An “iron vineyard” is the slightly decorative description applied to a German position during the holocaust of Russian Poland, by a Russian War Correspondent who was not permitted to indicate the precise spot from which he was writing. He adds the grisly comment that the “vintage” of that iron vineyard was the blood of 6,000 German soldiers. The surrounding forests had been razed as if shaved by a gigantic razor. A large village that had occupied the scene of this unnamed battle had totally disappeared, as having proved an obstacle to the Russian advance and a support for the German retreat. One of the episodes inseparable from a warfare in which members of the Royal Families of every one of the great Powers are playing a soldier’s part, took place on October 11. On that day Prince Olaf, son of the Grand-duke Constantine, received a wound in the leg “in a successful skirmish with a German patrol.” At first it was regarded hopefully as being but a trifling injury, but an operation became necessary and the young Prince died, pneumonia doubtless supervening. He passed away in the presence of the Grand-duke and Duchess and of his brother, Prince Igor. It is one of the bitterest ironies of war that this gifted young man’s leanings and aspirations had always been rather literary and musical than martial. At the Lyceum, which he left only in 1913, he enjoyed such a brilliant career as a student that his tutors did their best to dissuade him from overtaxing a constitution never too robust. He published an essay on the works of Pushkin which was acclaimed as a model of discerning and discriminating criticism. Prince Olaf’s natural inclinations were of the simplest kind, and he hated the rigidity of etiquette. An author much admired by him, the Polish novelist Sinciewitz, took service with the Tsar’s Army. Apparently he was wounded and taken prisoner, though there seems still some confusion as to what really happened to him. Had the Austrians in Galicia fared better or worse than their opponents believed they would at the outset? A difficult question to answer off-hand, but at all events the Russians had the best of reasons to be thoroughly delighted with the progress of the Tsar’s arms in three months of war, in the earlier stages of which the plucky Serbian resistance to the legions of Francis Joseph had proved of considerable utility. Says a well-informed critic of the Russo-Austrian campaign: