sant August evening in 1914. His theme was the
military prowess of Austria-Hungary and Germany.

"And now," he concluded, "Japan has treacherously joined our
enemies. Yet we should not be disturbed, for her entrance will but
serve to bring us another ally too. You all know of the
ill-feeling between the United States and Japan. At any moment we
may hear that the great Republic has declared war." He called for
cheers, and the Ringstrasse echoed with _Hoch! Hoch! Hoch_! for
the United States of America.

That was my introduction to European opinion of my country during
the war. During my four weeks in the Austro-Serbian zone of
hostilities, I had heard no mention of anything but the purely
military business at hand.

The following evening from the window of an
"American-Tourist-Special Train" I looked down on the happy
Austrians who jammed the platform, determined to give the Americans
a grand send-off, which they did with flag-waving and cheers. A
stranger on the platform thrust a lengthy typewritten document into
my hands, with the urgent request that I should give it to the
Press in New York. It was a stirring appeal to Americans to
"witness the righteousness of the cause of the Central Powers in
this war which had been forced upon them." Three prominent
citizens of Vienna had signed it, one of whom was the famous Doctor
Lorenz.

Berlin, in an ecstasy of joyful anticipation of the rapid and
triumphal entrance into Paris, was a repetition of Vienna. True,
in the beginning, Americans, mistaken for Englishmen by some of the
undiscerning, had been roughly treated, but a hint from those in
high authority changed that. In like manner, well-meaning patriots
who persisted in indiscriminately mobbing all members of the yellow
race were urged to differentiate between Chinese and Japanese.

So I found festive Berlin patting Americans on the back, cheering
Americans in German-American meetings, and prettily intertwining
the Stars and Stripes and the German flag.

"Now is your opportunity to take Canada," said the man in the
street. In fact, it was utterly incomprehensible to the average
German that we should not indulge in some neighbouring
land-grabbing while Britain was so busy with affairs in Europe.

The German Foreign Office was, of course, under no such delusion,
although it had cherished the equally absurd belief that England's
colonies would rebel at the first opportunity. The Wilhelmstrasse
was, h