gressional Committee that within twenty years the annual reindeer output of Alaska will be 1,250,000 carcasses per year (equal, therefore, to about 3,000,000 sheep, for a reindeer weighs more than two sheep). And if Alaska with its estimated two hundred thousand square miles of grazing land can give us an annual turnover of one and a quarter millions of reindeer, Canada with its two million square miles will give us an annual turnover of ten or thirteen million carcasses, the equivalent of twenty-five million carcasses of sheep, which is many times more than the total production of Canada to-day in all forms of domestic meats. Canada cannot do this within twenty years, for the industry there is just being started. It is, however, being started with the advantage of the Alaskan success before our eyes and progress will, therefore, be a great deal more rapid than it was in Alaska. It will not be fifty years until every part of the northern mainland of Canada and every island to the north of Canada is producing reindeer meat for export.

Lest it be thought that these prophecies are extravagant, we shall tell here the story of a prophecy now fulfilled.

About seventeen years ago Gilbert Grosvenor, the editor of the National Geographic Magazine, wrote for that magazine an article in which he prophesied that within fifteen years there would be more than a hundred thousand domestic reindeer in Alaska, the descendants of 1,280 animals then recently imported, and that within twenty-five years reindeer meat would appear on the American markets. The publication of this article was greeted with a storm of ridicule, and especially from Alaska. Grosvenor received one letter, for instance, from a member of the United

States Geological Survey who said in substance that he had practical knowledge of Alaska while Grosvenor was only a theorist; that he had seen the places which Grosvenor talked about and could assure him that no such thing was going to happen; and that Grosvenor was making himself and his magazine ridiculous by indulging in any such daydreaming.

When the fifteen years were over, the 1,280 reindeer instead of having increased merely to 100,000 had increased to more than 150,000 (and are now more than 225,000, for the herds double in numbers every three years). The meat instead of appearing on American markets ten years from now, appeared five years ago. At least 10,000 reindeer steers are now in northwestern Alaska ready for butchering, but lack of cold-storage facilities may prevent the shipping of more than from 3,000 to 5,000 to Seattle. At last year's prices the 10,000 are worth $370,000 at Nome, Alaska, and will be worth $600,000 when they get to Chicago, the increase in price covering both freight and the profits of middlemen.

Thus has Grosvenor's ridiculed prophecy come more than true. The herds are more than double what he estimated, and the market value of the product is already measured in hundreds of thousands of dollars per year ten years before he thought the first marketing would begin.

But it is incorrect to speak of "Grosvenor's prophecy"-it was really an estimate of future increase based on past records, and then divided by two "for conservatism." Those who disagreed with Grosvenor were really denying his facts. For men of a certain temperament it is always possible to do that. But the facts keep marching on.

N JUNE, 1917, the President asked me to go abroad upon a secret diplomatic errand, which I am not even yet at liberty to disclose, further than to say that I learned that what the President hoped could not de accomplished, and after a few days, I proceeded to Paris.

This was one of the great hours of history. General Pershing had arrived with his little staff of officers, and a few regiments of American Regular soldiers. This was America's first pledge toward the promise of military aid, which was speedily to be redeemed in terms of two millions of American troops in France, and final victory in the war. I dined with Ambassador Sharp; and in his home I met General Pershing, Thomas Nelson Page, our Ambassador to Italy, and other prominent Americans. I renewed old acquaintances in the American Colony at Paris, and soon learned the immense significance of the appearance of our soldiers in France. It was now the middle of July, and only a little earlier the French people had almost seemed to falter in their struggle. Army officers in uniform in the cafés of Paris had talked openly of revolution. France seemed to have been bled white with three years of devastating war. The disastrous advance at Vimy Ridge where the French had lost several hundred thousand men in a few days, had almost broken the morale of the nation. Frenchmen were saying that it was as well to die on their doorsteps as to be led to useless slaughter at the front. The French GovernThe French Government was making a final desperate effort to restore the nation's confidence. Joffre in May had pleaded at Washington for American troops- "No matter how few you send, only give us the sight of Americans in uniform on the streets of Paris."

