For decades we have been assured that all the manufacturer wanted was a duty high enough to compensate him for the higher wages paid in this country. In 1908 the Republican party laid down the formula that the tariff is to measure the difference in the cost of production at home and abroad, including a “reasonable profit to the manufacturer.” To-day the party has advocates of all kinds of protection, from those who wish the tariff to measure the difference in labor cost of the most efficient mills in this and foreign countries, as advocated by Senator LaFollette, to those who wish a tariff high enough to keep out foreign importations. Whatever may be done with Schedule K by the Democratic Congress, it is time that we dismiss the hoary legend that the duties are maintained solely in the interest of the highly paid American working-man. The assertion comes with specially poor grace from the woolen and worsted industry, the most highly protected industry in the United States, paying the lowest wages to skilled labor. With the earnings of the great bulk of its employees averaging through the year less than ten dollars a week, while wages are about double that figure in less protected industries; with its workmen compelled to send their wives and children to the mills as an alternative to starvation on the man’s earnings; with the horrors of living conditions of the Lawrence mill-workers still ringing in our ears, it is time that we face the situation squarely and, whatever degree of protection we decide to maintain, that we frankly admit that it is primarily for the benefit of the capital invested in our industries. Russia, Germany, and France do so frankly, and free-trade England manages to compete with them in the markets of the world, while paying higher wages to its employees. In turn we beat these nations, in their own and in the world’s markets, in the products of the very industries in which we pay the highest wages. THE WINE OF NIGHT BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER Come, drink the mystic wine of Night, Brimming with silence and the stars; While earth, bathed in this holy light, Is seen without its scars. Drink in the daring and the dews, The calm winds and the restless gleam-- This is the draught that Beauty brews; Drink--it is the Dream.... Drink, oh my soul, and do not yield-- These solitudes, this wild-rose air Shall strengthen thee, shall be thy shield Against the world’s despair. Oh, quaff this stirrup-cup of stars Trembling with hope and high desire-- Then back into the hopeless wars With faith and fire! “THEM OLD MOTH-EATEN LOVYERS” BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK Author of “In the Tennessee Mountains,” “Where the Battle was Fought,” etc. WITH PICTURES BY GEORGE WRIGHT