Our Army at the Front

the newspapers-was when a motor-bus, jammed to the guards with American soldiers, suddenly rolled into the Avenue de l'Opéra from the Tuileri

newspaper correspondents had been told to appear at Austerlitz Station in the early morning of the 3d

the train into the middle of Paris. To most of them it was a city of gallant and delightful scandal, filled even in war-time with that twinkle of gayety plus wickedness that is so intr

n orderly march to near-by barracks, and-a French breakfast: coffee and war-bread. Not even the French had a kind word for the war-bread, and

ch that had the motor ride and informed Paris that they had come for a party. And if they didn't see the ladies with the unbeha

ought out again, and venders appeared on the streets with all manner of emblems to sell. It was one of thos

hem a package of cigarettes or a flower. All told, they touched off the fuse

band around to serenade General Pershing the first thing in the morning. His house was on the left bank of the Seine, not far

oy who had somehow climbed to the top of a gas street-lamp squealed boastfully to Pershing: "See, I am an American, too,

ace." Those nearest him good-naturedly tried to give him elbow-room, but those a little distance away caught merely the "peace" of his ejaculat

anks the band, with most of the crowd following, marched over

f it, there were just as many Frenchmen as could stand shoulder to shoulder and chin to back. Inside, where there were speeches and exchanges

ralding the parade. Then came the Territorials, the escort troops, in their familiar horizon-blue. Then more bands, the

Cemetery, the little private cemetery outside of

de. The Paris newspapers, boasting of their conservatism, said there were easily one million Parisians tha

million Parisians, all under the age of ten, immedia

ere wholly lost to view from the waist down. Nobody could ever complain of the French birth-rate after seein

rs' legs. They were massed thick beside the soldiers, thick between them, impeding their knee action, terrorizing their steps. At a little distance, they l

efore the Frenchwomen had thrown them enough roses to decorate bayonets and hats and a few lapels. They made a brave sight, brave to nobility. And though they were harassed by

le to throw roses. A military hospital overlooks another side, and balconies and windows were crowded with "blessés." The few officers and civilians who had access to the cemetery-grounds made their commemoration brief and simple. It was there that Colonel Stanton made the little speec

arracks. The sailors were allowed to saunter about the city, in vain search for the p

ound, to join the rest of the First Division for trai

es from behind the lines were discontinued, and Americans on holiday bent were sent to Aix-les-Bains. Even officers had little or no Paris leave, and those who had been quartered in Paris, in the Rue Constantine and the Rue Sa

the end of that Fourth of July. It will quite probably not be renewed till the end of the war. Lucky the onlooker who sees the r

n to the tra