was true that the Jemtchug was caught unprepared. Her Captain
was spending the night ashore, her decks were not cleared, she was
slow to get into action, and when she did so her marksmanship was
poor. All this could hardly be excused, but it becomes insignificant
when we consider the case of the French torpedo boats and the
D'Iberville, whose help the Jemtchug had a right to expect. Here they
lay in a harbor with fully ten minutes' warning that a hostile ship
was approaching, yet they allowed that ship to enter the harbor, steam
around it, turn, and make her escape without so much as firing a shot,
when, if they had gone into action, the Emden could hardly have
escaped. The range was everything they could have desired.

What was the matter? Why did they remain silent? The answer is this:
Although it was a time of war, a large percentage of the officers of
these ships had been allowed to remain ashore over night. Not one of
the ships had steam up. Their decks were not even cleared for action.
Yet, even taking this into consideration, it is inexplicable that,
when two or three torpedoes from any one of them would have saved the
day, none was fired. The ships need not have moved an inch to have
done so. The range was ridiculously short--less than 200 yards at one
time. But surprise, lack of discipline, and general inefficiency
seemed to hold them paralyzed.

The prevailing opinion here is that they did not wish to draw the
Emden's fire on themselves--although one did use her machine gun
toward the end of the engagement. Whatever is said, however, it is
impossible to get away from the fact that the French Navy yesterday
sustained a blow to its efficiency that it will take a long time to
wipe out. Theirs was a "masterly inaction" caused by something which
they do not attempt themselves to define. Both army and navy
commanders here are one in their contemptuous condemnation of such a
spectacle.

The Belgian Soldier

[From The London Times, Oct. 17, 1914. By its Special Correspondent
lately in Antwerp.]

Before it fades I would like to record my impression of the Belgian
soldier as I have seen him day after day through the two months ending
with the fall of Antwerp.

I have seen him on every kind of duty and off, on the roads, in
cabarets, in camp and barrack, on the march, in trenches, fighting
from behind all sorts of cover or from none, on foot, on horseback, on
bicycles, mounted proudly on his auto-mitraill