At home the great improvisation of the New Armies, undertaken by Lord Kitchener in the teeth of much expert criticism, goes steadily on. Lord Kitchener asked for 500,000 men, and he has got them. On September 10 the House voted another half million. The open spaces in Hyde Park are given over to training; women are beginning to take the place of men. Already the spirit of the new soldiers is growing akin to that of the regulars. One of Mr. Punch's brigade, who has begun to send his impressions of the mobilised Territorials, sums it up very well when he says that, amateurs or professionals, they are all very much alike. "Feed them like princes and pamper them like babies, and they'll complain all the time. But stand them up to be shot at and they'll take it as a joke, and rather a good joke, too." Lord Roberts maintains a dignified reticence, but that is "Bobs' way": He knew, none better, how 'twould be, And spoke his warning far and wide: He worked to save us ceaselessly, Setting his well-earned ease aside. We smiled and shrugged and went our way, Blind to the swift approaching blow: His every word proves true to-day, But no man hears, "I told you so!" Meanwhile General Botha, Boer and Briton too, is on the war-path, and we can, without an undue stretch of imagination, picture him composing a telegram to the Kaiser in these terms: "Just off to repel another raid. Your customary wire of congratulations should be addressed, 'British Headquarters, German South-West Africa.'" [Illustration: GOD (AND THE WOMEN) OUR SHIELD Study of a German Gentleman going into Action] The rigours of the Censorship are pressing hard on war correspondents. Official news of importance trickles in in driblets: for the rest, newspaper men, miles from the front, are driven to eke out their dispatches with negligible trivialities. We know that Rheims Cathedral is suffering wanton bombardment. And a great many of us believe that at least a quarter of a million Russians have passed through England on their way to France. The number of people who have seen them is large: that of those who have seen people who have seen them is enormous. [Illustration: PORTER: "Do I know if the Rooshuns has really come to England? Well, sir, if this don't prove it, I don't know what do. A train went through here full, and when it came back I knowed there'd been Rooshuns in it, 'cause the cushions and floors was covered with snow."] We gather that the Press Bureau has no notion whether the rumour is true or not, and cannot think of any way of finding out. But it consents to its publication in the hope that it will frighten the Kaiser. Apropos of the Russians we learn that they have won a pronounced victory (though not by us) at Przemysl. Motto for the month: _Grattez le Prusse et vous trouverez le barbare_. [Illustration: UNCONQUERABLE THE KAISER: "So, you see--you've lost everything." THE KING OF THE BELGIANS: "Not my soul."] _October, 1914._