quiet, contemplative life, though what they contemplated was not very clear. When they are not contemplating they carry on certain domestic tasks, and as a rule they make their own clothes, prepare their own food, and distill their own liqueurs, and in certain monasteries the monks cultivate their garden. In other monasteries they employ lay brothers for all outside work.

At any rate, these monkish gentlemen were not very learned, at least in modern matters. Of all the monks we met there was but one who could talk anything but his native language. Looking at the books and seeing how many of them were tattered, riddled with bookworm, and with broken backs, I could not help reflecting that it would not be a bad thing if one or two of the monks were trained as bookbinders. At any rate, they were proud of their books and pleased to show them.

After being restored by a white, creamy-cheese looking sweetmeat, which tasted like marshmallows, and a small glass of cognac, we visited the other monastery on the way down, that of the Apocalypse. Here, after descending some considerable number of steps, one discovered the cave where Saint John wrote his Revelation. I, John your brother was in the isle that is called Patmos.

After seeing the cave, the guests were treated by the hospitable monks to quince jam and liqueurs.

The number of monasteries is declining. Under Capodistrias, nearly a century ago, three hundred were done away with, and twenty-five years ago there were only some twenty-five hundred monks and less than five hundred nuns in the kingdom; the latter enjoy greater liberty than their sisters in the Roman Church.

Altogether, there are some four thousand to five thousand inhabitants

of Patmos, who are practically all Greeks and Orthodox, there being very few Jews or Turks. These thousands are controlled by so small a number as a dozen Italian soldiers. I asked one of the privates how they managed to do it, and he replied that the inhabitants 'hanno paura,' so I suppose the island is now ruled by moral suasion.

But if I could have my choice of all the Greek islands we visited I should certainly choose Santorini (Thera). It is the queerest possible island, but it has an extraordinary fascination. It is the most southern of the Cyclades, and it was thence we started for Crete. Santorini called after Saint Irene, who was murdered there early in the fourth century, and sometimes known as Thera is, in fact, the crater of a huge volcano. The edge of this crater is broken down in two places, thus making two inlets, one to the north and one to the south, and it has a few scattered small islands in the centre. The crater is extraordinarily deep and there is no anchorage except at one comparatively confined spot. In places the water is as warm as a hot bath and pumice stones were floating about on it. It is so impregnated with sulphur and other products of volcanic action that ships with foul bottoms repair thither. The sulphur has a fatal effect upon the barnacles, seaweed, and other encrusting organisms which do so much to diminish the speed of a seagoing vessel, and the ships leave these waters as clean as if they had been dry-docked. This particular part of the enclosed water basin is quite yellow and bubbling with gases very much as the waters of certain bathing-resorts bubble with various gases.

The wild, even horrible, aspect of the volcanic rocks has a fascination for me, and the white capital, perched on the edge of the volcano toward the northern limit, and the wonderful zigzag

path cobbled with blocks of lava which led from it to the harbor, formed a very appealing and human sight. Of all the islands we visited Santorini seemed to have the busiest people. Up and down the zigzag path the little donkeys were constantly passing, laden with goatskins full of the vino santo which used to be exported in large quantities to Russia and now goes elsewhere, or with bags containing a certain lime which is resistant to sea-water and is hence in great demand for building ports and waterways. For instance, it has been very extensively used in the port of Alexandria and in the Suez Canal.

There is a feeling of life and bustle about the place and people which appeals strongly to one's sense of the picturesque. And in Santorini less than anywhere else were we bothered by crowds of people watching all our doings. They were very courteous, very

polite, very good-looking, and one handsome young sailor from Kos was extremely anxious to be photographed; but on the whole they were very unobtrusive. As everywhere else, the volcanic soil is highly fertile and, although there are no trees, vines and other crops flourish as they do on the slopes of Etna. There is something antiseptic in the soil, so that dead bodies remain unchanged, and this has given rise to many a superstition among the peasants, who believe in the existence of certain vampires or ghouls who have the power of bringing the dead to life and sending them forth to devour the living. These ghouls are known as vrykolakas (Вpuкóλakas). They are common enough in Greece and among the Greek islands, but they are particularly abundant and potent at Santorini. Still, in spite of the ghouls, I want Santorini.

