who have made Ireland a shambles. Perhaps the highly cultivated A. E., who boasts himself an Internationalist, thinks that Englishmen were born but to be slaughtered, and that policemen are fair game for Sadic harridans to try their hands upon.

And

A. E. amiably confesses that he knows nothing of the people of Ireland, and that only the fool is dogmatic. Thereafter he dogmatises with all the rancour of the ignorant, and packs his pamphlet with "facts" and figures, which have been proved false a dozen times. though he is lost in admiration of the men who are guilty of arson and murder, he admits that he has no grievance himself. He is a true "intellectual," superior to the moral standards of the ages. He enwraps himself in a cloak of virtue and exclusiveness, which others, less fortunate than he, dare not wear. And at the same time he blesses these others as they go forth on their errands of assassination. "For myself," he boasts, "I do not care whether I am governed from Moscow or Pekin if my countrymen are happy." Does he then believe that the hunt for

66

What kind of cant is this, which cries out for "a brotherhood of humanity," and then extols those who in cold blood tear from the light and beauty of the earth men who are doing their duty? "And again," says he, "the words republic' or empire' are opaque words to me. I cannot see through them to any beauty or majesty to which they inevitably lead. But I do believe in freedom." See, then, how this intellectual entangles himself in his argument! 'Republic" and empire are opaque words to him, and yet he reverences the bloodthirsty miscreants who for those opaque words are killing gallant men who have done them no no injury. And if A. E. believes in freedom, can he define any kind of freedom which has been withheld from the Irish? If by freedom he means political freedom, then the Irish have had more than their share of it for a hundred years. If by freedom he means personal freedom, can he show us where the Irishman is hampered in his goings and comings? If by freedom he means freedom to do wrong, to break the law, then surely no race has been left so gloriously untrammelled as the Irish since the world began. It is probable that A. E. doesn't know what he means. He is too great an artist to explain or to under stand. But here is murder afoot, and his countrymen he perceives to be men of "will";

so he throws up his hat with the big crowd and shouts for freedom. And if, after all, the Irish-" they are like the Greeks before Pericles "-get their independence, and are forced to betake themselves from London, where they have been profitably employed, it will be a sorry mob which

returns to the land of freedom with empty pockets. For not even the gunmen-" so cheerful, so determined, so selfsacrificing"-can be at one and the same time the fellowcitizen of the Englishman who is worth robbing, and of Phidias, Sophocles, Plato, and A. E.

VOL. CCX.

I WENT to Russia in July 1914 to take a post as "liseuse with a Polish lady. On the outbreak of war I wished to return to Vienna, but as the Woloczysk Bridge was blown up, all connection with Austria was, for me, at an end. I determined therefore to take a position as teacher in another family, but as the Germans were advancing, left them in July 1915 for Moscow. On 2nd March 1917 the revolution began, all the police were arrested, and the prisons thrown open. Having seen the curtain rise on the Red Terror, I was determined to see it fall, and in spite of the danger of being shot at any moment, I lived in Moscow till March 1919, when I was forced to leave through lack of food. Accordingly I went

VOL. CCX.-NO. MCCLXXIV.

to a little Polish village in White Russia, where I had some acquaintances. When the Poles advanced I managed, with great difficulty, to escape over the frontier to Beresina, where I took a position as head-mistress in a Polish highergrade school, held in Count Potocki's palace.

After the failure of the Bolsheviks to recapture Beresina, they took up their headquarters about forty versts distant. I was very anxious about my friends in M. The Bolsheviks had taken everything from them. We did not want for anything on the front, and it grieved me very much that I was powerless to aid them. They suffered especially from want of salt. I did not taste salt once during the eight months I spent at M.: one

2 D

could not buy it for any money at that time.

