smile. Jovial, gracious, and
gentlemanly in his manners, he made many friends both in his home state
and in New York, where he soon took his wife and little son to live.

In college he had written some poetry. In New York he hoped to write
more. He began his career there as editor of a journal for horsemen.
But he did not remain at this work long. He became in turn a salesman
in a large New York book store, an assistant editor, and then an
editor. When the war broke out, he was a member of the staff of the
_New York Times_. He had written several poems, and prose articles for
popular magazines and periodicals. At the age of twenty-five he was
widely known, enough of a celebrity, in fact, to have his name appear
in "Who's Who in America."

He liked adventure, as does any American youth. He was always glad to
visit a friend who had met with an accident or any other unusual
circumstance. He found himself in what he considered an interesting
and entertaining predicament when in New York he was struck by a train
and had to be carried to a hospital. "Such things did not happen every
day," he said, and he took the experience in good humor.

Soon after landing in France, he wrote a description of a long march
made by his regiment. At the end of the march, the men were too weary
even to spread out their blankets, but dropped down to rest on the
floor of the loft in the French peasant home where they were billeted
for the night. But even that experience was new and interesting.
Later, when the men were somewhat rested, they missed one of their
mates, and on going down stairs found him with his frozen feet in a tub
of cold water furnished him by the peasant woman. The little girl of
the home was on his knees, and the two boys were standing beside
him--as Joyce Kilmer described them--"_envying_ him" his frozen feet.

He also found interesting work at the front, in connection with the
trench newspaper, _The Stars and Stripes_.

At the dawn of a dark and misty Sunday morning in July, his regiment
was ordered to charge across the river Ourcq and take the hill beyond,
from where the enemy's machine guns were pouring down a withering rain
of bullets. His own battalion, he learned, was not to be in the lead.
So he promptly asked and obtained permission to join the leading
battalion.

Across the river they charged and for five days fought for the heights.
But Joyce Kilmer was not there to witness the victory.

In the