symposium on the Santiago naval action is likely to be singularly complete. Every vessel on the American side will be represented in the accounts, including the papers promised by Admirals Sampson and Schley, and supplementary articles of novel interest. A detailed map has already been made, on which the movements of each of these vessels have been placed by its officers, -usually the commanding officer, and a large number of unprinted photographs taken during the action have been secured. The land operations will be treated with similar thoroughness.

It is a subject for mutual congratulations between THE CENTURY and its readers that so many of the chief participants in these stirring events have consented to cooperate in the making of this unique series while the facts are fresh in their minds.

66

'Exceptions" or "Inclusions" in the
Civil Service.

THE Spanish war intervened in the midst of desperate efforts on the part of the spoilsmen to break down the merit system in the public service, and, strange to say, the war itself has furnished the most vivid illustrations of the dangers to individual and national welfare that lurk in the system of spoils. That military branch of the administration from which the system is rigidly excluded has, in the emergency, covered itself and the country with honor. The fighting qualities of our soldiers have also reflected honor upon the nation, and yet the War Department has come out of the conflict with discredit, notwithstanding the enormous labors it has actually performed and the success of the armies in the field.

The Navy Department has been successful not only because it controls a highly specialized service, subject to its own rules, and not easily to be interfered with by the spoilsmen, but because, also, its management has been in the hands of men who do not believe in the spoils system. When the President asked the various secretaries for their recommendations as to exceptions to the civilservice rules desired by them to be made on executive order, in the various departments, it is a matter of public record that the Navy Department desired no exceptions, whereas the War Department demanded about five thousand!

The breakdown of the War Department and the success of the Navy Department are conspicuous object-lessons of the superiority of the merit system over the system of spoils.

But, in addition, there has spread among the people a new sense of the practical advantages of a permanent public service somewhat like that which England applies to executive work at home and abroad; and this new sense of the necessity of utterly abolishing the spoils system is not only owing to mismanagement in the War Department, but also to the contemplation of the enormous enlargement of the executive work of the government on account of the island territories the care of which we have assumed; and it is owing, furthermore, to an appreciation of the desirability of a better consular and diplomatic

service in view of increasing competition with the other leading nations of the world.

This being the case, how astonishingly maladroit it would be-to give it no graver name-should the President in the present crisis injure his own excellent record in connection with the merit system, by granting the request of the War Department, and of certain other departments, by making sweeping exceptions to the rules, thus playing directly into the hands of the despised spoilsmen! We do not think the President will do it. This is no time for exceptions; it is the time for inclusions. Instead of weakening and demoralizing the public service, the intelligence of the country demands that it shall be purified and strengthened. The President has perhaps not yet lost the opportunity to do an important service to the country by placing the Forest Reserve administration under the merit system. It is profoundly to be hoped, also, that instead of adopting innumerable exceptions, he will take measures to place our consular system on a par as to permanency and efficiency with the navy and the regular army.

And as for the new territory acquired, now is the time to erect impregnable barriers against the entrance there of the accursed system of spoils. If that system should be introduced and maintained there, what a mockery would be our war "in the interest of civilization"! It would not only bring misfortune to our new domain, but aggravate to an untold extent those evils of government at home against which we have already to contend.

What is Executive Ability?

THE disastrous and tragic losses in dead and wounded suffered by the American army since the cessation of hostilities with Spain have given a shock to the complacency of the country in the hour of its victory from which it will never recover. Allowing for all the "inevitable" hardships of war, so lightly spoken of in certain high places, there has been in camp and in transit a residuum of suffering so appalling that it is difficult to write of the responsibility for it in temperate terms. When this responsibility shall have been fixed, we venture to think that it will be found associated with a low conception of what is meant by executive ability. In some instances it will undoubtedly lie in the fact that appointments were made for reasons of friendship or partizanship, with the hope that the time would never come when the strain upon the official in question would reach its point of tension. But this is the sort of excuse which is in itself an accusation, and with which the people are showing unmistakable signs of impatience.

The political spoilsman is fond of asserting that his man, although he may be unable to demonstrate his competence before a board of examiners, is yet a person of superior executive ability. The basis of this is usually that he has shown marked efficiency in local politics; and if government, in peace or war, were merely ward politics on a large scale, the test would not be wide of the mark. But it would be easier to show that the qualities

