ppen
at the conclusion of this war if the Turk should really be driven out of
Europe."

"Well, it would be a gain to the cause of good government, I suppose,"
said the Merchant.

"But have you counted the loss?" said the other. "The Balkans have long
been the last surviving shred of happy hunting-ground for the
adventurous, a playground for passions that are fast becoming atrophied
for want of exercise. In old bygone days we had the wars in the Low
Countries always at our doors, as it were; there was no need to go far
afield into malaria-stricken wilds if one wanted a life of boot and
saddle and licence to kill and be killed. Those who wished to see life
had a decent opportunity for seeing death at the same time."

"It is scarcely right to talk of killing and bloodshed in that way," said
the Merchant reprovingly; "one must remember that all men are brothers."

"One must also remember that a large percentage of them are younger
brothers; instead of going into bankruptcy, which is the usual tendency
of the younger brother nowadays, they gave their families a fair chance
of going into mourning. Every bullet finds a billet, according to a
rather optimistic proverb, and you must admit that nowadays it is
becoming increasingly difficult to find billets for a lot of young
gentlemen who would have adorned, and probably thoroughly enjoyed, one of
the old-time happy-go-lucky wars. But that is not exactly the burden of
my complaint. The Balkan lands are especially interesting to us in these
rapidly-moving days because they afford us the last remaining glimpse of
a vanishing period of European history. When I was a child one of the
earliest events of the outside world that forced itself coherently under
my notice was a war in the Balkans; I remember a sunburnt, soldierly man
putting little pin-flags in a war-map, red flags for the Turkish forces
and yellow flags for the Russians. It seemed a magical region, with its
mountain passes and frozen rivers and grim battlefields, its drifting
snows, and prowling wolves; there was a great stretch of water that bore
the sinister but engaging name of the Black Sea--nothing that I ever
learned before or after in a geography lesson made the same impression on
me as that strange-named inland sea, and I don't think its magic has ever
faded out of my imagination. And there was a battle called Plevna that
went on and on with varying fortunes for what seemed like a great part of
a lifet