO BUY UP ALL THE CREAM."] - -"Give me a piece and a cup o' milk," said the foreigner. - -"A Polander," said the farmer. "I guess I turn him over to the missus. -Sue, here's a man wants a crust and some sour milk." - -"Ee caant 'ave it," cried the farmer's wife. - -"No go," said the farmer, and shook his head at the tramp. - -The latter did not utter a word of reproach, but what was my -astonishment to see him cross himself delicately, and whisper a -benediction. A Russian, I surmised. - -"It is not over-safe refusing them fellers," said the farmer. "They -may burn your barn next night. I reckon Sue might have put him up -something. Hear him curse as he went." - -The old Russian was going eastward, I westward; but I resolved to turn -back, carry him some bread, make some coffee, and exchange those tokens -of the heart which are due from one wanderer to another upon the road. -I hurried back and overtook him. - -The old man was nothing loth to sit on a bank of grass whilst I bought -a quart of milk at a farm. "Coffee, uncle," said I. "Russian coffee. -Varshaffsky, such as you get at home in Russia, eh?" Uncle smiled -incredulously. - -"Twigs, uncle, sticks, dry grasses; we must make a fire," said I. Uncle -got up and collected a heap of wood. My coffee-pot soon reposed on a -cheerful blaze. The creamy milk soon began to effervesce and boil. In -went six lumps of sugar and eight spoonfuls of coffee. Uncle recognised -he was going to have a good drink when he saw that no water was to be -added. It was a pleasure to see him with a mug of it in one hand and a -hunk of good white bread in the other. - -I learned that my friend was tramping his way to New York. At that city -he would buy a ticket to Libau, and from Libau would walk home to his -native village, or he would get under a seat in a train. He had come -250 miles of his journey from Minnesota in an empty truck of a freight -train; perhaps he would get another good lift before long. - -"Why are you going home? Can't you find work?" - -"Going to pray," said he. "I am going to my village to see my father's -grave, and then to a monastery. I would finish my years in Russia and -be buried in Russian ground." - -"I suppose you didn't take root here; American life doesn't suit you? -Didn't you like Americans?" - -"Well, I lived with other fellows from our village, and we succeeded -sufficiently well. Some seasons we gained a lot of money. But I never -felt quite at home. We reckoned we would build a church after a -while--a high wooden one that one could see from the wheat-fields when -we were at work. But my friend turned evangelical; he became a sort of -molokan, and one by one all the other fellows joined him and they went -to meetings. I was the only one who remained orthodox. They reckoned I -got drunk because I was orthodox; but I reckon I got drunk because they -were evangelicals--because they had all deserted me, and I was lonely. -It's hard on a man to be all alone." - -"And why did you leave, uncle? What determined you to go?" - -"I'll tell you. I had a strange dream. I saw my father, who is, as -you know, dead long since and in his grave, and I saw a figure of -St. Serge--St. Serge was his angel--and both lifted their arms and -pointed to the East. I knew it was the East because there was a great -red sunset behind them, and they pointed right away from it, in the -other direction. When I wakened up I remembered this, and it made -a great impression on me. I told Basil, my friend, who worked with -me lumbering, and he laughed. 'But,' I said, 'that's not the thing -to laugh at.' At last I decided to start for home. The idea that I -might die in America and be buried there was always pricking me. I am -not American. The American God won't take me when I die. Some of the -fellows are going to take out their papers, because a Jew came round -pestering them with books to learn English and prepare for examination, -saying they ought to make themselves citizens; but that is not for me. -I am Russian. Mother Russia! she is mine. They may keep you down and -oppress you there, but the land is holy, and men are brothers. - -"When I started home I was surprised that so many farmers said 'No,' -when I wanted to sleep in their barns. I even got angry and shouted -at them. But as I went further I got patient, and came to pray to God -every day and often, to give me my bread and bring me safely to Russia. -Then I got peace, and never was afraid or angry, reckoning that even -if I did die in America I should be dying on the way home, and my face -would be turned towards Russia. I reckon that if I die my soul will get -there just the same." - -"It's not often that in Russia, when a man is refused bread, he says, -'Glory be to God!'" said I, recalling how the tramp had crossed himself -after the farmer's refusal. - -"No; not often. I thought out that for myself. At first I was silent -when people turned me away. I gave thanks only when they took me in. -But after a while my silence seemed a sort of impatience and angriness. -So I recollected God even then, and crossed myself. A tramp has no -ikons, so he needs all sorts of things to remind him." - -The poor exile had told his story, and looked at me with dim, -affectionate eyes. He held my hand tightly in his as we said, -"Good-bye"; he going eastward, I westward. - -That was a way of living in the fear of God. That old man had real -hospitality in his soul. - -But in depicting the American farmer and storekeeper it would be unfair -to characterise him as an inhospitable person. He is a great deal more -hospitable than his actions would suggest. He is a kindly being. He -has love towards his neighbour, and is more inclined to say "Yes" to -the wanderer than "No." But he has often been victimised. He has been -robbed, assaulted, insulted, his property has been damaged, barns set -on fire, his crops in part destroyed by wilfully malicious vagabonds. -The behaviour of the tramp is often a sort of petty anarchism; he has -suffered in the heartless commercial machine, has got out of it only -by luck, and his hand is against every man. He has cast over honour, -principle, and conscience, and is able to gloat secretly over every -little cynical act or meanness perpetrated at the expense of the -good-natured but established farmer. - -America has more tramps than any other country except Russia, and it -would have more than Russia but for the fact that there are often -about a million pilgrim-tramps on the Russian roads. The Russian tramp -is, moreover, a gentle creature; the American is often a foul-mouthed -hooligan. - -In several little districts that I passed through I was questioned by -the farmers as to whether I belonged to a gang of tramps who had been -lurking in the neighbourhood for weeks. A tramp was evidently regarded -as an enemy of society. Whenever I remarked on the inhospitality of the -people a rueful expression came over the farmer's face, and he would -begin to tell me that the old days were gone, money was tighter, the -cost of living was higher, taxes were double, the land did not yield -what it did of old, there were many demands on them here; but out in -the West it was different. There, as in former times, every farm-house -had open doors and free table to the tramp and wanderer. No one was -more welcome than the tramp, he brought news and stories of personal -adventure; he might even be persuaded to do work in the fields. - -I believe the Americans would be a truly charitable and hospitable -people if the evils of over-commercialism were remedied, and if -business were made kinder and more human, and taxes were evenly -distributed. There is an immense good-will towards man in America: -it is only rendered abortive by mammon. I for my part have to thank -numberless farmers, east and west, for kindly interest and good talks, -loaves of bread, cups of coffee, and pleasant meals. Several times when -I have been cooking by the side of a road a farm wife has come running -out to me with something hot from her kitchen, with an "Eat this, poor -man, and God bless you, you must be hungry." - -[Illustration: "PLOUGHED UPLAND ALL DOTTED OVER WITH WHITE HEAPS OF -FERTILISER."] - -Then the farmer's wife is often mollified when you are able to buy her -milk and eggs. She is the person who counts in the farm. She must be -approached; the husband has very little say in what shall be given to -the wanderer. As a fantastic old tramp said to me: - -"Whilst you are yet afar off the farmer's wife standing on her -threshold, espies you and takes you to be a hungry lion pawing the -road and seeking whom you may devour. She calls to her husband and he -peereth at you. Perchance she fetcheth down the ancient blunderbuss -from the wall; but when you come closer and hail her in English she -says to herself with relief, even with pleasure, 'It is a man,' one of -the attractive male species. You ask for bread and milk,--oh yes she -has it, and with a scared look still on her face, though transfigured -with a mild gladness, she fetcheth you bread and milk and eggs; -and then if you can pay her market price the scared look goes away -entirely; and out of the goodness of her heart and the abundance of -her pantry she addeth cookies and apple butter, and for these you pay -nought--they are her favour. Don't ask her, however, to put you up for -the night." - -The tramp always has a hard time to get a night's lodging. A poor, -weak, bedraggled Jew, whom I met shortly after the forty-eight hours' -rain, told me that he had been all one night in the wet--his pedlar's -pack had got ruined, he was suffering from pneumonia, and had thought -that such weather meant sure death to him. He had tried every house in -five towns and had been refused at every one. It was a sad comment on -modern life. - -In the Middle Ages, and in the days when Christianity meant more -than it does now, the refusal of shelter was almost unheard of. -And in peasant Russia to-day it would be considered a sin. An old -pilgrim-tramp once said to me, "When we leave this world to get to -Heaven we all have to go on tramp, and those find shelter there who -sheltered wanderers here." But Americans will not be judged by that -standard. The early Christians received strangers and often entertained -angels unawares, but the modern American is afraid that in taking in a -strange tramp he may be sheltering an outcast spirit. Once tramps were -angels; now they are rebel-angels. - - - - -IX - -OVER THE ALLEGHANIES - - -Both the weather and the country improved before I reached -Williamsport. On the height of the road to Hughesville I had a grand -view of the mountains and of the sky above them, saw displayed green -hills and forested mountains, and great stretches of ploughed upland -all dotted over with white heaps of fertiliser. And the sky above was -a battle-scene, the sun and his angels having given battle and the -clouds taking ranks like an army. Glad was I to see to eastward whole -battalions in retreat. - -I passed through fine forested land with great hemlocks, maples, and -hickories. A brawling stream poured along through the dark wood, and -as I walked beside it a sudden gleam of sunshine pierced the gloom of -foliage, and lit up boles and wet banks and wet rocks and the crystal -freshets of the stream. Of all weathers I like best convalescent -weather, the getting sunny after much rain. On the Sunday on which I -reached the city the open road was swept by fresh winds, all the birds -were singing, every blade of grass was conscious of rain taken in and -of the sun bringing out. - -Williamsport I found to be a peaceful, provincial town, well kept in -itself and surrounded by beautiful scenery. It was looking its best in -the freshness and radiance of a May morning. On its many hundred bright -green lawns that run down so graciously from pleasant urban villas to -the roadway there was much white linen airing. Williamsport is an old -lumbering town on a branch of the Susquehanna, and though that business -has gone away, prosperity and happiness seem to have remained behind. -There was a feeling of calmness that I had not experienced in other -American cities, and I felt it would be pleasant to live there for a -season. - -I tramped down to Jersey Shore, and the night after my halcyon day at -Williamsport a thunderstorm overtook me, shaking the old barn in which -I slept and tearing away rafters and doors. I witnessed Lockhaven under -depressing circumstances, but in any weather it must be an inferior -town to Williamsport, though it is also an old point for lumbering on -the Susquehanna. - -The weather remained very rainy, and I was obliged to forsake the -atrociously clayey high-road for the cinder track of the railway. In -doing this I passed up into a fine hilly country along the valley of -the Beech Creek. I came to Mapes (to rhyme with Shapes), but found it -a name and no more. A shooting and fishing resort with one house in -it. The Beech Creek was a fine sight, running along the base of the -embankment of the railway, carrying pine logs on its flood and racing -the trains with them, roaring and rushing, the logs pointing, racing, -turning, rolling, toppling, colliding, but always going forward, -willy-nilly getting clear of every obstacle and galloping out of sight. - -With one wet match I lighted a grand fire by the side of the line, and -boiled my kettle and dried myself and chuckled. It might be going to -rain more. I might be going to have a queer night, but for the time -being I was having a splendid tea. It was a matter for consolation in -the future that on the wettest possible day it was not difficult to -light a fire with one match. The secret lies in having plenty of dry -paper in your wallet; and I had a copy of a New York Sunday paper, -which lasted me to light my fire all the way to Elkhart, Indiana, at -least five hundred miles' tramping. - -The district of Mapes is one of the most beauteous in the Alleghanies, -or it was so this quiet evening. The summits of the mountains were -obscured by mists, but up from the profound valleys the woods climbed, -and the lovely tops of trees seemed like so many stepping-stones from -the land up to cloudy heaven. - -By the time I came to Monument it was dark. But a great glowing -brick-kiln looked out into the night, and there were houses with many -lighted windows. I was directed to a workmen's boarding-house, and -spent a night among miners, railway men, and brick-workers. The keeper -of the establishment was doubtful whether he would have me, but thought -there was "one feller on the third floor gone." - -"What will be your charge?" I asked. - -"Well," said he, "a won't charge ye anything for the bed, but the -breakfast to-morrow morning will be twenty-five cents." - -"My!" I thought, "here's something choice coming along in the shape of -a bed." - -It turned out to be four in a room and two in a bed, all sleeping in -their clothes. There was even some doubt as to whether there was not a -fifth coming. - -One man was in bed already; I chose the unoccupied bed, and laid myself -upon it in full tramping attire. You can imagine the state of sheets -and quilts in a bed that brickmakers and soft-coal miners sleep in -their clothes. - -The man in bed was an Anglo-Saxon American. When I said I was from -England he asked me if I had walked it all. - -"I came by steamer of course to New York." - -"How many days?" - -"Eight." - -"Weren't you afraid?" said he. "Quite out of sight of land no doubt? -You wouldn't get me to go, not for many thousand dollars. That -_Titanic_ was an affair, wasn't it. Fifteen hundred--straight to the -bottom! I'd have shot myself had I been there." - -"What do you work at here?" - -"Brick-making." - -"Lot of men?" - -"Plenty of work. Two truck-loads of extra men coming to-morrow." - -"Foreigners?" - -"Italians." - -I told him the story of a storm at sea with the exaggeration to which -one is too prone when addressing simple souls. I rather harrowed him -with an account of cook's enamel ware and kitchen things rolling about -and jangling when every one was saying his prayers. - -Presently I remarked irrelevantly, "My goodness! What a noise the frogs -make here!" - -"That's no noise," said he; "I'm going to sleep." - -After a while his bedfellow came in and he, before turning in, got -down on his knees in the narrow passage between the beds and prayed--I -should say, a whole half-hour, talking half to himself, half-aloud. -Whilst he was doing so my bedfellow came in, a tall, heavy, tired Pole, -who looked neither to right nor left, but just clambered over me and -lay down with his face to the wall and slept and snored. - -It rained heavily all night, and next morning it still poured. -After a disreputably bad breakfast I sat on a chair at the door of -the establishment and watched the thresh of the rain on two great -pools beside a road of coal-dust, looked out at the lank grass, the -tomato-can dump, the sodden refuse of the boarding-house, and away to -the square red chimney of the brick factory belching forth black smoke. - -"Say, stranger," said mine host, "I'm going to wade into that cave and -hand out potatoes; will you take them from me?" This was the first time -I had been called stranger in America, and it sounded pleasant in my -ears. - -About eleven o'clock in the morning the rain ceased, and I went on to -the next point on the railway. The track climbed higher and higher, and -I learned that on the morrow I should reach the top of the Alleghany -Mountains--Snow Shoe Creek. - -It was a fine walk to Orviston under the heavily clouded sky. The -mountain sides were all a-leak with springs and trickling streams and -cascades. There was an accompanying music of the racing Beech Creek -on the one hand, and of the gushing rivulets on the other; but this -would be swallowed up and lost every now and then in the uproar of the -oncoming and passing freight train of coal; the appalling, hammering, -affrighting freight train passing within two feet of me, taking my -breath away with the thought of its power. How pleasant it was, though, -to listen to the rebirth of the music of the waters coming to the ear -in the wind of the last trucks as they passed. - -[Illustration: "SLOVAKS WORKING ON THE LINE WITH PICK AND SHOVEL."] - -Orviston prides itself on its fire-bricks. The whole village is made of -them, and the pavement as well, and every brick is stamped "Orviston," -and is both a commodity and an advertisement. - -After I had visited the village store for provisions I re-entered the -railway enclosure, and read as I did so the following notice typical of -America: "Cultivate the safety habit--if you see anything wrong report -it to the man with the button." - -I met the man with the button after I had walked a mile along the -way; he was a Slovak, working on the line with pick and shovel, a -tall, brawny Slav, and with him a rather tubby little chap of the same -nationality. - -"You haf no raeit on these laeins," said the Slovak. "You go off. You are -no railway man. What are you? Slavish?" - -I replied in English, but on second thoughts went on in Russian. He -understood, and was mollified at once. He was in America for the second -time, they neither of them liked the old country. I photographed them -as they stood--John Kresica and Paul Cipriela. They were unmarried men, -and lived in a "boarding-house" in Orviston. They worked in a gang. -Would I please send them a copy of the photograph? I agreed to do so; -then, when I moved to go off the lines, the man with the button cried -out, smiling: - -"Hi! All-right, go ahead!" - -I went on blithely. There was a change of weather in the afternoon. At -one o'clock the sun lifted his arms and pulled apart the mist curtains -at the zenith and disclosed himself--a miraculous apparition. The whole -sky was cloudy, but the sun was shining. An apparition, the ghost of -a sun, and then a reality--hot, light-pouring, cloud-dispersing. By -two it was a hot summer day, at three there was not a cloud in the -sky. What a change! It was clear that summer had progressed during -the rain; insects of bright hues were on the wing, huge yellow-winged -butterflies, crimson-thighed grasshoppers, green sun-beetles. A -new-born butterfly settled three times on my sleeve; the fourth time I -just caught him. I held him delicately between two fingers and let him -go. - -During a most exhilarating evening I tramped past houseless Panther and -got to Cato at nightfall. Cato was a railway station of no pretensions; -a broken-down shed with no door, no ticket offices, no porter. -Passengers who wished to take a train had to wave a flag and trust to -the eyesight of the engine-driver. For village, all that I could make -out was a coal-bank, a shaft, and some heaps of old iron. - -It was an extremely cold night, so I slept in the railway shed on a -plank form that ran along the three sides of the building. I lay and -looked out at the bright night shining over the mountains, dozed, -waked, dozed again. Shortly after midnight I had a strange visitor. I -was lying half-asleep, looking at a misshapen star which was resting on -the mountains opposite me, which became a silver thumb pointing upward, -which became at last the young crescent moon just rising. I was in that -somnolent state when you ask, as you see the moon rising behind dark -branches of the forest, Is it the moon in eclipse? is it a comet?--when -a portly man with shovel hat came out of the night, stood in front of -the shed, leaned on a thick cudgel, and looked in. - -"Hallo!" said I. - -"Haffing sum sleep?" queried the visitor. - -"Yes, trying to; but it's a cold night." - -"Ah, you haf bed pretty goot!" - -"Who are you,--the night watchman?" - -"Naw. You don't see a naeit wawtchman without 'is lantern." - -The old chap came close up to me, bent down, and whispered, "I'm in the -same box as yourself." - -"Walking all night?" I asked. - -"The only vay to keep varm," said the old man ruefully. He took out a -shining watch from his waistcoat. - -"Three o'clock," said he. "In an hour it will be daylight. Oh, I think -I'll try and sleep here an hour. Say, is there to eat along the road?" - -I wasn't quite sure what he meant. - -"Not much," I hazarded. - -"Wot are you--you don't speak the langwage very goot," said the tramp. - -"English." - -"I am a Cherman." - -The old man lay down on the plank form, resting his head on my feet, -and using them for a pillow. - -"How old are ye?" he went on.... "Hoh, I can give you forty years. If I -were in Germany now I should be getting an army pension." - -"Are you going back?" said I. - -"Naw, naw. I could never give up this country." - -We composed ourselves to sleep, but with his head resting on my feet I -was too uncomfortable. "Presently I'll make a fire," said I, "and we'll -have hot tea and some bread and butter." And after about twenty minutes -I got up, put my boots on, and wandered out to find wood to make a -fire. It was about half an hour before dawn. There was a hoar frost, -and everything was cold and rimy to the touch. But I made up a bundle -of last year's weeds, now sodden straws, and laid them on a half-sheet -of my Sunday newspaper. That made a fine blaze, and with twigs and -sticks and bits of old plank, I soon had a fine bonfire going. The old -German came out and watched me incredulously. He didn't think it was -possible to make a fire on such a morning. But he was soon convinced, -and went about picking up chunks of wood desultorily, alleging the -while that he couldn't have lit such a fire in three hours; evidently I -knew how to do it. - -"Shall I make tea or coffee?" I asked. - -"Cawfee," said the old chap, his mouth watering. The word tea did not -represent to him anything good. - -"After a cup of hot cawfee I can go a long way. Hot cawfee, mind yer. -Varm cawfee 'salright for lunch, but in the morning it must be hot. The -only thing better than a cup of cawfee is a pint of whisky.... Say, -you've enough fire here now to roast a chicken." - -"Wish I had one, we'd roast it." - -I emptied the last of my sugar into the pot, and seven or eight -spoonfuls of coffee. It was to be "Turkish." The old tramp sat down on -the stump of a tree, took out a curly German pipe, and then put a red -coal on it. He had matches, but was economical in the matter of lights. -"Say," he said to me later, pointing to the ground, "you've dropped a -good match." I picked it up. - -The coffee was "real good." The old fellow drank it through his thick -moustache, and dipping his bread into his cup, munched great mouthfuls. -I had offered him butter with his bread, but he refused. "Booter" was -nothing to him. He liked apple-"booter." - -"Say, you've got on a powerful pair of boots!" - -"I need them, tramping to Chicago." - -"Chicago's not a bad town if you know where to go. Say, presently -you'll come to Snow Shoe. Don't go past it. You'll get something there." - -The old man stopped a minute in his talk, and stared at me knowingly, -didactically. - -"Rich miners," he went on. "You need only ask. See this packet of -tobacco, they gave it to me at the Company store. That's the thing I -can't get on without, must have it. If a man asks me for a smoke and I -haf it to give I must give him also. Where've you come from yesterday, -Orviston?" - -"No. Monument." - -"Is there anything there?" he whispered mysteriously. - -"Not much to be had," said I. "But there's a good deal of work, and -they're bringing in a big gang of Italians. You can't get much of -anything at the farms." - -"Where Guineas are, I don't go. I don't like the Eyetaylians." - -"D'you like the Jews?" - -"They're a good people," said he. "Don't say anything against the Jews. -I know a Jew who gives free boots to tramps. Last year I went into his -store, and one of the shopmen came up to me and said, 'I know what you -want, you'll get it. I'll tell the boss when he comes out.' And he -gave me a powerful pair of boots, and sent me across the road to the -Quick-lunch with a letter to the boss there, to give me a good dinner. -So I never say anything against the Jews." - -"Do you know Cleveland?" said I. - -"You bet. Lived there ten years ago, had a job on a Lake steamer. I -worked one summer on a boat." - -The old tramp stared at me as if he had confessed a sin. "Worked like a -mule," he added sententiously, and stared again. "I had a home there, -and lived just like a married man. But when I wanted to move on to -Pittsburg my girl wouldn't go." - -"I expect you're the sort of man who has run away from a wife in -Germany," said I. - -"Naw, naw. Never married." - -Then he