to give him rope with which to hang himself.

He was hung, of course, rightly and convincingly, hung by the neck
till he was dead. Thus a clergyman who took the book from a
circulating library because of its Scriptural title, and whose
daughters wrapped it in _The Church Times_ and read it over the
week-end, declined to meet him at dinner. A bishop cut him in the
street. Very rightly and properly too. The book honestly, simply,
undisguisedly, told the truth. Since then America has been good enough
to recognise it.

But this is at least the first consideration of British censorship
today: it must suppress the truth about most of the important things
in life. Take the allied case of the Unknown Warrior. We are told that
he was a crusader, that he was glad to die in a noble cause, that his
valour deserved the Victoria Cross and his religion Westminster Abbey.
In short he was a saint. But, one protests (a bit bewildered because
it sounds so good) that was not the man I knew. The man I knew lived
next door and was a damned good chap. The man I knew chucked up his
business and left his home and risked his life because everybody was
doing it, because it seemed there was a real mess-up, because one had
to.

Also, it was a change. Oddly enough, Adam goes out from a modern
office or a modern factory in order to hoe up weeds in the sweat of
his brow and in danger of his life with barely a regret for the
Paradise he has to leave. Besides Eve went with him. God, there were
Eves in France! Women who knew how to make a man forget, women who
didn't count the cost, women who loved for love's sake. And for this
and other causes, the Unknown Warrior was extraordinarily bored at