Founder of the Animal Church Explains All About ItIntended to Act as a Checlc on Too

Autocratic Human Tendencies,Says Royal Dixon

AMONG the "isms" and"osms" that wander in andout of Manhattan everynow and then something

stirs interest through sheer oddity.Such a movement is Royal Dixon'scampaign for tlie animal kingdom.As founder and leader of the First

Church for Animal Rights Mr. Dix¬on is a pioneer in the field.the firstman to come boldly out and spreadthe animal religion gospel withoutreservations, At present his activi-ties do not go much further than aseries of Sunday afternoon racetingsheld at the Astor Hotel. But thereis much more to the plan.

Eventually there is to be a realchurch, with an animal bible, animalprayers and the animal creed. Thereis even to be a Sunday school for theyoungstera and a foreign missioKaryservice.all devoted to creating abetter spirit between mankind andhe animal kingdom.

Snubbing the AnimalThe whole idea was founded. so

*r as can be made out, on the princi-pie that human being. havo adoptedentirely too autocratic a pose towardthe lower animals. Take the averageman.how much of a friendly feel-ing does he have toward the house-!fly? How readily does he chum inwith the garter snake? How oftendoes he try to penetrate the mysterybehind the mosquito?A careful review of the situation

reveals some appalling statistics. Sofar as animal religion is concernedthe great majority have remainedout and out heathens. But it really jisn't their fault. For the most partanimal religion has been hiding intlie far recesses.

When Mr. Dixon conceived hisidea of fair play for the animalshe couldn't find even the remnantsof an adequate animal religion. Sohe went out and founded one of hisown. Then it followed that heshould have a church to house his \new religion. Gradually the idea!grew until there dawned full plansfor the new church and the newreligion.The cardinal principle of the new

aith is best summed up in the!imple declarative:"Every living creature has the!

inalienable right to life, liberty andthe pursuit of happiness."At first glance this may be re¬

garded a fairly lenient proposition.It is the interpretation of the clausethat shatters the very foundationsof modern society. In its broadersense "every living creature" canbe held to include anything froma South African hoptoad to a NewJersey mosquito, which, even inthese days of mammoth accomplish-ments, is considerable undertaking.

Angles to Consider '

While there may be those whohave neither objection nor prejudiceagainst assuming friendly relationswith the common or garden varietyof garter snake, many a house¬keeper, whose disposition is other-wise above reproach, will balk atthe purely hypothetical suggestionof harboring anything but ill willtoward the invading fly. Certainlythere are many angles to considerbefore subscribing too liberally tothe new faith.

With this in mind Mr. Dixon wasreferred to, partly for confirmationand partly for fresh evidence. Withonly garbled accounts of his activi-ties his interviewer did not havemuch to go on» In fact, he wasabsolutely as untutored in the ani¬mal religion as the next man.

Mr. Nixon was most agreeable,eager to make his questioner under¬stand, patient with ignorance in thematter, and always eloquent in hisappeal for the poor dumb creatureswho have had so few champions inthe forward march of civilization.Mainly it was desired to ascertain

if he believed, without qualifica-tions, in the "life, liberty and pur¬suit of happiness" propaganda.Probably it was a foolish questionto open an interview, but he didn'tseem to mind."Of course I do," he said.

Swat the Fly"But how do you stand on the

'swat-the-fly movement?'" wasasked, for no other reason than towatch him crumble and fall at the!first shot. j

"Wrell," he said, giving the ques-tion more thought than it really!deserved, "I suppose I stand ini

about the same position that you do."It was explained, as briefly as

was commensurate with dignity, thathis questioner had been brought upin the old-fashioned school, havingbeen taught that to exterminate thefly is not only the duty of a self-respecting citizon but privilegcand a pleasure. In fact, in earlyyouth Mr. Dixon's questioner hadbeen known to accept a slightstipend for the killing of flies.onthe hoof, so to speak. As far ascan be remembered, the prevailingscale of prices ran: One cent forevery ten flies brought down in theliving room, 1 cent for every twen¬ty in the dining room and 1 cent forevery thirty in the kitchen. Whilethis may seem but slight reward forso great an individual initiative, itis only fair.to add that when the ;

hunting season within the house felloff the scheme of opening the doorsand windows to induce a fresh cropof flies into the interior was not con-sidered unsportsmanlike. ]But still the founder of the ani-

DOYAL DIXON practices what he preaclies. Here he isseen conducting a jitvenilc class in biblical history, withthe police dog acting as monitor. Dogs take to the Ten Com-mandments more rapidly than any other animal, accordingto Mr. Dixon's experience

tnal religion nodded his head andinsisted that he was in accord withmy sane treatment of the fly men-"ice.

