ore the world the
spectacle it offered on the day when, in the name of the nation, it
took up the challenge.

To conquer, heroism at the frontier will not suffice. It is necessary
also to have internal union. Let us continue to preserve this sacred
union from any blemish today, as in the past, and in the future. Let
us keep before our minds the one cry of victory, the vision of our
motherland, and the ideal of right.

That is what we are fighting for and what Belgium is still fighting
for, Belgium, who is giving to this ideal all the blood in her veins,
and what also unshakable England is fighting for, as also faithful
Russia, intrepid Servia, and the audacious Japanese Navy.

Nothing more sublime has ever presented itself before the eyes of men
than this struggle against barbarism and despotism, against a system
of provocation and continual threats, which Germany called peace,
against a system of murders and collective pillage, which Germany
called war, against the insolent hegemony of a military caste. France
with her allies has let loose the scourge of war against all these.
France the emancipator and avenger has sprung up at one bound.

That is the issue at stake. It goes beyond the life of the present
generation. Let us continue to have but one soul and one mind, and
tomorrow, when peace is restored and when our opinions, now
voluntarily enthralled, are again given their liberty, we will recall
with pride these tragic days, for they have tended to make us more
valiant and better men.

NUITS BLANCHES

By H.S. HASKINS.

_The diminishing of lights in Paris houses as a precaution
against a raid by the enemy's aeroplanes is the new
rule.--Cable Dispatch._

The gaslights cast a saffron glow,
The ghostly tapers sputter low,
The lampwicks smolder, dimly red.
(Beware the gray shapes overhead!)
Lock tight the windows, bar the door!
Have done with laughter, sing no more,
For fear lays hand upon the throat.
(Beneath the stars the airmen float.)
Hush, hush, my babe, lest fiends that fly
Shall come to still your hunger cry.
Let grief not speak its tale aloud!
(Black death is racing with a cloud.)
Through heav'n's eternal window panes,
Far, far above the swift air lanes,
God's starlight shines forever more.
(How restless glide the ships of war!)

Unconquered France

Story of Two Months' Combat with 2,00