claimed that the new values added by the labor of the producing workers to the values already incorporated by past labor in raw materials and machinery were divided into capitalist's profits and laborer's wages, and that ground rent was a deduction from the profits of the industrial capitalists. It followed, according to Ricardo, that wages and profits rise and fall in inverse ratio to one another, without directly affecting the general level of prices. So far as prices were subject to fluctuation around the real values of commodities, Ricardo held that these fluctuations were regulated by supply and demand.

All these claims were logical corollaries of his theory of value, and in keeping with his idea that the accumulation of capital and the proportional division of capital into fixed and circulating parts might exercise an influence on the relative values of commodities. But since he made no progress over Adam Smith in this respect, and failed to realize the distinction between the organic composition of capital in the sphere of production and the different ways in which different parts of the value of capitals are circulated, he did not arrive at a consistent scientific solution of the problems of value and surplus-value. Neither did he clearly separate surplus-value as a general category from its particular forms as capitalist profits, landlords' rent, bankers' interest. Above all, he failed to draw the logical inferences from his theory of value with regard to the laborer's share in his own product.

But there were others who did. In Ricardo's time, the industrial proletariat in England had developed sufficiently to create its own theories, and the spokesmen of this proletariat at once proceeded to combat the capitalist class with the theories of its own thinkers.

Just as Petty's theories had been the pivot around which had turned all mercantilist controversies for a century, so Ricardo's theories became the center of more than fifty years of theoretical

discussion, and remnants of his theories survived in a more or less muddled form long after the Ricardian school itself had given up the ghost. It was particularly the middle strata of capitalist society, who sought consolation in certain portions of Ricardo's theories. Either they clung desperately to Ricardo's theory of value and prayed fervently for a system of "free" competition in which all commodities should be exchanged at their real values without all the other unnatural" features of capitalist competition which strike such cruel blows at the little exploiter. Or they resurrected a portion of Ricardo's theory of ground rent and built on it a scheme for the salvation of the middle class. An example of this last method is still languishing in American society in the shape of Henry George's single-tax ideas which are offered to the working-class in the hope that it may save the little exploiter from his inevitable fate. The grotesque irony of single-tax is that it uses Ricardo's capitalist theory of ground rent as though it were a proletarian theory, that it generalizes Ricardo's economic rent into an indistinct conception of rent comprising many different forms of rent, and that it offers this muddled rehash of a capitalist theory in the interest of the middle class to a working-class, whose interests demand the abolition of all exploiting classes.

The early champions of the English proletariat paid little heed to such platonic expurgations of Ricardo's theories. They took the bull by the horns and assumed from the very outset an attitude of implacable antagonism to all capitalist forms of exploitation. They met Ricardo's theory of value with the following argument: If labor creates all exchangevalue, as you say, then labor should get all it produces. If the exchange-value of a product is equal to the labor-time contained in it then the exchange-value of one day's labor should be equal to the value of its product. In other words, wages should be equal to the value of the

product of labor. But this is not so in reality. It is well known that wages, the value of a definite quantity of labor, are always lower than the value of the product of labor. The socialists invited the capitalists to draw the logical inferences from these facts and stop robbing the laborers. The Ricardian school was unable to solve this puzzle and refute by scientific argument this position of the early socialists. Neither were the early socialists able to prove by what means the mechanism of capitalist production managed to reproduce the capital and profits of the capitalists and the wages of

the laborers. A new theory was necessary for the solution of this puzzle. Evidently this could be only a proletarian theory, for the champions of the capitalist class could not well be expected to formulate a theory that would mean the self-destruction of the capitalist class. In short, a new historical class, the proletariat, required a theory of its own which should represent its own interests and erect its own milestone, just as the preceding stages of capitalist development had each erected its own milestone in economic theories. ERNEST UNTERMANN. Chicago, Ill.

T IS not intended to discuss this question in this paper at any considerable length, but to make a few suggestions. And first, it is said that Mr. Roosevelt, in his role as a preacher " of righteousness" and a lecturer on political morality, is a success. He holds that in all the relations of life, men are bound by the moral and divine law; that public men should be "sincere" and "consistent"; that "the best of us stumble at times"; and that when a public man is convinced that he has adopted and inculcated erroneous political doctrines, he should "recant" his

errors.

It is proposed to apply these excellent rules to a few of his most notable acts, and see how his practice corresponds with his teachings.