began to talk of his loves and conquests. At his age you'd have -thought his mind would not have been filled with such vanities. He -evidently earned money now and then, and went on "sprees." He averred -that he had not a dime now, and was altogether "on the nail." I had -an idea, however, that he had hidden on him, somewhere, passage-money -to take him to Germany, to get that army pension. The Germans are a -cautious people. They are cautious and cogitative, yet I wonder what -the old man thought of me as he stumped away, leaning on his heavy -walking-stick. He had been twenty-seven years on the road, and was very -shrewd and experienced in many ways. Perhaps for a moment he took me -for a gentleman burglar. He was immensely curious to see what was in -my sack, but he probably reflected--"Here is good hot, coffee, a fire, -and a pleasant young man; make the most of it, and ask no inconvenient -questions." - -I put the fire out, shouldered my pack, and resumed the journey to Snow -Shoe. The sun had risen, but his warmth was as yet shut away behind the -wall of the mountains. The hoar-frost of night had not melted yet, and -it was necessary to walk briskly to keep warm. It was so cold that I -got to Snow Shoe before ten o'clock. - -A feature of this tramping along the rails was the danger in crossing -bridges. It was a single line, and as there were some twenty bridges -over the flood of the river, there were twenty ordeals of trusting that -no train would suddenly appear from a corner of the winding track and -run me down. If a train had come whilst I was half-way across a bridge -there was no refuge but the river, and I was always prepared to jump. -For several nights after this bit of tramping I dreamed of crossing -bridges, running on the sleepers and just passing the last beams as -engines swept down on me. But it was pleasant climbing up so high, and -feeling that within an hour or so Snow Shoe would be achieved. I had -lived in the rumour of Snow Shoe for two days, and the name had come -to correspond to something very beautiful in my mind. The sound of the -name is pleasant to the ear, and every now and then, as I hurried -along, I asked, "Snow Shoe, Snow Shoe, what shall I find there?" I -imagined the pioneers who first came up this beautiful valley and -gave to an Indian settlement the dainty name--through what virginal -loveliness they had passed! Then I thought of the reporter-poet -of Scranton who objected to the beauty of Nature because it was -independent of man. - -[Illustration: THE SLAV CHILDREN OF SNOW-SHOE CREEK.] - -Then, man came along, the engine-man with his endless, empty freight -train and his bellowing, steaming engine howling through the valley. -One after another eight freight trains, each about a quarter of a mile -long, came grinding past me, going up to the collieries to take their -daily loads of carbon. Somehow I did not object; it was new America, -the America of to-day careering over the America of 1492, and had to be -accepted. - -But Snow Shoe gave me pause. When I arrived at the little slate-roofed -mining settlement I found there was considerable excitement among the -children there. A cow had just been cut to pieces by the last freight -train. The driver had driven his train over the beast and on without a -word of remark or a hesitation, and a farmer was complaining bitterly, -but the children--young Americans, Russians, Ruthenians, Slovaks, the -ones who have in their keeping the America of to-morrow--were sitting -round the remains, helling and God-damning and asking me facetious -questions. And that was the answer to what I had asked myself--What -shall I see at Snow Shoe? What am I walking so far and so high for to -see? - -Snow Shoe was the dreariest possible mining settlement, and its -inhabitants slouched about its coaly ways and in and out of the -saloons. Scarcely any one could speak English, and the mines were -worked almost exclusively by Poles and Slovaks. The highest point in -the Alleghanies, a hand of earth stretched up to heaven, perhaps a -maledictory hand. - - - - -X - -DECORATION DAY - - -America celebrates no "Whit-Monday," but has Decoration Day instead; -a great national festival, when medals are pinned on to veterans, the -soldiers of the War of North against South are remembered, and the -graves of heroes are decorated with flags and flowers. On Decoration -Day, and again later, on Independence Day, the whole populace ceases -work in the name of America, and flocks the streets, sings national -songs and hymns, goes on procession, fires salutes, listens to -speeches. We British are just wildly glad to get free from toil when -Whit-Monday and August Bank Holiday come round. We have no national -or religious fervour on these days. We have even been known to flock -happily to Hampstead and Epping Forest to the strains of "England's -going down the Hill." Upon occasion the British can be clamorously -patriotic, but only upon occasion. But the American citizen is, to use -his own phrase, "crazy about America" all the while. The "days-off" -that we get are not only off work, but off everything serious. The -American still nurses the hope with which he came across the ocean, -and he is enthusiastically attached to the republic he has made and the -principles of that republic. - -I spent Decoration Day at Clearfield, a little mining and agricultural -town on the other side of the Alleghanies. I put up at a hotel for two -or three days, and just gave myself to the town for the time. Early on -the festival day I was out to see how the workaday world was taking -things. All the shops were closed except the ice-cream soda bars and -the fruiterers. There were flags on the banks and loungers on the -streets. Young men were walking about with flags in their hat ribbons. -The cycles and automobiles on the roadway had their wheels swathed -with the stars and stripes. There were negroes and negresses standing -_endimanche's_ at street corners. Now and then a girl in white dress -and white boots would trip from a house to a shop and back again. There -was an air best expressed by the words of the song: - - - Go along and get yer ready, - Get yer glad rags on, - For there's going to be a meeting - In the good old town. - - -Every town in America is a good old town, and on such occasions as -Decoration Day you may always hear the worthies of the place giving -their reminiscences in the lounge of a hotel. I sat and listened to -many. - -We had a very quiet morning, and it seemed to me there was considerable -boredom in the town. There was a fire in the Opera House about eleven, -and I ran behind the scenes with a crowd of others and stared at the -smoking walls. There was a sort of disappointment that the firemen put -it out so promptly. - -But after dinner the real holiday commenced, and the houses began to -empty and the streets began to fill. About four o'clock the "Parade" -commenced, what we should in England call a procession. Every one who -owned a car had it out, carrying roses and ferns and flags. There was -a continual hooting and coughing of motor-horns, and an increasing -buzz of talk. The "Eighth Regimental Band" appeared, and stood with -their instruments in the roadway, chatting to passers-by and being -admired. The firemen came with new hats on--their work at the Opera -House happily concluded. They now bore on their shoulders wreaths, -which were to be carried to the graves of the heroes in the cemetery -outside the town. The High School band formed up. A tall man brought -a new-bought banner of the Stars and Stripes, which hung from a -bird-headed pole. Boy Scouts came in costume--as it were in the rags of -the war. The marching order was formed, and then came up what I thought -to be the Town Militia, but which turned out to be the representatives -of the Mechanics Union, with special decorations and medals on their -breasts. The bands began to play; the automobiles, full of flowers -and flags, began to cough and shoot forward; the flocks of promenaders -on the side-walk and in the roadway set themselves to march in step -to the festal music. I watched the whole procession, from the Eighth -Regimental Band that went first to the eight veterans of the Spanish -War, who, with muskets on their shoulders, took up the rear. I stopped -several people in the procession and asked them who they were, what -exactly was their role, for what reason were they decorated with -medals,--and every one was glad to satisfy my curiosity. I found that -the eight veterans considered themselves technically a squad, and their -function was to fire a salute over the graves of the "heroes." - -The procession marched round the town to the strains of "Onward, -Christian soldiers" and "O come, all ye faithful." All the people of -Clearfield accompanied--Americans, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks--for -Clearfield has its foreign mining population as well as its Anglo-Saxon -urban Americans. As I was going alongside, a young boy ran up and put -his hand on my shoulder and addressed me in Polish. - -"What's that you say?" I asked. - -"Vairy good!" said he, and pointed to the procession. "I like it." - -"What are you,--Ruthenian, Polish?" I asked. - -"Slavish." - -I spoke to him in Russian. - -"Oh-ho, he-he, da-da, I thought you were a Polak." - -And now he thought I was a Russian! It touched me rather tenderly. I -was dressed like an American, and my attire was not like that of a -Russian at all. How enthusiastic this boy was! It was a real holiday -for him. The Slav peoples are emotional; they need every now and then a -means of publicly expressing their feelings. This procession from the -town to the graveyard was a link with the customs of their native land, -where at least twice a year the living have a feast among the crosses -and mounds of the cemetery, and share their joys and interests with the -dear dead, whose bodies have been given back to earth. - -Among those accompanying the procession were Austrian Slavs, in -soot-coloured, broad-brimmed, broken-crowned hats, not yet cast away; -and I noted solemn-faced, placid Russian peasants in overalls staring -with half-awakened comprehension. I saw a negro attired in faultless -black cloth, having a bunchy umbrella in his hand, a heavy gold chain -across his waistcoat, a cigar in his mouth, a soft smoky hat on his -head. He tried to get to the front, and I heard one white man say to -another, "Make way for him, it's not _your_ funeral." The negro is a -pretty important person--considering that the war was really fought for -him. Perhaps not many actively remember that now; it is not soothing -to do so. It is the American hero who matters more than the cause -for which he fell; though of course America, the idea of America, -matters more than either the heroes or the cause. It is a pity that -on Decoration Day there is a tendency to decorate the graves of those -who fell in the Spanish War and to pin medals on the survivors of that -conflict rather than to perpetuate the memory of the struggle for the -emancipation of the negro. America's great problem is the negro whom -she has released; but the Spanish War meant no more than that America's -arm proved strong enough to defeat a European power inclined to meddle -with her civilisation. - -It was, however, at the oldest grave in the cemetery that the -procession stopped and the people gathered. All the men were uncovered, -and there was a feeling of unusual respect and emotion in the crowd. -The wreaths were put down and the flags lowered as the little memorial -service commenced. We sang an old hymn, slowly, sweetly, and very -sadly, so that one's very soul melted. A hymn of the war, I suppose: - - - _Let him sleep,_ - _Calmly sleep,_ - _While the days and the years roll by._ - _Let him sleep,_ - _Sweetly sleep,_ - _Till the call of the roll on high._ - - -In the time of the war, in the dark hours of danger and distress, in -the times of loss and appalling personal sorrow the Americans were -very near and dear to God and to one another--nearer than they are -to-day in their peace and prosperity. - -When the hymn had been sung, an old grey-headed man came to the foot of -the grave and read a portion of the speech made by Abraham Lincoln at -the great cemetery at Gettysburg: - - - _Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this - continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the - proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in - a great Civil War, testing whether that nation so conceived and so - dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield ... - to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for - those who have given their lives that the nation might live. It is - altogether fitting and proper that we should do this._ - - _But in a larger sense we cannot consecrate this ground. The dead - themselves have consecrated it. It is rather for us, the living, - to consecrate ourselves to the work they died for, that we resolve - that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation - shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the - people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the - earth._ - - -The reading of these words was most impressive. I realised in it the -Gospel of America--something more national than even the starry flag. - -When the reading was accomplished the eight veterans fired their -salute, not up at heaven, but across and over the people's heads, as at -an unseen enemy. Then the old grey-headed man who had read the words of -Lincoln pronounced the blessing: - - - _The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your - hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God...._ - - -And we dispersed to wander among the graves and see the decorations, -and add decorations of our own if we willed. Wherever I went, the -haunting air was in my ears: - - - Let him sleep, - Sweetly sleep, - Till the call of the roll on high. - - -Americans believe very really in the roll-call. They believe that -they will answer to their names on a great last day--"When the roll -is called up yonder, I'll be there," says a popular hymn. It is all -important to the American that he feels he lives and dies for the -Right, for the moral virtues. The glory of the wars which the Americans -have fought in their history is not only that they, the Americans, were -victorious, but that they were morally right before ever they started -out to fight. - -Well, civilisation has approved the abolition of slavery. The great -mass of people nowadays consider slavery as something wrong in itself. -The North took up its weapons and convinced the South, and the negro -was freed. The peculiar horrors of slavery no longer exist--no one -man has power of life and death over the African. That much the war -has achieved. But it is strange that for the rest the negro seems -to have become worse off, and that America feels that she cannot -extend the personal privileges of democracy to the blacks. America has -brutalised the nigger; has made of a very gentle, loving and lovable -if very simple creature, an outcast, a beast, who may not sit beside -an ordinary man. It has in its own nervous imagination accused him of -hideous crimes which he did not commit, did not even imagine; it has -deprived him of the law, tortured him, flayed him, burned him at the -stake. It has made a black man a bogey; so that a fluttering white -woman, finding herself alone in the presence of a negro, will rush -away in terror, crying "murder," "rape," "fire," just because she has -seen the whites of his eyes. Then the hot-blooded southern crowd comes -out.... - -The war was a healthy war. It did much good, it strengthened the roots -of many American families; it gave the nation a criterion for future -development; it brought many individuals nearer to reality, brought -them to the mystery of life, caused them to say each day their prayers -to God. But if a war must be judged by its political effect, then as -regards the happiness of the negro the war has not yet proved to be a -success. The service by the graveside, and the apt words of Abraham -Lincoln were a reminder to the American people that though they realise -to themselves the maximum of prosperity the New World affords, and yet -lose their souls, it profits them nothing. America by her unwritten -but infallible charter is consecrated to freedom. If America is going -to be true to itself it must work for freedom, it must carry out the -idea of freedom. The emigrant from Europe expects to realise in America -the idea of freedom, the opportunity for personal and individual -development. He does not expect to find repeated there the caste system -and relative industrial slavery of the East. - - * * * * * * * - -Clearfield was much touched by the graveside service. The whole evening -after it the men in the hotel lounge talked American sentiment. The -lads and lasses crowded into the cinema houses, and watched with -much edification the specially instructive set of films which, on -the recommendation of the town council, had been specially installed -for the occasion,--the perils of life for a young girl going to -dance-halls, the Soudanese at work, Japanese children at play, the -ferocious habits of the hundred-legs, a review of troops at Tiflis, -a portrait of the Governor of Mississippi wearing a high silk hat, -pottery-making in North Borneo, the Pathe news. It was good to see -so many pictures of foreign and dark-skinned people presented in an -interesting and sympathetic manner. The Americans need to care more -for the national life of other races. For they are often strangely -contemptuous of the people they conceive to be wasting their time. - -I had a pleasant talk with a doctor who was extremely keen on -"temperance." He struck up acquaintance with me by complimenting me -on my complexion, and betting I didn't touch spirituous liquors. "The -war's still going on," said he. "I wage my part against drink and -disease. I'd like to make the medical profession a poor one to enter, -yes, sirr. I'd like to uproot disease, and if I could stop the drinking -in America I'd do it. Never touch liquor and you'll never have gout, -live to a good age, and be happy. I am glad to meet you, sir, glad -to meet a Briton. America will stand shoulder and shoulder with the -British in war or peace. They are of the same blood. The only two -civilised nations in the world." - -All the same, Clearfield regarded me with some suspicion, and as I sat -at my bedroom window at night a young man called up: - -"English Gawd: Lord Salisbury." - - - - -XI - -WAYFARERS OF ALL NATIONALITIES - - -The men whom you meet during the day are like a hand of cards dealt out -to you by Providence. But they are more than that, for you feel that -luck does not enter into it. You feel there is no such thing as luck, -and that the wayfarer is in his way a messenger sent to you by the -hospitable spirit of man. He brings a sacred opportunity. - -I sit tending my fire, and watching and balancing the kettle upon it; -or I sit beside the cheerful blaze on which I have cooked my breakfast -or my dinner, and I hold my mug of coffee in my hand and my piece -of bread; I chip my just-boiled eggs, or I am digging into a pot of -apple-jelly or cutting up a pine-apple, and I feel very tender towards -the man who comes along the road and stops to pass a greeting and give -and take the news of the day and the intelligence of the district. - -There is a sort of hermit's charity. It is to have a spirit that is -quietly joyful, to be in that state towards man that a gentle woodsman -is towards the shy birds who are not afraid of him as he lies on a -forest bank and watches them tripping to and from their little nests. -Your fellow-man instinctively knows you and trusts you, and he puts -aside the mask in which he takes refuge from other fellow-travellers -who are alert and busy. I cherish as very precious all the little talks -I had with this man and that man who came up to me in America. - -As I sat one day by the side of my pleasant Susquehanna road, an -oil-carrier met me, a gentle-voiced man in charge of four tons of -kerosene and petrol, which his horses were dragging over the mountains -from village to village and store to store. I was an opportunity to -rest the horses, and the driver pulled up, relaxed his reins and -entered into converse with me. Was I going far? Why was I tramping? -What nationality was I? I told him what I was doing, and he said he -would like to give up his job and do the same; he also was of British -origin, though his mother was a German. He was a descendant of Sir -Robert Downing. "There used to be many English about here," said he, -"but they wore off." He went on to tell me what a wild district it -had once been. His grandfather had shot a panther on the mountains. -But there were no panthers now. The railways and the automobiles -had frightened the wild things away. The change had come about very -suddenly. He remembered when there were no telephone-poles along the -road, but only road-poles. It used to be a posting-road, and a good -one too; but now the automobiles had torn up all the surface, and no -one would take any trouble about the needs of horse vehicles. - -One hot noontide, on the road to Shippenville and Oil City, I was -having luncheon when a very pleasant Swede came down the road carrying -a bucket in his hand,--Mr. G. B. Olson, bossing a gang of workers on -the highway. He was going down the hill to a special spring to draw -water for his thirsty men, but he could hardly resist the smoke of my -wayside fire, and he told me, as it seemed, his whole story. He had -come to America in 1873, and had worked on a farm in Illinois before -the great Chicago fire. He was twenty-four then, and was sixty-five now. - -When he heard I was British he told me how he had come from Europe -_via_ Leith and Glasgow, and had been fifteen and a half days crossing -the Atlantic. - -"Have you ever been back to Sweden?" I asked. - -"No, sirr, never." - -"Are you content with America?" - -"Yes, sirr; it's the finest country under the sun. It gives the working -man a show." - -"The Americans speak very kindly of your countrymen. They like them." - -"Yes. We gave the Americans a good lift, we Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, -and Germans, by settling the land when the rest of the colonists were -running to the towns. We came in and did the rough pioneer work that -had to be done if America was going to be more than a mushroom growth. -Where would America be to-day if it were not for us in Minnesota, -Wisconsin, Iowa? You can't keep up big cities unless you've got plenty -of men working in the background on the land." - -The Swede went on to compliment me on my English. I spoke pretty clear -for one who had been only three months in the country. He had met many -British who spoke "very broken," especially Scotch. "I shouldn't have -been able to understand them," said he, "but that I am a foreigner -myself, and know what it is not to speak good." - -"Well, I must be off," he added, and pointed to the bucket. - -"You've got a gang of men working up above?" - -"Yes. I'm bossing them for the State. A good job it is too, good money, -and I don't have to work much." - -"I should say you'd make a kind boss!" - -"Yes. I never do anything against them. I get a good day's work out of -the men, but I never put myself above them. I've got authority, that's -all--it doesn't make me better'n they. I've got to boss them, they've -got to work. That's how it's turned out.... Well, I must be off to -water my hands!" - -And he hastened away down the hill, whilst I put my things together and -shouldered my pack. - -The strange thing about this American journey was the diversity of -nationality I encountered, and the friendly terms in which it was -possible for me as a man on the road to converse with them. - -On leaving Clearfield I fell in with Peter Deemeff, a clever little -Bulgarian immigrant, and spent two days in his company. He was -an unpractical, rebellious boy, a student by inclination, but a -labourer by necessity, nervous in temperament, and alternately gay -and despondent. He was thin-bodied, broad-browed, clean-shaven, but -blue-black with the multitude of his hair-roots; he had two rows of -faultless, little, milk-white teeth; an angelic Bulgarian smile, and an -occasional ugly American grimace. - -We tramped along the most beautiful Susquehanna road to Curwenville, -and then through magnificent gorges to the height of Luthersburg. - -"Ho! Where you going?" said one of a group of Italian labourers at -Curwenville. - -"Oil City," I answered. - -"You'll be sore," the Italian rejoined, and slapped his thigh. "Why not -stop here and get good job?" - -But Peter and I were not looking for a job just then, and we went on. I -was glad the Bulgarian was not tempted, for I relished his company, and -he was pleasantly loquacious. - -"Do you like the Americans?" I asked him. - -He raised his eyebrows. Evidently he did not like them very much. - -"Half-civilise," said he. "When I say my boss, 'I go,' he want me -fight. He offens me. I say, 'You Americans--bulldogs, no more, -half-civilise.' And I go all the same and no fight great big fat -American." - -"You think Bulgaria a better country?" - -"'S a poor country, that's all. There's more life in Europe. Americans -don't know what they live for." - -I looked with some astonishment on this day-labourer in shabby attire -talking thus intelligently, and withal so frankly. - -He told me he hated the English. They had said, anent the Balkan War, -"The fruits must not be taken from the victors"; but when Montenegro -took Scutari they were the first to say to King Nicholas "Go back, go -back." He thought I was a Slav immigrant like himself, or he would not -have struck up acquaintance with me. But he seemed relieved when I told -him my sympathies were entirely with the Slavs. - -We talked of Russian literature, and of Tolstoy in particular. - -"Tolstoy understood about God," said he. "He said God is within you, -not far away or everywhere, but in yourself. By that I understand life. -All life springs from inside. What comes from outside is nahthing. That -is how Americans live--in outside things, going to shows, baseball -matches.... I know Shakespeare was the mirror of life, that's not -what I mean.... To be educated mentally is light and life; to be -developed only physically is death and.... That's why I say bulldogs, -not civilise. When I was in Philadelphia I hear a Socialist in the Park -and he asked, 'How d'ye fellows live?