that
lead to that goal. Our goal is not world domination. Whoever tries to
talk that belief into the mind of the German people may confuse some
heads that are already not very clear; but he cannot succeed in
substituting Napoleon I. for Bismarck as our master teacher.

Our goal can only be the establishing of our value in the world among
world powers, with equal rights to the same opportunities. And in order
to attain this goal we must, even after the conclusion of peace, exert
all our forces. A people that thinks it can rest on its laurels after
victory has been won runs the risk sooner or later of losing that for
which its sons shed their blood on the field of battle. With the
conclusion of peace there begins for us anew the unceasing peaceful
competition and the maintenance and strengthening of the world value
which we have won through the war. German imperialism is and will remain
the work of peace.

TWO POOR LITTLE BELGIAN FLEDGLINGS

By PIERRE LOTI.

Translation by Florence Simmonds.

[From King Albert's Book.]

At evening, in one of our southern towns, a train full of Belgian
refugees ran into the station, and the poor martyrs, exhausted and
bewildered, got out slowly, one by one, on the unfamiliar platform,
where French people were waiting to receive them. Carrying a few
possessions caught up at random, they had got into the carriages without
even asking whither they were bound, urged by their anxiety to flee, to
flee desperately from horror and death, from unspeakable mutilation and
Sadic outrage--from things that seemed no longer possible in the world,
but which, it seems, were lying dormant in pietistic German brains, and
had suddenly belched forth upon their land and ours, like a belated
manifestation of original barbarism. They no longer possessed a village,
nor a home, nor a family; they arrived like jetsam cast up by the
waters, and the eyes of all were full of terrified anguish. Many
children, little girls whose parents had disappeared in the stress of
fire and battle; and aged women, now alone in the world, who had fled,
hardly knowing why, no longer caring for life, but moved by some obscure
instinct of self-preservation.

Two little creatures, lost in the pitiable throng, held each other
tightly by the hand, two little boys obviously brothers, the elder, who
may have been five years old, protecting the younger, of about three. No
one claimed them, no one knew them. How had they been