am glad to subscribe for the starving women and children in Berlin."

"No one starves in Berlin," replied the Kommandantur.

"Oh, yes, they do," replied Madame X. "I know, because the captain who
so kindly informed you that I had received a letter from my husband
showed me a letter the other day from his wife, in which she spoke of
the sad condition of the women and children of Germany, who, whilst not
starving, were far from happy." Thus she not only had the pleasure of
seriously annoying the Kommandantur, but also a chance to get even with
the captain who had informed against her, and who is no longer in soft
quarters in Lille, but paying the penalty of his indiscretion by a
sojourn on the Yser.

The bridge at Meaux, destroyed in the course of the German retreat, has
not yet been entirely repaired. Beneath it rushes the Marne, and the
river sings in triumph, as it passes, that it is carrying away the soil
that has been desecrated by the steps of the invader and that day by day
it is washing clean the land of France.

In the fields where the corn is standing, the tiny crosses marking the
last resting-places of the men are entirely hidden; but where the grain
has been gathered, the graves stand out distinctly, marked not only by a
cross, but also by the tall bunches of corn which have been left growing
on these small patches of holy ground. It has always been said that
France has two harvests each year. Certainly in the fields of the Marne
there is not only the harvest of bread--there is also springing up the
harvest of security and peace.

The peasants as they point out the graves always add: "We of the people