From a night of calm security I rose, as did thousands about me, to the day's work. But before I could leave my room the steam whistles of all the great industries in the great city and of all the steam craft in its great harbor began to blow.; to bellow and scream and roar and wail in unnumbered voices that presently fused into one and rolled down through hundreds of miles of streets into the open country and out to sea.

I wondered but a moment, and then I knew, I knew the same uproar was sounding in every ear from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from Niagara to the Gulf, and that it proclaimed the first rounded twelve-month of our Nation's share in the war for civilization. I knew it was our notice to the world that all we had done in this thrice-busiest year of our Nation's life is but a beginning of what we shall do. It was Paul Jones's cry from the deck of the Bonhomme Richard, magnified by steam and a million trumpets of brass--"We've just begun to fight!" Wild, discordant, terrible it was--it is, for it will ring in my ears henceforth--our tocsin! the tocsin of a hundred million people speaking one wrath and one purpose. It was, it is, our answer to the great gun in the woods of St. Gobain, shelling the churches on Good Friday. It stoops to no further mockery of argument or negotiation, yet says as definitely as human voice ever spoke "In the name of God and humanity, and of a just and permanent peace to a free world, NO TREATIES MADE THIS SIDE THE RHINE."  --The Outlook.