into the melting-pot only to result in renewed competition, greatly increased expenditure, and a general atmosphere of mistrust.

From a British point of view, there would doubtless be far less objection to the complete abolition of the submarine than of the battleship. This does not arise it from any suggestion that the former is the most potent source of danger to the latter. In point of fact the submarine is far less of a danger to the modern battleship than is popularly imagined. Anti-submarine devices have been so developed and under-water protection of large ships has been so improved that the position is changed to a remarkable degree in the battleship's favour. Our readiness to acquiesce in the abolition of the submarine, freely announced at the Washington Conference, arises from the fact that these craft are not vital to the defence of our islands so long as we have a predominant surface fleet and they are not of direct value for the protection of our sea-borne commerce. Moreover, submarines in the hands of an enemy must always constitute a potential menace to our merchant shipping, no matter what international laws are made to prohibit this form of warfare.

Such is the British aspect of the submarine question, but it would be absurd to ignore the justness of the claim of lesser Sea Powers, that the submarine is an essential weapon for their naval defence. It has legitimate uses in sea-warfare, amongst which is that of attacking surface warships whenever the chance arises and thereby reducing the enemy's fleet. Only so, these Powers may well argue, can a fleet which starts the war in a position of inferiority, hope to equalise matters and engage with some chance of success? Again, the use of submarines to defend coasts and harbours against invasion or raids by the forces of a stronger sea power is essentially one of the legitimate uses of these craft. Altogether there is very little likelihood that a proposal for the total abolition of submarines would find the same response from other nations that it might in this country.

The prospects of effecting agreements in reductions of surface warships and abolition of submarines presenting so many difficulties, attention will not

improbably turn to aircraft. Here, again, it is fairly safe to say that this country could subscribe to a proposal to abolish all military aircraft and be the gainer thereby. But if such a measure is to be effective it would have to include all aircraft-civil or military-for, subject to certain technical qualifications, a civil aeroplane has only got to set out with a cargo of bombs instead of with a load of mail bags and it becomes a weapon of war. It is not too much to say that an international agreement for the total abolition of any and all craft capable of self-propulsion in the air would be of advantage to this country. Such a sweeping measure might not be popular, for 'flying' has caught the public fancy and many vested interests would help to promote an outcry that the advance of science and the closer bond with friends and relations overseas was being checked. The cold fact is, nevertheless, that the advantages which this country derives from civil aviation are not comparable with the dangers to it which the conquest of the air has introduced. From an international point of view, there can be little question that commercial aviation has already reached a stage where it would be impossible to put back the wheels of time and prohibit flying, yet, as we have seen, it is very doubtful whether any advantage would accrue from attempting to limit the number of war aircraft while the number of civil ones remains unchecked.

Apart from these considerations, it is most probable that certain Continental nations have come to regard their air forces in much the same light as we in this country are wont to regard our Navy. They look upon them as an essential form of national insurance which they dare not do without. At best, any agreement limiting the upkeep of war aircraft would only delay their production after the outbreak of hostilities. Stores of aeroplane engines and other parts could very easily be maintained in peacetime under the guise of civil aviation requirements, and war aircraft could be speedily manufactured by a nation which had accumulated the necessary resources, and which maintained suitable factories.

The only real check on a nation's readiness for war which can be imposed by international agreement is the prohibition or limitation of those types of weapons

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which take a long time to fashion. All other types belligerents will rapidly manufacture or purchase from neutrals; their production is solely a question of home resources or ability to pay. Hence the practical utility of limiting battleships and the futility of attempting to limit aircraft. Peace agreements cannot abolish weapons, they can only delay their revival, always supposing they are worth reviving as a means of securing victory. A nation to whom battleships might be essential for victory would therefore be heavily handicapped if they were abolished, as compared with an enemy who could gain his end with aircraft, supposing the latter were also prohibited in peace.

