They

They had been taught already that gold-hunting in this new country was useless; the principle was propounded by the great John Smith, and accepted afterwards universally, that only labor was good. "Nothing is to be expected thence but by labor," he wrote; and it was in labor and tears for the homes that had been left, and with a smile of hope to the future, that the first British settled in America. They had left Britain because of their loss of liberty, because of the unbearable tyrannies that had been forced upon them, because they yearned for freedom, for religious freedom. People of all nations went to this new land also. They had had their own sufferings and disappointments at home; they longed for a new life, new liberty, new opportunities. wished to be rid of all the shackles of the European systems, the tyrannical survivals of ancient times. They were for freedom and equality. But allegiance was paid to Britain until Britain, as we all know now and freely admit, made appalling blunders in her handling of the new colony. Loyalty was tested too far, tyranny ventured across the sea, and then the States declared for liberty complete and an end to the European system and all its hateful works. They would live their own lives in their own way, free and independent. They asked nothing of Europe, and would tolerate no interference. Europe could go on its own way, with its autocracies, its machinations, its alliances, its diplomatic exercises, its gigantic armies, and its continual threats and fears of wars. America was not for these things, but for peace and labor. That is the spirit of the States, and the country's great foundation. It has been to escape from the European thraldom, and obviously with a sense of disappointment with their homeland, that most emigrants

have gone to this new country. They have been tired of Europe. Perhaps at times America, in her strength and her independence, has been a little arrogant, but never was a country more entitled to a splendid pride. She is the wonder of the earth. Three hundred years have seen her grow from nothing but the wild land of the Red Indian tribes to be the pivot of the world, as we see her, and the undoubted center of future civilization, which moves from the old to the new. And yet if she has been, as we say, arrogant at times, too prideful perhaps, again let us call to mind that in her own great domestic war, when she fought to purge herself of slavery, some of us in Britain were not her best friends then. Still, by some of those to whom we have referred, it has been thought that, despite all this, at the first rattle of the guns in Europe, this blend of blood in America, a full mixture of all the white races, should immediately abandon its principle of separation from the European system and fly to the battlefields. All that its first separation from Europe had meant, and all that its three hundred years of American history had taught, were to be given up. But, it is said, there was the cause of Humanity, there was the case of Belgium, the Lusitania, and a thousand other things. These were tremendous matters; America weighed them well. She was not indifferent; gradually, surely, she brought herself to the sacrifice of the great principle on which she had established herself, that of her absolute independence and separation from the European system. Naturally, some provocations to which she was subjected forced the decision, but there was never any doubt as to the direction in which her sympathies and tendencies lay.

And, again, as to what seemed her hesitation, it is not appreciated how

far America is from Britain. I do not mean in a mere matter of mileagethough even then it is far-but in thought. New York, the eastern shore, is near enough; but only those who have traveled through the country, have boarded one of the great west-going trains from the Central or Pennsylvania stations in the city, and, with the big engine bells clanging mournfully through the night, have followed the path of the sun and gone over thousands of miles of barely developed country, sped over the prairies, gone on and on towards the far Pacific, can understand how distant Britain seems to be, how utterly remote is our dear land. In the central States it has seemed to the wanderer to be nearly as far away as the stars themselves; and I remember how once, after such a wandering, returning to the east coast, I saw the Atlantic sea again for the first time one autumn afternoon at Newport,

Chambers's Journal.

Rhode Island, and, for very joy of the fact that this same ocean touched my native shore, ran down to the beach to splash hands upon the wavelets as some demonstration of affection. But the people of other races, a blend of races, so far remote from Britain, going on peacefully with their business, were expected to hurry to the slaughter at its first beginning. Herein one tries to present the case not from a partisan view, but as it might appear from the neutral view and fairly. On our side we know what there is to be said, and it need not be repeated. The heart of the American people is good and true. We who have been with them in their homes know them better than do those who merely see them passing through our country on their holiday trips. They need no lessons in right, in conscience, or in strength. life of Abraham Lincoln was not thrown away.

The

Henry Leach.

