He was living at the new Detroit Athletic Club, that monument erected to Detroit's swiftly acquired wealth. His family was away, the Grossepoint house closed. Here at the club he encountered the best of Detroit's opinion, and the worst; saw the best of that spirit which was making her the marvel city of the continent, and the worst of the consequences of her tidal wave of prosperity. Here about him was a curious blending of the conservatism and gentility of older Detroit, with the new-rich, bombastic, squandering spirit of the day. He saw millionaires whose hands had not yet had time to free themselves of the callouses of toil in the machine-shop, whose manners were the manners of the corner barroom, betting fabulous sums on the rolling of the dice, at poker, at bridge--with opponents who boasted that their ancestors had owned land in Detroit since the coming of Cadillac. He saw boys who had once earned their clothes by carrying papers chumming with boys whose wealth had come down through generations. He saw much that was creditable, splendid, of great promise; he saw some degree of that which was, perhaps, inevitable, but was nevertheless deplorable. He joined but scantily in the life of the club. He did not see it, did not grasp the fact, but it was impossible that such men, riding on the crest of a gigantic wave of prosperity, should think far beyond themselves and the miracle that had made them what they were. They talked of the Mexican affair academically, as one talks of something in order to have something to talk about. They discussed the war with all the interest they would have shown in a championship prize-fight--and most of them with no deeper interest.... It was a world-spectacle arranged for the United States to sit by and watch--and derive immense profit from. Here and there, fortunately, were men of broader vision, of abiding patriotism. One great manufacturer was taking a salutary step in insisting that every employee in his mammoth shops should be an American citizen; one was purchasing space in the newspapers of the country to advertise, not automobiles, but preparedness. One man had the very stationery of his firm inscribed with words which not only showed the world where he stood, but urged the world to step forth and do likewise. Whatever advances had been made toward presenting a solid front, toward coherent thought, were due, not to something moving within, something spontaneous, some natural growth of patriotism, but to Germany. Germany was awakening America; Germany was America's alarm-clock. Her propaganda, her bomb plots, her labor agitations, her arrogance, and her submarines were doing for America what America seemed unable to do for herself.... Germany, while willing quite another thing, was proving herself a friend to America; she was clumsily, bull-headedly, forcing America to think together and to the point; she was compelling America to think about America.... That way lay the path to patriotism.