thoroughly pro-Austrian and full of anti-Italian patriots, then we will not create a New Italy at all!' Yet, if we can imagine the creators of New Italy being so mad, their madness would not have exceeded what is solemnly and eloquently asserted by Irish Nationalist Members in the House of Commons. Mr. Ronald MacNeill in his excellent speech put the case extremely well. He pointed out that loyal Irishmen who had fought for the maintenance of the Union for generations were anxious not to be obstructive when war came, and they abandoned their insistence upon maintaining the Union. The answer of the Nationalists and Sinn Feiners to that was, as Mr. MacNeill put it, that they wanted 'self-determination for Munster, Leinster, and Connaught, coupled with domination over those who are outside their own borders.' 'That,' he added, 'is the sort of selfdetermination which I do not think the Peace Conference is likely to support.'

This reference to the Peace Conference reminds us of the appeal which the Sinn Feiners have sent to Paris demanding independence for Ireland as being the right of a small nation. We do not ourselves think that there is any sense, justice, or safety in asking other nations to settle the affairs of our sovereign State, but as the Sinn Feiners, with their customary irresponsibility, have taken this action, it would surely be advisable for the Unionists of Ulster to deliver a counterattack. Just as an admirable counterstatement was issued by the Ulster Unionists when the Lord Mayor of Dublin dispatched his glowing misstatement about Irish history to President Wilson, so might Ulster Unionists now tell the truth to the Peace Conference. They might invite the Peace Conference to rule that if small nations have the right of self

determination, a similar right shall be extended to any tract of territory, in a new small State not to be separated from the country to which it previously belonged if a majority of the inhabitants express that desire. Such a right is surely coördinate with the right of self-determination. Could there be a proposition more opposed to the principle of self-determination than that a nation has a right to wrench away from the allegiance it professes and loves some such district as that of Northeast Ulster? It might be said that the Unionists and Protestants of Northeast Ulster are really secured by the pledges of the Prime Minister, but it would be a fine thing, and a great thing, if, in spite of the fact that they felt reasonably secure, they asserted the right we have described for other small communities.

We wish we could do justice to Mr. Macpherson's speech, in which the contrast between the prosperity of Ireland and the intense cruelty of the shootings, persecutions, and oppressions being carried out by Sinn Feiners was sharply and ably drawn. But we must content ourselves with referring finally to the speech of Mr. Lynn — a maiden speech which was a real contribution to the debate. Mr. Lynn talked of the repetition by the Nationalist speakers of the 'ancient litany' of imaginary wrongs. Here he put his finger on one of the most ridiculous of Irish irrationalities. The argument that the British Government should now do something wrong and foolish in order to atone for the faults of Englishmen of past generations is a negation of all statesmanlike ideas. If the principle of such a demand is justifiable, why is it not applied to the Roman Church? If Protestant Englishmen must make amends for injustices or crimes said to have been committed generations ago, by what

right do Roman Catholics demand to be free from the same obligation? On these terms the Roman Catholics owe reparation for the massacre of St. Bartholomew, for the two Irish massacres of the seventeenth century, and for the terrible Irish rebellion of '98. Why should the poor English race be the only one to which is applied the law that 'the sins of the fathers must be visited on the children'? The argument, of course, does not bear looking into. Shakespeare as usual told the truth: 'Crimes like land are not inherited.'

We earnestly hope that Mr. Lynn will press his demand for information about the relations, before and during the war, between the Sinn Feiners and Germany. He traced those relations back to 1911, and stated explicitly that during the war secret wireless installa

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tions were established, German submarines were supplied with petrol and other necessaries, large quantities of German arms were landed, and elaborate arrangements were made for a German occupation. The British public wants to know exactly where the Sinn Feiners stand. What is the truth of all these matters? If a Parliament is set up in Dublin, it will, of course, be a Sinn Fein Parliament. It is really utterly indefensible for the government to say in effect: 'We will not allow any information to be published about the character of these men to whom we may entrust the task of setting up a Parliament to rule the greater part of Ireland, and who will have license to make any trouble they please at your very doors.' Mr. Lynn has failed three times to get an answer, but we hope he will persist.

