26 MAY 1939, Page 23


[To the Editor of THE SPECTATOR] SIR,—Some years ago—it was during that now almost for- gotten era known as the Armistice—I spent some months in post-War Germany.

Wandering one afternoon around the outskirts of Stuttgart, I lost my way, and being unable to find it, I appealed to a German workman to help me retrace my steps back to the Marquaart Hotel. The man carried a bag of tools on his back. "With pleasure," he said, "and if the Gnadige Frau will allow me, I will, myself, show her the way." We walked together for about a mile, the man chatting to me about his work, his family and the improvements in Stuttgart, &c. Finally we arrived at a tram terminus, and the man offered, "if I wished, to further accompany me on the tram, as it was a complicated journey." I thanked him, but said I could not further trespass on his time, and we parted—never to meet again.

This was just one of many such kindnesses meted out to me —one of the enemy people during my stay.

I ask myself, is not this friendly spirit still somewhere in the German mind?—I know it is, I cannot bring myself to