ceased to be a financial policy, and has seemed in the pious eyes of those who understand it not a short cut to the saving of their souls! Again, there is the highly vaunted "nationalnationalisation," which the Socialists have told us would pay for the war, and which has cost us already so vast a sum that our brief experiment in it will hold us bankrupt for many a day. Yet the word sounds no less sweetly in the ears of the fanatics, who comprehend it not, than it did in the days when its power for evil was as yet untried. The mob, as we have said, wants words and words only, and in "nationalisation" it found the same soothing power which the American imperialist still finds in the blessed name-Monroe Doctrine.

And as in politics we accept words without considering their meaning, so we accept leaders without considering their character or capacity. We want figure-heads to represent as well as phrases to indicate our emotions. The figure-heads, to be successful, must mean no more than the phrases. It is enough if the mob sees its favourite in the street or pic

tured in the journals. As soon as the mob is familiar with its idol's aspect, it pronounces the idol indispensable, and is no less sure that the world would come to an end were the idol shattered, than the American is certain that the future of his country is bound up with the piece of mysticism known as the Monroe Doctrine. Yet the doctrine of indispensability can never be sustained. When the idol is shattered, there is immediately felt an immense relief. For many a year did we not proclaim Mr Asquith the one necessity of our blood and State? Did not Mr Asquith acquiesce eagerly in the proclamation? And who shall forget the complete satisfaction which was felt and manifested at his retirement? Today Mr Lloyd George and his friends are preaching a similar gospel. With tears in their voices, with all the unction of the tabernacle, they assure us that if Mr Lloyd George be not tenant for life of Downing Street the world will fall in ruins about our ears. In other words, Mr Lloyd George is for the moment our Monroe Doctrine.

STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF AU. GUST 24, 1912, OF

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE Published monthly at New York, N. Y., for April 1, 1921

State of New York, County of New York, ss.:

Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Barr Ferree, who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the publisher of

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE

and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management, etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied in section 443, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wit:

1. That the names. and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers are:

Publisher Barr Ferree,

249 West 13th St., New York. Editor-George William Blackwood, Edinburgh, Scotland.

Managing Editor-None.

Business Manager-Barr Ferree,

249 West 13th St., New York.

2. That the owner is:

Barr Ferree, trading as Leonard Scott Publication Co., 249 West 13th St., New York.

3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: None

4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, if any, contain not only the list of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the company, but also, in cases where the stockholders or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing afflant's full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this affant has no reason to believe that any other person, association, or corporation has any interest direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other securities than as so stated by him.

BARR FERREE, Publisher. Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th day of March, 1921. [Seal]

CHARLES L. PIERCE, Notary Public No. 78. New York County. Registers No. 2089. My commission expires March 30, 1922. Affidavits dated March 30, 1921.

I LEFT Ireland a few days ago, for ever. I motored from Dublin to Kingstown in an armoured car. An armed escort brought me to London, where Scotland Yard took charge of me, and I hope are looking after me still.

However, when I arrived in Ireland I did not know what the manner of my departure would be, and it was indeed a case of "where ignorance is bliss." My husband had gone over in May, soon after we left Germany. On the 4th of May he was at the War Office, and was told he would shortly go to India; on the 5th of May he was ordered to Ireland. They both began with "I," which was the only way that we could account for the mistake, but, alas! it was not a mistake. I followed him in July.

I had utterly refused to stay away any longer, and refused

VOL. CCIX.-NO. MCCLXVII.

also to be daunted or depressed by the dismal reports I received from my husband and other officers and their wives who were there already, one officer going so far as to head his letter to me with the address "B- -y Dublin." Had I not been brought up on Irish hunting books, was I not prepared to love the country and the people, and was it not only a question of a few months before I too should be hunting in Ireland? At last I should meet some of the characters I had read about so often in the 'Irish R.M.' and many other delightful books. I certainly did see a man once who looked like "Slipper," otherwise I never saw, met, or heard of any one who in the least resembled any of the characters in those books. Another illusion gone.

Before leaving London I was taken by a friend to a literary

20

meeting in Chelsea. I was told the President of the Society was a delightful Irishwoman, and that she was certain to talk about Ireland and Sinn Fein. I was very keen to hear something about the other, or Sinn Fein, side. I knew once I got to Dublin I should only hear and see the military point of view, and I was genuinely interested in the Sinn Feiners, and had a good deal of sympathy with them. The lady was a disappointment: she certainly compared England most unfavourably with Ireland, and if you like to be amused at the expense of your own country, she was amusing. Like all the Irish people I have ever met, she dilated on the wit, gaiety, beauty, &c., of the Irish nation. But all that was neither interesting nor enlightening. As I was leaving, to my embarrassment, she drew me to her and kissed me (mere Irish impulsiveness, I suppose), and said: "Come back and tell me all about it, if they do not knock you on the head." I laughed at her little jest; I did not laugh when that jest nearly became reality.

The Irish Channel was very kind the boat-a big new one a great deal more comfortable than many I had travelled on to India. I arrived at Kingstown in a frame of mind ready to be pleased with everything and everybody. That condition lasted about one hour. The taxi ordered to meet me had not arrived. found out afterwards that taxis

I

ordered by military people seldom, if ever, did arrive, and as I drove in a dirty cab through the filthy Dublin streets my heart sank. Our soldier servant was waiting for us at the hotel. He was an old friend, and I remarked to him that I did not think I should like the place very much. He replied: "We must just make the best of it, madam." He made the best of it by deserting the next day in a blue-serge suit belonging to my husband! I envied him.

I started off the next morning to look for a flat. The house-agent was gloomy and not particularly helpful. In some ways he was just like his English confrères. He had the same powerful imagination, the same peculiarly annoying habit of sending one long and fruitless journeys after flats that either had been let three months ago, or else had never been to let at all. He asked me how long I wanted it for, so I answered brightly for as long as the troops remain in Dublin. He replied that that would be for ever, and became gloomier still. He told me the rent of one flat was £9 a week: it seemed a good deal, but I said I would go and look at it. As I was going out of the door he told me it might be £9 a month. I asked facetiously if he was sure that it was not £9 a year. But, as I often noticed, no Irishman ever sees a joke unless he has made it himself, and not always then.

I must explain here that I