g it. The man who played
the part of Christ was idealised, everybody who had seen him liked
him, respected him and admired him. Thousands had said that
somehow a person felt better after he had seen Anton Lang. As a
supreme test of his popularity, American vaudeville managers asked
him to name his own terms for a theatrical tour.

And now the man who had imbued his life with that of the Prince of
Peace had thrown the past aside, and with the spiked helmet in
place of the Crown of Thorns had gone to his death trying not to
save but to slaughter his fellow-men.

Truly, the changes wrought by war are great!

* * * * *

In Berlin I inquired into the circumstances of Anton Lang's death.
Nobody knew anything definite. Berlin knew little of him in life,
much less than London, New York or Montreal.

Munich is different. There his name is a household word. Herr von
Meinl, then Director of the Bavarian Ministry, now member of the
Bundesrat, told me that he believed that there was a mistake in the
report that Anton had been killed.

Later, when tramping through the Bavarian Highlands, I walked one
winter day from Partenkirchen to Oberammergau, for I had a whim to
know the truth of the matter.

On the lonely mountain road that winds sharply up from Oberau I
overtook a Benedictine monk who was walking to the monastery at
Ettal. We talked of the war in general and of the Russian
prisoners we had seen in the saw-mills at Untermberg. I was
curious to hear his views upon the war, and I soon saw that not
even the thick walls of a monastery are proof against the
idea-machine in the Wilhelmstrasse. Despite Cardinal Mercier's
denunciation of German methods in Belgium, this monk's views were
the same as the rest of the Kaiser's subjects. He did, however,
admit that he was sorry for the Belgians, although, in true German
fashion, he did not consider Germany to blame. He sighed to think
that "the Belgian King had so treacherously betrayed his people by
abandoning his neutrality and entering into a secret agreement with
France and Great Britain." He recited the regular story of the
secret military letters found by the Germans after they had invaded
Belgium, the all-important marginal notes of which were maliciously
left untranslated in the German Press.

We parted at Ettal, and I pushed on down the narrow valley to
Oberammergau. The road ahead was now in shadow, but behind me the
mountain mass