make good in the future the ravages of an orgie of destruction. The eight local Commissions, which have in five weeks carried through most useful investigations, give us material for extending our examination of the present, and of projecting such imagination as we possess towards the future.

Though these reports differ a good deal in detail, there is much less difference than might have been expected. Mr. Barnes-to whose strong common sense was due the initiation and organization of the Commissionsjustly claims for them "a practical unanimity," and advises a close study of them in detail and a comparison of one with another. They are well worth the most careful examination. In all of them the temporary causes of trouble bulk most conspicuously. These are: the high prices of food and the strong suspicion of workmen that they are being exploited by "profiteers"; the system of leaving certificates under which men are tied to shops as the English farm laborer of old was tied to the soil; the extension of the Military Service Acts so that men protected from the Army call one day are swept into the net upon another; the multiplication of Government Departments dealing with labor, and the lack of co-ordination between them; decline of confidence in the good faith of the Government. It is a formidable list, and we should long since have had the revolting workmen on our hands if they had not been held back by their strong sense of patriotism and their conviction that only through sacrifice in war could we regain the freedom which we have lost. The workmen know, as well as those who pride themselves upon a higher education, that the excess profits brought into the Budget in May were on account of the first year of their incidencewhen the rate was 50 per cent-and that they represent an equal amount

of private gains made at the expense of the country as a whole. Since then the rate of excess profits duty has been raised to 80 per cent, the shipowners who rightly or wrongly have been regarded as the worst of "profiteers"—have been put in irons, and Lord Rhondda has begun to tackle the high prices of food. In the new Munitions of War Bill the Government propose to abolish the leaving certificates, subject to securities to prevent one employer grabbing the workmen of another; the methods of the military authorities are being examined and overhauled, and the question of the greater co-ordination between Government Departments which employ labor is also being examined. Mr. Churchill tells us that his mind is open, that he wants to take time in order to decide whether the Labor Section of the Ministry of Munitions should remain as it is or be transferred to the Ministry of Labor. Mr. Barnes, who knows the working of the war machine from inside, says, "It seems hardly possible that any single department could during the war carry the whole of the immense problems of the supply departments which have bearing upon the control of labor." The Ministry of Munitions control all the labor engaged upon the countless details of army supply; the Controller of the Navy's Department looks after all ship-building, both naval and mercantile; the Board of Trade is in charge of arbitration, and these three departments are, or are supposed to be, in daily touch with the central office of the Ministry of Labor. The concentration of all labor control into the hands of one department and one minister, though possibly ideal on paper, might be very far from ideal in practice. Too much would depend upon getting exactly the right man as the Minister.

So far we have dealt with the temporary causes of disturbance due directly to the war conditions. All have been explored and are being modified or removed. We have made a great step forward in obtaining a fairly complete diagnosis of the psychology of workmen at war. But, important and urgent though the temporary troubles may be, we shall profit little if we lose sight for a moment of the deep instinctive desire of labor to win for itself a place in the sun. Workmen will put up with much restriction upon their freedom when the nation's life is at stake, but when the danger which overshadows us passes, and peace returns, they will fight at their hardest to regain what they think that they have lost, and to capture the strongholds which they think are wrongfully withheld from them. If we do not anticipate and satisfy that desire of labor for the sun there is a possibility of serious trouble.

"The feeling in the minds of the workers that their conditions of work and destinies are being determined by a distant authority over which they have no influence requires to be taken into consideration." We might underline this sentence of Mr. Barnes by saying that there is no subject which requires more urgently to be considered and a solution found. Though the Commissions had no opportunity of examining in detail the report of the Whitley Sub-committee on Industrial Councils, the principles laid down met with general approval. We have already expressed the view that these councils (1) in individual workshops, (2) in districts, and (3) nationally, would, by democratizing industry and turning labor and capital from instinctive enemies into close partnership, go a very long way towards securing our industrial future. should like to see these councils set The Economist.

We

up in all large organized trades without delay. At first there will be mutual suspicion, especially in the workshop councils. The employers and the men's representatives will eye one another like watchful dogs, and, maybe, growl and snap. But as time goes on, and as workmen in the mass learn that an employer is not necessarily an oppressor and a thief of brain and muscle, and the employers learn that a workman will not grudge his labor if secured in its fruits, we shall approach mutual understanding and respect. The future of production in this country depends upon the removal of what Dr. Addison recently described as the two "poisonous" customs which have grown up in British industry. "The first," said he, speaking as Minister of Munitions, "is the cutting of rates of pay on piece work so as to limit the rise of earnings when improved methods of manufacture, leading to a great output, are introduced.

