the welcome stroke of the past week in Greece, by which King "Tino" has
been at last dismissed, and the Liberal forces of the Greek nation
set free.

* * * * *

Aye, we do consider--we do remember--these things! We feel that the goal
is drawing slowly but steadily nearer, that ultimate victory is certain,
and with victory, the dawn of a better day for Europe. But who, least of
all a woman, can part from the tragic spectacle of this war without
bitterness of spirit?

_"Who will give us back our children?"_

Wickedness and wrong will find their punishment, and the dark Hours now
passing, in the torch-race of time, will hand the light on to Hours of
healing and of peace. But the dead return not. It is they whose
appealing voices seem to be in the air to-day, as we think of America.

Among the Celts of ancient Brittany there was a belief which still
survives in the traditions of the Breton peasants and in the name of
part of the Breton coast. Every All Souls' Night, says a story at least
as old as the sixth century, the souls of the dead gather on the cliffs
of Brittany, above that bay which is still called the "Bai des
Trépassés," waiting for their departure across the ocean to a far region
of the west, where the gods sit for judgment, and the good find peace.
On that night, the fishermen hear at midnight mysterious knockings at
their doors. They go down to the water's edge, and behold, there are
boats unknown to them, with no visible passengers. But the fishermen
take the oars, and though they see nothing, they feel the presence of