I now had the privilege of watching, from the most favorable point of vantage, a critical test of the national psychology which the French Government made in July, 1917. With a profound sense of dramatic values, they had arranged that the American troops should be exhibited to the French public on their Independence Day, July 14th, as units of a great patriotic parade. To make sure that they might accurately gauge the psychological effect, the President's reviewing stand was placed in Vincennes, where the people had suffered greatly from the privations of the war, and where disaffection was rife. I received an invitation to witness the parade from the President's reviewing stand, and Ambassador Sharp, General Pershing, and I were the only Americans so favored. We were arranged around President Poincairé, with Monsieur Painlevé, Minister of War, and others. M. Painlevé afterward told me that he and the President of the Republic had headed the procession while it was passing through the poorer quarters of the city, to test the attitude of the people before they had tasted the enthusiasm which the sight of troops would naturally arouse, and that they had been encouraged by receiving everywhere a cordial and even a hearty reception. Nevertheless, I could plainly see the evidences of nervousness amongst the French officials-a nervousness which grew more intense as the military parade approached. It was somewhat relieved as the French soldiers marched by, and were greeted by the hearty cheers of the people. It disappeared entirely when our splendid Americans swung past the reviewing stand. The enthusiasm of the spectators then passed all bounds. To the French officials this approval of the populace meant relief from a heart-breaking anxiety:

to us Americans who stood with them, it was an occasion for patriotic pride. To see the flag of our young nation in this old capital of Europe, and behind it, those two thousand splendid examples of our young manhood, so erect in carriage, and so lithe in motion-their faces so eager and intelligent-their whole bearing so proudly representative of the millions that were to follow them, and to see how much their presence meant to rulers and people alike all this made a picture that filled us with happiness. The effect upon the French nation was instantaneous and electrical. From despair, they changed overnight to fresh hope and confidence. Though they then only hoped for one third of a million reinforcements within a year, and little dreamed of the prodigy which was actually performed of bringing two million men speedily to France, they were nevertheless enthusiastic over the prospect. Responsible Frenchmen urged me to advise President Wilson to assert himself at once as the leader of the whole alliance against Germany; and responsible Britons soon afterward added that they, as well as the French, would welcome a unified control of the Alliance's political policy with President Wilson in command. I think it profoundly significant, in view of the later course of events, that the European nations thus early conceded the necessity that Americans should lead.

I was still further informed of the real thoughts of the French officials when a few days later I dined with Painlevé, who spoke with deep appreciation of the help which America was beginning now to extend. He spoke quite freely of the recent disaffection that had come among the French people after three years of terrible fighting and heavy losses, and with gratification of the change that had come over public opinion with the arrival of the American troops. He covered at length the dangerous situation on the Russian front, the blunder committed at the beginning of the war in the failure of the Entente Fleet properly to pursue the Goeben and the Breslau, the capture of which would have kept Turkey out of the war, and spared them the difficult problem of the Balkans. He discussed also the difficulties of the French in governing their colonies and dependencies; and, with special significance, he declared that negotiations for peace with Germany could not be commenced before the complete evacuation of all the territory then occupied by the enemy.

Painlevé was especially solicitous regarding our ability to solve the problem of transportation of men and munitions to France. He was concerned over our ability to drill into a real army more than two hundred and fifty thousand men within a year. He asked eagerly about President Wilson's character, especially whether I thought he had the determination which, now that we had entered the war, would cause him to see it through with energy. He feared, from the hesitancy that we had displayed before entering, that we might be planning a lukewarm effort. He was delighted when I assured him of the iron resolution of President Wilson, and of the habit of the American people, once aroused, to see a fight through to the finish.