A PERSON Who has made his way by tedious detours through the narrow strip of territory occupied by the American troops and reached the headquarters of its chief commander, learns in Coblenz that practically all the accommodations for strangers have been requisitioned by the Americans for military purposes, and that travelers are obliged to put up with poorer quarters in officially regulated second or third class hotels. A newcomer soon learns to his great discomfort what that means. He is compelled, under heavy penalty, to report at the

police headquarters within two hours. He there receives at a billeting office an assignment of a place to lodge, without having any opportunity to express his own wishes. I was directed to a little tavern which used to be frequented by people from the eastern Mediterranean countries in the old days of free commerce, by gentlemen of the class that circulated through our streets and highways with handorgans and monkeys. The room assigned me lacked all washing facilities, as might be expected. But it also lacked light and heat. I had scarcely

got to bed

The first impression, when I went abroad the next day, was that three groups of people were circulating through the city without having the slightest contact with each other. These were the natives, the Americans, and the French. American soldiers are forbidden to have any intercourse with the civilian population. Naturally, this order is very laxly observed after you get away from headquarters. It cannot be enforced as strictly in the country. But it is enforced with great severity in Coblenz, especially when it comes to the daughters of the country. No one sees an American conversing with a German, and if an officer went abroad with a German lady, he would immediately be arrested by the American military police who are standing on every corner with police clubs. Strangely as this prohibition affects one- and it is not enforced in the territory occupied by the French and was not enforced in the case of the German troops during the war-it is not due to hostile sentiment toward us, but merely to the American way of doing things. The Americans do not require the Germans to show any evidence of respect or friendliness, but leave the people to express their sentiments and opinions as they will and allow the newspapers to go on as usual, so long as they do not attack the Americans directly.

for observing any other attitude toward us than a purely practical one, uninfluenced by sentiment. 'It is war' is the motto that governs their conduct and constantly appears in their conversation. Consequently, they do not permit fraternization. Their solicitude in this respect is due in no small extent to their fear of Bolshevik propaganda, and, according to reports coming from the Belgian district, this danger is a very real one.

.. To the sorrow of many, who dream of America as a fairy godmother with a cornucopia full of butter, eggs, and hams, the Americans are not very prodigal with their provisions. Even their common soldiers live like firstclass passengers on an ocean steamer. They get meat two or three times a day and it is not drowned in a thin soup of green vegetables, but in a substantial portion of good civilian gravy. They are fed up with juicy steaks and are assisted to digest them with real coffee with cream and sugar. They also have the privilege of buying a pound of chocolate each day, or of candy done up in tinfoil, for four marks. They make full use of this privilege, especially since a common soldier gets eight marks a day and a lieutenant gets forty marks for doing nothing. But woe to the soldier who gives away or sells any of his supplies. And three times woe to the civilian who accepts or purchases them. Even to take a cigarette when offered you exposes you to the charge of 'unpermitted possession of American property.' This charge accounted for twenty-three of the sixtysix court-martial sentences issued by the Americans in Coblenz between the 5th and the 20th of January. The offense can be punished with a fine of from 500 to 1000 marks, and the purchase of American property visited with imprisonment for at least three months.

Still more astonishing than the severity of the penalties is the spy system which the Americans employ for enforcing their laws. Coblenz is full of these secret agents. They hunt up some poor, half-starved fellow in a side street and tempt him with bacon or employ liquors to get him into trouble. Liquor is indeed a bad enemy of the Americans and they have every reason to fight it. They have forbidden absolutely the sale of distilled liquor and the sale of undistilled liquor is prohibited except from 12 to 2 and from 5 to 7. It is their own affair how they keep their soldiers from the snare of the whiskey devil. Patrols Patrols of officers inspect the restaurants during the period of prohibition as 'coffee smellers,' looking into the cups and coffee cans to see that it is really coffee and not mixed with rum. But we cannot understand why these secret agents and detectives should be so alert as to interfere with the Germans when they take a drop.

