follow upon better criticism. The readers of the 'literary' magazines are already seeking foreign-made narratives, and neglecting the American short story built for them according to the standardized model of 1915. The readers of the 'popular' magazines want chiefly journalism (an utterly different thing from literature); and that they are getting in good measure in the non-fiction and part-fiction sections of the magazines. But they also seek, as all men seek, some literature. If, instead of imposing the 'formula' (which is, after all, a journalistic mechanism and a good one-adapted for speedy and evanescent effects), if, instead of imposing the 'formula' upon all the subjects they propose to have turned into fiction, the editors of these magazines should also experiment, should release some subjects from the tyranny of the 'formula,' and admit others which its cult has kept out, the result might be surprising. It is true that the masses have no taste for literature, as a steady diet; it is still more certain that not even the most mediocre of multitudes can be permanently hoodwinked by formula. But the magazines can take care of themselves; it is the short story in which I am chiefly interested. Better criticism and greater freedom for fiction might vitalize our overabundant, unoriginal, unreal, unversatile, -everything but unformed short story. Its artifice might again become art. Even the more careful, the more artistic work, such excellent narrative, for example, as one finds in Mrs. Gerould's recent publication, Vain Oblations, even such reading leaves one with the impression that these stories have sought a 'line,' and found an acceptable formula. And when one thinks of the multitudinous situations, impres sions, incidents in this fascinating whirl of modern life, incapable perhaps of presentation in a novel because of their very impermanence, admirably adapted to the short story because of their vividness and their deep if narrow significance, the voice of protest must go up against any artificial, arbitrary limitations upon the art. Freedom to make his appeal to the public with any subject not morbid or indecent, is all the writer can ask. Freedom to publish sometimes what the editor likes and the public may like, instead of what the editor approves because the public has liked it, is all that he needs. There is plenty of blood in the American short story yet, though I have read through whole magazines without finding a drop of it. When we give literature in America the same opportunity to invent, to experiment, that we have already given journalism, there will be more legitimate successors to Irving, to Hawthorne, to Poe and Bret Harte. There will be more writers, like O. Henry, who write stories to please themselves, and thus please the majority. There will be fewer writers, like O. Henry, who stop short of the final touch of perfection because American taste (and the American editor) puts no premium upon artistic work. There will be fewer stories, I trust, where sentiment is no longer a part, but the whole of life. Most of all, form, the form, the formula, will relax its grip upon the short story, will cease its endless tapping upon the door of interest, and its smug content when some underling (while the brain sleeps) answers its stereotyped appeal. And we may get more narratives like Mrs. Wharton's Ethan Frome, to make us feel that now as much as ever there is literary genius waiting in America. THE HOUSE ON HENRY STREET YOUTH V. THE YOUTH OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD BY LILLIAN D. WALD I WE met Lena in a shabby house in a near-by street, where we had been called because of her illness. The family were attractive Russians of the blond type, and the patient herself was very beautiful, her exceeding pallor giving her an almost ethereal look. The rooms were as bare as the traditional poor man's home of the story books, but the mother had hidden the degradation of the broken couch with a clean linen sheet, relic of her bridal butfit. After convalescence Lena was glad to accept employment and resume her share of the family burden. One day she rushed in from the tailor's shop during working hours, and, literally on her knees, begged for other work. She could no longer endure the obscene language of her employer, which she felt was directed especially to her. The story to experienced ears signaled danger, but to extricate her without destruction of the pride which repelled financial aid was not simple. Readjustments had to be made to give her a belated training that would fit her for employment outside the ranks of the unskilled. Fortunately, the parents needed little stimulus to comprehend the humiliation to their daughter, and they readily agreed to the postponement of help from her, although they were at a low tide of income. attack upon a girl's sensibilities, I have learned in the course of years, makes it easier to combat than the subtle and less tangible suggestions that mislead and then betray. Sometimes these are inherent in the work itself. A girl leading an immoral life was once sent to me for possible help. She called in the evening and we sat together on the pleasant back porch adjoining my sitting-room. Here the shrill noises of the street came but faintly, and the quiet and privacy helped to create an atmosphere that led easily to confidence. It was long past midnight when we separated. The picture of the wretched home that she had presented, — its congestion, the slovenly housekeeping, the demanding infant, the ill-prepared food snatched from the stove by the members of the family as they returned from work, I knew it only