ommon property, and this political
indiscretion is characteristic of America as well as of Europe. In
striking contrast thereto are the cool calculation, the silent
observation and the perfect harmony of the peoples of Asia and Africa,
all of whom, without exception, are inspired by a deep and undying
hatred of the white race.

You may live for years among disciples of Mohammed, know all in your
environment, penetrate into their thoughts and feelings, and still be
utterly incapable of judging when the little spark that occasionally
glows in their eyes in moments of great enthusiasm, will suddenly
develop into an immense flame, when a force will make its appearance of
the existence of which you have never dreamed, and which will, without a
sign of warning, devastate and destroy all around it. But when this does
happen and the corpses of the slain encumber the streets, when the
quiet, peaceful, apparently indolent Moslem who for years has worked
faithfully for you, is transformed in a few hours into a fanatical hero,
whom thousands follow like so many sheep, then, at the sight of the
burning ruins you will be forced to admit that the white man will
forever be excluded from the thoughts and the national sentiment of the
followers of Islam.

You walk across a sandy plain in the heat of the midday sun and you
return the same way the next morning after a rainy night--what has
happened? The ground which yesterday looked so parched and barren is now
covered with millions of tiny blades. Where has this sudden life come
from? It was there all the time. There is always latent life beneath the
surface, but it is invisible. And as soon as a fertilizing rain comes,
it springs up, and everyone perceives what has been slumbering beneath
the crust.

In the dense jungles from which the sacred Nile receives its waters,
there stands a tent and before it a saddled horse. From the tent steps
forth a man with large glowing eyes, dressed all in white, who is
greeted by his followers with fanatical cries of Allah, Allah! He mounts
his steed, the camels rise, and the long caravan swings slowly out of
sight and disappears in the bush. Once more dead silence reigns in the
African jungle. Whither are they going? You don't know; you see only a
rider dressed in a white burnoose, only a few dozen men hailing a
prophet, but in the very same moment in which you see only a sheik
riding off, millions know that the Caliph, the Blessed of Allah, has
sta