me mention here that one of the most interesting international treaties in the Middle Ages was concluded in 1306 between the King of France and the King of Serbia, in which provision was made for arbitration by the Pope in case of misunderstanding. Let me also refer to the part played in this way by the Bohemian King Podiebrad in the fifteenth century, and by the Russian emperors in the nineteenth century.

any

There is no historical document whatsoever furnishing proof of the slightest interest on the part of German rulers in international law. Gregory of Tours wrote in the fourth century that the Germans were "without respect for their engagements." The violation of Belgian neutrality is incontrovertible proof that the Germans have remained the same for fifteen hundred years. I am sure that I express your opinion, as well as my own, when I say that the Allies have never been advocates of race hatred, and that we shall not sow these sentiments for future generations; but at the same time I do not think we dare play the part of ostriches and hide our eyes in the face of evidence. Our victory will be illusory if we do not impose upon our enemies the same principles of international morals and international right. These same principles have been studied by us through all the centuries. They have been methodically elaborated lately

T

HE first long swells of a rising storm ran endlessly past Land's End from the open ocean, and the Ardmore rolled heavily as she headed for the Atlantic. Sea after sea smashed against the blunt bow of the freighter, breaking into stinging clouds of spray that showered over the gun on the forecastle and drove aft, forcing the lookouts to turn their faces from the biting gusts. High on the foremast the man in the crow's-nest protected himself as best he could by crouching low behind his canvas weather-cloth, sliding lower still as each whirling cloud of spray, whistling up from the blunt bow far below, spattered against the swaying mast, to drip in slanting streams back to the deck. Forward of the bridge the seas piled over the weather rail, to rush and gurgle around the hatches and finally to pour in little cascades back into the sea.

In the overheated galley the cook was lashing a pot of stew on to the stove, to prevent its sliding to the heaving deck. He had carefully made it fast, adjusting it to the already well-filled space, when a seaman, bundled up in dripping oilskins, burst in through the door, accompanied by part of a spent wave that spread over the galley floor in a slippery flood. Following the example of one of his own pots, which at that moment boiled over onto the red-hot stove, the cook turned upon the intruder, sputtering a volley of abuse.

"Aw, come on, Al," replied the seaman. "I didn't mean to let the English Channel in. Give us a cup of coffee. I'm just off watch.'

Al forgot his wrath as quickly as it had come upon him, and reached for the huge coffee-pot that was wedged securely amid the assemblage of cooking utensils on the heated stove. Swinging it with a practiced hand, he poured a cup of the steaming coffee, as he balanced himself to the rolling of the ship, and with a good-natured grin handed it to the waiting sailor.

"I'm glad I ain't on deck to-day," Al said, as he watched the coffee disappear. "Bein' cook ain't just the job for a man, but it's more comfortable than standin' watch and watch in the English Channel in February.'

66

Well," replied the sailor, "I won't kick, 'cause the worst job on this ship ain't standin' watch on the bridge. To my notion, bein' one of them armed guards is the worst. You ought to see 'em up on the forecastle tryin' to keep from bein' washed overboard and tryin' at the same time to find a sub to shoot at.'

The cook looked up and grinned.

"Could they get one a day like this?" he asked.

66

They say they could," answered the sailor. "Heavy weather don't seem to make much difference to-"

He stopped abruptly, stood listening for a moment, and

jumped for the door. Peering forward through the driving spray, he saw the breech of the forward gun open and an empty shell, still smoking from the discharge, jumped onto the wet deck. The loader, timing his action to the pitch of the ship, slid another shell into the opening, and the plugman slammed home the breech.

The muzzle lifted as the ship rolled and a blinding flash burst from it. A roar rolled down the deck toward the sailor and the cook, both of whom stood clutching the rail, heedless of the breaking seas. Looking intently into the haze, they saw a splash in the tumbling water, and saw, too, the streaming deck of a submarine. The gun on the stern of the Ardmore roared, and another splash appeared beside the submarine. The gun crew forward, working with a precision gained from many s drill, loaded again. The ship slid over a swell, rolling slowly. The pointer elevated the muzzle, and an ear-splitting blast burst forth. The submarine shuddered beneath the shock. A part of her deck flew into the air, and a sea, driving against her side, buckled her broken back. She pitched laboriously in the heavy seaway as the inrushing water sucked her slowly be neath the surface, while the endless seas surged relentlessly on, playfully tossing two tiny, struggling forms.

Slowly the Ardmore turned and headed toward the spot. On the wing of the bridge a sailor stood, swinging a life-buoy. As the ship passed the struggling men he tossed it into the water. Another life-buoy, thrown by the captain, dropped beside it, and a few minutes later the almost lifeless bodies of two German sailors were dragged over the rail.

