rebuke the foxes that go in to whisper their wee schemes. . . . Joshua Gill's son! He'd flee before honest indignation like snow skids on the icy street before the north wind! Him to tell thy sairvant Robert McAndrew he'll no be supervisor!.

"Ah, the power of the Most High God is near this night, McTague. The strength of his spirit is all about. Feel that now! Ye're in a mood to laugh at the whisperers, Father, and to have them in derision. Ye'll spin their plans like dead leaves in a fence corner before the snow-drifts bury them. . . . The wicked flee when no man pursueth; how will they outrun themselves when honest men are roused! . . . 'Tis a bad night for a house that is not built upon a rock, for God Almighty is tryin' the wairks of men. The foundations of the wairld tremble, and how shall a spider's web stand!... Hold, McTague! As I live, that's Joshua Gill goin' into the kirk! Look now; there's no one abroad this night but stout hearts and schemin' hearts, and Joshua Gill's no been to prayer-meetin' since the time he ran for county treasurer to his own loss; aye, his marrow mews for an easy chair and he hates the cold like a lazy cat. Aha! Ye'll have a fine fox chase this night, McTague!"

The faithful were gathering silently. Dressed in somber colors, their clothes streaked and shrouded with snow, they emerged suddenly and like specters from the black and white of the storm into the little flicker of light at the church door, rested a moment for breath and to shake their clothes, and quietly entered. Joshua Gill, uncertain by nature, and unversed through youthful backsliding in the rigorously observed customs of the prayer-meeting, paused so long, stroking his beard in indecision, that Arthur's appearance and robust voice interrupted the apologetic cough which always signalized his next slyly experimental move. He started and stepped to one side.

"Neither saint nor sinner need fear to enter the house of God, Joshua," said Arthur, opening the door and striding in. A grim nod to Robert McAndrew, brooding thriftily over the two stoves in the vestibule, and he walked straightway into the meeting room, while McTague, according to his custom, lay down quietly behind one of the stoves.

By the time Joshua got his bearings Arthur had disappeared, so he bravely tossed a familiar and ingratiating nod to Robert McAndrew, cleared his throat and said, "A wild night, Robert." Robert gazed at him in frank astonishment, frowned at him in equally frank disapproval of untimely talk, and motioned with a jerk of his thumb to the meeting room.

Quickly readjusting his mood, Joshua tiptoed in, wearing the weary look of one holding up as best he could under the adver

sities of a wicked world.

The women sat mutely reverent in the center seats, so Joshua moved toward some vacant pews well up in front on the right side. Not one eye was raised inquiringly as he wavered in the narrow aisle choosing a place, nor when he finally sat with a heavy sigh and glanced about to see who had observed him. But at every fireside later it was tersely concluded that Joshua was going "to run for something."

The silent black-clothed figures awaited the beginning of the service. Their very stillness made Joshua uncomfortable. The wind, boring through every crevice and whipping along all the unobstructed paths outside, whistled and wailed up and down the scale as blast followed blast, and the windows rattled unceasingly; but inside was a deep religious calm. The few kerosene lamps on the walls were turned low, for in those days to save was a part of salvation, and except for the black of the window panes the room vanished everywhere into the monochrome of yellow fog. The air was cold and the moisture of breathing evident, so Joshua began to button his overcoat. In pulling it about him he knocked a hymnal from the seat to the uncovered floor. Though to Joshua the noise was terrific, the little congregation did not seem to hear it. None of them stirred even slightly. His first impulse was to pick it up, but the severe rigidity all about him made any movement so conspicuous that he decided inally to wait until it was time to bow in prayer. He settled down in his overcoat and gazed into the straight, broad back of Arthur McQuaid, who sat reverently erect in front of him.

So he gazed through most of the service. The dominie had finally arrived; Robert had creaked to each of the lamps, turn

ing them up a carefully considered bit; the congregation sung "From every stormy wind that blows," and the dor had whipped out a short but powerful talk on the verse. cannot serve God and mammon," during which Arthur nodded his head emphatically at every sternly uncompromi reiteration of the text, as if saying to himself, “That's g That's good!" The elders, all but Arthur, had led in volun! prayer, the room grew colder, and still Joshua's eyes looke the middle of Arthur's strong back. There was a silence al breathless, while the storm without increased in fury. By lished custom Arthur was the last of the elders to pray the dominie was waiting until the spirit moved him before ing with the "Doxology."

Joshua settled lower into his overcoat and shivered. A dre sense of restful relaxation began to overpower him as the seconds moved on into solemn minutes; his mind wande aimlessly with a delicious lack of connection, and he was alr sliding into sleep when the blurred spot upon which his clo eyes centered moved suddenly. He pulled himself toge blinked, and sat up.