The arrival in British waters of a flotilla of American destroyers makes the fine speech of Sir Edward Carson at the luncheon of the Navy League particularly timely and appropriate. The toast which the First Lord proposed goes home to all our race. He drank to "the American Navy." We hail that pledge, as he gave it, "from the bottom of our hearts." No Englishman will be surprised to hear that the squadron which has been dispatched so promptly to our aid is in all respects worthy of the great people whose flag it carries. Scientific construction and armament are old traditions of that service, as are the skill, the daring, and the discipline of its officers and seamen. We have learned to admire these things as characteristic of the

American Navy in war and in peace by the experiences of a hundred years. We have learned too that the men who sail under the Stars and Stripes share with our own sailors the frank "chivalry of the sea." They taught us many a bitter lesson in the wars of the Revolution and of 1812, but the shipmates of Decatur and of Stewart were manly and honorable foes. In the long years since England and America entered upon the peace which this war promises to make perpetual they have been our comrades and our friends in every sea. It was an American sailor who on a famous occasion proclaimed that "blood is thicker than water"-a truth we did not forget on an eventful day in Manila Bay; and it was to the ringing cheers of the Trenton,

In

herself in deadly peril, that, in 1889, the Irish seaman whose death we mourned a few months ago took the Calliope out of Apia Harbor in the teeth of the fearful hurricane which destroyed fourteen of the vessels lying there. "I will ever remember," said Sir Henry Kane, "that mighty outburst of fellow-feeling. I can only say, 'God bless America and her noble sailors.'" In Admiral Sims, now working at the Admiralty in perfect harmony with Sir John Jellicoe, they have sent us just such a colleague as we should have most desired. return, we are lending them Captain Evans, of the Broke, the destroyer leader who, with her sister ship, the Swift, routed half a dozen enemy destroyers in five minutes last April. The name of the Broke is well known to Americans. It was borne by the fine seaman who took to heart the lessons afforded by American gunnery in the many single-ship actions in which they beat us, and defeated his heroic adversary Captain Lawrence in the historic combat with the Chesapeake. The flotilla now off our coasts is but an earnest of the help which America is going to give the Allies, but Sir Edward Carson speaks only sober truth when he declares that no more important event than its arrival has happened in the history of the New World or of the Old.

It is important from a military standpoint, but it is infinitely more important as a symbol and a seal of the new union of hearts between the British and the American peoples. Both know now that they have one great common ideal; both have determined to repel all who raise their hands against it; both are "out together" to preserve the true freedom of the seas, "and," said Sir Edward, "we mean to do it." We mean to do it.

We mean to assert and to secure the reign of ordered freedom, of law,

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and of humanity upon earth. But Sir Edward solemnly warned us not to under-estimate the danger of the submarine menace that we must Overcome. "It is," he declares, a great, a novel, and a terrible menace" -a menace which no navy has yet solved. It may sorely try the courage and the "grit" of our people in the coming months. It may even raise the question whether we or our adversaries are going to "stick it out." Sir Edward's answer is the nation's answer. "We are." But we must entertain no illusions about the facts. Some of our merchant ships have had extraordinary good fortune in escaping the torpedoes launched at them. We cannot safely rely on its continuance. It is tolerably well known, too, that we have also sunk a certain number of the hostile craft, and we have apparently sunk them before their reliefs were ready for sea. But they will soon be ready, and then we must expect increased attacks. Sir Edward has no new defense to announce. He tells us not to get either "swelled heads" or "cold feet," but to grapple with our difficulties, day by day and hour by hour, until they are overcome. All this shows that the problem of shipbuilding remains as urgent as ever. "Ships, ships, ships" is still the solution, and we trust that Mr. Lloyd George and his colleagues will not allow their other cares to banish this truth and its vital moment from their minds. That is a matter in which America will doubtless give us valuable assistance. We do not know whether the enemy tonnage in her ports can be made available at present, but we welcome the indications that the President is alive to the inestimable value of time in this contest, and that he is trying to impress the fact upon others. As the war tends to become a struggle of endurance, promptitude becomes more and more essential.

We know by bitter experience what delay means, and we know what it costs. Mr. Balfour has done much to bring home to Americans the sad lessons of our experience, but his appeal, of necessity, is limited. We are delighted to hear the rumor that President Wilson himself may underThe Times.

take the task of rousing the nation to the greatness of their opportunities and of their duties. A summons from him to "wake up" would do more to accelerate real "preparedness" across the Atlantic-and so to shorten the war than argument or exhortation from any lips but his.

The Colonel had asked me to dinner in his hut. "Come at six o'clock," he said, "and I may be able to give you a little amusement before dinner." He did. He and his men were to go up to the dine on the morrow; so the officers had arranged a smoking concert, and had borrowed for the occasion a large hut belonging to the company who had charge of a German Prisoners' Camp. The hut was lighted with hanging lamps, and filled with men and tobacco smoke (mainly of the Woodbine breed, which Tommy loves more than the best Havana).

