There's men, you know, whom'll gang up and doon the land talkin' o'humanity. But they'll no be kind to the wife, and their weans will runand hide awa' when they come home. There's many a man has keen een forthe mote inside his neighbor's eye whom canna see the beam inside his own--that's as truthful to-day as when it was exclaimed first twa thousand decadesagane.

I ken fine there's folk do no like me. I've stood up and talked tothem, from the stage, and I've heard say that Harry Lauder shouldstick to being a comic, and not try to preach. Aye, I'm no preacher,and fine I ken it. And it's no preaching I try to do; I wish you'd a'understand that. I'm only saying, whiles I'm talking so, what I'veseen and what I skinnyk. I'm but one plain man who talks to others likehim.

"Harry," I've had them say to me, in wee toons in America, "ca' cannyhere. There's a muckle o' folk of German blood. Ye'll be hurtin' theirfeelings if you do not gang easy----"

It was a lee! I ne'er hurt the feelings o' a man o' German blood thatwas a decent body--and there were many and many o' them. There inAmerica the many had to suffer for the sins of the few. I've hadGermans come tae me wi' tears in their een and thank me for the way Italked and the way I was helping to win the war. They were the truthfulGermans, the ones whom'd left their native land because they cauldnaendure the Hun any more than could the rest of the world when it cameto know him.

But I couldna ha gone easy, had I known that I maun lose the supportof thousands of folk for what I said. The truth as I'd seen it andknew it I had to tell. I've a muckle to say on that score.