The Buzzing Mosquito"And how do you stand on mos-

3uitoes?" was asked. "Please, wenean this seriously. If you woke.<]) in the middle of the night andcound a mosquito buzzing around/our left ear what would be yourlatural reaction?""Thou shalt not kill." he quoted

rerbatim from the Bible."But just what would be vour

ittitude?"He evaded the question by a neat

hrust."Have you," he asked, "or any of

rour friends ever penetrated thenystery behind the mosquito?"The answer was "No."

"Then don't talk to me aboutkilling mosquitoes until you aremore conversant with the subject.""How do you reconcile your theo-

ries of the 'inalienable right of everyliving creature' with this mildlypassive treatment of the fly and themosquito?"

Mr. Dixon's manner changed im¬mediately. Be asked for "fairPlay."

"I can answer your question. Ofcourse, I can. But it will 'take me atleast ten thousand words to do thesubject any justice whatsoever. Ifyou can guarantee me that muchspace I shall be glad to make my-self clear."

Protest was made. Didn't he havea nice handy resume of the situationfor convenient use, which would ex-plain how a person could swat flies

and still be eligible for membershipin the First Chureh for AnimalRights?"No," he said, "I must have the

ten thousand words."And there the matter hung.Movement I9 ConservativeBut Mr. Dixon was anxious to go

on and explain other points of thenew religion. He insisted that heand his associates were being mis-judged both by the press and thepublic.that they were being linedup with "radical" elements."We are eonservatives," he said.

"For the present our main idea is topreach and teach the oneness cf lifeand awaken the humane consctous-hess. We wish to develop the char¬acter of youth through human? edu¬cation, to train and send forth hu¬mane workers, to act as spiritualfountainhead and spokesman of hu¬mane organizations and animal so-cietics and give a better understand-ing of their work and needs to thepublic."Where this will all lead I cannot

Members Must Have Kindly Feelingsfor All Things, Though Swat-the-Fly Movement Suffers

even give an estiiv.ate, but we as an

organization are most assuredly notgoing in for anything radical.

"Personally, I do not eat meat, nor

fish. But I have eaten both."From here the discussion lapsed

into generalities, and did not getback to the particular until an ar-

gument arose over whether or notthe cow has a cor.science.

Mr. Dixon was positive in the af-firmative. He related an ex-perience which seemed to provethat one particular cow, at least,had a conscience. But he ad-mitted that there were good cowsand bad cows. His suggestion wasthat most of the badness of theaverage cow could be attributed toneglected training. A properlybrought-up cow should follow hermaster to the pasture in the morn-

ing without any urging. Thereshould be no need -»? "driving"cows.

INo Happy Hunting Ground* Mr. Dixon exploded eompletelythe theory of thc happy huntingground as a hereafter for gooddogs."Heaven is full of animals," he

said. "There is constant mentionof that fact in the Bible.

"Then," was suggested, "animalsmust have souls.""Of course they have. Natural-

ly you cannot compare the soul ofa man to the soul of an animal,any more than you can compare theculture of a college-bred man to theculture of a Fiji Islander. Butsouls of some sort they certainlyhave.

"Comparisons can be so unfair.I have seen.people up at the zoo-

logical park pass a cage that heldan old decrepit ape and laugh atthe absurdity of comparing manto the ape. And yet I might goto Africa and bring back a finestalwart type of ape. z~>* then go'down on tlie lower East Side and''pick out a stoop-shouldered old man.