Though Joshua could never have detected it, the rest of t congregation was startled too. For Arthur invariably strode the window, placed his arms on the sill, and began with, “W have a waird of prayer." But this time he stood where he re and straightway snapped out the thoughts that had been mom ing higher and higher in his mind.

"How long will the sons of men be stiff-necked and p verse? Ye'll mind, Father, how the palaces of Babylon claimed the power and the plenty of the land; but ye pas by and wrote on the wall: Thou art weighed in the balance and art found wanting! Aye, a thousand kings have be comely in their going, and a thousand cities have mocked the morrow behind mighty gates; the south wind drifts their dust. and their homes are in the haze of the desert. But thou the Lord God changeth not! Ye sairch the nations of the airth a of olden time to see if they wax great or if they wax gross. Yer laws are from everlastin' to everlastin', and ye weigh as ye weighed at Babylon !

"What of this my homeland, O my soul?-and what of her wairks before the everlastin' Judge?

"Does she stiffen straight to the shock of sin, or pass, like the Levite, to the other side? Does she cling so close to her good and gold that she dreads to draw a righteous sword? Ye walke beside the men, Father, that hewed a way to our heritage. Ye haird the prayers from their yearnin' hearts for a chance to be what they knew they could be. Ye watched them sweat and sacrifice to reach the right to walk and wairship as they willed. Goods and gold and the glamour of Babylon! 'Twas not for these the hewers hewed, and they count for naught when ye judge the nations. But yer eyes run to and fro to sairch whether the sons of the men ye walked beside are oaks or vines, whether they shout their shibboleth or stutter it, whether they wax great or wax gross, whether they sairve God or mammon!

"And what of yerself, then, Arthur McQuaid, and what of yer wairks before the everlastin' Judge?

out

"Ye stood broken one day in County Down with the weight of the reckonin' against ye. Yer blistered hands held less each year than they held the year before. Yer spirit slid straight of ye like oil from a broken vessel. Yer manhood balked at makin' obeisance for the little yer labor brought. Then came the letter from Paddy McGuire in the new country; and the free winds of heaven mocked ye lightly and whispered of the mighty stretch of land across the sea, where Arthur McQuaid could be Arthur McQuaid, and not a rooted tree in rented soil whose fruit was plucked for another's table.

“'Twas nigh on fifty years ago that ye stepped from the ship, and stood straighter than ye'd ever stood before, to thank God ye were Arthur McQuaid, American-to walk as ye willed. to wairk as ye willed, to wairship as ye willed, with no power above ye but God Almighty and yer own conscience. And as ye tramped out o' Castle Garden, free to go to the right or to the left, with no man's whim a command to ye, and yer strength of mind and body rejoicin' that the struggle at last was fair, ye sobered of a sudden. Aye, it flashed on yer mind that God's greatest gift to man was no light thing; that while Arthur McQuaid was no longer a sairvant of the centuries of selfish

ess, he was now Arthur McQuaid, American, a steward of the enturies of sacrifice. Sairch yer soul, then, Arthur McQuaid. s the land a whit better because ye've lived in it? Is-" There is no shriek like the shriek of snapping nerves. Above he sound of Arthur's voice, higher than the screaming of the torm, it stabbed its hunted human note straight to the heart, nd then broke into a sob of utter despair.

Joshua, now wide awake and watching every detail of the cene with the relish of prospective telling, saw Arthur stride quickly to the back seat and put his arms around a crumpled bit of a woman who wept with the shamelessness of abject surrender.

The congregation had half risen, but, the discipline of long ustom_prevailing, they sat again to await the dominie's guidance. He raised his hands and they stood to receive the benediction; then, in response to his motion, they filed out with bowed heads, as though nothing untoward had happened.

Coming quickly down the aisle, the dominie bade the lingering Joshua a firm good-night and joined Arthur and the woman. Robert McAndrew loomed above them, big and bent and sympathetically helpless.

"Aye, Janie," Arthur was saying, softly, "and here's the dominie, too, and Robert McAndrew, that came over on the same ship as yer grandfather, Tom McElroy. There, there, lassie; tell auld Arthur what it is."

But Janie could only sob with the abandon of a broken spirit. So Arthur crooned a wealth of endearing and comforting terms, while the dominie, knowing the blessed relief of tears, did not try to stay the flow. The church trembled as the wind smote it on all sides at once.

"Ye hit it wrong, Arthur," said Robert, slowly, after a while. "Tom McElroy come out the year afore. 'Twas Janie's gran'mother that come on the same ship."

