side of a
cabin with no windows open. I stood on the deck of an ocean liner
"Somewhere on the Atlantic" a few months ago as the great ship was
ploughing its zigzag course through the black waters, dodging
submarines. There was not a star in the sky. There was not a light on
the boat. Absolutely the only lights that one saw was when he leaned
over the railing and saw the splash of innumerable phosphorescent
organisms breaking against the boat. I have seen the like of it only
once before, and this was on the Pacific down at Asilomar one evening,
when the waves were running fire with phosphorescence. It was a
beautiful sight there and on the Atlantic too.

IT WAS MIDNIGHT

On this particular night, as far as one could see, this brilliant
organic light illuminated the sea like the hands of my luminous
wrist-watch were made brilliant by phosphorescence. I noticed this and
looked down at my watch to see what time it was. It was midnight.

As I looked, my friend, who was standing beside me on the deck, said:
"The last order is that no wrist-watches that are luminous may be
exposed on the decks at night. That order came along with the order
forbidding smoking on the decks at night. The Germans can sight the
light of a cigar a long distance through their periscopes."

I smiled to myself, for it was my first introduction to the romantic
part that lights and the lack o' lights is playing in this great World
War. Then my friend continued his observations as we stood there on
the aft deck watching the white waves break, glorious with
phosphorescence. He said: "What a topsyturvy world it is. Three years
ago if a great ship like this had dared to cross the Atlantic without a
single light showing, it would have horrified the entire world, and
that ship captain would have been called to trial by every country that
sails the seas. He would have been adjudged insane. But now every
ship sails the seas with no navigation-lights showing."

IN WAR COUNTRY

But when one gets his real introduction into the lights o' war is when
he gets into the war country. It is eight o'clock in a great French
city. This French city has been known the world over for its brilliant
lights. It has been known for its gayly lighted boulevards, and indeed
this might apply to one of three or four French cities. Light was the
one scintillating characteristic of this great city. The first night
that one finds himself here he feels as thou