most needed for the public service are not dreamed of in the philosophy of the spoilsman. The complexity of the requirements in an efficient executive officer is to the simplicity of the labors of the political worker as an astronomer is to a roustabout. He has not to coax men with promises or drive them with threats; he has to adjust himself to a system of government requiring specialized work, to think for others, displaying knowledge of the past, grasp of the present, and foresight of the future. Like the political "worker," he must know how to get work out of others; the difference is in the quality of the work. It will not suffice that an executive officer be able to give his orders in a loud voice. He must know that the orders are the proper ones, that the conditions are such that they can be obeyed, that they are received and comprehended by his subordinates, and lastly, that they have been obeyed. The higher his office, the larger must be his horizon. The watchful eye, the coordinating mind, the active prevision of difficulties and emergencies, the prompt despatch of affairs on the principle that "a duty is binding from the moment it is apprehended," the cardinal faculty of employing others, never executing details that can be better intrusted to others, and yet seeing that such details are not neglected-all these are necessary to executive ability of a high order. Once in a while such a man may be found in a party caucus. Ordinarily he is the product of years of experience of the needs of his special work, or has a personal force, a training, and an adaptability which give efficiency. It is the tragedy of our "battle summer" that in place of such men we have had in certain quarters the perfunctory service of the incompetent.

The war has presented many examples of faithful and efficient service, even in the much criticised War Department. At the present moment one of the most conspicuous is Theodore Roosevelt. Bold in action, he is yet cautious and painstaking in arriving at the basis of his action. The drudgery of details has not impaired his conception of government as merely the business of the people, to be executed on the highest plane for the best results. His public service in city and State and national affairs has already been large, and is not likely to be obscured by his military career, creditable as it has been. It is an open secret in Washington that to his work as Assistant Secretary of the Navy was largely due the admirable preparation of our fleets for the emergency of war. It may truly be said of him that he has rigidly exacted of himself the same high standard of public service which it was his business as President of the National Civil Service Commission to set for others.

"The Century's" Prize Manuscripts. In this number of the magazine our readers are invited to partake of the fruit of the first competition for the prizes offered by THE CENTURY to the Bachelors of Arts of the colleges and universities of the United States. This first competition was open to the students who had received the de

gree of B. A. during the commencement season of 1897. A year was given in which to submit manuscripts, the 1st of June, 1898, being the date fixed for the closing of the competition. Probably three fourths of the manuscripts were received after May 1. This was taken to indicate that the competitors generally had gone to work in a serious literary spirit to produce a poem, an essay, or a story, which should be the result of individual thought and conscious workmanship, rather than a hasty dash at a snap subject, or a vague effort to express an immature idea.

In the manuscripts themselves was found abundant proof that such was the fact. Nearly all of them contained some justification of the impulse to write, and a large proportion revealed a talent for what, in these days of type-writing machines and fast presses, may be called literary production. That the proportion of manuscripts lacking form was so small may reasonably surprise the practical editor, who, for a comparison, has always before his mind the mass of immature contributions brought to his table by the ubiquitous mail. Yet in the chaff is now and then found a manuscript abounding in freshness and vigor, which might not have been produced except for the wide-spread impulse among our people to think on paper.

When the separate sealed envelops containing the real names of the competitors were opened after the prize manuscripts, identified only by pennames, had been selected, it was found that fewer young women had striven for the literary honors than young men, whose manuscripts outnumbered those of the former by twenty-five per cent., and that the efforts of the young women had been rewarded by a sweeping victory. This result is an interesting confirmation of the judgment of the president of one of our chief universities, who, on being consulted at the outset with regard to the proposed rules of the competition, declared that in such a contest the young-women graduates would take all the prizes. The contents of American magazines offer continuous proof that in the field of periodical literature there is no discrimination on account of sex; but the striking success of the young women in this contest is especially significant, inasmuch as it is the first of a series of competitions, and places the youngmen graduates of succeeding years in the position of having to vindicate the time-honored claims of their sex, or of allowing the challenge to go against them, for lack of equal ability, or by default.

The prize story, entitled "A Question of Happiness," which is printed in this number of the magazine, bore the pen-name "Mary Dwight." The author, Miss Grace M. Gallaher of Essex, Connecticut, was graduated at Vassar, B. A. 1897.

The prize poem, which will be published in the December number, is called "The Road 'twixt Heaven and Hell." Its author, Miss Anna Hempstead Branch of New London, Connecticut, is an alumna of Smith College, B. A. 1897, and entered the competition with the pen-name " A. H. Bolles."

The prize essay, on "Carlyle's Dramatic Por

history, or literary criticism, of not fewer than four thousand or more than eight thousand words.

3. $250 for the best story of not fewer than four thousand or more than eight thousand words.

On or before June 1 of the year succeeding graduation, competitors must submit type-written manuscript to the Editor of THE CENTURY MAGAZINE, marked, outside and inside, "For the College Competition, signed by a pen-name, and accompanied by the name and address of the author in a separate sealed envelop, which will not be opened until the decision has been made. The manuscript must not have been published. The Editor, at his discretion, may withhold the award in any class in case no manuscript is thought worthy of the prize.

THE CENTURY MAGAZINE reserves the right to print the prize manuscripts without further payments, the copyright to revert to the authors three months after the date of publication in the magazine.

