the landing of an American garrison at Iloilo, and that with effect. Therefore we cannot suppose that the resistance to the foreigner is confined to the Tagalo and half Tagalo population around Manila, with their educated leaders whose heads have been turned by European Liberalism. Colonel Monteverde, when giving his account of the native patriots and their principles, says that in addition to the semi-civilised Liberals, there are those who want to go back to their old tribal independence under their own chiefs. At the present moment they enjoy it in fact, and they will not be deprived of it by mere victories over Aguinaldo and other leaders in the neighbourhood of Manila. The boasted enterprise of the American press does not seem to be equal to sending an intelligent correspondent to Manila. At the same time the Government of the Republic has developed a marked taste for а censorship. Between the want of independent witnesses and official reticence the world is not much better informed than it was in the days of Spanish rule. We hear constant reports of victories, from which hasty commentators draw the premature conclusion that the Filipinos are destroyed. Yet they go on fighting. Their capital" has been taken till the report of that achievement is becoming a joke in the States. Aguinaldo has undergone eclipse; but his absence, to whatever cause it may be due, appears to make no difference. His successor is prepared to treat, but not yet to surrender. to Meanwhile the American troops suffer severely from heat, and when reduced by this strain will have to face the relaxing influence of the wet season. Perhaps we ought not attach much importance to stories of grumbling, and of half - mutinous complaints of overwork, such as are said to have been made by the men of the Nebraska regiment. Yet the American volunteers who went out gaily on what they supposed would be an expedition of fun and glory, may well be depressed by a reality so different from their hopes. Neither does it appear that the American people is prepared to send out the 100,000 men which their general is understood to have declared will be necessary for the complete occupation of the Philippines. The omens do not point to a speedy conclusion of the war. We may guess that they do point to some arrangement more or less like the Spanish convention of Biacnabató, which will promise a large measure of self-government to the Filipinos under American supervision. But as our experience will show the Americans if they will consult it, that is a way of saying peace where there is no peace. Civilised supervision is incompatible with more than a very modest measure of self-government by the educated native baboo, or the uneducated native barbarian. Thorough conquest must be the preliminary to any useful concession the Americans can make—and when it is made it will require the protection of a powerful military force for years to come. THE KENTUCKY GIRL. THE modest corps was honoured in a roaring parting toast, For, Choate Ulysses Choodle was the Colonel. When the special correspondents vowed she needn't harbour fears, She smiled so very sweetly, but she smiled through falling tears; The corps sailed southern waters, till they reached Manila Bay; They carried guns and suasion in the dashing Yankee way; They argued with the brown man, but he always said them “ nay,” Though able lawyer Choodle was the Colonel. The brown man kicked at suasion, chipped away to gulch and cave, He showed his wild-cat daring by the way he slashed and drave; They called him half a heathen, but they held the rogue was brave, And so vowed Choate Ulysses, U.S. Colonel. They judged the job was toughish, and the fever fired their blood; The ague followed after, and they found it far from good; And many a grave curved greenly where a soldier once had stood By Choate Ulysses Choodle, who was Colonel. The morning mists were choking, and the foemen bold and deep; The brown men dodged and twisted, charged and ran, and came again; The bullets pinged and whistled like a rushing orient rain, The fair Kentucky damsel was of wondrous pluck and grit,She made no public wailings, though her heart was sorely hit; She tumbled dead at typing, for her soul was winged to flit And join her Choate Ulysses who was Colonel. W. H. H. POLO AND POLITICS. IN the history of polo it would be difficult to find a more picturesque presentment of the game, even in its Eastern home, than during the polo-week at Gilgit. There the wild frontier tribes are represented, and, with the barbaric pomp and pageantry dear to the heart of the untutored son of the East, men whose feuds have been the cause of some of our worst frontier troubles meet in friendly rivalry. Last year it was the teams representing Hunza and Nagar, names of sinister import to those who are responsible for the government of our Indian frontier, which met in the finals of the Gilgit tournament. Those who have seen twelve of these teams ride on