He will grasp your hand; he will declare himself glad to speak through you to the great Anglo-Saxon races--to England and to his dear friends the Americans.
He is only too pleased to have the opportunity of expressing himself candidly and openly.

Peace is to be the watchword of the future.
The white doves have hovered over the Palace.

The rulers of the earth have met that the crash of arms may be stilled and that this terrible unrest which broods over Europe shall finally be broken up.
They have pledged themselves hand in hand to work together for this object,--Russia, broken and humiliated, but with an immense army still available, whose only chance of holding her place among the nations is another and a successful war; Austria, on fire for the seaboard--Austria, to whom war would give the desire of her existence; Germany, with Bismarck's last but secret words written in letters of fire on the walls of her palaces, in the hearts of her rulers, in the brain of her great Emperor.

Colonies! Expansion! Empire! Whose colonies, I wonder?
Whose empire?
Will he tell you that, my friend Dorward ?" The journalist shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the clock.
"I guess he'll tell me what he chooses and I shall print it," he answered indifferently.

"It's all part of the game, of course.