The Living Present

g at about the same time, and although his wife has refused to go into mourning there is little hope that he will

gine Madame Goujon a useless member of society at any time. Her brilliant black eyes and her eager nervous little face connote a mind as alert as Monsie

have always counted as units more than in any European state. Whether men have heretofore accepted these invaluable services with gratitude or as a matter-of-course is by the way. Ne

e, to feed the poor women so suddenly thrown out of work or left penniless with large families of children. Then came

order to give useful occupation to as many of the destitute women as possible. But when these were in running order she joined the Bar

the Prince of Wales. Receiving by a special messenger a letter from his wife, to whom he had been married but a few months, he separated himself from the gro

the alleviations of wealth and social eminence, many of them a prey to black despair. Calling in other young widows of their own circle to help (the number w

and each drawer contained the dossiers of widows who had applied for assistance or had been discovered suffering in lonely pride by a member of the committee. Each dossier included a methodical account of the ag

n every department of France; there is even one in Lille. The Central Committee takes care of Paris and environs

eated the complete illusion in that close black-hung toque with its band of white crêpe just above the eyebrows and another from ear to ear beneath the chin. When the eyes are

hearts. Before I had left Paris I had concluded that it was the mothers who were to be pitied in this accursed war. Life is long and the future holds many mysteries for handsome young w

fficult in the world to deal with, even by the French themselves. Our boasted individuality is merely in the primal stage compared with the finished production in France. Even

ver worthy, had to be approached with far more tact than possible donors, and her idios

dustrial class, or of that petite bourgeoisie whose husbands, called to the colors, had been smal

sted the strongest possible aversion from working, even under the spur of necessity. They had one-franc-twenty-five a day from the Government and much casual help during the first year of the war, when money was still

n the world. Five, ten, fifteen children; I heard these figures mentioned daily, and, on one or two occasions, nineteen. Mrs. Morton Mitchell of San Francisco, who lives in Paris in the Avenue du Bois de Bologne, discovered after the war broke out that the

heir little homes, as they had their liberty for the first time in their drab and overworked lives and proposed to enjoy it. No man to dole them out just enough to keep a roof over their heads and

late years the men often beat their wives as brutally as the low-class Englishmen, and this vice added to the miserliness of their race made their sojourn in the trenches a welcome relief. Of course these were the exceptions, for

ormer earnings. It was some time after the war began that the rule was made exempting from service every man with more than six children. When it did go into effect the fa

save for the first time in our lives and I can get a good job that would not be gi

that class, nor is there much romance left i