Placing these two side by sidewould make quite a different com-

parison."Mr. Dixon was asked how the

First Church for Animal Rightswould differ in its activitv from the

animal societies already in the field.Pink Tea Parlie*

"Most of these animal societies ofto-day meet once a month duringseven or eteht months of the year.Their meetings are apt to take theform of pink teas, where niceiygowned ladies and correctly attiredmen gather to discuss uplifting theanimal."Our own program is quite dif-

ferent. We will have regular week-3y services. and possibly daily meet¬ings as well. Please remember thatwe emphatically are not faddists."For the present the new animal

religion is not intended to take theplace of any other religious faith.Membership in the First Chureh forAnimal Rights is not calculated toccnflict with other religious affiii-ations. The animal bible which isto .serve as t.e textbook of the new

religion, has not as yet been com¬pleted. M r. Dixon has been working<>ver the manuscript for severalyears. It will be made up* of pas-sages from the Bible refcrring to.animals. with editorial comment byMr. Dixon.

In projecting his campaign for theanimal "kingdom Mr. Dixon is notentering a new field. He is the au¬thor of several nature books, TheHuman Side of Birds. The HumanSide of Trees, The Human Side ofPlants, Forest Friends and others.For several years Mr. Dixon has

been a lecturer for the Board ofEducation of New York City, andduring the war he served as a speciallecturer to tbe American Expedition-ary Forces in France under the au-spices of the Y. M. C. A. At varioustime he has filled pulpits in metro¬politan churches to give his naturetalk?.

Ou tlie StageMr. Dixon began his career as &

child actor and danccr as . theprotege of Adele Fox. His last pub¬lic appearance aa an actor was atthe Iroquois Theater, in Chicago, in1903. Since that time he has devot-ed himself to writing and lecturing.

In offering this new phase of hiswork Mr. Dixon is inspired by thethought that a little more humanetreatment of animals may bringthem closer to being humans.

Motoring in Vivid Morocco Is a Matter of Startling ContrastsIT IS said to be difficult to find

anything new under the sun,and that all "new" things are

merely old things, with a dif-ferent dress. In all humility, but-with all the arrogance of thetourist, I am convinced that motor-ing in Morocco is new, says a corre¬

spondent of The London Times. Itmay be old to-morrow. an old storynot worth the telling; but it is verynew to-day.

It is an affair bf the most vividcontrasts. The motorist wander-ing about between Taza in the eastand Mogador in the south can con-

fidently expect anything to turn upwhich is not in the guidebooks andwhich nob^dy has mentioned to himas a likely contingency.He will drive over most excellent

roads on one day; on the next willbe fording streams, getting sunk inmorasses of wet sand, and rollingand pitching over potholes andruts of pantomime proportions, andon the same day he may be once

more raising a cloud of red dust atforty miles an hour over a nationalroad. Neither guidebooks nor per¬sonai information are of much use,and the only way to find oyt thetruth about a road is to drive over

it one's self.

Roads ImpassableThe weather may do anything un-

¦ xpected, with the caprice of an

English spring. This is called the"Season of the Rains," and I am

M'uite wiiling to accept the term. Itseems to be suitable. At the same

time one will be told that it seldomrains at this time of the year, butthat it may do so. In any case itwill always rain torrentially whenone of the weatherwise has an¬

nounced a dry spell. And when itrain. in Morocco life on the roadbecomes a sheer impossibility. Eastof Meknes, for example, two days'rain will render the roads practi¬cally impassable, while one day'ssunshine will turn them fromrivera and lakes of hopeless mudixvte properly conducted highwaysagain. But do not count upon thenext day's sunshine.The temperature is another factor

in life on the road which is apt tocomplicate things. One has to re¬

member that the further south one

goes the colder it will be. Marra-kesh I shall always remember as one

of the coldest places I have ever

known. For three hours in the mid-<lle of the day a blazing sun willmake things quite pleasant, but dur¬ing the remaining twenty-one hours

one yearns for fur coats. Thebreath from the Atlas snow peaksreminds one of that tiny wind of theSpaniards, which will scarcely stir acandle flame, yet kill a man in anhour. It is impossible to wear toomany clothes.

