standing. Ireland is suffering from extremes on either side, both of which really arise from the belief that English Government has proved itself impossible. Even now at the eleventh hour Ireland can be saved from these extremes by an awakening of the political and intellectual conscience of the Irish people. There should be made at once a firm offer of a reasonable measure of self-government. Were such a measure, whatever its detail, put forward seriously with clear intent to carry it through in the face of all opposition, I believe that the common sense of Ireland, at present in something of a tremor at sight of the future and its consequences, would force both sides to its acceptance, thereby giving to Ireland what she so vitally needs - a corporate and more or less national body which, however defective in its constitution, would at least enable Ireland to govern herself and give voice to her aspirations and genius before the world. That would not be a final settlement, but if the difficulties of a half-settlement and it could be much more than that - are courageously faced, out of it will come in due season, from the only possible source, a united Ireland, the proper atmosphere for a lasting reconciliation.

In the choice that must be made far more than the domestic politics of the United Kingdom will be involved. Ireland cannot get to the Peace Conference; the Irish question cannot be kept out of it. What effect that unsolved problem may have had in hastening the outbreak and in protracting the agony of the Great War I do not know. With the hour of the Empire's greatest peril in the spring of last year there

The Manchester Guardian

seemed to me to come the greatest opportunity in all history for an Irish settlement. There was a tremendous force of opinion in Ireland at that time which would have gladly taken the beginnings of a settlement, if only to enable the Irish people to play their natural part in the war, partly because their doing so would have made a full settlement comparatively easy. For the half loaf of a united Ireland without its full national requirements England substituted the stone of conscription. The opportunity was lost, and the problem again made more difficult. Will what may well be the last opportunity of a settlement from within be now seized?

Through the nine weary months of a struggle for a settlement in the Convention I always felt that the peace value of an Irish appeasement was infinitely greater than any effect it could possibly have upon the course of the war. It heartens me to find in England many who take this view. Notwithstanding the not unnatural demand of the majority of the Irish people that the settlement should come from the free nations of the world assembled at the Peace Conference, they have the intelligence to know that a prosperous and contented united Ireland can be far better realized by agreement between those immediately concerned. Let the British people speak to the British Government and to the Irish people, and insist that the Irish question shall be approached again in that spirit of conciliation and compromise out of which alone can there come peace in the United Kingdom, the British Empire, and the world.

VOL. 13-NO. 662

A

LET us not delude ourselves. League of Nations in the hitherto accepted meaning of the term-a combination of all, or nearly all, civilized nations for the preservation of peacea League of Nations such as that is out of the question, for the present at any rate. And if, on the conclusion of peace, for the reason, perhaps, that we hanker after some sort of apotheosis, a League of Nations is proclaimed, it will be something quite different from that.

It cannot be otherwise. When the war reached its final stage, this was made more evident. A war waged by one side rücksichtslos, with every available means, thus engendering invetrate hatred among its opponents, and carried on by the latter until the enemy was utterly defeated and reduced to impotence a war such as that cannot produce the atmosphere of conciliation, of forgive and forget, which a League of Nations needs for its growth and success. Who, as the end approached, still dared cling to the hope that the Allies, who have all along openly declared that they regarded the Central Powers as the scum of humanity with whom henceforth they would hold no relations, would suddenly change their attitude and say to the leaders of the defeated enemy: 'Come, now, and join us at the Conference table, and we will jointly and harmoniously institute a new international organization'?

That, of course, was unthinkable. A universal League of Nations is, therefore, out of the question. But, if so, what then? A return to the old con

ditions but without, for the present, any greatly preponderating group of Powers?

But, as a result of antagonistic policies, or economic or merely personal interests, even the most powerful grouping of States may lose its ascendancy within a few years. History is full of examples, and already contending interests have manifested themselves those, for instance, of America and England at sea, of England and France on the Continent of Europe, of India and the Balkans, of America and Japan, to name only a few. The new conditions, therefore, would scarcely differ from the old international relations before the war, and must lead, within a certain number of years, to the nations seeking escape from the unbearable strain of suspense in world wars increasingly fierce and devastating. Anyone taking that view of the situation must be amazed that there are still statesmen to be found who would make a return to the old régime, just as if nothing had happened, with merely a change in the grouping of Powers, still seeking salvation in that balance of power so strongly denounced by President Wilson a couple of years since.

--

Wilson is it possible to imagine him as having in any way changed his opinions under force of circumstances, and as no longer cherishing his earlier ideals? Such is not the case, as is proved by his visit to Europe, where he has not allowed himself to be converted to the theory of Lloyd George, that a British world empire, if needs be, acting in coöperation with like-minded

Allies, is sufficient for the task of policing the world; nor to that of Pichon and Clemenceau, the latter of whom openly declared in the French Chamber that he remained an advocate of the balance of power: 'I remain true to the old system, that States must organize their own defense, have frontiers that can be adequately defended and continue armed'; and, further, that he would not give up the system of alliances, although he would not reject the supplementary guaranties of an international organization.

It speaks for itself that this last arrangement is something quite different from the international organization which Wilson looks to as the indispensable crowning achievement of the present Peace Conference.

We quote from the President's speech at New York on September 27, 1918:

'Shall the military power of any nation or group of nations be suffered to determine the fortunes of peoples over whom they have no right to rule except the right of force? ... Shall there be a common standard of right and privilege for all peoples and nations, or shall the strong do as they will, and the weak suffer without redress? Shall the assertion of right be haphazard and by casual alliance, or shall there be a common concert to oblige the observance of common rights?'

And, further: 'Once for all the principle must be established that the interest of the weakest is as sacred as the Het Nieuws Van Den Dag

interest of the strongest. That is what we mean when we speak of a permanent peace.'

And, while on his visit to Europe, Wilson also declared at Manchester: 'If the future had nothing for us but a new attempt to keep the world at a right poise by a balance of power, the United States would take no interest, because she will join no combination of Powers which is not a combination of all of us.' At Rome, on January 3, he said again emphatically: 'We know that there cannot be another balance of power.' And he frankly warned the Italian Government: 'Our task at Paris is to organize the friendship of the world . . . to set up a new international psychology, to have a new atmosphere. . . . We cannot stand in the shadow of this war without knowing there are things awaiting us which are in some senses more difficult than those we have undertaken, because, while it is easy to speak of right and justice, it is sometimes difficult to work them out in practice.'

It is evident, therefore, that President Wilson has nowise relinquished his ideal; and, as we may assume that he is enough of a diplomat not to attempt to force the realization of that ideal, in spite of the opposition of his Allies, we will be greatly interested in seeing how the President will pave the way for the future establishment of a real universal League of Nations, even though it is beyond the bounds of immediate realization.

'WIRELESS message, sir.' A crumpled and wet piece of paper was handed through the wheel-house door.

'Right, thank you,' said Jones, the officer to whom this remark had been addressed, taking the message in his hand and glancing at it. 'I'll send down if there is any answer.'

He stood at the wheel-house window for a moment watching the wireless operator dodging the showers of spray which were breaking over the ship as he ran back to the wireless room, and then raising his glasses to his eyes he carefully examined the horizon ahead of him.

It was as peaceful a scene as one could well imagine anywhere in the world during the year 1916. A moderate wind was blowing, just sufficient to turn the tops of the waves into streaks of white foam, which shone and glistened in the bright sunshine. The land was plainly visible about five miles away, rising in steep cliffs of red granite straight out of the sea, and the numerous bays and headlands could be clearly distinguished. In some of the clefts in the cliffs masses of dirty snow which had defied the warmth of the summer sun could still be seen, and as far as the eye could see the land was a striking picture of peace and desolation.

A few gulls were flying about, and occasionally a school of hair seals would show themselves on the surface and gaze inquisitively at the ship and then dive with a noisy splash, to reappear a moment later at a safer distance. Otherwise the sea appeared as de

serted as the land. In fact there was nothing whatever to be seen except the six British trawlers who were employed at the time of my narrative in the monotonous though at times dangerous pastime of mine-sweeping, and at occasional intervals a moored buoy which marked the ship channel. These buoys were necessary to enable the trawlers to maintain their correct positions while sweeping, and to insure that the ships using the channel should pass over the area which they had swept.

Having satisfied himself that everything was normal and that the rest of the trawlers were in their correct positions, Jones turned to address the skipper, who was standing near him. 'Keep an eye on them while I am below, Stephens, and let me know at once if anything is wanted. If the Sandfly gets any farther astern hoist the signal to increase speed again. I am going down to decode this message.'

'Very good, sir,' said Stephens, the skipper, a brawny Yorkshireman, who was standing with his head through one of the wheel-house windows, his legs well apart, and with a large bowl of black-looking tea in his hand; 'but as I've often said, you can't rightly expect a class of vessel like that Sandfly there to keep up with the likes of us; she ain't built same as these Hull boats.'

'No, perhaps not,' said Jones, 'but I've never noticed her very far astern when we are on our way into harbor; she can do better than she is doing now if she likes.'

"Those Scotch-built boats are all very well for the purpose for which

they are constructed,' continued the skipper, warming up to his favorite discussion, and if you notice

'That's all right, skipper,' interrupted Jones, who by this time was half-way down the ladder leading from the wheel-house to his small cabin immediately below, where he extracted the code from the box in which it was kept. Stephens, his skipper, was an incorrigible believer in everything, either men or ships, which came from his native town of Hull. Fortunately for his own peace of mind, he was skipper of as fine an example of a pre-war Iceland trawler as had ever been turned out from that port, and he was extravagantly proud of her.

No one knew better than Jones himself what a fine sea boat the Sir Thomas Dancer was, and how well built and fitted; but though she had these and many other attributes, she was not at all a fast ship; in fact, in smooth water she was one of the slowest of the group. However, nothing would ever convince Stephens that she was not a regular ocean greyhound, and Jones had long ago given up arguing the matter.

He sat down with the signal in front of him and commenced to decode it. 'I hope it's a trifle more interesting than the last dozen I've had,' he said to himself; but it's probably some more rubbish about aircraft codes or something as equally useless in this benighted part of the world, where an aeroplane or a Zeppelin is even rarer than a glass of beer or a mail.'

The message in this case, however, turned out to be quite interesting. It was from the cruiser stationed in the harbor on which the trawlers were based, and read as follows: 'Master of S.S. Baron reports that he passed close to a floating mine at 6 A.M. to-day about half a mile northeast of No. 15 buoy. Report appears to be reliable.' Jones replaced the code in its box and

climbed up into the wheel-house again. 'Well, skipper, how is the Sandfly getting on now?' 'She is catching us up a bit, sir,' said the skipper, rather reluctantly, so I've whistled down to tell Arthur to give her all he can.' Arthur was the chief engineer, also a Hull man, and the two saw, eye to eye, on all matters which concerned the reputation of their ship or their native port.

'Going fast enough for us after all, is she?' said Jones with a smile. 'Anyhow, here's another of these floating mines reported, so we shall have to slip our sweeps and go down to have a look for it. Signalman, hoist the signal to wheel four points to starboard, and have the signal to slip ready.'

The flags for the wheel were duly hoisted, and Jones stood watching the other five trawlers' masts for the signal to be repeated. All repeated except the John Brown, sir,' said the signalman down the voice-pipe. After waiting three or four minutes the signal was slowly repeated in the John Brown; the order to haul down the signal was then given, and the six trawlers turned in good formation to starboard and steered out away from the channel which they had been sweeping.

This necessary precaution was always carried out before slipping the sweeps, as it is quite possible for a pair of trawlers to have a mine in their sweep for some time without knowing it, and should they slip while still in the channel the mine might remain undetected in the path of shipping.

When about a mile clear of the channel the signal to slip was hoisted and duly repeated by all five without loss of time, and for the next ten minutes steam was to be seen pouring out of the funnels of the trawlers as they lay in the trough of the sea heaving in their wire hawsers with their huge steam winches.

When the last one had finished, Jones