less shooting. All civilians were disarmed by order of the Duma Committee, and by the end of the day one seldom saw an armed civilian; a marked contrast to the day before when none were to be seen without arms. Drunken people were being arrested, whether soldiers or civilians. The Duma Committee issued the following order to officers:

The War Committee of the Imperial Duma invites all officers not possessing the definite charge of the Committee to come to the Hall of the Army and Fleet in order to receive an assurance of the universal pass and exact registration, so as to fulfil the charges of the Committee in the organization of the soldiers who have joined the representatives of the people for the safeguarding of the capital. Any delay on the part of officers in showing up will inevitably blemish the prestige of an officer's calling.

Students were also enrolled to act as police and to help to keep order, prevent looting, arrest drunkards, etc. The students wore armlets, carried revolvers, and were generally accompanied by a patrol of three or four soldiers under their command. The officers who were now registered at the Duma were given back their arms and returned to their regiments to help to restore discipline. On Wednesday there were many more officers marching with the troops, and there was a certain amount of order in the way they marched. All officers wore bits of red, as indeed did everybody one saw in the street.

The revolutionaries had made the fortress of SS. Peter and Paul their headquarters. There were no newspapers, but news-sheets and proclamations were being issued daily from the Duma, and also one from the Petrograd Council of Labor Deputies. These papers were taken round by motors and distributed at various

centers of the town. As soon as the motors were seen approaching they

were

surrounded and besieged by eager and impatient crowds who veritably fought to obtain a copy.

All Thursday there was an uncomfortable, tense feeling about the crowds. The atmosphere was electric. One felt that anything might happen. The German agents who posed as Russian patriots were trying their best to excite the more extreme Socialists to further excesses. They spread every kind of rumor, with the object of making the people restless. Stories went round that Riga and Dvinsk had fallen; that a revolution had been raging for three days in Berlin; and that the Kaiser was a prisoner and the Crown Prince killed! These and many other lies were being freely circulated and believed. This, added to the fact that the Emperor had not answered the telegrams of the Duma, or the following one sent him by twenty-three Members of the Council of the Empire, caused a very bad impression:

Your Imperial Majesty,-We, the undersigned elected Members of the Council of the Empire, in realization of the great danger now threatening the Country, appeal to you to perform a duty of conscience to Yourself and to Russia. Factories and mills have ceased to work as the result of the total disorganization of transport and lack of necessary materials. Compulsory idleness and the extreme seriousness of the food crisis, resulting from the dislocation of transport, have reduced the masses to desperation. This feeling has been still further aggravated by the hatred of the people for the Government, and the suspicions they entertain of their rulers. All this has found expression in popular rebellion and the troops have joined the movement. The Government, which was never trusted by the people, is now totally discredited

and utterly incapable of coping with the situation.

Emperor, The continuation in power of the present Government will denote the utter wrecking of all law and will inevitably lead to defeat in the war, the perdition of the dynasty, and immeasurable We consider the sole course open to Your Majesty to be a decisive change in internal politics, in accordance with the expressed desires of the representatives of the people and all public organizations; the resignation of the present Cabinet; and the investment of a person trusted by the people with powers to draw up a list of the new Cabinet to be confirmed by Your Majesty. Every hour is precious. Further delay and wavering may be fatal.

disasters for Russia.

On everybody's lips one heard the same remark: "The least the Emperor could do would be to send some answer instead of entirely ignoring the telegrams sent him." It was not until two or three days after his abdication that it was known that his entourage had kept back the telegrams from him. He was only allowed to see them on Thursday, when it was already too late to save his throne.

On Friday the feeling of electricity in the air had to a great extent disappeared, for the abdication of the Emperor and his son had been officially announced. This was followed shortly afterwards by the Grand Duke Michael's proclamation refusing the Crown until elected by the people.

All the crowns and double eagles and Imperial ciphers were hastily torn down in the streets and thrown into the canals. On the Winter Palace the eagles and crown were not taken down but neatly covered over with scarlet material. Between three and four hundred people were standing in the huge Winter Palace Square silently watching this being done.

The Imperial flag was then lowered and the Red flag hoisted in its place, whereupon one member at the back of the crowd gently clapped his hands and said, "Bravo! Bravo!" This was one of many curious and interesting scenes with which Petrograd abounded during the first week of one of the most remarkable revolutions in the world's history.

