complete conversion, had not Gladstone on two fatal occasions aroused his anger. The first occasion was when Gladstone passed him over in looking for an Irish Chief Secretary. The second was, in 1886, when Gladstone asked him what office he wanted, and on being told "The Colonies," answered "Oh! A Secretary of State." "Chamberlain," says Dilke, "was naturally angry at this slight, and being offered by Mr. Gladstone the Board of Trade, then refused to return to it." One might say that the chief cause of the split in the Liberal Party in 1886 was not incompatibility of ideals but incompatibility of temper as between Gladstone and Chamberlain. One wonders whether the inner history of all great parties is like this-the story of great causes ruined by the little tempers of great men. It is appalling to think that the destiny of a nation may hang, so to speak, on a drop of uric acid. When we see a particularly bad-tempered, harassed face in а London bus, we sometimes say to ourselves: "The uric acid has entered into his soul." We are surprised that no medical historian has as yet compiled a treatise on uric acid as a factor in the history of civilization. There is no mention of uric acid in Buckle, and for this reason his theories are largely invalidated. Who knows how many of the misdeeds of history have been due to a mere irritation in the blood -from the murder of Becket down to the onslaught on the Irish at the end of the eighteenth century? Often, human beings become bad-tempered not only singly but in groups, like the Liberal Party in 1882, when Dilke wrote of it: "Our side in the Commons are very Jingo about Egypt. They badly want to kill somebody. The New Statesman.

They don't know who." The difference between a statesman and a demagogue is that, while the statesman does his best to moderate the bad temper of the party or mob and to revive sanity in its stead, the demagogue encourages the party or mob in its bad temper with a view to strengthening his hold on it. History assuredly justifies the goodtempered politician. The ill-tempered man may succeed for an hour, but it is the great quality of an equable temper that adds the final touch of greatness to a Pericles or an Abraham Lincoln. Even among the politicians of today, we cannot withhold our respect from the man who, in the popular phrase, can keep his temper. The suavity of Mr. Asquith has given him an extraordinary hold over the country in comparison with his hastier contemporaries, and the suavity and grace of Mr. Balfour have won him the admiration of his enemies as well as the affection of his friends. One cannot easily measure the greatness of the service Mr. Redmond has rendered to the cause of Irish Nationalism by the consistent good temper with which he has stood up to the abuse-often the very libelous abuse-of his opponents. The British elector compared Mr. Redmond's quiet persuasiveness with the fury of Sir Edward Carson, and said to himself that here was the difference between a statesman and a spoiled child throwing its toys about and trying to bite the nurse. Mr. Redmond's success, indeed, is due to qualities of temper rather than to qualities of intellect. Ultimately, we respect nothing that is not associated with good temper. Good temper is simply balance and order, and without these things the very universe falls to pieces.

THE CONSCRIPTION OF CAPITAL. There are signs that one day some sort of a levy on Capital, whether by forced loan or otherwise, may be imminent. Newspapers are putting out "feelers," and already the Evering Stars are singing together for joy. Grave disadvantages attend such a course, but if the national need really demands it, that need is paramount. The national need will have to be proved, for this country is already more heavily and narrowly taxed than any other in Europe, and taxation, apart from rates, falls on a limited class, the greater part of which is far from affluent and wholly unorganized. The need, too, will have to be proved by facts, and not by phrases. There is a real danger that a levy may be twisted to serve a political turn, and used to propitiate or even aggrandize the minority of Socialists who mislead, misrepresent, and overbear the Labor that lends them organization. Capital is held out by altruists, thirsting to transmute it into income, as a criminal to be sentenced without trial. Burglars do not like the policeman. He is, therefore, to be hung, drawn, and more than quartered by the professional agitators and politicians who have done so much to impede and exploit the war. The Fabians, too, who do not meet in secret like the Trade Unions, but publish their pretty theories with a pinch of salt for a relish, are quick to see and to seize opportunities. "Unrest," fomented by a weak, meddling Government, and intensified by the new Puritans, who begrudge beer while they capitalize cocoa, is a golden opportunity for

wringing the neck of the goose that lays the eggs. It is a great goose, but any Ministry that dares unnecessarily to usurp its functions will be a greater. The pose of Omnipotence without strength, omniscience without knowledge, would play the deuce with capital. But such is Government's humility that if a "mandate" be manufactured-and it owns a factory of mandates-it will meekly bow the head, and monopolize capital on principle. It will not monopolize the brains and free energy which made capital or the thrift which keeps it productive. There is the trouble.

