it is obvious that his only chance of solving the problem is by hitching Bulgaria's wagon to the chariot of the victor. That is the path of his policy, the clue to its mazes. At present Ferdinand's firm conviction is that the pre-ordained victors are his own people, the Teutons. I hope I am revealing no State secret when I say that Austria has firmly pledged herself to stand by him and his adopted country, for which a commanding place and a leading rôle have been assigned among the regenerate Balkan States. Whether this solemn pledge has been one-sided, or whether it has elicited a correlate obligation on the part of Bulgaria's ruler the reader may judge for himself.1 Enough, however, has been said to enable one to appreciate the extreme delicacy of the task with which Ferdinand has to grapple, the absolute secrecy which the execution of his plans exact, and his complete aloofness from those European and humanitarian currents into which the Allied Governments are working so hard to entice him. It is a tragical example of Cicero pro domo sua.

The most important element in this tangled case is, therefore, not whether a convention with Austria or a treaty with Turkey2 has been signed. Treaties and conventions are the merest embroidery on the policy of the King. Bulgarian Ministers, with Ferdinand's sanction, have assured the Entente that the Government's hands are not tied by any diplomatic instruments, and we may accept their statement without hesitation. For the one thing that really counts is to discover which is the winning side before it becomes too late to join it. That is the pivot on which Bulgaria's policy turns. It explains Ferdinand's willingness to join the Allies when Russia's armies held the Carpathian passes and the Straits were threatened by Britain and France. It also explains his accessibility to every argument drawn from decisive military successes, and his eagerness to examine every new symptom of a possible change in the outlook. Thus, when the Marchese di Garroni presented Italy's declaration of war to the

(1) Telegrams and special articles amounting to between 70,000 and 90,000 words dealing with this and other matters which I mistakenly thought it behoved the Allies to know and to act upon, having been wisely suppressed by the Censor since the beginning of last winter, I had to be superlatively careful in the choice of my expressions. That necessity explains why I imitated in my humble way the method of understating established facts adopted by his Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs. But in my case the expedient was unsuccessful. (Note written in October.)

(2) I had seen two draft treaties between Turkey and Bulgaria in July, 1914, one of which was agreed to, signed and ratified, in the following October. Of this information I published the first part in August and September. The second half, which could only become known to me towards the end of the year, was suppressed in the interests of the Allies. (Note written in October.)

Sublime Porte, Ferdinand at once convoked the best military authorities in the country and asked them to state to what extent Italy's intervention would influence the operations against the Dardanelles and the eventual capture of Constantinople. Almost unanimously they gave it as their opinion that the situation in the Straits would not be radically modified by the Italian factor. The King, thus reassured, issued instructions that the negotiations with Turkey were to be pushed forward with all haste. And, according to trustworthy accounts, the result is a treaty agreed to by both parties.

Are the Allies likely to prove victorious? If not, no concessions, however alluring, would move the Coburg Prince to burn his boats and throw in his lot with France, Britain, and Russia. Of Russia he goes in perpetual fear. He knows that a word from him uttered many months ago would have saved the lives of thousands of the Tsar's subjects, and he deliberately refused to utter it. And he now dreads the vengeance of the Duma or the Tsar, should the fortune of war enable them to visit Bulgaria's sins on the head of her responsible ruler. But he still believes that Germany's star is, and will remain, in the ascendant. He and his Ministers are satisfied that the Austro-German advance in the Balkans 1 will shortly be an accomplished fact, and they are determined to allow a sufficient time for its execution. That is why I cannot believe that Ferdinand will close with the offer of the Entente Governments.

1

E. J. DILLON.

(1) I announced this plan of invasion long before any of the Allied Chancelleries had wind of it, and I characterised it as absolutely certain. My telegrams on the subject being deemed dangerous by the Censor were very properly suppressed. Allied Cabinets, and also, I am bound to say, military critics, laughed the idea to scorn. The latter clearly demonstrated the impossibility of its realisation. It only remained for me to wonder why the announcement of such a chimerical scheme was prohibited. And now one must wonder at the desperation of the Germans who, in their folly, take up an impossible scheme and make the destinies of their nation dependent on the success of that. (Note written in October.)

VIGNETTES FROM THE ITALIAN FRONT.

BELLUNO, September 3rd, 1915.

YESTERDAY I discovered a new world-a world where, for miles and miles, there was nothing but sky, mountains, and grey-greenclad soldiers coming, going, leading ammunition columns, rushing past in dust-covered motors, riding on lumbering gun-carriages, washing their clothes in the mountain streams. They were everywhere, all so intensely alive that it hurt one to think that maybe the end of the way for many of them would be eternal rest and quiet.

