The Contributors' Column

THE many readers who have delighted in Glanville Smith’s ‘Winter in the Woods’ and his ‘Suffolk with a Porpoise’ will be happy, not envious, to hear of his luck in being sent to the Pacific as an emissary of the Atlantic, his portfolio containing the simple instruction to use eves and ears, nose when need be, and keep us stay-at-homes informed of his progress through the southern isles. To those who have not met him we may add that he is a native of Minnesota, by trade a designer of tombstones, by nature an adventurous and friendly fellow. The first stop was Hawaii (‘Kona and Maui, and Other Parts of Eden’). Ahlen Beach (‘Escape’), tenth in descent from Priscilla Alden, is a young poet whoso interests are echoed in her verse. At Smith she divided her major among English, music, and philosophy, and has since won signal honors in musical composition. ∆ Whatever your reaction to ‘Swastika,’ you want, if you are an intelligent person, to understand Nazi Germany. Mrs. Shepard Morgan, during the six years of the Dawes Plan, look a Doctor’s degree at the University of Berlin while her husband handled the transfer of reparation payments; and her interest in German politics has sent her to Germany on annual visits ever since. ∆ It is with great pleasure we welcome back to the AtlanticDorothy Canfield Fisher, missing from our pages these too-many years. ‘The Brad lock Chest,’ is in the tradition of her best work, and comes straight from her Vermont hills.

‘A Case in Occupational Therapy’ is for all who have had breakdowns, who may have breakdowns, or who have broken-down friends. William Heilman has found that writing is an important part of his programme of occupational therapy, as might be expected from a nephew of the author of the Little Colonel books; he is rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Erie, Pennsylvania. His physician, John Rathbone Oliver, has himself served as a priest in the Protestant Episcopal Church, and in addition to his large psychiatric practise is associated with Johns Hopkins University. Perhaps he is most widely known as the author of two books, Fear and Foursquare, which have helped many patients on the road to recovery. Margaret Prescott Montague has made many interesting proposals to Atlantic readers, none more so than this one in ‘Christians and Criminals.’ Gustav Eckstein (‘Fine Feathers’) is assistant professor of physiology in the University of Cincinnati’s College of Medicine, and his letterhead quite properly shows a bushy young man sitting with expectant pencil before an exhibitionist parrot. ∆ ‘Hiatus is the second poem we have published by Lionel Wiggam, a student at Northwestern University, ∆ ‘The $:S()0() Snow Shovel’ recounts another adventure in graft — a chapter from the life of a unique New York contractor, a friend of Berwin Kaiser. Twelve years ago Mr. kaiser graduated from Harvard into the business world, where he is now engaged in sales promotion. ∆ ‘On Musical Hunger’ continues Catherine Drinker Bowen’s personal and authoritat ive account of one musical pilgrim’s progress to the heaven of almost continuous music-making. Mrs. Bowen lives as near as possible to the rest of the family quartet of Drinkers just outside Philadelphia.

The subsistence homesteads movement has by this time become thoroughly familiar in idea to all who follow the news, but the project which best illustrates the idea has not before received the full treatment which only one man can give — William E. Brooks, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Morgantown, West Virginia, a member of the Relief Board, and a trusted adviser of all who are interested in the project.

‘Arthurdale — A New Chance’ gives an entirely fresh picture of the experiment. ∆ ‘A New Idea for Private Schools’ is here made public hv Frederick Winsor, head master of Middlesex School, ∆ When we made the venture of ‘An Excursion in Numbers’ last October we hoped, at best, for a limited group of appreciative readers, but found instead that x = Infinity. In response to demand, F. Emerson Andrews, manager of publications for the Russell Sage Foundation, sends us a mathematical sequel, ‘ Revolving Numbers.’ George W. Gray (‘The World We Live In’) has devoted all his time since 1924 to writing on science, its researches and applications. ∆ ‘A Night on Salisbury Plain’ continues the delightful series of English sketches by Henry Williamson, novelist, essayist, naturalist. Bertrand Bussell’s name is token enough of what awaits the reader in ‘The Revolt against Reason.’ Those who know his classic treatises on mat hematics and logic need no assurance of his title to speak on this subject. Ralph Bergengren, who has charmed his public with prose and verse since the turn of the century, writes in ‘Sir Nip and Sir Tuck’ as gay a piece as the ever-fresh ‘Furnace and I’ of long ago. Arthur Pound, the Atlantic’s industrial philosopher, needs no introduction. His study of ‘Steel’ is the second in the Atlantic’s new series, Industrial America: Its Way of Thought and Work.

