I want that house for my stableboy.'

"Your which?'

'My stableboy I said. I am going to enforce the rules on this place from now on. My mules are looking bad, and there is a world of work to do before this crop is made. It is only natural for the negroes to ride them at night when they keep them out around their cabins The mules must all stay in the barn, and I'll have a stableboy to feed them.' 'Now, May-jur,' whined Mrs. Pope, 'ther ain't no other place, and I got to have a girl.'

He was now reflecting and stroking his beard.

'You say this Melissa is a young wench who lives over there on the bayou near Zeke's daddy's, and comes by here?'

'Yes sir.'

'Well, you let this matter rest a bit, and I'll see what I can do.'

'You have n't any land to work. You just help your pappy, and precious little, I venture to say.'

"Yes sir, I just helps my pappy.'

'Of course a stableboy must live in the yard,' went on the Major. 'I thought of putting you in that little house out there, and letting you eat out of the kitchen.'

'Yes sir, Major, dat'll do,' said Zeke, eagerly. He could taste the first meal.

'But then,' continued the Major, 'Mrs. Pope wants to hire Malinda to help her in the house, and she wants her to have that room. Now, there is only one room, and I don't know what to do about it.'

Zeke had no suggestion to offer, although the Major stroked his beard. and gave him time, finally saying,

'Zeke, you are nearly grown by now. You must be about twenty-one years old.'

"Yes sir, I'se bout twenty-one years

old.'

'Zeke,' said the Major, taking his pipe from his mouth, 'I can't look out on this river front without seeing you tagging along after that negro girl.'

'Sur?' drawled Zeke, in a surprised and injured tone. His lower lip sloped like a gangway down which his words might leisurely slide.

'Oh, I've noticed you. What's her name, now?'

'Does you mean Malindy?' asked Zeke, sullenly.

'It seems to me you ought to be getting married.'

Zeke looked down and began to dig a

then said slowly, 'I does think I ought to be gittin' ma'ied.'

'Well,' said the Major, still stroking his beard, 'Malinda is a pretty likely girl, is n't she?'

"Yes sir, she's putty likely.'

'I could put you in that house and let you eat out of the kitchen.'

"Yes sir, Major, I sees de pint.' He looked at the ground. 'I sees de pint,' he repeated. 'Well, go on now,' said the Major, waving his hand.

On the following day Zeke appeared again.

'Well?' said the Major.

'Dat's all right, sir. Malindy, she say "-uh-huh."

The Major thereupon went into the

house, well pleased with himself. He fixed himself in his chair, got out his pipe and called Mrs. Pope. She came out, flushed and corpulent, with a stick of stove-wood in her hand, the first link in the chain of getting dinner.

'Mrs. Pope,' said the Major, striking a match and lighting his pipe, 'suppose we let the stable foreman and the maidservant both stay in that room.'

'What did you say, Major?' asked Mrs. Pope, letting the stick fall to the floor in order to give exclusive attention to the matter in hand.

'Well,' said the Major, throwing away the match that had served its purpose, my stableboy is going to marry your girl, and they can both live in that house."

'Do tell!'

'Zeke and Malinda are going to marry.'

'Malinda? Who said Malinda?' Mrs. Pope grasped her stick again as if for battle. 'I said Melissa. I want Melissa to work for me.'

'Why, are there two of them?' faltered the Major, taking his feet from off the chair.

'Of course there are two of them. You don't know the gals on your own place. Malinda is Short Pete's child. Melissa is the daughter of old Uncle Joe Coleman.'

'Well, well,' said the Major, thoughtfully. 'Can't you take Malinda now?'

'No sir,' replied Mrs. Pope, emphatically. 'I would n't have that cornfield gal in this house, not for nothing. Melissa is different. She's quiet and ladylike. She's older. Malinda is too young, anyhow.'

The Major wandered to the yard, chagrined. The old setter dog came by, wagging his tail, expecting a pat on the head, but was not noticed. Mrs. Pope's little curly-headed Susan came skipping along with her puppy, but received no attention. The poor boy had trusted

him, and of course he had affections. At this juncture Zeke came up. "Zeke,' said the Major, mournfully, 'it looks like I have mixed things up. I told you I would do certain things if you would marry Malinda, and you have promised to marry her, have n't you?'