--eat--work, eat--work--drink, -eat--work--sleep, eat--work--sleep. Machines, that's what y'are.'" - -The most astonishing evidence of thought and culture that Peter Deemeff -gave me was contained in a reflection he made half-aloud, in a pause in -the conversation--"A great writer once said, 'If God had not existed, -man would have invented his God'--that is a good idea, eh?" Fancy that -from the lips of an unskilled labourer! These foreign working-men are -bringing something new to America. If they only settle down to be -American citizens and look after their children's education! - -"Do many Bulgarians think?" I asked him. - -"Yes, many--they think more than I do." - -We spent the night under great rocks; he under one, I under another. -My bed, which I made soft with last year's bracken, was under three -immense boulders, a natural shelter, a deep dark cavern with an opening -that looked across the river-gorge to the forested cliff on the other -side. The Bulgarian, less careful about his comfort, lay in a ferny -hollow, just sheltered by an overhanging stone. Before lying down he -commended himself to God, and crossed himself very delicately and -trustfully. With all his philosophy he had not cast off the habits of -the homeland. And almost directly he laid himself down he fell asleep. - -It was a wonderful night. As I lay in my cave and the first star was -looking down at me from over the great wooded cliff, what was my -astonishment to see a living spark go past the entrance of the cave, -a flame on wings--the firefly. I lay and watched the forest lose its -trees, and the cliff become one great black wall, ragged all along the -crest. Mists crept up and hid the wall for a while, and then passed. -An hour and a half after I had lain down, and the Bulgarian had fallen -asleep, I opened my eyes and looked out at the black wall--little lamps -were momentarily appearing and disappearing far away in the mysterious -dark depths of the cliff. It seemed to me that if when we die we perish -utterly, then that living flame moving past my door was something -like the passing of man's life. It was strange to lie on the plucked -rustling bracken, and have the consciousness of the cold sepulchre-like -roof of the cave, and look out at the figure of man's life. But the -river chorus lulled me to sleep. Whenever I reawakened and looked out I -saw the little lights once more, appearing and vanishing, like minutest -sprites searching the forest with lanterns. - -Peter and I woke almost at the same time in the morning in a dense -mist. I sent him for water, and I collected wood for a fire. We made -tea, took in warmth, and then set off once more. - -"Let us go to a farmhouse and get some breakfast," said I. - -"We get it most likely for nothing, because it's Sunday," said Peter -with a smile. - -The Americans are much more hospitable on Sundays than on week days. -They do not, however, like to see you tramping the road on the day of -rest; it is thought to be an infraction of the Sabbath--though it is -difficult to see what tramps can do but tramp on a Sunday. - -We had a splendid breakfast for ten cents apiece at a stock-breeding -farm below Luthersburg,--pork and beans, bread and butter and cookies, -strawberry jam and home-canned plums, pear-jelly. I thanked the lady of -the establishment when we had finished, and remarked that I thought it -very cheap at the price. She answered that she didn't serve out lunches -for a profit, but wouldn't let decent men pass hungry. - -"Are you hiking to the next burg?" she asked. - -"Chicago," said I. - -"Gee!" - -We came to Luthersburg, high up on the crest of the hills, a large -village, with two severe-looking churches. - -"When I see these narrow spires I'm afraid," said the Bulgarian. "I -should have to wither my soul and make it small to get into one of -these churches. I like a church with walls of praise and a spire of -yearning,--Tolstoy, eh? That spire says to me 'I feared Thee, O God, -because Thou art an austere man.'" - -I, for my part, thought it strange that Americans, taking so many risks -in business, and daring and imagining so large-heartedly in the secular -world, should be satisfied with so cramped an expression of their -religion. - -Peter and I went down on the other side of the hills to Helvetia, the -first town in a wild coaling district, a place of many Austrians, -Poles, and Huns. It was the Sunday evening promenade, and every one -was out of doors, hundreds of miners and labourers in straight-creased -trousers (how soon obtained) and cheap felt hats, a similar number -of dark, interesting-looking Polish girls in their gaudy Sunday -best. We passed a hundred yards of grey coke-ovens glowing at all -their doors and emitting hundreds of fires and flames. Peter seemed -unusually attracted by the coke-ovens or by the Slav population, and -he decided to remain at Helvetia and seek for a job on the morrow. So -I accompanied him into a "boarding-house," and was ready to spend the -night with him. But when I saw the accommodation of coaly beds I cried -off. So the Bulgarian and I parted. I went on to Sykesville and the -Hotel Sykes. Obviously I was in America,--fancy calling a hotel in -England "Hotel Sykes." But I did not stay there, preferring to hasten -up country and get a long step beyond black breaker-towers, the sooty -inclines up which trucks ran from the mines, the coke-ovens, the fields -full of black stumps and rotting grass, the seemingly poverty-stricken -frame-buildings, and more dirt and misery than you would see even in -a bad district in Russia. It surprised me to see the Sunday clothes -of Sykesville, the white collars, the bright red ties, the blue serge -trousers with creases, the bowler hats, and American smiles. Despite -all the dirt, these new-come immigrants say _Yes_ to American life -and American hopes. But to my eyes it was a terrible place in which -to live. It was an astonishing change, moreover, to pass from the -magnificent loveliness of the Susquehanna gorges to this inferno of a -colliery. But I managed to pass out of this region almost as quickly -as I came into it, and next day was in the lovely country about -Reynoldsville; and I tramped through beautiful agricultural or forested -country to the bright towns of Brookville, Clarion, and Shippenville, -clean, new, handsome settlements, with green lawns, shady avenues, fine -houses, and well-stocked shops. In such places I saw America at its -best, just as at Helvetia and Sykesville I saw it at about its worst. I -suppose Sykesville will never be made as beautiful as Brookville; the -one is the coal-cellar, the other is the drawing-room in the house of -modern America. - -But I had definitely left the coal region behind, now I was striking -north, for oil. In three days I came into Oil City, so wonderfully -situated on the wide and stately Alleghany river--the river having -brown rings here and there, glimmering with wandering oil. The city -is built up five or six hills, and is only a unity by virtue of its -fine bridges. It is a clean town compared with Scranton, as oil is -cleaner to deal with than coal. But the houses are more ramshackle. -The poor people's dwellings suggest to the eye that they were made in -a great hurry many years ago, and are now falling to bits; they are -set one behind another up the hills, and you climb to them by wooden -stairways. Some seem veritably tumbling down the hill. There were a -fair number of foreign immigrants there, mostly Italians; but the -oil business seems to be worked by Americans, the foreigners being -too stupid to understand. Oil City is a cheap town to live in. I was -boarded at a hotel for a dollar a day; and when I bought provisions for -my next tramp to Erie Shore I found everything cheaper than in Eastern -Pennsylvania. There appeared to be little cultured life, however, no -theatre but the cinema, and little offered for sale in the shape of -books. - -I set out for Meadville on the "Meadville Pike." A feature of the new -landscape and of the road and fields was the oil-pump, working all by -itself, the long cables, connecting the pump with the engine, often -coming across the roadway, the _jig, jig, jig_ of the pumping movement, -the _clump, clump, clump, stump_ of the engine--the pulse of the -industrial countryside. - -I met a Dutchman. He asked: - -"What's on? What is it for?" - -I told him I was studying the emerging American, and he told me what a -menace the fecund Slavs were to the barren Americans. According to him -the extinction of the American was a matter of mathematics. - -I came upon an enormous gang of Americans, Russians, Slavs, Italians at -work on the highroad, digging it out, laying a bed of mortar, putting -down bricks; some hundreds of workmen, extending over a mile and a half -of closed road. Many of the American workmen were dressed as smartly as -stockbrokers' clerks and city men, and they kept themselves neat and -clean--a new phenomenon in labouring. Americans, however, were working -together, Italians together, and Russians together. A fine-looking -American workman said to me knowingly, "You can photograph me if you -like, but the Guineas won't want to be photographed--most of them shot -some one sometime or other, you bet!" - -[Illustration: ITALIANS WORKING WITH THE "MIXER" ON THE MEADVILLE PIKE.] - -Near Cochranton I made the acquaintance of four little girls--Julia, -Margaret, Elinor, Cora, and Georgiana--scampering about in bare legs -and week-day frocks, whilst father and mother, with gauze bags on -their heads, were "boxing the bees." It was the first swarm of summer; -two lots of bees had been boxed, but the third was giving much trouble. -Julia, aged twelve, was a very pretty girl, and when at her mother's -recommendation she went indoors, washed her face and put on a Sunday -frock, she looked a very smart young lady. She was conscious of that -fact, and informed me in course of conversation that she was going -to travel when she was grown up. She was dying to see Paris, and she -wanted to visit all the European towns! - -Some miles north, near Frenchville, I met one of the French colonists -of Northern Pennsylvania,--a tall, well-built stripling,--and he told -me how the Breton peasants had settled at Boussot and Frenchville, -bringing all their French ways of farming and economy, and becoming -the admiration of the district round--a little Brittany. The young -man's father-in-law had been the first Frenchman to come and settle -in the district. After him had come, straight from France, relatives -and friends, and relatives of friends and friends of friends in -widening circles. They were beginning to speak English well now, but -the newcomers were still without the new language. It was interesting -for me to realise what a great gain such people were to America--to -the American nation in the making. It is good to think of such -agricultural settlements lying in the background of industrial -America--the whole villages of Swedes, of Russians, of Danes, Finns, -Germans, French. They are ethnic reserves; they mature and improve -in the background. They are Capital. If urban America can subsist on -the interest, the surplus of the ambitious, how much richer she will -be than if the population of whole country-sides is tempted to rush -_pele-mele_ to the places of fortune-making and body-wasting. - -Coming into Meadville, a town of twelve thousand inhabitants, most -of the labourers of whom are Italians employed at the great railway -works, I was attracted to Nicola Hiagg, a Syrian, sitting outside his -ice-cream shop, reading the Syrian paper. Whilst I had a "pine-apple -soda," I drew him into talk. It was a matter of pleasing interest to -him that I had myself tramped in Syria, and knew the conditions in his -native land. Nicola had first left Syria twelve years ago, had come -to Philadelphia, and started making his living selling "soft drinks" -in the street. After five years he had saved enough to take a holiday -and go back to the old land. He and his brother had been merchants in -Jerusalem before he set out for America; the brother had had charge of -the store, and Nicola had convoyed the merchandise and the train of -thirty asses to and from the country. He had many friends in Syria, but -it was a poor country. The Turks were bloodsuckers, and drained it of -every drop of vital energy. - -"I lived in a poor little town between Beyrout and Damascus, not with -my brother in Jerusalem. So poor! You cannot start anything new in -Syria--the Turk interferes. No bizness! What you think of the war? The -Turk is beaten, hey? Now is the time for the Syrians to unite and throw -off the Turk. There are Syrians all over the world; they are prosperous -everywhere but in Syria.... America is a fine country; but if Syria -became independent I'd go back...." - -Nicola, when he had his holiday, found a Syrian girl and brought her -back to America as his wife. She was not visible now, however; for the -Syrian kept her in the background, and he told me he didn't believe in -women's rights to public life. A bit of a Turk himself! - -He was very proud of his little girl, who is being brought up as an -American in the town school. "Already she can write, and when you say -to her, 'Write something,' she does not look up at you and say, 'How -d'you spell it?' She just writes it." - -"She's sharp." - -"You bet." - -The Turks, the Greeks, and the Syrians, and to some extent the -Italians, are engaged in the sweet-stuff and ice-cream business. -Turkish Delight, the most characteristic thing of the Levant, seems to -be their bond of union. It is a great business in America, for the -Americans are, beyond all comparison, fonder of sweet things than we -are. I stopped one day at a great candy shop in South Bend, Indiana. It -was kept by a Mr. Poledor, who was so pleased that I had been in Greece -and knew the habits of the Greek Orthodox, that he gave me the freedom -of the shop and bade me order anything I liked--he would "stand treat." -There were over a hundred ways of having ice-cream, twenty sorts of -ice-cream soda, thirteen sorts of lemonade, twelve frappes, and the -menu card was something like a band programme. Mr. Poledor was a man of -inventiveness, and the names of some of the dishes were as delicious as -the dishes themselves. I transcribe a few: - - - Merry Widow. - Don't Care. - John D. (is very rich). - Yankee Doodle. - Upside down. - New Moon. - Sweet Smile. - Twin Beauties. - Notre Dame. - Lover's Delight. - Black-eyed Susan. - - -A young man could take his girl there and give her anything she asked -for, were it the moon itself. The Greek was a magician. - -But to return. As I was going out of Meadville, two young men swung out -of a saloon and addressed me thus strangely: - -"Have you had a benevolent? We're giving them away." - -One of them showed me a stylographic pen. - -"Wha're you doing?" said the other. - -"Oh, I'm travelling," I replied. - -"How d'ye get your living?" - -"I write in the magazines now and then." - -A look of disappointment crept over the faces of the young men. The -stylographic pen was replaced in waistcoat pocket. - -"Did you say you were working for a magazine? So are we--_The -Homestead_. I was about to ask you to become a subscriber." - -"And the benevolent?" I asked. - -"Oh, these are given away to subscribers." - -I explained that I wasn't a commercial traveller, but one of those who -wrote sometimes in magazines. - -"You'd be a sort of reporter?" - -"Well, not quite." - -"A poet?" - -"No. I earn my living by writing." - -"Better than a poet, I suppose. Well, good-day, wish you luck!" - -So I won free of my last big town in mighty Pennsylvania, and set out -for the State of Ohio. - -I had a "still-creation-day" in quiet country, and towards evening came -through the woods to the store and house of Padan-Aram. And just on -the border of Ohio an elf-like person skipped out of a large farm and -conducted me across, a boy of about twenty years, who cried out to me -shrilly as he caught me up: - -"I say, you're still in Pennsylvania." - -"Yes," said I. - -"Yes, but that house over there is in Ohio. Say! Would you like some -candy?" - -"I thought you were fumbling in your pocket for tobacco," said I. - -"No use for it," said the boy. "I've found God. I used to chew it, but -I've stopped it." - -"That is good. You've a strong will," said I. - -"I reckon God can break any will," said the boy. "Once I ran away from -home with five hundred dollars. You're walking? I can walk. I walked a -hundred miles in five days and five nights. Feet were sore for a week. -Five times I ran away. The sixth time I stayed away four years and -worked on the steel works." - -"Were your parents unkind?" I asked. "Or did you run away to see life?" - -"Ran to show them I could," said the boy. - -"They lay in to me I can tell you. There were Chinamen and -niggers--all sorts. Hit a fellow over the head with an ice-cream -refrigerator--killed him dead." - -"Where was this?" - -"Poke. At the institution. I showed them I could fight." - -"What are you, American?" - -"Pennsylvanian Dutch." - -"I suppose there is a church about here that you go to?" - -"Yes; a Methodist. But I don't go. Family service. We get many -blessings." - -"Is there a hotel at Padan-Aram?" - -"No; but at Leon. If you go there, you'll get a Christian woman. You'll -find God. She'll lighten your load. She's a saint. I know her well." - -"What's your name? I'll mention you to her." - -"Dull." - -"I'll tell her I met you." - -"Tell her you met Ralph Dillie--she'll know." - -"All right," said I. - -"Now you're in Ohio," said the boy. "Are you going into the store at -Padan-Aram?" - -"No." - -"Don't you want to buy some candy?" - -"No. I don't eat it along the road." - -"Buy some for me." - -"All right; yes." - -"Buy a nickel's worth." - -"Yes." - -Ralph Dillie rejoiced. We went into the store and ordered a nickel's -worth of candy. And directly the boy got it he started back for home -on the run. And I watched him re-cross the border once more--into -Pennsylvania. - - - - -XII - -CHARACTERISTICS - - -The chief characteristic of America is an immense patriotism, and out -of that patriotism spring a thousand minor characteristics, which, -taken by themselves, may be considered blemishes by the critical -foreigner,--such troublesome little characteristics as national -pride and thin-skinnedness, national bluster and cocksureness. But -personal annoyance should not blind the critic or appreciator to the -fundamental fact of the American's belief in America. This belief is -not a narrow partizanship, though it may seem unpleasantly like that -to those who listen to the clamour of excited Americans at the Olympic -games and other competitions of an international interest. It is not -merely the commercial instinct ever on the watch for opportunities for -self-advertisement. It is a real, hearty patriotic fervour, the deepest -thing in an American. It is something that cannot be shaken. - -"_It is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen_," says -a Presbyterian circular. "_Being an American is a sacred mission._ Our -whole life must be enthralled by a holy passion." - -You could never hear it said, except in an imperial way, that being a -Briton, or being a German, or being a Russian was a sacred mission. -In Britain it would be bad form, in Germany absurd, in Russia quite -untrue. It is part of the greatness of America that she can come -forward unashamed and call herself the handmaiden of the Lord. - -Now there is a fine healthy spirit abroad in the land counteracting -the more sentimental and sanctimonious self-honour of the Americans. -Something more in deeds than in words, a pulse that beats for America, -a greater purpose that breathes through myriads of personal acts, done -for personal ends. Outside, beyond the degrading commercialism of the -nation, there is a feeling that building for a man is building also for -America; that buying and selling in the store is buying and selling -for the great nation; that writing or singing or painting, though done -in self-conceited cities and before limited numbers, is really all -consecrated to the idea of the new America. - -In several schools of America the children take the following pledge: - - - I am a citizen of America and an heir to all her greatness and - renown. The health and happiness of my own body depend upon each - muscle and nerve and drop of blood doing its work in its place. So - the health and happiness of my country depend upon each citizen - doing his work in his place. - - I will not fill any post or pursue any business where I can - live upon my fellow-citizens without doing them useful service - in return; for I plainly see that this must bring suffering and - want to some of them. I will do nothing to desecrate the soil of - America, or pollute her air or degrade her children, my brothers - and sisters. - - I will try to make her cities beautiful, and her citizens healthy - and happy, so that she may be a desired home for myself now, and - for her children in days to come. - - -Teachers are recommended to explain to children that patriotism means -love of your own country and not hate of other countries; and that -the best mode of patriotism is love and care for the ideals of the -fatherland. - - - The most obvious fields of activity are the school, the building, - the yard or playgrounds, and the surrounding streets. Whatsoever - is offensive and unsightly, detrimental to health, or in violation - of law, is a proper field for action. The litter of papers and - refuse; marks on side walks, buildings, and fences; mutilation, - vandalism, and damage of any kind to property; cleanliness of - the school building and the surrounding streets, door-yards, - and pavements; observance of the ordinances for the disposal of - garbage by the scavenger and people in the community; protection - and care of shade trees; improper advertisements, illegal signs - and bill-boards; unnecessary noises in the streets around the - school, including cries of street-vendors and barking of dogs - and blowing of horns; the display of objectionable pictures and - postcards in the windows of stores--all supply opportunities to - the teachers to train pupils for good citizenship. - -Circulars like the following are scattered broadcast to citizens, and -they breathe the patriotism of the American: - - - _Do you approve of your Home City?_ - - I mean, do you like her looks, her streets, her schools, her - public buildings, her stores, factories, parks, railways, trolleys - and all that makes her what she is? Do you approve of these things - as they are? Do you think they could be better? Do you think you - know how they can be made better? - - If you do you are unusual. Few take the trouble to approve or - disapprove. Many may think they care about the city; but few, very - few, act as if they did! - - When you see something you think can be improved you go straight - and find out who is the man who has that something in charge; - whatever it is, factories, smoke, stores, saloons, parks, paving, - playgrounds, lawns, back-yards, ash-cans, overhead signs, - newspapers, bill-boards, side-walks, street cars, street lighting, - motor traffic, freight yards, or what not, you find out who is the - man who has in charge that thing you dislike; then you talk to - him, or write to him, and tell him what you disapprove of, and ask - him if he can and will make it better, or tell you why he can't. - He wants to make it better. He will if he can. Almost invariably - he wants to do his work of looking after that thing better than - it was ever done before. He will welcome your complaint; he will - explain his handicaps; he will ask your help. Then you give the - help. - - J. C. D. - - -[Illustration: INGENIOUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF AMERICAN TYPES.] - -Making the city beautiful and fostering a love for the home-city, -however dingy and dreary that city may at present be, is one of the -most potent and attractive expressions of American patriotism, and -it is well to note the characteristic. It has great promise for the -America of the future, the America which the sons and daughters of the -immigrants will inherit. The America of the future is to be one of -artistically imagined cities and proud, responsible citizens. Even now, -despite the unlovely state of New York and Chicago and the reputation -for devastating ugliness which America has in Europe, there are clear -signs of the commencement of an era of grace and order. Already the -parks of the American cities are the finest in the world, and are worth -much study in themselves. American townsmen have loved Nature enough -to plant trees so that every decent town on the western continent has -become a cluster of shady avenues. Some cities favour limes, some -maples; New Haven is known as "The City of Elms"; in Washington alone -it is said that there are 78,000 street trees; Cleveland has been -called "The City of the Forest." Wherever I tramped in America I found -the most delicious shade in the town streets--excepting, of course, the -streets of the coaling infernos of Pennsylvania. No idea of the expense -of land deters the American from getting space and greenery into the -midst of his wilderness of brick and mortar. It is said that the value -of the parks in such a city as Newark, for instance, is over two and a -quarter millions of pounds (nine million dollars). "Our aim," says a -Newark circular, "is the city beautiful, and it requires the aid of -everyday patriots to make it so. Pericles said, 'Make Athens beautiful, -for beauty is now the most victorious power in the world.'" - -America has become the place of continuous crusades--against dirt, -against municipal corruption, immorality, noise. It would surprise -many Europeans to know the fight which is being made against -bell-advertisement, steam whistles, organ-grinders' music, shouts of -street hawkers, and the exuberance of holiday-makers. - -"Don't be ashamed to fight for your city to get it clean and beautiful, -to rid it of its sweat-shops and hells," I read in a Chicago paper. -"Some folk call our disease Chicagoitis, but that is a thousand times -better than Chicagophobia. Those suffering from Chicagophobia are as -dangerous to society as those who have hydrophobia." - -Then, most potent expression of all in American patriotism is the -American's belief in the future of its democracy, the faith which is -not shattered by the seeming bad habits of the