And Janie cried the more.

"Aye," said Arthur, "so it was. There, lassie dear, ye'll mind the day I found ye lost in the woods, sobbin' for yer mother, and carried ye home on me shoulder. Come then, Janie-”

"Aye," said Robert, clinching the absolute truth; "ye were there on the dock with Tom McElroy when the ship come in. And ye'll mind, Tom and Janie's gran'mother got down on their knees-"

"So they did," said Arthur. "And here's the Lord's anointed beside ye, Janie-"

"I won't pray!" Janie cried in a sudden passion, straightening up, and a torrent of words and sobs overwhelmed the three. "I've prayed and prayed and and prayed! I'm as good as-as any of these "-she motioned to the vacant seats where the women had sat- "but because my husband's a-a saloonkeeper-Oh-h-h! When you married me and Sam Davis "this to the dominie-" you-you said yourself there wasn't a finer man in the town. And there wasn't. And there isn't now. But what can a man do after he's had his two legs crushed to nothing and one hand smashed by a fall of coal in the mines? Tell me that! We tried a candy store, and starved. We tried a grocery store and starved and the sheriff closed us out. You know it. What else can a-a man with helpless legs do but keep a saloon to feed his wife and boy? Nothing. Nothing, 1 tell you! It's that or starve or charity. I took in sewing, and starved. You know that too. Pray!"

"Janie, Janie !" said Arthur.

"What would you do," she asked him suddenly, “if you'd married big and strong and one day found yourself a-a wreck? And last night there was a-a fight in the saloon and little Sammy ran in and saw it, and when the place was closed and Sam didn't come in on his wheel-chair I went out and-and there he was with his arms on a table and-and his head on his arms, crying and-and-"

66

"There, there, lassie," Arthur comforted, for Janie was sobbing bitterly again. "I know, I know-" "You don't know," cried Janie. You're a sound man, and you don't know. But when you see a man that was just as strong as you are crying like a— a baby and cursing his-his- Oh, Arthur, you're a good man all through, and when you saidsaid-what you said, I-I couldn't stand it and-and-Arthur" -she clasped his big arm-" what can we do? What can we do?"

"We'll go home," said Arthur, briskly. "And I'll carry ye like I did the day ye were lost. Ye could never walk in such a storm; ye're too wee a mite, Janie. 'Tis all clear to me what we'll do, and I'll tell ye on the way. I brought ye home once before, and I know the road now. Where's McTague? Ye'll mind he was along that day too. Come, then." He picked her up as he would a little child.

“Man alive,” said Robert, turning around, "the lights are all burnin'!"

66

"Aye," said Arthur, "brightly. Come, MeTague."

The storm had increased into a gigantic whirlpool of snow. It was as though a thousand chutes directly above were pouring down a volume of hard, sharp crystals to be hurled and whirled about in a maze of bewildering currents. They smote Arthur full in the face like a horde of furies, then curved up and down and around, and came at him again from in front. They filled his eyes and blinded him. Janie, clinging tightly, snuggled down in her shawl. So they went on for a space without speaking.

"The Father is wrathful to-night, Janie, but not at you and Sam. Can ye hear me, lassie ?"

A vigorous nodding.

"Are ye comin', McTague? Aye, not at you and Sam, but at a hard-hearted generation. The shame is not to Sam, but to the State that let's a man crippled at his work suffer for poverty. .. Uh! That was a bump! Hold, now. Aye, that's the tree in front of Paddy McGuire's house. Ye're no frightened, Janie?"

She snuggled down a bit more. "Aye," Arthur continued, "there's a deal too many shoes to be mended in the town for one shoemaker, and I'm gettin' auld. Are ye there, McTague? Ah, laddie, ye'll be glad to get in yer corner back of the stove. Slow, now. This must be Jake Schwenk's corner. We'll feel along the fence. So. Now ye'll soon be home. . . . "Twill not take Sam long to lairn. D'ye think, Janie, he'd like to be a shoemaker?"

Janie went limp for a moment, and then gripped him in a prodigious hug for so wee a mite. And then she cried.

66 I says to meself," Robert finally went on," his son'll be at the political meetin'

"Man, man,” Arthur exclaimed, "I clear forgot about it! And then?"

66

"So I brought him to the meetin', and when I walked in carryin' Joshua the lad was givin' a speech, sayin' what a good supervisor Joshua would make." A pause. He's a fine hand for wairds, Arthur, and he didna see me, so I stood there holdin' Joshua and waitin'. Then I up and asked him what should I do wi' his father. And they all turned and looked, and started to

laugh and kept on laughin'. 'Twas onseemly. Man, there was nothin' to be laughin' at." Another pause. "And then Tim Furey jumped up and nominated me for supervisor, and they all yelled, Aye!' and kept on laughin'.”