The Americans do not show any painful modesty in circulating detailed questionnaires, even among the smallest manufacturing undertakings, for the purpose of informing themselves as to what is being made and how much, the prices charged, the amount exported, and other valuable facts. But the Americans do have one good quality beyond any of their allies. They are not inspired to the slightest extent by chauvinism. When they occupied the city they came in without any theatrical display, dispensed with a humiliating reception by the city government, and regarded pretentious proclamations as highly superfluous. Each one hastened off straight away to his billet, washed up and went to bed. One should see the French to appreciate the contrast. When a detachment of their troops arrived in

Coblenz, they hurried off first thing to the monument of Wilhelm I, running around it as if they were mad and blew at it with their horns. The Americans almost fell over laughing at the exhibition. The Americans are fully justified in punishing any intentional slight to their officers, but it never occurs to them to demand tokens of respect beyond a merely neutral attitude. They are rather inclined to shield the Germans from the exaggerated demands of the French. Most of the American soldiers naturally regard German soldiers with a slight sentiment of contempt. But they are frank and open with the German people. The situation is somewhat more complex in the officer corps, which is sharply separate from the common soldiers, as a privilege-commanding caste. The Germans soon became conscious that many of the officers had entertained a degree of sympathy for Germany. It is significant that these officers were careful to avoid any indication of their friendly attitude. But their sympathy for Germany was completely neutralized by the strong American nationalist sentiment in the officers' corps. An officer of high rank, quite competent of forming an independent judgment, who parried skillfully my political questions during an interview where we were safe from any spying, said vehemently, when I employed the word German-American, 'We have no German-Americans. Unfortunately, we did have too many. We have no Irish-Americans, no French-Americans, just plain Americans.'

You often see pious American soldiers salute a Catholic priest upon the streets, but you never see any of them pay any attention to a French officer. The youngest American lieutenant will pass a French general upon the street without seeing him. The

Americans and French obviously have an instinctive dislike for each other. Many of the Americans express their opinion of the French standard of civilization which they found in the villages behind the front and complain of the bad condition of their quarters in France. They are fully convinced that America decided the war and

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resent having the French parade it as their victory.

The sole ardent wish of the American soldier is to shake the dust of Europe from his feet as soon as possible. He is homesick and does n't try to conceal the fact. Peace is the word he is listening for and he is listening for it with the utmost impatience.

It was announced during the week that Mr. J. M. Hogge, M.P., answers some two thousand letters a week. His record is said to be three hundred and seven letters in three hours. Those of us who find it difficult to answer even one letter a day cannot but envy such a genius for verbosity. Given a secretary and a typewriter, however, even the most dilatory may become verbose. There is a luxurious feeling in sitting in a chair and booming out words without any of that tedium of wrist that accompanies writing. It is probably easier to dictate fifty letters than to write one. At the same time, it is clear that many persons do not find the act of writing a burden. Some of the busiest men are also the busiest correspondents. The man who hates letter-writing will have no time to write a letter even if he has nothing else to do. The man who likes letterwriting will find time to write a letter even on a day on which he has to address two public meetings, attend six committees, and write a three-act play. Mr. Gladstone had this miraculous gift of correspondence. Mr. Shaw, we fancy, also has it. The difficulty for such men would be not to write. Total

abstinence from ink would be the greatest punishment with which you could threaten them. Their superabundant energy can express itself only through a fountain-pen. Those of us who are reluctant to write letters, on the other hand, are equally the slaves of our personality. We are shy of writing letters, perhaps, that are not worth sending. Even when someone writes to ask us a simple question we do not like to send a curt answer like a Cabinet Minister saying, "The reply is in the affirmative.' We feel there would be something unfriendly in such brevity, and so we put off answering while we meditate a longer letter. The first time the average human being becomes conscious of the discourtesy of brevity is when in his boyhood he writes home to his parents for money. He knows he wants five shillings, but he is ashamed to say so bluntly, and yet there is nothing else to say. He begins: 'Dear Mother,—I hope you are quite well.' He would gladly run on at once: 'Please send me five shillings.' But he is sensitive enough to feel that the request for money should be kept in the background-should be thrust into a postscript if possible. Even a