palace, then, turning to the officer, asked, “Are they letting any of our people in there?” The officer answered, evasively:  “They are thinking it over.  Perhaps they will.”  Whereupon his attendant blurted out:  “Thinking it over!  What thinking is wanted?  Did we not fight for them till we were mowed down like grass?  Did not millions of Russian bodies cover the fields, the roads, and the camps?  Did we not face the German great guns with only bayonets and sticks?  Have we done too little for them?  What more could we have done to be allowed in there with the others?  I fought since the war began, and was twice wounded.  My five brothers were called up at the same time as myself, and all five have been killed, and now the Russians are not wanted!  The door is shut in our faces....”

Sooner or later Russian anarchy, like that of China, will come to an end, and the leaders charged with the reconstitution of the country, if men of knowledge, patriotism, and character, will adopt a program conducive to the well-being of the nation.  To what extent, one may ask, is its welfare compatible with the status quo in eastern Europe, which the Allies, distracted by conflicting principles and fitful impulse, left or created and hope to perpetuate by means of a parchment instrument?

The zeal with which the French authorities went to work to prevent the growth of Bolshevism in their country, especially among the Russians there, is beyond dispute.  Unhappily it proved inefficacious.  Indeed, it is no exaggeration to say that it defeated its object and produced the contrary effect.  For attention was so completely absorbed by the aim that no consideration remained over for the means of attaining it.  A few concrete examples will bring this home to the reader.  The following narratives emanate from an eminent Russian, who is devoted to the Allies.

There were scores of thousands of Russian troops in France.  Most of them fought valiantly, others half-heartedly, and a few refused to fight at all.  But instead of making distinctions the French authorities, moved by the instinct of self-preservation, and preferring prevention to cure, tarred them all with the same brush.  “Give a dog a bad name and hang him,” says the proverb, and it was exemplified in the case of the Russians, who soon came to be regarded as a tertium quid between enemies of public order and suspicious neutrals.  They were profoundly mistrusted.  Their officers were deprived of their authority over their own men and placed under the command of excellent French officers, who cannot be blamed for not understanding the temper of the Slavs nor for rubbing them against the grain.  The privates, seeing their superiors virtually degraded, concluded that they had forfeited their claim to respect, and treated them accordingly.  That gave the death-blow to discipline.  The officers, most of whom were devoted heart and soul to the cause of the Allies, with which they had fondly identified their own, lost