and the chief obstacles to Indian progress and Indian power.

All that, however, which the British bourgeoisie will be compelled to bring about will neither free the masses of the people nor essentially improve their social position, which depends not only on increased production, but also on the way products are distributed to those who create them. What the bourgeoisie will do is to create the material preconditions for both. But has the bourgeoisie ever done more?

The Indians, however, will not reap the fruits of the new blessings conferred upon them by the British bourgeoisie as long as in Great Britain itself the present ruling classes are not displaced by the industrial proletariat, or until the Indians themselves become sufficiently strong to shake off the British yoke once for all. In any case, in the more or less near future this great and interesting country, this noble branch of the human race, which, to use an expression of Prince Saltykov, is plus fin et plus adroit que les Italiens, will experience a great revival.

The deep hypocrisy and innate barbarity of bourgeois culture is revealed as soon as we turn from home, where it assumes respectable manners, to the colonies, where it appears in all its nakedness. The bourgeoisie is the protector of property. But where has a revolutionary party ever carried through such an agrarian revolution as in Bengal, Madras, and Bombay? Has not the bourgeoisie in India, to employ the phrase of that great robber Lord Clive himself, taken refuge in cruel extortion when simple corruption could no longer keep pace with its rapacity? Has it not, while in

Europe it chattered of the inviolable sanctity of the national debt, in India confiscated the dividends of the rajahs who had invested their private savings in the securities of the East India Company? Has it not, while it fought the French Revolution under the pretext of the defense of 'our holy religion,' at the same time forbidden the propagation of Christianity in India? Has it not, in order to extract money from the pilgrims streaming to the temples of Orissa and Bengal, made a trade for itself out of the murder and prostitution of the temple of Juggernaut?

The destructive effects of British industry on India, a country as large as Europe and covering a hundred and fifty million acres, are obvious and terrible. But we should not forget that they represent solely the organic result of the whole system of production, in the form which it has taken at the present time. This production has as its basis the unrestricted rule of capital. The concentration of capital is of essential significance for the existence of capital as an independent power. The destructive effects exerted by this concentration of capital on the markets of the world only discloses in gigantic dimensions the laws of political economy that to-day are in operation in every city in the civilized world. The bourgeois period of history. has to create the material basis for a new world on the one hand, world trade and the means for this trade based on the dependence of nations on one another; on the other hand, the development of human productive forces and the transformation of material production into scientific mastery of natural forces.

OSAKA's narrow streets are full of noise and life. They are bounded by interminable rows of low brown wooden buildings with shops or workshops wide open to the street. Among these little structures towers, like Gulliver above the dwarfs, a modern eight-story department store. High over its roof floats a huge fish of painted gauze with shiny eyes glittering in the sun. In other respects the building looks like any large department store in Europe.

A gayly garbed throng crowds in and out of its portals. Ricksha coolies push through the dense mass of pedestrians shouting their shrill cries of warning. Hundreds of wooden getas rattle click-clack, click-clack, on the pavement. The young women and children are clad in kimonos of brilliant hues with bright-colored embroidered obis around their waists; while older women and men wear soberer garb.

A moment's delay halts the steady procession passing through the doors, while the wooden clogs, or getas, of those entering are taken by the porter and parked in high heaps. Your Japanese, whether poor or rich, wears these clogs instead of shoes, with a sort of foot mitten with a separate place for the great toe instead of stockings. The few in European dress are given coarse baglike scuffs to wear over their shoes. So it is in soft-mittened feet or denim-covered boots that the customers trip into the building

1 From Vossische Zeitung (Berlin Liberal daily), August 15

over the handsome blue matting that covers every floor. No visitor presumes to enter directly from the street with dirty footwear.

Consequently this great shop is spotless. Scarcely a particle of dust penetrates from outside, although thousands of customers file in steady procession through its aisles.

A large Japanese store, like an Occidental establishment of the same kind, displays its goods in separate departments and in the most attractive and accessible manner possible. But the wares themselves are as different from ours as are the purchasers. The salesladies, heavily painted and powdered like most Japanese women, wear dark-colored kimonos and bright sashes. They stand demurely but attentively in their white-mittened feet beside their counters and show-cases, writing orders and cash slips like salesladies everywhere. They take the money to a cashier, bring back the change, and hand the purchaser his or her daintily wrapped package with a smile and a bow so low that their heads sink almost to the height of one's knees.

Dress goods are quite different from those in Europe. As a rule they are only about twelve inches wide, and are displayed in rolls. There are different departments for men's and women's fabrics. The Japanese buy very little ready-made clothing, but baste their kimonos together out of these narrow goods, which come from the factory rolled in lengths sufficient to make a single garment. When washed, the

stitching is always taken out and the strips are ironed upon a board and then basted together again.