The President has distinguished himself during the last year by his opposition to the trusts. But the most pernicious trust in this country is the political trust, of which for nearly ten years the President of the United States and his political managers have been the leaders and the head. In speaking of the qualifications

of Mr. Cortelyou for manager of the Roosevelt presidential campaign in 1904, Mr. Root, Secretary of State, said that Cortelyou "had learned the game of politics from President McKinley, who was the most accomplished politician of his time." This characterization of Mr. McKinley as a very skilful and successful political gamester, by one who understood the subject well, is correct. Mr. McKinley and his great manager, Mark Hanna, have never been surpassed in the United States in playing the game of politics. Their winning cards were money, offices and other substantial favors. The money they procured from corporations, trusts, and individuals, and other sources, amounted to many millions. And it has been credibly stated that, when it was considered necessary, in order to insure success, to adopt extreme measures, whole states were bought with it. Mr. Cortelyou became Mr. Roosevelt's campaign manager in 1904, and the evidence is conclusive that the corporations and the trusts furnished his committee with a great deal of money with which to

"procure" support for Mr. Roosevelt, the great insurance companies alone contributing hundreds of thousands. Since this has been proved, it has been insisted that this money should be returned to the companies from which it had been corruptly taken. But Mr. Cortelyou refused to return it, and the President, not long after, appointed him Secretary of the Treasury one of the most important positions in the cabinet. This was unwise and well calculated to shake the faith of the country in him as a safe and sane" Chief Magistrate. It is a hazardous thing to trust such an office with a political gamester.

Mr. Leupp, the personal and political friend of Mr. Roosevelt, in his campaign biography of him in 1904, when writing of his course in our war with Spain, says that it had always been "a fond dream with him to take part in a war.

"A war" means any war, without regard to its origin, objects or consequences. Accordingly, when difficulties arose between our country and Spain over Cuba, Mr. Roosevelt seized the opportunity to make his fond dream a reality, and became one of the most strenuous advocates of war, and continued to be so after (in the language of Mr. Sherman, Secretary of State), "every demand made by him [Mr. McKinley] on Spain was acceded to by the government of that country." The statement of Mr. Sherman is proved to be true by the correspondence between his department of the government and our Minister to Spain, Gen. Stewart S. Woodford. It has been shown so often that our war against Spain was unnecessarily made by our government, and was not for the benefit of Cuba, but for political effect in the United States, that the argument need not be repeated here. Mr. Roosevelt's desire to distinguish himself "in a war" led him to forget the Divine law, and the Sermon on the Mount, and not merely to "stumble" but to fall a voluntary victim to his fond and delusive dream.

The strangest thing in that wild delu

sion was the theory that a man could be a true follower of the Prince of Peace and at the same time a fierce promoter of such a war and a voluntary and bloody actor in it. It would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. Nothing that Mr. Roosevelt has said or done in favor of peace has canceled the record he made against himself by promoting and prosecuting the Spanish and Philippine wars. In that miserable business he was actuated by the same ambition which has led so many men to "seek the bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth," or "wade through slaughter to the throne."

Last January, in a speech to the Foreign Commerce Convention in Washington, he said: "Do not give any nation any cause for offense, on the other hand, keep our navy to such a pitch of efficiency as to make it a strong provocation of good manners in other nations." That was a remarkable specimen of blowing hot and cold, of preaching peace and provoking war in the same breath. Good manners" were not in that speech. It was giving all nations good "cause for offense, and was such a strong provocation" that it is hard to see how any true lover of peace could have made it.

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Another notable mistake of Mr. Roosevelt was that part of his speech in San Francisco in May, 1903, in which he advocated a large navy in order to 'assure" to the United States the "domination" of the Pacific ocean. This was proposing a plain violation of international law, according to which "all nations have an equal right to the use of the ocean," and none has any right to dominate it. Such a speech would be appropriate for "a demagogue of war," but not for a preacher of political "righteousness" and peace. The attempt of the United States to make good the proposed domination of the Pacific ocean would lead to a war, compared with which the war of the gods as described by Homer, was a mere baga

telle. The fewer war vessels we have for that purpose, the better for us and for the world. It is high time for the President, in the exercise of those correct principles which he has prescribed for the conduct of his countrymen, to "recant" this dangerous error. For this he has an illustrious example in the Book to which he so often refers in his sermons, lectures and speeches. Job was "the greatest of all the men of the East," but when satisfied that he had talked unwisely, he recanted in a manner which all men in similar circumtsances would do well to imitate.

"Who is he that hideth counsel without knowledge? Therefore have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me which I knew not. I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. Hear, I beseech thee, and I will speak: I will demand of thee and declare thou unto

The President's habit of interfering when any question, national, state or social arises, does not indicate a very high order of statesmanship. His messages to Congress and to the people are sometimes very good, but they are so numerous and copious that they are inclined to be a little wishy-washy and tiresome.

His disposition to dictate to the legislative and judicial departments of the government is calculated to interfere with the proper course of legislation and the regular administration of justice. Such a practice, if encouraged by the politicians and acquiesced in by the people, will lead to the transformation of the national government into an elective monarchy, with all power in the hands of one man. S. C. PARKS.

