then, "It seems incredible." And lastly, "What infernal impertinence!"

It was the infernal impertinence of Germany's schemes for
transatlantic plunder that roused the average American. It awoke in
him a terrible, calm anger--a feeling that some one must be punished.
It was as though he broke off suddenly in what he was doing and
commenced rolling up his shirt-sleeves. There was a grim, surprised
determination about his quietness, which had not been seen in any
other belligerent nation. France became consciously and tragically
heroic when war commenced. England became unwontedly cheerful because
life was moving on grander levels. In America there was no outward
change. The old habit of feverish industry still persisted, but was
intensified and applied in unselfish directions.

What has impressed me most in my tour of the American activities
in France is the businesslike relentlessness of the preparations.
Everything is being done on a titanic scale and everything is being
done to last. The ports, the railroads, the plants that are being
constructed will still be standing a hundred years from now. There's
no "Home for Christmas" optimism about America's method of making war.
One would think she was expecting to be still fighting when all the
present generation is dead. She is investing billions of dollars in
what can only be regarded as permanent improvements. The handsomeness
of her spirit is illustrated by the fact that she has no understanding
with the French for reimbursement.

In sharp contrast with this handsomeness of spirit is the iciness of
her purpose as regards the Boche. I heard no hatred of the individual
German--only the deep conviction that Prussianism must be crushed at
all costs. The American does not speak of "Poor old Fritz" as we do