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On a large poster at the corner of Eberts-Brücke, amongst many affiches of music-halls, boot polish, and tooth paste, I read the announcement of a special evening service and sermon at the cathedral at five o'clock.

I walked down to the Lustgarten, just in time for the service.

The large church was full of people. The crowd of over two thousand perhaps was chiefly composed of women and old men. I noticed that an extraordinary number were in mourning.

The dark crowd contrasted curiously with the aggressive bright gold of the dome lighted by a number of electric lamps.

The minister began his sermon. As I was right at the back of the church I missed at first most of his words, but, little by little, I began to understand better.

"We don't know how many of our sons have lost their lives up to now," he said, "but be sure that they have found the way which leads straight to eternal happiness. He who dies in war for his country and for the Kaiser is certain of the sight of God. The Lord has put a sword in the hands of our Kaiser. He knows where and how to strike in this war. Glory on our sons who have died; they died like heroes, all of them, and every mother, every sister, every wife, must be proud to have lost the man they love in such a noble way. Be sure that our soldiers have never done anything less than noble. They are fighting in a treacherous country, but they are fighting for a right, holy cause, and they are bound to win."