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A Japanese Financier's Views on the

H

United States Merchant Marine

By George T. Marsh

AVING discussed the question of our Merchant Marine with many European diplomats and others, I was anxious to obtain the views which a pure Oriental might have upon the subject.

Accordingly, upon a recent interview with my Japanese friend, Tokiyori-for obvious reasons I shall omit his full name-I opened the subject by asking him: "Do you remember a meeting we had many years ago when we debated the question of the future comparative standing of Japan's and America's Merchant Marine? At that time you claimed that if the American Government did not materially change its policy on ship ownership that within twenty-five years Japan would be mistress of the Pacific Ocean, and that America would be without a transPacific mail steamship line. With the withdrawal of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company your prediction has about come true."

"Yes," replied Tokoyori, "it was during the second term of your last Democratic President Mr. Cleveland, at a time when our Merchant Marine was in its infancy, and we were discussing the probable growth of Oriental trade to a point where Japan would sell more goods to the United States than she would buy from her. The question then came up as to which country would gain the most by the transporting of the great future trading of the Pacific, whether America, England or Japan."

"Coming to the present day question, I would like to know," I said, "what you think of Andrew Furuseth's statement before the Federal Trade

Commission, "that an Oriental nation would control the Commercial Marine claiming that if Orientals continue to drive the English speaking sailor off the sea, 'the time will come when they will be on the bridge in command of British ships'?"

"He is wrong," said Tokiyori, "in the sense in which he would have Americans take his argument, for he would have you believe that, if Chinese sailors are employed on American owned ships in place of American sailors, that in time Chinese officers would be engaged to command those ships. Not within a century, at least, could such an improbability occur, but on the other hand a more vital result, the wiping out of your Commercial Marine on the Pacific will be brought about within a few months by the passing of the very 'sailor act' which he advocates -a law granting to a few privileged citizens the sole right to work your seagoing ships, with the power to name their own rate of wages, thereby tying the hands of American ship owners from competing with other nations, so that the Pacific Ocean, at least, is left open to us Orientals, and we would be foolishly blind if we did not take advantage of it."

"Then you do not think it is to the best interests of the nation at large for our Congress to pass laws for the betterment of our sailors," I said.

"I could understand," replied Tokiyori, "your nation's Fathers in their wisdom possibly granting a privileged few the sole right of sailing coast port ships, and thereby you are only competing among yourselves-taking money from one pocket and putting it

into the other-without taking from, or adding to, the nation's finances. We, of Japan, have adopted a similar law to that of the United States governing coastwise shipping, and exclude all foreign vessels from carrying freight or passengers between local parts, but I feel that the wisdom of our governing Fathers would never permit the granting of any special privileges to our over-sea sailors that would tend to block our merchants from competing for the world's sea-going trade or in any way prevent us from delivering our own products to the port of our customer, well knowing that if we were dependent upon another nation's shipping facilities to transport our nation's products, that something might happen to prevent the foreign vessels. from being on hand at a time most needed to transport our wares, thereby causing us a probable loss of customers, with possible gain to our competitors, besides deteriorating to our nonshipped produce, added to which would be the national financial loss, for even though we sell our merchandise for export, if transported to its final destination by foreign shipping, the nation loses what the foreign consumer would have had to pay to us for delivering the merchandise."

"How do you come to figure 'that' a national financial loss?" I asked.

"I will explain by showing what we Japanese do not consider a financial gain to the nation. "If," said Tokiyori, "a merchant in one of our most northerly ports makes a large sale of merchandise at great profit to another merchant in the most southerly port of Japan for home consumption, and it is transported the entire way by our own steamship or rail, the completion of the transaction does not create a national financial gain, for nationally we are not one sen better off. On the other hand, if that merchandise is sold for foreign consumption, even though it may not be sold at a profit-we have nationally gained the amount it was sold for, and if we can add to its price the cost of transporting it in our own ships to the point of delivery for the foreign con

sumer, Our nation has financially gained just that much more; whilst if we had allowed him to take delivery of his purchases at our port, to be transported in his own ships, the foreigner would have saved his nation just that much; thus it is that though we have not a national ship ownership our nation's Fathers, in their wisdom, have offered every inducement. to tempt our people to become ship owners, no matter by what means nor at how great the cost, well knowing that all returns either by sale of our export products or saving on transporting imports is a national gain.

"A nation can well afford to offer a premium on exports because every dollar the nation takes in for her surplus products is a national gain; whilst if it is held for internal consumption there is no financial gain to the nation. It is like a farmer, who consumes all he produces. He may increase his physical powers or dimensions, but not his bank account. The trading in home products between the people of a nation is like the farmer who exchanges his product with his country storekeeper for all his requirements; unless he has an excess on which he receives payment, he fails to better himself financially, and the nation, like the farmer that economizes, if there is a surplus to sell, no matter how little it may bring, it is a financial gain.