This practice or the fear of it has inevitably led to the second and retaliatory practice of the restriction of output. The influence of these two practices in our industrial life are thoroughly poisonous. We must establish a system whereby both parties have a direct interest in the introduction of improved methods. Without it our progress will inevitably be accompanied by endless disputes. The accounting side of the Ministry has abundantly proved that modern methods of production are not only well able to afford good wage rates, but are benefited by so doing." the Industrial Councils, by substituting mutual confidence and mutual interest for suspicion and conflict of interest, can abolish by consent these two poisonous practices, which lead to endless disputes and the loss of industrial efficiency, war may still wrench good out of evil for this country of ours.

If

Adoption was rare in England until lately. The state of the law upon the subject plainly shows that in this country it has not been a common expedient. Nowadays we can hardly run our eyes down the advertisement columns of the Times without coming across an offer of a child or a demand for one. They are all described as healthy, some as of gentle parentage. Complete surrender is generally a condition of adoption, and the words "No Premium" are often added. Considering the number of children whom the death or misconduct of their parents leaves to the mercy of the world, and the descriptions we read in novels of the misery of childless women, it is surprising that such a wave of feeling has not occurred before. We suppose the reason lies in the fact that adoption is a very great adventure and stirring times were necessary to give men, or rather to give women, heart for the risk. Also until lately children of "gentle birth" were very hard to come by. The supply of willing relations was adequate to the demand where orphans were concerned, and the doctrine of heredity held us in stricter bondage than it does just now. The arguments against adoption from the point of view of the adopter are of course very many. There is a deep-rooted notion, even in these reasonable days, that it is flying in the face of Providence, and many people who would not put this faithless piece of superstition into words are hampered by it. If Almighty God had intended that a particular woman should be a mother, He would have seen to it; and if, in disregard of His purpose, she adopts a child, He will see that she regrets it. Put into plain words, the theory is silly, unphilanthropic, and dishonoring to

God; but it has moved many men and women in the past, and is not quite dead yet. The other obvious objections to adoption are reasonable. It means money going out of the family. It means children brought up by persons past their youth, and in the absence of that tie of blood which makes for mutual understanding, it is, as we said before, a fearful risk for the adopter. Whether the risk to the health and character of the child is not greater in an institution is at least a matter for doubt. We should imagine that a soldier dying on a battlefield, or even a woman lamenting her sins and follies at leisure, would rather think of a child as the object of the intense solicitude of an elderly couple, or even of an old maid, than as an item in the machinemade output of a public Home. There is no doubt which the child, if it be old enough to have a preference, would prefer. All the same, it must be admitted that, though it is better to be adopted than institutionalized, no adopted relation is likely to be as good as a natural one. A stepmother is not a mother even when she is a very good stepmother indeed, and age is a very serious handicap to those who stand in loco parentis. In spite of Shakespeare, age-certainly middle age is not nowadays "crabbed." It is indulgent, but indulgence is at best but a good substitute for sympathy. It is very difficult after forty to enter into the pleasures and ambitions of youth, though it is possible, and indeed natural, to look upon them with kindness, and even, in people of gracious disposition, with deep interest and true delight. But it is far more wholesome for young people that their elders should play with them and feel the excitement of

their struggles than that their work and amusement should be planned and watched by kind outsiders.

The

An inevitable atmosphere of criticism militates against the success of adoptions. Children, at least in their early years, do not criticise their parents, nor parents their children. They expect certain things of each other from the instinctive knowledge which they share of the family characteristics, and they give and receive affection as a matter of course. foster-parents of adopted children, on the other hand, wait in trembling to see what characteristics they are going to evolve; and the adopted child can only judge of its guardians by experience unassisted by the intuition of blood. Affection, at any rate on the part of the elders, must seem from the first to be a thing to be sought, valued, and very carefully and strenuously preserved. Nothing