too well. The girl herself, refined in speech and pretty, slept in a bed with three others. She had gone to work when she was eleven, and later became a demonstrator in a department store where the display of expensive finery on the counters and its easy purchase by luxurious women had evidently played a part in her moral deterioration. Her most conscious desire was for silk underwear; at least it was the only one she seemed able to formulate! And this trivial desire, infinitely pathetic in its disclosure, The very coarseness of this kind of told her story. As I stood at the front door after bidding her good-night, and watched her down the street, it did not seem possible that so frail a creature could summon up the heroism necessary to rise above the demoralization of the home to which she was returning and the kind of work open to her. During that summer she came each day to the settlement for instruction in English preliminary to a training in telegraphy, for which she had expressed a preference. Nothing in her conduct during that time could have been criticized, but subsequent chapters in her career have shown that she was unable to overcome the inclinations that were the evil legacy of her mode of life. The menace to the morals of youth is not confined to the pretty, poor young girl. The lad also is exposed. I could wish there were more sympathy with the very young men who at times are trapped into immorality by means not so very different, except in degree, from those that imperil the girl. The careless way in which boys are intrusted with money by employers has tempted many who are not naturally thievish. I have known dishonesty of this kind on the part of boys who never in after life repeated the offense. An instance of grave misbehavior of another kind was once brought to me by our own young men, three of whom called upon me, evidently in painful embarrassment. After struggling to bring their courage to the speaking point, they told me that L. was leading an immoral life, and they were sure that if I knew it I would not allow him to dance with the girls. They had been considering for some time whether or not I should be informed. Heartily disliking the task, one of the young men had consulted his mother and she had made it plain that it was my right to know. Fortunately the district attorney then in office had from time to time invoked the coöperation of the settle ment in problems that could not be met by a prosecutor. A telephone message to him brought the needed aid with dispatch. When all the facts were known, I felt that the young man had been trapped exactly as had been the young girl who was with him. Both were victims of the wretched creature whose exile from New York the district attorney insisted upon. The three had met in a dance-hall, widely advertised and popular among young people. The inquiry of the famous Committee of Fifteen, as New Yorkers know, was given its first impetus by the action of a group of young men of our neighborhood, who were already distinguished for the ethical stand they had taken on social matters, -all of them members for many years of clubs in another settlement and our own. They comprehended the hideous cost of the red-light district and resented its existence in their neighborhood, where not even the children escaped knowledge of its evils. Although in the twenty-one years of the organized life of the settlement no girl or young woman identified with us has 'gone wrong' in the usual understanding of that term, we have been so little conscious of working definitely for this end that my attention was drawn to the fact only when a distinguished probation officer made the statement that never in the Night Court or in institutions for delinquents had she found a girl who had 'belonged' to our settlement.1 I record this bit of testimony with some hesitation, as it does not seem right to make it matter for marvel or congratulation. One does not expect 1 While these articles are being written we learn that a child attending a settlement club has been involved in practices that indicate a perversion; but she cannot properly be included in the above classification because of her extreme youth. THE AUTHOR. a mother to be surprised or gratified that her daughters are virtuous; and it would be a grave injustice to the girls of character and lofty ideals who through the years have been connected with the settlement, if we assumed the credit for their fine qualities. But as in ordinary families there are diversities of character, of strength and of weakness, so in an enormous community family, if I may so define the relationship of the settlement membership, these diversities are more strongly marked; and it is a gratification that we are often able to give to young girls — frail, ignorant, unequipped for the struggle into which they are so early plunged some of the protection that under other circumstances would be provided by their families and social environment. All classes show occasional instances of girls who 'go wrong.' The commonly accepted theory that the direct incentive is a mercenary one is not borne out by our experience. The thousands of poor young girls we have known, into whose minds the thought of wrong-doing of this kind has never entered, testify against it. However, a low family income means a poor home, underfeeding, congestion, lack of privacy, and lack of proper safeguards against the emotional crises of adolescence for both boys and girls. Exhaustion following excessive or monotonous toil weakens moral and physical resistance; and as a result of the inadequate provision for wholesome, inexpensive recreation, pleasures