future be an outpost of European civilization, or of the comparative barbarism of China.  It is sufficiently known, but not, perhaps, generally noted in our country, that many military men abroad, familiar with Eastern conditions and character, look with apprehension toward the day when the vast mass of China—­now inert—­may yield to one of those impulses which have in past ages buried civilization under a wave of barbaric invasion.  The great armies of Europe, whose existence is so frequently deplored, may be providentially intended as a barrier to that great movement, if it come.  Certainly, while China remains as she is, nothing more disastrous for the future of the world can be imagined than that general disarmament of Europe which is the Utopian dream of some philanthropists.

China, however, may burst her barriers eastward as well as westward, toward the Pacific as well as toward the European Continent.  In such a movement it would be impossible to exaggerate the momentous issues dependent upon a firm hold of the Sandwich Islands by a great, civilized, maritime power.  By its nearness to the scene, and by the determined animosity to the Chinese movement which close contact seems to inspire, our own country, with its Pacific coast, is naturally indicated as the proper guardian for this most important position.  To hold it, however, whether in the supposed case or in war with a European state, implies a great extension of our naval power.  Are we ready to undertake this?

    A.T.  MAHAN, Captain, United States Navy.

    NEW YORK, Jan. 30, 1893.]

The suddenness—­so far, at least, as the general public is concerned—­with which the long-existing troubles in Hawaii have come to a head, and the character of the advances reported to be addressed to the United States by the revolutionary government, formally recognized as de facto by our representative on the spot, add another to the many significant instances furnished by history, that, as men in the midst of life are in death, so nations in the midst of peace find themselves confronted with unexpected causes of dissension, conflicts of interests, whose results may be, on the one hand, war, or, on the other, abandonment of clear and imperative national advantage in order to avoid an issue for which preparation has not been made.  By no premeditated contrivance of our own, by the cooperation of a series of events which, however dependent step by step upon human action, were not intended to prepare the present crisis, the United States finds herself compelled to answer a question—­to make a decision—­not unlike and not less momentous than that required of the Roman senate, when the Mamertine garrison invited it to occupy Messina, and so to abandon the hitherto traditional policy which had confined the expansion of Rome to the Italian peninsula.  For let it not be overlooked that, whether we wish or no, we must answer the question, we must make the decision.  The issue cannot be dodged.  Absolute inaction in such a case is a decision as truly as the most vehement action.  We can now advance, but, the conditions of the world being what they are, if we do not advance we recede; for there is involved not so much a particular action as a question of principle, pregnant of great consequences in one direction or in the other.