14 NORTH SHORE BREEZE and Reminder 
THE 5 
National Capital 
Events of Interest from the Seat of 
Government 
By J. E. Jones 
The Breeze Bureau. 
New York City, 
Sept. 15; 1914. 
A ForEIGN-AMERICAN CENTER 
There are six million people in this 
gigantic city, and a very great portion 
of them came from Europe. I do not 
know how many are foreign born, 
but on the streets they impress you as 
being mostly of an alien sort. The 
newspapers print so many war extras 
that it makes one almost dizzy; great 
crowds stand hungrily awaiting the 
bulletins as they are posted in front 
of the newspaper offices; there are 
knots of people gathered everywhere 
—and one subject is discussed; there 
is but one thing of interest: the war 
that is ruining Europe and its people. 
Last night in the subway I sat be- 
side a laboring man reading a Ger- 
man newspaper, and as he read the 
tears were streaming down his cheeks. 
It was one of those “packed trains” 
at the rush hour; and those standing 
as well as those sitting, had their gaze 
glued upon the newspapers before 
them. Many wore crepe upon their 
hats or sleeves; and on every face 
there was the look of unbelief and 
horror. I have been here for several 
days and I do not recall having seen 
any one smile or look happy. Gloom 
is everywhere, and that too in a city 
famed because it is second only to’ 
Paris in gaiety and _ irresponsibility 
ant its “don’t give a darn” atmosphere. 
But New York is at the rim of the 
war; its foreign commerce is suddenly 
stopped, and thousands of business 
institutions are suffering in  con- 
sequence. I talked to a man con- 
nected with the New York World, 
and ventured the assertion that the 
papers were doing well since they 
were putting out so many extras. 
“Circulation without advertising is no 
good,” he replied, “and the advertis- 
ing business has been cut to the bone.” 
It’s true—and the agencies and the 
magazines have been recording prin- 
cipally cancellations. And that is 
only a straw that shows how the 
wind blows. 
New York HARBOR 
I took the boat at One Hundred 
and Twenty-Ninth Street for Coney 
Island, and that is a trip of two hours 
through the very heart of the harbor. 
First we came upon the battleship 
Minnesota, apparently “sticking 
‘round” like a policeman at a summer 
garden, so as to be handy in case any 
thing should turn up. Next there 
was the Erin, gayly decked in the 
colors of England and Ireland, which 
had arrived as the escort for Sham- 
rock Third, to lift the American Cup 
if possible. But Sir Thomas Lipton and 
the N. Y. Yacht club were not to test 
their yachts this year, for there is 
not going to be any race. Down past 
the piers we steamed, and oh, what a 
sight! There was foreign commerce 
tied tight, fastened to the docks. The 
German boats were thickest, for some 
of the British and French ships were 
still attempting to carry on commerce. 
The Vaterland—greatest ship in all 
the world, was hemmed in by a half 
dozen smaller ships at her dock; and 
we are told that the Hamburg-Amer- 
ican Line has $20,000,000 worth of 
ships on this side of the Atlantic. The 
North-German Lloyd ships were 
crowded together in much the same 
manner, and the great monsters tied 
to their doccks reminded one of the 
fate of the Kaiser Wilhelm der 
Grosse of this line, which a few 
weeks ago was one of the proudest 
vessels afloat—but it has gone to the 
bottom of the sea. 
Farther down the harbor we came 
upon the dreadnaught Florida, and 
its gray coat and its mighty guns re- 
minded one that it was in position to 
help keep things neutral about Uncle 
Sam’s waterway. The great statue 
of Goddess of Liberty towered close 
by, and farther along was Sandy 
Hook. There were, no liners to 
come or go, and beyond the flicker- 
ing lights at night “off Sandy Hook’ 
no ships were safe unless they floated 
the flag of the United States, which 
in all this crazy world is about the 
only genuinely sane powerful nation 
that is left. 
Just beyond Sandy Hook the Brit- 
ish cruisers have been on_ guard, 
carrying their war almost to our 
front door. A few boats have put 
out to sea, but they have been care- 
ful to hug the coast line, and keep 
within the safety zone. 
THe ANXIETY OF THE FOREIGNERS 
The United States is apparently 
filled with the reservists of the Eu- 
ropean nations, and there are thou- 
sands of them here in the hotels, 
eagerly trying to return to Germany, 
France or other countries, to “get in- 
to it.” Mostly they are doggedly- 
determined young men, swelling with 
patriotic impulses, and so partisan 
when you come to talk with them that 
one wonders what there is to get ex- 
cited about if the victories are all won 
by the Germans (when you talk to 
one of the Kaiser’s subjects), or all 
the fortunes of war are with the 
allies—if you are talking with a 
Frenchman or with an Englishman. 
A few days ago there was a big 
parade, and I watched it on Fifth 
Avenue. With muffled drums a 
small army of women robed in black, 
marched down the great thorough-: 
fare, as a protest against the war. 
Here and there a woman would lean 
forward from the crowd of specta- 
tors and clap vigorously. In another 
place a man would do the same, and 
once two or three persons applauded 
at the same time, but the general © 
silence of the great gathering was 
considered the best evidence of tn- 
derstanding. At different places men 
stood with raised hats as the peace 
flag passed. 
The crowd which saw the parade 
was immense. It began at Fifty- 
eighth Street, and from there down 
the Avenue the people stood three 
deep on both sides, while children sat 
on the curb stones at their feet. The 
crowd massed on the steps of St. 
Patricks Cathedral, with its drapery 
of mourning for the pope. 
Silently and sorrowfully the fore- 
igners in the metropolis who are per- 
haps brought closer to the situation 
than any other part of the United 
States, watch the shifting scenes and 
fortunes of war,.as their brothers and 
their fathers, and their old friends 
fall in battle, and as the places so 
dear to them in the mother countries.” 
are razed by devilish warfare. 
I Meet M. D. Berurtz 
I called on M. D. Berlitz, having 
learned that he was on this side of 
the water. He is a young old man, 
and an extremely active one. ‘Il 
came over to see my grandchildren,” 
he said, “and was caught here in New 
York, and could not get back to Eu- 
rope.” As we talked he told me how 
he had built up the greatest system 
of schools of languages in all the 
world. “I have four hundred schools 
scattered throughout the civilized 
world,” he said, “and three hundred 
of them are in the war zones; I can- 
not even communicate with most of 
them, and those I have heard from 
are closed, while my managers and 
teachers have gone to war, and those 
same men who served me so faith- 
fully and who did such a great work, 
are against each other in opposing 
armies.” ‘Mr. Berlitz was born in 
Germany, was knighted in France, 
and is a citizen of the United States, 
though he spends most of his tinaig 
abroad. Nearly all of the four hun-— 
dred great schools were installed by, 
himself, and he tells with pride how 
