No cloistered theorizer about the ex-soldiers, their rights and duties, Roger Burlingame (‘ Embat tied Veterans: Idle in pi are of Capitol Hill’) is one of them. He served in the A. E. F. as First Lieutenant in the 308th Machine Gun Battalion and participated in the Meuse-Argonne offensive. And his patriotism is no less genuine in peace time than in war. Professionally, he is a novelist, but he also serves as Chairman of the Justice Committee of the American Veterans Association — an organization of 10,000 ex-service men whose platform is ‘Justice to the war wounded. Justice to the war dead, Justice to the American people. In preparing this paper, the first in a series of three, he has spent considerable time in Washington, collecting data and studying all the pertinent facts. For collateral reading. Mr. Burlingame’s little book, Pence Veterans, published last year, is to be recommended. ∆ Biographer, novelist, essayist, André Manrois (‘A Word to Youth’) is a versatile fellow with a double-edged purpose in life. Once again he has come to America as an unofficial ambassador of French cult ure. When at home, his rôle is to interpret the AngloSaxon mind to the Latin. Alice Hamilton (‘Hitler Speaks’) has recently returned from Germany, where she not only observed the Nazis in action, but also obtained an authoritative interpretation of what their movement portends by reading Hitler’s hook. Mein Kampf. Dr. Hamilton is Assistant Professor of Industrial Medicine at the Harvard Medical School.

In her last article, ‘A Mother’s Creed,’ printed in the June Atlantic, M. Beatrice Blankenship laid dow n the principles she has arrived at in educating her three small sons. Fortunately, I was a blanket code, amply broad enough to cover any number of boys, and another is now added by ‘The Enduring Miracle.’ Burnham Carter (‘Cuba Libre ) lived four years in Havana, until the spring of 1933, and has since been working with Ivy Lee in New York. He is the author of a novel, Mortal Men, issued in 1929. ∆ Poet and teacher, George Herbert Clarke (‘Halt and Parley’) is Professor of English al Queen’s University. Kingston, Canada. ∆ If asked about his political philosophy, W. Y. Elliott (‘This Economic Nationalism’) might say that he is a twentieth-century son of the nineteenth-century Liberals. An ardent Tennessean, and one of the fugitive group which came out of Vanderbilt University, he studied extensively in France, Cermany, and Italy, and look his doctorate at Balliol College, Oxford. He holds a Professorship of Government at Harvard, and, in spite of his youth, has recently been made Chairman of the Department. His best-known hook is probably The Pragmatic. Revolt in Politics. ∆ A contributor of multiple talents is Llewelyn Powys (‘A Day on Dartmoor’). Long identified as a writer of charming books, he has also been a stock farmer in Kenya and a journalist in New York. His favorite recreation, he says, is ‘walking in the open country,’ and many have been the essays in which he has made contagious the delight of his peripatetic excursions.

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be . . .

So ends Flush, with ‘A Cocker Becaplures His Youth.’ The complete biography will he published this month by Harcourt, Brace, thus adding another title to Virginia Woolf’s long list of distinguished hooks. Curtis Billings (‘Traffic Crimes and Criminals ) is a member of the staff of the Public Safety Division of tlie National Safety Council. ∆ In his score or more of Atlantic papers, reaching back over a quarter of a century, Charles D. Stewart lias revealed many sides ol his original and inquiring mind. ‘The Verohatie Snake is in t he aut henl ie I radii ion of his ‘Chicago Spiders’ (October 1908), ‘The Bee’s Knees’ (July 1925), and ‘Od’s Fish’ (May 1932). ∆ I hough still in her early twenties. Josephine W. Johnson (‘Old Harry’) has already published numerous short stories and v erses. She at tends Washington University, lives with her three sisters on a Missouri farm, and gives free rein to a twin talent for writing and for painting. ∆ All his wandering life James Norman Hall lias sought — and sometimes found —‘The Spirit of Place.’ Perhaps that is why he has at last set t led down in Tahiti, for one likes to hope that the missionaries and the traders have not yet driven out the gentle spirits who once presided over all the far places of the South Seas. His Mutiny on the Bounty, written in collaboration with Charles Nordhoff, is still listed among the best sellers. John Barker Waite (‘Criminal Law in Action’) is Professor of Criminal Law at the University of Michigan and a member of the American Law Institute’s advisory committee on the Model Criminal Code. N. R. Danielian (‘The Stock Market and the Public’) is an instructor and tutor in economics at Harvard. His two previous articles, in the April and July issues, brought forth a wide response from every section of the country, and his present study is equally worthy of the thoughtful reader’s attention.

