one to thirty, ten million men will be available. Of these the first halfmillion are to be called up in the autumn after the voluntary recruiting of the Regulars and the Militia is completed. It will be interesting to see what method is adopted of selecting men for service out of the available ten millions. Perhaps the Government will require each district to furnish its quota, and apply compulsion only to those districts which fail to reach the standard. In this way the voluntary spirit would be preserved within the borders of compulsion, just as Lincoln made volunteering real by his imposition of the Draft. The appointment of General Pershing to command the American Expeditionary Force has been received with as much pleasure here as in America. He is an experienced and trusted soldier. He was educated at West Point, which provides one of the best military educations in the world, and joined the cavalry in 1886. He took part in the expedition to Cuba in the Spanish-American War in 1898, and in the campaign against the Philippine rebels which followed that war. He very quickly made a great reputation for himself in the Philippines as a man of patience and judgment in dealing with the natives as well as a hard-hitting soldier. On his return to the United States enjoyed the high military position he had earned, and he was naturally chosen to command in the recent campaign in Mexico. There, for political reasons, he was never given a free hand, and that he came out of that unhappy country with great credit to himself, and without having forfeited either the wholesome respect of his enemy or the entire confidence of his Government, was not the least of his achievements.

he

General Pershing is a fine product of one of the most professional Armies

in the world. This description of the American Regular Army may surprise some of our readers, who perhaps think that as the Americans have never taken military affairs very seriously their Regular Army can hardly be compared favorably with the Armies of more military nations. But the American Regular Army is indeed a remarkable body. Although it has seen little service on a grand scale, it has been in another sense on continual active service. One might compare its activities with those of our Navy. It has performed the office of policing the United States against Indian marauders and lawless communities. It goes about its work quietly and competently. It has never been the darling of fashion. Soldier pets in the luxurious life of the great cities have been chosen from among crack regiments of the Militia. The Regulars are too busy, and too often away at their remote posts, to force themselves on public attention. The present writer had the privilege of accompanying a Regular regiment of American infantry in the war of 1898, and he has never forgotten the impression those cool and skilful officers and men made upon him. The officers were highly intelligent, and their handiness and resourcefulness -the result of their Indian experiences -made a delightful combination with their exceptional mental equipment. In a journey by train through almost the entire length of the United States the men were allowed freely to roam about the railway stations when the train stopped, as it frequently did, yet there was not a single case of drunkenness, though the regiment had just said "Good-bye" to its friends and was under the excitement of the approaching campaign. The train passed through "dry" States and "wet" States, but the wet States were just as dry as the dry so far as that

regiment was concerned. The present writer remarked on the exemplary behavior of the men under so little control-to him an astonishing phenomenon-and

one of the officers

said to him: "Our Army is only about twenty-five thousand strong, but you must remember that it is chosen from the best. The men are decently paid and well treated, and they are expected to produce. ⚫ references when they offer themselves to show that they are worthy of being in the Army. Why, I expect you would find that you could take any man out of this regiment and safely make him a cashier in a bank!" Of course in the Cuban Campaign there was a great deal of muddle; the commissariat services broke down; the Army was ill equipped; the medical The Spectator.

service was inadequate; the artillery was armed with poor guns and oldfashioned black powder, which at once obscured the vision and revealed the position of the batteries with clouds of smoke. But the greater part of the failure was due to entrusting the improvisation of machinery to men with political "pull."

The American Regulars were in themselves splendid types of professional soldiers, keen, modest, and brave. When they come over anyone here or in France who expects to see a kind of Wild West circus will receive the surprise of his life. And surprise will change to gratitude and admiration when the Allies have experienced the genius of the American Regular for good-fellowship and loyalty in the field.

"Has anything special," I said, "been happening during my absence?" "We are up to our chins in work," said Francesca.

"But is it real work?"

"Of course it is. We've formed a General Committee, of which everybody's a member, including you, and we've formed an Executive Committee, of which there are about a dozen members. And then there are some Sub-Committees."

