third year would add approximately $40,000,000,000 to the war costs of $80,000,000,000 already accumulated, or $120,000,000,000 in all. This is equivalent to one third of all computed national wealth in those nations, and probably represents fully half of al wealth capable of 'mobilization.' We are not now able to think beyond such figures.

The belief has been held rather generally that the costliness of modern war was likely to be the best guarantee of peace. Theoretically this argument is sound; but the fact that it was swept away in 1914 proves that when conditions are ripe for war no other considerations avail. In crises, nations rush into expenditure much as a poor man employs nurses and specialists regardless of cost when disease threatens the life of some one dear to him. That he mortgages his future is immaterial in the face of emergency.

From this analysis it is at least clear that costliness has neither prevented nor limited this war. Consequently the theory of the preventive influence of expense must be abandoned. Furthermore, wise men will not place too much reliance upon the possibility of educating or persuading the nations toward the pacific settlement of their difficulties.

There remains but one factor likely to exert an effective influence in the future against war. It is a new factor and possibly it may prove to be important. War has become too scientific. The romance and the appeal to instinct have both been eliminated. It takes long to wipe out the age-old conception of war with its beating drums, clash of arms, marching hosts, and survival of the strongest. Yet this conception relates to a past age. When it is once realized that war has become a mere operation of innumerable machines upon the earth and in the clouds

against unseen foes; that it is an affair of burrowing in the earth to escape explosion and strangulation, and that it means ultimate destruction without reference to physical strength, instinct may revolt, and men are likely to refuse to become merely the victims of a science.

Finally, as the indebtedness of the warring powers becomes greater, the more hopeless may become the possibility of payment. The mere burden of interest, indeed, under casily developed conditions, might prove a source of actual revolution. There are, in fact, grave possibilities, for it is clear that an

indebtedness of over $50,000,000,000 cannot be materially increased without becoming a menace. This war may leave Europe lean, hungry, and desperate, with industrial life interrupted or destroyed, and millions of armed men unemployed. Across the ocean lie the United States, with national wealth of nearly $200,000,000,000, which has been actually increased by the disasters in Europe.

The attempt of a desperate man to take by force is not unusual. Might not such an attempt be made by desperate nations, even in the twentieth century?

LADY PAGET'S HOSPITAL,
SKOPLJE (USKUB), SERBIA
Just

Sunday, October 17, 1915. now we are on the move. The feverish work of moving the whole hospital, stores and all, is in progress, and under the conditions we have our hands full! We have heard from General Popovitz, in command of the troops in south Serbia, that the Bulgarians will probably reach us by Tuesday (October 19). Some of our people have already left, and I sent out thirty ox-carts loaded with stores this evening.

But to begin at the beginning. Last Wednesday night-October 13-we were told that two hundred and fifty wounded were coming in from the North, and we spent all day getting ready for them. They were due some time in the night - nobody could say

and had the fires started and all in readiness for the arrival of the wounded. Of course, when a hospital train arrives the wounded are all thrown on our hands at once and the whole staff works on receiving them. My room was about thirty by twenty feet. In one corner was the dressing-table for two doctors and nurses; in another, two bathtubs with four men to do the washing; in another, two Serbs were stationed to list the soldiers' clothes and take the men's names and make bundles of the clothes and mark them. Two men helped undress the wounded; one Sister and two helpers served bread and hot soup. Four men did nothing but carry dirty water out and fresh water in. One man tended the fires outside, two others brought the wounded in from the ambulances and fiacres, and four more carried the stretchers to the wards. Such was our organization.

Outside, the mud was a foot deep and the rain was coming down in a steady drenching downpour. The wounded began arriving about six, in the cold light of dawn. Soon my bathroom and the three other rooms were crowded to overflowing. I thought that they would never stop coming. The air was frightful. The men had been on the road a whole week since battle, with nothing but their first-aid dressings, and the poor devils smelled to heaven. They were so happy to get clean night-shirts, white yarn socks and dressing-gowns!

There were few really serious cases, but we had many shrapnel wounds to dress. They were very brave and uncomplaining. A few moaned and groaned most pitifully, but only a few. For two hours there was a continuous stream of them; there was not an inch of floor space to spare. But it was wonderful to see their beaming faces and to hear their sighs of joy as they sank into clean white beds in spotless, cheerful wards at rest at last! Every

man was bathed, dressed, and in bed by nine-thirty. The whole staff here consider this a remarkable record. The room was a perfect wreck afterwards, and I had just time to get some breakfast and have the mess cleaned up before forty more wounded arrived.

From dawn till twelve o'clock I had been at it, when I was called away to go down town to do errands for the chancery. There I saw a company of smart, trim soldiers marching off to the Bulgarian front, in striking contrast to their wounded, broken comrades from the North. I also learned in the town that the German-Austrian army was advancing steadily the Bulgarians were then fighting all along the frontier and that the French had not arrived from Salonica.

The rain poured down steadily, and while driving home alone I had time to think a bit, at last, and to mourn the fate of poor little Serbia. Is it to be a second Belgium, I wonder? My clothes still reeked of dirty steam, and the odor of blood and sweat, which I had not noticed all morning, suddenly became almost overpowering in memory. During the work I had been too busy and preoccupied to feel either sympathy or repulsion, and I only remember being very cool and business-like, bossing the bolnitchars about, to make them work fast, and lending a hand here and there whenever needed. But in this moment of first reaction I recalled the cries of each man: how a young boy laughed in pain, how another gritted his teeth.

