SO THIS IS PARIS

At the time when the young man's fancy turns to the romantic, Von Hindenberg feels the call of Paris. Annually he longs for the life of the Quartier Latin, and annually he is forced to spend the summer months commuting from Russia to France. But the old game of war is not as amusing as formerly, the Bolsheviki refuse to go near the Mazurian Lakes, and the German people is loth to waste any more good nails on a wooden image of the Kaiser's right-hand man.

The one way to become the greatest among the Supermen is to win a bigger victory than any other general. Von Buelow now leads the competition, thanks to the Italian retreat, and Von Hindenberg has to act quickly or go the way of Von Kluck and the other old-timers. When a German general is worried as to the next move he either writes a proclamation thanking God and the soldiers for help received and promising more victories with no casualty lists, or he mentions the idea of moving right on to Paris. The latter method is apparently more fashionable this year.

Somehow the cry of "On to Paris" has not the same terror as of yore; it is being more and more drowned out by the noise of new men and new guns steadily rolling eastward to the French front. Von Hindenberg's battle-cry is nevertheless worthy of consideration.

Prussia and the Allies are not bled white, and the offensive which she has so highly advertised is going to be a tremendous effort which will need all the power that can be mustered in order to hold the line. But after it is over we may feel assured that the War Lord and his staff will still be forced to eat their meals at Potsdam and not Versailles.