Any Sunday morning in Berlin during the sessions of the Paris Conference would probably have given more than one opportunity of observing the revival of the only real religion existing in modern capital cities--nationalism. On one Sunday I have in mind there were several protest meetings against the proposals reported from Paris for partitioning off German populations in the Saar district, West Prussia, Danzig, German Bohemia, and the Tyrol, and for preventing the union of German-Austria. For instance, you might have gone to the Sport-Palast with Erzberger in the pulpit. I myself did not. The rotund, rubicund, ebullient, emollient Erzberger, ex-Minister of Propaganda and delegate to Spa, who looks like Winston Churchill turned Papal Legate, was too ritualistic for me. I went to a "service" at the Circus Busch, where the sermon was broader. Come with me then along Unter den Linden past the gilt crosses and cupolas of the Evangelical Dom and the shell-shattered sham classic façade of the Imperial Palace--deserted shrines of the faith--to a very dilapidated and dingy circus. There was a time when the Protestants of Germany were driven into the depths of the woods and the dens of wild beasts to hold their services. And to-day we find the pastors of protestant nationalism symbolically perched on pasteboard rocks amid woodland scenery, with a very realistic atmosphere of menagerie. The congregation is characteristically middle-class and by no means so formidable in appearance as the hungry, haggard workmen and their women that we should have found in a meeting of the dissenting internationalists. * * * * * As we come in Freiherr von Richthofen is perorating a sort of commination service, each verse of which is received with a loud response. The Paris Conference is worse than the Congress of Vienna (ah). France is outraging and robbing Germany when wounded and a prisoner (aah). But not a yard of German soil shall be surrendered without consent of its population (aaah). Germany can be dissected alive, but England will be disgraced and America dishonoured (aaah), and a time will come when such outrages will find their retribution (AAAH). A roar of applause which rouses the wild beasts in their dens, so that they roar in unison. The Paris diplomats have at last succeeded in stirring up again the weary wolves of war where they were lying licking their wounds.