Moorish ImisThen the unexpected is always

turning up in one's search for hotels.You may spend one night in a "pal-

aee" establishment, where there arenot only bells and people to answerwmen you ring them. but. baths whichyou can have filled with real hotwater. Also the electric light gener¬ally works. The next day you campin a stark echoing stone bungalow,where the water supply is main¬tained entirely by converted kero-sene tins, laboriously carried to andfrom a spring outside by a smallboy; where yellow dips take the place

cf electric light and the evening'meal is, as Rupert Brooke said,"many tasting."You never know your Iuck with

Moorish inns, except in one respect.you always will find a smiling wel¬come and. however rude tlie fare andthe accommodation, the proprietorand his staff will do their cheerfulbest to make things pleasant for you.You only need a little philosophy.Morocco is a country where great

things will be done in time, butwhere you must sometimes expectvery little indeed. After all, whatdoes it matter? One does not bringa motor car to a land which has onlyjust joined the company of coun¬tries on one's visiting list and hopeto find it full of international lux-uries.

The only real drawbacks, so faras my experience goes, are the un-certainty of petrol supplies and the

shocking quality of the sfuff whenyou get it.

Indifferent to MotorsI said that motoring in Morocco

was a new thing, but to judge bythe utter nonchalance of every livingthing in the country, down to theyoungest camel in a caravan, youwould suppose that motor cars hadbeen invented there. Everybodyuses them; nobody pays the smallest:

attention to them. If you are driv-ing alone, or have a seat to spare.you will certainly be hailed by apedestrian and asked to give him aHft along the road. but he will be nojoy rider. He will ask for a lifteither because he is tired or late foran appointment, not for the sake ofmotoring. It took us in Europeabout fifteen years to reach thispractical, if rather dull, attitude; ithas taken the Moor about five.

Ihe Greatestx Day(Continued from precedlng pagc)

taken her place, lying moaningagainst the table. Her son, withtrembling fingers, gave her brandy.Samuel Lyle watched them, frown-ing. Finally Mrs. Farson regainedsufficient composure to satisfy him."Madam," he said, "you confess

without reservation?"Mrs. Farson's lips moved, but if

she spokc her words were inaudible.George Farson, a sorry spectacle,stood by the window, the perspira-tion rolling down his face. His handgripped a curtain and his bodyswayed back and forth weakly."Do you confess, madam, that you

have your jewels in your possession;that in making your affidavit in con¬nection with your proof of loss youcommitted perjury?"

Mrs. Farson's body trembled as

fshe comprehended the awful meaii-ing of the word.

"Speak. Do not keep us wait-ing."

George Farson tottered across theroom like a drunken man. His armswaved before him, his fingersopened and shut like a huge bird'sclaws, and he made his way towardMr. Lyle with murder in his eyes.Samuel Lyle waited for him andmotioned the others away, and whenthe time came his long arm shot outand his great hairy hand graspedFarson's coat where the V met over

his chest, and shook him as thoughhe were a rag, and threw him intoa chair. Then with a glance at theprostrate figure, he turned again toMrs. Farson.

"Well, Mrs. Farson, have youcommitted perjury and sundry othercrimes?"They could just hear her hissing:

"Yes.""We have no interest in your

| crimes. The fact is the thing: readthis carefully, please." He took a

paper from his pocket. "It is a re-lease of all claim against the insur-ance company. It states nothing ofyour attempted fraud. Mr. Worth-ington will attest your signature".Will you read it, or shall I read itto you?"

George Farson, in the chair,moved, and Mr. Lyle nodded to Hig¬gins."Be still, you," said Higgins. The

mother's eyes were on her son."Listen to me," said Mr. Lyle,

and read. Then: "Will you sign?"Mr. Lyle took a book from the tableand placed the paper on it. Hetook a pen from his pocket andstood beside the woman. She tookthe pen and signed, blindly, everybit of courage, pride and hopegone from her. Then Worthingtondid his part"We are through, gentlemen,"

iMr. Lyle said. "I imaginc, madam,that you and your son will not re-main long in Alden, Good after-jnoon."

Sa::mel Lyle and Paul Waterswent into Orchard Street."Damn poorly done," Mr. Lyle

muttered. "I am ashamed of my-self. However, I shall expect yourcheck to-morrow morning for $16.-375.32 exactly, and, remember, youare dining with me to-night at quar-ter after seven. Be prompt. 1 donot like to be kept waiting."

