throat,
Oh, the tear that he dried with laughter;
"I'll be back some day--
Mind the mill while I'm away,"
And he waved one last kiss floating after.
Gone is the miller boy,
Gone from the mill;
Gone up the winding road,
Gone o'er the hill;
Gone with the drum-beat up over the hill,
Where he heard the bugles calling.

There's no grist for the mill or siller for the till,
But I've kept the mill-wheel turning
To the rumble and the beat of a million marching feet,
And my sad heart's muffled yearning.
Oh, the road his brave feet trod, lit with glory up to God,
Oh, the courage of his call shames my sorrow;
"I'll be back some day--
Mind the mill while I'm away,"
And I caught one last kiss for tomorrow.
Gone is the miller boy,
Gone from the mill;
Gone up the winding road,
Gone o'er the hill;
Gone with the drum-beat up over the hill,
Where he heard the bugles calling.

German Soldiers Write Home

Letter of Prince Joachim

The following letter was written by Prince Joachim of
Prussia, son of the Kaiser, to Sergt. Karl Kummer of a
Prussian Regiment of Guards, who had been sent, badly
wounded, to his sister at Teplitz, and whom the Prince had
known for years.

My Dear Kummer: How sincerely I rejoiced to receive your very
solicitous letter. I was sure of Kummer for that--that no one could
hold him back when the time came to do some thrashing! God grant that
you may speedily recover, so that you can enter Potsdam, crowned with
glory, admired and envied. Who is nursing you?

The old proud First Guard Regiment has proved that it was ready to
conquer and to die. Kummer, if I can in any way help you I shall
gladly do so by providing anything that will make you comfortable. You
know how happy I have always been for your devotion to the service,
and how we two always were for action (Schwung.) I, too, am proud to
have been wounded for our beloved Fatherland, and I regret only that I
am not permitted to be with the regiment. Well, may God take care of
you. Your devoted,

JOACHIM OF PRUSSIA.

Letter of Rudolf Herzog

The following letter, written from the field by Rudolf
Herzog, one of the leading German novelists and poets, was
published in rhymed verse in No. 41 of Die