different. I don't know. Why, none of the men that Î see have the air of
feeling they are heroes--they just seem to think of it all as if it were
merely "in the day's work."

For example, do you remember that handsome younger brother of
my sculptor friend--the English boy who was in the heavy artillery, and
had been in China and North Nigeria with Sir Frederick Ludgard as an
aide-de-camp, and finally as assistant governor general? Well, he
was with the first division of the British Expedition which landed in
France in the middle of August. He made all that long, hard retreat
from Belgium to the Marne, and was in the terrible Battle of the
Rivers. I am enclosing a letter I have just received from him, because
I think it very characteristic. Besides, if you remember him, I am sure
that it will interest you. I don't know where it is from--they are not
allowed to tell. It came, as army letters do, without any stamp--the
carriage is free--with the round red stamp of the censor, a crown in
the middle, and the words "Passed by the Censor," and the number
printed around it. Here it is:


My dearest M-

October 30, 1914

Last night I heard your account of your experiences between
September 1 and 9, and it made me boil anew with disappointment
that my attempts to reach Huiry on September 4 were frustrated. I
was disappointed enough at the time, but then my regret was
tempered by the thought that you were probably safe in Paris, and I
should only find an empty house at La Creste. Now that I know that I