From the heads of radio.

Dear Atlantic.—
Thank you for your great kindness in sending me an advance copy of the article by Mr. Stokowski for the January Atlantic.
I have read Mr. Stokowski’s article with absorbing interest. It is an extraordinarily thoughtful and illuminating presentation of a complex subject. As the author properly and modestly indicates. our knowledge is not yet equal to our ignorance of the subject.
A contribution toward our greater knowledge such as Mr. Stokowski is making in writing the article, and the Atlantic Monthly in publishing it, deserves public gratitude.
DAVID SARNOFF, President
Radio Corporation of America
New York City

Dear Atlantic, —
I am grateful to you for sending me the proof of the radio article, which I found most interesting and instructive. To comment on it critically would require a much greater technical knowledge than I have. It is reassuring, however, to see some articles which deal with radio’s opportunities from a serious and intelligent viewpoint rather than the buncombe which has been so generously put out by persons who mistake their relatively mediocre ability to discover defects for that rare genius which can plot a wise and constructive course.
OWEN D. YOUNG
New York City

Memories of Liszt.

Dear Atlantic, —
Among your recent articles. I was particularly interested in the reminiscences of Mrs. Winthrop Chanler, and especially in t he account of her meeting with Franz Liszt, whom I had often seen during my early schooldays.
My first three school years were spent in Weimar. Our school building, a small two-story structure, stood at the entrance to the extensive park that Goethe Schiller, and Duke Karl August had planned and created at the end of the eighteenth century. On the opposite side of the street was the exact duplicate of our school building, both houses belonging to the Grand Duke. Here lived Liszt for a number of years until his death in 1886.
During my third school year I occupied the end seat of a bench in our schoolroom, a strategic position. commanding a full view of the window of Liszt’s liv ing room. Every morning at nine o’clock. Liszt was shaved by his valet, and I generally managed to watch the procedure out of the corner of my eye. Shaving in this ease was a rather dill ten It (ask. each of his numerous warts presenting a separate problem, which had to be approached from various angles. It kept the valet on the jump, Liszt’s prominent nose frequently forming a welcome support to steady his hand.
I involuntarily got into the spirit of the operation. and was so fascinated that I often squirmed in my seal, sometimes attracting the attention of my teacher.
Then one morning I found the window shade drawn. The old maestro had passed away while on a visit at Bayreuth. I experienced that feeling of awe and pity which overcomes a child when it is confronted with the mystery of death.
ALFRED A. GRAU
Tacoma, Washington

Music, the good companion.

Dear Atlantic, —
It is gratifying indeed to find the December Atlantic devoting its first article to the joys and benefits of homemade music in these days of machine-made luxuries. True and enjoyable as all of Mrs. Bowen’s article is, I find myself stoutly disagreeing with her that there is no solace from loneliness for the (perhaps unfortunate) pianist. Her circumstances are different, that is all; she is in the midst of a large family, surrounded by relatives, which makes musical companionship possible. I am entirely alone, as far as music is concerned. But the older I get, the harder I work. I the less time I find lor social contacts owing either to actual material povert y or to physical fatigue, the more I turn to my piano for solace, inspiration, and rest. Time and again, especially during the hard days of these last few years, the intrinsic strength and beauty of a Beethoven sonata have saved an otherwise, sleepless night. Again, the magic imagery of Debussy or Ravel has dispelled an indigo mood and recalled sunny, carefree days in France. Or the never-ceasing versatility of Chopin has challenged discouragement and brought exhilaration in its place.
I admit that this would be doubly enjoyable in the company of kindred -spirits perhaps that is why we amateur soloists flock to concerts whenever we can afford it!
A concert has become so rare in my own experience. however, that the piano has had to supply the lack and has done so very satisfactorily. Not for others, of course. I don’t pretend to play, nowadays. My musical friends, especially those professionally inclined, have a tendency to sneer (I fancy) at my ambitious reading of the ‘Waldslein Sonata’ or ‘Les Jardins sous la Pluie’ or the C# minor waltz. Or they anxiously inquire how long I am going to keep blundering on. without studying. overlooking the fad that I play, as I read a book, for intellectual and emotional enjoyment and not for the critical applause of an audience.
I know, as I recall the homes in suburban New York, how fortunate the children of Mrs. Bowen’s family are — and I hope tires appreciate it. If they do not now. surely they will later. I often wonder w hat will take the place of music as self-expression when t hese machine-minded youngsters of ours grow to middle age.
Surely there is nothing that can give the solace, the sheer joy of appreciation, the inspirational comeback from fatigue that self-made music does, even if one is forced by circumstances to be a soloist.
MARGARET L. WARNER
Upper Montelair, New Jersey