6

"Where's the lad?" said Arthur.

Robert turned deliberately and looked behind him. “Here he is," he said. “We're takin' Joshua home.”

Arthur strode on, beginning the hymn all over again.

[Those who are using the weekly outline should not attempt to cover the whole of an outline in any one lesson or study. Assign for one lesson selected questions, one or two propositions for discussion, and only such words as are found in the material assigned. Or distribute selected questions among different members of the class or group and have them report their findings to all when assembled. Then have all discuss the questions together.]

I-INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

A. Topic: Italy's Victory; Its Effect on Austria and Germany; America to the Front.

Reference: Pages 371-372.
Questions:

1. Give an account of Italy's victory over Austria. 2. What does The Outlook say in support of its statement that the "Austrian defeat is certain to be injurious from the internal point of view as well as from the military standpoint"? 3. Look up the wars which Austria herself has conducted in the course of her history. How has she fared in these? 4. Compare Italy's military record in the past with Austria's. What are your conclusions? 5. Do you think it would be wise for the Italians to follow up their victory by going into the heart of Austria? If this were attempted, what results might follow? 6. How have Americans acquitted themselves at the front? Have they proved themselves brave and competent? Give as many illustrations as possible, among them examples of what captured Germans and their about Americans and their say fighting ability. 7. Does what The Outlook says under "America to the Front" show that The Outlook puts praise where praise belongs? 8. Discuss the dangers of boasting about American soldiers and making comparisons between American soldiers and those of our allies. 9. Tell what you think of those who still talk of this war as a draw or stalemate. 10. Read three good books: "Military and Naval America," by Major H. S. Kerrick (Doubleday, Page); "The Winning of the War," by R. G. Usher (Harpers); "Under the German Shells," by E. Bourcier (Scribners).

"notes

22

B. Topic: Germans Contradict Their Kaiser; No Negotiations with the Hun. Reference Page 376; editorial, page 377. Questions:

1. State and discuss what The Outlook says about the Germans contradicting their Kaiser. 2. How does The Outlook prove "that what the Kaiser calls German principles of right are Prussian principles of wrong"? What does this whole war say about "German principles of right, freedom, honor, and morality"? Be specific. 3. Show that, from the beginning of German national history, Germany has been grabbing and exploiting other nations. Just what are her political, military, and industrial ambitions? 4. What, in your opinion, are the reasons why von Kühlmann wants peace proposals made now? 5. For what

reasons have peace negotiations thus far failed? 6. Are you among those who want peace arranged immediately with the Hun? Is The Outlook? Give your reasons and The Outlook's. 7. Make out a list of the things you demand from Germany before you would even listen to any overtures of peace from her. 8. If you believe in an immediate with Germany, read: "The peace Sands of Fate," by Sir Thomas Barclay (Houghton Mifflin); "The Soul of Germany," by T. F. A. Smith (Doran); “Germanism from Within," by A. D. McLaren (Dutton); "Gems (?) of German Thought," by William Archer (Doubleday, Page); "Studies of the Great War," by N. D. Hillis (Revell). Read them anyway. Has Germany changed her nature and teachings since this war began?

II-NATIONAL AFFAIRS

Topic: Criticism of the Courts.
Reference: Editorial, page 378.
Questions:

1. What proof is there of The Outlook's statement: "Criticism of a judge's decision is widely felt to be almost a species of lèse-majesté. In America it has almost come to pass that the judge can do no wrong"? Assuming that the condition herein described is true, is or is it not fortunate that it should be so? This question requires considerable careful thinking. 2. Explain the meaning of the power of a judge to punish for contempt. Illustrate. What does The Outlook say about the use, the abuse, and the importance of this power? 3. Explain in your own words what you understand Mr. Justice Holmes means by his comment upon the decision of the Supreme Court. 4. What do you think of the recall of judicial decisions and of local and Federal judges? 5. If we had the recall in such matters, illustrate just how it would work. 6. To what extent do judges make laws? Should they?

