In Belgium at this hour several million Belgians are making war material or fortifications for their conquerors. They receive enough food to support life, as the German thinks it should be supported, (by the way, I believe the United States of America supplies a large part of that food.) In return they are compelled to work at the point of the bayonet. If they object, they are shot. They have no more property and no more rights than cattle, and they cannot lift a hand to protect the honor of their women. There has been nothing like the horror of their fate in all history. If Germany is victorious, every refinement of outrage which is within the compass of the German imagination will be inflicted on us in every aspect of our lives. Realize, too, that if the Allies are beaten there will be no spot on the globe where a soul can escape from the domination of this enemy of mankind. There has been childish talk that the Western Hemisphere would offer a refuge from oppression. Put that thought from your mind. If the Allies were defeated Germany would not need to send a single battleship over the Atlantic. She would issue an order, and it would be obeyed. Civilization would be bankrupt, and the Western world would be taken over with the rest of the wreckage by Germany, the receiver. So you see that there is no retreat possible. There are no terms and no retreat in this war. It must go forward, and with those men of England, who are eligible for service but who have not yet offered themselves, the decision of war rests. This is, for us, in truth a war to death against the power of darkness with whom any peace except on our own terms would be more terrible than any war. Garibaldi's Promise. By KATHERINE DRAYTON MAYRANT SIMONS, JR. _O Loveland of the Poets, In the hour of your pain, Does Garibaldi's promise To your heroes hold again?_ There were fisher lads among them, In the shirt of peasant red, And mountaineers from Tyrol, When Garibaldi said: "I have no prayer to make you, For to God alone I kneel! I have no price to pay you, For your wage is Austrian steel! "There is naught of knightly emblem For the honor of the brave, And the only land I grant you Will be length to mark your grave! "I promise cold and hunger In the stead of drink and meat! I promise death, my brothers, Shall be yours before defeat!" _O Sweetheart of the Nations, In the hour of your pain, Does Garibaldi's promise To Italia hold again?_ The Uncivilizable Nation By Emile Verhaeren. The Belgian poet whom Maurice Maeterlinck preferred should rank among the Immortals of the French Academy when that honor was bestowed upon himself, has contributed to Les Annales the following account of Germany and the German people. The translation is that appearing on June 11 in The Suffragette of England.