Suddenly one day the news was brought to us that the Bolsheviks had destroyed the village of M. by fire, and that the villagers were homeless. Although the Poles had never trespassed farther than twenty versts on the Red territory, our Commander, a very intrepid young man, resolved to make an expedition to M., and to bring the villagers back to Beresina. As I had left several boxes there, I was most anxious to join this relief expedition. The Commander tried to dissuade me, but I was firm in my resolution. He lent me the uniform of a Poznanski soldier, so that in case of a rencontre with the Bolsheviks, I should not be conspicuous in female garb. I did not fancy myself as a soldier at all, but it was certainly the most practical form of dress for the journey we subsequently made. Fifteen minutes before our departure a soldier was sent to inform me that I must be ready, and bound me to the strictest secrecy. Accordingly, at 11 P.M. on 31st March 1920, I started out on the journey which proved to be the means of ruining my whole career, undermining my health, and, in fact, upsetting my whole life. I think I have been endowed with more than my share of love for adventure, but I believe if I could have foreseen what would be the sequence, I should have allowed prudence to

guide me. We were a party of 120, and the soldiers sang gaily as we rowed across the river. Arrived on the other side, they formed fours, and then the Commander made a nice little speech. He exhorted the men to bear in mind they were going to rescue unfortunate people from the excruciating torments they were subjected to at the hands of the Bolsheviks, and that in case of an encounter with the latter they must not shoot unless in self-defence. I drove in one of the four carts which accompanied us, and had a trench-mortar for my travelling companion! The men marched all night, and told one another tales of similar expeditions they had made. Suddenly our horses got stuck in a bog. I was obliged to alight from my perch, and found myself kneedeep in mud. Soldiers tried to extricate me, but only succeeded in falling into the mud themselves! After a considerable elapse of time we all managed to get on terra firma again, and congratulated one another that the Bolsheviks did not discover us in this predicament.

After a few minutes' walk we came to a forester's house in the wood, and heard that some Magyars had been there, but hearing our voices, when we were trying to get out of the bog, they took flight. If they had only been courageous enough to come to us when we were in that critical condition, not one of us would

have been alive to-day to tell the tale. We went very cautiously through the woods, until we came out on the village road. Here we were entirely surrounded by woods. We had only gone twenty-five versts of our journey, and had ten versts to walk to complete it; but, alas! for some of our party it was the last journey. One of our soldiers fired a rocket. At the same moment we espied six mounted Magyars in the distance, emerging from a wood. One of our men ran after them, as though his life depended upon their capture; and he did not return until he had shot them from their horses. The trench-mortar was placed on the road, and a terrible skirmish ensued. I was lying on a cart behind it. The bullets from the woods whizzed round us like hailstones. Commander had left his rifle with me in case of emergency, but I could not see the shadow of a Bolshevik anywhere. Suddenly I was aroused by a cry of pain from the operator at the trench-mortar. In his hurry he had not placed the shrapnel firmly enough in the socket of the machine, which caused it to rebound on his leg and smash the bone. I bandaged him up as well as it was possible under the circumstances, and then with the aid of two soldiers placed him on a cart.

The

The trench-mortar was damaged also, and was put on a second cart. The Bolsheviks, guessing something had happened to our

machine, fired at us with increased vigour. The soldiers who had been with us went farther on to join the rest of the company, and I retreated with my wounded warrior to a secluded part of the wood. On the way we met another seriously-wounded soldier, who was driving himself in a cart to a place of shelter. I was wounded also in the heels with shrapnel splinters, but I had no time to think about it. I resolved to make an attempt to take the two wounded soldiers back to Beresina, although the prospect of going through the terrible bog again was not enticing. However, the Bolsheviks soon settled my fears on that score.

We had only gone a short distance when we realised the woods were were simply teeming with Bolsheviks. My wounded men took shelter behind some trees, whilst I crawled on my hands and knees to a place where I knew some of our soldiers were stationed. I succeeded in making them understand that I wished them to come to our assistance, and had just returned to our place of concealment when a party of ragged scoundrels caught sight of our carts and opened fire on us. I lay flat on the ground until the shooting subsided somewhat. When they saw that we did not retaliate they came up to us. They were about thirty in number, and each of them held his gun ready to shoot as they crept cautiously towards me.