urice across the road are supposed to be particularly fine and
"splashy."

Shortly after we came, the Prince of Serbia arrived in Paris and
stayed at the Hotel Continental. At the same time representatives of
all the allied governments arrived and stayed at one or other of these
hotels. There was a guard of Serbian soldiers always at the entrance
to the Continental as well as a crowd of onlookers which sometimes
swelled to tremendous proportions. The newspapers chronicled the
movements of the Serbian prince and when it was announced that he was
to leave the hotel the traffic on the street was blocked with cheering
crowds.

If I heard the Marseillaise sung once I heard it sung twenty times by
the throng on the street below my windows, for the Prince of Serbia
was the symbol to France of that brave people whose valour had won for
themselves immortal renown and had captured the imagination of the
French people. The French are certainly a nation of hero worshippers
and though they no longer recognize an official nobility they do
dearly love a title.

The same kind of demonstrations took place when Lord Kitchener and
Asquith drove through the streets. Everywhere they went the roads were
lined with the dark blue uniforms of the national guard, the gendarmes
and some of the territorials in their light blue service dress.

Then French soldiers lining the route across the Place de la Concorde
on the day when we drew up to see Lord Kitchener, Mr. Asquith, General
Cadorna of Italy and other foreign representatives pass, looked small
and insignificant in their, to us, sloppy uniforms; yet those were of
the race "who had threshed the men and kissed the women of all
Europe"--the soldier, which through all the centuries since the time
of Julius Caesar, had shown the most consistent fighting ability of
any nation in Europe. Their soldiers at that very moment were fighting
for their very existence and week after week were pouring out their
best blood in torrents on the battlefield of Verdun, demonstrating to
the world the possession of qualities which we had prided ourselves
belonged to the Teutonic races and particularly to Britons,--the
quality of "sticking it."

They are a wonderful people, the French, marvellous in their spirit
of self sacrifice. The French woman does not weep when her son or
husband goes to war. No, he goes to serve "La Patrie" that word for
which we have no synonym, the something which is greater than
every