Whether this cry be nationally and rationally warranted, or whether it is only a mobsman's pretext, what is manifest at the outset is the rank hypocrisy of its presentation. On what is it based? "Equality of sacrifice" roars the redoubtable Mr. Smillie. Our lads and lassies have given their work and service, gushes an obsequious contemporary, why should wealth escape? It is, however, statistically clear that the better-to-do have from the first freely offered themselves and all their belongings, both on the field and at home, without waiting to be conscribed. The workman who went out at once, leaving the good Stockholmers . behind him, sacrificed no more, perhaps less, in proportion to numbers, and both have been voluntarily splendid. He I will be the first to own the love and the loss of those patriots who had some money, inherited or acquired. And their "wealth" has certainly not escaped, except in the evaporation of value. They are now paying, each in a

degree, a huge part of their incomean income built out of savings by somebody. They are therefore unable to save much more, except in the few cases of inordinate fortunes. The less they can save, the less is the whole nation benefited and its productivity increased. Moreover, if capital were confiscated without any equivalent, it is clear that the income tax would be impoverished. The pleas, therefore, of "equality" and shirking capital

are

nauseating bunkum, and the contrast between immolated Labor and immolating Capital is an impudent insult. This claptrap is aggravated by the sham sentimentality that seeks to simulate justice and enkindle both pity and passion: it resembles the patchouli on some painted countenance. Let Russia serve, not as a precedent, but as a warning. Freedom does not mean booty. Socialism bids fair to ruin any country which it can manage to mismanage, and the temper of those semi-Socialists, who are never happy save when others are hit, is deplorable.

We can conceive of a crisis in which a levy on capital might be imperative. It would be a last resource, after all the other resources of a prosperous nation had failed, after the united taxation of a united people had proved unable to supply the interest on loans, after Government had retrenched to the last farthing and extinguished its riot of official extravagance, after a war-loan levy on income had broken down. Before a capital levy can be held urgent, highly-paid labor should have contributed its share of income tax, direct taxation should have been broadened, and the Trade Union Cooperative Societies, which are rich indeed, should have paid income tax and excess profits. And there should be no exemptions for Ireland. The spirit in which it should be worked would be one of public spirit. It would

be a remedy not a revenge. It would not be undertaken in the mood of Henry the Eighth, who handed the impropriated Abbey lands to subservient favorites. "Impropriation" is "good," but, to do him justice, King Hal did not cant much: he knew how to rob; Robespierre (well socalled) did not, and he tried, but failed, to institute a sack by sentiment. The Saturday Review.

FRENCH WAR FINANCE.

The estimates for the last quarter of 1917 have duly been passed by the Chamber and the Senate. The actual Bill and its preamble contains many facts that are of very considerable general interest. Thus, for the first time, a really comprehensive account has been published as to the situation regarding the French income tax. It is stated that income has been declared amounting to 5,854,453,783f, and, of course, these figures do not include the invaded areas of the North and East of France. In 1916 there were 165,394 declarations showing a total income of 2,982,428,905f. In this year, when the declaration has been made obligatory, and the limit of exemption has been lowered from 5,000 to 3,000f the number of declarations has risen by more than 50 per cent. It is interesting, too, to note that there is a considerable increase in the figures of those who are able to claim exemption, the figures for 1916 and 1917 being respectively 175,929 and 286,555. The revenue yield, when deductions are made for families, etc., is estimated at 183,260,000f, and it is expected that when the income tax is raised, as it seems likely it will be, from 10 per cent to 12.50 per cent, from this source alone a yield of between 200 and 250 million francs may be expected. Speaking generally of the progress of French taxation, it is satisfactory to note that since the

outbreak of the war there has been a steady tendency not only to recover the reduced yield of taxation, but even to raise the revenue so derived above that of a normal year. Naturally the Customs enter into this recovery to a very large extent but the general figures for the first three years of war are extremely encouraging.

The preamble analyzes these results, and shows that whilst stamp duties, Bourse operations, etc., show a deficit of 28.48 per cent on the normal year,

The Economist.

and indirect taxation from monopolies show a deficit of 4.18 per cent, and post, telegraphs, and telephones a deficit of 8.95 per cent, the customs are in advance by 128.9 per cent, sugar 24.74 per cent, and estate duties 34.9 per cent, the total net advance for the third year being an advance of 15.2 per cent for the third year of the war, as against a deficit of 29.83 per cent and 15.13 per cent for the first and second years of the war as against the normal year.

The mystery of "The Other Brown" involves a murder, the fraudulent sale of a Mexican mine, a missing heiress, hereditary revenge, and dual personality. The scene is laid in New York, the action is rapid, the denouement unexpected, and the style admirably fitted to the matter, and readers who enjoyed Adele Luehrmann's earlier detective story, "The Curious Case of Marie Dupont," will undoubtedly find pleasure in this one. The Century Co.