In the course of that evening (Saturday), · he asked me whether I had posted myself on the military conditions in France. I told him I had projected a trip to the British front, and was only waiting for the arrangements to be completed. He asked me whether I would not like to see something else in the meantime, and I replied that I should like very much to see the French front, and especially to visit the parts of Alsace which the French had at last reunited to France. He was somewhat taken aback when, having asked me when I should like to go, I replied, on the following Monday. Nevertheless, he proved himself possessed of a capacity for prompt action and execution. At ten o'clock on Monday morning, there appeared at my hotel a very dapper French officer. He saluted, introduced himself as Captain Jaubert of General Headquarters, and added: "At your command. I am to accompany you on your mission-your visit to the front." A few moments later, a heavy-set, very intelligent looking man, in the garb of a chauffeur, presented himself, likewise came to attention, saluted, and informed us that the car was ready. Shortly thereafter, we were on our way.

Our party consisted of Captain Jaubert, my old friend Schmavonian of the American Embassy at Constantinople, Professor Herbert Adams Gibbons, and myself. Our first objective was Gondrecourt, the camp and headquarters of the then tiny American Expeditionary Force. Our route took us through that part of the battlefield of the Marne which was nearest to Paris, and as we sped along, Jaubert explained to us, by means of sketches traced on the window glass with his forefinger, the tactics of that battle.

Arrived at Gondrecourt, we saw a splendid sight. Here were American boys in American uniform, with American automobiles and other equipment. It gave us a keen sense of home. Captain Jaubert, whom I had by this time discovered to be not only a captain but a marquis, and a nephew of the Duke of Montebello, soon located the headquarters of General Sibert. We were here invited to dine with General Ponydreguin, the commander of the Famous "Blue Devils," and a very charming gentleman. He commanded the French troops in this neighborhood, as General Sibert commanded the Americans. After dinner, we adjourned to the camp headquarters, which I found these two gentlemen shared. As neither As neither spoke the other's language, it was amusing to see them, while using an interpreter to converse with each other, carry through the French politenesses of direct conversation, smiling at each other, and bowing and courtesying, General Sibert especially finding it difficult to accommodate his rather formal American manner to the livelier conventions of Continental usage.

After a tour of inspection, on the following morning, of the interesting activities of the camp, we proceeded on our way to Domremy, the birthplace of Joan of Arc, where I wished to visit the church, which is a shrine to her memory. By this time I had discovered not only that my escort was a marquis, but, more surprising, that our chauffeur had been in private life a member of the Paris Bourse. The car in which we were riding belonged to him, and he had volunteered to do his bit for his country by putting the car at the Government's service, and offering himself as its chauffeur. Captain Jaubert, in accordance with military traditions of discipline, had treated him, a mere sergeant, as impersonally as if he were another piece of the car's mechanism. When we drew up at Joan of Arc's Chapel, and dismounted to enter, I saw by his expression that he was as eager as I to see the interior of this famous shrine. The yearning look on his face, as he stood before the portals, which an absurd military convention forbade him to enter in company with us, who were no better than he, was too much for me to withstand. I asked Captain Jaubert to relax the rigors of discipline for the moment, and allow him to accompany us. The Captain acquiesced with characteristic French politeness, though I suspected he did not especially relish it; but the chauffeur's appreciation was sufficient

recompense for whatever slight damage was done to military tradition. The Captain himself had a fair grievance against military fate: he was a graduate of St. Cyr and had resigned from the army during the Dreyfus episode, with the result that he had had to reënter the Army as a captain, while most of his classmates at the Military School were at least colonels and many of them generals.

That night we reached Thann. We arrived about nightfall, and were met at the town boundary by the Mayor. He invited us to spend the night with him at his suburban home, as it was not safe for us to sleep in the town. I was ushered into the best room in his house, and found that the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the tub, was almost demolished. The Mayor explained that this damage had been done during the week, and that he had not had time to repair it. The next day was a great Catholic holiday, Assumption Day, and we were invited to attend the services at the church of St. Theobald. This spectacle was intensely interesting, because the parents of these people, though French by origin and sympathy, had been compelled by the Germans to rear their children in the German tongue, and consequently, though the first sermon of the celebration was delivered in French by a chaplain of the French army, a second sermon was then delivered in German by an old Abbé. The French general explained to me that he saw no reason why he should deprive the inhabitants of the town of their religious comfort, simply because they could not understand French.

