Our whole military organisation is becoming more decentralised and more dependent on voluntary effort; it is devolving more and more upon Territorial Associations and local bodies of all kinds.  We do not possess the reserves of horses and transport which continental nations hold ready for use on mobilisation, and, as a substitute, we have had to fall back on a system of registration which demands care, zeal, and energy on the part of these civilian bodies.  How will an Irish Government and its officials fulfil a duty which will be distorted by every Nationalist into an attempt to employ the national resources for the sole benefit of England?

War is a stern taskmaster, demanding long years of preparation and combination of effort for one end.  The political separation of the two countries does not alter the fact that they are, in the military sense, one area of operations and of supply, and, at a time like the present, when the mutual dependence of all parts of the Empire is gradually being realised; when the dominions are building navies, and all our dependencies are co-operating in one scheme of defence for the whole; when the elaboration of the details of this scheme are the pressing need of the hour, the dissolution of the Union binding together the very heart of the Empire, is a strategic mistake, the disastrous significance of which it is impossible to exaggerate.  For it must be remembered that here is no analogy to a federation of semi-independent provinces as in Canada, where national defence is equally the interest of the whole.  Ireland has never recognised this community of interest with England.  Quebec, it is true, stands aloof and indifferent to the ideals of the sister provinces; but there is no bitter religious hatred, no fierce, anti-national aims fostered by ancient traditions, life-long feuds and unscrupulous agitation, and every Canadian knows that Quebec would fight to the last against American aggression, if only to preserve her religious independence.  There is no such bond here—­or, at least, the Irish Nationalist has refused to acknowledge it.

The year 1912 has opened amid signs of unrest and change, the meaning or the end of which no man can know.  In the Far East and the Near East political and religious systems are disappearing, and chaos is steadily increasing.  In Europe the nations have set out on the march to Armageddon, and there is no staying the progress of their armaments.  In Great Britain alone the question of preparation for war is shirked on the plea that it is one for experts, and even soldiers and sailors, drawn into the political vortex, make light of our necessities, believing in the hopelessness of ever convincing the people of the truth until “a white calamity of steel and iron, the bearing of burdens and the hot rage of insult,” fall upon us.  It is for this reason that we see the extraordinary phenomenon of men denying the necessity for becoming a nation in arms, and yet urging our