Some people who share Mr. Carnegie's opinion about war being a foul blot, but at the same time realise what hardships universal peace would entail upon war correspondents, will be delighted with Mr. T. P. O'Connor's articles entitled, "Why There Wasn't a War." The name alone suggests infinite possibilities. No ingenious war correspondent or military expert need ever henceforward be out of work. The Hague Tribunal cannot injure them. For they can earn their living without any actual hostilities being carried on. Indeed, the absence of actual hostilities will be a distinct gain to them. When a war is really on, correspondents are usually hampered by it. They have to attend battles. Censors are down on them. Facts have to be interspersed in their reports. Imagination is cramped. Inaccuracies in descriptions of fights at which they were unable to be present are noted against them.

that Did Not Happen"; "The Franco - German Campaigns of 1905"; "With Loubet to Berlin"; "The Kaiser's Conquests (in Prose)"; or "Mighthave-beens in the Baltic." It will not matter in the least if he differs from a fellow-reporter; or if his maps leave out a mountain-chain, or put in a river that doesn't exist. He will not need to verify the number of the slain. Every battle can be sanguinary. Important fortresses can fall daily. He can declare peace in the morning, and have it settled in time for an evening paper. It will be magnificent, and also not unlike a real war.

The Comte de la Vaulx's comparison between motoring and ballooning, which he considers is to

be the sport of the future, may induce some motorists to try the change, but it will not, I fancy, persuade many. The Comte says ballooning is the less dangerous sport of the two, and so it may be. But where the balloon is dangerous is to the man in it, while in the case of the motor the danger is really only to the person who, being outside the motor, gets in the way of it. This gives a feeling of satisfaction to the motorist which the balloonist cannot have. The motorist knows that if an accident happens, it is the other person's fault, but the balloonist-if he knows anything at all after an accident-knows that it is his own fault. You

Princess Charles of Denmark

An Eng ish Princess, who may be Queen of Norway

cannot blame another person for being in the direct line of your fall from a height of two or three thousand feet. You may have hooted from that height, but, even so, you could not expect the man to attend to you.

Still, ballooning will, no doubt, make its way in good time. It is said to be good for consumptives, and I can well believe this. As ballooning goes at present, sufferers from back-ache, indigestion, eczema, rheumatism, lumbago, and nervous disorders would also find it gave them rapid relief. In this way ballooning may be regarded as a serious rival to patent pills, which do much harm. This is all in its favour. Its use in war-time, again, cannot be over-estimated. Several balloons containing officers, selected rather for their weight than for their capacity to pass competitive examinations, would, if sent up above a hostile force and then exploded, undoubtedly contribute to weaken the morale of the enemy. Mr. Arnold-Forster has recently stated that n two or three years the Army will be much stronger than it has ever been before. Perhaps he has some plan of this kind in his eye.

To give an exact definition of so perplexing a personage as the Kaiser, seems hitherto to have been beyond the power of the wit of the world. A plausible attempt, however, is made in the following mot, which reaches us from one who knows him well: "You see," he said, "it is like this. When the Kaiser goes a-christening, he would like to be the baby; when he goes to a wedding, he wishes to be the bride; and when he goes to a funeral, he desires to be the corpse."

Mr. Robinson's Trousseau

[Letters from all parts of England continue to reach us from correspondents who are desirous of advising "Paterfamilias" on the proper cost of trousseaux.-DAILY EXPRESS.]

Mr. Robinson had come home from his office in an excellent temper.

"If I were you," said Mrs. Robinson to Miranda after dinner, "I should seize the opportunity and ask father about your trousseau to-night."

"I will," said Miranda, "as soon as he comes up." Singularly enough, Mr. Robinson himself was the first to lead up the subject.

"Well," he said, as soon as he entered the drawingroom, "and when are you and Fred going to marry, Miranda?"

"They are only waiting," said Mrs. Robinson, quickly, "until you can afford to give Miranda the money for her trousseau. Miranda has been a good, patient girl. Fred will make a persevering barrister, as soon as he gets any briefs; and we must not forget that Ethel, Portia, Christabel, Jessica, and Jane are getting big girls, who will soon be becoming engaged themselves

"Well, well," said Mr. Robinson, good-naturedly, "how much will Miranda's trousseau cost?"

forty-nine pounds nine shillings and elevenpence. In fact, I may say that it has cost it. I paid cash down--" "What do you mean?" asked Miranda, almost alarmed.

"I mean," said Mr. Robinson, and he waved an Express playfully at his daughter. "I bought it myself this afternoon--"

"Bought it yourself?" echoed Mrs. Robinson. "Bought it. . . where?" asked Miranda, in a tense voice.

"Well," said Mr. Robinson, triumphantly. "I began by trying some of the Regent Street shops..."

A faint hope struggled for a moment in Miranda's breast. "But I found," continued Mr. Robinson, "that they were too expensive, so I went on to the Edgware Road." Miranda turned pale.

"And what did you buy?" asked Mrs. Robinson faintly.

"Everything requisite for the young bride," said Mr. Robinson. "The names and prices of the articles necessary I had with me in this paper. I will read you a list if you like. It was compiled by a leading lady novelist."

"But--" said Mrs. Robinson.

There was, however, no stopping Mr. Robinson. He had already begun to read:

(Continued en page 162)