the more important streets, it is true, were hung banners on which were inscribed the names of the Democratic candidates for the various offices; but there were few of those signs of the bustle and activity of rival parties which one would be certain of seeing in any town in this country during a General Election. The dulness of the streets seemed to have descended upon the newspapers, and everywhere people admitted that they had never known before a Presidential contest as tame as this was. The fact was that as time had passed the belief that Mr. Roosevelt would be elected had become almost universal. It is true that for a brief season, after the nomination of Judge Parker by the Democrats, the Republicans were alarmed. The Judge's message, in which he ruthlessly threw over Bryanism, with its doctrines on the subject of silver, and boldly rallied to the gold standard, had made a deep impression upon everybody. It was known that at the previous Presidential election many Democrats had deserted their party and voted for McKinley because of their dread of the Bryanism policy on silver; and not a few Republicans feared that the conversion of Judge Parker to orthodox views on the currency question-he voted, I believe, for Mr. Bryan in 1900-would bring him a large accession of strength from Wall Street. The trusts, again, were understood not to be friendly, in the first instance at least, to President Roosevelt, and a strong effort was made to whip them into line in favour of Judge Parker. This, however, was a doubtful measure of expediency, for, whatever may be the financial and mercantile power of the trusts, they are hated by the overwhelming majority of American citizens with an intensity unequalled by any feeling shown in Great Britain on social or economic questions. As time passed the Republicans were reassured, and a week before the day fixed for the election the betting was five to one in favour of Mr. Roosevelt; but suddenly, at the eleventh hour, the general apathy was broken up and disappeared like a field of ice in a thaw, and for four days before the fateful 8th of November the excitement and political passion evoked were equal to anything witnessed in previous elections. The cause of the sudden and unexpected change was a speech by Judge Parker in which he insinuated, if he did not state directly, that his rival had obtained the vast funds required for an election in the United States by blackmailing the great trusts. Such a charge would have been a grave one if brought against the merest political adventurer. When the person against whom it was alleged was the man who had held the supreme office of President for more than three years, it naturally aroused intense feeling among all classes of the public. The ostensible ground upon which Judge Parker based his unprecedented charge against Mr. Roosevelt was that the manager of his election was his former private secretary, Mr. Cortelyou, and that this gentleman had acted as an official of the department appointed by the President to deal with the whole question of trusts.

In this capacity Mr. Cortelyou, it was alleged, had learned the secrets of the various trusts, and armed with this information he had been able to extract as much money as he wanted for the purpose of the Republican campaign from their coffers. This accusation, sprung at the eleventh hour upon the country by a man who had hitherto conducted the contest on his side in a manner to which no exception could be taken, convulsed the nation. President Roosevelt, breaking with long-established precedent, himself stepped into the arena, and with clearness and a dignified emphasis flatly denied the base charge to which he had been subjected. The Democrats professed to be much shocked that Mr. Roosevelt should have disregarded the traditions of his office so far as to take any personal part in the struggle; but even Democratic journals joined the Republican Press in declaring that after the President's plain denial Judge Parker was bound, if he wished to be believed, to bring forward the evidence on which he based his charge against his opponent. This he entirely failed to do. He did, indeed, make a speech on the Saturday night preceding the Tuesday on which the election took place, in which he professed to justify his accusation; but even his warmest supporters in the Press refused to admit that he had done so, and in a moment the feeling of the country became absolutely hostile to him.

This, I take it, was the explanation of the extraordinary 'landslide,' to use the expressive American phrase, in favour of Mr. Roosevelt which occurred when the electors went to the poll. Most people felt confident of his victory, but nobody dreamt of a triumph so complete, one almost, if not quite, unprecedented in the history of Presidential contests. Judge Parker's ill-advised action in suddenly introducing, at the last moment, a new and personal issue of the most offensive kind into the struggle, instead of ensuring his success, brought upon his head an overwhelming defeat. Apart from any question between Democrat and Republican, the friends of America must be glad that this was the case. Too often in previous political struggles in the United States a desperate card has been played at the last moment by the managers of one of the parties to the campaign, and, unhappily, the card has not always failed to win the trick. That on this occasion it did fail, and fail ignominiously, even when played by one of the principals in the great struggle, is a fact upon which Americans should feel that they have reason to congratulate themselves. When, on the evening of the 8th of November, the electoral results began to appear, and it was known that Mr. Roosevelt's victory was greater and more complete than the most sanguine had anticipated, the people of New York gave themselves up to a carnival of rejoicing which almost seemed to suggest that for the moment no Democrat was to be found within the limits of the Empire City. It recalled Mafeking night in London, though without the blackguardism which accompanied that celebration of evil fame.