"Take them to the galley," ordered the captain," where it's warm. Al can bring them around."

The two men were presently deposited on the galley floor by the sailors who had hauled them over the side. For a moment the rescuers stood gazing at the dripping forms, until Al, assuming command in his realm of pots and pans, ordered them out so as to allow him to attend to the wants of the unconscious Germans.

The sailors departed, and Al turned to the two bedraggled forms that lay huddled near the stove. He had hardly decided on a course to pursue, however, when one of them opened his

"American, are you?" he replied. "And you were born in Germany?"

"Yes," answered Al. "Born in Germany and trained in the German army. And I have a brother in the German navy, too." The other grunted his contempt. Al reached for the pot and poured out a steaming mug of coffee.

"Yes," he continued. I've been in America six years now, and I've gotten to where I can see what's wrong with Germany. I used to cheer for the Kaiser, and I thought, just as you do, that he is a sort of superior being. I used to think that the little impudent officers that strutted around were better than I. I had been trained to think so, and they had been trained to think so, too. So when I was in the army I imagined that they were really better that their blood was of a different grade, I suppose.

"And then I got out of the army and went to America on a freight ship. When I went ashore in New York, I had a job offered me, and I didn't go back to the ship. And now I'm glad I didn't. I've saved nearly two thousand dollars, being cook in a restaurant. And then this war came on, and they needed more men for the new ships they are building. So I offered to go as cook. I told them that I was born in Germany, but that I wanted to help the world get rid of the Kaiser. I had some trouble getting a ship, but at last our captain took me. This is my second trip over. And we haven't been sunk yet. Instead of that we got you to-day."

He stopped for a moment and then continued:

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'Why, if you knew what America is you'd want to be an American too."

He seized the coffee-pot again and refilled the sailor's cup. "Here," he said, "have some more."

He poured out another cupful and turned to the form that still lay quietly on the deck. Seizing the unconscious man, he straightened him up and started to pour the coffee down his throat. He turned the white face toward the light and stifled a cry. The cup clattered from his hand and rolled to and fro about the deck with the rolling of the ship, finally stopping in a dark-red blot that marked the place where the unconscious sailor had been lying.

"Hans!" screamed the cook, as he held the limp form and

THE OUTDOOR
I-BECKONINGS

BY CLINTON SCOLLARD
They beckon me, they beckon me ;
After the winter's chill white sleep,
After the silence long and deep,
These luring things, they beckon me.
The first anemone; the bee
Within the first anemone;
The gauzy frail ephemeræ
Whose wings are like light gossamer;
The faint dawn flutings of the fir;
The myrrh of mints; the azure blur
Of wild phlox bloom; May-apple leaves;
The swallows underneath the eaves
Deft working at their masonry;—
These luring things, they beckon me!
The water-spider where the cool
Wood rillet makes a mirror pool;
The white birch bole whose satin sheen
Is glimpsed 'twixt tapestries of green
That sway like webs the fairies spin,
And let the sunlight filter in
Across the moss. Aye, everything
Interpreting the soul of spring
That kindles earth to ecstasy ;-
These vital lures, they beckon me.
They beckon me, they beckon me;
I am uplifted; I am thrall

To the Great Will behind them all.
O lovely lures that beckon me!

felt a sticky warmth against his hand where it pressed the sailor's side.

Slowly the wounded man's eyes opened. For a moment he looked blankly at the frightened cook, and then a smile of recognition spread over his face.

"Albert," he replied, huskily. His eyes rolled aimlessly for a moment, and his head dropped forward. A shudder passed through him, and he collapsed in his brother's arms.

The cook lowered the still form to the deck. He rose to his feet and stood holding unsteadily to the lashing he had put on the pot of stew. The German sailor watched him intently. Your brother?" he asked.

66

The cook nodded slowly and looked blankly at the form that now moved only with the rolling of the ship. A look of triumph crept into the eyes of the sailor.

"You're no American," he said, and with narrowed eyes watched for the effect of his words. "An American gun just killed your brother."

Al gazed uncomprehendingly at his companion.

66

Listen," continued the sailor. "We can get into the hold and open the sea-cocks."

Al set his teeth and stood rigidly as the ship rolled. The German sailor continued.

"We can open the sea-cocks," he repeated. "The ship 'll sink. We can get away. We'll be picked up. Come." He rose to his feet and stood waiting for the cook's decision.

Al pulled himself together with the strength of a sudden determination. He looked at the stiffening body of his brother, then glanced up at the sailor.