common people, the -flocking to music halls and cinema shows, the reading of the yellow -press. - -It has been noted in the last few years that there is a distinct -falling off in the acceleration of reading at the public libraries. -This is attributed to the extraordinary amount of time spent by men -and women at the "movies," when they would otherwise be reading. -Such a fact would breed pessimism in Great Britain or Europe were it -established. But America has such trust in the hearts and hopes of the -common people that it approves of the picture show. "If readers of -books go back to the cinema, let them go," says the American; "it is -like a child in the third class voluntarily going back to the first -class, because the work being done there is more suited to his state of -mind." The cinema show is doing the absolutely elementary work among -the vast number of immigrants, who are almost illiterate. It is not -a be-all and an end-all, but stimulates the mind and sets it moving, -thinking, striving. The picture show will bring good readers to the -libraries in time. It is the first step in the cultural ladder of the -democracy. - -Then people of good taste in Europe decry the reading of newspapers; -a leader of thought and politics like A. J. Balfour can boast that -he never reads the papers. But America says, "You have the newspaper -habit. This habit is one of the most beneficial and entertaining -habits you have. Few people read too many newspapers. Most people do -not read enough." This, of American papers of all papers in the world. -But let me go on quoting the most significant words of America's great -librarian, J. Cotton Dana: - - - Readers of newspapers are the best critics of them. The more they - are read the wiser the readers; the wiser the readers the more - criticisms, and the more the newspapers are criticised the better - they become. - - Do you say this does not apply to the yellow journal? I would - reply that it does. The yellow journal caters all the time to the - beginners in reading, who are also the beginners in newspaper - reading. A new crop of these beginners in reading is born every - year. This new crop likes its reading simply printed, in large - letters, and with plenty of pictures. The more of this new crop - of readers there are the more the yellow journals flourish; and - the more the yellow journals flourish the sooner this new crop is - educated by the yellow journals, by the mere process of reading - them, and the sooner they get into the habit of reading journals - that are not yellow and contain a larger quantity of more reliable - information, until at last the yellow journals are overpassed by - the readers they have themselves trained. - - -The yellow press is the second rung on the cultural ladder of -democracy. America is glad of it, glad also of the princess novelette, -the pirate story, glad of Hall Caine and Marie Corelli; all these are, -as it were, divining-rods for better things. The American says "Yes" to -the novels of Florence Barclay, as indeed most sensible Britons would -also. _The Rosary_ was a most helpful book--so much more helpful to the -unformed intellect and young intelligence of the mass of the people -than, for instance, Tolstoy's dangerously overpraised _Resurrection_ -or Wells's _New Machiavelli_. America recognises the truth that the -ugly has power to make those who look at it ugly like itself; but that -the crude and elementary stuff, however poor it may be artistically, -is nevertheless most useful to democracy if it speaks in language -and sentiment which is common knowledge to the reader. How useful to -America is such a book as Churchill's _Inside of the Cup_. - -It is a very true dictum that "reading makes more reading"; and in -a young, hopeful nation, striving to divine its own destiny and to -visualise its future, "more reading" always means _better reading_. - -Perhaps the cultured ladder of democracy may be seen allegorically as -the ladder of Jacob's dream. Religion, which may be thought to have -flown from the churches, is in evidence at the libraries. It is a -librarian who is able to say in _The Inside of the Cup_ that we are on -the threshold of a greater religious era than the world has ever seen. - - -In America to-day we are confronted with two parties,--one the great -multifarious, unformed mass of the people, and the other the strong, -emancipated, cultured American nation, which is at work shaping the -democracy. The aspect of the "rabble," the commercial heathen, and -horde of unknowing, unknown immigrants, gives you the first but not the -final impression of America. You remark first of all the slouching, -blank-eyed, broad-browed immigrant, who indulges still his European -vices and craves his European pleasures, flocking into saloons, -debauching his body, or at best looking dirty and out of hand, a -reproach to the American flag. You see the Jews leaping over one -another's backs in the orgy of mean trade. You see the fat American, -clever enough to bluff even the Jew--the strange emerging bourgeois -type of what I call the "white nigger," low-browed, heavy-cheeked, -thick-lipped, huge-bodied, but _white_; men who seem made of rubber -so elastic they are; men who seem to get their thoughts from below -upward. I've often watched one of these "white negroes" reflecting; he -seems to sense his thoughts in his body first of all--you can watch his -idea rise up to him from the earth, pass along his body and flicker at -last in a true American smile across his lips--a transition type of -man I should say. One wonders where these men, who are originally Jews -or Anglo-Saxons or Dutch or Germans, got their negro souls. It would -almost tempt one to think that there were negro souls floating about, -and that they found homes in white babies. - -Beside the fat American is the more familiar lean, hatchet-faced type, -which is thought to correspond to the Red Indian in physiognomy. -Perhaps too much importance is attached to the Darwinian idea that -the climate of America is breeding a race of men with physique and -types similar to the aborigines. The American is still a long way -from the red-skin. Meanwhile, however, one may note with a smile -the extraordinary passion of Americans for collecting autographs, -curios, snippets of the clothes of famous men, Italian art, British -castles,--which seems to be scalp-hunting in disguise. The Americans -are great scalp-hunters. - -On the whole, the dry, lean Americans are the most trustworthy and -honourable among the masses of the people. In England we trust fat men, -men "who sleep o' nights," but in America one prefers the lean man. -Shakespeare would not have written of Cassius as he did if he had been -an American of to-day. Of course too much stress might easily be laid -on the unpleasantness of the "white-nigger" type. There are plenty of -them who are true gentlemen. - -The American populace has also its bad habits. There are those who -chew "honest scrap," and those who chew "spearmint." It is astonishing -to witness the service of the cuspidor in a hotel, the seven or -eight obese, cow-like American men, all sitting round a cuspidor and -chewing tobacco; almost equally astonishing to sit in a tramcar full -of American girls, and see that every jaw is moving up and down in the -mastication of sweet gum. - -America suffers terribly from its own success, its vastness, its great -resources, its commercial scoops, its wealth, vested _en masse_ and -so vulgarly in the person of lucky or astute business men. This has -bred a tendency to chronic exaggeration in the language of the common -people, it has brought on the jaunty airs and tall talk of the man -who, however ignorant he may be, thinks that he knows all. But success -has also brought kindness and an easy-going temperament. There are -no people in the world less disposed to personal ill-temper than the -Americans. They are very generous, and in friendship rampageously -exuberant. They are not mean, and are disinclined to incur or to -collect small debts. They would rather toss who pays for the drinks of -a party than pay each his own score. They have even invented little -gambling machines in cigar stores and saloons where you can put a -nickel over a wheel and run a chance between having five cigars for -five cents, or paying twenty-five cents for no cigars at all. - -So stands on the one hand the "many-headed," sprung from every -country in Europe, an uncouth nation doing what they ought not to -do, and leaving undone what they ought to do, but at least having -in their hearts, every one of them, the idea that America is a fine -thing, a large thing, a wonderful promise. Opposite them stands what -may be called the American _intelligence_, ministering as best it -can to the wants of young America, and helping to fashion the great -desideratum,--a homogeneous nation for the new world. - -It seems perhaps a shame to question the significance of any of the -phenomena of American life of to-day, to tie what may be likened to -a tin can to the end of this chapter; but I feel that this is the -most fitting place to put a few notes which I have made of tendencies -which are apt to give trouble to the mind of Europeans otherwise very -sympathetic to America and America's ideal. They are quite explicable -phenomena, and in realising and understanding them for himself the -reader will be enabled to get a truer idea of the atmosphere of America. - -On my way into Cleveland I read in the _Pittsburg Post_ the following -statistics of life at Princeton College, of the students at the College: - - - 184 men smoke. - - 76 began after entering College, but 51 students have stopped - smoking since entering College. - - 91 students wear glasses, and 57 began to wear them since entering. - - 15 students chew tobacco. - - 19 students consider dancing immoral. - - 16 students consider card-playing immoral. - - 206 students correspond with a total of 579 girls. - - 203 students claim to have kissed girls in their time. - - 24 students have proposed and been rejected. - - * * * * * - -Another day I read in the _New York American_ the story of the -adventures of Watts's "Love and Life" in America: - - - The peripatetic painting, "Love and Life," the beautiful - allegorical work, by George Frederick Watts, once more reposes in - an honoured niche in the White House. The varied career of this - painting in regard to White House residence extends over seventeen - years. - - This picture, painted in 1884, was presented to the national - Government by Watts as a tribute of his esteem and respect for - the United States, and was accepted by virtue of a special act of - Congress. This was during the second administration of President - Cleveland, and he ordered it hung in his study on the second - floor of the White House. Two replicas were made by Watts of the - painting, and one was placed by the National Art Gallery, London, - and the other in the Louvre, Paris. - - The two figures of "Love and Life" are entirely nude, and the - publication of reproductions awoke the protests of purists who - circulated petitions to which they secured hundreds of names to - have it removed to an art gallery. Finally, the Clevelands yielded - to the force of public opinion, and sent the offending masterpiece - to the Corcoran Art Gallery. - - When Theodore Roosevelt became President he brought the art exile - back to the White House. The hue and cry arose again, and he sent - it back to the Gallery, only to bring it back again toward the - close of his administration to hang in the White House once more. - - The Tafts, failing to see the artistic side of the painting, had - it carried back to the Gallery. - - There it seemed destined to stay. The other day Mrs. Woodrow - Wilson, accompanied by her daughter Eleanor, both artists of - merit, toured the Corcoran Art Gallery. They were shown "Love and - Life," and told the tragic story of its wanderings. - - Mrs. Wilson thereupon requested the painting to be returned to - the White House. There once more it hangs and tells its immortal - lesson of how love can help life up the steepest hills. - - - * * * * * - -Whilst in New York I visited the charming Fabians, who were the hosts -of Maxim Gorky before the American Press took upon itself the role -of doing the honours of the house to a guest of genius. The story of -Gorky need not be repeated. But it is in itself a question-mark raised -against the American civilisation. - - * * * * * - -Tramping through Sandusky I came upon a suburban house all scrawled -over with chalk inscriptions: - - - "Hurrah for the newly-weds." - - "Oh, you beautiful doll!" - - "Well! _Then_ what?" - - "We should worry." - - "Home, sweet Home." - - "May your troubles be little ones! Ha, He!" - - "You thought we wouldn't guess, but we caught you." - - -As the house seemed to be empty, I inquired at the nearest store what -was the reason for this outburst. The storekeeper told me it was done -by the neighbours as a welcome to a newly-married couple coming home -from their honeymoon on the morrow. It was a custom to do it, but this -was nothing to the way they "tied them up" sometimes. - -"Won't they be distressed?" - -"Oh no, they'll like it." - -"Are the neighbours envious, or what is it?" I asked. The storekeeper -began to sing, "Snookeyookums." - - - "All night long the neighbours shout - - -(to the newly-married couple whose kisses they hear) - - - "'Cut it out, cut it out, cut it out.'" - - -On Independence Day I saw a crowd of roughs assailing a Russian girl -who had gone into the water to bathe, dressed in what we in Britain -would call "full regulation costume." The crowd cried shame on her -because she was not wearing stockings and a skirt in addition to -knickers and vest. - - * * * * * - -In many districts men bathing naked have been arrested as a sort of -breach of the peace. Naked statues in public have been clothed or -locked away. In several towns women wearing the slashed skirt have had -to conform to municipal regulations concerning underwear. - - * * * * * - -I have noted everywhere mockery on the heels of seriousness. - -No doubt these question-marks will be followed by satisfactory answers -in the minds of most readers, especially in the light of the statement -that "it is a sacrament to walk the streets as an American citizen. -Being an American is a sacred mission." - - - - -XIII - -ALONG ERIE SHORE - - -Cleveland exemplifies the characteristics of contemporary America, and -points to the future. It has its horde of foreign mercenaries living -by alien ethics, and committing every now and then atrocious crimes -which shock the American community. But it is a "cleaned-up" town. All -the dens of the city have been raided; there is no gambling, little -drunkenness and immorality. On my first night in the town I had my -supper in a saloon, and as I sat among the beer-drinking couples I -listened to an old man who was haranguing us all on the temptations of -women and drink. The saloon-keeper had no power to turn him out, and -possibly had not even the wish to do so. The passion for cleaning up -America overtakes upon occasion even those whose living depends upon -America remaining "unclean." - -Cleveland is well built, and has fine avenues and broad streets. It -is well kept, and in the drawing-room of the town you'd never suspect -what was going on in the back kitchen and the yard. But take a turn -about and you see that the city is not merely one of good clothes, -white buildings, and upholstery; there are vistas of smoke and sun, -bridges and cranes, endless railway tracks and steaming engines. They -are working in the background, the Slavs and the Italians and the -Hungarians, the Kikes and the Wops and the Hunkies. There is a rumour -of Chicago in the air; you can feel the pulse of the hustling West. - -Perhaps nothing is more promising than the twelve miles of garden -suburb that go westward from the city along Erie Shore. Tchekof, -working in his rose-garden in the Crimea, used to say, "I believe -that in quite a short time the whole world will be a garden." This -growth of Cleveland gives just that promise to the casual observer. -How well these middle-class Americans live? Without the advertisement -of the fact they have finer arrangements of streets and houses than -we have at Golders Green and Letchworth. Nature is kind. There is a -grand freshness and a steeping radiance. The people know how to live -out-of-doors, and the women are public all day. No railings, fences, -bushes, just sweet lawn approaches, verandahs, on the lawns sprinklers -and automatic fountains scattering water to the sparrows' delight. The -iris is out and the honeysuckle is in bloom. - -[Illustration: THE LITHUANIAN WHO SAT BEHIND THE ASPHALT AND COAL-OIL -SCATTERER.] - -I prefer, however, to walk in the sight of wooded hills or great -waters, and as soon as I could find a way to the back of the long -series of suburban villas I went to the sandbanks of the shore and into -the company of the great lake. It was just sunset time, and the sun of -fire was changing to a sun of blood and sinking into the waters. There -was a great suffusion of crimson in the western sky and a reflection of -it in the green and placid lake. But the water in the foreground was -grey, and it rippled past silver reeds. I stood and listened; the great -silence of the vast lake on the one hand and the whizz of automobiles -on the other, the _paup-paup_ of electric-tram signals, the great whoop -of the oncoming freight trains on the Lake-Shore railway. Far out on -the water there were black dashes on the lit surface and little smokes -proceeding from them--steamers. The lake became lucent yellow with -blackness in the West and mystery in the East. A steamer in the East -seemed fixed as if caught in a spell. Then the blackness of the West -came like an intense dye and poured itself into the rest of the sky. -The East became still--indigo, very precious and holy, the colour of -incense smoke. - -I tramped by Clifton through the deep dust of a motor-beaten road -towards Lorain. It was night before I found a suitable place for -sleeping, for most of the ground was private, and there were many -people about. At last I found a deserted plot, where building -operations had evidently been taking place during the day, but from -which the workmen had gone. There were, however, many tools and -covetable properties lying about, and I had hardly settled down before -I heard the baying of dogs on a chain. About half-past eleven Fedka the -watchman came along, singing a Russian song to himself, and he lighted -a large lantern, unloosed two dogs, then went into a shed, lay down and -went to sleep--a nice watchman! My only consideration was the dogs, -a bull-dog and a collie, but they didn't know of my presence. They -had expeditions after tramps on the road, after waggons, automobiles, -tramcars, trains, but never once sniffed at the stranger sleeping -under their noses. However, at about three in the morning the bull-dog -spotted me, and no doubt had rather a queer turn. He actually tripped -on me as he was prowling about, and my heart stood still. He eyed me, -growled low, sniffed at my knees, snorted. "He will spring at my throat -in a moment," I thought; "I'll defend myself with that big saw lying -so handy beside me!" But no, wonder of wonders! the dog did not attack -me, but just lay calmly down beside me and was my gaoler. He dozed and -breathed heavily, but every now and then opened one eye and snarled; -evidently he took his duties seriously. I forgot him and slept. But I -had the consciousness that in the morning I had to get away somehow. - -But about half an hour before dawn some one drove a score of cows -down the road, causing the collie to go mad--so mad that the bull-dog -bestirred himself and followed superciliously, not sure whether -he were needed or not. Then I swiftly put my things together and -decamped--and got away. - -I watched the dawn come up out of a rosy mist over Erie. The lake was -vast and placid and mud-coloured, but there were vague purple shadows -in it. I learned that mud was the real colour at this point, and there -was no clear sparkling water to bathe in, but only a sea stirred up. - -Down by the shore, just after my dip, I caught a young aureole with -red breast and mouth so yellow, and I tried to feed him with sugar and -butter; but he was very angry, and from many trees and low bushes round -about came the scolding and calling of the parents, who had been rashly -giving their progeny his first run. - -I tramped to the long settlement of Lorain with its store-factory and -many Polish workers, but continued to the place called Vermilion, -walking along the grey-black sands of the shore. I came to Crystal -Beach. It was a perfect day, the zenith too radiant to look at, the -western sky ahead of the road a rising smoke of sapphire, but filled -with ineffable sunshine. It was difficult to look otherways but -downward, and I needed all the brim of my hat to protect my neck and -my eyes. The lake was now blue-grey as the sea, but still not very -tempting, though Crystal Beach is a great holiday resort. It seemed -to me more than a lake and yet less than a sea--the water had no -other shore and yet suggested no infinity. The visitor, however, -considered it beautiful. That was clear from the enthusiastic naming -of the villas and resorts on the shore. Again, it was strange to pass -from the workshop of America to the parlour,--from industrial Lorain -to ease-loving Vermilion, and to exchange the vision of unwashed -immigrants in slouch hats for dainty girls all in white and smart young -men in delicate linen. - -I went into the general store and bought butter and sugar and tea, and -then to the baker for a loaf of bread and a peach pie. What a delicacy -is an eight-penny peach pie when you know you are going to sit on a -bank and munch it, drink coffee, and watch your own wood-blaze. - -On my way to Sandusky I got several offers of jobs. A road surveyor and -his man, trundling and springing along the road in their car, nearly -ran me down, and as a compensation for my experience of danger stopped -and gave me a lift, offering also to give me work if I wanted it. All -the highway from Cleveland to Toledo was to be macadamised by next -summer; thousands of men were wanted all along the line, and I could -get to work that very afternoon "farming ditches on each side of the -road" if I wished. - -I jigged along three miles in the automobile and then stepped down to -make my dinner. Whilst I was lighting my fire a Bohemian came and had a -little chat with me. - -"How far ye going?" - -"Chicago." - -"You should get on a freight train. I come up from New York myself on -a freighter and dropped off here two days ago. It's too far to walk; -you carry heavy things. Besides, there's a good job here mending the -road. I've just been taken on. A mile up the road you'll see a waggon; -ask there, they're making up a gang. The work's a bit rough but the pay -good." - -Then I came on a gang of Wops and Huns loading bridge-props and ribbons -and guard-rails on to an electric trolley, and the boss again applied -to me. - -"No, thanks!" - -A man with an asphalt and coal-oil scatterer came past. His was a -dirty job. He sat behind a boiler-shaped cistern, which another -man was dragging along with a petrol engine. It had a rose like a -watering-cart, but instead of water there flowed this dark mixture of -asphalt and oil. The man, a Lithuanian, was sitting on the rose, his -legs were dangling under it, and it was his task to keep his finger on -the tap and regulate the flow of the fast-trickling mixture. Though a -Lithuanian by birth he spoke a fair English, and explained that the -asphalt and oil laid the dust for the whole summer, and solidified the -surface of the road, so that automobiles could go pleasantly along. -There was another machine waiting behind, and they had not men to work -it. If I liked to report myself at the depot I could get a job, it was -quite simple, not hard work, and the pay was good. He got two dollars a -day. - -Then, as I was going through a little town, a Norwegian came running -out of a shop and pulled me in, saying, "You're a professional, no -doubt, stay here and take photographs"; and he showed me his screens -and classical backgrounds. It was interesting to consider the many -occasions on which I might have given up Europe and started as a young -man in America, entering life afresh, and starting a new series of -connections and acquaintances. But I had only come as a make-believe -colonist. - -As the weather was very hot I took a wayside seat erected by a firm -of clothiers to advertise their wares, and it somewhat amused me to -think that as I sat in my somewhat ragged and dust-stained attire the -seat seemed to say I bought my suit at Clayton's. As I sat there six -Boy Scouts came tramping past, walking home from their camping-ground, -boys of twelve or thirteen, all carrying saucepans and kettles, one -of them a bag of medical appliances and medicines, all with heavy -blankets--sun-browned, happy little bodies. - -There is all manner of interest on the road. The gleaming, red-headed -woodpecker that I watch alights on the side of the telegraph-pole, -looks at the wood as at a mirror, and then, to my mild surprise, goes -right into the pole. There must be a hole there and a nest. I hear the -guzzling of the little woodpeckers within. Upon reflection, I remember -that the mother's beak was disparted, and there was something between. -Rather amusing, a woodpecker living in a telegraph-pole--Nature taking -advantage of civilisation! - -Then there are many squirrels in the woods by the road, and they wag -their tails when they squeak. - -At tea-time, by the lake shore, a beautiful white-breasted but speckled -snipe tripped around the sand, showing me his round head, plump body, -and dainty legs. He had his worms and water, I my bread and tea; we -were equals in a way. - -Then after tea I caught a little blind mouse, no bigger than my thumb, -held him in my hand, and put him in his probable hole. - -As I rested by a railway arch Johnny Kishman, a fat German boy, got off -his bicycle to find out what manner of man I was. His chief interest -was to find out how much money I made by walking. And I flabbergasted -him. - -I came into Huron by a road of coal-dust, and left the beautiful -countryside once more for another industrial inferno. Here were many -cranes, black iron bridges, evil smells, an odorous, green river. There -was a