Walter Lippmann on the slock market.

In connection with Mr. Danielian’s paper in this issue, it is pertinent to quote these paragraphs from Walter Lipprnann’s column in the New York Herald Tribune of August 4: —

‘In the little bull market which cracked up in the middle of July we learned that almost nothing had been learned from the great hull market which cracked up nearly four years ago. The speculative appetite was unimpaired. The elfieiency of the Stock Exchange in catering to it was unchastened. We had the pools, the tips, the high-pressure salesmanship, the indiscriminate margin accounts, and all the other appurtenances which have made the American capital market the most feverish market of its kind in the civilized world. The money changers who, on March 4, were indeed in the temple, but on their knees praying, had been driven out and had resumed about where they left off some years ago. . . .

‘The indubitable truth is that the Stock Exchange is more than a market place. It is a guild of brokerage houses who, in times of public participation, are for all practical purposes investment or speculative advisers to the owners of securities. The responsibilities of this relationship cannot be sloughed off. It is a fiduciary relationship, and therefore it has become imperative that the exchange, as a corporate body, should have standards and should enforce them, which will protect the public against rigging manipulation and ignorance. . . .

‘The question is whether the exchange and the brokers who compose it will accept this obligation. If they will not, then the government will have to impose it from the outside. There is no other alternative. . . .

‘My own conception is that the exchange has about six months in which to show what it can and will do by way of erecting new fiduciary standards and of organizing itself to enforce them.

J say six months, because at the end of that time Congress will again be in session, and if the exchange is not demonstrably reformed by that time, it will be the duty of the administration to propose a plan of reform. Longer than that it is not possible to wait for convincing evidence of change, because, as recovery proceeds, the nation must not be subjected to the risk of a wild bull market like the one w hich, happily, has just been interrupted.’

‘Lord Bishop of New York Central.’

Dear Atlantic, —
Just an unimportant correction. I am not Bishop of Western New York. but of Central New York. 11 will be easier to remember if l tell you that my English mail usually comes addressed to ‘The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of New York Central.’ American friends are less formal. They say ‘Hello, Central’ — which shows that I antedate the dial system.
CHARLES FISKK
Ogunquit, Maine

Adventures of a one-man club.

Dear Atlantic, —
I have just read in the Contributors’ Club of your July issue the essay entitled ‘The involuntary Borrowing of Books.’ Some forty years ago I organized myself into a club with one member, drawn up in the form of a hollow square and standing at ‘charge bayonets’ — said club member refusing to read books that he did not want to read and abstaining from advising ot hers what to read.
My education consists in the reading of three books, together with about ten years’ supplementary reading which each of them made necessary. They are Boswell’s Life of Johnson, Darwin’s Origin of Species, and Frazer’s Golden Bough.
Soon after reading the first of these, I was talking one evening to a group of young people and some familiar phrase was used. The question was asked where it came from.
‘Hamlet,’ I replied.
‘You are mistaken.’ said a young man sitting near me; ’it is from Shakespeare.’
I am a book collector, and prefer secondhand books that have been marked. My library is at the service of my friends. This morning a handsome widow asked me for something to read. ‘You have so many books,’ she said smilingly, ‘I suppose you have all of Augusla Evans’s works.’
‘Nothing by Augusta Evans, I replied, ‘but I have three broken sets of the works of Mary Ann Evans.’
‘I never heard of her.’ said I he lady.
‘I low about George. Eliot?’ I asked.
‘I don’t like hint at all,’ she replied.
BENJAMIN K. HAYS
Oxford, North Carolina

In honor of Lafeadio Hearn.

