ustrian, who has
fought the Prussians to the death, is arrested by the communards as a
Prussian spy and shot.

The bare outline of the story gives, of course, no just notion of the
intense passion of grief which fills it. Neither does it convey a due
impression of the character in the different persons which, amidst the
heartbreak, is ascertained with some such truth and impartiality as
pervade the effects of "War and Peace." I do not rank it with that
work, but in its sincerity and veracity it easily ranks above any other
novel treating of war which I know, and it ought to do for the German
peoples what the novels of Erckmann-Chatrian did for the French, in at
least one generation. Will it do anything for the Anglo-Saxon peoples?
Probably not till we have pacified the Philippines and South Africa.
We Americans are still apparently in love with fighting, though the
English are apparently not so much so; and as it is always well to face
the facts, I will transfer to my page some facts of fighting from this
graphic book, which the read may apply to the actualities in the
Philippines, with a little imagination. They are taken from a letter
written to the heroine by her second husband after one of the Austrian
defeats. "The people poured boiling water and oil on the Prussians
from the windows of the houses at ----.... The village is ours--no, it
is the enemy's, now ours again--and yet once more the enemy's; but it
is no longer a village, but a smoking mass of ruins of houses....One
family has remained behind...an old married couple and their daughter,
the latter in childbed. The husband is serving in our regiment....
Poor devil! he got there just in time to see the mother and child die;
a shell had exploded under their bed.... I saw a breastwork there
which was formed of corpses. The defenders had heaped all the slain
who were lying near, in order, from that rampart, to fire over at their
assailants. I shall surely never forget that wall in my life. A man
who formed one of its bricks was still alive, and was waving his
arm.... What is happening there? The execution party is drawn out.
Has a spy been caught? Seventeen this time. There they come, in four
ranks, each one of four men, surrounded by a square of soldiers. The
condemned men step out, with their heads down. Behind comes a cart
with a corpse in it, and bound to the corpse the dead man's son, a boy
of twelve, also condemned.... Steep, rocky heights;