Considering how near the condition of things was at one moment to absolute anarchy it was marvelous how self-controlled the people remained. With the exception of the provision shops there was little or no looting. The only cases that did occur were the work of released criminals who went about dressed up as soldiers. Council of Labor Deputies, realizing this, issued a proclamation to the people and the soldiers, part of which was as follows:

The

Bands of hooligans are beginning to go about the town who are robbing the shops and property of the inhabitants. The revolutionary people and the army must on no account allow this. Looting by hooligans might cast a shadow on the holy work of freeing the revolted people, and the army should arrest hooligans who are found looting and hand them over to the Governor of Petrograd appointed by the State Duma.

The Imperial Guard left Tsarskoye Selo to join the revolutionaries, and many of the palace servants also deserted the Empress and the Grand Duchesses, who were ill with measles. Although it had been commonly believed that the Empress might be assassinated, the exact opposite happened, for the Duma sent off posthaste a revolutionary regiment to guard her and her family.

British officers were treated with wonderful courtesy. An officer told me that an English uniform was as good as a passport.

Immense stores of flour and grain were found hidden in Petrograd, large quantities in the churches. After Protopopoff gave himself up proofs were found in his house of plans to open the wine-shops in order to provide an excuse for firing on the people when they were drunk. To this charge must be added that of keeping the town purposely short of food, and of bribing the police before the Revolution. All these charges he will be called upon to answer at his trial. The police were supposed to be loyal to a man to the old régime. Hated by the people, they well knew that once they had fired on them they were not likely to receive gentle treatment at their hands. This knowledge and the fact that they were hidden away in attics and did not know which way the day was going made them fight to the end.

In other towns like Moscow and Kieff, as soon as the news of the Revolution came through the police gave themselves up in a body, thus avoiding all bloodshed. In Petrograd when their cause became hopeless The National Review.

they tried in all manner of ways to escape. One man was caught dressed as a woman, but he was in such a hurry that he had forgotten to shave off his mustache. The majority of those killed were members of the police force.

Many peasants in the streets were saying that they were going to have a Republic with a Little Father Tsar! Two privates were overheard discussing the future. One of them said that the Emperor should remain Emperor with a Constitutional Government, for God had anointed him, and that once God had anointed him man could not undo His work. "Yes," replied the other, "but since God anointed him, Rasputin has covered him with his dirt, and God would never reanoint a man."

The amazing success of the Revolution in so short a time, with comparatively small loss of life, was due to the fact that there was hardly a dissentient voice. All classes in all parts of Russia were in sympathy with the revolutionaries in the overthrow of an incompetent and hated Government. Sybil Grey.

CHAPTER IV.

It was presently announced to the congregation of St. Etheldreda's Church that Mark Jonathan Travis of the parish of Saint Peter's, Westhampton, was about to wed Christina Mary Merridew, spinster, of this parish.

No one declared any cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, so the dressmakers and milliners and confectioners went forward with their business.

Christina's days were filled with

shopping and fitting and writing letters. Mentally she clung to a branch overhanging a precipice. Only the daily business and the Merridew self-control kept her from an abandonment to hysterical distress. But family tradition is strong, and a sane fortitude had been the attitude of the Merridews on all occasions. Christina prayed passionately night and morning that she might not disgrace her name.

"When it's over you'll be all right," her mother assured her. "I never knew a girl who didn't look like a limp rag on her wedding-day-it's the waiting,

isn't it? I always think that criminals should be executed at once outside the court, and that girls should be married the day after they're engaged." Now by every post presents arrived. The house was invaded by boxes and brown paper and shavings. Christina was a little beguiled by her new property. She looked forward with some interest to arranging the little house in Westhampton where she should reign as mistress. Travis, with the aid of a married sister, had furnished it, subject as he explained, to her approval. Although the town was only across the Derbyshire border it was easier for those on the spot to do the furnishing. Christina could make such alterations as she liked later.

The daily fuss of wedding preparations was an opiate to the waiting bride. She felt like one in a dream who must act an inevitable part.

The eve of the wedding dawned-a radiant May day. The old spaniel went out to the little patch of grass to roll on his broad brown back in honor of the spring. He kicked his legs and growled with satisfaction, then settled himself on an oblong of sunshine in the hall to watch the messengers who kept arriving with parcels.

He had grown tired and hoarse with barking at them all. It seemed useless to protest that this was his house and that no one must invade the front garden or raise the knocker. He realized vaguely that some business was on foot. He had an uneasy sense that some one was going away, for there were trunks in Christina's room, and she had kissed him and cried over him more than once.