"A further likening of the farmer to the national trader may be made in the matter of transportation. If the farmer has to hire a team to carry his produce to and from his farm to the storekeeper he reduces his monetary gain by that much, whilst on the other hand if he transported his surplus produce with his own team irrespective of whether he originally bought or raised themprovided he maintained them from the output of the farm-all the money he realized from the sale of his excess produce would be financial gain."

"Do you think," I asked, "that a Merchant Marine is a national necessity to the United States? Can we not become solely a producing nation and rely upon the other countries who re

quire our products to transport them themselves, and would not the nation's money be better spent in increasing our naval power rather than by putting it into a Merchant Marine ?"

"One question at a time," said Tokiyori. "I will answer your last first. A navy in time of peace without a merchant marine is about as useless as a Merchant Marine would be in time of war without a navy. Both your first and second questions are largely answered by the position that the United States finds herself placed in since the outbreak of the present great European war, through the inability of her producers to find means for the transportation of their export products, owing to the scarcity of shipping and excessive charter rates. This has at last awakened your thinking class to a knowledge of your greatest weakness as a world nation-showing clearly your inability to stand alone, and that you are dependent upon the national aid and support of other nations today, for your existence as a world trader.

"America to-day is a hermit nation as much as we of Japan were sixty years ago, for your people cannot get out of your country unless some of the active nations of the world send their ships to your coast to transport you, and though your nation claims neutrality, the lives of your people are not safe outside of your own lands. Today your President finds himself in the difficult position of trying to force the Teutons to respect the ships of their warring opponents, in order to protect any American subjects who may find it necessary to leave their own shores. From a humanitarian standpoint it is a just demand for your nation to make on Germany, but it seems to me that it should be in the name of all world civilians, for it is asking much to expect a warring nation to agree to a retardment of its movements in order to protect a would-be privileged nation for the required act of signaling a merchantman to stop necessitates the exposure of a submarine, and the time consumed in search causes delay

of action that may possibly endanger its movements. Had Japan Had Japan been a neutral nation at this time-we are in a position to be truly neutral, free to traverse the world's seas, from having a Merchant Marine sufficiently large to transport both our subjects and merchandise to any corner of the globe, without asking favor of any of the warring powers-satisfied to obey the direction of our Mikado to travel by our own ships."

Coming back to the question of commercial marine, I said: "Do you think the United States would be best served by a National Merchant Marine rather than an individually owned one?"

"Under your Republican form of Government-both," replied Tokiyori. "Nationally owned Marine for your overseas trade and individually owned for your coastwise trade. Undoubtedly your Secretary of Treasury, Mr. McAdoo, and the members of the Cabinet who advocate the creation of a National Commercial Marine see the futility under your form of Government of endeavoring to induce the people to individually invest in ships, well knowing the national weakness of the generally advocated remedy-that of subsidy with its consequent danger of inviting foreign investors and possible control by them of your steamship companies, resulting in the majority of the profits-made possible by national subsidy-flowing into the coffers of foreign nations.

"The present European war has shown up the weakness of your navy unbacked by a Merchant Marine. To every nation each is equally dependent on the other. If to-day Japan was engaged in transporting her troops to Europe, and the United States found. it necessary to land an army in either of her possessions-the Philippines or the Hawaiian Islands-where would she get the ships to carry her troops? But if she possessed a naval reserve commercial fleet sufficiently large, she would be independent.

"National ownership for your oversea trade will, I believe, solve the problem."

I1

Recollections of Artemus Ward

By Clifton Johnson

T is always interesting to consider what effect environment has in the devopment of those whom the world honors. Were the home surroundings a stimulus or a handicap? What kind of people were the relatives, friends and neighbors? What influence did nature exert? I was curious to see Waterford, Me., the birthplace and boyhood home of Artemus Ward, to get answers to just such questions, and I had the feeling that I ought to discover in the inhabitants and region something to account for the peculiar qualities of his humor. The town is about 50 miles north of Portland and a half-dozen miles from the nearest railway station. I arrived at this station one morning in early October, and went on to Waterford. For much of the way the road was through woodland, and though the country had been long settled it still retained something of rawness and wildness.

There are several WaterfordsNorth, South and East, and Waterford Flat. The last was the village of Artemus Ward. Its name sounds unpromising, but just there the region, which for the most part is rather monotonous, crumples up into a rugged picturesqueness that has real charm, and that seemed very well calculated to nurture a genius. Lakes, ponds and streams abound, and one of these streams, known as Crooked River, runs 18 miles in its erratic course across the nine-mile width of the town. It afforded just the kind of navigation to draw volumes of profanity from the old-time raftsmen.