Veteran readers of the Atlantic have good reason to recall a living debt of gratitude to the most understanding of all interpreters of Japan to the West — Lafcadio Hearn. Now comes a chance to make at least an acknowledgment of it, for, in honor of his memory, the Japanese are creat ing at Malsuyc, where Hearn first taught in a Japanese school and began his married life with his Japanese wife, a small fireproof museum. Here his manuscripts, and v arious intimate and interesting relies of his singular life, will be housed, so that there may he a place of pilgrimage for his debtors the world over, and especially for Americans. The cost will involve the very modest outlay of 5000 yen, and subscriptions, however small, will be gratefully acknowledged if sent to the Treasurer of the Committee, 25 kitayamabushieho, Ushigome, Tokyo, Japan.

Homely remedies in the South.

Dear Atlantic, —
What a host of memories came crowding in upon me as 1 read Mary Ellen Chase’s delightful article in the June issue, ‘“She’s Had the Doctor.’” Most of the remedies she speaks of as common throughout New England were also well known to as here in the South.
Besides ‘the syrups of wild cherry bark and white pine balsam’ liberally administered for coughs, we also had a special cure for paroxysms of coughing at night. By the bed would be placed a tumbler containing ‘rock and rye.’ — diluted rye whiskey poured over the clear sugar crystals of rock candy, —and no one in our staidly respectable Presbyterian household ever considered it ‘sinful’ or ‘liable to bring us in sorrow to a drunkard’s grave.’
Superstition played its delightful part with us even more than it did in New England. When I was a child I had on my left hand a large, ugly wart. I was told to ‘pick il uni it the blood came,’ which I did, and the blood was smeared on a clean piece of writing paper, which was I ben placed in an envelope and sealed. This I addressed wilh great care, for I was just learning to write, and with great caution, for it was supposed to be done secretly, to a ‘Mr. John Jones’ — a purely fictitious person. I was I hereupon instructed to walk down the hill and, when no one was looking, to drop the letter. The first unwary passer-by who discovered the sealed envelope and opened it was supposed in some mysterious fashion to receive my wart from the bloodstained bit of paper. I do not know what happened to the ‘party of the second part,’ but I can testify that the wart gradually disappeared from my hand.
Our Negro mammy helped my younger sister remove warts by a different method. A ‘slab of sail pork’ was stolen, was rubbed over my sister’s thumb, and was then hidden under a large stone in the garden. The warts disappeared, but whether the healing agency was I he pork itself its stolen qualilies, or I he supposed secrecy of the hiding place, I cannot say.
MARY E. K. BRATTON
Lynchburg, Virginia

Economic echoes in the South Seas.

Dear Atlantic.
Following on the financial crisis in the United States. I was informed by the hank with which I deal that it had suspended the issue of drafts on the United Slates. I am therefore precluded from sending my subscription for three years ($8.00) as I intended. Fortunately, I have been able to secure two $1.00 notes, which I enclose to keep my subscription coming unlii such time as I am permitted to send the remaining $6.00.
Surely the money barons have made an unholy mess of what should he a prosperous world. Consider this little colony. We are in the unique position of having surplus funds invested by the Crown Agents in London in the stocks of other colonies, and also possess a gold reserve. These investments and the gold serve as the cover of a note issue by our government. The limit of issue is well within the safety line in ordinary times.
The colony has just cut and crushed its record sugar crop. The farmers are mostly East Indians. Those, in accordance with their hereditary instincts, instead of returning the notes to the banks, hoarded them (gold has long ceased to be pari of our circulating medium) — with the result that a shortage of currency supervened. The hanks approached the government for more notes, and were told that they could have more notes if I hey deposited gold. This was equivalent asking them to deposit the Rock of Cashel. But to enable the sugar crop lo be financed, currency was indispensable, so our colony established a connection with the New Zealand system, just at, the time when that Dominion, with the object of relief to its agricultural industry, determined on inflation. This was done by increasing bank rate of exchange to 25 per cent. So at one fell swoop our money, compared with sterling, slumped to three fourths of its previous value. I wonder where the other fourth has gone, and who is now the possessor of it.
ALEX G. ROSS
Nausori, Fiji