“Their ‘state of mind’ won’t allow them. It’s a case of follow the leader all the time. Why, in their treatment of their own neighbors this can be seen. Prior to the war, the Germans for instance, were credited as being a people possessed of sound logic; hard working, intelligent and above-board. The German-Americans in this country were respected as good citizens, hard workers, and held a high place in the esteem of their fellowmen. When the war came they did not change--it was our ‘state of mind’ that changed. Another case of follow the leader. Guided by a few we arose against them, abusing and accusing them shamefully. Every Tom, Dick and Harry felt self-ordained to search out their innermost secrets. There was a perfect orgy of tale bearing and envious tattling. The police department of one city reported receiving as many as fifteen thousand letters in one day from people wishing to report actions of their neighbors. Actions and words that had passed unnoticed for years, were suddenly found to be treacherous. “And so it is with everything. The controlling caste makes one believe things--and if you believe it, it’s so. Barnum was right.” “Who was Barnum and what did he say?” “Barnum was an American circus man. He had been in the business for many years and in his contact with the American people he had learned to know them better than anyone else could have done. When asked the secret of his success in dealing with the American people, he summed up with the phrase, ‘The people want to be fooled.’ And another American, a leading railroad man, said, ‘the public be damned!’ So, there you have it.” An hour or so more of inconsequential conversation passed between the two women and the boat was docking at Albany. “Come, Sana,” urged Mrs. O’Brien, “let’s hurry to the hotel. We can get a bite to eat before Mr. O’Brien calls for us. And perhaps we can see whether this town is any drier than New York.” The hotel dining-room was quite crowded, and they noticed that there was more than the usual air of hilarity about the place. On several tables were what appeared to be--real highballs! This sight interested Mrs. O’Brien to such an extent that when the waiter came for their order she remarked, “George--what kind of nice drink can we have?” “Well, we has ginger ale, lemonade, buttermilk--all what you sees on the card,” indicating the beverage list of the menu--“Yassum, all those.” “But I mean something more substantial--something like they have,” and she motioned with her head toward a party of women at a table nearby. “Oh, them there ladies done brought their own substantials.” “You mean in their hip pockets”--correcting herself, “in their own flasks?” “Sure enough, ma’am--but....” “Ah, then you might be able to fix us up?” The waiter studied the two for a moment, then, assured that he could take a chance, replied, “Guess I can,” and prepared to go. Mrs. O’Brien halted him with “Good stuff, remember, and some ginger ale.”