psychologists and philosophers, among statesmen and pseudo-statesmen, among men of affairs and women with still more affairs. The memory of them and the account of their life problems may fill the pages to come in these reminiscences of a quarter of a century.

So the years passed in rapid flight. Human life is human life. Illness and sorrow have sometimes clouded my summer day, and our staying far from home demanded many a sacrifice; and yet we could not have hoped for a more beautiful pilgrimage. Happy were the years of my children in school and college, happy our home, happy our social life, happy our work; and when in the spring of 1914 a German guest asked me whether I did

not often regret my long stay in a foreign land, I told him that, on the contrary, I blessed the hour of my decision in early years, as America had given me an abundance of inner values, of problems and tasks, of joy and friendship, which would last forever. At that time I planned to go to Europe again with my family in June, 1914. It had been our habit to spend four months of every second summer in the fatherland. Sometimes I undertook shorter trips besides. Once I went over for a family gathering at Christmastime, once even for a three days' scientific congress. I got the program of the congress one afternoon, and saw a paper announced in it which interested me; one hour later President Lowell had given me

leave of absence for two weeks, and the next morning I sailed from New York. I left the boat at Plymouth, rushed through England, reached Berlin the next afternoon at four, heard the paper at half-past four, and at five I took part in the discussion. The last time we were at home was in the summer of 1912. In the old Alsatian garden in which we had been married my wife and I celebrated our silver wedding, and then we all enjoyed once more a superb trip through southern Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. We left for New York from Naples. In Lugano my eldest and my younger brother joined us: one went as delegate to the Boston Congress of Chambers of Commerce, the other went to study the Chinese art collections in American museums. On the steamer near the Azores my daughters introduced my younger brother to a young Vassar girl whom they had just met. He talked with her a few minutes; then she left, and my brother said to me, "That is the girl for whom I have waited my life long." A short time after they married, and he took her from Buffalo to Berlin, a new American-German tie in our family.

In June, 1914, we hoped to visit the young American sister-in-law and her baby, but before that we wanted to stop for a while in London as guests of my niece; the only daughter of my second brother had married a well-known English author and government official. This summer visit with the new American and English relatives in London and Berlin seemed to me almost a symbol of my life desire to work toward lasting harmony and friendship among the three great Teutonic nations, America, England, and Germany. I felt that much had been improved, and yet that too much was still to be done if ever real cordiality was to unite them and to secure the peace of the world. I had planned various moves both on British and German soil to further that international work; the steamer tickets were in my pocket. But my younger daughter became ill with scarlet fever, and when she recovered the physician suggested that we should not at once undertake a voyage. So we did not sail; and then at Serajevo a shot was fired, the war broke out. When shall I see my fatherland again?

our people, and impressing upon them an appreciation of the obligations of the new citizenship. All the world is indeed coming, and America is not the melting-pot to anything like the extent she must be if we are to build up a homogeneous people.

All the world is coming to-day and may come in greater numbers to-morrow. The question we should ask ourselves is, Do they find conditions here which tend to make them good Americans and to realize. that they are people of a new nation? Our immigrants often come in racial groups, and too frequently dwell in racial areas, and, what is most unfortunate of all, are fed too long by a dialect pressa press which gives them too much of that which tends to keep alive racial feelings and antipathies, and too little of the spirit of the great republic in which they are about to claim citizenship, and the ideals and policies of which they must accept if they are to form a source of real strength to the nation.

All who look beneath the surface know that under present conditions America is not assimilating the new elements to anything like the extent we should like to

have her. Nor is she a melting-pot in the sense that she must be if the republic is to meet, as a people homogeneous in sentiment, the strain of our next great struggle.

Our new-comers too often look upon America as a land where obligation for national service does not exist. They mistake license for liberty, and, copying the views of many of our own people, assume that they have the right to volunteer to let others do their service and war duty for them. When the idea of obligation is suggested, it is resented as placing a limitation on the new freedom, a restriction on their new-found liberty to do what they wish, and nothing else. This sentiment, unfortunately, is shared by many of our native-born people, who, while demanding equality of privilege and opportunity, deny that there is any equality of obligation. Here is where the great work must begin. We must educate not only the new-comer, but many of our native-born people, and build up among them a proper appreciation of the principle that the privileges and the obligations of citizenship in a democracy are inseparable.

We must make clear to them that having given them without stint all the privileges of citizenship, withholding nothing of opportunity, they must accept their full share of citizenship responsibility in stormy as in fair weather, in war as in peace. If we had withheld anything either of opportunity or privilege, they could with a show of reason refuse to accept their full share of responsibility for service in time of peril. But we have given freely, and they must on their part assume the obligation of men of a democracy. There can be no secure national life, no real national sodality, where men demand and receive a full share of privilege and elect to volunteer to let their fellows bear the obligations of service in time of danger.

As a people we have drifted far afield under the emasculating teaching and words of many present-day leaders. At heart the spirit of our people is sound; but it is sleeping. We must arouse it to throw off the false teaching which has claimed that progress and life can be independent of struggle and sacrifice. Not only must we arouse our own people, but we must bring these new-comers in touch with the real, though slumbering, spirit of America-the spirit which loves peace, but not to the extent of gain

ing it through failure to support the right or to meet the demands of duty, cost what it may.

We do very little to bring these newcomers into contact with those who have been here for a long time, with the native born, with those who have in their blood the tradition of generations of citizenship and struggle. Something is accomplished through the public-school system, but it lacks concreteness. Instruction is rather diffuse. There is a sad lack of intelligent, honest teaching of our national history. There is too often little or nothing said about the individual responsibility of each and every citizen of a democracy. There is too little said of responsibility for national service. There is a great deal more than necessary said about the results in the way of employment and salary that will follow the acquirement of a certain amount of education.

The Plattsburg movement is the first movement of the kind-at least the first one of any importance-that has been undertaken in this country, the main purpose of which is the building up of the idea of national service-service not only in peace, but in war; service to the limit of our mental and physical capacity. And when I say "our" I mean both men and