_September, 1917_. Thanks to the collapse of the Russian armies and "fraternisation," Germany has occupied Riga. But her chief exploits of late must be looked for outside the sphere of military operations. She has added a new phrase to the vocabulary of frightfulness, _spurlos versenkt_ in the instructions to her submarine commanders for dealing with neutral merchantmen. As for the position into which Sweden has been lured by allowing her diplomatic agents to assist Germany's secret service, Mr. Punch would hardly go the length of saying that it justifies the revision of the National Anthem so as to read, "Confound their Scandi-knavish tricks." But he finds it hard to accept Sweden's professions of official rectitude, and so does President Wilson. The German Press accuses the United States of having stolen the cipher key of the Luxburg dispatches. It is this sort of thing that is gradually convincing Germany that it is beneath her dignity to fight with a nation like America. And the growing conviction in the United States that there can be no peace with the Hohenzollerns only tends to fortify this view in Court circles. The Kaiser's protestations of his love for his people become more strident every day. [Illustration: PERFECT INNOCENCE CONSTABLE WOODROW WILSON: "That's a very mischievous thing to do." SWEDEN: "Please, sir, I didn't know it was loaded."] In Russia the Provisional Government has been dissolved and a Republic proclaimed. If eloquence can save the situation, Mr. Kerensky is the man to do it; but so far the men of few words have gone farthest in the war. A "History of the Russian Revolution" has already been published. The pen may not be mightier than the sword to-day, but it manages to keep ahead of it. With fresh enemy battalions, as well as batteries, constantly arriving from Russia, the Italians have been hard pressed; but their great assault on San Gabriele has saved the Bainsizza plateau. The Italian success has been remarkable, but the Russian collapse has prevented it from being pushed home. On the Western front no great events are recorded, but the mills of death grind on with ever-increasing assistance from the resources of applied science and the new art of _camouflage_. Yet the dominion of din and death and discomfort is still unable to impair our soldiers' capacity of extracting amusement from trivialities. [Illustration: TRIALS OF A CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER SERGEANT-MAJOR: "Beg pardon, sir, I was to ask if you'd step up to the battery, sir." CAMOUFLAGE OFFICER: "What's the matter?" SERGEANT-MAJOR: "It's those painted grass screens, sir. The mules have eaten them."] [Illustration: THE INSEPARABLE THE KAISER (to his people): "Do not listen to those who would sow dissension between us. _I will never desert you_."]