regret that except the Viennese? Even if he admires its spacious public buildings-of a style of architecture too heavy to appeal to the discriminating-any man of imagination must remember that they were built by the sweat and blood of the subject races cringing under the iron heel of the villainous old aristocrats who ruled Austria-Hungary.

Vienna to-day is dirty and depressing. Dirt and newspapers are blown through the streets by gusty winds which swirl germs into the faces of the inhabitants, most of whose constitutions are now too weak to resist even a decrepit microbe. Vienna has always relied for food and other supplies on outlying districts of Austria or on neighboring countries, from which she can get next to nothing to-day. The Czechs will send her neither coal nor food, needing both for themselves. The same is true of the Galicians. Germany has little to send to Austria, and constant strikes as well as the coal shortage interfere with sending that. In a previous article, which dealt primarily with conditions along the Rhine and in occupied Germany, I reported that there was no noticeable shortage of coal or sugar in those regions. But as for sugar, there is very little of it either in Austria or in the Germany east of the Rhine; and as for coal, while there seems to be enough to warm all the houses and hotels in most of Germany, there is certainly a great shortage of it in Austria. In Austria you have this vicious circle: no coal-no transportation; no transportation-no coal; no transportation and no coal-no food.

It is reported that a certain distinguished representative of the American Government went to Vienna, put up at the best and most expensive hotel, and left the city after twenty-four hours with the breezy remark, "Oh, I guess Vienna's all right." If he had cared to stroll a little distance from the lobby of his hotel, he would have taken away quite a different impression. Of course there is good enough food to be had at the best hotels if you can afford to pay for it. But what percentage of the population of New York, for example, can afford to eat at the Biltmore even in a period of normal prices?

At the present price of exchange, an Austrian crown is worth about five cents in American money. But a crown is still a crown to an Austrian. Wages have doubled, or even trebled, since 1914, but prices have increased tenfold or more. I knew of an Austrian who had to get at least a small quantity of milk, by hook or crook, to save the life of his child. After hunting through half the shops of Vienna, he found a can of condensed milk. He got it for one hundred and sixty crowns (about eight dollars in our money, even at the present low exchange)! Another man, who decided he must have a chicken, got a small one for two hundred and twenty crowns!

Young children and old people in Austria have died by thousands. A healthy adult can stand a meager diet for a good

said.

6

correspondent,"

I

Well, when I got off the train at the station on the border to see what could be done, the conductor seized my arm and whispered:

"Come into this little baggage car. It is going on to Prague. As an American courier you can go."

With the enjoyment of one who is on the inside looking out I watched a mob of men who swarmed about the baggage car all vociferously declaring that they were couriers and had important business in Prague.

"I never saw so many couriers in my life," said the baggage-master. After much argument and inspection of credentials, argument and inspection of credentials, about twelve of the alleged couriers were allowed to enter. The rest of the crowd, allowed to enter. The rest of the crowd, except a Czech Princess, who came with us, were sent back to Vienna, howling with natural rage and disappointment.

The Bohemian countryside is as easy to look at as any I have ever seen. Industry mingles with agriculture, factory chimneys literally rising from the midst of orchards, and both seem to be flourishing. Up to date Bohemia has been a sort of oasis in the midst of a desert of Bolshevism and industrial barrenness.

I was met at the station in Prague by representatives of a department of the Czech Ministry of Foreign Affairs which

devotes itself entirely to entertaining and assisting foreigners within the country of the Czechoslovaks. They did not know I was coming, but they meet every train with motor cars, in which they convey the astonished strangers to rooms constantly reserved at the best hotels for this purpose. A very agreeable Czech officer who spoke English was placed at my disposal to use whenever I wanted him as a guide to show me about the city.

This is a characteristic instance of the

energy and purpose with which the new Czechoslovak Republic is beginning its career. In some respects the rights to the frontiers which the Czechs and the Slovaks are claiming are certainly open to question (although these people are such pleasant hosts that any one who has visited their capital hates to question their right to anything they may happen to want). But it is certainly questionable, if for their own future security and the peace of Europe it is wise, for the Czechs and Slovaks to remain in possession of a city like Pressburg, only about thirtythree miles from Vienna, and with a population overwhelmingly Teutonic. In general the Czechs are following the plan of claiming almost anything to which they have a ghost of a right, and perhaps for them this is the best policy, since they will certainly get a good deal of what they claim. At any rate, the Czechoslovaks are full of admirable qualities. The whole nation is " up on its toes" every minute. The new Government is well organized, and it is pushing its way among other nations with a very well managed and carefully considered propaganda. Unquestionably the Czechs are the most energetic, the most efficient, and the most intensely patriotic people in Europe east of the Rhine to-day. As such they will deserve the important part they seem likely to play in the Middle Europe of the future.

