me. A new war
in Central Europe will be a second edition of the same struggle
but by how much will it not surpass the former wars by its
magnitude and by its length and by the means of destruction
employed."

Does not Bloch give a better prediction of this war than the
often quoted Bernhardi?

The table conversation at Hanotaux's was in French; few Frenchmen
and hardly any public men in France speak English.

At this lunch, Ribot, since Premier, said to me, "In men, in
fighting, we can hold out, but we must have help on the credit
side."

How much more than credit have we sent since to help beloved,
beleaguered France!

My interview with President Poincare of France was set for
five-thirty in the Elysee Palace. I had to wait some minutes in
an ante-room, hung with splendid tapestries, where the secretary
in charge introduced me to Deschanel, the Secretaire perpetuel of
the Academie Francaise, with whom I had a few minutes' talk.

The President sat in a small, beautifully decorated room in this
historical Elysee Palace. A small fire burned in the grate, a bit
of grateful warmth in almost coalless Paris. He, too, plied me
with questions, but not as closely as others, about the land I
had left behind. He spoke of a great gift of money made by James
Stillman, a fund to help the families of members of the Legion of
Honour.

Poincare is a man of fifty-seven, wears a small beard growing
grey, and is a little under medium height (of this country) and
has much the manner of an American lawyer. What a contrast those
polite, agreeable Frenchmen were to the stiff, formal, overbearing
Germans. There are "well born" Germans with charming international
manners and the lower classes in Germany have kindly, natural
manners, but the manners of the minor members of the merchant
class and of the lesser officials is rude to boorishness.

And here I want to say a word about the democracy of my own
countrymen. Before the war and during it we entertained countless
Americans in the Embassy; all sorts and under a variety of
conditions, Jew and Gentile, business men and students,
travellers and musicians. They carried themselves with ease,
whatever the occasion. I was proud of them always and of our
system of education that had given them such pleasant equality.

After my arrival in Berlin a magnificent darkey, named George
Washington Bronson, called in search of a job. Over six feet four
and well built, I thought he would make an