Summarising the foregoing arguments, we find that attempts to abolish the present predominant fleet unitthe battleship-would be likely to throw the whole naval position out of balance, to undo the good of the Washington Treaty, and to create general mistrust and a tendency to renewed competition in naval armaments. The abolition of submarines and aircraft, to which Britain might readily agree, could not be regarded in the same favourable light by other countries, and such proposals also would be likely to produce dissensions ill-conducive to the firm establishment of peace. It is not suggested that it is beyond the wit of man to find common grounds between the Powers for a further reduction of armaments, but in seeking them it is well to beware of the rocks which might shipwreck a new Naval Conference.

E. ALTHAM.

Art. 4.-THE FOX.

NEAR the parish church of Widecombe-in-the-Moor there stands a venerable yew-tree upon which in bygone years it was the custom to hang all foxes destroyed within the parish. There were no legitimate foxhunters in those days, it would seem, and it was a more or less general practice throughout the country to pay small rewards out of the local rates for the killing of rapacious creatures. Badgers, polecats, and even hedgehogs each fetched their price, but the fox, as principal malefactor, headed the list, his life being valued at no less a figure than three shillings and sixpence. This system only ceased to operate early in the 19th century, and was carried on unofficially by farmers' clubs and similar institutions until a much later date. Doubtless the morals of the West-Countryman have improved somewhat in this respect with the passing of the years, yet even to-day he has his own ideas about foxes and the fox-hunter, regarding the latter very much as he regards the police-merely as a last resource in times of need, a means to an end which he cannot himself achieve. His attitude, indeed, resembles that of the gipsy, cleverly sketched in Punch' some years ago, who, having knocked down a fox in front of hounds, was genuinely astonished when his action won anything save approbation. A characteristic example occurred in Devonshire a season or two ago.

A farmer living in a remote district wrote to the M.F.H. to the effect that a fox was making frequent raids on his poultry, and he would esteem it a favour if hounds could be brought. The Master agreed to come, fixing and advertising an early date. That particular bit of country, as it happened, was outside his boundary, belonging strictly to a more distant pack which never came there. He took the trouble, therefore, to obtain the customary formal permission, and all was satisfactorily arranged, when upon the very morning appointed there came another letter from the good farmer, intimating that he 'need not trouble the gentlemen after all,' as he had succeeded in trapping the delinquent. Incidentally, it transpired that the animal caught was not a fox at all, but a wild-cat-the genuine

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article, unheard-of in the West Country for many years.

es Upon the wilder parts of Dartmoor foxes have i seldom been even nominally preserved for hunting, and within the memory of many residents there, almost every farmer kept greyhounds for coursing them. This appears to have been a rough-and-ready form of sport, and distinctly one-sided. Both guns and terriers were used, the former to be brought into play whenever occasion arose, the latter for ejecting the foxes from the rocks-their main fastness. If they would not bolt, crowbars were employed to get them out, and short shrift was granted, whereas those which bolted stood slight chance, for even if they escaped the guns, there were the greyhounds to be reckoned with. In an old farm-house in the parish of Throwleigh, visitors are still shown a string of brushes, numbering twenty-four, all trophies of this now happily forgotten 'sport.'

There are few creatures more wary than the mountain fox, yet, with all his elusiveness, like his next of kin, the coyote, he is blessed-or cursed-with an overpowering curiosity which frequently proves his undoing. Wideawake and suspicious of every distant sound or scent, at the first hint of danger he is afoot, stealing away as imperceptibly as a cloud-shadow along the hillside, and keen must be the eye that can pick out his russet-grey form against the brownish-grey landscape. If not pursued, however, curiosity soon gets the better of his discretion, and the chances are that he will circle back to some high point near his starting-place, to watch or get the wind of his enemies. When walking along almost any wild rocky coombe where foxes abound, it is well worth while to pause now and again and scan the near slopes with a field-glass.

One early-summer evening I was watching, or, rather, listening to a pair of ring ousels which appeared to have a nest in a 'clitter' near by, when, glancing suddenly round, a gleam of white on a heathery slope some fifty yards away caught my eye. It had not been there a minute before, I was convinced, and even as I looked it disappeared. Some disturbance in the ousel household attracted my attention for the moment, and when I looked again, not one but two white objects