rt in Erlangen
University. He was accompanied by his wife and various colleagues,
including Professor Busch, who bade him farewell on the platform. Dr.
Haack is an artillery reserve officer, and he was then going to join his
regiment. At 8.30 p.m. on the same day, we spoke to Frau Haack on
Nuremberg station. The lady's face was very tear-stained and she was
about to return to Erlangen alone. She told us in a broken voice that
her husband had been called up.

In "The Soul of Germany" I have given names and dates of other cases. I
do not propose to disgrace my word of honour by playing it off against
the German Chancellor. But acting on the principle of "Set a thief to
catch a thief," I shall adduce some instances from German newspapers.

The Paris correspondent of the _Koelnische Zeitung_ travelled home via
Brussels; his adventures are related at length in the _K.Z._ for August
4th. On August 1st he was in Brussels and complained bitterly, in his
article, about the hotel service, and excuses it by writing: "The German
waiters had all left Brussels the day before (July 31st) to join the
army."

An article dated Strasbourg, August 3rd, was published in the
_Frankfurter Zeitung_ on the 6th of the same month. The writer describes
the martial scenes which he had witnessed during the preceding week, and
mentions that the officers in the garrison had received a special order
to send their wives and children away from the city several days before
martial law was proclaimed. Friday, presumably, the order came for the
garrison to march to the French frontier, for on Saturday the regiments
were entrained and left Strasbourg. Our good German friend describes the
scene in the streets: "Alongside the ranks were the wives and children
of the called-up reservists, trying to keep step with the quickly moving
troops. Before sunset the regiments, all on a war-footing, had left the
city."

Every layman knows that a reservist cannot enter a barracks in civilian
attire, and emerge five minutes later in full war-kit ready for the
march. The German Imperial Chancellor affirms that not one of them had
been called up before five o'clock in the afternoon of that day. It is
true that neither the age of miracles nor the age of lies has passed
away. Perhaps Herr Bethmann-Hollweg could explain why it was impossible
to send trunk-messages on Germany's telephone system during the last
three days of July, 1914. At least, the local papers in Bavaria a