in a mob of disheveled brains, that it is likely, did you assert twice
two continues to equal four and we had best stick to the multiplication
table, anonymous letters would come to you full of passionate abuse.
Thinking comes hard to all of us. To some it never comes at all, because
their heads lack the machinery. How many of such are there among us, and
how can we find them out before they do us harm? Science has a test for
this. It has been applied to the army recruit, but to the civilian voter
not yet. The voting moron still runs amuck in our Democracy. Our native
American air is infected with alien breath. It is so thick with opinions
that the light is obscured. Will the sane ones eventually prevail and
heal the sick atmosphere? We must at least assume so. Else, how could we
go on?



Chapter II: What the Postman Brought


During the winter of 1915 I came to think that Germany had gone
dangerously but methodically mad, and that the European War vitally
concerned ourselves. This conviction I put in a book. Yeas and nays
pelted me. Time seems to show the yeas had it.

During May, 1918, I thought we made a mistake to hate England. I said so
at the earliest opportunity. Again came the yeas and nays. You shall see
some of these. They are of help. Time has not settled this question. It
is as alive as ever--more alive than ever. What if the Armistice was
premature? What if Germany absorb Russia and join Japan? What if the
League of Nations break like a toy?