and the
retreat by the crosses which fill the fields. The gardens that touch
the railroad and extend to the rear of houses in the little towns are
filled with graves. Each enclosure has been fought for at the point of
the bayonet, and every garden wall recalls the Chateau of Hougoumont,
at Waterloo.

All this was two years ago, but there is to-day, also. East of
Bar-le-Duc the main line is cut by German shell fire now. From Fort
Camp des Romains above St. Mihiel German guns sweep the railroad near
Commercy, and one has to turn south by a long detour, as if one went
to Boston by Fitchburg, travel south through the country of Jeanne
d'Arc and return by Toul, whose forts look out upon the invaded land.
Thus one comes to Nancy by night, and only by night, for twenty miles
beyond there are Germans and a German cannon, which not so long ago
sent a shell into the town and removed a whole city block beside the
railroad station. It is the sight of this ruin as you enter the town
which reminds you that you are at the front, but there are other
reminders.

As we ate our dinner in the cafe, facing the beautiful Place
Stanislas, we were disturbed by a strange and curious drumming sound.
Going out into the square, we saw an aeroplane, or rather its lights,
red and green, like those of a ship. It was the first of several, the
night patrol, rising slowly and steadily, and then sweeping off in a
wide curve toward the enemy's line. They were the sentries of the air
which were to guard us while we slept, for men do sentry-go in the air
as well as on the earth about the capital of Lorraine. Then the
searchlights on the hills began to play, sweeping the horizon toward
that same mysterious region where beyond the darkness there is war.

The next morning I woke with the sense of Fourth of July. Bang! Bang!
Bang! Such a barking of cannon crackers I had never heard. Still
drowsy, I pushed open the French windows and looked down on the
square. There I beheld a hundred or more men, women, and children,
their eyes fixed on something in the air above and behind the hotel.
Still the incessant barking of guns, with the occasional boom of
something more impressive. With difficulty I grasped the fact. I was
in the midst of a Taube raid. Somewhere over my head, invisible to me
because of the wall of my hotel, a German aeroplane was flying, and
all the anti-aircraft guns were shooting at it. Was it carrying bombs?
Should I presently see or feel the d