ybody could rule this country," said George; "_I_ could rule it."

We were seated in the garden of the Kaiser Hof at Bonn, looking down upon
the Rhine. It was the last evening of our Bummel; the early morning
train would be the beginning of the end.

"I should write down all I wanted the people to do on a piece of paper,"
continued George; "get a good firm to print off so many copies, have them
posted about the towns and villages; and the thing would be done."

In the placid, docile German of to-day, whose only ambition appears to be
to pay his taxes, and do what he is told to do by those whom it has
pleased Providence to place in authority over him, it is difficult, one
must confess, to detect any trace of his wild ancestor, to whom
individual liberty was as the breath of his nostrils; who appointed his
magistrates to advise, but retained the right of execution for the tribe;
who followed his chief, but would have scorned to obey him. In Germany
to-day one hears a good deal concerning Socialism, but it is a Socialism
that would only be despotism under another name. Individualism makes no
appeal to the German voter. He is willing, nay, anxious, to be
controlled and regulated in all things. He disputes, not government, but
the form of it. The policeman is to him a religion, and, one feels, will
always remain so. In England we regard our man in blue as a harmless
necessity. By the average citizen he is employed chiefly as a signpost,
though in busy quarters of the town he is considered useful for taking
old ladies across the road. Beyond feeling thankful to him for these
services, I doubt if we take much thought of him. In Germany, on the
other hand, he is worshipped as a little god and loved as a guardian
angel. To the German child he is a combination of Santa Clans and the
Bogie Man. All good things come from him: Spielplatze to play in,
furnished with swings and giant-strides, sand heaps to fight around,
swimming baths, and fairs. All misbehaviour is punished by him. It is
the hope of every well-meaning German boy and girl to please the police.
To be smiled at by a policeman makes it conceited. A German child that
has been patted on the head by a policeman is not fit to live with; its
self-importance is unbearable.

The German citizen is a soldier, and the policeman is his officer. The
policeman directs him where in the street to walk, and how fast to walk.
At the end of each bridge stands a policeman