continuous noise as of three rolls of thunder in one from the -machinery of the port. I stopped a party of Slavs, who were strolling -out of the town to the strains of an accordion, and asked them by what -the noise was made. I was informed it was the lading of Pennsylvanian -coal and the unlading of Wisconsin and Canadian ore, the tipping of -five to ten tons at a time into the holds of coal boats or into trucks -of freight trains. - -I went into a restaurant in the dreary town, and there, over an -ice-cream, chatted with an American, who hoped I would lick Jack London -and Gibson and the rest of them "to a frazzle." A girl, who came into -the shop, told me that last year she wanted to walk to Chicago and -sleep out, but could not get a companion--a chance for me to step in. -Mine host was one of these waggish commercial men in whom America -abounds, and he had posted above his bar: - - - ELEVEN MEN WHO ASKED - CREDIT - LIE DEAD IN MY CELLAR - - -But he made good ice-cream. - -Every one combined to boost the town and advise me to see this and -that. The port machinery and lading operations were the wonder of Erie -Shore, and provided work for a great number of Hungarians, Italians, -and Slavs. Not so many years back there was no such machinery here, and -the work was done with buckets and derricks. - -[Illustration: "JOHNNY KISHMAN, A GERMAN BOY, GOT OFF HIS BICYCLE TO -FIND OUT WHAT MANNER OF MAN I WAS."] - -I forebore to have supper at the creditless inn, but as I walked out of -the dark town I spied a fire burning on a bit of waste land, and there -I boiled my kettle and made coffee. It was an eerie proceeding, and as -I sat in the dusk I saw several children come peering at me, _hsh_ing -the younger ones, and inferring horrible suspicions as to my identity. -When I had finished my supper I went down to the beach, and there, on -the sand amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed. - -It was a wonderful, placid night after a long, hot day. The -smoke-coloured lake was weakly plashing. There was no sign of the past -sunset in the west, and smoke seemed to be rising from the darkness of -the horizon. The one light on the city pier had its stab of reflection -in the water below. Near me, still trees leant over the water. The -branches and leaves of the willow under which I slept were delicately -figured against the sky as I looked upward, and far away over the -lake the faint stars glimmered. The moon stood high in the south, and -illumined the surface of the waters and the long coast line of the bay. - -When I awoke next morning what a sight! The blue-grey lake so placid, -just breathing, that's all, and crimson ripples stealing over it from -the illuminated smoky east. It was clear that the smokiness of the -horizon came from real smoke--from all the chimneys and stacks of -Huron. I saw massed volumes of it hurrying away from the docks and the -works, and standing out on the lake like a great wall. As I lay on my -spread on the sand, looking out idly with my cheek on my hand, I saw -the sun come sailing through the smoke like a red balloon. No celestial -sunrise this, but Nature beautifully thwarted. - -I made a fire and cooked my breakfast, and sat on a log enjoying it; -and all the while the sun strove to be himself and shine in splendour -over the new world, whose beauties he himself had called into being. -For a whole hour, though there was not a cloud in the sky or a mist on -the lake, he made no more progress than on a foggy January morning in -London. He gave no warmth to speak of; he was an immaterial, luminous -moon. - -But at last he got free, and began to rise indeed, exchanging the -ragged crimson reflection in the water for a broad-bladed flashing -silver dagger. A great glory grew about him; all the wavelets of the -far lake knew him and looked up to him with their tiny faces. His -messengers searched the horizon for the shadows of night, for all -lingering wraiths and mists, and banished them. The smoky door by which -the sun had come out of the east was shut after him. But he shed so -much light that you could not see the door any longer. - -I went in for a swim, and as I was playing about in the sunlit water -the first human messenger of the morning came past me--a fisherman in -a tooting, panting motor-boat, dragging fishing-nets after him. He gave -me greeting in the water. - -Fishing is good here--as a trade. Every day many tons of carp are -unloaded. The fish are caught in gill-nets--nets with a mesh from which -the fishes are unable to extricate themselves, their gills getting -caught. The nets are framed on stakes, floated by corks and steadied by -leads. The fishermen leave them standing two or three days, and when -the fish are wearied out or dead they haul them in. - -This very hot day I marched to an accompaniment of the thunder of the -dock-works, and reached Sandusky,--a very large industrial port, the -junction of three railways, not a place of much wealth, its population -at least half foreign. - -I had a shave at a negro barber's, and chatted with the darkie as he -brandished the razor. - -After the war he and his folks had come north and settled in Michigan. -He sent all his children to college. One was earning a hundred and -twenty-five dollars a month as music-mistress in Washington. - -"They treat you better up here than in the south?" said I. - -"Why, yes!" - -"And in London better still." - -"Oh, I know. My father went to London. He stayed at a big hotel, and -there turned up three Southerners. They went up to the hotel-keeper -and said, 'Look hyar, that coloured feller 'll have to go; we cahn stay -here with him!' And the hotel-keeper said, 'If he don't please you, -_you_ go; we won't keep you back.'" - -"Very affecting," said I. - -"There was a fellah came hyar to play the organ for the Episcopal -Church," the negro went on. "He was called Street. The other fellah was -only fit to turn the music for him. He had the goods, b'God he had. -Tha's what I told them." - -With that I got away. Outside the shop a hawker cried out to me: - -"Kahm'ere!" - -"What d'you want?" said I. - -"I've a good safety razor." - -"Don't use them." - -"A fountain pen to write home to your wife...." - -The hawker had many wares. - -I spent the night in a saloon at Venice, and watched the rate at which -German fishermen can drink beer. - -Next morning I walked across Sandusky Bay by the Lake Shore -railway-bridge, a mile and a half long--an unpleasant business, -watching for the express trains and avoiding being run over. At last I -got to Danbury, and could escape from the rails to the cinder-path at -the side. The engine-drivers and firemen of the freight trains greeted -me as they passed me, and now and then I was able to offer "Casey -Jones" a cup of coffee and exchange gossip. - -[Illustration: ERIE SHORE. - -"Amidst old logs, under a stooping willow tree, I made my bed."] - -The enormous freight trains told their tale of the internal trade of -America; on no other lines of railway in the world could you witness -such processions of produce. All sorts of things flew past on these -lumberous trains--cars full of hogs with hundreds of motionless black -snouts poking between the bars; refrigerator cars full of ham--dead -hogs, dripping and slopping water as they went along in the heat, and -the sun melted the ice; cars of coal; open cars of bright glistening -tin-scraps going to be molten a second time; cars of agricultural -machinery; cars laden with gangs of immigrant men being taken to work -on a big job by labour contractors; closed cars full of all manner of -unrevealed merchandise and machinery. On the cars, the names of the -railways of America--Illinois Central, Wabash, Big Four, Lake Shore.... - -At Gypsum I returned to the highroad, and there once more had an offer -of a job from a gang. I was surprised to see boys of thirteen or -fourteen hard at work with spade and shovel. - -"I see you're working for your living," said I. - -"What's the matter with you?" - -"I said 'You're working for your living.'" - -"Wahn a jahb?" - -"No; I'm not looking for one. I'm walking to Chicago." - -A contractor came forward, a short Frenchman in waistcoat and -shirt-sleeves. His bowler hat was pushed to the back of his head, and -his hair poked out from under it over his scarred, perspiring brow. He -was not working--only directing. - -"What would _you_ be? A sort of tramp?" said he. "I used to have a -hobo-station at Toledo. I've seen the shiner[3] line up sixty or -seventy of them and send them to work with car fare paid. They'd work -half a day and then disappear mysteriously. We have pay-day once in two -weeks; but these tramps, many of them educated fellers too, would never -work the time through or wait for their pay. Thousands of dollars have -been lost by hoboes who gave up their jobs before pay-day." - -There was an Englishman from Northampton in the gang, and he testified -that America had "England licked ten times over." - -There were fat Germans in blouses, moustachioed Italians with black -felt hats pulled down over sunburnt, furrowed brows. All the men and -the boys were suffering from a sort of "tar blaze" in the face. They -were glad to ease up a little to talk to me; but they had a watchful -eye on the face of the boss, who besides being contractor was a sort of -timekeeper. - -The contractor was vexed that I wouldn't take a job. Labour was scarce. -He averred that before I reached Chicago the farmers would come on to -the road and compel me to work on their fields. Trains had been held up -before now. - -"I thought slavery was abolished?" said I. - -The next town on my route was Port Clinton, a bright little city, and -in the eyes of at least one of its citizens a very important one. -I had a long talk with a chance-met journalist and the keeper of a -fruit-shop. The journalist, by way of interviewing me, told me all I -wanted to know about the district. Fruit-growing was far in advance -here. Perry Camp, the greatest shooting-butts in the world, was near -by. The Lake Shore railway was going to spend a million dollars in -order to shorten the track a quarter of a mile. The greengrocer told -me I had the face of a Scotsman, but spoke English like a Swede--which -just shows how badly Americans speak our tongue, and hear it as a rule. - -In the course of my interview I confessed that for roadside literature -I read the Gospel of St. John and the Book of Revelation, a chapter a -day, and when I came to the end of either book I started again. The -greengrocer interrupted the journalist, and said: - -"When you're tired, you just take out the Bible and read a little, -eh, and you get strength and go on? I knew you were that sort when I -saw you first coming up the other side of the road, and I said to my -friend, 'He reads his Bible.'" - -The greengrocer was much edified, and told me that he was the agent -for the district of Billy Sunday, the revivalist. Wouldn't I stay and -address a mass meeting? - -I fought shy of this offer. The journalist looked somewhat sourly at -the greengrocer for breaking into his interrogatory. But then a third -interrupter appeared, a little boy, who had come to purchase bananas, -and he addressed me thus: - -"On which side did your family fight in the year 1745? On the side of -Prince Charlie? That's the side I'm on." - -No descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers he. - -On the way out to Lacarne two old fishermen in a cart offered me a -ride, and I stepped up. - -"What are you, German?" I asked, always on the look-out for the -immigrant. - -"We are Yankees." - -"Your father or grandfather came from Germany?" - -"No; we're both Yankees, I tell yer." - -"I suppose your ancestors came from England then." - -"No; we've always bin 'ere." - -They had been out three nights seine-fishing on the lake, were very -tired, and rewarded themselves with swigs of rum every now and then, -passing the bottle from one to the other and then to me with real but -suspicious hospitality. Their families had always been in America. The -fact that they came originally from England meant no more to them than -Hengist and Horsa does to some of us. - -By the way, Hengist and Horsa were a couple of savages, were they not? - -The fishermen put me down beside a plantation, which they said was -just the place in which to sleep the night. I wasn't sorry to get on -to my feet again, and I watched them out of sight,--fat, old, sleepy, -hospitable ruffians. - -The plantation was a mosquito-infested swamp, and I did not take the -fishermen's advice. Myriads of "husky" mosquitoes were in the air, the -unpleasanter sort, with feathered antennae, and whenever I stood still -on the road scores of "Canadian soldiers" settled on me, a loathsome -but innocuous species of diptera. - -I sought shelter of man that night, and through the hospitality of a -Slav workman found a place in a freight train--a strange bed that not -only allows you to sleep, but takes you a dozen miles farther on in the -morning. The engine-driver told me that there was a "whole bunch of -tramps" on the train, but that no one ever turned tramps off an empty -freight train,--not on the Lake Shore railway at any rate. - -When I "dropped" from the freighter I found myself at Elliston, and -commenced there a day of delicious tramping. The opal dawn gave birth -to a great white horse of cloud, and out of the cloud came a strong -fresh breeze, having health and happiness on its wings. A quiet Sunday. -I reached Toledo this day--and parted company with Erie Shore--great, -busy, happy, prosperous Toledo. It was strange to exchange the country -for the town; to come out of the green, fresh, silent landscape into -the close, stifling, bustling town, full of promenaders talking and -laughing among themselves vociferously. - -As I came into the city the day-excursion boat was just about to start -on the return journey to Detroit. Excursionists were flocking together -to the quay, a great spectacle to a Briton. All the men were carrying -their coats in their arms, many had their collars off and the neckbands -of their shirts turned down, bunches of carnations on their naked -chests; many were without waistcoats, and had tickets with the name of -their town pinned to their fancy-coloured shirts; the red, perspiring, -glistening faces of many of them suggested an over-confidence in beer -as a quencher of thirst. The women carried parasols of coloured paper. -They were all in white, and were so thinly clad that you asked yourself -why they were so thin. But despite all precautions the sun had marked -everybody, but marked them kindly. - -Suddenly a bell was rung on the steamer, and a little man came forward -and announced in broken English: - -"Somebody wan' to come on the boat; the time is supp." - -FOOTNOTE: - -[3] Policemen. - - - - -XIV - -THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - - -Even Americans of the highest culture and of Boston families speak -English differently from any people in the old country. The difference -may not be obvious to all, but it is there, and it is a thing to -rejoice in, not to be sorry for. The American nation is different -from the British, has different history and a different hope; it has -a different soul, therefore its expression should be different. The -American face as a type is different; it would be folly to correct the -words of the mouth by Oxford, or Eton, or Granville Barker's theatre, -or the cultured Aberdonian, or any other criterion. The use of American -expressions of quite moderate tone amounts to a breach of good taste in -many British drawing-rooms; and if you tell a story in which American -conversation is repeated with the accent imitated, you can feel the -temperature going down as you proceed; that is, if you are not merely -making fun of the Americans. Making fun of any foreign people is always -tolerable to the British; a truly national and insular trait. The -literary world and the working men and women of Britain can enter into -the American spirit, and even imitate it upon occasion; but that is -only the misfortune of our populace, who ought to be finding national -expression in journalism and music-hall songs and dancing, and who are -merely going off the lines by imitating a foreign country. It is loss -to Britain that the Americans speak a comprehensible dialect of our -tongue, and that the journalist of Fleet Street, when he is hard-up for -wit, should take scissors and paste and snip out stories from American -papers; or that commercial _entrepreneurs_ should bring to the British -public things thought to be sure of success because they have succeeded -in America--"Within the Law," "I Should Worry," "Hullo Ragtime!" and -the rest. The people who are surest in instinct, though they are -sympathetic to a brother-people, hate the importation of foreign -uglinesses, and the substitution of foreign for local talent. - -The American language is chiefly distinguished from the British by -its emphatic expressive character. Britain, as I have said, lives -in a tradition; America in a passion. We are laconic, accidental, -inarticulate; our duty is plain, and we do it without words. But the -American is affirmative, emphatic, striving; he has to find out what -he's going to do next, and he has got to use strong words. Britain also -is the place of an acknowledged Caste system; but America is the place -of equal citizens, and many American expressions are watchdogs of -freedom and instruments of mockery, which reduce to a common dimension -any people who may give themselves airs. - -The subtler difference is that of rhythm. American blood flows in a -different _tempo_, and her hopes keep different measure. - - * * * * * * * - -Americans commonly tell us that theirs is the language of Shakespeare -and Shakespearian England, and that they have in America the "well -of English undefiled." But if they have any purely European English -in that country it must be a curiosity. Shakespeare was a lingual -junction, but we've both gone on a long way since then, and in our -triangle the line subtending the Shakespearian angle gets longer -and longer. O. Henry makes a character in one of his stories write -a telegram in American phraseology, so that it shall be quite -unintelligible to people who only know English: - - - His nibs skedaddled yesterday per jack-rabbit line with all the - coin in the kitty and the bundle of muslin he's spoony about. The - boodle is six figures short. Our crowd in good shape, but we need - the spondulicks. You collar it. The main guy and the dry goods are - headed for the briny. You know what to do.--BOB. - - -This is not Shakespearian English, but of course it is not -Shakespearian American. The worst of the contemporary language of -America is that it is in the act of changing its skin. It is difficult -to say what is permanent and what is merely eruptive and dropping. Such -expressions as those italicised in the following examples are hardly -permanent: - - - "One, two, three, _cut it out_ and work for Socialism." - - "_I should worry_ and get thin as a lamp-post so that tramps - should come and lean against me." - - "_Him with the polished dome._" - - "She hadn't been here two days before I saw her kissing the boss. - Well, said I, _that's going some_." - - "This is Number Nine of the Ibsen, _highbrow_ series." - - "_Do you get me?_" - - "I'll _put you wise_." - - "And how is your _yoke-mate_?" - - "He thinks too much of himself: _too much breathed on by girls_." - - "A low lot of _wops and hunkies_: _white trash_." - - "Poor negroes; _coloured trash_." - - "She is _one good-looker_." - - "She is _one sweetie_." - - "My! You have _a flossy hat_." - - But I suppose "He is a white man" is permanent, and "Buy a - postcard, it'll _only set you back a nickel_." - - "She began to lay down the law: _thus and so_." - - "Now _beat it_!" - - "Roosevelt went ranching, that's how he got so _husky_." - - "Is it far? It is only _a little ways_." - - "Did they _feed that to you_?" - - "When he started he was in a poor way, and carried in his hay in - his arms, but now he is quite _healed_." - - -But the difference in speech is too widespread and too subtle to be -truly indicated by this collection of examples, and the real vital -growth of the language is independent of the flaming reds and yellows -of falling leaves. In the course of conversation with Americans you -hear plenty of turns of expression that are unfamiliar, and that are -not merely the originality of the person talking. Thus in: - - - "How do they get on now they are married?" - - "Oh, she has him feeding out of her hand," - - -though the answer is clear it owes its form to the American atmosphere. - -Or, again in: - - - "I suppose she's sad now he's gone?" - - "Oh! He wasn't a pile of beans to her, believe me," - - -you feel the manner of speech belongs to the new American language. -The following parody of President Wilson's way of speaking is also an -example of the atmosphere of the American language: - - - So far as the prognosticationary and symptomatic problemaciousness - of your inquiry is concerned it appears to me that while the - trusts should be regulated with the most unrelentful and - absquatulatory rigorosity, yet on the other hand their feelings - should not be lacerated by rambunktions and obfusticationary - harshness. Do you bite that off? - - -_Punch_ would have no stomach for such Rabelaisian vigour. - -But wherever you go, not only in the cities, but in the little towns, -you hear things never heard in Britain. I go into a country bakery, and -whilst I ask for bread at one counter I hear behind me at the other: - -"Kendy, ma-ma, kendy!" - -"Cut it out, Kenneth." - -"Kendy, kendy, kendy!" - -"Oh, Kenneth, cut it out!" Or, as I sit on a bank, a girl of twelve and -her little baby sister come toddling up the road. The little one loses -her slipper, and the elder cries out: - -"Slipper off again! Ethel, perish!" - -America must necessarily develop away from us at an ever-increasing -rate. Influenced as she is by Jews, Negroes, Germans, Slavs, more and -more foreign constructions will creep into the language,--such things -as "I should worry," derived from Russian-Jewish girl strikers. "She -ast me for a nickel," said a Jew-girl to me of a passing beggar. "_I -should give her a nickel_, let her work for it same as other people!" -The _I shoulds_ of the Jew can pass into the language of the Americans, -and be understood from New York to San Francisco; but such expressions -make no progress in Great Britain, though brought over there, just -because we have not the big Jewish factor that the Americans have. - -To-day the influence that has come to most fruition is that of the -negro. The negro's way of speaking has become the way of most ordinary -Americans, but that influence is passing, and in ten or twenty years -the Americans will be speaking very differently from what they are -now. The foreigner will have modified much of the language and many -of the rhythms of speech. America will have less self-consciousness -then. She will not be exploiting the immigrant, but will be subject to -a very powerful influence from the immigrants. No one will then be so -cheap as the poor immigrant is to-day. Much mean nomenclature will have -disappeared from the language, many cheap expressions, much mockery; on -the other hand, there will be a great gain in dignity, in richness, in -tenderness. - - - - -XV - -THROUGH THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY - - -I have come to that portion of my journeying and of my story where all -day, every evening, and all night long I was conscious of the odour of -mown clover, of fields of ambrosia. - -I was tramping along the border of Northern Ohio and Southern Michigan, -from Toledo to Angola, Indiana. I was entering the rich West. The -fields were vast and square, the road was long and flat, and straight -and quiet, the June haze hung over luxuriant meadows, and there was a -wonderful silence and ripening peace over the country. - -One evening, as the red sun sank into night-darkened mist, I talked -with an old farmer, who was smoking his pipe at his gate. - -"I came along this same road like you, with a bundle on my back, forty -years ago," said he, "and I took work on a farm; then I rented a farm. -Many's the lad I've seen go past of an evening. And one or two have -stopped here and worked some days, for the matter of that." - -[Illustration: THE SOWER.] - -The farmer had left England when he was a stripling, and I tried to -talk to him of the old country, but he was not really interested. He -did not want to go back. - -That is the Colonial feeling. - -Strange to plough all day, or sow or reap, and in the evening to return -to the quiet, solitary house of wood beside the great red-painted barn -and not want England or Europe, not be interested in it, not want -anything more than you've got; to have the sun go down red and whisper -nought, and the stars come up and the moon, and yet not yearn; to work, -to eat, to market; to have children growing about you ripening in so -many years, and corn springing up in the fields ripening in so many -weeks; births, marriages, deaths, sowings, harvests.... - -There is all the pathos of man's life in it. - -I slept that night in the dry wayside hay, under the broad sky and the -misty golden moon. It was a quiet night, warm and gentle. Earth held -the wanderer in her cradle and rocked him to sleep. - -They are kind people about here. Next morning as I sat by my fire a -woman sent her son out to me with a quart of milk and a bag of cookies. -And milk is a much commercialised business on this western road,--the -electric freight train carries nearly all the milk away in churns to -Toledo. It was a very welcome talkative boy who brought out the milk. -His father rented one-third of a section (213 acres), but was now laid -up with pneumonia. As a consequence of the father's illness the young -children had to work very hard in the fields. And there was a sick cow -on the farm--sick through eating rank clover. And the boy himself had -had scarlet fever in the spring. The serving-girl had had to go away -"to have her little baby," and the one that came in her place brought -the fever. - -"What's your name?" said I. - -"Charles." - -Cheerful little Charles. He had much responsibility on his shoulders. - -There were some big farms along the road, and near Metamora I had the -privilege of seeing a dozen cows milked simultaneously by a petrol -engine, rubber tubes being fixed to their teats and the milk pumped -out. It was