Kansas City, Mo.

TE

HE GREAT Teacher sat by the swirling, onrushing river of Life. By his side a shivering, new-born Soul watched wide-eyed while the Teacher of all selected a lapful of the dry brown leaves about their feet,-the future experiences, the precious lessons of the Soul. The Teacher looked at the swift waters fearlessly, for well he knew the way led to Eternity. This every man should remember with awe and none with fear. The Soul, half anxious and half eager, waited for the opening words. Deliberately the Teacher selected a warped leaf -Heredity-and set it afloat in the running tide, a mere speck in the wide expanse of All. How lightly it rode the tumbling surface, and yet, how gradually,

how silently, the swirling eddies in the deep pool of Environment sucked it under.

It drifted into the center of a tiny eddy, a Chance Circumstance, a place paltry in itself but fitted for this one little leaf. How it danced, round and round, faster and faster. The Young Soul laughed: its first boat was afloat and seemed triumphant.

Faster and more hungrily curled the water, and the twisted leaf of Heredity was sucked under in its first trial.

But the Teacher, the Courageous, said to the Soul: "Dost thou not see? Thy boat is only one-it was Heredity. Now that it is sunk in Environment you can go on and need not be forever chained to

this small spot. Had it not been vanquished by this stronger force, you would have been doomed to stay here, stagnant, watching this one ship sail its beaten circle. And look you-you have grown. The Soul looked into the waters and beheld Growth, then turned its longing eyes up the river which was doubly beautiful by reason of the shadows falling here and there. And so the young thing dried its eyes content. There was gain in the past; there was Promise in the Future. Then the Teacher, with seeming carelessness selected other leaves-frail crafts, and sent them out to meet their fate. Charity went out, and the faster the eddy of Environment whirled, the faster gleamed the silvery underside of Charity, till the Soul on the bank felt an answering gleam of happiness within itself, and at last, when the leaf drifted on, the Soul followed. It knew not why, nor cared.

Necessity, a straight, stiff leaf the Soul would have rejected, but Life intervened.

"How ugly!" said the Soul.
"How beautiful!" said Life.
"I hate it," said the Soul.

"You are still ignorant," and Life with fingers of wisdom set Necessity afloat. Luxury had dropped of itself into the stream and was long since whirled out of sight. Beauty was obscured by the drift of the river. How unendurable Necessity seemed, what dark places she sought, how she was buffeted by the tide. The wind roared, great storms raged, and when they calmed Necessity was still afloat, still creeping on. The Soul, growing by reason of its effort, was becoming proud of this uncomely vessel. And while the Soul watched breathlessly, Destiny, all unseen, set afloat a sturdy craft, Usefulness.

The tides brought Usefulness and Necessity together; they clung closely and were nevermore seen apart. Steadily onward they drifted and steadily onward marched Life and the Soul.

Sometimes the Soul forgot the Teacher, but the Teacher was always there. At last, after many stumblings and the

deepest agony, the Soul perceived the inward beauty in Necessity and in Usefulness.

Nevermore could it regret Beauty; never could it long for Luxury.

And in a quiet nook in the river the Soul beheld itself grown to full stature, and yet not quite matured.

Then the Teacher spoke.

"Here," he said gently, "is Love," and He held up the largest, the most beautiful leaf of all. It had lain hidden under many others, unperceived by the Soul.

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Oh!" cried the Soul, looking first at the strong tide, then at the tender leaf. "Keep it! See, I will hold it next to my heart where its beauty will never wither."

Life frowned. "Will you never learn? Is Love so frail that it cannot last?"

But the Soul in ignorance and terror clung to the hands of Destiny, sobbing, "Oh! keep it, keep it! The others are all gone. This one keep for me, just this one!"

And Life tore the leaf from the fingers of the Soul and set Love adrift.

Oh, the struggles, the anxiety, the alternating hope and fear, as the Soul watched this most precious of all. How beautiful it was when it glided over the smooth way. How triumphantly it would rise to the surface after a dark and unseen passage."

Whenever Love disappeared the Soul would wring its hands and utter piercing cries. But the Teacher led ever and ever onward, and here and there the tortured Soul caught sight of Love.

Sometimes it sailed with Sorrow, someitmes with Usefulness. Often it raced with Charity. Success sometimes flashed between Love and the Soul, but ever the Soul was seeking this one thing. And at last the Soul was unafraid. Turning to throw itself in adoration at the feet of the All-Wise Teacher, it beheld Him afar off, beckoning at the Gates of Paradise. And running swiftly forward, the Soul went in also.

MABEL CUMMINGS NORTON.
Niagara Falls, N. Y.