each with a little wooden cross hastily tacked together,
and on some the remnants of the soldier's coat or cap, or even boots,
and on some the blue, white and red. As far as one can distinguish,
these little crosses break the view: some against the sky-line, for it
is hilly about here, others against the dark soil.

It was a day of lucid November sunshine. The sky was blue and the air
mild. A heavy dew lay on the earth. Not a sound could be heard; not a
leaf fluttered. No sign of life. We were alone, save for the stubble and
the ricks and the wooden crosses and the little flags. How near the dead
seemed: nearer than in any cemetery.

Suddenly a distant booming sounded; then another and another. It was the
guns at either Soissons or Rheims--the first thunder of man's hatred of
man I had ever heard.

So I, too, non-combatant, as _Anno-Domini_ forces me to be, know
something of war--a very little, it is true, but enough to make a
difference when I read the letters from the trenches or meet a Belgian
village refugee.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Pompous Lady._ "I SHALL DESCEND AT KNIGHTSBRIDGE."

_Tommy_ (_aside_). "TAKES 'ERSELF FOR A BLOOMIN' ZEPPELIN!"

* * * * *

"General Joffre then engaged in a short conversation with several
journalists, and when they referred to the military medal which M.
Poincare pinned on his chest, he said: '3/8 All this counts for
nothing.'"

_Manchester Guardian._

But on the other 5/8 we offer our respectful congratulations.

* * * * *

THE PROPHETS.

I have a friend, a gloomy soul,
Who daily wails about the war,
Taking the line that, on the whole,
Our luck is rotten at the core,
And into each success
Reads some disaster, rather more than less.

Another friend I have, whose heart
Beats with "abashless" confidence,
Who sees the KAISER in the cart
And hung in chains "a fortnight hence";
He saw this months ago,
And some day hopes to say, "I told you so."

When Heraclitus brings a cloud,
Democritus provides the sun;
Or should the Hopeful crow too loud,
I listen to the Mournful One;
And thus, between the two,
I find a fairly rational point of view.

* * * * *

Faces We have no Use For.

"Once or twice he sighed a little, although he had an uninterrupted
v