astonishing, the matter-of-fact way in which the latest -invention was applied to farm life. - -"It's rather ugly," said I. - -"Well, what are you to do when labour is so scarce?" was the reply. - -Land is rich here, but labour is scarce. I fell in with a garrulous -farmer who told me that land now sold at 150 dollars (L30) the acre, -and that in a few years it would rise to 250 dollars. The days of large -farmers were over. All the big ranches were being sold up, and the -farmers were taking holdings that they could farm themselves without -help. Labour was expensive, owing to the high wages paid in the towns -for industrial work; even at two and a half dollars (ten shillings) a -day it was difficult to get a decent gang to do the work in the harvest -season. You could do better with a small piece of land. Fields here -were forty and fifty acres, and the steam plough was not used. In the -old days land was dirt cheap, and you could buy vast tracts of it; -there were no taxes, no extra expenses, and you just went in to raise -tremendous crops and make a big scoop. To-day things were different. -To work on a large scale a horde of labourers was necessary. But now -the Socialists were stopping the flow of immigrants into the country. -Socialists said that it was too difficult to organise newcomers. The -newcomers behaved like blacklegs, strike-breakers, all the first year -of their stay in America. They didn't know the language, were very -poor, suspected their brother workmen of jealousy, and just took any -wage offered them. The Socialists wanted to keep the price of labour -up, and my farmer friend bore them a grudge because it was difficult to -develop the land unless the price was reduced. - -A little later, outside Fred M'Gurer's farm, the jovial farmer himself -came and squatted beside the fire and chatted of affairs. He had -insured his house for 1000 dollars, but it would take 1800 dollars to -rebuild it. "I think it's only fair to take some of the risk myself," -said he; "and if the place burns down the company will know I didn't -set it alight o' purpose." - -Fifty-eight years old is Fred M'Gurer, and his son is now coming to -live and work with him altogether, after seven years spent wintering -in the city and summering in the country. Irish once, and of an Irish -family--but they go to no church. The old man feels that he is a -Christian all the same, and will get to heaven at last, because he -"deals square with his fellow-men." - -Fred and his son work the farm all by themselves, outside labour is -so expensive. The beet-fields take all the immigrants. Did I see the -red waggons as I came along, full of Flemish and Russians living by -beet-picking on the beetroot farms near by? - -I saw them. - -"America is a high hill for them that don't speak the language," -said Fred. But he said that because he likes talking himself, and -can't imagine himself in a land where he could not hold converse. The -immigrants manage very well without the language, and scale the hill, -and rake in the dollars easily. Perhaps they do not glean much of the -American ideal, and the hope of the American nation. But I suppose Fred -did not mean that. - -I had a pleasant talk with a successful German farmer, who took me in -a cart from Pioneer to Grizier, through comparatively poor country. He -had possessed a farm of five acres in Germany, but there each acre had -been worth between 450 and 500 dollars. When he came to Grizier land -was selling at 25 dollars an acre, and he was able to buy fifty acres -of it and to bring up his family in health and plenty. His farm was now -worth more than 5000 dollars. - -I slept on an old waggon in a wheat-field near Grizier; but about -midnight it began to rain, and I was obliged to seek shelter in a -crazy, doorless, windowless cottage, and there I sat all next day and -slept all the next night whilst the elements raged. In the cottage were -two chairs, a home-made table, and a broken bedstead. I cooked my meals -on the rainy threshold. The refuge was shared by a great big bumble -bee, two red-admirals, a brown squirrel, and two robins. - -The second morning was Sunday, radiant, fresh, and green. The road -was soft but clean, with yielding cakes of mud; the grass was fresh, -for every blade had been washed on Saturday; the wild strawberry was -a brighter ruby; on spread bushes the wild rose was in bloom; there -were sun-browned country girls upon the road, who were shy but might -be spoken to; the odour of clover was purer, the hay-fields had round -shoulders after the storm, and you'd think cows had been lying down -where the wind had laid the tussocks low. The sun shone as if it had -forgotten it had shone before, and was doing it for the first time. -To-day it became evident that the grain was ripening; the apple trees -in fantastic shapes were knee-deep in yellowing corn. The little oak -trees by the side of the road presented foliage, every leaf of which -looked as if it had been carefully polished. - -In America wild strawberries are three on a stalk, which causes a -pleasant profusion.... - -I got a whole loaf of home-made bread given me at Cooney ..., and a -quart of milk at "Fertile Valley Farm." ... - -Only at sunset did I strike the main Angola Road, and off that road -I made my bed in a wheat-field and fell asleep, watching the bearded -ears disproportionately magnified and black in the flame of the crimson -sky. Next day, when I awoke, life was just creeping into the blue-green -night, a soft radiance as of rose petals was in the East, and a breeze -was wandering like a rat among the stalks of the wheat. I fell asleep -again, and when I reopened my eyes it was bright morning. - -The Sunday gave way to the week-day. There is nothing happening on the -roads on the Sunday; the tramp is left with Nature, but directly Monday -comes the work and life of the people reveal themselves, and adventures -are more frequent. - -[Illustration: THE STORE ON WHEELS.] - -My first visitor this Monday was a man of business. As I was making my -tea he came up towards me driving two lean horses and a great black -oblong box on wheels. At the farm where I had drawn water for my kettle -he pulled up and dismounted. A girl who had seen him from a window of -the farmhouse came tripping to meet him. He exchanged some words with -her, and then from the far side of his hearse-like cart he produced a -black chest, out of which he pulled a pair of boots. The young lady -then hopped back to the house to try them on. Satisfied as to her -purchase she took in addition a pound of tea and a packet of sugar. The -cart was a moving store: here were all manner of things for sale. But -the storekeeper received no money; all his debts were paid in eggs. One -side of the hearse was full of merchandise, the other contained nested -boxes and crates for the accommodation of hundreds of dozens of eggs. - -The storeman gave me a lift and explained to me his business. He -possessed a cold-storage establishment in the city; he credited the -farm people with sixteen cents (eightpence) for every dozen eggs they -gave him, then he stored them in his freezing-house till autumn, when -they could be thrown on the market at twenty-five to thirty cents the -dozen. - -He was a great believer in cold storage. "Meat," said he, "is tenderer -when it has been frozen some weeks." - -Business in eggs used to be better. Now the State set a limit on the -time you could keep them in cold storage. Sometimes he had to sell out -at a loss. The hope was to keep all the farm produce till there was a -real scarcity and prices went high. Then it would be possible to make a -small fortune. - -"But I'm tired of this business," said the storeman, "I'd like to give -it up and buy land." - -We lumbered along the road and stopped at each farmhouse. Sometimes we -sold articles, but whether we sold anything or not we always took a few -dozen eggs; every farmer was in business with my man and used him as a -sort of egg-bank. Even if they were not in debt to him they were glad -to hand over their eggs and be credited with the corresponding amount -of money. We took four or five dozen eggs at least at every farm, and -sometimes as many as twenty and thirty dozen. The storeman left behind -an empty crate at each farm, so that it might be filled for him next -time he came along, and he took aboard the crate already filled. In -exchange he sold kerchiefs, boots, corsets, cloth, brooms, brushes, -coffee, corn-flake, wire-gauze to keep out mosquitoes, etc. At the -end of his round he would have got rid of almost all his merchandise -and have filled both sides of the hearse with eggs. He took home upon -occasion as many as five hundred dozen eggs! - -A cheerful American with a word of news, a titbit of gossip, and the -top of the morning for all the country women. He was eagerly awaited, -and children at farm-gates descried him a long way off and ran in to -tell their mothers. Even the babies were excited at his approach, for -they knew he carried a supply of candy. At each farm where there was -a baby the storeman left a little bag of candy. He knew the value of -good-will. - -"It's a good business," said he; "no expense of keeping a shop, double -profit,--profit on the goods and profit on the eggs; it pays all right. -But I'm tired of it, and I think I shall give it up and buy land." To -several of his customers who asked after his business he replied in -the same terms. He was getting tired of it, and was thinking of buying -land. When I took a photograph of his cart and himself he said he would -be very glad to have a copy, just to remind him of old days--for he was -thinking of giving it up, etc. - -It is interesting to observe the commercialisation that goes on in the -country in America. Not only does the egg-bank and travelling store -come round, but the cream-vans come also and buy up all the cream, -and the baker comes from the bread factory and dumps, twice or three -times a week, huge baskets of damp, tasteless loaves, all wrapped in -grease-paper. Not many people bake their own bread--they save time -and take this astonishing substitute. Then travellers in coffee have -exploited special brands--"Euclid Coffee," "Primus Coffee," "Old -Reliable," and the like, done up in pound packets. Rural Americans do -not realise that good coffee is coffee and no more. - -No one had a quart of milk to spare on the road to Angola, so I hit on -a plan which I recommend to others in like circumstances. I went to a -farmhouse and asked for a cupful of milk to have with my coffee; I got -it easily and freely. The farmer was rather touched. But as you cannot -make decent coffee with one cupful of milk I went to another farm and -begged another cupful, and then to another. I was able to make a good -pot of coffee, despite the scarcity of milk. - -Whilst I was having lunch, I had an interesting talk with an ancient -man who was mowing grass at the side of the road. - -"You look like Father Time," said I. - -"Well, I've mown a good many days," he replied. "I shall soon die now. -There's no strength in me; my day is over." - -"Have you enjoyed life?" I asked. - -"Yes, I have," he replied, his face lighting up. - -"Do you work your farm yourself?" - -"No! My son works it; he is twenty-two. Yes, I married late. Thirty-two -years I wandered as you are doing. I've been in thirty states. I was -ten years on the Lakes, a sailor." - -"Ever across the Atlantic?" - -"Never on the big waters." - -"And how do you think America is going on?" - -[Illustration: "I HAD AN INTERESTING TALK WITH AN ANCIENT MAN BY THE -SIDE OF THE ROAD."] - -"I think she is going bad. The new generation is weak. There'll soon be -no old farmer stock. The old folk work, but the children go to school. -My father was an old Connecticut Yankee--a republican--so am I; but the -party has broken up, the country's going wild." - -The old man had a dog "Colonel," named after Colonel Somebody, who was -his father's Squire in Connecticut. - -"A fine dog," said I. - -"More helpful than a boy," said the old farmer. "He can drive the hog -home straight, and he always helps me up when I tumble down. I'm weak -now--have had two strokes, and after the last I was just like a baby. -I can't mow properly--no strength to move anything. Often I fall of a -heap, and Colonel runs in and gets under my stomach with his head and -raises me. A 'cute dog...." - -A pleasant vision of not unhappy age! - -I passed through Angola--a neat little city round about a shoppy -square; a quiet market-place functionising the agricultural country -round about. I had dinner at one of several restaurants, and had three -quick-lunch courses brought to me at once--an array of nine or ten -plates on a little grey stone table--not very appetising. - -There were three or four country loungers at the ice-cream bar of -the establishment, and a negro was sitting at another table with a -tall glass and a straw and a "soda." At my side was what I took to be -a piano--very dusty, and with the keyboard out of sight. Suddenly, -without any warning, it jumped into music, and thumped out a cake-walk -in its interior. It was as if a lot of niggers were doing the dance in -an empty room. - -I paid no attention, facially. Alas! we are quite familiar with such -marvels, with all that can be shown. We raise no eyebrow. But bring in -an aboriginal Chinee and sit him there where I was, and start this box -a-going, and he'd jump out of his wits. How was it started? Some one -went softly across the room and put a cent in a slot--that's all. Is -it not maddening to be uninterested, unthrilled? None of us paid any -attention. The loungers gossiped with the ice-cream girl, the nigger -drew up his soda, I strove with my hard roast beef. - - * * * * * * * - -St. John's Eve! Unusual things might be expected to happen this night. -I had lived with the growing summer, had caught in my hands one evening -not long since a large dusky lovely emperor-moth, and had received an -invitation from fairyland. The strange thing was that as I tramped out -of Angola on the Lagrange Road, it did not occur to me what day it -was. Only in the middle of the night did I reflect--there is something -unusual astir, something is happening all about me, this is no ordinary -night. And only in the morning did I realise it had been St. John's -Eve. - -I slept by an orchard on a hill. Below me was a little lake, on the -right a straw stack, on the left an apple tree, over me a plum tree -with wee plums. All night long little apples fell from their weak -stalks, the frogs sang--now solos, now choruses, the mosquitoes hummed -in the plum tree. On the surface of the little lake little lights -appeared and disappeared as the wandering fireflies carried messages -from reed to reed. Processions of clouds stole over the starry sky, and -I thought of rain, but the whole night was hot and odorous and full of -dreams. - -I did not awake next morning till it was bright day. Between me and the -straw stack there was a fluttering and squawking of young birds being -taught to fly by their mother. Every time a young bird alighted after -a little flutter, it always fell on its nose. My attention was divided -between the birds and a big bee, who thought I had made my bed over his -nest. What a distressing way the bumble-bee has of losing himself and -thinking you are to blame! - -I tramped to the reedy lake of Whip-poor-Will. The wind blew now hot -from the sun's mouth, now cold from a cloud's shoulder. The question -was, Would the Midsummer day turn to heat or come to rain? It turned -to heat. What a day of happiness I spent on the sandy ups and downs of -country roads! After weeks among plains, I was glad of a countryside -that had corners again. I was among "dear little lakes," the children -of the great lakes--in the nursery. - -I came to Flint, and met the "pike road" from Detroit to Chicago. Flint -has a large general store and a barber's shop. I bought three oranges -out of the refrigerator of the store, and, to make them last longer, -half a pound of honey-cakes. - -At noon I made my mid-day fire in the bed of a dried-up rivulet. The -weather was almost too hot for tending a fire; tawny spots appeared -on my wrists, and, viewing my face in the metal back of my soapbox, I -was startled to see the fire in my eyebrows and cheeks. But with the -heat there was a wind, and in the afternoon great cumuli grew up in the -sky, and it was possible to think the earth was a ship and the clouds -the billows which we were rolling over. Up hill and down dale, round -corners, by snug farms with green and crimson cherry orchards, over -hills where miles of corn were blanching and waving! I came to Brushy -Prairie and camped for the night in an angle of the road beside the -village cemetery. - -I read and wrote, mended my clothes, cleaned my pack of waste dust, -collected hay to make a bed. Many carts came past, and the people in -them hailed me with facetious remarks. After I had lain down one old -village wife came to see if I were sick and wanted medicine. It was -strange to lie by the cemetery and hear a party of girls go by in a -buggy, singing, "When the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there." - -I lay and watched the sky, scanning the clouds for a certitude of a dry -night. A great war was going on between the forces of the clear sky -and of the clouds. There was a party of skirmishers advancing from the -south-west. There was a long array of clouds in the north and in the -south, and the main army lay heavy and invincible in the north-west. -But the clear sky scattered the enemy wherever it encountered them, and -even forced the main army to take up a new position. The camp of the -clouds was made far away, and lights came out in their leaguer. - -The night became silent and brilliant and perfect, and I lay with my -eyes open, and did not look, but just saw.... - -I slept. Whilst my eyes were closed there was a great night attack, -and when I woke again I found the armies of the clear sky completely -routed. There was a shower of rain, and I jumped up and tripped along -to the church. The door was open. I struck a match and saw all the pews -and prayer-books and hymn-sheets, and away in the shadows the platform -and the pulpit. - -But the shower ceased. I reflected that if heavy rain came on I could -easily come into shelter, so I returned to my hay-spread, and lay down -again and watched the renewed battle in the sky. - -A desperate rally! One star, two stars were shining, and round about -them a great stand was being made. They fought lustily. They seemed -to be gaining ground. Yes. Three, four, five stars showed, six.... I -fell asleep again, knowing that the side I favoured would win. When I -wakened next it was to greet the great General coming from the east in -all his war-paint, and hung all over with silver medals. A glorious day -followed. - -I spent a morning by the clear St. Joseph River. On the road to -Middlebury wild raspberries abounded. I could have picked a pound or so -of berries along the road. Raspberry bushes occur in many places, but -I've seen few raspberries hitherto. That is because the great friends -of the raspberries live so near--human boys and girls--and they are -always taking the raspberries to school, to church, to the corn-field. -If they are going home they insist on taking the little raspberries -home too, to the distress of fathers and mothers sometimes, for the -raspberries know how to disagree with the children upon occasion, -especially the young ones. - -There were not many farm-houses about here, but at one of them I was -given a pot full of ripe cherries, and made a "smash" of them, and ate -them with milk and sugar. - -A motorist took me along a dozen miles in a bouncing, petrol-spurting -runabout car, a Dutchman, who paid me the compliment of saying I spoke -very grammatically for a foreigner. - -There was a thundershower in the afternoon. In the evening I obtained -permission to sleep in a barn, and the farmer talked to me as I lay -in the straw. There had been a runaway team the day before, and his -neighbour's bay mare had twenty-four stitches in her now, and he didn't -reckon she'd be much more good. - -A waggoner taking fowls and dairy produce to sell at restaurants and -quick-lunch shops took me into Elkhart next morning. Elkhart is a large -city, with many car factories and buggy factories, and by comparison -with the country round is very foreign, full of Italians, Poles, and -Jews. It is a well-built, handsome city, with much promise for the -future. - -As I stepped out on the Shipshewaka Road I saw by a notice that a prize -was being offered for the most popular woman and the homeliest man. -What a contrast this implies to the life of the East. Here is a land -where women are public, and where nobility in a man is best expressed -by being handy about the house. - -I tramped along the north side of St. Joseph's River, through beautiful -country under delightful conditions. The cornfields had turned -red-gold, the grass was all in flower, and little brown fluffy bees -considered it the best time of summer. What a sun there was, what a -breeze! I found the "Bachelor's Retreat" on the St. Joseph's River, two -boat-houses, a stairway through the forest banks, and a little wooden -pier stretching out into the pleasant water--a good place for a swim! - -Just before Mishewaka I met old Samuel Judie, seventy-six years of age, -lying on a bank with a stick in his hand, tending the cows of his own -farm and philosophising on life. - -"It's a marvellous thing that the sun stands still and the earth goes -round it," said he. "A marvellous thing that there are stars. They find -out how to make automobiles, and they find out lots of things about the -stars, but the human race won't ever know out the facts." - -To most of the remarks I made Mr. Judie answered "Shah." - -"England has fifty million people." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"London is twenty miles broad and twenty miles long." - -"Oh, shah!" - -"There are plenty of farms of only ten acres." - -"Oh, shah!" - -He grumbled a great deal at the automobiles. - -[Illustration: "OLD SAMUEL JUDIE, LYING ON A BANK, AND PHILOSOPHISING -ON LIFE."] - -"Last Sunday," said he, "a man and his wife were knocked down just -here. They had been saving and pinching for years, and had at last -cleared the mortgage off their farm, and were reckoning to live -decently. The automobile cut the woman's head right off, and the man is -lying in the hospital. There ought to be a law against the automobiles -rushing through from Elkhart to South Bend on Sundays." - -"I suppose South Bend is a rich place?" - -"Shah!" - -"What do they make there?" - -"Boots, waggons, ploughs, the wooden parts of Singer's -sewing-machines.... They are terribly hard up for hands.... You'd get -a job easy.... There is a great lot of girls working in the factories, -many foreign. They soon marry and go on to a farm. Factory folks make -a pile of money; get tired, and then buy a few acres of land and live -on it. Farms about here are split up into small portions and sold to -poor folk. Some want me to divide up my farm and sell part of it, but I -won't do it." - -Mr. Judie had had to work all his life, and to work hard a good deal of -it, and he felt entitled to have his own mind on any subject, and to -act accordingly. - -A wealthy American took me along in his car through Mishewaka to South -Bend, and showed me the great factory of wind-mill sails, Dodge's -factory of "transmission power" of pulleys and connections and all -things that join up engines and plant; then the famous Studebaker's -factory of plough-handles, shafts, waggons, etc., the rubber-boot -factory, Singer's frame factory, and several other establishments -which indicated how busy these Indiana cities are. - -I tramped out to New Carlisle, spending a night there under a deep -dark maple tree, which after sunset looked like a great overlapping -thatch--not a poke of light came through. As I lay beside the highroad, -and as the American holidays had just commenced, scores of cars came -by, and as each one appeared on the road horizon it lit up my leafy -ceiling with its great flashlights. How hot the night was.... I slept -without covering. It was hot even at dawn. - -It was next day on the road to Michigan City that I gave water to a -thirsty calf, who actually ran to me and butted into me to persuade me -to fill his bucket. It was on this road that having thrown a potful of -water at some sheep they followed me down the dusty road, crying to me -to do it again. - -Michigan City was sweltering. I took refuge from the heat in the -waiting-room of the large railway station, and watched the crowds in -the New York and Chicago trains, and the rush of the restaurant boys -with hundreds of cones of ice-cream. - -A pretty negress came and sat next me and began talking. - -"Ah come over heer two manths ago to the carnaval, and have been -playing _vaudy-ville_, but the home folks said ah mus' come back. Mai, -how I cried when I heard. I did take on...." - -She was under police supervision, and a big Irish policeman came -and took her away when he saw her talking with me. She stood on the -platform until the train came in, and then she was put in charge of a -guard. She had, no doubt, been arrested under suspicious circumstances -in the streets of Michigan, and had been brought before a kind -magistrate, who had forborne to punish her on condition that she went -back to her mother. - -The road from Michigan undulated over a weedy wilderness and -gnat-swarming marshes. I had a bad time as to the heat and the -mosquitoes, and, despite use of strong disinfectants, I got badly -stung, and was consequently feverish for some days. I was also very -idle, very much inclined to sit on palings and consider how hot it was. -On the Sunday, just to see whether the plaints of the farmers were -justified, I made a census of all the vehicles that passed me. On the -Monday I got to Hammond, and on Tuesday came in by car to Chicago. That -day was the hottest of the year. Fifty-three people died from the heat -in the city that day. I could have understood a few tramps dying even -on the road. - - - - -XVI - -THE CHOIR DANCE OF THE RACES - - -The road into Chicago was one of increasing noise and smoke and -desolation, of heat and gloom, and the rumour of a sordid defeat of -life. I remember Calumet City by the factory stacks, the chimneys whose -blackness seemed fainting out of sight in the haze of the heat. Dark -smokes and white steams