MANUFACTURING is the most important element in modern economy. Since the application of natural forces to production has multiplied indefinitely the creative possibilities of man, a given area can support a population many times larger than it could in the days of agriculture and handicrafts. The expansion of manufacturing by machinery constantly calls for more men to

operate machines. This involves us in an endless circle. Human life becomes more valuable. Modern hygiene and sanitation strive to preserve it. We cannot dispense with a single producer. But pari passu machinery likewise becomes more precious, because it is indispensable for the support of those added human lives.

This circle of cause and effect ac

counts for the tremendous growth of population in the civilized world during the last sixty years. That population is a product of machinery, and the very existence of the greater part of mankind depends on mechanism. This explains why great industrial countries are so intent upon securing uninterrupted and abundant supplies of raw materials and ample markets for their wares. These have become a matter of life and death for whole nations. The same condition explains why the industrial operative believes that he is the determining factor in modern society. In truth, his existence depends upon the survival of his industry, as does the existence of the entire population in excess of the number in 1800.

Manufacturing has become more important than agriculture. If the latter languishes, people may still live by exchanging their manufactures for imported food, but if industries languish, the excess population they support must emigrate or perish.

It is a great misfortune that industrial workers, through no fault of their own, have been victimized by a political doctrine the plausible force of which determines their whole conception of society. They have learned to look upon their class not as one factor in, but as the sum and goal of, economic evolution. This conviction makes them estimate falsely all the forces determining that evolution. While it is true that manufacturing is the controlling element in the economy of our age — and so far Marx is indisputably right the machine, and not the man who runs the machine, is primarily responsible for the fact.

Besides the manual worker, we must have the engineer who has given manufacturing an intellectual content by converting our knowledge of natural laws into power over nature, and who

has made science the handmaid of production, so that each new natural law discovered becomes immediately one more lever placed in man's hands to lift the world. Next comes the industrialist, who converts an engineering process into an economic operation. The workingman resorts to the latter, is employed by him, and lives by virtue of his creative effort. The wage-earner can stop the wheels of industry, but he alone cannot keep them moving. He is not the only producer, as the disciples of Marx have hammered into his head. On the contrary, the developers and managers of industries work more, with greater intensity, sense of responsibility, and persistence, than he does.

There is managing labor as well as routine labor. Unless the two are joined modern industry cannot exist. Neither can survive without the other, for they are two parts of a single whole. Contrasted with both, however, is mere profiteering - speculation which produces nothing, but is parasitic upon production.

During the earlier stages of the industrial revolution, the workingman lost his individuality. Man's scientific horizon broadened very suddenly during the eighteenth century, revealing almost at once the broad pattern that subsequent technical development was to fill in. Early attempts to accommodate industry to that new design were, compared with what we are doing today, exceedingly rude, clumsy, and mechanical. Now that the general outline of industry has been clearly traced in practice, the work of our generation is to refine and perfect it in special fields. Instead of making discoveries like the steam engine, which revolutionize all manufacturing processes at a single stroke, we elaborate highly specialized machinery for particular ends. Instead of merely burning coal for pow

er, we convert it into a multitude of highly refined products. Every branch of modern industry is increasingly transfused with spirit - is an expression of brain work rather than muscular labor; its problems are in ever higher degree those of disciplined intelligence.

The leveling tendency that during the eighteenth century disintegrated the old crafts and guilds into an undifferentiated mass of factory operatives has been insensibly reversed into a trend toward labor aristocracy, manifesting itself by the selective stratification of workers of different grades of intelligence to meet the highly diversified needs of scientifically specialized production. This trend toward aristocracy reveals itself simultaneously in politics and in economics, for the two are but different aspects of the same social life-process. In politics this new force is breaking down our parliamentary institutions; in industry it is creating upper classes of educated hand-plus-brain workers an come exactly the reverse of what Marx predicted, and of what would serve best the cause of Socialism.

