ur of the city like the pulsing
heartbeat of the nation. As often, in moments of tension, he seemed to
feel the whole vast stretch of the continent throbbing; the yearning
breast of the land trembling with energy; the great arch of sky,
spanning from coast to coast, quiver with power unused. The murmur of
little children in their cradles, the tender words of mothers, the
footbeat of men on the pavements of ten thousand cities, the flags
leaping in air from high buildings, ships putting out to sea with
gunners at their sterns--in one aching synthesis the vastness and
dearness and might of his land came to him. A mingled nation, indeed, of
various and clashing breeds; but oh, with what a tradition to uphold!

Words were forming in his mind as he watched the fading sky, and he
returned quietly to the typewriter:

"_We are glad to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for
the liberation of its peoples, the German peoples included.... The world
must be made safe for democracy_."

_The world must be made safe for democracy_! As the wires leaped and the
little typewriter spoke under the pressure of his strong fingers, scenes
passed in his mind of the happy, happy Europe he had known in old wander
days, years before.

He could see the sun setting down dark aisles of the Black Forest; the
German peasants at work in the fields; the simple, cordial friendliness
of that lovely land. He remembered French villages beside slow-moving
rivers; white roads in a hot shimmer of sun; apple orchards of the
Moselle. And England--dear green England, fairest of all--the rich blue
line of the Chiltern Hills, and Buckinghamshire beech woods bronze and
yellow in the autumn. He remembered thatched cottages where he had
bicycled for tea, and the naive rustic folk who had made him welcome.

What deviltry had taken all these peaceful people, gripped them and
maddened them, set them at one another's throats? Millions of children,
millions of mothers, millions of humble workers, happy in the richness
of life--where were they now? Life, innocent human life--the most
precious thing we know or dream of, freedom to work for a living and
win our own joys of home and love and food--what Black Death had
maddened the world with its damnable seeds of hate? Would life ever be
free and sweet again?

The detestable sultry horror of it all broke upon him anew in a tide of
anguish. No, the world could never be the same again in the lives of men
no