did nothing at all beyond removing themselves to a respectful distance when there was thunder about; but fortunately, before any fatality occurred, the solution came, in the invention of a very ingenious system of "discharger bands," which gave a protection so complete that a balloon thus fitted rode undamaged through the heart of a severe thunderstorm, while an old one, not so protected, perished in the first two minutes.

With this hindrance removed, the summer months became very favourable for working with balloons, and encouraged by the immunity enjoyed by the convoys which they accompanied, more aggressive tactics were tried. Destroyers, four at a time, and each carrying a balloon, would proceed to sea, and steaming several miles apart would cover an immense area of vision. If a submarine broke surface it was quickly picked up, and once seen, had but poor chance of escape, owing to the long hours of daylight, and the fact that even when submerged its track was noticeable from a great height. The first "catch made by a patrol led by the Strongbow. It was one of those pearly grey mornings off the coast of Norway, and though the visibility was no more than moderate, the four balloons were aloft and watching vigilantly. Watching is such a long and fatiguing business that one is apt to be quite startled when what one is looking for actually appears.

was

Strongbow's observer was certainly startled when something cracked the mirror of the sea. He was so startled that he rubbed his glasses and looked again, and even then he had to have another look before he sang the good news through the telephone. Once apprised, Strongbow wasted no time. Signals flickered through space as she called her consorts, and directed by the observer, the destroyer wheeled and charged. Fritz saw his peril, and made forthwith for the bottom; but too late, for the observer had marked him down exactly. Acting on a prearranged plan, Strongbow rushed across his hiding-place and dropped in succession a depth charge, a buoy, and another depth charge. At right angles to her course, and with the buoy to guide her, another destroyer snored over the spot ; a third followed suit, and then the last; and the first ships turning on their course, the four were brought together; and steaming in circles, shook the foundations of the sea. High aloft the balloons bounced like corks with the concussions, and the area of torn water soon became stained with oil. Good, but not enough. Other submarines had escaped by releasing oil, and the ruse was well known. A clearer death certificate was demanded, and the destroyers continued their remorseless pounding till the sea threw it up. It came at last, fragment by fragment. Wooden fittings, bits of grating, odd things that floated, and finally a homely object of

a convincing character. destroyers were satisfied, and having collected enough evidence to establish the identity of the U-boat, and put its destruction beyond doubt, proceeded on their way, leaving a huge lake of oil, a motley assemblage of jetsam, and enough dead fish to feed a nation.

Fritz was not always so easy a prey, and there was one particular submarine which gave endless trouble and still lived to tell the tale. His speciality was to lie off the Firth of Forth, watch the drifters sweeping a channel for the Fleet, and re-sow it with mines the moment they had signalled "all clear." A most troublesome and annoying neighbour he proved. The Fleet tried this way and that to catch him, and at length organised a hunt with kite balloons. Whether this would have been successful one cannot say, for it was brought to an untimely conclusion before the balloons had the opportunity of using their powers. In the fashion of cubbing, the hunt set out for its rendezvous in the dark, while the "fox," regardless of the rules of the game, came to meet them. Chuckling quietly, one imagines, he laid his unholy booby-traps in their path, and with never a yoick or a tally, the chase was brought to an end by the leading destroyer butting a mine in the pitch darkness. It takes a sportsman to dare the strongholds of a fleet, and one would not grudge this fellow a smile

But that the Germans held the balloons in respect was shown by the fact that no convoy which they accompanied was ever attacked. From first to last the reports were always "negative," which was an adequate answer to the argument that balloons were a danger because they betrayed the ships' position to the enemy. They may have done so; but if he was afraid to approach, it did not greatly matter. The "balloonatics" would have liked it better if he had, for that would have given them the opportunity they sought.

It was the lasting regret of all observers that the war terminated without their ever taking part in a big sea fight. At the time of Jutland, only Campania was fitted with a balloon, and she, by force of circumstance, was prevented from being present at the battle. Had a great engagement developed later, it is difficult to conceive that the observation afforded by the balloons would have failed to confer on the Fleet a signal advantage. One had but to be present at an exercise and compare the clear cold panorama of a thousand feet with the view from the foretop, the latter obscured by the rolling smoke-screens,

smudged by the cordite blasts, and veiled so that the next ahead was often all but invisible in the reek, to realise the scope of even a single brain lifted right above the welter. Training, practice, and organisation were doubtless necessary, but the potentialities were there. A senior officer who spent a couple of hours ruminating in a balloon expressed himself decidedly on the point.

