Another difficulty, more formidable than might be imagined, has been the choice of orthography for names of places abroad. Before the war of 1870 the French form might have been selected without hesitation; but with the rise of the German Empire, the decay of French influence in Europe and the ever increasing importance of German writings in every branch of literature, science and art, this rule no longer holds good. Finding consistency absolutely impossible, I have endeavoured to choose the form most familiar to English readers, and least likely to call down upon me the charge of pedantry. Even so, however, the choice has not been easy. Take for instance the three ecclesiastical electorates of the Empire. Shall they be Mainz, Köln and Trier, or Mayence, Cologne and Trèves? The form Cologne is decided for us by the influence of Jean Maria Farina; Trèves is, I think, for the present better known than Trier; but Mainz, a large station familiar to thousands of British travellers, seemed to me preferable to the French corruption Mayence, as reminding the reader of its situation on the Main. For German names of minor importance I have taken the German form, since, their French dress being equally unfamiliar to English readers, there seemed to be no reason why they should not be written down correctly; but the French form is adopted so exclusively in contemporary histories that possibly not a few instances of it may have escaped my vigilance. In Flanders again it is frequently necessary to choose between the French and the Flemish spelling of a name; and, where it has been possible without pedantry, I have preferred the Flemish as nearer akin to the English. Thus I have always written Overkirk rather than Auverquerque, Dunkirk rather than Dunquerque, Steenkirk rather than Estinquerque (the form preferred for some reason by Colonel Clifford Walton), since the French forms are obviously only corruptions of honest Flemish which is very nearly honest English. Actual English corruptions I have employed without scruple, though here again consistency is impossible. It is justifiable to write Leghorn for Livorno; but The Groyne, a familiar form at the beginning of this century, is no longer legitimate for Corunna, any more than The Buss for Bois-le-duc (Hertogenbosch) or Hollock for Hohenlohe. Then there is the eternal stumbling-block of spelling Indian names. Here I have not hesitated to follow the old orthography which is still preserved in the colours of our regiments. Ugly and base though the corruptions may be they are at any rate familiar, and that is sufficient; while they probably convey at least as good an idea of the actual pronunciation as the new forms introduced by Sir William Hunter. Here once more it would be confusing to write Ally for Ali or Caubool for Cabul, though possibly less so than to confront the reader with Machhlípatan or Machlípatan (two forms used indifferently by Colonel Malleson) for Masulipatam, and Maisur for Mysore.