ead the bulletin and, seeing
no one in sight, added at the bottom:

"Seven o'clock. Great excitement in Heaven. Deacon Jones has not
arrived. The worst is feared."

"Ma, do cows and bees go to heaven?"

"Mercy, child, what a question! Why?"

"Cause if they don't, the milk and honey the preacher said was up
there must be all canned stuff."

"Say, mama, was baby sent down from heaven?"

"Why, yes."

"Um. They like to have it quiet up there, don't they?"

_See also_ Future life.

HELL

_See_ Future life.

HEREDITY

"What is heredity?"

"Something a father believes in until his son starts to act like a
fool."

HEROES

"So you won the Distinguished Service Cross for conspicuous bravery in
extreme danger. Didn't you feel shaky?"

"Not until I lined up for the general to pin it on me."

An average American soldier.

One opportunity to serve.

Equal parts of danger and courage.

A sense of duty.

A hot enemy fire.

The other day I met in the street a man in uniform. His coat sleeves
were embroidered from shoulder to cuff with bars, stripes, insignia
and chevrons of the most gorgeous colors and fantastic designs. My
curiosity was too much for me, and I was about to stop and question
him, when I discovered he had already halted and was bursting to tell
me.

"Yes," he announced, "they are every one authorized by the War
Department. These three octangular triangles of orange mean my third
cousin did a good deal of war work. These ten vertical mauve stripes
are ten embarkations; the ten horizontal stripes denote ten times
sea-sick."

"Then you never reached France," I sympathized.

"No, but this gray dot indicates extreme disappointment. Now these
pink crosses--"

But I hurried off, and almost ran into a limping soldier with only a
small gold chevron on each arm. My curiosity again overcame me. "My
boy, how came you by those?" I asked, feeling assured he could not say
much about only two chevrons. He did not.

"Well," he answered as he passed, "I was abroad for a while, and I
happened to kind of go a little lame."

Upon a wharf where the Yanks were disembarking a reporter buttonholed
a rosy-cheeked private.

"Are you one of the heroes?" the newspaper man asked, with notebook
ready to record a stirring tale of heroism.

"Naw," was the blushing reply. "I'm only a common doughboy. But the
lieutenant, over there, is one."

To the officer indicated went th