of his position. The Japanese Army has its inconsistencies; for instance, officers will cover even their sword-scabbards with khaki lest the sun glint should betray them, but all the scouts I saw wore breeches of cardinal red with a broad stripe of yellow or green in which they were as glaringly conspicuous as if they had been in the uniform of our own 11th Hussars. The Japanese have a just cause; they fight bravely: their organization is nearly perfect; their reforms are thorough and excellent--one cannot but admire them; they deserve to win, and they will win, and the world will be the better for their victory. It is because of this we wish them to win. In spite of their race and their paganism, and though their civilization may be but a thin veneer, we require them to win because they are fighting in the cause of freedom, fighting for the rights of man irrespective of creed or colour, fighting for western ideals of justice, fighting for the good of humanity. We are more in sympathy with the Russians because they are nearer kin. They have their faults, but in spite of their faults, or perhaps because of their weaknesses, we love them, man for man, even more than we admire their opponents. The Japanese are bravest of the brave; an officer will rush in and kill sixteen of the enemy with his sword. All fight like classic heroes, but they still sit down on their shins, and we wonder what sort of men they are after all. The Russians we understand. We admire General Stoessel not a whit the less when we know, that with all his bravery and bluster, he is married to a homely sharp-tongued little _hausfraü_ whom he must obey implicitly--were she a veritable shrew the man would still have our esteem. “Go home--Port Arthur is no place for women!” commands the General. “A wife’s place is by her husband--Tollya, I shall stay!” says the commandant’s wife.