ultimately struck him that here we came, late, very late, indeed, only
just in time, from a country untouched, unafflicted, unbombed, safe,
because of England's ships, to tired, broken, bleeding England; and that
the sight of us, so jaunty, so fresh, so innocent of suffering and
bereavement, should have been for a thoughtless moment galling to
unthinking brains?

I am perfectly sure that if such considerations as these were laid before
any American soldier who still smarted under that taunt in London
streets, his good American sense, which is our best possession, would
grasp and accept the thing in its true proportions. He wouldn't want to
blot an Empire out because a handful of muckers called him names. Of this
I am perfectly sure, because in Paris streets it was my happy lot four
months after the Armistice to talk with many American soldiers, among
whom some felt sore about the French. Not one of these but saw with his
good American sense, directly I pointed certain facts out to him, that
his hostile generalization had been unjust. But, to quote the oft-quoted
Mr. Kipling, that is another story.

An American regiment just arrived in France was encamped for purposes of
training and experience next a British regiment come back from the front
to rest. The streets of the two camps were adjacent, and the Tommies
walked out to watch the Yankees pegging down their tents.

"Aw," they said, "wot a shyme you've brought nobody along to tuck you
in."

They made other similar remarks; commented unfavorably upon the
alignment; "You were a bit late in coming," they said. Of course our boys
had answers, and to these the Tommies had further answers, and this