ing into a state of anarchy and chaos. In isolated parts in the far West and South the passing is complete, and the countryside is "ruled" by armed bands of Bolshevik bandits who prey on the inhabitants. The chief aim of the Republicans (called by the Provisional Government Irregulars) is to destroy all means of communication in the country-railways, roads, canals, bridges, &c. -in order that they may make it impossible for the Provisional Government to move troops about or ration those any distance from a seaport. But this destruction also means that no fairs can be held, and farmers can sell no stock; also, it is impossible to provide inland towns any distance from Dublin or a seaport with food. The murders, outrages, and robberies committed daily and nightly on the Southern Loyalists are mere details, hardly worth mentioning in these days of Lloyd George's super-statecraft-they must learn to suffer for the good of the country! Now to look below the surface. With an insignificant minority all the Celtic population of the South is republican at heart but with this important difference-for, whereas the "haves" want an Irish Republic much on the lines of the U.S.A., on the other hand the "have nots" will be satisfied with nothing less than a Soviet Republic exactly on the lines of Russia,-possibly they have some ideas already of improving on the Russian effort from a Bolshevik point of view. Practically all the rank and file of the Republican "Army" are "have nots and Bolsheviks; and yet there are more "have nots" in the ranks of the National Army, but they are not Bolsheviks-at least not yet. The great majority of the youths in Southern Ireland have never done an honest month's work in their lives: for the last two or three years they have been members of the I.R.A., and when not paid out of the ample funds of that organisation or the funds of the White Cross, have paid themselves out of Irish banks or shops. These youths are all determined that they will never settle down to the monotonous life of an ordinary farm labourer as long as there is plenty of spoil in the country: they prefer to take it from Loyalist Protestants, but are quite ready to treat the Nationalist Roman Catholics in the same manner if the necessity arises. The English reader at once asks-Why do not all the "have nots" in both armies join forces and divide the spoil? And the answer is, that the British Government (the good old beast of burden, the British taxpayer, comes into the picture once more) are paying, rationing, equipping, and arming the National Army; but though they have armed and equipped the Republican Army to a great extent, or rather the Republicans took the arms from them, they do Provisional not pay them. The Provisional Government can have no funds of their own by now (it would be interesting to know how much they owe to the Bank of Ireland), and the amount of taxes collected during a half-year in the South at the present time would hardly keep the National Army and O'Duffy's Civic Guards in woodbines for a week. The day the British Government ceases to pay the National Army the Free State Government collapses like a pricked bladder, and the real wild work starts in the South. The National Army will then dissolve during a week-end, and the I.R.A. will come into its own at last. The reader can study any good account of modern life in Russia if he is anxious to know what will happen in Ireland then. If these conditions arise in the near future, the chances are that Ulster will have nothing to fear from the South. The I.R.A. would rapidly break up into marauding tribes, which would prey on the country as long as there remained any thing to prey on, and then start hammering each other. Possibly some of these tribes might make dashes across the Ulster Border, but they ought to be easy to deal with. The chances of a combined attack of the I.R.A. on Ulster under these conditions are very remote. There still is a ghost of a ghost of a chance that a superman may suddenly arise out of the mob of duds in the ranks of the long-haired, wild-eyed group of tenth-rate clerks, National school teachers, farmers' sons, &c.-and succeed where Collins and Griffiths lost their lives; but in order to keep alive, this superman would have to live in a 'plane to escape assassination. In this case Ulster would be certain to be attacked sooner or later from the South: even when the Provisional Government are on the verge of collapse, they cannot help threatening a "settlement" with Ulster as soon as they are in a position to carry it out. Incidentally it may interest English people to know that, if the North and the South had come to grips in civil war, as undoubtedly at one time in 1922 the South intended to, the British taxpayer would have had an interesting civil war staged for his special benefit by Lloyd George & Co. And further, he would have had the intense satisfaction and pride of knowing that he was paying, arming, and equipping both sides in this superstatesman's film. The British taxpayer may yet enjoy this edifying sight. Probably the British Government will continue to finance the National Army in South at the expense of the British taxpayer, and the war will probably trail out some day to an indefinite conclusion, the only definite results being the complete ruin of Southern Ireland and the extermination of the Loyalists. MY PARROT. as a IF in my boyhood I thoroughly enjoyed the perusal of 'Robinson Crusoe,' it had certainly never occurred to me that in my old age I should find myself in much the same plight as was that adventurous hero. To be sure, I cannot claim that I am living on a desert island; but somehow or other a tiny and isolated village has many of the desert island's characteristics, and there are too many days whereon, like Crusoe, I am dependent for society on the presence of my animal friends. That was Aristotle, I fancy, who said that man was a social being. Man, too, has been defined featherless biped. Social, then, we may suppose that I may rank at all times, and I certainly am a biped, and, to the best of my belief, featherless. But the fact remains that on at least four days in the week my sociability seems to be extended to quadrupeds and feathered bipeds only; and my hours, like Crusoe's, are passed in the society of my parrot, my dog, and my goats. True a veteran housekeeper to a certain extent fills the place of "Friday"; and though, were I to be attacked by a savage, she might