At one o'clock we were entertained at the hotel by the two oldest inhabitants and most respected citizens of the town, Messieurs Weber and Groshents. At this luncheon they paid me one of the most touching compliments I have ever received in my life. They were men of about seventy. Both had been of age during the Franco-Prussian War, and both had continued throughout the forty-three years of the German occupation, since that war, to be unconquerably French in their patriotism. During the luncheon, while the conversation was lagging, owing to my insufficient knowledge of French, the two old men whispered to each other for a few minutes, and then one of them, Mr. Weber, turned to me, and said in German: "We have just released each other from the vows we made in 1871, that we would never again speak German in public. But we

want to enjoy your company and we want so much to hear you talk to us, that we think we are justified in suspending our agreement."

We then had a most delightful conversation. Mr. Weber told me how, in 1871, he had taken the French flag which had flown over the City Hall until the German occupation, and secreted it in the back of a sofa in his parlor, and how he had taken the flag staff and hidden it in his garret. Then, when the French entered the town in 1914, he ripped open the sofa, took out the flag, fastened it back on its staff, and at seventy years of age, had proudly presented it to President Poincaré in celebration of the return of Alsace to France.

Leaving these delightful old gentlemen and their quaint city of Thann, we motored southward. At dinner next evening we were entertained by the Mayor of Mazevant, Count de Witt Guizot. After a very pleasant evening with him, and as we were about to take our leave, I inquired if he were related to Francis P. G. Guizot, the famous historian. He smiled, and replied: "Slightly; he was my grandfather."

Another day of interesting travel took us through the Alsatian provinces to Belfort, and there we abandoned the automobile, and returned by train to Paris.

A few days later, I had the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with Marshal Joffre, which I had first made at the civic receptions in New York. I called upon him at his headquarters at the Military School in Paris. Marshal Foch had succeeded him as Commanderin-Chief of the French armies, and Joffre was now engaged chiefly in training staff officers, and in advising the High Command when his judgment was needed in council. The Marshal gave me, with great frankness, his ideas upon what America should do to make effective our military participation in the war.

Immediately after our interview I had a memorandum prepared, from which I have made the following extracts:

"In the present warfare there is a most vital need for artillery officers and for general staff officers. The American Department of War must realize this. It is not enough to have the men, the other officers, and even the equip ment. The framework of the army is far from being complete or efficacious before you have a sufficient number of trained artillery and general staff officers. In order to train these officers for active field service, they should be sent

to France. They can at once be sent to the front where for a week or two they can see the work done there. The general staff officers can then attend courses in the general staff school, and the artillery officers can be attached to French artillery regiments until they are thoroughly familiarized with the work.

"Besides the artillery and general staff officers, the Marshal advises to send in turns a certain number out of the two hundred newly promoted American generals to go to the French Divisions, Army Corps, or Armies where they can obtain very valuable practical information most useful to them when they take over commands in the field.

"The Marshal said that he had something very delicate to add. He had come to know that in America there was a certain class of officers whom he would call 'the old officers'-those who would like to see all promotions and appointments made solely on the basis of seniority. Between these old officers, the Marshal understood, and the younger officers, there was or there might be friction. The Marshal said that in an emergency like the present the things to be taken into consideration are efficiency and ability. When he took over the command, the same question came up in France. The Marshal did not hesitate to drop from the ranks a large number of officers and to appoint in their stead younger and more capable men, without taking into consideration the seniority of the former. Without clearly stating it, the Marshal very delicately left the impression that in his opinion politics should play no part in military appointments.

"The Marshal said that twice he had Mr. Roosevelt next to him at dinner in America. Mr. Roosevelt seemed anxious to come to France with some volunteers and fight against the Germans, and he (Mr. Roosevelt) would be satisfied by being only second in command under a general. Marshal Joffre was not of the opinion that the realization of Mr. Roosevelt's plan could be of great service and therefore desired to dissuade him from attempting to carry out his plan. So the Marshal told Mr. Roosevelt, 'My Colonel, wherever you may be, you cannot be second!'

"In recapitulating, the Marshal said, 'Do not wait until you are entirely ready in America. You should not attempt to act before you are ready, but there are things which you can do at once by degrees, little by little, while