I doubt if any city in the world has as many photographs and busts of President Wilson in its shop windows as Prague. In every case the likeness of the American President is side by side with a like ness of the George Washington of Czechoslovakia-President Masaryk.

In the streets of Prague you see hundreds of soldiers in Italian, French, or Austrian uniforms, as well as those wearing the attractive gray uniform of the new Republic. But all these soldiers are Czechs. They are men who fought for the independence of Czechoslovakia with the French and Italian armies, and thousands of them allowed themselves to be captured by the Allies when in Austrian uniform in order to fight against the Austrians later.

Prague is suffering for want of food, but Prague is not in so bad a plight as Vienna. In Vienna the pathos lies, not in what you see, but in what you do not see-markets with nothing to sell but a few carrots and cabbages, orphan asylums empty because the orphans have died.

Hungary is reported to be in as bad condition physically as Austria, but politically Hungary is the most unenviable

nation in Europe. To-day the Hungarians are without friends. The Austrians at least can count on the Germans as friends, but the Hungarians can count on no one.

The probable union of Austrians with Germans is at least a natural union. But, whatever the future of the Teutons may be, let us be glad that the old conglomer

ation of peoples held together by force which was called the Austro-Hungarian Empire is ended.

Paris, March 25.

VISITOR from Mars who sought A enlightenment with regard to politi enlightenment with regard to political problems on the earth from the newspapers would get the impression that Irishmen were a fierce, relentless race, that the English were at once stolid, stupid, and brutal, and that individuals from the two countries whenever they came in contact hissed with anger and at the slightest provocation were likely to strike each other. Hostility, it would seem, must breathe through the nostrils of Englishmen and Irishmen whenever they meet, either individually or in groups. They would seem to be continually at each other's throats. The utterances of the stronger politicians on each side are largely responsible for this picture. It has an amazing sense of unreality for those who know Ireland and England, and this despite the political fight between the two sides.

The truth is that, generally speaking, the Irish hate the English politically, but get on very well indeed with them personally, and the English are filled with scorn of Irish politics but appreciate perhaps more intensely than any other people the glamour of Irish personality and the intimate charm of Irish men and women. Thus it is that Englishmen and Irishmen are both astonished at the others' mischievous and dangerous political beliefs. Just now Irish politics have entered on another phase, but it is only a continuation of the attitude of mind on both sides.

It is difficult to imagine that Irish and English leaders are ever friendly together. If one went by the published denuncia tions, one would conceive malignant silence or malignant words whenever people of the two countries came within range of one another. I have traveled over Ireland not only in times of quietude but also during two general elections, and I spent five years of my life in the gallery of the British House of Commons, and have seen intensive fighting by the various sections of Irishmen on behalf of their beliefs; and there is perhaps some illumination afforded by sidelights on the moods and the activities of Englishmen and Irishmen when they are brought together for social purposes, for work, or for discussion..

The atmosphere of the House of Commons is a thing not easily understood by those who are not familiar with it through actual experience. The Irish up till recently were divided into several sections-a little group revolting against the leadership of Mr. Redmond, the Redmondites themselves diverse in temperament, and the north country Irish Union

BY FRANK DILNOT

ists bitterly opposed to their fellow-counists bitterly opposed to their fellow-countrymen-but all of them together possessing in common a certain Irish outlook and Irish sympathy which was separate from every other feeling in the House. However ruthlessly they attacked one another, they nevertheless felt the call of the blood. Sir Edward Carson, with rasping voice, outstretched forefinger, mordant words, was the great Irish enemy in Parliament of Home Rule aspirations. His searing sentences on the one hand, and, on the other, the flaming words that have been hurled back at him, could never have left any doubt of the hatred between the two parties. Yet Sir Edward Carson was an Irishman. There came an occasion when young Willie Redmond, the son of his chief opponent, made his maiden speech in the House of Commons. It was Sir Edward Carson who was the first man to the table, and, turning to face his leading enemy, he paid a glowing tribute to the young Irishman's first speech, a tribute which must have warmed the elder Redmond's heart. And the tribute was cheered by all the Englishmen present as heartily as it was by the Irishmen themselves.

