likely punish the lynchers, and especially it will not grant the family of the criminal a reward for his crime. The ordinary laws protecting a prisoner are sufficient to stop lynching; but it is not probable that the sheriff will shoot down a number of the best citizens of a community, and risk his own life, to protect a criminal who has outraged every public sentiment. It would be easy to make answer to all of these hindrances to the enforcement of law against lynchers, but it is not a theory to be answered. It is a desperate condition to be met, and they who undertake to deal with it must admit the facts of the problem.

"Stop the crimes that occasion lynchings and they will cease." That is rather a resentment than a solution. No dreamer is so optimistic as to think the time will come when crimes will cease. Besides, the proposition is made in reference to a certain crime usually committed by a negro, and overlooks the fact that lynching has widened its sphere and includes any crime that produces a certain degree of indignation in a community. However, any apparent apology for the criminal will only aggravate the situation. Much sympathy that has been expressed for the victims, especially for negroes who have outraged women, has done more hurt than good. It only intensifies the sensitive disposition of the social character and lessens the chances for cooler thought. It might lessen the tendency among the baser and more brutal class of negroes, the class that furnishes this order of criminals, to recognize their existence in the South, and to remove from their gaze those things which inflame the beast in them. Their attendance upon a low class of theaters, their gaze upon the flaming pictures of half-dressed women that line streets and fill many show windows as advertisements, and a certain class of illustrated journals, do not tend to develop their better natures. Society cannot furnish food for brutes and grow saints. Doubtless much may and should be done to educate all classes to a higher standard of social duty, and in this effort all men and races should unite. There should be no defense of crime and no unjust protection offered to criminals.

Some immediate relief may be found in changing the order of the trial of these criminals in the courts. In so far as

lynchings are occasioned by outrages upon women they have in them, as has been said, no small desire to save the outraged woman from the humiliation of the ordinary trial. Southern sensitiveness will no more allow a harmed woman to become the theme of a sensational trial and sensational newspaper reports, than it will submit to the thought of her ruin. The courts should, therefore, offer private trials from which all persons are excluded except those immediately concerned with the court. Newspapers should not be allowed to publish anything concerning the trial, except the verdict. The right of appeal should be guarded by the most rigid limits of justice, and the trial should be held within the shortest possible period after the crime. As to other crimes for which lynching is practised, there need be no such change in the order of trials by the court. Lynchings for theft, murder, and robbery are only developments of the spirit of lynching that has grown with its practice for what seemed the more excusable condition. Communities that have learned to take revenge and to give way to indignation find it easy to arouse these feelings and to yield to them. Social insanity will follow the laws of individual insanity.

The complete correction of lynching must deal with the real causes of it. No evil can be cured by ignoring the real sources of it. Social wounds cannot be cured by continuously probing them. This evil, that concerns every true student of Southern society, is involved in the constitutional order of the social temperament of the South. While sensitiveness is such a chief trait of its character the dangers to such executions will exist. To a people who have a different social disposition, theories and even denunciations are easy, but such experts at wholesale corrections of social disorders are incompetent to deal with a disease which they refuse honestly to study. The cure of this disorder cannot be effected in a single day or by a single act of power. Radical changes in society require time and patient workers.

The permanent cure of lynching for any and all the orders of crimes thus punished must be effected by making the social disposition less sensitive. A tedious task it is, but it is the

cure.

In proposing this solution it is not intended to criticise

the standards of Southern society. These standards of homelife, purity, and liberty, are not too high, nor are they poetic dreams. But sensitiveness in social dispositions is no requisite to high ideals. It does not necessarily represent a moral fidelity to high ideals. A standard of conduct and the type of attitude of one's temperament toward it are different things. Poise is the surest mark of strength; excitability is the mark of weakness. Southern society will be stronger when it becomes less sensitive and excitable, and not only will the evil of lynchings be corrected, but every phase of social life will be improved. Partizanships, social distinctions, religious antagouisms, in fact, all the evils that spring from this peculiar sensitiveness will pass away.

