institutions of my country to the undergraduates of these great Universities—my political duties made it impossible for me to visit England prior to June 1, about which time the Supreme Court of the United States, in which my official duties largely preoccupy my time, adjourns for the summer. Any dates after June 1 were inconvenient to the first three Universities, but it was my good fortune that the University of London was able to carry out the plan, and that it had the cordial co-operation of that venerable Inn of Court, Gray's Inn, one of the "noblest nurseries of legal training."

Thus I was privileged to address at once an academic and a professional audience.

I came to England for this purpose as a labour of love. I had no anticipation of success, for I feared that the interest in the subject-matter of my lectures would be very slight.

My surprise and gratification increased on the occasion of each lecture, as the audiences grew in numbers and distinction. Many leading jurists and statesmen took more than a mere complimentary interest, and some of them, although pressed with social and public duties, honoured me with their attendance at all three lectures. How can I adequately express my appreciation of the great honour thus done me by the Earl of Balfour, the Lord Chancellor, Lord Justice Atkin, the Vice-Chancellor of the University of London, and many other leaders in academic and legal circles—not to forget the Chief Justice of the United States, who paid me the great compliment of attending the last lecture. To one and nil of my auditors, my heartfelt thanks!

I also must not fail to acknowledge the generous space given in the British Press to these lectures, and the even more generous allusions to them in the editorial columns. An especial acknowledgment is due to Viscount Burnham and The Daily Telegraph for their generous interest in this book. The good cause of Anglo-American friendship has no better friend than Lord Burnham.

This experience has convinced me that now, more than ever before, there is in England a deep interest in American institutions and their history. This is as it should be, for—for better or worse—England and America will play together a great part in the future history of the world. In double harness they are destined to pull the heavy load of the world's problems. Therefore these "yoke-fellows in equity" must know each other better, and, what is more, pull together.

As I was revising the proofs of these lectures in beautiful Chamonix, the prospectus of the Scottish-American Association reached me, in which its Honorary Secretary and my good friend, Dr. Charles Sarolea, took occasion to make the following suggestion to his British compatriots:

"To remove those causes of estrangement, to avoid a fateful catastrophe, in other words, to bring about a cordial understanding with America, the first condition must be an understanding of America. Such an understanding, or even the atmosphere in which such an understanding may grow, has still to be created. It is indeed passing strange that in these days of cheap books and free education, America should be almost a 'terra incognita,' that we should know next to nothing of American history, of the American Constitution, of American practical politics, of the American mentality. We scarcely read American newspapers or American books. Even such masters of classical prose as Francis Parkman, perhaps the greatest historian who has used the English language as his vehicle, are almost unknown to the average reader. Our students do not visit American universities as they used before the War to visit German universities. The consequence is that again and again we are running the risk of perpetrating the most grotesque errors of judgment, of committing the most serious political blunders, in defiance of American public opinion."

The success of my Gray's Inn lectures convinces me that Dr. Sarolea underestimates the interest in America and its history in England. However, the episode, which is treated in these lectures, is, as he says, "terra incognita" not only in England, but even in the United States. It is amazing how little is known in America of the facts given in my second lecture. The American student, after rejoicing in the victory at Yorktown and the end of the War of Independence, generally skips about eight years to 1789, mid his interest in the history of his own country recommences with the inauguration of President Washington.

Students of history in both countries thus miss one of the most interesting and instructive chapters of American history, and indeed of any history.

I have ventured to add to my Gray's Inn lectures another address, which I delivered as the "annual address" at the session of the American Bar Association in Cincinnati, Ohio, on August 31, 1921. I do so, because it has a direct bearing on the decay of the spirit of constitutionalism both in America and elsewhere. It discusses a great malaise of our age, for which, I fear, no written Constitution, however wise, is an adequate remedy. It was published in condensed form in the issue of the Fortnightly for October, 1921, and an acknowledgment is due to its courteous editor for permission to republish it.

I have forborne in these lectures to make more than a passing reference to the League of Nations and the great Conference which framed it, tempting as the obvious analogy was. The reader who studies the appendices will see that the Covenant of the League more nearly resembles the Articles of Confederation than the Constitution of 1787.

I only mention the subject to suggest that the reader of these lectures will better understand why the American people take the written obligations of the League so seriously and literally. We have been trained for nearly a century and a half to measure the validity and obligations of laws and executive acts in Courts of Justice and to apply the plain import of the Constitution. Our constant inquiry is, "Is it so nominated" in that compact? In Europe, and especially England, constitutionalism is largely a spirit of great objectives and ideals.

Therefore, while in these nations the literal obligations of Articles X, XI, XV, and XVI of the Covenant of the League are not taken rigidly, we in America, pursuant to our life-long habit of constitutionalism, interpret these clauses as we do those of our Constitution, and we ask ourselves, Are we ready to promise to do, that which these Articles literally import, join, for example, in a commercial, social and even military war against any nation that is deemed an aggressor, however remote the cause of the war may be to us? Are we prepared to say that in the event of a war or threatened danger of war, the Supreme Council of the League may take any action it deems wise and effectual to maintain peace? This is a very serious committal. Other nations may not take it so literally, but with our life-long adherence to a written Constitution as a solemn contractual obligation, we do.

This is said in no spirit of hostility to the League, but only to explain the American point of view. Since I delivered these lectures, I took a short trip to the Continent, and while sojourning in Geneva, made a visit to the offices of the League. All I there saw greatly interested me, and I could have nothing but a feeling of admiration for the effective and useful administrative work which the League is doing.

The men who framed the Covenant of the League tried to do, under more difficult, but not dissimilar, conditions, what the framers of the American Constitution did in 1787. In both cases the aim was high, the great purpose meritorious. Those Americans who,