The scenery here in the Cadore is simply magnificent. Peak upon peak rise up on each side of the road; bare, jagged rocks stand out in fantastic variety against the clear blue sky. Monte Pelmo (3,160 metres) and Monte Civetta (3,217) stand guard over the entrance of the valley we passed through on our way to Selva di Cadore, the village beyond which the old frontier line was. We left the car on reaching it, as we were to climb the steep mountain that stood between us and the Austrian position-a two-hours' climb; but in that bracing air it was an easy and pleasant walk. We saw little encampments perched up snugly on the side of the mountain; as we walked up, the smiling faces of the soldiers greeted us as we passed. In the healthy monotony of their days, the unusual sight of a party of civilians, with a woman amongst them, created quite a sensation! The few peasant women of this lately Austrian district that we saw wore men's felt hats, and looked askance at us, with surly, resentful faces; one only raised her hat, man fashion, as we passed. Poor, bewildered souls; their men are fighting on the other side; for all they know they may be stationed at present in the fort beyond the hill that we were to see in the distance; no wonder they looked resentfully at us.

The parish priests sent to these frontier districts were carefully chosen by the Austrian authorities, and, to make their loyalty doubly sure, the stipend they got, a thousand pounds a year in some places, was high enough to make them willing to preach the gospel of hatred and mistrust of the Italian name very persistently to their flock. The more I see and hear up here the more I realise how persistent and methodical was the Austrian policy, having in view an eventual invasion of northern Italy. All this secret work was, of course, known to our Government, but it is curious how ignorant of it we, the general public, were.

It comes rather like a shock, I confess, and makes one all the keener to get even with the treacherous neighbour who was officially our friend and ally.

Well, politics are an ugly game, and as it is not about them that I want to write, I will try to say what I saw when the top of the mountain was reached.

Facing us was a three-tiered mountain, jutting out and practically dividing two valleys. The enemy holds the top, but we have crept pretty near it ourselves.

As the officer with us was explaining and pointing out the positions and the lie of the land to us, I felt I was having the unique experience of hearing actual warfare explained to me by the aid of a gigantic, natural, raised map. The expanse of view was so great and so clear that even to an amateur like myself strategical positions, how to obtain them, and how to hold them became quite a comprehensible thing. The magnitude of the task before us appalled me, the wonderful feats already accomplished thrilled me. To see the Monte Averau, a sheer bit of naked rock rising like a wall apparently up to the sky, and to be told that artillery, men, and beasts were safely established there took my breath away. It is not the having done it all that is so extraordinary; with time and patience most things can be done; but it is having accomplished this feat in so short a time and under the enemy's fire that is the marvel.

As a secondary fact, this being only a personal experience, I will add that we were requested to take as much shelter as we could behind trees and rocks, as we stood in a visible and dangerous position. Presently we saw some signals being made, and the officers with us suggested politely but firmly that we move on to more sheltered localities. A shell comes very quickly, and a blue motor veil is a good target for people who, like the Austrians, are not economical with their ammunition. To make the picture complete, I must add that the still air was continually being broken by the sound of the cannon, a dull, persistent noise that woke up the echoes, reminding us that the message of Bethlehem, “Peace on earth and goodwill amongst men," had long ago been forgotten. The ruined village and hospital of Livinallongo down in the valley below us brought this very forcibly to my mind.

Before we left, I caught a glimpse of the tiny lake of Alleghe, set like a pure "aquamarine" in the dark-green vastness of the mountains surrounding it. This miniature lake was born in a few minutes; an avalanche brought down part of a mountainside, and, by one of those queer, juggling tricks played occasionally by nature, where there was nothing but bare rocks and stones a clear expanse or blue-green water came into being. On a very

clear day some of the ruins of the houses that stood there before and were destroyed by the titanic crumbling of the mountain-side can be distinctly seen below the limpid water.

Passing through Caprile we were shown the damage done the day before by fourteen Austrian shells that, thanks to the signalling of a spy, had suddenly visited the village.

As usual, the hospital was not spared! The hero of the day was the pet goat of the Colonel, who got its baptism of fire and was slightly hit; but, as the dear soldier boys informed me with great earnestness, it was not serious, and the little goat would soon be capering about and enjoying its life as little goats do!

Either it is because I have been living now for over a fortnight amongst war and those who are making it, or because for the past year we have done nothing but read about war, but, strange, unnatural, and heartbreaking as it all is, I feel that I can still laugh and be lighthearted, that I can still enjoy the glorious scenery, the bracing mountain air, the simple jokes I hear.

But I can do all this only because it is what the men I meet are doing these men who are facing the unknown every minute, who are suffering hardships, who are putting their hearts and souls at the service of their ideal, and who do all this with a smile and a cheerful word. They set the tone, and I feel it is right to follow their lead.

Thank God for the Italian smile; it illuminates and beautifies the many dark spots in the grim blackness of war.

BELLUNO, September 5th, 1915.

It is not possible, in a war that is being fought like this one amongst the most inaccessible mountainous region that can well be imagined, to send accounts of very definite happenings.

Though they form part of a whole all tending the same way, the results obtained are only fragmentary ones. This is not to be wondered at when one remembers that each smallest advance takes place in a mountainous region varying in height from 1,000 to 3,000 metres above the level of the sea. Eternal snows, glaciers, precipitous rocks, lack of roads and of means of communication-such are a few of the conditions existing in the districts where the Italian soldiers are fighting.

To bring up in those Alpine solitudes the necessary means with which to conduct military operations is a task that may seem well-nigh impossible. Not only are the material difficulties very nearly insurmountable on this side, but one must also remember that ahead, and often in a dominating position, is the enemy. The enemy who is prepared, who frequently has command of the