his hidden coat-of-mail, his shaking
hands and his painted face. The world has never seen a meaner scoundrel,
and we may almost bring ourselves to pity the Kaiser, whom circumstances
have forced to accept on equal terms a potentate so verminous.

But we no longer smile, we are tempted rather to weep, when we think of
the nation over whom this Ferdinand exercises his disastrous authority.
Forty years will have expired this spring since the Christian peasants
of Bulgaria rose in arms against the Turkish oppressor. After a year of
wild mountain fighting, Russia, with fraternal devotion, came to their
help, and at San Stefano in March, 1877, the aspirations of Bulgaria
were satisfied under Russia auspices. Ten years later Ferdinand the
usurper descended upon Sofia, shielded by the protection of Austria, and
since then, under his poisonous rule, the honour and spirit of the once
passionate and romantic Bulgarian nation have faded like a plant in
poison-fumes.

Raemaekers presents the odious Ferdinand to us in the act of starting
for the wars--he who faints at the sight of a drawn sword. His hired
assassins guard him from his own people and from the revenge of the
thousands whom he has injured. But will they always be able to secure so
vile a life against the vengeance of history? How soon will Fate
condescend to crush this painted creature?

EDMUND GOSSE.

[Illustration: Ferdinand s'en va t'en guerre ne salt s'il reviendra.
(Old French song adapted.)]

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JUGGERNAUT

Yes, Kultur, the German Juggernaut, has passed this way. There is no
mistaking the foul track of his chariot-wheels. Kultur is the German
God. But there is a greater God still. He sees it all. He speaks,--

"_Was it for this I died?_

--Black clouds of smoke that veil the sight of heaven;
Black piles of stones which yesterday were homes;
And raw black heaps which once were villages;
Fair towns in ashes, spoiled to suage thy spleen;
My temples desecrate, My priests out-cast:--
Black ruin everywhere, and red,--a land
All swamped with blood, and savaged raw and bare;
All sickened with the reek and stench of war,
And flung a prey to pestilence and want;
--Thy work!

"_For this?_--
--Life's fair white flower of manhood in the dust;