Sir,—I am in receipt of your letter of 13th instant, enclosing an extract from the Dunedin "Evening Star" of 29th January, containing portions of my article to the "New York Times," published in that influential journal of 26th November, 1899.

I will preface my reply to your request for information as to the authorship of that article by observing that this is not the first occasion on which this same individual connected with the Dunedin "Evening Star" has displayed the strongest possible animosity against me under the cloak of anonymity, and has shewn personal malice to an extent which must meet with the reprobation of all honest, upright and respectable Journalists. The individual in question, however, is not a Journalist of any weight or position outside the parochial radius of that paper's circulation, and very little within that limited area. Professional etiquette, straight- page 16 forwardness or the instincts of journalistic camaraderie could not be expected from such an uncultured source; and I leave him, as all paltry things like him should be left, to the contemplation of his own littleness and to the enjoyment of whatever fruits may come from the ventilation of his jealousy and maliciousness. He has my assurance, however, that whether or not he succeeds in his present attempt to do me an injury, it is a matter which will neither derange my appetite nor induce insomnia.

As to the article contributed to the "New York Times" from which the extracts have been republished, I beg to inform you that I was the author of that article, and that I adhere to the opinions therein expressed, regardless of consequences.

In the first place, let me inform you that throughout my life I have belonged to the party of peace, and have been an uncompromising opponent of recourse to war for the settlement of international difficulties. I had made a special study of the Transvaal Question, had read all the available literature connected with the subject from every standpoint, and had become, as an impartial and conscientious observer of events, a stanch adherent of the humane and enlightened policy of England's greatest commoner. Mr. Gladstone, with regard to the Transvaal Republic. When war was first hinted at in the winter months of last year I could not bring myself to believe that hostilities would actually eventuate, and made no disguise of my sentiments that if war did ensue, it would be one of the most unjust and unrighteous wars recorded in history. I could not, however, believe that the British nation would allow itself to be deluded by a band of greedy and grasping capitalists into undertaking a war against a people whose right to self-government had been fully recognised; for I maintain that it is a war which has been fomented by capitalists, and it is lamentable to think that so much precious blood has been and will be spilt and so much treasure expended at the instigation of these moneyed magnates for purposes of their own aggrandisement. Does anyone in his proper senses, anyone with the smallest atom of intelligence or fair-mindedness, really believe that but for the gold and diamond discoveries in South Africa the Boers would ever have been disturbed in their isolation? All candid and thoughful men, however reluctant they may be at this juncture to confess it, must feel in their hearts that the greed of unscrupulous capitalists is in truth the real raison d'être of the present deplorable conflict, the primary cause which lies at the bottom of the hideous tragedy which is now being enacted in South Africa.

Immediately before and after the commencement of hostilities I regarded with deepest sorrow the wave of jingoistic hysteria that inundated these Colonies—the unreasoning and unthinking manner in which this jingoistic spirit was fanned until provincial jealousies page 17 and rivalries have now actually developed in this franctic desire to send contingents to South Africa beyond anything that was ever contemplated when the movement began.

When I considered the marvellous wealth of Great Britain, her inexhaustible resources in men and money, her population of forty four millions of people to draw combatants from, her powerful Navy to defend her against any possible or probable concert of European nations, I could not suppose that England required assistance from her far-off Colonies in settling her differences with a comparative handful of people like the Boers—two hemmed-in Republics in South Africa, without a seaboard and without ports for replenishing supplies which in course of time must become exhausted. All these considerations forced me to the conclusion that it was an act of the supremest folly to drain the Colonies of their population for the purpose of doing battle seven thousand miles away in a struggle about the eventual issue of which there could not be the slightest anxiety or doubt.

If it was considered necessary to impress foreign powers with the moral lesson of Colonial loyalty and enthusiasm by the despatch of a first contingent from each, does it not strike one that the good effect of that lesson is likely to be destroyed by the sending of contingent after contingent upon the same unfortunate errand? Will not this apparently unrestricted exodus to South Africa create an impression in unfriendly quarters that England is in extremities, and that her prestige and prowess are in imminent difficulty and peril? I am not so pessimistic as to suppose for one moment that she is, or is at all likely to be, in such straits, or that her foremost prestige amongst the nations of the earth stands the slightest danger of not being maintained in this war with the Boers. But as tin Australasian I protest against this serious diminution of our population, against this maddened rush from our shores when, if we look to our own requirements, we want to keep every man of them here. What is the state of the defences in any one of the Australasian Colonies? Will anyone say for one moment—or if he does say it, does he really believe it?—that our own defences are in an effective condition? Is there any difficulty in realising the awkward position these Colonies might be placed in at any moment in the event of any European complications that might arise? In this position of affairs, why send the best physical types of our young men, the very flower of our population, out of the country, when it is population, and population of that stamp, we stand most in need of? Why contribute funds to the wealthiest nation on earth when the money could be more wisely and legitimately expended in placing ourselves in a position to repel an enemy?

In the pursuit of my journalistic profession I have given expression to these views. That they are not popular with the present page 18 unthinking and uninformed multitude I doubt not; but they are my deep-rooted and conscientious convictions nevertheless; and if I am to suffer for the candid and fearless exposition of them, I find solace in the belief that they will be acquiesced in eventually when the feverish pulse of the majority gets restored to its normal condition, and calmness supplants the existing excitement. It is all very well for people to shout themselves hoarse, to be carried away by waving banners and by the intoxicating influences of martial airs; only wait until the score comes to be reckoned up, until the piper has to be paid, and depend upon it they will dance to a less agreeable tune. At the same time, I feel convinced that even in this small community there are hundreds, nay thousands, of people who think exactly as I do on the subject, and only refrain from giving vent to their feelings in order to escape insult and abuse from persons who have allowed this demon of jingoism to make captive of their reason and to warp their better and calmer judgment.

It is one of the highest functions of every honest, well-meaning and straightforward Journalist to do all he can on occasions such as this to stem the current of popular frenzy, to inculcate the salutary ideas of moderation, and to strive all he knows to direct public opinion into the best and safest channels. In my humble capacity this is precisely what I have endeavoured to do, profoundly and conscientiously believing that I was doing right, and believing also that I was living in a free and enlightened country. Is it possible that I have been under a delusion all the best years of my life, and that I am now to realise that freedom of thought and speech in New Zealand—that boasted palladium of individual and collective liberty—is nothing but a myth after all?