On the Edge of the War Zone From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes

ry 21

is, and the depression of the terrible battle at Soissons,-so near to us-I have not had the courage. All the same,

is a week ago that an American friend was so aghast at the idea that I had, in case of accident, no real American protection, that I went to the Embassy, for the first time in my lif

me to Rome. I must have taken the oath at that time, but it was in days of peace, and it made no impression on me. But this time I got a great big choke in my throat, and looked up at the S

is, except to go to one or two of the

eets are more lively, and the city has settled down to live through the war with outward calm if no gaiety. I would not have believed it wo

und that, at least, o

inst the wall of the park of the Chateau de Quincy. It is really a branch of the military hospital at Meaux, and it is under the patronage of the occupant of the Cha

yone who could spare a bed or a mattress or a blanket carried his contribution to the salle. The wife of the mayor is the directress, the doctor from Crécy-en-Brie cares

and it is heated by a big stove. Naturally it gets more sick and slightly wounded than serious cases, but the boys seem very happy, a

as very trying. I stood hours on the lawn listening, but it was not for several days t

ured me that they could be heard, the wind being right, about one hundred kilometres-that is to say, eighty miles-so you can

s mother; she brings back word that it was, as he called it, "a bloody slaughter in a hand-to-hand fight." But of course, nothing so far has been comparable to

ne, be, to the end of time, one of the epics, not of this war alone, but of all war. Talk about the "th

t London has as yet no dream of the marvellous feat her volunteer army achieved-a feat that throws into the sha

away the bridges as fast as the engineers could build them, and cut off part of the French, even an ambulance, and, report says, t

awful cry over the lack of prep

y nation in the world ready for this war

is, nor have they got to Calais, so, in spite of their real feats of arms-one cannot deny those-an endeavor must be judged by its purpose, and, so judged,

s, where the men are in the water to their ankles, what does my being cold in a house mean? Just a record of discomfort as my part of