He could not understand what it was all about; but though he asked everyone with his sunny brown eyes, there was no answer but a pat on the head from the ladies, and a hasty "Lie down" or "Get out" from his master. Then a cab came and he prepared

to be very angry and fussy, but it turned out to be Mr. Edmund and his wife and their little girl. The little girl hugged him. It made him nervous, but he wagged his tail. Now his time was occupied, for he felt in duty bound to amuse her, though she wanted him to do all sorts of tiresome things for which he had no inclination.

Presently Mr. John and his wife appeared at the gate, and again his stumpy tail was in vehement motion. What could it mean? He escaped from the little girl and hid himself under the dining-room sofa. Here he was in a safe shelter, but near the human beings whom he loved.

Christina was in the room; she was showing her sister-in-law her presents. Her arm was around her little niece, for her nephews and nieces adored Aunt Christina. The child felt that nothing could be so glorious and exciting as being married. It seemed a fairy tale enacted before her eyes.

The sisters-in-law never agreed to praise or dispraise the same thing. There was a vague antagonism between them. Madge was inclined to be fashionable and up-to-date, while Janet was simple, rural in taste, and ready to condemn Madge as extravagant and worldly.

"All that silver will give your maid heaps of work," said Janet.

"Well! her maid ought to work, what else is she for?" asked Madge.

"She'll have plenty of work besides if she cleans properly, and does the cooking and everything."

"Well, Christina can help with the silver. It's a great thing to have it to start with. It's like a hall-mark to the house. People who don't know her will see what she is."

"People who judge you by your silver are not worth knowing. If they don't like Christina for herself they'll be horrid."

"Oh! you know what I mean, Janet. Everyone is not unworldly like

you. Other people do judge by the outside. When I pay a first call, I can sum up the people by their drawing-room in five minutes."

Janet preserved a lofty silence. She bid her daughter follow her upstairs to take off her hat and coat. She felt with pride that she, the wife of the eldest son, commanded the spare bedroom, while John and his Madge had to sleep at the Baileys'.

"Really! I can't see the good of being dowdy," Madge declared hotly; "why does Janet wear that impossible hat? And she dresses that unfortunate child like a charity orphan."

Christina smiled vaguely. She knew that Madge was always jealous of Edmund and his wife.

At that moment her brothers came in. They were nice-looking men, with healthy, honest faces. They each gave her a formal little kiss and began to appraise the value of the presents. Money interested them both as much as anything except, perhaps, football, in which they had a retrospective joy. Their presence seemed to infuse so much cheerful commonplaceness into the atmosphere that Christina took heart.

Romance, emotion, problems, scruples seemed to fly before Edmund and John Merridew. One could only suppose that their courtships took place in a sudden attack of delirium, from which they had made a perfect recovery. They were apostles of the ordinary. Any deviation from the normal they found intolerable.

In

the current slang they sought all the expression they needed. It furnished them with sentiments suitable for weal or woe, dismay or surprise.

It pleased them much to be together, for the coldness between their wives did not favor a frequent exchange of visits. They were fond of Christina and delighted that she should marry, for the normal woman generally does marry.

LIVING AGE, VOL. VII, No. 322.

She told them those points about her future husband that would interest them-his income, the extent of his insurance, his house rent, and details about his business. She was soothed by this utterly mundane conversation.

It was not until the evening that Travis came. He had, very obviously, just had his hair cut, thereby evoking memories of shorn sheep. He had to be presented to the battalion of relations who were sitting in the drawing-room.

Janet Merridew, who had a gift for marshaling her connections, got Christina out of the room. "Do let the poor man see you for a moment in peace," she said; "go to the study, I'll make an excuse to send him in to see the presents."

Christina obeyed meekly. A minute afterwards Travis came down the passage. John looked out from the drawing-room door and shouted stentorian pleasantries.

"Anyone willing to do sentry-go in the hall? Pass-word, 'Spoons.' No admittance except on business. Do you hear, Chris?"

Travis shut the study door behind him. The room was nearly dark. Christina, a white figure in the dusk, stood by the French window.

Mark paused for a moment, then went to her and took her in his arms. "God be praised!" he murmured, "we'll only have a few more hours of tomfoolery and then-and then each other, Christina."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Physically she was worn out, and there was solace in his sturdy strength.

"Mark, are you sure you want me?" she asked.

"Sure?"

He kissed her.

"Now do you believe me?" he asked. "Yes, I believe, but it frightens me.