sign of war. Everything seemed peaceful. The
war, in draining the men and youths from the countryside, had placed a
mantle of calm upon life in the villages of the Rhine Valley. Even
across the river a long length of railway line lay as a long road of
emptiness. Not a train, not a truck, not any sign of life was upon the
long stretch of metal.

"And yet," said Brother Wilbrid, "that is the main line from Bonn to
Coblenz. All railwaymen, stock, and traffic are confined to the Theatres
of War."

We had walked in silence for quite a while. My companion was lost in
thought. I ventured an interruption.

"You are a Socialist," I said.

He looked at me a while before replying.

"A Socialist? Well, no, I'm not--that is so far as Socialists have gone.
I describe myself as a 'Humanist.' Socialism as we had it before the war
was synonymous with revolution. Its creed, 'Revolution before
evolution,' spelt destruction and anarchy. It aimed to get what it
wanted by force instead of striving to get it by constitutional means. I
broke with them just there--and yet--and yet," he mused, as if to
himself, "they were hounded down as outlaws of society for promising
force--for threatening to do what the armies are to-day doing in the
'interests of civilisation.'

"What a shuffle of theories this mighty conflict has brought about!
Strange that your Allies claim they are fighting to save civilisation
from being destroyed by the 'German barbarians,' whilst the German
convinces himself that he is fighting to impress his 'higher culture'
upon an unenlightened world!

"Listen! I was once an engineer in the Krupp Works, at Essen; that nest
of the German War Eagle. I was but a unit in a mighty mass. We were all
well treated. Our health was well served. Our masters had learned that,
just as they watched the health of horses, it was just as necessary to
study the well-being of their human workers; so model homes and villages
were built for us, our masters realising that if we were healthy they
would get more work from us. They were philanthropists with an eye on
the output. And the average German worker was getting contented--getting
into a groove."

[Illustration: "That Nest of the German War Eagle."-Chapter XIII.

(The Krupp Works, at Essen.)]

"Then," I ventured, "if a man's contented and has nothing to growl
about--why worry?"

"Ah," he replied, "that's just the trouble, the German worker, as a
worker, has little to complain of, but