It remains to indicate some things which may be done to correct this social intensity. Everything which tends to arouse feelings and make passions the motives of action must be stopped. Too much has been done to educate intense feelings. Politics has made the most extravagant use of party passions. The leaders of parties have created emotions and commotions that have left the disposition of society in a deplorable condition, and so persistently has this policy of appealing to sensitiveness been pursued that political questions are deemed too delicate to be mentioned in social gatherings, unless all the company hold the same views. So differences of opinion in all matters are regarded dangerous points. Southern journalism has done much to intensify the sensitiveness of society. Crimes have been portrayed in the most glaring manner, while headlines have appealed to passions. "A Subject for the Stake," "Burning is too Good for the Brute," "Lynch the Wretch," are headlines that aid mob law, and a recklessness quite as blame-worthy as lynching. But it will not be enough to stop these and all other appeals to passion. There should be a positive education of the saner states of society. This may be done by the pulpit, the press, the lecturer, and the teacher. All interests of society should furnish inspiration for the undertaking. There is not a phase of Southern life that will not be made purer, safer, stronger, and nobler by a calmer social disposition, and for this result all sincere lovers of southern life should devote their best energies.

Geneva.

By JOHN MARTIN VINCENT, PH. D.

Geneva, the city of the stern Calvin, sits in an environment of beauty. As if this were not sufficiently paradoxical, the scenes which lend these charms are after all not in Geneva. I hasten to explain.

The city lies at the lead of Lake Leman upon low hills which overlook the Rhone as it carries off these waters toward the sea. Both the sides of the river and the shores of the lake, as they spread open, are for a long distance occupied by the houses of the residents, so that those who live along the extremes of the town may see each other across a sheet of water which of itself is a delight to the eye. Yet the eye does not rest on this alone, for as you look northward and westward the waters dimly blend with dark green hills, and higher up, the hills and the horizon are bounded by the dark blue chain of the Jura. But the Jura Mountains are not in Geneva.

To the east the massive Mont Blanc group seems to be nearer still. Their lofty summits part the Genevan sky with white or purple curtains, but these are in Savoy, and one can spend from one to three days in getting to the foot of them with bicycles. The top of the nearest pass in the Jura is six hours' march away.

On the other hand, Mt. Saleve is just back of the city and a short tram ride will elevate you nearly 4,000 feet to its summit. Surely, this is a part at least of the canton of Geneva. But no: as soon as you begin to climb you are in Savoy, and at a certain place you may stand on the spot where a banished bishop, as a sign of forgiveness, erected a cross on foreign soil in full sight of the citizens in the streets below. Yet Mt. Saleve and the Jura and Mt. Blanc are parts of Geneva as much as the harbor or the statue of Rousseau. For is it not these that the tourists come out for to see? And are not the chief hotels along the quais which lie over against Mt. Blanc?

One afternoon I landed from one of the steam launches which ply about the harbor of Geneva and made my way homeward along the quai. Suddenly I observed two of my

former students, leaning upon the railing and looking out eastward over the waters. From time to time they consulted a brass tablet which was fastened to the fence in front of them, but for the most part their gaze was projected into the distance.

So deep were they in their contemplations that it seemed a pity to interrupt for an instant the study in which they were engaged. But they found not what they sought. The brazen tablet told faithfully what the distance should reveal, but a purple glow kept all these promises from view. My friends returned to their table d'hote unsatisfied, but not discouraged. They lived in the hope of seeing Mt. Blanc.

Another day I fouud a numerous crowd of foreigners on the same spot. On this occasion, their faces were not strained, but what time their eyes were not fastened on their guide books, they gazed outward to the horizon and turned back with peace upon their countenances. So it was when I met the steamer which brought back the excursion of the Summer School of Languages. The vessel as it came up to discharge its international cargo fairly listed to the eastward, so absorbed were the reluctant passengers in the sky beyond the lake. So might one find it every summer day. Geneva cannot be separated from her view.

The Madame says-the Madame is the lady with whom we had the fortune to share a house in the suburbs and who has lived all her life in Geneva-the Madame says that it is absolutely necessary to show visitors this mountain. There is no escape, for strangers consider it one of the incorporated institutions of the city. Yet Mt. Blanc has an exasperating way of staying hidden occasionally for three weeks at a time, and travellers who come during such an eclipse go away hurt, as if the management had cheated them. But the multitudes who see rejoice, and the inhabitant who stays does not grow indifferent to the view.

So, I say, Geneva is not situated on the river Rhone at the point where the waters leave Lake Leman, but in a great landscape park, bounded by sky lines of various altitudes and distances, in which river, lake, and little hills are but charming incidents. This is the framework of its civic life.