g themselves deep
into the ground and not a single window in the vicinity is unbroken."

A winter of the most bitter misery has closed in on the unfortunate
city; miserable-looking shapes by the thousands, without home or food,
crowd the narrow, crooked streets. As sand flows through an hourglass,
so regiment after regiment, from every part of the vast empire of the
czar, streams through the streets which now are black with people. From
far-distant Siberia and from the borderlands of Turkestan these
gray-clad soldiers pour through Warsaw to the plains of Poland. In their
dull features no trace can be discovered of what they feel or think. One
can study the faces of these Tartars, Mongols, and Caucasians as much as
one pleases, there remains always the same mystery. Tramp, tramp,
tramp--they march from the Kalish station along the railroad until they
disappear together with the horizon in a single gray mass--who knows
whither, who knows whence? It is at such times that one realizes the
magnitude of Russia if one considers that many of them have traveled
all the way from the Ural Mountains.

Quietness and gloominess now reign in Warsaw's hospitals, in which
formerly there was so much life and activity. The patients have been
sent, as far as their condition permitted, into central Russia to
recuperate, and at this time only slightly wounded men are brought in.
This is a bad sign, for the doctors figure correctly that it indicates
that those seriously wounded are left on the battle fields and perish
there. The hotels, on the other hand, are full of life. There officers
have settled down; every rank and every branch of the service is
represented here, from the grizzly general down to the beardless
lieutenant; every province of the immense empire seems to have sent a
representative. You may see there the most fantastic figures: Caucasian
colonels with enormous caps, huge mustaches, and black boots, figures
which look still exactly like the Muscovian warriors from the days of
Napoleon. It strikes one as very strange to hear so many German names
borne by these Russian officers. And while the poor inhabitants of
Warsaw await their fate with fear and trembling, the officers are the
only ones full of joy, for war is their element and a promising
opportunity for thousands of enticing possibilities which peace never
brought them.

During November and December, 1914, both in north and south Poland,
continuous fighting went on alon