'Yes sir, we done fixed things up,' said Zeke, cheerfully.

'Well, now, it seems that Mrs. Pope must have Melissa to work for her instead of Malinda. Of course I have to leave such things to her. I thought it was Malinda she wanted. It breaks things all up.'

Zeke turned and slowly walked away, with his head down, while the Major looked after him sorrowfully, resolving to devise some method of righting the matter.

Early the next morning, which was Sunday, the Pope family drove off in the two-horse wagon to attend the Baptist Sunday School at Benson, leaving the Major alone on the place. He walked down to the gate. No sounds were coming from house or yard, or from the green cotton-fields, empty of laborers. Beyond the giant cottonwoods that lined its bank, the yellow river was stalking with silent tread. Only the birds were active. The mocker chose the topmost twig of the thorn tree for his pulpit, while the blue jays shrieked of Satanic Majesty, whose dominions they visit regularly on Friday nights. Negroes in Sunday clothes were now passing, in twos and threes, along the road, all going in the direction of their church, two miles down the river.

A boy and a girl came in sight. They were engrossed with each other, their play being a rough one, consisting of attempts to push each other off the high path that led along the worn-down road. They stopped their play when they saw they were observed. When

they reached a point opposite the gate, the Major said:—

'Is n't this Malinda?'

The girl immediately halted, while the boy politely walked on a dozen paces.

"Yes sir, Mr. Menton, I'se Malinda.' 'Well,' said the Major, stroking his beard, not knowing just what he wished to say. 'What's this between you and Zeke?'

The words had power. The girl fairly stormed, her kinky hair almost bulging out of the net that confined it.

'Dey ain't nothing twixt me and Zeke. Not nothing. Not nothing. 'Cause why? 'Cause he's a sneak and a rascal.'

Relieved by this outburst, her natural deference returned.

"Scusing me, Mr. Menton, but dey ain't nothing twixt me and him.' She walked on.

The Major looked after her in perplexity.

After a half hour, another girl came along, neatly dressed and smiling.

'Mrs. Pope gone to church? Please tell her, Mr. Menton, that I will be over the first thing in the morning.'

She, too, passed on, while the Major stroked his beard, in perplexity. Shortly afterwards Zeke came up, approaching from behind, having come

to the house through the field. He wore Sunday clothes and his manner was almost vivacious.

'Good morning, Major.'

'Why, hello, Zeke!' said the Major, turning around.

'When you gwinter want us to move in?'

'Move in?'

'Yes sir. Me and Melissa.' 'Melissa?'

"Yes sir. Ain't you heard? I'm ma'ied now. I tuk and chose yes,

sir

last night—at de church. No sir, Major, I ain't no scoundrel, neither, scarcely. It's dish here way: dars dish here black 'oman and dat ar black 'oman, who gwinter tell difference twixt 'em?'

The Popes had heard of the wedding when they returned at noon.

'Oh, well,' said the Major, 'I told you Zeke was affectionate and wanted to work for me.'

'But Malinda?' said Mrs. Pope, urging the wrongs of her black sister.

'Well,' said the Major, 'Short Pete is a good man. I'll let him have more land next year, and then Malinda can get a young husband to help her pappy work it.'

'Well, if you do that,' said Mrs.

Pope.

'It's all for the best,' said the Major.

VOL. 134-NO. 2

WHEN the 'Five-Power Treaty' for the Limitation of Naval Armaments was signed at Washington on February 6, 1922, the American public assumed that the whole question of relative combatant strength at sea had been settled for a term of at least ten years. By this Treaty each of the contracting Powers bound itself not to exceed a given ratio of aggregate tonnage in the larger types of men-of-war. The future dimensions of the battle-fleets of the United States, the British Empire, and Japan were regulated on a 5-5-3 basis, and airplane-carrier strength was graded on the same scale. This arrangement eliminated all possibility of further international competition in the building of major fighting ships, a form of rivalry which had contributed in great measure to the bringing about of the World War of 1914-18.