curled above many workshops; along the roadside -black rivulets flowed from the factories. There were heaps of ashes -and tin cans lying in odorous ponds. The leaves of the trees and the -grasses of the fields were wilted and yellowed by the airs and fumes -of Chicago. At Hammond a drunken, one-armed man followed me for about -a mile, attracting a crowd of street Arabs by his foul language. East -Chicago looked to me like parts of suburban London, and I was reminded -in turns of Peckham, Hackney Marshes, Commercial Road, Whitechapel. -There was, however, much that was unlike anything in London--the -ominous squads of factory chimneys; clouds of heavy-rolling, ochreous -fumes and smoke; palings with such advertisements as "Read no scab -newspapers" or "You'll Holler"; wooden houses; dilapidated, ramshackle -frame-buildings of grey wood; broken-down verandahs; black stairways; -grey washing hanging on strings from stairway to stairway; half-naked -children; piles of old cans and rusty iron. - -The vehicles increased on the highway, the lumber of much traffic -commenced, the red and yellow tramcars multiplied, railway lines -crossed the road, and by the rush of trains one felt that all the -traffic of Eastern and Central America was converging to one point. The -open country disappeared. The air of the roadway became full of dust. -The heat increased ten degrees, and to move a limb was to perspire. -Foreigners jostled one another on the sidewalks, negroes and negresses -sat in doorways. The odour of carcases came to the nostrils from -Packing-town, and at last the great central roar of traffic--Chicago. - -I can give no account of the great city here--it would be only to -recount and add together the uglinesses and the promises of other -cities. It was at once worse and better than I had expected. The -hopelessness of the picture given by Upton Sinclair in _The Jungle_ I -felt to be exaggerated. I was told at Hull House that the novelist had -got all his stories at the stockyards, but that the massed calamities -that are so appalling in the story never occurred to one family in -real life. The effect of accumulated horrible detail in _The Jungle_ -deprives you at the time of any love towards America; it made me, a -Briton, feel hatred towards America, and when first I read the book I -felt that no Russian who read it carefully would entertain willingly -the idea of going to America. If he had entertained the idea, having -read _The Jungle_ he would abandon it. It is an astonishing tract on -the fate of a Russian peasant family leaving the land of so-called -tyranny for a land of so-called freedom; and its obvious moral is -that Russia is a better country for the individual than America--that -America takes the fine peasant stock of Europe and shatters it to bits. - -It is true that Chicago makes a convenience of men, and that there man -exists that commerce may thrive rather than that commerce exists that -man may thrive. It is a place where the physical and psychical savings -of Europeans are wasted like water, and where no one understands what -the waste means. Spending is always joyful, and Chicago is a gay city. -It is full of a light-hearted people, pushing, bantering, laughing, -blindfolded over their spiritual eyes. In such places as Chicago the -immigrant finds a market for things he could never sell at home--his -body, his nerve, his vital energy; a ready market, and he sells -them and has money in his pocket and beer in plenty. Listen to the -loud-voiced, God-invoking crowd in the saloons! They have the proceeds -that come of selling the savings of Europe. They have come out of the -quiet villages and forests where, from generation to generation and -age to age, the peasantry live quiet lives, and grow richer and richer -in spirit and nerve. But these in the Chicago streets and saloons have -found their mysterious destiny, to lavish in a life, and for seemingly -worthless ends, what hundreds of quiet-living ancestors have saved. The -tree of a hundred years falls in a day and becomes timber, supporting a -part of the fabric of civilisation for a while. - -[Illustration: AT THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK: A HOT DAY IN CHICAGO.] - -The strangest thing is the clamour of the Chicago crowd--it is -dead-sure about everything in the world, ignorant, cocksure, mocking. -It does not know it is losing, does not know that it is blind-folded, -because it is the victim of destiny. - -Part of the spiritual blindness of the great city is the belief it -holds that there is no other place of importance but itself. And -many outsiders take the city at its own estimate. But Chicago is not -America, neither is New York or any other great city. If going to -America meant going only to the great cities, then few but the Jews -would emigrate from Europe. - -The ideals of America cannot be worked out merely in the great cities. -The cities are places of death, of the destruction of national tissue, -and of human combustion, necessary, no doubt, as such, certainly not -places where one need worry about national health. The national health -is on the farms of Pennsylvania and Indiana and Minnesota, Michigan, -Iowa, the Dakotas, the Far West. The men range big out there; the -stand-by of the people will always be found in these places and not in -the cities. - -And New York and Chicago, though necessary, are abnormal. They are -not so much America as unassimilated Europe. The population of a city -should be the natural sacrifice of the population of the country. It -is often deplored that the country people are forsaking the land and -flocking to the towns; but the proper people to replenish the failing -stock of the cities is just those whom instinct and destiny prompt to -leave the country. It is most bewildering to the student of America -that her city-populations are replenished by the foreign immigrants, -by people nursing, it is true, American sentiments, but not yet born -into the American ideal, not made America's own. The natural place for -the first generation of immigrants is on the land. If Chicago seems -too large, too sudden a growth, disorderly, unanticipated, altogether -out of hand, it is because of the hordes of foreigners who are there, -who have not the impulse to co-operate, and who do not readily respond -to the efforts of the idealist and politician. And they do not readily -respond because they have not lived long enough in the true American -atmosphere, have not served a quiet apprenticeship in the country, but -have been dumped into an industrial wilderness served with the yellow -press and "sped up." - -America will have to guide the flow of the immigrants, and learn to -irrigate with it and make fertile the Middle and the Far West. It is -over-commercialisation and near-sightedness that clamours for more -labour in the great cities. The size of a city is never too small. In -the normal state of a nation the city functionises the country, and -according to the strength of the people in the background the state of -the great town will be busy or slack. It is good news that negotiations -are being made with the trans-Atlantic shipping companies to ship -immigrants to the Far Western coast _via_ the Panama Canal, at rates -not very much heavier than at present exist for shipment to Boston and -Philadelphia and New York. A man and his wife planted on the land in -the East are worth ten given to the greedy cities of the West. - -In the matter of the colonisation of her own country America might -learn a great deal from Russia, especially in the matter of railway -transit. It is all to the advantage of a country that means of transit -are cheap, and that there be a brisk circulation of the blood of the -body-politic. As a newspaper realises that the cheaper its price the -greater its success, the greater its circulation, so America might -realise that the cheaper were its railway fares the more facility -would there be for the mingling of the peoples, the assimilation of -foreigners, and the development of the country. - -In America it costs 39 dollars 60 cents to go as far as Denver, -Colorado, which is about 2000 miles, and $76.20 to go to San Francisco. -A comparison with the Russian rates will give an idea how much more -cheaply it is possible to carry people: - - -+-----------+------------------+---------------------------------------+ -| | | Russian Rates. | -| Distance. | American Rates. +------------+------------+-------------| -| | | 3rd Class. | 4th Class. | Immigrants' | -| | | | | Rate. | -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ -|2000 miles | 39.60 dollars |9 dollars |4.20 dollars| 1 dollar | -| | | | | | -|3230 " | 76.20 " |12.50 " | 6 " | 1.60 dollars| -+-----------+------------------+------------+------------+-------------+ - - -Of course, the cost of working is more in America than in Russia, and -the trains are twice as fast; but that is not enough to set off against -the enormous differences in fares. A great profit is made out of the -railway business, and the profit is at the expense of America as a -whole. It is absurd to compare the prices of fares in America with the -prices of fares in Great Britain. It is bad enough with us, but ours -is a small territory; it does not cost much to go from end to end. -But America is a vast country. It costs almost a year's wages to pay -the fare of a family across it. You think twice before determining to -travel even a thousand miles. The consequence is that the circulation -of people is sluggish in the extreme. The East begins to get congested, -and the cities are packed with people who would gladly have gone -straight to the West if facilities had been granted them. - -In the development of democracy it is circulation that is important, -the circulation of opinion, of sentiment, of ideals. The large -circulation of interest and affection caused by the reduction of -postage rates down to a penny in Britain and two cents in America -has given an immense impetus to democratic development; the larger -circulation of ideas and opinions caused by the reduction of the price -of newspapers to a cent has also been advantageous. But how much more -important than the circulation of opinions, ideas, and sentiments is -the circulation of the people themselves, controlled by the price of -fares on railways! How much more swiftly would the American democracy -become homogeneous if it were possible to travel a thousand miles for -five dollars. That would entail either nationalisation of railways -or subsidisation by the Government. But it would be worth it to the -American people. - -Because of the heavy expense of railway travelling America is only -dimly conscious of itself, geographically and ethnologically. Americans -even boast of the distances between their towns and between different -points of the country. Chicago, only one-third of the way across the -continent, is called "The West." Indiana and Illinois and Minnesota are -"out West." It is as if we referred to Berkshire or Warwickshire as the -West of England. - -In due course, it may be imagined, the United States Government will -assume state-control of many of the railways, and ten dollars will pay -your fare from New York right across. Immigrants will not be allowed -to settle in great cities till they have spent ten years on the land. -Such a provision would make it easier to admit all sorts and conditions -of Europeans at Ellis Island; and at the corresponding Immigration -stations at other ports a great deal of the White Slave trouble would -be averted, and the shelter of immigrants would not absorb so much of -the urban attention so urgently needed elsewhere. - - * * * * * * * - -Railways have as much power to make the new American as the newspaper -has. Perhaps they have more power; for the railways can afford great -opportunities for social mingling. The railway can take any immigrant -to a place where he will be not merely a hireling, but a living -organism grafted into the vast body of America. At present the high -fares deter the immigrant, and he is cooped up in districts which he -would like to leave, but cannot; in districts where he must remain -foreign and not American. - -For there is an impulse to move and to mingle. If railway facilities -were granted there would be a great deal more social and commercial -intercourse over the surface of America. Each new immigrant who comes -into the United States is particularly wanted somewhere; his landing -is not an accident. Some village or countryside has called him, and -will still call him, though he be frustrated at first, doing the wrong -sort of work among the wrong group of people. - -The great heterogeneous mass of peoples wants to become one nation. -There is a power which works through the peoples for that end. The -people are ready to mingle; they are already mingling; they are going -to and fro and in twos and threes, and every step and every transaction -is something essential in the making of the coming homogeneous nation. - -It is a choir dance, a dance of molecules or atoms, if you will, but a -dance of human atoms, and one that yields a mystic music that can be -heard by the poet's ear. Leading the peoples in the involutions and -evolutions of the choir dance is a masked figure, not itself one of the -people. What is that figure? Not trade, I think, though it helps; not -common interest, though it is perhaps a rule of the dance; not even -the American idea. The masked figure that leads is a fate; it is an -instinct of Destiny. - -The dance is being played out on a vast stage with much scenery--the -three-thousand-mile stretch of America, East to West: the Industrial -East, with its hills; the corn plains and forests of the middle West; -the wild West; the luxuriant and wonderful South. - -There are waiting throngs cooped up in cities and at temporary -standing-places. - -The welter of negroes and Spaniards and half-castes in the South, in -the black pale; the Swedes and Norwegians and Finns in the Middle -West; the million Jews in New York; the millions of them elsewhere, -saying, as Mary Antin, that America and not Judea is the Promised -Land, the place where the tribes will be gathered together again and -form a nation; the great Anglo-Saxon stock of America, who would feel -themselves to be the leaven, the ruling principle in the choir dance; -the Dutch-Americans of Pennsylvania; the Irish, of whom there tend -to be more in America than in Ireland; the Slovaks and Ruthenians on -the Pennsylvanian collieries; the Italian gangs on the road and the -Italian quarters of a thousand towns; the Poles, of whom in New York -alone there are more than in any city in Poland; the enormous number of -Germans living on the land; the hundred thousand Russian working men in -Pennsylvania alone; the Molokan Russians in California, and the Russian -gold-washers; the Red Indians on the Reservations; the composite gangs -of all nations in the world going up and down the country doing jobs. - -The Jews bring music, mathematical instinct, a sense of justice, -industry, commercial organisation, and commercial tyranny, national -wealth, material prosperity, restlessness. - -The English bring ignorance, pluck, and honour; the Scottish bring -their brains and their morals; the Irish bring generosity, cleverness, -laziness, hatred of Jews and of meanness. - -The Germans bring the idea of growth and development, evolution, and -with it their own music. They also bring an instinct for efficiency and -shining armour. - -The negro brings sensual music and dancing, a taste for barbaric -splendour, the gentleness of little children, and the wildness of -the beasts of the forest at night; and he brings imitativeness, -subserviency, a taste for slavery. - -The Red Indians bring the remembrance of the Virgin -Continent--litheness of limb, subtler ear and nose and eyes for the -things of the earth. - -The Italians bring their emotionalism and excitability, their songs, -their passion, their fighting spirit. - -The Little Russians, Slovaks, Poles, Great Russians bring patience -to endure suffering, but withal a spirit of anarchism which prompts -them to do astonishing things without apparent cause, mystical piety, -charity, much sin, much intemperance, much love and human tenderness. -They bring also the Tartar commercial spirit, and a zest for haggling -over prices and for making deals. - -The French bring economy, vivacity, journalistic genius. - -But what do they not bring, all these peoples? There are marvellous -gifts closed in all of them, mysterious potentialities that it were -folly to attempt to name. - -Each race has its special function, its organic suitability and psychic -value. There are male races like the Jews; female races like the -Germans. There are races that bring spirit, races that bring body. - -German goes down the middle with English; Swedish with Irish; Russian -with Pole; Jew with each and all. It is not always with the negro -that the negro dances, not always with the Italian that the Italian -is partnered, nor Hungarian with Hungarian, nor Lithuanian with -Lithuanian. Secretively, unexpectedly, on unanticipated impulses, -strangers obey the magic wand and rhythmical gestures of the Great -Conductor of the dance, and become one with another in the evolution of -America. The dance has been open some time, but it is only now becoming -general. The waiting throngs on all sides are just beginning to break -up and go mingling up and down and in and out, carrying messages, -making sacrifices, performing rites. The victims are blindfolded; the -conquerors have the light of destiny on their brows. - -A spectacle for the Gods! In the Old World the heavenly powers have -looked down more or less on the antagonism of the races, war and enmity -and all that results from great battles, the rout of armies, the -sacking of cities, the sinking of ships-- - - - Looking over wasted lands. - Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery - sands, - Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying - hands. - - -But in the New World the peoples are joined in co-operation and -friendship, working out in peace and trade the synthesis of a new race. -The gods look down on factory-chimneys belching smoke, on kingdoms -covered with red-gold corn uncoveted by men of arms, on hurrying -trains and the dancing peoples going hither and thither, with smiles -and little enchantments and allurements. They look upon the Protestant -pulpits where the Puritans preach, on the Roman Catholic Church and the -confessionals, on the Orthodox Church, on the Baptists, on the Mormons; -and on the way the varying peoples flock around temples, and in and -out of church doors, carrying messages, receiving messages. They look -upon many developments that we have so aptly called movements, the -mysterious "woman's movement", the Romanising movement, the Socialistic -movement. They look upon a million schools where the children, the -second generation of the dancers, are polished and tested and clothed -before they in their turn join the throng at the side and go down the -middle with their partners. - -It is like a kaleidoscope, and at each successive revolution the -peoples change their aspects and their pattern; but there is no -reverting to the original pattern, as in the kaleidoscope. The -constituents of the pattern are divining what the next pattern will be, -and it is always a new pattern, something nearer to the great coming -unity, the new American nation. In no one particular bosom is the -destiny of America; one man by himself means nothing there. It is a -whole people that is living or will live. Once the foreigner parts from -the waiting throngs at the side and enters the mystic dance, his own -little consciousness and purpose become but a part of the much greater -consciousness and purpose of the whole. It is not the development of -one sort of person, but the combination of a million sorts to make one. -It is not the development of a race, as is our own British progress in -Great Britain, but something which seems rather novel in the history -of mankind, the making of a new democracy. It is not a Gladstone or a -Bismarck or an Alexander the Liberator, who is leading this development -that I have called a Choir Dance, not a Lincoln or a Roosevelt or a -Wilson. Men have only their parts to play in the making of a democracy; -if they could make it all by themselves, or originate the making, or -achieve the making, it would not be a democracy that they were making. -As I said, it is a masked figure that leads the mystic movement--a -fate. In one sense there are many fates also among the dancers and -mingled with them,--a mysterious and wonderful ballet, perfect in idea -and in fulfilment. - -And as it is with men so it is with the rites they perform. There are -myriads of rites in the movement of the dance, but not one of them is -charged with absolute significance. Thus in the mazes of evolution -there stands impregnable, as it would seem, the historic open Bible of -America. Around it, marking time, is a massed host of Americans, now -reinforced by newcomers, now diminished by secessions, swayed to this -way and to that by streams of Catholics, streams of Hebrews, streams of -pleasure-lovers, but as yet holding its own, and claiming in sonorous -choruses that the Bible shall be the leaven of the New America. - -At another point of vantage on the stage you may see the Jews -proclaiming by vote that America is no longer a Christian country, -and calling the intellectuals and pleasure-wanters to support, if not -Judaism, at least rationalism and "intelligent" materialism. - -At another point you see the menace of the half-civilised negro, the -spectacle of the rapid multiplication of a people over whom there is -no control, and in whose nature lies, apparently, an enormous physical -power to degrade the type of the whites. - -There is the phenomenon of the wholesale slaughter and sacrifice of -blindfolded foreigners exploited in industrial cities; forests of men -used up as the forests of wood are worn away into daily newspapers and -rubbish. - -You see the booths where dancers make voluntary abdication of European -nationality and take the oaths of American citizenship. - -You see the prizes for which, in the dance, whole crowds seem to be -straining and yearning and even struggling, the prize of wealth, of -even a little wealth, of a name printed in a newspaper, of a name -printed in all newspapers, the prize of fame, of political position, of -premiership. You see the wild political campaigns. - -You see the places where the ambitious laze by the way, the baseball -races where men are shouting themselves and others mad for an empty -game, the halls of rag-time and trotting. You see in thousands of -instances actions which seem to disgrace the name of America and to -augur ill for her future,--women sold into evil, negroes burned at the -stake, heinous crimes committed against children. But the destiny of -the great choric dance cannot be thwarted by any of these things. Death -is useful to life, darkness to brightness, sin to virtue--useful in a -way which it is not necessary for the individual to penetrate. Each -man fulfils his destiny, guides others according to his light, acts -according to his inclination, temptation, and conscience. The whole -nation takes care of itself. - - * * * * * * * - -Wherever I went in the States I was asked by journalists to say what I -thought the resultant type of American was going to be. America seemed -feverishly anxious to get an answer to that question. No one can answer -it, but it is exciting to speculate. - -"Are you aware that in a few years we shall come to such a pass that it -will be a stand-up fight, Americans _versus_ Jews?" said one man to me. -"The influence of the other races goes for nothing beside the influence -of the Jews. The Jews are buying up all the real estate, they make any -sacrifice for education, they get the better of Christians nine times -out of ten. A Jewish pedlar comes past this door one day, and I think, -'Poor wretch!' Next year he comes past in a buggy; next year I find he -owns a big general store in the town; next year he owns a department -store and employs a thousand hands. He is too much for us." - -What is to be the emerging American? At New York I was inclined to -answer, "A sort of English-speaking Russian Jew who believes in dollars -and sensual pleasures before all else, who, however, reads advanced -literature, and whilst he is poor is an anarchist, and when he is rich -is more tyrannous than the Tsar--more tyrannous, but never illegally -so." But when I escaped into the country I found that New York was not -America, but only a great hostelry on the threshold of that country. I -learned the great control power of the Anglo-Saxon and Dutch Americans, -the subtle influence of the Russian people, who after all not only -dominate the Jews in Russia, but give them many traits of the Russian -national character, making out of a materialist something which is -almost a sentimentalist. There are many Jews in Russia who have become -de-judaised by the Russians, and indeed the Christian Jew has become -part of the very fabric of that bureaucracy which the poor persecuted -mob of Hebrews hate and fear. The Russians are a strong influence in -the development of the American. And the Germans and Norwegians and -Swedes and Danes, who swiftly change to a species of American hardly -distinguishable from the old Anglo-Saxon and Dutch type? They cannot -go for nothing, they are not simply raw material, but are moulders and -fashioners as well. The coming American will be a very recognisable -relation of the Teutonic peoples. But he will nevertheless be clearly -and decidedly different from any one race on the Continent. - -Even to-day an American is distinctly recognisable as such on the -pavements of London, Berlin, or Paris. You know him by his face; he -does not need to speak to reveal his nationality. You can even tell a -man who has spent five years in the country; something new has been -moulded into his face and has crept into his eyes. I have even noticed -it in the face of Russian peasants returning from America after two -years away from Russia, travelling in a Russian train to their little -village home. - -"You are American?" I asked of them. - -"Yes, boss, you are rait," they replied, and smiled knowingly. - -They then began to enlarge on what a wonderful place America was--just -like American tourists in Switzerland. - -But the American of to-day is not the American of