Waterford Flat is a nook among the hills fronting on a body of water which is called Keoka Lake, but which formerly had the more vigorously nat

The latter

ural name of Tom Pond. was acquired away back in the days when Paugus, the chief of an Indian tribe in the vicinity, made himself a terror of the frontiers. He and his followers committed so many depredations that Massachusetts offered a bounty of $500 for every Indian scalp. Captain Lovewell led an expedition against Paugus in the spring of 1725, but was attacked by the Indians, and only 14 out of 34 in the English party survived to return to their friends. One of these was Thomas Chamberlain, who, after killing Paugus in the fight, saved his own life by swimming across the pond at Waterford and hiding under a shelving rock on its borders. This episode gave the pond its early name, and the shore where he hid is still called Tom Rock beach.

One of the wooded hills back of the village is known as Mt. Tirem, a name supposed to have originated with some Indians, who, in speaking to the early settlers of climbing its steep sides, said: "Tire 'em Injuns." Another hight is Bald Pate, so called by the pioneer because its top was then entirely denuded of trees, the result of a fire that had recently swept it. Loftiest of all is Bear mountain, which owes its name to the killing of a bear that attempted to swim across Tom Pond from its base.

Waterford Village is a comfortable, sleepy little place, whose homes cluster around a small, tree-shadowed common. The houses are nearly all wooden, are painted white, and have green blinds. The village supports two stores and a church. At one end of the common is a signboard, which reads, "10 miles to Norway." Other places roundabout are Sweden, Den

mark, Paris and Naples. Do not these indicate a sense of humor in the original settlers of the wilderness? Waterford itself has a Punkin street, and what is now Fern avenue was formerly Skunk alley, and there is an outlying district called Blackguard, which took its name from the character of the people who used to live there.

I found the village delightful in its quiet serenity, and it particularly appealed to the fancy in the evening when the cows were driven from the outlying pastures to their home stables and came pacing along under the elms of the common, while the cowbells hung on their necks gave forth a dull-toned music. It was a much livelier place at the time Charles Farrar Brown, better known as Artemus Ward, was born there in 1834. Many emigrants passed through it on their way to the West, and the stages were crowded with passengers in pursuit of business or pleasure. The hotels presented an especially busy scene on the arrival of the stage, and the several stores had a large trade in furnishing supplies to lumbermen. One of these stores was kept by Artemus Ward's father, who died in 1847.

The humorist himself died in 1867, which is not so long ago but that people can be found in his home region who remember him distinctly. One of the village women said to me: "The place has not changed a great deal since he was a boy here. It is about the same size, there is the same white church, and many of the same houses stand around the common. The old 'Brown house,' where Charles was born, was burned in 1871, but 'Aunt Car'line,' as his mother was called in Waterford, had long before moved to what had been her father's house. That is here yet, a substantial, two-story building, under the elms on the borders of the common, and is still owned in the family.

"Mrs. Brown had four children, but only Charles and Cyrus grew to manhood. Charles was her favorite, I think. Cyrus, who was about seven years older than Charles, became a

newspaper man and was successful. People here considered him the smartest man of the two, but he didn't happen to strike it so lucky. I remember he was at home here sick abed when I was a school girl. The village schoolhouse was just beyond a brook at the north end of the common. It was an old weather-beaten building that at some time had been painted white, but not much of the paint was left. Inside were primitive box desks much handcarved. The teacher's desk was on a platform, and its sides were boarded up like a pulpit.

"The children came in from the farms and filled the school house. They were of all ages from 5 up to 20, when the big boys attended in the winter. Then we had a lyceum with debates and a paper mostly made up of local hits that was regularly prepared. It came my turn to edit the paper, and Cyrus sent word to have me come to see him, and he would help me write up some things. I was glad of his help, for I was quite a little girl to be the editor. The matter we wrote together was humorous, but I don't know now just what it was about.

"After Charles had left Waterford and became famous he usually returned every year to spend the summer with his mother. He wasn't very strong. He was tubercular. His hands were whiter than any woman's almost. They were small and long, and I recall hearing my father say that Charles couldn't wear bracelets because his wrists were as large as his hands, and the bracelets would slip off. Father and he were great cronies. They were own cousins and were said to look alike.

"Charles was always funny, even in his ordinary talk. He bought a house near New York at Yonkers, and invited his mother to go there and make him a visit.

"Charlie,' she said, 'if I do go sometime, how shall I know your house?' "Oh, you'll know it by the cupola and the mortgage that are on it,' he told her.

"'Well, I'll never stop in the house

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