should destroy the last of the Great Powers based on strength, that is to say, Great Britain, the result would undoubtedly be a notable amelioration of international ethics. If it were possible besides to form an association of the European States under a firm direction (and, for reasons of organisation, Germany alone is called upon to take such a direction), this solution would guarantee the maintenance of the relations of the European Confederation of States, and preserve them against any blow, be it involuntary or wilful."

It is a marvellous utterance. Before this vanity of a crazy colossus we cannot but doff our hats. Germany learns nothing and forgets everything. Through the mouth of a chemist she solemnly assures the world, which still remembers the enormities she has committed in Posen, in in Posen, in Sleswick, in Alsace - Lorraine, that she is ready to govern and direct an association of European States for their own good and for the triumph of sound morality. Even she, blind and uncritical as she is, might have discovered that wherever she has attempted to rule men of another race she has failed most pitifully. Her own citizens have no distaste of the boot, to which they are obediently accustomed. She has never brought a yard of annexed territory beneath her sway. If the

There

federation of States. would be no year, no month, no week without its rebellion, and Herr Oswald would survey in horror, let us hope, the work of benefiting by force "the whole of humanity."

Nor is this the modest limit of Herr Oswald's ambition. In a dithyrambic passage he sets his country, the country which has destroyed Belgium with fire and sword and has shown its love of beauty by the callous, unnecessary bombardment of Reims Cathedral, at the very apex of moral excellence. "As for us Germans," he boasts, "the splendid duty has been given to us to realise what the great religions of the world, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islamism, vainly attempted to do, that is, organise the universal empire of ethics." is too portentously solemn to be amusing. It were a waste of time and breath to argue with him. We can do no more than advise him to go home and dose himself with hellebore.

The man

their spies in a time of peace, cannot ask or expect ever again to enjoy the privilege of hospitality. The men who systematically sought places in the engineering shops of England, that they might betray their masters, can never again ask or receive the respect of honest men. The whole of Europe has had its warning, and surely will not disregard it. Henceforth we can have no dealings with foreigners to whom the laws of gentlemen and of nations are alike despicable. And the Chemist pretends that this race of barbarians, which murders non-combatants and tortures prisoners, is destined to "organise the whole empire of ethics." Poor ethics! They would fare ill indeed

were their empire placed in the blood - stained hands of Germany. Yet we need have no fear for the future. The arrogance

of the Teuton springs not from a consciousness of power, but from a pitiful lack of humour. Until he is able to laugh at his own monstrous folly, he is unfit to govern either himself or others. Moreover, the battle which is to throw a beaten world at his feet is not yet won, and will never be won. Let him brag now as loudly as he may of what he will do in the hour of victory. It is the last explosion of his pride. When defeat seizes him by the throat it will be the only solace left him that once he dreamed dreams of universal tyranny.

No. MCXCV.

VOL. CXCVII.

I. Prologue.

THAT damp chilly morning I left you at Chatham I was very sleepy and rather frightened at the new things I was going to do. I imagined war as a desperate, continuous series of battles, in which I should ride along the trenches picturesquely haloed with bursting shell, varied by innumerable encounters with Uhlans, or solitary forest rides and immense tiring treks over deserted country to distant armies. I wasn't quite sure I liked the idea of it all. But the sharp morning air, the interest in training a new motorcycle in the way it should go, the unexpected popping-up of grotesque salutes of wee gnome-like Boy Scouts, soon

A

made me forget the war. series of the kind of little breakdowns you always have in a collection of new bikes delayed us considerably, and only a race over greasy setts through the southern suburbs, over Waterloo Bridge and across the Strand, brought us to Euston just as the boattrain was timed to start. In the importance of our uniforms we stopped it, of course, and rode joyfully from one end of the platform to the other, much to the agitation of the guard, while I posed delightfully against a bookstall to be photographed by a patriotic governess.

new

Very grimy we sat down to a marvellous breakfast, and passed the time reading magazines and discussing the length

2 s

of the war. We put it at from three to six weeks. At Holyhead we carefully took our bikes aboard, and settled for a cold voyage. We were all a trifle apprehensive at our lack of escort, for then, you will remember, it had not yet been proved how innocuous the German fleet is in our own

seas.

