of them had drawn a revolver and had fired at him point blank. Soldiers would lie on the ground pretending to be wounded, and when any one came to bend over them and help them, they would knife their rescuer, take all his money, and make off. No help was to be expected from passers-by. A lady of our acquaintance was knocked down in a crowded thoroughfare and robbed of some valuable furs that she was wearing, but no one lifted a finger to protect her. When she went to the police, they looked very wise and said, “Well, if you will tell us who took your furs, we will get them back for you.” Not that Kerenski’s Government did nothing. On the contrary, they did all they could to keep crime down; but the difficulties in their way were enormous. The old professional police had been disbanded after the Revolution and sent into the army. The safety of the town was entrusted to militia, who, whatever their zeal and bravery may have been, were at the best only amateurs. They could not cope with the professional criminal. With each fresh development of crime the militia system was extended, pickets of two or three men, heavily armed, were stationed at certain points all night long, and more dangerous areas were patrolled by soldiers. Just as the Provisional Government fell, it was elaborating a scheme for employing some hundreds of soldiers as extra police in the town. But nothing would really have improved matters except sending all the professional criminals back to prison, and hanging all those Anarchist and Bolshevist agitators, who were never tired of telling the soldiers that it was right for them to take whatever they liked, wherever they found it.