could learn anything there. There were elementary classes in reading, writing and arithmetic; there were commercial courses, including various foreign languages; and there were also lectures in the more usual academic subjects. Besides these there were other special courses for members of the Mercantile Marine who wished to get officers' tickets. Everybody who knew anything was pressed into the service of the School and made to take a class or give lectures; and a great debt of gratitude is owing to the many camp teachers who, often under great difficulties through lack of books, and at considerable inconvenience to themselves, placed their knowledge at the disposal of their fellow-prisoners. Later, we were able to get examination papers sent out from the London University, the Chamber of Commerce, etc.; and men actually took their examinations while interned prisoners. It requires a great deal of energy and moral courage for men to work up to the standard of London Matriculation and Intermediate, especially when many of them had to begin absolutely from the beginning, in such subjects as Latin, Greek and Hebrew. The scientists were among the most fortunate of the interned, for they were eventually able to get their instruments sent to them, and so could continue their own researches and also help other men to begin scientific courses.

The artistic side of things was by no means neglected; and we had among us several good artists, who produced some really beautiful work while they were in the Camp. Of course there were a great many people who painted and sketched in a more or less amateur way, and some very amusing caricatures were produced. Every now and then we used to have an exhibition of pictures, which were generally for sale, so that many were able to bring home interesting souvenirs of camp life.

In speaking of the educational side of the Camp, mention must be made of the Arts and Science Union, which undertook various educational activities, but whose chief function was the providing of really literary plays for one night in each week. As it continued its efforts during the whole four years, a very varied assortment of good plays and classical music was open to all members of the Camp. It also provided for the

performance of the works of German, Italian, French and Spanish writers in the original.

It was not until about March 1915 that we were able to rent a portion of the race-course to use for recreation. We were allowed on this small patch of ground for a few hours daily, and it was a great boon to us. We played all the games that are dear to our race, often accompanied by a good deal of danger, for the ground was so small that it was impossible to avoid accidents with such games as golf and cricket. The drives at golf used to cross each other, so that it will be easily imagined how many accidents took place. But nobody seemed to mind, the man that got hit always looking upon it as his own fault and being the first to apologise. Besides these games, boxing, fencing and physical exercise were practised.

Another activity in the Camp which did much to improve things was the Horticultural Society. It began by making little gardens in the compound. These minute patches of colour had a wonderful effect upon the jaded minds of men who never had a change of view or saw anything that was beautiful. It was very hard work to keep them in order, because the soil-a very fine sand-had been walked on for two years, and its natural lack of fertility had not been improved thereby. Later, the Horticultural Society managed to rent the other half of the race-course and turned it into a cabbage patch. Wonderful results attended the careful and industrious work put into this gardening effort; and we were enabled to buy a certain amount of fresh vegetables from time to time, although the supply was never commensurate with the demand.

From what I have said about the Camp organisation so far, it may seem to a reader who has never been a prisoner a life of endless pleasure, almost of dissipation; but of course there was another side of camp life, which of set purpose I wish to mention as little as possible, but which, in justice, I cannot pass over. The thing that told on all of us, on some of course more than others, was the utter emptiness of a prisoner's life. We were confined within a very narrow space during the whole of the four years; and the large majority of us never got outside the barbed-wire until after the Revolution,

when most of us took the opportunity of having a peep at Berlin. Unless one has been through such an experience, one can hardly realise what it means to be cooped up in such a way. It brings on a sort of nervous tension, which, for want of a better name, has been called barbed-wire disease. In its extreme form this disease ends in total loss of reason; but there are many phases before the final stage is reached, and we all suffered from it in some degree. Many-far too manyunfortunately lost their reason; and it was one of the saddest sights to see a man getting worse and worse, until at last he broke down entirely. Even after that, these poor fellows were often kept in the Camp for a long time before being removed to an asylum in Berlin. This was not only bad for them but very trying for the remainder of the camp, and of course very dangerous for nervous men who were fighting hard to avoid falling into a similar condition.