are secured at great risk. In the summer of 1912 a notorious gambler was murdered in New York, and the whole country was shocked by the disclosure of the existence of groups of young men organized for crime and designated as 'gunmen.' There is not space here for a discussion of this tragic result of street life. It is probable that the four young men who were executed for the murder were led astray in the first place by their craving for adventure. They were found to have been the tools of a powerful police officer, and it was generally believed that they were mentally defective, and were thus made more readily the dupes of an imposing personality. They had not suffered from extreme poverty, nor had they been without religious instruction; two of them, in fact, came from homes of orthodox strictness; but it was plain from their histories that there had been no adjustment of environment to meet their needs. There was no evidence that they had at any time come in contact with people or institutions that recognized the social impulses of youth. At the time of the murder I was in the mountains recovering from an illness. The letters I received, following the disclosure of the existence of the 'gunmen,' particularly those from young men, carried a peculiar appeal. Our own club members urged the need of the settlement's extending protection to greater numbers of boys. Some of the young men wrote frankly of perils from which they had barely escaped and of which I had had no knowledge. They all laid stress upon the importance of preventing disaster by the provision of wholesome recreation which, as one correspondent wrote, 'should have excitement also.' Their belief in the efficacy of club control is firmly fixed. A few evenings ago, one of the young men of the settlement conversant with conditions, speaking to a new resident, defined a 'gang' as 'a club gone wrong.' Mothers from time to time come to the Henry Street house for help to rescue their erring sons. They come secretly, fearing to have their sons or the police trace disclosures to them. A poolroom on a near-by street, said to have been, at one time, a 'hang out' of the gunmen, and its lure evidently enhanced by that fact, was reported to us as 'suspicious.' The police and a society organized to suppress such places told me that the evidence they could secure was insufficient to warrant hope of conviction. Mothers who suspected that stolen property was taken there, made alert by anxiety for their sons, furnished me with evidence that warranted insistence on my part that the Police Commissioner order the place closed. Formal meetings with parents to consider matters affecting their children are a fixed part of the settlement programme, and the problems of adolescence are freely and frankly discussed. An experienced and humane judge, addressing one such meeting, spoke simply and directly of the young people who were brought before him charged with crime, showing his understanding of the causes that led to it and his sympathy with the offenders as well as with their harassed parents. He begged for a revival of the old homely virtues and for the strengthening of family ties. A mother in the group rose and confessed her helplessness. She reminded the judge of the difficulty of keeping young people under observation and guarding them from the temptations of street life when the mothers, like herself, went out to work. Ordinary boys and girls, she thought, could not resist these temptations unaided; and speaking of her own boy, who had been brought before him, she summed up her understanding of the situation in the words, 'It's not that my son is bad; it's just that he's not a hero.' II I do not know who originated the idea of a 'club' as a means of guidance and instruction for the young. Our inducement to organize socially came from a group of small boys in the summer of 1895, our first in the Henry Street house. We had already acquired a large circle of juvenile friends, and it soon became evident that definite hours must be set aside for meeting different groups if our time was not to be dissipated in fragmentary visits. When these boys of eleven and twelve years of age, who had not, up to that time, given any evidence of partiality for our society, called to ask if they could see me some time when I 'was n't busy,' I made an appointment with them for the next Saturday evening, whereupon the club was organized. It is still in existence with practically the original membership; and the relationship of the members of this first group to the settlement and to me personally has been of priceless value. Many of its members have for years been club leaders. They contribute generously to the settlement and in a variety of ways enter into its life and responsibilities. Clubs formed since then, for all ages and almost all nationalities, have proved to be of great value in affording opportunity for fellowship, and, during the susceptible years, in aiding the formation of character; and the continuity of the relationship has made possible an interchange of knowledge and experience of great advantage to those brought together. The training of club leaders is as essential as the guidance of the club members. Brilliant personalities are attracted to the settlement, but it can use to good purpose the moderate talents and abilities of more ordinary people, whose good-will and interest are otherwise apt to be wasted because they find no expression for them. Given sincerity, and that vague but essential quality called personality, in the leaders, we do not care very much what the programme of a club may be. I have never known a club leader pos |