walls of the cathedral stream externally
with pitch. Many of the frescoes inside have been damaged and the gold
ornaments taken away. It is a grand Orthodox interior, breathing the
spirit of Russia from every wall. It was regarded rather as a
calculated affront to Poland in the old days--as the Russian population
in Warsaw was not large. Now, however, a Roman Catholic altar has been
erected, chairs have been brought in. There is a holy-water basin at
the main entrance, an organ sounds forth from the choir's gallery, and
a Polish priest drones the Latin liturgy. Multitudes of Poles flock in
on Sunday morning, smiling, untroubled, unselfconscious; bowing,
kneeling on one knee, piously crossing themselves in Latin style. If
there are Russians in the congregation they make no sign. But what
they must be feeling!

The appropriation of the cathedral is, no doubt, justified. But there
is something in the coolness of it, in the hate of it and lack of tact
which breeds the opposite of Christian charity in human hearts. The
Slavs have much to learn. By the stealing of trains, the purloining of
cathedrals, and false pretensions to their neighbours' lands, the Poles
are showing that there is yet national tragedy ahead for them. They
will be deceived by some nations and slaughtered by others. What have
we raised her from the dead for--but to live again, to live and let
live. All have rejoiced in the risen Poland, even the old destroyers
of Poland--Germany, Russia, and Austria, all rejoiced until they
realized the nature of the phantom. The beautiful white eagle that
leapt from the tomb is a more sinister bird to-day, blood-ravenous, and
scanning far horizons.

EXTRA LEAVES

(iv) _On Nationality and an Armistice Baby_

The personal idea of nationality suffered some heavy blows in the war
and even heavier ones in the peace which followed. A mature Austrian
suddenly becomes a Czech, a Hungarian who knows only Magyar becomes a
Roumanian, a self-conscious Prussian is written into a Pole, and their
hearts are supposed to respond to new loyalties. The famous lines:
"Breathes there a man with soul so dead" have now a comical effect when
recited in some parts of Europe. Men are saying such absurd things as
"I am a German Czecho-Slovak," "I am a Polish Austrian Jew," "I am a
Russian Armenian Greek." A relief from the imbroglio of nationalism
might be found in the name of European with a higher loyalty to Europe
a