66

"I

Club-women.

BY MARGARET SUTTON BRISCOE.

HAVE had the most interesting morning. I have been sitting in a corner of the porch tending my flowers and hearing two men talk, quite forgetting that I was listening. Nothing that they said was so interesting to me as their silences. Sometimes they sat for five minutes in their chairs without speaking; then one would say something, and when he was quite ready to speak the other answered-not before. I feel as rested as if I'd been on a long voyage. I have never heard two women talk together in just that way." This was the testimony of a woman, not young, and privileged to be heeded by reason of her experience. She knew women as a woman who has lived in both the old life and the new must know themthe old life where clubs for women were not, the new life where they are. It seems not an improper division to let the club-line mark the difference between what was and what now is. Perhaps, too, there is no better place than one of these same women's clubs to test if it be true that habits of repose in social intercourse mark the caste of manhood more than the caste of womanhood. On entering almost any social club for women, one of the first peculiarities to be noted by the most casual eye is that a division into groups is the marked social feature of the room. These groups appear all more or less animated, and when one in a little circle gives a wandering attention, that is the general sign that she means to change her center, scaling off from the group where she is, and becoming a component part of another group. Watching yet more closely, it may be seen that she is arranging for something like the rush from point of safety to point of safety which children undertake in their games of "bases." Each group

is a base wherein is security; the journey from one base to another has its own dangers. To be left by some inhospitable mischance planté là in the center of the room, with no one to talk to, that is to be what in bases is called "out." There lies the great fear-no one to talk to, the chance of having to stand unsupported and alone. We have all smiled at the circus when we have seen the ring-master tenderly escorting the wiry feet of some rope-dancer across the sawdust. The young lady seems to us, and a moment later proves herself, preeminently fitted to take care of herself.

And there must arise something of this same feeling of amusement when we see women trained to walk any social tight-rope, and, indeed, even those women trained to climb to the giddy trapeze of a platform, uncomfortable in a roomful of women unless supported by the fact that some one is talking to them. It almost seems that a species of disgrace attaches of tradition to not talking or not being talked to, as if the real reason for standing apart must lie in the fact that nobody would speak to the sufferer. On the other hand, the most casual glance into a roomful of club-men reveals quite another condition of affairs. When one member of this latter company stands with his hands behind him looking out of a window, or sits gazing into space, idly swinging one leg over the other, or as idly swinging his eye-glasses between his fingers, if he is noticed at all, his apartness is taken as a sign that he wishes to be let alone, not that he has been forced into this condition of isolation because nobody cares to speak to him. Unless the signs of enforced isolation were very marked, it would never occur to any one of his male companions to pity the unfortunate solitary, or go up to him kindly and sit pityingly beside him. If he did so, the chances are

that he would be thoroughly snubbed, the solitary intimating that he himself must know best when he wishes to talk and when to sit apart thinking his own thoughts. It is not a general habit among women to do their thinking outside of their closets, and the sight of a woman obviously thinking in public, and that in a roomful of other women, is something scarcely to be imagined. It was in a certain man's club a habit with one of its members, a brilliant and well-known mathematician, to sit for long hours in his chair before the fire, obviously thinking, presumably turning over his abstruse problems in his brain, though it never had occurred to any one to ask him what he was doing. One day a new club-member, seeing this abstracted figure huddled back in his chair, came toward him, and, with the kindly temerity of extreme youth and the condescension of great ignorance, asked, "Doin' sums in your head, sir?" That question was to become a part of the club's history; but in a woman's club this could never have happened, because no woman mathematician would have been allowed to form the habit of silent sitting in thought. The question asked in a man's club after long years of silence would have been asked in a woman's club during the first half-hour. Or rather, not to be unjust, the blunt question would in all likelihood not have been put at all, but some club-member, in the kindness of her heart, would at once have hurried to the rescue of the thinker, because it could not have occurred to her that, thus sitting alone, the mathematician was anything less than bitterly uncomfortable. This shrinking on the part of the average woman from sitting or standing alone in company is so well recognized by other women that a determined and ambitious club-member may easily make deliberate use and abuse of her club-sisters' sisterly pity. She knows she can gain access to almost any group she wishes to enter merely by standing near it miserably, obviously alone, until some compassionate woman holds out to her a hand and draws her

into a circle which, of choice, would not have opened to receive her. Thus the most congenial group of women spending a half-hour together is more or less at the mercy of an intruder shrewd enough to know how to intrude; and this power of intrusion, as every woman of clubs will testify from numerous personal experiences, is one of the most serious drawbacks to enjoyable intercourse in club life for women.