to-morrow. The -Tsar's subjects coming into America at the rate of a quarter of a -million a year ensure that, the flocking of almost whole nations from -South-Eastern Europe ensure it. As I said, none can tell what the new -American nation will be. We can only watch the wonderful patterns and -colours that form in the great ballet and choir dance, the mingling -in the labyrinths of destiny, the disappearances and the emergences, -the involution and the evolution. It is something enacted within the -mystery of the human race itself. - - - - -XVII - -FAREWELL, AMERICA! - - -I observed many interesting things in Chicago, the following circular -for instance: - - - Balsok aut John J. Casey. - Hlasujte na John J. Casey. - Glosujgie na John J. Casey. - Votate per John J. Casey. - Vote for John J. Casey, - Labour candidate for Congress. - - -Ten years hence that farrago will have changed to simply "Vote for -Casey." - -My neighbours in the hotel spelt their name in two ways, one way for -Polish friends and the other for American understanding: - - - Nawrozke. - Navrozky. - - -It is the latter name that will endure; or perhaps that also will be -shed for some cognomen that sounds more familiar and reliable,--to -Harris or Jones or Brown. - -I had a talk in a slum with a family of Roumanian Jews who had come to -Chicago twenty years ago. Chicago was a good place, they intended never -to leave it, the family had come there for ever. - -I met an Alsatian who told me how he had fled from home when he was -twelve years old. He crossed the Swiss frontier, and got into Basle -at midnight, and had travelled to America _via_ Paris and Havre, and -had never gone back. He did not want to serve in the German Army. His -father had been a great French soldier in the Franco-German war. - -"If you went back now would the German authorities bring you to trial?" -I asked. - -"No. I have the Emperor's pardon in black and white." - -"Do many of those who run away get pardon?" - -"Only when there is good cause. I used to send money home regularly to -keep my sister. The mayor of the town heard of my generosity, reported -it to Berlin, and a pardon was written out for me." - -"They thought it a pity to keep a good citizen out of his own country, -even though he had cheated the army. A wise action, eh?" said I. - -"The Germans are 'cute," he replied. - -I met a Russian revolutionary who complained that his compatriots in -the towns spent all their spare time getting drunk, fighting, and -praying. The Russian who made his pile went and opened a beer-shop. -He thought the priests of the Orthodox Church kept the immigrants -down; they got more money from drunkards than from the virtuous, and -therefore they made no efforts to encourage sobriety. He would like to -see the Orthodox Greek and Russian Churches demolished, and the priests -and deacons packed back to Europe. America was a new country, and -needed a new church. - -At Chicago also I received a letter from Andray Dubovoy, a young -Russian farmer, whose acquaintance I made by chance in the Russian -quarter of New York. He was rich enough to come travelling from North -Dakota to New York to see the sights of America, a wonderfully keen -and happy Russian, full of ideas about the future and stories of the -settlement where he lived. He gave me a most interesting account of the -Russian pioneers in North Dakota. In the towns where he lived every one -spoke Russian, and few spoke English. If you went into a shop and asked -for something in English the shopkeeper would shrug her shoulders and -send for a little child to interpret. The children went to school and -knew English, but the old folks could not master it, and had long given -up attempts to learn the language. The town was called Kief, and was -named after the province of Russia from which they originally came. - -He told me the history of two villages in Kiefsky Government in -Russia. They had heard of America, but thought it was a place in a -fairy-tale--not a real place at all. They were even incredulous when -the Jews began to depart for America in numbers. But they were destined -to understand. - -The villagers were people who asked themselves serious questions and -searched their hearts. They ceased going to monasteries and making -pilgrimages and kissing relics, and instead gathered together and read -the Gospel. - -Many were arrested for going to illegal meetings. Those who were sent -to prison or to Siberia went gladly, as on the Lord's business, to be -missionaries to those who sat in darkness. - -But there was so much persecution that a great number of the villagers -thought of following the example of the Jews and emigrating to America. -It was in 1894 that they resolved to go; but at that time a large party -of Stundists, who had gone out to Virginia the year before, came back -with tidings of bad life and poor wages, and damped the enthusiasm. Ten -families, however, were tempted by what the Stundists said, and they -took tickets to go to the very district of Virginia that the Stundists -had abandoned. - -On their way out they fell in with a party of German colonists going -back, after a holiday, to North Dakota. Such tales they told that five -of the families changed their minds and determined to throw in their -lot with the Germans. - -The five families received land free, homesteads, they were given -credit to purchase horses and cattle and carts and agricultural -implements, and they liked the new country and wrote glowingly to the -others in Virginia and in the two villages of Kiefsky Government. As a -result, twenty-five new families came at once, and in a few years there -were 200 families installed. - -Each man brought 20 to 30 dollars but no more, and each became indebted -to companies for 1000 to 1500 dollars, a debt which they hoped to pay, -but which hung on their necks like the instalments their ancestors had -to pay to the Land Banks of Russia for the land they had been granted. - -However, they ploughed and sowed and hoped for harvests, built log -cabins and even American houses. They had hard times, and were on the -verge of starvation--famine and death staring at them from the barren -fields. They were forced to make an appeal through the newspapers of -Eastern America, and as a result truck-loads of provisions were sent to -them, and "clothes to last five years." - -Succeeding years made up for their sufferings. There was a plentiful -flax harvest; and though in 1909 hail destroyed the wheat and in 1910 -and 1911 there was drought, the Russians bore up. And 1912 was a most -fruitful year, some farmers garnering as many as 25,000 bushels of -wheat. - -Each year they were able to add to their stock, to build a little more, -and to do various things. As a result of good harvests Andray Dubovoy -himself was able to go a-travelling, and to meet me and tell me his -story. He had himself come to America when a little child, and did not -know of his native land except by repute. He had not, however, had the -advantage of education in an American school as a child, and so was as -yet more Russian than American; but he was unlike the Russian type, he -was clean of limb, clear of eye and of skin, calm--almost a Quaker in -faith and morals. No one drank spirits or smoked tobacco in Kief, North -Dakota, he told me with pride. The Russians there were living in a new -way. - -"Are the people as religious now as they were in Russia?" I asked. - -"Not quite," said he, "they feel they don't need religion so much in -America. At first the struggle for life was so hard, we had little -thought for religion. It was only as we gained a footing on the land -that we began to think of our religion seriously, and we built a -chapel. We have a chapel of our own now." - -"I suppose when you were no longer persecuted you did not need to -affirm your way of religion so emphatically," I hazarded. - -Andray did not know. - -"Have you any bosses in Kief?" I asked. - -Andray smiled. - -"Our sheriff is a cabman." - -"You feel no tyranny at all now?" - -He was glad to say they never had need of a policeman; there were -no robberies, every one lived in mutual love and kindness. Only, of -course, they were heavily in debt to the companies, and felt they were -never solvent. - -"Perhaps, when you have improved your land and made it really valuable -you will be sold up by the companies and you will lose your property," -said I. - -He did not think that possible. - -"And what is the cost of living with you?" - -"Cheap," said my friend; "beef is 21/2 cents a pound, eggs 10 cents the -dozen, butter 12 cents the pound, potatoes 35 cents the bushel; but the -things we import, such as boots, clothes, fruits, are very dear, much -too dear for our pockets." - -"Food is cheaper than in the country in Russia, then?" - -"Meat and butter and milk are cheaper, but other things are more -than twice as dear. Still we do not complain. It is a good life out -there; our children are growing up stalwart, happy, earnest. God's own -blessing is upon our enterprise." - -"Are you ever going back to Russia with its persecutions, its sins, its -crimes, its pilgrimages, the secret police, the hermits who live in -forest huts, its moujiks and babas, who think that America is a place -in a fairy-tale, at the other side of endless forests?" - -The farmer smiled in a peculiar way. He would like to go to see it. - -Was he quite sure he was going to be an American and not a Russian? - -"We have Russian classes in the summer," said he. "We must never forget -Russia, evil as she is." - - * * * * * * * - -It must not be forgotten that this little settlement of which I write -here is only one of many in North Dakota. There are already thirty -thousand Russians living in that state, and there are many people of -other nationalities living in the same way--Swedes, Germans, Danes. The -story of the young colonies is marvellously touching; when you read one -of the excellent novels of to-day, such as Miss Cather's _O Pioneers_, -which tells of the growth of a Swedish colony in the Middle West, you -are obliged to admit that it is no wonder the Americans find their own -such an exclusively interesting country. - - * * * * * * * - -I returned to New York by train, and on the way saw the Niagara Falls, -one morning at dawn; the procession of white-headed rapids, the vapour -and mist rising in volumes veiling the sun, darkening it. A sight of -holiness and wonder that left me breathless. I was glad to be alone, -and just close the picture into the heart, in silence! - -Late one Saturday night I arrived in New York and stepped out of the -Grand Central Station, pack on back, and searched for a hotel. The -grand "Knickerbocker," with sky-sign the length of the Great Bear, -was not for me. I wandered into a queer-looking little palace, all -mirrors, deep carpets, white paint, and niggers. My room faced the -street, and opposite me was a pleasure-resort, a cabaret, a dancehall, -a pool-house, with three stories of billiard-rooms, through whose open -windows I saw many white-sleeved billiard-players leaning over green -tables. - -The weather was so hot that all the windows in the city were wide open. -I heard the throbbing of music and dancing, even in my dreams. - -Some days later I booked my passage back to England. But I was in -America till the last moment. The American who was so kind to me, -and who was in herself a little America, "fed to me" daily the facts -of American life, and the hope of all those who were working with -her. We visited Patterson, where half a dozen "Jim Larkins" had been -fighting for fighting's sake, and leading the well-paid silk-workers to -strike for the sun and moon, and accept no compromise. We visited the -President of the City College and saw the wonderful modern equipment -of that institution. We called on J. Cotton Dana, the librarian of -Newark. I was enabled to visit a maternity hospital, heavily endowed by -Pierpont Morgan, and to see all the provision made for the happy birth -of the emerging Americans. One vision remains in my memory of a dozen -babies on a tray, each baby having its mother's name written on a piece -of paper pinned to its swaddling-bands. - -We visited five or six settlements, and invitations were given me to -visit several thousand establishments in the United States, and miss -nothing. I would have liked to go farther afield and have a thousand -more conversations, but perhaps, since brevity is the soul of wit, -I have done enough. As it is, I have only made a small selection of -instances and adventures and thoughts from the immense amount of -material which I carried back to England and to Russia. I think America -has been brought to the touch-stone of my own intelligence, experience, -and personality. - - * * * * * * * - -My friend took me to the charming play, _Peg-o'-my-Heart_. - -"Isn't it delicious?" - -"The thrilling thing is that the fifth act is not played out here, but -on the _Campania_, and I have to play that part myself," said I. - -We got out of the theatre at eleven. I saw her home. As midnight -was striking I claimed my luggage at the cloak-room at Christopher -Street Ferry. At 12.15 I entered the Cunard Dock and saw the great, -washed-over, shadowy, twenty-year-old Atlantic Liner. Crowds of -drunkards were gesticulating and waving flags--Stars and Stripes and -Union Jacks--singing songs, embracing one another. Heavily laden -dock-porters, carrying sacks, moved in procession along the gangways. -Portly Chief Steward Macrady, with mutton-chop whiskers, weather-beaten -face, and wordless lips, sat in his little kiosk and motioned to me to -pass on when I showed my ticket. I got aboard. - -I returned with the home-going tide of immigrants; with flocks of Irish -who were going boisterously back to the Green Isle to spend small -fortunes; with Russians returning to Russia because their time was up -and they were due to serve in the army; with British rolling-stones, -grumbling at all countries; with people going home because they were -ill; with men and women returning to see aged fathers or mothers; -with a whole American family going from Butte, Montana, to settle in -Newcastle, England. - -It was a placid six-day voyage; six days of merriment, relaxation, and -happiness. The atmosphere was entirely a holiday one--not one of hope -and anxiety and faith, as that of going out had been. Every one had -money, almost every one was a person who had succeeded, who had tall -tales to tell when he got home to his native village in his native -hollow. - -Thousands of opinions were expressed about America. I heard few of -disillusion. Most people who go to America are disillusioned sooner -or later, but they re-catch their dreams and illusions, and gild their -memories when they set sail upon the Atlantic once more. They have -become Americans, and have a stake in America, and are ready to back -the New World against anything in the Old. - -"Do you like the Yankees?" - -"They're all right--on the level," answers an Irish boy. - -"Do you like America? Would you like to live there and settle down -there?" asks a friend of me, the wanderer. - -A smile answers that question. - -We stood, my friend and I, looking over the placid ocean as the moon -just pierced the clouds and glimmered on the waters. - -Evening splendours were upon the surface of the sea, the delicate light -of the moon just showing the waves, most beautiful and alluring. - -"It is like first acquaintance with one's beloved," said I; "like the -first smile that life gives you, bidding you follow her and woo her. -Later on, in the rich splendour, when the golden road is clear and -certain and ours, we do not care for the quest. We look back to those -first enchanting glances, those promising reconnaissances. The promise -of love is more precious than love itself, for it promises more than -itself; it promises the unearthly; it touches a note of a song that -we heard once, and have been all our lives aching to remember and sing -again." - -America is too happy and certain and prosperous a place for some. It -is a place where the soul falls into a happy sleep. The more America -improves, the more will it prove a place of success, of material -well-being, of physical health, and sound, eugenically established men -and women. But to me, personally, success is a reproach; and failure, -danger, calamity, incertitude is a glory. For this world is not a -satisfying home, and there are those who confess themselves strangers -and pilgrims upon the earth. - - * * * * * * * - -Back to Russia! From the most forward country to the most backward -country in the world; from the place where "time is money" to where the -trains run at eighteen miles an hour; from the land of Edison to the -land of Tolstoy; from the religion of philanthropy to the religion of -suffering--home once more. - - - - -The following pages contain advertisements of -books by the same author or on kindred subjects - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -With the Russian Pilgrims to Jerusalem - -_Decorated cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $2.75 net_ - -The journey of the Russian peasants to Jerusalem has never been -described before in any language, not even in Russian. Yet it is the -most significant thing in the Russian life of to-day. In the story lies -a great national epic. - -"Mr. Stephen Graham writes with full sympathy for the point of view of -the devout, simple-minded, credulous peasants whose companion he became -in the trip by boat from Constantinople to Jaffa and thence on foot to -the holy places."--_The Nation._ - -"Apart from the value which must be attached to the authenticity of -the glimpses of Russian life that Mr. Graham gives in his latest book, -it also clearly ranks him as the best modern writer of the saga of -vagabondage."--_N. Y. Times._ - -"Mr. Graham has written an intensely interesting book, one that is a -delightful mixture of description, impression, and delineation of a -peculiar but colorful character."--_Book News Monthly._ - -"A book of intensely human interest."--_The Continent._ - -"The book is beautifully produced, illustrated with thirty-eight -exceptionally fine snapshots, and is of commanding interest, whether -read as a mere piece of adventure or as revelation of an almost unknown -tract of religious belief."--_Christian Advocate._ - -"The story is written with a graphic and eloquent pen."--_The -Congregationalist._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Tramp's Sketches - -_Cloth, illustrated, 8vo, $1.75 net_ - -"The author's notes on people and places, jotted down in the open -air, while sitting on logs in the forests or on bridges over mountain -streams, form a simple narrative of a walking trip through Russia. -The sketches read like those of a rebel against modern conditions and -commercialism, who prefers to these the life of a wanderer in the -wilderness."--_Outdoor World._ - -"A book throbbing with life which cannot help but prove of interest -to many readers. The book is a treasury of information, and will be a -source of great inspiration to those who love mankind; while the author -tells us much of the sorrow and degradation of the world he also tells -as much of his own high and noble thinking."--_The Examiner._ - -"It is with life itself rather than the countries visited that this -collection of sketches is concerned. It is personal and friendly in -tone, and was written mostly in the open air while the author was -tramping along the Caucasian and Crimean shores of the Black Sea, and -on a pilgrimage with Russian peasants to Jerusalem."--_Country Life in -America._ - -"Mr. Graham has seen many interesting parts of the world, and he tells -of his travels in a pleasing way."--_Suburban Life._ - -" ... there is much that the reader will heartily appreciate and -enjoy."--_Boston Transcript._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - - - -_NEW ILLUSTRATED BOOKS OF TRAVEL AND DESCRIPTION_ - - -Through the Grand Canyon from Wyoming to Mexico - -BY ELLSWORTH L. KOLB - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY OWEN WISTER - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Mr. Owen Wister, surely no mean judge, has pronounced this one of the -most interesting narratives of adventure ever written about the West. -In it is described the first trip made successfully through the Grand -Canyon by boat with photographic apparatus. Not only did Mr. Kolb -carry with him the ordinary cameras, but a moving picture machine, -and the tale of his experiences in securing both kinds Of pictures -is one replete with adventure. Of the many people who have attempted -this journey before only three succeeded, and none of these with the -peculiar conditions governing the author of this book and his brother, -who accompanied him. Shooting the rapids, a thrilling upset now and -then, the overcoming of obstinate natural barriers, incidents in which -there was more than an ordinary amount of danger and excitement, the -wonders of the country and of the wild life, seen with the eye of -an artist and made vivid for the reader,--these, the themes of the -different chapters, combine to make a work of fascinating interest. The -illustrations, of which there are many, are exceptionally fine. - - -Japan To-day and To-morrow - -BY HAMILTON W. MABIE - -Author of "American Ideals, Character, and Life" - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, illustrated, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -The purpose of this volume is to convey a clear and definite impression -of the spirit of the Japanese people--what they are interested in -and what we may expect of them in the future. Pursuant to its aim, -it offers chapters on the manners and habits of the Japanese, their -family life, their love of art and of nature and their attitude toward -religion. Their historical development is very lightly sketched and -their education and political development somewhat more fully. No -American is perhaps better fitted to write such a book as this than Dr. -Mabie. As lecturer to Japan on the Carnegie Peace Endowment a year or -so ago he had splendid opportunity for a close study of the country and -its people. Added to this is his power of clearly analyzing that which -he sees and of expressing his thought in English that it is a pleasure -to read. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -A Wanderer in Venice - -BY E. V. LUCAS - -Author of "A Wanderer in Holland," "A Wanderer in Paris," etc. - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR AND IN BLACK AND WHITE - -_Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.75 net: leather, $2.50 net_ - -Mr. Lucas's "Wanderer" books have made many friends. Much of the charm -of Florence, London, Paris and Holland has been caught by him and -transferred to the printed page along with bits of their histories, -interesting anecdotes and legends. To these four volumes Mr. Lucas now -adds one on Venice. What a place of hidden treasure that wonderful city -is to one of Mr. Lucas's very original genius all who have read the -preceding works in this series can easily understand. And Mr. Lucas -has fully realized his opportunities. The book is perhaps the most -fascinating of all. With its colored illustrations and its black and -white plates, with its no less vivid and appreciative text, it is a -publication which no one who has ever been to Venice should overlook, -while to those who have not been it will open up new vistas of -undreamed-of beauties. - - -California - -BY MARY AUSTIN - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY SUTTON PALMER - -_Cloth, 12mo, boxed, $4.00 net_ - -That Mrs. Austin has a subject worthy of a fluent pen and that she is -fully qualified to do justice to it no one will deny. There have been -books about California before, but none of them written with so real an -appreciation of its wonders as this one in which the grandeur of the -state has been so vividly presented. Not only does Mrs. Austin know -California, she loves it. Her volume will serve as a guide to the many -tourists who will be visiting the coast during the coming exposition, a -guide which is neither formal nor stilted, but interpretative, replete -with beautiful descriptions of beautiful spots. It will be none the -less interesting reading to those who have never seen the places and -have no prospect of doing so. Mr. Palmer's colored pictures are a -splendid supplement to the text. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - -Panama: The Canal, The Country, and The People - -BY ARTHUR BULLARD (ALBERT EDWARDS) - -REVISED EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS AND NEW ILLUSTRATIONS - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, boxed, $2.00 net_ - -Not only has Mr. Bullard revised such material of the first edition -of his book as has been retained in the present issue, but he has -added to that several chapters. These have to do largely with the -canal since its completion. This work has probably enjoyed greater -popularity than any other volume on Panama, a fact due, no doubt, to -its comprehensiveness. It is not confined to any one matter. There are -descriptions of the natural beauties of the locality, discussions of -the customs and life of its inhabitants and sections devoted to the -canal, its history, construction and those concerned with it. Besides -the new text there are also many new and fascinating illustrations. - - -Southern Italy and Sicily - -BY F. MARION CRAWFORD - -NEW EDITION IN TWO VOLUMES, WITH MANY HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS IN -THE TEXT AND THIRTY-ONE PHOTOGRAVURES - -_Decorated cloth, 8vo, $5.00 net_ - -This book is a rare combination of text and pictures. Mr. Crawford -and Mr. Brokman, the illustrator, worked together in an almost ideal -fashion. The vivid description of the one and the sympathetic drawings -of the other make a narrative of travel set off now and then by a bit -of history that is of most fascinating interest. Every Crawford admirer -as well as every lover of the beautiful in books will wish to add -this edition, which may truly be called the _edition de luxe_, to his -library. - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's With Poor Immigrants in America, by Stephen Graham - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH POOR IMMIGRANTS IN AMERICA *** - -***** This file should be named 60060.txt or 60060.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/6/60060/ - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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