regiment saddled with a fantastic title on the
territorial system, as, for instance, Mr. Kipling's famous regiment,
"The Princess Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen-Anspach's Merthyr Tydvilshire Own
Royal Loyal Light Infantry." With the old numbers all started on equal
terms.

This has been perhaps a cold-blooded chapter. We have considered men
as targets; tribesmen, fighting for their homes and hills, have been
regarded only as the objective of an attack; killed and wounded human
beings, merely as the waste of war. We have even attempted to analyse
the high and noble virtue of courage, in the hopes of learning how it
may be manufactured.

The philosopher may observe with pity, and the philanthropist deplore
with pain, that the attention of so many minds should be directed to the
scientific destruction of the human species; but practical people in a
business-like age will remember that they live in a world of men--not
angels--and regulate their conduct accordingly.

CHAPTER XVIII. AND LAST.: THE RIDDLE OF THE FRONTIER

"Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and saint, and heard great argument
About it and about, but evermore
Came out by the same door wherein I went."

OMAR KHAYYAM.

These pages, which have chronicled a variety of small incidents, have
hitherto concerned themselves little with the great matters out of
which those incidents have arisen. As an opening chapter should lead
the reader to expect the considerations that the book contains, so the
conclusion should express the opinion he might form from the perusal.
When, at an earlier period, I refrained from discussing the question of
frontier policy, I declared that its consideration was only postponed
until a more propitious moment. That moment now presents itself. There
will not be wanting those who will remind me, that in this matter my
opinion is not supported by age or experience. To such I shall reply,
that if what is written is false or foolish, neither age nor experience
should fortify it; and if it is true, it needs no such support.
The propositions of Euclid would be no less indisputable were they
propounded by an infant or an idiot.

The inquirer sees the vast question unfold itself with feelings like
those with which the fisherman in the old story watched the genius he
had unwittingly released, rise from the bottle in clouds of smoke, which
overspread the whole sky. Every moment