the spirit of the sons of liberty--has
produced results far different and created a situation more terrible for
them than for their outraged enemies.

For in this matter of misrepresentation and lying, born of Prussia and
by her spoon-fed pack of martinets, professors, and Churchmen, mingled
with Germany's daily bread for a generation, it is she and not we who
will reap the whirlwind of that sowing; it is she and not we who must
soon pant and tear the breast in the pangs of the poison.

Between the mad and the sane there can be only one victor; and when the
time comes, may Germany's robe of repentance be a strait-waistcoat of
the Allies' choosing. For she has drunk deep of the poison, and those
who anticipate a speedy cure will be as mad as she. When the escaped
tigress is back in her cage, men look to the bars, for none wants a
second mauling.

EDEN PHILLPOTTS.

[Illustration: THE PRISONERS]

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IT'S UNBELIEVABLE

I am not sure that in this cartoon of Raemaekers the most pleasing
detail is not the servant's right eye. You will observe in that
servant's right eye an expression familiar in those who overhear this
sort of comment upon the peculiar bestialities of the Prussian in
Belgium and Poland, this extenuation of his baseness. When the war was
young the opportunity for giving that glance was commoner than it is
now. There were many even in a belligerent country who would tell you in
superior fashion how foolishly exaggerated were the so-called
"atrocities." The greater number of such men (and women) talked of "two
Germanies"--one the nice Germany they knew and loved so well, and the
other apparently nasty Germany which raped, burned, stole, broke faith,
tortured, and the rest. Their number has diminished. But there is a
little lingering trace of the sort of thing still to be discovered: men
and women who hope against hope that the Prussian will really prove good
at heart after all. And it is usually just after some expression of the
kind that the most appalling news arrives with a terrible irony to
punctuate their folly. It reminds one a little of the man in the story
who was sure that he could tame a wild cat, and was in the act of
recording its virtues when it flew in his face. To an impartial observer
who cared nothing for our sufferings or the enemy's vices, there would
be something