cipal street on the shoulders of his enthusiastic followers, surrounded by a jubilant throng of women and children. Don Chrisanto and his friends also appeared and the polling began. Suddenly there was a shout of: Ay -ay-ay!

The crowd took flight with cries of terror as a mad bull, blind with rage, charged them. The maddened animal was smashing things up to his heart's content when Ignacio shot him with a pistol. It was all a stratagem of Don Agapito and his followers. After the people recovered their composure, and the danger disappeared, they wanted to start at once to get even, but Ignacio cautioned them: There is plenty of time for that. Have the doctor look after those who have been hurt. Nothing serious has happened. We must get to voting.

There were three polling places. The one in the Plaza was not as large as the two others combined. When Ignacio's followers reached the others, they found that Agapito's 'club men' had taken possession of the polls. The people were intimidated and bowed to the will of the cacique. Nothing could be done until he said the word. At the last moment, the mayor had sold out to Agapito and had thrown his influence in favor of that boss saying: 'A known evil is better than an unknown blessing,' and asserting that Don Agapito might be a boss, but Don Chrisanto would be one also if he gained the election.

So the morning passed. Things looked quiet enough on the surface, though there was much ferment beneath.It might be that when they came to count the votes, the wrath of the people would burst forth. Everyone expected the day to end with bloodshed. Don Chrisanto personally supposed he was beaten, but Ignacio still insisted that he had won. The electors

protested, because it looked as though the returns would not be decided by the ballots.

Noon came. In the first precinct, the judges of election for Don Chrisanto said it was time for lunch. They were going home since it was no use remaining longer. Don Agapito's supporters said that the Cortes did not stop at noon, that elections were more important than luncheons, let them get on with the work and give their stomachs a rest.

While they were still arguing, a man came in announcing that he was bringing dinner for everyone with Don Chrisanto's compliments; that election was one thing and a dinner another, and there was no use quarreling over the latter.

The fellow withdrew to return in a moment with a great basket, which he set down on the ground on one end of the table. In a moment, he was unpacking napkins and table cloth and bottles of claret. By this time the election judges had forgotten that they were rivals, and were chatting together in the friendliest manner possible.

Glass clinked against glass and the servant was kept busy passing wine and viands.

But the big basket contained something more than food, drink, and napkins little Sabas, an eight-year old boy, quicker than lightning and lighter than a cricket, who, as soon as he saw the gentlemen completely absorbed in their convivial labors, quickly exchanged the ballot box for another one, and returned to his hiding place in the basket.

At the second polling place, the local physician and the pharmacist had slightly drugged a few bottles of wine, informing Don Chrisanto's friends which ones they were.

So the rival partisans drank cheerfully together, Don Agapito's men be

coming constantly drowsier. While they were in this condition, the hostile ballots in the box at that precinct were taken out and burned and others substituted for them. As soon as Don Agapito's partisans showed signs of coming to, the Chrisanto judges stretched out drowsily on benches and appeared asleep. One of the latter, rousing himself a moment later, exclaimed:

"The devil! What's happened to me?'

'And to me!' yawned another.

'Well, we must get to work! Come! A few glasses of wine on a dry day ought not to set us up this way. Was the ballot box left unguarded?'

'Anyway, what does it matter?' replied carelessly another of the Chrisanto men, giving it a passing glance.

At the third polling place where Ignacio himself had kept things in hand, it was not necessary to resort to stratagems. In any case, the votes of the two other precincts were sufficient.

'There's nothing more to do here,' remarked the provincial deputy. Let's go down to Aldea-Florida and get the final returns.'

So the field was left open. The mayor remained behind as Don Agapito's representative, to settle up certain little matters for him with the husky and ill-favored citizens with clubs, who had arrived on the morning train. Ignacio stayed behind likewise to look after Don Chrisanto's interest, supported by a few gendarmes whom the governor had sent down to the village on receiving word that a savage bull had been let loose in the crowd.

Finally the hour for counting the ballots came. People crowded into the polling places. Ignacio was confident, because of the little stratagems played at the polls. The people felt balked and ugly, and were ready to start

something lively. Ignacio, always prudent, cautioned them:

'Keep quiet! Keep quiet! Who knows what the result is yet! You never can tell.'

'Well, you're going to draw a blank.' So the counting began with a decidedly belligerent atmosphere prevailing.

It was an interesting spectacle to see the surprise on all the countenances, and especially the crestfallen bewilderment of Don Agapito's friends. Practically all the votes were in favor of Don Chrisanto. The men who had been kept away from the polls by that candidate's strong arm guards, seemed to have smuggled in their ballots after all. To be sure, there were a few votes for Don Agapito at the third precinct, but all the rest were for his opponent. The people went wild with joy, and at once started out to avenge themselves for what had occurred that morning. While the gendarmes were protecting the mayor's residence, Ignacio hurried off on horseback to take a copy of the returns to Don Chrisanto.

It was some three miles down to Aldea-Florida. He galloped at full speed. Suddenly a shot and a cry of pain were heard. The shot had been fired from a mass of shrubbery. The cry of pain was from Ignacio, who had fallen from his horse and lay motionless in the road. He had paid the penalty for his revolt against the cacique.

At Aldea-Florida the returns showed Don Chrisanto the winner. But Don Agapito received a fat senatorial appointment to console him. From that time on, the two opponents traded offices as the situation seemed to demand. They were friends the way wolves of the same pack are friends.

And Ignacio was forgotten except by his poor mother.

Thus the devil pays those who serve him loyally.

