Then there are some other small items. I take one at random. While the Duke of Wellington danced the polka in Brussels the Prince of Orange with a small Dutch army stopped Napoleon's progress at Quatre Bras, and by disobeying the orders of the British commander saved the army of the allies and made the victory of Waterloo possible. Our thanks for this self-sacrifice was the mild abuse of Mr. Thackeray and other gentlemen who have ever since laughed at the clumsy Dutch troops who in truth so valiantly assisted the British and Prussians. In this matter a little more generosity on the part of British historians would have made us feel more cordial toward our English neighbors. It was ever thus. To read the story of the Armada one would believe that the English destroyed this dangerous Spanish fleet. As a matter of fact, competent historians know that certainly one-half of the glory for that feat goes to the Dutch sailors, who prevented the Spaniards from getting their supplies, their pilots, and their auxiliary army. These are merely examples. They are all small things. But there are so many of them, they return with such persistent regularity, that we would feel very little inclination to risk our national existence for a nation which, according to our feeling, (rightly or wrongly, I am not debating that question,) has never treated us with fairness, and which we had to fight for over three centuries before it would accept those general principles of international law which first of all were laid down by Grotius in the beginning of the seventeenth century. Remember, however, that this does not mean any hostility to England. Mr. Wells undoubtedly knows that our ships have invariably done noble work in rescuing the victims of submarine attacks. He will know that our Government (to the great anger of Germany) has construed the articles of several international treaties in the most liberal way and has immediately released all such British subjects as were thrown upon our coast through the accidents of war. He will also know, if he has read the papers, that our entire country has turned out to do homage to the bravery of those men. The danger to the sailor of a British man-of-war who lands in Holland is that he will be killed by a severe attack of nicotine poisoning caused by the cigars which the people, in their desire to show their feelings and unable to break the strict law of neutrality, shower upon the Englishman who is fished out of the North Sea by our trawlers or our steamers.