The Greeneville daily sun. (Greeneville, Tenn.) 1918-1920, 1919-12-16
Hunland In
The Mirror
By CARL D. GRoAT.

BERLIN. (By MAIL Germany il
reaping the whirlwind.
Reaping il in shattered morale and
deadened morals.
A once strong Industrious natior,
1t has slumped, throug war, to land
that one scarcely recognizes as the
new world-master Of the early days of
the struggle.
This degeneration is pictured tell
ingly by Erhard Breitner, a CORES
pondent Of the Neue Berliner, in the
following story:
"1914--It is the carefree early
summer, the last Of the olden time.
Infatuatingly beautiful June days.
The city is fiooder with brightness
and sulendor. Life foams over. In
the mild evening the autos hum over
the Kurfurstendamm in an uninterA
rupted charm toward Lichterpark.
Foolishly happy confusion, music
choirs, dance pavillians, theatre,
champagne palaces, laughter, love-
making in hidden garden paths. Who
thinks Of care? One thinks, What
Generation of Germans is this? Are
they really the descendants of the
men Of 1870? In pleasure seeking
enervated, spoiled, cosmopolitan with
comfort; thoroughly synical---so are
they all. Thank God that there will
be no more war. The others remain
silent for no one knows what reply
to make.
"l917-Berl;n is hali dead.
Through the streets creep human
beings, too tired to complain. Sor-
row and iced oppreas them; scarcely
any hope now CLEANS on the horizon.
Turnips and soggy bread are their
food. The ovens have no heat.
Clothing and shoes are unobtainable.
One drags himself about Gay in and
day out, week in and week out, month
in and month out But they do it
with supernatural patience, with teeth
set. Arc they the same? Have the
years changed them? Purified
through sacrifice, they have cleaner
hearts. Blood and belongings lost,
but they have come out of the mire
of the past. Not in vain do they die
out yonder.
"1919-Throug the entire city
there is a sewer odor. Existence vi
brates between the dance-bar and
the gambling club. Bank notes fly;
one drinks bad champagne and ca
rouses at fabulous prices. Obscene
films flicker before an overfilled par
terre. Full pocketbooks-nobody
asks after the future. One doesn't
need to know. Card winnings; BUSH
ness on edge of the law; smugglers
tricks. Beggars with the blacksmith
red ribbons in their buttonholes make
music at the street corners. Murder,
burglary, housebreaking every day
and without plumber. Smouldering
ferments below, hate and anxiety
above, lurking mistrust everywhere.
Yesterday is forgot. Nobody cares
what come stomorrow. The Flood?
Perhaps. Only the moment counts.
Are we still brothers as before? Now
each is nearest to himself. So it is,
this sultry summer, the first of the
new era.
'Finis-The Copenhagen society
for study of the social results of the
war has just published its reports on
Germany. A volume full of figures.
About $500, 900 have been lost
100000 in the field; 100000
through increased mortality; $780,
600 through decline of the birth rate.
There are 1900, 900 more women
than men in Germany-condemned to
go unwedded. That is the final reck-
oning Of our mystery Ii we
could unite the dead, they would
make a city of graves through which
one could not wander in many days.
"For what have they died? Shot,
torn by grenades, frozen, starved,
perishing il torture. Why? What
is the thanks Of the living? If the
spectral army Of the dead could turn
home again and ask why have We