It has become almost proverbial that the easiest way to reach the American is through his pocketbook. Europeans have portrayed us as a money-loving people; our citizen and the "Yankee dollar" have become inseparable in their minds. All this may have been true previous to the last year. At the end of the war, however, Europe will no doubt realize that money-desires were but a veneer upon the true American character.

In the last moth a new spirit has come over our nation. Before, we had given our wealth and made personal sacrifices. Today, in the ever-increasing casualty lists of men failing in France, we have begun to give our lives. Pouring forth our dollars was but the washing away of the veneer. Each life now lost is a cut into the flesh. We have begun our real sorrows. We are feeling the terror of war. As the struggle becomes harder and our enemies seem only to gain, these wounds only strengthen our grim determination. For every man fallen, a brother will rise in his place. Life has become clouded, but not destroyed. Each dead man in France lives in the minds of our people. It makes us bitter, but it has called forth a new American spirit. Sacrifice, the greatest power of mankind, has come to permeate our national life. Our sons are gone. "It is for us, the living . . . to be dedicated . . . . . to the unfinished work which they who fought . . . . . . have thus far so nobly advanced."