"Yes, I know. The Executive Committee thinks it's going to do all the work, but it's got to report to the General Committee, and it'll be a great piece of luck if the General Committee doesn't insist on asserting itself by upsetting all the decisions of the Executive Committee."

"Oh, but our General Committee isn't going to be like that at all. There won't be any petty jealousy about our General Committee. Be

sides, the Executive Committee has power to act, and it doesn't need to report till the Annual Meeting of the General Committee, which is to be held a year from now. When that time comes lots of things will have happened."

"That," I said, "is one of the truest things you've ever said. Even the War may be over by that time."

"But if it isn't we shall all be living on swedes or pea-soup, or rice-bread or all three together; and we shall have a food controller in every village, and our Committees won't be wanted."

"I beg your pardon; they'll be more wanted than ever to keep the controller straight and act as a buffer between him and the population.”

"But they won't know they're a buffer, and they won't like it when some tactless person tells them. Anyhow, that's a long way off, and in the meantime we've got the land."

"Who've got what land?"

"Our Committee," said Francesca, "have got two acres of land from Mr. Carberry, and we're going to grow a crop of peas on it so that everybody may have pea-soup in case of a pinch."

"But what about the peas?" I said. "Have you made sure of those?"

“We had a good deal of trouble about them, but we've got a firm promise of six bushels."

"Capital! But are you quite sure you know how to bring the land and the peas together?"

"Well, I'm not so much of an expert as I should like to be, but Mr. Bolton's a practical farmer, and he's going to do all he can for us."

"Will he plough it?"

"It's been ploughed twice, so he's undertaken to harrow it and scarify it-doesn't it sound awful?—and then something else is going to happen to it, but I forget what it's called."

"Wouldn't it be a good thing, at some stage or other, to plant the peas?"

"Yes, it would; but you can't do it as simply as all that, can you? Isn't there something highly agricultural that you must do first?"

"I should chuck 'em in and chance it."

"A nice farmer you'd make," she said scornfully. "I'm remembering it

Punch.

"Yes, we thought you'd like to be one, so I gave your name in."

"I think a man must pledge his own honor. He can't have it done for him." "There's no public ceremony. You can just pledge yourself in your mind, and then put a pledge card in one of the windows."

"I'll have tea first," I said, "and then I'll choose the window, and then I'll pledge myself in my mind."

"No, you can do the pledging now." "I've done it, while you were talking."

"And after all it's only the old rations according to Lord Devonport and we've been working under them for some time now."

"So we have," I said; "but of course the card in the window makes all the difference."

R. C. Lehmann.

Thine eyes survey the earth, Thine

eyes

The surging spaces of the deep;
At Thy command the billows rise,
At Thy command they sink to sleep;
Trusting in Thee the sailor strains
Across the storm, across the sea;
Trusting in Thee, O Lord, he gains
The haven where he fain would be.

Winds are Thy messengers, O God,
Clouds are the chariot of Thy path;
The tempest rages at Thy nod,
The lightnings gleam, when Thou art
wrath;

And if to scale Thy heav'ns above,
Trusting in Thee, Thy creatures dare,
Shield them with Thy protecting love,
Who ride upon the viewless air.

To turn a twentieth-century young Englishman studying for the bar into a faun, make him fall in love with Lady Moon, and kill him by the arrow of Dionysios would be a hard enough task for a poet. A novelist certainly should not essay it even with a theory of pre-natal influence to help him-unless he have a more delicate fancy and a lighter touch than W. E. B. Henderson has shown in "Behind the Thicket." Nor can social satire such as is attempted in the earlier half of the story be achieved by epigrams like: "He would not fetch and carry, though she looked fetching and carried on." E. P. Dutton & Co.

