were to invite a person whose designs you suspected to come and camp in the hall of your house--then, said the Italians, there would be an excellent prospect of permanently amicable relations between the two States. OUR WELCOME TO JELŠA As soon as the War was over, Italy disembarked on the islands which she had obtained by the Treaty of London. Something has been said on previous pages of the way in which she introduced herself and made herself at home. As we were sailing towards the pretty town of Jelša (Gelsa) on the island of Hvar, we left Vrboška on our right. The Bishop of Split had told me of a grievance which the Italian troops at that place had lodged with his brother, the mayor. Some of them had visited, for the fêtes of carnival, both the Yugoslav Club, where they found many persons who could speak Italian, and the Italian Club, where they were annoyed to find that it was spoken by very few. As we came into the little port of Jelša, with the green shutters of its white houses harmonizing with the foliage of the cypresses and oleanders, we could see a crowd of people running round--and carabinieri running with them--to that part of the harbour where we were unexpectedly going to stop. There was some confusion, the carabinieri pushing the people back, evidently to prevent them shaking hands with us; and one small boy who did not hear or did not understand what they were shouting received a terrific blow in the back from the fist of a furious Italian. Some cries were raised in honour of Yugoslavia, Wilson, France and England, which may have been imprudent; but when a place in which there is not one single Italian has been held down for months, has been forbidden to show the slightest joy on account of the birth of Yugoslavia, has been savagely punished for having a copy of a Yugoslav newspaper, has repeatedly been cursed and cuffed and ordered, at the bayonet's point, to execute some wish of the carabinieri--one cannot be astonished if in the presence of some non-Italian foreigners they could no longer repress their feelings. Some of the people had brought flowers with them, and as Pommerol and I plunged into the whirlpool and made our way towards the Italian commander's office, we had many flowers either thrust into our hands while the carabinieri were looking the other way or else we had them thrown at us, in which case some of them would usually descend upon the shoulders or the three-cornered hats of the carabinieri. Whenever anybody uttered one of the forbidden exclamations one or more of the carabinieri would fling themselves into the crowd and attempt, with the help of vigorous kicking, to reach the culprit. Thus, in the midst of a series of scrimmages, we got to the captain's quarters. We found him a very pleasant young man, keenly conscious of the difficulties of his position; as we afterwards heard, he was such an improvement on his predecessor that the carabinieri were convinced he was a Yugoslav and