At the top table is the very smart Regimental Sergeant-Major, who is in the chair. In place of the usual hammer, he keeps order by rapping on the table with a large silver cigarette case. The concert has already started when we arrive, and after waiting for the end of the ditty in progress we make our way to a table next the chairman, amidst some little applause from the men, for my host is popular.

To my surprise I see seated on one side of the hut at the far end of the room eight German non-commissioned officers, all smoking (again mostly Woodbines), and all evidently enjoying the musical efforts of our gallant Tommies. These Germans were very fine men. Two were sergeant-majors, and had most intelligent and interesting faces. Another, a studious-looking, rather delicate fellow, was, I found. a science

master at some German school. He had a guitar, which he played later with great effect.

The concert went on: lugubrious songs, all without accompaniment, with verses that ran into double figures. "Don't go down the mine, daddy," and songs of the "Little Irish Rose" and "Shamrock" type were the most popular; several again of the "Scotch Whiskey" variety, and then the meeting is called to order by the chairman, who announces: "The enemy will oblige with a folksong and chorus-the best of order and a bit of encouragement, please." "The enemy" remove their caps, come to the front, bowing to the Colonel as they pass, and sing a part-song, conducted by one of the sergeant-majors, and accompanied by the delicatelooking man on his guitar. It is music —real music, the performers—all eight of them-obviously enjoying it. One or two have really good voices, and there is not a false note. Tommy looked on in amazement. He seemed surprised that these strange people could sing in such a difficult language and certainly surprised at the very high musical standard. The enemy is heartily applauded, and returns quickly to his seat and his Woodbines, again bowing to the Colonel en route.

Then the Adjutant tells stories, chiefly concerned with the troubles of young officers and raw recruits, which shake the audience with laughter. He

is followed by the Colonel, who stands up, all six feet of him, perfectly "turned out," and recites in most racy manner "The Gee Bung Polo Club." The applause was intense, and this although there were probably not half a dozen men in the hut who could tell you anything about the game of polo! Still, as I have said, he is a good Colonel.

And now the chairman announces the last two items on the program. "Best of order, please, while the enemy gives 'The Watch on the Rhine' -and you can ease yourselves afterwards by singing 'Rule, Britannia.'" So "Die Wacht am Rhein" is most feelingly rendered by the enemy, and The Saturday Review.

the last notes have hardly died away when Thomas Atkins lifts the roof off with that pæan of liberty which (so the verse tells us) was caught from the lips of "Guardian Angels." Then "God Save the King" and the men disperse, many of them singing as they go out:

We beat them on the Marne,

We beat them on the Aisne; We gave them hell at Neuve Chapelle, And here we are again.

The enemy seemed quite happy, but one large Bavarian sergeant-major, who spoke perfect English, said to me: "But, sir, surely not quite like that at Neuve Chapelle." And he was right.

D. O. C.

The Representation of the People Bill has passed its second reading in the House of Commons. The days have long gone by when a speech on either side affects the voting, yet Lieutenant-Colonel Sanders and Lord Hugh Cecil deserved to have swung the majority to their side. Unfortunately, the majority had decided which way to vote beforehand, as usual, and not the songs of Apollo could avail against what in effect, though not in name, was party interest and discipline. Mr. Walter Long did indeed majestically deny that the collusion between the parties had anything to do with party, and immediately afterwards made the rather inconsistent remark that "he believed his party had suffered whenever it had embarked on opposition to an extension of the franchise." Q.E.D. But what is the real origin of the new Franchise Bill? It arose out of the refusal of the late Government to grant the franchise to his Majesty's Forces serving abroad. Parliament had neither the will nor

the energy to compel the Government to pass a simple measure which was, and still is, demanded by the country. But the demand for that particular extension of the franchise gave the party politician an opportunity to devise a measure which, while expressly omitting to qualify sailors and soldiers on service at sea and abroad, might so increase the electorate at home that party machinery in the House of Commons would have a chance of not being disturbed in case of a General Election.

To change the electorate is the first interest of certain politicians whose prospects have become exceeding overcast. With considerable ingenuity it was argued that there could be no extension of the franchise to sailors and soldiers unless it was also extended to women. It was a false argument, because, in accordance with a pledge loyally observed, the women had made no such stipulation. But in order to divert attention from that fact, Mr. Asquith suddenly announced his conversion to the