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Socialism's great disservice to the workingman was in destroying his pride in personal performance, in teaching him that to advance economically was to betray his class. That doctrine overlooks the fact that a full half of all our great industrialists are former workingmen. The only advancement that German Socialism tolerates, the only goal it sets before the workers' ambition, is a purely political career as a party secretary or a candidate for public office. Men of ability are taught to turn their backs on productive labor in order to win the esteem of their fellow workers. Wage-earners are conceived as an exclusive caste, upholding standards directly opposite to those of the rest of mankind. The Marxian theory identi

fies with the same breath industrial workers and industry, and yet repudiates, as capitalist and imperialist, industrial expansion, new inventions, improved processes of production, economies of organization, the perpetual quest of raw materials, and the conquest of new markets.

No more urgent task faces popular educators to-day than to lift the incubus of this cynical theory from the minds of workingmen. The laboring class must be liberated from the duress of a doctrine that demands an oppressed class for its scheme of things. Technical progress is constantly broadening the opportunity of workers to become free personalities, to exercise a far-reaching influence over the organization and evolution of manufacturing, to raise up from their own ranks a generation of industrial leaders. Such ambitions should be implanted in the workingman's heart. He must be made conscious of his real power, which rests entirely in his personal intelligence and efficiency.

Qualities of leadership - such qualities alone make men irreplaceable and indispensable. The public conscience must be aroused against any party and any programme that restricts leadership to promoting purely political and class interests; that condemns payment by results, that disparages industry, that confuses capacity with class treason, that ridicules self-improvement; that seeks instead to perpetuate the mechanical dead level that characterized the industrial operatives of a century ago, and willfully shuts its eyes to the rapid differentiation occurring among the workers of our present age.

Even granting that labor may be a commodity, as the materialists of 1850 taught, it is also something more than that it is personal service. The industrialist also labors, but he performs

a higher quality of service, without which he could not continue to hold his leadership in the industrial hierarchy. The gifted, hard-working, ambitious employee should regard such men as examples of opportunity set before himself. That ought to be the spontaneous attitude of every young workingman it is an attitude that embraces the whole philosophy of life. He should also see that the leadership of labor belongs to those who work, to the most capable, prudent, responsible workingmen, and not to a horde of salaried officials recruited from journalists and lawyers, who live on the workers and play on their emotions to hold their jobs.

But on the other hand the industrialist must observe consistently the maxim that property is an obligation. The very concept of property, rightly apprehended, is permeated with the spirit of Socialism: property is a public trust. It must be regarded as a complex of opportunities to provide employment and happiness for others. There are two kinds of capitalists: the productive capitalist and the sterile capitalist the entrepreneur and the speculator. The former owns an enterprise, the latter a sum of money; the former produces, the latter preys upon the product of others. For the first, money is an instrument of industry; for the second, it is a plaything in a game.

Property implies a duty, and he who neglects that duty should have his property rights curtailed. No laws can be too strict in providing against the misuse of property. In particular our corporation law should protect productive enterprises against speculative exploitation, and guard with the utmost care the rights and security of in

vestors.

Business enterprises are constantly exposed to another danger, which is often overlooked, but should be con

stantly kept in mind. During their early history they are quick to recognize talent, and staff promotions are rapid. This explains the astounding early success of such firms as Siemens, Krupp, Borsig, and a hundred others. Since trusts have begun to monopolize great business fields, industrial management has become more bureaucratic. The talented man is not so quickly discovered or so readily placed where he is best qualified to serve. An inherent weakness of industrial concentration is this failure to breed competent successors for the leaders who founded and built up their constituent enterprises. ... Personal control, personal ability, determine the success and prosperity of every branch of manufacturing, trade, and commerce, and such ability and initiative may be blighted as effectively by trust control as by state control. Both rob the man of creative mind of the freedom of action necessary to exercise his peculiar and independent gifts, and force him to conform rigidly with a prescribed scheme of things. Both alike discriminate against the exceptional man in favor of the mediocre

man.

Every great business undertaking has a political side. Even if those who control it avoid active participation in politics, and take no direct interest in political questions, their very indifference has political consequences. Usually, however, it is more dangerous to confuse business and politics than to neglect politics altogether. Business policies may be an essential element in national policies, but they are no substitute for the latter. To overlook this is to court disaster. The economic life of mankind to-day functions through great organizations that are limited by political frontiers. We can therefore say that the existence of nations has an economic aspect; but it is still more accurate to insist that the political aspect