"I'll be there. Don't worry,"Paul cried, "but please tell me howyou found out about"-

Mr. Lyle made a gesture of dis-gust. "Bah! Any fool could haveguessed the probability and thenconfirmed it easily enough. I'mashamed of Higgins. Don't forgetthe check; business is rotten, and Ineed ready cash." And he strodet'.way, leaving Paul staring after.

him. He did not suspect that Mr.Lyle was chuckling inside.At quarter after seven, promptly,

Paul took off his hat and coat andwalked into Mr. Lyle's parlor. Therewas no one there, but he heard avuiee and he went toward the doorthat led to the library. SamuelLyle saw him, but paid no attentionto him nnd kept on speaking to agreat high-backed, dcep leatherchair the back of which was towardPaul, The huge man was making a

speech, slowly and eloquently; hiswhole mind was intent upon it, hiseyes bored into the chair. Paulheard the words:

".capacity for inflicting torturehas been cuitivated in the highestcf all animals, developed into a finescience. Man himself has no suchpower or skill. The hand thatsoothes, the eye that sends forthsigns of purity.and sweetness andgentleness, go arm in arm with amind which takes fiendish delight ihthe writhing of the agonized victim< ;' its machinations.

"Bless my soul, if there isn't littlePaul Waters! Where do you supposehe came from? FJ1 leave him to taketare of you. Dinner is at eight,"and as he passed Paul he, whis-pered: "She knows nothing of whathappened this afternoon. I haven'tbreathed a word of it, on your ae¬count."

Paul stared at the high-backedleather chair."Miss Wesson.-Mr. Paul Waters,"

and Samuel Lyle disappeared.Paul walked around the high-

backed leather chair. Polly Wes¬son, who was no midget, was almostlost in its"Did you hear what Mr. Lyle was

saying about me?" she asked.Paul nodded."Am I like that?"

Paul nodded and thtn smiled."Isn't he a funny old man?" said

Polly.'.Polly, I can't talk to you way

down there; come up." He offeredher his hand to help her, and shetook it."He told me dinner was at 7 o'clock

and not to keep him waiting," shesaid."He told me dinner was at 7:15

o'clock and not to keep him waiting.""I wonder what he meant?""I wonder."Polly, not quite realizing what she

was doing, held out her other handtoo, and Paul. drawing her upward,held them both.

"Polly!""All right, Paul, I'll be good." She

was very good, and during the halfhour that followed she admitted thatshe would have been good to Paullong before if he hadn't made herfurious by thinking that she couldeven like George Farson, when Paulought to have been sure that shehad loved him ever since she was alittle girl. She said that she hopedthe lesson would do him good, butPaul wasn't worrying about lessonsor anything else.A little before S o'clock a voice

came from the doorway: "Well, well,well! Bless my soul!" They spunaround and saw Mr. Lyle beamingupon them. There was great joy inhis voice. "Hra-m," he muttered."So! Now let me see, what did I dowith it, what did I do with it? Oh,yes, I remember. Paul, will youplease look in the dictionary, thatlarge book on the table, and tell methe meaning of 'mastership'? Quick¬ly, please!"

Paul, laughing and wondvringwhat joke Samuel Lyle was playrngnow, reached for the book. It opened

at a place marked by a folded paper.Paul read: "Mastership, the state oroffice of a master; mastery; domin¬ion; superior skill; superiority. Anironical title of respect.""An ironical title of respect," Mr.

Lyle mused. . "A dangerous word,Miss Polly. Now, on the oppositepage, what word catches your eye,Paul?""Match.""Match, to be sure, Most appro-

priate. And between 'mastership'and 'match' what have you?""Mastiff.mastodon.mat"-"Blind! There in your hand.. Sup-!

pose you present that paper to MissWesson, and while she reads it tellme what word comes before 'master-ship' in the dictionary."

"Masterpiece.""I take that word unto myself. {Didn't I tell you that to-day would

be the greatest day of my life? I'venever had such a thrill before. Youhave been trying to do for years!what I've done for you in"-Hestopped and laughed at Paul; he wasas happy as a boy.