E. Temple Thurston's latest novel, "Enchantment," is not at all in the manner of "The Antagonists" and "Richard Furlong." Slighter, more delicate, with none of that excessive emphasis on the sex-problem which has marred so much of Mr. Thurston's work for many readers who appreciate his talent, it is a charming story of Irish life fifty years ago. The father of Patricia Desmond, its piquant heroine, vows her to a convent before her birth, but obtains absolution from his vow by a counter-oath to break off drinking, and the struggle between his love for his child and his bottle forms the plot. There is rollicking adven

ture, and mellow humor, and wit, and exquisite pathos, and keen, kindly analysis of human nature-everything that makes an Irish story irresistible. The men are particularly well drawnDesmond, Father Casey, Sandy Stuart, the respectable wine-merchant whose backstairs smuggling drives his son Charles to take honestly to the sea, and Charles himself, who comes home in time to settle Patricia's fate. D. Appleton & Co.

The plot of Mrs. Henry Backus's latest novel follows the experiences of an ardent, high-spirited Hungarian girl, coming to America with the dreams of an enthusiast, and buoyantly hopeful of "A Place in the Sun" here. The first chapter finds Kuniganda Karoli in a doctor's office, where country air and generous diet are prescribed for the anaemia caused by ten hours a day in a stogy factory; later she becomes nursemaid to the doctor's little niece; later still she develops an unexpected talent for interpretative dancing. Theories of eugenics, conscientiously held by the doctor, thwart the romance which the reader detects from the start, but in due time the facts are fortunately found to conform to them. Settlement work, sanitation, political graft and "society" scandal of a mild flavor furnish epi

sodes in a fluently-written story. The Page Co.

No American singer more brilliantly blends the new and the old ideals than Louis Untermeyer. He is first a personality, then a poet. He has the habit of the haunting rhythm. His free verse sings like a nightingale. He loves luscious words-groups of them -as passionately as Tennyson; but, with Frost and Pound, flings all the mannerisms of the Victorians out of the window. So intense is the Untermeyer individuality it were a good guess that he will be quoted when Frost's simplicities and Pound's attitudinizings are dead. His new book, "These Times," shows him a good hater, as ever. He strikes out at everything, the old idea of God, of Heaven, the accepted standards of religion and ethics, the reformers in kid gloves. His images are over-sensual. At his best he is lyrical.

I am too poor to buy you back the years

A mother pays for with her dreams and fears,

For I am rich in nothing but in love,
So let me live my thanks, so let me be
Forever in your debt, who gave to me
The breath of life-and all the joys
thereof.

Henry Holt & Co.

Cale Young Rice prefaces his collection of verse, "Trails Sunward," with a protest against vers libre and all its workers. He starts off with the uncompromising assertion that, "Never has poetry tried so hard to be prose as at the present time in America." He ends by declaring, "We must have a truer and greater freedom than can be given by any change of verse form. We must exact a profounder grasp on life than any rude externalism permits." That is the summing-up of his volume. He attempts, and succeeds, in deepening the note of his singing, keeping its

brilliant technique, its intricate verse formation; but hunting all the while for words to interpret the profound things of life. The music of his lines is more perfect than ever, his rhythms varied and fresh. Among the lyrics a play, "Wraiths of Destiny," is included. The Century Co.

Commander Yates Stirling of the United States Navy is the author of a timely and compact, yet comprehensive volume on "Fundamentals in Naval Service," which may well be utilized as a textbook in these times when the navy is assuming new importance, and thousands of civilians are turning to it as their best opportunity for "doing their bit" in the great world war. The book contains frank statements of the needs and deficiencies of the navy, of the strength and functions of the different types of war craft, and of naval organization and policy. It is a complete manual of naval service, of seamanship, naval construction, warship training and the use of ordnance, and special chapters are contributed by Lieutenant Commander H. C. Mustin on The Naval Aeroplane, by Lieutenant Commander C. S. McDowell on Electricity in the Navy, and by Past Assistant Surgeon Ralph Walker McDowell on First Aid and Hygiene. The book is published with the approval of the United States Navy Department. J. B. Lippincott Co.

Two lively and spirited books for boy readers come simultaneously from D. Appleton & Co. "Scott Burton, Forester," by Edward G. Cheney, is the story of an Eastern tenderfoot lad, who goes to Minnesota to learn forestry, and later, in the practical pursuit of that vocation, has a succession of startling and often perilous experiences with bears, poachers and forest fires and other accompaniments of life in the wilds. "The Trail of Tecum