will be taken for granted, and the child will be wooed rather than simply cherished. An atmosphere of criticism, too, will surround the whole undertaking. Real parents are apt to be very much amused by the difficulties of what we may call the amateur, and a little contemptuous of the efforts made. In persons of strong enough mind to take the risk of adoption at all criticism is almost sure to produce defiance, and we shall see some wild experiments in education. After all, the adopters have probably been critics in their own day, critics who have not dared to speak. One of the things which strike the childless man and woman as futile is the to-do made by parents about education. Why on earth are they so anxious that their children should work so hard either at lessons or sports, and why do they care so little whether they are amiable, mannerly, and agreeable? Adopted children will be, we believe, very much indulged on the one hand,

and socially drilled on the other. The credit of the upbringer will be involved in their making a pleasant impression. Also people getting towards the end of their active careers realize far more than younger people how much agreeableness stands for in attaining success. The looker-on is always too much inclined, when he comes to try his own hand at the game, to give his attention to the correction of mistakes. Parents are greatly moved by something which looks like fashion. They all change together, and perhaps they do right, for children resent in after years any noticeable deviation from custom. Such deviations will be, we expect, greatly resented against the adopters of today, but to balance the resentment we must set natural gratitude. Only very little natures could fail to feel some tenderness for those who, where no duty was concerned, gave themselves for their good. The young have a craving for attention. In a normal household the craving is wholesomely kept down. The parents are to a certain extent absorbed in each other, or in the father's career, and the attention left over for the children is divided among several. Adopted children are likely to be only children (in the sense of one alone), and in the majority of cases they are likely to be the wards of single women or of widows. They will get too much attention, live too much under influence, but they will perhaps be mindful of the unselfishness which the fact involves. In truth, the home of the adopted child is likely to be something of a hotbed, i.e., it will produce a thick and early growth of good or bad qualities, according to the natural disposition, and may not tend to make strong characters. The new departure ought to throw a great deal of light upon the question of heredity. The present writer knows

at the moment of a doctor and his wife who have lately adopted a young child of fine physique and morally unsatisfactory antecedents. So far as character is concerned, the doctor asserts absolute disbelief in heredity. Environment is, he declares, everything. We shall see. It must be said upon the doctor's side that, while many people assume that the child of sinners will show the cloven hoof among saints, they would fear terribly for a child of saints brought up among criminals. "Very little chance for the halo," they would say. Why therefore should not the cloven hoof be done away with? Goodness is far more attractive than badness. It is more likely that a child should imitate an example accompanied by persuasive unselfishness than one actuated by the sheer wicked self-interest.

Is this epidemic of adoption come to stay, we wonder, or is it a passing effect of the war-the mere outcome of a certain restlessness, a certain new determination to break with convenThe Spectator.

tion? We are inclined to think it has come to stay and to spread. If so, it will go far to ease, if not to answer, a good many pressing problems. It would give excellent employment to a crowd of unemployed people of good abilities, and it would relieve the congestion of those dreary places where children, supported by charity and bereft of love, are brought up upon precept without example and without natural experience. As for the adopters, most of them have come to a time of life when they will not expect perfect satisfaction out of any venture, perfect safety out of any avoidance of risk, or a refuge from responsibility anywhere. Why do we all burden ourselves by believing that the choice between happiness and unhappiness is in our hands? It never is. The adopters have chosen to be useful. That choice, at least, is within their power, and we wish them Godspeed and good luck with their children, who will only be called spoiled till they turn out successful.

Tradition is a wonderful thing. However unconscious of it we may be, it is moulding us from dawn to eve, from eve to dawn. We live by tradition and we are making it all the day long. The little boy, with impressionable mind trotting beside his father, is absorbing it at every running step. The little girl, sedately moulding herself on her mother's model, is drinking it in at every pore. To each of them grandparents and those lines of ancestors who retire from view at a rate that perhaps may be measured by the inverse square of the distance in time, are full of fascination, especially if there are family portraits to eke out the illusion. That ruffian

there, ill-painted and unkempt, lived before the Reformation, was a friend and servant of Richard Crookback, and (we fondly suspect) had a hand in the tragedy of the Tower. But as children how much he meant to us, his sins forgiven, and all for the sake of a twinkle in his eye that we all have inherited. He is in our tradition: that twinkle looked on Caxton, and we turn to our books and handle our cunabula as though that fifteenthcentury eye had made them. Then, again, there is our Elizabethan ancestress, the Queen of women in our eyes, who spoke Italian and Spanish as well as French, read her Tully and her Flaccus with delight, preferred Pe