At breakfast that morning I had met a lady and gentleman who had just arrived as refugees from the English 'Naval Mission' at Belgrade. Their description of the battle at Belgrade, with the massacres and the horror, came back to me on that lonely drive in all its terrible detail. They had told me of machine-guns crashing in the

very streets, of shells dropping on crowds of civilians at the railway station. Part of the American Hospital was destroyed and Dr. Ryan made prisoner. Wounded soldiers and civilians lay unaided in the streets; artillery charged through huddled masses of people. It was all simply beyond belief.

After lunch we all had hot baths and went to bed for a luxurious sleep, reappearing at dinner in clean clothes, fresh and fit again. There we learned of the second fall of Pansurevatz and of the cutting of all wires and communications between north and south Serbia, which prevented Popovitz getting word through for more troops. The news was burst upon us like a bomb by Lady Paget herself, who came in late for dinner from a conference with the general. She was a-quiver with excitement. She announced that she was going to Gievgelli and Salonica to use all her influence and powers of persuasion to fetch up the allied troops. The general gave her a special train, telling her that if she could not bring the troops, no one could. The prevailing feeling is that if the troops do not come Serbia will be sacrificed, and the war with Bulgaria, with all the pent-up hatred which exists between the two countries, will become a complete horror.

On Lady Paget's train we sent down three wounded English marines who had arrived from Belgrade that day and a number of refugees from English units in the north. But Lady Paget must come back alone, and she may be under fire near Strumitza, where the railroad runs only eight miles from the Bulgarian frontier. She left in the pouring rain, on a moment's notice.. I ran back for her lorgnette and her passports. Just as she started, while the engine of her car was pounding, she leaned out and called to us, 'Good-bye, children, God bless you!' You may

To-day we hear there is little chance of her quest succeeding. The Bulgarians will surely be here by Tuesday, and the hospital is to be moved to Pristina, although it is my private opinion we shall not get away in time. For my part, I don't care; but I do think the Sisters ought to go to-night instead of to-morrow night. There are practically no Serbian troops in this part of the country to stop the Bulgarian advance; and although the Allies have declared war on Bulgaria at last, they can hardly hope to save Skoplje now. We are all tremendously excited.

October 18. - The order has come to-day from the Serbian General Popovitz and from Dr. Maitland, director of this hospital, to pack up and evacuate for Pristina. Last night (Sunday) we sent off thirty ox-carts of supplies to the station. Early this morning three of the staff and ten of the Austrian prisoners, with one interpreter, went to Pristina to pick a site for a new hospital and get things ready for us. The main part of the staff is not to go for two days. We got up at four this morning and motored some of our people with luggage and more supplies to the train. Crowds of civilians were leaving Uskub in wildest panic. The station was one howling mass of Serbians fleeing from the enemy, and the train was jammed.

When we returned for breakfast we found that no one knew when we were to go, so I decided to try to make up some sleep. No sooner had I got to bed than I was called up and informed that the entire hospital was to be packed up to leave by night. We spent the whole day working like mad, sewing up mattresses and blankets in bales, taking down beds, and packing everything

possible. At three all the Austrian prisoners were lined up and told off. We were to take only fifty of the besttrained and most useful of them, and the rest were to be marched off to avoid recapture. The funny part of it was that they were all scared to death of the Bulgars, and when, after dinner, they were marched off, there were wails of adieu and much handshaking with the Serbs who had been their masters. By night not a chair or bed, blanket or wash-bowl was left in our rooms. All through our scrappy dinner the sound of big guns seemed to grow nearer.

About ten o'clock the train arrived from Salonica with Lady Paget, under escort of an English sergeant. She was dead tired but brave as ever. At eleven the entire staff was called in to a consultation, which was timely enough, as we had nothing to sleep on anyway. Lady Paget announced that it was impossible for the hospital to move. No trains were running to take our stores, no carts to take supplies. Every one in Serbia was rushing to Pristina. If we went we could take only hand-luggage, and we could not run a hospital without stores, supplies, and instruments! And food? We should only starve there! By staying, we could fill our hospital with the bad cases from other hospitals in town which were being evacuated; we could give courage and support to the people of the town who could not flee. We must stick by the ship!

Then came a hot argument as to whether the Sisters should leave us. Lady Paget is personally responsible for their safety and will have to bear the blame if harm comes to them. The last train to Salonica is to leave tomorrow night Tuesday; reports of Bulgarian atrocities are rampant and there is no hope of French or English aid from Salonica. Lady Paget had met only rebuffs from the com

mander there. We could only trust to Heaven and the Hague Convention not to be murdered. But the Sisters protested against going. They were all quite ready to die if necessary, and stay they would. Finally Lady Paget called for a vote from the men. To my astonishment the majority voted to let them remain. Then Lady Paget at last gave her consent, knowing that if anything happened, she, and she alone, would be held responsible. Her decision was greeted with ringing applause.

It was half-past two when this momentous meeting broke up. Then we had to unpack mattresses, bedding, and all our stuff. And since our bolnitchars had been marched off (and we absolutely needed them to run the hospital), Lady Paget dashed off at that ghastly hour in a motor to the general to secure an order for them to return. A car was sent out along the Tetavoe Road and soon caught up with the several thousand Austrians as they marched along under guard through the night. Our special three hundred were picked out, faced about, and marched back. In the meantime, we are finishing the night by sending wires to the party at Pristina, informing them of our decision to stay and ordering them back.

Friday, October 22. - The three days since I last wrote have been a succession of nightmares. With the continual booming of guns in the distance, we worked furiously to get the hospital to rights again. Every Serb who could possibly walk was discharged, clothed, and sent off. The worst cases from all other hospitals in town were taken in. Stores were brought up by the carload from other hospitals. We threw things out of the very windows to the Serbian troops who were retreating because Skoplje was not to be defended. By Wednesday and Thursday every