"Yes, come," he answered, slowly.

Together they stepped out onto the deserted deck, and the sailor's eyes twinkled with devilish glee at winning the Ameri

can over.

"This way," said the cook, and he led the sailor forward and down a hatchway. He turned and entered a door. The sailor followed, peering around to see that they were not followed. The captain looked up from a report he was writing. "I brought this man around," said the cook, slowly. "But. the other"-his voice broke-" my brother-is dead.

Tall cottonwoods, gray sentinels, ghost-like stand.

May there be laughter of the wind and song Of wild bird singing, gay,

And the clean, pungent smell of sage;

Soft ripples in the hay

Silvered with dew, stirred by the breeze At dawn that shakes the fairy aspen trees.

Give me the hot sun of summer noons, hum
Of insects in the grass,

Vivid wild flowers on the mountain-side,
And vagrant clouds that pass
Across the highest peaks, and canyon walls
Magic and cool where silver moonlight falls.

Give me a valley ranch where we alone

Can live beneath the sun.

May there be good rides homeward, when the long

Gold summer days are done,

To the warm log house that my heart desires,

With the long, low rooms and the cedar fires.

1 In Spanish escandido means "hidden valley.”

;

ERE, publicly placed, are the records of the Franklin Scientific Light Weight Car. They are reduced to their simplest form their full significance may be gathered at a glance. They constitute They constitute actual facts,-not futile assurances; history-not prophecy; performance-not promises.

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⚫cars.

Waste is under indictment in this country. The spirit of the times calls for constructive, efficient economy. The economy which will impair neither your activities-nor the Nation's "esources. Applied to motor cars, this spirit

84.4

100

100

has crystallized into the blunt demand :-Does your car deliver Service-without Waste? The Franklin Car has answered-and the people of this country have heard the answer.

For it is an absolute fact that if all cars were as efficient as the Franklin, America would save Four Hundred Million Gallons of gasoline and $192,000,000 worth of tires every year.

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WHAT CAN WE OTHERS DO?

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

Many thousands of American readers will recog nize the name of the writer of this article as that of the author of a large number of extremely popular stories of plot and action which have been published in England and later in America.—THE EDITORS.

He who wrote that the " pen is mightier than the sword" lived in other times. Today the sword is the lightning that flashes heaverwards, and the pen halts in our paralyzed fingers. Before the supreme sacrifice offered to-day by the youth of our happily joined countries, nothing else counts-is worthy of counting. Youth alone claims the immortal sacrifice made gracious and splendid by the righteousness of our cause.

What, then, can we others do? The man or woman to whom that question has not presented itself is no true citizen of the United States or Great Britain. In England the voice of conscience and duty is reinforced in a hundred different ways. Our hostels and thoroughfares are thronged with the broken and maimed of our young manhood. There are gaps in our own family circle and amid the ranks of our friends. The thunder of the guns reaches us across the narrow seas, the smell of gunpowder is in the air, many of us have gazed with our own eyes upon that far-flung line of horrible death and grim devastation. Day by day fresh instances of German savagery rise tangible and material before our eyes. We don't read of these things, we see them.

War for us is no longer an abstract and remote thing. War as the Germans have made it will remain for the rest of our lives a ghastly and unendurable nightmare.

There seems something ridiculously inadequate in the drawing out of our checkbook. Yet our check-books and the valor of our fighting men. will win, the war.

Pardon for a moment or two the personal note. In the earlier days of the war I was induced to devote a certain portion of my time to recruiting. I worked hard and hated my job. I was all the time trying to persuade others to do what I was not doing myself. True, I was a year or two over age, but this ugly fact remained in the background, clogging speech, militating all the time against any natural gift of persuasiveness. It's a different matter when one comes to talk about the War Loan. I am not a provident person, but, like most others, I have my savings, invested before the war in American railways. To-day, seveneighths of them are in the War Loan. This is our chance, we others, to identify ourselves with our country. If England goes down, I go down too. I take my risk, and am

thankful for the chance.

Go for your Liberty Loan in the same spirit. Tackle it before the suggestion be comes the ghostly whisper of a wasted oppor

your conscience, slain because the barrage behind him became a thought slower for the want of ammunition. These aren't idle words. That very thing might happen. A Government can only provide what it cap pay for. See that it never runs short. There's your interest-good, sound, pane tual. There's your security, your coul try's honor, and if that goes you do." want to live on among your hoardings And you're doing your share with the boy at the front. You can look them in the fact when you meet them; you can slee soundly at night, for your money's helping I have not said a word to you aboutjustice of our cause. Wilson knows->