The thought of any more battles, tenches, submarines, air-raids, starvation, misery, is so unbearable to our bruised and stricken minds, that we have put it into words whose import is, Let us have no more of this! We have at least put it into words.

That such words, that such a League, can now grow into something more than words, is the hope of many, the doubt of many, the belief of a few.

It is the belief of Mr.Wilson; of Mr.Taft; Lord Bryce; and of Lord Grey, a quiet Englishman, whose statesmanship during those last ten murky days of July, 1914, when he strove to avert the dreadful years that followed, will shine bright and permanent.

We must not be chilled by the doubters.
Especially is the scheme doubted in dear old Europe.

Dear old Europe is so old; we are so young; we cause her to smile.