There is a communal spirit in the House of Commons, and all the House, even the Conservatives, strange as it may seem, had an affection for, even a pride in, these Irishmen who filled a section by themselves, who conformed to the rules themselves, who conformed to the rules of the House with punctiliousness, who steadily refused any honors or emolument under the British Government, who fought with persistence, and who never could be placated. Moreover, there were many happy and close friendships between the Irishmen and the British members, and it is certain that the Irishmen felt themselves an integral and, indeed, as they were, a very important part of that assembly, so mixed and yet in certain fundamentals possessed of a remarkable oneness of spirit. The Irishmen had their prejudices, formed against a good many Liberals and a good many Conservatives, prejudices which were reciprocal and had little or nothing to do with politics. The Speaker of the House of Commons, Mr. Lowther, a British aristocrat with a mellow humor and a kindly tolerance which arose from appreciation of many sides of life, athletics as well as literature, his farming as well as his interest in social experiments, had a warm place in his heart for the Irishmen, and they on their part respected and liked him. Many a time have I heard him call down with stern words some raucous mem bers of his own party who were attacking the Irish. I have heard the Irish leaders pay generous tribute not only to

his stern fairness but to his humaneness and his wit. The swift dialogues between the Speaker and the Irish Nationalists often brightened the House. There was an occasion where an English Liberal, forsaking his Home Rule principles on receipt of his knighthood, immediately changed to the opposite benches, and this on the last day of the session. He rose to put a question on that last day. Jerry MacVeagh sprang up from among the Nationalists before the recent Liberal could get in a word and put one of those audacious points of order which are not points of order at all, and in which the Irishmen had more freedom than any others in the House. "Mr. Speaker," he cried, "is it in order that a member who rats and gets a knighthood for it should rise to put a question from his new place on the last day of the session? Is it in order that he should change his side and join the Conservative party at this late stage?"

The Speaker rose in his place, a picture of dignity. "It is never too late to mend," he said.

An unexpected scene which might have had a painful conclusion was averted late one night by the collaboration of the Speaker with an English member. The occasion was during the last half-hour of the sitting on the motion for the adjournment, which gives opportunity for the discussion of any topic whatever. A young Irish member just back from a tour in Australia made some remarks which might have been construed into an attack on the monarch, and the House sank into a silence which was obviously the prelude to a political storm in which the name of the King would have been freely bandied about. It was a situation which in many respects would have been disastrous, for the Commons is omnipotent in the conduct of the business of the country. A dozen fiery spirits sprang to their feet to speak for and against as soon as the young member sat down. The responsible Irish leaders wanted nothing less than the damaging scene which was about to ensue. The

Speaker rose to the occasion. He blandly ignored all the fire-eaters and called on a Yorkshire representative, a burly man with red hair and aquiline nose and a sense of humor which was concealed behind bland eyes and a drawling voice. "Mr. Speaker," he said, "I wish to direct the attention of the House to a matter which is of the utmost importance at the present moment." All the House sank again to the intensest silence for the continuation of the drama. "I feel," said the member, "that I can be doing no greater service to this House or to the country than by the subject which I

intend to deal with at this moment." The House was at fever pitch. Even the whispers in the galleries were silenced.." The subject I wish to deal with," he said, "is the all-important one of rivers. I wish to call attention to the extreme value of rivers to the human race. There is, for instance, the Mississippi, which traverses a great part of North America, renowned for its beauty, and bringing all kinds of facilities to the people of the country in the shape of trade and commerce. The Amazon, on the other hand, is a huge body of water which I desire to compare with the little stream, also a river, running at the back of my garden in Yorkshire. They are alike in this, that the pollution in them comes from practically the same source-decaying leaves and the crumbling of the banks of clay or earth or sand." The breathless House of Commons had by this time grasped the meaning of the orator, and from a silence which was almost painful was beginning to ripple. The ripple developed into a roar. The tension was at an end. The Yorkshire member continued talking until eleven o'clock, when the sitting came to an automatic close, and the Speaker rose and said, "This House is now adjourned." I shall never forget the laughter at the performance of the Yorkshire member, laughter in which the Irish were among the foremost.

