course only with his superiors or inferiors, who must play the toady or the bully, and does not know how to look any man horizontally in the eye, is morally defective. So the finest quality of national life is reserved for those nations which can be faithful to themselves without loss of sanity. Such nations will not be restrained by force from oppressing their neighbors. They will rejoice in the existence of their neighbors, and will doubly rejoice in finding their neighbors worthy of their mettle. They will feel in the intercourse of proud and differing nations the same zest that is felt by a man among men.

When peaceful rivalry or friendly co-operation takes the place of war, this attitude will be no less needed. For that same mutual respect which may ennoble even war, is all that will save peace from a spirit of easy acquiescence, or from a mean contentiousness. Peace itself has to be redeemed, and that which alone will save it will be an eager championship of differing national ideals, a generous rivalry in well-doing, the athlete's love of a strong opponent, and the positive relish for diverse equality.

IV

IMPRESSIONS OF A PLATTSBURG

RECRUIT

T is a mistake to suppose that a soldier's im

IT

pedimenta are merely accessory. From the time when you first gratefully borrow them from the ordnance and quartermaster's tents to the time when you still more thankfully deliver them up, you revolve about them. In place of the ordinary organic sensations, they supply while you possess them the nucleus of the consciousness of self. Though much is made of the ceremony, there is really no credit in returning these objects to the United States Government. The real merit is in borrowing them at all. This is perhaps the bravest act a soldier is called upon to perform. There are, let it be understood, some twenty-five separate articles in this borrowed equipment, including half a shelter-tent, one rifle, one canteen, one poncho, five pegs, etc., and to these one is ordered to add articles of toilet and personal apparel, bringing the total

number to over thirty. These, when once you have put them together, you acquire as a part of yourself, like a permanent hump. They might be folded, hooked, and strapped together in a thousand ways; they must be folded, hooked, and strapped together in one way, and in only one way. And then they must be taken apart again, and combined anew for each day's journey; which is one of the most successful of the several standard devices for protecting the soldier from the corrupting influence of leisure.

When you advance upon an imaginary enemy, your corporal, whom you have learned to watch as a dog his master, shouts "Follow me!" You are wearing your hump, with its various outlying parts, such as the rifle in your hand and the canteen on your hip. By bending your body until your back is parallel with the ground, you are able to simulate running. The gait as well as the contour resembles the camel's; but alas! you enjoy no such natural adaptation for pack-bearing, nor for the rude contacts with earth that await you. For after loping forward some twentyfive yards, you are ordered to "lie down."

This is not to be construed as an invitation to enjoy a well-earned rest. On the contrary, your torture is about to begin. In civilian life it is

customary when lying down to select some spot or object which yields slightly to the pressure of the body, or corresponds somewhat to its outlines. But in skirmish formation you lie down in your place; if you are a rear-rank man, then half a pace to the right of your file-leader. The chances are one hundred to one that the spot fits you very badly. Nevertheless, down you go. You then hoist up on your left elbow, and address your rifle in the direction of the enemy. Your whole consciousness is now concentrated in the elbow. This member, which was never intended as an extremity, rests in all likelihood upon a rough-edged piece of granite separated from your bone by one thickness of flannel shirt. The rifle presses mercilessly upon it. Your pack, thrown forward in your fall, rests upon the back of your neck, adds itself to the weight upon your elbow, and renders it almost impossible-judged by civilian standards, altogether impossible to look along the sights of your rifle. The pain in the elbow is soon followed by a sharp cramp in the wrist. When these parts have become sufficiently numb for you to attend to minor discomforts, you begin to realize that you are lying on your bolo knife, and that your canteen is sticking into your right hip.

At this moment the platoon leader orders you to "fire faster," and with a desperate contortion you reach around to the small of your back and grope for a slip of cartridges with which to reload your rifle. Then "Cease firing!" "Prepare to rush!" and again "Follow me!"-this time not only to a prone position, but from a prone position. You are carefully enjoined that you must get up running and lie down running, lest you shall at any time present a fixed target to the enemy. You dig a hold with your foot, summon your last reserves of strength, totter forward with all your goods hanging, dangling, dragging about you, and soon resume business with that elbow exactly where you left off. This is called "advancing by rushes," and it is customary to do it for distances of a thousand yards or more in instalments of fifty yards or less. It is capped by a bayonet charge in which after drawing the reluctant bayonet with the right hand from just behind the left ear, and fumbling hastily about for the proper grooves and sockets, you expend your last ounce of strength in a desperate sprint up-hill.

Now in this description I have made no reference to the enemy. In fact there is no reference to the enemy, at least no personal reference. There is a vague sense of the enemy's direction,