"This," he said, "is the place for me in the next scrap."

But the next scrap never came. When the Fleet went out to meet the Germans for the last time, every gun was loaded and every man at action stations, but no shot was fired. The enemy came slowly, and, obedient to the signal of the Commander-in-Chief, followed meekly in the wake of the cruiser Cardiff, flying a solitary kite balloon. After the labour and preparation of four years, a sense of anti-climax hung heavily over the Fleet, and the prevailing mood was one of faint depression. One must add that not every one was so afflicted. Admiral de Robeck, for instance, watching the huge warships shepherded in by his favourite "Baby," was moved to a chuckle, and delivered a Biblical quotation which was strangely apposite.

"And a little child shall lead them," he said; and, pleased with the thought, had it made by signal to the Commanderin-Chief. Stimulated by this flight of wit, he permitted himself to have a poke at the Admiral on board the Cardiff,

who at one time or another had said many rude things to him about kite balloons. Cardiff was taking in his signal as she approached the Forth Bridge.

"A.C. 2 to R.A., 6th Light Cruiser Squadron.

"1355. I congratulate you on the high honour done to you on this great occasion by being the only flag officer privileged . . .

Here the Forth Bridge intervened. Cardiff's Admiral studied the half completed signal, and, gently flattered, waited for the rest. In due course it came

-to fly a kite balloon!"

The R.A. thought of several retorts, and finally made the reply

"1415. Many thanks. The only thing that spoiled the honour was nearly drowning the observer."

Such little touches served to lighten what was in the main a depressing affair. No man, certainly no sea man, likes to witness the humiliation of a courageous and (on the whole) gallant foe. As the German ships dropped their anchors and everything was over, the commander of one of the battle cruisers turned to the balloon officer standing near him, and made a remark which seemed to typify the feelings of the Navy on this the last act of the war. He said

"Come and have a cocktail. I hate a funeral."

THE Chevalier de Johnstone was born at Edinburgh in 1719, the only son of James Johnstone, grocer. There was good blood in his veins his grandmother was a Douglas of Whittinghame, and kinship counts in Scotland, or did. His kinswoman, Lady Jane Douglas, sister of the Duke of Douglas, was a second mother to him.

A faulty upbringing and the Douglas blood may be held accountable for a wild and wayward youth. He was indulged by his mother, a weak and lovable woman, while his father, an Episcopalian and Jacobite, was austere as any Covenanter. By his own admission he was impetuous, obstinate, fiery, passionate and headstrong, volatile, careless of his studies, and plunged in libertinism. Of any thing low or contrary to honour and probity he was incapable.

Johnstone was not wholly free from these traits in later life. Some did him disservice. Others, tempered by hardship and danger, kept his head upon his shoulders after Culloden.

The career of a soldier of fortune was the only one open to the son of a known Jacobite sympathiser, if he had, as was the case with Johnstone, a predilection for the profession of arms. He had two uncles in Russia, Lieut.-General Douglas, Governor of Revel, and Mr Hewitt, his mother's brother,

formerly a favourite of Peter the Great, now retired, and he hoped by their influence to enter the Russian service. His father opposed him in this, as in almost everything he desired.

When he was eighteen he endeavoured to force his father's hand, and failed. Lady Jane Douglas was his accomplice. He resolved to visit Russia, and she cajoled the father into giving a grudging consent. A year spent in Russia at this impressionable age was formative, but unproductive. His uncle Hewitt had been colonel of a regiment until incapacitated by wounds, and was wise in the ways of men. He taught Johnstone to think for himself. He also brought about his heart's desire. Two Secretaries of State were Mr Hewitt's particular friends. They obtained a lieutenant's commission for his nephew, and promised their powerful protection and support. Field-Marshal Keith said he would see to his interests. It was an opportunity in a thousand. But it was to be a lost opportunity. Mr Hewitt wrote pressing it on the father. A harsh letter threatening to disinherit his son if he persisted in opposing his wishes was the only response. Johnstone complied, and regretted it to the last day of his life.

Under the circumstances Russia became insupportable,