Q. Is it the same thing as employment?

A. Not at all. Employment is a term used to designate the state of life to which God has pleased to call the lower classes.

Q. Do they come when they are called? A.

Unfortunately, yes. A mil

lion more than are wanted.

Q. What is the result of this obedience to the Divine behest?

A. The noble sacrifice of some hours of our Prime Minister's wellearned rest.

Q. Is not unemployment the wellearned rest of the lower classes?

A. Certainly not. The lower classes earn wages; they do not earn rest.

A. My dear child, pray remember this is an Early Victorian text-book. Q. Whose was the great mind that originated this noble idea of helping the lower classes to help one another while the employers help themselves to what is left?

A. No doubt, it was the same great mind that has just put a stop to illegal reprisals in Ireland by making them legal.

Q. Are not the greatest ideas in the realm of the mind always the simplest?

A.- No. You are thinking of the people who swallow the ideas. Who was Peter?

Q.

A. An unfortunate person of doubtful nationality (now believed to be British) who was robbed to pay Paul.

Q. By whom was he robbed?

A. That has never been established, but contemporary research seems to point to his having also possessed a Biblical name.

TOWARD night, houses became rarer. We were entering a district which the war had utterly devastated and to which the original inhabitants either had not returned, or if they had done so, were living in dugouts like soldiers at the front. At first it was surprising to us to see the smoke of their fires rising from the level ground. At places we came upon whole villages of these subterranean dwellings.

Eventually, we arrived at a former battle line, where great mountains of unexploded shells were still heaped along the roadside, and the ground was strewn with barbed wire. By this time it was growing dark and we had no idea where we were. The last persons we had met were a detachment of soldiers who gave us little assistance. Altogether we were a melancholy picture. Our horses were exhausted. Our drivers were frozen with fear. They asked us if we carried arms, and when we replied in the negative they shook their heads in despair.

As for ourselves, we were principally interested in finding a place to pass the night. The country was deserted. There was not a light to be seen in any direction. Happily we carried good flashlights which enabled us to keep to the road. All of a sudden we came upon a cart. A young man was stretched out in it and two soldiers

were riding behind. We inquired the direction to Turmont, where we had intended to make our first stop, and learned that we had taken precisely the wrong direction. The cart was going to Turmont and we followed it.

Very late that night we reached the Lett frontier post. We were received very graciously indeed, because news had arrived from Dvinsk that we were coming, and our delay had caused some uneasiness. For the first time we learned of another peril that was to accompany us through our trip. The entire territory as far as Vilna is infested by wolves. No one goes out after dark without firearms, and even in the day time the peasants will not enter a forest with horses. These wolves are reported to be so agressive that it was considered almost a miracle that we had met none of them during our evening's journey.

However, the danger was over before we were aware of its existence. Our quarters for the night were most novel, in a real Russian farmhouse. The whole family were abed on a high shelf near the stove, and the floor was packed with soldiers. It was the only habitable building in the locality. Some way we all managed to crowd in, and though our accommodations were not luxurious the experience was, to say the least, a new one.

Our rest was disturbed by the fact that the Poles had seized the frontier the day before, and the Letts were on the alert. For the time being, however, their relations were friendly. Polish troops had arrived on an armored train, fired a few shots from a cannon, and driven out a couple of Lithuanian soldiers; after which they seized the Lithuanian village of Turmont and the railway station.

In spite of their nominally friendly relations, the Letts were not at ease. Detachments were going and coming all night long, and the telephone was ringing constantly.

Next morning the Lett commander turned us over to the Poles, who were to see us farther on our way. This proved a stroke of good fortune, for it meant that we would be traveling through territory where there was at least someone in authority to protect us from either two-legged or fourlegged wolves. Friendly Lett soldiers took our luggage to the border where a kindly sergeant received us. Only now did we discover to our astonishment that we were not among Zeligowsky's soldiers but Polish regulars, who had been ordered to occupy all the vacant territories evacuated by the Lithuanians. Their commanding officer ordered two peasant carts to be brought to take us to the first important village down the railway. We asked how much we would have to pay. The officer looked at us with astonishment, and said: 'We never pay peasants when they do anything for us. We requisition what we want, and since we have received orders to get you to your destination we requisition for you likewise.' The peasants also were greatly surprised when we paid them for their work.

We continued our journey much in the same manner as the day before. The weather was better and the coun

try more attractive. The war had not visited it so heavily. It was a region which the Germans held and where there was consequently little fighting. Along the railway one could still see indications of former military operations. The country was covered with a network of telephone and telegraph wires, and great detraining platforms, with model electric installations, were to be seen at short intervals along the line. The highway had been corduroyed and bridges had been thrown across small streams and marshes. However, everything was now neglected; many of the telephone lines were broken and the poles had been overthrown. The detraining stations were a sad picture of desolation and ruin. The new bridges were broken through. On the walls of the abandoned farm houses and manor houses, already falling into ruins, one could still see traces of inscriptions indicating that they had served as staff offices and military headquarters for the Germans.

Notwithstanding the comparatively recent road improvements our progress was as slow as the previous day. Evening drew on. We were on the right road but still far from our destination. Most of the way we had to go on foot. The carts with our luggage sank into the mud up to the hubs. We had a military escort, as the Poles felt they could not otherwise guarantee our safety in a region where conditions were so unsettled. After nightfall the soldiers proceeded with their guns ready, in case wolves should attack our horses. The country became wooded and our peasants were not reassured even by our armed guards. They insisted on following the railway. This was of wide Russian gauge, with space enough for their carts between the rails. They knew from experience that wolves are afraid to cross a railway. So we stumbled along in the