to the ground at the beginning of the Gilgit week are never likely to forget it. Each team of twelve horsemen, in the brilliant dress of their tribe, headed by their raja and their band, advance with the majesty they consider due to their own dignity on any public or semi-official occasion. Their musicians on weird instruments herald their approaching triumph, for all have the most implicit faith in themselves and their fellow-tribesmen, and never believe in the possibility of defeat before it actually comes. With the fortunes of the game the music is triumphant or sad, according as the tribesmen press victoriously on their adversaries or are pressed by them. The game, indeed, is very different to the play shown by the Royal Horse Guards or the Inniskillings on the velvet lawns of Hurlingham or Ranelagh; but it is hearty and skilful nevertheless, and is marked by some surprising feats of horsemanship. The hill-ponies are handy, and are managed with consummate skill; and though, under their unwieldy saddles and strange trappings, they seem all too small for their highturbaned riders, they prove themselves fully equal to their part in the game. The raja of the side which has the right to begin grasps the stick and ball in his right hand, and, followed by the other players, gallops at full stretch to the centre of the ground, throws the ball up, and hits it while in the air. This starts the game, and wild shouts and clashing of sticks, and the thud of the galloping hoofs, mingle with strange music, and stir the pulses even of the selfpossessed European onlooker, while they rouse the impulsive Easterns to a perfect frenzy. Backwards and forwards dash the players, heedless of any blow that does not disable them, and taking in good part whatever the fortune of the day may bring. No places are kept, with the exception of that of the goalkeepers, who remain to guard the posts, and do not go up into the game at all. The other twenty-two players dash hither and thither, apparently in the wildest confusion, but always in chase of the flying ball. They have few rules but much enthusiasm, the best of good fellowship prevails, and the sight may well give food for serious reflection to our politicians, whose thoughts, it may be, seldom turn to sport. For here there is something more than a mere phase of sport. This eager play is the symbol of the influence that prevails to break down the barriers of race, and bind together in amity the fellow-subjects of the East and West. Every thoughtful man who has spent any time in our Indian empire must have been struck with the yawning chasm that divides the Englishman and the native. The social standards of these classes are indeed widely different, and each regards the ways and customs of the other with the contempt born of utter lack of comprehension. Both the habits and social amusements of the Englishman are ridiculous to the native, whose names for our picnics and fancy dress balls, known to him as the fool's dinner (pagal khana) and the fool's dance (pagali nautch), are typical of his attitude of mind towards them; while few need to be reminded of the lordly scorn of our fellow-countrymen for the ways of those whose misfortune it is not only to be born of another nation, but that nation a dark-skinned one. Yet daily and hourly in the official life of that vast country these two classes meet, and the whole machinery of Government depends on their amicable and loyal co-operation. Our statesmen, both at home and in India, are alive to the necessity of bridging over, if possible, the dividing chasm, and many and various methods have been tried. These have been honestly carried out by those for whose benefit they were framed, but with what with what result? Native gentlemen, whose pride of race is as their very life-blood, and who are accustomed to the ready deference of their inferiors, have attended the At Homes of our governors, and stood in silent discomfort in scenes in which they felt they were out of place, and where their dignity was overshadowed by that of a higher power. Englishmen of position have gone to native entertainments, and have sat with wreaths of roses twined round their necks and wrists, trying to look neither bored nor foolish under the infliction, and succeeding but poorly in the attempt. Each class has endeavoured to be polite and to conceal his boredom at the incomprehensible foolishness of the other; and if the Asiatic has on the whole succeeded best, this is to be attributed to his superior power of adaptability. Then it was thought that if the bond of union was not to be found in social intercourse, it might perchance be discovered on the common ground of literature. Universities must be provided; and when the native mind had absorbed Western culture, it would run in the same groove as that of the educated Englishman. But what has in effect been the result of the crowd of M.A.'s and B.A.'s turned out by the Universities of Calcutta, Bombay, |