Perhaps the nearest approach to it was the scene I witnessed in Paris in October 1877, when the electors, under the leadership of Gambetta, won their great triumph over the insolent forces of reaction, and the Republic was at last established on the broad foundation of the national will. Then, as now, the people of the great city gave vent to a gaiety of heart and spirit that was absolutely intoxicating. To the windows of my room in Holland House there ascended from Fifth Avenue all the noisy tumult of a fair-music, laughter, shouts, the blare of trumpets, and the volleying of cheers. Great processions swept by, following party banners, whilst away in the distance the sky was lightened by the glare of countless bonfires and the brilliancy of the search-lights which flashed the news to every quarter of the compass. Late that night I had to rejoin the Cedric for the return voyage to England, and everywhere as I drove through the streets I encountered rejoicing crowds, some gathered in dense masses in front of the screens on which the results from different States and districts were shown by means of the magic lantern, others watching the bonfires which blazed, despite all police regulations, from the middle of the busy streets; and yet others singing and shouting in accents of unfeigned joy as they surged along the crowded thoroughfares. Whatever of apathy I may have found on my arrival, there was no trace of it when I left; and the strange thing was that no discordant note was struck. Wherever Judge Parker's supporters might have been found, they were certainly not visible on that memorable night in New York. Everybody seemed to be in accord, all were bubbling over with triumphant joy.

I have said nothing as yet of the international aspect of this contest-in other words, of the bearing which Mr. Roosevelt's election is likely to have upon the foreign policy of the United States during his term of office. It is no secret that in this country many persons, who freely acknowledged the President's high personal qualities, felt some alarm at what they regarded as his leaning towards Jingoisma word, by the way, which seems now to have become acclimatised in the United States. From all that I could learn, not merely from the newspapers, but from personal intercourse with men of undoubted authority, there is no real reason for apprehension as to the President's future policy in foreign affairs. Apart from the fact that he has constantly beside him, in the person of his chief Minister and adviser, Mr. John Hay, one of the sanest and best-balanced intellects not only in America, but in the world, it should be borne in mind that Mr. Roosevelt was the first man in his exalted position to make public acknowledgment of the fact that the Monroe doctrine, beloved of all Americans, not only establishes rights, but imposes duties upon those who maintain it. More than once he has made it clear to South American States, eager to commit some act of international wrong under the shelter of their big brother in the north, that they

need not hope to escape punishment for any misdeed by claiming immunity under the Monroe doctrine. In an admirable statement of his claims and policy issued during the election by that distinguished jurist and diplomatist Mr. David Jayne Hill, for some years AssistantSecretary of State under Mr. Hay, and now United States Minister to Switzerland, that gentleman gave, as one of the titles of Mr. Roosevelt to the confidence of his fellow-countrymen, the fact that 'his conduct of American foreign relations has emphasised, and will continue to emphasise, those conceptions of peaceful intercourse, equitable treatment, and vigilant action which express the will and convictions of the American people and the spirit of their national existence.' More than this none of us have any right to ask, and we could hardly have the welcome declaration upon authority more conclusive.

WEMYSS REID.

LAST MONTH

II

THE last great Tartar throne rests upon secure foundations. We are often told of the change that must come,' of the 'growing unrest,' and the impending revolution;' but the change does not come, and when we ask for a sign of its coming the answer is as naught. No man can know Russia; but all the world may know this much— that the moujik is unhappy, but he is not intelligent; that there are many intelligent people in Russia, but they are not unhappy; as why should they be? standing, as they do, possessed of all the good things of this world. Between these two-the moujik and the noble-is the student, whose madcap revolts constitute all that apparently moves in Russia, and who is a source of alarm and horror to both noble and peasant.

Over these mutually repellent forces-if forces they can be calledthe administration rules supreme, controlling all by means of the army. There, say the sanguine, is its weak point; the army is the moujik. True it is that the rank and file of the army are recruited from the peasantry; and if what we hear were true we should expect to see whole regiments flinging down their arms when face to face with the foe. During the last nine months there have been many occasions when even willing troops might well have been excused for surrendering in thousands. Far from doing so, the Russians have never fought better, and though the casualties of their armies must by now have reached a huge total, the number of prisoners taken is quite insignificant. In fact, as soon as the moujik shoulders his rifle he is a changed being. The administration, therefore, rules; absolute, unchallengeable. The poet's line

Night hath none but one red star, Tyrannicide

is but a poet's version of a truth long obscured to many-that Russia is but a great Tartar State, like the State of Timur the Lame, and many others which have known, and still know, no law but force.

It must not, however, be forgotten that the administration has a nominal chief at whose word all is supposed to move-the Emperor.