ho can doubt, if it were possible to
take a plebiscite of all the nations who are fighting now as to whether
international disputes should be settled by war or arbitration, what the
result would be? Is the desire of the many to have its chance when this
war shall be ended, or shall we submit ourselves again to be dominated
by the desire of the few?"--_From "The Daily News," October_ 5, 1914.

"At one spot where there had been a fierce hand-to-hand fight there
were indications that the combatants when wounded had shared their
water-bottles. Near them were a Briton and a Frenchman whose cold hands
were clasped in death, a touching symbol of the unity of the two nations
in this terrible conflict."--_From "The Sheffield Telegraph," November
14, 1914._

* * * * *

RECONCILIATION IN DEATH.

_Letter written by a French cavalry officer as he lay wounded and dying
in Flanders._

"There are two other men lying near me, and I do not think there is much
hope for them either. One is an officer of a Scottish regiment, and the
other a private in the Uhlans. They were struck down after me, and when
I came to myself I found them bending over me rendering first aid.

"The Britisher was pouring water down my throat from his flask, while
the German was endeavouring to staunch my wound with an antiseptic
preparation served out to them by their medical corps. The Highlander
had one of his legs shattered, and the German had several pieces of
shrapnel buried in his side.

"In spite of their own sufferings they were trying to help me, and when
I was fully conscious again the German gave us a morphia injection and
took one himself. His medical corps had also provided him with the
injection and the needle, together with printed instructions for its
use.

"After the injection, feeling wonderfully at ease, we spoke of the lives
we had lived before the war. We all spoke English, and we talked of the
women we had left at home. Both the German and the Britisher had only
been married a year.

"I wondered, and I suppose the others did, why we had fought each other
at all. I looked at the Highlander, who was falling to sleep exhausted,
and in spite of his drawn face and mud-stained uniform he looked the
embodiment of freedom. Then I thought of the tricolor of France, and all
that France had done for liberty. Then I watched the German, who had
ceased to speak. He had taken a prayer-book from his knapsack, and wa