that of Chosen, the chain of railways which gives the shortest line between the two great capitals of the Orient, Tokyo and Peking. The great iron bridge is provided with sidewalks eight feet wide on either side of the bridge. These eight-foot walks and the steel rails in between over the iron bridge have done more to break down the barrier of prejudice and hatred that had stood between the Manchus and the children of Chosen than any other hundred factors put together.

Over the monarch of all Asian bridges the Through Express rolled into Manchuria-into the Antung Station. Antung is not a typical Manchurian town. As a port, there is more room for criticism than for ships. Near the great iron bridge the river sometimes has twenty-one feet of water at ebb tide. But that is rather exceptional. The usual depth there is about twelve feet, while at high tide it will rise to twenty-three or more. The approach to the city from the Yellow Sea is not much smoother than some sections of the Mississippi made famous by Mark Twain. Only small vessels of less than 1,000 tons make the port. Moreover it freezes up tight toward the close of November, and even in the closing days of March, when the thaw is in full swing, ships are not entirely safe from ice blocks which jam the stream.

All the same, Antung is an epitome of Manchuria— Manchuria in little.

There is the Old Town. In the good old days, before the coming of the new-fangled civilization and its prophets the Japanese, it was called Shahochen. It covers roughly the northern half of the present Antung. More than 40,000 people live there, most of them Chinese, and its Main Street, called Tsaishenmiao-chieh, is busy, crowded, and prosperous.

Then there is the New Town. It stretches south of the Old Town and extends to the railway station. It

is built of Japanese-style houses, mostly of wood, with a sprinkling of foreign-style structures. It has asphaltpaved streets. It spreads over 1,225 acres protected from the flood by embankments and surrounded by canals for drainage purposes. In sharp contrast with the Old Town, here the streets are sanitary and clean. The wide Yamatobashi Avenue cuts through the middle of it, leading to the open plaza in front of the railway station. On May the first, 1904, when General Kuroki crossed the Yalu a few miles above this point and put the river on the map of the world, there was not much more than sand lots overburdened with weeds here where the New Town stands to-day. The entire town has been created since then. It is provided with waterworks and electricity, and it boasts now considerably more than 20,000 population, of which half is Chinese.

In addition to the two sections mentioned above, the city has another portion, which goes under the name of the South Manchuria Railway Company's Leased Ground. This section joins the New Japanese Town to the south, the line of rails marking the division. It covers 1,225 acres-precisely the same amount of space. as the New Town. In addition it takes in all the water frontage of the New Town. In the center of this Leased Ground is a large storage pond for the accommodation of the rafts which come down the stream.

Here is the city of to-morrow-an industrial city to come. Already the great plot of ground to the northeast of the storage pond is covered by the buildings of the Yalu Timber Company, a joint enterprise of Chinese and Japanese capitalized at $3,000,000, which has the lumbering rights of the entire Manchurian bank of the upper Yalu as well as of the basin of the River Hun, covering more than 2,450,000 acres, whose lumber is estimated at 4,200,000,000 cubic feet. It is in this section also that the factories of the Japan Match Com

pany and of the Antung Pottery Company, as well as those of the Silk and Woolen Goods Company, stand. A large section of the town is yet to be built, but the grounds are laid out in streets and plots for industrial plants. It has scarcely three-thousand people in it now, but it is richer in prospects than any other section of Antung.

The story of Manchuria is the story of these three sections of the City of Antung: of the Old Town of the Chinese, of the New Town in which the more aggressive of the natives join with the Japanese for building up something of which the ancient place had scarcely dreamed before, and then of the activities of the South Manchuria Railway-of its far-sighted enterprises, its scientific exploitation of the resources of Manchuria in its titanic rôle as the foster mother of agricultural and industrial Manchuria. At Mukden, at Dairen, at Harbin, you can see the same thing presented on a greater scale. At Harbin we have the Russian element playing one of the leading parts in addition to the Chinese and the Japanese. That of course makes the drama more complicated, but the story is the same.

Perhaps the chief commodity in which Antung deals is the same old soya bean which has made Manchuria famous in the markets of the world. Antung does not handle anything like the quantity of that commodity that the port of Dairen does: she cannot compete even with Yingkou in this respect. But the hinterland of Antung sends into the city about 5,000,000 bushels of it a year. In 1908 a joint corporation of the Chinese and Japanese interests was organized to engage in the yufang business, as the Chinese call the extraction of oil from the soya beans. It was called the Jih-hsing Yufang and was capitalized at 5,000,000 yen. That was the pioneer in the field. Now there are fifteen yufangs, all in the Old Town and managed and worked by Chinese. They

are manufacturing close to twenty-million pounds of bean oil a year and a half-million pieces of bean cake. The oil goes to the United States through Shanghai, Kobe, and Yokohama, while Japan takes about 90 per cent. of the bean cake as fertilizer for her rice-fields.

The future of agricultural Manchuria is largely wrapped up in the development of soya beans. Her trade future hangs on them. And the yufang activities in Antung mirror admirably the whole of Manchuria.

The article which is only second to the bean in importance in the industrial life of Antung is tussah. Tussah is the silk made from cocoons of wild silkworms which feed on oak leaves. The familiar Shantung pongee is made from it. This wild silk is a peculiar and important product of Manchuria.

Antung's supply of tussah cocoons comes from Huaijen and other northern districts and from the Tsaohoku district to the southwest. In days past the city used to export the cocoons in large quantities to Chefu and other Shantung cities, but the Shantung people have come to Antung and established filatures there. So the city is consuming now more than 80 per cent. of the cocoons it handles. There are thirty-six of these filatures, some of them very small in scope, and all of them are in the Old Town and are worked by Chinese. The annual output is valued at more than 4,000,000 yen.

Lumber is another trade item of which this section of Manchuria is highly and rightly proud. There are twenty-six lumber mills in the city of Antung now, and they saw more than 25 per cent. of the Yalu logs into boards.

Not alone do the commodities Antung handles make the city so admirable an epitome of the whole of Manchuria, but also the peculiar character of the personnel and the nature and organization of the large corporations engaged in the industrial and financial activities

of the city. Almost all the really important corporations dealing largely in Manchurian commodities are joint enterprises of Chinese and Japanese. This does not accord with the clever, persistent, and wide-sewn stories of anti-Japanese propaganda in the United States, nor should it. But facts are facts and should have their chance at publicity once in a while, even in the original home of many-colored propaganda. The writer had lived so long in the United States and had been fed with this highly spiced stuff from the anti-Japanese propagandists there so persistently that he was astounded at the sight that confronted him at Antung.

If Manchuria means anything at all it means 365,000 square miles of display advertisement of Japanese and Chinese co-operation. And Antung is a handy edition of that big display. That is the reason why I have tarried so long in this modest border city on the Yalu.

The Seoul-Mukden Through Express pulls slowly out of the station and makes a sharp turn northward, almost at a right angle: it skirts the northwestern edge of the New Town, goes through the old Chinese town, and glides past the Shahochen station.

We are now in the sacred land. In May, 1904, the men of Kuroki's Army were all over this ground, and there are very few spots they did not mark with blood. Ten years before that, in the Chinese war, the Japanese army under Oyama fought over this same spot. Reverence for the old, for the things of the past, the glorification of History with a capital H, is the one dominant trait of all oriental races. My countrymen used to share this trait with their neighbor peoples-they used to.

Therefore, what I witnessed in the Pullman sleeper of the Through Express cut short my breath and made my eyes round. Did my fellow travelers rinse their mouths in crystal mountain waters and intone under their