Ireland was a disappointment. Everybody was dirty and unfriendly, staring at us with hostile eyes. Add Dublin grease, which beats the Belgian, and a crusty garage proprietor who only after persuasion supplied us with petrol, and you may be sure we were glad to see the last of it. The road to Carlow was bad and bumpy. But the sunset was fine, and we liked the little low Irish cottages in the twilight. When it was quite dark we stopped at a town with a hill in it. One of our men had a brick thrown at him as he rode in, and when we came to the inn we didn't get a gracious word, and decided it was more pleasant not to be a soldier in Ireland. The daughter of the house was pretty and passably clean, but it was very grimly that she had led me through an immense gaudy drawing-room, disconsolate in dust wrappings, to a little room where we could wash. She gave us an exiguous meal at an extortionate charge, and refused to put more than two of us up; so, on the advice of two gallivanting lancers who had escaped from the Curragh for some supper, we called in the aid of the police, and were

billeted magnificently on the village.

A moderate breakfast at an unearthly hour, a trouble with the starting up of our bikes, and we were off again. It was about nine when we turned into Carlow Barracks.

We remained at Carlow for two or three days. The barracks consisted of a converted farm. Our quarters were comfortable-plenty of mattresses and blankets. The food was good, and we supplemented it by little dinners at the local hotel. On the second day we were inoculated against typhoid. The process wasn't very painful, but the result was peculiar. I nearly fainted on parade the day after-it was very hot,and our farewell dinner was something of a failure.

We made a triumphant departure from Carlow, preceded down to the station by the band of the N.V. We were told off to prevent anybody entering the station, but all the men entered magnificently, saying they were volunteers, and the women and children rushed us with the victorious ory, "We've downed the p'lice." We steamed out of the station while the band played "Come back to Erin" and "God save Ireland," and made an interminable journey to Dublin. At some of the villages they cheered, at others they looked at us glumly. But the back streets of Dublin were patriotic enough, and at the docks, which we reached just after dark, a small, tremendously enthusiastic crowd was gathered to

see us off.

The whole of the Divisional Staff, with all their horses, were on the Archimedes, and we were so packed that when I tried to find a place to sleep I discovered there was not an inch of space left on the deck, so I passed an uncomfortable night on top of some excruciatingly hard ropes.

We cast off about one in the morning. The night was horribly cold, and a slow dawn was never more welcomed. But day brought a new horror. The sun poured down on us, and the smell from the horses the horses packed closely below was almost unbearable; while, worst of all, we had to go below to wash and to draw our rations. Then I was first introduced to bully. The first tin tastes delicious and fills you rapidly. You never actually grow to dislike it, and many times when extra hungry I have longed for an extra tin. But But when you have lived on bully for three months (we have not been served out with fresh meat more than a dozen times altogether), how you long for any little luxuries to vary the monotony of your food.

On the morning of the third day we passed a French destroyer with a small prize in tow, and rejoiced greatly, and towards evening we dropped anchor off Havre. On either side of the narrow entrance to the docks there were cheering crowds, and we cheered back, thrilled, occasionally breaking into the soldier's anthem, "It's a long, long way to Tipperary."

We disembarked at a secluded wharf, and after waiting about for a couple of hours or so-we had not then learned to waitwe were marched off to a huge dim warehouse, where we were given gallons of the most delicious hot coffee, and bought scrumptious little cakes.

It was now quite dark, and, for what seemed whole nights, we sat wearily waiting while the horses were taken off the transport. We made one vain dash for our quarters, but found only another enormous warehouse, strangely lit, full of clattering waggons and restive horses. We watched with wonder a battery clank out into the night, and then returned sleepily to the wharfside. Very late we found where we were to sleep, a gigantic series of wool warehouses. The warehouses were full of wool and the wool was full of fleas. We were very miserable, and a little bread and wine we managed to get hold of hardly cheered us at all.

I feared the fleas, and spread a waterproof sheet on the bare stones outside. I thought I should not get a wink of sleep on such a Jacobean resting-place, but, as a matter of fact, I slept like a top, and woke in the morning without even an ache. But those who had risked the wool- !

We breakfasted off the strong, sweet tea that I have grown to like so much, and some bread, butter, and chocolate we bought of a smiling old woman at the warehouse gates. Later in the morning