Japanese ladies revel in shopping as much as do their European sisters. They examine any number of patterns before they carefully select the one they want. Then they point this out to a saleslady, who makes a low obeisance, smiles, and serves her customer. Bargain counters and remnant tables are as popular here as everywhere, and are mobbed by a crowd of eager purchasers. Padding for kimonos is sold in a separate department.

Some of the more costly silk goods are simply marvelous. They have wonderful Japanese flower-and-bird patterns, in fascinating colors that, though sometimes so bright as to be almost glaring, are always harmoniously combined.

No ladies' hat department exists, for Japanese women do not wear headcovering. Neither is there a shoe or a hosiery department on a scale comparable with a Western shop. But one can buy getas here of every form and fashion.

Porcelains are displayed in an upper story reached by modern elevators that are constantly crowded and are operated by girls. A broad, carpeted, dignified, and beautifully designed marble stairway also leads to the upper floors. Among the porcelains, tea sets easily occupy first place. They range all the way from cheap ware costing a few cents to the most delicate and expensive chinas decorated in gold and colors. The latter are kept in cupboardlike chests, but ordinary ware is displayed on tables. All of these goods are different from those exported to Europe. Instead of cups the tea-sets have small, flattish bowls without handles. A table service includes a great number of little bowls and tiny saucers that look as if they were designed for a doll's

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house. No wineglasses or decanters of the Western type are on sale. Sake, which is brewed from rice, is drunk from little bowls not much larger than a thimble, and is served from slender, bottlelike porcelain flasks, which are often imported into Europe to be used for vases.

Another department is devoted to ladies' coiffures. Here one can buy high artificial Japanese heads of hair already adorned with the usual decorations. Very many of these are sold. Then there are all kinds of false hair, rats of jet-black human hair or black wool, and coal-black switches. The latter are worn in rows. Many pretty decorations are used in Japanese hairdressing - flowers, combs, arrows, bangles, short strings of artificial pearls, and jade or greenstone pins. Some of these are very costly. I saw a row of four little opals priced at several hundred yen.

One of the most interesting sections of this great store is the toy department. It is not filled with the cheap 'made in Japan' stuff which we Westerners know so well. Not only are many of the toys very expensive, but they represent quite different things from those that would amuse a European child. Samurai, Japanese knights and noblemen of the feudal age, are very popular. You see these symbols of courage and bravery in all sizes and groups, and in all attitudes of battle, but invariably portrayed with great fidelity to history. They are on foot and on horseback. In the latter case the horse and the saddle are oftentimes real works of art. A special sale of gauze fish was on, for this is the season for them. They were displayed in all sizes and colors, generally red and black, and some were several metres long. At the time of the great Japanese fish holiday these are raised on bamboo poles outside the houses, where they

CHATEAUBRIAND has written: 'Man's great strength and great weakness consist in his inability to remain permanently unhappy.' This condenses into a few words the whole history of the troublous relations between the Germans and the French since the war. Man's great source of strength is his vital urge, is the irresistible movement that carries him forward from meditation upon the past to new experiences and problems. His great weakness lies in the fact that this very progress at times makes him indifferent to rights that seem bound up with his very concept of justice. Some think it a sign of strength to nurse the war spirit, and a sign of weakness to forget what we have suffered. Others consider clinging to war memories a weakness, and ability to forget the past and face the future true strength. These conflicting opinions are based ultimately on differences of moral outlook. Theoretically either opinion may be right. The real test comes when we try to apply our ideas to practical conduct.

We and the Germans do not agree as to facts. We differ as to the origin, the significance, and the settlement of the war. It is probable that we shall not be of a like mind regarding these matters for a long time to come. It would be remarkable were it otherwise. Even members of the same family cannot always understand each other, especially when their interests clash.

1 From Le Temps (Paris semiofficial opportunist daily), November 28

Naturally it is not strange, therefore, that two nations, embittered against each other by a cruel and bloody war, should be of opposite opinion. Some imagine that Germany's mentality and constant resistance to the Treaty are entirely the effect of the harsh doctrines and policies of the Allies. That is pure nonsense. It is perfectly natural for Germany to try to escape the consequences of her defeat, just as it is perfectly natural for us to try to prevent her escaping them. The silly thing is to fancy that we can reach an agreement about matters where our interests are diametrically opposed. We should have the good sense and courage to face this fact squarely.

Are we to conclude, therefore, that the two nations, so recently enemies, can never become reconciled? That is putting the question too broadly. We can assure, however, that as long as the contractual obligations arising out of the war color the relations of the two countries each will suspect the other of evil intentions and accuse it of unfair acts. France will always believe that Germany is trying to wriggle out of the consequences of defeat. Germany will always believe that France is trying to keep her in tutelage.

The art of foreign statesmanship consists in drawing a clear distinction between hard facts that we cannot change and ideas that inevitably and unceasingly do change. Modern civilization makes the consequences of war more and more crushing, and dooms belligerent nations to longer and longer