Perhaps in all the ages since man became a thinking animal, he has never longed more keenly than at the present time for vision which should pierce the veil that hides the future and see events immediately beyond. But for the most part a darkness thick as the legendary night which covered Egypt, even a darkness which can be felt, hides from us all that which we most wish to know and which a brief lapse of days must reveal. Only here and there exist the data whence human reason can deduce a certain inference, and amongst those few certainties manifest to every seeing eye, stands out the assurance that unless we find effectual means to stop them, the raids by German aeroplanes already accomplished will be dwarfed to insignificance by those speedily to

come.

For three reasons at least is this conclusion reached. They are the progress of aviation, German military expediency, and German national impulse. For the raids hitherto effected the Germans must have used, and unquestionably did use, the best machines which they possess, and the best, at any given moment, are always few in comparison with those of the average type. But so swift is now the development of the art of flying, and so great is the power applied to production, that the super-excellent aeroplanes of one day become, so to speak, the half-obsolete of the next. In a brief space of time, multitudes of German machines will be competent to discharge the task which at present a small number only can achieve. Fifteen aeroplanes caused on the 13th of June last 589 casualties in London. Is there anyone prepared to guarantee that before next autumn merges into winter a like feat may not be attempted,

not by fifteen, but by a hundred and fifty winged instruments of death? In that case, unless somehow we can arrest the stroke, we must expect a casualty list multiplied by ten, and damage to public and to private buildings on a similar scale. But is a hundred and fifty the limit within which our conception of the possible numbers of these aerial assailants of London must necessarily be restrained? Who will warrant that assumption? According to our English newspapers it has been stated officially in Paris that the Huns are designing to have a fleet of three thousand five hundred aeroplanes by next March. Allowing for the ceaseless advance in capability which experience shows to be assured in the intervening time, it may be quite conceivably in the power of our foes, if they choose, to send, not a hundred and fifty, but several hundred, or, perhaps a few months later still, a thousand machines to drop bombs on the capital of Britain, and on other English towns.

Would strokes of that dimension be "pinpricks"? Could we, or ought we, to stand the repeated infliction of thirty or forty thousand casualties at a time, with all the devastation which would inevitably accompany it, with "silence and composure"? The very suggestion is an absurdity which illustrates the thoughtlessness of the newspapers and the individuals who have followed this line of argument. Their whole contention is based on the supposition that the blows which the enemy can deal us through the air will always remain so small as to be negligible. The idea evinces a total failure to appreciate the giant growth of aerial power. The belief was, as a matter of fact, knocked to pieces by the advent of the fifteen on the famous

Wednesday-an arrival which may too possibly be paralleled or surpassed by other similar events before this article is published.

For, rightly or wrongly, wisely or foolishly, the inhabitants of London and of other English and also of Scottish towns do not regard the rapidly increasing chances of having their homes, their wives and children blown to bits by bombs from the sky as so many "pinpricks," nor are they in the least inclined to accept these visitations with pious resignation. They are on the contrary animated by a natural desire, as fierce as it is instinctive, that counter-strokes of a like kind, but on a wider scale and with a greater destructiveness, should be dealt at the Hun. This feeling is already of an immense potency. It is gathering strength every day. If further raids be made unchecked, it will very soon be irresistible.

Must we then strip our Front of its best aerial fighters? Must we send our best airmen and our best machines back to England and thereby imperil, if not wholly lose, that supremacy which is vital to the success of our arms? That would indeed be to play the German game. The effect of that policy would be to spare the lives and limbs of tens of thousands of enemy soldiers, at whom our artillery could then no longer aim, at the expense of those of our Own men. Doubtless it is the hope of some such result which has prompted the raids already made, and which will prompt those far greater onslaughts to be expected. Thus would that principle of military expediency, referred to as one of the impelling motives in the German mind, be justified in the action taken. Moreover and this seems a point worthy of a little consideration-so prodigious is the advantage of aerial offense against mere defense that even though we aban

doned entirely the hope of retaining our command of the air in France, nay, even though we withdrew every machine and every pilot to this country, it would be still most doubtful whether that miserable manœuvre would avail to guard us against the danger impending. London itself might perhaps be safeguarded by such a concentration, but London is not the only city in England. As the radius of aeroplane flying increases, SO increases also the exposure of distant points to injury. Few and remote will be the English towns still enjoying immunity within a year from now. If the war lasts two more years (as well it may) their number will be smaller yet.

The cause of this inferiority of the defense to the offense is very clear. The defense knows not where the offense is coming. If the enemy devoted a hundred, or a thousand, machines to the work of destroying us here, and we devoted five hundred, or five thousand, to the duty of meeting their assault, that number would yet be quite inadequate to protect us. For the aeroplane possesses a mobility far exceeding that of any other instrument of war. Fleets of flying machines can scatter as they will-scatter and reconcentrate. What would be the chance of equality at any given place, possessed by our aerial guards, against a large force of aerial enemies, even though the former, if gathered together, would outnumber the latter by ten to one? Lord Haldane himself could hardly anticipate that the enemy would give them exact notice of his intentions.

But, say some of the advocates of dignified composure, "We do not for a moment suggest the withdrawal of any of our airmen from France. What we want is the multiplication of airmen and aeroplanes in England." Yet the fact remains that every