Again, the overcrowding was really a great hardship. We were packed as tight as men can be packed together. There were six men in a horse-box; and in the lofts and wooden barracks the men had even less room. With men's nerves in the condition in which they were, it can be imagined how trying it was to be in such close quarters and never to have the chance of being alone for a moment. Some men felt this so much that they deliberately committed some offence against the German authorities in order to be put into the cells. There at least one could enjoy privacy.

During the first winter and spring, before the people at home realised how much we were in need of food and sent us parcels, our condition was really pitiful. The meagre ration dealt out to us by the authorities was not enough to keep body and soul together, at least for any long period. During those early days men collapsed from sheer hunger; and one never knew what it was not to feel hungry. When the parcels came regularly from home, we were never, or at least seldom, really hungry, for they were sufficient for us to live upon; but the monotony of always eating tinned food is very trying, and a very large number of men suffered terribly from stomach troubles.

No account of Ruhleben would be complete without

mentioning our system of self-government. At first there were soldiers in each barrack who had charge of all the prisoners in their barrack. Their only method of dealing with us was to shout and try to bully us. Unfortunately for them, you can never do anything with an Englishman by shouting at him. Instead of making him do what is required of him, it only makes him stand still and grin. This system was soon found not to work; and so, acting on the suggestion of our own barrack captains, the authorities withdrew the soldiers from the barracks and gave us Home Rule.' Bit by bit we managed to work everything into our own hands, until at last the only function of the military authorities was guarding the Camp and occasionally pouncing down on us for trivial offences, and taking us to the cells or the bird-cage,' which was a small room where men were confined for anything from five to forty days at time. The authorities depended on us for the proper administration of the Camp to such an extent that, when they issued a more than usually disagreeable order, all the civil Camp officials threatened to resign unless the order were countermanded, and we never failed to gain our point. There is something amusing about prisoners making reprisals on their captors; but the Germans apparently did not appreciate the humorous side of the situation and were quite ready to give way at the sign of a threatened strike.

In the foregoing part of this article I have endeavoured to give an account, necessarily short and incomplete, of our general way of life at Ruhleben. I have preferred to dwell upon the brighter, and to me the far more interesting, side of our life. Had I wished, I could have given an equally long account of the sufferings and brutalities that occurred in the Camp, but I think no useful purpose would be served by this. The mere narration of acts of cruelty can be of no real service, unless one is able to draw some useful lesson from them. In what follows I shall endeavour to point out some of the more permanent things learnt in captivity.

In Ruhleben, I, at least, learned for the first time to understand my own race properly. race properly. The five thousand

prisoners in the Camp were of every type and class, the only thing common to them all being that they were British. My imprisonment gave me the opportunity of studying, at close quarters, the characteristics of the average Englishman, and it has made me very proud to belong to such a race. There was no opportunity in Ruhleben for the display of that marvellous courage that our men have shown at the front, but there were unique opportunities for the display of that dogged perseverance which has characterised our race throughout the world. One saw men there going on, day after day and year after year, patiently making the best of things, and never losing their spirit. The way in which the various classes co-operated in making life endurable is a remarkable testimony to the truly democratic spirit of our race. The less educated classes-represented mostly by sailors and fishermen-were naturally in a numerical superiority, and could, had they wished, have made life very trying for the rest of the community. What actually took place was just the opposite. They appreciated all the efforts that the leaders in the Camp were making on behalf of the general good, and cooperated with them in every way. These men showed remarkable willingness to perform tasks of an unpleasant nature which had to be done, thus helping those who in ordinary life were not used to manual labour.

As one was enabled by this experience to appreciate one's own race, so one learnt to understand more fully the dominant characteristics of the German. These are the sort of lessons that internment teaches; and they are the really valuable things that are worth remembering and recording. First of all, with regard to cruelty. When one says that the Germans are brutal by nature, one must make quite sure what is meant by the phrase. We are all brutal by nature, as we are all kind by nature, for it is as natural to be brutal to one's enemies as it is to be kind to one's friends. This original brutality, which is in all human nature, can only be eradicated by ideal or spiritual aims taking the place of the natural ones. The German is not just a primitive savage, he is something far more dangerous; he is a savage who has learnt to cover up his savagery under the cloak of Kultur, but who has never conquered it.