"Mrs. Hope's Husband," in Gelett Burgess's amusing little novelette, is a brilliant lawyer whose charming wife has achieved sudden success as a popular novelist. Piqued by her absorption in interests in which he has no part, he essays the rôle of anonymous admirer, and has the satisfaction of watching her open his typewritten letters at their breakfast table and select extracts from them for his edification. The letters grow more ardent, and the situation more tense, but the reader does not lose confidence in Mr. Burgess's ability to achieve the happy ending. The Century Co.

Stories which girls like to read and which their mothers like to see them read are none too common, and

among them Mary Ellen Chase's are taking high rank. "The Girl from the Big Horn Country" was a popular favorite last year, and its sequel, "Virginia of Elk Creek Valley," promises to be as successful. A group of Virginia's boarding-school friends spend the long vacation with her on her father's ranch in Wyoming, and their adventures in horseback riding, beartrapping, camping, barn-warming, and school teaching make a bright and wholesome narrative, with just a suggestion of boy and girl romance at the end to hint at still another volume. The Page Co.

Joseph A. Altsheiler's "The Rulers of the Lakes" (D. Appleton & Co.) is a spirited and exciting tale of Indian wars. It is complete in itself, but it follows two similar tales, "The Hunters of the Hills" and "The Shadow of the North," and describes the adventures of the same group--Robert Lennox, Tayoga, and the rest. The lakes are Lake George and Lake Champlain, and the story begins just after Braddock's defeat and ends with the battle of Lake George. It is decorated with four illustrations in color by Charles L. Wrenn.

Hector MacQuarrie's "How to Live at the Front" (J. B. Lippincott Co.) has for its sub-title "Tips for American Soldiers" and this describes it exactly. The author is Second Lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery, and in this book he tells in an easy, conversational manner his experiences and observations at the front, on leave and elsewhere. It would be a good thing if it could be put into the hands of every American soldier going to France. It would supplement the regular army manuals more effectively than any other book yet written, for it is at once lively, comprehensive and practical, touching all aspects of life at the front and away from it, and teaching high lessons of courage, discipline, patriotism and purity. The soldierreader will learn from it things which he would be inclined to discount if he heard them from his chaplain, and he will be the better soldier by reason of it. There are twelve full-page illustrations from photographs.

In "A Treasury of War Poetry" (Houghton Mifflin Co.) an anthology of British and American poems of the world war, edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Professor George Herbert Clarke of the University of Tennessee, there are gathered and classified about 130 exquisite and poignant poems. Kipling, Conan Doyle, Henry Van Dyke, Edith Wharton, Alfred Noyes, Thomas Hardy, Robert Bridges, Vachel Lindsay, Rupert Brooke, John Galsworthy, Austin Dobson, Henry Newbolt, John Masefield, Gilbert Chesterton, Allan Seeger, Josephine Preston Peabody, and Edgar Lee Masters are among the poets represented. The selections are well chosen, and the little volume is in every way worth while. If it were open to criticism, it would be on the ground that the editor has largely confined his quest to recognized poets and volumes

of verse, and has failed to include such poems as "Christ in Flanders," "Sportsmen in Paradise," "Crocuses at Nottingham," "The Patrol,” “Admiral Dugout" and other poems by writers little known or unknown which are more appealing than some of the verse of the recognized poets.

The reader of "The Youth Plupy" by Henry A. Shute (Houghton Mifflin Co.) may be a little perplexed at first whether to regard it as fiction or as autobiography; but, lively and diverting as it is, and difficult as it may be to reconcile the grave figure of Judge Shute with that of the awkward youth whose adventures and misadventures are here recorded and pictured, he will pretty certainly conclude that it is not imagination but memory upon which the author has chiefly drawn. There is plenty of humor in these reminiscences of youthful days at Exeter, and of such incidents as the painful breaking of the hero's voice at the most critical point of school declamation, of his untimely precipitation from his usually docile horse, of his awkwardness in dancing, of his share in street combats, of his escape from the wiles of a damsel and her designing attorney, and of his sentimental attachment for the brownhaired girl, Mollie, Jean and the rest; but the humor is not strained and the book is charming from the first page to the last. The six illustrations by Reginald Birch, which are reproduced in miniature on the jacket, are almost as clever as the text.

Readers of Ian Hay's "The First Hundred Thousand"-and there must have been many of them-who regretted that the story ended when it did, will hail with eager interest the continuation of the narrative in "All In It" (Houghton Mifflin Co.). Through this book, "K 1" still carries on through