c race in the past was, we are
told, the adoption of Roman culture and Roman religion. Germany once
submitted to an alien God and to an alien creed. She, the mistress of
the earth, the mightiest of the mighty, and the most Kultured of the
Kultured, had actually once worshipped "an uncultured peasant Galilean,"
and made profession of "His slave morality."

Now they had altogether done with Christ, the Nazarene. The shout had
gone forth: "We will not have this Man to rule over us." In the future
no gods but Thor and Odin shall rule the "world-dominating race."
Prussia seemed to think the world's need to-day was the religion not of
Virtue, but of Valour. "In a day now long fled was heard the cry:
'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth,' but to-day
there shall go forth the word: 'Blessed are the valiant, for they shall
make the earth their throne.' In the past ye heard it said: 'Blessed are
the poor in spirit,' but now I say to you: 'Blessed are the great in
soul, for they shall enter into Valhalla.' Again, in the dark ages it
was said to you: 'Blessed are the peace-makers,' but now in the blaze of
day I say unto you: 'Blessed are the war-makers, for they shall be
called, if not the children of Jahve, the children of Odin, who is
greater than Jahve.'" For those who want more of this mad jargon on the
same lines let me refer them to the late Professor Cramb's book on
Germany and England.

With this cartoon before me, I am driven to fear that when the war is
done there will rise up in Germany a louder and stronger cry against the
Christianity of Christ than ever was attempted after the Franco-Prussian
War. The "man of blood and iron," the man with the mailed fist and the
iron heel, I much apprehend, will not be satisfied with tearing down the
emblem of the physical Body of Christ, but to slake his bloodthirsty
spirit he will want to go on to belabour His Mystical Body no less. God
avert it!

BERNARD VAUGHAN.

[Illustration: "I crush whatever resists me."]

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FERDINAND

In this war, where the ranks of the enemy present to us so many
formidable, sinister, and shocking figures, there is one, and perhaps
but one, which is purely ridiculous. If we had the heart to relieve our
strained feelings by laughter, it would be at the gross Coburg traitor,
with his bodyguard of assassins and