His prescience was equally striking in other directions. When the Goeben and Breslau sailed through the Dardanelles, he declared: 'We ought to follow immediately on their heels. If not, Turkey will be in arms against us.' As early as February 1915 he proposed the expedition to Salonika - to use it, however, not for an advance into the mountainous Balkans, but as a base for a march upon Constantinople with an army strong enough to encourage the Greeks and Bulgars to join with the Entente. This, one may remark, was the route which Milne took in October 1918- a menace which hastened the surrender of Turkey. After taking Constantinople, Gallieni proposed an advance up the Danube into AustriaHungary in conjunction with the Rumanians. Moreover, he gave the warning that if the Allies did not go in force to Salonika the Bulgars and Greeks would turn against them. In October the Bulgars attacked Serbia.

The project of this expedition, for the command of which Gallieni was naturally designated, collapsed through the opposition of Joffre, who declared that he could not be answerable for the security of the Western Front if troops were taken away - although he found ample for the prodigal assaults in Artois and Champagne. Consulted by Briand, he even said that the idea was due to Gallieni's personal ambition to have a command. 'I will not give a man. Why seek elsewhere and far away for what I shall obtain in March? I am certain to break through and drive the Germans back to their own country.' But in the autumn the futility of the Western Front operations combined with the entry of Bulgaria and the sacrifice of Serbia to bring about a political crisis, forcing a reconstruction of the Government in order to inspire

Only a few weeks before, Joffre had issued a belated citation of Gallieni's service at the Marne, a citation so diminuendo that it could only have been intended to damn by faint praise and to check the volume of public acclamation of Gallieni's services. It sought to give the impression that Gallieni had been merely a cog in the machine directed by the Commander in Chief, contributing a useful but minor share as assigned. But it was too subtle, thwarting its own purpose by the storm of indignation which its slighting phrases raised. Many urged Gallieni not to accept the citation, but he replied that indiscipline was the inherent fault of the time and the nation, and that France could only be saved if those in high places set an example in reëstablishing discipline.

IV

A few weeks later the position was reversed and Gallieni became Joffre's superior. What a turning of the tables, what a chance for revenge! And if ever reprisal was justified it was in Gallieni's case. Yet, as four years before he had refused the succession to Michel because he had helped to unseat him, so now he refused to use his power against the man who had treated him so badly, although a large section of opinion was clamant for Joffre's dismissal and Gallieni had only to raise his finger to bring it about. Instead, his moral grandeur was attested by the way he not only strove to meet all Joffre's material needs but generously defended him in the Chamber of Deputies. Gallieni's scrupulous sense of responsibility not to abuse his power was a

handicap, leading him to make extra allowance for the failings of one who had used him badly. At the same time, his loyal support was also due to the opinion that Joffre's world-wide prestige, however ill deserved, was an asset not lightly to be discarded. Knowing the tide of criticism which was rising against Joffre, Gallieni tried to reason with this stubborn and jealous despot, to induce him to make reforms which would pacify the critics and contribute to greater efficiency. As a further step Gallieni caused Joffre to be named Commander in Chief of all the French armies and appointed Castelnau Chief of the General Staff, sending him to headquarters as a means of conserving Joffre's prestige while enabling a quicker brain to influence operations. But this remedy was marred by the passive resistance of Joffre and his entourage, who ignored Castelnau's presence as far as possible.

In December Colonel Driant, a Deputy, returned on leave from the front and exposed the neglected state of the Verdun defenses. Gallieni, who had already been disquieted by similar reports, wrote to Joffre for an assurance that the deficiencies would be rectified. Joffre replied in such a tone of pontifical infallibility and rebuke that even Gallieni was nettled and would have asserted his authority if his colleagues in the Cabinet, anxious not to precipitate a crisis, had not persuaded him to send a soothing answer for the moment. France paid heavily for postponing this political crisis. Gallieni, however, had worries enough, striving on the one hand to protect the Higher Command from continual parliamentary and press attacks, while, on the other, working to reform it without an upheaval, and also occupied in trying to speed up the supply of munitions and the training of fresh troops. A sick man, he drove himself unsparingly in order to