AN AIR BATTLE

BY ALAN F. WINSLOW, AN AMERICAN AVIATOR

The first German airplane to fall a victim to an American aviator with General Pershing's Expeditionary Force was shot down by Lieutenant Winslow. The War Department has made public his account of this victory in his personal diary. Two German airplanes appeared above a city only a mile from their airdrome, and Lieutenant Winslow and Lieutenant Douglas Campbell, the first Americantrained ace, rose to get them. Furious at seeing a Hun directly over their aviation field, Lieutenant Winslow opened fire, and, maneuvering, came down directly behind the German and upon his tail. “I had him at a rare advantage," writes Lieutenant Winslow, "which was due to the greater speed and maneuver ability of our wonderful machines. I fired twenty or thirty rounds at him and could see my tracers [bullets that leave a trail of smoke] entering his machine. Then, in another moment, his plane went straight down in an uncontrolled nose dive." Within a minute Lieutenant Douglas Campbell had brought down his enemy. Later, after landing, both aviators found their victims alive. The one Lieutenant Winslow brought down was, as he describes him, " a scrawny, poorly clad little devil, dressed in a rotten German uniform.” The one Lieutenant Campbell brought down was badly injured. "He is now in a hospital," writes Lieutenant Winslow, "and my Boche is probably commencing his job of ditch-digging for the rest of the war."

Like his diary, the following letter was written by Winslow, then in a French escadrille, with no intent of publication. It is a private letter; but there is no harm in publishing it, for it describes an early experience. The promise that he makes to himself at the end of this letter is one which the exploit just described fulfills.

Lieutenant Winslow is twenty-two years of age. He left Yale a little over a year ago and joined the Hydroplane Service at Bay Shore, Long Island. He subsequently went to France in June and completed under French auspices his training in the French aviation schools and secured his pilot license in October of last year. He was sent to the French front near Belfort about the middle of December last, operating with the French army, and has recently been transferred to our American forces as a second lieutenant.-THE EDITORS.

On January 15 I had a meeting with the Boche birdman, the results being only disastrous as regards my feelings, for I missed a chance of a lifetime. The weather for nine days had been absolutely impossible for flying purposes. But on the next day it cleared. I knew it was clear when I awoke, for I was awakened by the buzzing of our early patrol, up at sunrise looking for trouble. I, however, was not booked to fly till twelve noon, and lay in bed listening to the others soar off, and imagining aerial battles for them as their motors' hum died away in the distance. Imagining, did I say? Yes, but it proved a reality; for two hours later, when they landed, two of the three pilots were jubilant to an unbelievable degree, for they had brought down a twoseated German airplane as a result of a ten-minute fight at five thousand meters over German territory. This meant an added gold palm to their already won Croix de Guerre-a further military honor, an army citation. And decorations are the dearest things to a Frenchman's heart.

This early morning victory was an edging stimulus for the rest of us who were about to take the air. We knew it meant that the high altitude also held excitement for us. At the last minute, however, our patrol was ordered to meet another French Sopwith photographic plane over a German town at 3,500 meters, and remain with it as protection planes. This meant we could not go out scouting wherever we wished, on the lookout for trouble. We met above the hangars at 2,000 meters and started off

An Air Battle (Continued)

for the German town and the given altitude. But we could find no Sopwith. Later we learned that the Sop. had had engine trouble and never left its escadrille. Yet, as we had been told to circle about this German town, we were not supposed to I leave, as those were our orders. It was maddening, for twice I saw two Boches which dared not attack us, and which we could have easily attacked with advantage if we could have left our aerial post. It was useless to stay where we were, as there was no Sop. to protect, and the air all about us claimed other work. Yet the leader of our patrol, one of the nicest Frenchmen in the escadrille, has American blood in him on his mother's side, and, knowing the independence and impatience of American blood, I also knew that he, the leader, would not stay there much longer with the Huns in sight elsewhere waiting to be attacked, in spite of orders. And I furthermore knew that when he left I would leave also. And at the end of an hour he did leave. And as he left, he being the leader of the patrol, I also had the right to leave. He started off abruptly to the south and toward France, followed by

LIEUTENANT ALAN F. WINSLOW Lieutenant Winslow brought down the first German airplane vanquished by an aviator flying the American colors

the third member of our patrol. I saw far in the distance the Boche that they sought. But far to the north I had suddenly espied another black speck, and, realizing that they had the advantage over their Boche, with the odds of two to one, I felt that I need not go to assist them, but, instead, that my duty lay in chasing the little black spot I saw far to the north. So away went, and left my two comrades to their southern Boche.

I

The sun was in the southwest, and the first thing I did was to gain altitude for an advantage in case of a flight and to get between the Boche and the sun. This I did, and then opened up my motor and started after him. He was a good mile ahead of me, but going west into France, and I was going northwest to meet him. As I gradually caught up to him the German shrapnel began to bother me, huge clouds of gray smoke bursting about me, usually ahead of me, and I had to take a zigzag course. Scarcely ever is a machine hit and brought down by these bursting shells, their main purpose being to point you out to the other German airplanes with