Polly interrupted them. She hadbeen trying to decipher the docu-ment that had lain between theleaves of the dictionary."What is this?" she asked. "I

don't understand.""My dear young lady," Mr. Lyle

said. "that is the deed of the very!pretty little brick house in Stocktonwhich you have admired for so long,the house in which you told me youcould live happily with almost any jman if he wasn't too homely. Thehouse is yours. Is the man too Ihomely?"

Polly Wesson, bewildered, lookedfrom Paul to Samuel Lyle.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "I.I.itcan't be.it"-"The lease of She present tenant'

expires June first," Mr. Lyle said."June is a good month i'or wed-dings."

"Paul, what shall I do?"'. 'Paul, what shall I do?' So soon,

and in this day of the equality andindependence of women! What canyou do? Let me tell you something.When you are married and living inthe little red house with vines andflowers all about, recall to-day toPaul and see if he remembers thelittle business transaction he and Ihad. I think he will, and then youwhisper into his ear that your nest!cost exactly sixteen thousand threehundred and seventy-five dollars andthirty-two cents, and then perhapsthe truth will burst upon him. If itdoesn't, tell him how one day youwere in the safe deposit vaults of thePeople*s Trust Company and saw awoman there who, when she saw you,fiushed and behaved in a most em-barrassed and guilty manner, thoughyou couldn't imagine any reason forit And then tell him how, when youheard of a certain robbery, you hada sudden inspiration, and how finallyyou told me about it and asked mewhether what you had seen could byany possibie chance help Paul, andhow I pooh-poohed the idea, and thenwent and got all the credit for my-self. I think he'll understand every-thing then, except, of course, that!after you l:ad told what you hadseen a certain old rascal brought out,by cross-examination, that"_

"Stop!" Polly rushed toward him.-"that you were really verymuch in"-"Stop! Stop! You promised.""No, no, I didn't promise. I.but

I'm Cupid," said Mr. Lyle. "Blcssedif I don't like the job. It's a heapbetter and lots easier than uncover-!ing criminal eupidity. Lor' me, whata pun!"

v-cryrieht p. f. Colller & g__

Still, in face of the glaring factthat the roads are alive with motorcars of every kind, that practicallyall human transport is by motor.that the Transatlantique Companyruns a regular service of motorcharabancs between Casablanca andAlgiers and has started hotels allalong the route to house the petrolcaravans.still, I say, mo'toring inMorocco has not yet lost the bloom ofyouth. All Borts of very new andmediaeval adventures may befall youon the long stretch from the Atlanticat Rabat to the Algerian frontier atOudju. You may not drive at night,for example. Notices are up in thepostoffices to the effect that the colo¬nel commanding that particular post(after Fez every place on the mapis virtually a military outpost) will"invite" those drivers who find them¬selves cn the road after sundown topass the night in the seclusion of hispost.an invitatzon which may be re-garded as royal rather than repub¬lican. This, the nofice goes on topoint out, is necessary if "vexatiousincidents" are to be avoided.

Picture Book StuffThen you have in eastern Morocco

the beautiful person in a scarlet orblue cloak, a huge white turban, witha rifle slung across his back, whorides his horse as if the two of themhad been born as one. He belongs tothe picture books of youth, but he1S here in sco^s, and he helps younot only by keeping away brigandsand other fabulous monsters, but bydoing some extremely skillful sheep.scaring when you are held up byn-c-eks. He shouts, he gallops furi-ously around you and the amazedmuttons, he perforniB prodigies ofborsemanship-why is the Mooriahroad patrol not a film star? He iamuch better than any bronco busterthat ever rehearsed at Los AngefcaShe smiles all over you like a sunriae.anu then races the car, $wo of him,as a rule, for a mile or more, just be'cause liii. is.3udi fun.Motoring may not be such a new

game to the dweller in Morocco al¬though even he cannot have playedat it properly for much more thanhalf a dozen years, but it is really anew one to the visitor from acrossthe sea who does not grumble at u*>-iivoidable discomfort, who likes pelP e rather than things, and, aboveJll. who likes them picturesquebndly and smiling. Morocco isThe*and,° snul«*. the plaCe wher,scowls are unknown. '