Are we learning from the Russians?

Dear Atlantic, —
I have just finished reading William Henry Chamberlin’s article, ‘Farewell to Russia,’ in your November issue, and I find myself in the grip of some peculiar reactions, not the least strange of which compels me to write this.
In the first place, one gathers from his article that Mr. Chamberlin has been so absorbed in his duties as an observer of the Russian scene that he has had no opportunity to take a glance at the current North American scene — so many of his strictures on the Soviet régime being rather startlingly applicable nearer home.
He rightly deplores such ‘major atrocities as the liquidation of the kulaks as a class, the state-organized famine, and the persecution of the intelligentsia.’ If we substitute for the word ‘kulaks’ the phrase ‘moderately prosperous farmers.’ the indictment can be substantiated against the present régime in North America. So effectively ‘liquidated’ have the farmers of North America become that in the United States they have resorted to violence to save themselves, while in Canada whole farming communities have relapsed into a stale of pauperism. The state-organized famine in Russia can hardly exceed in thoroughness that of the U. S. A. with its 6,000,000 drowned pigs and its ploughed-under crops. As for the persecution of the intelligentsia, it may not be of so crudely violent an order as in Russia, but it is none the less effective. An upholder of civil liberties such as Mr. Chamberlin will, I fear, start shuddering anew when he sees the notorious ‘red-hunting’ campaigns being conducted in American and Canadian universities.
While admitting the tragedy of the condition Mr. Chamberlin reports, we should not lose sight of this very important point: in Russia, in spite of conditions which strike the Western eye as appalling, they have not slipped down from a previous higher standard, while we in North America are day by day lowering our standard of demands from life. The Russian suffers, acutely no doubt, but he suffers in the interest of an ordered plan. We in North America suffer, many no less acutely, merely in the interests of a chaotic and moribund financial and economic system.
COLIN CAMERON
Port Alberni, British Columbia

Signs which say more than they mean.

Dear Atlantic, —
A New York dealer in custom-made clothing advertises ‘Ready to Wear Out.’
GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN
New York City

Dear Atlantic, —
In Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, not long ago, appeared this announcement: ’Antiques, new and used.’
And in another town Esther Burns had this sign: ‘Esther Burns Lunch.’
F. J. HELGREN
Waukegan, Illinois

Dear Atlantic, —
In the last elect ion one candidate’s poster read : ‘Vote for John A. Runckel for Justice of Peace. Now Incumbered.’
BILL ADAMS
Dutch Flat, California

P. S. And he won by fourteen votes.

The limitations of the laboratory.