It is this same kind of yielding to polite obligations and cross-obligations that makes women in tête-à-tête seem less reposeful than men in tête-àtête. The same kind of traditional law which forbids a woman's sitting apart in company appears also to forbid the shuttlecock of speech falling to the ground. Taking as an example the conversation of the two men previously quoted, we have to acknowledge that such spaces left for fructifying thought are generally lacking in the intercourse of woman and woman. If, with the latter, conversation flags, the pauses are awkward; and therefore conversation is not allowed to flag, sustained too often at the cost of value. Pleasant and profitable as clubs for women often are, they cannot be said to be clubs proper if precedent is to continue to demand of the members speech with or without thought, at the same time forbidding that privilege dear to the heart of the club-man-sitting in silence if he will, or "flocking alone in a corner." When the time comes that many women of choice flock reposefully in corners, or sit silent at will, then it will follow that the one or two flocking alone by untoward accident will feel no discomfort, but by force of example learn how to look contented though their position be to them distinctly distasteful. In that day, those who wish to be silent will be silent; those who form into groups will be grouped, not from fear of standing apart, but because they wish to be together. In that millennium we may look to find clubs for women, clubs proper, and not, as now too often, the drawing-rooms of uneasy stockholders.

THE

The Naming of the Minor Prophets. HE minor Prophets, seven in number, are the promising piccaninnies of Thaddeus and Elmiry Prophet, and may be personally interviewed at their home, a single-room log hut near Columbia, South Carolina. Ask them any question you like, and the response will be grins, a rolling of black eyes, and embarrassed digs in the sand with their respective big toes. Press them for answers, and they will reply, "Mah knows"; and no earthly power can draw more information from them.

As I walked down the sunny white sand road

one summer morning, I came upon the cabin, and in the door recognized my old friend Elmiry. I was unseen by her, for another object had caught her roving eye and caused her to exclaim:

"Lawd he'p me, ef dyar ain' dat Crafty Yulicee stuck een de tar-bar'l ag'in!" Then, raising her voice, she called:

"You Axy! ef you don' quit wadin' een dat branch, I'll weah you out, miss! Go 'long obah yondah, an' pull Crafty Yulicee outen dat tarbar'l, an' let him stick his feets een de ash-pile." Here she heard my approaching footstep, and, turning, saw me.

The Le-o-pard.

THIS is the Le-o-pard, my child;
His tem-per 's anything but mild.
The Le-o-pard can't change his spots,
And that-so say the Hot-ten-tots-
Is why he is so wild.

Year in, year out, he may not change,
No mat-ter how the wea-ther range,
From cold to hot. No won-der, child,
We hear the Le-o-pard is wild.

"Lawd bless me, Miss Ca'line! is dat you, honey? Tadgeous telled me you wuz comin' home to lib, an' I been meanin' to drap een an' ax you howdy, but dese chillen keeps me home."

Then we talked of the past, and of my schooldays; for in her youth Elmiry had waited on the young ladies in a boarding-school in Columbia, and there I had known her. There, too, she met Thaddeus, the gardener, and as the days went by she met him more and more frequently; for no flower that grew in his garden was so bright to Thaddeus as the smile of the coquettish Elmiry, and never was she so beaming as when her eye rested on Thaddeus. And so it came to pass that Thaddeus "kep' stiddy comp'ny" with Elmiry till the school term was over, and in the balmy days of June they became engaged. The engagement and the subsequent events were conducted on this wise, as Elmiry told it to me:

"Tadgeous he wuz comin' to see me eve'y evenin' fo' a consid'able time, an' it seem like eve'y time he come he los' his tongue. But one day he writ me a letter, on some lovely pink paper, wid two hearts lockin' on de top ob de

The Hip-po-potamus.

page, an' it smelt so sweet dat it smelt de whole room up jes fine; an' he ax me if he mought hab de pleasure ob scorchin' me to church Sunday night. An' when I tol' him dat I would be pleased wid his comp'ny, dat simmified dat I 'greed to marry him. Marse Stevens hisse'f, de principal ob de school, he married us, an' 'stidder Tadgeous habbin' to pay him de weddin' fees, he gib Tadgeous a gold piece. Dat 's de diff'unce between white people an' cullud people, as I tol' Tadgeous.

"Co'se I wanted to go off on a weddin'-trip; but Tadgeous sayed how ez he did n't hab no time to make de trip, but he say dat wuz n' no reason why I could n't go, so he sont me on de weddin'tour, an' he stayed home. I went on a 'scussiontrain to Chas'ton, an' I enjoyed myse'f fine; but I wuz real glad when I come home an' Tadgeous tooked me back een de baggage-waggin. Marse Stevens he 'lowed we could bofe stay een de little house on de school groun's, an' dyar we stayed.

"Aftah a while deah wuz a gal come, and when Tadgeous heared 'bout her it seem like he would go crazy.

"Glory, glory! I's so glad!' he kep' a-sayin'.