'simplify and accelerate' the cumbrous machinery of his own Ministry of War, fighting the civil servants in the battle against red tape, cutting down the mass of 'paper' which so often replaces action in the offices of a bureaucracy, ensuring a greater interchange between the staff and the trenches, giving a human touch to the military Moloch. The clouds on this horizon were just beginning to disperse when the storm broke at Verdun — and the vivid play of the German lightning revealed beyond concealment the unreadiness and negligence of Joffre. The country cried out, but the Cabinet could only quiver, discuss, and adjourn. Gallieni could no longer bear to watch them shivering on the brink of a decision, and resolved to push them in. Through sleepless nights, racked by pain, he had been thinking out his scheme for the reorganization of the system of command, and on March 7, 1916, he brought the memorandum to the Cabinet. It laid down that the Government ought to assume the higher control and coördination of the war in the financial, economic, diplomatic, and military aspects; that the war must be recognized as a gigantic siege and treated accordingly; that the administration of the military resources should be restored to the Ministry of War, leaving the command of the field armies free to concentrate on the conduct of operations in conformity with, but not as hitherto in disregard of, the war policy laid down by the Government. The memorandum dealt with principles and not with persons, but to fulfill these principles Gallieni proposed to bring Joffre, as Commander in Chief of all the French armies, back to Paris, and to place Castelnau in executive command of the field army on the Western Front. The Cabinet, although many had been vociferous in their complaints about Joffre, were

panic-stricken when asked to translate their opinions into action. When he found they would not take his advice, Gallieni resigned, showing them a medical certificate, hitherto disregarded, stating that it was essential that he should have two months' complete rest. Instantly they were full of protests, declaring that it was impossible: "Think of Verdun! We are in the midst of battle.' Gallieni scathingly replied: 'Pardon, we have been at war for eighteen months, and all that time at war has been battle. Moreover, it was in the midst of battle that the executive Command at Verdun has been changed. It was also in the midst of battle that in August 1914 the military government and defense of Paris was entrusted to me. One can take, one has always taken such measures in the midst of battle.'

His colleagues' arguments beat in vain against his inflexible determination. They suggested that he should take his rest, merely dealing with vital papers, and return when fit. He told them that he was undergoing an operation which, if successful, would restore his full powers and make him fit for active service; then the Government could make use of him as it wished but he would never return to the Ministry of War. They begged him to

take two days for reconsideration; he told them that they could have an interval of grace to find a convenient explanation to tell the public. Ten days later his resignation was officially announced on the ground of ill health. Eight months later, after a summer and autumn during which hundreds of thousands of lives had been fruitlessly sacrificed, the Government carried out the reform of the Higher Command which he had pleaded. But Gallieni was gone. Although the doctors had declared that he needed four or five months' rest to become fit for the operation, he could not bear to remain idle while France was at war, could not bear to delay his return to her service. 'Head high'- his favorite phrase as always, he entered the hospital to be operated upon, faced the pain of successive operations without a murmur, aided the doctors by his will power in the battle for his life, and with calm fortitude announced his passing.

Many eulogies have been pronounced over his grave; in 1921 he was created Marshal of France posthumously in recognition of the fact that 'without Gallieni victory would have been impossible'; but the finest epitaph, and that most acceptable surely to him, is also the simplest: 'Gallieni la tête haute.'

I HAVE a friend who has three wives. This sounds perfectly immoral, but it is a fact. And not only has he three wives, but he lives with all three together in perfect peace and happiness, which is quite a feat in itself, as anyone, I think, will concede.

My friend is really a Canadian. Should any very religious person, reading these lines, feel the urgent need to go to him so as to show him how wrong are his ways, and incidentally try to save his soul, he will have to travel quite a bit. For my friend lives close to the Arctic Circle without a permanent address, and far away from the sea, which makes it all the more difficult and complicated to reach him at any season of the year.

His name is Kakoot, and with a little luck, or if sundry arrangements have been made a year or so beforehand, one may find him between Ennadai Lake and Yathkyed Lake, somewhere on the Kazan River, which, as anybody might or might not know, is between the sixtysecond and the sixty-third degree, in the Northwest Territories.

I might add also that my friend Kakoot is a full-blooded Eskimo. I have known him for several years, and not later than last summer I had the privilege of touring his own bit of the country, in his company, for a matter of several weeks.

