atist cults
and monarchies and complete independencies, now. The traffic and
wealth of our great and liberal age will diminish, the arts will
dwindle and learning fade, science will cease to advance, and the rude
and hard will inherit the earth. The Warpath or the World State; that
is the choice for mankind.

This lesson of the submarine which destroys much and achieves nothing
has ample support in history. There never was so blind a superstition
as the belief that progress is inevitable. The world has seen the
great civilization of the Western empire give place to the warring
chaos of the baronial castles of the ninth and tenth centuries; it has
seen the Eastern empire for 500 years decay and retrogress under the
militarism of the Turk; it has watched the Red Indians, with rifles in
their hands, grimly engage in mutual extermination. Is it still a
blind world, doomed to blunder down again from such light and order
and hope as we were born to, toward such another millennium of
barbaric hates and aimless wars? That is no mere possibility; it is
the present probability unless men exert themselves to make it
impossible. It is quite conceivable that ours is the last generation
for many generations that will go freely about the world, that will
have abundance of leisure, and science and free speech and abundant
art and much beauty and many varied occupations. We stand about in our
old haunts and try to keep on with our old ways of living and
speculate when the war will be "over," and when we shall be able to go
back to everything just as it was before the war. This war and its
consequences will never be "over," and we have not even begun to
realize what it has cost us.

The course of human history is downward and very dark, indeed, unless
our race can give mind and will now unreservedly in unprecedented
abundance to the stern necessities that follow logically from the
aircraft bomb and the poison gas and that silent, invisible,
unattainable murderer, the submarine.

[Illustration]

"Human Beings and Germans"

By Rudyard Kipling.

Addressing 10,000 persons at a recruiting rally in
Southport, England, on June 21, 1915, Mr. Kipling spoke as
reported in the subjoined cable dispatch to THE NEW YORK
TIMES.

The German went into this war with a mind which had been carefully
trained out of the idea of every moral sense or obligation, private,
public, or international. He does not recognize the