The most vehement of Irish Nationalists sometimes comes to the assistance of an English Minister whom he likes. At four o'clock one morning, after a strenuous all-night sitting, Mr. John Burns, then the President of the Local Government Board, desired to get through without opposition one or two routine departmental bills which could be passed right away so long as no voice was raised against them. One of these bills, I remember, was called "The Removal of Offensive Matter Bill," which dealt with the collection of street refuse, Mr. Burns made an appeal to the tired House to give him the bill. A foppish Conservative member, unable to make any mark in ordinary debate, chose to obstruct this bill, as he had done other bills, by the simple words, "I object." The Conservative leader appealed to him. "I object," persisted the young fop. Up sprang Mr. MacVeagh from the Irish benches. "Why does the honorable member object? I know it is the Removal of Offensive Matter Bill, but there is nothing personal in it."

I had been a blood relation. I was sitting down having a drink with them within three minutes. They offered to help me in every possible way. Despite their comparative youth, they were among the most distinguished political leaders and orators in the British Empire, but were also the most generous, good-hearted fellows I have ever met in any country. I had an even more apt illustration of the personal confidence in an Englishman two or three nights later. Mr. John Redmond,was addressing a huge meeting in the Rotunda in Dublin. After the meeting, when scores were crowding around the Irish leader, I was introduced to him and we exchanged a sentence or two. He must have suddenly realized that I, as a stranger, could be of use to him. He had to pass up an aisle through the audience towards the street and was beset not merely by those who wished to greet him but also by those desiring favors. How was he to get through the throng? He took me by the arm, "Walk with me to the street," he said. As we passed along through the thrusting people he was busy showing to me with upraised finger the various points of interest in the hall, its architectural features, and explained to me how and why I should visit it at my leisure. His attention to me was so close and courteous that it really left him little opportunity for more than a passing hand-shake and a word of greeting to all those who were thronging forward, and he reached his carriage in the street without undue delay.

Though I was a Liberal Home-Ruler in politics, I was attached to a famous Conservative paper as a descriptive writer, and when in 1910 I went to Ireland to do a series of sketches I was doubtful as to whether the name of the paper I represented would be a handicap to me in my work. I found nothing of the kind. I went into the Gresham Hotel, in Sack ville Street, Dublin, and saw two of the most brilliant of the younger generation of Ireland, T. M. Kettle and Joe Devlin, sitting together in the lounge. I went up and introduced myself and told them straight who and what I was, and I could not have had a more cordial reception if

them workingwomen, and their fervor for Willie Redmond is a thing to be remembered. With a group of committeemen we emerged from the hotel to make our way through to the carriage, which was to be in the middle of the procession. It was a great struggle for Willie Redmond to get there, and, once he was in the carriage, it was detained by strong Irish arms which held on to the sides, and while efforts were being made by the organizers to detach the enthusiasts one middle-aged woman climbed into the carriage and kissed Willie Redmond amid the plaudits of thousands. While we were on our way through the crowded streets I stood up to get a better view of scenes which will be forever memorable, and presently Willie Redmond took hold of my arm and pulled me down. "We shall have the stones soon, now," he said. True it was. We were getting into the thick of hostile territory, and volleys of missiles from time to time were launched at us. Every one took it good-humoredly and saw nothing in the least strange about the demonstration.

Mr. O'Brien won the election, and then went out to the west of Ireland to County Mayo, where he lived, and where he had determined to fight another constituency against the Redmondites. His headquar ters were at Westport, where he and his wife were extremely popular. I was present on the night he arrived fresh from his triumph in Cork. The little town hall had been cleared of seats, and he was taken there by an excited and jubilant crowd in order to speak to them and to receive their congratulations. The hall was filled with men who stood with their sticks at attention and with their eyes bright and fervent. Mr. O'Brien, heavily bearded, with shaggy eyebrows and long, wavy hair, looked like a prophet of old, as with hands clasped behind his back he delivered himself of criticisms of the Redmondite leaders. "John Dillon is coming here on Sunday. Boys, what will you do with him?" "We'll shoot him, sir!" shouted voices amid a roar. Of course they did not mean it. It was in the midst of Mr. O'Brien's intensive scorn and the furious enthusiasm among the audience that a stray Redmondite who had got in at the back of the hall ventured a mild word of dissent. Instantly the whole gathering turned on the man. The meeting was held up. It seemed to me from the platform that there was a mountain of men rearing itself at the back near the doors amid tremendous tumult. The Redmondite intruder was dealt with, and disappeared, goodness knows how or in what shape, and then the audience came back and stood at attention once more, and faced Mr. O'Brien, who had remained a stern and immovable observer of the whole. When all was quiet again; he delivered himself. "I am glad," he said, "to find that you know how to deal with a bully when you find one."

Mr. O'Brien was a perfectly delightful man personally, as kindly and soft as an Irish gentleman always is. He went out