Kakoot, I should judge, is about forty-five years old. I never could get his right age from him, for the very

simple reason that he has absolutely no idea when he was born. He knows the exact spot of his birth, which, by the way, is a hollow between two rocky hills on the shores of Angikuni Lake. He also remembers his father and mother and two of his grandparents, and can show you where they are buried, but these are about all the indications he can give you as to his approximate age.

In appearance he is about five feet six and nearly as broad as he is high, especially when he has his winter clothes on. He wears his hair long, not in a braided pigtail such as some of the old Indians still used to wear a few years ago, but loose all around the head, evenly trimmed at the base of the neck and clipped short above the eyebrows. His face is dark and sunburned, with tremendous cheek bones, very hollow cheeks, and a few straggling black hairs at each corner of the mouth, giving him a little moustache ‘à la Chinese.' His eyes are dark brown and hardly ever still, although they look directly at you when he speaks. His nose is slightly curved, his jaws exceedingly square, and his teeth, although very even, seem to have been filed down to the very edge of the gums. That comes from cracking too many reindeer bones in search of the marrow. He smokes incessantly a short black pipe.

Kakoot is by far the most intelligent and the most prosperous Eskimo

among the thirty-odd families which form the entire population of that part of the Barren Lands.

While the other natives never go to the sea, and live entirely on the caribou between the edge of the trees on Nueltin Lake and Baker Lake farther north, he has traveled extensively. He knows three hundred miles of the western shores of Hudson Bay, has been as far as Bothnia to the north and the Great Slave Lake to the west, and has picked up a lot of knowledge and experience through dealing with other tribes and meeting, occasionally, white men.

He relies, of course, on his own hunt, meat and fur, to obtain all the necessities of life. Nevertheless he is a born trader and does not hesitate to journey south to the trees so as to get a small outfit of goods which enables him to collect part of the other Eskimos' white foxes.

From all accounts he is a shrewd dealer, drives a hard bargain, and, I'm sorry to say, is not overscrupulous as regards prices and quantities. All that, added to his untiring energy, has made him what he is, and his igloo and topek contain priceless treasures in the eyes of the other natives.

Last summer, for instance, he was the proud possessor of a good-sized wooden trunk, all brass-bound, a phonograph of old vintage but still in good working order, a shotgun, a Mauser pistol with two hundred rounds, a new 303 British rifle with a fair amount of ammunition, a fishing net, a secondhand canoe, a few carpenter's tools with nails and screws, a three months' provision of tea and plug tobacco, and, last but not least, white men's clothes for summer wear, including a pair of rubber boots.

And then, of course, there are his three wives. It takes a lot of things to keep three wives, even within a short distance of the Arctic Circle. Kakoot

manages that as well as he seems to manage everything else, as far as he is concerned.

His wife number one is about his age. He married her when he was a very young man. She has had several children who are now grown up and have families of their own. In summer she discards her native garb of winter hides and wears, outwardly at all events, civilized clothes, consisting of a dress and shirt of thick stroud and a shawl round her head. She wears no ornaments and her hair is arranged at the back in a loose knot. Her appearance is very slovenly, reminding one of a middleaged gypsy. But she rules the household with a rod of iron and superintends the storing of the food, the drying of the meat, the tanning of the caribou skins, the manufacturing of garments and boots, and the everlasting search for dry willow twigs for the fire. When the family moves from one place to another she sees that the loads are evenly distributed. Finally, she attends to the dogs.

Wife number two is about thirty or thirty-five years of age. Her children still play about the camp, but can look out for themselves. She wears native clothes all year round, unadorned, and her sole duty is to accompany Kakoot wherever he goes, either hunting or traveling. Then she tends his camp, repairs his clothes, looks after the dogs, prepares the food, and sets an occasional fox trap. Outside of that, she seems to do nothing but sit on the ground, smoke her own or somebody else's pipe, and spit thoughtfully into the fire.

Wife number three is barely twenty. Her sole duty is to bear Kakoot children. She also wears native clothes, caribou fur in winter, caribou hide in summer. But she must always look beautiful. So she is covered with ornaments of all kinds. For instance, when