Doctor Watson, rector of the American Church of the Holy Trinity, in the
Avenue de l'Alma, has offered that building as temporary sleeping
quarters for Americans who are unable to obtain shelter elsewhere, and
is arranging to hold some trained nurses at the disposal of the feeble
and sick.

War is a wonderful leveler, but there could hardly be a greater piece of
irony perpetrated by Fate than compelling well-to-do Americans, who have
no share in the quarrel on hand, to sleep in a church in France like
destitutes before any of the French themselves are called upon to
undergo such an experience.

[Illustration: Photo. H.C. Ellis Paris. Sewing-girls at work in the
American Episcopal Church, making garments for the American Ambulance
Hospital.]

At the Chamber of Deputies I witnessed a historic scene never to be
forgotten. Some of the deputies were reservists and had come in their
uniforms, but the rules prevented them from taking their seats in
military attire. In the Diplomatic Tribune sat Sir Francis Bertie, the
British Ambassador, side by side with M. Alexander Iswolsky, the Russian
Ambassador. The Chamber filled in complete silence. The whole House,
from royalists to socialists, listened, standing, to a glowing tribute
by M. Paul Deschanel, president of the Chamber, to M. Jaures, over whose
coffin, he said, the whole of France was united. "There are no more
adversaries," exclaimed M. Deschanel, with a voice trembling with
emotion, "there are only Frenchmen." The whole house as one man raised a
resounding shout of "Vive la France!"