ere was peace and serenity.
She seemed a tower of strength. It must have been easy for dying French
boys in those rooms to have identified Sister Julie with Mary the
Mother, who saw her son dying on the cross. Later on we met an aged
woman of martyred Gerbeviller. She had been nursing in the hospital and
had stood behind Sister Julie when she forbade General Clauss to light
the firebrands. "What did Sister Julie say?" we asked the old woman.
"Oh, sir, I do not know, and yet I do know. She told them that she would
ask God to strike them dead. In that moment I was afraid of her. She
seemed to me more to be feared than General Clauss and all his wicked
army. I can tell you what our good priest says about Sister Julie." "And
what is that?" The old woman could not quote the verse accurately, but
from what she said we were soon guided to a chapter in the old Bible,
and there was the verse that described Sister Julie, with arms uplifted
at the door of her hospital and denying access to General Clauss. The
verse was this: "And lo! an angel with a flaming sword stood at the gate
and kept the garden."

7. The Hidden Dynamite; the Hun's Destruction of Cathedrals

In one group of ruined cellars that was once a splendid French city,
there is a beautiful building standing. It is rich with the art and
architecture of the sixteenth century. The lines are most graceful and
the structure is the fulfillment of Keats' line: "A thing of beauty is a
joy forever." Such a building belongs not to the French nation, but to
the whole human race. An architect like the man who planned this noble
building is born only once in a thousand years. Every visitor to that
ruined town asks himself this question: "Why did the Germans allow this
building to remain?" An incident of the story of Bapaume throws a flood
of light upon the problem.

One year ago, when the Germans were retreating from Bapaume, they looted
every house, burned or dynamited every building save the Hotel de Ville.
That city hall the Germans left standing in all its majesty and beauty.
In front of the building they placed a placard containing in substance
the statement that they left this building as a monument to Germany's
love of art and architecture.

Secretly, however, in the cellar of this noble building the Germans
buried several tons of dynamite. To this dynamite they attached a
seven-day clock. They set the seven-day clock to explode at eleven
o'clock one week after the Ger