“A wounded officer addressed some students at one of our universities. He protested humorously that he was not a ‘pro-German,’ and then spoke up for a fair view of the enemy. When he was being carried into hospital, he noticed an anti-aircraft gun just outside the hospital. This struck him as, to say the least, unwise. He expected the hospital to be shelled, and this occurred. He did not blame the Germans. On another occasion a farm near the firing line was used for first aid. It was not obviously a hospital and was fired on. The Commanding Officer sent a note to Von Kluck to explain matters, and the farm was never after exposed to fire.[55] He had seen a church damaged by German shell fire, but this was one which he had himself seen used by the French for observation purposes.[56] The same officer uttered a warning against believing all that was in the ‘Tommies’ letters. At one time when he was censoring letters, one passed through his hands from a Tommy only just arrived in France, and never in the firing line. He described an immense battle in which the English did wonders and he himself had marvellous duties to perform. As far as the military situation was concerned the letter was quite harmless, so it was allowed to go through. It was something like the intelligence to the publication of which the Press Bureau ‘does not object.’”[57][58] In her book, “My War Experiences on Two Continents,” Miss Macnaughten writes of the Germans: “Individually, I always like them, and it is useless to say I don’t. They are all polite and grateful, and I thought to-day, when the prisoners were surrounded by a gaping crowd, that they bore themselves very well.” (p. 127). Again, “I found one young German with both hands smashed. He was not ill enough to have a bed, of course, but sat with his head fallen forward trying to sleep on a chair. I fed him with porridge and milk out of a little bowl, and when he had finished half of it he said, ‘I won’t have any more. I am afraid there will be none for the others.’” (p. 37.) Unfortunately, Miss Macnaughten too readily accepted war stories. She writes of “country houses” where he heard German prisoners here lived in luxury, “and they say girls are allowed to come and play lawn tennis with them.” The humour of this will be apparent to any who have visited internment camps. Lawn tennis was, however, possible at some camps, both here and in Germany—there were seven courts at Ruhleben. Some of the atrocity stories many of us will recognise as not so reliable as Miss Macnaughten supposed. It is her personal experiences which are important, and, like the Scotchman[59] (whom she quotes) she has, not hatred, but respect, for the Germans whom she herself meets. THE EASE OF ACCUSATION.