Dear Atlantic, —
I read with much interest the-artiele entitled ’Sixth Sense,’ by Earnest Elmo Calkins, in the December number.
For a man who does not claim to bo presenting a scientific discussion, he shows extraordinary powers of analysis and deep spiritual insight.
It is surprising how many problems can be solved satisfactorily in a laboratory which evade solution out in the big world. As Mr. Calkins points out, it is not so much what the tests in the laboratory prove or disprove which counts, as it is that there are no laboratory tests which can measure the qualities of the human spirit. In the case of handicapped persons, even though it may BE established by tests that unimpaired senses are not quickened to make up for a defective sense, it is certain that the afflicted must develop qualities of the spirit to live useful, happy lives.
Mr. Calkins has hit upon an important truth which applies not only to handicapped persons, but to normal people as well. So-called ’achievement tests.’ which are devised to measure the abilities of growing school children, may or may not be valuable. I should like to cite one instance to illustrate my point.
A girl in the grades, neither quick nor stupid, but slow, thorough, and methodical, was periodically subjected lo achievement tests. She never finished a given piece of work at a stated time, memory often failed her. and problems which she was perfectly capable of reasoning-out at her own rate of speed confused her. It was not until this girl reached the high school, where there happened to be no such tests, that she came into her own. With comparative ease she tackled four academic subjects, mastered them with better than a good average, and constantly gained in power. While the achievement tests had indicated all her weaknesses, they had given her no credit for those qualities of character or spirit — determination, willingness, and perseverance — which made her win out.
I am not frying to underestimate the importance of tests for the measuring of intellectual achievement, but I am maintaining that such tests do not truly evaluate the most important qualities of character and that in many cases they may do more harm than good. In the case of the girl, — my own daughter, — had it not been for the fact that the teachers with whom she came into direct contact were capable of recognizing and encouraging her creative ability along musical and artistic lines, she would have been submerged by what appeared to be her academic standing.
I feel that more and more the work of the psychologist must consist in educating or drawing out the human spirit upon which all development depends. It seems tome very significant indeed that no tests have been devised to measure how much tact a child has, how much sympathy, how much thoughtfulness or consideration of others, how much devotion to a task, and a hundred other qualities of the spirit upon which human happiness depends.
MRS. DAVID H. STEVENSON
Downers Grove, Illinois

A satirist’s life is not a happy one.

Dear Atlantic, —
I have two theories to oiler the \llanlie editors in answer to your question: ‘Who is tins Bergen Evansi’
My iirst conjecture is that Evans never knew nursery rhymes during Ins childhood, but rather he became familiar with them when in Ins undergraduate days lie was exposed to ’isms’ and * isl s * by some bigoted psycho-sociologist in his psychology laboratory. After acquiring an adequate vocabulary and style of writing, lie be tasked himself to ‘ Nursery Crimes.’
My second conjecture is that Evans was an ultraprecocious child with an I. Q. of, say, 230, as the newly discovered Arthur Greenwood of Brooklyn or Jackie Carter Massey of Pittsburgh. When Bergen’s mother taught him the rhymes he at once, with superhuman insight and imagination, saw in every rhyme some dangerous underlying significance as unreal as my neighbor boy’s imaginary white horse,
Evans, now having grown up. still playfully or seriously remembers those early impressions.
To test Mr. Evans’s continued ingenious imagination I would suggest that you submit to him a few of Gertrude Stein’s creations of poetry. If he is able to extract any symbolical meaning out of them, then my lust conjecture is confirmed.
HAREY G. HUMANN
Barnes, Kansas

‘The substance of things hoped for.’

Dear Atlantic, —

I am sure that the editors of the Atlantic realize through experience the long memories which psychic contributions such as M. Beatrice Blankenship’s ‘Death Is a Stranger’ generate in the reader. We have them to remind us of the adventurers on that other long trail — the tangible one: John Franklin, Richard Burton, David Livingstone. Francis Younghusband, Robert Scott, and many others, who have shown almost superhuman endurance and courage in their efforts to extend the limits of our know ledge of the orb we live upon.
In ‘Death Is a Stranger’ we have intimations of an infinitely longer trail, the travel of the spirit. The old Greck defined it as going‘from life, through life, to life,’ lacking any thought of its ‘eventually becoming unendurably monotonous.’
Several years ago the Atlantic published ‘Twenty Minutes of Reality.’ I recall the editor’s comment as he beheld the sheaf of letters on his desk from correspondents who had had similar moments of exaltation. Such letters serve as witnesses of that intangible substance which your anonymous author called reality.
THOMAS RUTHERFORD FLEMING
Long Beach, California

More polylinguistics.

Dear Atlantic, —
The clever skit in polylingual acrobatics which appeared in the Contrbutors’ Club of your October number reminded me of a v erse I heard years ago in Germany (the happy Germany of old times): —

DR. WALTER MENDELSON
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania