the possibility that there may never be another leave. Not long ago I
read a heart-rending article about the tragedies of the goodbyes in the
stations and the terminal hotels--tragedies hidden by silence and a
smile. "Well, so long," says an officer "bring back a V. C.," cries
his sister from the group on the platform, and he waves his hand in
deprecation as the train pulls out, lights his pipe, and pretends
to be reading the Sphere.

Some evening, perchance, you happen to be in the dark street outside of
Charing Cross station. An occasional hooded lamp throws a precarious
gleam on a long line of men carrying--so gently--stretchers on which lie
the silent forms of rich and poor alike.




CHAPTER II

For the student of history who is able to place himself within the stream
of evolution the really important events of today are not taking place on
the battle lines, but behind them. The key-note of the new era has been
struck in Russia. And as I write these words, after the Italian retreat,
a second revolution seems possible. For three years one has thought
inevitably of 1789, and of the ensuing world conflict out of which
issued the beginnings of democracy. History does not repeat itself,
yet evolution is fairly consistent. While our attention has been focused
on the military drama enacted before our eyes and recorded in the
newspapers, another drama, unpremeditated but of vastly greater
significance, is unfolding itself behind the stage. Never in the history
of the world were generals and admirals, statesmen and politicians so