not be able so far to follow Friday's example as to slay my attacker on the spot, I have every confidence that, like Punch's solitary watcher on the sea-shore, she would have a d-d good try. So, too, I believe, would Mr Polly. For I prefer to give the old bird the masculine designation, simply on the ground that he has never been known to lay an egg, and I turn a deaf ear to those wiseacres who assure me that his devotion to myself is a feminine form of attachment. It may be that I have maligned Mr Polly in speaking of him as an old bird. But whether or no it be true that parrots live to be centenarians, be centenarians, all I know about his age is that he is far older than any other bird of my acquaintance, and has been my leal friend for close upon thirty years. I seem to forget how my prototype, Robinson Crusoe, originally annexed his parrot, but have a lively recollection of the manner in which my parrot practically annexed me. On a typical April morning, having sallied from my lodgings in Eastbourne with the intention of buying a macintosh, I was overtaken by a shower, and took refuge under an arcade. Thither, also in search of shelter, presently arrived a van full of parrots of all colours of the rainbow. At the instant of arrival there came a beseeching cry from the topmost cage on the van "Come up here, do!" And I looked up to see a green and yellow bird fluttering com its wings in a state of anxious expectancy, having evidently addressed its remark to me. As the bird showed every sign of friendliness, I responded to the invitation, and, mounting the step of the van, menced to scratch its head and talk to it, while it expressed its delight at my complaisance by fondling my hand and uttering a series of guttural but unintelligible sounds. "You must buy that parrot, Mister," announced the proprietor of the van. "It have took quite a fancy to you." Having no desire whatever to own a parrot, I refused the offer, and a minute or two later the rain stopped and the van moved on. This much to the dissatisfaction of the parrot, who continued to flutter his wings and issue invitations to me as long as I was in sight. Having bought my macintosh, I spent the morning strolling through the town, and some two hours later, when another sudden shower came on, sought shelter under another arcade, only to find that the parrot-man was already drawn up there. Again the same bird renewed its blandishments and invitations. this whole blessed town. Now, do 'ee make me an offer for it." My offer, which I devoutly hoped would be refused, was not on a liberal scale. "I'll give you thirty shillings for it." And to my surprise-I might even say horror the man closed with the offer at once, and I found myself saddled with a parrot, a thing which I had neither desired nor deserved, but with which as at this time I would not part for a hundred times the original price. If the saying which I have heard that a parrot has only one love among mankind in its lifetime - holds good, there is no manner of doubt that I am this particular parrot's one and only love. To a few favoured individuals he may be said to be comparatively civil-to myself at all times he is demonstratively affectionate, recognising my footsteps at any distance, greeting my approach to his cage or stand with flutterings of wings and inarticulate murmurs of joy, and welcoming me with wild excitement and ceaseless chattering on my return after a long absence. When loose on his stand in the summer, if he chances to catch sight of me in the distance, he will descend at once, and proceed to waddle in his own singularly laborious gait in pursuit of me ; and on several occasions when I have left him sitting on his perch and missed him on my return, I have discovered that the wise old bird had worked his way round the house to my smoking-room, and finding the door open, entered the room, climbed on to the back of my particular chair, and was quietly sitting there awaiting my arrival. On two occasions when he has been at large in a firstfloor room, on seeing me pass below he has hurled himself out of the window, to the imminent risk of destruction— for he was pinioned before he came into my possession and cannot fly a yard, as if confident that I would do my best to catch him. Time after time, when his perch has been carried out into the garden on a summer day, have I known him, by aid of beak and claw, laboriously climb to the ground and, waddling to my chair, make an equally laborious ascent until he has got close enough to my ear to murmur soft nothings into it. Latterly, indeed, this has become so far a habit with him that if I have my own reasons for not desiring his company, Polly has to be banished to the kitchen. To replace him on his perch is mere waste of time-that only puts the pertinacious old bird to the trouble of repeating his climbing performances. Apart from myself, Polly seems to regard the majority of mankind with stolid indifference, bordering perhaps on dislike, and dire misfortune is apt to overtake that rash wight who, presuming on his apparent tameness, ventures to put a hand or an arm within his reach. If the vicious peck wherewith he is wont to reward such an indiscretion comes off, a prolonged fit of chuckling betrays his satisfaction, while an unsuccessful attempt is commonly followed by a series of guttural remarks addressed to himself. Now and again, for reasons of his own, he so far admits womenkind into his confidence as to permit them to scratch his head and take other liberties with him; and my housekeeper, to whom in return for her constant care of him he really owes a debt of eternal gratitude, is rewarded for her solicitude by permission to rub his highness's leg on such occasions as he is afflicted with a touch of rheumatism. Once in a way, if she rubs too hard, a slight peck warns her of her indiscretion. But the old bird has grown wise enough to discover that, if that peck is harder than the occasion warrants, the wooden spoon which always lies handy during the rubbing process will be utilised for chastisement. Generally speaking, both bird and housekeeper may be said to live on the most friendly terms; but even in her case any attempt to handle or even approach Polly, if he is sitting on my hand or shoulder or so near me as to consider that he may claim companionship, is actively resented. It is no compliment to myself to remark that the only other trouser-wearing beings towards whom I have seen Polly display |