The Treaty, however, did not apply to naval vessels other than capital ships and plane carriers, as would have been the case had the original scheme of limitation-submitted by Secretary of State Hughes at the opening session of the Conference found acceptance. France demanded an allowance of submarine tonnage larger than the scheme provided for, and considerably larger than the British delegates were prepared to concede. Finding France adamant on this point, the British declared themselves unable to accept any restriction on the number of light cruisers and destroyers, both

of which, they claimed, were essential for the purpose of combating the submarine.

After prolonged and quite often acrimonious discussion, the clauses governing restriction of auxiliary combatant ships were dropped, since it was realized that their retention would jeopardize the success of naval limitation in any shape or form and might render the Conference abortive.

As finally approved, therefore, the treaty left each contracting Power free to build as many auxiliary ships as it pleased, without infringing the letter of the compact. The significance of this fact was overlooked at the time, for two reasons: first, because the naval experts at the Conference were unanimous in ranking the capital ship as the most formidable instrument of sea warfare, present and future; secondly, because of an impression that loyalty to the spirit of the Treaty would deter any Power from taking advantage of the loophole it afforded for the multiplication of minor naval craft. It does not seem to have been appreciated that the elimination of so many battleships, coupled with the embargo placed upon the further development of this type by fixing a limit to displacement and gun calibre, would automatically exalt the relative fighting value of all the smaller fry.

A further defect in the Treaty lay in the vague wording of those clauses which relate to the modernization of

existing capital ships. Here the phrasing is such as to suggest that lawyers, not naval officers, were the authors thereof.

Finally, there is the famous Article XIX, which establishes the status quo in respect of fortifications and naval bases within a specified area of the Pacific Ocean. This, in the opinion of most naval critics, is easily the most important section of the Treaty, for reasons which will be dealt with hereafter.

Although it is less than two and a half years since the document was signed, we are already in the midst of a lively controversy with respect to the relative standing of the United States Navy. During the past few months the Press has published many sensational statements on this subject, the gist of which is that American naval power, so far from having been consolidated by the 'Limitation Treaty,' has declined, and still is declining, both relatively and absolutely.

Here, then, is a straightforward question, which, as the writer ventures to think, admits of but one answer. Reviewing the situation as it existed in November 1921, and surveying it as it exists to-day, he has no hesitation in affirming that America's present position at sea is far less satisfactory in every respect-than it was when the Washington Conference assembled.

II

In November 1921, the United States was at work on a building programme the completion of which would have given it, three or four years later, a matchless fleet of capital ships, all of post-Jutland design, and superior, ship for ship, to the finest dreadnoughts of every other navy. If the three leading admiralties of the world are right in crediting the dreadnought with unique

powers of offense, the sixteen American vessels of this type under construction on the date in question would have ensured to the United States the command of the sea. As it was, eleven of them were scrapped, and two converted into airplane carriers, leaving only the Maryland, Colorado, and West Virginia as souvenirs of the greatest 'might-have-been' battle-fleet of modern times.

This enormous sacrifice, it is true, was compensated in part by reductions in the British and Japanese programmes. The British ceased work on four battle-cruisers, which, unlike the American ships, were in the very earliest stage of construction; while Japan discarded twelve capital ships, only four of which had been laid down. So far as the remainder were concerned, 'scrapping' simply meant tearing up the plans and blueprints.

As dimensioned by the Treaty, the American battle-fleet now consists of eighteen units with an aggregate displacement of 525,850 tons. To institute a detailed comparison between this force and the corresponding armadas of Britain and Japan would occupy more space than can be granted. It may be said, however, that the British battle-fleet will eventually consist of twenty ships aggregating 558,950 tons; that of Japan comprising ten ships aggregating 301,320 tons.

In weight of gunfire the U. S. fleet probably has a slight advantage, which, however, is negatived by its inferior speed. Five of the British capital ships can steam at 23 knots, five at 25 knots, and four at 29 to 31 knots. Japan's slowest ship makes 22 knots; her fastest, 271⁄2 knots.

On the other hand, none of the eighteen American vessels is good for more than 21 knots, and the oldest of them could not exceed 20 knots, even if reboilered and equipped for burning