ve peach-stones, tin-foil,
newspapers and all kinds of junk. In fact, I can now save anything
except money."

Just before the St. Mihiel show the Germans blew up an ammunition
dump near a company of Yanks. It was reported that there was a large
quantity of gas shells in the dump, and as soon as the explosions
began the Americans immediately made themselves scarce with great
rapidity.

When the danger had passed all started drifting back with the
exception of one man who did not appear till the next day.

"Well, where you been?" demanded the top kick, eyeing him coldly.

"Sergeant," replied the other earnestly, "I don't know where I been,
but I give you my word I been all day gettin' back."

"Who won the war?" asked the bright young goof behind the
soda-counter.

"Huh," ejaculated the ex-sergeant gruffly as he dug up the war-tax, "I
think we bought it."

A librarian confides to us that she was visited by a young lady who
wished to see a large map of France. She was writing a paper on the
battle-fields of France for a culture club, and she just couldn't find
Flanders Fields and No Man's Land on any of the maps in her books.

The trouble with the peace table is that the Allies want it _a la
carte_, and Wilson wants it American plan--_table d'hote_.

_See also_ Exaggeration; Heroes; Soldiers; War.

EUROPEAN WAR--POEMS

_Gifts of the Dead_

Ye who in Sorrow's tents abide,
Mourning your dead with hidden tears,
Bethink ye what a wealth of pride
They've won you for the coming years.

Grievous the pain; but, in the day
When all the cost is counted o'er,
Would it be best that ye should say:
"We lost no loved ones in the war?"

Who knows? But proud then shall ye stand
That best, most honored boast to make:
"My lover died for his dear land,"
Or, "My son fell for England's sake."

Christlike they died that we might live;
And our redeemed lives would we bring,
With aught that gratitude may give
To serve you in your sorrowing.

And never a pathway shall ye tread,
No foot of seashore, hill, or lea,
But ye may think: "The dead, my dead,
Gave this, a sacred gift, to me."

--_Habberton Lulhaut_.

The war is like the Judgment Day--
All sham, all pretext torn away;
And swift the searching hours reveal
Hearts good as gold, souls true as steel.
Blest saints and martyrs in disguise,
Concealed ere-while fr